Charlie woke up to the sound of squealing brakes.
Her eyes flew open and she sat upright in her seat. The world lurched before settling around her, nearly throwing her onto her side. Shit, she thought. She’d fallen asleep on the subway. She felt around in a panic, relaxing only once she determined that her purse and all its important contents were still with her, resting primly on the adjacent seat. She sighed with relief. Thank goodness. It wasn’t enough that her desk job in Boston was kicking her ass. The last thing she needed was some asshole on the Red Line to take her wallet or phone while she wasn’t looking.
She paused, brows furrowing as she looked up from her seat. Something was wrong. Not the lack of people- that was to be expected when one accidentally fell asleep- but just how clean everything looked. The inside of the average Red Line train looked like a disorganized middle schooler’s room on a good day, discarded trash and all. On the best day there might be less trash, but no less grime on the walls, poles, or seatbacks.
This car, on the other hand, was utterly pristine. The dark, marked tile floor was free of embedded clumps of gum or dirt tracked-in from coming and going passengers. A pair of long, parallel bench seats faced one another, the blue metal polished enough to shine. If Charlie was daring enough, she might even be tempted to eat off of them. No matter how clean it was, however, one thing was certain. 
This wasn’t the subway car she’d fallen asleep on. 
Charlie got to her feet, momentarily dizzied by the sudden movement. Regaining her balance, she walked to the other side of the car, peering outside. She’d been riding the Alewife train home, but the place outside sure as hell wasn’t Alewife. Alewife’s stop was outside, and it had signage. Wherever she was, she was still underground, but there wasn’t anything with the station’s name on it anywhere in sight. She checked her phone, opening Google Maps for assistance. Nothing. No signal.
Charlie cursed and turned her head, locating the nearest door. If her phone wouldn’t tell her, she’d have to find someone and ask them where the hell she was. She walked up to the door, waiting for it to open. Surely now that the train was at a stop, it would let her out, right?
No such luck. The door didn’t budge. Charlie lifted a leg and nudged the sliding metal panel with a dress shoe, but once more it failed to give way. Cursing again, she stepped away from the door. Alright, plan B, or was it C? Regardless, she needed to find the person operating the train. They ought to be able to let her out, right?
She walked to one side of the car, approaching the door connecting it to its neighbor. Surprisingly, but thankfully, the door swung open, letting her pass between the two cars with ease. The second door slid to the side with a hiss, and she walked into the next car.
Charlie found the next car just as empty as its predecessor, but paid it no mind. She didn’t care about the other passengers or the lack thereof. All she cared about was locating the operator and making them let her off. She walked into the next car, then the next, then the next, stopping only once she reached the final stop before the front. 
Someone was sitting on one of the benches, staring down toward the floor. He was a young-looking man, with hair a strange silver shade, styled in such a way that two strands framing his face jutted out in sharp points. He wore a long, white trench coat marked with thick, horizontal brown stripes. He turned a white conductor’s cap over in his hands, tapping his boot against the tile at his feet. He didn’t seem to notice her entry, instead staring intently at the floor and the hat in his white-gloved grasp. 
“Um, hey?” Charlie started. That was as good a start as any, right? “Are you the conductor here?”
The man’s head shot up at her words, and he gasped. His hand clapped over his mouth with an audible sound, his shoulders trembling with the weight of something Charlie couldn’t see. “Oh, thank Arceus!” he breathed, eyes wide in what Charlie could only describe as awe. “You’re back!”
Charlie blinked, taking a step back. “What’d you call me?” 
The man didn’t answer, instead hurrying to his feet and closing the distance between them. “Where have you been?” he asked, looking her up and down with scrutinizing seriousness. “I’ve been practically looking all over Unova for you! You had me so worried, Ingo!” 
Charlie merely stood there, unsure of what on earth to say. What the hell was this guy talking about? Arceus? Unova? Ingo? Was he even speaking English? She knew outsiders thought Bostonians talked funny, but this was something completely different.
“I’m sorry,” she finally replied. “But I don’t know what you’re talking about. You have the wrong person.”
“Oh, come on, Ingo!” the man protested, lips twisted into a pout. He flipped his hat back onto his head, the frown melting away. “I am Emmet! Your brother Emmet? Months of being gone and the first thing you do is pull a prank on me? You aren’t the joking type.”
Charlie balked, mouth agape. “I-I’m not joking!” Something was wrong with this guy, she thought. She didn’t have a brother, and if she did, she’d know who he was!
Emmet didn’t answer- not verbally, at least. Instead, he threw his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. 
She went to push him away but found her arms wouldn’t react. She couldn’t bring herself to break from the bond. When her arms finally did move, they wrapped around the other’s shoulders, holding him just as close. 
“What am I…?” she started, but the words died in her throat. 
“Joking or not,” Emmet whispered, deepening the embrace. “I’m so glad you’re back. I… I couldn’t bear to run the Battle Subway without you by my side.”
Battle Subway. The words dislodged something from a stuck gear in her brain, making it start to spin again. She’d heard that before, hadn’t she? No, surely she hadn’t. Battle Subway? That sounded ridiculous.
So why did the thought fill her with such warmth? Why did it make her chest swell with quiet pride?
Her chest began to ache, the union of her body and Emmet’s stirring something within it. Her breasts tingled, the mounds of fat slowly but surely pressed deeper into her body against Emmet’s weight. Before long, they’d vanished completely, replaced by the same unremarkable pectorals of the conductor hugging her. 
She seemed to recognize that something was wrong, even if her body didn’t. “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded, earning no response. 
Her spine trembled beneath the other’s arms, pressure building before releasing with a sharp series of pops. Her torso lengthened, pulling her a few inches higher. The growth dragged the end of her blouse with her, exposing her midriff. Her cheeks burned, and Charlie tried and failed once again to get her body to unhook itself out from under Emmet’s arms. 
The strange pressure crept to her shoulders, building once more. She bit her tongue, preparing herself this time for the popping sensation that followed. The sleeves of her shirt tightened as her shoulders spread broader, tugging the fabric with it. Her empty bra dug into her skin, and she yearned to remove it just so it was easier to breathe.
Her out-of-proportion arms steadily extended, lengthening to catch up with her taller torso. Soon they were of similar length, wrapping further around Emmet’s back. Her palms broadened, fingers shortening and squaring, nails dulling and scrubbed free of the once deep-red polish that marked them.
“I missed you,” she whispered, and she buried her face in the other’s neck. The words left her lips before she could stop herself- but she didn’t want to. She really did miss him, even if her brain couldn’t articulate why that was yet.
“I missed you too,” Emmet replied. “Like nothing else.”
The pressure built up around her hips and with a click they narrowed, hourglass drawing inward into something more masculine, thighs slimming to follow suit. Her legs bunched suddenly, bones creaking and pushing her upwards with length. Before long, she was face-to-face with him, not having to get up on her toes to keep herself at his height. She let her feet fall flat to the subway car floor, feeling them swell and pinch the sides of her formal flats. Charlie didn’t mind. A little discomfort was nothing, just to see Emmet again.
“Where have you been?” Emmet asked, pulling away just enough to look her in the eye.
Charlie lifted her head, shaking it. “I… I don’t remember,” she said, because she honestly didn’t. Images fluttered through her mind- half hers, half something else, and rapidly less of the former. Busy streets- open fields (not the Common, too large)- packed cubicles- giant monsters- no, Pokémon!
The thought struck her brain, radiating outward. She gasped, the voice dipping into something deeper, firmer. Her face began to reshape, smoothing and narrowing, lips turning down into a stoic, but polite frown. Her rounded nose pulled out to a sharp point, and her blue eyes narrowed, irises lightening until they were pale gray, almost white, but with a definite ring around the edge just to differentiate it from her sclera. Her hair followed suit, black locks lightening and shortening up her back until they barely brushed past her chin. Two pale silver segments framing her face jutted forward, identical in style to the man embracing her.
She remembered now. She remembered everything. How could he have possibly forgotten? This was her brother- this was his brother!
Her clothes shimmered, engulfed in a sudden white light. His ill-fitting blouse stretched back down to his waist, forming into a white dress shirt whose end tucked into his lengthening skirt. A blue necktie wrapped around his throat, settling against the front of his formal top. The fabric of his stretching skirt wrapped around each leg, quickly shifting into a pair of dark, spotless pants. His flats grew outward, material turning a similar black as they stiffened, leather rounding at the ends. 
A long, black trench coat materialized over his frame, sleeves ending in thick, striped cuffs at the wrists of hands- hands quickly covered in white gloves. Horizontal brown stripes wrapped around the coat, running up the garment like the segments of a train track. And what would a train be without a conductor- and what would a conductor be without his cap? At the thought of it, a black cap with a brown visor fell into place atop his head, marked at the front by what looked like a blue disk for a Technical Machine.
“Well, wherever you went, I’m verrrrry glad you’re back, Ingo,” Emmet said, smile stretched wide over his face. He broke away, placing his own conductor’s cap back on his head.
Ingo. Yeah. That was it. He was Ingo- and this was Emmet, his brother. They ran the Battle Subway together!
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” Ingo said, frown deepening.
“No, no ‘sorry’s,” Emmet insisted. “I don’t want to waste any more time! It’s been forever since we’ve battled side by side!”
Ingo’s usually stoic frown managed to curl up at the corners.
He didn’t know why he’d left, or where he’d gone, but he was certainly glad to be back on track.