By the World, I Was Taken

Novarum, the Dragon of Dreams, did not find itself easily disturbed. It saw into the hearts and minds of humans and Pokemon alike; it was intimately familiar with ebb and flow, give and take. Many sought it out, but few succeeded in their quest, and fewer still found a reward from the fae dragon.

Staring down at the tiny, squalling human it had been gifted, it didn’t know what to think.

This had been its price. The humans who’d found it had requested it intervene so they could start a family, and had balked when it declared that it would cost them their firstborn. Novarum had seen into so many humans’ souls that it hadn’t spared a second thought for what it might do if its condition was met, because that simply wouldn’t happen.

But here it was.

How could they? The child was precisely what their hearts desired, and they’d given it up without a fight, without pleading their case. Part of Novarum respected that they’d honored the agreement, had seen Promise into Truth, but the rest of it cried in outrage that they’d forsaken their Ideal so easily.

The little human’s cries wavered. It was protected from the high winds at the top of Dragonspiral Tower, but not from the cold; the blanket its father had left it wrapped in could only fight the chill for so long.

Despite its inner conflict, Novarum stooped down and gathered the poor thing up in one of its pairs of wings, fur and downy feathers sure to insulate it while the two powerful sets on the dragon’s back carried them away from the world of humans, somewhere… not safer, per se, but softer. Somewhere where the rules were more strictly defined and Novarum might be able to work out the maelstrom of emotions that crackled, icy hot, in its chest.

The Entralink had entrances everywhere, and Novarum coasted over the forest to the north, deeper and deeper into the wilderness, until it found the shaky bit of reality it sought. It adjusted its hold on the abandoned human from something safe for flight to a grip better suited to walking, one set of talons holding the blanket carefully closed as it spirited the both of them away into its homeland: the world of dreams, of the fairy.

They were immediately enveloped by magical energies intrinsically familiar to Novarum-- a balm, both dangerous and consistent. Those of the human realm wouldn’t know to appreciate it, but right now, with its mind and heart tugging in two distinct directions, it was precisely what Novarum needed.

While its domain in the world of men was a high tower, Novarum’s actual home lay nestled near the peak of a mountain, overseeing the dense cluster of trees that separated the realms, and it was there the dragon hastened. The child in its wings wriggled through its blanket, no doubt frightened by the shift in reality itself, but the dragon could do nothing for that, and simply held it tighter until they reached their destination.

Once it reached its den, it set the little thing down in its nest and sat back, staring at it.

What was Novarum meant to do? It hadn’t wanted the child. It had only wanted its parents to fight for it, to prove their Ideal. Its tests were meant to weed out the well-intentioned from the nefarious, but never had it seen one turn around so spectacularly. The thought did nothing to help its situation, but perhaps it was a good thing that the parents had forsaken this one, had relinquished their reward in the very same gesture it took to prove themselves unworthy.

...but what would it have done, had the parents disregarded its claim? Novarum’s heart settled at the idea, but its mind roared in objection. The fae had rules, and if they had forsaken them, it would have been furious.

At no point did the dragon realize that it had damned the couple either way, too caught up in the warring factions within itself. Obey the conditions of the deal. Fight for what they sought. The only decision that might have saved Novarum was a precarious balance between Truth and Ideal that few humans could hope to find.

Novarum felt itself splinter. From its mind it bore a searing Truth, a flash of white that vanished as soon as it tore free. Its heart stuttered at the loss and its Ideal refused to let it flat line, ensuring that life thrummed again before it also fled what had once been its home. The husk of what had once been Novarum’s body lingered beyond the rest of itself, aware of the human presence in a way its siblings hadn’t been, but also dispassionate, unable to muster the will to do anything for it.

It would live, but this being had no responsibility to ensure that survival. The body lumbered away like a wounded creature, with none of the grace its heart or mind had possessed.

Unaware of what it had been the lone witness to, the human child, now forsaken twice over, began to cry anew.

–--

It had been half a year since Emmet had earned a position at Nimbasa Central Station, and he was having a wonderful time with it.

He’d adored trains since he was a small child and only grown to love them more as he understood their mechanisms and the system through which they functioned; while he’d taken some time to wander the region, as many teens did, he’d always known how he wanted to spend his adult life. Admittedly, the pull of battling was an enticing one, but he just didn’t feel the same driving force behind it. He had three Pokemon he loved and who fought beautifully, but saw no reason to leave a dream for a delusion.

They didn’t see a great deal of battle any longer, but Eelektrik, Galvantula and Durant were each a boon when Emmet went about his duties, and great company besides. Though none of them were allowed out on the actual trains, in corralling commuters at the station or sweeping tunnels, their help was always welcome.

Between the fact that he got to work on something he loved and with dear friends, Emmet had very few complaints. Nimbasa was a far cry from Lacunosa Town, which was only to be expected from the Unova region’s fastest growing city, and he reveled in it. There were no quiet, superstitious nights or uncannily cold winds to blow right through a person-- quite the opposite, in fact, given the desert that lay just to the south.

When he’d first moved out here, his parents, bless their souls, had been concerned about Nimbasa’s proximity to the Lostlorn Forest, and it had taken all of Emmet’s scant restraint not to remind them that he was twenty, not twelve. He wasn’t about to go wandering through a liminal space littered with known gateways to the Entralink. He’d managed to bite down on that impulse and remind himself that it was natural for them to be worried; they’d always been overprotective, so why would they decide to stop now?

Truthfully, hand to Reshiram, Emmet hadn’t possessed any hint of desire to delve into Lostlorn Forest.

The Pokemon ahead of him hesitated at the woods’ threshold, watching, waiting for him to draw nearer and follow. It was something unlike any other Pokemon native to the region, and its appearance weeks ago had caused quite the stir. Until today, it hadn’t allowed anyone near it.

Emmet had no idea why it seemed to have taken a liking to him, but it had spotted him on his way home from the station and darted into his space before anyone could intercept it. The sensation of its short puffs of breath against his skin as it delicately sniffed him were fresh in mind, not even an hour old, and it had seized his hand in one of its paws, surprisingly dexterous under the foot-long claws it boasted. He’d managed to wrest himself free, but still trailed after, curious where this might lead... so long as he still had the option to remove himself from the situation.

And now he knew where it was headed. The odds of the Pokemon being a Zoroark’s fae-warped illusion skyrocketed, but weren’t guaranteed. Short lived though the contact had been, it didn’t support that idea; the Pokemon’s claws were solid and really did stretch as long as they seemed. He watched it score a mark in the bark of a tree-- distinctive in the three parallel slashes-- and then tilt its head, stepping back to mark another several steps in.

It moved to look at him, gauging whether or not its accommodation might be acceptable.

Emmet hesitated.

Maybe it was the coddling he’d endured throughout childhood, or maybe it was the low-lying desire for just a bit more excitement out of his day to day life, but he decided he wanted to know what it was trying to accomplish. It was a risk, but he was an intelligent, full grown adult. He could handle this.

Just in case, though, he kept Durant at his side, an easy counter to any curious fairies.

The Pokemon eyed his friend with a plain indifference, shrugged its presence off and turned, claws readied to score another tree along the path.

The connection between the human realm and the fae’s-- the Entralink-- wasn’t well understood, nor was it a booming field of study. Research had been done into the matter, but for many, it was an unexplained fact of life: there existed hotspots in the region that stole people and Pokemon alike into another world entirely. As they lurked through the trees, Emmet kept a sharp eye out for any of the known hallmarks of a weakness in reality: rings or any semblance of a doorway, pockets of silence, unexplained lights.

He found none of it, and when the Pokemon stopped, he could still hear civilization bustling beyond the forest’s walls. If he so chose, he would have no problem following the marked path back the way they came.

The Pokemon held up its paws, signaling for him to wait, and pulled itself completely upright. Its reason for doing so became painfully clear as it drew a deep breath and yowled into the yet darker depths of the forest.

Emmet had just enough time to reconsider staying put when something answered, far enough to be muffled, but a muted crashing through the trees promised that it would be there soon enough.

It was large, he realized, as a pink shape began taking form-- far larger than Durant. Even Eelektrik, just under four feet long, couldn’t compare.

The thought was put on hold as he realized that it had the head of a Gligar, albeit a ridiculously large specimen, and-- more to the point-- that it wasn’t moving the way it should have. Instead of gliding through the trees with its wings spread, it held its pincers loosely in front of its chest, wings sagging to either side. Its ambulation made absolutely no sense.

“Lady Sneasler?” Asked a young, clear voice, and for half a second, Emmet was convinced it was somehow the Gligar speaking.

As it moved nearer, he realized it was actually two individuals, only one of which was a Gligar. Its head rested over a smaller frame, wings cloaking the body walking toward them, making it look like it was hovering vertically.

The second figure, he realized with some alarm, was a child.

Was that why the Pokemon had caught his attention? It was trying to help a child left adrift in the Lostlorn Forest? That was… far nobler than Emmet might have guessed. He was happy to help a faelost child find home.

At their call, the Pokemon screeched back, quieter this time, a greeting instead of summons. That was its name, then. She was a Sneasler, whatever that might be?

The kid stopped short of stepping into the clearing, hidden from the dappled sunlight that could still work its way through the trees here. Atop their head, the Gligar poked its tongue out and chirped, eyeing Emmet and then Durant with an unknown intention. Emmet got the impression that it didn’t particularly like what it was seeing.

At Sneasler’s further prompting, the child finally drew nearer, into the light, and any thought Emmet had spared for their Pokemon partner vanished. Halfway hidden between Gligar’s head and the dark hat smushed down over his hair was a little boy whose face Emmet had only ever seen in photographs-- or, once upon a time, in the mirror. Grey hair or eyes he could have passed off as coincidence, and even both at once wasn’t too hard to rationalize, but the features unmistakably belonged to his family-- had belonged, more specifically, to him.

Emmet revised his guess. Perhaps still a child, but a fae? What purpose would a changeling have for copying him so far after the fact? There was no way anyone would mix them up like this, no way for it to work its way into human society in his place. Maybe it was some new attempt at a trick? A way to play on his sympathies?

It shrunk back under his gaze, into the protection of the shadows, and the Gligar hissed.

“L-lady Sneasler, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Its voice shook and one shoe inched back further, as if ready to bolt away. Interesting. Emmet didn’t know why it thought it was on the wrong end of this confrontation when its partner held an indisputable advantage over Durant.

Sneasler turned to look at him-- not threatening, but far from happy-- and then stalked into the shade, reaching beneath Gligar’s wing to take the fairy’s wrist and gently pull it forward again. Looking at it properly, Emmet wasn’t sure if it was just tiny, or if the Gligar was that big. Heedless of its protective behavior thus far, Sneasler detached the scorpion and picked its partner up under the arms, holding it up the way one might present a Lillipup.

It… looked terrified. If its goal was to appear as a scared little kid, it had certainly succeeded. Sneasler hefted it up further, to Emmet’s eye level, and insistently looked between them.

This Pokemon was just as lost as he was, wasn’t it?

“I am sorry for the confusion. That creature has nothing to do with me.”

She bristled and, in a complete turnaround, snatched the fae back, bundling it protectively into her arms. There was a small cry as she did so, and it clapped one of its hands over the other. Sneasler stiffened and poked her nose against the beaten up hat to a peep of, “It’s okay, it’s just a nick.”

Sneasler growled softly, and when her eyes trailed back to Emmet, she jerked her head toward the path, all but dismissing him. Disgruntled, she followed the gesture by trilling to Gligar, and turned to leave the direction the pair had emerged from.

Unwilling to linger in the forest without the company, but also unable to bring himself to follow, Emmet hurried out, Durant dutifully keeping pace. Truthfully, the thing that raced the fastest was his mind.

When he emerged into the sunlight, he allowed himself to acknowledge the fact that, whatever had just happened, he had made a horrible error and done nothing to amend it when given the split-second chance.

As Sneasler turned away, her charge cradled in her arms, a trickle of red-- not blue-- had trailed down his wrist.

Emmet had just watched as a human child was spirited deep into the Lostlorn Forest.

Reports of Sneasler sightings cropped up on a weekly basis. They hadn’t started with Emmet’s encounter, it was just that he hadn’t been terribly aware of the exact timing prior. Nobody claimed that she’d led them to Lostlorn-- if anything, the frustration seemed to be that she made herself untraceable.

Doubt nagged at Emmet, and had ever since he’d realized his mistake. What was he supposed to have done, though? Being led to the bridge between the human realm and Entralink and then confronted with a smaller version of himself, how was he supposed to assume it wasn’t a trick? Maybe it was, and it was just at a level he couldn’t comprehend-- but he couldn’t leave it at that. He had to do something to get that kid back to civilization.

It was preemptive, but he’d reached out to his parents after the fact, had asked if they had any distant family members who might have wandered off in the woods. The line of question had been promptly-- harshly-- shut down. He’d known they didn’t approve of him living in such close proximity to the forest, but that seemed… disproportionate. He didn’t breathe a word of the fact that he’d ventured inside.

Emmet’s second-second opinion had been Drayden, a friend since childhood and the person he’d been trusted to venture Unova alongside. Unfortunately, he was of the opinion that Emmet had been entirely in the right, and that any further involvement was a surefire way to draw a fairy’s ire-- or worse, its undivided attention. When Emmet had pointed out that fae didn’t bleed red, it hadn’t mattered. Drayden was adamant that he’d handled the situation as best he could-- short of knowing better than to follow Sneasler in the first place.

It wasn’t that Emmet hadn’t known better. It was just that he hadn’t acted on that knowledge. There was a difference.

So it was in direct opposition to his loved ones’ wishes that he began keeping tabs on Sneasler’s movements, and when he worked out a pattern, he did something foolish: he waited until she’d been seen in the city and then headed out to Lostlorn, lurking in the shadows of the trees she’d marked for him.

His intention had been to wait for her, to confront her and make amends for how they’d parted before. In actuality, he was drawn in deeper by the distinct clicking of a Gligar. Another sound answered it: the child’s voice from before, but when he spoke this time, it was completely indistinct, a whine more than anything resembling speech.

He crept nearer, mindful of his tread; it wouldn’t do to alert a protective bat ahead of time, and the very last thing he wanted was to get himself stuck in the Entralink. There reached a point where he could make out pink between the trees, but, as before, the details were dampened by the lack of sunlight. The Gligar was grounded, that much was for certain, and he thought it may have been mantling over the child. Was he hurt?

Unable to get a better look and not wanting to be attacked for stepping nearer, Emmet backed off by several paces, back on the ‘main path’ Sneasler had created. There was every chance the Gligar would avoid him the way Sneasler had, but it wouldn’t be able to flee without either leaving the boy or taking the time to bundle him up. If it came down to it, Emmet could try battling, but didn’t have much hope for that; only Eelektrik’s Crunch and Headbutt would faze the bat, and Durant and Galvantula would be at steep type disadvantages.

For now, he tried something simpler, and deliberately allowed the dry underbrush to crunch underfoot. Gligar’s already muted noise dampened further, but that was no matter; Emmet already knew where it was. He was here trying to broker a compromise, not to enact an ambush.

“Hello?” He called, louder than his instincts told him was wise, “I am sorry for what I said. I misunderstood your intentions. I want to help.”

There was a shuffling sound ahead, and absent visual cues, Emmet had to assume it was the sound of a bat trying to pick up a human kid. He stepped towards it, using the noise as an excuse to start closing in.

When the pink carapace became visible again, he paused long enough to scope out what it was doing. Unlike before, it was sitting upright, ears perked and eyes searching. The rounded form of one closed pincer hovered awkwardly over the boy’s chest, the other arm tucked beneath him, hooking along his side.

Angled to suggest he’d come from their previous meeting point, Emmet said again, “Hello?” and tried to feign surprise as he became visible through the trees.

Gligar hissed at him, ears pinned and fangs bared, but the child didn’t respond.

Much as he would have liked to get a better look, Emmet had to make do with what he’d been given: the deep shade between trees and what could charitably be called a profile view of the child’s face and torso. He was unable to glean much more than he had been the first time, save for the fact that, when he wasn’t being cloaked in bat wings, the boy wore dark, old fashioned clothing.

He didn’t move for several seconds, gauging Gligar’s behavior and trying to work out how best to proceed. The hiss turned into a growl low in its throat, and then, oddly, one ear rose from where it had flattened to its skull.

Emmet didn’t have the chance to puzzle out what that might mean-- he was promptly bowled over from behind.

From his position flat on the ground looking up, it wasn’t difficult to recognize Sneasler, who gathered the child up much the same way she had prior. Unlike before, her claws failed to draw blood, and the child didn’t stir as she seated him into the crook of one arm with an impressive strength. Not for the first time, Emmet wondered what her typing might be-- fairy seemed a forgone conclusion, given her origin point and coloration, but the secondary was up in the air. Knowing precisely what would make all the difference if he had to defend himself against her.

She spent the seconds he took to right himself staring down at him, eyes wary, nose scrunched in distaste.

He raised his hands in something between apology and surrender.

“I am sorry. That is what I came here to say. I misunderstood what you wanted. Your… friend? He’s hurt? Sick?”

The feather plume of Sneasler’s ear swiveled at the last set of questions and her gaze turned calculating. Gligar clicked behind her, up on its own feet now, looking between Sneasler and the deep woods. If it wanted to flee, it could. That would certainly make it easier for Emmet to negotiate.

And, as a matter of fact, Gligar did turn to leave, wings catching on a breeze only it could pinpoint and disappearing into the dark. The only problem was that the movement distracted Emmet from Sneasler, who boldly approached and caught him around the waist, scooping him up off of his feet and hoisting him over a shoulder.

His last view before the realms changed around them was the sun filtering in, weakly, through the Lostlorn’s canopy.

Any attempt at identifying what, precisely, was different in the air of the Entralink was stymied by the fact that he was deposited roughly on his ass, into a forest that looked largely identical to the one they’d come from. There was a short, murmured conversation above. Emmet caught the word ‘home’, but couldn’t tell who was speaking-- certainly not the child-- before a flurry of motion sent both Gligar and the boy that had been deposited on its back away.

Sneasler looked down at him, paws on her hips and claws jutting out like deadly ruffles.

“Rules one and two: don’t eat anything, don’t drink anything. It’ll feel awful, but you won’t die. Rule three: don’t tell anyone your Arceus forsaken name.” Said a rough, feminine voice. The follow up was quieter, like it wasn’t meant for his ears, “Dunno how you’d manage to break those in five minutes, but humans are stupid enough to try.”

‘Humans’? Did that then imply the speaker wasn’t a human? But the only individual around was--

Sneasler hoisted him up by a shoulder, making direct eye contact, and was very clearly the source of it when the voice asked, “What’s your deal?”

He opened, and then shut his mouth.

Sure. This might as well happen. Who was he to say what was or wasn’t possible in the Entralink?

The Pokemon made a throaty, exasperated noise and let go to fold her arms over her chest. “Yeah, you know what? Changed my mind. Why don’t you see yourself out? Five steps to to left, follow the marks. There’s gotta be someone around who’s actually useful...”

Emmet bristled at the dig, but it was also what snapped him back to… reality…?

“I regret how I acted before. I was trying to find you and make up for it.” He made an active effort not to let his tone dip into the brisk irritation he felt. As he brushed the dirt from his sleeve, he glanced the direction the Gligar had left. “The little boy. Is he sick?”

“Don’t know.” Sneasler said, following his lead; her feather fluttered as she turned, “He gets like that every time we stay in the human world too long. He should be free to go. I don’t get it.”

“You’re trying to stay in the human world?” Emmet asked, glancing back at her.

“None of your business.” She said immediately, and then softened a touch, “But yeah, it’d be better for him. I was tryin’ to find someone who’d know what’s wrong, and you’re the same kind of human, so I figured...”

The same kind of…? Oh. She must have meant their physical resemblance. From a Pokemon’s perspective, he supposed that line of thought would make sense.

“I am not an expert. And I did not get a good look before. If you permit, I could check now?”

She shook her head. “Wouldn’t matter. He perks up once we get back here.”

Which implied that the boy had accompanied Sneasler at least as far as the forest more than once-- enough times to establish a pattern. If she was looking to get him help, then it stood to reason that he’d been in the human realm each time she’d been spotted. It also meant that she wasn’t opposed to bringing him with her again.

“He was fine the first time, though?” Emmet said, mind churning.

“I saw you right away.” Sneasler said, eyes flickering deeper into the forest before returning to him in the foreground, “The kid didn’t have time to get sick. He was only woozy when we got home.”

Emmet had no idea what to make of that. Truth be told, he didn’t know what any symptoms might indicate, and had no medical training save for standard first aid. This entire request was well beyond what he might be able to shed light on.

However, it did give him an opportunity. If Sneasler was serious about this-- if her priority was ensuring the boy’s health-- she might permit him to take the child to human civilization, specifically to a doctor. As things stood right now, he didn’t think he could sway her, but if they were already in the human world and he’d proved himself safe, then maybe.

“If you give me one more chance, I will try to help you.” He said, trying to ignore the twist of guilt inside of him.

“Why should I?” She asked bluntly. “He was scared to begin with, and you were an ass to him. Why do you think you get to look at my kit again?”

“You brought me with you.” Emmet countered, indignance creeping into his tone, “You have been to the city multiple times since. Have you asked anyone else for help?”

Sneasler stared daggers at him and grumbled something that sounded vaguely like, “Trying to find another one.”

“Humans do not work like that. I admit I am… curious why your friend looks like me. It was why I reacted so harshly. I had to assume it was a trick.”

She made a noise like a sneeze and, only slightly more intelligibly than before, uttered, “Damn fairies.”

He blinked at her. “But you live here? In the Entralink?”

“Yeah? And I’m trying to leave? The Entralink?” Sneasler sneered, rolling her eyes. “For someone so paranoid about the fae, you sure don’t seem to understand that people generally don’t choose to come here.”

“So you can leave.” He said, less as a statement of fact and more to ensure he understood properly. “Why don’t more?”

“’Cause I’m special.” She scoffed, “And ‘cause they get themselves trapped. Look, as much fun as I’m having here, I have a kid to take care of and you’re losing time in the human world. You leaving, or am I throwing you back?”

Emmet held his hands up again, warding her off. “I will go under my own power. I will not seek your friend out again. In return, will you approach me for help?”

Though Sneasler wrinkled her nose at the idea, she seemed to give it due consideration.

“I dunno. No promises.” She eventually said, but there was a reluctance to denounce his offer entirely. That was probably the best he was going to get for today.

Emmet nodded, offered a short, “I hope your friend recovers quickly.” and stepped back the way he’d been carried in.

It was difficult to qualify what he felt as he stepped out into the rays of evening light. There was a degree of bafflement, of course, from the fact that he’d held a full conversation with a Pokemon, and ongoing concern for the child he’d come this way seeking.

But mostly, it was an air of anticipation that hung overhead. He’d gotten himself involved, now, and something was waiting on the horizon line between worlds.

The next week found Emmet at the Nimbasa hospital, trying to field questions he simply couldn’t answer.

Prior to that, however, Sneasler had come to him and led him back through the trails of Lostlorn Forest. At the proper depth, she’d yowled into the trees and gotten an answering screech, and they’d regrouped with Gligar and the boy. In the moment, as he had upon their first meeting, he seemed perfectly fine. He was polite and withdrawn, preferring to keep himself next to one of his protectors; between that and the language barrier, it was a silent, uncomfortable wait as first his attentiveness began to wane and then he began to shiver.

When his limbs grew too heavy to shift, Sneasler’s eyes turned to Emmet, searching for an explanation.

“I… do not know.” He admitted, kneeling as close as the Pokemon would allow, but not testing that boundary. “You are correct to be worried. He cannot stay here in this state.”

Sneasler had huffed, something between ‘yeah, no shit’ and ‘you’re no help,’ while Gligar nuzzled in, trying to offer its wings to keep the child warm.

Emmet swallowed. This was closer than he’d expected to get; they didn’t necessarily trust him, but they were tolerating him, listening to what he had to say. It might not be enough, but there was every chance that he wouldn’t get another opportunity to find aid for the child.

“There are people who would know. Nimbasa has a verrrry highly regarded hospital. If you let me take him to a doctor, they will help him.”

As expected, both of the Pokemon tensed up at the suggestion, their knee jerk reactions two vehement denials that surpassed language. That said, neither made to remove him from the scene, and so he stayed his ground. Hands folded in his lap, he let his eyes linger over the little details he could see now: the familiar, if softer, point of his chin and proud slant of his own nose, the rounded cheeks he’d finally been rid of late in adolescence, the small pout his lips naturally fell into. It couldn’t be coincidence. Emmet just didn’t know what it was.

He dropped his attention to his lap, unclasping his hands and then re-lacing his fingers for lack of anything else to keep them busy. “I do not know what else I can do. You are free to say no, but I do not think you would be able to take him there yourselves if you change your minds. Do you think it is safer to delay moving, or to seek treatment now?”

There was a round of furious chattering between Sneasler and Gligar, ending in a long, loud hiss from the latter as it caught a barely-there breeze and rapidly climbed past the forest’s canopy. Sneasler turned her eyes to him again, and he caught one lip begin to lift into a snarl before she purposefully smoothed it out. Without breaking eye contact, she inclined her head, just once-- and promptly followed it with the threat after all, jaws parted to demonstrate that she had his scent, flashing needle-sharp fangs in warning.

Still conscious, if only just, the child’s eyes moved from Sneasler to Emmet, and then closed when human arms folded around him, leading his head to rest upon a shoulder. Sneasler’s demeanor immediately shifted as she crowded in to bump her head against her kit’s in reassurance, and Emmet heard the ghost of a thank you.

“The doctors will help.” Emmet said again, unsure which of them he was consoling.

Sneasler made a small, malcontent squeak and drew back, stilling her own hands. Seeing no reason to make the matter any worse, Emmet turned to depart. His passenger didn’t put up a fuss, silent and still in his hold and, surprisingly, nobody commented on them as he stalked across the city. In hindsight, he knew exactly what they must have thought.

Perhaps he should have seen it coming, but he hadn’t been prepared for the assumption that the child was his.

No. No. It didn’t make any sense, no matter how one looked at it. The boy was somewhere around six; the math simply didn’t work out. The nurse conducting the intake paperwork had visibly refrained from rolling her eyes and scribbled an asterisk into the otherwise blank field.

That judgment softened when the on-staff Axew refused to so much as enter the child’s room, confirming a strong fae presence. It was determined that further testing would be required to narrow the circumstances down, but only after the boy’s condition stabilized.

The actual diagnosis came back with a startling immediacy: the child was suffering from malnourishment. His body simply didn’t have the means to continue functioning, and so it had begun to shut down. A new round of looks passed between staff members at that, but Emmet knew he wasn’t at fault; he couldn’t regret getting involved if it meant the boy was getting the treatment he needed.

The suspicion dropped entirely when it came to light that the child was actually about seven, just small due to the nature of his condition. Taking into account the temporal distortion observed in locales saturated with fae magic, their ages objectively weren’t compatible.

It would have been easy to leave, escaping volleys of night-unanswerable questions and the cycle of renewed distrust, but Emmet found himself lingering. Since he’d claimed not to have any relation, he wasn’t allowed in the same room as the sleeping patient, but he thought it comforting to at least be onsite; that way, if the child woke in a panic, there would be someone on hand who he might recognize.

At one point, he looked out a window and spotted a pink blotch soaring overhead. He didn’t pretend to understand the practical application behind it; he’d seen Gligar above as he crossed the city, and it had seen which building they entered, so it couldn’t be looking for them. The best he could offer was that maybe it was meant to be another threat display.

His wait was all for nothing-- which, in a matter of thinking, was actually a positive thing-- as, by the time visiting hours ended, he'd heard nothing else on the matter. No news may have been good news, but the tension of today had worn at him, which was made clear as he stepped out of the hospital, immediately exhausted. Stomach churning in demand, he decided that his first order of business was to get something to eat, and he’d work the rest out from there. He ended up a block away at a pizza place, and while that sated the immediate issue, a pit still sat heavily at his core.

Malnutrition made sense. The very first things he’d been told about the Entralink were that he wasn’t to eat or drink anything within its boundary-- that he would be uncomfortable, but wouldn’t die of it. That had to be what had happened: the child was stable in the Entralink because he couldn’t starve there, but the human world abided by different rules, leading to the odd back-and-forth that Sneasler had observed. Healthy in one realm, dying in the next. Hopefully the repeated attempts at immigrating hadn’t caused any lingering damage.

That left the matter of medical care. While Emmet wasn’t privy to the entire plan, he’d been informed that the immediate treatment was an overnight stay at the very least, during which the kid would receive fluids and intravenuous feeding. He needed to relay that much to Sneasler, so she didn’t storm the city, but he wasn’t sure whether to return to the forest or wait for her to approach him. Emmet really didn’t want to take another walk out to Lostlorn tonight, but he wasn’t sure how else he might find her… though if Gligar was still circling, he could flag it down and let it carry the message.

He didn’t know what came tomorrow, he realized. He had work, that much was a given, but there were a number of outstanding variables. Maybe he would need to deal with Sneasler and Gligar. Maybe the boy would be deemed fit for release. Emmet somewhat doubted that one, but it was certainly possible.

By tomorrow, there might be an answer as to why they looked so similar.

Emmet was aware that his parents had approached a powerful fairy in order to have him. That was why they were so overprotective: he was their only child, and hard won at that. It had to be related somehow, because a coincidentally identical faelost child was just too much to believe. Any explanation he could come up with didn’t check out, though, always coming down to the same problem: the little boy wasn’t a fairy. If nothing else, today’s events had proven him all too human.

The hasty meal was a silent one. That wasn’t unusual-- most of his dinners were spent absent human company, which was perfectly fine-- but it was the nature of the silence that wore on him. Under an atmosphere both heavy and unbroken by the begging of bugs, that night’s was in the running for the worst pizza he’d ever had, through no fault of the establishment itself.

Not long after he’d finished, as Emmet was staring blankly at the checkered tabletop, something scraped across the window to his left, and while startled, he wasn’t terribly surprised to find Sneasler on its other side. He got up, depositing his trash in the bin on his way out, and met her on the sidewalk.

“He has not had anything to eat in a long time, has he?” Emmet asked, and that was something else he’d been struggling with. It was troubling to think that the child had grown up with a stigma around two core tenants that would keep him alive in the human realm. It was also incredibly sad.

When Sneasler nodded, he mirrored it and went on to explain, “That is the problem. I do not know how familiar you are with this world. Food and water are not optional here. If someone does not eat or drink enough, they will die.”

While she was clearly following along, it was only the last statement that got a marked reaction: the fearful widening of the eyes and a high, worried whine.

“He is alive.” He amended quickly, “He is unwell and requires extensive treatment. But he is alive. I am unsure whether he will be able to return to you by tomorrow.”

Sneasler ran one of her claws over another, nervously sharpening it, and Emmet couldn’t help but flinch when she shifted gears and reached out to paw toward him directly after the fact. It took him several seconds to realize what she was asking.

“I will stop by to check on him. You may have to wait to hear from me, however. I have work tomorrow.”

Her nose twitched in annoyance, but she didn’t try to argue.

Briefly, Emmet glanced upward. Still no sign of Gligar. He’d been trying to keep any eye out since that second sighting, but hadn’t had much luck. It was unnerving and reassuring in equal measure.

With that matter arguably settled for the time being, he looked back to Sneasler. “Do you have any more questions tonight?”

Sneasler huffed, and Emmet had little doubt that she did, just none that she could communicate properly. He asked one in her stead. “Will you return to the Entralink?”

She shook her head and then nodded in a seemingly-arbitrary direction. The message wasn’t horribly clear, but she was confident enough that Emmet chose not to dwell on it. “Understandable. I will ask that you refrain from following me to Nimbasa Central Station tomorrow. Beyond that, I have no preference how we meet.”

She rolled her eyes, but nodded and, without further ado, tore off through the city.

Emmet did much the same, heading immediately for home.

Regardless of precisely what tomorrow held for him, he felt relatively certain that it would be a lot.

---

Emmet had lied to Sneasler, but he hadn’t meant to. When they’d met the previous evening, he’d had every intention of going into work and keeping himself busy.

His plan had been thoroughly derailed when he made the promised detour to check on the child.

Whatever fanciful explanations he’d conjured in the previous weeks, he’d never entertained the idea that the little faelost boy might be his brother.

He didn’t know how it could be possible; his parents had been unable to have children before or after him. He’d grown up under their heavy watches, keenly aware of the fact that he was all they had. The blood test, however, remained unswayed by this appeal to logic, insisting that they were siblings-- and very, very genetically similar ones at that.

It was at that point that he’d made the decision to call out for the day.

Roughly an hour of this spontaneous day off had been spent in the little boy’s-- his little brother’s?-- room, trying to come to terms with it. It wasn’t helped in the slightest by the pale, slow-breathing form on the bed or the myriad of tubes and wires he was hooked up to. Eventually, restlessness won out, and Emmet left to seek answers.

Before he even a chance to hear which of his parents had answered the phone, he said, “You never told me I had a brother.”

There was a long silence and, eventually, he found that he was speaking with his father. “I’m not sure I follow. What exactly are we talking about, Emmet?”

“How can you possibly be unaware?” Emmet scoffed, but forced himself to calm. Untrue as Will’s claim to ignorance had to be, his father didn’t have the benefit of knowing what had gone on over the past few days. “I am at the Nimbasa hospital. Not for myself. For a child who looks like I did and who blood testing claims is my direct sibling.”

Again, it took several seconds for Will to respond. “We can’t have this conversation over the phone. It’s too important to risk not hearing one another.”

“You’re not denying it.” Emmet pointed out, a Greavard unwilling to release its bone.

“I’m not.” His father bit out, “But I’m not saying any more on the matter until I see you in person.”

“Fine.” He snapped in return, “I will be on the next train to Lacunosa.”

He heard Will say goodbye, but, furious, he’d already moved to hang up.

It felt terrible to leave the child alone under these new circumstances, but Emmet wasn’t sure what other options he had. The boy didn’t know any of his Pokemon-- save, perhaps, for Durant-- and likely wouldn’t even notice that he was gone; he’d fallen unconscious during the first leg of their trip, and hadn’t been awake to see that Emmet had been lingering at the hospital to begin with. He settled for writing a note that he wasn’t even sure his maybe-brother could read and tried to convince himself it was enough.

Traveling via the rail system after calling out from his job at the rail system would have been awkward if he hadn’t been busy stewing in his thoughts. As things stood, he noticed a couple of sideways glances, which were all but dispelled when his coworkers caught sight of the look on his face. Wisely, none of them asked.

During its spates above ground, the commute to Lacunosa was a gorgeous one, traveling through the lush White Forest and sparkling bay. Unfortunately, Emmet had no patience for it today, waiting solely for the pale stonework that characterized his hometown. He tried not to be rude as he briskly disembarked, but didn’t have much hope for it. No matter. His personal business was no concern of his employer’s or his associates’.

The sound of his own steps against his parents’ walkway was deafening, and the firm knock at their door was even moreso. This time, his mother was the one to answer, and she sadly looked him up and down before stepping back to admit his entrance.

“I am here now.” Emmet said somewhat unnecessarily, standing stubbornly in the middle of their living room. “You have no more excuses.”

Desi sighed his name. “Would you at least sit down, please?”

He shook his head tightly. He was too pent up for that, a combined effect of the emotional energy he had building up and the effort of containing himself during the commute. It also had a tendency to make him feel… not helpless, but small, a child under the combined weight of his parents’ eyes.

While clearly unhappy with his refusal, his mother didn’t press the matter. Exchanging a glance with Will, she decided that she, at least, was going to have a seat, and neatly folded one leg over the other. Leaning forward to set her chin on her hand, she finally said, “Your father said you were concerned about a strange child. Let’s start with that.”

Oh, like hell were they getting the full story so soon. Not only had they hidden important information from him, but he didn’t want them to find something else to focus on before providing answers.

“A child turned up ill. We look verrrry much alike, so people assumed we were related.” All true statements, if somewhat out of order. “I helped him to the hospital for treatment. Their testing concluded that we are siblings.”

It was hard, but he told himself he didn’t begrudge them the moment it took to process all of that.

“This child just… turned up?” Desi asked, dubious.

It took a dedicated effort not to make a face at the blatant attempt at derailing them. “Not the point. Having seen him, I do not believe the test concluded incorrectly. Dad did nothing to claim otherwise when we spoke. What is the meaning of this?”

She grimaced and tilted her head to the side in thought. Eventually, with a heavy sigh, she said, “We begged the fae for a gift, but everything has its price.”

A number of things snapped into startling relief at her words: their overprotectiveness, yes, but also the lifelong preoccupation with fairies and what often felt like a vendetta against them. If they’d had a child stolen from them once, of course they would take pains not to risk their second chance.

His mother… hadn’t stopped speaking, though.

Why hadn’t she stopped speaking?

“Novarum was playing a cruel trick; it asked for our firstborn in return for a family. We outsmarted it. There are ways to… increase the odds of having multiples, and so we were able to ensure that it got its payment without risking our own child. We did everything we could to keep you with us.”

…

No.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

That was worse than the thought that the boy represented a failed pregnancy before or after Emmet. Worse than the idea that a fairy had spirited his sibling away as part of a debt. Nothing Emmet could have come up with matched the idea that he only stood here because his parents had sacrificed another one of their children for him-- that they had sacrificed his twin for the crime of having been born first.

“What do you mean,” He said through gritted teeth, “’Your own child’?”

“They… didn’t belong to us.” Will said, “Before they even existed, they were Novarum’s claim.”

“That’s not possible. We were twins. Split from one egg. Either both of us belonged to Novarum or neither of us did.” Because that had to be why they were so closely linked in terms of genetics. Fraternal twins were as similar as any other siblings, but identical twins went beyond that by virtue of having temporarily been the same being. It fit, and that fact burned.

“That’s not how it works, Emmet.” Desi murmured, sounding faintly exhausted. “It’s not how the fae operate.”

He was hearing none of it, though.

“Why would you make this deal knowing it was inhumane?”

His father sighed heavily, guilt etched into his face, “You’ll understand someday, when you have your own kids.”

No he wouldn’t. Regardless of whether or not he opted to have children, he would die before he found himself in a position to agree with what had been done to-- to his brother. A child so unaccustomed to his own realm that his system had shut down when he was returned to it. A child--

Emmet stilled, realizing something. It wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed his mind, but it was especially important now.

“What was his name?”

“We--” His mother’s voice broke on the syllable, and after a second to collect herself, she tried again, “We couldn’t, Emmet. We couldn’t risk it. Getting attached would have hurt even more.”

He drew a deep, deliberately even breath. For just a second, he’d thought it was going a different direction-- that they might have withheld a name as a gesture of protection, to safeguard a child growing up among fairies, where it might be used against him-- but no, again, his parents had swerved at the last moment, onto the wrong track. It had been a selfish act, meant only to spare their peace of mind.

Again, Emmet was glad he hadn’t seated himself. It made it easy to turn and leave.

Objections sounded from behind him, but he wasn’t having it. He only paused when he realized that he’d overlooked something important.

“Call Nimbasa General. Tell them to release the seven-year-old faelost to me. I will handle this.”

He didn’t linger long enough to hear whether or not they’d agreed to his demand.

Now that he was allowed in his brother’s hospital room, Emmet all but parked himself there.

It was a quiet place to consider everything he’d learned, but, more importantly, it gave him the chance to keep an eye on his twin.

Part of him insisted that this was why his day to day existence occasionally felt incomplete: because he’d had someone with him before he could even remember, because he’d grown up ignorant to the fact that he was part of a matched set. That felt… too easy, though. Too much like a way to distance himself from what his-- from what their parents had done.

He felt like this was his fault.

The fact that it could have been him in the child’s position right now, but for a quirk of fate, didn’t bother him. He loved the life he’d made for himself, and it wasn’t that he would throw it away-- it was just that he wondered who his brother might have been in another version of events. Right now, he knew him only as a sickly child forsaken to the Entralink, trying to immigrate to the human realm with his guardian Pokemon. He didn’t know enough to theorize who he might have grown into, or could someday become.

He didn’t know because he’d never had the chance to, because it had been one of them in exchange for the other.

Emmet rested his head in his hands and continued waiting.

His brother had woken in his absence, he’d been told. He’d been frightened, but compliant-- mostly. Any tests or small requests made of him-- following a light with his eyes or proving hand-eye coordination-- he obeyed, but when they’d tried to start reacclimating him to drinking on his own, he’d vehemently refused, going so far as to stop speaking entirely, lest they force the matter.

It made sense, but it was still sad. He’d have to be broken of the instinct, and soon.

That was another major concern Emmet had: the situation was under control for now, by some definition, but he didn’t know how the boy would be able to recover once he was released from the hospital. Maybe Sneasler had a plan before, but there was no way of knowing short of asking her in the Entralink, and the odds that it accounted for her kit’s poor health were slim to none. He would need a strictly regulated diet to incorporate everything he was missing-- a very, very strictly regulated diet. He needed the nutrients, but wouldn’t be able handle the mass they came in, his system horribly out of practice. There was simply no way Sneasler would be able to accommodate such delicate care requirements.

It was… a matter that required further consideration on his part, but there was no conclusion to reach right now. No sense in making a hasty decision.

A shudder rocked the pile of blankets and tubes that occupied the bed, the third time in as many minutes. This time, however, it was followed by the lump sitting upright, dim gaze passing over the room to land on Emmet.

His brother was awake.

His brother was awake and trembling in the hospital bed, stuck to equipment that must have seemed so terribly alien to him, staring at Emmet with wide, uncertain eyes. Again, Emmet was struck with the realization that he didn’t actually know the first thing about this child, or what he might find comforting under the circumstances.

It was high time he rectified that.

“Hello.” He said softly, up on his feet and moving just a bit closer, “I am sorry I was not here when you first woke up. That must have been scary.”

“It’s okay.” His brother said, terse and timid, and Emmet was reminded that he’d also seemed shaken during their first meeting. From his perspective, they’d met… twice, maybe three times depending on how lucid he’d been in between, and one of those encounters had ended with Emmet’s accusation that he was a fairy.

Well… they were on even playing ground, at least, a pair of blank canvases in one another’s eyes.

“Did the doctors talk to you about what’s wrong?”

The boy’s nose wrinkled, but he nodded. “I… got too hungry…?”

Close enough. That was all a seven-year-old really needed to understand of their own mortality. “That’s correct. Sneasler told me eating is optional in the Entralink. That isn’t the case here in the human realm.”

His brother paused, nibbling lightly on a lip as he contemplated that.

“But won’t you get stuck?”

Emmet shook his head, “If it worked both ways, nobody from this world would be able to visit the Entralink.”

It was met with silence, but the kind that indicated the root cause was intense thought. Eventually, his brother nodded.

“One of the nurses told me you refused to eat. Is that why?”

He got a shallower nod in answer.

“Would you consider trying it sometime soon? Given this new information?”

There was a hesitation-- and understandably. He recognized that it had been asking for too much too fast, but it wasn’t exactly a matter that could wait.

Testing the waters, Emmet stepped closer again and then knelt so his height wouldn’t be intimidating; his brother watched him, but didn’t seem any more uncomfortable than before, and so he continued on his chosen track. “I didn’t introduce myself before. I am Emmet.”

The boy froze in place and then, a heartbeat later, lunged forward to press both of his hands against Emmet’s mouth, as if silencing him now might undo what he’d just said. “Shhh! Don’t do that! You can’t just tell people!”

It was a long moment before Emmet got the chance to say anything else. His brother seemed bound and determined to keep him quiet-- even though there was no one else there to hear-- and Emmet was unwilling to pry his skinny wrists away when there was equipment he didn’t understand still attached.

“You trusted me to find help for you. Why shouldn’t I trust you with my name?” He eventually asked, once the child’s strength began to wane and he was forced to sit back in the bed.

“It’s not the same!” The child insisted, “I could really hurt you with that kind of leverage.”

He hummed, “Why would you want to hurt me?”

“I don’t! But I could!”

“But you won’t. So I trust you.” Emmet said, unruffled, and his brother threw himself back against the pillow with a frustrated vocalization.

Unable to help himself, Emmet snorted, eliciting a dramatic pout.

“Would it help if we incorporate that into a bargain of our own?” He eventually tried.

The boy bristled the slightest amount, instinctively, but asked, “What do you mean?”

“You do have power over me now. Even if you don’t use it. Knowing that, will you trust that I do not mean to harm you?” Emmet’s attention strayed, briefly, to the thinness of his wrists and delicate face, a reminder just how necessary this was.

“I...” He stalled, then snapped his mouth shut in what might have been precaution.

“Okay.” Emmet said, and stood back up before his knees started to object; he took a minute to tug one of the chairs nearer and settled into it instead.

His brother watched, silent and still, brows knit in puzzlement. Did he have prior experience with other humans, or had he only ever interacted with Pokemon all this time? It was clear by this point that he had no human caretaker, but Emmet hadn’t seen much of the Entralink beyond the bit of Lostlorn that extended into it, so there was little knowing what the demographics looked like in the fae realm.

“I know you won’t tell me your name.” Couldn’t tell him his name, because didn’t have one, and the longer Emmet dwelt on that fact, the angrier it made him. “Is there something else I can call you?”

He got a long, sustained ‘uh’ as an answer, which eventually culminated in, “Lady Sneasler switches between ‘kid’ and ‘kit’. She’s said it’s so neither of them become my name, but Gligar calls me ‘human’ all the time, and I’m pretty sure that’s not my name yet, either.”

It was the longest Emmet had heard him say in one spell, and he was struck with how incongruous the speech pattern was with the image of a young child. Was it a byproduct of his upbringing, or was something else going on? The contrast between the drawn-out space to think and how precise his actual answer had been was something just short of hilarious.

There was also the fact that he hadn’t even pretended that he did have a name, talking about the prospect like it was something to be avoided. Emmet wondered what his thought process might be in that regard, but got the distinct feeling now wasn’t the best time to make it the topic of discussion. Depending on how things progressed, it seemed likely they would have another chance in the future.

Regardless of whatever else happened, he wanted to be involved in his brother’s life from here on out. It didn’t have to be a large role; it would be enough if he knew he could approach Emmet for help. Just so long as there was a human he could count on.

His brother hummed, catching Emmet’s attention, and when he seemed sure of that fact, asked, “Do you know where they are? Lady Sneasler and Gligar?”

“I do not.” Emmet confessed, and then held a hand up to stave off any panic that might arise as a result, “Gligar is aware that you are in this building, however. I will also be reporting your status to Sneasler later this evening. They are around. It’s simply that wild Pokemon of their size are generally not welcome in a city environment.”

“That’s what this is? A city?” The boy’s eyes roved not over the window, but the sterile room.

Emmet shook his head, inadvertently drawing attention back to himself. “No. Right now, we are in a hospital. It is where people go when they are sick or injured. This hospital is located within a city. A city is a place where a great many people live in relatively close proximity.”

It earned a renewed consideration. “As many people as the Courts?”

For several seconds, they stared blankly at one another.

“I have no idea how to answer that question.” Emmet admitted, after some time, “What is a Court?”

“They’re… uh. Rivals?” His brother pulled a face, already dissatisfied with the answer, and tried again, “I’m sorry, that wouldn't make any sense. I’ve, uh, never had to explain this before. People usually belong to one Court or the other, and a lot of the time they’ll live in the same areas together.”

Slowly, Emmet nodded. “It sounds comparable. Can you estimate how many people these Courts contain?”

“Not… really. Lady Sneasler visits the Pearl Court sometimes, but I’ve always stayed back with Gligar when she does. It’s a lot, though. Maybe a hundred or more?”

Oh this poor, sweet child.

“In that case, yes. A city contains more people than one of these Courts. Many, many more.” Having been given an opening, Emmet decided there probably wasn’t any harm in asking something he’d been wondering prior, “Do you know many other humans?”

His only answer was a succinct, “Some.”

...okay. Not exactly what he’d expected, but that would do.

“You will meet a lot of humans here.” Emmet said, a gentle warning. “Will that be a problem?”

The child shook his head. “We’ll just stay out of their way and it’ll be alright.”

That didn’t seem particularly feasible, especially not with an ongoing health problem and a unique Pokemon for a caretaker. For now, though, Emmet remained silent on the matter. It wouldn’t take them anywhere productive.

A yawn cracked his brother’s face and the boy hastily raised his hands to stifle it, muttering a string of apologies in its wake. It didn’t feel like they’d been talking for that long, but at the same time, it was by far the lengthiest conversation Emmet had navigated not only with his twin, but with any of the party from the Entralink. How much sleep did seven-year-olds need, anyway? More than an adult, one would assume, and if Emmet had to take a guess, this one would need more than other seven-year-olds for the time being. It was probably time to give him a break.

“You should sleep.” He said, leaning away to underscore the fact that he was backing off, “I can stay if you’d like.”

The boy shook his head-- a small movement, at first, that slowly picked up speed. “No thank you. Could you go talk to Lady Sneasler instead? I’m grateful that you helped me, but I think I’d like to leave soon.”

That… was likely not happening, but Emmet would speak with one of the nurses on his way out to get a better picture. Being careful not to highlight that aspect, what he actually said was, “I will go find her. Or she will find me. I suspect the latter.”

His brother laughed. It was a tiny little thing, buried beneath rapidly-approaching sleep and half a dozen other emotions, but it was there.

Emmet smiled back at him.

“Go ahead and rest. Your family is looking out for you.”

---

There was a giant vampire bat in his brother’s room when Emmet visited the next morning.

He’d known something was amiss from the get-go, but hadn’t been given an entirely coherent response as he hurried in, and, upon taking stock of the situation, tried to wave the on-duty staff down.

“It’s fine. He knows it. It won’t hurt him.” He claimed, moving forward under Gligar’s critical eye. The flying type didn’t look thrilled, but allowed it so long as it got to remain draped over its human.

“You can’t be serious.” One of the nurses breathed, “Look at the size of it.”

“It’s fine.” Emmet repeated, more emphatic, and then, to the shapes on the bed, “Can you tell them?”

The edge of a periwinkle wing shifted and fingers curled around its edge, lifting it far enough for bright grey eyes to peer out. “Gligar won’t do anything bad. He’s really friendly!”

“Honey,” Said the nearest nurse, in a tone that might best be reserved for children half his age, “That doesn’t matter, he drinks blood. He can’t be here.”

Half turned to consider them, Emmet lifted a hand to get their attention, “That is not why Gligar is here. It is… essentially a therapy Pokemon. He was verrrry nervous before, yes? He is not now. That is because of Gligar.”

The two looked to one another, and, incredulously, one asked, “A therapy Gligar?”

It took a great deal of doing, but, between the three of them, they eventually managed to work something out. By the end of it, Emmet sighed, dragged the chair back over, and resisted the urge to exasperatedly lock eyes with the bat staring at him.

With some amount of effort, he managed to focus on his brother and laid out the circumstances. “I spoke with your doctor last night. He is of the opinion that you can depart from this station, conditionally.”

Hands busy ruffling and then smoothing down Gligar’s ears, the boy tilted his head, curious.

“I am saying this without judgment. You declined to eat or drink again. If you continue to do so, they will refuse to discharge you.”

The child pulled a face. Gligar looked up, then mimicked it. “I don’t understand why that’s so important; being hungry isn’t that bad. I never even notice it.”

In an effort to stay even remotely on track, Emmet didn’t let himself examine that too closely. Instead, he focused on the fact that he hadn’t exactly given a proper explanation before, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that his brother didn’t understand why everyone else was putting so much weight on this detail.

“Tell me if I misunderstand. Hunger is uncomfortable in the Entralink, correct? It will not hurt you?” He didn’t have to wait long for an affirmative. “That is not the case in this realm. There is nothing here to keep our bodies running indefinitely. We eat in order to provide fuel for our cabs. Hunger is a sign that we are running low. A person who is out of fuel becomes verrrry, verrrry sick.”

He hesitated there, but shook off the impulse to sugar-coat things. It might be the only way to get it through to his brother just how important this was; he’d already proven remarkably perceptive, so surely he would be able to handle it…?

“If they continue to go without, they will die.”

Turning it over slowly, the boy eventually said, “If I was sick, then…?”

“Sneasler was wise to find help for you.” Emmet said, taking pity on him.

A long, heavy silence settled over the room.

“I-- I guess I can try.” The child’s lips twitched, like he wanted to say something else but wasn’t sure if he should.

Emmet waited, quiet and attentive.

“Don’t… laugh?” He asked, plaintive. “When people eat, they put food in their mouth, right? What comes after that?”

That was not at all what he might have expected would follow, and far from laughing, Emmet found he kind of wanted to cry. He’d made an assumption before, and it had just proven false. Seven years of existence, and his brother had never had anything to eat or drink-- had been taught specifically to avoid either under all circumstances. He understood. He couldn’t begrudge Sneasler teaching her charge how to survive the Entralink; she’d been doing her best for him. It was just incredibly tragic, he thought.

He’d already decided to lend aid when and where he was allowed, but in that moment, he realized that it wouldn’t be enough. His brother simply didn’t know how to survive here, and his guardians were ill equipped to deal with that fact. He… had to talk to Sneasler again. Soon.

“You use your teeth to break it into smaller pieces. Then you swallow it.” Emmet said, more on autopilot than anything, “It may be prudent to start with water.”

“But don’t I have to eat something before I can leave…?”

“Yes. But drinking will be easier. It’s a better place to start.” It might help his system acclimate, too, if it had never had to process food before. Jumping straight to anything solid would likely be an unpleasant shock, and there was no need to chance making his brother sick again, thereby risking the development of a full-fledged aversion.

...how much could he eat? There had been some mention of reduced stomach size, but that was with the understanding that the child had just been going hungry. Was it even possible for him to sustain himself under these circumstances, or would he require further medical intervention?

As he’d been deliberating, it seemed the same held true for the pair on the bed, because Gligar laid his head down and the boy sighed heavily. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

Emmet snapped back to the present. “You are willing to try it?”

There was a short, sullen nod in answer and he got to his feet, pushing his chair back.

Just before his hand made contact with the door, he heard an impossibly soft, “Thank you.”

A small smile stretched across his lips, but he didn’t turn so as not to fluster his brother-- uncertain that he’d actually been meant to hear it-- and proceeded through the door.

Hand to Reshiram, he was going to make sure that kid got better.

The conversation Emmet was about to pursue with Sneasler would have been easier in a format where they could both speak freely, but with the subject of debate still stuck in the hospital, neither of them particularly wanted to depart for the Entralink. Not only would it put an unnecessary distance between them, but the discrepancy in the flow of time could easily cause a considerable amount of trouble.

Instead, they met up just outside the city limits to the east. Traffic through Route 16 was decidedly more sparse than that which traveled Routes 4 and 5, largely due to the proximity to the Lostlorn Forest and the fact that there was no major settlement directly opposite Marvelous Bridge. It gave them some semblance of privacy, and all the better for what Emmet was going to be saying.

He studied Sneasler for a moment, and while she still looked the same as ever, there was a nervous energy to the way she held herself-- a tension in her shoulders that would be easy to miss, as if she was ready to square up at the first hint she may be forced to choose between fight or flight. His brother had mentioned that she occasionally visited a settlement and left him with Gligar, but how long did those trips last? If forced to put money on it, Emmet would have bet that her discomfort stemmed from the distance between her and her kit, both in a spatial and temporal sense.

“I do not want to discredit your methods. But you are going to need help if you want to keep him healthy.” He eventually said as a blunt opener. Despite her subtle anxiety, Sneasler still managed to put up an air of being distinctly unimpressed with Emmet. There was, however, a tilt to her eyes that suggested she would hear him out, if only for her charge’s sake. “Your friend will need to stay on a verrrry strict dietary regimen while he recovers. He is unable to intake enough to remain stable and will require human medicines as a result.”

Sneasler looked at him for a long moment and then tilted her head slowly, questioningly, to the forest: was he suggesting that they return to the Entralink?

Emmet shook his head. “I do not know your reasons for leaving, so I am unable to weigh the pros and cons like you might. All I mean to say is that you will need help from someone who is already established in this realm. I am also volunteering to be that person.”

She narrowed her eyes and curled a lip; in conjunction with the angle her head tilted at, he was able to interpret it as suspicion. Why would he offer that, she was asking, what did he want in return?

He took a deep breath and slowly released it. The matter of his and the boy’s relation was one that he’d revisited ad nauseum in the privacy of his own head, but aloud? No, he hadn’t acknowledged it properly. He’d allowed the doctor and nurses to make accurate assumptions based on test results and their resemblance, but he’d never actually said this to another being.

Would it put Sneasler at ease or cause her hackles to raise? He could see either outcome with perfect clarity.

Best to get it out in the open, so she wouldn’t think he was stalling to find the right lie.

“You noted that we are the ‘same kind’ of human. I was curious about that, too. You were correct. It is not just that we have a passing resemblance. We are brothers.” He swallowed thickly, the next word stuck in his throat until forced himself to dislodge it, “Twins. Siblings that are born together. Our parents did something unforgivable and I cannot stand by and watch their negligence spiral any further.”

And that was… something he had yet to face in its entirety. He couldn’t look at h-- their parents the same way after this, but he didn’t know that he could bring himself to hate them, either. They represented a jumble of complicated feelings that he’d yet to unravel, a line of thought he couldn’t quite bring himself to ride.

He’d decided the two of them could wait long enough for their son to be taken care of first.

As he spoke, Sneasler’s ears swiveled, not only listening to what he said, but thinking it over. In a sudden flurry, she jolted to action, lunging into his space. The parted jaws so near his throat were just short of panic-inducing, and while he still didn’t know her well, he did know enough about her that he stayed still, trusting that she wasn’t going to hurt him.

Sure enough, he heard a series of short, rapid inhalations as she presumably studied his scent-- beyond what it must have taken those times she’d tracked him across the city. Once she’d smelled enough, she pulled back, head tilted dramatically to the left, and continued to study him.

Gradually, the tilt shifted from one side to the other. It was remarkably cute coming from such a plainly dangerous Pokemon, which was precisely what made fairy types so effective.

He didn’t know what he was waiting for; how could she respond to his declaration when she had no way to speak but for body language? She seemed to have understood, at least, and in his inexpert opinion, didn’t seem upset with this new information.

After a long break to consider it all, she jerked her head forward in a decisive nod, and, abruptly, Emmet remembered that he hadn’t been confiding in her just to get it off of his chest, but because he’d been arguing his case. For a heartbeat, he was kneeling in the forest, asking for her trust and uncertain whether or not she would allow him that much. Then he was back in the sunlight, standing opposite her on equal terms. Strange that, now, he found himself asking for so much more of her faith-- and that he was relatively certain she’d just granted it.

“You will allow me to help?”

She nodded again-- a touch impatiently this time-- and then her eyes slid over his shoulder, to the city’s boundary. There was only one thing that could have meant at this point.

“He will be allowed to leave the hospital soon.” Not as soon as any of the little unit might have liked, given the spectacular failure that had been the lunch hour, but it had been progress at least. Assuming no other complications arose, it seemed probable that his brother would be discharged before another 24 hours passed. “Tomorrow, most likely.”

Her nose twitched-- meaning unknown-- and she inclined her head, arms folding neatly over her chest.

Not for the first time, Emmet considered the extent to which this would intrude into his life-- but this did mark the first instance that it was anything more than a thought experiment. It wasn’t that he was resistant to the change he himself was pursuing, just that there had been so much happening at once that it was all he could do to keep up, to maintain a pace and figure out how to respond. He had the all clear now, and his plans would move from theory to reality before he knew it if he wasn’t careful. He’d known time became slippery when one dealt with the fae, but hadn’t realized that effect extended past the Entralink.

Making room in his life-- and space-- for a child was one thing, but this particular child also came as a set with two very large, very protective Pokemon. He didn’t know where to begin there; he would need to introduce them to his own Pokemon, and, before that, let his team know that their household would be seeing some substantial changes in the very near future.

Emmet had… a lot of work to do very, very quickly.

---

It had been a long night of preparations.

Emmet hadn’t known what all might need adjustment in the future-- and could only do so much, considering that he’d gotten the all clear at 7:17 and begun a frantic first pass at 7:30 pm-- but he’d done his best on the relatively short notice. There was space that could be put to any number of uses, as much extra bedding as he could scrounge up, and he’d made a dedicated pit stop on his way home to pick up a number of foods that fell within the bounds of a clear liquid diet. The vitamins would come when he knew the specifics, and could look into the product’s quality.

His Pokemon had been… less enthusiastic once brought into the fold, but that could hardly be held against them. With an exception for Durant, none of them had been involved in this matter prior, and they had only heard references to what was going on. Eelektrik in particular had patiently weathered the ranting as, at the end of a very long day, Emmet had tried to vent the feelings built up since he’d visited Lacunosa. He’d been tired and anxious, and in hindsight, he realized that he might not have been clear enough with who, precisely, was the source of his ire.

They would clear the air, Emmet promised himself. It would be alright.

The Pokemon weren’t the only ones critical of his plan. When Desi had gotten in contact the day prior, confirming that his brother would be released into his care, she’d also asked him to reconsider. Emmet had twitched, but resisted the urge to end the conversation there, both morbidly curious if she could possibly dig her hole deeper and interested in hearing her arguments beforehand, so she couldn’t ambush him when, inevitably, they were forced to discuss the matter in person.

Admittedly, she might have had a point. There was no way his twin had endured all this time in the Entralink without being effected, and he’d seen evidence of that firsthand. That was as much as he’d grant her. The rest of it had been more of what he’d grown up on: paranoia that anything could be a fae trick meant to steal him away.

Ridiculous.

First of all, his brother was a stunted seven-year-old with a slightly elevated vocabulary and the inability to consume more than a cup’s worth of liquid in one sitting. He'd met scarier Audino. Second, Emmet had been the one to involve himself after a certain point, and by that second meeting, it had seemed like none of the faelost party had particularly wanted to associate with him; he was the driving force here, not any of them. Thirdly, she wasn’t going to lose Emmet to the fae. She’d already done a perfectly good job of driving him away herself.

He had said none of this. What he had said-- quite amicably, in his opinion-- was: “I see. Your opinion has been noted. Goodbye.”

There was no doubt in his mind that he’d hear from her again before the week was out.

No matter. It was a new day and, theoretically, he could bring his brother home before its end. With three more days’ worth of leave before he had to be back at work, Emmet was hoping they would be able calm any tensions, make sure everyone was relatively settled and, maybe, start getting to know one another. It was asking a lot-- without even getting into the matter of medical requirements-- but, counter to everyone else in his life, he had a good feeling about this.

His brother was a sweet kid, and deserved better than the hand he’d been dealt, fleeing the fae with his wild guardians. There were clearly those who already loved him dearly, and Emmet hoped to understand why.

It occurred to him, as he worked through the release paperwork, waiting for the boy to get dressed, that his brother had no idea why he was doing this. To him, Emmet was still just the arbitrary person Sneasler had picked out of many to help, the only connection between them the fact that they looked alike. He would have to tell him before too long, but wasn’t quite sure how. If at all possible, he wanted to avoid the matter of their parents’ bargain-- for now, at least-- and he needed to figure out how to handle it tactfully.

Gligar’s tail swished over the side of the bed, eyes on the closed bathroom door. He was the first warning before it opened and a small dark shape darted out again. Emmet hummed a warning, looking up out of the corner of his eyes. His brother was well aware that he was supposed to take it easy until he’d regained his strength; the nurses has done nothing but stress that fact since it was determined that he was stable enough to leave.

They would need to get him some new clothes. There wasn’t anything wrong with what he had now-- save for the fact that were rather worn and a little bit dirty-- but they were decidedly divorced from modern Unovan sensibilities, and wouldn’t suit the weather for very long, besides. They could probably get away with giving him one of the t-shirts that was too big even on Emmet for tonight, and maybe stretch it through tomorrow. Taking him out right away would only contradict his orders to play it safe, and while he’d acclimated to his solitary hospital room, a store would be asking a lot.

He gave the paperwork a last once-over, eyes catching on the header. Where there should have been a name, it read only ‘Faelost F7’. That was another subject they would need to cover, and it was bound to be much harder than getting the child to eat. One request had been harmless, a basic function that his brother would need in order to thrive in his own world, and the other was… admittedly a burden. If he was leaving the Entralink on a permanent basis, the threat a true name represented was much less than it could have been, but would never be zero so long as the realms were linked.

Maybe if he could get Sneasler to understand, she might be able to help him argue his case. It seemed unlikely in this particular instance, but she’d been willing to hear him out in regards to everything else so far.

“Are you ready to depart?” He asked instead, tucking the clipboard under his arm and getting to his feet.

His brother nodded and stepped nearer to the bed, winding Gligar around himself the same way they’d been arranged the night Emmet first met them. Clearly used to the process, the bat didn’t so much as twitch as it was guided into position; it simply set its head on its boy’s hat and let him do as he would, clicking to itself.

Was this actually a safety blanket situation? Emmet was hesitant to chalk it up to Gligar in full, because there had been a great many factors in play, but the child had been orders more composed since he had been allowed his scorpion-bat.

To be fair, Emmet often felt more at ease when he had one of his Pokemon with him, too, so that was hardly noteworthy. None of his looked like they could snap a man in half with a pincer, though. Upon second thought, he realized Sneasler boasted a similar feature, and could only hope that it wasn’t a trait his brother would go on to seek in his companions.

Considering the both of them as he stepped around the bed, he risked extending a hand, even though both of the child’s were hidden beneath wing membranes. “Please attach your car to mine and take care not to come uncoupled from me. We do not want you to become citylost as well.”

He held it up in apology just a second later at the wide-eyed look it earned him.

“That was a joke. You can become lost in a city but it will not trap you. I would still prefer if we did not risk it.”

A small hand slithered out from beneath a wing and tentatively reached up. Emmet held his out again, palm up, and allowed him to cross the last of the distance before their hands met.

“Perfect!” He said, and beamed at his sibling, “Then we are cleared for departure. All aboard!”

Getting everyone settled in Emmet’s apartment was a mixed bag of good and bad news.

The first in the series of positive developments was that his parents had told the truth and nobody attempted to stop him from leaving the hospital with his brother. The first obstacle, meanwhile, came in the form of a small voice asking that they wait outside the apartment building to meet with Sneasler.

While they'd come to an agreement where they were headed, the reluctance to enter an unknown building without an adult he knew and implicitly trusted was a good instinct to have. That Emmet didn’t qualify as one such adult at this point didn’t bother him; they would get there when they got there, and he would have worried for how his brother had survived the fae realm if his trust was won so easily.

Hoping it might help foster the good will between them-- and because he couldn’t leave his twin to wait along a busy street by himself-- Emmet lingered with him until, eventually, Sneasler loped into view, her nose working furiously to follow their scents.

When she caught sight of the child, her eyes lit up and she bounded over, knocking Gligar aside-- into the air-- to scoop her kit up and swing him around. It jostled a high giggle loose and, somewhere in the motion, he managed to fling his arms around her neck, face pressed into her fur. She spent several minutes snuffling, nose burying itself in his hair, the hollow between his throat and shoulder, the folds of his dark shirt. When she found where the cannula had been removed from his arm-- wrapped tightly in several layers of gauze and bandage-- she shot Emmet a venomous look and then made to lap at the injury site. Even though she wouldn’t get past the first layer, he’d still shot forward and held her back from making contact.

The second challenge had been the fact that it wasn’t just his brother that his Pokemon had to acclimate to, but also the other Pokemon. Durant was the best behaved of the bunch, already aware of them and, if not welcoming, then not actively hostile; they had ended their last interaction without mistreating Durant or his trainer, and so he would extend the same courtesy. Galvantula didn’t seem to mind Sneasler either way, but quivered in rage at the sight of Gligar, who he held a staggering set of type disadvantages against, and adamantly refused to turn his back. When Emmet had tried to get them to play nice-- had encouraged his brother to get closer and give the spider a pet-- Galvantula had backed all the way off to the ceiling.

And then there was Eelektrik. Due to Emmet’s poor communication up to this point, Eelektrik was a mixed bag within a mixed bag. He was unafraid of Gligar and Sneasler, but also untrusting of the little boy who’d been shepherded into the apartment.

That said, the one-sided animosity hadn’t held for long.

While Sneasler scouted the apartment-- which Emmet was careful to keep half an eye on whilst also monitoring the rest of the menagerie-- his brother had sat himself down near the Pokemon, close enough to be social, but also careful not to encroach on their personal space. His living cape had prevented him from making friends with Galvantula this way, but Durant had crept nearer, willing to give this strange child an experimental nibble, and the boy had tolerated the wandering mandibles with a great deal of patience. Within ten minutes, he had a lap full of ant, small hands sliding methodically down Durant’s exoskeleton over and over again while the bug chirruped its content.

Eelektrik watched these goings-on with critical eyes, but there was a confusion when it turned to Emmet, trying to reaffirm that it was doing right by its trainer.

“I am sorry if I was unclear last night. I am angry with my parents. Not with him.” Emmet said softly, so only it might hear him, and set his hand on the side of the eel’s face, “You can see that he is verrrry sweet. I would like it verrrry much if you two could become friends. I hope my mistake didn’t ruin that chance.”

Eelektrik buzzed gently and turned to look at the child through those few gaps Gligar and Durant had left. Briefly, he contorted himself to wrap the length of his body around his trainer’s arm, and then released in order to hover closer to the center of attention.

The boy watched carefully from the corner of his vision, making an effort not to turn and let it know he was looking, and when it got close enough, stopped petting with one hand so that Eelektrik might investigate it instead. Like Durant, Eelektrik’s primary method involved its mouth, but unlike Durant, that was due to a lack of limbs. Cautious, but giving it the benefit of the doubt, the child allowed it to gum at him-- and maybe he couldn’t tell, but it was clear to Emmet how much care his partner Pokemon was using to ensure that its teeth didn’t come into contact with the pale skin.

They were going to be perfectly fine, he realized. Durant had already been thoroughly charmed and Eelektrik was well on his way. Galvantula might take longer by virtue of being an utter scaredy Purrloin, but once Gligar wasn’t attached to its human, the spider’s curiosity would be too much for him to take.

He hadn’t recognized it until that moment, but he’d also been worried for how his brother might react. He’d mentioned having some contact with other humans, but there had been no indication how he got along with Pokemon, save for Sneasler and the living embodiment of attachment issues. It was a relief to learn that he got along with other Pokemon just as well.

Emmet was glad that, for everything that had been withheld from the child, he’d had this much at least.

Another positive was that his brother hadn’t made him fight when dinnertime came around. He’d been subjected to a doleful look, but held firm, and the boy had given in, sipping slowly at the cup of broth he’d been handed. This evening it was the brand that had a greater nutritional content, but maybe later in the week he’d get the kind that kids his age tended toward instead. Unown shapes would be a hit, Emmet already knew.

The greatest challenge came the day before he went back to work, signaled by several heavy knocks against the door. There was no need to check though the peephole. Emmet already knew exactly who it was.

He shooed everyone back toward the hallway, where they wouldn’t be immediately visible, and began the process of unlocking the door before Drayden could get impatient.

With one more backwards glance to ensure that the space looked relatively normal, he stepped into the hallway, belatedly hoping that he’d remembered to unlock the doorknob in addition to the deadbolt. On the bright side, if he’d just locked himself out, he wouldn’t have to rely on Eelektrik to let him back in this time.

His friend looked him up and down in judgment, then folded his arms over his chest. “Do you want to explain why your mother called me saying she couldn’t get a hold of you?”

“Not particularly.” He said, and, seeing no reason to hide his irritation, added, “It is her problem if she doesn’t understand why I am upset with them.”

“Is this problem related to the fact that you weren’t at work when I stopped in yesterday?”

“It is.”

Above the short-trimmed beard, Drayden’s lips pulled into something discerning, “She seemed to think that you were in some kind of danger.”

Emmet nearly sighed in relief; finally, a question he could answer without any caveat. “I am not. I have spent most of my time off here. There is nothing to be afraid of.”

Nothing to be afraid of once one adjusted to foot-long claws and pincers the size of a human skull, at least-- but given who he was talking to, that didn’t seem like much of a challenge. Drayden wrestled dragons for fun; if anyone in Emmet’s life could get used to Sneasler and Gligar, it would be him.

“Why did you take leave?” He was subjected to a second once-over, less critical this time and more from a place of concern, “You’re not ill, are you?”

“I am fine.”

Emmet hesitated. He’d prefaced the situation long ago, when he’d still been agonizing over whether or not he should do the right thing, and Drayden’s opinion hadn’t been particularly favorable. No matter what he did or didn’t share, there would come a point where his friend discovered what he was hiding, and the longer it was pushed back, the worse the fallout would be.

If he wanted to earn Drayden’s support, he had to act today.

“We spoke about the Lostlorn Forest several weeks ago.” He said, uncertain, and scanned his friend’s expression for comprehension. “Do not get mad. I went back.”

“Emmet--”

“I could not risk it. The child could have been abducted and lost. My job is to ensure passenger safety.” He didn’t stop, didn’t let Drayden cut in when he clearly intended to, “I waited until it was reported that the Pokemon was in Nimbasa again. The threat was minimal. I am glad I checked. The boy was there, and he was verrrry sick.”

“So you brought it into your home and decided to look after it, is that what you’re working up to?” Drayden asked, passing a hand over the upper half of his face.

“Of course not. I took him to the hospital for treatment. They agreed that he is human. He is seven years old.” With a sensation not dissimilar to when he’d first admitted it to Sneasler, Emmet swallowed his reluctance and-- quieter than before-- said, “He is also my twin brother.”

“You just said he’s seven.” Drayden remarked, voice utterly flat.

“I do not want to go into detail out here. But he does not know yet, and we cannot have this discussion inside. All I can say is that he lived in the Entralink after we were born. That is why we seem so different in age.”

Frustratingly, Drayden’s attention didn’t land where it should have. “So you did bring him with you.”

“What else could I do?” Emmet asked, waspish and aware that his frustration wasn’t meant for his friend, but unable to contain it any longer, “He was dying of starvation and had nowhere else to go. His system is so unaccustomed to the process that he cannot eat more than a cup of jello at one time and requires multiple supplements daily in order to remain stable. I had to teach him how to eat in the first place.”

Drayden’s jaw clenched, and while Emmet could see that there was a twitch of sympathy there, it wasn’t what won out. “I understand that he needed help, and that you believe he’s someone you have a responsibility toward--”

“If not me, who? Not our parents, certainly. He deserves to have someone on his side. Someone who does not run the risk of being captured by an overambitious teenager with pokeballs to spare.” As quickly as it had lit under his ribs, the spark of ire died down and, hoping his friend would give him a chance, he used his final burst of steam to wheeze out, “He does not even have a name.”

In something like resigned distaste, Drayden shut his eyes and drew a breath, and Emmet prepared himself to be roared at. Instead, the other man pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “Show me what we’re dealing with, at least.”

That… was enough. More than he’d expected, even.

Fortunately for Emmet’s pride, the doorknob turned under his hand, and he didn’t need to wait for someone to unlock it. The goings-on inside were unremarkable at first glance: just Eelektrik curled up in a chair and Durant basking in a sunbeam. Everyone else had made themselves scarce, and so they strode in without hesitation. Absently, he flipped the lock; one could never be too careful in that regard, even with Drayden in their living room.

Leaving his friend under Eelektrik’s watchful eye, Emmet broke off down the hall he’d ushered the others down prior. Given precious few options, and out their usual choice of the living room, the trio from the Entralink had opted to crowd into the bathroom: Sneasler tracing bored patterns into the countertop with the damp tip of her feather and Gligar hanging from the shower rod, making unnerving eye contact with Galvantula, who had all of his limbs wrapped around the child. It was unclear who he thought he was comforting, but in practice, there was only one party who needed it.

Emmet hadn’t known a Gligar could have Unnerve. Seemed the tables had turned on Galvantula.

Letting the door fall shut behind him, he stepped in-- gaze, inevitably, landing on his brother.

“My friend D--”

“Ah!”

He barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but did refrain. They would have time to work on that; it wasn’t doing any active harm right now, and Drayden would probably appreciate the paranoia, anyway.

Blowing out the sigh that took annoyance’s place, he said, “Apologies. My friend would like to meet you. He is worried that you are a fae who might mean harm. Are you up to helping set his fears at ease?”

There was a second where his brother chewed nervously on the inside of a cheek, then glanced to Sneasler. She tilted her head, conceding the decision to him.

“We will not be leaving the apartment. You may also bring Galvantula with you.” Actually, it was for the best that he did bring Galvantula with him. Seeing one of Emmet’s Pokemon at ease with the boy would go a long way toward convincing Drayden that he was, in fact, just a sick little kid and nothing more sinister. It would also separate the bug and bug-adjacent Pokemon from one another.

He exited with his brother trailing after him, spider still wrapped firmly around his person, but with skinny arms supporting its abdomen.

When they turned the corner, Drayden’s eyes dropped to the secondary figure and he froze.

The child swallowed tightly, ducking half a step behind Emmet for protection. There was a faint chirp as Galvantula got a nervous little squeeze.

After a long, awkward moment, Drayden snapped back to reality and cleared his throat apologetically. “Hello there.”

It was echoed from somewhere beyond Emmet’s hip, muffled through a mouthful of fur.

He pivoted far enough to take the boy by the shoulder, nudging him into place next to him. “He would not let me tell him your name. You would get along.”

“It’s dangerous.” The boy said for what might have been the twelfth time over this break.

As Emmet thought he might, Drayden scoffed in agreement, “You realize he’s entirely in the right, don’t you?”

That was an opportunity, actually. If he could get them to agree on something-- even if that common ground was thinking him an idiot-- it would be a head start toward acclimating them to one another.

He waved a hand dismissively, “It is fine. We are not in the Entralink. The danger is minimal.”

The frustrated whine came back as his brother failed to find words that would adequately express his disapproval. Fortunately, Drayden was there to fill in the gap.

“It will always be there; you can’t be so careless.”

He poked his tongue out. “You are biased. That’s what you get for having all dragons.”

The only audible answer was a single, unamused snort.

Something tapped against his hip, and he glanced down.

“Don’t you have all electric and steel type Pokemon?” His brother ostensibly asked. In practice, it was more of an innocent challenge.

“You have all ground and flying type Pokemon.” Emmet muttered, unable to resist a little poke in return.

The child blinked at him and, contemplative, mumbled, “I don’t have a Pokemon, though…?”

“Ah. Forgive me. A ground and flying type Pokemon has you.”

There was a beat of silence, and then a small giggle muted by Galvantula’s fur.

When he glanced his friend’s way, Drayden was watching with an odd look on his face.

They let the child go shortly thereafter, still hugging Galvantula to his chest as he wandered down the hall. Just once, he glanced back over his shoulder. Drayden continued to stare after him and had to be ushered out so they could speak unfiltered.

“He looks exactly like you did.” He said, once the door was shut.

“I told you. We are twins. By technicality, he is my older brother.”

Caught off guard, Drayden choked on a legitimate laugh, but schooled his features in short order. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. You said earlier that you took him to the hospital, and that they corroborated your claims that he’s human?”

Emmet hummed his agreement, but made no effort to hide his displeasure with their return to this topic.

Drayden shook his head, not in denial, but deep thought. “I’m not sure what to make of this right now. I still think it was reckless to bring him into your life, but if he’s human, I can’t imagine that kid physically could do anything to hurt you.”

“Wouldn’t.” Emmet corrected tiredly, “He keeps shushing me when I try to say my name. He’s a good kid. Just coming from a verrrry dangerous place.”

His friend continued to look him over, assessing, but eventually sighed. “Well, you’ve already proven that I can’t stop you when you pick up speed. Just keep me in the loop the next time you plan on doing something stupid.”

In lieu of an unconvincing lie, Emmet saluted. He knew damn well there was still something ill-advised in the near future, and didn’t want to jeopardize what little progress they’d made by saying as much. Drayden grumbled something under his breath, but ultimately left him with orders to stay safe and went his own way.

With a sigh of relief that traveled the entirety of his body, Emmet moved to get back to their day.

The door's handle did not turn.

He let his head thunk heavily against the wood.

Sneasler hadn’t intended for their departure from the Entralink to actually be their final departure, the child had explained to Emmet at his guardian’s urging. There were still matters in their soon-to-be-former home that needed settling before they could actually move on, and they had resources they could bring with them to help or to serve as repayment.

By Emmet’s understanding, payment and debt were loaded topics where the fae were concerned; some demanded they be compensated for the smallest kindness whereas others took reimbursement as a slight against their character, and it was a roll of the die which was which. He’d tried to tell his brother that he didn’t need to be repaid for his help, but the boy had insisted, and at a point, it became clear that it wasn’t out of obligation, but excitement. When he’d realized the difference-- and that his twin was using it as an excuse to get him a present from their old home-- he stopped trying to argue his case.

They were still half a week out from returning to the Entralink just once more, biding the time until Emmet’s next day off. His brother wasn’t better yet, and wouldn’t be for a long time, but he was well enough to tackle liquids that weren’t clear and had a decent amount of energy back. They had waited two weeks already as he regained his strength, but nervous energy meant that the formerly feylost group wanted to get the trip over with.

Emmet’s coworkers had been sympathetic to his requested schedule changes once he’d explained that he was caring for an ill sibling, which was helpful in that, at the time, he hadn’t yet trusted his brother not to skip lunch when left to his own devices. Heading to and from the apartment twice per day was irritating during the commutes themselves, but ultimately worth it for the chance to check in with the kid. Not only did it help keep him out of trouble, but it felt like they were really beginning to click, and nudging him into trying new things was a fun way to get to know him better.

He liked sweet things, which was hardly a surprise, and-- equally unsurprising-- lacked tolerance for spice. There was a good chance he’d acclimate as time went on, and Emmet hoped that would be the case; there were a lot of foods he wanted to introduce him to.

He was already learning so well. It was easy to be proud of him.

In addition to their progress there, Emmet made a point of taking some time out every day to clear a little bit from the room he’d been using as an office. While the trio from the Entralink was content in the living room, he had the space and it only seemed right to share it. The only problem was that it had been some time since he’d done a thorough cleaning of the room, and while it was easy to move office supplies or pieces of furniture, the miscellaneous paperwork that had slowly been accumulating needed to be sorted, then put on file or discarded as appropriate. Emmet legitimately had no idea what he’d been thinking when he’d implemented his old system. It was terrible.

Doing his best to focus on a statement from the landlord, he didn’t let himself investigate the scuffle that sounded from the living room, confident that, between his twin and Sneasler, the disagreement would be put to rest. When paws padded down the hallway, accompanied by a tittering “Sne-ne-ne” he assumed that had been the end of it, and failed to think anything of the ensuing silence.

It was broken by a tapping on the room’s door frame, and he hummed to Eelektrik, acknowledging its presence.

Another silence, absent any footfalls, which suggested that the renewed tapping-- this time against his elbow-- was the eel begging for a treat. He ignored it. It wouldn’t do to spoil its dinner.

It happened again, to similarly null response. There was no third instance.

Instead, what followed was an audibly reluctant whisper of, “Emmet.”

Finally, he stopped and looked. His brother, who’d been leaning back to look at something out the door, glanced back at him, relieved to find that he’d finally gotten his attention. “Gligar’s stuck in Galvantula’s web, and Lady Sneasler won’t cut him down.”

Emmet paused, set the statement down, and followed him out. Sure enough, Gligar was all but plastered to the ceiling. He spared a second for how the bat had possibly managed that, but realized quickly that some of the webbing was newer than the rest, suggesting that he’d had help.

That was annoying, but not the important thing to take away from the situation.

His brother had used his name. It hadn’t been his first choice, but he’d been willing to try it in his own way, hushed and wary. Maybe it was time to pose one more question.

...well. Almost time.

Between the two of them, they managed to get enough height to free Gligar from its spider silk prison, with absolutely no help from the rest of the Pokemon. Galvantula was a given, and Sneasler had already declined, but Emmet was slightly surprised to find neither Durant nor Eelektrik had gotten themselves involved. For a spell, he’d worried that the bat was on bad terms with his Pokemon, but halfway through clearing webbing away, realized the chirping wasn’t impatient, but content. It still didn’t mean they should leave Gligar there, but he wasn’t bothered by what had happened.

With the help of a broom dedicated to removing webs from high corners, Emmet cleared away the bulk of what was stuck to the ceiling several minutes before his brother managed to rid Gligar of the spider silk. Unfamiliar with how to handle it, he kept getting his fingers stuck together, which prompted Gligar to reach out and snip the web binding them, and the situation really only spiraled from there. Emmet managed to stifle his amusement until he made it safely to the bathroom, at which point he let himself snicker into a hand as he rummaged around the medicine cabinet.

Through strategic application of rubbing alcohol, he got the both of them de-webbed, and while Gligar scurried off to clean itself of the cleaner, Emmet ushered the child to the office so they could talk. He hoisted him up to sit on the edge of the desk, then seated himself in the corresponding chair so they were roughly at eye-level.

“You used my name.” He said, and realized immediately how his brother would take that. Before the apology could sound, he held a hand up, calling for quiet, “I know you did not want to. But I am glad you felt comfortable enough to say it.”

The child fidgeted, unsure how to handle the situation when he was being praised for something instinct warned him against.

Emmet continued, sparing him the trouble of finding a response, “That is something I’ve been meaning to address. You are making verrrry good progress with the soups. Unfortunately, there is another adjustment I have to ask that you make.”

Wrinkling his nose, the boy asked, “Is it more vitamins?”

Despite himself, he laughed. “No. But you are handling those well, too. There are different types of rules in the Entralink, correct? The fact that you do not have to eat or drink is by its nature. But other rules are social?”

“Right,” His twin said, straightening up a bit. He seemed to have taken it as a call for advice-- perhaps connecting the question to the upcoming trip into the fae realm-- and, though it was off-course from his intended destination, Emmet listened with rapt attention. “You have to be very careful about what you offer or accept. It’s safer to avoid both if you can do that without offending anybody, but that should be okay, because we’re just going to the den. Don’t let Durant out unless you have to, because people get paranoid about the type advantage. And don’t tell anybody your name.”

It ended with Emmet somehow being stared down by a tiny seven-year-old, in direct defiance of the angles involved. Arms folded over his chest, he scrunched his nose and his lips fell into a pout so severe it bordered on comedic.

Gently, Emmet reached forward and drew both hands into his. “That is what I needed to speak with you about. Eating or drinking in the Entralink would bind you to it. But it is necessary if you wish to live in the human world. In the Entralink, it’s safer for you to be nameless. You cannot remain so here. You trusted that I had your best intentions at heart before. Please trust me again.”

“I need a name here?”

Silently, he nodded.

“But...”

“You are correct that it would be a liability. I know. It’s verrrry scary. But humans cannot really live without an identity.” It was true in a practical sense-- the child couldn’t go on as Faelost F7 forever-- but Emmet meant it in a slightly more personal one. He didn’t know what it must be like to go so long without this facet of oneself. Maybe he was just projecting his frustration with their parents onto the situation, but it felt like his brother had been wronged, deprived of something every human was given before they knew to appreciate it. He wanted to make up for that slight.

There was a lapse as they both considered their own side of the matter, and the boy took his hands back to wrap his arms around himself, looking over the controlled chaos that was his future bedroom.

Almost too quietly to hear, he asked, “Why do you care so much?”

...well. If it was time to broach the matter of a name, then maybe it was time to address that topic, too. Before, he’d asked something of his brother and given a piece of himself in return, so why not now as well?

“I care because--” But he’d started the statement without fully thinking it through. As much time as he’d had to plot out how he might eventually approach this, he realized with a dawning annoyance that there was one factor he’d never considered. It was a snap judgment, and not the perfect truth, but not technically wrong either-- and far, far easier than going into the details of how many ways his sibling had been failed, “Because I’m your big brother.”

The child stared after him with a healthy dose of skepticism, which, while good for him, certainly didn’t make this any easier. “You’re… just saying that.”

Sighing internally, Emmet shook his head, “I’m not. The doctors confirmed it when you were in the hospital. That is why we look so alike. Sneasler assumed we were related as well. Do you remember?”

His brow furrowed, “Lady Sneasler just thought we were the same species of human.”

“Humans are all the same species.” Emmet reminded him, “Visual similarities can suggest a common ancestry. Our resemblance goes beyond that, however.”

He stood and, once his brother followed suit-- all but launching himself from the edge of the desk-- laid a hand on his shoulder, ushering him gently out into the hall, then to his own bedroom. Leaving the boy to idle uncertainly just inside, Emmet moved to his bookshelf, where he picked up a framed photograph. He gave it a once-over, wiping the it free of the thin sheen of dust that accumulated over the years, and then turned to offer it.

It wasn’t perfect-- he’d been twice the child’s age when it was taken-- but it would carry his point. His fourteen-year-old self hadn’t lost the rounded features of childhood yet, and surely his brother would be able to recognize their shared face.

It was comical to watch his sibling rationalize what he was seeing, brows drawn with a gravity that didn’t suit him. At one point, he glanced up from the photo to take in the details of Emmet’s face-- as if for the first time, again-- and then dropped it back down.

“Do you see now?”

His twin’s thoughtful frown pressed into a thin line. “But before, you said...”

He stopped short of actually structuring an argument, his tone betraying the fact that what he said now was born of confusion rather than abject disbelief. The boy took another few seconds to stare down at the picture, nibbling on his lip.

“You don’t have to, you know.” He eventually said, voice laden with an uncharacteristic heaviness, “I’m fine with Lady Sneasler and Gligar. We’ll be okay. Being related… doesn’t mean you need to help us.”

That was… not at all where Emmet had seen this going. A bitter part of him wanted to laugh for the circumstance that had led to this: how none of his twin’s relatives had felt the need to care for him prior, and would surely be relieved to find themselves rid of the responsibility, now. Fortunately, he’d landed himself with the one who would hear none of it.

“It doesn’t.” He agreed gently, and, when his brother stiffened slightly, hastily added, “But I can still want to help.”

Silently, without looking up, his brother handed the frame back, eyes downturned even when he was left with nothing but the floor to stare at.

“Can I think about it some more?”

It was difficult to say what part of their talk he might have meant. Taking pity on the both of them, Emmet chose to interpret it as the original topic of discussion. “Of course. I would ask that you wait, anyway. Even if you did want a name right away. It seems unsafe when we will be visiting the Entralink again.”

The child nodded and, finally, lifted his gaze from the carpet. His expression was more solemn than it had been in days, and while Emmet was incredibly sorry to see even a small backwards step, he understood where it came from. Taking a chance, he reached out and rested his free hand on his brother’s head, gingerly ruffling his hair. “I am sorry for my conduct when we met. But I am verrrry glad to know you now.”

While he was eventually shaken off, it was far from an immediate thing; there was a similar hesitation-- deliberation-- before his brother reached over in turn, haltingly taking that same hand up.

Watching Emmet’s expression closely, a sheen of anticipation beneath the thoughtful look in his eyes, the child murmured, “Thank you, Emmet.”

“You know you don’t have to be here, right?” Sneasler said as they wove a path through the Entralink’s mirror to Lostlorn Forest. “We’re just heading to the den and moving stuff. All you being here does is increase the chances you get lost. Or compelled.”

“I want to understand.” Emmet argued, keeping an eye on the figures that flitted to and fro through the trees ahead of them-- even though, as Sneasler had said, he was the only one among them at risk of getting lost. “I will never know the full context. But spending a small amount of time here will help bridge that.”

Somewhere in the near distance, there was a teasing hiss of “Huuuuuumaaaaan!” and the sound of overlarge wings sweeping past. The only attention Sneasler paid it was a brief roll of her eyes.

To Emmet, she shrugged, “I mean, fair’s fair. You brought us home with you, so the least I can do is let you come with us. Just follow the rules and we’ll be alright.”

Under his breath, Emmet laughed, “That is usually a part of my script.”

“Yeah, yeah. Welcome to the Entralink-- it’s our job to be opposite and weird.” Sneasler snarked back, though not without a new undercurrent of amusement.

A delighted shriek sounded from deeper in the woods, and for a moment, he couldn’t tell whether it was child or bat. He felt relatively sure what Sneasler’s answer would be, but just to be certain, asked, “You’re truly not worried about that?”

She scoffed and waved a massively-clawed hand, “Gligar’s an idiot, sure, but he’d die before he hurt the kid.”

That… hadn’t been Emmet’s concern, actually, but it helped to hear it stated so plainly. Instead of delving into the miscommunication, though, he moved onto something else, “How long have you been a unit?”

Sneasler spent a second studying him-- paying absolutely no attention to the path they were traveling, which was worrisome-- then sighed and tilted her head back, “We’ve had to put up with Gligar for a few years. My kit… I found him in Novarum’s den after it was abandoned. No idea what it wanted with a human hatchling.”

Novarum… that made sense. On more than one occasion, their parents had named it as the fairy they asked for help, and, more recently, pinned their actions on its game. So it had taken its prize back to the Entralink and then… what? Why ask for something-- for someone-- and then leave them behind directly after the fact?

“Where did Novarum go?” He asked, unable to let this lead die when, soon enough, the language barrier would keep him from a concise answer.

“Dunno.” Sneasler flicked her head to the side, feather rippling with the motion of it, “Zacian saw it fly in from the human realm, but nothing after that. Possible we missed something, though, since everyone was kind of up in arms about Reshiram and Zekrom around that time.”

That was… odd. “What do you mean?”

“Ah, they showed up outta nowhere and made the non-Pokemon freak out. I got dragged into it because of course, and when I went to ask Novarum's advice,” She waved a paw in the general direction of the giggling coming from ahead of them. Her nose twitched, and Emmet knew just enough to recognize that it was thought rather than a reaction to a scent. “Why are human hatchlings so defenseless, anyway? That one didn’t do anything but sleep for entire months.”

What else could a newborn do at that point? Taught that there was no caretaker to cry out for prior to Sneasler’s interference, it seemed to Emmet that the only thing left was to sleep.

“Human ‘hatchlings’ are called babies.” He said, trying not to let his outrage build anew, “They are defenseless because it is expected that their parents will care for and protect them.”

“Huh. Seems risky to me, but whatever works for you guys.”

There was nothing Emmet could say to that. Compared to Pokemon, which hatched fully self-sufficient, it would certainly appear that way.

Eyes on the ground, he kept pace with her.

“You… want to talk about it?” Sneasler asked, begrudging.

“No.” Yes, he did, but not here, and not with Sneasler-- especially when she was so made keenly uncomfortable at the prospect. She raised a valid point, though: in their home realm, a newborn wouldn’t have survived abandonment for much longer than a day, two at most. That knowledge did not help in the slightest. “All I will say is this. Thank you for looking after him.”

Gritting her sharp teeth, she swung her head to the side in something akin to a shrug. “I’m here to help the humans, anyway. That one needed it more than the Courts.”

Eager though he was to get away from the topic-- and promising though the prospect of hearing more about the Courts was-- he didn’t get the chance to inquire any further. Sneasler led them into a turn and, by the time Emmet processed that he was looking at a sheer rock wall, she’d already hoisted him up over a shoulder and begun to scale it.

He made a horribly undignified noise and grasped two handfuls of lavender fur. If she minded, she didn’t voice it, and her ascent continued seamlessly. When she finally deigned to set him down, it was on a high shelf, enough to just barely overlook the massive old growth they’d been walking through. Further into the Entralink, the trees towered even higher than their current elevation. Emmet didn’t know whether or not it was feasible here, but it looked almost like some of those trees in the distance might overtake the mountain they were standing on. He shuddered and moved on, hastily turning to follow Sneasler into a cavern.

It was already lit, though not conventionally. Certain stones embedded into the rough walls glowed, brightest along the outline of a small human hand. As they passed, Sneasler bopped one herself, and it slowly lit up, highlighting where she’d made contact with it. Interesting. Emmet had seen something like it before, in Chargestone Cave, but the act of striking stone to cause it to light up was new. There was a curious part of him that wanted to touch, to see if there was a trick to it, or if it really was that simple, but he thought it wise to keep his hands to himself.

The tunnel split off into different paths, and Sneasler unhesitatingly chose one over the other, which would have been much more impressive if it hadn’t been for the trail of lights leading the way. It brought them to a circular room, for lack of a better term, with two more offshoots. Light and sound came from one, betraying where the child and Gligar had gone, but Sneasler ignored that for now, picking up a woven basket sitting along the perimeter and upending it over a higher, flat rock. Various bits and bobs spilled out, and while she nudged several away from the edge, her main concern seemed to be the basket itself as she peered in to make sure nothing was hanging up.

Shortly after pulling her head back out, she glanced to Emmet and gestured mildly to the most obvious path. “Go make sure they’re not goofing off, yeah? Anything they wanna keep’s gotta fit in one of the baskets-- it shouldn’t be hard, but Gligar’s gonna have to pick and choose between some rocks.”

With that, she shouldered the basket and headed down the second pathway, leaving him to do as he would. Given the options, Emmet decided not to risk getting lost and do as she’d suggested.

The room he entered into was clearly used for storage, rough shelves hewn into the walls, though most were absent whatever had once rested upon them. A couple of crates stood on either of the room’s sides, already cracked open and-- presumably-- relieved of anything worth keeping. Its two occupants were instead focused on a pile of loose stones, the colors and sizes widely variable; the child was cradling something in his hands while Gligar used its pincers to sort the shapes out. Sneasler’s prediction had rung perfectly true.

When Emmet stepped in, his brother hastily-- and unsubtly-- shoved whatever he held into the sash that kept his top fastened, where it created a noticeable lump. Emmet was kind enough not to comment on that fact.

Instead, what he said was, “I am unsure how many rocks you will be able to pack before your cargo becomes immovable.”

“We’ve already loaded the interesting ones.” His sibling said as appeasement, “Now it’s mostly just spheres. Gligar just can’t decide if he wants to bring the bigger ones, or let them grow while we’re gone.”

“They’ll only grow a little, though. I don’t know if it’s worth it.” The bat hummed, head rocking from one side to the other as he tried to work the problem through.

At first, Emmet had thought he must have heard wrong, but then Gligar doubled down and he decided he couldn’t ignore that declaration. “Do rocks… generally grow in size here?”

The child blinked up at him and, after a second, seemed to realize something. He stuck both hands into the pile of stones and pulled out two round, pink specimens before standing up to show Emmet.

“Not rocks, spheres.” He said, handing the pair to his sibling, “They’re used for trading, and the bigger they get, the more valuable they are. If you bury them in the ground, they grow very slowly, so you can use the little ones to trade with in small amounts, or put them away until they’re worth more.”

Rather than the heft of a mineral, the stones felt almost like glass-- albeit a very thick glass that wouldn’t crack without a substantial amount of effort. Both had a nacreous sheen to them, though the color of the larger sphere was more distinct while the smaller was still somewhat transparent. Did that then imply that they ‘grew’ by somehow acquiring more layers, therefore becoming more and more opaque? How?

“It’s interesting, right?” Said his brother, interpreting his expression the best he could, “These ones used to be the same size! The only difference is how much time they had in the ground before being dug up!”

Something in Emmet twinged, and he folded his fingers over the larger stone, marking the second as his focus. “So this one will grow too, if it’s put back where it belongs.”

“That’s right!”

“Does it only work in the Entralink?”

The boy cocked his head and then looked to Gligar, who turned its pincers up noncommittally. “I don’t know. Do you want to try burying them in the human world? Gligar probably wouldn’t mind letting you have them if you wanted to test it.”

“Just goin’ in the dirt anyway. Doesn’t matter what dirt.” Said Gligar as confirmation, going back to pushing spheres this way and that.

“I see. Thank you.” Emmet said, and tucked the both into a pocket, already in the mind of the barren pot on his balcony, long since devoid of the herbs it once held.

His spiel on spheres since concluded, the child turned away to attend to their task.

While his brother methodically added things to a basket as tall as he was, ignoring the smaller one that he’d since shut, Emmet watched Gligar use his pincers to create a furrow in the ground. It was fascinating to watch him maneuver his pincers in such a blatantly destructive way and then delicately scoop the spheres up to deposit them, one by one, into the row. When he deemed it good enough, he pushed the disturbed debris over the rocks and gave his tail a thump.

The process was disturbed when its ears swiveled toward the entrance and its species’ instinctive grin pulled into something closer to a grimace.

“To the side.” It hissed, and it took Emmet a second to recognize that it was speaking to him.

Uncertain what was going on, he dutifully stepped back against the room’s perimeter as it took its claws to the nearest wall, this time, and scaled it, using its tail to dig into the ceiling and wide wings to obscure the mouth of the tunnel.

Several seconds after the fact, a new voice called, “Lady Sneasler?”

A sudden hush fell over the cave, and, after a second, Sneasler’s footfalls sounded. “Kai.”

“You’re alright,” The woman said back, audibly relieved, “You’ve been so distant lately we were beginning to worry.”

“Huh,” Sneasler said, testy, “I wonder why. Think I might have my hands full right now, since your people refuse to help us out?”

There was a tense silence, followed by a barely-abashed, “You know very well that I can’t intervene; it’s not within our purview.”

“Yeah? And remind me who makes that call.” She all but growled in retaliation.

“Enough.” Said the stranger, firm, “That’s not what I came here to discuss. As one of our blessed Pokemon, your duty is to the Pearl Court, and you haven’t been upholding it.”

Sneasler made a frustrated, throaty sound, but it wasn’t quite a growl, “My duty is to protect humans. I’m doing that. What else do you want from me?”

A silence fell, and Emmet could only assume that something inaudible passed between the two. Whatever it was, the woman pressed on in a different direction, “The dragon’s terrorizing of our Court has worsened. It nearly had Lori charmed before Palina could intervene. We cannot allow this to stand.”

“What are you expecting me to do, slap it around? I can get some poison in, but you know how much that would accomplish.”

The woman breathed a heavy sigh, “No, of course I don’t expect you to confront it head on; I just want you to realize how removed you’ve become from the situation, how much information you’re missing. I know you’ve decided that the child is your responsibility, but you need to recognize that he’ll also be at risk if you continue to neglect your duty.”

“I know, I know. I’m working on it.” Sneasler groused and, in their little hideaway, her kit winced. When Emmet glanced his way, though, he just shook his head and raised a finger to his lips.

They listened in tense silence as the pair slowly got around to concluding their stilted back and forth. Several minutes after the human footsteps receded, Sneasler finally moved, likely ensuring that the woman had actually left.

In the meantime, his brother sidled up next to him and whispered, “That was Kai. It’s not her name, just what she’s called-- that’s what you do if someone outright asks, you give them something else to call you.”

“I see.” He said back, equally hushed, “How does she know Sneasler?”

“Kai leads the Pearl Court, and Sneasler’s one of the blessed Pokemon who are supposed to help them.” His eyes flicked to the entryway, below Gligar’s head. “She didn’t technically lie before, but it was close, and that could get her in really big trouble.”

That… made sense with Emmet’s comparatively limited knowledge of the fae. While it didn’t mean he condoned their parents’ decision, it was one of the very few things he was hard pressed to fault them for: if they’d fully gone back on a deal with a powerful fairy, things could have ended far, far worse for everyone involved.

“Sneasler didn’t lie. She is working to protect a human. It is Kai’s problem if she took that to mean the Pearl Court.” He said instead, and while his brother didn’t relax by much, his posture eased the slightest bit.

“You three better not be slacking off in here,” Sneasler griped, pushing Gligar to the side to see for herself and eliciting an indignant squeak of, “Hey! Hey! That’s rude!”

“We’re almost done.” The child said, making sure to raise his voice above his guardians’ petty squabbling. Worrying at his bottom lip, he glanced to Emmet, and then back to Sneasler, “Maybe… we should split up and go right after? I know you have to talk to some Pokemon, but I’m worried about how long it’s been in the human world.”

Sneasler curled her feather around a claw, considering it. “Not a bad idea. I wasn’t expecting that one to come with.” She said, inclining her head to Emmet, “And there’s no need to push the dragon-human’s buttons. Might give me some extra time to cover our tracks, too.”

She glanced to Gligar, who’d vacated his spot in the entryway to finish sorting his rocks out, adding the last of them to the basket. “What do you think, can you handle two humans for the walk through the forest?”

“’Walk’?” It scoffed, and proudly spread its wings, highlighting Sneasler’s folly-- to which she grumbled shallowly.

“You’re impossible.” She told him, “It’s a yes or no question.”

“I keep the human safe every day!”

“Yeah? Me too, you’re not special.”

“Um,” Said the human in question, “I feel like I don’t need protecting every day...”

“The question was not one of protection. It was of safety.” Emmet reminded him, somewhat unhelpfully. Personally, he felt safety encompassed personal wellbeing, and in that regard, his brother definitely required assistance.

Even though he hadn’t stated his full opinion, what he had said earned him a sharp turn of the head and mildly betrayed look. Unable to keep the smile entirely tamped down, he held his hands up in surrender.

His brother puffed a cheek up irritably and turned back to his guardians, patting at Sneasler’s leg to get her back on track. For all that the Pokemon held the actual power, here, there was no mistaking who gave them direction, and that was an interesting thought-- that, even in a situation where everyone could make themselves perfectly understood, Pokemon still respected the guidance of a cherished human. It wasn’t a traditional trainer-and-Pokemon relationship-- his brother didn’t issue any commands-- but any concern he raised, they considered in spite of his relative inexperience.

“Right,” She said, and turned her critical eye over the basket they’d been preparing, “I’ll take the one that’s full of rocks. Second basket’ll be easier for Gligar to handle, and you’ve got your kid-sized one. Gligar, if you need to ditch some weight, the bedding on top can go, but I think you’ll be fine.”

“We can handle it!” The boy insisted, hands balled into excited fists.

Wry red eyes traveled to the arguably-elder human, and Sneasler reached over to smush her ward’s hat down affectionately. “You know what, kit? For once, you’re not the one I’m worried about.”

Emmet decided that, for the sake of their future cohabitation, he would let that go. If his brother’s concern held true, it wouldn’t be worth the time it would take to argue.

By the time they headed out of the cave, the glowing stones had gone dormant again. Emmet watched with no small amount of amusement as his brother bounded ahead to slap a hand against each one, giving them the chance to warm up and shed a decent amount of light once he and Gligar passed through. There was little wondering why the bat was hanging so far back when his boy was up ahead: his cargo was, in fact, weighing him down to some extent. It wasn’t enough to alter the altitude he moved at, but it certainly reduced his speed, forcing him to spend the commute with Emmet.

Emmet, for his part, found an obstacle of his own the moment they stepped foot outside of the cave system: they were still on a cliff.

Motion off to the side side caught his attention, and once his brother had firmly settled the child-appropriate basket he carried, he moved to start descending the rock face. There was little doubt Emmet’s disbelief shone through in his expression, because, when the boy glanced up, his scrunched in a teasing sort of glee.

“Sorry, I almost forgot.” He said, and then let go to fold his arms over the edge, continuing to taunt him. With a lazy rock of his head, he looked to his partner Pokemon, “Can you help him down, Gligar? I’ll watch the basket.”

Gligar clicked its pincers, which wasn’t the most comforting gesture when, just a moment later, they found their way hooked under Emmet’s arms. “It’s fine! No one will take it, or Sneasler would maim them.”

The boy made a soft, dissenting noise, but all Emmet could make out was “No she wouldn’t, not over that.” before the bat took off.

Gligar were, as their species’ name suggested, gliders, so the descent was a slow one, complicated by the amount of horizontal ground being covered. To keep from getting too far into the woods, Gligar moved in a shallow spiral, landing them maybe twenty feet away from their starting point above. Midway through his climb, the child peeked down at them, but didn’t let go of his hand-holds this time; unbothered, he went back to his methodical decline, sparing only a cursory look as Gligar scampered up the cliff with an almost frightening speed, scattering bits of stone in its wake. It worked out so they reached the bottom at roughly the same time, Gligar’s cargo touching the ground half a minute before the child pushed away from the cliff.

Simultaneously impressed and appalled, Emmet looked from the proud face beaming at him to the landing they’d stood upon minutes prior. Eventually, he decided, “We will need to find you a new outlet. Or safety gear.”

“Huh?” His brother asked, and Emmet declined any further comment, laying a hand on his shoulder to urge him into leading them. As he tended to, the boy’s attention lingered on the point of contact for a moment, but he gave no indication that it was unwelcome and, instead, transferred it to his own hand, then pulled ahead to act as their guide.

They walked in a relative silence: Gligar’s ears perked for any sign something might intercept their mission to the human world, Emmet watching the scenery around them as if to remember the path, and the child with his eyes facing forward, unerringly moving them on. It was several minutes deep into the undergrowth that Emmet found himself distracted from his self-imposed task by the shifting grip on his hand.

Wordlessly and without pausing, his brother slipped something smooth into his palm. He caught a glint of light reflecting off of it through the impossibly-tall trees, but the incidental glance wasn’t enough to tell him what it was in and of itself. It was warm, but only just so, brought to temperature by an external force rather than inherently being warm. The mild, painless prickle along its surface made more sense when Emmet moved to transfer it to his other hand and found the gleam of a thunder stone.

The child’s eyes were on him when he looked back down, though he still faced forward, watching Emmet from his peripheral vision. “Eelektrik can use that to evolve, right? Do… do you want it?”

It wasn’t lost on Emmet that, this time around, the boy had refrained from making it sound like reparation; in and of itself, that was also something of a gift.

“I think so.” He said, and held his hand out again.

His brother didn’t hesitate to take it.

Three presents in a row, and that one had to be Emmet’s favorite.

The difference between Emmet’s previous trip to Lacunosa and the current commute was night and day.

Far from the tense anticipation that held him stiff in his seat as he’d waited to get answers, he found himself in active motion, either in the interest of chasing his brother down before excitement got the better of him, or to explain how the metal behemoth they were riding worked.

If he was honest with himself, it was bittersweet. He’d never known anyone else so enthralled with the rail system. What might they have had, given the opportunity to indulge the interest on the same playing field? He tried not to dwell on it-- not now, at least, when he had more pressing matters to concern himself with.

The passing scenery of White Forest did nothing to hold the boy’s attention-- facilitating his curiosity into the train car they occupied-- but Undella Bay was another story, and he’d darted across the cab to watch it pass by. Was it that the Entralink lacked terrain like this, Emmet wondered, or simply that he hadn’t seen this hypothetical fae shoreline? When they had the chance, they would take a day to visit the beach town, he decided.

When, inevitably, the train dipped into the underground, his twin turned around to sit properly in his seat, eyes roving the lit interior for the umpteenth time, inevitably landing on Sneasler’s ongoing investigation of the hanging straps.

It meant that Emmet was taken somewhat off guard when, instead of pursuing more rail trivia, he asked, “What are your parents like?”

That part wasn’t a new development. Ever since he’d agreed to make the trip up to Lacunosa, he’d used the same wording-- Will and Desi were always ‘your parents’ and never theirs collectively. It made sense, and Emmet couldn’t begrudge him the protective distance; at this point, the title indicated little more than familial descent where he was concerned. Whether or not his twin chose to grant them any other role was purely his decision to make.

In regards to the question itself, he… didn’t quite know how to answer.

Over a month after the fact, Emmet could recognize that he’d been lashing out, acting from a place of anger and betrayal the last time they'd spoken face to face. While he didn’t think he could ever see them the same as he once had, there was a part of him that wanted to preserve what was left, which was why this visit was happening in the first place. He didn’t trust them with his twin, but he also wanted to give them the chance to do better.

“They are verrrry stubborn.” He said, after a pause long enough for his brother to take notice. “But that’s the norm in Lacunosa. It is not inherently a bad thing. They… mean well.”

“Lady Sneasler’s the same.” Said his brother, nodding along as if it was at all equivalent.

Sneasler grunted, sank her chin into the dark cloth she’d tied around her neck that morning, and batted at one of the straps to vent her mock-offense. Not for the first time, Emmet was grateful the other commuters on this car had departed at Undella’s station.

He set that aside for the moment, focusing instead on any last minute advice he could give his sibling. “They will likely treat you with some manner of suspicion. I will attempt to set their minds at ease. But you do not have to take it if they make you uncomfortable.”

The child shrugged and reached up to toy with the bill of his hat, drawing it uncertainly down over his eyes. “Nobody can get along with everybody else. It’s okay if they don’t like me.”

“It’s not.” Emmet said bluntly, but didn’t bother going further in depth, “There are other matters I need to discuss with them. While that happens, you will be free to play with Sneasler and Eelektrik in the garden. If you want to leave early to do so, that is fine by me. I just want you to have faces to put to their names.”

A downward tick of the lips answered that. Both incidentally and against his will, he’d stumbled into learning who Desi and Will were, and was still none too happy about it, but Emmet felt it would be good practice for the future. It had just been in passing-- a speakerphone conversation with Drayden as he had tried to wrestle Durant into compliance for its weekly polishing-- but similar circumstances would inevitably arise from here on out. Not only were people unlikely to withhold information like a name, but many would offer it on a first meeting, secure enough in the barrier between worlds that concern was seen more as paranoia.

“You’re mad at them.” He said, soft and distinctly unhappy, “Because of me.”

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he’d put the pieces together. Emmet hadn’t been particularly subtle about his frustrations, and he knew perfectly well how observant his brother could be when the mood struck.

“I am.” He admitted.

“That’s not fair.”

There was a long silence as Emmet considered how to proceed. “Can I ask for your trust one more time? You do not have all of the information, and I do not feel it’s right to share it with you at this junction.”

“Fine.” His brother said after an equally long hesitation, “Just don’t be mad?”

He gave his head a solemn shake. “I can’t do that. They had a hand in hurting you. To that end, they’ve earned my anger.”

Across the car, he heard Sneasler chirp an affirmation.

“But they’re your caretakers.” The child argued, “They love you.”

“That’s verrrry true.” Emmet said, folding and unfolding his hands so he had something to do. He wondered, for a moment, if this wasn’t at the root of it: if their attention hadn’t been meant for one child, but two. With no secondary recipient, it went from nurturing to suffocating. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t be upset with them. I’m allowed to be angry that they hurt someone I love.”

Another silence followed that declaration.

Eventually, he heard half of a strangled sniffle, and that was all the warning he got before a shuddering seven-year-old pressed himself against his side, face hidden to the rest of the cab.

In a heartbeat, Sneasler was across the car, hovering over her kit and beeping in an attempt at reassurance. She glanced to Emmet for a second, and to his relief, there wasn’t a trace of accusation in it; she seemed just as bewildered as he was.

“Are-- are you alright?” He asked, at a loss for what else to say in the moment.

While there was no audible answer, he felt a stiff nod somewhere in the vicinity of his ribs.

His brain caught back up around that point. “Is this too much? Are you scared?”

There was a stuttering inhalation and a terse shake of the head.

“Then… what?” He asked, unable to fathom what else might have incited the response.

Something like a whine sounded on the breath out as his brother tried to speak, and the boy quickly tamped down on it. Sneasler mimicked the sound sympathetically and knelt down so she could rest her head on his lap, chin cushioned by her makeshift neckerchief. Emmet was inclined not to risk making things worse in such an emotionally charged moment, to allow his brother to pursue whatever contact he was comfortable with for the time and not press, but Sneasler didn’t leave him much of a choice, grabbing his arm and pulling it down around her charge’s slight frame.

It took several minutes before the child was collected enough to manage a muffled, “I don’t k-know. Lady- Lady Sneasler and Gligar say it all- all the time. Why-- why’d it…?”

Emmet’s heart clenched. Had he been the one to cause this? Had he made his brother cry? He wracked his brain for anything he might have said that could be misconstrued, but came up with very few possibilities. They’d been talking about their parents, so maybe the reality just hit home all at once? But no, that didn’t fit with what he was trying to say.

Without anything else to go off of, he had to ask for some kind of a clue. “What is it that Sneasler and Gligar tell you?”

There was a wet semblance of silence for several beats, and then the child tried, “They l-- that they l--” but choked before he could get it out.

That was okay. Emmet thought he got the message this time.

“That they love you?”

Another keen sounded into his chest.

Part of him wanted to tell his brother that there was no need to cry, but it was tempered by the part that couldn’t help but highlight the injustice in it. Let him cry. Let him mourn for the fact that, clearly, he’d felt unloved to some extent-- not because he lacked it entirely, but because he’d never heard that he was loved from someone like him.

Emmet hadn’t even said it properly. He’d called the child someone he loved, but that was so oblique. He could-- and would-- do better.

“It’s okay.” He said for now, giving the child a gentle squeeze, “Take as long as you need.”

After another spate of sniffling, he heard a pathetic little, “Sorry.” and raised his hand up to slide beneath his brother’s hat, gently combing through his hair in what he personally had always felt was a soothing rhythm.

“Not necessary. You need to get those emotions out. My job is to ensure passengers feel safe and comfortable aboard our trains. I’m happy to help. You especially.”

Slowly, his twin’s breathing returned to something approaching normal, and by the time they returned to the track above ground, he’d found it in himself to pull away from his safe haven. Unsteady hands found Sneasler’s cheeks, and he spent the rest of the commute working through her fur like a kneading Sneasel kit, still protected by the arm draped around his shoulders.

Neither of them attempted to restart their conversation, and that was perfectly fine. With a big meeting looming in the near distance, it was a subject best saved for later. While the child’s roving gaze spoke of interest as they passed through Lacunosa’s station, the outburst had certainly put a damper on his enthusiasm for the time being, and he trailed a pace after Emmet without a whisper of resistance.

He was dry-eyed by the time they reached their parents’ house, still firmly attached to his bigger brother’s left side. He’d allowed an arm to stay curled around him on the walk, but as they waited for the door, he readjusted so he could duck behind it instead, insecurity getting the better of him.

It was Will who answered the door this time, attention landing first on Emmet-- as it usually would-- and then dropping to the smaller figure half-hiding behind him. It was difficult to parse the emotions that ran over their father’s face-- not surprise, certainly, when he’d known this was happening, but something like it. There was something sad, too, accompanied by a glimpse of what he thought was fear.

That was confirmed when he glanced beyond the both of them and remembered Sneasler. She wasn’t putting up an active threat display-- yet-- but Emmet could sympathize. She was a large Pokemon with knives for hands. Even if she wasn’t actively trying to look intimidating, it was something she couldn’t avoid entirely.

“I don’t think your mother would appreciate any, uh... new Pokemon in the house.” Will said eventually, voice kept deliberately steady.

Already, Emmet knew what he had to think; he’d assumed much the same, at first. “Sneasler is not a fairy type Pokemon. She is poison and fighting type.” He said, though it was followed by turning to address the Pokemon in question, “But that has been a house rule for some time now. No Pokemon that haven’t been vetted. Would you mind waiting in the garden? He should not be too long.”

The final point was made with a downward flick of the eyes, and he felt fingers dig into the cuff of his sleeve.

Sneasler huffed and reached behind her neck, twisting her wrist as though she was turning a key in a lock. Somehow, that was enough to undo the knot in her makeshift bandana, which promptly flopped down and over her charge’s head, an opaque veil dipping over the brim of his hat. The boy let go with one hand to reach up and collect it, giving it a clumsy fold and then carrying it pressed to his chest.

Stooping down for one last lick to her kit’s cheek, Sneasler leisurely strode past the house and toward its backyard, eyeing Will the entire time he was in her field of vision. He offered her the exact same reception.

Once she was no longer visible, his attention dropped back down to his faelost son. For a moment, his attention lingered on the piece of fabric half-wrapped around a skinny arm.

“You’ve gotten quite big, haven’t you?” Will asked, just shy of uneasily, and Emmet refrained from reaching up to massage a temple.

Was their father being deliberately obtuse? Emmet’s experience with children didn’t go beyond those he encountered at work, but even he had been able to recognize that his twin was small for his age. More than anyone, save for Desi, Will should have seen the child in front of him was orders more fragile than Emmet had been back then.

The child looked to him, unsure how to respond to that, and Emmet couldn’t exactly blame him. Will, at least, seemed to pick up on it and ushered them in without doubling down on his gaffe. For half a second, the boy hesitated at the house’s threshold, but followed once he realized the only other option was idling alone on the porch.

While it was a different parent acting as chaperon, the destination was the same as before. Desi was already waiting, standing behind a chair with her hands curled tensely over its back, the instant they walked in, her eyes were in motion, studying every detail.

Where Emmet might have expected his brother to duck behind him again at the thinly-veiled suspicion, the boy held his ground, looking straight back. Belatedly, it occurred to Emmet that this might be closer to non-aggressive conduct in the Entralink and, thus, less intimidating than the courtesy of being invited into the house.

For lack of any better way to break the ice, Emmet folded a hand around his twin’s shoulder to catch his attention and-- even though he already knew-- said, “These are Will and Desi. They are our parents.”

He caught his mother’s flinch, but had nothing for it. The child would pose no threat in that regard, and demonstrating that he knew her name and had no plans to use it against her had to prove something. Will didn’t seem terribly happy with this development either, but didn’t show it quite so much.

Despite her reservations, their mother offered a low-- gentle, even-- “Hello, there.”

Emmet didn’t bother with the other half of the introduction. There was nothing more for him to say.

At the very least, he was trying to stay civil this time; making an effort not to draw attention to the fact that his parents were only just meeting their nameless son seemed like a step in the right direction. He could keep the peace for his brother’s sake. He could.

“What’s that you’ve got with you?” Will asked after a second, nodding to the length of cloth blending into the child’s lightweight jacket. Strange. He’d given it an odd look earlier, too. What was that about?

The boy automatically followed his sight line and, in response, held it slightly further away from his chest-- not exactly showing it off, but ensuring that it was a bit more distinct than before. “It belongs to Lady Sneasler. I think it’s… like a lucky charm? She lets me hold it sometimes, but I have to be careful.”

“She must trust you a lot.” Their father said softly, attention raising from the fabric to the child’s face.

Wordlessly, the child gave an awkward little half-nod, half-shake-of-the-head, and as luck would have it, Emmet glanced over just in time to catch Desi’s lips twitch in a way he’d often tried to provoke throughout his own childhood.

He spared a moment for the last time he’d been in this room, for the way her voice had broken when he’d asked his sibling’s name, and for the exhaustion that had colored her tone. At the time, he hadn’t had compassion to spare for the people whose choices led to the situation, but in hindsight, he could recognize that she’d been struggling. She’d said, back then, that they couldn’t get attached, but it was growing clearer by the moment that neither of their parents had quite managed that ideal, no matter what they told themselves.

It didn’t change what they’d done, or how much it had hurt his twin, but having acquired a child, himself-- no matter how unconventionally-- there was a flicker of sympathy in Emmet that hadn’t been there before.

Desi’s tiny smile only lasted for a handful of seconds before she remembered that she was supposed to be the token skeptic in the room, at which point she schooled it back down.

Will, however, was making an effort at engaging with the child, guiding them through clumsy small talk. It wasn’t anything terribly notable-- asking after favorite colors, what he did for fun and the like-- but it was something, and Emmet saw no reason to interrupt forward progress of any sort. He only stepped in after a couple minutes of it, once it became clear that the questioning was beginning to ping on his twin’s anxieties.

“It’s okay,” He said softly as they broke away, toward the back door. This would have been a great deal to handle at once anyway, even if his sibling hadn’t had a breakdown on the way up, and so he tried to be extra gentle as he removed them from the situation. “It was not an attempt to trick information out of you. He was trying to be nice.”

The child fidgeted dubiously with Sneasler’s token. “It was a lot of questions, though...”

He nodded, unable to argue against that point. “What do you think he might do with that information? Is it so bad if he knows you like purple?”

It was silent as they passed through the door and, just before Emmet entrusted him with Eelektrik’s pokeball, the boy said, “I don’t know. I guess it’s alright.”

“I will not allow them to do anything nefarious with that knowledge.” Emmet said, hoping his amusement didn’t come across in his voice-- and if it did, his brother didn’t comment on it, too busy releasing an electric eel into the yard. “Will you be comfortable out here while I continue to speak with them?”

Arms already full of a wriggling EleFish, his twin managed to nod over top of it.

“Think about whether you still want to visit Drayden after this, alright? Don’t try to push yourself.”

Around a faceful of rubbery skin, the boy managed, “But I want to meet Druddigon.”

“And Druddigon will still be there to meet next week. He has rarely left Drayden’s side in ten years.” He gave his brother a pat on the shoulder blade, encouraging him to head over to Sneasler. “I’m not saying no. I just want you to be careful.”

The appeal to safety, at least, seemed to get through, and there were no more complaints incoming. Once his sibling was within Sneasler’s perimeter, Emmet allowed himself to head back inside for what he was certain would be an uncomfortable conversation.

He was right, but, oddly, he wasn’t involved in said conversation. Yet.

“-- reason would a fairy have to mimic that?” Will asked, met with mild disbelief from his wife.

“You don’t think it’s suspicious that it had a prop with it? Something you might recognize?”

“He wasn’t the one who brought it here. You heard for yourself that, to him, that blanket belongs to the Pokemon.”

There was something between a sigh and a groan from Desi. “I don’t like it.”

“I hope you are referring to Sneasler’s scarf.” Emmet said bluntly, leaning one shoulder against the entryway.

“We were, actually.” Desi said, her own bluntness undercut by the unease in her voice, “I… find it difficult to believe that, the next time we happened to meet our lost son, he still had that blanket.”

“Blanket?” Emmet asked, politely ignoring the rest of it.

“The baby blanket. The last time we saw your brother, he was wrapped up in it.” That was an interesting way to phrase that. Very passive, as if they’d played no part in why it was the last time they’d seen their child-- but it wasn’t worth the argument when the way Will said it suggested he was was on Emmet’s side.

“I can ask about it at a later date.” Which was true, but likely unnecessary. Sneasler’s motivations seemed quite clear to him. “That would make sense, however. Sneasler has been caring for him since he was verrrry young. She considers him her own. I don’t believe it’s strange that she would keep the blanket she found him in for sentimental reasons.”

Desi’s expression softened at that, just a touch. “But to bring it here?”

“She is somewhat vindictive.” Emmet said plainly.

“That’s… comforting.” Said Will.

Just to really drive it home, Emmet added, “She loves her kit verrrry much.”

When it was met by an exchange of looks, he let it drop and addressed his mother’s primary concern. “You have been in contact with Nimbasa General. You know testing proved that he is human. It sounds like you do not believe that.”

“I—” She turned slightly to glance out the window, watching one figure she wouldn’t recognize, and two she should. It only lasted for a handful of seconds before she averted her gaze, as if worried one of them might look back and catch her in the act. “I don’t know, Emmet. This just seems too perfect.”

“Of course it is. We’re identical. Would you have thought the same if you kept both of us? That we looked too perfectly alike? Would that indicate that one of us had to be a changeling?” He refrained from pointing out that she had actively gone out of her way to have twins, so it was a ridiculous concern.

“Even assuming that he isn’t a fairy...” Desi began after a moment, voice recognizable unsteady-- and while he could respect the emotional impact it was having on her this time around, it wasn’t going to cow him, “It’s impossible that he hasn’t been changed by the Entralink. This won’t come without its price.”

Emmet allowed himself a single, harsh exhalation. “You would know best. He was the price you paid for me.”

“Emmet—”

He gave his head a firm shake, refusing to cede the ground. “You are correct on both parts. He has been changed through no fault of his own. His growth has been severely stunted and he requires half a dozen vitamins every morning to remain in even decent health. He himself told me I had no obligation to help him. Each of those is a portion of the price he is still paying. Any concession I make is simply sharing the burden.”

Desi watched him for several extra seconds and, slowly, shook her head. Almost mournfully, she said, “Whatever you choose, I can’t stop you.”

“You can’t.” He echoed and, in direct opposition to his mother, turned in full to face the window, unconcerned with who might see him. None of them did, and none of them would have noticed Desi, even if she’d dared to keep watching; the two weren’t on any of their radars any longer, the lot of them far more interested in interacting with one another.

Unable to coil around the child as it might its trainer, Eelektrik settled for acting as an unconventional scarf. The boy didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by this decision, and was, in fact, more concerned with tying his old blanket back around Sneasler’s throat. For just a moment, Emmet wished he could see her complete the trifecta: what she might bestow upon the eel, and what part, exactly, she would consider its neck.

For the first time since entering his childhood home, he felt his lips turn on their own accord. It was short lived, however.

Behind his back, there was a soft sigh, and in a tone not so dissimilar from what Emmet had fielded just an hour prior on the green line, “Please… just stay safe. I can’t lose another child to this deal, not for the first time or, supposedly, the second.” and then the sound of retreating footfalls.

His father, however, lingered.

After several minutes spent observing the group from afar, he said, “You’re not in the wrong for fixing our mistake, but for what it’s worth, I am sorry that you have to. The moment I left him there, I knew it was wrong, and desperation isn’t enough to justify our actions.”

Emmet half-turned to regard him: he had one arm folded over his chest, the other threading its fingers through his hair as he, too, looked out into the yard. When he noticed the attention on him, he dropped his hands and took a step away-- not deeper into the house, but toward the door. Recognizing the invitation, Emmet both followed and then overtook him, laying a hand on the doorknob to see how he might react.

Will didn’t step forward to join him, but neither did he make any move to interfere, tucking his arms behind his back. “I hope we’ll be able to rectify this someday; it won’t be the same, but maybe that’s for the better. Look after each other until then, won’t you?”

“We have managed so far.” Emmet answered, opened the door, and made to step through.

His father mirrored the motion, blocking the door open just long enough to say, “We love you.”

Emmet paused, unsure how to respond in that moment. It wasn’t that he couldn’t reciprocate, but it came with baggage that he still hadn’t sorted-- both what he’d been putting off, and those pieces that had been added today. This wasn’t a matter of ‘either or’, though; he was allowed to love both facets of his family, no matter how hard to reconcile… and it was hard to reconcile.

Will wasn’t counting on an answer. He ducked his head in goodbye and unblocked the door, both letting it swing shut, and Emmet off the hook.

Funny. It almost felt like stepping out of Lostlorn for the last time, like the paradigm had shifted.

At the sound of the latch, the garden’s collective focus fell upon him. He made a face back at them and strode over, only to be met halfway.

His brother skidded to a halt in front of him-- Eelektrik swaying with the residual motion-- and looked up expectantly, waiting for some cue as what would happen next.

“We are done for today.” Emmet announced to the garden as a whole, voice carrying far enough for Sneasler to catch it, but not so far that the neighbors might hear. He lowered it in order to add, “Did you decide whether or not you want to visit Drayden?”

The boy hesitated, one hand straying up to fidget with Eelektrik’s tail fin. Emmet didn’t want to talk over him, but could plainly see that he was struggling to find the right words-- which, in and of itself, indicated that the answer had changed.

“Why don’t we try another day?” He said after a moment, giving his twin an out.

Personally, he didn’t think it was a good idea to push the matter; for all that the actual meeting had gone without a hitch, it had still worn on the child’s nerves since that morning, and that was without accounting for the ride over. His anxiety had helped to disguise it before-- even from himself-- but now that he’d been given the chance to calm down a bit, the emotional exhaustion was beginning to show.

“We can complete the green line’s circuit on our way home. That way you can see Opelucid and prepare for it ahead of time. It’s not as big as Nimbasa, but still large.” He paused, considering their route from here. Even if socializing was asking too much, his twin had still done admirably, and a treat was in order. “There is also a cafe on the way back to the station. If we’re not making any other stops, I could be convinced to get you a hot cocoa.”

There was a soft-- and not entirely displeased-- grumble of, “You’re just trying to bribe me.”

“Is it working?”

“...yes.” He said after a beat, and then looked over his shoulder, “Lady Sneasler, too?”

Emmet’s eyes flicked up to the Pokemon in question, who grinned proudly and ruffled her charge’s hat. He angled his head just enough for her to see him roll his eyes.

“Yes, Sneasler too.” He conceded, and then held up a hand to rein her in, “On the condition that her choice is decaffeinated.”

He had no idea what to make of the way she chittered in response, but it made his twin laugh, and Eelektrik rippled its appreciation, so he supposed it could be tolerated.

As the amusement faded, his brother looked back to him, shifting uncertainly. “It’s okay not to go today?”

“It’s okay.” He echoed, hoping it might be soothing, and knelt down to put them at the same level, “It’s verrrry important that you respect your limits.”

“But it took a long time to get here, and we barely did anything.”

“That’s not true. For you, it was a lot. You will be able to handle more and more as you recover, but that will not happen unless you are patient.” He carefully knocked Sneasler’s paw away to slip a hand under his brother’s hat, gently rustling his hair. His other hand found a spot preemptively cupping a shoulder. “Let us take care of you, okay? We love you and want you to get better. I love you, and I’m verrrry grateful that you have allowed me to be part of your life.”

The response this time wasn’t nearly so bombastic. Whether it was the earlier admission or the lead in, it didn’t take his brother by surprise, and instead of bursting into tears, he edged in closer, seeking affirmation on top of what Emmet had said. Emmet was happy to comply, one arm dropping to settle warm against his back, the other guiding him to lean into a shoulder.

He ignored the small damp patch developing in his shirt. It was far less important than the warbling-yet-distinct cadence of, “Love you, too.”

His brother’s name was Ingo.

They figured it out on a cool day, sitting together on the apartment’s balcony. The wind was mild, even up on the third story, and the sun just enough to cut through the chill, lending the mildest amount of warmth to those beneath its rays. It was Eelektross’s new bulk that contributed the greatest amount of insulation, the eel napping with his head laid in his trainer’s lap, wholly unbothered by the child toying with one of the arms it was still growing into.

For once, there was neither ground nor poison type lingering on the periphery, both content in the knowledge that their charge would be safe in Emmet’s care. There was something gratifying in the fact that all parties involved trusted him enough to make this moment happen.

Truthfully, in the years that followed, Emmet wouldn’t remember the exact conversation that led them there, just that it had been a slow, comfortable rhythm between them-- a meandering back and forth about whatever came to mind. What he remembered best was the way his brother rested his head against his side without a hint of hesitation.

“Do I really have to?” The child asked, albeit with a resignation that wholly undercut his complaint.

While he was already penned in by the other half of Eelektross’s body, Emmet reached over to curl an arm around him, lips twitching when he nestled in more securely. “I’m afraid you really do.”

There was a huff of a sigh, and while it was likely meant to be a show of irritation with the human world’s complexities, in practice, it was just incredibly endearing.

“I like that one, then.” His twin said, eyes lingering briefly on the pale sphere glinting in the sun, standing sentinel over its buried partner, “I think I could be Ingo.”

Emmet smiled and pulled him in closer, resting a cheek against the top of his head to whisper back:

“Then welcome home, Ingo. I’m verrrry happy you’re here.”