Chapter Text
Four years, eight months, twenty-one days, six hours, and thirteen minutes.
That’s how long Ingo has been missing, and Emmet is slowly losing hope he’ll ever see his brother again.
Some days are easier than others. Days where Emmet feels more optimistic that the authorities will find Ingo, or that he’ll come home on his own. Days where Emmet can continue his work at the Subway as normal, under the false reality that Ingo will be waiting in their shared office with their lunch. Or at home preparing dinner for them and their pokémon. Most often, he pretended that his black-clad counterpart was simply battling on the Singles line.
As if Emmet hadn’t taken the Singles Line over since his brother’s disappearance.
Fourteen minutes.
Those are what Emmet considers ‘good’ days, but Elesa and his therapist tell him this form of denial is unhealthy. That pretending everything is the same as before is going to hurt Emmet more. Insisting he needs to start making new tracks to effectively move on.
Emmet doesn’t want to move on, not when Ingo could still be alive and waiting to be found.
He can tell it upsets Elesa when he talks about Ingo as if he was simply in the next room and not gone, but Emmet can’t help it. It’s better than the alternative.
He can pretend everything is normal. That everything is okay again. Even if it is just for a little while.
Fifteen minutes.
Emmet isn’t sure what he would have done without Elesa, or his and Ingo’s pokémon. In the days following Ingo’s disappearance Emmet had looked for him in the subway tunnels endlessly. If it weren’t for Elesa and the pokémon forcing him to take breaks, his engines likely would have burnt out.
She would stay with him in the first few months. The model made sure he would properly refuel and maintain proper hygiene, while his pokémon acted as weighted blankets to help him sleep at night. Elesa was struggling too, but helping Emmet seemed to help her. Distract her.
It didn’t stop Emmet from feeling like a burden to her. Especially on the bad days.
Sixteen minutes.
The ‘bad’ days were, well, bad; and they were becoming more and more frequent as time went on.
Days like today.
Days where what should be simple and mundane tasks for a previously active Emmet become too hard. Too much. He just wanted it to end.
Those days usually consisted of Emmet remaining in bed all day, staring at nothing for hours until Elesa comes over after none of her calls or messages are answered. She would stay over like she did in the early days, completing his daily chores and making sure he ate. The gym leader never said it out loud, but Emmet knew that she was afraid of what he might do to himself if she weren’t there.
In the early days he would have scoffed at the notion. Why would he leave the terminal when Ingo is waiting to be found?
These days didn’t become frequent until the authorities brought forward the absurd idea that he had killed Ingo for the sole ownership of the Nimbasa Subway, or due to a falling out.
Emmet didn’t leave the apartment for nearly three weeks after that. Elesa and uncle Draydon, even Nimbasa City locals who all adored their Subway Bosses, had some choice words for the detectives for that theory.
Seventeen minutes.
Then there are the days in between. Days where Emmet would go about his day as is expected of him. He’d get out of bed, feed the pokémon but not himself, get dressed, then go to work. Those days usually occur after several nights of no sleep. His body enters a sort of autopilot, robotically moving about his day.
Emmet rarely speaks on those days outside work related dialogues and battle commands, his already flat tone sounding even more emotionless. Ingo had always been the one to do most of the talking for them anyway, so he supposed his silence wasn’t completely out of the ordinary. It was just more glaringly obvious without Ingo acting as his buffer.
Passengers and subway staff would give him funny looks on the ‘in-between’ days, sometimes even scared. Emmet assumed it was pity, and perhaps in part it is, but upon catching his reflection he sees the real reason.
Emmet is frowning.
Emmet leaves the subway those days sobbing and proceeds to have several ‘bad’ days.
Eighteen minutes.
Sighing, Emmet finally tears his attention away from the clock next to his bed and towards his open bedroom door. He could see the faint purple glow of Lunar’s flames through the gap of Ingo’s closed bedroom door, accompanied by an occasional low whine.
‘Get up,’ a voice echoes in his head, several decibels louder than what is considered a normal speaking volume. It makes his heart clench, ‘She needs you.’
“I am Emmet. I am the last person Lunar wants to see,” rolling onto his back he gives Lady Doodlebug a scratch. The galvantula clicks at him in confusion, unsure of whom he is talking to. “I have failed her in finding you.”
“That’s not true and you know that.”
“Do I?”
“Considering I’m a figment of your imagination, I would say yes, you do.”
“Why did I Imagine you so annoying?” Emmet throws his pillow in the direction of the imaginary figure, causing nearby Archie to startle awake. Emmet mumbles an apology towards his archeops before sighing, “You are right, however.”
Emmet began seeing this imaginary apparition of Ingo about eleven months into the real Ingo’s disappearance. When the detectives began exploring the possibility that Ingo was dead. He supposed it was his brain’s way of trying to cope, to fulfil a sense of normality. It made it easier to pretend on his ‘good’ days, having an imaginary Ingo to see and talk to. That wasn’t to say Emmet was in complete denial about it, he knew it wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism. It certainly isn’t helping him move on to the next station in his grieving.
Emmet wouldn’t dare tell anyone about the imaginary Ingo. It would risk them declaring that his mind had finally derailed and throwing him in a psych ward. And perhaps it had. But it made things slightly more bearable and that should count for something. Right?
Reluctantly heaving himself off the bed, Emmet makes his way over to Ingo’s room and knocks softly.
“I am Emmet. Lunar, can I come in?”
A quiet chime of confirmation answers him, allowing Emmet to enter. Slowly opening the door, Emmet feels his breath catch in his chest at the sight of his brother’s room. It had gone mostly untouched, minus the bed where Emmet has spent several bad nights curled up, and Ingo’s spare black coat he would cling to while in an inconsolable mess.
His brother’s chandelure hovered in the centre of the room, releasing a sorrowful howl.
“I know Lunar, I know.” Emmet moves to scoop her in a hug the best he could without accidentally burning himself. His voice wobbles as he fails to hold back tears, “I miss him too.”
Her coils move around Emmet’s waist, firmly holding him in return. He never knew what to say in these moments, but Lunar seems content with Emmet’s presence. Their shared grief created a small comfort for each other that required little words.
Ingo always knew what to say in these situations.
“Would you like to help me on the Singles Line tomorrow?”
Thankfully, Lunar seemed to perk up slightly at the question. Battling helped her, helped Emmet too. It was something familiar in their derailed life that provided a much needed distraction. Too busy focusing on strategies and winning the battle to think about other things. It also made them feel closer to Ingo.
Emmet attempts to gives Lunar a more genuine smile. Sometimes comforting their pokémon can pull him out of these bad days without Elesa’s help.
“Then it is a deal. All aboard.”
Four years, eight months, twenty-one days, twenty-three hours, and fifty-five minutes.
Emmet is trying, he really is.
The white-clad Subway Boss has been battling on the Double and Single lines almost his whole shift and he is exhausted. Admittedly, Emmet is almost always exhausted nowadays, but it certainly doesn’t help that he didn’t get any sleep before his shift.
Emmet has been covering both battle lines since Ingo’s disappearance, refusing to close down both the Multi and Singles Lines. He and Ingo worked too hard to get the Battle Subway functioning, and he can’t disappoint the challenger passengers.
The exhaustion must be clear on his face too, based on the concerned looks he’s received, and he knows it’s not due to his smile slipping again.
Emmet had to reluctantly call a break after nearly blacking out during the last match on the Doubles Line. Thankfully the challenger passenger hadn’t noticed, but it did cost his team he battle. Feeling faint is not an uncommon occurrence nowadays, but Emmet knew he had to complete his safety checks while at work. Passing out on the Battle Subway would call into question his fitness to perform his duties, and he really didn’t want a forced vacation again. Not enough distractions at home.
“Boss Emmet,” a voice cracked over Emmet’s radio, pulling him from his thoughts. “Come in Boss Emmet, over.”
“I am Boss Emmet, over.”
“Sir, we have a situation. Requires you in the control room ASAP, over.”
Odd. Gear Station has very rarely had ‘situations’ that required his immediate departure to the control room. Emmet and Ingo had so many failsafes for a number of situations that there was rarely a need for either of them to attend the issue. The only reason there wouldn’t be one is because the situation simply never arises. Except.
Emmet quickly shot up from his desk and all but ran towards the Gear Station control room. Upon his arrival, all the staff had varying degrees of confusion, fear and guilt on their faces. How verrry odd.
“Boss Emmet, I…“ the crew member who had radioed him, Keith, trailed off and shuffled awkwardly on his feet while avoiding eye contact. Before Emmet could ask what was happening, Keith straightened and looked at him with an intense gaze. “You’re going to want to see this.”
Emmet eyed everyone apprehensively before moving towards the security footage his subway employees ushered him towards and saw--
“Fuck.”
“Language!”
Ignoring his imaginary Ingo’s reprimand, Emmet squeezed his eyes closed and reopened them. When that didn’t work, he tried pinching himself, shook his head, even slapped his own face.
Still there.
“Sir,” a guilty sounding voice meekly called from behind Emmet, “I’m so sorry we never believed you…”
Emmet would have usually felt a pang of anger towards the comment, because yes, nobody had believed him. Said he suffered a head injury, or that it was some sort of survivor’s guilt or PTSD. He had even begun to believe them.
And yet there it was.
The sparking purple bubble that had taken his brother from him.
The subway boss felt his voice crack as he asked for a situation report, hands shaking. He didn’t care how he must appear to his employees right now. Not when Ingo could be there.
Keith once again spoke up on behalf of the other subway crew, “We got reports of high levels of magnetism disrupting the trains in the area the bubble appeared. Passengers also complained of… static in the air?”
“Why was I not informed sooner?” Emmet had meant it as a genuine question, but judging by the brief flash of panic across Keith’s face, it likely came across more accusing. This is why Ingo was better at these things.
“We thought it was just a technical fault that we could fix ourselves, so we shut down the line, but then Moira caught that, that thing in the cameras.”
Emmet hummed in thought, technically they should have informed him as soon as the line was closed down, for paperwork reasons at least, but he supposed they just hadn’t gotten around to doing it.
Looking back towards the camera, Emmet quickly made the decision he knew he was going to make as soon as he saw the bubble. He has to go to it.
“I am Emmet and I will investigate. Remain here and monitor me on the cameras. Keep radios open and call authorities if anything happens.”
“Boss Emmet wait- “
Emmet did not wait, instead sprinting towards the tunnel that the giant sparking bubble was located.
I am coming Ingo.
The radio attached to his belt crackled to life intermediately from the control room crew telling, begging, Emmet to come back. That it wasn’t safe and they should wait for the police to arrive. Like they would be any help. Like they have ever been any help.
Emmet ignored them and continued running. Ingo was finally coming home; he cannot turn back now.
What felt like a lifetime and yet no time at all, Emmet found himself face to face with the huge sparking bubble. The shear intensity of it made his hair stand on end, air uncomfortably thick and heavy; creating an overall feeling of absolute dread. But for Emmet, all he could focus on was the anxious anticipation. His brother is coming home.
He stood, waiting with his heart in his throat. Where was Ingo, why isn’t he coming out of the bubble? Maybe he is stuck?
Emmet clicked his radio receiver on.
“This is Emmet, and I am entering the bubble, over.”
Immediately his radio exploded to life in response, but Emmet simply turned down the volume. He didn’t like loud noises, and the crackling of the bubble and his own heavy breathing was more than loud enough for him.
Alright then. All aboard.
“Don’t you dare.”
Imaginary Ingo’s booming voice was firm and left little room for argument. Emmet is sure if it were possible, imaginary Ingo would have pulled Emmet back by the shoulder to make him look at the other. Well, jokes on him for not being real.
“Emmet I’m serious, it’s dangerous and you have not properly completed your safety checks.”
“I do not care; I need to get you back. I cannot do this without you anymore.” Voice cracking with emotion once again. Emmet straightened and adjusted his hat before taking another step forward. “Besides, if I run into trouble I have--. “
Oh dear. No pokémon.
“You left them in our office.”
Emmet swallowed an anxious lump that had now formed in his throat. What to do, what to do?
“Turn around Emmet.”
No. He cannot do that! He must find Ingo; he needs to find Ingo. The possibility of getting him back is so close, Emmet will finally feel whole again!
“I am Emmet, and I am nothing without you. You are the likeable twin. I must save you from this bubble. For everyone.”
“Emmet, think about it. We don’t even know if I’m alive! This could be suicide.”
“Then I will join Ingo at the final station.”
“Just like that? You would do that to our pokémon? To Elesa? Our family? Our parents have already lost one son, Emmet.” Imaginary Ingo stepped in front of him, a face of pure distress that broke Emmet’s heart. “Don’t make them lose their other. You know it’s not what I would want.”
Emmet stared at the imaginary Ingo for what felt like an eternity, biting his trembling lip while tears streamed down his face.
Damn it all, he was right.
Choking back a sob, Emmet pulled his cap over his eyes in a vain hope to hide his face from the cameras his crew are no doubt intently watching him through. As if they wouldn’t have just witnessed him argue with thin air.
With a sharp inhale, Emmet turns his radio back on.
“This is Boss Emmet,” he hoped they couldn’t hear or see how much he was trembling, “I am returning to the control room, over.”
As the stream of confirmation and relief flowed over the radio, Emmet reluctantly stepped away from the bubble.
“I am sorry, Ingo.”
As if it were some sort of divine joke, the bubble made a loud cracking sound, and then began to expand.
Emmet’s eyes widen in panic. He had forgotten it did that, how could he forget it did that?
“Emmet run!”
And run he did. But the bubble was moving fast, fast enough that Emmet could barely outrun it. One wrong step and--
Just as he had the first time, when Ingo had been taken from him, Emmet tripped and fell over. Unlike last time, his brother was not there to run back and grab him, to pull him onto his feet and shove him to safety while Ingo himself was engulfed into the purple light. He had looked as scared as Emmet felt.
Emmet remembers screaming Ingo’s name, reaching out desperately as the bubble finally dissipated; taking Ingo with it. The image seared into Emmet’s mind, haunting him every time he closed his eyes.
This time, all he saw was imaginary Ingo’s horrified face, hand uselessly reaching out like a cruel reversed mirror of last time, as he was surrounded by purple and lightning himself.
And then…
…oblivion.