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He had eaten maybe too many edibles. The ceiling of Burgh’s penthouse apartment (of course it was Burgh he went to first to find weed, he was the leader of the campaign to allow recreational use for gym leaders when off the clock).
Where was he going with this?
Wait.
The ceiling; that’s what he was thinking about. It was starting to bow towards Emmet like it was going to reach down and press against his nose.
He was vaguely nervous that this would never end. It was a detached worry like a separate person next to him yelling that he would always be this high forever and he was hearing them and knew they were probably right but he wasn’t fully able to deal with that right now.
“Burgh, you know he’s in a vulnerable place and you thought weed was the answer?”
“Darling, Elesa, he came to me! We’ve smoked together before and I had just made poffins with the oil I distilled and I stupidly offered and—“
“No. Sorry. You don’t have to explain. He’s an adult and he’s been responsible before I get it. It’s just he texted me something so weird and he’s blinking at us like we’re not even here.”
Emmet was vaguely offended by that. He was aware that his friends, one too high to help and one stressed out of her mind, were trying to get him to talk to them. He just couldn’t make the words go right now without them tilting off the track. It was also much easier to sit on the couch that was too artsy to be comfortable and stare then try the talking thing.
“Can I take you home, Emmet?”
Whoops. He maybe missed some more conversation between Burgh (high and apologetic and sort of weepy (he always cried when he saw Emmet those first few months, couldn’t even look at him)) and Elesa (giving Emmet too much benefit of the too much doubt).
He did something like a nod and it was enough for Elesa to help him up and bring him to the elevator for a very woozy inducing ride that felt like his feet weren’t on the ground. He found himself then in a rental car driven by a white knuckle grip and was disappointed they didn’t just take the trains. When he was responsible, as Elesa had put it, he would sometimes stand at the caboose and smoke out behind the train, when he wasn’t driving obviously, and be comfortably high and feel the wind push past and through him.
His apartment was quiet and cold. Elesa pulled him inside and made him sit at a stool by the kitchen counter and drink a glass of water. He didn’t have the heart or words to tell her that wouldn’t really make him less high any faster but he complied. Then she pulled him to bed and he laid down in his clothes not bothering to change and if it wasn’t so dark he probably would have seen Elesa frown about that.
“What did you mean?” She asked him and oh, she probably thought he was asleep. “What is it about your dreams?”
A great question, he thought as he was pulled into one.
In this one Ingo was very solemn but he always seemed that way to others. Emmet knew this was real solemnity.
Ingo put both hands on Emmmet’s shoulders and sighed. “I’m sorry for leaving but I’ve been tasked with saving the world from a great evil.”
“But why couldn’t I come too? We’ve always worked best together.”
“I wanted you to stay and run the trains.”
“I’m not running them though, I haven’t in exactly a year to the day.”
And then Ingo was gone. It always went: and then he was gone.
Emmet had to remind himself that he was the one to choose to take an extended leave of absence with no set return date. It was his idea. He was very aware of his responsibilities and he knew he was unable to fulfill them any longer.
He had tried. He really tried.
For two years he ran the subway and ground the points off of his teeth.
He’d never hurt himself. But he wasn’t being kind to himself either. His already weak relationship with food worsened as more and more foods felt strange and inedible in his mouth. His sleep was bad, obviously. More and more days were spent with him unable to speak.
Safety was his top priority and he was self aware that he was no longer able to keep himself safe, much less his passengers. So here he was, not high anymore, watching Elesa try not to talk about anything but also not wanting to sit in the silence either.
“Emmet,” she said his name in a way that meant she was done pretending.
He nodded, still struggling to find words again.
“Why did you do that yesterday?”
He thought she was going to ask about his texts to her he made while very high, he was thankful she’s not.
He shrugged.
Her mouth fell into a thin line. “Are you okay?”
He loved Elesa like a sister but she had to know what a bad question that was.
She sighed and looked away from him. “I know. But it seems like things are getting worse lately. I want you to know I’m here for you and so is your therapist.”
He'd be seeing his therapist at the end of the week. How fun.
“I love you Emmet, okay? I just want you to be alright.”
He took her hands and offered a smile. He loved Elesa, but she was terrible at reading him.
That seemed to be enough to reassure her. She felt comfortable enough to go do her 10,000 jobs but gave him a way too crushing hug first.
Even if his words were working, he’d never be able to tell her how he felt.
“So, can you tell me how you feel?” He liked Candy. Yes, his therapist’s name was Candy. He didn’t remember her last name. She was Elesa’s former therapist and apparently was the therapist for every famous person in Unova. She cared a little too much about her star chart and claimed to have a legendary Pokémon guide her through her dreams but she was, unfortunately for Emmet three years ago, a very persistent and competent trauma-informed therapist.
“Bad.” His face wasn’t in a frown or a smile. His mouth spent its days in a very neutral position as of late.
“Wanna be more specific babe?” Was it appropriate for her to call him babe? Did celebrities want a therapist who talked to you that way? “You are going off on a tangent in your brain, I can see it in your eyes, has this been happening a lot recently?”
He nodded. “Constantly.”
“Full on dissociation?”
“Sort of.”
“Did something trigger this?”
“You know what.”
“Then you can say it.”
“It’s been a year and I’m not better.”
“You think that a year should be long enough to cope with your brother’s disappearance.” This is why he liked Candy; she was the only person besides him who wasn’t afraid to say it: his brother was gone.
“It’s been three years since that happened.”
“So you think three years is long enough.”
“No. Yes.” He was starting to get agitated and took it out on loose threads in the upholstery of her weird office chairs.
“We’ve talked before about how healing isn’t a straight line.”
“Yes, yes.” He waved his hands around to shoo the words away. “But why is everyone else better but me?”
Candy frowned a little. “You think everyone else around you who knew Ingo is better.”
“Yes.”
“You know the drill, give me your reasons for thinking that.”
“They don’t talk about him anymore, they aren’t quitting their jobs over it, they think I should be better.” He listed them off with venom.
Candy took a deep breath and Emmet unconsciously took one with her.
“What makes you think they think you should be better?”
“They all talk to me like I’m going to fall apart, they think everything I’m doing is some self-destructive act. They think I should go back to the Subway.”
“Have they said these things to you directly or are you seeing these as subtext to what they do say?”
“Some of it, but the last one; I’ve heard from every gym leader on the continent with some encouraging letter or phone call that they think I should reopen the battle subway.”
“Do you want to reopen the battle subway?”
He froze up.
Candy waited patiently.
He found his way to the words but couldn’t get them to sound not angry. “Obviously. I just can’t.”
“Emmet, do you think that language is helpful?”
“I’m not feeling very helpful.” He was starting to get angry. He knew it wasn’t nice to take it out on Candy but he didn’t really care about being nice sometimes.
She nodded slowly. “I’ll be nice to you today. I won’t make you push on that sore spot. But I challenge you to spend the next two weeks thinking about your reasons for not wanting to go back. Ok? We will be talking about it next time.”
She couldn’t really make him do anything. But he nodded anyway.
“Good, I think now we should spend the rest of the session talking about those dreams of yours—“
In this one Ingo was wearing an apron over his uniform and with a slight smile was watering plants.
“You’ve been gone doing this?” Emmet gestured to the garden around him.
“I had to leave the city life behind, it was becoming too stressful.”
“But you left me. If you didn’t want to do the subway anymore I would have left with you.” Emmet was shaking dream Ingo as the watercolor flowers around them bled and pooled into ugly brown puddles.
“But you can’t leave the subway. You have to keep it open.”
“No I don’t!” Emmet yelled and found himself awake before Ingo could disappear again.
Unfortunately, they were in public when they started to fight.
Elesa was trying not to shout and was whispering very aggressively. “You can’t just quit.”
“It’s not quitting.” He was vibrating in the metal cafe chair. It suddenly felt too hard beneath him.
“Yes it is.” She clenched and unclenched her hands into fists. “I met you when you were six and it was your dream then and it is still your dream now.”
“No, you didn’t meet me when I was six, you met us. And it was our dream.”
Elesa was momentarily stunned, a flinch, time to make the winning move.
“You just want me to go back so everything can go “back to normal” so you don’t have to think about Ingo anymore.”
Critical hit. Elesa stood up with tears in her eyes and she fled the cafe.
He quietly paid for both of their untouched meals.
“Elesa’s gonna kill me,” Burgh muttered into his blunt.
“We aren’t speaking right now.”
He glanced over at Emmet.
“You aren’t going to ask?”
“No.” He passed the blunt over. “I knew last time that it was coming.”
Emmet considered this in silence as he took a drag.
“I also knew you weren’t going to go back to the subway.”
This made Emmet turn. “You encouraged me to go back.”
“I thought it’s what you wanted to hear.” Burgh shrugged. “I’m sorry for not being honest darling.”
“How did you know?” Emmet asked quietly afraid.
Burgh looked down at his hands. “Because I know there are tragedies that would make me put my paintbrush down and never pick it up again.”
“That’s sad.”
Burgh nodded. “And many people would think so, and, I imagine, they might think that if I just made more paintings it would fix it no?”
Emmet humorlessly snorted.
“It’s sad when part of our life ends. It was sad to stop being a child and become an adult. It’s sad when our partner Pokémon evolve and they will never be that small again. We can mourn it even if it doesn’t seem like we should.”
“I’ve been doing nothing but mourning,” Emmet admits.
“And that’s why I knew Elesa and you were going to have a fight.”
“How?”
“She doesn’t like to look back on the past. She works too hard and on so many different things to spend time on that. She thinks the way to go forward, to heal, involves never stopping like uh-“
“Like a train on its track with no breaks.”
“I knew you would have a train metaphor ready. But yes. I don’t think she’s ever pulled into the station of thinking about how uh, um, Ingo,” it sounded like Burgh had to force the name out of his throat. “Ingo’s disappearance hurt her.”
Burgh always seemed more philosophical up on the rooftops of Castelia City with a blunt in his hand.
“You’re not better are you? About Ingo.” Emmet whispered.
Burgh was looking out at the city's light and seemed even farther away. “Better, but not over it. Better, but not forgetting him. And some days, not better at all.”
In this dream Ingo isn’t doing anything, he’s just there, at their home, sitting like he never left.
“I’m not going back to the subway.”
Ingo seemed to take that information in.
“I know you’re disappointed.”
“Why do you think that?” Ingo sounded suspiciously like Candy.
“Because we worked hard to make it what it was and I’m leaving it behind.”
“Like how I left you behind.”
Emmet squeezed his eyes shut in the dream. “I wish you wouldn’t say it like that,” he whispered to dream Ingo.
“But I always wanted you to be happy right?”
Emmet nodded.
“And you can’t go back and be happy.”
“I don’t know if I can be happy even if I leave.” Emmet could admit it to Ingo.
“But you get to find out.”
Emmet opened his eyes in the dream and Ingo was still there.
“Won’t that be a great adventure?”
“I am excited for you Emmet.” Candy had her hands clasped in that way that meant she was about to explain his horoscope. “Your stars are aligning with new opportunities and changes.”
“Thanks Candy.” He tried to sound sincere but that wasn’t his strong suit.
“I also asked my dream guide about you. They said you were following your own path now and that it will lead you where you need to be.”
His patience with this kind of thing was very thin but he nodded anyway.
“So you’ve got your prescription paperwork so any Pokécenter in the country can fill it for you. And I expect you to be on time for our X-transceiver appointments.”
“Of course.”
“And about Elesa.”
“We are meeting later.”
“Good. Good.” She sighed. “Oh to go on my Pokémon journey again.”
“You could be a trainer, it is never too late.”
She laughed. “I always enjoyed talking to the other trainers so much I’d lose because I wasn’t paying attention. Besides,” she paused to press a button on her belt. “Liepard much prefers being an emotional support Pokémon.”
The large purple cat flew from her belt and curled her way around Emmet’s shoulders. He pet her under her chin while being pressed down by her weight. He used to be unable to speak during these sessions and would spend the whole time shaking with Liepard wrapped around him.
“I promised I’d let her say goodbye.”
“So this is goodbye.”
Emmet didn’t turn away from the subway train parked in front of him. “When I come to collect my badge renewal you will see me again.”
“I won't be going easy on you.”
He finally turned. Elesa was smiling but fat tears spilled down her face.
“Please don’t, it would be verrrry boring if you don’t go all out. Burgh already promised to bring his best to the fight.”
“Emmet,” she gasped and sobbed. “I miss him.”
He stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. “So do I.”
“I want it to all go back to the way it was.”
“So do I.”
He wasn’t much of a crier but a few tears slipped and fell onto her shoulders as she soaked his collar.
What Emmet realized, with some help from Burgh and Candy, was that she only pressured him to feel better so she could have an excuse to finally feel better herself. He didn’t blame her at all.
“You still dream of him?” She whispered in his ear after an eternity.
He nodded.
Elesa left him so he could say goodbye to his station.
Emmet was never going to be “better”.
He was also maybe never going to conduct a train ever again.
He let himself mourn. Not just Ingo, but the person Emmet was three years ago. He also mourned the child who thought he’d stay with his brother forever.
But Emmet the re-challenger to the Unovian Pokémon league was someone he didn’t mind being. He might even really like being him.
He looked out over the subway station, smiled, and left.
A few moments later, footsteps from a man appearing out of nowhere, confused but confident, followed right behind.