Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ever since Ingo and Emmet had replaced the old electrical system, issues with it have been few and far in between. Proper maintenance coupled with semi-frequent checks and clearings of the tunnels for Pokémon have kept the rails- and the electronics in the tunnels- safe. 

That didn’t mean that issues didn’t happen- but on the off chance that something was reported, Ingo made it a point to check it out himself. He was the one who helped plan out and install all the new electrical boxes and lights, so he felt was it important to be the one to fix any issues with them. 

This particular issue was near the middle of track P2- a bit annoying to get to, what with it being in-between two of the most spread apart stations, but nothing Ingo was about to complain about. 

Thankfully, only a section of the lights was malfunctioning, pointing to an issue with a specific electrical box. It took Ingo little time at all to reach the point of the malfunction, unlocking the door to reveal a number of unplugged wires. 

Ingo blinked at it, flummoxed. The keyhole did not appear tampered with, and the box itself was perfectly fine as well. It seemed as if something had used psychic very carefully to unplug everything. But why in the world would a Pokémon want to-? 

Ingo disappeared before he could finish the thought, pokeballs clattering to the ground in a flash of red, yellow, and green. 

Ingo could hardly gather his bearings when the rapid teleportation finally stopped- immediately hands where on him shoving him forwards, and it was all Ingo could do to not be sick right then and there. 

He desperately attempted to look around, but he could only see a flash of silver uniforms before his world was plunged into stifling darkness. 

Ingo thrashed, trying to pull away from the hands pushing him forward, but there were simply too many. And so, stumbling ahead, Ingo could only hear their shambling footsteps that went from stone, to soft sand, to unstable metal. He could hear waves around them, and the calling of wingull. 

Ingo nearly tripped as he was shoved down stairs, and the rough treatment added with the rocking of what must have been a boat only made his nausea worse. 

Finally, one last shove had him tumbling to the ground, arms just barely able to catch him before his face met the hard metal. 

Ingo ripped off the fabric covering his face just in time to turn and see a door to a cell closing behind him, locking him behind bars. 

The faces of the figures on the other side were largely obscured by clothing, but Ingo could remember those crosses from anywhere. 

“Plasma,” he all but growled, “what do you think you’re doing?” 

“Insurance” one jeered, kicking at his cell’s bars, “Ghetsis has plans for you.” 

Ingo gritted his teeth, “whatever you’re planning it won’t work.” 

The grunts just scoffed, filing out of the room with hardly another word. 

Ingo stood in the silence for a while, looking around for anything he could use to get out. But beyond a mattress, blanket, and a bucket, there wasn't anything in the cell. 

With a heavy breath, the subway boss began to pace. 

Ingo sighed as he rested his head against the cool wall of his cell. Time was already beginning to blur- minutes morphing into hours. He didn’t think it could have been more than a day, but it felt like he’d been trapped here for a week. 

…he was exhausted. He had a full day of work right before he was taken, and he’d hardly been able to sleep while in the cell. The thin mattress on the floor wasn’t exactly comfortable, let alone the scratchy blanket. 

Ingo tucked his chin between his knees, tailbone already beginning to ache from the hard ground. He… he was scared. He didn’t want to think about it but- he went alone in the tunnels. No one knew how severe the repairs would be. It would take at least an hour before he was checked in on, and then even longer to get the police into the tunnels to investigate. Assuming they brought along any psychic types, they still might not be able to track where he was brought. 

He didn’t know how long he was going to be stuck here. He didn't even know if anyone was looking for him yet. How was Emmet doing? His poor twin was going to be trying to keep the subway running all by himself. While worrying about Ingo. 

He shoved his entire face into his thighs, clutching his legs tightly to his chest. 

A door creaked open, and despite himself Ingo’s heart flared with hope- 

Only for it to be doused by the reptilian face of a hydreigon. The Pokémon’s eyes were empty, dark pits of nothingness as it dragged its drooping feet across the floor. 

Slowly, it staggered across the room, head raised as if pulled up by a string. Ingo looked at it as the thing slowly passed by his cell, looking more like a puppet than a living, breathing pokemon. 

One of its other heads moved as if to look at him with sightless eyes, but it already had its back to him before Ingo could react in any way.

Ingo’s breath hitched as he spotted scars peeking out of rumpled fur. The poor thing didn’t react, floating along the perimeter of the room, dragging its feet and tail behind it like they were too much effort to lift off the ground. 

Finally, the hydreigon left, leaving Ingo heartbroken and horrified. 

He knew that hydreigon- had seen it in news reports. It was Ghetsis’, well known for its terrifying power in battle. 

And its use of the strongest recorded use of the move Frustration. 

Ingo clenched his jaw. It seemed he wasn’t the only prisoner aboard this ship. 

Ingo jolted awake from his doze as the door to the cell room opened what felt like hours after the hydreigon left. He hardly had time to right himself before a grunt was walking in with a food tray, topped with some soup and bread. 

Neither he nor the grunt spoke to each other, the young woman simply placed the tray on the ground and slid it through a small latch. Ingo watched as she continued out of the room, hardly sparing him a glance. 

Well… at least he was being fed. He hadn't even noticed how hungry he was until he smelt the herbs from the soup. It took a bit to choke down, and Ingo only managed a few spoonfuls before he couldn’t stand the texture of the beans and rice in it. It wasn’t even particularly warm. 

He ate the bread and left the rest of the soup, appetite thoroughly lost. 

Marginally fuller and less tired, Ingo stood and surveyed the cell again. All he had to work with was still a mattress, blanket and bucket. Now a plastic spoon, paper bowl, and small cardboard tray. 

… he could probably work with this. 

The lock on the cell was electronic- and he could see a few screw holes on the back facing him. He looked down at the plastic spoon. 

Annoying, but doable. 

Ingo had to hide the spoon a few times and even wait for a new one the next day when it inevitably broke, but soon enough he was manipulating the wires on the back of the lock. 

He couldn’t just rip them out as he pleased- these types of locks tended to auto lock when incorrectly fiddled with. Ingo had to admit- it was a clever design. The wires  were purposefully complex to deter exactly what he was doing, but Ingo had years of skill behind him. 

It took a few hours and a number of burnt fingertips and aching knuckles, but eventually the lock released, allowing Ingo to gently open the door. 

Hardly able to believe it, he crept out of the cell, head on a swivel. He couldn’t stay here long- he hadn’t quite memorized when meal times were and the hydreigon hadn't made its reappearance. 

Ingo snuck out of the room, surveying the hallway before making a break for it. He didn’t know exactly where the exit was, but he assumed up was his best bet. Thankfully, where he was being kept seemed rather short staffed, and it was relatively easy work to avoid any eyes. 

Until he reached a staircase, anyway. He crouched in one of the hallways leading to the wide open room. There was nearly nowhere to hide, and enough people milling about that he was likely to be spotted. 

Ingo took a deep breath. He couldn’t hide here forever- he didn’t know when someone was going to enter this hallway and spot him. He needed to act now. 

Ingo bolted into the room, making a straight shot to the stairs as one of the grunts shouted and pointed at him. He could hear them chasing after him as he flew up the stairs, two at a time. The sky greeted him at the top of the staircase, and Ingo hardly let himself think as he ran as fast as he could to the side of the- 

Ship. 

Ingo skidded to a stop, inches away from throwing himself directly into the ocean. 

He whirled around, tense as the grunts surrounded him. 

There wasn’t any land he could see on the other side either. Only a speck in the far distance to the east. 

Ingo took a step back, weighing his options. He could allow himself to be captured, wait for a better opportunity to escape, but assuredly deal with increased security. He likely wouldn’t have a chance like this again- not for quite a while, at the very least.

He could also jump off the side of the ship- hope he could swim fast enough to evade team plasma and be found by someone else. Perhaps even find a Pokémon that might be willing to help him. It was risky, and could very well spell his death, or get him stuck right back into the position he would be in if he just surrendered now. Albeit- much wetter and saltier for his troubles. 

Ingo thought of that hydreigon, its empty eyes and puppet-like posture. 

Swallowing hard, Ingo raised his hands. 

He would just have to bide his time. 

The new lock was not electronic, but a rather simple, heavy looking padlock. Sometimes it was better to not use such advanced technology, especially around an engineer. 

Ingo wasn’t given food for… some amount of time. A much longer period than the usual wait between meals. He supposed it was some kind of punishment. 

When he did finally get a meal, it was without any sort of utensils. He sighed- but honestly it was expected. 

He still couldn’t eat the soup, but he did take to soaking the bread in its broth, which was… tolerable. 

Ingo ripped portions off of the cardboard tray, smattering some around the floor but keeping the tougher strips in his pockets

The grunt that was supposed to pick up his tray grumbled at the sight of the torn cardboard, just taking the mostly untouched soup. 

Time continued to pass, Ingo carefully crafting and recrafting something like a lock pick. 

He wasn’t too terribly confident in his lock picking capabilities- he’d never truly found the need to learn beyond knowing how locks worked, and he was hardly working with the correct tools. 

During the long hours alone, Ingo practiced on his cell lock, figuring out what shape the cardboard tools needed to be, and how tough he had to make them. He needed to exert just enough force to turn the lock, but not enough to tear the cardboard. 

It was a very difficult balance to maintain, and by the time he grew too exhausted to continue, his hands were shaking and tense. 

More than once, the hydreigon nearly caused him to rip apart his crafted tools in shock. Mealtimes were inconsistent as far as he was aware, but once the grunt left Ingo knew he had until the next day before they would come back. The dragon had no such certainties. It would come once every few meals, and then randomly twice in just a few hours. 

It was entirely likely such an unorganized schedule was on purpose, not allowing Ingo to memorize any patterns or follow any sort of routine. 

It was… not doing fantastic things to his anxiety levels. The loneliness wasn’t either. He was worried- it was getting to the point that he was beginning to see and hear things in the corner of his eye. He’d taken to humming songs beneath his breath, sometimes making up his own tunes. 

The hydreigon once entered the room on such an occasion. Ingo had simply looked up from his listless slump against the bars, hands too shaky to work on his lockpick. He didn’t stop humming, nervous to hear his name from nowhere, but did quiet down some. 

The dragon hesitated for a moment as it passed by, the limp frills around its head twitching just slightly. Ingo blinked, humming just a bit louder. The poor thing had hardly given him the time of day before, and any attempts to catch its attention thoroughly fell through as it continued to ignore him. 

But here, just for a moment, it listened to him. 

And then it left. 

Ingo looked at the door it pushed through for a long moment, and wondered if it had ever heard music before. 

It was only a matter of time before he slipped up. 

Ingo hadn't thought he’d slept for that long- it certainly didn’t feel like very long at all- but he was completely unprepared when the girl brought him his food. 

He froze, fingers oddly twisted just so, enough to manipulate the strips of cardboard in the lock. They made eye contact, the grunt clearly surprised. 

“What-“ she stopped, mouth agape, “uh- um!” Eyes flicking about, she dropped the tray on the ground and rushed forward. Ingo was too sluggish to respond fast enough, yelping as she crushed his fingers and bent them oddly against the lock, prying his carefully crafted tools out of his hands. 

“Sorry sorry sorry-“ she muttered, letting him pull back his hands and clutch them to his chest in pain as she took away his only hope of escape. 

“How did you even-?” She looked at the scraps of cardboard littered on the floor, and back at the failed food tray. “Woah. Ok- um. Uh. Don’t- don’t do that!” She pointed at him, frowning.

Ingo just glared back, gently rubbing over the joints of his hands. 

“Great- fantastic. Um,” she picked up the bread that fell on the floor and pressed it through the bars. It fell to the floor when Ingo didn’t catch it. 

“Fine whatever okay- well great! I hope you're ready for whatever they decide to take away next because of your little stunt. Ugh this is going to be so annoying-“ 

The grunt continued to grumble as she picked up the tray and soup, becoming even more annoyed at the sight of the beans and rice scattered all over the floor. She didn’t bother to clean anything up, simply stomping out of the room. 

Ingo stared at the door for a while, still clutching his throbbing hands to his chest. His vision became blurry, and it took until he felt something fall onto his hand to realize he was crying. 

Shakily, Ingo pushed himself into the far corner of the cell, staring at his hands. 

There were still angry red lines from where they had been pushed up against the lock. His joints ached terribly, making it hard to move his fingers. 

He didn’t bother to wipe away his tears. He was exhausted. So, so unbelievably exhausted. 

Ingo curled up further and sobbed. 

His food sometime later had no tray, no utensils, and just two pieces of garlic bread. They were placed on the dirty floor, and Ingo had hardly given a moment to see the pitied expression on the grunt’s face before they were out the door again. 

The bread was mostly stale and far too garlicky. But it had butter, and Ingo hadn’t realized just how much he missed it until the two pieces were already settled in his stomach. 

It… wasn’t terribly filling. He sincerely hoped he would be given another source of nutrients soon- he had tried to eat the beans when he felt he could stomach it, and the lack of protein would certainly start affecting him eventually. 

He missed eating things he could actually stand. Missed having options. Missed… missed his brother’s meals. Emmet was a good cook, and loved finding new recipes and altering them until it tasted just right. 

He always knew what textures Ingo could stand. Never forced him to eat something he couldn’t. And every time Ingo would thank him for the meal, he would get this proud smile on his face… 

It was a good smile. One of Ingo’s favorites. It always made him happy to see his twin happy. 

He had a similar sort of smile whenever they battled together. When they won against a particularly strong opponent. When the battle was so much fun, not just because of the strategies involved or the adrenaline rush, but because their brother was battling with them. 

And Ingo was always there whenever Emmet lost a battle. When the tides turned unexpectedly and his twin needed someone to talk about it with, to plan a strategy to combat it. Perhaps even just to rant to about bad luck, a move missed at the wrong time, a lucky critical hit from the challengers. 

Ingo loved talking to his brother. Loved their easy back and forth. Loved how whenever they had a bad day, the other was always there. With a warm hug and a listening ear and… 

Ingo missed Emmet. Ingo missed Emmet like one would mourn a missing limb. 

And Emmet was alone too. How was his brother doing? Was the battle subway still running? Had he hired more help? Was he looking for Ingo? Was he worried? 

Was… was he ever going to be able to hug his brother again..? 

A soft coo from outside the cell broke Ingo from his thoughts, making him jump and look up in surprise. 

The hunched form of hydreigon loomed outside of his cell, eyes staring listlessly at him. Ingo stared back, doing nothing to stop the tears from leaking down his face. 

The dragon cooed again, normally empty eyes almost focusing in his general direction. 

They both stood completely still for a long moment, taking one another in. Ingo watched as the frills along hydreigon’s heads twitched subtly, betraying its seemingly unfocused air. It was clearly paying very close attention, but for whatever reason refused, or couldn’t bring itself too, actually look at him. 

Ingo wiped his tears away to the best of his ability, almost missing the minute flinch the Pokémon had at the movement. 

“Hi,” Ingo murmured, throat scratchy and sore. His chest was still tied in knots worrying about Emmet. Wishing his brother was here. 

The hydreigon simply blinked in his general direction. It didn’t move beyond the tiny twitches of its frills and wings. Ingo sighed.

He doubted the other would appreciate him approaching, or even otherwise moving, so into just let himself fall into an exhausted, miserable slump. He had… no energy left. The dragon seemed to recognize this, very subtly relaxing its anxious surveillance. 

Ingo wasn’t sure what the pokemon was doing or what it wanted. It hadn’t ever stuck around this long, even when listening to him hum. 

Oh. 

Ingo attempted to push a bit of sound through his throat, wincing at a few false starts before he finally managed to produce a low note. He slowly progressed through a song he vaguely remembered, cutting off at odd times as his voice gave out. 

Something lightly thumped against the ground, making Ingo peel an eye open he hadn’t realized he closed. 

Hydreigon sat in the ground in front of him, silently listening to him as it stared off into his right. 

Ingo closed his eyes again, and continued the aimless tune. 

Something was… wrong. 

Ingo had assumed it might’ve just been some kind of deficiency affecting him, or even just the loneliness, but no- this… there was more to it than that. 

He felt like his brain was filled with an impenetrable fog. It made his limbs heavy and clumsy- it was a fight just to break apart the garlic bread he was given each day and whatever else they gave him to supplement all the things he was missing. 

He just felt… so tired… he hadn’t felt this sort of bone deep fatigue since he was in trainer school, and everyone refused to give Emmet and him the time of day. It was pervasive and all consuming. 

He could not speak to a hearty mental state, but this didn’t feel like depression. It was too… sudden. Too purposeful. 

… he could only assume something was in the food. He tried not to think about it. He… he didn’t think he would be able to pull off another escape attempt anyway. 

As terrifying as his circumstances were, the brain fog at least caused time to move faster. Smudged and blurred as it was, he could hardly track what was going on at most points of the day. 

Hydreigon still visited. It took a little for Ingo to register its presence each time, but he did his best to hum. It was hard to keep track of the melodies he meant to sing, or even any songs he could. 

His throat felt dry all the time. The pressure behind his eyes hardly helped. 

… Hydreigon seemed worried. In that odd, half detached way. It made Ingo feel bad, but he hardly knew how to help reassure it.

Didn’t know if he even could reassure it. He… was not doing well. Anyone could see that. He sometimes caught the pitying looks the grunts gave him as they dropped off food. They also began to rotate who gave him meals. Maybe he could have found some kind of avenue of escape by playing to their sympathies, but he could hardly register his surroundings, let alone come up with a plan. 

…he supposed that was the point. All he could do at this station was hope for a rescue or wait until team plasma finally used him for whatever reason they captured him for. It was a daunting idea, but thankfully he struggled to follow much of any train of thought. 

It saved him from spiraling, but not the general anxiety about the situation. He still occasionally found it hard to breathe and his heart would start pounding- Ingo sometimes worried he would have a heart attack. That his insufficient meals and stress would end his tracks suddenly. But he always managed to calm down eventually. 

A good while into the whole situation, which felt like months but could just as easily been weeks, Ingo actually started to not feel as terrible. He would hardly call it good but it was manageable. And after so long of being stuck in a haze, he was glad to be able to string two thoughts together. 

Instead of humming at the appearance of hydreigon, Ingo took a different track. He was feeling homesick and he missed Emmet. Missed going to work with him and whistling to each other in the tunnels. 

“This one,” Ingo slurred a little, blinking heavily, “is very important. Lets someone know you’re in hearing range. That… that you didn’t get completely…. Ah… uncoupled.” 

The note was stuttering and it took a few tries before he got a sound, but he whistled a sustained note eventually. 

“An… an if you're looking for… if you wanna find the other person. You gotta. Whistle like um… like this-“ 

He stuttered through a few more, and laughed a little when the dragon copied his sounds back at him. 

Ingo closed his eyes and leaned back, smiling just a little, “mmmm you’re good. We could… could make a depot agent… outta you yet.” 

After a moment of silence the hydreigon whistled out a series of short notes, a warning signal. Ingo blearily opened an eye, good humor draining away. 

“‘M sorry,” he murmured, “I’ll… I’ll be ok. Promise.”

Hydreigon just wuffed sadly, laying its head down. 

For once, they sat there in silence.

Ingo could only assume that one of the grunts had noticed his improving awareness. Just when he was starting to actually be able to think and talk and properly hum to hydreigon, he was thoroughly derailed. 

The food did taste… mildly different, and once again he was laid out, letting time rush around him like a current. He couldn’t keep track of days and he mostly just slept- his few moments of awareness were spent drinking, eating, staring at a wall, or trying his best to comfort hydreigon. 

It kept going in that cycle for… a while. Feeling marginally better, teaching hydreigon about his job and different whistle patterns, finally regaining energy only for it to be thoroughly buried by his next meal. 

He felt sick, eating the food. He knew they were tampering with it but he had nothing else to eat. He’d skipped a meal here or there but then they just wouldn’t feed him the next day and he got swamped with what he could only assume were withdrawal symptoms.

He and Emmet had never wanted to mess around with drugs or the like for as long as Ingo could remember. It just… didn’t seem worth it. That complete loss of composure and control, coupled with whatever long term effects it could have… 

He knew it was probably just them being overly cautious, but they did not consider the idea of getting drunk or high fun. 

Now he knew it wasn’t. And the anxiety of knowing he was being drugged was not helping in his weariness of whatever effects it could be having on his body. He was clearly already addicted, what with such severe withdrawals, and it was…

It was scary. 

Ingo was… really, really scared. 

He didn’t know what was happening and he didn’t know what they wanted him for and he didn’t know how much longer this was going to go on for- how much longer he could take this.

“I misssss my brther….” Ingo slurred to hydreigon, thumb gently rubbing along the side of its snout. He was slumped over with his arm limp against the ground, partly hanging out of the cell. Hydreigon had gently pushed its head into his palm. It was sweet. 

“I miss ‘em a lot…” 

The dragon clicked gently, then whistled a long, steady note. Where are you?. Ingo responded with two short notes- here I am. 

They did that a few times until Ingo grew too exhausted to continue, eyes closed and body limp. He ached. Everything was just… so much and yet so muffled. He felt sick. Felt like there were eyes watching him from the corners of the room. Like someone was calling his name. 

“Mm sorrry…” Ingo whimpered, “mmsorry…” 

A head gently nudged into his hand, a reassuring tongue pushing warmth into his fingers. 

Ingo tried to hum for it, but fell asleep before he got past the first bar. 

Time passed in a slurry of faded moments and meal times. It felt like Ingo would close his eyes for a scant moment and open them hours later. He did, inevitably, begin to feel mildly better, but he could hardly get himself to do much of anything. He didn't want a higher dose, so he just…

Gave up. A little. 

He was still waiting for a track to follow- a way to escape and get away and get back home to Emmet- but he… he couldn’t manipulate his situation as he was. 

The only times he really bothered to try and stay awake for any amount of time was when hydreigon visited. It seemed deeply concerned for him, which made Ingo feel a little bad. 

One of the reasons he hadn’t leapt overboard in the first place was to help it. Now here he was, causing the poor thing to coo and whine over him. 

He still tried to sing to it, when he could. Sometimes they would just trade train whistles back and fourth, almost like a check in.

Where are you? 

I’m here. 

Over and over.

…it was nice. Ingo didn’t know if he could have made it this far with his sanity intact if not for the dragon. 

He felt like he’d been in here for years. Most likely it had only been a few months. Or- or maybe half a year..? Or… 

He didn’t know. He had long since stopped keeping track of days. He was too exhausted to even try at this point. 

It was a bit of a shock, then, when he became aware of the door to his cell opening. 

He hardly had the time to open his eyes before he was manhandled up to his feel, half dragged and half carried out of the small section of room that had been his life for dragons knew how long. 

Their touch burned like acid. It hurt. He tried to struggle away but couldn’t keep his balance. The arms keeping him upright quickly shook the fight out of him, voices grumbling in his ear. 

Ingo let himself be dragged, making some amount of effort to stagger along. His head hung down, too dizzy and exhausted to lift it. 

He was still wearing his Subway boss uniform. He sometimes forgot about that. He occasionally took off his coat when it got warm, but he very rarely took off anything else. Only when he was offered a wet rag to wash did he take off his shirt. 

… it was loose. He hadn’t really noticed before. It was dirty too. One of the buttons was a little worn away. Had he been messing with it? He couldn’t recall, but all the others seemed fine. 

His belt, too, looked like it had been tightened a little. Usually the leftover belt was just shy of fitting though another pant loop, but now it easily had the length to do so.

That was funny. He’d never noticed that before. How had he not noticed..? How long has he been in there? 

Ingo flinched at the sudden light burning his eyes. He was outside- he hadn’t registered stumbling up the stairs in his confusion over his uniform. It was bright, but the sunlight soaking warmth into his black coat was nice. He felt the wind brush against his face and play with the edges of his coat and… 

Oh. Outside was beautiful. He could hear the crashing of waves and the cries of Pokémon and… 

Talking. 

Someone else was talking quite loudly. Ingo limply tilted his head, trying to catch a glimpse of who. Mostly he just saw a sea of grey uniforms, but he could catch a glimpse of swaying, brightly colored robes. 

He… knew those robes, didn’t he..? Maybe… maybe on the news or…

Ingo blinked tiredly, mulling over the thought for a good few minutes. This was team plasma, and so that’s probably their leader. Which was… hm… 

He blinked heavily, the grunts shielding him up grumbled as they took on more of his weight. He tried to shake himself a little more awake, but mostly he just made himself dizzy. 

He did become a bit more aware when he was suddenly dragged forward a bit. He heard gasps, and managed to lift his head enough to see… a lot of people. People he knew like… Iris and Drayden and Elesa and… 

He didn’t get much of an opportunity to sluggishly take anything more in, immediately being dragged back quickly as things got loud. Bright colors flashed and thunder struck and there was so much shouting-

He was dragged around a bit, presumably away from the fights. At one point one of the people holding onto him stepped away. Ingo blearily looked around, but there were so many people in front of him he couldn’t actually see much of the actual battles. 

He did see a lot of grunts shoving revives into their fainted Pokémon’s mouths. That… had to be unpleasant. No pokemon enjoyed being revived like that and then immediately shoved into battle. You had to have a pretty strong bond for them to be ok with that, and even then-

… he lost his train of thought. He settled for being quietly sad at the mistreatment. 

He blinked heavily. This… this was his moment to escape, wasn’t it? Everyone was distracted and he wasn’t behind bars. He sucked in a breath. Then another. 

Come on. 

…

Come on! 

Finally his arm tugged itself away from the single grunt holding him. They shouted, probably. Ingo was a little too focused on not falling flat on his face to pay attention. 

He staggered and stumbled and was… caught. Hm. He tried to lurch away again but they had a stronger grip on him. 

Ingo miserably dragged them both to the ground. They grumbled. Good. At least he could make them miserable too. 

That felt mean. He couldn’t really bring himself to feel bad about that though. He was allowed a little bit of cruelty, he thought. It’s not like their actions didn’t warrant it. 

He sat there for a while, fighting loud and abrasive in his ears. Everything vaguely ached and he still felt sick. He focused on breathing. 

When he heard that long, sustained whistle he was so familiar with, it didn’t even occur to him to question it. He just whistled back, loud as he could, his two note response.

Where are you?! 

I’m here…

And suddenly the arms holding him let go. And suddenly his face was shoved into a fluffy neck and he was lifted up and wind was blowing against him and- 

Ingo looked up at the hydreigon carrying him away. He felt like he should encourage it to go back and return him to all the people he knew but…

Ingo closed his eyes and let the dragon take him. He was so… so exhausted…

Ingo woke up in a forest. 

The grass was cool under him and the sun was warm where it peeked through the trees. The rustling of leaves created white noise, and the chirping of Pokémon reminded him he wasn’t in a cell anymore. 

Ingo shivered. And then didn’t stop shivering. He felt freezing even as he soaked in the warmth of the sun. He could feel sweat trickle down his back. 

He buried his face into the grass, wincing at the itchiness but needing to hide away from the sun. His head felt like it was under a hydraulic press. He felt sick. He felt like he couldn’t breathe right. 

He curled up in a ball, unable to fall back into sweet unconsciousness. His limbs twitched like he was restless when all he wanted to do was pass out. He didn’t think he could stand. 

Ingo couldn’t help the involuntary whine that escaped his throat. Dragons he felt awful. He wished more than anything he was in bed at home. He wished Emmet was here or- or nearby. 

Emmet was good. He missed Emmet. Emmet made everything better because he was Emmet and Ingo loved him. 

Ingo gasped, hardly realizing he was crying until the sobs robbed him of breath. He tried to be quiet, but he didn’t quite have the air for it. 

Something heavy lumbered closer and Ingo didn’t have it in himself to be scared. He just hurt. 

A warm, fluffy body curled around him. It cooed gently, trilling a long, comforting note. Ingo leaned into the familiar sounds of the hydreigon, still shivering and sobbing. 

They laid there until Ingo began to calm down. He still felt devastated, but his body just couldn’t afford to waste the water. At some point a berry was pushed towards him by one of hydreigon’s heads. When he made no move towards it, the pseudo mouth picked it up and pressed it against his lips. 

Ingo opened his mouth and took a bite, instantly feeling intensely more ill. The form around him seemed to almost purr, trying to encourage another bite. He managed just one more before he had to swallow it twice, and turned away from the rest. 

The mouth didn’t foster any more berries onto him, instead running teeth along his hair, grooming it. He was glad the secondary heads of hydreigon didn’t have any salivary glands, lacking any throat or need to break food down. 

The gentle scratch of teeth was quite possibly the best sensation Ingo could recall having as of late. It gently tugged away at the snarls and mats that had made their home there, relieving him of his itchy scalp. He immediately relaxed and closed his eyes, meandering slowly towards sleep. 

Hydreigon kept it up for a long while, chest rumbling with a growling purr. 

Ingo finally fell asleep when the sun painted the forest in vivid oranges. Hydreigon never moved. 

The withdrawal symptoms only hit harder the next day. He couldn’t find it in himself to do much more than lay there and sob and his body fought against himself. His muscles ached like they’d been torn apart and sewn back together with barbed wire- breathing was all the more difficult and he almost didn’t even want to try to drag breath into his body. 

He shivered endlessly even as his shirt clung to his skin with sweat. He was hardly even aware of his own groans of agony as he panted, mouth open as limbs twitched and spasmed involuntarily. 

Everything hurt and he wanted it to stop. 

He thrashed away from any berries that hydrogen attempted to shove into his mouth- if he had the capacity for it he might’ve felt bad about his behavior. As it was, all he could focus on was the agony coursing through his veins. 

Time blurred past him in a sludge like wave- it felt like the hours dragged on into days and the minutes seconds. He felt eyes looking at him and phantom sensations and the voices wouldn’t stop talking to him-

Hydreigon attempted again and again to try and sooth him, but Ingo didn’t have the wherewithal for it. At best all he could do was lay there and try not to scream. 

He hardly noticed when the dragon curled around him further, loose hold becoming a protective hover. There were people perhaps, but Ingo could no longer tell if they were real or more hallucinations. He couldn’t hear their meanings with the blood rushing through his ears and his own choked off groans. 

It was only when hydreigon was forcefully pushed away from him that his brain kicked into gear. He couldn’t register much, only red uniforms and hostile pokemon. 

They were going to catch him. They were attacking his only companion and they were going to catch him and bring him back to plasma- 

Despite his panic he couldn’t get himself to move. His mind screamed at his muscles and he just couldn’t find the willpower to get them to twitch. They were already tense from pain and they hurt so much and he couldn’t move-

Everything hurt. 

It only hurt more when the people in uniforms caught him. 

Their touch burned like hot metal, making his skin itch and he needed them off it hurt he wanted to scratch his skin off remove all the infected areas they brushed against with sweaty palms and oily fingers- 

He thrashed. Maybe he screamed. It was hard to tell. He couldn’t pay much attention past the horrific signals his body kept sending him.

Somehow he staggered in the direction of standing, desperately stumbling away from the threats that stepped back in surprise. They came at him again,  hands held out as if to grapple him to the ground. Hold him down so he couldn’t get away. Hold him down so they could force him into compliance again- He couldn’t- he couldn’t let them do that he would not go back he was finally out and HE WOULD NOT BE TAKEN AGAIN-

Feeling like a cornered animal, Ingo scrambled backwards- desperately feeling around for something, anything- 

His palm landed on a stick and he brandished it, unable to speak but pushing a hiss through his clenched teeth. 

The three forms immediately began to back off, hands still raised. Ingo gasped for breath, heart hammering and dizziness hit him like a wave. He staggered and remained mostly upright, sick still leveled at his attackers. 

There was a flash of light and Hydreigon was back, wounded and burned but awake and ok. Ingo lurched forward into the one safe presence and immediately was picked up as they sped off. Ingo’s grip on the stick loosened at one point and he dropped it, but he could hardly care when it allowed him to curl further into hydreigon’s hold. 

His chest jerked with sobs that had no sound and no tears. He wanted it all to stop. 

They moved away for a long while. At some point he heard the rushing of a river, which did not seem like a particularly safe landmark to rest next to but he could not find it in himself to move away. 

Hydreigon settled him on some moss, curling over and around him like he was a precious egg rather than a sobbing man. Ingo just let it happen, too exhausted at this point to do much of anything than be moved. 

At some point the pain reached a level that all he could do was just drift through it, barely keeping his head above the water. The dragon curled around him didn’t move an inch, stoutly refusing to leave him alone again. 

It took him a minute to realize that Hydreigon was growling again, more feeling the vibrations of it than any sound. He blinked, debating whether or not he wanted to try and figure out what had the dragon distressed. 

He almost decided it wasn’t worth it until he heard a very familiar voice. 

He twitched desperately in its direction, eyes slightly less searching for the only person he knew that had such a flat affect. He wheezed desperately as his arm gave out beneath him, prompting a groan of agony as his chest dug his wrist into the ground. 

Hydreigon shifted slightly, snarl cutting off into a worried and confused warble. Ingo once again struggled upwards, finally catching sight of his own face, clothed in white. 

“Eeeh,” he tried, mouth not quite working and throat a desert. Immediately his brother moved closer, only slowed by hydreigon’s protective stance. Ingo whined somewhat desperately. He’d be embarrassed if he had the capacity- but this was his brother. Emmet had seen him at his lowest before, just as Ingo had supported him through his own. 

“Ingo,” Emmet whispered, probably. Ingo was a little too distracted trying to latch onto his twin. Hydriegon finally moved off him enough that Emmet was able to drag him into a more upright position. 

Ingo whined, burying his face into Emmet’s shoulder. Everything was terrible but Emmet was here and Emmet made everything better. Emmet wouldn’t let anyone hurt him. Emmet would keep him safe. 

Arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers gently ran though his hair as he was shushed gently, “it’s ok,” Emmet murmured, breath tickling Ingo’s ear, “you’re ok, I’ve got you, it’s ok. It’s ok Ingo. You- you’re safe I-“ 

Ingo held on tighter, fingers digging into his twins coat, as Emmet’s shoulders began to shake. Ingo didn’t comment when his own coat became damp- didn’t have the words, frankly. 

Hydreigon nudged him, whining as the two brothers just clung to one another. Ingo leaned towards it just enough that it relented and settled around both of them. Most of its mass was around Ingo, but he didn’t have any mind to care. 

It was safe. He was safe. He was found and protected and safe. 

They sat there for a while, Ingo shoving endlessly as he desperately clutched at Emmet’s coat. His brother, in turn, held him back just as fiercely, gently attempting to sooth and rub away the tremble in his body. 

He started moving when Ingo began to wheeze. 

“Come on,” he gently encouraged, dragging Ingo more upright, “let’s get you home. We’re going- we’re going home, Ingo.” 

The man himself let it happen. He trusted Emmet. He was guided over to voices, the actual people he couldn’t see with his face still pressed against his brother’s shoulder. Emmet spoke with them for a moment, and once again Ingo was gently guided. 

It was fine until Emmet let go. Until buckles and belts and restraints were used to tie him down to something. No he- he would not be restrained he- he would not be separated from Emmet again no no nononono-

Ingo thrashed hard, making the hands tying him down flinch away. He tried to wiggle out of the few that trapped him, but hands gently held his shoulders before he could get too far. 

He would have desperately attempted to push them off if it was not for Emmet's voice in his ear, “it’s ok,” his brother desperately murmured, sounding close to tears again, “it’s alright Ingo, they're helping it’s ok.”

Emmet kept it up until he was completely restrained. Ingo couldn’t quite get himself to breathe correctly the entire time. His twin spoke to the other people for a moment and then he shifted around and Ingo almost panicked again but- it was ok. Emmet was staying. Continued to press against him and speak softly as something grunted and shifted and-

They began to make their way down the river, Ingo finally registered the blue head and grey shell he was resting on. Hydreigon hovered close above them, periodically looking down to make sure Ingo was ok. Emmet was half sitting half laying down next to him, arm around his chest and the other holding his hand. 

They continued on like this until they reached some kind of dock. Ingo zoned out, exhausted and utterly spent but now willing to shut down with his brother nearby. He was moved, and then moved again. He became mildly aware in what he assumed was an ambulance.

Emmet was there with a yellow, red, and white pokeball. One of the ones they used to move Pokémon that were already registered to another ball. He ran a hand through Ingo’s hair, and gently murmured to him. 

Ingo closed his eyes.

Something was purring next to and over him. It was familiar and comforting and-

“Ah! Hey! No! I am Emmet! You know that is not allowed!”

It was sort of hard to breathe with that much weight on him. 

“Get off! You can stay nearby but no crushing!”

The weight whined, a head nuzzled closer and a tail wrapped around his leg. 

“Nnnnope! You know the rules! But, if you get off now. I will consider moving your bed closer.”

Grumbling, then the weight pushed off him, clambering over his body and completely disappearing.

For all that it was hard to breathe under it, Ingo found himself whining at its disappearance. 

Immediately he felt eyes on him. But he didn’t mind these eyes. His body didn’t tense as familiar footsteps came closer, and a warm hand rested on his face. 

“Ingo?” The voice whispered, “you awake..?” 

He pushed out a breath though his dry mouth, peeling open his eyes and looking up at his reflection. 

It smiled at him, eyes worried but warm. Ingo felt some kind of tension in his body melt as his brother leaned down and rested their foreheads together. 

“Good morning,” Emmet murmured, “how are you feeling?” 

… actually not as bad as he expected to feel. Definitely far from good, but he hadn't felt that for a long time now. 

Mostly he was just… achy and tired and thirsty. 

His voice came out as more of a crackle than proper words, making him wheeze slightly as the air irritated his dry throat. Emmet picked up a cup of water next to him, raising the bed a little as he offered it to Ingo. 

His hands trembled a bit as he hesitantly took the cup, but Emmet didn’t fully let go, guiding it to his mouth. Despite his thirst, Emmet made him take small sips, which was probably a smart idea since he immediately began to become nauseated as something settled in his stomach. 

He pushed the cup away as gently as he could, leaning fully against the bed. Emmet put it down next to him and leaned forward, taking Ingo’s hand in his. 

He just became aware of all of the things attached to his fingers and upper arm. They itched quite terribly, but he did his best to ignore it for now. 

“Status report?” Emmet asked again, running his thumb over Ingo’s bony hand. They looked so different now. 

“I… I don’t feel great,” Ingo admitted slowly, blinking heavily. He looked at his twin, “but… ok, now… now that you’re here…” 

Emmet smiled wetly, looking away to rapidly blink away his tears. He swallowed hard and sniffed, “I’m- I am Emmet. I’m ok now that you’re here too.” 

Ingo’s mouth refused to move, but his eyes did his smiling for him. “You were ok? While… while I was gone?”

Emmet nodded, “yeah, I… well, for a while I just looked for you, but then the depot agents stepped in and Elesa started breaking into our apartment and… I was taken care of, brother.”

Ingo hummed, grateful. He’d have to thank Elesa and their agents later. He knew corralling Emmet was a full time job. 

“Looks like you had someone looking after you, too,” Emmet teased, looking over his shoulder. Ingo followed his gaze and saw the hydreigon all but pouting, looking off to the side until it registered Ingo’s gaze on it. 

Slowly, it moved closer, lips trembling around a quiet whine. Ingo held out a shaky hand, whistling the same thing it had to him over and over. Emmet looked confused for a moment as hydreigon whistled back the two note response.

“You taught it our whistle patterns?” 

Ingo hummed, gently petting the dragon's head, “makes a good agent,” he murmured, blinking rapidly. It was getting harder to keep them open. 

“Apparently so…” Emmet muttered, looking at the hydreigon oddly. His gaze quickly moved back to Ingo when he dropped his hand, too exhausted to keep it upright, “you should sleep.”

Ingo’s face twisted up in displeasure.

“I know,” Emmet laughed, “I missed you too, yup. But you need to rest to recover.”

He shifted as Emmet moved the blankets to properly cover him, slightly easing the chill he hardly even noticed in his arm and chest. He hesitated a moment before finally allowing himself to give in to sleep. 

“You’ll… you’ll still be here? When I wake up..?” 

“Yeah,” Emmet smiled, running a hand through his hair, “I’ll be right here.”

“Ok,” Ingo breathed, and let go.

Ingo collapsed on their apartment’s couch, taking a moment to breathe as Emmet paddled about the entrance for a little longer. Despite sleeping so much he still felt exhausted, and he could practically feel the hospital’s medication wear off. 

The symptoms of withdrawal should only last a few more days, apparently. And they might be easier to manage as he eased back into a more regular and consistent eating schedule, along with the concerning amount of supplements he needed to take for a bit. 

It was… a lot. He’d lost a worrying amount of weight and he probably needed to see a therapist and also at some point needed to talk to the police for a statement and then also go over any new safety regulations for the station and possibly get recertified after he was cleared to work again and- 

He was… choosing not to think about it right now. He just got home and he wanted to take it in for a moment. 

The yellow, red, and white pokeball attached to his belt wiggled a little, and Ingo smiled. 

“Not yet,” he ran a thumb over the top of it, feeling it shiver in anticipation, “you’ll be let out in a moment. I would like to say hello to everyone before introducing you.”

The pokeball settled, for now, at least, and Ingo looked up to see his brother approaching with a number of regular pokeballs. 

“You ready?” Emmet smiled, holding up a particularly scuffed ball.

Ingo smiled, holding out a hand, “yes.”

In a flash, his world consisted of purple flames and exuberant howls. Ingo held his Chandelure close, and finally he was home.

Ingo and Emmet’s fridge was filled with stews and soups and various other meals that would keep for a while by the end of the day. Emmet decided to hydrate and warm up a particularly light soup to eat for dinner the day they got back. 

It was chicken noodle soup, thankfully devoid of any beans and rice. Ingo’s mouth was watering as it slowly warmed up, the smell of spices absolutely pervading the house.

When they both sat down with a bowl, Ingo hesitated eating it right away. Despite the fact that it smelled so good and he was absolutely starving for something that was not hospital food…

He didn’t see how the soup was prepared. He didn’t know what else could be in it. The smell of spices could easily be used to mask something else in the broth. 

Emmet stopped eating for a moment, looking at him. Ingo felt incredibly silly, staring down at the soup and being completely unable to bring the spoon into his mouth. 

“You’re scared,” Emmet nodded bluntly, “why?” 

Ingo opened his mouth and closed it again. His gust twisted unpleasantly. He felt ill. 

“Ingo,” Emmet firmly stated, making him look up and meet his twin's eyes. There was nothing but concern in them, “what’s wrong?”

“I- I am. Worried,” he bit out, hands shaking slightly, “it’s- it’s silly. And- and it doesn’t make any sense because I know it’s safe and- and it’s ridiculous to be scared-“

“But you are.” Emmet cut in, “that is… understandable, I think. They drugged your food, didn’t they?”

Ingo silently nodded. 

“Ok,” Emmet looked around, “would… would it help if I took a bite of yours?”

Ingo shrugged. He really didn’t know. He didn’t know how long it would take for the very clearly non-existent drugs in this food to start working. 

“I am Emmet. Our neighbors gave this to us,” Emmet began, eyes staring down at their food in thought, “if… if it was drugged, it would be verrry easy to arrest them.”

Ingo snorted despite himself. Emmet smiled and went on. 

“And they are old! How would they get the drugs in the first place? If any drug dealers saw them, they would just ask if they were lost and bring them to the retirement home.” 

“Emmet!” Ingo giggled, “you can’t say that about our neighbors!” 

“Watch me,” Emmet challenged, but simmered down a little, “the stock they gave me was heavily concentrated. I watered it down a lot, yup. Anything in here would be like taking an Advil.”

Ingo shook his head, smiling, “I don’t think Advil is anything close to what they gave me… but thank you, Emmet.”

“Of course," his twin nodded, “next time, we will cook something in front of you. Then you will be able to tell with certainty, yup.” 

“That… that would be appreciated,” Ingo murmured, finally bringing the spoon up to his lips. It took a long moment, but he eventually managed to convince himself to open his mouth and eat the soup.

He almost choked at the flavor. Salty and warm and a slight kick of something that had his mouth singing in joy. He swallowed it too fast, much too hungry to properly enjoy the spoonful. 

Thankfully, he had a whole bowl to enjoy. Even seconds, if he so wished. 

He sniffed, quickly brushing away a tear in his eye. 

“Good soup?” Emmet asked, a bit of laughter in his voice.

Ingo took another bite, enjoying it just as thoroughly, “good soup.”

Ingo stood and raised his arms up in a stretch as the tone for approaching challengers chimed. They had two more battles before they entered their car, but it was good to be prepared. 

Also he needed a bit of a break from paperwork. 

Emmet leaned towards him and made a gesture that came concerningly close to committing the cardinal sin of poking Ingo’s stomach. He reacted accordingly and hunched over, protecting his midsection from possible fingers. 

Emmet skittered away obligingly, but continued to look at Ingo oddly. 

“What is it?” He asked, straightening out now that he was no longer in danger. 

Emmet hummed, tilting his head as he rested his fists on his hips. The tone chimed once more. One battle before the challengers reached their car. 

“You’ve gained weight.”

Ingo blinked, “…yes? That has been the goal for the past few weeks, if I recall.” 

Therapy had been incredibly helpful. As well as Emmet cooking in front of him- he’d even taken to helping out where he could. There were still some days that it was hard to eat, but he was making steady progress. 

Such steady progress he’d even been cleared to go to work. Today was the first week of his return- as well as the return of the multi line in over a year. 

It was hard to believe he’d been trapped by plasma for nearly a year and a half. It hadn't felt that long, and yet simultaneously it felt like he’d spent exponentially longer in that cell. 

“I hadn’t really noticed before.” Emmet continued, “I knew it was happening. It just didn’t register.”

Ingo hummed, stepping closer and offering an arm out for a hug. Emmet smiled and accepted, leaning into Ingo’s chest. 

“I’m glad you’re back,” Emmet said for what must have been the thousandth time. Ingo never tired of hearing it, “and. Maybe it’s silly. But I’m really glad we’re starting to match again.”

Ingo snorted, tugging his brother closer as Emmet tried to pull away in indignation. Indeed, even after he got his hair cut to their usual length and shaved and showered- his weight loss made them incredibly distinct. But now even that difference was beginning to fade away. 

“I am too,” he whispered. 

Another chime- the challengers were about to enter. 

The twins separated and settled on their respective sides of the car- nearly a perfect mirror. Maybe it was a little childish to want to look like each other still, but it was them. And to Ingo, that was all that really mattered. 

He rested a hand on a shiny new pokeball, a dragon humming beneath its plastic casing. The door on the opposite side of the train slid open, and Ingo opened his mouth.

“I am a Subway Boss, Ingo. The fellow over to the side is also a Subway Boss, Emmet…”