Chapter Text
Melli was floating. Or he was dreaming that he was floating. It was an odd sensation, even as he registered that he most likely wasn’t awake. He felt vertigo as he flipped and tumbled loosely through space, his body relaxed with sleep. He didn’t fight against the sensation. In fact, because he was so convinced it was a dream, he didn’t even bother opening his eyes to check.
Until a loud roar echoed through his ears. His eyes snapped open, looking for the source of the animalistic cry of pure rage. An alpha? He couldn’t place the species based on the cry, and that scared him. It scared him even more when he saw where he was.
He was nowhere. He was floating through utter blackness. He wasn’t sure which way was up and which was down, and when he thrashed, he went nowhere.
It was a dream. He was simply dreaming. He clenched his eyes shut and tried to go back to sleep, but he still felt the ice of panic in his gut, reminding him that he was awake.
The roar sounded again, closer this time. Melli dared to look. He came face-to-face with a pokemon so large it dwarfed him. It was black and blue with red eyes. He didn’t know how he could tell, but the pokemon was furious. It opened its mouth and screeched. Melli covered his ears and curled up to the best of his abilities, too stunned to even cry.
Another pokemon soared through the space. It was a white dragon with blue eyes, and it generated a blazing heat. It roared fiercely, as well.
Surely, the two dragons were going to kill him now. Melli tried to regulate his breathing— pokemon, particularly dragon types, could smell fear, and if his emotions were too pungent, they’d both focus on him instead of each other. So far, it didn’t seem like they had spotted him, too engulfed in their own feud.
The dragons began to clash— burning fire against rigid steel. Melli wanted to leave, but he wasn’t sure how. He could only watch, horrified as the dragons fought each other.
And then he was being pulled, as if there were a string tied across his middle. It propelled him away from the clash, going faster and faster away until the only sensation he could register was terminal velocity.
And then he hit the ground.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Something terrible had happened.)
Ingo paced through the tunnels, the worry gnawing at him. It wasn’t like Emmet to vanish like this. It certainly wasn’t like him to vanish and then stay gone. When they were kids, if he were upset, Emmet might have tried to hide, but he always emerged when Ingo went looking for him. Always.
And Ingo didn’t notice any of his usual triggers earlier. Emmet was fine— more than fine. He had three challengers beat him during his shift on the double line— three— and Emmet was ecstatic. He prided himself on his team, in his skill in battling (and so did Ingo), but he knew from experience that it became dull when he won every match. Emmet was delighted with the novelty of being defeated— not once, not twice, but on three separate occasions throughout the day.
So they were finishing up the paperwork for the day and discussing which of their favorite restaurants to get takeout from, when Emmet noticed an anomaly on the computer screens, he left to go fix it. That was what Emmet did. Emmet was the whiz with mechanics, so if something broke, Emmet was the one who fixed it. Ingo didn’t think anything of it. Emmet left his loyal team in Ingo’s capable hands because they were tired and needed healing, and he went down the maintenance tunnels on the Axew line. He took his walkie-talkie with him, and Ingo knew for certain that his brother would not forsake his safety protocols.
And that was twenty-four hours ago.
Ingo scoured the tunnels; he had the Axew line’s subway stalled indefinitely— which was a move he did not want to do because he knew it would disrupt so many passengers’ day. But he needed to find out where Emmet went, and he couldn’t risk getting run over by the subway as he searched.
(Maybe Emmet fell onto the tracks.)
No. No, Emmet knew better than that. If Emmet felt faint, for whatever reason, Emmet would find the nearest maintenance door and take a breather off of the tracks. Ingo had to have faith that Emmet was capable of taking care of himself.
(That still didn’t explain the radio silence.)
Ingo’s xtrans vibrated, and he checked it in case it was Emmet, but it wasn’t. It was another text from Elesa. He and Emmet were supposed to have dinner with her. That was six hours ago. He forgot to cancel that. He forgot to tell Elesa what was happening. Dragons, she was going to kill him. (But not before Ingo found Emmet and wrung his scrawny neck for making him worry like this.)
Ingo decided to deal with this later. He couldn’t deal with Elesa and Emmet’s antics at the same time, and he wanted to find his brother more than he wanted to tell Elesa that Emmet was (gone forever) temporarily missing.
Ingo pressed his lips together to prevent himself from crying. “Anything?” he asked Wisp, his loyal chandelure. She should be able to get a read on Emmet’s soul— Emmet had spent enough time with her, so she was familiar with him enough to track him.
Wisp chimed sadly and shook her glassy head. Ingo sighed, but he patted her gently. “Just a bit longer,” he promised her.
Ingo wanted to shout Emmet’s name, but he knew that would only be detrimental. With the acoustics in the tunnels, and with Ingo’s impressive volume, he’d only succeed in damaging his own hearing and frightening the pokemon that lived down here. So he pressed onwards, searching everywhere he could think of.
(Something terrible had happened.)
Wisp chimed, and Ingo looked at her hopefully. “What?” he begged, not ashamed of the desperation in his voice. Wisp took off, floating through the tunnels, going faster and faster. Ingo ran after her, keeping her violet flames in his sights at all times.
He was surprised when he came to the edge of a small crater. The rails were twisted and warped. (Thank the Dragons he’d had the foresight to stop the Axew Line.) Underneath the rails, the gravel dipped several feet into the ground, as if a comet had crash-landed here.
Ingo looked up at the ceiling. It was intact.
Wisp shrieked, and Ingo saw what she was alerting to— a limp body in the center of the crater. Ingo’s heart skipped a beat, but he could tell immediately that it wasn’t Emmet. The person was smaller, and they were wearing dark-colored clothes, which Emmet wouldn’t be caught dead in.
Ingo slid down the side of the shallow crater, going underneath the rails. This was unnatural, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up in anticipation. It was as if this person was the projectile that caused this— but Ingo couldn’t tell where they fell from.
He knelt next to the unconscious person— a boy, an older teenager, maybe sixteen years old. He was breathing but unresponsive. Ingo checked him quickly for signs of injury, but there weren’t any. There was no blood, no evidence of physical trauma— which was all the more confusing, considering that the boy seemed to have crash landed.
(Something terrible had happened.)
Wisp chimed melodically. Ingo looked at her, confused. He’d had her since she was just a litwick— he knew all of her cries, what each of them meant. She just made the sound she makes whenever she sees Emmet. Ingo looked around frantically, trying to see where he was, where Wisp thought he was.
But Wisp moved closer to the boy and settled right next to him, and she sang Emmet’s chime again.
“That’s not Emmet,” Ingo protested. She warbled as if to agree, but she made the same cry, insisting that she sensed Emmet within this boy. “Wisp,” Ingo scolded, his voice trembling. “That’s not Emmet.”
(Something terrible had happened.)
Ingo’s xtrans buzzed again on his wrist, and he flinched, checking it immediately. Elesa was at Gear Station, demanding to know where he was, why neither of them were answering their phones.
The split second Ingo tore his gaze from the boy’s face, his eyes snapped open, and he gasped for air. Ingo froze. He was usually very good with words; he usually always knew what to say. Words failed him this time. He and the boy made eye contact, and they stared at each other for a few long seconds.
Then the boy opened his mouth and screamed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Melli stared at the ghostly figure hovering above him, terror icing his gut. He screamed with all the air in his lungs, hoping to attract someone, and he was surprised and pained when his voice was magnified, echoing around the cavernous space and piercing his own eardrums. He clamped his mouth shut and attempted to scramble away from the ghost, but he was laying on a bed of little rocks that shifted and slid when he moved, forcing him to lose his balance and fall back down.
“Stop— stop, you could be injured,” the ghost scolded him. “Lay still. It’s alright— it’s alright, just—”
The ghost tried to grab him. Melli cried out as it latched onto his wrists, pinning him against the rocks. “Don’t touch me!” he screeched, disoriented again at the volume of his voice. Black spots danced over his vision, and he knew he was about to faint.
“Lay still, and I’ll let go,” the ghost promised him.
“Fuck you,” Melli snarled, thrashing. “Let me go! Get the fuck off of me!” He tried to punch the ghost, but it deflected his fist easily.
“You could be injured,” the ghost repeated. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself further.”
“Help!” he screamed. “Someone help!”
And then he passed out. Melli had had fainting spells in the past whenever he got particularly excited. He never stayed out for long, and this time was no exception. The ghost had gotten off of Melli, and it was standing a few feet away, its back turned. It appeared to be speaking to someone. “...need a medic down in the Axew Line maintenance tunnel. It’s a young man, maybe sixteen years old, unaccompanied. No signs of blood or injuries, but he’s in a state of severe distress, and he’s already fainted.” The ghost paused, and Melli heard a disembodied voice answer, promising to obey the ghost’s orders. “And if someone could bring Elesa down here, that would be great,” it finished, and it sighed heavily.
Melli tried to shift. He was in pain— his head was killing him, and he was sore all over as if he had fallen down the side of Mount Coronet. He exhaled in a groan, trying to stay quiet, but he only alerted the ghost to his awareness. “Stay back,” Melli demanded, his voice trembling.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” the ghost told him. Its eyes flashed silver in the dim light. “I’m getting the medics down here to check you out. To make sure you’re okay. Try not to move; I don’t know if you’re bleeding internally, or if your bones are broken.”
“No, I’m fine,” he snapped harshly. “I just—” He broke off in a gasp as he noticed the pokemon with the man. It was a large, fiery ghost, purple flames dancing hypnotically in the darkness. When Melli spotted it, it made a musical cry. “What the fuck is that?!” Melli demanded, scrambling away from it.
“She’s my chandelure,” the ghost informed him. “Don’t worry. She’s friendly.”
A slightly hysterical laugh escaped Melli. “Friendly. Friendly?!” he echoed, still trying to edge away from the both of them. A thought occurred to him, and he gasped. “Adaman. Where’s—” He turned, trying to see through the darkness. “Adaman!” Melli hollered. “Adaman!”
“Shh,” the ghost tried to soothe him. “Calm down. It’s alright.”
“What did you do to him?!” Melli demanded. “Where is he?!”
“I didn’t do anything. You’re the only one I’ve found down here,” it answered. “You snuck in here with your friend, then?”
“I didn’t sneak anywhere,” Melli snapped. “Adaman!”
“Stop shouting,” it scolded him. “You’re only stressing yourself out further.” It withdrew a box from its pocket and said into it, “Can I get an ETA on that medic?”
“About five minutes, boss,” someone answered from nowhere, their voice scratchy and warped. Melli was sure that he was convening with the spirits of the dead, and he decided he wanted none of it.
“Okay, that’s enough bullshit for right now,” he said, as calmly as he could manage. He tried to push himself up, but the ghost stopped him again. “I’m not hurt! I’m fine!” he protested as it pushed on his shoulders, keeping him pinned to the ground. “Get your fucking hands—” Melli fought against it, thrashing.
“Just stay still, and I’ll stop,” it promised. Melli still fought, so the ghost said, “Wisp, do you mind?”
The ghost pokemon chimed musically, and a pink light enveloped Melli. He wasn’t sure what move it was using, but the light prevented Melli from moving, allowing the ghost to remove its hands. Melli tried to thrash, but he couldn’t.
“Let me go. Let me go,” he demanded.
“I’m not trapping you— I’m simply making sure that you don’t injure yourself further until the medics get here,” it explained patiently. “My name is Ingo. Who are you?”
“Fuck off!” he shouted. “Adaman! Adaman!”
Several more people came into the light of the ghost pokemon’s flames. There were several people in white uniforms, a few in green ones, and a woman in yellow. If they were summoned here by the ghost, they were part of his undead army, and they were only going to hurt him. Melli struggled against the pokemon’s move, but he couldn’t break free. He was proud of himself so far for not crying, but he was fighting tears now as the helplessness set in.
“Don’t,” he moaned as the white-coated ones surrounded him. “Don’t— don’t.”
“He’s confused,” the ghost informed them. “He might have a head injury.”
“Tell me your name?” one of them asked, and it shined a light in his eyes. Melli hissed and clenched his eyes shut, beginning to hyperventilate. He swore at them viciously. “Can you let him go?” the minions asked.
“He’s been violent,” the ghost reported. “Just be prepared.” It had the pokemon release its grip on him. As soon as Melli felt its pressure vanish, he attempted to scramble away, but he was promptly thwarted as the minions grabbed him. He heard them say something about a sedative.
Someone rolled up his sleeve. Something pricked past his skin, pushing cold fluids into his elbow that spread through him like poison. Melli finally burst into tears, screaming and crying until intense fatigue consumed him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ingo watched the medics sedate the boy, and he felt horrible. It was obvious that he wasn’t well; it was obvious that he was terrified. Ingo felt like he only helped to further traumatize the boy.
But there was nothing to be done now. The medics were strapping his limp body to the gurney, preparing to take him to the hospital. Ingo watched them go, escorted by his depot agents. “I’ll be along soon,” Ingo told them, his voice sounding feeble to his own ears.
Elesa hung back as that altercation played out. “That was dramatic,” she commented, watching them take the boy away. She studied the shallow crater. “Damn. Did he do this?”
Ingo shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure how he could have. This was caused by a very big impact. More force than he’s capable of making on his own.” And Ingo didn’t register any shockwaves in the past twenty-four hours. He had been down here the entire time, and this managed to slip under his radar, and that unnerved him.
(Something terrible had happened.)
“Is this why you and Emmet stood me up?” Elesa asked next. Her question was casual, but Ingo knew she was annoyed.
Ingo opened his mouth and promptly closed it. He buried his face in his hands and burst into tears, grateful that the audience had left them alone. Dragons, he was exhausted.
“Shit, Ingo,” Elesa managed, immediately worried. It took a lot to get Ingo to break down like this. She latched onto his arm, squeezing to provide pressure. “What happened? Where’s Emmet?”
“I don’t know,” he lamented. “I don’t know, Elesa. I can’t find him.”
“Shit,” she murmured. “Tell me what happened.”
Ingo obeyed, speaking as steadily and as clearly as he could throughout his tears. “...and Wisp, she— she— called for Emmet right over the boy. As if she were telling me that she had found him, but the only one there was the boy. Like the boy is Emmet.”
Elesa frowned, taking in that story. “That doesn’t make any sense,” she whispered.
“I know,” Ingo stressed, clutching his head.
Elesa took a deep breath. “When’s the last time you ate?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“Then it’s time for a break,” she said firmly.
“I can’t, Elesa— what if he’s still down here? What if he’s trapped or hurt or—” (dead?)
“You won’t find him if you run yourself ragged. Safety checks, yeah? Take care of your engine before it overheats,” she reminded him, and Ingo thoroughly regretted teaching her train metaphors.
But he allowed himself to be convinced, and he followed her out of the tunnels. He followed her all the way back to his and Emmet’s apartment a few blocks away from Gear Station.
Ingo took all of the pokeballs out of his pocket. He was carrying both his and Emmet’s teams, even though it was technically against the rules to carry more than six pokemon at a time. (It was a stupid rule. Ingo didn’t want to follow it anyway.) He released all of them from their balls the way he and Emmet usually did. Emmet’s team circled him, chirping and clicking and chittering with worry and anticipation. Ingo cried again, sitting on the floor with them. “I don’t know,” he told them. “I don’t know where he is. I’m so sorry.”
Noodles, Emmet’s eelektross, curled around Ingo’s midsection and squeezed him. She was a big specimen, about as long as he was tall and just as heavy, but Ingo didn’t protest her hug. He wrapped his arms around her as well as he could, sobbing brokenheartedly.
Elesa quickly microwaved some frozen food and bullied Ingo into eating it. (He wouldn’t admit it, but he did feel better after eating.) Then she said, “Time for bed.”
“No,” he protested. “I have to—”
“You have to sleep,” she interrupted firmly. “Get your ass to bed right the fuck now, or else I’m calling your dad.”
Ingo scoffed angrily and then gasped. “Shit— I need to call him.”
“I’ll do it,” she offered. “Make it so I can tell him that you’re taking care of yourself, please.”
Ingo nodded feebly. “Okay,” he managed. “Okay.”
He let her herd him into his room. Usually, he had an extensive nighttime routine, where he showered, brushed his teeth, changed into pajamas, watched the nightly recap of the day’s news, read a chapter or two from whatever book he picked up at the library, and then went to sleep. This night, he only kicked off his shoes and hung his coat up on his door before collapsing into bed. He was so exhausted that he fell asleep nearly instantly.