The difference between Emmet’s previous trip to Lacunosa and the current commute was night and day.

Far from the tense anticipation that held him stiff in his seat as he’d waited to get answers, he found himself in active motion, either in the interest of chasing his brother down before excitement got the better of him, or to explain how the metal behemoth they were riding worked.

If he was honest with himself, it was bittersweet. He’d never known anyone else so enthralled with the rail system. What might they have had, given the opportunity to indulge the interest on the same playing field? He tried not to dwell on it-- not now, at least, when he had more pressing matters to concern himself with.

The passing scenery of White Forest did nothing to hold the boy’s attention-- facilitating his curiosity into the train car they occupied-- but Undella Bay was another story, and he’d darted across the cab to watch it pass by. Was it that the Entralink lacked terrain like this, Emmet wondered, or simply that he hadn’t seen this hypothetical fae shoreline? When they had the chance, they would take a day to visit the beach town, he decided.

When, inevitably, the train dipped into the underground, his twin turned around to sit properly in his seat, eyes roving the lit interior for the umpteenth time, inevitably landing on Sneasler’s ongoing investigation of the hanging straps.

It meant that Emmet was taken somewhat off guard when, instead of pursuing more rail trivia, he asked, “What are your parents like?”

That part wasn’t a new development. Ever since he’d agreed to make the trip up to Lacunosa, he’d used the same wording-- Will and Desi were always ‘your parents’ and never theirs collectively. It made sense, and Emmet couldn’t begrudge him the protective distance; at this point, the title indicated little more than familial descent where he was concerned. Whether or not his twin chose to grant them any other role was purely his decision to make.

In regards to the question itself, he… didn’t quite know how to answer.

Over a month after the fact, Emmet could recognize that he’d been lashing out, acting from a place of anger and betrayal the last time they'd spoken face to face. While he didn’t think he could ever see them the same as he once had, there was a part of him that wanted to preserve what was left, which was why this visit was happening in the first place. He didn’t trust them with his twin, but he also wanted to give them the chance to do better.

“They are verrrry stubborn.” He said, after a pause long enough for his brother to take notice. “But that’s the norm in Lacunosa. It is not inherently a bad thing. They… mean well.”

“Lady Sneasler’s the same.” Said his brother, nodding along as if it was at all equivalent.

Sneasler grunted, sank her chin into the dark cloth she’d tied around her neck that morning, and batted at one of the straps to vent her mock-offense. Not for the first time, Emmet was grateful the other commuters on this car had departed at Undella’s station.

He set that aside for the moment, focusing instead on any last minute advice he could give his sibling. “They will likely treat you with some manner of suspicion. I will attempt to set their minds at ease. But you do not have to take it if they make you uncomfortable.”

The child shrugged and reached up to toy with the bill of his hat, drawing it uncertainly down over his eyes. “Nobody can get along with everybody else. It’s okay if they don’t like me.”

“It’s not.” Emmet said bluntly, but didn’t bother going further in depth, “There are other matters I need to discuss with them. While that happens, you will be free to play with Sneasler and Eelektrik in the garden. If you want to leave early to do so, that is fine by me. I just want you to have faces to put to their names.”

A downward tick of the lips answered that. Both incidentally and against his will, he’d stumbled into learning who Desi and Will were, and was still none too happy about it, but Emmet felt it would be good practice for the future. It had just been in passing-- a speakerphone conversation with Drayden as he had tried to wrestle Durant into compliance for its weekly polishing-- but similar circumstances would inevitably arise from here on out. Not only were people unlikely to withhold information like a name, but many would offer it on a first meeting, secure enough in the barrier between worlds that concern was seen more as paranoia.

“You’re mad at them.” He said, soft and distinctly unhappy, “Because of me.”

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he’d put the pieces together. Emmet hadn’t been particularly subtle about his frustrations, and he knew perfectly well how observant his brother could be when the mood struck.

“I am.” He admitted.

“That’s not fair.”

There was a long silence as Emmet considered how to proceed. “Can I ask for your trust one more time? You do not have all of the information, and I do not feel it’s right to share it with you at this junction.”

“Fine.” His brother said after an equally long hesitation, “Just don’t be mad?”

He gave his head a solemn shake. “I can’t do that. They had a hand in hurting you. To that end, they’ve earned my anger.”

Across the car, he heard Sneasler chirp an affirmation.

“But they’re your caretakers.” The child argued, “They love you.”

“That’s verrrry true.” Emmet said, folding and unfolding his hands so he had something to do. He wondered, for a moment, if this wasn’t at the root of it: if their attention hadn’t been meant for one child, but two. With no secondary recipient, it went from nurturing to suffocating. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t be upset with them. I’m allowed to be angry that they hurt someone I love.”

Another silence followed that declaration.

Eventually, he heard half of a strangled sniffle, and that was all the warning he got before a shuddering seven-year-old pressed himself against his side, face hidden to the rest of the cab.

In a heartbeat, Sneasler was across the car, hovering over her kit and beeping in an attempt at reassurance. She glanced to Emmet for a second, and to his relief, there wasn’t a trace of accusation in it; she seemed just as bewildered as he was.

“Are-- are you alright?” He asked, at a loss for what else to say in the moment.

While there was no audible answer, he felt a stiff nod somewhere in the vicinity of his ribs.

His brain caught back up around that point. “Is this too much? Are you scared?”

There was a stuttering inhalation and a terse shake of the head.

“Then… what?” He asked, unable to fathom what else might have incited the response.

Something like a whine sounded on the breath out as his brother tried to speak, and the boy quickly tamped down on it. Sneasler mimicked the sound sympathetically and knelt down so she could rest her head on his lap, chin cushioned by her makeshift neckerchief. Emmet was inclined not to risk making things worse in such an emotionally charged moment, to allow his brother to pursue whatever contact he was comfortable with for the time and not press, but Sneasler didn’t leave him much of a choice, grabbing his arm and pulling it down around her charge’s slight frame.

It took several minutes before the child was collected enough to manage a muffled, “I don’t k-know. Lady- Lady Sneasler and Gligar say it all- all the time. Why-- why’d it…?”

Emmet’s heart clenched. Had he been the one to cause this? Had he made his brother cry? He wracked his brain for anything he might have said that could be misconstrued, but came up with very few possibilities. They’d been talking about their parents, so maybe the reality just hit home all at once? But no, that didn’t fit with what he was trying to say.

Without anything else to go off of, he had to ask for some kind of a clue. “What is it that Sneasler and Gligar tell you?”

There was a wet semblance of silence for several beats, and then the child tried, “They l-- that they l--” but choked before he could get it out.

That was okay. Emmet thought he got the message this time.

“That they love you?”

Another keen sounded into his chest.

Part of him wanted to tell his brother that there was no need to cry, but it was tempered by the part that couldn’t help but highlight the injustice in it. Let him cry. Let him mourn for the fact that, clearly, he’d felt unloved to some extent-- not because he lacked it entirely, but because he’d never heard that he was loved from someone like him.

Emmet hadn’t even said it properly. He’d called the child someone he loved, but that was so oblique. He could-- and would-- do better.

“It’s okay.” He said for now, giving the child a gentle squeeze, “Take as long as you need.”

After another spate of sniffling, he heard a pathetic little, “Sorry.” and raised his hand up to slide beneath his brother’s hat, gently combing through his hair in what he personally had always felt was a soothing rhythm.

“Not necessary. You need to get those emotions out. My job is to ensure passengers feel safe and comfortable aboard our trains. I’m happy to help. You especially.”

Slowly, his twin’s breathing returned to something approaching normal, and by the time they returned to the track above ground, he’d found it in himself to pull away from his safe haven. Unsteady hands found Sneasler’s cheeks, and he spent the rest of the commute working through her fur like a kneading Sneasel kit, still protected by the arm draped around his shoulders.

Neither of them attempted to restart their conversation, and that was perfectly fine. With a big meeting looming in the near distance, it was a subject best saved for later. While the child’s roving gaze spoke of interest as they passed through Lacunosa’s station, the outburst had certainly put a damper on his enthusiasm for the time being, and he trailed a pace after Emmet without a whisper of resistance.

He was dry-eyed by the time they reached their parents’ house, still firmly attached to his bigger brother’s left side. He’d allowed an arm to stay curled around him on the walk, but as they waited for the door, he readjusted so he could duck behind it instead, insecurity getting the better of him.

It was Will who answered the door this time, attention landing first on Emmet-- as it usually would-- and then dropping to the smaller figure half-hiding behind him. It was difficult to parse the emotions that ran over their father’s face-- not surprise, certainly, when he’d known this was happening, but something like it. There was something sad, too, accompanied by a glimpse of what he thought was fear.

That was confirmed when he glanced beyond the both of them and remembered Sneasler. She wasn’t putting up an active threat display-- yet-- but Emmet could sympathize. She was a large Pokemon with knives for hands. Even if she wasn’t actively trying to look intimidating, it was something she couldn’t avoid entirely.

“I don’t think your mother would appreciate any, uh... new Pokemon in the house.” Will said eventually, voice kept deliberately steady.

Already, Emmet knew what he had to think; he’d assumed much the same, at first. “Sneasler is not a fairy type Pokemon. She is poison and fighting type.” He said, though it was followed by turning to address the Pokemon in question, “But that has been a house rule for some time now. No Pokemon that haven’t been vetted. Would you mind waiting in the garden? He should not be too long.”

The final point was made with a downward flick of the eyes, and he felt fingers dig into the cuff of his sleeve.

Sneasler huffed and reached behind her neck, twisting her wrist as though she was turning a key in a lock. Somehow, that was enough to undo the knot in her makeshift bandana, which promptly flopped down and over her charge’s head, an opaque veil dipping over the brim of his hat. The boy let go with one hand to reach up and collect it, giving it a clumsy fold and then carrying it pressed to his chest.

Stooping down for one last lick to her kit’s cheek, Sneasler leisurely strode past the house and toward its backyard, eyeing Will the entire time he was in her field of vision. He offered her the exact same reception.

Once she was no longer visible, his attention dropped back down to his faelost son. For a moment, his attention lingered on the piece of fabric half-wrapped around a skinny arm.

“You’ve gotten quite big, haven’t you?” Will asked, just shy of uneasily, and Emmet refrained from reaching up to massage a temple.

Was their father being deliberately obtuse? Emmet’s experience with children didn’t go beyond those he encountered at work, but even he had been able to recognize that his twin was small for his age. More than anyone, save for Desi, Will should have seen the child in front of him was orders more fragile than Emmet had been back then.

The child looked to him, unsure how to respond to that, and Emmet couldn’t exactly blame him. Will, at least, seemed to pick up on it and ushered them in without doubling down on his gaffe. For half a second, the boy hesitated at the house’s threshold, but followed once he realized the only other option was idling alone on the porch.

While it was a different parent acting as chaperon, the destination was the same as before. Desi was already waiting, standing behind a chair with her hands curled tensely over its back, the instant they walked in, her eyes were in motion, studying every detail.

Where Emmet might have expected his brother to duck behind him again at the thinly-veiled suspicion, the boy held his ground, looking straight back. Belatedly, it occurred to Emmet that this might be closer to non-aggressive conduct in the Entralink and, thus, less intimidating than the courtesy of being invited into the house.

For lack of any better way to break the ice, Emmet folded a hand around his twin’s shoulder to catch his attention and-- even though he already knew-- said, “These are Will and Desi. They are our parents.”

He caught his mother’s flinch, but had nothing for it. The child would pose no threat in that regard, and demonstrating that he knew her name and had no plans to use it against her had to prove something. Will didn’t seem terribly happy with this development either, but didn’t show it quite so much.

Despite her reservations, their mother offered a low-- gentle, even-- “Hello, there.”

Emmet didn’t bother with the other half of the introduction. There was nothing more for him to say.

At the very least, he was trying to stay civil this time; making an effort not to draw attention to the fact that his parents were only just meeting their nameless son seemed like a step in the right direction. He could keep the peace for his brother’s sake. He could.

“What’s that you’ve got with you?” Will asked after a second, nodding to the length of cloth blending into the child’s lightweight jacket. Strange. He’d given it an odd look earlier, too. What was that about?

The boy automatically followed his sight line and, in response, held it slightly further away from his chest-- not exactly showing it off, but ensuring that it was a bit more distinct than before. “It belongs to Lady Sneasler. I think it’s… like a lucky charm? She lets me hold it sometimes, but I have to be careful.”

“She must trust you a lot.” Their father said softly, attention raising from the fabric to the child’s face.

Wordlessly, the child gave an awkward little half-nod, half-shake-of-the-head, and as luck would have it, Emmet glanced over just in time to catch Desi’s lips twitch in a way he’d often tried to provoke throughout his own childhood.

He spared a moment for the last time he’d been in this room, for the way her voice had broken when he’d asked his sibling’s name, and for the exhaustion that had colored her tone. At the time, he hadn’t had compassion to spare for the people whose choices led to the situation, but in hindsight, he could recognize that she’d been struggling. She’d said, back then, that they couldn’t get attached, but it was growing clearer by the moment that neither of their parents had quite managed that ideal, no matter what they told themselves.

It didn’t change what they’d done, or how much it had hurt his twin, but having acquired a child, himself-- no matter how unconventionally-- there was a flicker of sympathy in Emmet that hadn’t been there before.

Desi’s tiny smile only lasted for a handful of seconds before she remembered that she was supposed to be the token skeptic in the room, at which point she schooled it back down.

Will, however, was making an effort at engaging with the child, guiding them through clumsy small talk. It wasn’t anything terribly notable-- asking after favorite colors, what he did for fun and the like-- but it was something, and Emmet saw no reason to interrupt forward progress of any sort. He only stepped in after a couple minutes of it, once it became clear that the questioning was beginning to ping on his twin’s anxieties.

“It’s okay,” He said softly as they broke away, toward the back door. This would have been a great deal to handle at once anyway, even if his sibling hadn’t had a breakdown on the way up, and so he tried to be extra gentle as he removed them from the situation. “It was not an attempt to trick information out of you. He was trying to be nice.”

The child fidgeted dubiously with Sneasler’s token. “It was a lot of questions, though...”

He nodded, unable to argue against that point. “What do you think he might do with that information? Is it so bad if he knows you like purple?”

It was silent as they passed through the door and, just before Emmet entrusted him with Eelektrik’s pokeball, the boy said, “I don’t know. I guess it’s alright.”

“I will not allow them to do anything nefarious with that knowledge.” Emmet said, hoping his amusement didn’t come across in his voice-- and if it did, his brother didn’t comment on it, too busy releasing an electric eel into the yard. “Will you be comfortable out here while I continue to speak with them?”

Arms already full of a wriggling EleFish, his twin managed to nod over top of it.

“Think about whether you still want to visit Drayden after this, alright? Don’t try to push yourself.”

Around a faceful of rubbery skin, the boy managed, “But I want to meet Druddigon.”

“And Druddigon will still be there to meet next week. He has rarely left Drayden’s side in ten years.” He gave his brother a pat on the shoulder blade, encouraging him to head over to Sneasler. “I’m not saying no. I just want you to be careful.”

The appeal to safety, at least, seemed to get through, and there were no more complaints incoming. Once his sibling was within Sneasler’s perimeter, Emmet allowed himself to head back inside for what he was certain would be an uncomfortable conversation.

He was right, but, oddly, he wasn’t involved in said conversation. Yet.

“-- reason would a fairy have to mimic that?” Will asked, met with mild disbelief from his wife.

“You don’t think it’s suspicious that it had a prop with it? Something you might recognize?”

“He wasn’t the one who brought it here. You heard for yourself that, to him, that blanket belongs to the Pokemon.”

There was something between a sigh and a groan from Desi. “I don’t like it.”

“I hope you are referring to Sneasler’s scarf.” Emmet said bluntly, leaning one shoulder against the entryway.

“We were, actually.” Desi said, her own bluntness undercut by the unease in her voice, “I… find it difficult to believe that, the next time we happened to meet our lost son, he still had that blanket.”

“Blanket?” Emmet asked, politely ignoring the rest of it.

“The baby blanket. The last time we saw your brother, he was wrapped up in it.” That was an interesting way to phrase that. Very passive, as if they’d played no part in why it was the last time they’d seen their child-- but it wasn’t worth the argument when the way Will said it suggested he was was on Emmet’s side.

“I can ask about it at a later date.” Which was true, but likely unnecessary. Sneasler’s motivations seemed quite clear to him. “That would make sense, however. Sneasler has been caring for him since he was verrrry young. She considers him her own. I don’t believe it’s strange that she would keep the blanket she found him in for sentimental reasons.”

Desi’s expression softened at that, just a touch. “But to bring it here?”

“She is somewhat vindictive.” Emmet said plainly.

“That’s… comforting.” Said Will.

Just to really drive it home, Emmet added, “She loves her kit verrrry much.”

When it was met by an exchange of looks, he let it drop and addressed his mother’s primary concern. “You have been in contact with Nimbasa General. You know testing proved that he is human. It sounds like you do not believe that.”

“I—” She turned slightly to glance out the window, watching one figure she wouldn’t recognize, and two she should. It only lasted for a handful of seconds before she averted her gaze, as if worried one of them might look back and catch her in the act. “I don’t know, Emmet. This just seems too perfect.”

“Of course it is. We’re identical. Would you have thought the same if you kept both of us? That we looked too perfectly alike? Would that indicate that one of us had to be a changeling?” He refrained from pointing out that she had actively gone out of her way to have twins, so it was a ridiculous concern.

“Even assuming that he isn’t a fairy...” Desi began after a moment, voice recognizable unsteady-- and while he could respect the emotional impact it was having on her this time around, it wasn’t going to cow him, “It’s impossible that he hasn’t been changed by the Entralink. This won’t come without its price.”

Emmet allowed himself a single, harsh exhalation. “You would know best. He was the price you paid for me.”

“Emmet—”

He gave his head a firm shake, refusing to cede the ground. “You are correct on both parts. He has been changed through no fault of his own. His growth has been severely stunted and he requires half a dozen vitamins every morning to remain in even decent health. He himself told me I had no obligation to help him. Each of those is a portion of the price he is still paying. Any concession I make is simply sharing the burden.”

Desi watched him for several extra seconds and, slowly, shook her head. Almost mournfully, she said, “Whatever you choose, I can’t stop you.”

“You can’t.” He echoed and, in direct opposition to his mother, turned in full to face the window, unconcerned with who might see him. None of them did, and none of them would have noticed Desi, even if she’d dared to keep watching; the two weren’t on any of their radars any longer, the lot of them far more interested in interacting with one another.

Unable to coil around the child as it might its trainer, Eelektrik settled for acting as an unconventional scarf. The boy didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by this decision, and was, in fact, more concerned with tying his old blanket back around Sneasler’s throat. For just a moment, Emmet wished he could see her complete the trifecta: what she might bestow upon the eel, and what part, exactly, she would consider its neck.

For the first time since entering his childhood home, he felt his lips turn on their own accord. It was short lived, however.

Behind his back, there was a soft sigh, and in a tone not so dissimilar from what Emmet had fielded just an hour prior on the green line, “Please… just stay safe. I can’t lose another child to this deal, not for the first time or, supposedly, the second.” and then the sound of retreating footfalls.

His father, however, lingered.

After several minutes spent observing the group from afar, he said, “You’re not in the wrong for fixing our mistake, but for what it’s worth, I am sorry that you have to. The moment I left him there, I knew it was wrong, and desperation isn’t enough to justify our actions.”

Emmet half-turned to regard him: he had one arm folded over his chest, the other threading its fingers through his hair as he, too, looked out into the yard. When he noticed the attention on him, he dropped his hands and took a step away-- not deeper into the house, but toward the door. Recognizing the invitation, Emmet both followed and then overtook him, laying a hand on the doorknob to see how he might react.

Will didn’t step forward to join him, but neither did he make any move to interfere, tucking his arms behind his back. “I hope we’ll be able to rectify this someday; it won’t be the same, but maybe that’s for the better. Look after each other until then, won’t you?”

“We have managed so far.” Emmet answered, opened the door, and made to step through.

His father mirrored the motion, blocking the door open just long enough to say, “We love you.”

Emmet paused, unsure how to respond in that moment. It wasn’t that he couldn’t reciprocate, but it came with baggage that he still hadn’t sorted-- both what he’d been putting off, and those pieces that had been added today. This wasn’t a matter of ‘either or’, though; he was allowed to love both facets of his family, no matter how hard to reconcile… and it was hard to reconcile.

Will wasn’t counting on an answer. He ducked his head in goodbye and unblocked the door, both letting it swing shut, and Emmet off the hook.

Funny. It almost felt like stepping out of Lostlorn for the last time, like the paradigm had shifted.

At the sound of the latch, the garden’s collective focus fell upon him. He made a face back at them and strode over, only to be met halfway.

His brother skidded to a halt in front of him-- Eelektrik swaying with the residual motion-- and looked up expectantly, waiting for some cue as what would happen next.

“We are done for today.” Emmet announced to the garden as a whole, voice carrying far enough for Sneasler to catch it, but not so far that the neighbors might hear. He lowered it in order to add, “Did you decide whether or not you want to visit Drayden?”

The boy hesitated, one hand straying up to fidget with Eelektrik’s tail fin. Emmet didn’t want to talk over him, but could plainly see that he was struggling to find the right words-- which, in and of itself, indicated that the answer had changed.

“Why don’t we try another day?” He said after a moment, giving his twin an out.

Personally, he didn’t think it was a good idea to push the matter; for all that the actual meeting had gone without a hitch, it had still worn on the child’s nerves since that morning, and that was without accounting for the ride over. His anxiety had helped to disguise it before-- even from himself-- but now that he’d been given the chance to calm down a bit, the emotional exhaustion was beginning to show.

“We can complete the green line’s circuit on our way home. That way you can see Opelucid and prepare for it ahead of time. It’s not as big as Nimbasa, but still large.” He paused, considering their route from here. Even if socializing was asking too much, his twin had still done admirably, and a treat was in order. “There is also a cafe on the way back to the station. If we’re not making any other stops, I could be convinced to get you a hot cocoa.”

There was a soft-- and not entirely displeased-- grumble of, “You’re just trying to bribe me.”

“Is it working?”

“...yes.” He said after a beat, and then looked over his shoulder, “Lady Sneasler, too?”

Emmet’s eyes flicked up to the Pokemon in question, who grinned proudly and ruffled her charge’s hat. He angled his head just enough for her to see him roll his eyes.

“Yes, Sneasler too.” He conceded, and then held up a hand to rein her in, “On the condition that her choice is decaffeinated.”

He had no idea what to make of the way she chittered in response, but it made his twin laugh, and Eelektrik rippled its appreciation, so he supposed it could be tolerated.

As the amusement faded, his brother looked back to him, shifting uncertainly. “It’s okay not to go today?”

“It’s okay.” He echoed, hoping it might be soothing, and knelt down to put them at the same level, “It’s verrrry important that you respect your limits.”

“But it took a long time to get here, and we barely did anything.”

“That’s not true. For you, it was a lot. You will be able to handle more and more as you recover, but that will not happen unless you are patient.” He carefully knocked Sneasler’s paw away to slip a hand under his brother’s hat, gently rustling his hair. His other hand found a spot preemptively cupping a shoulder. “Let us take care of you, okay? We love you and want you to get better. I love you, and I’m verrrry grateful that you have allowed me to be part of your life.”

The response this time wasn’t nearly so bombastic. Whether it was the earlier admission or the lead in, it didn’t take his brother by surprise, and instead of bursting into tears, he edged in closer, seeking affirmation on top of what Emmet had said. Emmet was happy to comply, one arm dropping to settle warm against his back, the other guiding him to lean into a shoulder.

He ignored the small damp patch developing in his shirt. It was far less important than the warbling-yet-distinct cadence of, “Love you, too.”