There were a lot of clever ways to utilize recovery status moves, but it went without saying that they saw a great deal of utility in the medical field. Heal Pulse and Softboiled were the most commonly recognized, both able to treat a human to some extent, but more niche techniques had their own applications.

Aqua Ring, for instance, was too weak to actively heal a human, but did wonders numbing pain for hours at a time-- and it was used up and down the continent as an alternative to traditional pain relievers for that precise reason. When given the choice, it was hardly a surprise that Ingo had opted for it, the ring itself a thin, ever-flowing band that contrasted remarkably against the standard issue hospital bracelet with which it shared a wrist.

Emmet was just glad it was doing its job. If its efficacy hadn’t been proven by the return of his brother’s stubborn-- if well meaning-- silence through each wave of cramps, then it definitely shone through in the fact that Ingo had resumed stalking the length of the room they were in, back and forth, until he was forced to stop and take a tense break every few minutes. It seemed to Emmet that this was taking the ‘staying mobile’ concept a bit far, but he would back whatever worked.

It did mean that, frequently, he found himself playing the part of human grab rail, but he wasn’t complaining about that, either; he wasn’t even the one in active labor and he felt like he could benefit from the contact.

If he ever got the opportunity, he was going to strangle Arceus with his bare hands.

“We should have brought a pedometer. I’m curious how far you’ve traveled since arriving here.” He said mildly, belying none of his deeper thoughts, “It’s probably time to pause and take a drink.”

Ingo afforded him a short look on the way past, shaking his head, “If I do that, I’ll vomit.”

“If you don’t, you will become dehydrated.”

“Fine. If I can get my stomach to settle, then.”

Good enough, Emmet decided for now, and-- knowing the conversation would stall until next their paths crossed-- glanced down to the correspondence he’d been keeping up with their mother.

Someone is chewing on the nursery door. Should I be concerned about that?

It’s Durant. He’s lonely. Open the door or ask Galvantula or Crustle for assistance. If he refuses to cooperate, return him to his pokeball for the night. He knows better.

There was a delay on the course and the next circuit didn’t go on at its established pace. When he glanced up, Ingo had settled awkwardly on the edge of the hospital bed, trying to keep himself weighted further back in spite of the heavy cargo listing forward.

“Good thinking. It’s time for a change of positions.”

He shook his head, “I just need a moment.”

“You have multiple moments. Take them.”

He laid his hands flat on the bed behind him, arms straight and steady to lean back against, relieving some of the pulling weight, “I believe the movement is helping. Staying mobile has been proven to shorten time spent in labor.”

“You are going to run out of fuel. This is a cross-region trip. Not a local stop.”

There was a hissing inhalation, and before the next cramp robbed him of his voice, Ingo hastily bit, “I want them out.”

Now this felt familiar. Emmet sighed and moved to perch next to him, wholly unfazed when he found himself with an armful of his sibling. “They’re on their way. You can prevent every delay on the track, but that won’t affect the rate at which travel is conducted. This pace is for your safety as well as theirs.”

For want of an actual answer, there was a dissatisfied groan into his neck-- wordless commentary more than it was an expression of pain. He puffed out a laugh and properly curled his arms around Ingo’s back.

“You’re doing verrrry well.” He said, hand trailing upwards to pet through the slightly-too-long hair at his brother’s nape, “Do you hear me? Have I told you how proud I am? It didn’t matter how steep the track was. You never stopped moving forward.”

Ingo stilled, though not because his mind had been set at ease. It was a taut resilience, firm as steel until the contraction finally ebbed. His voice was uncharacteristically quiet when he spoke next, helped along by the fact that he’d only just gotten it back, but driven by genuine insecurity.

“What if I can’t do it?”

Ah. They could go through this once more, Emmet supposed. It would be the last time this particular brand of cognitive distortion reared its head. “Well. What is the worst case scenario? If you are too tired, you will get a c-section. That changes nothing. The passengers will still be here. There is nothing wrong with this method of delivery. Many twins are born surgically.”

There was a silence, unrelated to the strain labor put a body under.

“That’s not the worst case scenario.” His brother eventually said, voice weaker, if anything, “What if I don’t survive this? Our plans were made assuming we can care for the passengers together. And,” He shook here, vocally and physically, the fear from earlier returning in full force, “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Oh.

Well there was something that didn’t bear further consideration.

“You are not going to die here.” Emmet promised, a heated undercurrent beneath it, “Your only risk factor is that you’re delivering twins. Just days ago, your doctor said you were in ideal form for someone full term. The anemia has been dealt with. Nobody is in a bad position. Do not mistake this for an end terminal. It is the stop your sons are arriving at. You are going to be a father verrrrry soon.”

Around the second statement, Ingo pulled back far enough to judge his expression, something twisting in the subtleties of his own. Though somewhat placated by the encouragement, he seemed troubled in a different way, now. “I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Emmet shook his head, “We have talked about this. It is not the time to censor yourself on my behalf. You are anxious. You have good reason to be anxious. You also have bad reasons to be anxious. If you don’t voice them, I am unable to tell you which concerns are valid and which are not.”

While he held fast outwardly, inwardly he reminded himself of the same thing. Ingo would do everything in his power to stay with them, and after the previous forty weeks, he’d proven that his ability to weather the circumstance far exceeded what even Emmet had expected of him. There was absolutely nothing that suggested they needed to consider such a grim outcome, and it wouldn’t help anyone to dwell on it.

As Ingo tensed up again, he forced himself to heed his own advice. Worst case scenario. Very worst case scenario. Absolutely nothing pointed to it being worth consideration.

What was the best case scenario? A quick end to active labor and swift transition, but at the rate things were going, that was simply unrealistic. Most likely, then. For a first-- and only-- time parent, that probably meant another few hours before moving on to the next phase. What did it really matter? Either would be exhausting and end in their sons’ arrival. Those were guarantees. The important thing here was what would not happen.

He repeated it over once more, a mantra that he would will into being. Nobody was going anywhere. The only lines here were inbound.

His brother relaxed against him, finally, and Emmet pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Not ‘just in case’. No.

A promise. To see his truth made into the truth.