Work Text:
Shck. The cheap metal shovel digs into the earth and Emmet pries the dirt loose. It’s the middle of the night, 2:28 am to be precise, and Emmet is working with only the moon and a faint chiming Chandelure as lights, but he barely notices. He barely cares. The shovel goes back into the ground and he digs another layer of dirt away. He's only about a foot down. He has much further to go tonight.
Normally, what Emmet is doing would be considered a bad idea. Unfortunately, Emmet has reached the edge and he has no guardrails anymore to keep him on track. No one here to tell him to stop or to take a break. Well, that's not entirely true, Emmet thinks as he tosses dirt over his shoulder. Elesa sometimes will try to get him to stop. Especially during those first couple of weeks after Ingo had vanished. It only works sometimes.
Emmet stabs the earth a little harder than necessary as his mind wanders back to the reason he was here, digging a hole in the ground late at night.
Ingo was missing.
Ingo has been missing for 2 years, 5 months, 3 weeks and 6 days. And Emmet can't stand it anymore.
Emmet was fine for the first week. Despite the fact that Ingo had left without a word, despite the fact he left his pokémon in their apartment, despite him not showing up to work , Emmet was fine. Sure, he struggled to maintain his full-time job as a Subway Master while also joining any search party he could. And yeah, he might have missed a couple meals or forgotten to sleep a couple nights, but he was fine. Functional. Completely safe.
Emmet was fine when the police first declared Ingo a long-term missing person and filed it as a cold case. He had already started getting pitying looks, and the Nimbasa Subway Counsel had been pushing for a permanent replacement for Ingo's position for a while now. Emmet had taken to ignoring their emails, but he knows it's only time until they take it into their own hands to appoint someone. Emmet doesn't want to meet them. Emmet doesn't want there to be another Subway Boss.
Emmet was fine 9 months after, relentlessly throwing himself into battle after battle, losing himself in the rush that seems much duller without his brother by his side. Actually, Emmet doesn't remember much of the battles, or the people for that matter. He knows he smiles, he knows he still says his lines and he knows he stays on track. But it's duller now, farther away. Elesa sometimes comes to battle him. He only knows because she finds him after to comment on how the battle went or how she'll beat him next time. Emmet smiles and nods. He does not battle on the Multi-line anymore. There's now someone else who takes care of it. Emmet doesn't bother remembering their name because once Ingo comes back, they won't matter anymore.
Emmet was fine. He was fine for 1 year, 4 months and 2 weeks without his brother. He would dutifully greet an empty house every time he came home and he would always leave out a second plate. He'd go out with Elesa on the 3rd weekend of every month to do some odd activity she had found and they'd have lunch meet-ups whenever their schedules aligned. He would always feed their pokémon. He would shave without looking in the mirror. He would struggle to see his reflection in passing windows. He would space out during battles, but not enough to hinder his performance. Emmet was fine. Emmet couldn't be anything but fine. Emmet was still waiting for his brother to come home and while Emmet isn't normally a very patient man, he will be for this. He has to be.
It was 2 years, 3 weeks and 1 day after Ingo had gone missing when Emmet got the message that his family decided to hold a funeral. Emmet stared at the screen to his X-transceiver for hours, face blank. He didn't move until Elesa had let herself into his house with her extra key and pulled him into a hug. He didn't say anything. He was angry, but he couldn't explain to her why. He knows she thinks this is for the best. He knows she thinks this will help. It just feels like betrayal.
Emmet buries his face into her shoulder and lets her think he's crying because of grief.
Emmet attends the funeral, if only to see that the casket is truly empty. He does not wear black, because Ingo is not there to wear white. He does not cry either. He refuses to grieve over an empty grave. His brother is not here.
Emmet does not give a eulogy. He barely stays around long enough to say hello to his mother and father. He does not say hello to his uncle or his cousin. He does not watch them bury their hopes. He does not watch them bury the Ingo that they think they know. He refuses to let them think he's one of them.
When Ingo gets back, (when when when when when), Emmet will bring him to this empty grave and they will have a laugh over how silly it is, to bury a casket containing nothing but thoughts and ideas.
In the present, Emmet digs deeper. He started sweating a foot or two ago, but he's only got a little deeper left to go. He grunts as he pierces the ground with his shovel again, releases a huff of air through his teeth as he lifts the dirt and flings it over the sides of the hole. He has dirt under his fingernails now. Usually, he can't stand them to be anything but clean, but right now, he only cares about the small patch of Earth that’s left between him and his goal. He might be bleeding a bit from a broken blister on his hand, but just like his nails, he pays it no attention.
2 months, 1 week and 4 days ago, Emmet got in touch with a museum in the Sinnoh region that specializes in history and, more specifically, the history of the diamond and pearl clans and how they interacted with the pokémon of time and space, Dialga and Palkia, and, to a lesser degree, the god of pokémon themself, Arceus. Emmet had found this particular museum early on in the search for Ingo, but he had brushed it off before, foolishly thinking that Ingo would be back soon. Now, he was returning to old thoughts and theories, ways to find his brother or how he got lost in the first place.
So Emmet asked if he could arrange a day or two to come over and peruse their complete library and collection, something not normally available to the public. He had not expected them to reply. He did not expect them to agree and offer to let him have as much time as he needed in their halls. It was very strange, but Emmet was the one to make the request so he accepted and for the first time in 2 years, 3 months, 2 weeks and 2 days, Emmet booked vacation time. For the next 2 months, 1 week and 4 days, Emmet would spend his time switching between spending hours in a stuffy museum library where he had to wear a specific mask (which he did not mind) and gloves (which he did mind: they were different than his normal ones and it felt wrong ) and flying back to Nimbasa to make sure everything was still running smoothly. Despite all this time, he still needed the station to be running as smoothly as possible. Even if everything else in his life ran into disrepair, he will not let the station break down.
And then, 2 days ago, Emmet had found something.
At the start, Emmet didn't know what he was looking for, so he ended up reading a little bit of everything. He read the first pokédex made in the region. He read trading reports done by a guild known as the Ginkgo Guild. He even ended up reading letters from some random clan member who was sending them to someone from the opposite clan. He- he honestly regrets reading those ones because they were heartbreaking and the notes that the museum had written indicated that their ending was not a happy one.
But then, he read the journal of a diamond clan warden.
At this point, Emmet was well versed in what wardens were and their purpose. And, he had learned, most wardens kept journals. It's never outright stated, but Emmet thinks it's to help the next warden with their new duties. Being a warden was a risky job and sometimes a warden wouldn't be around to help their replacement get on the tracks. This particular warden doesn't seem interested in that. Instead, half of the journal is taken up by poetry and grandeur descriptions of Lord Electrode. It's only towards the end that something peaks his interest. This warden complains about the most recent warden from the opposite clan that's taking care of Lady Sneasler.
This by itself isn't unusual, as the two clans don't mix well and that's occasionally reflected between the clashing of their distaste for the other clan. Wardens aren't known to fight in the historical sense, but in their journals, they show a wide berth of feelings towards their opposing warden, ranging from indifference to friendly to outright malice.
But that isn't what interested Emmet. No, what interested Emmet was that this journal was complaining about how Lady Sneasler's warden would say odd phrases and yell impossibly loud and would never smile.
And how he always wore a black and red striped jacket, no matter how torn it was and no matter how little it actually provided warmth.
Emmet didn't know what this meant at first, but he knew that he needed to look at the museum's recorded list of wardens. After double-checking the date to make sure the record for this particular warden comes after they started taking photos of all the wardens. Hopefully the questions trying to form in his head would be quelled before he could put words on them.
When Emmet found the photo, he delicately set it down in front of him and stared at it.
That was his brother.
Ingo was in Old Sinnoh and was a warden of the now extinct Lady Sneasler.
Sneaslers went extinct very long ago.
Ingo was very old now.
Emmet felt a jolt shoot through him. Ingo was centuries old now. Ingo was human. Ingo cannot live that long. Ingo is in Old Sinnoh. Ingo isn't here. He isn't here. He can't be. He's-
Emmet roughly pushed away from the table he was using for his research and ripped off his gloves before pressing his hand against his mouth. Stiffly and hurriedly, Emmet stood and briskly walked to the nearest bathroom. Thankfully it's a one-stall bathroom, so he locked the door behind him and let the tidal wave rush into him. He bit down on his knuckles, but it didn't stop the whimpers from escaping.
Emmet had gone so long believing that Ingo would come back. He's had to. He needed it. He built everything on the fact his brother will be back and he knows how fragile it is, he knows, okay? But it wasn't meant to last. It was just until his twin came back. And then they could work through any twists in the track together, like they always had. Make repairs where it was needed. But now?
Now his train is derailed. Emmet felt the train crashing as his head pounded and his knuckles bleed. He could nearly hear the crunch of metal as he slowly slid down the wall until he's on the floor. He can feel the glass shatter as he finally sobbed for the first time in years, and could feel the shards as one sob led to another. Before he knew it, the cacophony in his head, his heart, his very being was accompanied by his own wails. He could hear them bounce off the walls and back to him. He couldn’t stand it.
He just wanted his brother back.
After an hour and a half, Emmet pulled himself from the wreckage and stood up on shaky legs. He wobbled to the sink and was immensely glad it does not have a mirror, although it would’ve been nice to see how wrecked he is so he could cover it up better. He got a paper towel wet and pressed it against his eyes. He faintly remembered Elesa teaching them this trick, but he can never recall how long you have to hold it there until your eyes are no longer red. At least it felt nice.
Once he felt presentable, he left the bathroom. He went back to his station. He did not look at the photo as he returned it to its spot. He barely looked at anything as he put them away where they belonged. He gathered his notes and left. The person by the door tried to make conversation by commenting how he's leaving earlier than he normally does. He gave her a smile and said he did not get much sleep on the ride over here last night. He knew his smile did not reach his eyes. He did not stay long enough to hear her wish him well. He went back to his motel, slumped onto his bed, and went to sleep. He did not dream.
The next day, Emmet went back. Emmet does not know for sure if Ingo is dead. He refuses to mourn if there's no reason to.
Emmet found more about Ingo in the Pearl clan leader Irida's journal, and he did not cry when he learned his other half forgot about him. He only read on, swallowing any misery or dread. He learned that his brother became a warden because of how competent he was at capturing and warding off any dangerous pokémon. And by the way this journal and past books he had read described it, they were very dangerous indeed. It also helps that Lady Sneasler had found Ingo in the snow after he fell from the sky and took a liking to him after that. At least Ingo was looked after.
Emmet read and read until he got to the end. The journal does not mention what happened at the end. It simply ended with Ingo as a side note. Emmet needed more.
He scoured the collection for anything that might have been in the same time frame. He read every note, every page of every book. It took months. It was accidental when he stumbled into a journal that doubled as field notes written by a young member of the Galaxy team that helped make the pokédex. Her writing was messy, and her name on the inside cover was blurred from age and use, but the writing on the inside was well preserved.
She had also fallen from the sky. Just like Ingo.
She didn't mention Ingo at first, but Emmet read with interest as she wrote about her fears of being dropped somewhere unfamiliar. She did not say it directly, but Emmet got the feeling that she knew more than what she wrote, but he did not care.
He cared when she mentioned Ingo for the first time. And he cared when she recalled things Ingo had told her. Emmet clung to Ingo's words repeated through this girl's handwriting, how he tried to remember, how he got glimpses and nothing more. He held them close and kept reading.
She didn't mention Ingo much, seemingly busy with the pokédex and the catastrophe in the sky, but when she did, Emmet repeated her words until they seared themselves into his brain. That’s his brother she was talking about. That's Ingo.
At some point, the journal ended. The girl had insinuated that she was going to try and go home. Emmet hoped that the journal ending meant she made it.
He closed the book. Strangely enough, Ingo did not have a journal of his own, so Emmet's picture of his timeline solely relies on other people's accounts. It's unsteady, but Emmet believes he has a timeline.
Ingo arrived in Hisui. He became acquainted with the Pearl clan and was quickly promoted to Warden. He helped the young unnamed girl along in her mission. He battled her afterwards. He did not get mentioned again in any other journal except for insinuations that he has passed.
Before Emmet had his second breakdown of the week over his brother being displaced in time, he got hit with the memory that the Pearl clan has a grave site, complete with gravestones. Every warden was buried there. Emmet slowly stood from his chair and started the look for the photos and documentation of it. He faintly remembered seeing it at the start of his search, so it didn't take long to find. He went through grave after grave, ignoring the mounting dread in the back of his throat.
He stopped flipping when he found what he was looking for.
It was a picture of a grave labeled Ingo. He felt something break in him again - he didn't know anything else was left to break after the wreck from yesterday- but before he got too lost in a brand new crash, he steeled himself. Reminded himself that none of the writing says for sure how he died. Told himself that technically, Ingo has another grave here, one that is empty.
Emmet did not know if this grave was empty as well.
Emmet once refused to grieve over an empty grave. He refuses to do so once again.
Emmet quickly made a mental note of where the grave site was and which grave, exactly, was Ingo's. He cleaned up his workstation quickly, and for the second day in a row, he left the museum early.
Luckily, the grave site is within a day's drive. Emmet rents a car, buys the cheapest shovel that he's sure won't break on him, and starts driving.
It was dark when he got there. He didn’t have a flashlight, but at some point Chandelure had popped out of her pokéball to watch over him. Their pokémon liked to do that now, ever since Ingo had vanished. There was always one of them out and watching him, as if they refused to watch him vanish too. He does not blame them.
With Chandelure's purple light, Emmet counted the gravestones until they reached Ingo's. Emmet ran a finger along the stone. It's mossy, and the words were no longer legible, but Emmet was certain. He took a couple steps back, muttered an apology, and stabbed the shovel into the earth.
Now, it’s a couple hours in the future and Emmet is sweating. He thinks he has a blister developing on his left hand. He knows he popped one on his right hand earlier. He can clean it later. Emmet is at the right layer now, he can feel it. He probably should've done more research into the Pearl clan's burial rituals because he has no idea what he's even looking for, but hopefully he'll know when he finds it. Maybe he should dig up one of the other graves to find out? No, it'd take too long. It'll be sunrise in an hour or two and Emmet would ideally like everything to be back in place by then.
In the middle of his assessment of how long he has left until the sunrises, his shovel hits something.
Emmet sharply takes a deep breath and tosses the shovel away. Falling to his knees in the cramped hole he dug, he uses his hands to brush dirt away. Delicately, he picks up the small box. He hears Chandelure float closer but doesn't look. He runs a finger along the edge until something catches. He takes another deep breath and this time, it catches in his throat.
He is sitting in a grave meant for his brother.
He is holding all that is left of him from Hisui.
He does not think about what he will do if he finds what he is dreading.
Emmet, ever so gently, pries at the box. It gives little resistance. He still opens it slowly.
He looks at the contents.
Chandelure is so close to him now, he can feel her cold warmth pressing against his back. He greatly appreciates it. He feels his world tip.
He lets out a soft hiccup, pressing his dirty and maybe a little bit bloody hand to his mouth. Chandelure chimes softly in response. Emmet closes his eyes and turns, pressing his face against her cool glass. His next hiccups catch in his chest, hard, and knocks something else loose. Before Emmet knows it, he's sobbing. He had at some point dropped the box because now he was clinging to Chandelure completely with the hand not pressed against his mouth. He's probably getting dirt all over her, probably getting dirt all over him, but he doesn't care. He needs to hold on to something, because he feels like he's falling.
So he half sits, half lays in his brother's second grave, clinging to his pokémon.
And he wails.
He wails until his voice breaks.
He wails until no noise comes out.
And then the sun rises.
And Emmet gets up.
In the dim morning light, he is very careful when brushes his hands off onto his pants, even though it doesn’t do anything. He’s still crying, but he just feels empty now. He climbs out of his brother’s grave and slowly starts the process of filling it back in, reburying the small box. When he finishes, he drags the shovel back to the rented car. He drives back to his hotel. He cleans up and sends an email to the museum. He books the most recent flight back to Unova. He packs. He leaves the motel.
And Emmet goes home without his brother.