Elesa considered herself woman of logic, but that didn’t preclude emotion. It made perfect sense to be proud of her work when a photo shoot went just right, or to be slightly disappointed when she lost against a gym challenger. Those were natural byproducts of a job well done or finding an outcome she hadn’t hoped for.
It made sense to react the way she had months prior. Something had been done to her friend-- something awful-- and he clearly didn’t want any part of it. Of course she got angry, first at the faceless antagonist who would put their hands on another human, and then, begrudgingly, at the equally enigmatic Arceus. The plan had made tracked back then: get through it and don’t look back.
Hearing that it had changed course so drastically just didn’t make sense. Ingo was no happier with the situation than he’d been before, was ashamed of the cues his body was giving him and still hiding however he could. The fact that he was trying to tell her he wanted this now simply couldn’t be true when his every action betrayed how deeply uncomfortable he was at all times.
And the obvious answer had been right there. His body told him to try the piece of lemon while his mind hesitated, but it was only doing its job. The lemon was harmless, and he’d overcome that minor conflict to make a reasonable decision. It had to be the same thing. His body didn’t understand the context, it just knew it was caring for twin babies-- so of course it tried to convince him that he cared for them, too.
The trouble was that, the second time around, he’d believed it.
In hindsight, Elesa realized she’d done the exact same thing she had when first told about the pregnancy: turned her anger on the victim instead of the actual target. She wasn’t proud of it. She’d had a number of things to think about in the past couple of days, and that was probably the one she felt worst about.
She still thought there was something horribly wrong going on, but there was no addressing the problem if she didn’t bite the bullet and talk to the twins. It was something she’d been psyching herself up to all day. She’d considered lunch, but it hadn’t gone well prior, and they’d probably need more time than that allotted, so her next best option was heading over after work.
Only, wrapped up in her thoughts, she might have forgotten to call ahead.
When she knocked on their apartment door, she got no response-- it wasn’t just that she went without physical or verbal answer, but there was a complete absence of Pokemon excitedly responding to noise at the door. She raised a brow and checked her Xtransceiver, just to confirm, but no, they should have been home by now.
It was probably nothing, but, despite herself, she wondered if something had gone wrong. While she wasn’t sold on their decision, her friends had clearly made up their minds and would be incredibly upset if anything happened to the--
To their sons, she tried to remind herself. She wouldn’t get anywhere insisting on her own version of events without at least trying to understand where they were coming from.
Several minutes passed as she deliberated whether or not to call, however belatedly. Argument or no, they would have told her if there had been a medical emergency, right? Or, if there hadn’t been an opportunity yet, they would.
She killed just enough time idling in front of the door to hear a dull thump somewhere down the stairwell, followed by laughter and a heavy sigh.
“Why did you think that was a good idea?”
“No. It will work! Look!”
“It’s still on a direct course to-- hey! Klinklang, pull the brakes and allow me to remove it.”
Okay, they were fine, just uncharacteristically late. Elesa breathed out a slow sigh of relief and strode over to the stairs. There was no one to be seen on the landing in between one floor and the next, but as she descended, she caught the sound of plastic rustling. When she turned the next corner, she found who she’d expected, if not what.
Sure enough, one of the Klinklang was floating alongside its trainers, a plastic grocery bag’s handle impaled on a spike. Said Klinklang continued to turn in spite of the addition, slower than it might in battle, enough to see that the bag it was ‘carrying’ was tearing from the puncture site up. Elesa had walked over just in time to watch as Ingo tried to grab at its cargo-- clearly not for the first time-- only for it to turn just out of his range; he shot his brother what Elesa took to be an annoyed look and, upon realizing he’d find no quarter there, moved to its other side, waiting for the chance to seize it.
The bag slipped off the spike several inches shy of Emmet’s foot. He observed it with a look like mild surprise, as if he hadn’t expected to find it there so suddenly.
“You get to explain any bruised berries to the Pokemon.” Ingo said, moving to catch the bag by its broken handle, and it was only at that point that Emmet moved to intervene, snatching it up before his brother could lean over.
It was followed by a short-- if intense-- staring match and, “I’m not that heavy yet.”
Shaking her head at their antics, Elesa adjusted her gait to ring down the steps as she walked, one hand held out in demand. “If you’re going to fight, then nobody gets it. Give it Sythere.”
The both of them startled, heads snapping up in tandem to look at her, but relaxed after a second, though there was a shade of tension beneath it. It reminded her uncomfortably of the talk at Lane’s house, again, and how relieved they’d been after the fact, immediately jumping to the dumbest jokes they could crack at one another.
It was a fair reaction, though. She wouldn’t let tonight’s conversation get nearly as bad, but it wasn’t going to be a fun one.
Emmet spent that time deliberating and handed her the broken bag once she got in range. She wasn’t sure if it was to mollify her or if it was an advanced keep away tactic, but it was quite clear that, with the way he had to hold its broken handle, he couldn’t also carry the bags he’d set down. In a normal person, that wouldn’t be a problem, but he suffered from a condition called ‘That Thing Guys Do With Grocery Bags’ and his other arm was already full.
She peeked into the one she was handed automatically. Sure enough, there were berries in it.
“So I can see where you’ve been.” She said, falling into position as Emmet picked up the rest of his self-imposed burden and started up the last set of stairs, “What happened, did you run into unexpected resistance at the grocery store or something?”
What she didn’t expect was the frustrated sigh from her opposite side. For a second, she wasn’t sure if it was because she’d committed a faux pas or something actually was wrong-- and then she got clarification. “No. I dozed off on the couch in our office and someone didn’t wake me.”
Emmet shrugged, the bags on either arm knocking together. “I had no reason to do that. We were off in twenty minutes. And you’ve been verrrry tired lately.”
Unconvinced by this argument, Ingo hastened his pace and, as the only individual with a free hand and access to the keys, used getting a head start on unlocking the door as an excuse to ignore his twin’s point.
“Is it really that bad?” Elesa asked, hushed, as they trailed behind him.
“Not… terrible. But noticeable.” Emmet nodded to the bag in her hand. “I was trying to find a way to lessen the load he was carrying. It didn’t go to plan.”
“I saw.” Elesa said, all flat amusement. With a glance back at Klinklang-- hovering dutifully behind them as they reached the landing-- she added, “Why didn’t you just set it on the horizontal gear?”
“Moves too fast.”
“And its outer edge doesn’t?”
“You can’t secure cargo on the gear.”
“And clearly you can’t on the spikes, either!”
“Don’t make me come back there.” Sounded from up ahead and, without giving it a second thought, Elesa responded.
“Yeah, okay, dad.” She stopped short of freezing in her tracks, aware of the curious-yet-unimpressed eyes fixed on her, and clucked her tongue, “We’ll… get there. Just not right now.”
“Are you going to be a jerk about it?” Emmet asked, salt of the earth.
“Not on purpose.” She said, which was absolutely true.
That was why she made a concerted effort to be helpful and play nice as the groceries were put away and the routine fell into place, and it became very clear she wasn’t the only one making an active attempt.
Eventually, though, the excuses ran out and she found herself at the kitchen table, absently twisting the lid of a sports drink back and forth.
“Sorry I reacted like that.” She said without preface, “It’s-- the same as what happened before. You’re not the ones I’m mad at.”
“We already knew that.” Emmet said in what might have been an attempt at reassurance. It was a little hard to tell since he was half-turned away, trying to coax Galvantula off of his back. He found success a second later, and wasted no time bundling her into his arms and sitting like that.
She glanced at Ingo in turn, though found herself briefly distracted by Garbodor next to him, who was contentedly chewing on the plastic drink carrier it had been gifted several minutes prior. Its trainer was as visually stoic as ever, listening with one arm crossed just below his chest, hand resting in the crook of its partner; he had his other hand raised into a relaxed fist, laying lightly against his bottom lip.
Elesa set the bottle to the side. “It kind of just… came out of nowhere, you know? As long as I’ve known you guys, it’s been the same: no romance or any of that. And then this happens, and your plan to deal with it tracks; we get through it and it’s done. Does-- does it make sense why I find it hard to believe you just changed your minds?”
“Again.” Emmet said, expression pinched, “It was not a decision made on a whim.”
“That is understandable. Given the choice, this isn’t a track I would have opted to take, and being that it’s generally not one you travel without a certain manner of relationship, parenthood never seemed like something that required consideration.” In contrast to Emmet’s evident irritation, Ingo’s voice was completely, comfortingly level. “While I may not have had any say in the passengers’ conception, this has not been a choice made under duress.”
Elesa felt her teeth close in on the flesh of her inner lip and forced herself to stop.
“There’s no great way to ask this,” She said, gauging him as she put up the disclaimer, “But you’re totally sure this is your decision? That you’re not being pushed into something again?”
“We have had this exact discussion.” Shaking his head, Emmet turned to toy with Galvantula’s pedipalps instead, as if to demonstrate how bored he was with rehashing the topic, “Wouldn’t Arceus have done that from departure? It would be easier to influence a person to cooperate than to tie their hands. Less resource intensive.”
From a certain point of view, she supposed that made sense. It hadn’t been what she meant, though.
“That’s a more cosmically unsettling version of my question.” She said after a moment to contemplate that particular horror, “I was thinking smaller scale. Again, sorry for the way I said it before, but it’s not just hormones? I just can’t see how you could have changed your mind when you’re so miserable in your own body.”
“Hormones may have a role to play, there’s certainly no denying that; I don’t think it’s fair to pare down a complex matter so succinctly, however.” Ingo leaned back and glanced down at where the points of contention were resting. For a second, his discontent only seemed to reinforce the point. “Insofar as your concern for my discomfort, it’s an unavoidable byproduct of carrying a child; I’ll admit that it’s been somewhat more pronounced in my case, but I’ve been making an effort to get past it, and strange as this may sound, my physical changes have no bearing on how I feel about the passengers.”
He wasn’t wrong. That was very strange to think-- but, in a way, it made sense. If he’d been considering a future where the younger twins stayed in his life, of course he’d been separating their existence from the way he felt right now.
“Well, it’s your guys’ call. I guess the specifics don’t matter as much as whether or not you’re happy with it.” That said, something wasn’t sitting right, and it wasn’t a complaint she’d arrived with. Something in Emmet’s assumption about Arceus hit a sour note in the back of her throat, and she couldn’t shake it. “Can I ask another question, though? We still don’t know, you know, why. I never really thought that Arceus might have made you want to keep them, but what if it’s the opposite? What if it has plans for them after they’re born?”
Both twins went very suddenly still. The sort of still that indicated all other concerns had been put on hold while they worked furiously on the foremost problem. After several seconds, Ingo spoke up, but it wasn’t to address Elesa, “Do you still have the battle considerations for Arceus on record?”
He was answered by a terse nod as Emmet abruptly stood and walked away, presumably to prove it.
In an almost meandering tone that suggested the bulk of his attention was elsewhere, Ingo addressed her question directly. “If that’s its intention, I’m unsure why it decided I would be an appropriate choice in carriers. You’d think it would know better than to select an opponent who can fight back.”
And in a weird way, that was reassuring. The immediacy and emphatic response confirmed that, regardless of the reasoning, this was important to them. She’d walked into this trying to remind herself of that fact, but watching her best friends instantly move to defend their unborn sons went a great distance toward proving to her what actually mattered.