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Chapter Text

⭑▴▴▲▴▴⭑

Every Pokemon in the Hisui region had been caught, documented, studied, and intensely researched in every way. Lucas had already told them that when his research was completed he would be going home- that there was a promise made that cannot be broken, and when Lucas completed his end of the pact, he would be sent home. It was a departure they were bracing for; None of them would be all that fond to see the young soul go, but they could all see the way the displaced struggled to keep his head above water- how often he was overtaken by grief and homesickness for people who did not yet exist. They would not keep him, would not tether him to this place more than they had already done. The clans had gathered to wish him well, Jubilife coming alive to celebrate their hero and friend. They had all agreed that Lucas’ send-off should be in jubilation of what they had experienced together, and not with regret for that which they could not.

None of them had prepared for, when in the midst of the festivities, Lucas called Ingo aside. Not usual, they figured, as Lucas had always seemed drawn to the mysterious man.

They did not listen in; They did not pay attention; They did not hear.

Lucas spoke to him, resolute and serious, unbefitting of his jovial behavior not a minute before. “What do you plan to do?” He asked vaguely, as though Ingo could parse his meaning from the single sentence.

“I’m afraid I must ask you to elaborate.” Ingo replied shortly, a hand rising to his cap.

“Do you have a plan to get home? After I leave, what are you going to do?” Ingo took a moment to consider this.

“I admit that I have not thought about my former home much at all since you reignited some of my memories at the Highlands, much less created a plan to return to a place I cannot recall.” His eyes drifted to his right out of habit, observing the rowdy festival ongoing in their absence. not what he was looking for, his mind supplied mutedly.

Lucas appeared to consider heavily what he was to say next, tightening his fists into little balls and bouncing on his toes slowly. Ingo calmly stood as Lucas collected his words. “I recognize a lot of the mannerisms you use, the phrases you say, and even some of the ways you battle- All the time, something in my mind says “That's familiar! That’s meant for you!” even if my memory isn’t fully pieced together either.” Ingo held his response, because Lucas continued even as his eyes studied the dirt carefully, “And I wonder- I look at your modern coat and hat, and I look at the way you treat your Pokemon -and I wonder if you are from the same time as me.” Lucas meets his eyes now, something hopeful and determined in his gaze that made the action easier for Ingo to mirror.

“...I would be remiss to say I have not felt similarly before, but there are many questions we cannot answer about me and my origin.” Lucas nodded hesitantly. “I believe I understand what you wish to insinuate, but I do not think I can ‘return’ with you. I do not even know if it would be called a return to begin with, as I cannot know if I have ever truly been.”

Lucas nodded again, slower, considering something. “I had an idea, if you’re willing to hear me out.”

“Very well, what is your terminus?” Ingo hummed in affirmation.

“Okay. I don’t think you have to come with me,” Lucas started, gauging Ingo’s reaction, “But I do think we can find a way to send you home.” Ingo’s emotions twisted in his mind like… winding subway tunnels … … …-twisted at the implication, but nodded for him to continue. “I think I can ask Arceus to send you to your home. Even if you don’t remember, and I don’t know either, Arceus definitely does. It could take you when I leave.”

Ingo felt like his face should contort, but it remained rigid and unreadable as ever. Internally he sighed. Someone he knew would be more expressive, more- “I suppose it’s something I can consider, but there is much I would be leaving behind, and even more left to chance. I hope you understand this is not something I can give a simple yes or no to at this time.” Lucas’ shoulders seemed to tense and they bounced on their feet a few times more, eyes trailing back to the soil.

“Okay… Okay. Yeah. Please think about it though. I don’t want to leave you behind with nothing to go off of… I think it’d haunt me for a long time.” Lucas was not a sidewinding character, but he generally didn’t speak about his personal feelings, so Ingo regarded him carefully before speaking next.

“I value your concern about my future station, Lucas. I promise you I will think more about this track change you’ve proposed, but for now I believe it would be best if we continue to enjoy the atmosphere of the town this evening. It would be a shame to dampen the liveliness of this gathering with questions without answers or half-hopes left late to arrival.” Ingo offers Lucas the best smile he’s learned how to manage, and Lucas appears to soften at this, giving him a small smile back.

“That’s true- I guess I’ve kept you from your clan long enough, heh heh.” The stress he had been carrying lessened just so as he turned to head back to the party. “Let’s go have some fun!”

Ingo lets his smile fall back to his casual-but-not-unfriendly frown and trails along after him, returning to the ruckus and festivities that awaited them, and aligning himself with his clanmates.

Under the surface, his mind did not stop coursing down the tracks at full-eight. The prospect of going home was tempting- and oh how he longed for it deep in his old soul -but to depart with an unknown destination… It would be a lie to say he didn’t fear it. It would not be the first time, after all. He wasn’t sure if he could bear the weight of appearing in an unknown location, outcast from those around him again- Dragons forbid he lose his memory once more, and forget those he loved in Hisui.

‘ My clanmates…’

He said the words often, heard them often in turn, but truth be alight he could feel a distance between him and the Pearl Clan that the other wardens did not have. He would claim against the fire that he would stay with them for as long as they would have him at any chance he was provided, but the spark in his heart yearned for his former home more than it ever had before. To abandon safety checks and storm the tracks ahead would be an incomparable risk, but the potential outcome could be just as rewarding.

Ingo let his mind run over his jumbled thoughts one more time, before letting the train depart from the station. He would discuss it with Irida alongside the wardens the next day to have an answer for Lucas prepared the next time he should ask.

With his engines at rest, he let himself relax into the evening; enjoying what he could of the celebration, despite the feeling of his mind tugging his attention to the right, as if someone should be standing there beside him.

He would talk. Partake in the event, enjoy the food prepared- shoving aside the thoughts of a man in white that haunted his peripheral.

⭑▴▴▲▴▴⭑

Ingo took a deep breath in as the cold mountain wind whistled by them. He and Lucas stood at the spear pillar on top of coronet, departure imminent. Any interested parties from both the clans were present to see them off, as well as several from the Galaxy Team. Ingo still felt torn over the decision, and he could feel he would be broken up by this choice long after he had returned to his rightful place, but he was resolute in this moment.

His eyes scanned over the few who came to see them, catching on the unshed tears in Irida’s eyes as he firmly waved;
The regret and unspoken words on Melli’s tongue as they began scaling the time-worn stairs;
The wistful appreciation in Professor Laventon’s kind smile as Lucas stepped up to the center of the ruins.

Ingo turned to face them all one last time, a fierce thunder filling his lungs as his convictions firmed further, hardening into a solid black stone in his chest.

He pointed forwards to them with more force and determination than he had ever presented since he arrived at this terminal. His opposing hand swept out to his side in a gesture so precise from what could only be thousands, hundreds of thousands movements worth of muscle memory; his finger pointed firmly at the ancient stone beneath them with more willpower than the legend of the lake itself.

“WE MOVE ONWARDS TO OUR NEXT TERMINUS AT THIS TIME! PLEASE STAND BEHIND THE YELLOW LINE, AND CLEAR FOR THE SCHEDULED DEPARTURE!”

Lucas held a hand to his mouth in a silent chuckle as a few of the sendoff covered their ears.

Ingo’s voice rang down the mountainside, echoing into the hills below:

“YOU ALL HAVE BEEN THE FINEST CONDUCTORS I COULD WISH FOR, AND ALTHOUGH WE MUST NOW BEGIN SEPERATE TRACKS, MAY YOU BE FIRM IN YOUR IDEALS!”

Lucas gave a small wave, with a quiet, “Goodbye, everyone!” as tears threatened to build his eyes.

“NOW THEN! UNLESS YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO ADD?” Ingo turned to Lucas on his left wrong side wrong side wrong side- and then out to their audience. A few took a few steps forward to offer goodbyes, 'i’ll-miss-yous,' and well wishes. After they had completed their final safety checks, Ingo pointed his outstretched hand directly towards the sky, reaching high enough that may lightning strike and ignite the path towards his unwavering final destination.

“Now then!” Ingo turns abruptly on one heel and whips backwards to face nothing in particular. Perhaps he did not want the memory of their faces to haunt him. He takes in a breath that stretches his entire figure, and several people behind him cover their ears in anticipation. His joints crack, his spine popping itself into place as he raises himself to his full height for the first time in years, straight and tall, taller than anyone, and more resolute than the sun in its revolution.

The shout he calls to the heavens is loud enough to drive mountains to split, forcing away any wisping doubts that might have plagued him.

“AAAAAALL ABOOOAAAAAARD!!!”

The air around space-time’s two lonely passengers seems to fray at the edges
And then,

They fall.

⭑▴▴▲⥋✖

His field of vision slowly fuzzes back in as he comes back to consciousness. Ingo blinks and groggily pushes himself off the… floor? He looks around slowly as his cognition returns to him.

The hall he is in proves incredibly dark, but his eyes have thankfully adjusted enough to allow him enough to see. He stands up fully now, his head not far from the ceiling of the tunnel. This feels wrong. Something about seeing the top so closely feels incorrect.

Is this his home? He can clearly recall his memories in Hisui, thank Sinnoh, so surely this must be where Arceus has sent him, and therefore it must be his home station.

Along the floor are two jutting lines, going parallel along with the walls. Rails, his mind supplies helpfully. Those should lead him to his destination.

.
..
…Rails?

How does he know what those are, when before he could never recall? They are metal paths for transit, and they will take him home. And they are too small. Why are they so small? How does he know what size they should be? Ingo’s sight threatened to fog over as his brain tried in vain to process what was happening.

Home.
Home.
Home.

He just needed to follow the tracks- but something is so eerily incorrect, irreversibly. Why does he feel so wrong all over? Why does this place, so familiar and nostalgic, feel so skewed and distorted? He took a shaky step onto the rails. It felt safe, natural. He should not be here. The rails are unsafe, horribly so. It was his job to keep passengers away from the rails.
What?

What?

His brain fuzzed over with a mute flurry of snow, blinding him for a moment.

His body pitched to one side, threatening to topple his large form. Large form… large.
The tunnels were not any smaller than they should be, it was him.
He is far too large for this space.
Too tall, too long, too much-

It was all too much.

…

Ingo looked down at his claws.

…

Something is catastrophically wrong.

Chapter Text

⭒▿▿▽▿▿⭒

It had been a verrry long series of years for Emmet.

At this point, it had been long enough that people who didn’t know him weren’t always absolutely 100% guaranteed to know why. 

Ingo.

He was missing, and had been with no sign or trace for four years.
It destroyed him at first. Ravaged him whole like a cyclone of knives and swords.
Ingo was everything to him, and he was everything to Ingo.
They spent everyday together, planned to spend the rest of their lives at each other's backs, and then 

Ingo was gone. 

No explanations, no clues, no goodbyes, no closure. 

Emmet was expected to be okay with that. 

Not at first of course- No one was rushing him to move on -but the unspoken expectation that he would have to be normal again some day was always present, looming.
He was supposed to move on.
To live again, like he used to.

He knew that. He knew that life must continue down its track. 
He knew that, in his heart, he wanted to be alright again someday.

But at the time, even the thought of being okay felt like a betrayal. 

Like leaving Ingo behind. 
Like moving on without him meant forgetting him.

Like being alright meant that his disappearance didn’t matter anymore.

...At the time.

It took a verrry long time for Emmet to stop thinking that way.

To be convinced by those around him that Ingo wouldn’t want him to wallow in his suffering.
He knew that. Ingo would never want him to feel upset for any reason. 
It wasn’t that simple.

It took a long time to convince himself that life would get better even if it never felt complete anymore.
To believe that he would be alive again, and he could be allowed to be alive again, even if Ingo was not.

And he hated the concept- To think that Ingo was dead was devastating. To think that they would not meet again until after his final subway left the station for the night was a crippling thing to ponder over. 

But Emmet could not continue to imagine as if his brother could be around any corner, to run into his arms. That his return might be any day- that when he leaves for work the morning Ingo will be standing outside their door. 

It was easier to accept that his brother was very likely gone by now, after no news and no sightings, regardless of how that thought burdened him.

As much as it weighed him, it set him free. Realigned his wheels. Kept the engine running.

And so, he continued forward. He was far from happy; Every day there were still many times where he grieved Ingo silently during his mundanities. Mourned the little things that he and Ingo could not do together anymore.

But even with those moments, he was better.
He could live again. 
His smile was not an expression of pain anymore.
He could speak with his friends again.
The silence that had followed Ingo’s disappearance had been hard on all of them.

Today, he woke up precisely when he needed to. He got ready swiftly and carefully, putting attention and care into his morning route and making sure his Pokemon were given proper attention and affection. 

He took care of himself. 

He ate a nice breakfast. 

He watched the Nimbasa News as he fixed his tie and equipped his cap. 

He chatted idly with his and Ingo’s pokemon, brushing his hands over them softly, fleeting touches to make sure everyone was accounted for and loved.

He thought of Ingo only twice; Both fond memories that he allowed himself to smile softly at, to reminisce and appreciate before continuing onwards. 

His life had derailed so harshly four years ago. The tracks ripped from their foundation, the cars cast to the side dented and destroyed, the windows shattered, the engine aflame-

But today, as he stepped out into the brisk morning, the sunlight drifting warmly through the empty streets,
His tracks were steady, his car was patched, his windows had been polished, and his engine.

His poor, beaten, rusty engine.

It was not fixed, but it was working once more, brought back from the brink.

He would use the days ahead of him to keep moving down the rails. 
To keep chugging forward, one foot in front of the other. 
One step at a time, even in the days he stumbles through grief. 

Even in the days he falls to his knees and drowns in his regret, he will stand again. 

And today, he will keep walking.

⭒▿▿▽▿▿⭒

Emmet kicked his legs absentmindedly as he waited in the final car of the Super Doubles train. He was verrry excited to see if any challengers would make it today- He had a series of wonderful battles the day before that really set the bar! He wanted to fight! 

But 

That would have to wait until someone actually made it to his car.
He sighed with a lopsided grin as he watched the lights flick by on the passing walls.

It didn’t help that he had something else on his mind that made it so so verrry much harder to sit still today!
It had been four days since the sightings began- Reports popping up about a strong, fearsome, unrecognizable Pokemon that was wandering the subway tunnels.

Emmet was positively itching to battle it! He had been scouring the subway every day and night before and after his shift- A wild Pokemon powerful enough to defeat every trainer it came across was undoubtedly a safety hazard, and therefore it was his job as a… As the Subway Boss to keep the tracks safe and clear -But obviously if it was so strong then it would be so much fun to fight!

What he actually found most surprising was that he hadn't gotten to battle it yet- He always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time! 

The first sighting happened when the subway was being prepared to open four days ago- Emmet heard one of the Depot Agents shriek while performing the safety checks on the singles line, and by the time he made it over there was no trace of danger except for said Depot Agent knocked on their ass, staring after the tunnels. They had said there was a giant figure looming over at the edge of the platform entrance, and isn’t that ominous? But then it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Disappointing! That had been the closest Emmet had come so far to seeing it himself.

The second sighting was the day after; Commuters and subway workers alike had heard sounds- Booming sounds, a cry- a voice? And a few adventurous trainers and depot agents concerned-for-said trainers’-safety had gone into the tunnels to see what had happened. They found a pack of Watchog, a duo of Scrafty, and a large sized Garboder all knocked out and strewn around like ragdolls, no explanation as to what caused it other than disturbed earth and a dark blur displacing the wind when they arrived on the scene.

The third sighting- Holy shit the third sighting, it was such a horrible safety hazard but DRAGONS he wishes he got to see it -The station cameras caught on recording as a massive humanoid shape rocketed past the platform to Anville Town, seemingly using the rails to propel itself? -as passers by shrieked and fell over themselves in shock.

Then. 

The Pokemon they could barely make out thanks to sheer speed, FUCKING 

JUMPED THE ONCOMING SUBWAY TRAIN. 

Ingo would be LIVID if he could’ve seen that shit. Emmet was fucking losing it replaying the footage in the security office that night. He had been running Singles at the time. He would’ve killed to be there.
The thought of it again made him stand up and start to pace impatiently. He looked up at the clock for the umpteenth time. The train would be nearing the final station for the evening soon, and it seemed like he wouldn’t be getting a chance to battle any of those trainers. Damn.

Well, anyway. Derailing from the battling and disappointing lack thereof- The other sightings had gotten a lot more frequent and involved. Twice yesterday there had been scuffles involving the mystery ‘Mon and several trainers, apparently all fighting it at once and still losing! Just today it had been seen peering in at one of the platforms- In the middle of the afternoon rush, mind you -before slowly walking through to the other side and disappearing into the tunnel again. 

It must be either getting bolder or more desperate, to let so many people see it after it had been so skittish before. It didn’t even attack them! Just walked right by! 

According to those waiting for the Wifi Line at the time, the Pokemon has human-like body shape and is over ten feet tall, with a cape-like plume that rippled behind it making its imposing form harder to distinguish. Its legs rotated in time like a machine made of wheels and gears. It had a crest that shaded its face, blacking out the view of it despite the bright lighting of the station. It moved with a tension in its muscles that made it seem stiff and hostile.

And isn’t that just a tantalizing vague description!
Emmet started to bounce on his toes now, opting to swing his arms as he continued to ponder. 

He had genuinely considered one theory of his multiple times- What if they were witnessing the first recorded appearances of a new Legendary Pokemon? An avatar of the Subway itself? With the way it was described, using the terrain to its advantage, the imposing figure and aura of intimidation, its immense power and speed- oh Emmet wanted to fight it so bad .

Ooooh what if it was one of those Ultra Beasts from the international news! That would be verrry fun- although, it probably wasn’t, given the destruction that UBs usually left in their wake. 
The scenes where the Pokemon had been spotted were almost eerily clean, either denoting swift battles or an otherwise undetectable presence. 

It probably wasn’t actually a Legendary Pokemon or an Ultra Beast, as incredible as that may be.

It was most likely just some poor confused ‘mon that got smuggled into the country from some other region, lost and afraid, somewhere unfamiliar...

...But it could be.

*Ding!* We will be arriving at Gear Station shortly. Thank you for riding the Super Doubles train, please begin to wrap up any unfinished battles and stow your Pokemon and items to prepare for arrival. We hope you ride with us again on the Nimbasa City Battle Subway. *Ding!*

Ah.
Emmet took one of the grips that dangled from the top of the car in his hand as the train began to slow.
Well, unfortunately he was correct today that no one would make it to the final car. A shame, really. Some of their combinations looked verrry strong! He would just hope they returned to battle some other day.

Emmet took confident strides as the subway doors slid open, tipping his hat to trainers as they filed out onto the station. A few of them looked dejected- Likely from having their tracks cut short just before they could pull into the station. To those ones he waved and gave his signature smile. 

They should already know that he would be waiting in anticipation to face them, even if it wasn’t now!

There aren’t as many people milling about the station now that the evening is starting to close in. Emmet checked his Xtranciever for the time. 7:30, right on schedule! He made brisk pace to the main station as he prepared for his final round-trip of the evening. Super Multi’s was harder now that Ingo had left, but he still got to see lots of combin-!

“BOSS!! Boss Emmet!” 

A depot agent from the Single line bursts in from the platform stairs across the station, nearly falling over himself in his rush. 
“The mystery Pokemon has been cornered in the Singles line! We got some help from a few nearby trainers but it’s as strong as they say and-”

A starry-eyed glee took over Emmet’s face as he took quick and long strides, meeting the agent in the middle before swiftly passing him by. 
“I am Emmet! I will go to the Single Battle line and confront the mystery Pokemon right away!” 

“Right! Good luck sir!” The depot agent saluted him, not that he could see it. “If we can subdue it we got word that Professor Juniper would be available to come and research it-” 

Emmet was nearly out of earshot, but he responded regardless.

“Understood! We will proceed at full speed!” Emmet broke into a run as he neared the Singles platform, jumping most of the stairs in a way that surely would have made his brother shriek about ‘SAFETY PROTOCOLS!’ before sliding down the guardrail and hopping onto the tiled floor, keeping his momentum. The singles platform appears to have been cleared- Perfect! With bystanders accounted for Emmet could focus exclusively on pursuit and attack!  

A group of seven or so depot agents and miscellaneous trainers who must’ve been nearby have formed a barricade on both sides of the tunnel entrance, effectively blocking off the potential paths of escape. Emmet could hear the sounds of a struggle from the hall on the right and ran confidently past the wall of trainers and ‘mons alike to join the fray.

Emmet could faintly hear the frantic shouts of trainers and hurt cries of pokemon echoing down the tunnel as he began to draw closer, clashes of metal screeching on metal following the sounds of electric and fighting type attacks(?) before they were overshadowed by something far, FAR more threatening. 

The sound BOOMED through the subway as a call sounded out, carrying the distinctive growl and timbre of a threat. Thinly veiled fury.  A warning.

“AAAAAAWWWWLAAA! AAWWWLA BOOOAAAAAAAH!”

(Back the hell off, or I’ll make you.)

The noise could’ve shattered windshields. Dust fell from loose bricks in the ceiling. 

As if the reverberating sound coursing through the air wasn’t enough, the ground itself began to shake.

Oh no.
Emmet sent out Eelektross and hooked an arm around the lamprey faster than he could process what he was doing- He knew what was coming next.

Earthquake.

Eelektross lifted him into the air just as a dangerous rumble bore its way from the depths. It didn’t seem to hit as hard out at this distance, but even a few misplaced Earth Powers could cripple the subway for days at a time- The potential damage nearer to the scene could be irreparable for some time. Emmet dropped back to the ground and ran faster, recalling Eelektross, mind racing. 
Just because it hadn’t caused damage before clearly didn’t mean it wouldn’t. 
Emmet was just praying to the flames that he made it to the fight before the power went down or something else catastrophic happened. A cave-in would put them out of business for weeks.

And, something else bothered him as the sounds of the chaotic frenzy drew closer. 

Something itching the back of his mind just so that he couldn’t really consciously process as he focused on what was in front of him. 

Why did that cry sound so vaguely nostalgic?

Emmet picked his way around loose bricks that had fallen from the ceiling and walls while charging full eight and sand.
He was about to run into the battle at hand, if the cacophony of commands and movement was anything to go by.

The lack of visible disrepair and destruction ticked another mental box in the back of his mind. Had the pokemon been weakened so much already? 

Or was it restraining itself?

Why?

Emmet came to a sliding stop as his boots dug into the ground, stopping him just before he ran into the backs of a subway-trainer-depot-agent duo. Their Golurk and Cryogonal blocked Emmet’s line of sight, and he could see at a glance they were both worse for wear. 

“WAAGH! Oh! Boss!!” The ice type agent flinched violently at his sudden arrival before lighting up when xey saw who it was. “Boss, we’ve been holding this thing at bay for as long as we can but it’s just knocked out most of us-!”
Emmet cut xem off “-With an Earthquake, right? Do not worry! I will handle the situation from here.”

“Are you sure you can take it on?” The golurk’s trainer raised an eyebrow at Emmet while Golurk used Block to guard the three of them from damage. Emmet tried to peek around the side of it but could only make out a verrry tall silhouette and more shouting.

“AWWWL, AWWLLAAAAAH!” 

The cries sounded restrained, and possibly distraught.
The other trainers probably couldn’t tell that, though, he had always had verrry good hearing.

Someone tried to throw an ultraball at it from what Emmet could catch in his periphery. He couldn't see if it hit its mark, but he didn't have to-
He heard the trainer gasp and a wicked crunching noise followed immediately after. 

The Pokemon let out another shout, something filled with rage but laced with fear.

He focused back on the trainer in front of him and simply responded, "I am Emmet. I am the Subway Boss. I will handle it from here." His signature smile gracing his features. 
They shrugged. "Alright then. Take it away I guess." The two of them parted in the middle as their Pokemon moved out of the way, and Emmet could finally put his skill to use analyzing the battle.

His breath hitched as he caught sight of brown and black stripes- just slightly too sun bleached, but still reminiscent of something else.

Not the time.

Focus.

The Pokemon had its back turned to him, and was currently fighting three on one with a Lucario, Altaria, and Reuniclus- 

Sorry, fighting two on one. A shredded focus sash drifted to the floor as the Lucario staggered, which was immediately followed up by a heavy hit to the face from the opposing 'Mon's arm. Lucario slammed harshly into the wall, collapsing before being recalled by its trainer. 

There were other pokemon scattered around as well, many injured and being tended to by their trainers, others paused as they looked for a place to join the fray.

The triangles at the tips of its familiar coat seemed to shiver before it stiffened, turning around harshly to face Emmet head on and ignoring the opponents it had been facing. 

It has good instincts to sense the arrival of a stronger foe-
Emmet’s train of thought was interrupted as he finally got a good look at the pokemon in question, taking it all in as his brain worked in slow motion. First he sees the pokemon’s claw-like… hooves perhaps? They are the perfect size for latching onto the rails, and they appear to have some kind of wheel for taking advantage of that. He can see the way they tear into the ground- Desperation. His eyes trail up. The pokemon has wheels formed on its legs like those of a train, spinning in tandem as the joints work to course-correct from the sudden turn. The plume of its coat, still that slightly-off color from the coat he knows, was marked with little triangles at the tips and scored with tattered cuts at the edges. Its torso trails up to a strong figure lined with plates of armor and metal. Definitely a steel type. It is tense. Afraid. Its heavy-looking arms are tipped with sharp claws, two prongs with another hooking mechanism of some kind. Clenched, ready to attack anything that comes near. 

And lastly, Emmet finally settles on its face. 

His smile dropped, replaced only with stunned disbelief. 

The permanent frown etched on its face, the silver-gray of the eyes that meet his. He's read a face like this so many times that his brain may as well have downloaded the emotions straight off of it. 

Eyebrows tilted barely upwards at the edges. Panic. Confusion. Fear.

Eyes set and straight forward. Focus. Determination. Anger.

Frown stretched thin and downturned heavily. Stress. Desperation. Pain.

Cheeks pinched, eye bags prominent, stress lines across the face. Hasn’t been eating or sleeping well. Working too much.

And for a moment, when they meet eyes for a split second, 

it all gives way. 

Relief. Recognition. Safety. 

For that fraction of an instant, the pokemon eases completely.

And isn’t that an interesting reaction to the strongest trainer here?

Then, it tenses again just as quickly. 
Its eyes narrow, its muscles taught, ready to move. 

The face of someone tricked one too many times. Cautious; clever. 

Time seems to speed up again as voices of people and pokemon pick up around them. The chaos of the battle is ringing in their ears, but in that moment between the two of them, they could’ve heard a pin drop.

“...You look just like him.” Emmet breathes, barely a whisper. 

It drops its defensive posture, loosening just so. A moment of trust.

Emmet barely has time to react when he sees glowing orange coalesce dangerously behind it. 

They’re mid battle. 
Reuniclus. 
Focus Blast.  

“BRAKES!!! BRAKES!” His hands shoot forward in alarm and he takes a sudden step forward. 

His volume would have rivaled Ingo’s.

He hadn’t noticed fast enough. 

The mystery pokemon whipped around just to be met face to face with the powerful impact, slamming it hard in the chest. Super effective. The pokemon fell to its knees with a scream of pain. Emmet shot past the other trainers now, when had he started running?- And then he was at the pokemon’s side, twice as intimidating, despite the fact it was still taller than him on its knees. 

“Withdraw your pokemon.”  

Emmet's voice was sharp. A slashing tone he never used at work. It was unprofessional, too hostile- a thin thread away from killing at the sound.

The Reuniclus' trainer recalled it so fast that her movements were borderline robotic- with how her hand snapped up with its pokeball the instant the words left Emmet's mouth, you would think she had been burned.

Emmet took a second to recompose himself. 

He was not upset. 
He had no reason to be upset. 
He was not upset.

With his tone back to an acceptable level, he spoke again.

"I mean that to everyone." He stated, before tacking on a "Please." to counteract his presumably venomous voice before. Personally Emmet saw nothing wrong with it, but Ingo would always let him know if something was rude, and usually the feeling of that tone was considered malicious according to him.  

A trainer stepped forward and opened their mouth to say something, but Lucario's trainer- A veteran depot agent -placed a hand on their shoulder. He gave Emmet a knowing look, to which Emmet could only respond with puzzlement.
A question for another time, as he continued;

"I am Emmet. I am the Subway Boss. I will handle it from here."

A few of the remaining trainers grumbled, probably disappointed by the anticlimax or their failure to catch it, but they all complied and put their Pokemon away. The depot agents, led helpfully by the one with the Lucario, worked to heal up any injured pokemon and move everyone away from the scene. Emmet let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding as the dozen pairs of eyes finally let off of him.

It was then he remembered the injured, wild, visibly aggressive Pokemon was still right there at his side. He looked up at it to see it had been staring at him, right at his face it would seem. Emmet could hear it taking labored breaths, and pain was written all over its face.

He tried not to overanalyze its expression, he really did, but in Emmet's defense it was second nature to him at this point. Trying to keep his observations at surface level emotions, it seemed to be mainly confused and wary, with the open hostility having drained away now that there were less active threats. Part of its body language seemed to give off that it was almost resigned to whatever fate Emmet had decided for it.

hm.

Not perfect, but Emmet can work with this.

He's meeting a new Pokemon! Emmet turns to face it. He'd better reintroduce himself!

"As I said, I am Emmet. I am the Subway Boss. You are verrry strong; very strong. You are hurt also." The Pokemon shifts anxiously, another flash of recognition on its face that was quickly snuffed out. 

There is a pause where Emmet isn't sure what to say. Ingo was always better with words. Ah! But Emmet was observant, and better with actions! He had an idea of what to do. 

 “The safety of my passengers is my number one priority.” The pokemon nods slowly, agreeable, even; but nervous. “There have been many reports and sightings of you the past several days. Many wild pokemon were found fainted and every trainer who challenged you has lost.”  Though larger than him, it seemed to shrink under his gaze, shifting on its knees in a way that Emmet felt was reminiscent of something. 

“I am Emmet. You will not hurt me.”
The pokemon’s eyes widened before they sharpened in a furrow once more. Questions it couldn’t voice. Suspicions. It was trying to fend him off with sharp looks alone, which seemed understandable given their current positions. It had the wrong impression though, so Emmet carried on his track of thought. 

“You did not attack unprovoked. People and pokemon have been chasing you and trying to catch you. You are injured, stressed, and you are not rested.” It seemed to slowly untense as Emmet spoke, so he continued, "You have been attacked lots the past four days, but you have not injured any people nor damaged the subway beyond what was necessary to protect yourself." Emmet nodded along with himself. The Pokemon was still visibly recovering from the focus blast. "You are verrry strong, but you have been essentially haunted since your appearance, yup." It nodded slowly. 

"I think your reaction is justified. I have seen the way you have avoided damaging the personnel or the subway. If you were feral or wanted to harm me then you would not do that." It loosened further, though still taking arduous breaths. It was leaning heavily to one side, to avoid putting pressure on an injury, his mind gave him.

He couldn't help but begin to tap his foot, letting off some nervous energy. "I would like to heal your injuries now, if you will let me.” It seemed to sit up straighter- Wary, bewildered -before it winced and adjusted its weight again. The pokemon narrowed its eyes at him, inspecting him for the fifth time. Emmet brushed his coat off lightly, standing up straighter and put on his most reassuring smile. 

“I understand your hesitation, but as I said; I am Emmet, and passenger safety is my number one priority. You have been living here for several days, and from what I’ve seen this is the place you have made your new home station. So you are a resident of Gear Station as well, and you have not been given any hospitality.”

“If you will not attack me, then I would like to heal you.” Emmet hesitated.
“I do not like seeing pokemon suffer. Please.” 

A certain softness had come into his voice. He did not mean for that to happen, he did not know how he did that. But the sound of it was mirrored in the expression on the pokemon’s face- a sort of understanding, it seemed, as it finally shifted away from its fight-or-flight tension into something closer to actually sitting down. Or at least, the fight part of fight-or-flight. It seemed prepared to leave at the first sign of danger, which again, was understandable. 

“I will heal you now.” Emmet meant it as a question, but it came out as a statement. The pokemon appeared to assent anyways, understanding the unusual phrasing with no issue. 

Emmet finally approached within reasonable reach of the pokemon for the first time. It did not tense or flinch. 

Up closer it was muuuuch more obvious how weary it was, and now that he was able to actually inspect it he could see angry fissures spider-webbing out from the point of impact on the plate armor making up its torso. It was shattering and fragmented in several places. How was this pokemon even conscious right now??? Holy shit. Emmet hissed to himself just looking at it- he imagined it felt much worse than it looked.

Emmet began taking out his supplies out of his coat faster, assembling a collection of hyper potions and berries, as well as some gauze, and revives just in case. The pokemon held firmly in its attempt to hide the pain on its face as it watched him sort through his coat. It was keeping an eye on his hands as he- Ah. “I am getting my medicine. My pokeballs are always kept on the left.” and the pokemon seemed to accept that as true. 

(Which it was.)

He bounced on his feet, arms full as he turned his attention back to the injured mon. It was still going to be difficult to work with if it thought he would capture or attack it. How could he make this easier for the both of them… His gaze trailed off to the sides, following along the subway walls, and he got an idea.

“Would you feel safer here at the junction, or would you rather sit against the wall?” Emmet could see as it seemed to weigh the pros and cons of each, and of course Emmet had already done the same, but it seemed thoughtfully surprised that he would offer. 

It took a somewhat strained look around, before finally bringing itself up off of its knees and moving backwards to the nearest wall and near-collapsing against it. The pokemon’s state of injury was now definitely impossible to ignore, with how it had clearly forced itself with every ounce of willpower to fight against the pain and move. 

An inapt comment sprung up in Emmet's mind and,  

“Wow. Your legs turn like train wheels.” 

The thought just slipped out before Emmet could stop it. Whoops. The pokemon didn’t seem to mind it, or maybe it just didn’t notice (unlikely), so Emmet just hastily strolled back up to it at its new position. It had already seemed more at ease than before, so thankfully Emmet’s plan had worked.

He laid the array out in front of him and kneeled in front of the pokemon. He didn’t have to, it was still far taller than him, but he felt it would help. He started by lightly applying some of the potion to the plate that took the worst of the impact, while absently flicking his hands when left idle. He scanned over the rest of its large form and tried to spot any more injuries while he carefully, gently wrapped the gauze around its chest. He could see hairline fractures all over the metal sheets that made up various sliding parts, crack and scuffs on the hems of its solid steel arms, and many bruises and score marks in various places all over. 

Eventually his eyes met its face once more. He found it staring at him again. He looked away. He was not emotionally compromised, and he was not thinking about his brother at the sight of a too-familiar frown, and he was not thinking about how cruel the world was to put something so similar to his twin horribly injured in front of him.

He continued to add bandages and apply potions where necessary, moving around to different positions as it simply watched him, stone-still. Steel-still? Not important moving on- He stuck his tongue out a little as he worked at a particularly rough set of claw marks on its right arm. He was still surprised, and somewhat distraught to be honest, that the pokemon was somehow keeping its eyes open with all of these injuries.

“I am Emmet. This is going to take a while, I think.” 

The pokemon only moved if Emmet needed to reach a certain spot. He continued quietly keeping his head down and working at the wounds, although his eyes would still traitorously look up at its face every once and a while. 

A calm sort of methodic quiet settled over them as he did his best to heal it.

In the silence, Emmet finally had a moment to process what he had seen during the battle. He was a master of double battles. He had unrivaled skill now that Ingo was gone in assessing a battle and taking in every single detail in order to fiercely issue perfect commands. He had seen everything that had happened in that single moment during the fight with Reuniclus. 

The pokemon had immediately reacted to his shout without a hint of hesitation, and whipped around to face Reuniclus. Emmet could see the effortlessly fluid look in its eye as it assessed the situation in an instant just like Emmet had. He saw the way the Reuniclus had slightly flinched, the ferocious orb of light already flung in motion and- 

it would’ve missed.

Focus Blast was verrry hard to aim. It would have soared right past the opposing mon, and its trajectory would have gone 

right 

through 

Emmet. 

He saw, in that half-second eternity before the hit, the pokemon glanced back at him. 

And it moved just slightly, hardly perceptible to an outsider or at a distance,

To stand in the way.

Looking straight forward as it stood its ground against the scathing super effective attack.

flames above, how was he supposed to begin thinking about what all of that was supposed to mean? 

Why would any wild pokemon risk its life for him if they had never met. Why would any wild pokemon be willing to withstand the pain of a super effective attack for a stranger. Why did a wild pokemon look so much like his long lost brother. Why why why wh y-

At the very least it… lined up with its priorities..? It had avoided hurting the commuters and trainers. It nodded when he mentioned passenger safety. It was more than drastic, it was downright outrageous, but maybe when Emmet thought it was some kind of incarnation of the subway he wasn’t entirely wrong. 

His mind was breaking. 
He didn’t want to think about this.
He didn’t want to think about the implications of this. 

But his subconscious chugged away regardless. 
Why did the embodiment of the subway have to look like Ingo? That wasn’t fair. That wasn’t fair to Emmet at all. It may as well have confirmed him dead, and though heartwarming to conceptualize as it was to see his brother as the universe’s choice to represent the subway, it would shatter his barely-repaired engine to have to look at the too-familiar but not the same pokemon every day.

He would definitely be crying right now if his brain wasn’t tucking those thoughts away.  
Which it was, verrry forcefully. 

Emmet was completely zoned in on tending to the pokemon in front of him, keeping his mind focused entirely on the task in front of him instead of the traitorous ember trying to reignite in his chest. 
He had accepted his truth long ago. 

Ingo was dead.

A wave of sorrow washed over him and settled next to the ache in his heart, putting out the still weak flame. 
He suppressed that too. Now was not the time. He was not going to do this right now! 

So he didn’t.

With every new injury he found and attempted to patch, Emmet grew more and more worried. He was sure concern was plastered all over his face at this point. It was like for every scratch or scuff he applied potions to, three more would rear their heads like angry Hydreigon. 

Not to mention, hidden away in some of the softer places, there were some distressingly deep wounds. Emmet had been trying to get at a nick on the pokemon’s forearm that it was being oddly stubborn over when he saw what it had been trying to hide- There was a jagged gash in the crook where its arm met its shoulder piece that cut deep enough it was actually bleeding. Emmet felt a whine of distress escape him, which seemed to finally stop the pokemon’s resistance, and he was quickly all over the arm. Fussing and applying potion where he could, liberally applying bandages and flitting over the wounds. 

At one point he took his stock of berries and just pushed the entire thing towards the pokemon- The specific effects of them didn’t matter, at this point it clearly needed any effect they would have. Also it needed to eat, that much had been obvious enough before Emmet could look over it closer. Emmet would still grab any he needed from the pile for balms or juices that would remedy specific injuries, but whatever berry he might’ve needed, it was definitely more important that it ate something. 

It finally took some of the berries, nibbling at one of them cautiously. 

Emmet had been going at it for a while now, and his flat smile had turned into an empathetic grimace. Much to his own dismay, he was going to have to bear some bad news.
The pokemon finally took a bite out of the Pecha berry it was holding as Emmet spoke up. 

"I do not think I can heal all of this." 

The pokemon paused, but otherwise did not give a reaction, so he hesitantly continued. 

"I think we should take you to a Pokemon Center."

It did react this time- it stiffened noticeably, and drew its limbs a bit closer to itself. Emmet leveled it with a matching look of nervousness, including a lopsided grin. "I am Emmet, I am sorry, but some of your wounds are verrry severe." He points at the bandages around its chest and arm.
"Especially these. You need medical attention." 

The pokemon gave a defensive low rumble but it was rather mild. Emmet would guess that meant it knew he was right, but didn't want to admit it. 

"I have a plan."
It tilted its head slightly in response.

Emmet opened his mouth to speak, before clicking it shut again. 

He licked his lips, and tried to formulate what he was going to say. He had to be verrry careful about what he said next. His idea was absolutely going to get a negative reaction out of the pokemon, but it was the best and easiest way. He was not good with words, and he did not want to break the small line of trust he has built… 

…With the way it had reacted to the trainer with the ultra ball earlier… 

Emmet started to think hard about how to put his idea to words. He got a bit lost in his own head, running sentences over in his mind multiple times and occasionally flicking his wrists in an anxious stim. He noticed peripherally that the pokemon would actually mirror him when he did, which was kind of adorable, but probably exacerbated some of its cuts. By the time he looked back up at the pokemon about two minutes had passed. It had been patiently waiting for him, apparently deciding to study his uniform instead. It focused back in on him again when Emmet began to speak.

“You are not going to like my plan, but it is the fastest and safest way I can think of.”
Emmet takes a deep breath, giving it (and him) a second to brace itself, raising his hands in a placating gesture in advance.

“The best way to take you would be by pokeball.” 
The reaction was instant. A sharp glare in narrowed eyes, a loud low growl rumbled ominously in its chest. It tensed into a position to attack or run in a split second.

“Hear me out for just a second please-”
It was already shifting to stand up, fighting through the pain much more easily now that it had been tended to partially.

Emmet rrreally didn’t want to do this, but he did not want it to disappear off into the tunnels again without getting help.

He shrugged his coat off his shoulders with exceptional speed
And he tossed it to the side, to his left, a good ten feet away.

The pokemon paused.

It kept its eyes fixed right on him.

Emmet felt verrry exposed right now. 

All of his supplies were in there, that was true, but so were his pokemon. 

Without the steady weighted cloth on his shoulders, he could already feel himself quivering under the pokemon's offended glare.

" H ear me out, for a second, pl ease. " For once in his life, he had to fight to keep his voice steady. It allowed him to speak, but it did not let down its guard.

"You are wounded. You are not in a position to travel."

"Awll." It grumbled.

"You are capable of moving but that does not mean you should move."
The Pokemon looked to one side and huffed.

"You are an unknown. You will attract a lot of attention. Other trainers will try to catch you.”

The pokemon shivers at this, and its initial anger turns to something of genuine fear for a moment. 

“I do not think you can arrive safely at your destination if you walk there. I have considered other options but it is difficult because you are verrry tall. s orry. any wa y.”

It shuffles uncomfortably. 

“I know this is… not good for you. Sor r y my track is running out.” Emmet fidgets with his hands. He does not like how exposed his neck feels without his collar. “It is asking a lot of you and it is vulnerable. I am Emmet.” He is starting to lose his train of thought. “My idea is that I can use a pokeball to transport you to the center and then release you when we arrive, I can get you a back room so then you will be away from prying ey es and you can receive medical attention from a professional after which i can either return you to this station or ma ybe another destination if you have one in mind or j ust let you handle your own cab from th ere-  regardless then i or you can break the pokeball and  have the assurance that it is   a non perma nent a rrangement because-”

Emmet feels a sudden weight on his shoulder and he comes back to himself. When had he started staring at the floor-! His hands are gripping his shirt collar- He drops his arms back to his sides hastily, and his attention is brought to the pressure that helped snap him out of it. 

His breath catches in his throat

A familiar black and brown

Not the right shade

Emmet looks up at the pokemon across from him.

Its figure is a lot less imposing without the striped plume flaring out behind it, which apparently can be disconnected from the plates around its midriff. 

And was currently laying over him.

Oh.

The grounding, smooth texture and gravity of fabric-like-metal helped him get his thoughts in order. Like gently shifting his train back to the right track.

“The trip will be short and efficient. I am Emmet, the subway boss. I can halt all questions regarding you before they leave the railyard, and with you hidden away, our two-car train can continue to our destination with no unplanned stops.” Emmet nods, now looking the pokemon in the eyes, speaking clearly and unwavering. It is regarding him calmly. Its eyes are more tired than wary, and it has lowered itself closer again rather than extended to full height with a panicked stiffness. 

“Being assigned a pokeball prevents other trainers from catching you. When we arrive, I will speak with the nurse and I can get a private room with enough space for you. They can professionally treat your wounds. After that, you may either leave for your next stop, or I can conduct you to another station. As we part ways the pokeball will be broken. You can do it yourself if you want.”

“I am Emmet. I am the Subway Boss. Passenger safety is our- my -number one priority, and I will keep my word and uphold your agency. I am Emmet. You are a Pokemon. You do not want to be caught. So I will not keep you. It is only for transport, and if at any time you feel unsafe, I can find a secluded place and come up with another alternative.”

“...That is my plan.”
Emmet looks back down at the ground and subconsciously tightens the… It’s a lot like a blanket, really, around himself. He should really give this back. The little triangles at the corners quivered.

“ Awwla. ”

He tilts his head back up to meet its face, taking the plume off carefully and handing it to the pokemon. He includes a quiet ' Thank you .' 

It is thinking, he can see the figurative and literal gears turning.

The pokemon takes the coat back, whirling it around to wreath its frame again, holding it up to where it was formerly attached. Emmet was fixated watching mechanical movements as tiny pieces clicked and whirred, a faint rattling-humming in a rhythmic beat. The segment seemed to almost magnetize and reattach itself, intricate machinery seeming to lace itself back together and zip into place. The pokemon gave it a light tug, before seeming satisfied and returning its attention to him. 

“Awwwl. Awlaaboah.”

It had a resolute galvanism behind its eyes. The feeling of making eye contact tingled like electricity- Normally Emmet hated it, but it felt right at that moment.

“Abohha.”
It held a claw up, and tapped him very, very lightly on the chest, before it reached over and picked his coat up off the ground. It presented it back to him with an unidentifiable expression. 

Emmet looked between it and his uniform, slowly taking it from the mon, continuing to check with it in a wordless question of permission. 

It does not waver. 

He slips the comfortable memento back over his shoulders and lets himself ease into the familiar folds. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

This was a verrry big display of trust, he understood.

“You are willing to try my plan?” Thankfully, he managed to school his tone into a question this time.

It hesitates, then it pauses. It thinks it over one last time. Safety checks are always important.

It nods firmly.

Emmet’s smile turns softer, a genuine kindness thrumming in his veins reflected on his face. 

“Very well then! Our destination is set!” He can’t stand up any straighter, but if he could he Would Be. 

Wow.

He is verrry surprised that worked, in all honesty. 
Time to prove his earnesty. 

He shuffled through the items he kept in the left side of his coat, and although the pokemon had lowered itself back into a seated position, he could tell it was bracing itself. 

“I won’t spring it on you. That would be verrry rude. I am just searching for… Ah! Here.”

Emmet takes three pokeballs out of his jacket of different varieties, all empty. The pokemon tenses regardless. An understandable reaction despite his assurances. Emmet steps forward and sits cross-legged in front of it, mirroring its seated position subconsciously. 

It is much easier to relax with all of the hard parts out of the way! So Emmet was content to just be Emmet for a moment as he got to talk to this very new, verrry interesting undiscovered pokemon in front of him! He could feel himself lighting up at the prospect.

“I have a few options!” He allowed himself to gesture animatedly like he liked to, now that he didn’t have to avoid spooking it off. He set the three pokeballs down in front of him, and the pokemon leaned in slightly to look.

“So! There are many types of pokeball, and I thought you may wanna choose, even if it’s only a temporary arrangement.” Emmet pointed to the first one and began his explanation. “This is a luxury ball! It is comfortable, yup. Probably the nicest one in terms of travel, but I wouldn’t know.” He points to the next, “This one is a quick ball, I thought it’d be a good option because it would be the easiest one to break out of.” The pokemon’s eyes widen, but it nods and considers the ball thoughtfully. 

Emmet can see the way it is carefully angling itself away from them, avoiding them like burning coals. 

“Last one is a heavy ball. I picked it for the opposite reason- It is verrry sturdy, so it would be the safest in case of a sudden track change or derailment- That does also make it harder to break though, yup.” The pokemon nods again, a bit slower. It seems to consider this option too, which Emmet wasn’t expecting, but he appreciated the thoroughness.

The pokemon reaches out carefully, and attempts to pick the three of them up in its claws. It holds them as though they are fine china, which was a level of delicateness Emmet was not expecting from the large creature. 

…To be fair, it also was regarding the balls like they could explode into flames at any second, so he supposed it may just be out of wariness. 

Emmet gave it a moment to think things through as it seemed to weigh its options. It had been patient with him, after all! So Emmet returned the kindness. 

It took a while. That was okay, except a few of the depot agents still manning the blockade were getting concerned. His xtransceiver lit up with a few messages, which he dismissed with a short ‘I am Emmet, all proceedings are arriving as scheduled.’ without any elaboration. When the one who had gotten in touch with Professor Juniper asked what they should say to her, Emmet halted for a moment. He put a hand to his chin to consider, before typing back a quick ‘Tell her that maintenance is in order before our tracks can continue at this station.’ and putting his xtrans away. 

His new passenger had made its decision, setting the three balls back down but flicking the luxury ball lightly and rolling it towards Emmet. 

“Ah! Is this your choice then?” Emmet picked it up, and gathered the other two with his opposite hand. It nodded, shifting uncomfortably again. Emmet pocketed the other two, and cupped the luxury ball in his hands. 

“Alright!” Emmet moved to stand, and stretched slightly with a pop. 

It was steel-still once again, tension in every muscle and mechanism. Not a great first impression! Emmet would try to fix that before they departed the station.

“Are you ready to depart?” The pokemon simply stared at the ball, and moved its head in what may have been the barest attempt at a nod. 

“Hey.” 

He called its attention to him and it met his eyes, which was easier now that he was on level with it. 

He gave a reassuring smile, and then shifted in a gesture so precise from what could only be thousands, hundreds of thousands movements worth of muscle memory. He gave a point and call with his right arm held out straight to his side, and his left holding the ball out in front of him facing upwards. He made an effort to soften the motion and the hail that came with it, kept quieter in a way he hoped came across as gentle. 

“All aboard!”

The pokemon, who had been stiff during the entire encounter, loosened and leaned forward. Emmet couldn’t help but catch that the corners of its mouth seemed to just barely turn upwards in what could only have been a small smile. 

It held out its right claw, and with one last spark of determination on its face, tapped the button on the top. It held its left arm out to its side in a mirror opposite of Emmet, and in a surprisingly quiet murmur as the infamous light began to envelop it, it called in response:

“Awlla boah.”

The light collected into a bright beam, and then Emmet was left standing alone in the subway tunnel, the sphere in his hand heavy with the weight of the trust placed in him.

Emmet stared down at the polished black and gold ball in his hands for a time, pointedly not looking past the translucent casing to the pokemon inside, before opening his coat once more and placing the ball securely in the topmost pocket.

There were many emotions at war in his mind at that moment. 

He did not want to dwell right now. He had a promise to keep, and a destination set. 

He turned sharply on his heel and strode from the direction he came in a steady gait, arms and legs waving back and forth.

⭒▿▿▽⥊▲▴▴⭑

Emmet stepped confidently through the automatic doors of the center, striding up to the counter with no hesitation. He couldn’t afford to hesitate, he had decided. The walk here had been… it had been something. Not bad, but. 

The stress was palpable in the air. 

Or, in his jacket, he supposed.

They had gotten past the hastily assembled blockade with no issue, Emmet simply asking they make way and stating the situation had been handled, but that he needed to get to the pokemon center urgently. The veteran agent with the Lucario, dragons bless him, had sent the miscellaneous trainers off a while before, so they were only in the company of other depot agents. The one with Cryogonal piped up asking what happened and Emmet had responded, “I am still righting my tracks, but I will arrive at the station later.” It was a phrase Emmet had enjoyed a lot recently, meaning that he was still working on a proper script and would explain when he could put it into words. The agents had understood the turn of phrase with little issue and let him continue forward into Gear Station. 

First stop cleared.  
Something in his mind had nagged him to move faster, and he was trying not to stress out about it. Nothing was wrong??

The walk to the pokemon center was thankfully short, as it was not far- The battle subway had been strategically placed to have its central location close to one for easy access -but it had been very tense despite that. The city bustled like usual with the occasional rowdy kids, rushed worker or two, traffic in the distance… But Emmet’s attention was completely taken by something else entirely:
The pokemon he carried passenger.

He could feel the pokeball trembling against his chest. 

It rattled quietly.

…god, he wanted to put it down. 

The anxious tremors felt like they would break his chest open. Figuratively. 

It was so 

Terrified.

Emmet hadn’t wanted that at all. He wished he could just release it back where it came from and snap the ball in two.

The energy it was giving off must have been rubbing off on him, because that was a fairly extreme reaction for Emmet. He walked faster.

Snapping out of his thoughts and back to the present, his eyes skimmed over the lobby as the nurse came over to assist him. “Hello there, how may I help you today?”

He had rehearsed his lines in his head on the way here.
“I have a wild pokemon that has been severely wounded in many places. It is over 10 ft and will require a private room. It is afraid of people, and has a wary disposition.” 

The nurse nodded along to his description, taking mental notes before moving their attention to a computer screen off to one side. They tapped a few buttons and put the information into the system, asking a few clarifying questions such as species, typing, the extent and kind of injuries sustained, and any other details Emmet could provide. Unknown species; Steel typing confirmed, with high likelihood of a secondary- Emmet would be willing to bet on Ground; Many deep cuts and dents with additional miscellaneous lacerations and burns all over, general fatigue, and seemingly malnourished. 

“I would like to keep the pokemon contained until it can be given a private room.”

“Of course, right this way.”
The nurse led Emmet around the counter and through the bay doors. 

Emmet pulled his coat around himself a little tighter, resisting the urge to fidget with the luxury ball that was still shivering over his heart. He eventually settled on passing his hand over it and whispering words of comfort like he would for his main team… Whether or not it actually helped was impossible to tell, because the shaking did not stop. Emmet did his best to keep his heart rate steady as the nurse brought him to a wide open medical room with a high ceiling. Miscellaneous tools of the trade were set carefully on counters and trays throughout the room, all organized and placed intentionally to their specific locations. Emmet took several steps into the room and reached his hand into his uniform, pulling out the pokeball with one hand. It vibrated under his finger tips, so he kept it close to himself as he brought it up to his face. He spoke to his passenger in a quiet voice.

“We’ve arrived at the station.”  

The signature light of a pokemon being released borderline tore its way out of the pokeball. Emmet only had a moment to flinch backwards when the giant figure appeared before it violently whipped  away. Emmet could only catch the tail end of its coat before it was completely sequestered away in the darkest corner, back to the wall, balled up and shivering. It is staring directly at him. 

Emmet had seen his fair share of pokemon that had a dislike of pokeballs or general negative reactions to being kept in them, but this was by far the most harsh backlash he’d ever seen. 

alright. so the theoretical return trip was going to be verrry difficult. okay. yup.
Emmet turned his head to face the nurse as they looked on, eyes wide from the door as they watched the display. “I will do my best to settle this, please go get the doctors.”

They nod, eyes still lingering on the pokemon as they step through the door in a bit of a rush. Emmet takes a weary breath and turns back to face it again. It is still staring at him, but its gaze looks almost vacant. Vacant, but perfectly alert at the same time, catching every one of Emmet’s barest movements. Its gaze was trained on the pokeball in his hand. 

Of course. 
of course. 

Emmet had to think about what to do next… This wasn’t going to be so easily solved. 

He started by putting the luxury ball back in his coat on the left hand side, opening his coat wide so it could see him as he specifically chose a pocket that had a sturdy clasp. He opened it with a soft ‘clikck’ and set the ball inside before closing it firmly with a snap. Emmet tried to make eye contact with it as he performed the action, but he couldn’t meet its eyes. His coat falls back to his side and takes a careful step towards it. He can see the way it has eased just with the ball being out of sight, but it is still nearing hyperventilation.
“The doctors will be here soon.” Emmet says softly, holding his hands up in a placating gesture and taking another step. “They are going to get you treated. You are safe.” 

The pokemon is slowly coming out of its state of panic. Emmet wonders how many of its wounds it exacerbated moving like that. His eye catches on the triangles at the tips of its plume, which are shivering violently. 

Emmet continues forward slowly, making his movements clear as he approaches. “I’m sorry, I did not know that would be such a- Such-” Emmet fumbles over his words, but is now within arms reach of the mon. “That it would be so bad. I’m very very sorry.” It is still looking at him with its fixed empty stare. 

Emmet carefully reaches out and holds onto its right claw, removing from its defensive posture in front of its chest and setting it on his own. “You need to breathe.” He takes an exaggerated lung full of air, holds it, and releases. 

“I will conduct you. Breathe.”  

He takes another deep breath. 

The pokemon’s eyes soften despite its tense posture, and it attempts to copy the action, but it struggles. It breathes deeply only to falter; it exhales only to draw in a sharp breath. More than once it wheezes in pain. Emmet is patient, but he isn’t sure how to help more than this. 

His passenger, in a moment of apparent clarity, removes its claw from his chest and gathers the edge of its coat. It holds the still quivering shape on the end out to him.
Emmet isn’t sure what to do exactly, but he takes the new weight in his hands. The pokemon shudders, but doesn’t make any other motion. 

The triangle vibrates softly. 

The pokemon looks between the shape, his face, and his chest…

Ah!

Emmet places the triangle over his lungs and repeats the breathing exercise. In, hold, out. The pokemon closed its eyes in concentration and began again to mimic the action. This time, it got a hold on the motions and its breathing was far more steady. 

"Great job. Just follow my tracks."

They stayed like this for several minutes, his passenger eventually powering through its fear and returning to a lull calm. It did not open its eyes, though, and Emmet simply kept breathing along with it. 

Their silence was only disturbed when the doctors arrived, pushing the doors open quietly and stepping into the room. Emmet moved the triangle from his chest and held it slightly away as he turned to face the new arrivals. The Pokemon finally opened its eyes, looking down at Emmet first, before turning its attention to the other humans. Emmet handed the shape back to it before intercepting the doctors. 

They stood on the other side of the room and exchanged hushed words, Emmet filling them in on everything relevant he'd seen in the subway, as well as the injuries he could treat and those he couldn't. The pokemon simply watched from the sidelines, no longer pressing its entire body into the corner. From what Emmet could see, it was somewhat relaxed despite the strangers.

Emmet struggled to focus while the doctors asked him more clarifying questions, which he did his best to answer. He hadn't gotten to prepare for this conversation very well, but thankfully they seemed satisfied with his clipped or one-word responses. There were two nurses that had cautiously approached the pokemon, carrying the equipment required to do a general check up. Of course, they definitely didn't have a baseline to be checking for, but it was nice to see them doing what they could. 

After they got all the information they needed, Emmet turned to leave the room and give them some space to work. As he was leaving, however, his passenger gave him a look. 
It seemed confused on the surface, as if it was out of its depth or conflicted, but under the initial layer Emmet read the subtext loud and clear. 

'Please don't leave.'

That expression on that face made Emmet’s heart clench and he decided to pretend like he didn’t know why. 

“I am Emmet. I will be staying in the area, actually.” Emmet closed the door in front of him and moved in his own exuberant way to go and sit on a chair next to the wall. The doctors didn’t object, and the nurses actually seemed a little relieved, so Emmet simply kicked his legs and observed as they began doing their best to treat the pokemon. 

The whole ordeal went surprisingly well. 

With some assistance for its injuries, they managed to coax the pokemon to the middle of the room without resistance. The general checkup had gone well, and despite the lack of healthy measurements to reference, they did manage to figure out that it was absolutely both underweight and generally Not Doing Great! yikes. 

Multiple times Emmet watched as it bobbed its head, fighting off unconsciousness. Emmet would have been glad if it finally fell asleep to be honest- it clearly needed the rest -but Emmet understood that would be impossible. Not in a place so unsafe, from its point of view.

Now that he got to actually observe it, especially compounded with what he saw in the subway, the pokemon was actually much more mild-mannered then the stories had made it out to be. Although, looking back, he could see how it's behavior could have been misinterpreted. Emmet wondered absently how many of the sightings had been exaggerated. Anyways- the pokemon had been exceptionally cooperative for a wild pokemon. In general, but especially with the doctors. They would ask it to move in some way to reach an injury that was too high up or to test its range of movement, and it would comply without resistance. Even when they approached with foreign equipment, it would only look over the devices a moment before allowing them to use them. 

It was very peaceful. Emmet always found healing to be peaceful, but the clinical silence which was only broken by the doctors and nurses moving tools or discussing procedure was pleasantly non-oppressive today.

Emmet had, in the back of his mind, stayed behind in case anything happened. He was the Subway Boss after all, passenger safety was priority! It wasn't like he expected the pokemon to try anything, or the doctors for that matter, but it was always important to commit your safety checks. 

It was because he had been keeping an eye on the operations that he noticed just how often the pokemon would look at him. Unless it had its attention preoccupied by one of the medical professionals or noticed something interesting on one of the shelves, it kept its gaze fixed on him. Near constantly. It was a little unnerving, but also weirdly not unnerving at all. It always had this… complicated expression. It was difficult to describe. Something like a mix of thoughtful apprehension, recognition, lack of recognition, innocent curiosity, deep seeded sorrow and longing, and… a very subtle compassion and softness.

Emmet blinked wetness out of his eyes. He had too much time to think, sitting here and waiting and waiting. His heart was starting to hurt. 

He stopped looking at the pokemon’s face. He couldn’t bear it anymore today.

When the floor tiles began getting boring to count, Emmet reflexively took a pokeball out of his coat and began to fiddle with it. It was just another nervous fidget; pokeballs had many nice ridges and buttons to press on through his gloves. The button makes nice clicking noises. Satisfying. His leg stopped bouncing- oh he had been bouncing his leg. ah. Well he stopped doing that now, and gave the room another safety check. The passenger was still looking at him- wait. No it was looking down at his… lap………

Oh

Ah he had, taken out the wrong

pokeball

The luxury ball sat in his hands, fingers still idly tapping the casing. He forced them to sit still, looking back up at the pokemon now leveling his eyes with the triangle on its chest instead of its face and then awkwardly back at the ball in his hands. 

He felt heat rising to his face as he scrambled to put it back in his coat- Emmet cannot believe he managed to unclasp the pocket without noticing, that’s verrry very very embarrassing! He puts his head in his hands to cover his face. He did not want to be seen anymore today, nope! A shameful display of customer courtesy! He wanted to get off this train now. 

Thankfully, the doctors once again came to the rescue. 

“Alright well, thank you for your cooperation, you’ve been a wonderful patient to work with today. I do believe we’ve done the best we can, how’re you feeling?” Presumably addressing the pokemon, they appear to be wrapping up for the evening. It gives a few strong but pleasant rumbles in response. 

“Boaah! Awllaboahh!”

“Glad to hear it!” Emmet can hear the smile in the doctor’s voice. Can’t see it though! Too busy basking in shame to look up. Nope nope. The doctor walks over to Emmet now by the sound of it. “Your pokemon was exceptionally well behaved today.”
Emmet’s head snaps up at this- Behind the doctor Emmet can see the pokemon start to bristle, but the words are already falling out of Emmet’s mouth before it can raise an argument. 

“It has not stopped at my station, simply commuting on my line.” 

“Oh! My mistake, I read it was marked as wild in the file, but with its docile behavior and the ball you brought it in I presumed it was an error.” 

They turn to the pokemon in question. “Well, regardless, you've certainly a lovely patient to treat- Take good care of yourself. Those were some pretty hefty injuries.”
The pokemon nods at that, and the nurses start putting equipment away.

Emmet brushed himself off and wrapped up the appointment briskly. It was getting late after all- The figurative and literal stops had already delayed significantly with the sudden turn of events the evening had taken. Emmet stayed put as the specialists left, thankfully being granted another moment alone with the pokemon. He turned to face it again, still avoiding meeting its face. 

“I apologize for, that. I did not realize i had. Ah. m mhm.” 
Eloquent as always, Emmet! 

He could feel his face starting to heat up again and he pulled down his cap. His passenger gives what Emmet can only interpret as a chuckle, standing across from him once again. 

“Your cab is fully operational then?” It nods, rolling its shoulders and hunching slightly, before it places its arms behind its back. 

Emmet studies the floor once more for good measure, fiddling with his gloves as he tries to think. His awkward upturn slowly evens out to a more serious, contemplative line. It’s time for them to depart, but how? Emmet wasn’t going to ask it to go in the luxury ball again, that wasn't fair to it. He wracked his brain for a new plan… but he was coming up blank white. 

He doesn't know how many minutes passed with him just standing in front of the pokemon just fidgeting.

"...Boaah?"
The pokemon rumbles in a question. 

"Ah. Sorry for the delay. I am thinking about how to perform transit to your next destination." Emmet fumbles an explanation, motioning his hands.
It tilts its head at him just so. 

"Well, firstly there's the problem of the destination itself- I guess that should be the first stop on our schedule. Are you looking for passage to a different destination, or will you carry on to your next stop on your own? Or of course you can accompany me round trip back to Gear Station." Emmet holds up three fingers and taps them as he recounts the options. 

The pokemon holds up its two-pronged claw in response.

"Ah… I assumed as much. You will be safe to transit alone, then?" He tried to keep the dejected tone out of his voice, which wasn't very hard for him, thankfully. 

It blinks at him, then it looks down at its claw.
It pinches it open and shut twice, blinking again, before giving an exasperated sigh and holding up one finger on its other claw as well. 

"Oh. Misunderstanding, yup gotcha. Uh. Well." He puts his hands in the pockets on the inside of his coat to avoid fidgeting more. "...Are you sure? Because, ah. On the. Way here, you." Emmet begins to stumble over himself once again.

"Awl boah!" It lowers itself into one knee and pokes him in the chest lightly like it did before. 

"...Alright." He nods, his expression settling into something firm. 
Emmet removes his hands from his pockets and moves to take out the luxury ball again, the snaps holding the pocket closed clicking open under his deft fingers. His passenger shudders subtly as it resurfaces from behind the cloth, but otherwise remains fixed on Emmet. 

Emmet points at the Pokemon with his left arm, holding the pokeball at shoulder height with his right.

"Last stop of the day! Now departing for Gear Station,” 

His classic professional smile makes its entrance as he calls out,
“All Aboard!"

“AWLLABOAH!”
His passenger joined in with a mirroring call, loud and steely. 

It makes Emmet’s smile falter, but only for a moment. 
Yeah! It was nice- that it was so willing to cooperate despite its clear discomfort- that was a good thing. They can probably hear it from the lobby, but it’s at least not as loud as the one Emmet heard from down the tunnel. That would cause a major disruption- verrry big breach of protocol for a hospital.

Emmet clicks down the button on the ball a little too fast and a little too hard, more of a flinch than a conscious choice. Which, maybe he should have been conscious of- because the pokemon freezes in place, flinching sharply as it begins to glow, eyes blown wide. It takes a fearful step back as the laser light envelopes it and draws it into the space inside the capsule once again. 

shit.

Emmet bites out an apology as he puts his passenger securely in the pocket again. 

That was careless of him. Tactless. Completely without consideration for its inexperience and trepidation regarding pokeballs. 

He could’ve at the very least given it a warning instead of jamming the button in some kind of escape mechanism from his own feelings. He may as well have forced it away just so he didn’t have to think about Ingo for a few seconds. That was extremely unfair to it, and also undermined its individuality. He could have just let it press the button itself like he did before. The whole act, even if accidental, was so drowned in his own self interest- it made Emmet run fiery with shame. 

He did his best to focus on passenger safety and transport. That was what he did best- the Subway Boss’ job was to make sure everyone was safe and accounted for as he helped them to their next destination. All he had to do was get the two of them to Gear Station. 

Get moving.

The thought spurred him forward. Keep walking.

Emmet had already left the operating room and was speed walking out of the pokemon center; the sights and sounds all blurring together as his thoughts crept up on him. It was too quiet before, sitting and waiting for something to happen, but now it was too loud. His mind was set on its track, and that track was running straight through memory lane. Images of Ingo burned into his mind next to the thoughts of his passenger, burdened by the price of unfortunate circumstance. It wasn’t its fault that it looked so similar to Him, and it didn’t have control over the way Emmet would react to that. It wasn’t to blame for any of this. Only Emmet, who was wondering, his mind full of grief, if he would ever really move on at all; If he had even really begun to move on in the first place.

Emmet’s spiraling was only grounded to reality by a buzzing feeling, which eventually drew him back to a state of normalcy after he had frantically near-sprinted about halfway to Gear Station. 

dragons help him, he could tell he was going to have a verrry bad night. 

Finally halting his dangerous dance with mourning that had flared up once again and lowering his gait to something more reasonable, the buzzing sensation that had pulled the brakes on his rapidly derailing train-of-thought was finally brought to the forefront of his attention. A vibrating motion right over the left of his chest,

Where his heart was;

and also where the pokemon he had promised safe passage to was tucked away, trembling.

Now that he wasn’t trapped in his own head, Emmet was brought a cold reminder of the repercussions of his haste in the form of the tremor that was humming against his thin dress shirt. It was afraid. Shaken. 

Scared.

It was his fault. He needed to help it. Emmet needed to fix this. 

He took the ball out of the pocket with slow and deliberate movements, his steady hand hardly muffling the quaking that coated it. Emmet held his passenger up nearer to his face as he paced down the sidewalk, keeping it close to himself, and he spoke to it in hushed tones.

"I am Emmet. We have not arrived yet, just a little further."
"...I am sorry for my misconduct earlier. I have caused more stress for you, and for that I deeply apologize. I promised I would take care of you, and I will continue to protect you, but in my hurry I treated you without consideration and that is my fault."

He thinks over what he wants to say before continuing, "...You should not have had to see me like this. Verrry unprofessional." He tips his hat down slightly but does not look at the ball in his hand. "I swear I will keep you safe. We have almost arrived, it won't be much longer. Hold on."

He slipped his hand back into his coat, but instead of hiding the ball away again, he held it there against his chest, running his thumb gently over the still-moving surface. He walked with purpose, coat flaring behind him as he traversed the now empty streets of Nimbasa City.

The shaking did not stop, but neither did Emmet; continuing to hold it tightly in his hand behind the insulating fabric of his jacket. 

It was almost funny, this strange pattern they had fallen into. One of them would become overwhelmed, and the other would comfort them without a word. There was no deal or agreement- it just felt natural. Of course Emmet loved pokemon, and taking care of passengers was normal for him, but the way that it seemed to keep stabilizing him even unknowingly was reassuring somehow. Even in its panic, the trembling feeling had brought Emmet back from his emotional break. He would have to thank it later for putting up with his fickle emotions. Maybe he could get it a gift if it stayed at Gear Station.

Speaking of, the building finally came into sight as Emmet rounded the last corner. Emmet essentially bounded up the stairs, taking them three at a time. The doors hadn't been locked yet, at least, so that was one minor inconvenience out of the way. Emmet paused as he came into the central station before deciding on a destination and making for the singles line. 
"We're nearly there."

He stepped onto the empty platform and let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. He drew the ball out from under his coat, still vibrating, and held it out in front of him.
"We've arrived at our destination! All passengers depart for the Gear Station single battle line!" Emmet gave it a moment- Apparently it decided not to break it open this time -and clicked the release. 

Reappearing before him, he honestly expected it to bolt into the tunnel, never to be seen again. 

It didn't, though. 

It stood up on shaky legs, brushed itself off, and calmly stepped off the platform onto the rails. Emmet could actually feel the air shaking from on the platform, though he couldn't tell exactly where it was coming from. It began to fade away as the pokemon simply stood on the rails and collected itself... oh, it’s doing the breathing exercises!

It turns to face him as the tremors subside, its face carefully neutral. It settles into a somewhat relaxed demeanor, arms behind its back and slightly hunched over. It moves one claw to its crest, like tipping a cap; its expression rests into something softer- a mixture of grateful and rattled.

“Awll.”

At some point, Emmet’s smile had returned, which was a familiar comfort. It was small, but that just meant it wasn’t forced! That was great. He stepped forward toward the edge and tipped his own cap in response. 
“Apologies again for the rough departure. I hope you are feeling in operant condition now, at least.”

It was all too easy for Emmet to forget that tonight was likely this pokemon’s first experience with pokeballs, or at the very least whatever experience it may have had before was verrry unpleasant. He was hoping for the former. “While my intentions were for the better, there were definitely things I could have done to prevent discomfort in transit… In the least, I hope it was worth the trouble.”

It nods at him firmly, glancing around the tunnel once. “Boaawla.” It steps off the rails to return to the platform edge.

“There is one last thing, of course.” Emmet turns the luxury ball over in his hands. His former passenger considers it prudently. “It will be broken.” He nods, eyes trailing over it before rising to meet the pokemon’s gaze for the first time since the hospital. “Do you want to do it, or should I?” 

It meditates on the question for a few moments, and then gestures to Emmet with its head.

“Understood. Just a moment then-” He popped the pokeball open.
“Punching tickets! ” He said with more force than usual, then, hinge downward, he slammed it over his knee, cracking it jaggedly into two halves. The circuits protested with an electric KRRZT before immediately fizzling and letting off a few wisps of smoke. The pokemon’s eyes widen slightly but then its expression shifts to something multifaceted with relief, fulfillment, and confidence.
“Awl La.” It hums in a pleased rumble. 

A few emotions flick across its face too fast for Emmet to catch, then it holds out an open claw for the remaining pieces. Emmet obliges of course, handing them over without hesitation.

It holds the hemispheres carefully for a moment, before it crushes them to splinters in its grip, popping and snapping under the pressure. Its eyes are steely cold for a moment, before lightening again into something more secure. It takes in one last sweep of Emmet, top to bottom to top again, with its eyes painted with something of respect. 

Okay- that was enough expressional analysis for one day! Emmet was gonna get forlorn again and he did not want to do that in front of this pokemon a second time. 

Now facing the left hall, it steps away and hooks the rail with its foot-claw-hoof-thing. It looks back to Emmet once, before turning to leave, lowering its body closer to the ground and tensing into a practiced position. Its head bobbed once, and seeing it again so clearly up close suddenly reminded Emmet how exhausted it looked.

Before it could speed off, something pinged in the back of Emmet’s head.

Where was it going? 

It had been chased around for days, clearly deprived of rest and food. Did it even have a shelter to return to? Or would it go to aimlessly roam the subway? For how long? How long had it already been wandering with nowhere to stay?

…Oh. The perfect gift!

“Wait.” Emmet reaches a hand out to stop it, as if he could reach.

The pokemon does pause, thankfully, and Emmet hops down onto the railway. It actually moves toward him at this, removing itself from the rail and taking several steps in distress before slowing to a stop. “Apologies for the continued delays, I have another idea- THAT IS MUch less precarious than the last one I promise!” He waves his hands out in front of him, placating in advance.

It furrows an eyebrow, but slightly tilts its head in what Emmet takes as an invitation to continue.

“You are without a home station?” Emmet asserted. It blinks at him, but slowly nods. 

“If you would like somewhere sheltered to rest your cab, there is a former security room that has gone unused for a while.” Emmet points down the hall to the right. “We repurposed it for ourselves a while ago- By that I mean it should be at least somewhat comfortable. It is more of a safe room now. I can unlock it for you!” The pokemon looks pleasantly surprised at the proposition. 

“Awlaaah? Boaahla.” 

Emmet cannot exactly infer its intent from the vocalizations, but he does his best to assume. “If you will allow me to conduct you there, I can lead you to a safer destination for the evening! Consider it as thanks for your patience as I derailed today.” It raises a claw to protest but Emmet cuts it off to continue. “Also! You still need to heal. Do not think I am ignorant to the recovery still required after visiting the Center. They gave me a summary of your health and you require rest before you will be back to full capacity.” He raises a finger, twirling it in a circular gesture meaning nothing in particular. 

The pokemon deflates at this, its weariness now in full display. It is hunched over, arms sagging and eyelids heavy. It wipes at one of its eyes with a closed fist, and gestures to Emmet with its other talon. “Boa.”

“Great, let us not delay then!” Emmet points-and-calls down the right path and begins to stride down the tunnel with his favorite stim walk. He noted absently that he might have too much pent up energy compared to his passenger, but in his defense the adrenaline from earlier was still itching at his brain in a way that made it hard to sit still. It followed behind with its heavier steps, distinctly recognizable with their whirring and rotating sound. 

As Emmet got up to speed, he turned to face the pokemon, walking backwards down the tunnel and gesturing with his hands as he spoke.

“I am the only person with a key to this room, so if you can lock it behind me then you can remain undisturbed. Oh, it locks from the inside obviously.” He falters before the next sentence, but remains bright. “The only other person who had a key to the room has… Well, he isn’t around here anymore, so it won’t be an issue.” Emmet whips back around to continue his march forward. “It isn’t far, only a minute or so more.”

They fall into comfortable silence for a while, Emmet’s dress shoes clicking against the stone as the pokemon trudges alongside him. It caught up to him without much issue thanks to its longer stride, but it seemed content to walk alongside him at his left. The black and brown swishing in the corner of his vision brought his mind back to Ingo again, as it had done several times today. It was somewhat nostalgic. Thankfully his mind seemed to give this instance of similarity an emotional free pass, only providing him a few memories of working alongside Ingo in the subway. 

He decided he should at least address it. It would only be fair for his passenger to have an explanation for his behavior.
He starts a little softer than he intended, pace shifting to a steady amble.

"Our encounter tonight brought back some… complicated feelings for me.” 

The pokemon doesn’t acknowledge Emmet beyond a quiet hum. He continues.
“They are revealing themselves in different ways. It has derailed me several times this evening. Grief is annoyingly complicated.” Emmet huffed with a playfully frustrated smile. 

“I assure you I will have my rails righted by morning. It is just that…” He trails off, thinking over how he wants to say what he has on his mind.

True to form, he keeps it simple. 
“You remind me of someone who I knew verrry well.”

Quieter, he continues, but in the silence of the tunnel his voice still rings clear.

“...He passed away a long time ago.” 

“That is all.”

The hush that follows blankets the conversation in a way that is thick, but peaceful. Neither of them speak for the remainder of the journey. 

The old door comes into view on the right hand side, Emmet speeding up to close the gap and perching on the single step as he fishes for his keys. “Just a secoooooonnnd ah here they are!” He brings them up to the lock with a jingle, twisting it open with a click and pushing the door open to reveal the room. “It is one of the original parts of the station, so it was decommissioned when the new security room was built.” He steps inside and out of the way, the pokemon kneeling down to scope out the area. Emmet flicked on the lights and brought his hands to rest behind his back.

It was a bit rustic, but Emmet and Ingo had made it into their own little secret room to sequester away into. Much more comfortable than their office, although not as good for getting into a working mindset. They had managed to get a couch in the door, and the room was pleasantly spacious mainly due to the lack of furniture. The old desks and monitors were still set up on the near wall, still useable if you booted them up, but the couch had been placed across from them so that they could hook up their computers to the screens instead. They used to watch movies together on later nights while they filed away boring paperwork. There were some miscellaneous papers still strewn on the desks- Emmet had procrastinated and ignored them Once and he would Do it Again Right Now. A coffee table was pushed up to the couch, a few books and crosswords long forgotten resting on the bottom rack, with an empty cup that had probably never been moved since they reclaimed the room on the far corner of the table. Other than that, there were a few miscellaneous boxes and some photos lying around. 

The pokemon had to crouch down in order to fit through the door, but thankfully it managed to clear the doorframe with only a little finagling and being careful to avoid putting weight on its injuries. “I hope this serves as a good end terminus for the evening.”
The pokemon gives a long low rumble, looking around the room in half-lidded inspection. Its head bobbed multiple times, and Emmet opted to simply give it space and let it get comfortable, locking the door again and moving to exit. Without prompt, the passenger took the cushions off the couch and piled them in the corner. Then, with a whirring series of clicks, its plume came undone again and it pulled it around its own shoulders. Emmet opened his mouth in a half-formed question, but didn’t get to vocalize it as the pokemon flopped onto the pile it made, curling its legs up under its coat.

Emmet couldn’t help but give a compassionate smile at the display. “All set?”

Emmet waits for a response or a movement of some kind, but the only thing that comes is a humming white noise and a loud, stable rumbling.

Oh. It immediately fell asleep.

His eyes soften and his smile falls to something smaller, mellow. It must've either been so exausted it passed out, or it finally felt safe enough to let itself sleep. Having those thoughts simultaneously gave him opposite emotional reactions, mainly feeling concerned and touched. Weirrrd things to feel at the same time. He couldn't help but give a quiet laugh as he stepped back out into the hall, closing the door carefully behind him. He checked the lock to make sure it was secure- Hopefully it would be able to work the knob just fine with its claws.

He began the return trip to the station, the only sound coming from the tunnels echoing his footsteps back to him. It was a pleasant silence, a job well done! The little smile on display for no one but himself was a lovely feeling. Even with the bumps along the way, Emmet had successfully conducted his passenger to safety. He hoped he would see it around again! He still really wanted to battle it, in all honesty. Maybe another day, after it had returned to full strength. It wouldn't be fun unless it could give its all, of course! The thought drifted pleasantly through his mind alongside the subtle bounce of his steps.

As the walk began to drag on, the satisfaction-relief-empathy Triple Threat of Good Feelings began to ebb away. Emmet felt the back of his mind being clawed by a growing numbness. He didn’t want to think about it, he wanted to think about all the ways that interaction had gone well instead-
But in the dead noiselessness of the subway, it didn’t seem like he would have a choice. His mind kept drawing attention to the void on his left side where the pokemon had been, where Ingo used to be, but now nothing was there because his ‘passenger’ was just a fabrication from a temporary agreement and Ingo was dead. Ingo was dead. The emptiness would remain empty because Ingo was dead. oh not again, he was about to spiral again he could feel it- His hand flicked sharply to where his pokemon were kept as he released one of them, any of them please , with honed reflex.

A shifting and ticking noise was what met his ears as he became aware of the fact that he could only visually focus on the ground in front of him as he walked. Everything felt distant except for the sound of his own footfall alone echoing from the endless halls when there should have been another there was supposed to be another set and he would never hear them again because Ingo was

A circulating, rotating shape entered into his field of vision. There were sounds that accompanied it. He wasn’t alone. There was someone else. A chiming-buzzing followed by two clipped metal clangs. 

Emmet was not alone.

Klinklang, one of the two, had planted themself firmly in front of him at eye level. They sat just far enough away that their long spiked gear didn’t touch Emmet, but close enough that he could hear all the little whirrs and shifting sounds, all of the little zaps from static shock and kinetic electricity. Emmet set a shaky hand on top of their power core, one of the only parts on them that didn’t move, and did his best to breathe. He hadn’t stopped walking- it was the only thing that he could focus on right now. Just keep moving forward. One foot in front of the other down the hallway as Klinklang grounded him to the present. Not long after, his second Klinklang- Ingo’s, the first one had been Emmet’s -also appeared of its own accord. It seemed much more insistent on brushing up against him, its long gear kept at an exact distance to produce a consistent tap tap tap against his left shoulder. 

“Thhank you, thank you. I will be okay. I will be okay.” Emmet parroted at the two of them. Not entirely untrue thankfully, as he was resurfacing and was managing to drive off the persisting ache of nothingness for now… But they still prowled in the back of his mind, threatening to overwhelm him again at a moment’s notice. 

Just keep walking. He wasn’t sure when they made it back to the station platform; it felt like ages had passed and no time at all- But finally, they were out of the lonely tunnels. Clank and Clink each moved to support one of his hands and, making sure he had a firm grip first, helped to lift him back up onto the platform. 

Emmet had managed to return to a neutral state, his expression defaulting to his blank smile as he carried on through the terminal. He kept Clank and Clink around though- Better to prevent another spiral before it started. The main station passed in a blur. The night air was refreshing as it was chilling, giving him one more thing to think about that wasn’t Ingo or the pokemon that looked just like him. He put his right hand on Clank’s core again, and he settled his left on Clink’s. Stability, while time marched onwards alongside him, reminding him of all the things Ingo would never know, never see, never get to do with him again. They both kept even pace with him as the city streets passed them by- walking home was so ingrained into his muscle memory that he didn’t even need to look up from where his gaze was fixed on the ground in front of him. Tears wanted to mist into his eyes, but he just kept walking. His voice wanted to warble, but he kept walking. His hands twitched with the phantom pain of a matching palm he would never again hold, of a neat haircut he would never again ruffle, and of a point-and-call that would never again match its mirror half. 

He was not crying. Not yet. He was still walking.

His destination had appeared in front of him. The door to their- to his apartment. He fumbled with the keys, hand shaking just as much as it had earlier when it was cupping the vibrating pokeball to his chest. The new inexplicable mystery pokemon that had suddenly appeared. The anomaly that was wonderfully strong and hardy, but still kind. Still open, despite its fears and its discomfort- despite its injury and fatigue. 

The being who looked just like Ingo.  

It wasn’t fair. The thought he had tamped down earlier resurfaced as the door shut behind him and he let his battling team rest for the day, setting them loose to roam the house; stumbling to his own room despite the concerned protests from his loving pokemon calling after him. It wasn’t the only thought that resurfaced either, as he peeled off his weighted coat and pulled harshly at his tie to loosen it away from its chokehold around his neck. They all began to resurface at the same time, every repressed thought and feeling like a freight train arriving to deliver bitter cargo.

It wasn’t fair.

It looked just like Ingo.

It sounded just like Ingo.

It protected him for no explicable reason, put its life at RISK for him.

It relaxed when Emmet arrived to subdue it, as if for a single moment there was no safer place.

It fell asleep instantly when it finally made it to shelter- Despite the fact that Emmet was still standing right there not twenty feet away.

It looked at him constantly. Assessing him. Scrutinizing him. Comparing their similarities? Their differences? Surely it noticed, when its eyes only seemed to leave him when necessary.

It walked on Emmet’s left without question. Without hesitation.

It’s face was the same. Emmet could ignore the out of place details- fundamentally, it. Was. the. Same. The same subtle expressions, the same spark in its eyes, the same tilt of its not-smile.

Emmet’s thoughts trailed away into wordless sobs, closed off in their his room with their his blanket pulled around him. He was wondering to think if nature itself had something out for him. Or maybe one of the beings of the creation myths had made it just to torment him- to watch the little half-of-a-whole squirm when put next to a being so right and yet so inconsolably wrong. 

Because it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same as Ingo. It was already so cruel of him to think about the situation in this way.

Because that Pokemon was not Ingo. It was its own individual, had its own thoughts and feelings, its own reactions and behaviors, its own experiences and memories and history. And Emmet couldn’t see it. Not past the facade of his twin brother that he had projected onto it. Selfish. Heartless. Ignorant. 

why did it have to happen today? He had been- He was-

Today had been a good day! 

It had been a good day and he was doing better today. He had made breakfast and everything! He had picked himself up and kept walking. He didn’t want to trip up on this unexpected stop and have to do it all over again. He had practically worked himself into a panic attack over a minor mistake- And swords he was doing it again right now, wasn’t he? But for the love of TRUTH, trains in hell, he just wanted to cry . He just wanted to break down again. Watch his beaten engine give one last kick and sputter before this finally puts in the last nail and breaks his heart for good. 

So he does. He squeezes the blanket tighter around his chest, curling onto it like a lifeline.
He’s falling. He’s slipping up again, giving in to that cycle of grief again.

But he wails regardless; grief does not take stops. There is no terminal called end.

maybe tomorrow, he could keep walking

but right now?

he would embrace the fall. Let himself be distraught and sorrowful and angry at the world

for taunting him, once again, 

with the empty promise of being okay today.

Chapter Text

✖⥋▽▿▿⭒

Emmet rolls over and sits up, prying his eyes open and letting them linger on the faint dawn light that drifted through his window. He didn't need to check the clock to know what time it was, but he did anyway.

4:57am.
Just a few minutes before his alarm would go off. His head is still filled with early morning numbness as he turns it off in advance, stretching his back with a pop and getting to his feet.

His train of thought is still scrambled from everything that happened last night. He didn't really get any sleep, at least, not in a way that mattered. His thoughts kept him awake.
It hadn't been the first time something had kept his wheels spinning through the night. He learned to deal with it by closing his eyes and getting whatever rest he was able, even if it wasn't sweet, sweet unconsciousness. Emmet probably did fall asleep at some point, but he sure didn’t feel like it.

Perk of thinking so much, as he slips his head into a clean work shirt, is that at some point in the night he had managed to get his thoughts all wrangled together and sorted. He told his former passenger that he would get his tracks in order by morning, and that was just what he did. …Although, it came at the cost of feeling like he’d been run over by the ‘mon itself.

He’d settled on a few bullet points to keep his mind on track.
The pokemon may look strikingly similar to Ingo, but he would not let his grief cloud his judgement. That would be unacceptable. It isn’t Ingo, and he shouldn’t be treating it like it can fill in the gap his twin left. 
Furthermore along that line, he wanted to see it safely to recovery. If he saw it in the station again, he would do his best to approach it amicably and see how it was faring. Emmet can’t bear to see it hurt, even if it doesn’t want human interference. He can’t just ignore it when it looks just like Ingo.

…Despite its obvious strength, it had been beaten down relentlessly and did not appear to have anywhere to run. He could not let it roam around injured in good conscience. 

He was considering some kind of non-aggression rule in the station. The depot agents were certainly trying to help in tracking it down, but when the search for the pokemon became sensationalized it only served to back it into a corner. Not to mention how it encouraged the brutal enthusiasm of the visiting trainers, who really should not have been on the tracks at all. They forced the pokemon to push beyond what should have been its limits, and frankly, they’re extremely lucky it didn’t decide to attack any of the trainers directly. 

If they don't come up with something to call it other than ‘the pokemon’ soon, Emmet is going to go crazy.

Emmet slaps his xtransceiver onto his wrist as he stretches again, giving an exhausted sigh.
For now he should just do his best to focus on those, because anything more would be too much for him to handle, and anything less would be verrry irresponsible. 
Swooping down to grab his discarded coat off the floor, he finishes getting dressed to move on with his morning routine. Next stop was breakfast. 

He can feel a weight giving him resistance as he tries to open his door, followed by shuffling and a quiet squawk. That gives him enough context to know what’s on the other side when he finally pushes his door open. 

Archeops is a great, lazy lump on the floor, lifting his head to greet his trainer drowsily. He’s slowly displaced as Emmet opens the door on him, totally unbothered as his mass of feathers gently slides across the floor. Galvantula, however, responds with an annoyed, sleepy chitter from its spot- pressed into Archeops’ feathery collar. 
They slept against his door overnight. That was definitely not good for their spines! 

“Good morning you two. You are going to have so many cramps later!” He coerces a smile onto his face as he crouches to scritch Archeops on the side of the neck, hitting that sweet spot right between his soft skin and sturdy plated scales. Archeops automatically responds to the special attention with a churr somewhere between a pleasant chirp and a sleepy purr. 

Durant sits up from where it had curled against Archops’ side with an offended screech-click, giving Emmet the biggest mostly-asleep puppyant eyes it was capable of. The little bug’s persistent dramatics win a chuckle out of him, and he reaches over to pat it on the head. Never change little buddy.
“Good morning to you, too, Eight.”
It climbs halfway onto Archeops to stretch a little closer, waving its little antennae at him to try and convince Emmet to pick it up. Archeops puffs up his feathers in protest, batting at Durant with one wing as it climbs all the way on top of him and reaches to plant its front legs on its trainer’s knee. Emmet pinches the tips of  Durant’s antennae between his fingers, wiggling them up and down as Archeops wails over his morning scritches being disrupted. “Hello. You are making Hotshot cry.” He teases softly, charmingly exasperated by the trio’s antics.

Durant pridefully chitters as it rightfully borrows Emmet’s attention, but it quickly changes its tune as it expresses genuine concern. Emmet is caught softly off-guard as it climbs all the way onto his knelt leg, butting its head into his chest repeatedly.
“Hi- Hello, yes. I am fine. I am okay!” Emmet gently lifts Durant up by the thorax as its little legs scrabble lightly against his arms. It presses its antennae to his chest with its forehead set square and unmoving despite its perpetually scuttling limbs waving in the air. 

At Emmet’s reassurance, it clicks at him with an upset menagerie of sounds. Archeops finally sits up too, whining at him with a sad whistle-y coo. He digs his sitrus berry out from his plumage, offering it to him insistently. 
In direct opposition to their more passive, comforting approaches- which really were so, so endearing -Galvantula pushes itself onto its feet with a grumpy but biteless hiss, shambling out of reach. It chitters at him loudly, turning to leave down the hall. 
“No- Nooo no, Buggy-! I mean it, I am fine!”

Galvantula harshly stops, whipping back to stare Emmet down with its many eyes and biting back with a loud crackling pop, like a tesla coil. 

“Buggy!” Emmet sets Durant down and gently pushes Archeops’ berry back to him, refusing the offer. “That is yours, Hotshot. Thank you though. I will get breakfast soon. Buggy- If you wake everyone up and they dogpile me we will get stuck in the hallway. Again.” 

Galvantula crouches in a sneer, but… Emmet can tell this is about more than the others’ playful bids at fighting for his attention. He’s… Upset. And, given that he stuck beside the other two, it’s probably because Emmet chose to lock the door. The way he’s waving his mandibles hints at a flustered concern that is normally well hidden behind his aloof personality.
He can also see that Archeops is getting more and more weepy the longer he doesn’t let the feather ball tackle him in a hug- He’s latched onto Emmet’s leg with his grabby claws, and Durant looks about ready to hug itself to his chest and never let go.

“…Hey, guys.” 

He starts a little slower, trying to get his voice to soften, but his concern and regret are expressed more clearly through his face. He reaches over to cup Archeops’ face and uses his other hand to support Durant’s back. “I am sorry for scaring and upsetting you. I really do mean it..! I am okay. Just a stumbling block, is all. I met someone new yesterday, and…” The words feel like a hard lump in his throat. Not… Yet. He’s not going to tell them yet. He needs to wake up first and figure out what to say.
“It, hurt.” 

Running his hands through the glossy feathers of Archeops’ coat, the two closest to him start to ease off a little more. Emmet can hear shuffling coming from other places in the apartment, so some of his other pokemon must be waking up too.
“I would like to tell all of you about it, but not before I get ready for work and get breakfast. Okay, Buggy?” Galvantula takes a few steps forward, hesitantly, and Emmet carefully takes Durant’s weight to set it back on the floor.

“I need to tell you, yup. It will be important. It is about that new pokemon in the subway, so you all will need to know. Let me get ready for work and shower and stuff, and I will explain myself. You all should wake up everyone else while you wait, okay? I do not want to be late, which means getting a head start, because I am…..verrry… verrrrrrry tired.” 

As if on cue, his sentence is punctuated with a yawn. His eyes feel heavy. 

A shower, first and foremost, to get his cart on the rails, and then some coffee. Coffee to get his engine rolling. It isn’t his first sleepless night, and it won’t be his last, so he’ll power through and get extra sleep tonight later. Or, maybe take a nap on his lunch. Or while waiting for challengers- The subway seats were made to be comfortable, and they did a wayyyy better job than they needed to do at that.

He thinks he remembers reading somewhere that drawing attention to being tired makes you even more tired. Emmet thinks brains are awfully stupid for doing that as he drags himself to his feet finally, rubbing at his eyes with his palms. He’s got enough brain fog to go around, it’s not like he needs More. 

Archeops rubs his body up against his legs- his feathers would absolutely tickle like a motherfucker if his pants were any shorter. 
“I am Emmet, I am taking a shower now. Scooch your butt. You are all blocking the hallway.” 

Durant speeds down the hall like a bullet train, immediately overtaking Galvantula and forcing him to race after it with crackling sparks of alarm as Durant clicks proudly at the mouth of the hall. Alright, well, so much for having a quiet morning. Everyone would be awake within about a minute and a half. 
Emmet crouches to give Archeops one last big ruffle around his neck feathers with both hands, getting a glittering caw from the goof, before stepping around him and marching right into the bathroom, closing the door behind him without delay.

…whhhhew. 

A sigh, as he surveys the bathroom, looking for where all the shower supplies should be even if he already knows they won’t be anywhere new.

His eyes linger on his toothbrush and paste by the sink…
…not… today. Tomorrow. Or this evening maybe. he doesn’t have the energy for it right now.

He can do a shower though. That’s a step, to keep moving.

Towel, soaps, walking over and pushing the curtain aside. Twisting the knobs just the right amount to get the temperature right where he likes it, letting it heat up as he buttons down the shirt he just spent time putting on, testing the water with his hand. Turning the fan on, even if the sound is kinda grating, because it’s incredibly annoying when the mirror fogs up too much. 

The water feels warm to the touch. Time to get in.
…
Showers are always a struggle. Emmet dunks his head in the water to acclimate fastest. He keeps his eyes closed and lets the heat run over him.

…

It’s rrrreally pleasant. Helps untense his muscles. He feels relaxed for the first time all night.
-Day.
It is morning. 
Uughhhhhhhhhh…

He loves their subway.
… but he does wish, on days like this, he could bury his face in Archeops’ feathers, and let Eelektross slink all his weight over his shoulders, and ask Haxorus to carry him instead of walking, and hold Chandelure so tight she’d forget Ingo was ever gone, and stare at the ceiling with Durant on his chest…

…

Alright, that’s enough basking. He’s got to get clean or he will dirty his coat, which dragons know is already hard enough to upkeep!

…

This is not supposed to be hard!

Emmet opens his eyes to grab the shampoo, dispensing a dollop before running his hands through his hair. With his luscious locks securely lathered, he takes effort to scrub it all out again before taking conditioner and doing the same. He foams it up nicely and works it in so his hair doesn’t knot, then nabs the body wash to clean off with his favorite soap scents while it sets. He tries to move quickly like always. He doesn’t like how showers make him feel, and looking at himself for so long is weird. They already used up more energy than they had any right to, frankly, and he doesn’t have anyone to help him with the parts he doesn't like anymore.

…

… tink tink, cl-unk klong

Emmet catches a few faint sounds of distinctly metal origin coming from the living room. Most people probably wouldn’t hear something like that over the drone of the shower and fan.

…Hold on. 
What is making that sound? Excadrill and Durant know not to fight in the living room and the Klinklang wouldn’t sound like that. 

Someone is up to something, and he has a sneaking suspicion he recognizes that noise.
“BULL?” Emmet turns his head all the way around to shout in the direction of the living room.
His call is met with a few low grunts, sturdy with deeper human-like inflection.

“ARE YOU USING THE STOVE AGAIN?”
The kshhhhh-ing white noise from the shower makes it harder to hear, but the grumbles that call back are louder and completely level.
“YOU PUT THE PANS AWAY RIGHT NOW. YOU HEAR ME? I AM NOOOOT DEALING WITH ANOTHER KITCHEN FIRE THIS MORNING.” He says with enough stress in his tone to properly emphasize that he does Not have the energy to keep Conkeldurr in check.
Unfortunately, they don’t seem to want to make this easy for him, protesting with a firmness that makes it clear they won’t budge.

“IS FREIGHT HELPING YOU?”

Emmet appreciates that he has at least cultivated the ability to shout loud enough to be heard over the sound of running water. With a last huff from Conkeldurr, Emmet can catch just enough to make out the pristine sound of the ethereal, smooth glass whistle of their only ghost.
Alright. So they’re conspiring against him.

“FINE, BUT IF YOU SET OFF THE FIRE ALARM I AM MAKING BOTH OF YOU STAY HOME FOR A WHOLE THREE DAYS.” 

The threat didn’t sound as punchy as ‘a week’ or whatever but they all knew damn well that he missed them on the subway just as much as they missed him, so it was kinda empty to begin with. He’d probably only last two, if he was honest.

Emmet turns his attention back to the warm shower, pressing his palms over his eyes but unable to stop his toothy smile from ear to ear. Making breakfast for him… Dragons, what would he ever do without his team. What will they even make? He still remembers when Durant tried to feed him its steel-type pokétreats and wouldn’t give up until he took a whole bite out of it. It wasn’t that bad but. Emmet shudders. He can still taste the iron in his mouth when he thinks about it too hard. 
That was not a fair comparison. Conkeldurr and Chandelure were significantly more reasonable than his lovable ant with Not even One braincell.

Turning the spigot off and grabbing his towel, he supposes there is no better way to find an answer than to go see.

…Emmet wrestles with how to tell them about the pokemon in the subway as he dries. He had already been mulling it over through the night, but he didn’t feel any better about it. One way or another, until it blew over, it would hurt all of them. He just needs to communicate that in a way that helps them prepare for it.

He makes sure he is as dry as he can physically make himself before pulling on his clothing. Buttoning up his shirt Again , wiping away some of the condensation on the mirror to fix his tie properly, and poking his arms through the sleeves of his coat. He fusses with his hair a little more, trying to get it to lay the right way, before giving up and using a hand towel to wring it out. Wet hair was, perhaps, one of the worst sensory experiences he had to regularly endure. He survives the experience in spite of his dramatic internal belaboring, shaping his bangs to hold their style of choice with a much more decently portioned slick of gel than the media accused him of using.

Dot, Dot, Vvveeee. He smiles in the mirror, and the misty smiley-face vacantly beams right back. Burgh should give him an award for his masterpiece, yep yep.

.    ,
\/

Today is going to be a good day. Even if it is hard, Emmet will keep doing his best! 
One step at a time.

He opens the door, stepping into the hall and airing out the residual moisture. 
…Something smells… Surprisingly good! He scoops some little passengers off the floor on his way down the hall, greeting his Joltik with good morning kisses on their tiny heads before depositing them in his collar.  
In the main room, the whole team is up and moving. Metaphorically. 

Chandelure and Conkeldurr are, as predicted, at the stove. 

Someone seems to have helped Excadrill move the coffee table out of the way so that he could exercise, performing stretches and very carefully going through the motions of using his moves. Diligent as always! 

Klinklang and Klinklang are both hanging out with Gigalith near the window, basking in the early morning sunrise. 

Archeops is- At his ankles again the moment he steps into the room. Always reliable. He hopes that never changes. 

And- Right behind Archeops, Eelektross worms his way around his torso under his arms, wrapping him up in a tight loop. Emmet lets out a sigh that turns into a laugh, the soft smile on his face unflinching. He lifts a hand to pat along Eelektross’ dorsal fin, holding him with the other. “Hey bud. I am okay. I am sorry for scaring you. Good morning!”
Eelektross doesn't budge, so Emmet cradles him with his arms and carries on with a lamprey for a jacket.

Haxorus is asleep in the sunlight from the window. Emmet can only wish that was him. Decadence. 

Crustle has taken off their shell and sleeps curled up next to her. 

Meanwhile, Accelgor and Escavalier are hogging the couch, a drowsy suit of armor getting buffed, shined and picked clean of all debris by his aloof counterpart.

Speak of the devil. Aloof describes none better than Galvantula. Where it is, Emmet cannot see, but he suspects the two-faced bug is making great use of his now empty bed. He suspects it is also doing double time to ensure he doesn’t lock himself in alone again. Clever, and a fair reaction, Emmet admits to himself with a mote of regret. 

Garbodor, ever the responsible one, is carefully sorting through the cabinets, shelves, and refrigerator, assembling breakfast for everyone else in well-balanced portions. She seems chipper despite the atmosphere, humming with a sunny tone.

“Good morning everyone. …Where is Eight?” Faces of all shapes and sizes- and temperaments, whuh oh -turn to look at him as he enters. After a moment, Durant pokes its head out from under Crustle’s empty shell, clicking its mandibles at him. He’s not quite sure if he should interpret that as Durant-typical playfulness or if there’s an underlying emotion there he can’t read-
And he doesn’t have much time to figure it out either because his team appears to be staging a mutiny. 

With Eelektross constricting him and Archeops basically tripping him, Excadrill closes the distance with little effort and knocks him down with a soft (exasperated) hit to the back of his knees, catching his weight in his claws as if Emmet isn’t three times his height. “hEY-!” 

Archeops whines, though it only earns a chuff in response from Excadrill. He lumbers over to the middle of the room, “Sand what are yo-” -dumping Emmet gracelessly onto the floor next to the table. 

“ Oof,” he comments tonelessly. Eelektross is still constricting him around the chest, which contributes to winding him, but only a little. Emotions swirl in his head, struggling to settle between exhausted-annoyed and affectionate-amused. He is sure his brow is starting to furrow as he tries to pick himself up, but he doesn’t manage to complete the action before Garbodor deftly takes his weight, flipping him upside-down and rightways-up, at last placing him in a seat at the table with a quick brush to dust off his coat. 

She smiles her wide circular smile and places his hat off-balance on his head. That definitely is the tipping point, tone unable to hide how hard he’s suppressing his laughter through the plastic veneer of his reprimands. “Guys! Stop that- okay!! Okay I am sitting down! Thank you, Manifest.”

Accelgor has already lept soundlessly from the couch to the table in that time, their markedly impassive expression glaring down at him when he moves the brim of his cap out of his eyes. They adjust his hat for him, somehow twisting it and getting the angle just how he likes, before they are upon him with the fussy exactness of a whole clutch of Minccino. Brushing the ruffles out of his shirt, fixing his tie- Hey he just did his tie!! 

…Aaand nope, they’re going to redo it again anyways. Emmet sighs, laying his head against the neck of the chair and staring at the ceiling. “Good morrrrning Gandy. Thank you.” 

They must arrive at their own stops on the morning schedule, he supposes. 

...Ah. He thought Eelektross was wiggling in protest, but Emmet only just realized he's actually used his own body to tie him to the chair. 

Conkeldurr turns off the stove top gently, turning around to plate whatever it is they made with Chandelure’s help. With a bit of extra assistance from Chandelure’s Psychic to avoid a mess, they set it on the table in front of Emmet, holding the pan up so Chandelure can siphon the heat from both it and the stove. Verrry clever, and responsible!  

Two fried eggs, over-hard with salt and pepper. Chandelure carefully balances a cup of tea on her arms as she holds it up towards him, staring at it with a charming amount of focus.
“Thank you, Bull. Thank you Freight. This looks perfect. I appreciate it verrry much.” 

“Third, I need my arms now! Freight is going to spill hot tea all over my clean clothes and also body if I do not grab it.” He wiggles, coercing the eel to loosen up. He whimpers at Emmet as he slides like syrup off the chair, slinking onto the floor. “Do not be dramatic. I am literally eating breakfast.” He scowls playfully, nudging at Eelektross’ side with his foot. Taking the warm cup from Chandelure, he sets it on the table and slides his plate a tad closer. Garbodor is circling the countertops with a chipper step, setting out food bowls and other arrangements for everyone else’s breakfasts. Fidgeting with a cuff on his shirt before taking up his fork, Emmet directs Accelgor to a different mission. “Gandy, if you could get off the table and go get Buggy, that would be great. He needs breakfast too. Also,” he raises his voice slightly to address the whole room, “I have some important news to share that I want everyone to pay attention to.”

“Breakfast first though,” He finishes, and many eyes turn away to continue their own morning routines. Emmet takes the Joltik out of his collar and sets them softly on the table, letting them do as they please as Emmet hops onto the meal car.

OOooh! 

It is excellent! Perfect. Much better than he expected.

Maybe it isn’t the best or most extravagant meal, but on a morning like this, it doesn’t need to be. It’s perfect.

He normally handled his own breakfasts, but it was nice to have the reliable support of his team on hard mornings. He takes his time, enjoying the warmth of green tea as critters croon, click, and chime around him, settling into the waking hours with comfortable company.

…
. . .

⭒▿▿▽▿▿⭒

Emmet double checks his roster. 

Chandelure will be staying home- He doesn’t think she’s in good enough shape to meet the new pokemon today. Archeops, Galvantula and Durant had insisted on coming, which makes sense with their door dramatics- And Excadrill had as well. He seemed determined to have a good battle today. He decided to bring along Garbodor and Gigalith to round out the rest of the team, which leaves the Klinklang, Accelgor and Escavalier, Conkeldurr, Haxorus, and Crustle at home. 
Eelektross was coming. He was the only one that had already seen the new pokemon clearly, and also Emmet did not want to be separated from his partner pokemon when he already felt on the verge of being dead on his feet.
He’s with Emmet now on the walk to work.

If he didn’t have work today he most certainly would Not be Here walking through the brisk morning of Nimbasa. He would be curled On The Couch with His Blanket (and maybe Ingo’s blanket) surrounded by All his Lovely Pokemon Friends who would remind him of all the joys of life and also help wipe his tears from his eyes and Also Also sit on basically all of his limbs, forcing him to lay down. 
Dragons, he should not be fantasizing about going back to sleep before he’s even clocked in. Emmet has a foreboding suspicion that he is going to be yawning all day. His public image will be in tatters.
Oh well. He’ll just have to convince Elesa to help him raise PR again. That is just his excuse to hang out with her. Emmet doesn’t need any excuse to hang out with her, but he likes making them. It is verrry fun.

Y h  aaaAA wwn

Damn. Before he’s even unlocked the doors. …Today was going to be very, verrrrrrrrry long. He gives Eelektross a pat along his muzzle, mumbling idly about his plans for the day with a few more words of appreciation in advance.

Taking his keys to the door, he gets the front entrance unlocked after only a mild amount of fumbling. With a burdened sigh, Emmet thrusts the door open with a pinch of forced enthusiasm and strides inside. Time to get the party started.

The lights are in the back, his first stop of the day. It is always immensely satisfying to flick on all the switches from right to left, watching as the lights flash back on to begin guiding passengers through the platforms for the day. To be fair, with all the skylights in the central station, you can see pretty clearly most hours of the day anyway, but it was for safety purposes. Safety checks must be completed at all stops!

With that done he boards himself up in the main office, trying to figure out what big tasks he is capable of taking on today and what smaller tasks he could put off for a day when he had more sleep. 

He’ll have to send out a notice to the depot agents… They’re going to need to have a meeting about the state of affairs regarding the new pokemon in the subway. …He’ll give it a few more minutes for his brain to wake up, then he’ll send out a mass notification. 

As he punches away at the most boring spreadsheets known to man and shift assignments for the coming weeks, his agents start to filter into the office to clock in. Cloud is always extremely dependable, and Isadore follows close behind. They were his extra-reliable morning crew. He exchanges good mornings and the two are quick to go about their way, sharing in lighthearted comments about his obvious exhaustion- was it that obvious? Mother of trains.
Furze tags in a few minutes later, and Payton and Rutile join them as the last people showing up for the first few hours. Everyone is quick to make themselves busy, which is a major relief on a morning like this. Emmet suspects they can tell he’s not at his best right now, and he’s wordlessly grateful for how responsible the depot agents are.
He loves his job.

All that’s left is to get this place up and running, and with all these hands on deck for their opening crew, maybe this won’t be so bad.

⭒▿▿▽▿▿⭒

[I am Emmet]  

I am Emmet. There will be a mandatory meeting today for all personnel who are working. If you are not scheduled then you do not need to come. The meeting will be at 1pm sharp, and anybody who has their break scheduled for that hour is free to bring snacks, drinks, or step out when needed. As the subway will be open at this time, a number of depot agents will be required to remain at their stations during the meeting. I am sorry for the lack of forewarning, but it cannot wait. Follow the schedule. Safe driving. All aboard! 🚂

{. . .Several People Are Typing . . .}

[j@ckie]
tag out 

[🌼~Cameron~🌺]
I can stay at my post!!

[Monty (Montgomery C.)]
 If y’all don’t mind I’ll be stayin’ back.

[FUR⚡E]
I volunteer to DAMNIT 
HOW DO YOU ALL TYPE SO FAST??
This isn’t fair, I’ve been here since opening! I don’t want to waste away in a board meeting!

[I am Emmet]
Everyone, you all know that the positions are never first-come first-served! Please work it out between yourselves. 🚂

[j@ckie]
more like bored meeting ayo  

[Cloud H.]
There’s a lesson it seems a lot of our junior agents haven’t learned about the value of attending meetings.

[I am Emmet]
I am Emmet. Jackie is being rude. I do not think this meeting will be very boring at all. 🚂

[j@ckie]
oh nooo cloud is gonna put me in the naughty corner. apocalypse

[FUR⚡E]
Would someone please trade with me? Please? I swear to Zekrom I’m gonna die

[j@ckie]
what are you offering and don’t say a battle

[🌼~Cameron~🌺]
If you’re doing that bad I don’t mind trading :(( you covered for me last time! ✨

[darce]
my phone is blowing up can you fucks pipe down

[☀Ramses M Soleil☀]
Mindful of your language, Darce.

[Poindexter]
This is a professional channel of communication! Organize yourselves with SOME amount of tact. The behavior on display this morning is boorish.
WHO CHANGED MY NAME?!

[darce]
its my day off and you assholes woke me up

[ Isadore ]
The next time I find my name mysteriously altered I’m sending my partner to figure out which one of you is pulling this childish prank so they can shock you personally.

[FUR⚡E]
Thanks Cam you’re a lifesaver 😭

[I am Emmet]
I am Emmet. Isadore, please do not moderate the channel. That is my job. Also it is verrrry funny, and I think whoever is doing that should continue doing it. We all agree. 🚂

[j@ckie]
seconded

[Monty (Montgomery C.)]
Aye

[FUR⚡E]
Thirded

[PaytonNickel]
Agreed

[💎Ru]
The look on your fsce while you check your xtransceiver has bveen is the best part ofmy shift. X’D

[⭐Poindexter⭐]
This is entirely unprofessional cond
Oh har har. See how much you’re all laughing when my resignation papers are on your desk.

[I am Emmet]
Before you resign, please attend the meeting at 1pm sharp. 🚂

For anyone who is still deciding on their attendance, please note that the topic of today’s meeting is about the new pokemon that has been found roaming Gear Station over the last several days. I will be sharing everything I learned yesterday night. We will discuss how to handle the situation moving down the tracks ahead. I need to reiterate several important protocols and safety checks which have fallen below standard, and I expect all attending members to pass along the contents of the meeting to everyone who will not be there. 🚂

{. . .Several People Are Typing . . .}

[FUR⚡E]
I’M ATTENDING

[j@ckie]
Wait shit I want to hear that actually

[FUR⚡E]
CAM I TAKE BACK MY TRADE

[🌼~Cameron~🌺]
D: Wait no furze we can talk about this

[Monty (Montgomery C.)]
Can I also change my mind?

[💎Ru]
Hw’d it go? “more like bored meeting ayo”

[darce]
lmfao i change my mind i wanna be awake for this

[🌼~Cameron~🌺]
Furze Please you’re my bestest buddy my friend my pal 🥺

[Cloud H.]
What did I say?

[I am Emmet]
Everyone, I am verrry pleased by your sudden enthusiasm, but I need to remind us all that this meeting will take place during working hours. Someone needs to man the stations. I will record the meeting for those who cannot attend, and there will also be an assigned note-taker. 🚂

[❄⛄❄FriZZle - Xey/Xem❄⛄❄]
Hey boss, I’m not scheduled today, can I come anyway to sit in at the meeting?

[I am Emmet]
Yep! 🚂

[❄⛄❄FriZZle - Xey/Xem❄⛄❄]
Ty

[I am Emmet]
Of course Frizzle. Now then, follow the rules. Check safety! Everyone smile! Please keep more talking to a minimum so you do not distract the people on their shifts. 🚂

[💎Ru]
Oh shit

[⭐Poindexter⭐]
Case and point.

[I am Emmet]
If you are going to attend, react to this message with ✅. If you are going to man the station, react with ❌. If no one stays behind, it will be assigned randomly. Any absences will be recorded so that someone can correspond with you at a later date. 🚂
^{✅38 ❌8}

⭒▿▿▽▿▿⭒

Emmet wipes his face as he nears the main station, trying to school his expression into something less extremely frustrated and less extremely fake. Sue him for masking today, he’s barely got any sleep and his brother’s ghost may as well have been dropped on his doorstep. He’s growing more and more nervous that he still hasn’t seen or heard any word of it today.
He sighs deeply as he rubs his temples with his fingers, categorically listing off every single swear he knows with varying degrees of intensity in his own head. Hhhhhalright, better to get this over with sooner rather than later. The longer he stands here with his eyes closed, the more likely he is to fall asleep standing up. It hasn’t happened yet, but the chances of it happening were never zero.

He steps out of the hallway and speaks up quickly, getting in the first word.

 “There will be absolutely no photography and no recordings permissible of the pokemon in the subway at this time.” Both of his hands are raised placatively as he faces the slowly growing group of reporters that the depot agents had managed to keep corralled so far. It was only a small gang of folks with cameras and notepads, but there were sure to be more and Emmet was going to enjoy it less and less each time.

“Sir! How can you say that when there’s an undocumented pokemon species roaming around?!” “What does the Battle Subway plan to do with the pokemon in question!” “Have the local authorities been notified of what is happening? How do they plan to respond?” 
“What about the people who have encountered the pokemon up until this point?” “How does Gear Station intend to go about normal schedules with a potentially dangerous pokemon on the loose?” 

They all talk over each other like time is running on short supply.

Deep breath. “ONE at a time please.” Eelektross loops around in the air behind him, making him appear to take up more space in the room.
“I only have two ears and one mouth. You also have the same. I expect you will treat the agents in Gear Station, and me the Subway Boss, with professionalism by listening twice as much as you speak.”
“Well-” Emmet lifts one finger to insert that he was not finished, cutting off the first person to object. No one else speaks up yet, although they seem to wait for his answers with baited breath.

“Okay.” He exhales deeply, betraying how tired he is, but tries to keep his momentum. More deep breaths, for calming this time instead of raising his voice. “We are not entirely sure of all the details of the situation right now, as has been true the last few days.”
Channel Ingo, be thorough not just concise. What would Ingo say? Onwards to an even higher state.

“We, Gear Station, need to impress on you that this is for your safety and the safety of the pokemon.”
“If you want to write something down, this is it:” He waves one of his hands around, trying and failing to mask how annoyed he is to be having this conversation. Dragons forgive him, he is trying so hard to be patient and kind.

“Authorities have been contacted through the proper channels. As the Subway Boss I have been granted the authority to handle the situation as I see fit until the time is right for others to get involved. Since this is my establishment, I am handling it. They will follow up later if it is something Gear Station cannot handle alone, or if the situation has settled enough for researchers to potentially check things out.”

“But again, I will reiterate- We do not want this unknown pokemon to be overly publicized yet.”
“I know this is a tantalizing scoop. Of course you want to be the first station to have news about the new mystery pokemon. Everyone wants to know more. It will be a verrry good story. BUT. ” One of them opened their mouth, Emmet emphatically continuing to ensure he can complete his full train of thought.

“The current state of things is this: The pokemon has already been pushed to the brink of exhaustion by trainers seeking to battle and capture it. It has turned to violent ends in self-defense, but we have received no reports of injury by any passengers, bystanders, nor personnel. We have also had no reports of missing persons that would indicate an undiscovered death. We want to keep it that way. ”
“Continuing to prod at this pokemon with all our curiosity, while intended as harmless by most, is running the thing ragged. If the media popularized this as some big wild new mystery, you know very well it would attract a lot more attention. That attention is not going to be good. I am verrry confident that you are all good enough at your jobs to know that.”

Emmet raises one hand apologetically, letting his face fall to reflect the tiredness that he had been hiding so well (maybe not) before then. 
“I am Emmet. I am the Subway Boss. I am working on contacting Ms. Professor Juniper in order to better understand what is going on. Please consider the bigger picture of things and how this may impact the pokemon in question, and respect the decision of Gear Station in the meantime until we can ensure that any further publicity will not put this pokemon at risk.”

“It would be verrrrrrrrrrry unfortunate if this fantastic new pokemon went extinct on first appearance. You all are smart enough to know how this could go poorly, and I have personally seen the state it is in. Any more pushing and something will break. Safety checks must be performed before these tracks continue.”

Emmet pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to mentally steady himself. The mask goes back up and he is smiling. He is extremely grateful that this group is so small. It makes them a lot easier to reason with.
Several shuffle around and ask him further questions. He does his best to answer them thoroughly so that they don’t come back looking for more. He takes a bit of time to converse with them properly- Learn all their names, learn the companies they are working for. He ensures them that, no matter the delays in their investigation, he is overwhelmingly sure that this will be a great and popular story. He also tells them to pass gear station’s position on the subject along to any other news stations in their network of influence. He does not want to keep repeating himself over and over.

His face hardens to a scowl when he thinks about the pokemon itself. He can read the headlines in his brain. Yes, the tabloids are going to eat this shit up. Like hotcakes. 

⭒▿▿▽▿▿⭒

Emmet Thomas <[email protected]>
^{To Aurea Juniper}

Hello, I am Emmet.

Thank you for your patience while Gear Station was getting the situation under control. I am writing to inform you that we may soon be able to help you in moving forward with research on the new pokemon. I am sure it is a new species. If there were a pokemon that looked like this I would know. I will explain more when we can correspond further.

I am still postponing any research or photography until I can confirm the status of the pokemon. I have yet to encounter it during my shift today which does not bode well. Last I saw it was verrry worse for wear, and I want to ensure that it is safe. I also want to perform safety checks to ensure that it is comfortable being studied. In my encounter with it last night it displayed a noteworthy level of intelligence and it can likely be conversed with at a normal level which is great!

I attached all the medical documents I received from the Nimbasa City Pokemon Center below. I will write back as soon as I have any more news.

Thank you,
Emmet.

---

Aurea Juniper <[email protected]>
^{To Me}

Hello Emmet!

Thank you for following up so quickly. I appreciate your expedient response the day before and I’ll be keeping an eye out for your next email! I’m very eager to begin, but I know these things take time. I’ll ensure to review these documents before our next contact!

I am prepared to cancel all my plans in order to free up my schedule. Let me know as soon as the situation is sorted out and we can get to planning!

All the best,
Professor Aurea Juniper

---

⭒▿▿▽▿▿⭒

Emmet picks at the stitching on the side of his glove. The meeting room is empty. It is twenty minutes before 1pm. 

He is not functioning high enough to show up any later than this. The office is making him wish he’d stayed home and he cannot give his all in a battle right now. Then it would not be fun. Nnnnot at all, as he knows from experience. The first few years without Ingo were verrry rough, and Emmet did a whole lot of things that made battling something he dreaded instead of enjoyed. It took a big effort to snap out of that. So he was not going to battle today, mostly. He still wanted to at least give his pokemon a chance to stretch their legs, but the longer he was here the more it seemed like a. 

Bad Idea. 

He’ll settle on that as his choice of words. Pokemon battles are dangerous, as much as they have been regulated to prevent it, so it is never good to battle when he’s coughing up smoke instead of beautifully billowing steam like a proper locomotive engine.

He’s sitting at the head of the table. There used to be two chairs here, but now there is only one. The table is too wide for just one person to be here, but sadly it’s going to stay that way. 
…Unless they buy a new table?

Eelektross has been beside him all day, and now he helps him further by looping his long body around his arms and receiving half-hearted pets. It’s very grounding, and more than anything else, just a good comfort on a day like today. Emmet leans forward, resting his arms on the table with his head down. In between his arms and face is a whole lot of eel.

It’s nice though. Just a little cold, just a little warm, with tiny smooth scales. He can also feel Eelektross breathing. Eelektross can definitely feel Emmet breathing too. 

Something about that is comforting.

Depot Agent Frizzle arrives fifteen minutes early. 

“Heya Boss!” The door handle turns, clicking open and shut as xey enter the room. Emmet debates lifting his head, but does not. He does not need to be a subway boss for fifteen more minutes. 
“You uh,,,,,,,,,,,,, You okay there?” Xey check, nervously, and if Emmet knew xem well he would guess that xey’re probably fidgeting with xir hands.

How does he want to answer that question?
Let’s see… ‘Uh, no. He’s Actually Quite Bad, Thank You For Asking.’

Hahah, probably not that one.

“That question is too complicated for me to answer right now.”

“Ah. Gotcha. Uh. Well uhm, izit chill if I wait here Boss, or would you like me to step out?”
Xey sound… thinking… Self conscious. Yep yep.

“No need. You can wait here, yep.” Emmet pokes the table twice, but he’s not fully sure if xey can see it. 

He meant to follow that up with something else, but finds he doesn’t really have more to say. He can hear xem shuffling about and pulling out a chair somewhere on the right side of the table, but thankfully xey are mindful enough to not start doing some idle small talk bullshit. 

He wishes he had more time to Not Be the Subway Boss today, but this will have to suffice. Thirteen minutes to decompress and rest his brain.

Depot Agent Furze arrives thirteen minutes early.

Loudly.

“SIR!!” Thankfully he does not slam the door.

“Oh- uh- are you-? Friz, is he good..?”

“Ah- Well, my best guess is No , not really. It’s complicated..?” Xey offer bashfully.

Emmet raises his head off his lamprey to throw them a look.
“I am Emmet. You do not have to talk about me like I am not here,” he supplies, “but no I am not especially good.”

Furze has taken up the chair directly next to Frizzle. That’s how you can just tell he’s an extrovert. 
He does follow up with an earnest question though. “Well uh. My bad haha… I thought you’d be more excited than any of us. About-” He waves a hand in a circular motion, “-New strong pokemon and all.”
Emmet just knows he makes some kind of face at that. Furze reacts by sucking in a breath. “Jeez, that bad..??”
Emmet glances at Frizzle- He can’t see xir eyes but he hopes xey pick up on his vibes. Specifically vibes of Not Doing This Now . The Not Telling Everyone What Xey Saw Until The Meeting Starts vibes. “Yes. I will elaborate more when everyone else is here. I do not want to repeat myself. I do not have the energy.”

With that, he lays back down and closes his eyes. Eelektross responds with a bubbling croon, shifting around before holding Emmet closer with his arm fins. Quietly he murmurs, “Thanks buddy.” His partner is letting off a vibrating little purr, more than happy to snuggle himself comfortably around Emmet’s shoulders.

Furze starts trying to make conversation with the only other available participant in the room, although he at least has the tact to speak quietly and give Emmet some mental space. 

Ten minutes early, Depot Agent Isadore arrives. It is no longer remotely peaceful in here as he begins immediately verbally dueling with Furze over subway protocol.

God damnit.

It only gets louder in the room as more and more people start to show up. In fact, many agents were arriving early and taking places along the table. Almost everyone who enters the room tries to ask about him first, but a small group of agents sitting near the door take it upon themselves to intercept the questions so that Emmet doesn’t have to answer himself. However, everyone is still talking amongst themselves and it’s getting unbearable. They’re leaving Emmet alone at least.

After enough people show up to comfortably fill the table, Emmet rolls his chair back from the head seat and further from everyone else. Sitting upright in his chair now, he focuses on Eelektross instead. Galvantula also comes out soon after, doing Emmet a major solid by covering his ears with two of its legs. They’re starting to form a definitively structurally unsound stack, with Eelektross wrapped around Him and Galvantula supporting its weight on Eelektross. The conversation of the room is muffled by coarse, gentle fur.

With his eyes closed, Emmet tries to figure out what he wants to start with. …What does he even want to say? This day had already been so long. He didn’t think this meeting through. He wants to go home. And go to sleep also. 
But he is the subway boss, and he cannot just do that so easily. Like it or in this case not, he has a whole bunch of responsibility that he can’t just whimsically drop. 

Especially…

Especially with the state he found the pokemon in.

The look in its eyes…

Emmet is interrupted by a buzzing pattern on his wrist. Alarm’s going off. 1pm.

When Emmet raises his head, he startles violently. His eyes lock with a person standing in the corner, lanky enough to rise above all the other people in the room. For a solid second, looking at the gaunt eyes that meet his paired with oily black hair and pale skin, he’s convinced there’s been another haunting in the station. Once that second lapses, though, his memory catches up with him. That’s one of their newest hires- Brought onboard as supervisor for the double battle division.
Uhhh, uh. Name, name….. Ah!, Nnormann. No pronouns, name only. Not the hardest grammar he’s had to learn on behalf of his staff, and somewhat enviable.

Nnormann’s eyes are rather empty, and Nnormann was even taller than Emmet was. Which was saying a lot, because Emmet was already verrrry tall. Emmet is mildly worried by Nnormann’s avoidance of the table, in part because he knew his longer-standing agents tended to group up together with their friends. No one is paying attention to Emmet yet, so he has a moment to check in.

His hands move quickly, ignoring his brain’s repeated pleas to care less and put his head back down. ‘I am Emmet. Hello Nnormann! Everything O-K?’

Sluggishly, as though pulling out of a stupor, hands are raised to respond. The finger movements are precise and expedient, betraying an acute awareness Nnormann didn’t outwardly display most of the time Emmet had seen.

’O-K-A-Y.’ 👍 ‘The chairs are too stout for my legs. I am going to remain standing.’

Emmet offers a warm, genuine smile. One of the only genuine smiles today, actually. ‘This room is v-e-r-r-r-r-y loud. If you need to step out it is O-K. If a pokemon would help,’ Emmet briefly gestures to Galvantula who was starting to root through his hair, ‘then you can have it out during the meeting.’  

With that permission, similarly slow movements have Nnormann retrieving a pokeball from a suit pocket. Emmet isn’t sure which partner Nnormann will choose- But is pleasantly charmed to see a positively miniature Minccino released onto Nnormann’s shoulder, only to be gently cupped in large hands.

The brief interaction helps him shake off some of the dread and apathy that had been following him this morning-now-afternoon. He grabs Galvantula’s pokeball to prevent its current attempt to knit webs with his hair, fixing his hat back on his head. Gear Station was all about fresh starts nowadays! Nnormann was only the second-most-recent example, and today was all about the Most Recent one, so it is about time he got this meeting on rails.

He taps at Eelektross to signal him to unwrap himself, pushing to his feet as Eelektross circles into the air behind him. “AAAlllRRRRIght.” He claps his hands together, taking several stiff steps forward to stand at the head of the table again. All at once the room quiets, a couple of people cutting off mid-word.

“It is now 1pm. We are going to get this meeting started.”
“Does anyone have any questions that are not related to the contents of the meeting? I am going to make sure everyone is here.” Emmet pulls up the list of everyone who said they would attend on his xtransceiver, squinting as he does a headcount and double checking with the list. 

“Well not related to the meeting, but I think we’ve all wanted to know if you’re alright, sir?” Furze asks, which is not surprising but as equally unhelpful as it was earlier. 

“By definition no. I am- hold on” He double checks his place, before continuing to count, “-I am going to be fine, but I did not sleep last night.”
There are hisses of sympathy around the room, mutterings offering him to go home early, others upset at him for not calling in. 

“I appreciate your concern. I also will admit I have been thinking about it all day, but I can not go home until this meeting is over. This is more important than anything else.”

“Now- Everyone is present.”
Emmet places his hands on the table, looking around the room at all his employees.

“To begin, has anyone seen or heard any word of the pokemon today?”

Murmuring and shaken heads. The consensus is no.
“That is, concerning.” He drums his fingers on the table, debating what to say first. Emmet hasn’t seen it either, and he’s admittedly scared that it may have run away. He’s not sure how long it can survive like that when it is still recovering from its injuries. It could have even been caught by a stray trainer, with the state it’s in. 

“No one?” A second pass reveals nothing. “Verrry bad,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Alright. How many of you have seen the pokemon in person? Ah- in clear lighting, up close?”
Several hands around the room raise. Frizzle, Payton, Monty, Gene, and Ramses. He suspects Darce may have as well, but they aren’t here.

“For any who do not know, I had a direct encounter with the pokemon yesterday and temporarily had it in my custody in order to get it emergency medical attention.”

“I am not allowing photography right now and so I do not have any pictures, but I did my best to draw what it looks like so you all may see. This is necessary. It will quickly become obvious why.”
Emmet takes the paper out of his coat pocket and begins to unfold it, opening it up.

“When I arrived at the single battle line where the pokemon was confronted yesterday, there were two depot agents and five other trainers battling it at the same time.”
He hesitates while he looks at the slip again. He spent most of his spare time in-between tasks this morning trying to get it as accurate as he could remember. He’s no Burgh but he’s no newly hatched smeargle either. 

“Isadore.” He always takes the liberty of sitting near the head of the table.

“Yes, sir?” His agent levels him a look, caught off guard by the sudden address but not slipping. 

“Take this, look at it thoroughly, and then pass it around the table.” He withholds the paper until he finishes saying all he needs to. “You and the other agents with more seniority will understand what I am doing more than most of the junior members. Take the drawing one at a time and do not interrupt me.”

Isadore had been at the station as long as Emmet had today, but didn’t even show a hint of the exhaustion Emmet was feeling. They meet eyes for about a second, and then Emmet hands the drawing to him. Of all the agents, Isadore was the one who valued professionalism most. Perhaps to a comedic measure at some points, but Emmet could respect that in him. He can’t handle the reactions of the entire room at once, but he knows Isadore well by this point, and he firmly believes he can set an unspoken example of conduct for the other agents that will help Emmet be able to make it through this explanation without going nonverbal. 

He doesn’t communicate any of that directly. He’s taking the paper now, and Emmet is about to see how much of that he’ll be able to infer and act on while also processing his own reaction to the pokemon’s likeness. 

There’s a beat of silence, but Emmet can see his eyes widen under his black-rimmed glasses for just a moment, then bringing it closer to look at with more urgency. Not a word.

Perfect. Here’s hoping the others give him the same mercy.
He continues.

“By the time I arrived and brought the fight to a halt, the pokemon was severely wounded. I watched it take a completely unguarded, super-effective Focus Blast. Direct hit.” Isadore snaps up to look at him, before his eyes fall back down to the picture. He quietly hands it to the next person, clasping both of his hands on the table. 

The next in line sucks in a breath, opens their mouth to say something, before hesitating and covering their mouth with their hand.

Still good.

“What I have been able to reason from the rumors from the last five days, my encounter with it, and what I saw at the pokemon center. All of it tells me that our safety standards are no longer being checked correctly.”
The next person in line is Frizzle, who doesn’t react to the image, but does inspect it thoughtfully for a few moments. Furze is trying to lean over xir shoulder to peek at it, but xey successfully fend him off by waving him away.

“I need to straighten these crooked tracks. If I had not intervened last night, something would have gone terribly wrong. Yep.”
“If I did not stop the trainers and agents present from attacking, I am morbidly confident that the pokemon may not have survived the night.”

A remarkably tense and somber smog descends onto the room, now. Isadore’s knuckles must be white under his gloves, with how hard he’s clenching his hands.

Then the paper is passed to Furze. “Wait-!” He starts, yanking the paper closer,  before cutting himself off. “,,Sorry!” He whispers an apology, quickly passing it to the next person. They only look kind of confused, so Emmet has a bit more time to speak.

“...Right. So, to start off this meeting, I want to reiterate how important it is to pay attention.”
“The pokemon did not want to be caught. As you all are verrry great trainers, I should not need to tell you that a pokemon that does not want to be caught should not be bullied into becoming a trainer’s pokemon. But here We are. I’m telling you.” The next person to get the drawing is Cameron. They audibly gasp, before covering their mouth with a gloved hand and looking around the table bashfully. By this point, the left side of the table is burning with anticipation.

“Furthermore, there is a point where battling is not fun. You all know what I say and what I do. If a battle isn’t serious, it is not fun.”

“But last night, I also saw that we have fallen slack on what it means to go too far. The yellow line has been crossed multiple times in the last five days.”

Cameron passes to Cloud. She makes a face at the picture, Emmet can’t fully make it out from over here. She passes it to one of the agents standing in the back, and it loops around from there.

“Trainers should not be on the tracks. Full stop.”
“It is a safety hazard. It causes delays for passengers. I do not blame you all for this.”

He tries to use what energy he has to inject something somber into his tone. “We all got caught up in the rush. The excitement.”
“I did, too.”

The picture has made it around the left side now, to Nnormann in the back. Nnormann doesn’t seem to understand the deeper meaning, other than a puzzled look back up to Emmet, comparing them. He can't help but feel like he would be getting that look a lot, for a while. Again.

“The pokemon in the subway are also under our jurisdiction. Most of them are wild. They live here.”

“They know to avoid the tracks, and we also have side tunnels for them to use. There are territories and packs. There is a weird, great, subway-themed ecosystem.”

The drawing makes its way to Rutile and Jackie. Shocked silence from both of them, expressed in different ways. Almost around the whole table now.

“The pokemon in the subway are entitled to our protection. We are the people making sure their habitat does not go off the rails. Literally sometimes. Wild pokemon can choose to challenge subway trainers or become their pokemon.”

“The new pokemon that appeared here did not.”

Emmet doesn’t need to fake the severity in his voice.

Ramses only nods wistfully as the picture arrives at him, passing it to the next in line.

“The pokemon did not want to be challenged by trainers. It did not want to be caught.”

“We, as the people running Gear Station, have done a verrry bad job at upholding that. We all,” he says, putting a hand on his chest. He’s included in this, too, “watched other trainers relentlessly pursue it. Some of us contributed. We cannot let this happen again.”

His drawing has made it around the table and back to him. He picks it up, folds it, and puts it away in his coat. 
Emmet turns to grab his chair, pulling it back to the table and sitting down. Eelektross sneaks under the table to drape himself over his lap.

“...I need a second to get my thoughts in order again.”
“I have been spitballing until now, and I have not decided what to say next.”
Most of the agents take that as permission to mumble to each other, expressing regrets, worries, or confusion about the pokemon’s appearance.

Gods. He needs to have something else to call it other than ‘The Pokemon’ immediately or he’s going to slam his head onto the table at the next opportunity and let out a sigh that would make a Slaking look lively by comparison.

He stuffs that imaginary scenario by voicing his issue instead.

“What do we call it.”

“Pardon, sir?” “Huh?” A chorus of people chime in, necessitating that he repeats himself.

“What should we call the pokemon? This is a non-sequitur. If I have to call it The Pokemon one more time, I am going to.”
“I dunno. Do nothing. I will be upset though.” He’s averting his eyes away from everyone else, unable to look up knowing that he’ll be met with a dozen questions in their eyes that he can’t answer.

There’s a hesitant beat of silence.

“Great. Glad to know we are all thinking it. We are not fucking naming it that. Think of something else.” He can’t help the scowl on his face. Yeah, gee boss, let’s name it after your dead twin brother whom it resembles so closely. That won’t bother Emmet at all. NoPe. Dance on his empty grave, while you’re at it.

Nnormann raises a hand in the back, asking, ‘I don’t understand.’

“Right, okay one second, bring it back in, everyone.” Emmet waves a hand in the air, getting more of his thoughts in order.

“Thank you Nnormann. I am not expecting a lot of the junior members to know or understand why this sucks.”

“So for all of you who Do not know, I had a twin brother. His name was Ingo Thomas. He was loud, I was quiet. He was talkative, I was not. He always frowned, I always smiled. He wore black, I wore white.”

“He is legally dead. He went missing years ago and we never found him.” Emmet leans back in his chair, unable to work up the emotion to break through the lingering numbness around the topic right now.
“This was several years ago. We ran the subway together. He did singles, I did doubles, and we ran multis together. Most of the older agents knew him.”

“The pokemon- god damn it.”
He pauses, smiling with frustration. It’s a twisted irony, and the final straw. Emmet finally snaps, gesturing sharply and aggressively outward with both hands.

“The fucking pokemon looks like my dead identical twin. Are we clear?! Great!!”  

Crossing his arms, he kicks his chair to roll away from the table. He doesn’t want to look at them right now. “We are not naming it after him. I am not naming it after Ingo. End of discussion.”

…He sinks into his chair, slumping forward to bury his face in his hands. He takes off his hat, handing it to Eelektross for a minute. He needs to breathe. He needs space. Sleep. He wants to go home.

He is the subway boss. He will go home after they can establish a protocol to prevent this from ever happening again.
Emmet cannot handle taking a gravely injured effigy of his brother to the hospital again. Not with the way it trembled in his hands every second of the trip there and back. Not with the way it looked at him. 
Not if he wanted to keep the broken scraps of wellbeing he had fought for.

“...I’m sorry. I’m irritable, tired, and stressed. I didn’t sleep. I am not being professional or kind right now.”
“I need a minute.”


“...Please help me find something else to call it.”

The discussion around the table slowly opens up a lot more after that, leaving him behind to figure out how to piece his mask back together. He rarely masked in front of his agents. This was his subway. But this was a different case, none of this situation was their fault. He isn’t mad at them. He’s just, mad. He’ll have to unpack why later. 

He’s idly tuned in as they start throwing ideas around. He can take deep breaths and listen at the same time. It’s actually hard for him not to listen, in general. As expected, most suggestions are cheesy. Some of them are suggesting stuff that sounds like species names, but they probably can’t do that. “Juniper will not be here to study, it, until I can confirm that it is okay with that. We probably should not try to name the species yet.”

Furze immediately jumps in with the most overblown off-the-wall sappy thing ever. Like calling it ’Remembrance’ or ‘Honor.’ Jackie breaks into a fit of snorting laughter, and that shuts that idea down pretty fast in the minds of everyone else, but Furze seems determined that it Is actually a Great Idea.

A few other names get floated, too, that are more standard. By this time, he’s eased his way back to the table, at least able to raise his head. The railheads of the group (most everyone present) come up with train-themed names, like Big Blue, Bluebird, Centennial, Hammerhead. While he actually does like a lot of those, something about it… doesn’t sit right with him? 

Some smartass (Rutile) throws 'Paul' into the pot of names before Emmet speaks up again.

“I am not sure that we… Hm.” He has the attention of the room again, although people are still conversing more casually. “I do not know… If it wants a name.” He frowns, putting a hand over his mouth.

“Well, if we don’t give the big guy some kind of name, what’re we gonna call it?” Monty floats, sounding skeptical. Emmet tilts his head as he tries to put words to the uneasiness slowly pooling around his neck and over his shoulders. Eelektross takes this as an invitation to replace that unease with the side of his head, headbutting his face along Emmet’s chin. He breaks into a small fit of laughter, which gives Cameron an opportunity to speak their piece. “Plus, if we don’t call it anything, we’re back where we started. Shouldn’t you pick, sir?”

Emmet gets his lamprey to stop pestering him and loop over his chair instead, giving him the space to get his thoughts together. “I do not know. I want something to call it, but I know verrrrrry well it does not want to be owned in any capacity.”
This is where Frizzle pipes up, “But it went with you yesterday, right? It probably-” “No.”

Emmet shakes his head, leaning forward to rest on his elbows, hands clasped as he presses the grim expression on his lips into his knuckles. 
“It does not want to be anyone’s pokemon. It made that very clear. Not even me. I broke the pokeball I carried it in, and it took the pieces to shatter them. For good measure.”

“I think if I gave it a name, it would take that as me being ingenuine. I said I would not keep it and that the arrangement was temporary. If I confidently gave it a nickname, I think I would break its trust.”

The room eases back into their chairs, many looking puzzled for an answer, or nodding their heads in pensive agreement. 

It goes quiet for several seconds, people mumbling to themselves more ideas or lost in thought.

Their answer comes from Nnormann, nervously raising a hand in the silence. Emmet glances up and lowers his hand from his chin. “Yep? Nnormann?”

Nnormann starts slowly again, hunched over from the weight of the room’s sudden attention. Minccino chirps, climbing to Nnormann’s shoulder and earning an appreciative pat. With steady hands, words form.

‘What about giving the pokemon a title?’

“Title…” Emmet makes some kind of face, he’s sure. “Like, what? Furze was saying stuff like that earlier and those were all way too awkward.” “Hey!”
Nnormann hesitates and needs to build momentum back up.

‘Like, a business title.’
‘My old job… Everyone wanted promoted. To get respect, treated fairly.’
‘Nnormann is the “double battle supervisor” now. Emmet showed respect for me. You gave me an equal chance.’

Emmet immediately lights up, standing tall with his hands slapped to the table. “That is the best idea I have heard all day! Perfect!

“A title- For anyone who does not know sign- A title, like a job title. You are the Depot Agents. I am the Subway Boss. Our mystery pokemon can be something else!”

The room comes alive with chatter and ideas, and for the first time all afternoon he feels energy filling him back up for one last push. “That is perfect! Thank you, Nnormann!” 

With a bashful, subtle blush, Nnormann offers a small, stilted wave and steps out of the room. Everyone present is suddenly back on track, and several sheets of paper have been procured. Pens are passed around the table as new titles are added to an ever growing list.

“What about The Conductor?” “No no no, I liked Supervisor!”
“Subway boss, subway boss… Subway attendant?” “That’s too weird. You make it sound like a busboy.”
“Depot Boss!” “I like that, but what about Agent? Like the Subway Agent.” “PSsh-! Like some kind of spy movie?” “Noo now you’ve ruined it for me too!”

“It’s obviously more than some average pokemon! We’ve all heard how strong it is and some of you got to fight it! What if it’s some legendary or mythical pokemon!!” “Furze, seriously?” Jackie jabs, “That’s sooo conspiracy.” “I’m serious! What if it got made as a tribute to Ingo, the Battle Subway, and the glorious pinnacle of human achievement! Trains!” 

A chorus of laughter erupts around the room.
“ It’s totally possible!!”

“That’s a great point though,” Payton finally offers his opinion. “As one of the agents who battled it myself, it isn’t some ordinary powerhouse. That steel cab can really take a hit. It manhandled my Lucario even with the type disadvantage. We shouldn’t put it on the same level as us Agents, it’s strong, clever, and one-of-a-kind.”

Ramses has a wizened smile on his face, setting a hand toward the center of the table with a gentle yet commanding presence. “Well, Emmet… You said yourself that us folks working at Gear Station are supposed to protect the people and pokemon under our care.” He builds, meeting Emmet’s eyes. He has no trouble reciprocating the eye contact of his old friend. “If we've got our hands full with the human passengers, maybe this new face could be just the help we need. Someone to keep an eye on the station when we’re not around, and a hand in keeping all our resident wild pokemon out of mischief.”

Emmet’s face falls, suddenly serious, nodding as he takes in that suggestion.

It’s a perfect way to get trainers to leave the pokemon alone. If he can ‘hire’ or ‘enlist’ its help, make it an official staff member somehow, then other trainers will not have a right to chase it around and harass it. 

He nods again, wandering hand brought back to his chin as his eyes snap down to the table. Equal footing. Respect. Protection.

The idea is forming in his head faster and faster. Conversation halts as he pushes his chair back from the table, moving it out of the way as he stands to his feet. He’s impervious to their sudden interest and the building excitement of the room, pacing with one glove clamped to his chin and the other behind his back. Subway Boss, Depot Agent. Subway Boss. Equals. In Ingo’s memory, honoring him, no matter what form it came in. 

He starts to pick up speed as the idea starts coming clearer and clearer. It’s so close, it’s SO close! He’s mumbling to himself as he wears a circle into the carpet in the back of the room. Eelektross is right beside him, chasing along behind his path.
“Subway boss. Subway Boss. Subway. Boss.”
“Station. Watching over the station.

“Subway, station, Subway Boss, Station… Boss…. Boss….”
“Leader, Chief, Manager, Superintendent- no no no. Inspector, Dispatch, Porter-”
“Trains. Steam engines. Locomotive. Conductor, Sta- WAIT!”

Everything in the room stops as Emmet slams his fist into his palm, coat whirling as he turns to face his employees.

“The Station Master!”

The room explodes into cheering and raucous excitement.

With a grin plastered onto his face as his closest friends and agents launch into thrilled conversation about the potential of their new coworker , Emmet thinks that today might not be so bad after all.

…
. . .

⭒▿▿▽⥊▲▴▴⭑

. . .

… 

Dragons and gods, Emmet was fucking exhausted.

The energy that had swept out of the room beside him when he left the meeting only lasted about an hour and a half. 
He decided to keep pushing. His shift was already mostly over by then, and with the new wave of energy he took a lap on one of the battling lines while keeping an eye out for The Station Master, title pending. He was hoping to catch sight of it before the day was over so he could float the idea of working with Gear Station, but that hour came and went and the energy went with it.

But he's had low energy days before! His team got to do a few good battles like he promised. He figured he could tough it out a little longer. Another hour went by with- literally not even a peep or a glimpse of their new arrival. All of the conversation in the station today had only been rumors, and every one led back to a trick of the eye or a misunderstanding. All dead ends.

Now here he is, dragging his feet along the maintenance walkway into the Singles Line. He's barely got forty minutes to the ‘end of his shift,’ but the main station is far too loud at 4:30 for him to tolerate. His head feels like if Garbodor slung a wave of Gunk Shot onto all of his neurons.

Yet he’s still lugging his weight over to their office. One last attempt to see if their mystery mon is still around the subway. He's got a stack of paperwork to file, en route for one last hurrah. Or, maybe just a pitiful little squeak before he packs up and goes home. He’s been looking for this emotional warhead all day, and the anticipation of seeing it again has left him running on empty far past his typical limit. Verrry irresponsible of him. 

Emmet keeps glancing up at the tunnel, expecting any tiny speck in the corner of his eye to be the mon of the hour- as if it would ✨magically materialize✨ in front of him. 

He offers Eelektross a grateful stroke along his fin as Emmet stops in front the door. No dice. 

He'll have to try again tomorrow, and again, until he finally finds it.

He hopes… 
He hopes it's okay.

With the state it was in, he's not sure if it could protect itself if push came to shove again.

“Thank you, buddy.”
He mumbles to Eelektross as they share a feather-light forehead bonk.
“You rrreally carried me today. Extra treats later, promise.”
“Kzhkcc-c-ct!” It sparks back at him contentedly.

Shifting his papers and laptop to one arm, he shuffles through his coat to take his keys and open up their office. 

Emmet doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary until he flicks the light on. He only has a chance to glance over the room before his brain ratchets back up to speed and he stiffens.

Right where he left it, curled up in the corner of his office, the pokemon snoozes away. 
Its quiet rumbling snores are completely oblivious to the plight of every Gear Station staff member who had been looking everywhere to find it. 

“Kzvh?” 

“Shh-!” Emmet puts a gloved finger to his lips.
Carefully returning Eelektross to his ball, Emmet tries to be silent as he steps inside and closes the door behind him.

Well, he found it. That answers that.

He can't exactly talk yet, but it's still here. 
That knowledge releases the weight of the day from his shoulders, his burden so much lighter as he melts into his desk chair- in lieu of the still-occupied couch cushions.

Unfortunately, Emmet still needs to do this paperwork, like it or not. But! At least he can chip away at it while he waits for the pokemon to wake up! Something to look forward to after. Swiveling around and cracking his laptop open, he spreads the papers out across the desk to get a good assessment of the work he’s got ahead of him.

…
. . .

What was that agent’s name?

…

Cross the T’s, dot the I’s…

…What is he going to say when it wakes up?

… Oh, signature, signature… signature again…

...Today’s date is…

…It’s nice to not be so tense, but with that tension gone he feels so sleepy…

Has it been sleeping this whole time? Did it even move?

… oh dragons how does math work. Fuck. numbers okay hold on

Numbers. Numbers. Numbers. Make it happen come onnnn brain.

…trains in hell.

He can’t focus like this.

He’s been glancing over his shoulder every half-minute just to look at it again, and his attention is so scattered a Spinda would be impressed. Emmet managed to hold out for a good five minutes of actually making an honest attempt at filling out these boxes and reading these boring paragraphs, but his mind just keeps wandering back to the pokemon behind him. His head is so cloudy and muddled that he can barely process any of these words to begin with.

Emmet swivels his chair back around, closing his laptop and sorting the paperwork back into a relatively orderly stack. Giving himself some proper time to look the pokemon over, he takes a couple of slow breaths and presses his palms against his eyes.

…

…Blank.

Despite the energy he had earlier, despite how important it is that he asks about the title and inviting it to work with Gear Station, despite how many things he needed to say, he’s drawing a blank. 

He wants to give it the security and stability it’s lacking, but the minute he actually tries to put any of it to words-
-Nothing but static.

He would take a nap, but it’s far enough into the evening that he really shouldn’t.

…Speaking of sleeping, now that he has a good look at it, it really doesn’t look like the pokemon has moved an inch since he last saw it.

Same position, same spot. 

He’s thinking it might actually be exactly the same, come to think of it.

It… It is still breathing, right…?
Emmet leans forward in his chair to look closer and realizes in that moment that he can’t tell.

But- He heard it earlier, It was alive. It was alive.

Emmet stands, anxiety joltiks gnawing at the vulnerable edges of his depleted emotional battery.

He steps closer, careful not to disturb it. He’s only a few feet away now. 

Yes, it’s breathing. He can see its chest moving in and out, very, very, v e r r r y slowly. 
He doesn’t know, what that means, or if it’s supposed to be like that, but it’s extremely freaky. 

It hasn’t moved almost at all in probably twenty hours- that can’t be normal, right?

His eyes miss how the ornaments on its coat twitch as he takes a few more steps forward. He’s almost close enough to reach out and touch it.

The wound on its arm is starting to heal, slowly. It’s hard to tell from this angle. But- the fractures on its chest are still quite bad. The smaller hairline fractures got cleaned up by the ample application of potions, but the dent in its chest was still very prominent, and other larger cracks were still open. Didn’t seem like it was bleeding? Does it bleed? Or- wait no, he saw it bleeding yesterday.
That feels. Weirder. Maybe there’s something he can’t see.

Maybe he should check its pulse to make sure it’s okay. Does it even have a pulse? Well it has blood so it has to, right? Although he doesn’t know what its sleeping heart rate should be anyway, maybe it wouldn’t matter.

Whatever- What’s more important is that he can’t tell if the pokemon is okay or not, so he

takes 
a couple 
of steps
forward,

leaning closer and perhaps hovering, trying to inspect the wound on its chest.
Hesitantly, he reaches to touch the most malformed part, the blue triangle patterning on the center of its chest. It’s dented and broken up into smaller pieces, but it almost looks, compacted? The pads of his fingertips depress the material just barely, and for a fraction of a moment Emmet is surprised by the unexpected earthy texture. It’s softer, not made of metal like he expected.

The next several things happen fast enough that Emmet can’t react.

Its eyes snap open.

Its arm snaps forward.

Its claw snaps around his torso.

And a shaky hum rises to a rattling force that rockets through him.

That whole experience is about, give or take, two seconds.

Emmet’s hands have shot back to himself, raised in surrender. His eyes are locked onto the claw that fits around his entire body as the tremoring dies off and that same claw retreats just as quickly.
(Pupils suddenly shrink, shifting to sit up and letting go with a start. Vision comes into focus, the events of the day before processing-)

His voice chokes in his throat. “ I- ”
(The color has drained from his face-)

“RRrrhoa-?”

The pokemon bellows shouts calls at him in anger betrayal concern confusion.

“I- won’t hurt- you-” Emmet stammers out, unable to pick his eyes off of the floor, even at the sound of shifting metal. He can feel the distant impression of lingering soreness along the skin that stretches over his ribs, a pinching feeling on each ridge.

The vacant space in his head is helpfully filled by a violent, vividly clear picture.
His own body, limp on the floor. Ribcage crushed. Bleeding slowly into the wooden floorboards. Can’t breathe.

“I'm- I am- Emmet. -and Sorry. I will not touch you.”
He barely manages to pace his thoughts in a way that forms coherent, clear sentences. 
“You- barely breathing- didn't know- did not, if you were okay. Had to check. I'm- I won’t hurt you. Won’t, catch you- take you anywhere.”  

He’s laying there, in pain. Waiting for someone to find him. How long would it take them to find him? Would they think to check the side room? The room that was usually locked and empty?

Emmet’s legs must’ve taken a worse hit than he thought, as he sinks to the floor. Maybe his lungs did too, he’s struggling to catch his breath.

Slowly. Slowly. Waiting for anyone to find him, for someone to help him before it’s too late?

Is that what Ingo was thinking, too?

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. No. Not those thoughts.
He sways under the new weight draped around his shoulders, clarity washing back over him in a disorienting wave. He’s hyperventilating. Hot, painful tears dripping off his chin.

“Fuck- fhuck I-” The pokemon’s skirt thingy has been cautiously laid over him, steady hands on each side of him. It’s speaking to him more quietly, sorrowful words that sound like apologies of their own. “Awh, awbo.”

“I’m sOr- y I-” Emmet stammers out between a wheeze, trying to gulp in another breath and gain back his momentum. “I said I wouldn’t do this again, I promised and I-”

“Awla boah.” A firm, solid voice insists nothing at him.

Don’t think about it. Stop thinking about it, you’re just gonna feel worse. Dragons and gods, that’s one of the darkest ones he’s had in so long-

Emmet drags his eyes off the floor, tilting his head up to look the pokemon in the eye proper. He takes a few shuddering breaths in as he tries to pull his composure back. “ Sorry . Sorry, it’s - it is not your fault. You are fine. I am not upset at you-”

Looking into its- familiar, achingly familiar eyes , the look it's giving him screams Are you okay? Enough to make him cough out another sob of air. He lifts his hands to press his palms to his eyes, soaking his tears into his gloves. You’d think that’s what they were made for with how often he uses them for it.
He manages a few reassurances, working around the lump in his throat. “I am fine. Okay. You did not hurt me. I am fine.”

“Booah?” It's quieter than before. Its voice feels lower than it ever was yesterday. It’s hard to tell exactly, he’s still too flustered. 

“I will be fine. Give, give me a few minutes to pull it together.”
“Hard. Long day.”

It only nods at him, not moving its arms from their place on either side of him. It's very, very gently holding its arms against his own with a constant, steady pressure. 

It waits for him in silence while he works through the last of his hiccups and waterworks. It doesn’t say a word. Emmet sits with his head angled down, fighting to take slower and deeper breaths. Negative emotions thunder through his head, crashing against the walls of his skull and splintering into a dozen other fractured and inexplicable pains. This wasn’t that bad. He’s going to be fine. These emotions are not all applicable to right now, they just- flaring up. Flare up. Too many. Can’t handle.

Slower, and deeper. 

One… two… three… four…

…

Flames alive. He hasn’t had an intrusive thought that disturbing in, what, a couple of months? 

He’ll add it to the, rapidly growing list of things to bring up in therapy next week.

…

Four… three… two… one…

…

…

Emmet slowly picks himself back up off the ground, failing to translate the vague feelings and thoughts in his head into comprehensible words. 

He settles for an apology.

“I am really sorry for that.” “Rrrr.”
Sounds vaguely annoyed. Probably rebuffing the gesture.

An explanation then.
“I did not mind the yellow line today. I wish I had found you sooner, so that we did not need to do this whole,” Emmet waves his hand in a vague circular motion, “song and dance again.”
“I am doing better than yesterday. You caught me off guard. My head did not appreciate it. But not your fault.”

He ends with a flat, unsatisfying, “I will be fine.”
Averting his eyes from the ‘mon of the hour.

…

With the sudden onset of silence, his surprise passenger now awake and aware, an awkward discomfort sweeps into the room uninvited.
“I. uh.”

It kneels in front of him, still as tall as he was. It’s looking at him with an expression he really doesn’t want to read into right now.

It starts to lift a claw when Emmet jerks a thumb to point behind him. It looked like it wanted to say something else, but Emmet accidentally cut it off.
“Work.”

And following that, before he can backpedal, he turns abruptly about-face.
“I will give you space. You do not have to leave, or do anything.”

He stiffly points over at the desk directly across from him. “I will be over here.”
Emmet can hear the sound of metal settling as he marches over to his desk, dropping into the chair unceremoniously and cracking open his laptop. He tries to make himself look busy, staring into the reflection on the screen to watch what it will do.

He does not want to hover, especially not with it still injured and all the dangers that come with injured wild pokemon. One of those dangers being him Very Nearly Getting Mauled Just A Minute Ago. That one was definitely his fault though. He should not have been that close to a sleeping pokemon and he definitely shouldn’t have touched it. 
But he was… ravenously curious. 

It was not polite to stare. And dragons above he had no idea what to say when standing that close. He feels like he might turn tamato-red from humiliation now that he isn’t having a panic attack, but he doesn’t know if he even has the emotional energy to noticeably emote at this point.

The agents had been asking him about this all day, particularly how he felt about it. 
He had brushed them off when he could, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know what they were doing. Everyone wants to see Emmet’s reaction to the eerily Ingo-like pokemon. Everyone wants to know Emmet’s opinion, but they don’t want to pry, but they’re going to be passively imploring about it as if he doesn’t know what they’re doing. Sure, he doesn’t always pick up on social cues, but he’s been around the block enough times. Even he is not that oblivious.

And what is he supposed to say? He feels…

…It’s complicated.

He watches it stand up from the corner and look around the room while he tries to make it seem like he’s doing something distracting and boring to snoop on. (It’s minesweeper.)

It seems unsure where to place its attention, looking at him for a while. Hopefully it doesn’t know that minesweeper isn’t actually work. And then, it turns its curiosity to the room around them.
It’s hard to actually see much of anything, but he can tilt the screen back a little to get a better angle. Its eyes fall to the pictures on the wall for a few moments, before it turns back to its makeshift bed and dismantles it, returning the cushions to the couch. Considerate. Weirdly thoughtful. 

Emmet feels something in his head twinge but takes a mental note of that anyway- Oh, that’s a tile with 7 mines around it. You don’t see that every day.

Now it is just looking at the photos. Just, unsubtly gawking.
Emmet silently swivels his chair around to get a better read on it.

It stands hunched over, balanced awkwardly to keep stable footing while dodging the furniture. Fixated onto the photographs hung up on the left wall, strung up on fairy lights, it lifts one claw to ghost one of the many pictures without touching. It opens its mouth to start a vocalization, a complicated look in its expression, when Emmet realizes it’s turning to look his way. “Awwllah-?”

It cuts itself off with a small jump, clearly not expecting to see him looking right back. “Hi.”

“Awl.” It nods back, before pointing at the picture in front of it instead. “ Awla boah..?” Its head slowly turns until it’s looking at the photo again.
“Yes. I imagine you are looking at him. He looks a lot like you do.” Emmet nods, his face having dropped to a completely impassive blank look. After masking too hard some days, he can’t always keep up his usual smile.

It nods, claw curling, then holds it to its chest. It looks at Emmet, pointing at him and itself. “Yes. You also look like me.”
It points more insistently at itself. “Awbo-” “I know.”

“I told you this yesterday.” Emmet’s brow flattens, gesturing loosely with his left hand. He really didn’t want to get into this right now. But there’s never going to be a good time, is there? “I told you that you reminded me of someone. That is him.”
The pokemon turns to him fully, gesturing both claws between it, the photo, and Emmet. “Awlaah! Boahhbo..!” He cannot read the look in its eyes, but it clearly seems distressed.

“I am having a bad day. I do not have the energy to tell you everything.” He admits tersely, standing up to move beside it. He looks at the photo in question, then back to the pokemon. 

It's an older photo, one from after the subway had been running for a while. They were battling on the multi line against Iris. She had just become the champion. It was a perfect battle, the best. All three of them gave it all they had. Did wonders for their PR. It was spring. 

Emmet takes his hat off, running his hand through his hair with a sigh. “I will tell you more on a different day. As you already saw I am not emotionally handling shit right now.”
“But you deserve to know.”
It pays intense attention to his next several sentences. 

“I am Emmet. His name was Ingo. He was my identical twin. He is very dead, and I have been thinking about him a lot today.” He picks his words carefully- why is it looking at him like that? “You have caused a stir among the staff at the station. I will not pretend to know how or why you look like him, but everyone has been asking me for answers. He used to work here with me as the other subway boss. He died four years ago.”

The pokemon opens its mouth, looking like it wants to keep pressing him for more, but it settles backwards away from the wall and makes itself smaller. It looks conflicted, heavily considering this information. Emmet didn’t want it to feel bad! He did not want to talk about it, sure, but- it did deserve to know. Especially with how people might treat it.

“Also, I want to be clear. I am not expecting you to be him.”

“I told you I would have my rails straight by today, and I do.” Emmet insists firmly, fixing his cap back on his head. “You did not know him. Even if you look like him, you do not have to be like Ingo. I am Emmet. You are you.”

“And you can be whatever you want to be.”


He steps away, picking his way over to the other side of the couch until he can sit down comfortably, resting his elbows on the back and giving it his attention. It seems unsure what to do with his attention, but it moves around to the right hand side of the room in order to avoid all the boxes and random items scattered around. It sits however it can, struggling to maneuver in the small space.

“It is a lot of pressure. You are new here. I do not want you to be forced to live up to some crazy emotional legacy left by a guy you did not know.”
It nods, slowly, seeming to process each part of the sentence one by one.

He’ll be more specific with his words. Now is a good time to talk about Gear Station.
“I am telling you this because I know people might treat you strangely. You look familiar to a lot of people, even though you are not. If you are open to hearing about it, we have an idea about how to get people to leave you alone?”

It lets the pause sit before nodding for him to continue, content to listen.

“My brother was a Subway Boss. I am also a Subway Boss. We have many Depot Agents at Gear Station, too, who help me keep all the lines in order. If you want to, we thought you could also help.”
“I am sorry if this is weird. It is kind of a lot. But, I cannot pretend that I feel nothing when I look at you. So, if you have made Gear Station your home, I want to protect you.” He averts his eyes, shifting on the couch before he can get comfortable enough to look at it again.

“I know you do not want to be caught, and I am trying to ensure you can recover peacefully. Your chest still looks very painful. -Sorry for earlier, by the way.” The pokemon waves him off, shaking its head.

“Gear Station could offer you protection. If you work for us, no one else would be allowed to catch you. Legally. I mean- they might still try. But they could not keep you.” Emmet gestures with both hands as he talks, motioning somewhat arbitrarily. “I want to be clear that does not mean we will catch you either. You can stay independent and do what you want.”

“We have also been struggling to keep our wild pokemon population in line as of late, and your help could also be super effective there. I know you are verrry strong.”
“So maybe it is partially for selfish reasons. But we wanted to offer you a job and a title to call you. Because calling you ‘the pokemon’ any more will Personally Kill Me it is so annoying. But mainly because then we can set parameters to keep trainers off of you.”

It rests one claw on its elbow and the other on its chin, contemplating his proposal. It looks like it has quickly become lost in thought, and Emmet is fascinated by the way its irises move. They seem to slowly narrow, contracting, but then slowly open up again. Like watching a computer screen saver of a camera shutter.

“Someone suggested that it would be better than giving you a nickname because it sets the baseline that we are on equal footing. I liked that a lot.”

“But you are also allowed to say no. I am not going to change my mind about protecting you, even if you do not want to stay here or you do not want a,” he uses air quotes, “ “Job.” Safety checks must be completed at all stops.”
It nods appreciatively, still seeming distant as it stares toward the wall. Emmet can’t help but be fascinated by it when sharing this much space, alone, for an extended period of time. It seems fairly well put-together despite the obvious identity crisis he probably just gave it. Oh dragons- he can imagine the mindfuck. Congratulations! Welcome to existence! You’re a one-of-a-kind pokemon (legendary status pending) fighting for your survival THEN on top of that you’re also some effigy of a weird guy who just really liked trains.

…Man, how does something like that happen? Even if there are actually legendary pokemon involved, this feels like a huge cosmic prank.
He hopes he can at least give it a life that isn’t always awful and existential all the time.

It comes back to reality again without much fanfare, bringing its claws to its chest. It looks down at itself, and he thinks he can see its frown tugging slightly deeper. Emmet sits up straighter on the couch, turning to face it properly. “You do not have to decide right away. It is a lot.” It shakes its head, looking back up and tapping its heavy cuff to itself. “You do not want to?”

It raises both claws at that, shaking its head faster, “Awh-” “Oh- Not what you meant. My bad. What is..?”

It gestures to its injuries, and now that he is a little more alert, it looks haggard. “Shit- sorry. You are hurt. Are you okay? I have more potions.” Emmet realizes his mistake, standing up and brushing himself off. “Awl- Awla.” It makes a motion for him to pause, considering something unreadable before tilting its head and attempting a very stiff, forced shrug. It shakes its head. “I. uh… Not that, either? You are still hurt. But that is not what you are worried about.” Come on Emmet. You’re the charades king over here. Get it together.

The pokemon shifts where it sits on its knees. That usually means uncertainty or nervousness. It points its claw at its lower torso, opening and closing its mouth- Oh, duh. Emmet puts his fist in his palm. “Hungry. You are hungry.” That is extremely obvious, he should have got that faster. “Oh- swords-” He catches up with his head, navigating around the coffee table and rooting through his pockets with a newfound urgency. “Oh I am a hypocrite! Preaching about safety checks- You have not eaten. It has been like twenty hours. You are probably starving, I am sorry for not realizing faster.”
It mumbles something quiet to itself, a little, “Bboh??” when Emmet picks out a few berries he has on hand. “Here. Take these.”

It plucks them from his hands with a claw, offering a grateful nod and popping them in its mouth before glancing around the room, looking for something. “I have more, but I am not sure what kinds of stuff you eat. We might have more luck in the store room, we have all kinds of things for pokemon there. Every type.” It waves to get his attention, tapping a claw to its wrist. “Oh- Time? Right- No windows. It is probably almost 5pm. You have been asleep for a while. We were starting to think you ran away, because we had not seen you all day.”

Emmet asks, “Do you feel up to going to the station? I could get some things and bring them back here, too.” He stands near the door, still not at full capacity, but with enough energy to at least get this pokemon some help. It considers this, looking down at itself before looking back to him. It tries another stiff shrug, but nods. Doesn’t look like its shoulders were made to do that.

“I will tell the depot agents to make sure the paths from the service tunnels do not have any passengers or trainers nearby. I think you can get to the break room without being in the headlights for too long. Is that good?” He’s already pulled up his xtransceiver to write a few messages, but it seems relieved by the option. It shifts to stand on one knee, which does not look comfortable. “It is cramped in here too. I have not had dinner either. We will go get food.” Emmet punctuates confidently, typing out a text and shooting it off.

---

[I am Emmet]
I found it
^{😲3🌟3❗1}
It was asleep
Can I get a few people from security to escort me and the pokemon from service tunnel S1 over to the breakroom? 🚂
I also need any available staff to clear the way if possible. I know we are nearing the height of our evening rush. I am verrry sorry for the bad timing. 🚂
^👍6

[I am Emmet]
I am going to take it through the service tunnels to keep it out of the main station for as long as possible. Please remind all passengers and challengers that photography is not allowed right now. 🚂

[Bread Loverboy💌]
o7 be right over boss!

---

“Okay. Hopefully by the time we get to the main station we should have some help. Are you ready?”
It shifts to a crouch, trying to move slightly closer. “Awla Boah.”

Opening the door and checking outside, the coast appears clear. If they get to the service tunnel quick enough, they should have plenty of time before the next Singles train departs.
“All clear. I will show you the way.” He gestures towards the door, staying inside to grab the lights.

Before maneuvering its way back through the door, it pauses to look at the desk.

Reaching over, it very carefully taps on his laptop before ducking out. Confused, but curious, Emmet looks back at the screen. It left a scratch on the trackpad, but his cursor must have been left where it was before he turned around.

It flagged the last mine around the seven.

Emmet follows it through the door, helping it get back out without knocking anything over and leading it to the maintenance tunnel that goes back to the central station.

⭒▿▿▽⥊▲▴▴⭑

“Okay. This is as close as the service tunnels can get us to the breakroom from this line.” Emmet holds up a hand for it to hang back, checking the visibility before it gets any closer. The station is busy, as anticipated. “We should wait for the next departure. There will be slightly less people.”

Turning back to look over his shoulder, he finds it crouched against the near wall. It seems to be making itself smaller, and its eyes follow a line through the brick as if looking past it to the crowd on the other side.
“Are you okay? You can stay here if you want to.” His brows furrow with concern. It refocuses, nodding again. It seems to prefer yes or no questions. Less hassle.

“I am going to offer this while assuming you will say no; do you want me to take you in a pokeball?” It shakes its head firmly. “Okay. I only wanted to offer in case it made you feel more safe that way.”


He walks back over to it, leaning against the wall. He would crouch, too, to spare his legs, if that didn’t mean getting gross service tunnel dirt all over his coat. Letting out a breath, he looks over at it. “We still have a few minutes until the next cab leaves.” He says, trying to pull a small smile back onto his face. “I am not sure what you eat, but we probably have it in stock. We have a bunch of loan pokemon that we lend to non-trainers who are interested in getting into pokemon battling. Like the Battle Factory! -Ah. Sorry, you have no idea what the Battle Factory is. Anyway-” He looks out at the opposing wall, mind wandering. “We need to take care of our pokemon on the job as well. That is a lot of variety. So we have a lot of supplies on hand.”


Tilting his head to one side, he tries to bring it into the conversation somehow. “What kinds of stuff do you eat?”

It has since settled more comfortably against the floor, sitting down with its legs stretched out in front of it. It’s arms lay at its sides, and it tilts its head at him. Though its expression is stiff, it feels like it is judging him.

“Do you have teeth?”

That does get a reaction in the form of wide eyes. If it wasn’t judging him before, it definitely is now. “Hey! It is a good question! You can tell what creatures eat by their teeth!” He retorts, crossing his arms. “They are made for different things.”
It mirrors him, also crossing its arms. “RRRrhoh.”

“Well if you are not going to show me your teeth and you will not tell me, then I am going to guess. Because we have no idea what you need.”
He lifts up his hands to count on his fingers, pointing to each one individually as he names different things.

“We know you eat berries.” It nods, as though that should go without saying.

“There are pokemon who eat berries for medicine but do not eat other fruits. Do you eat fruit?” It nods again. He has to keep looking back over at it every time to make sure.

“Okay. Plants. Do you eat plants in general?” It starts to nod, but hesitates. Un-crossing its arms, it raises one to do a fifty-fifty gesture by rotating the plate on its wrist. He wants to know what that feels like. “Okay. Some plants. Vegetables?” Another nod.
“That is a lot of things. So good to know you are not picky.”

“Uhhh…” Emmet mumbles a few things to himself, bringing his not-counting hand to his chin as he taps it, “Your species is probably in the Human-Like egg group. That makes sense. Human-like and… Mineral? Mineral makes sense. Oh- But I could see Field too...” When he glances back up, it looks uncomfortable, having just shuddered from what Emmet catches. “Do you also eat meat?”
It nods quickly, but then slows down, pauses, and slowly starts to nod again. “Not very convincing. You do not seem sure.”

It tries to shrug at him, but winces, catching its injured arm. “Oh- Careful. Please. Sorry, I will get you patched up again after you get some food.” He, cautiously, pats it on the arm. It’s supposed to be sympathetic. It seems to appreciate the gesture, even if it is a little awkward. “Maybe you should stick to the” he tilts his own hand in the same ‘maybe/kinda’ gesture “-thing if you are not sure.”
It buzzes at him twice, in a way that kind of sounds like a phone notification. It accompanies a nod shortly after, so he supposes that counts as an affirmation. Emmet realizes he has no idea where the buzzing came from, but once again restrains himself from investigating.

“This feels like twenty questions. I am so bad at that game…”

“Anyway. So you can probably eat meat. You do not sound like you have tried it.”
It hesitates, shaking its head. “You also do not seem like a general carnivore. Otherwise I would assume you would not be having this much trouble. There are so many Patrat down here.”
“AWwh…” It turns away from him, claw coming up to its mouth. Emmet interprets that as a disgusted reaction. “Actually that is fair. Patrat probably taste gross and I never want to find out.” Emmet shudders in mutual commiseration.

“Well anyway.”
“My guess then, since you have not tried meat, is that you smelled some of the food in the central station and want to try it.” He says, giving it a teasing look. Despite him poking fun, it nods back at him very enthusiastically, which does make him laugh.

What else… Oh right-
“Mineral. Do you eat rocks?”

It is totally still, squinting at him. It shakes its head once, firmly.

“Hey! Stop giving me weird looks! Plenty of pokemon eat rocks and gems!” He pouts, putting his counting hand down finally. “Plus, you look like a train. I was going to guess that you eat coal or something.”

“Aw-” It starts a thought, looking what Emmet could only describe as incredulous despite not having eyebrows to emote with, but abruptly cuts off. It straightens up, suddenly. And then it draws its legs closer, holding up its hands. Looking at them. 

From an outsider’s perspective, it would probably look like nothing is happening, but to Emmet it looks like a dozen different complex micro-expressions are flashing across its face so fast he can’t process all of them.
It lifts one claw, and motions it back and forth.

“Maybe.”

“You do not, look like the idea appeals to you. I think if you wanted to eat rocks you would know.”
It turns its face away, looking down the hall they came.

“You do not know. You do not want to try them, but you do not want to say that you cannot.”
With a visible hesitation, it nods. It doesn’t look at him, instead lifting a hand to stare at itself instead.

“Hey… I did not mean anything by teasing. You do not need to push it.”

It looks… subdued. 

He’s not sure how to take that. He hasn’t seen anything like that from it before now. He’s not sure what exactly is the problem… Maybe he can pull it back out of its head again, like yesterday.

“...Dude. I am not going to make you eat rocks if you do not want to.”

The pokemon flinches, suddenly letting out a wheezy, hoarse kind of sound. It brings a claw to its face, twitching- Hey. No. Is it laughing at him?
Emmet pushes off the wall, looping around in front of it. “I am serious!! Verrry serious! You do not have to fucking eat rocks just because I said so???”

It lets out another wheezing sound, harder- Emmet vaguely catches a low melodic note, like a deep flute. It’s barely there. It looks over at him and Emmet can see a clear, vibrant smile in its eyes.
Emmet can’t help the smile that blooms on his face, either.
“O-Kay, take my Genuine Reassurance and laugh it up. I see how it is. Maybe I will make you eat rocks. Out of spite.”

That distant flute turns into a whistley bubble of laughter. Like blowing at the top of a bottle, stuttering and hitching. The sound is never consistent enough to make a proper whistle, cutting itself off with more metallic breathy noises.
It manages to get a hold of itself, bringing its legs back and lifting its weight with its arms to get its center of balance back. With clear intention, it reaches toward him slowly, gently setting a claw horizontal on his hat.

It moves to a crouch again, shifting to get back on its feet when the time comes. It bows its head for a moment, putting a claw to its crest. “Awla boaahh.”
“You are welcome,” he beams. 

Emmet checks his watch.

The pokemon looks up, noticing something- Emmet turns as well, straining his ears. The next cab is on the way. “Good ear! Okay.”
He shakes out his hands. Almost done for the day, then he can go home and lay down.

“After the next train departs, I am going to take you across the station. We will need to go into the central station to get to the break room, because there is not an easy way to reach it from the Singles line.”
The subway car pulls into the platform.

“Stay close to me. I got some security to take us there.” He walks up beside it as it stands to full-er height.

“Do you- Can I use some of my pokemon?”
It nods immediately, not hesitating. “Awl.”

“Great. We will have time for better introductions after.” He takes out three of his pokeballs, holding them in his fingers. “Everyone! Aim for victory! We are moving across the station. Eelektross, watch our backs. Galvantula, find a good vantage point, eyes open. Archeops, if you would perch up high and block any cameras?” He turns his attention over to his brother’s legacy. “They are all very nice. Only Eelektross has seen you, but I told them what you look like. They should all be okay for this, but it is going to be tense for a second until we get through. Are you okay if they get close?”
It nods firmly, letting out a sturdy rumbling sound. “Rrroah.”

Elektross comes out first, checking their surroundings before swimming around and behind their precious cargo. Emmet invites Archeops up next. He jumps up, poking out his neck to sniff at its leg with intense interest. “Cmon- No- Come here, we will say hi after!” Archeops loops back around to face him, Emmet tapping his shoulder. With a pause to wind up, it springs onto his shoulders. Heavy, but he’s done it a lot, and Emmet keeps his balance. 

“Would you like a buddy? We are going to give you a mask.” He says, and he can feel Archeops tensing again to jump. It reaches out a claw but Archeops clears the full distance, jumping all the way onto its shoulder pads. The pokemon rumbles at him warmly, reaching up a claw to scratch him. “Archeops will cover you. I do not want random people to take pictures of you until you are strong enough to defend yourself again. Use your wings and keep its face out of sight, okay bud?” “Achaa!” He wraps his wings so that they loosely cover the pokemon’s face, the other bringing up a claw to adjust him so it can still see. He’s leaning over it, standing on its shoulders and curiously sniffing at its face upside down.

Lastly, he brings out Galvantula. “Stick nearby. Make sure no one tries anything funny. Do not lose your cool.”
It climbs onto his back like a backpack. He imagines it will find a better place to secure itself after they start crossing the platform.
“Remember, if any trainers within the station try to throw a pokeball, intercept them. We win as soon as we make it through the station. Clear?”
“KJhzzt!”
“Chthc.”
“RRhraw!!”
“Awla Boah!”

“Alright everyone! Follow the rules! Safe driving! Follow the schedule! Everybody smile! Check safety! Everything is ready! Aim for victory!”
The cab pulls out of the station, taking a large wave of passengers with it. Emmet carefully takes hold of the pokemon’s claw. “All aboard!”

The five of them exit the maintenance tunnel, Emmet leading the pokemon onto the platform by the hand. The Gear Station security personnel are already here and quickly support, ensuring commuters keep their distance despite evening traffic. Galvantula, as predicted, deftly maneuvered to the ceiling to watch from above. Archeops is protecting the pokemon’s contentious identity, but also, Emmet hopes, providing a bit of emotional levity. Its movements are far more stiff now that they’re in the public eye.

Emmet does what he does best, carving a path forward through the crowd. Depot agents nearby provide verbal reminders to neither photograph nor attempt to capture the pokemon so that Emmet doesn’t have to raise his voice.

While there is gawking and the atmosphere audibly shifts, no one tries anything suspect on the singles platform.
Cautiously guiding it up the stairs to the main station, security guards go ahead of them with a few pokemon of their own to clear a path. Eelektross hovers in the air behind them, keeping an eye on the perimeter.

Everything is smooth so far. Emmet tries to avoid holding his breath. Don’t jinx it.

Crossing through the main station, Emmet hears Galvantula move- The ceiling is too high, so it follows on the nearest wall. He’s used one of his strings to grab someone’s phone, and Emmet asserts loudly again. “No photography at this time! Thank you!”

They’re almost back out of the public eye. Emmet needs to think of a way to treat his employees after this because there is no way this would be going this well without them. He would overthrow small regions on their behalf. Maybe big ones, honestly.
The claw in his hand is vibrating at a consistent frequency, and glancing back at the pokemon reveals the buzzing comes from the wheel inset on the palm of its claw. He quickly checks on it to see how it’s doing, and while it looks extremely overwhelmed, it does meet his eye contact with a kind and grateful look.

Door is in sight. Not much further.

The tension in his head builds,
Higher,
Louder,
More,
Until-

He swings the break room door open, ushering everyone quickly inside and closing it tightly behind them, not looking back.

Emmet lets out his held breath, narrowly stopping himself from sinking to the floor.
He feels, jittery. 
Very, very overstimulated.
Not great. He gives his repeat passenger a once over.

It’s taken Archeops off of its shoulders, gently setting him back on the ground like an oversized chicken. Galvantula is keeping his distance, studying it. Eelektross seems curious, which isn’t surprising, circling back around in front to inspect it.
The pokemon itself looks haggard. It already looked in poor shape before, but now it visibly looks as overstimulated as Emmet feels.

“Okay. Okay, we made it. I know you all really want to meet our new friend, but it really needs to get food and medical attention. Is later okay?”

Eelektross seems disappointed, but it knows Emmet well enough to tell he is overstimulated, especially considering the rest of the day to this point. He returns of his own volition. He needs to recall Archeops himself, but he doesn’t put up a fuss either. “Thank you both for the help. Buggy, do you..?” 

His beloved spider is fixated on the pokemon across from it, and it’s clear to him that it doesn’t want to leave right now.

“...You okay if he stays..?” He asks the other, who only vaguely waves. It doesn’t sound like a no, or it would have been more clear. “Okay. Staying and watching is fine, but no touching until we get settled. This way.” Emmet motions, exhaustion starting to become more prominent with that strenuous experience over. He brings them over to a large double door on the left side of the room, opening it to reveal the store room. 

“Come inside, make yourself as comfortable as you can. I will go find stuff. Buggy, do… i, Don’t know, just do not bother it too much.”

Emmet strides through the storage shelves, knowing where to find the pokemon food and treats. The room is too cramped for his passenger to easily navigate, shelves spaced to maximize area and intended for human crew members. They aren’t a supermarket, but they do have supplies so the hard-working pokemon of the subway can take breaks too. 

He goes to the refrigerators first, grabbing one of every fruit and vegetable he can hold. It already liked them and it already knew it could eat them. Simple. Easy. A combination of berries and regular fruits. He picks up the corner of his coat and uses that to hold everything. Some apples, carrots, rawsts, sweet peas, oranges, broccoli, mangos, orans, pechas, carton of spinach, basically whatever he can carry and a little bit of everything. As soon as he’s got as much as he can reasonably carry in his arms, he marches back over. Cornucopia.
“Here. Plant stuff. Spread out your coat.” Emmet rattles off, looking up at it.

Galvantula is curled up square on its chest, and the pokemon serving as its climbing wall looks like it’s going to cry. One claw is on its back.
Okay. That’s cute. That, is really really cute.

It uses its free claw to make a flat spot on its coat, and Emmet unceremoniously dumps the first batch of proverbial groceries onto it.

“You are big. Probably need more. Be back.”
Emmet turns back around, trudging to see what else they have in stock. He looks for dry food next.
He gets the feeling like it won’t find pokefood appealing. It seemed like some kind of hardcore omnivore, but it was leaning into a lot of the human-like meal preferences he imagines come with the territory of pokemon in higher intelligence brackets. But he grabs a few things anyway. They keep tins of type-specific poketreats here, because they all love spoiling their pokemon rotten. He grabs Steel, for sure, but he picks out a couple others. Fighting, Rock, and Ground mainly. He still feels confident that it’s a ground type, but he’s covering his bases. He stores those in his pocket. There’s some generic dry food in a large multi-pound bag, which he will make note of and carry back last. 

He picks through a different section of the store room, finding held items for the Battle Point Shop. He grabs several blocks of Charcoal for good measure, and somewhere in the maintenance supplies he finds a can of oil. No harm in offering right?
He puts those in his pocket as well. Thank Arceus above for storage pockets.

Lugging the dry food onto his shoulder, he carries that back too.
“Hh-ey. Do not imagine you want this. But we have bulk dry food.” He sets it down with a heavy huff. Emmet briefly checks over what it has already eaten/is currently eating. Most of the vegetables are gone, and it’s working its way through the fruit now. It waves at him on the way back, and presses its hands together in a bow after returning with more stuff. Galvantula grumbles at being displaced, but refuses to move. His guest side eyes the dry food as Emmet takes out the other stuff.

“I have poketreats. Thought you would like those.”
“Also grabbed- Charcoal. Oil. Just in case you feel like adventure or something. If it will poison you please do not.” He emphasizes, rubbing at one eye. “I do not know how many perishables we have lying around. Is there anything you want more of?”

It seems to hesitate when directly questioned, lifting one hand to wave and shaking its head. He feels like it is trying to be polite, but frankly at this point Emmet couldn’t care. He levels an unimpressed look at it. “We make plenty of money. We have the resources to go around. They are here to be used. What do you need to be comfortable?”
It starts to rumble, and again looks like it may cry.
“I am not exaggerating. I do not have the mental points left to pretend like I want your politeness. Tell me what you need. That is what I care about more than anything else.”

It briefly turns away, unable to meet his eyes. It points to the fruit and veggies that are rapidly dwindling from its coat.
“I will go get more. If there is anything you don’t like, too, I can take it back and get something else.” It nods in understanding, but doesn’t give him anything to return.

“Okay. Back in a minute.”

He had a better idea than the dry food.
Remembering its hooves and claws, he moves to look at grains instead. They have a few bags of oats here. It would probably appreciate that a lot. It looks at least somewhat ungulate adjacent, so there’s a good chance it likes them. Hauling that onto his shoulder, he goes back to the fridges to grab a couple bags of miscellaneous salad-adjacent items. If it wasn’t going to be picky with what he gave it, he wasn’t going to be picky with what he chose to hand over. He should grab some water next. It’s probably dehydrated.

When he nears where he left it, he finds Galvantula settled on its shoulder instead of its torso. The air temperature rises a few degrees with each step he takes, and their guest is rumbling at a constant rate now. 

It holds the tin of oil in its hands, staring at it with fervent intensity like it had been personally wronged by the bottle. Emmet watches on as it twitches before forcing the comparably tiny can to its mouth, chugging the liquid without stopping to regret the decision.

A subtle burst of heat washes past him, and despite the lack of any other physical reaction, the pokemon has the very distinct look on its face like it wants to throw itself into the sun.

“...Are you… Actually an engine..?” He breathes, with a mix of awe and dismay in his voice.
Its eyes lock onto him when he speaks, setting the bottle aside and closing the cap. It looks… ragged. And It doesn’t confirm or deny his question, but the weirder part about that is that the look in its eyes is resignation for some reason.

“...Cool.”

The fruit has been picked at, but as expected the dry food has been ignored. 

“I brought you some oats. I thought you might enjoy them more than lame generic pokefood.” He says, dropping the sack in front of it. Its eyes light up, and Emmet feels a small smirk creep up on him at his intuition being proven correct.

He sets down everything he gathered with the rest, stretching his back.

“Buggy, do you think you can help me move one of the water coolers over? …I also need food…” For the first time in a while, his thought is punctuated with a yawn. “...Hell… Maybe I should sit down for a minute first.”
“You alright big guy? Is this good?” He asks, and the moment it starts to nod Emmet flops down on the ground beside it. “Great.”

Emmet briefly closes his eyes from his spot on the floor.

“...You are warm. It is nice.”
“ Aw bo.”

Now that Emmet is sticking nearby, it kind of smells like fruit salad and stir fry. “So you burn stuff? Right?” It concedes, nodding again. 
“Can you eat anything flammable?”

It pauses, doing the I don’t know gesture, but ultimately nodding. “That is cool. I guess that makes sense why you were not sure what you eat.” He props his weight up with his arms, sitting criss-cross diagonally across from it.
“Oil probably tastes very very bad though. And coal.” Emmet says, sticking out his tongue. He can imagine a dry, noxious, awful flavor as bad as they smelled. It seems conflicted though. It gives him another not sure . Doesn’t seem to hate it, at least.

“...I am surprised Buggy is getting along with you so fast. He does not like new people.” Emmet’s eyes drift over to it, where he finds it grooming itself with its mandibles. It’s ignoring him. “I thought he would be… Angerier.”
The pokemon tilts its head, and Emmet has hit the point where he’s struggling to read it again.

He stretches out his arms and legs, sitting up straighter and trying to keep himself on track.

“I need to go home soon. I am not, feeling, great. And I need to get dinner for me and my team, too.”
“But there is a lot to do, and I am responsible for it. I have a lot to ask you.” He watches it struggle to open the oats with its claws, Emmet reaching over to make it less of a hassle. “Care stuff first. Are you doing better enough to handle questions?”

It nods, appreciatively scooping up a claw full of oats.

“Okay. I will try to keep it to easy answers. Are you in a lot of pain right now?”
It shakes its head, using its other claw to scoop out smaller portions of oats into its mouth like a spoon.

“Do your injuries still hurt?” A nod, “And do you want me to go over them again before I leave?” It hesitates, and Emmet insists, “I might be tired, but I want to make sure you are okay before I go home. That comes first.”
With that, it accepts his help with some readable amount of conflicting guilt.

“I will do that after this, then.”

“Is this enough food for you, at least for tonight?” Emmet asks, and it reevaluates the items around it. It offers him a maybe.  
“Are you thirsty? Do you need water?” It confirms that as well, but not urgently. “Aboah.”

“Kay.” Emmet lulls, closing his eyes for another second or two.
“...You being warm is making me sleepy. I should probably stand up…” When he opens his eyes next, it is smiling at him again.

Emmet watches it pick up certain foods, picking between them and taking them each one at a time. It still hasn’t touched the poketreats. But he finds himself settling into the silence as he just watches it shift and move, humming that same low, stable sound all the while.

Watching it eat reveals a lot. It tends to pick up foods and take them whole, most obviously with fruits and berries. It pokes its way around an avocado, seeming unsure what it is, and tries to use its claws to peel it. It finds itself face to face with a very gooey claw. Emmet suppresses a laugh, the pokemon in question dealing with the problem by again eating the whole thing. That’s when Emmet spots it.

He points up at its face. “You do have teeth.”

It holds the recently used claw to its mouth, as if covering a laugh. Moving it away, it points right back at him. “Awwroah Awlla.” For some reason, that exchange feels like a tease. As if it was saying, ‘Of course I do. You also have teeth.’ Emmet snickers in response.

“Well I was not going to scale your shiny metal ass to poke at your face and find out. I do not like getting smacked.”
The pokemon gestures with both hands to Galvantula, making itself at home atop his warm new nesting spot. At that, Emmet does playfully poke it on the leg. “If touching you is not going to make you attack me, maybe I should bother you more.”

The two of them share the lighthearted moment, slipping into silence again. It’s getting easier to stay quiet, which means he needs to get moving or else they will lose another opportunity to talk in their busy schedules.

“I have more questions I need to ask. I would like to get out my potions and work while I talk, so I do not get distracted again.” Emmet hoists himself to stand again, grabbing the steel-type treats off the ground. “Are you sure you do not want to try any of these?” He questions, popping open the tin. It narrows its eyes, which makes it look frustrated, but he doesn’t feel like he’s interpreting that correctly this time. He takes out a few, holding them up. They’re like those small fancy-people cookies that you buy in those big tins, except with less chocolate. And all one flavor. It gingerly takes one out of his hand, mulling it over and inspecting it before giving it a try.

It looks confused, then uncertain, then surprised, then conflicted, then probably excited. And it reaches out to ask for more. Emmet’s smile widens, handing over the whole tin. He will ask someone to check their stock and buy more stuff later. “Have fun.”

With it distracted, he rifles through his coat to get out a few super potions. “Alright, I will patch you up. We should finish getting through the rest of the major things I need to know. There are other important things that do not have to do with your current terminal.”
Emmet walks around to its side, carefully avoiding stepping on its coat train, and starts liberally misting its chest injury with potions. “I know it has not been very long. Do you know if you want to stay here in Gear Station..?”

“Awla.” It responds with a firm, confident nod. “Are you interested in working with us, or do you need more time to think?” He questions further as he squints at the metal fractures, a few of them starting to re-seal with the added help. “RRrr.” It rumbles louder for a moment, tipping its crest.
“That sounds like a yes to me.” Emmet says, leaning back so he can tip his own hat. “In that case- We were thinking of giving you a title, like I said. We do not want to name you, since you made it verrry clear you do not want to be anyone’s pokemon. But, since we do not know your species, we have not had anything to call you. I wanted your approval before we start using it.” It follows along closely, having set aside the tin of treats and giving Emmet its full attention.

“What do you think of being The Station Master?” Emmet offers, studying its face for any stray emotion it can read.

The small, glowing hope that fills its eyes as it processes his statement blooms into relief and joy.
That’s as clear of an answer as he could hope for. His own smile brightens, mirroring the other.

“A Station Master is a lot like an administrator or overseer, but specifically for trains. I am the Subway Boss. I thought you could be our Station Master, ensuring the pokemon of Gear Station perform safety checks and stay behind the yellow line.” Emmet explains, gesturing with his hands, super potion forgotten where it clings onto his thumb.

It closes its eyes for a few moments. Emmet swears he can see it actually smiling, but it’s gone before he can be sure. It nods again, before bowing its head in gratitude.
Emmet offers out a hand, and carefully offers back its sharp claw. He makes an attempt to shake its hand, although its arm is too heavy for him to move alone. It ends up shaking his hand more than the other way around. “Great. This is- Great! The best. Perfect!”

“I am Emmet. I am the Subway Boss. I look forward to working with you from now on, Station Master.”

The Station Master releases his hand with a deeper rumble, which Emmet interprets as something like, ‘Likewise’ or ‘Thank you.’ He feels- giddy. Excited. Those fluttery bursts of energy from the afternoon come back to mind. He moves around to its left side so he can get at the wound in its shoulder. “I- Was not sure if you- I ammm excited! Yep. Verrry excited!”
He feels his brain stumbling over words, and he knows he isn’t going to have much verbal strength after this. He needs to get through the last questions. “There- More. Questions. Need to ask before I lose my voice.” He taps the tip of his foot against the floor, trying to outlet this jittery feeling so he can speak.

“You… You are special. Even if it is strange at first.” He starts, the Station Master moving itself so that Emmet can reach the wound more easily. “I did not want you to be… The same. As a depot agent. Or me.” He’s able to spray along the inside of the wound, which makes it wince, before its face subtly relaxes.
“You are unique. One of a kind. And, even if it was not on purpose. By you. You also remind me- and a lot of us- of someone we care about. So I wanted it to be special.”

“But- Speaking of special.” He takes a couple steps back, lifting the potion to wordlessly ask where next? “We, have no idea what you are. In terms of research.” It offers him its wrists, which he doesn’t find any physical fault with, but gently applies the solution anyway. “You are new. That is exciting! But stressful. And people want to talk about you.”
“I imagine there will be a lot of rumors. And bad press. And good press! But-” Emmet frowns. “A lot of attention. Which, being honest, is not usually fun.”

The Station Master flicks both of its wrists in a full 360-rotation, drawing them back to itself with an appreciative mumble. That is seriously so cool. It shakes its head, communicating that it doesn’t need any more help right now.

“I want you to be prepared for it. But- Also- As the head of Gear Station, I need to know what is happening and keep everyone in check. We have not been letting people take photos of you, as you heard.”

“But, there is something important I need to ask. The local professor, Ms. Aurea Juniper, is interested in studying you and doing tests.” Its face sours at that, although, looking more worried than anything else. “I am confident that she will not hurt you. She just wants to learn more about you, since you are new. We all kinda want to know. I have been trying not to ask when I can help it.”
“She wants to know when she could come and do research. But I needed to ask you first, to see what you are okay with.“

“Iiii… I do not think I can stop her from studying you. I do not think I have that kind of authority. New pokemon species’ are big stuff. But I can at least help you feel more comfortable. If I can.”

The Station Master looks uncertain, smaller expressions harder to pick apart. Emmet stands across from it now, and it has shifted to sit on its knees instead, arms folded in its lap. There’s a pause of silence.

“Oh- Right. That is way too hard for you to answer. Okay…”
“Would you be okay with Ms. Juniper studying you?”

It hesitates for a very long time, but Emmet avoids interrupting it, because it doesn’t look conflicted. It just looks like it is thinking very hard.

“ Awlahh. Aboah.” It offers a maybe , and a yes. “Okay. That is fair.”

“Would you want to meet her first, and then decide?” It nods right away. “I can also ask her what she would want to do. I do not think any kind of testing she would do is invasive. I think it would be kind of like a check up- Like the pokemon center from yesterday.” It nods again, more slowly. “I will ask. -She could tell you herself. When you meet her.”

“What else… Can I start planning a day with her? It does not have to be right away. My next day off is in two days. I wanted to schedule it on one of my days off. I want to be there, too, if that is okay.” It nods again. “Would you rather do it sooner or later? I can convince her to wait, I think.”

It seems unsure how to answer, and Emmet realizes belatedly that the question is too complicated again. “I wish you had thumbs. Uh, two buzzes for sooner, one buzz for later.” The Station Master offers him two buzzes.
“Okay. I will see if she can make that happen on such short notice.”

Emmet takes his hat off, running his hands through his hair. He feels like he must be forgetting so many important things he needed to ask. “Oh- Water. I forgot to get you water. Buggy, could yo-?” Before he can finish the sentence, Galvantula hops off its metal perch and scuttles away. “...Well I hope he is getting water.”

The Station Master leans forward, setting a hand on his shoulder. Its continuous rumble has died down to something quieter, but it strengthens again for a moment. With its other claw, it motions towards its torso, miming an exaggerated breath in and out.
Emmet does the same, slowing himself back down. 

“Right. Thank you.”
He puts his hat back on his head, more loosely. “I have been at work all day. I am frazzled, and verrrry tired. I need to go home and check my own safety as well.”
“But, before we depart, I need to ask where I can find you. Today was, rough. You were asleep. It was not your fault. But I was worried that you got hurt.”

“Can I meet you… Back at the private office? Tomorrow afternoon?”
It nods without pausing. “Tomorrow… I do not think I am good to make plans right now. But we should talk about food more. I need to know what you will need if we are going to take care of you.”

“...And, are you up to meeting my pokemon then..?” He asks, shifting in place. It nods, but Emmet elaborates. “We are all. It… I think it will be hard. To. Get used to you.”

Emmet looks away, feeling some kind of… Embarrassment, or shame.
“You look so familiar. And you sound familiar, act familiar too sometimes. I do not think all of my pokemon will react well.” He meets its eyes again, trying to appear more confident. “But, you are here now. You are here now . I am not going to send you away. So, we are going to need to get along, and work it out.”

“I think, it will probably be rough. And awkward. I am still embarrassed by how I reacted to you yesterday... And earlier. But, if you will give us your patience, I hope we can still become friends.” He finishes with a nod, arms clamped at his side. 
“I want to know you for you, not Ingo. I am excited to meet you.”

The Station Master only responds with warmth, dipping its head and offering understanding in return.

All the food has been taken care of or consumed, and Galvantula returns with a pack of fresh water on his back. Emmet makes sure everything unused is put away, sending a clipped text that someone will need to go through their back stock today and make a list for their next grocery run. The Station Master- thank dragons it liked the name, it was so much nicer to use -holds onto the pack of waters, seeming content to take it wherever it heads next instead of cracking them open now.

Juniper… Later. Emmet needs to go home. And eat. And lay down. He is adding that to his list for later.

Gently, he lets the Station Master know that if it is struggling to find food or shelter, it can always ask the agents for help. They had a long discussion today, and he needs to reassure it that none of them will attack it anymore. Ideally the trainers in the station won’t either, but that is harder to control. As both of them pack up to get going, Galvantula finally makes its opinion known, hissing at him for trying to leave.

“Buggy. I love you. We are going home. It will still be here tomorrow.” Emmet says, putting his foot down and recalling his partner for the night.

The Station Master is covering its mouth with one hand, which Emmet wants to interpret as amusement. He assumes this is about Galvantula, which is at least somewhat true, but as he goes to open the door he realizes there is an unsubtle amount of hushed conversation on the other side. He’s surprised he didn’t catch it sooner, but he isn’t exactly on the top of his game right now. 

Pulling open the doors, a gang of his employees scatter in all directions. With different levels of success, they attempt to disguise their extremely obvious eavesdropping. “Hi.”

He gets a few sheepish waves and some bolder return greetings. Many of them are staring at the pokemon behind him, which he helps lead through the door and into the room where it can stand at proper height. Holding the pack of waters in one arm like it was made of paper, if it is bothered by their attention, Emmet can’t tell. “I am going home. The Station Master will need somewhere to stay. Can one of you print a copy of the transit schedule when you are not on break?”

Emmet starts towards the exit, the Station Master following behind with its arms behind its back. “I do not have the energy to come up with a good way to accommodate you tonight. I recommend using the service tunnels, but I am sure you have been bothered by the wild pokemon here.”

“The line to Anville town is a commuter line without many trainers. It does not run as late as the other lines. You could probably camp out there after traffic slows, but I am not sure.” Emmet turns to locate the nearest agent responsible enough to figure some of this out, pointing at them. “Jackie. I know you are not doing much for the rest of your shift. See if you can find a place where the Station Master can sleep before you clock out.”

“I am sorry that I do not have a better option. I would give you the key to the office, but you do not look like you could use it and I do not want anyone else to have it.” Emmet says, tipping his cap. The Station Master rumbles, offering a reassurance of some sort.

“You can also stay in the break room. It looks cramped for you, though, and the depot agents will be in and out often. If that is fine with you, you may stay here.” It nods, looking around again. “It is probably a good idea to stay in here until things quiet down anyway.” The Station Master doesn’t seem to need to consider its options, picking its way around the furniture and settling in the corner beside the vending machine and couch with its waters.

Emmet rubs at his eyes. He made it. He just needs to get out of here.

He turns to his agents again. “I am going home. Please check safety, remember to smile, and stay behind the yellow line. If there are any problems of any kind, call me immediately.” Faces around the room salute, and for this brief moment they fully focus on him instead of their guest.
Turning to leave Emmet strides through the doors, reentering a Gear Station colored in sunset hues.

He only gets a dozen steps away from the door before he sees the flash of a camera. Someone is saying words at him. Releasing every pent up sore and ache from the day, Emmet scowls.
“Manifest. Haze.” 

Garbodor flashes onto the scene, not giving the reporter room to get a word in before a thick fog surrounds the two of them. Garbodor reaches out, checking for permission- Emmet nods, the silent exchange between them taking less than a second -then lifting Emmet into her arms. The scentless fog obscures Emmet from view as he carries him out of the station, and for a few moments, he loses himself in the slow sway of Garbodor’s shambling gait. Leaning against his weight, he takes him through the crowd and out the doors. In the back of his mind he registers a chorus echoing from different commuters, trainers, and pedestrians around the station in his defense. He doesn’t have the energy to put his smile back on his face, but the feeling sparking in his chest feels close to one.

The doors close behind him, and Garbodor hefts him back to his feet at the bottom of the staircase. Placing her pokeball securely back in his coat pocket, Subway Boss Emmet makes a brisk pace on his return trip down the sidewalk.

Despite the bad days and rough moments, man,
Emmet loves his job.

⭒▿▿▽▿▿⭒

The last two slices of pizza are sounding increasingly tempting. Emmet would stand up to get them, except his legs aren’t really working right now. They have a case of Stolen’s. 
Stolen’s by a very heavy dragon-type.

Emmet stairs at the ceiling with Haxorus laying over his legs, her head placed square on his chest, debating if two more slices of pizza are worth the wrath of a thousand suns. He ought to move to the couch soon instead of laying on the floor, but he’s not sure if Haxorus will let him leave. Conkeldurr was at least kind enough to get him a pillow for his neck.

Emmet fidgets with his wrist, opening his xtrans again. He flicks through his emails. Nothing new yet. He’d been checking to see if Juniper-
Durant charges over, climbing right past Emmet’s face to nip his hand. “OW- Hey!” Durant, releasing its very pinchy mandibles, uses one tiny foot to relentlessly tap him on the forehead. “OKAY OKAY OKAY!” Emmet tries to push his petulant ant out of his face, and it instead moves its attention to his wrist, trying to pull the xtrans right off. “Eight- No. Stop it. I can take it off.”

Haxorus lets out a low, mumbling growl, lifting one eyelid without otherwise moving an inch. Durant is suddenly far more cooperative, getting off of Emmet’s face and instead looping around behind him. Durant nuzzles itself under his head until it has squeezed its metal carapace under his neck, poking its head and front legs out to lay on his shoulder. It’s giving him the biggest eyes he’s ever seen as Emmet takes off his xtransceiver and sets it aside, but specifically the kind of look that it only uses to beg for treats. “Dude. You bit me. I am not going to praise you. Fuck you.” Emmet chides, kissing it between the antennae on its little head. It chitters at him, bumping its head against his cheek several times in rapid succession.

Tomorrow. He will deal with it when tomorrow comes. Tonight, a little more floor time, some quality time with his pokemon, and a couple extra slices of pizza.

He doesn’t have to mask, or pretend to smile, or hide his tears when they come. His partners aren’t upset when he frowns.

He traces patterns on the ceiling and lets himself zone out. He has reached his final stop for the day. He does not need to be a Subway Boss here. He is just Emmet.
Excadrill lumbers over, settling against his side and curling up. Eelektross has splayed itself along the entire couch, letting the cushions hold his weight. Chandelure floats over to the growing pile, settling before resting on the ground not far from him. Escavalier floats over to lay against Haxorus’s side. Emmet can feel Crustle walk up behind him before settling down.

All the others are around, and Emmet can pick out their unique ambient sounds in the environment around him. The warm golden sunset brings an atmosphere to the room that feels so nostalgic.

He will be damned if he falls asleep here, he does not want to pass out yet. He’ll do something nice this evening to wind down, like grooming his pokemon or watching a documentary. 

But right now, this is everything Emmet needs.