Chapter Text
It was a known phenomenon that some twins born in Unova had the ability to temporarily fuse their bodies together into one body. It was extremely rare, and therefore not much was known about the how and the why, other than some vague theory about the Twin Dragons. But it was a known phenomenon, and it was also known that the Battle Subway Bosses were born with this ability.
They did not have all that much use for it. Sure, the ability to share thoughts and emotions directly was nice, but it wasn’t like they needed it to guess what the other was thinking or feeling. They had made more frequent use of it when they were young, for pranks, showing off, or when things got a little bit too much for one of them and wanted to hide inside the other for a while. Now that they were adults, there were fewer reasons to pull it out.
Regardless of its actual utility, however, Ingo was very grateful that they had the ability. He was sure that the fusing was the only reason Emmet’s touch was not uncomfortable for him. Ingo’s touch aversion had always been strong, and had only grown worse as they grew up. Business touches - handshakes and doctor’s exams and such - were uncomfortable enough, but any form of affectionate touch had his skin crawl and stomach churn. It spared no one else - not Elesa, his and Emmet’s best friend, and not Drayden, their uncle who raised them from childhood. Even their Pokémon were difficult on bad days.
But Emmet was different. Contact with Emmet was comfortable. Good. And as close they were, as much as they loved each other, Ingo knew that none of that actually mattered when it came to his touch issues. If he could overcome it by being close to someone, by loving someone, then surely the repulsion would have at least lessened for Elesa or Drayden. He loved them as much as he could love anyone that wasn’t his brother, and yet he couldn’t even hold their hand without wanting to throw up. So Ingo knew it had to be the fusion. Something about the process must have convinced his brain that Emmet’s body was no different than his own even when they were unfused.
Emmet could do it, make people he loved into his exceptions. (That was the wrong way to phrase it. It wasn’t something they had control over, not for Emmet and definitely not for Ingo.) Emmet’s touch aversion was much milder than Ingo’s in general, and it disappeared completely for people he was close to. Emmet could touch Elesa or Drayden or some of the senior Depot Agents or Iris, Skyla, Clay, their other friends and family friends.
And through Emmet, Ingo could experience hugging them. If he fused with Emmet and got completely out of the driver’s seat, fully riding as a passenger in their shared body, he only felt what Emmet felt. Elesa’s tight hugs with the faintest touch of static, Drayden’s rib-crushing full-body hugs, Iris’s enthusiastic jumping hugs. Without Emmet, Ingo would never have experienced any of them.
Ingo never got to hug them back, of course. Emmet hugged them back, and Ingo could feel their shared muscles move as he did, but it wasn’t quite the same. The only person he could properly hug was Emmet. It was a good thing they loved each other as much as they did. It was a good thing that Emmet preferred Ingo’s touch over everyone else’s, despite actually having options. It was a good thing he had Emmet.
5:50 AM. Wake up with his alarm. Get out of bed, say good morning to Emmet (already up and tending to his Joltik), go to the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. Put bread in the toaster, but don’t press the button (that’s Emmet’s job). Fetch two plates from the cupboard and an apple from the pantry, cut the apple into slices, and put half onto each plate.
6:00 AM. Emmet comes out from the bathroom, and it’s Ingo’s turn to clean up and shave. Smells of coffee and fresh eggs start coming from the kitchen. Stare at his face in the mirror for the extra minute he has.
6:10 AM. Rejoin Emmet in the kitchen. Emmet has the eggs and toast plated next to the apple slices, coffee poured into mugs. Take the plates and mugs to the table and eat breakfast.
6:25 AM. Put plates and mugs in the dishwasher, go to his room, get dressed. Retrieve Xtransceiver from the charger and put it on his wrist. Check wallet, keys, Pokémon.
6:40 AM. Join Emmet in the living room. Put on coat and hat. Everything’s ready. Leave the apartment and head over to Gear Station. Arrive by 6:50, ready to start the day.
That was their workday morning routine, and it had hardly changed for the last few years. Emmet had always had difficulty dealing with unplanned changes in the schedule, and this was one of the coping mechanisms they had developed. They couldn’t control what happened during the day; there were always emergencies, sudden detours, something unforeseen coming up that needed them to reroute.
But the mornings, that hour between waking up and going to work, were entirely theirs. Putting all focus into getting the morning routine perfect let Emmet cope with any deviations later in the day. And if that meant putting in extra redundancy time for every stop on their routine, if it subsequently meant Ingo waking up to a blaring alarm fifteen whole minutes earlier than necessary (Emmet woke up even earlier than Ingo, and he didn’t need the alarm to wake up on time – a trait that Ingo sorely envied), if it meant eating the same breakfast day after day, Ingo was more than happy to go along with it.
However, minor disruptions were allowed, as long as all the stations were reached on schedule— that was what the redundancy time was for, after all. The disruption of that day happened as Ingo was putting on his Xtrans. There was a message for him, sent in the middle of the night, from Elesa. That in itself was no cause for alarm - she was currently attending an event in Sinnoh, and middle of the night for them wasn’t middle of the night for her.
The contents, on the other hand, had Emmet barging into Ingo’s room, five minutes ahead of their designated departure time.
“I am Emmet. Elesa says she is returning to Unova. Today.”
“Yes, she texted me too,” Ingo said, lifting his Xtrans as way of demonstration.
“Why today? Her arrival was scheduled for the day after tomorrow.”
“I don’t know, but she will most likely inform us when we see her.” Ingo frowned, taking another look at her message. She had asked them to come to her apartment that evening. Her asking for a last-minute schedule change like this was also unusual. Something had happened in Sinnoh, something significant enough that she had cut her trip short by two whole days.
“Yes. We are going over to her place after work. We were supposed to get groceries.”
“We can get groceries afterwards. There will be time.”
“Yes,” Emmet shuddered, and closed his eyes. Ingo immediately rushed over to his side and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
“Try not to worry too much, Emmet. Elesa can take care of herself, and we will know all about it soon.”
Emmet nodded and gave Ingo’s hand a pat before heading to the door. Ingo followed him, trying to take his own advice to heart.
They had called Elesa during their lunch break. She had sounded tired, saying that her plane had just landed.
“I’m all right. But there’s something important I have to tell you. Not urgent, but. Important. You two can come over this evening, right?”
The afternoon shift seemed to go on forever, but it eventually ended, and Ingo and Emmet were being ushered into Elesa’s apartment. Elesa looked terrible— for her standards at least. Her makeup was only a little smudged, and her well-honed grace masked the tension in her stance, but Ingo knew her well enough to see through it.
So did Emmet, who as soon as they entered the apartment turned around to gather Elesa in a hug. Elesa threw her arms around Emmet’s neck, a sob breaking through her lips. Ingo placed a hand on Emmet’s back, as close to Elesa’s arm as he could stand.
“It’s okay. I’m okay,” she eventually said, taking a step back and running a hand over her face.
“Forgive me, Elesa, but you are obviously distressed. What happened?”
“Yup. You are verrry not okay.” Emmet said, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Are we fighting anyone? If someone hurt you, I will fight. And I will win.”
“No, nothing like that! I’ll tell you everything. Just… sit down.”
She gestured them towards the kitchen table, which had several stacks of paper and some books neatly laid out on it. Ingo peered at the nearest stack as he sat. It seemed to be a printout of an article about some old settlement in Sinnoh. Emmet was also looking at the papers in bemusement when Elesa started to speak again, instantly getting both of their attention.
“So. You guys know I was in Jubilife this week.”
“For that event thing, yes.”
“Well, after the main ceremony was over, the event organisers took the out-of-region guests on a tour of the city.” Elesa’s voice was even, but the agitation in her stance was clear even across the table. “There was a museum. A small one. It was about the history of Jubilife, focusing on the founding of the city. Three hundred years ago.”
She took a shuddering breath and reached for a small booklet, some kind of catalogue.
“And I saw… This photo.”
She opened the booklet to a marked page and held it out to them. Ingo almost bumped his head against Emmet’s as they both leaned in to see it.
Maybe he really had bumped his head. Maybe he had run into the wall on his way here, or had tripped and fallen on the doorstep. Maybe he had never woken up that morning and was still asleep in his bed.
Because there was no way he could be actually seeing what he thought he was seeing.
Sudden pressure. Emmet had grabbed his hand in a death-grip. Ingo barely had attention to spare for the pain. His eyes were glued onto the face in the photo.
His face in the photo. There was no mistaking it, especially with the familiar hat and coat. (The hat and coat he was wearing even at that exact moment. They hadn’t thought to take it off.) He knew that resting frown, the small crease between the eyebrows.
For once in their lives, Emmet found his voice before Ingo did.
“Elesa. What? …How??”
“The caption says it’s a photo of someone called Warden Ingo,” she said quietly. Her voice wavered a bit on the name, but she continued, “He ran the Training Grounds in Jubilife Village, which the historians think was sort of like a proto-Gym. He belonged to the Pearl Clan, one of the old Sinnoh tribes, but he wasn’t originally from Sinnoh. He just appeared out of the blue one day, wearing strange clothes, with mannerisms that didn’t fit in at all.”
The world blurred out for a second, but the grip on his hand somehow tightened even more, and the sharp pain brought Elesa’s voice back into focus.
“Everyone back then was so afraid of Pokémon, but he was so familiar with them. He taught everyone in Jubilife how to train them. How to battle with them. He—”
Elesa finally started crying, her tearful gasps breaking up her next words, but they were still coherent. Too coherent. He couldn’t even hope that he’d heard them wrong.
“He’d lost his memory. The only thing he knew was his name. He had no idea how he’d ended up there, where he had come from. He had no idea if… he’d had any family…”
“No.” Emmet’s whisper scraped across Ingo’s consciousness. “No no no—”
“I found out everything I could,” Elesa said, and in his peripheral vision Ingo saw her indicate the paper piles and books. (His eyes were still glued onto the photograph. His photograph.) “Just plain ignored the rest of the event. They must have thought I was crazy. I thought I was crazy. I researched until… I couldn’t bear it anymore, I had to talk to you. If anyone would know it’s you two. Please tell me I’m mistaken. Please tell me it’s your ancestor or something. Please…”
Ingo finally (finally) succeeded in tearing his eyes off the photo as Emmet lunged at him, his hands digging into Ingo’s coat and shirt, his whole face a wordless scream. Ingo buried his face in Emmet’s shoulder. He was shaking. They were both shaking.
“What happened to him?” He couldn’t say me. His voice sounded like it was coming from so far away. “Did he ever… Did he… Did he die in Sinnoh?”
“No one knows,” Elesa replied, also sounding distant. “There don’t seem to be many records at all, outside of a very narrow time period. The only reason this particular period was so well documented was, was because of the, the space-time rifts that appeared around Mount Coronet. Rifts that brought Pokémon and items from the future to Old Sinnoh.”
“Pokémon. Items. And… people.”
“Yes,” Elesa whispered. And if she said anything more, it was drowned by the rushing in his ears. The world fell away, and the only thing holding him in place was Emmet, Emmet’s arms around him, the only arms he could ever find comfort in, and he was going to lose them, lose Emmet, he was going to forget Emmet and Elesa and Emmet and their Pokémon and Emmet and their Subway and Emmet and Emmet and Emmet—
“No.”
The voice was quiet, but it cut through the raging storm in his head. Everything stilled. There was only the voice.
“I am Emmet. I like winning more than anything else. I will not lose Ingo. I will fight.”
The world hung in absolute silence for a heartbeat.
“And I will win.”
Then the storm rushed back all at once. Ingo lost consciousness in his brother’s arms.
Waking up was painful. It always was after shutting down like that, a throbbing pain in his head and every muscle in his body stiff as a board. He groaned, and the thing below his head shifted slightly.
“Welcome back, Ingo! Your engines have been idle for three hours and twelve minutes.”
He was lying on Elesa’s couch, his head resting on Emmet’s legs. His coat and hat had been removed, and Emmet’s coat was draped over him as a makeshift blanket.
“You should drink some water. Can you sit up?”
Another groan escaped his lips. His limbs felt so weak, but Emmet was cradling his shoulders, gently helping him up. Ingo shifted his body so that he was sitting beside Emmet, half leaning into him, and pressed a hand against his aching head. Something was pressed into his other hand – a cup of water. It was lukewarm, but it was the most refreshing thing he could imagine. Ingo drank it down gratefully.
Only then did his mind clear somewhat, and his heart lurched. The empty cup rolled across the cushions as he desperately grabbed Emmet’s hands.
“Emmet. Emmet…”
“It is all right, Ingo. Relax.”
“How could this be all right? I’m going to be thrown to the past. I’m going to forget everything. I’m going to lose you.”
“You will not lose me. And I will not lose you. I have a plan.”
There was a steely glint in Emmet’s eyes. He gestured towards the coffee table in front of them, and Ingo belatedly realised that Elesa’s printouts and books were spread all over it. Elesa herself was sitting on the floor across the table. She gave him a small smile and a wave when he looked towards her.
“Hey, Ingo. I’m sorry to have dropped that on you like that.”
“I don’t think there was a good way to tell me about this,” Ingo said with a sigh. “Time travel. What am I supposed to do about time travel? Go fight a god?”
“That is one of the plans, yes.”
Ingo looked at Emmet, and Emmet looked back, nothing but seriousness in his smile.
“Go fight a god. That is your plan.”
“One of the plans. Verrry much one of the backup plans. Only if the main plan fails.”
“And what is this main plan of yours?”
Emmet leaned back, looking up at the ceiling.
“Elesa. Tell him what you told me. About time travel and history.”
“Right. So, while I was in Sinnoh, my sudden obsession with Sinnoh history apparently caught the Sinnoh Champion’s interest. She’s super into history and mythology, so she decided to come talk to me. I told her about you, I guess I’m sorry I did that without permission but I was still freaking out at that point, and it turns out she knows a lot about time travel as well because Sinnoh’s mythology is so closely connected with Dialga. She… she said that there was nothing anyone could do about it, though. Because what’s happened has already happened, time travel and all, and that can’t be changed.”
“So!” Emmet grabbed the museum catalogue and spread it open in front of them. Ingo couldn’t quite look at the photograph again even as Emmet jabbed a finger onto it. “We know that someone with your face, using your name, falls through time and ends up in Hisui. That is something that has to happen, because it already has happened.”
“Hisui?”
“What Sinnoh was called back then. Not relevant. The point is, someone with your face has to go. But you are not the only one with your face.”
“Emmet…” Ingo passed a hand over his eyes and took in a long breath through his nose. “I do appreciate the sentiment, truly. But the person in that photo is clearly me. You can’t pretend to be me well enough to fool both of us. Not even if you practise for years.”
“That is correct! And not the plan. Because if I get sent to the past instead of you, we would still lose each other. That is not a win.”
“Then what is— ”
Ingo stilled as realisation crashed over him.
“Emmet. You can’t do this. We can’t do this.”
“Why not? This ‘Warden Ingo’ has your frown, so you have to end up in Hisui. Nothing says you have to end up in Hisui alone.”
“The history books don’t say that Warden In— that the Warden has a twin. He didn’t know that he had – has – family. That means there’s a good chance we won’t realise that we’re two people, Emmet. And twin fusion is a purely Unovan phenomenon, so in old Sinnoh there will not be any external sources to learn about it. If we get sent to the past while fused, we might never unfuse again.”
“Never unfusing means we never lose each other. That satisfies the win condition.”
“Emmet. No. The Warden uses my name. The Warden emotes like me. If we forget that you’re there, if I forget that you’re there, you might just end up as a passenger in our body, nothing but a voice in my head—”
“That is better than the alternative! Being a voice in your head is still being with you! That is still winning!”
“No it is not! Elesa! Tell him! Stop him!”
Ingo turned to her. She was smiling, but Ingo knew all about smiles. It was the saddest smile he had ever seen on Elesa’s face.
“Ingo. Sweetie. Emmet and I have already had this conversation.”
“And you agree with him?!”
“Not that him being a ‘voice in your head’ is in any way a victory, no. But I’ve known the two of you for a long time. Being separated would destroy you. Both of you. And I know how much you love him, Ingo. I also know how strong Emmet is. You’ll figure it out. Even without your memories, the two of you will figure it out eventually. And I do think that’s better than the alternative.”
Tears started flowing down her face as she pulled up her knees, wrapping her arms around them. Emmet was by her side in an instant. She shuddered and shifted herself a little closer to him.
“I’ll lose both of you. I’ll miss you so much. But I’d rather be alone and know that you two are together, rather than see one of you rust away in front of my eyes.”
She put her face between her knees and started crying.
Ingo knelt beside her, feeling horribly useless. She was hurting, hurting so much for their sake. He hesitated, gritted his teeth, and reached forward. Forced himself to ignore the rising nausea at the mere thought of contact. The least he could do was to offer comfort.
And maybe, this time, just this time it might work. He loved her so much, she was so important to him, maybe this time the contact might not make him want to claw his skin off, maybe the rising nausea wouldn’t be that bad—
But Emmet’s hand closed around his wrist before he could touch her. The motion must have caught Elesa’s attention. She raised her head to glare at Ingo’s outstretched arm.
“Don’t. You think I want you to put yourself through that? I love you, you Drifloon.”
“Elesa…”
All the fight left Ingo in an instant, his arm hanging limp in Emmet’s grip.
“Fine. Help me hug her, Emmet.”
Emmet looked at him, and Ingo was a little annoyed by the surprise in his eyes, although he supposed it was justified after the argument they just had. Emmet at least didn’t ask him if he was sure. He shifted towards Ingo, and Ingo reached for him, and they let themselves fall into each other.
The moment his body became their body, Ingo pressed himself as far back into their shared mind as he could. Emmet waited an extra second to make sure that Ingo was completely out of the way, then drew Elesa back into their arms. Elesa hiccuped and clung back to them, rubbing her tears into their shirt.
“Ingo loves you too, Elesa,” Emmet said. “I love you. We are so sorry about all this.”
“Shut up. This affects you two much more than it does me.”
“I can still be sorry.”
“Then I forgive you,” Elesa whispered, then with a sudden burst of movement clutched their arm. (Her hand was so warm. Her fingers were so firm and yet so delicate. Her grip was so strong.) “Promise me, Emmet. Promise me that you’ll keep fighting. That you won’t let yourself stay just a passenger in that body.”
“I will not remember, Elesa,” Emmet said. Ingo could feel the tremble in their voice as he spoke.
“I don’t care. Promise me anyway.”
Emmet ducked their head, resting their forehead against Elesa’s shoulder for a moment before raising it again.
“I am Emmet. I promise I will do my best.”
She sighed and shuffled away from them, pulling her hand back, just far enough so that they were no longer touching.
“And Ingo? You promise me too. Take care of Emmet. I know you’ll do that anyway, with or without memories, but promise me.”
Emmet made room for him as Ingo brought himself slightly forwards, enough to access their mouth.
“I promise, Elesa.”
She nodded, rubbing tears out of her eyes.
“Then you’ll succeed. You’ll figure it out. I trust both of you.”
They returned home still fused. They could tell that Elesa wanted them to stay the night, but she did not ask them to, and they could not offer. Staying over would disrupt the next day’s morning routine from the very first step, and Emmet could not afford that, especially not on top of everything else.
Ingo also needed to talk to his brother, alone. They did not need to speak aloud to communicate, not when their minds were brushing up against each other so closely, but it would have been rude to have a silent conversation in front of Elesa. He also preferred to use spoken words whenever possible, especially for important conversations as this would no doubt be.
And Emmet liked feeling him talk. Their individual voices were practically identical, and so their fused voice also was, but Ingo pitched it lower and louder than Emmet did. Emmet called it resonant. Emmet said he loved how it vibrated their chest and throat.
Ingo hoped it would help calm Emmet down. Because, now that their minds were coupled together, Ingo could feel how terrified his brother was. He really shouldn’t have needed to fuse to realise that. The tells had been there, clearly visible to anyone who knew Emmet well, and Ingo had been too caught up in his own panic to realise.
He kept up a stream of random chatter on their way back, both coats slung over their arms and both hats held in their hands. Luckily it was late enough that no one was around to hear him apparently talk to himself. Emmet knew Ingo was deliberately trying to distract him (he couldn’t not know) but he accepted the comfort without resistance.
Once they arrived back at their place, Ingo sat them down on their couch without turning on the lights, dropping hats and coats beside them. The darkness was soothing against their tired eyes.
We should go to bed, Emmet thought at him. (The thoughts were in Emmet’s voice, but more concept than words. Ingo turned them into words anyway, because translating his brother’s ideas into words was what he did.) Neither of them made any attempt to stand their body up. Ingo closed their eyes and leaned back against the cushions, tilting their head so that it rested on the back of the couch.
“Emmet. I apologise. I have been a poor brother to you this evening.”
The denial rushed through their mind in a flood.
You were not. It was overwhelming for both of us.
“And yet you tried to comfort me, while all I did was argue. When you were proposing to sacrifice so much for me.”
Not a sacrifice. It is as Elesa said. I will not survive without you.
“And I will not survive without you,” Ingo said, letting out a long breath. “Perhaps we really should have done something about our co-dependency problems.”
Emmet’s harsh laugh echoed in their mind. That train would never have left the station. We are twins with the Dragons’ Blessing. Co-dependency is expected from us.
“That does not mean it is healthy.”
It is what we have. It is what we are. Would you change us?
“No!” The answer was automatic, but Ingo’s thoughts were churning. “...Maybe. If it would spare you sharing my fate. If it would save you—”
“Ingo.”
The shock of it was enough to derail Ingo’s train of thought. It wasn’t just that Emmet had literally taken over their mouth mid-sentence. Emmet didn’t like speaking out loud when they were fused, only did so out of necessity or courtesy when other people were around.
“...I am listening, Emmet.”
It took Emmet a few moments to work out his words. Ingo could see the shapes of the thoughts forming in their shared mind, but he purposefully did not parse them, waiting for his brother to voice them himself.
“I would go with you. Even if we could survive apart. I would still give up my memories. Still give up this life. Give up my body, if the tracks lead that way. Because I do not want you to be alone. Because I love you.”
The tears rolling down their face belonged to both of them. Emmet grasped at the skin over their heart with their left hand, fingernails digging through their shirt. Neither of them cared about the pain.
“Maybe the Dragons. Knew. Gave us this. On purpose. So we would not be. Split apart. As They have.”
Ingo could feel how choked up their throat was, how hard Emmet was working to force each sentence fragment out. His brave, strong brother had been operating at full throttle for too long, trying to keep himself together all evening so that he could reassure Ingo, and was now heading rapidly towards an emergency stop. Still somehow finding the strength to choke out those extra words.
“Ingo. We are. Two-car train. Always. Same tracks. Please?”
“Of course,” Ingo whispered, and with their throat so raw and stiff, it actually did come out as a whisper. “Of course, Emmet.”
“Then. We. Arrrre. Do. Doing—”
“Yes, Emmet. We are doing this.” It really had been decided already, but the verbal confirmation still felt like a milestone. “Wherever, whenever I end up, you are coming with me. Our cars will never come uncoupled.”
Emmet released all hold on the body. The suffocating pressure in their chest and windpipe lifted. Their left hand fell into their lap, and Ingo gently shook it out, massaging the cramping fingers and wrist with their right hand. Emmet had latched on hard; Ingo wouldn’t have been surprised if he had drawn blood.
I am sorry, Emmet said, his mental voice reflecting his exhaustion. Ingo shook their head.
“No more than paint scratches.”
Any change on their shared body would also be reflected on their individual bodies. The stiffness in their hand would also remain even after they unfused.
Emmet caught that thought and sent a strong wave of reluctance at him.
I am Emmet. I do not want to unfuse.
“We do have to go to bed very soon. We are behind schedule as it is.”
We can sleep like this.
Ingo frowned. It had been quite a while since they had last slept fused. They would get used to it again – would need to get used to it again – but now really wasn’t the time to make even more deviations from their routine.
Emmet winced at the thought of more deviations, but he stubbornly dug his mental heels in. Ingo sighed even as their eyes crinkled in fondness.
“Emmet. Unfuse so that I can hug you?”
There was a short hesitation, but eventually Emmet acquiesced, and then Ingo was in his own body with Emmet beside him. He immediately turned to wrap his arms around his brother, cradling Emmet’s head against the crook of his neck with a hand and rubbing out the tension in his back with the other. Emmet leaned against Ingo, his fingers digging into Ingo’s shirt.
They stayed like that for a long while. The hour was steadily getting even later, and Emmet, whose internal clock was much more accurate than Ingo’s, must also have been verrry aware of it. But every time Ingo started to pull away, Emmet whined in protest and Ingo immediately replaced his hands.
It was over half past two when Emmet finally drew away. He looked at Ingo for a moment before his eyes lost focus.
“We did not get groceries tonight.”
Emmet’s voice was raspy, the words barely audible, but Ingo never had any trouble understanding his brother.
“That’s okay. We can do it tomorrow.”
“That would derail tomorrow’s schedule.”
Understanding also included knowing that Emmet’s fixation with the schedule was never about the scheduled events themselves. Ingo closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Emmet’s.
“A major rerouting would be necessary anyway. Not just for tomorrow. I’m sorry.”
It was both an expression of sympathy and an apology. Emmet of course caught the second meaning immediately.
“Not your fault.”
“Perhaps not, but you cannot deny that I am the cause of these derailings.”
“Not you. Us.”
Ingo hummed, not wanting to argue. Emmet probably knew that he wasn’t convinced, but instead of pressing the point like Ingo half expected him to, Emmet sighed and leaned back on the couch.
“We will have to reroute everything. New schedules. New stations and new rails.”
“We have done it before. We’ll do it again.”
Emmet gave a tired nod, then closed his eyes.
“And tomorrow – today – is already derailed. We have three hours to sleep.”
Ingo was still holding Emmet’s hand. He gave it a firm squeeze.
“Emmet. I have a proposal to make.”
Emmet’s eyes remained closed, but he squeezed Ingo’s hand back. Ingo continued,
“We take tomorrow off. Neither of us will be in any condition to work anyway. We do the morning routine and then go back to bed for another few hours. Go out for lunch, then go over to Elesa’s, and at least start drafting the new schedules and protocols. Afterwards, we will take Elesa to dinner, and get groceries on the way back. Is this acceptable?”
Emmet had started tensing again the moment Ingo said ‘take tomorrow off’. A distressed whimper escaped his lips. Ingo rubbed his thumb over the back of Emmet’s hand.
“Yes, I know, I know. But we really would not function well at work like this.”
“And the faster the new protocols are in place, the safer you would be.” Emmet’s whisper was brittle. “It is… necessary.”
Emmet slumped to the side, collapsing against Ingo. Ingo started to speak more reassurances, but Emmet let out a small sound, and Ingo immediately stopped talking. Emmet drew in a few deep breaths and said,
“Up-Train. This is Down-Train. Come in, over.”
Ingo’s grip on Emmet’s hand tightened. They had not needed this particular coping mechanism for years, not since they had become real train operators and could stop pretending.
“Down-Train, this is Up-Train. Go ahead, over.”
“Reporting engine malfunction and track obstruction. Request emergency rerouting and rescheduling, over.”
“Copy that, Down-Train. Request authorised, over.”
“Check. This is Down-Train, over and out.”
It was silly, had been silly even when they had first come up with it in their childhood, but it helped. Trains sometimes rerouted. It was a part of their everyday operation. Even now, Ingo could feel some tension leave his brother’s body. He stood up, coaxing Emmet up with him.
“And this train is now going down to Bed Station.”
Emmet managed a weak chuckle at that.