It was weeks after the boys’ arrival that Ingo even began to feel human again-- weeks of resting, caring for them and adjusting to having his body to himself for the rest of his life. They’d gotten to the point where he was permitted to roam the apartment as he saw fit, so long as he took a break whenever he began to feel worn down… or, in some cases, when Emmet decided it had been long enough, and he must have been pushing himself too hard.

Under different circumstances, it would have felt stifling, but compared to the multitude of weeks prior, the freedom simply couldn’t be overstated. Being able to go from the kitchen to the nursery on his own schedule-- without any physical obstructions-- was a dream come true, even if he didn’t make the best time yet. Recovery was a process and, in his case, it was incremental.

The previous weeks of clumsiness were precisely why Ingo managed to surprise even himself with the way he all but tore down the hallway, trying to figure out where his brother had gone. It was no surprise that Emmet startled to attention, all but jumping up from the couch.

“What’s wrong?” He asked urgently, eyes raking over Rael’s tiny body. Ingo had held the boy securely against his shoulder, braced for their hasty commute, but now he readjusted his posture-- letting the child lie more comfortably in the crook of his arm-- and shook his head to allay the burst of fear.

The cause for his excitement had vanished, but that was fine; even if he didn’t have the proof right in front of them, he knew what he’d seen. He brushed a finger over Rael’s cheek and gingerly cradled the side of his face.

“He smiled.” He said, unable to look up quite yet, just in case his son felt like proving the claim.

Given their family’s genetics, it had been a specific topic of research, so he already knew what he’d seen; it would be some time before either of the passengers could potentially smile in response to stimuli, making this little more than practice, but that wasn’t the point. It didn’t matter why Rael had smiled. All that mattered was that he could.

He’d been prepared to teach Rael and Kari how to accommodate for any limitations, but he was so happy that it might not be necessary, after all. Only Rael had demonstrated the ability to flex his facial muscles thus far, but… but the best case scenario was that Kari would be just as lucky.

After months of fearing for the worst, Ingo was ready to hope for the best.

-

Weeks down the line, Kari refused to cooperate for his regularly scheduled nap and, after running through all of his other options, Ingo had resorted to a foolproof method: pacing the length of the apartment while the little boy rested against his shoulder.

What had worked to settle the passengers before still held strong and, in fact, made Emmet’s eyes droop as well as he watched his brother walk back and forth. On the final turn, awareness kicked him in the pants, and he realized what was going on behind his twin’s back. He stood abruptly, and with several hurried yet muted paces, managed to catch up.

At the two urgent taps to his unoccupied shoulder, Ingo slowed to a halt and afforded him his attention.

“Look.” Emmet said, pointing past him, to where Kari dozed.

Ingo glanced at their son, and then back at his brother-- unable to follow the logic until an additional, “At his face,” prompted him to lower Kari into the crook of his arm. His own expression immediately softened, and he shifted so he could cup a hand along Kari’s cheek, admiring the sweet smile playing over his lips.

“Thank goodness.” He murmured, a bit too loud on the beginning, but quickly tempering it to a more acceptable level. Kari’s nose scrunched at the noise and his smile turned into a tiny pout, but he didn’t wake, and, after a moment, he eased back into contentment. To ensure that he didn’t bother him again-- thus risking the entire effort spent pacing Kari to sleep-- Ingo only went on in a whisper, “Thank you for letting me know.”

“It’s important to you. So it’s important to me.” Emmet whispered back, walking with him up to the door; he waited at the threshold while his twin set Kari down for that hard-won nap, eyes lingering on Rael in the meantime, ensuring that nothing seemed amiss.

The door swung after Ingo as he stepped back into the hallway, and he used a heel to block it open-- closed far enough to muffle their speaking voices, but more than enough to hear if someone began to fuss. “Do you suppose we missed it every time he smiled before now? That seems rather unlikely.”

“Maybe he was just waiting. He seemed happy.” Emmet said, moving to lean up against the wall next to his brother.

It earned him a wry, “Of course he was happy; he successfully delayed his nap and earned himself a free ride. I think it’s quite clear who came out on top in this instance.”

“Mmhm.” He hummed, listing to the side so he could bump their shoulders together, “You.”

Ingo breathed out a laugh, tilting his head in concession, “You raise a valid point; I can hardly say I would have done things differently, knowing the outcome.”

He raised his chin-- letting the back of his head rest against the wall-- and stared at the ceiling for a moment, deep in thought. Emmet wouldn’t have interrupted, but then he raised a hand to dash it across the corner of his eye. Without anything else to react to, Emmet had to conclude that it was in response to the most recent development.

“Are you okay?”

“Just relieved.” His twin admitted, “We would have taught them how to function, regardless, but I’m infinitely grateful that they won’t have to struggle to make themselves understood-- in this regard, at least.”

Emmet paused, thinking it over, and then reached out to gently bump the back of his hand under Ingo’s chin, prompting his brother to look at him. When he had the attention he was after, he said, “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard.”

There was a short puff of breath and his twin’s shoulders shook once, in a near-silent laugh. “While I appreciate the sentiment, there’s no need for that. If it had to be one of us, I’m happy to have taken it so none of you had to, instead.”

Barely able to contain an exasperated roll of the eyes, Emmet hummed. “It would be better if no one had to.”

“But would we truly appreciate it, then?” Ingo asked him, gaze drifting away for a second time, physically representing the train of thought that began to stray. “Isn’t it a hollow victory, to reach your terminal, unopposed? How can one find their higher state without facing the adversity it takes to grow?”

“You just finished saying you were grateful they wouldn’t struggle.” Emmet reminded him, intonation perfectly-- and purposefully-- flat.

His twin nodded, which brought his attention back down to earth. “I did, and I am. I don’t think the two statements are contradictory in the slightest; while I’m glad they won’t have to face this particular challenge, themselves, firsthand experience isn't the only way to learn. They’ll be in a position to appreciate something most people would find utterly unremarkable, and that seems like a wonderful ability to have.”

“The smiling or gratitude?”

“Both.” Ingo said simply, stepping away from the door, which allowed it to silently fall shut, just short of latching.

As he trailed behind, Emmet couldn’t help but wonder. He could emote unhindered, and Ingo could find the hidden beauties of the world-- but what would it be like, to have both capabilities at the same time?

…he was happy for the passengers, too.