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.