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As the last train for his shift finally reached its final destination, the engine let out its last leaden breath as its tired gears were permitted rest at last. A man dressed in white coat boarded the train, as is standard procedure, flashlight in hand and ready for inspection.
As he walked down the last train, shining the light under the chairs despite the ceiling light’s glare, his thoughts prattle on in the background: Each train has exactly eight cars, and each car is lined by a set of ergonomic, plastic seats, and an admittedly inadequate twenty grab handles between the gangways. While inspections never take long, they have become hollow in the past months. Years, if he could stand to be more honest with himself.
What was once a routine for the twin conductors, was now a duty left for the Emmet alone. And though he could ask any one of the station staff to assist him, the presence of a depot agent in place of his brother would only remind him more of his disappearance.
It didn’t seem like anyone’s left anything today, mused Emmet as he leaned his head to look under the seats. He and Ingo have had great finds in the past, Alolan prints on ironed pressed suits, trinkets and souvenirs left behind by careless tourists. Once, they’d found a schoolbag with a post-it addressed to its finder, its message an amusing: “If you found this, no you haven’t! There’s no homework if there’s no bag!” Fortunately, there was a name tag, and they were able to return the bag to the owner’s bashful parents, and a not-at-all sorry school boy, quite disgruntled by the prospect of homework during the holidays.
As Emmet made his way into the last car and concluded his checks for the night, he heard something fall with a thud. He whipped around, hand flying to Elektross’ pokeball. Some sort of hollow sounding wood, maybe with a buckle attached as it clattered on the floor. His thoughts raced, is this a timed trap by Team Plasma?
Sweeping the floor, his gaze caught on a wooden looking pokeball. These artisanally crafted pokeballs were a rare sight in Unova, practically across the world from Kanto where the dying art resides. His eyes snapped upwards towards the ceiling, where an unnatural shadow grew as it ate away at the light and its surroundings.
And then, a human fell through.
A black station master coat with red stripes, though torn and washed out, black conductor’s hat tumbling next to the man. The shock of grey hair and accompanied by a familiar grunt of pain. Was it really–
“...Ingo?”
His brother responded with a grunt, though he quickly regained his bearings, swiping his hat off the floor and placing it atop his head as he slowly stood up on his feet. “Apologies, it seems that I have been derailed from my station. Would you mind if–”
Two pairs of silver eyes met each other’s gaze.
Emmet’s hand trembled at his sides, taking stock of his brother. His usually pressed white collar shirt was replaced by a woollen purple shirt with a strange symbol on it. His usually straight posture hunched in an almost elderly manner. With great effort, he managed to step forward but as he did, Ingo took a step back almost unconsciously, expression stuck in shock and what Emmet thinks might be fear.
“You’re… the man in white.” Shaking off his stupor and glancing away as Emmet drew closer, Ingo fished out a pokeball and summoned a massive Gliscor to occupy the space between them. “Gliscor use–
“Wait!” Emmet shouted. “Ingo–”
Ingo seemed to falter at the sound of his voice. Gliscor was still glowering menacingly at him, its smile wide and threatening, poised to attack. The frowning man leered at his smiling counterpart through the shade of his cap, and though he didn’t seem to relax, he didn’t call on his pokemon either.
“I am Emmet. I am a Subway Boss.” The words slipped out of him as he searched for the words that never came easy to him. Haltingly, he added, “I have missed you.”
Ingo stepped out from behind the huge wings of the Gliscor. “...You know me.”
Know him?
He tilted his head in acquiescence. “I am Emmet. You are Ingo. We are the Subway Masters of Gear Station. Together you and I form a two-car train. We are currently at Gear Station, performing the safety checks for the last car for tonight.” He took a small step forward, thankfully without drawing a reaction from either trainer nor his new partner. “It has been two years, four months, two weeks and seven days since you were unmoored from these tracks.”
Though he held his expression, he could see the swamp of emotions murkily reflected in those hollow silver eyes. Ingo averted his gaze, voice uncertain despite its loud quality. “I apologise, you do indeed look familiar to me, but… I cannot seem to recall you.”
Emmet felt the fraying strands of panic tug at his gut, threatening him to unravel on the spot. He dug in his mind for words in response, but any words he grasped slipped back into the noise of long memorised public service announcements that played during opening hours. In the event of an emergency, please remain calm and await further instruction from our station staff; If you encounter a confused or missing person, please direct them to the nearest station and inform the nearest staff, we are always happy to help!
“....It’s alright,” he said, but it felt like swallowing around a mouthful of ash. “I’ll escort you to the station and we will make a report, get you checked up–” Two years, and yet Ingo looked like he’d aged a decade. “–And from there, we will figure out what to do.”
Ingo seemed convinced enough, patting the now calmer Gliscor as it returned the fallen pokeball into Ingo’s outstretched hand. He recalled the flying pokemon to its own ball and tucked them both securely along his belt. Emmet finally found himself standing in front of his brother. Nothing obstructing in between them.
His hands were sweating through his gloves. They were shaking too. In fact, his whole body was shaking. Deep breaths, remain calm, Emmet practised, and when he opened his eyes– he felt tears dripping out of them and onto his shoes. He wiped them away profusely, his mind still stifling the panic and relief, though it wasn’t successful if his bodily reactions weren’t obvious enough. He urged his body to say something to apologise, but all that came out was a warbling wail.
“...Could I give you a hug?” Ingo said, to which he could only manage a shaky nod before he was surrounded by warmth.
The tears came flooding. His arms wound themselves tightly around Ingo’s torso as he burrowed his head into his shoulder. He hadn’t known the sheer weight of emotions he was holding onto as it surged forth all at once. Knees weak with relief, desperation, and the utter terror of the prospect of losing his brother again, Emmet found himself being supported by his brother, rubbing soothing circles into his back. He burrowed his head into his brother’s shoulder, as he choked on the messy swarm of emotions made palpable, but Ingo was home at last. Ingo was home.
For a while, they stood there, trembling in each other’s embrace. Despite Ingo not remembering him, he clung to the coat as tightly as Emmet did on his.
Then, with a crackle. “Hello? Boss Emmet, do you copy?”
Reluctantly, he pulled himself from Ingo as he fished for the radio in his pocket and held it to his mouth. Copy, he croaked, but no sound came out. He cleared his throat. “...copy.” the word barely audible despite his efforts
“Boss Emmet?” Ramses repeated, though it sounded significantly more concerned. “Have you concluded with the safety checks? Is there something going on in there? We don’t have a good visual in the train or outside of it. It’s all static.”
“... I found Ingo.” He wheezed out. There’s a sharp gasp from the other end. “Fell through a portal. Cause of disruption.”
“Boss Ingo’s back?” Emmet nodded, though he belatedly realised he couldn’t see him.
“Call police, ambulance.” None of the words were quite coming out the way he wanted them to, but the message should be clear enough. “Will be back– soon.”
“Copy that.” And the radio went silent with a beep.
Emmet shifted his attention back onto Ingo, and found himself lost for words yet again. Despite his lack of verbal instruction, Ingo nodded as though he did, following after the man in white as he allowed Emmet to lead. On unsteady legs, Emmet led his brother out of the train car. He knew there was more trouble to come, what with the media and the legal trouble around missing persons and the mysterious portal that had since closed off without a trace, but the worst of it was over.
At last, Ingo was finally home.