Chapter Text
Although she felt basically half-dead by the time they got back, Susie finds she can only sleep for a handful of hours before she’s blinking awake again. Her dreams fade slowly from her mind; mostly restless, fragmented images that had her pulse racing and her muscles tensing up unconsciously.
A lot of it is too garbled to recall properly… except for a vision of Kris. In the dark. And no matter how fast Susie ran, she couldn’t reach them before they faded into shadow.
She rubs her face with both hands, sighing. Nightmares can be seriously heavy-handed with their imagery.
Susie drops her hands and turns to look at Ralsei, who is awake and sitting up. They’re all back where they started the night before; Susie and Ralsei on the floor, with Kris laid out on the couch. Ralsei is sat cross-legged on his sleeping bag, hands in his lap. He didn’t even change out of his robes. His eyes are trained on Kris’s sleeping form, hardly blinking.
“Hey,” Susie says quietly. “Morning.”
“Good morning, Susie,” Ralsei replies. He doesn’t look away from Kris.
Susie checks the time. It’s barely half past seven.
“…Did you sleep at all?”
Ralsei shrugs and doesn’t answer.
Susie sits up slowly, sighing as something cracks in her back. They did a lot of fighting last night- earlier this morning?- and she feels weirdly still sore afterward. Usually that fades almost immediately. Maybe another difference between this world and their own?
She looks at Kris, tucked under two blankets. Their expression is slack, their typical poker face absent. It softens the rigid edge they’ve been holding themself to since they all appeared in the Underground.
Susie looks at that sleeping face, and recalls how it had been sickly and terrified just a few hours ago. Without their soul, Kris had looked… deathly.
Susie never wants to see her friend look that way ever again.
She scoots backward and leans against the sofa, laying her head on Kris’s legs. They’re bony even under the blankets. Kris doesn’t stir, sleeping deeply.
Susie’s thoughts are slow and sluggish, but steadily clearing. Although it’s awesome that she can just… reach out and touch Kris again, confirm they’re here and they’re safe, it’s… it’s not enough to eclipse her other thoughts entirely.
“Why’d they run off like that?” she asks tiredly. “They wouldn’t’ve gotten hurt if they hadn’t gone off on their own…”
“…I’m sure They have Their reasons,” Ralsei replies.
Susie huffs. “Any idea what those reasons are?”
“…No.”
Ralsei is putting on a calm front, but Susie can hear the frustration in his voice. Nice to know she’s not the only one confused and a little angry with Kris.
The Howling Knight was… a lot. Seeing her friend so twisted and changed was horrible. The senseless fury the Howling Knight had aimed at them, at everything around them… it’d been just as scary as fighting the original Knight. And none of that would have ever happened if Kris hadn’t wandered off.
Why would they go off on their own? Susie can’t find a reason. They’re a team, they’re friends- why would Kris leave them behind? Susie… she thought that after everything they’ve been through, Kris knew they could depend on them all. (On her.)
Guess she needs to shake them by the shoulders and remind them. Just talk to us, idiot!
Kris sleeps on, for the time being ignorant of the lecture they’re in for when they wake up.
Susie and Ralsei both look up when they hear a door open and then the sound of running feet. Susie sees a quick flash of Frisk running for the bathroom, the kid disappearing inside between blinks. The sounds of someone getting sick follows right after.
Frisk had done that when they first got back, too, before basically collapsing into sleep. Whatever that black stuff was, it definitely isn’t good for them. Susie had been too tired to do more than ask if they were going to be alright. Papyrus said he’d keep watch over them.
Speaking of, Susie sees him pop his head out of his bedroom. He’s dressed in soft pajamas again, and is trailing after Frisk into the washroom with a plastic bowl and a box of tissues. The pathetic hacking noises die off soon after. Poor kid; at least they have someone around to help them through it. Susie always has to manage on her own when she’s sick.
Susie yawns. Her body wants to keep sleeping, but her mind feels too wired to try. Maybe when those two are done, she’ll ask if anyone’s up for making breakfast.
-/-
Frisk hasn’t felt this sick in a while. Not since they experimented with doing shots at their very first college party. It had left them so headache riddled the next day, it basically put them off trying again ever since.
Even after expelling most of the built-up DT in their stomach, hours ago, it seems like more is still filtering out of their system. It isn’t usually as dramatic as this; they bodyshare with Chara plenty in the future without ill-effects. It isn’t worse than having a light nosebleed- just something they have to be careful of staining things with. It has to be the jumping between levels that’s made this so awful.
Makes sense… Their body would typically be trained up better, at minimum hitting Level 7 or 8 before they started meshing their consciousness. Without that time to adjust to the LOVE, as well as the extra Determination which Chara generates, their body is struggling to cope.
As they carefully inhale-exhale around the flavor of bile, a tissue is held out to them. Frisk takes it without glancing at the monster offering it. They wipe their face and toss it into the toilet, holding out their hand for another.
Papyrus is patiently crouched a few feet away, so as to avoid crowding them. He’s set the plastic bowl on the counter- something he’d gotten for them in case they couldn’t make it to the washroom. He’s watching Frisk, staring without glancing away. Part of that is just how Papyrus usually acts; he’s a very intense person with spotty social skills. But that’s not the only reason.
Frisk blows their nose while mentally feeling for the snare wrapped around their friend. Fear Factor is still going strong.
Despite storing the True Knife in their inventory, despite their Level going back to the unintelligible glitch of ??, their friend’s defenses are still weakened and he is still scared of them.
It’s such a terrible thing to know someone you care about is afraid of you. The knowledge sits like a rock in Frisk’s heart, heavy and painful. The close friendship they’d had with Papyrus feels like a distant thing, now, and they can feel the desire to cry welling up in them.
“Could you get me a glass of water?” they ask hoarsely.
“Of Course!” Papyrus says in his best, most quiet voice. Frisk would know; they’ve literally never heard him manage a voice quieter than this one, which he only uses when he’s really trying to avoid disturbing others.
Like Sans. His bedroom is on the other side of the wall, and… he’d looked really bad when they all came home.
Papyrus had agreed to their request happily, but he leaves the bathroom with visible reluctance. Frisk tries to give him a smile to cheer him up. His expression just seems more concerned instead.
When he leaves, Frisk’s smile drops away and they stare sadly at the linoleum floor.
They wait for Chara to say something, bug them about getting sadness all over their shared headspace. Distract the both of them with petty arguments. But they don’t say anything at all.
When Frisk pokes them, they get a wave of emotions in response- sadness, exhaustion, shame. Feelings that Frisk was already experiencing, and having them suddenly doubled forces a few tears out.
{ I was trying to keep it to myself, } Chara grumbles. They push Frisk further away from them, becoming an even quieter presence than before. { I’m gonna sleep. Don’t talk to me. }
“Okay,” Frisk replies to themself, alone in the bathroom. They reach for the box of tissues left by Papyrus.
Frisk wipes away their tears and chases off the need to cry more. Just because their body is a child’s doesn’t mean they have to act like one. So their decade long friendship with Papyrus has been put in jeopardy- no worries, they’ll just fix it. Somehow.
They just need to pull the right strings, say the right responses. It’s just a remix of the puzzle they’ve solved thousands upon thousands of times; it’s something they have down to a perfect process. Frisk and Chara have held this world in their power for an untold length of time, divined its perfect ending and held steady through it for ten years straight. Salvaging this situation is surely within their capabilities!
Frisk shakes their head at their own thoughts. Coming down from Level 20 always leaves them feeling and thinking weirdly. They can’t let themself get comfortable with that way of thinking about their friends. It’s… it’s such a bad habit, and it brings back the well of shame they’ve been feeling since showing their worst side, a few hours ago.
This time, Chara does actually give them a mental kick in the shin. Stop moping. Frisk obliges and gets moving; flushing the toilet and going to wash their face and rinse their mouth. They know Chara isn’t actually sleeping; they’re just licking their wounds and don’t feel up to talking. Frisk feels similarly about the no talking, but no one here knows Monster-Human Sign yet.
Well, except for Kris and their two friends. But the other human is still unconscious, and some explaining needs to be done first with Susie and Ralsei. For now, Frisk will just have to keep using their voice, even if it makes them want to curl up and cover their ears, blocking out the world.
Frisk tiredly looks at their own reflection. Their skin is pallid from throwing up and they have deep eye bags. Forcing themself through lack of sleep and then a drawn-out battle on top of that is not good for a little kid. They’re basically dead on their feet. If they weren’t sure coffee would make their stomach even more upset, they’d head straight for the coffee maker.
They miss having the power to SAVE more than ever. Never have they felt this terrible post-battle before. An unforeseen side effect of losing control of the world file, one that’s just insult to injury after the horror of being ripped from their happy ending.
They’d been holding out hope that Kris could somehow undo all this, but if the Player is involved… Things look grim.
Frisk reminds themself not to borrow worry from the future. They don’t know for certain the Player is around, even if it really, really feels like it is. They’ll find out when Kris wakes up.
As Frisk leaves the washroom, they see Papyrus standing in front of his brother’s door. He has a full glass of water in his hand; he must have gotten distracted. He’s staring at the closed door, pensive and quiet.
Frisk hesitates for a moment, worried their presence will be unwelcome. But… this would make a good first step toward easing Pap’s fear.
They come to stand next to him, observing the door along with their friend. It lacks the zany colors usually flickering around its frame. Not a good sign for how Sans is feeling.
They wait for Papyrus to notice them, but he seems lost in thought.
“Papyrus?” Frisk asks, touching his elbow. It makes their friend start, a flinch that travels up his whole arm. Frisk withdraws their hand. “Sorry. Um… Are you okay?”
“I… I Am Fine. Just Mildly Concerned About My Brother.” Papyrus pauses, considering whether to keep talking. Frisk lets him decide on his own.
“He’s… He’s Been Happier These Last Few Days. He Isn’t Sleeping Enough, But He Has Been… Engaged. Focused. It’s Been A Long Time Since He Was Energetic Enough To Do More Than Make It To Work And Grillby’s- And While I Hate How Greasy That Food Is, At Least He’s Socializing… Sort Of.” Papyrus looks down at them, his expression a mixture of sad and exasperated. “Most Of That Is Just Going Through The Motions. To Make Me Happy, I Think. But With You, I Can Tell He Means It When He Calls You ‘Friend’… And That Both Of You Are Not Being Truthful To Me.”
Frisk resists the desire to squirm. They knew they were showing too much of their hand, but with the crisis in motion, there wasn’t time to be subtle.
“Would it make you feel better if I said we want to be truthful?” Frisk asks.
“It Shouldn’t, But It Does. Which Is The Other Thing I Am Concerned About: How Easy It Is To Tell You My Worries. To Trust You.” Papyrus gives them a long, weary look, before saying, “Human. Why Is It That I Feel Like We’ve Been Friends For A Very Long Time?”
Frisk winces. “That’s… complicated.”
He sighs. “You Would Not Believe How Many Times My Brother Has Said That Exact Thing To Me Over The Years. I’m Sure It Doesn’t Have To Be Complicated. And Even If It Is… I Still Wish He’d Just Talk To Me. Whatever It Is, The Great Papyrus Can Definitely… Help.”
Frisk hates to hear how defeated the last words their friend says are. The biggest weak spot in Papyrus’s persona of bravery has always been Sans’s secrecy. It’s better in the future, but back here in the Underground… From Papyrus’s perspective, none of that healthy growth has happened yet.
“He’ll come around,” Frisk promises. “We were already working up to getting things out in the open, but then… last night…”
The wet crunch of bone through metal-and-flesh resounds in their memories. Frisk and Chara weren’t the only ones who showed off their worst side.
“Yes. Last Night. I Was… Surprised. I’ve Never Seen My Brother So… He’s Never…” Papyrus struggles for the words. Frisk doesn’t blame him. It’s a major juxtaposition against the lazybones Sans presents himself as.
“I Just Want To Understand Why He Did What He Did. I Offered Mercy, And He Overruled That. Things Turned Out Alright, But What If… What If The Human Hadn’t Come Back? Sans Obviously Didn’t Know They Would, So He Was Intending- He Meant To-” Papyrus stops, taking a breath and letting it out slowly. “I’m Worried About Him. He’s Behaving… Erratically.”
Frisk knows a large part of Sans’s perceived strange behavior is thanks to the time-fuckery, but not all of it. They won’t lie that last night… it triggered them, badly. It’s probably the same for Sans.
But Papyrus has none of that context. And it’s not Frisk’s place to try explaining.
So they say, “Have you tried talking to him yet today? Is he awake?”
Papyrus grimaces. “I Wanted To Ask If He’s Up To Having Breakfast, But As You Can See-” He reaches out and twists the doorknob, opening it inwards. A black emptiness is all either of them can see inside.
“He’s Not Taking Visitors At This Time,” Papyrus says, annoyed. He shuts the door with a firm click.
Frisk wants to have the magic words to fix things, but they come up with nothing. They take the glass of water that’s handed to them, watching Papyrus head downstairs. Susie and Ralsei start talking in hushed tones to him, asking about how Frisk and Sans are doing.
“MY BROTHER IS STILL RESTING,” Papyrus says non-specifically, apparently deeming his distance from Sans enough to start speaking normally again, “AND THE SMALL HUMAN MIGHT COME DOWN SOON.”
Frisk thinks about facing the three guests downstairs- possibly four if the Player is around. They privately scowl at the idea. The amount of energy it’ll take to play nice feels like too much right now. (They bury the hurt at how Papyrus has relegated them to ‘human’ rather than ‘friend’.)
They finish their water and put the glass on the floor, next to the doorframe. They knock lightly.
“It’s just me,” Frisk says softly, hoping against hope that they won’t be turned away, too.
They wait patiently. They’re rewarded by the knob turning by itself, the door opening just a sliver. Frisk cautiously pushes it further open, stepping into the room that’s materialized. They shut the door behind them and feel guilty that they’ve been admitted when Sans’s own brother hasn’t.
Then again, who else can relate to how their friend is probably feeling?
The room is basically just like Frisk remembered it to be. Barren- there’s only a mattress on the floor, an unused treadmill, and the set of drawers- and yet cluttered with garbage. The self-sustaining trash tornado has been dismantled, but that just means its contents are strewn across the floor instead. Frisk navigates around dirty socks, dishes, and crumpled balls of paper as they make their way into the room. It’s been a few years at least since Frisk saw their friend’s living space so depressingly messy; he’s doing a lot better, these days.
The ball of unfolded laundry has been turfed from its spot on the bed; Sans has taken its place, tucked under a blanket that Papyrus probably put over him. The mattress itself is still without sheets. Its pillow is uncovered, too.
Sans is lying there, staring at the ceiling. His features have taken on an off-white color, and the bruises under his eyes are worse than Frisk’s. He doesn’t say anything as Frisk approaches his bed.
“Can I sit?” they ask. They’ve been allowed into the room, but they wouldn’t be surprised if their friend changed his mind about letting them close again so soon.
Sans’s eyelights flick over to them, then back to the ceiling. He rolls over, facing the wall with his back to them. With anyone else, this would be a dismissal.
Frisk sits down in the space made for them, relieved that Sans is not only willing to let them near him, but to also take his eyes off them. After a beat, they give into their own body’s tiredness and lay down. Their shoulder is pressed against his spine as they both lay there on the single-size bed, feeling generally pretty bad about themselves and their situation.
“You sleep much?” Frisk asks. Their own sleep had been terrible; they’d slept in fits, plagued by the instinct that they should still be fighting.
Sans lets out a short, mocking huff. Not surprising. Frisk suspects he was only unconscious for an hour before waking up. He’s probably spent the rest of the morning staring into space.
“Paps is worried about you,” Frisk says gently.
“…so i heard,” Sans replies, because of course, even Papyrus’s quietest voice still travels through walls.
Frisk sighs. “I don’t think we can get away without telling him at least some stuff. What do you wanna say to him?”
“ideally? nothin’.”
“That’s not fair to him.”
“you wanna throw stones right now? glass houses, kid. how long has chara been awake?”
Frisk can’t help but groan, covering their face with their hands.
“We should’ve told you. It was dumb, we were being dumb.” They drop their hands back onto the mattress. “They woke up after you left me with Kris and their friends. We… decided to keep it to ourselves. For reasons.”
Sans shifts, turning just enough so he can give them a judgemental stare.
Frisk grimaces. “The reasons made sense to us at the time. But… I think it was mostly ‘cause we didn’t wanna freak you out more than you already were.” They ignore the indignant pulse from Chara. Lying is what got them in trouble in the first place; Frisk is going to be truthful about their intentions. “Chara can tell you still get nervous when they front. I can, too. And it’d be one more thing that made this all like back then, and we just- we just… Didn’t want to make things worse…” They swallow thickly, guilt coming back full-force. “But we did anyway. Sorry.”
A long silence, during which Frisk’s heart twists unhappily and Chara bristles with pre-emptive defensiveness. Sans eventually just lets out a sigh and turns over fully, laying on his back again. His shoulder digs against theirs and their knees bump into each other. Neither of them try to make more space.
“you realize that’s what i’m tryn’a do here, too,” Sans says. “spare my bro of unnecessary worry.”
“He’s already really worried. Anyone would be after…”
“seein’ their slacker brother haul off and murder someone? sure. but the explanation of why will just make it worse.”
Frisk lets the words hang for a minute, pressing down on their first few responses. The moment Sans had killed the Knight- acting as judge, jury, and executioner once again- it’d rocketed both Frisk and Chara straight into some of their worst memories. In that moment, they’d been entirely certain that as Sans turned his attention to them, they were next.
He wouldn’t, obviously. Not unless they deserved it. But that’s the caveat, isn’t it? A part of them will always feel like they deserve it. (Chara and Frisk both agree on this much.)
“Why’d you do it?” they settle on asking, keeping their tone as neutral as possible. “It… usually takes a lot more to push you to that.”
“would you believe it’s ‘cuz i’m not as depressed anymore?” he says with a short chuckle. “it’s not the only reason, but… wanting to protect our future is a hell of a motivator. of course, it’s gone about as good as the last time i was proactive…”
“The last time?”
“one of the other humans. from before you.”
Frisk sits up to look at him properly; surprised by the revelation. They can feel Chara’s interest as well. “You never talk about the other loops.”
“didn’t feel like sharing,” Sans says. He’s staring at the ceiling again, avoiding their gaze.
“…Do you, now?” Frisk asks. They can’t help it- curiosity has always been their greatest flaw. A new bit of information about a world they’d thought plumbed of all secrets- it’s something they can’t resist prying into. (Bad, bad habits, still rearing their head.)
After thinking about it, Sans huffs and says, “they were all shorter lived and more straight forward than yours. none of those kids had enough determination to reset the whole world, just reload certain time frames. the first few i just ignored- none’a their paths crossed with mine, and i was… busy.” He takes one of his hands out from under the blanket, rubbing at his face. The gesture makes soft click-rasp noises of bone on bone. “eventually, though, one’a them did. paps met the integrity soul in waterfall. and they killed him. he was… maybe eight, almost nine. you’re wearing the same sweater he was, then.”
Frisk glances at the too-big sweater Papyrus dug out for them from his closet. It’s a dark blue with yellow stripes across the chest. The sleeves are so long, they’ve had to roll up the cuffs.
“He lent it to me this morning… I didn’t know. Sorry. I can take it off…?”
Sans drops his hand from his face, shrugging. “it’s fine. it was a really long time ago. there’s other memories ‘sides that one attached to it. he wore it to his school talent show later in the year, actually. best vuvuzela player in the whole class. also the only.”
Frisk can feel Chara laughing at the image of a (comparatively) tiny Papyrus deafening a school gymnasium. Frisk themself just smiles, despite their somber mood. “If you’re sure?”
“it’s fine, kid. seriously. if i got freaked out by every little thing connected to someone’s death, i wouldn’t be able to take a step outta my bedroom.”
“That’s really maladaptive.”
“pot meet kettle.”
Shaking their head, Frisk lays back down slowly, this time on their side so they can keep looking at their friend.
“So… then what happened after?” they ask, hushed.
“…i hunted the kid down, and i killed them. to force a reload.” The forced levity leaves him, making Sans sound even more tired than before. He keeps talking anyway- maybe it’s cathartic to talk about it, after all this time. Maybe he’s just hurting himself again.
“i got lucky with the time frame. if i’d been much later, they would have made it too far into their journey and paps… wouldn’t have come back.” He stops, eyelights flickering out for a moment. “and ‘cause i knew that, and i was in a bad headspace to begin with… i went after them again when they did reload. my bro saw me.”
“…How did he react?”
“like any little kid. cried about it. he was scared and confused about why i’d turned his new friend into a red smear on the ground. i didn’t even try to explain before the next reload… there wasn’t any point. none of it would stick anyway.” Sans heaves a sigh. “gave up on a lot of stuff after that. just focused on keeping paps away from the other fallen humans for as long as he’d listen to me about it. and then… flowey.”
“And then Flowey,” Frisk echoes. They’ve heard about Flowey’s loops- from Asriel himself, in fact. Frisk, Chara, and Asriel, commiserating about the worst choices of their lives, repeated over and over with none the wiser (but for an exception).
Frisk knows Papyrus was one of Flowey’s favorites to play with. At the time Frisk took control of the world file, Flowey had been working up to another game with the skeleton monster.
Small mercies. Frisk and Chara- and eventually the Player- never had much taste for psychological torment. But who’s to say methodical, systematic murder is much better? Some Neutral timelines were worse than a simple death.
{ None of this tragic backstory changes the fact that Paps will be asking questions, } Chara says, mentally brushing off Frisk’s melancholic thoughts. { Hell, the other three will be asking questions, too. We were gonna be mostly honest with them, right? But anything we tell them will probably get mentioned in front of his brother at some point. If he’s so concerned about what Papyrus knows or doesn’t know, tell him we need to decide what story we’re going with before we start interrogating Kris. }
Frisk purses their lips. [ We’re working up to it, give us some time to process- ]
{ You’re going too slow, } Chara dismisses, and takes control of their body. “Hey, funnyman.”
Sans has gone very still. Not an inch of body language has changed, but because they’re literally right next to each other at the moment, Frisk can feel how tense he’s become.
“chara. good morning.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, spare me the pleasantries. Listen. Just say you’re haunted.”
“what?”
[ What?? ]
Chara huffs at both of them, sitting up their body to cross their arms. “You heard me. The spirits made you do it or whatever. Me. The resident evil spirit. You said you saw something fucked up inside Kris or something, right? I wasn’t listening super closely, busy being PTSD-ed out of my mind. Anyway, say something similar was happening with Frisk, and I, y’know, made you do a murder. With spooky evil spirit powers. You’re redeemed in your brother’s eyes and no one has to ask why Frisk is a baby with a knife fighting hobby. Everyone’s happy.”
Sans is staring at Chara in exasperation.
“i’m not gonna say i’m haunted. that’s racist to ghosts, for one.”
[ And even if he did! Then what?! That’s insane, this is an insane idea! ]
“Frisk’s asking what comes after. Duh, I’m Player bait. If it is around, then it won’t be able to resist figuring out what my deal is. It won’t pay you or your brother any attention as long as I’m giving it a mystery to solve.”
Frisk wrestles back control from Chara, shoving them to the side just as a black tear starts to dribble down their face. Frisk wipes it away with a finger, trying to avoid getting it on the bed or their sweater. “We’re not doing that idea. That’s a terrible plan. Sans, I’m sorry, I think they’re trying to make up for last night in a really, really stupid way.”
{ Quit putting words in my mouth, } Chara gripes, even as Frisk senses they’ve hit the nail on the head.
Sans grumbles as he sits up slowly, like the movement pains him. “i can really tell how little impulse control you two have right now… yeesh, kid. i’m not gonna scapegoat you for my own actions. tell me ya don’t think i’m that shitty a person.”
{ It was just a suggestion, } Chara sulks. { If you have a spare villain lying around, why not use them? }
[ Chara… ]
They draw away. { Shut up. You weren’t supposed to hear that. I’m going back to sleep. }
Frisk lets them retreat. Chasing Chara right now would just lead to an argument.
“…They meant well,” Frisk tries to mediate aloud.
“believe me, i’m aware,” Sans says, drawing up his legs and leaning on his knees. He rests his forehead on his arms, seeming sickly.
Frisk frowns. “Are you okay? I know last night took a lot out of us both, but you seem… Hm. Bad.”
“that’s one word for it. love ain’t for everyone, kid.”
Love? No, LOVE.
Frisk does a CHECK on their friend, not waiting for permission.
* SANS – LV 5
1 AT 1 DF
* He didn’t miss this feeling.
Frisk doesn’t understand. “How?” they ask, thoughts whirling. “The Knight didn’t stay dead. It shouldn’t count. Undyne doesn’t count until she dies twice.”
“works differently with these kids, i guess. adds to the theory they’re from a different dimension.”
“You’re being very nonchalant about this. How much pain are you in right now?”
“ehhhh… if i’m just sitting and not using magic, three outta ten?”
“Your three is my six, Sans.”
“i’ll survive.”
Frisk puts the back of their hand to his temple. They’d thought he felt too warm through the blanket. “Four Levels is a steep jump,” they mutter, stomach turning at how hot Sans’s skull feels.
“had worse,” Sans replies, lifting his head away from their touch. He gives them a knowing look. “at least i didn’t dust on the spot, right?”
Frisk grimaces but nods. Their friend’s stats condition already makes it impossible for him to gain LOVE without consequences- in the timelines where he killed the Child after already exhausting himself completely, sometimes his body would just give out and go to dust. Jumping from LV 1 to LV 20 is such an astronomical leap, it’s more so a surprise it didn’t kill him every time.
“That settles it. If Kris is in control of their own actions and it’s far enough back, I’m making them RELOAD. They said they don’t know how to get us all home, but they can at least make sure you’re not sick the whole time we’re figuring things out.”
“not gonna hear any argument from me,” Sans says, because even his distaste for RELOADs doesn’t overrule his common sense. He then gives them a sly smile. “’course, if we’re looking to undo most of last night anyway, then there’s no point in me tryin’a explain anything to paps…”
Try as they might to be more moral about it, Frisk is greatly tempted by the ‘get out of jail free’ card that’s on the table. It would save them from having to explain their behavior to Papyrus, and erase the moment he became afraid of them… It’s really scummy to just hide their mistakes that way, but it’s not like they came completely clean in the far future, either.
Chara wordlessly expresses their own preference for the idea. Frisk mentally sighs; it’s not like they should have expected a different answer from them, given Chara has avoided coming clean of their actions in all timelines, including their happy ending.
Frisk lightly bumps Sans’s shoulder with their own. “Stop enabling our bad habits. We’re still gonna have to explain some stuff to him, depending how far back we go.”
“and we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”
Frisk lays their head on his shoulder, disparaging both their soulmate and their best friend. They sit in the quiet for a minute, listening to the noise from the kitchen below them. It sounds like Susie and Papyrus are attempting to make some sort of dish and it’s caught fire in the process.
They should both go check on whatever that disaster is. Frisk doesn’t want to, yet.
“What exactly did you see in Kris, when you Judged them?” Frisk asks.
“…something that tells me they’ve attracted the attention of more than just the player.” Sans laces his fingers together over his knees, gripping tightly. He rarely shows outward stress if he can help it. Frisk braces themself; Chara drifts closer to the surface, intrigued.
“you remember what i told you about wingdings?”
-/-
The waves of the Hometown Lake make quiet shushing noises, lapping at the edges of the gravel shoreline. Kris cut their feet on the rocky shore all the time as a little kid; they would kick off their water shoes and go barefoot like their big brother. They’d refused to understand that a human’s feet are different from a monster’s pawpads.
Susie laughs when they tell her that story. Calls them a dumbass. Her smile is big and carefree and it feels warmer than the sunlight they’re sitting under.
She’s telling her own story now, but the words are indistinct and Kris can’t focus on them, even though they’re trying. They keep getting distracted by the way the wind tugs at Susie’s perpetually messy hair. It’s too heavy to flow delicately in the wind, but strands slip free and tangle in the breeze. Kris thinks about reaching out and moving the ones that are caught on her eyelashes. They keep their hands still in their lap.
Maybe they’re not allowed to touch, but for now, at least they’re allowed to stare for as long as they please. It’s normal to look at the person you’re talking to, when it’s just the two of you, right?
Susie’s voice is getting lost in the waves of the lake. Kris strains to hear, but no matter how hard they try, they can’t make out what she’s saying anymore.
“I thought you’d like this dream,” says a voice behind them. Someone is at their back; a physical presence Kris can feel too close to themself. “Something nice before we get going again. I hope you enjoyed it.”
Kris can’t turn their head to look. The voice keeps talking.
“Time to wake up. The second act starts now.”
Kris blinks at a ceiling they vaguely recognize.
Noise filters into their senses. Susie and- Papyrus, that was his name. They’re somewhere nearby, discussing whether everyone else will eat charcoal eggs or not.
“Kris?” Ralsei asks, putting that particular lilt on their name so that it means something else.
Kris turns their head slowly, feeling soreness spreading through their whole body as they wake up more. Ralsei is kneeling really close to the couch, eyes transfixed on their every movement. He’s got his hands clasped still, like he’d been in the middle of prayer.
Kris’s mind is hazy. Memories struggle to come when called. They reflexively frown in frustration.
Ralsei’s hopeful expression falls.
“Kris,” he says, the name now actually their own. “You’re awake.”
Last night’s many, many events start to come back to Kris. They have to put aside their horror so they don’t just go into hysterics. It still bubbles and churns in their chest, even as they stifle it as much as they can.
“And you’re okay,” they reply roughly. Their throat feels raw.
Ralsei glances over his shoulder. Susie and Papyrus are both still occupied and haven’t noticed Kris waking up yet. “Yes, thanks to Susie,” he replies shortly. “Kris- what do you remember?”
The soul, stealing their body for a joyride. Ralsei getting kidnapped. Undyne. Their looping death as the team mechanic kept them barely alive.
A hollowness in their chest. The iciness of absolute darkness. Nothingness.
Sudden blazing warmth, driving back the shadows. Being held.
“…A Susie hug?” Kris says, confused but happy.
Ralsei’s smile is wobbly and worried. “There was one of those, yes. Anything else?”
“…Lost the soul. Bad stuff happened after. I don’t remember what.”
“It’s better you don’t,” Ralsei says somberly. “But do you remember why that happened? Kris, why did you go out last night? Why did… why did They leave me to Flowey?”
His paws clutch each other tightly. Kris can read the betrayal he’s feeling in his shaking hands.
“They must have had a reason,” Ralsei mumbles, completely dropping the pretense that any of this was ‘Kris’s’ choices. “They… They’ve been so kind to me… There must be some secret They needed me in danger to unlock access to-”
“Oh shit, they’re awake?” Susie says, hurrying out of the kitchen. Ralsei’s jaw snaps shut over his pleading words. Susie doesn’t comment- she probably didn’t hear him over the noise of Papyrus extinguishing the stove.
“Hey, dude,” Susie says, kneeling down next to Ralsei. Her hair is even messier than usual, and she’s wearing pajamas again. Kris wants to linger on her bedhead, memorize how it looks, but Susie’s punch to their shoulder distracts them.
“Ow,” they say in monotone. That’s going to bruise, probably.
“No complaining,” Susie snaps. “You gave us one hell of a scare. What the fuck, dude? You owe us so much explanation! And an apology.”
“…Sorry,” Kris says begrudgingly. It’s not their fault what happened. As usual, they’re getting stuck with the responsibility of the soul’s choices.
“That’s a start,” Susie huffs. “Now how about telling us what the hell you were thinking?”
“We’d like to know, too,” Frisk says from further away. Kris lifts their head. Frisk and Sans are coming downstairs; Sans has one hand on the railing, with Frisk holding onto his elbow on the other side, supporting him. The younger human looks pretty rough, but the skeleton monster looks even more terrible
Kris hates that they feel guilty, even if the decisions leading up to everyone getting hurt weren’t their own. They sit up slowly, wincing at how their body feels like a wrung-out dish cloth. They’re not looking forward to having to lie their way out of this mess.
Their gingerly movements don’t go unnoticed. “breakfast before serious talks,” Sans suggests firmly. He glances at the trails of black smoke coming from the kitchen. “who feels like cereal this morning?”