That was all well and good, but Ingo used his for its classic purpose, and he could not find it.

 

He was so careful about keeping it tucked safely behind his mask when they were out and about and conflict could arise at any moment, but he’d never seen any reason to keep it on his lack-of-person at home. His mistake because, apparently, mediating an argument between Crustle and Archeops counted.

 

The other Pokemon helped him look, tearing through the apartment in search of the stone, just as afraid as their late trainer. Yamask were a well documented species, from their grim origins to their lingering humanity and the fact that they remembered who they’d been in life. Living as one such creature was different, but not unthinkable. Cofagrigus… were a different story. It was an accepted fact that Cofagrigus not only lost their unique memories, but any recollection of having been human in the first place.

 

Ingo had already lost all sense of self once; suffice to say, he was not eager to take the next logical step.

 

Thus, the collective mad dash through the apartment, trying to find his everstone before the pulse where his heart should have been grew any more powerful. It might have been a comfort, a reminder of his time as a living creature, if he hadn’t already known what it meant.

 

He didn’t want to evolve. He didn’t want to risk the life he’d regained, the family he’d finally found. In theory, he could have rejected evolution outright, but he didn’t have that instinct or knowledge-- since his first scare, the only thing holding it at bay had been the everstone.

 

The edges of his vision went starburst-white and he accidentally scattered a collection of documents in his haste to check over the desk. Humming nervously, he backed off and tried to fight the sensation down, but in focusing, it just made it that much more undeniable-- and once he was fixated on it, there was no turning away, not unless he wanted to let go and evolve on the spot.

 

He felt sturdy wrought iron arms curve around him, and a warm bulk huddling in close. Somewhere in the fog of it all, steel claws deposited a familiar weight behind his mask, but for all he appreciated Excadrill’s success, it was too little too late.

 

It was a surprise to open his eyes again, knowing who and what he was.

 

The Pokemon surrounding him looked on with a tentative sort of hope. Chandelure’s arm was still braced along his back, Haxorus boxed him in and Excadrill tapped her claws nervously. Archeops, Garbodor, Klinklang and Crustle formed a secondary ring, unable to get closer, but were still paying careful attention to what was going on.

 

Ingo lifted a hand and stared at it for several seconds. He had four of them now, a distant part of him noted, which was nice, because he could use them to reach out to multiple Pokemon at once. There was an immediate uproar when he put this plan into motion, and a scramble to crowd in as far as they could. Their voices were distinct enough to pick out one by one, but all said the same thing: how relieved they were that he still knew them, how afraid they’d been, and how sorry they were to have been unable to prevent this.

 

The last point was kind of them, but it was his own fault. He felt terrible for worrying them, and--

 

Sinnoh above, how was he going to communicate this to Emmet?

 

---

 

Historically, Ingo wasn’t one to sleep in, which had made the past three mornings noteworthy. Being that they had work, Emmet hadn’t had any choice but to rouse the lethargic Yamask, but today they were off, and so he’d let his brother rest.

 

There had to be a reason for it, even if it wasn’t immediately discernible. Maybe he’d been using too much energy on the subway lately, or there was a Lampent neither of them had noticed, feeding from him. It could have been down to something as simple as size-- he was so much smaller than he used to be that maybe the pace they’d always kept was unsustainable. The list of options was long and varied.

 

Or-- Emmet thought, as he wandered through the apartment on his return, trying to figure out where everyone was-- maybe it had been something much more pressing.

 

He heard his name, lower and creakier than it should have been, and his blood ran cold. Breaking into a sprint, he rounded the corner and found his answers.

 

Maybe Ingo had been tired because his body was saving up the energy to evolve.

 

He staggered another step forward, one hand clasped over his mouth as if to contain the scream of grief building in his throat, and Archeops and Klingklang moved aside to let him. No, no, no. He’d just gotten his twin back, he couldn’t lose him again-- not like this. Not without even the chance to do something to help, to say goodbye.

 

Elesa called something down the hallway, but he didn’t process the words. He took another few steps without knowing why, the Pokemon parting to allow him forward, until, finally, he landed himself right in front of the Cofagrigus that had once been his brother. Too consumed with sorrow to notice the worry in its eyes or the way its four arms tentatively hovered around him, he felt himself wobble and stopped fighting against both gravity and his grief.

 

Hurried footsteps made their way down the hall. That fact seemed largely irrelevant, given the circumstance.

 

As he slid down to his knees, something touched his back, steadying him, and the rough version of Ingo’s voice spoke again, gently; the only thing Emmet could make out past the roaring in his ears was his name, and that was swiftly followed by a scream from the opposite side of the room.

 

One of the things-- arms, he belatedly realized, following one to its source-- reached to cradle his face.

 

“It’s okay, Emmet” Ingo repeated, slow, laborious, and exactly what he’d been telling him before, “I'm still here.”