The drawback to Aqua Ring was that, while it numbed pain, it couldn’t eliminate severe discomfort in its entirety; in those cases where it was being used instead of anesthesia for surgical purposes, it was often bolstered by a secondary status move or even a low dose of medicine. The same logic applied to birth. Unlike those techniques which would cause a laboring human to lose all feeling in their legs, Aqua Ring’s usage meant the parent would be able to recognize the signals their body gave them. Inherently, though, it meant that if subtler signs came through, so would some amount of discomfort.

Pain aside, the lights couldn’t be turned off at this point and buzzed irritatingly, the ambient temperature had to be uncomfortably warm for someone sweating so profusely, and the semi-constant presence of medical personnel-- while appreciated-- was supremely disquieting. It was good that they were there, overall, but it felt like they were intruding on something private and vulnerable.

That was to say nothing of the fact that it had been some time since Ingo had been able to rest for longer than two consecutive minutes, and was clearly wearing down.

When walking had grown to be too much-- too tiring, too precarious, no longer providing any measure of comfort-- he’d taken to leaning forward against the top of the bed, arms and head resting on the bolster meant for this exact purpose. Any of his vocalizations by now were devoid of form, usually-precise words abandoned in the face of the overwhelming pressure he’d been put under. Some were nonverbal requests for support or a signal for Emmet to fix something in the environment, but most were strangled expressions of strain no longer being contained to muted whines, but forlorn groans desperately stifled into the cushion.

They had since passed midnight, which caught Emmet’s attention in that, this time the previous morning, they’d been watching a hilariously half-baked documentary at home with Elesa. It was mind boggling that just a day later, the situation had changed so drastically.

He didn’t know how a person was meant to recover in the narrow margins between contractions when they lingered for so long; it seemed that, just as soon as his twin was beginning to catch his breath, he would be struck by the next round. In spite of himself, he found that his thoughts turned back to the worst case scenario he’d dismissed earlier-- so much more vivid now that he was being faced with the reality of late labor.

This simply wasn’t sustainable.

A short noise-- a call for his attention-- made him pause in the gentle finger-combing of his brother’s sweat-soaked hair and he leaned closer, trying to interpret what he needed to do next. Even as in-tune as they were, it was hard to know for sure, the meaning only sealed by the whisper of a well-placed consonant.

“Okay.” He said, voice quiet and-- he hoped-- comforting, even as he swallowed against a suddenly-tight throat. His fear both died back and redoubled in equal measure. “I’ll tell her.”

In the room’s relative silence, the nurse who happened to be present had heard the exchange, but politely didn’t look their way until Emmet asked for her attention.

“He wants to push.”

A dismayed whine sounded near his elbow, and he realized he’d misunderstood-- not the message itself, but its severity.

“Has to.” He corrected somewhat numbly, “He has to push.”

The look of professional concern on her face shifted and she smiled, first to him, then to the back of his twin’s head.

“I’ll fetch the doctor, and she’ll be able to tell you if it’s time to start.” She stepped closer to the door, stopping briefly by the bed’s opposite side to address Ingo directly, “If you feel that urge again before we get back, try to breathe through it like this. No pushing yet, if you can help it.”

His head tilted to the side just enough to peek out from over his arm, watching her demonstrate. It was followed by an absolutely minuscule nod, so subtle Emmet almost missed it from where he was sitting guard.

The room stayed quiet, Ingo content to hide his face until the next wave of pressure hit him, Emmet not wanting to disrupt his focus. He used that time to wonder, briefly, if this facility would have any Pokemon on staff that knew Pain Split. Audino could learn the move, and was a fixture in medical teams, but it seemed unlikely that anyone would bother when its other moves were so much more conventionally useful.

It might not even be worth it. Yes, he would take on any amount of his twin’s pain if he could, but would he be able to provide any meaningful support at that point, or would he become an extra burden? He was reminded uncomfortably of Ingo’s assertion that their time in one another’s body had seemed particularly intense because Emmet wasn’t accustomed to it. His brother’s cab had been preparing for this for months, gradually warming up the engines, and if it was still this bad after all of that, what chance did he stand?

A hand reached out for him and Emmet took it in a heartbeat. Said hand promptly let go of his, blindly tracing up his arm before landing on his shoulder and yanking him forward, at which point Ingo abandoned the bolster entirely to cling to his twin instead.

“It’s alright. You are doing well.” Emmet murmured into his brother’s hair, slowly taking the initiative and rocking them gently from one side to the other; he felt a shudder in response, but, in this context, it was a good reaction. “Almost there.”

Almost there, he repeated to himself, nearly compulsively. Yet-to-be adopted or biological, their sons were almost there. It was incredible. As long as the past nine months had felt, the objective truth was that it had taken his brother less than a year to create two new human beings.

It was terrifying, too.

There was a knock at the door, a warning more than it was a request, and a moment later the doctor strode in. Her back to them as she prepared, she said, conversationally, “I’ve heard that we’re getting ready to pull into the station in here. Let’s see what our eta is looking like, hm?”

He didn’t even bother resisting the urge to roll his eyes. They’d met before-- he knew she was trying to make the best of the situation for their sake-- but in the here and now it was unwelcome. His twin was in more pain than he’d ever seen on him, and that was after the application of Aqua Ring. This wasn’t the time for occupational humor.

Her amusement mellowed into professionalism as she crossed the room to conduct a new examination. She tapped a warning against either of Ingo’s hips, guiding them where she needed them, and Emmet politely turned his head until she’d stepped away.

Of course, he only processed that distance when she said, “If you’ll allow me to say as much, everything’s ready.”

The second attempt fell just as flat, but this time due to the fact that it was eclipsed by her message.

Their sons’ arrival was imminent.

Okay.

Okay.

There was a rasp of question against his neck, the first actual words he’d heard from his brother in over an hour. “...full speed ahead?”

“Full speed ahead.” He whispered back, trying to remain supportive without descending into a desperate cling.

From an outside observer’s standpoint, this seemed no better than before, but there was a subtle hint to be found in the strangled sounds that escaped despite Ingo’s best efforts. What had been badly-hidden agony a minute prior had taken a notable turn-- while there were still notes of pain, they were overtaken by exertion.

That was the difference, Emmet realized. He’d been given something to do; he wasn’t being left to endure indefinitely, dwelling on the future. It was precisely what they’d discussed earlier that same week, and it was… comforting, actually, that he’d known what he needed so far in advance, if in a slightly different context.

In spite of the fact that a direction gave him new velocity, it felt like it had to be too much. There was so much more work to be done now, and so much less time to breathe.

Emmet wasn’t sure how long it took him to realize there was still one way he might assist, an obstacle he could help clear away.

“If you need to yell, yell.” He said softly, shifting the smallest amount-- just enough to offer his shoulder as a makeshift muffler. “Do not worry about anyone else. We will manage. Just take care of yourself and the passengers.”

And if anyone did complain, he would fight them on it. Other parents got to shout and scream; there was no reason a little extra volume should preclude any vocalizations.

A renewed spate of panting was the only response he got at first, but then Ingo inclined his head once, acceptance and preparation alike.

It was a very strange sensation, sitting at attention weathering the sound channeled directly into him. For a fraction of a second, he was reminded of standing in Arceus’s presence or of the heaviness that descended every time it felt the need to still their hands. He discarded it immediately, disgusted with the thought. There was something of it in the thunderous vibrations dissipating into his side, sure, but it was also intensely familiar. If he couldn’t move, it was due to trusted arms seeking him out for comfort, not the will of something ancient staying his hand. The pressure he felt was a real, tangible thing, something he could track: he was being held and he was holding in return, and pressed so close with his arms wrapped tight, he could feel the overworked muscles of his twin’s sides straining to birth their first.

The feeling was so intensely intimate that he had to wonder if anything else could ever rival it, if this-- not romance or sex, but raw love, unconditional trust and support offered in equal measure-- wasn’t the basest form of human connection.

His arms didn’t want to move when the nurse gently pried him away, coaxing him back into the seat by the bed. On some level, he knew what had just happened, but it took Ingo reaching over and giving his hand several insistent little Wake-Up Slaps minutes after the fact before his brain would let him act on it.

‘Look!’ said the crease of his twin’s eyes, tired but excited nonetheless, and so Emmet did.

Someone had had the foresight to slip the sleeve from his brother’s shoulder, exposing a patch of skin upon which a tiny human rested. Emmet wasn’t entirely sure what had the newborn so exhausted, but the little boy was determinedly ducking away from the light, face nestled into the warmth of his father’s still-heaving chest. The effort was aided by the baby blanket draped over him, a convenient buffer between him and the too-loud fixtures.

“You just had a baby.” Emmet said blankly, waiting for his train of thought to catch up, and Ingo laughed breathlessly. The infant in question fussed at the sound. He seemed grumpy. That was fair, but being a commuter was an ephemeral thing; all trains had to reach their destination eventually, and all passengers had to disembark.

As Emmet continued to stare dumbly, Ingo shifted and ducked forward, eyes fluttering shut as he rested the bridge of his nose against the petite head. His breathing was severely off-- obviously he would still be reeling from bringing a brand new person into the world-- but it metered out as, unable to maintain that position, he leaned back again. Even with the support the adjustment provided, he shook like a leaf in the depths of winter.

They had a son, now. Technically Emmet had a nephew, though he’d correct that soon enough. Who was this one going to be? They’d never come to any definite decision, given the frivolity of birth order…

Movement startled him out of his thoughts, followed by a tentative, trembling grip on his wrist. It would be easy to break away from-- and, as a matter of fact, Ingo was watching his face carefully for any hint that he should drop the matter, and also the hand-- but there was no need. Emmet could see exactly what he was dealing with, even if beneath a veil of fabric; the little boy wasn’t nearly so daunting anymore, unlike the indistinct, enigmatic bumps through skin.

He chose to trace his fingertips over the child’s shoulders, letting him know he was there. “Welcome aboard, little passenger. We have been verrrry eager to meet you.”

There was no notable response-- just a continued attempt by the newborn to burrow further into the familiar warmth below him-- but there didn’t need to be. Their collective focus was, reasonably, on the little boy.

A couple of weeks prior, in passing, Emmet had heard Drayden say something to the effect of wondering which of them he’d felt when their mother had still been carrying them. Having spent an evening in direct contact with this particular pair, Emmet couldn’t necessarily share that question, but he was still curious which one this might have been. How many times had this baby been the impetus for Ingo grabbing his hand and making him jump? There were no hard feelings, of course-- his brother was the one to blame-- but it might say something insofar as temperaments went…

With the realization that he’d spent longer here than he’d meant to, lost in thought as he gingerly stroked down the boy’s tiny back, he forced himself to reality. Pulling back without actually moving away, he glanced to the side, where the motion immediately drew Ingo’s attention. When he made no move to speak, simply looking over his own twin, making sure he was still doing alright, Ingo did instead.

“Halfway there.” His brother said, the weary attempt at a smile unwavering. He was… so hoarse, now that he’d spoken. It made sense-- he’d been all but shouting into Emmet’s shoulder-- but this whole interaction had been so gentle that the vocal fry came as a surprise.

Ingo was right, his work wasn’t done quite yet, but that didn’t mean it was wise to hurry a stalled cab; Emmet placed his free hand on his brother’s bare shoulder, nudging him back to where he could-- should-- rest.

In the meantime, it was plenty interesting to consider the paradoxical nature of their son: how big he’d grown under his father’s care, but how small he felt beneath Emmet’s wondering touch. Beneath the blanket, there was a stuttering wail, and he realized he’d heard it earlier, too, when he’d still been struggling to catch up to the world around him-- at that point, one person larger.

How strange. He’d definitely heard those first cries, watched his brother try desperately to keep his quaking arms steady, but not constricting as he finally got to hold the distressed child. In the moment, it hadn’t felt quite real, but the memory of it was right there.

After several seconds, he became aware of the fact that he’d been idly tracing the same loose circles through the baby blanket that he’d also been combing through Ingo’s hair and stopped both, backing off to cede the space to his twin. With no way of knowing whether there were still minutes or hours to go, it seemed best to give the two as much opportunity for physical contact as was possible.

Ingo shot him a puzzled look, bordering on worry.

No, no, that wouldn’t do. He wasn’t going to knowingly stress someone just given birth and was slated to do so again.

“This part of the schedule is marked for bonding time.” He explained, quietly, “I will have plenty of time to interact with him while you rest. I promise I am not repulsed by our son.”

The dregs of fear melted away and, obligingly, Ingo took up the position he’d vacated, one hand dwarfing the newborn’s back as the small body rose and fell with his every breath.

Perhaps wisely, he didn’t mirror Emmet’s slow movements, conserving that energy for when he would need it next. Neither did he speak or make any sort of noise-- he simply cradled the boy over his heart, breathing deep but also with a deliberate smoothness, all but rocking him into compliance. Clever. Seemed he’d already figured out how to deal with this one.

When he finally did move, it was in tandem with a soft, pained noise that he didn’t bother hiding, and he set his free hand on his still-occupied belly.

Emmet glanced up at the clock. It hadn’t even been ten minutes. Maybe it was hypocritical to complain-- their mother had endured with far less time to recuperate, after all-- but it still seemed unfair.

Despite his wince, Ingo looked unafraid of what was approaching; busying himself with tucking the edges of the blanket around the baby that was already here, he angled him for Emmet to take, rasping, “Hold him for me?”

“Are you certain?”

He boosted their son the smallest bit higher, encouraging and a touch insistent, “Of course. Won’t be your first time carrying him.”

Emmet pulled a face. That wasn’t the same thing at all, and Ingo knew it, but he could also recognize the tension beginning to build in the way his twin held himself, and wouldn’t prolong his discomfort. He was asking because he trusted him-- didn’t want anyone else handling something so precious just yet-- and if he felt so strongly that Emmet was up to the task, Emmet would accommodate. Gingerly, he took the tiny thing that was his child from where he’d been swaddled, smoothing the blanket down flush to keep him warm.

“It’s okay.” Ingo added, voice simultaneously rough and gentle, acting as though their roles had somehow been reversed and he was the one coaxing Emmet through something so daunting as a second birth in minutes, “He’s safe with you.” And then, to the medical personnel who’d backed off to give them privacy, a hilariously straight-forward, “My second passenger is ready to disembark.”

There was a flurry of motion across the room, and Emmet tried not to laugh. His brother was a conductor down to his core, unable to resist announcing new arrivals even if it meant hijacking the delivery room itself. Seemed the joke had actually been on the doctor this whole time.

Giving the son who was yet-to-be-born one more little pat for good measure, Ingo hauled himself onto his side, facing the rest of their unconventional family unit. The exhaustion from the firstborn hadn’t left him, but there was a determined set to the tilt of his mouth as he propped himself up with one arm, presumably into the next most advantageous position from clinging to Emmet. He’d been ready for this to end since it began, and now that the final terminal was in reach, there was a renewed conviction to see it through.

And maybe Emmet couldn’t act as a support this time, with a newborn settled in the crook of his arm and explicit instructions to keep him safe, but he could do the next best thing. Pivoting to compensate for the already slim gap between them, he reached over to push the hair out of Ingo’s face and then held his palm up in offer, where it was gratefully taken.

The second passenger arrived far quicker and more easily than his brother had. It was still entire stations away from anything that could be called pleasant, but with the tracks already clear, there was much less work to be done. What had warranted something on par with a scream prior earned a low, sustained roar of a groan, and that was it.

It was over.

“Your brother’s here.” Emmet murmured to the twin in his arms while his own sibling was busy with the newest addition, “Did you miss him?”

As if in reply, the one resting against their birth father wailed just shy of inconsolably.

...volume control was going to be a difficult lesson to teach, wasn’t it?

At the sound of his brother’s voice, the boy in Emmet’s arms began to fuss, which seemed like as good a reason to reunite the two as any; maybe the presence they’d come into existence alongside would help sooth the burn of meeting the greater world. Telegraphing his movements as clearly as possible, Emmet moved closer until he was perched on the edge of the bed, waiting for a sign to stop or continue.

While plainly spent, Ingo’s eyes lit up upon noticing them.

Enlightening as it had been to hold one of his sons for the first time, Emmet relinquished him without a hint of resistance, happy to bring the two back together for first time outside of the womb-- and to give his own twin a chance to confront the reality he’d spent the past nine months building up to.

Ingo had to shift to accommodate both at once-- his chest too narrow to support them without adjustment, in spite of the padding his body had been hell-bent on accumulating-- but seemed completely content once he’d gotten them situated, even as they continued to lazily squall. It gradually lessened, deliberately even breaths and a warm resting spot lulling them into some semblance of peace.

Arms full of the pair he’d spent all this time and trouble creating, he finally tore his attention away and tilted his head to look up at Emmet.

Smile or no, any idiot could see that there was nothing but love in the shine of his eyes.

Leaning forward to steady one of his brother’s trembling arms, helping support the nearest newborn, Emmet asked, “Roll call?”

Languidly, Ingo nodded toward one and then the other, “This is Kari and this is Rael.”

“Kari and Rael.” He echoed, and found the suggestion had been a fantastic one after all; the names clicked immediately.

He wanted to hug him so badly, to gather him up and revel in the fact that this ordeal was finally over, but he didn’t have the heart to disrupt the passengers. Instead, he settled for moving closer to the head of the bed and carefully laying an arm around his twin’s shoulders; Ingo leaned in to sluggishly bump their heads together.

Fuck, he loved him. After a second to wrestle the feeling into something manageable, he said as much-- albeit a censored version, to get in the habit before little ears started picking up vocabulary they shouldn’t.

It was met in kind, the statement softer than usual, but no less emphatic as his brother laid against him. They maintained this quiet equilibrium for some time, only disrupted by an absolutely minuscule shift. Ingo leaned harder into Emmet's side and, at first, he thought it was from exhaustion and affection; belatedly, though, he realized that he was being offered the chance to hold the second baby, and was more than happy to support him in the same arm the first had briefly occupied. Still just as small. Just as fragile.

Mindful of their precarious arrangement of four, he readjusted the arm encircling his twin’s shoulders to brush his fingertips against a newly-vacated belly, secure in the knowledge that nobody would tap back as he drummed feather-light against it.

“Verrrry good work. But don’t do that again.” He told it, and then rested a cheek against Ingo’s head, “We're getting you fixed.”

A rumbling, vaguely crackly voice answered him. “By all means. I’ll ask the next time the doctor’s in.”

Emmet drew his arm back to its original position to continue offering support, and delighted in the realization that he could easily watch out for all three of them at once like this. It couldn’t last forever, but so long as the moment held, he could ensure his family’s safety without compromise.

“You’re free.” He mumbled against his brother’s temple. “You won.”

There was a note of something that sounded distinctly like ‘worked together toward a victory’, and Emmet laughed, even as doubt crept up upon him.

He’d heard once that when one’s child was born, the world shifted on its axis and a person’s priorities immediately changed. It wasn’t entirely untrue; now that they were here, he knew he’d do everything in his power to support and care for the passengers, but… as much as he decided he loved them, they were so new to the world. How was it fair to liken them to the person he loved most, who he’d long since decided he wanted on his side no matter what ?

Did that make him a terrible parent already ?