Work Text:
Emmet was having the most wonderful dream.
His brother had come home, walked right through the door like a ghost, and gave him a hug. They later curled up together, sharing Emmet’s bed like they once did as children, and fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Emmet had dreams like these all the time, he knew they weren’t real, but waking up never failed to hurt him somewhere deep in his soul. Like a small piece of him chipped off each time that hope was dangled in front of him before being torn away.
Tonight was no different, as he was roused from the warm comfort of his sleep to the sight of the bedcovers to his right, neat and untouched. No Ingo.
Tears stung his eyes, and he silently cursed at his aching heart for falling for such a fantastical dream. Ingo was not home, nor was he some incredible corporeal ghost. It was ridiculous for Emmet to have ever thought it was real, even in his sleep.
The lonely twin buried his face into his pillow, trying to recover just a bit of the warm comfort he felt before, but his blood had turned to ice in his veins. It was a routine he knew well, unfortunately. He would not be able to go back to sleep, or he would risk having a nightmare instead of a terribly wonderful dream.
With a sigh, Emmet pried himself from the covers and stood on shaking legs. In the corner of the room, his Galvantula roused from her sleep, comfy in her web. She chittered at him, concerned, and he gave her a strained smile.
“I will be alright, Doodle.” He told the spider gently, “just another dream.”
Emmy stared listlessly ahead, through the open door at his brother’s closed one across the hall. It still had the name plate they made as kids hung near the top. ‘Ingo’s Room’
“Just another dream…”
Doodlebug chittered at him again, tilting her head like she was confused. Odd. She was familiar with this nearly nightly routine, and would often comfort him through the aftermath. She clambered down from her web, and for a moment Emmet thought she was going to do just that, but she instead bumped into his legs and then scurried toward the door, stopping just once to look back at him.
Ah, she wanted him to follow her. Strange, but not unheard of. Sometimes she got tired of cuddling with Emmet nearly every night for the past month, and would lead him into the living room to watch TV instead.
As Emmet moved to follow his pokémon, he became aware of sounds deeper into the apartment. He poked his head out of his bedroom door just in time to see Doodlebug’s fluffy yellow abdomen slip out of sight to the left, toward the kitchen. It wasn’t uncommon for a few Pokémon to be out and about at night, but this sounded like a voice…
Emmet crept into the hallway with quiet footsteps, straining to peer around into the kitchen from a safe vantage point, but he couldn’t make out much. It was dark, save for the glow of Chandelure’s flames. Something about them seemed off, though. The color was all wrong.
Then, he heard a voice that was obviously attempting to be quiet and failing.
“Oh, hello miss Doodlebug. What are you doing up? Is Emmet alright?”
Quick as a flash, Emmet darted through the remaining few feet of the hallway, and into the dining room. He slapped his hand along the wall, feeling desperately for the light switch. Finally, something clicked, and the hallway light came on. Not the switch he was looking for, but it at least illuminated the kitchen enough for Emmet to see.
A void-like figure stood by the fridge, tall and jagged, with balls of magenta flames orbiting it, the same color as its countless blinking eyes.
Emmet paled, heart stuttering in his chest, and rubbed at his eyes to remove the image of the figure from them. After a few blinks, his eyes adjusted more to the lack of light, and the once frightening visage bled away.
In the kitchen stood Ingo, still wearing his uniform, surrounded by a few of their Pokémon.
Emmet stumbled forward toward their little two-placemat table and fell into one of the chairs. The whiplash of fearing an intruder, only to then be flooded with relief and elation made his knees weak.
So it wasn’t a dream. Of all the ways he’d imagined Ingo coming home, of course the most fantastical and unbelievable one turned out to be real.
“Emmet?” Ingo called out, turning to face his brother. “Are you alright? Did I wake you? I apologize, I was trying to be quiet.”
Those unearthly purple eyes still shone from the dark, but they were set in his beloved brother’s face, so Emmet could not possibly be scared of them. In fact, now that he was seeing Ingo in the dark, he could see more signs of his new otherworldly nature. Now that he knew he was looking at his brother and not some void demon, he observed them with fascination rather than fear.
There were the most obvious, like his eyes and those flickering balls of ghostly energy. So much like the flames on Chandelure’s bobeches, but tinted more magenta rather than purple. They lazily orbited his brother’s head and shoulders, tinting him and the vicinity with a pink glow. Strange, Emmet hadn’t noticed those before, when Ingo first arrived. Maybe they only showed themselves in the dark, or only when Ingo wanted them to.
Then there were the more subtle changes, like the fact that Ingo did not appear to cast a shadow. Or how he looked unnaturally pale, even compared to Emmet who had spent the last month as a shut-in away from the sun. There was also his little beard, but that was less ghostly and more silly. Emmet figured he’d get used to it, and maybe grow one himself so they would match!
“Emmet?”
Ingo’s concerned tone snapped his younger twin out of his musings. His brother had moved closer, now a mere few feet from where he sat at the table. He looked concerned, glowing eyes darting over Emmet’s face as if he could tell what was wrong from sight alone. Then, he must’ve realized what Emmet was looking at.
“Ah, I apologize. I can dismiss them if they upset you,” Embarrassed, Ingo began snuffing out the flames.
with a gasp of “NO!”, Emmet darted forward and grabbed one without thinking. Luckily, they didn’t seem to actually burn, thank goodness. They felt cold, like vapor rather than flame. Emmet gazed at the little ball of light flickering in his hands and let out a breathless laugh.
“It’s like a little heartbeat.” He marveled. Emmet looked up at Ingo, who seemed surprised by his reaction, and smiled. “They’re a part of you, Ingo. Why would you need to hide them?”
Ingo drew in a sharp breath and quickly reached for the brim of his hat, hiding his face as if bashful, but Emmet could tell something was bothering his brother. One by one, the fires that had been snuffed out rekindled, bathing Emmet and the kitchen table in gentle pink light.
“I…” Ingo started, voice uncharacteristically quiet. “I was afraid you would not be comfortable with such obvious reminders that I am…” he trailed off.
“Not human?” Emmet guessed. He already knew that. Silly Ingo, did he forget?
Ingo glanced at him from under the shadow of his hat, eyes burning like the flames haloing him.
“…Not alive.”
Emmet’s heart skipped a beat. Oh, right. Ingo had died. While it was an upsetting thought, his brother dying somewhere beyond space and time, all alone, that didn’t matter to him. Emmet thought he’d already told Ingo that. Silly, silly brother.
“Ingo.” Emmet said firmly, reaching out to grab the hand Ingo was using to hide his face. “What did I tell you last night? I would love you even if you were a walking, talking Patrat. What matters is that you’re here now.” He gave the cold hand in his grasp a squeeze. “I am Emmet, we are a two-car train, and while your cab might be different, you’re still my brother. Besides, you’re looking pretty fresh for a dead guy.”
Ingo barked a startled laugh, and Emmet felt triumphant at having caused it.
“I mean, wow. You have got to tell me what mortuary you had work done at. They did a verry great job.”
Ingo was now giggling uncontrollably, using his unoccupied hand to cover his mouth. It was a habit of Ingo’s to do that when he laughed, since he knew others found his perpetual frown combined with mirth disconcerting. These little mannerisms were what assured Emmet that this was truly his brother, not that he still had doubts, and it warmed his heart.
“Just add a little foundation and blush and you’ll look three hundred years younger!”
“Stop, stop,” Ingo gasped between laughs, “I can’t take any more!”
Emmet obliged, and laughed along with him for a while, grinning from ear to ear. It felt amazing to be sharing a laugh with his brother after a month of loneliness. He could only imagine how it must feel for Ingo.
A comfortable silence fell between them once their giggles subsided. At one point, Ingo moved to sit in the chair across from Emmet at the table, and gazed across at him fondly.
“You… really don’t mind?” Ingo asked softly, gesturing around him at the floating balls of flame.
Emmet reached out and brushed one with his fingertip. “Of course not. They’re verry cool. Figuratively and literally! What are they, anyway?”
Ingo looked relieved, and shared Emmet’s smile as best he could. “They’re called hitodama. They are extensions of my spirit, similar to Chandelure’s flames.”
“Verry pretty. What an interesting color.” Emmet remarked, “Tell me more. I want to know alll about your new cab. I’ve noticed that you’ve changed your appearance slightly several times now.”
Ingo looked away, chuckling nervously.
“You noticed that? I apologize, I usually have a much better grasp on my physical form.”
Emmet narrowed his eyes at his brother and reached across the table to gently bop him on the head. “Stop apologizing! You’ve apologized for something three times in the last five minutes. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Ingo laughed and fixed his hat. “I’m s-“ he stopped himself at the look his brother gave him. “Ah- well, I’ll try. To answer your question, how I look is linked to my sense of self. It is hard to explain, but I can usually control how I appear, but if I am relaxed, my cab mirrors my mind at any given moment.”
Emmet looked absolutely fascinated. “You’re like a Ditto!”
Ingo grimaced. “I suppose the comparison isn’t exactly… incorrect. I am, technically, a Pokémon.”
“What?!” Emmet gasped and stood so fast his chair nearly toppled to the floor.
“Emmet, keep it down, it’s the middle of the night!” Ingo hissed, his voice just barely quieter than his brother’s shout.
“How can I keep it down when you just dropped that Electrode on me! What do you mean you’re a Pokémon?!”
Ingo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He obviously didn’t want to go into this explanation, but Emmet was far too curious to let him dodge it. Luckily Ingo seemed to realize this as well.
“I said technically. Giratina did its best to build an authentic human form for me, but it only had what materials and energy that were readily available in the Distortion World. And… it is not very good at creating things, frankly.” He mumbled that last part, as if to keep someone from hearing it. “Hence the inconsistencies. Essentially, this body is made up of antimatter, distortion energy, and Giratina’s own essence. So you could say I’m half ghost Pokémon.”
Emmet was practically vibrating in his chair, eyes as wide as his grin while he soaked up Ingo’s words like a sponge. This was so fascinating! He had a million questions, but his brain could only settle on one.
“Can you use Pokémon moves?!” Emmet blurted.
Ingo groaned and let his head thump to the table. He should have known that would be his brother’s first question. Emmet had a hobby in pokemon breeding, specifically for special moves.
“… yes.”
Emmet made a noise similar to that of a tea kettle, hands flapping with excitement. “What moves? What moves, Ingo?!”
Ingo’s reply was muffled by the table, but still audible, “I can only learn ones that Giratina can also use, but currently I can use destiny bond and shadow force, along with,” he trailed off, visibly cringing. “…scary face and hyper voice.”
Emmet wheezed out a laugh. “Oh my dragons you can’t be serious. Ingo- Ingo this is hilarious.” He struggled to speak between giggles, “D-Do you remember? When we were kids? We-“
“We picked out what moves we would assign each other if we were Pokémon…” Ingo mumbled.
“And I assigned you scary face and hyper voice!” Emmet cackled.
“Yes, yes, you hit the nail right on the head. The moves just feel right, it’s hard to describe.”
Emmet continued to laugh, and Ingo watched him from under the brim of his hat. Soon, the fond annoyance in his eyes turned mischievous.
“Say, Emmet, want to know something even more hilarious?” Ingo spoke up during a pause in his brother’s laughter.
Wiping a tear from his eye, Emmet hummed inquisitively in lieu of a reply.
“I can learn earthquake.”
Emmet froze. He met his brother’s glinting eyes with his own wide ones.
“You wouldn’t dare-“
“Oh, yes I would.”
“Ingo, no-“
“Ingo, yes.”