Just Cause
An Undertale Fanfiction
Chapter 2: What The Killer Gave Up
Table of Contents:
Chapter 1: Looking For a Bad Time
Chapter 2: What The Killer Gave Up (you are here)
Chapter 3: A Dangerous Path
Chapter 4: Fatal Mistakes
Chapter 5: Surrendered Memories
Chapter 6: Revenge?
Chapter 7: The Person I Was
Chapter 8: Leaving Hope Behind
Chapter 9: Seeking the Source
Chapter 10: Uncertain Friendship
Chapter 11: Dating WTF?!
Chapter 12: I Don’t Know How to Feel
Chapter 13: Mutual Protection
Chapter 14: Spear of Torment
Chapter 15: Saved by Fire
Chapter 16: Welcome to the Show
Chapter 17: Nostalgia
Chapter 18: The Only Two I Thought I Had
Chapter 1: Looking For a Bad Time
Chapter 2: What The Killer Gave Up (you are here)
Chapter 3: A Dangerous Path
Chapter 4: Fatal Mistakes
Chapter 5: Surrendered Memories
Chapter 6: Revenge?
Chapter 7: The Person I Was
Chapter 8: Leaving Hope Behind
Chapter 9: Seeking the Source
Chapter 10: Uncertain Friendship
Chapter 11: Dating WTF?!
Chapter 12: I Don’t Know How to Feel
Chapter 13: Mutual Protection
Chapter 14: Spear of Torment
Chapter 15: Saved by Fire
Chapter 16: Welcome to the Show
Chapter 17: Nostalgia
Chapter 18: The Only Two I Thought I Had
Timeline 2
“Doctor Alphys! As much as I hate to contest your brilliance, I must insist!! That you cannot!! Put instant noodles!! IN SPAGHETTI!!!”
As his brother’s rising agitation took audible form in an equally rising voice, Sans felt his grin pressing the edges of his cheekbones. A few feet away, Alphys was withering beneath Papyrus’ superior stature as the persnickety skeleton inadvertently loomed over her, but her feet stayed rooted to the ground as she defended her culinary decisions.
“But P-Papyrus, you don’t normally put c-cut up hot dogs in spaghetti e-either!”
“Nonsense! Cutting up hot dogs into other food is a time-honored Snowdin tradition! A-HA!” The sudden revelation drew Papyrus to his full impressive height, and he placed his fists triumphantly on his narrow hips. “THAT’S why you haven’t heard of it – you live in Hotland! Wowie… I’m glad I don’t live in Hotland.”
A second later, Undyne’s powerful right hand interrupted the conversation, colliding with Papyrus in a friendly backslap that nearly folded the skeleton double. “No she doesn’t, doofus! Nobody lives in Hotland anymore! At least, not for much longer. Isn’t that right, Frisk?”
Even before he turned to look at the human, Sans could hear their small body bouncing on the stool next to his, bobbing up and down with the force of their exuberant nod. Their soft features glowed with pride, and their teeth flashed in a grin that rivaled his own.
“Yup! Everyone’s going to move up here, right? Or, almost everyone – Gyftrot said it wanted to stay underground once the teenagers went away. But it doesn’t live in Hotland.”
“In that case,” Papyrus cheerfully proclaimed, “it’s OK! As long as everyone is safe from living in the land of lasers and conveyor belts, your quest was almost a success – even if I didn’t become a member of the Royal Guard.”
Frisk giggled, and while Alphys didn’t seem to agree with his assessment of her home, the eyeroll she sent in the skeleton’s direction seemed more fond than annoyed.
Turning to Toriel, Frisk stretched a bit higher, as if subconsciously trying to match the boss monster’s formidable height. “Do you think anyone else will come and join our celebration picnic?”
“I am not certain, my child. Although...” Glancing at the battery-powered oven, relocated cupboard and counter set, water cooler and water-catching bucket that sat scattered around the mountain ledge, Toriel raised an eyebrow slightly. “Can you still call it a picnic, if Doctor Alphys and Undyne have turned the ledge into a full outdoor kitchen?”
Confusion washed across Frisk’s face, as it tended to when the matter of social customs was broached. As if noticing the child’s consternation, Asgore took a step closer to the table Undyne had carried to the picnic site, smiling down at the tiny human.
“I think the important thing,” he commented, “is that we’re all here, celebrating our first day of freedom together.”
“Yeah,” Undyne piped up, her yellow teeth flashing in a fierce, exuberant grin. “Hey, Frisk, maybe you and I oughta cook something, huh? Show these punks how it’s done?”
To the surprise of no one who knew Undyne, Frisk’s expression tensed with reluctance, and they shuffled slightly on their stool, as if an adequate amount of fidgeting would produce the diplomatic escape they were searching for. “But Undyne,” they protested nervously, “what if we burn down the mountain?”
A small snort of laughter escaped from Sans and Alphys, and the short skeleton watched as tension flared through Toriel’s body. “I am sure Doctor Alphys made the equipment safer than that… did she not?” the former queen asked uncomfortably, and the yellow lizard responded by twisting her claws together.
“W-well… I normally d-do, but Undyne wanted a s-special oven, to match her f-fighting spirit, so… um…”
“So the dial only goes one way,” Frisk supplied, “and I… um…” Their face turned groundward in embarrassment. “I blew up the stove and burned down the house.”
“Yeah,” Undyne added, “it was great! An explosive start to an awesome friendship. You know, looking back, I kind of regret not doing that scrapbook project I suggested. I mean, how badass would that have been?! Commemorating the best moments of our first and final battle while surrounded by roaring flames!”
“That sounds dangerous,” Toriel protested, predictably disturbed, while Frisk shrank slightly, their body tightening in a way that sent a trickle of uneasy pity through Sans’ ribcage.
“What’s with the expression, kiddo? Is scrapbooking a pet peeve of yours, or was it mostly the fire?”
The human’s uncomfortable frown deepened, and Undyne looked slightly abashed. “Oh… right. They don’t like boss battle scrapbooks. Which is really too bad – our fight was awesome!”
“No it wasn’t.”
The muted voice drew every eye to Frisk, and Sans felt the cheerfulness draining from his grin. The child’s face was downcast, and the tension in their mouth and fingers spoke of angry pain.
Whoops. Good job, Undyne.
“It isn’t fun.” Frisk’s voice was still tight and restrained, as if part of them resisted the idea of making a scene, but another part couldn’t keep quiet. “Being hit with spears and told to die isn’t fun.”
Their face lifted toward Undyne, and the frown grew into a full-fledged glare. “And throwing spears at children shouldn’t be considered fun, either.”
If the target of Frisk’s statement had been anyone else, Sans could have hoped that they’d at least have the sense to show a bit of remorse. Especially after what he’d been told about the fish’s mid-battle speech.
But this was Undyne, lover of all things combat-related, and Sans doubted she could bring herself to consider a fight to be something bad enough to regret.
“Come on!”
Sure enough, her voice was as cheerfully forceful as ever, and Sans inwardly cringed as she went on.
“Where’s your fighting spirit? You were great in that fight! I mean, you were practically a pro! If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I trained you myself! Didn’t they teach you to enjoy a good spear fight in human school?”
“I didn’t go to human school,” Frisk replied, consternation and discomfort stealing some of the anger from their frown, and to Sans’ relief, the comment diverted the exuberant warrior from her accidental bout of blatant insensitivity.
“Seriously? Man, you’ll have to hang out with Alphys and I sometime! She can teach you all sorts of cool stuff, even if her human history course might need some revision. But hey, anime is cool too, even if it isn’t real.”
“I have already assembled a curriculum on human history,” Toriel pointed out, a flicker of proud enthusiasm sparking to life on her face. “Though, I still need to gather information about recent events; very little news reached me in the Ruins.”
Her gaze flicked sideways to Sans, and he felt a spark of pride of his own as she added, “Since Alphys upgraded my phone, I have been able to connect to the human internet, and I have already started to use it for my research. Sans has helped me to locate some good resources, so I am certain that I can manage both of our education.”
“Man, you’re already using the internet for work?” Undyne grinned. “Alphys and I have just been watching anime! We even managed to get Papyrus to watch Madoka Magica with us, once we’d convinced him to hold off on playing ‘ambassador’ for a day.”
Irritation rattled through the tall skeleton’s bones. “I can’t believe you got me to waste four whole hours on a children’s show when important work needed to be done!”
“Oh, come on, dude! You were crying by the end of it! And don’t tell me you caught something in your eye – that something was definitely tears.”
“The great Papyrus only cries when it’s entirely justified! I was crying because! ...Because!! Because… because I can’t believe that in a cartoon for children…”
Papyrus had no lip to quiver, but his eye sockets were starting to water again. Quietly, Frisk slid off of their stool and took their friend’s hand, prompting Papyrus to mash them face-first into his battle body.
“Nyoo hoo, I can’t believe that I’m blubbering in such an uncool way about a kid’s show...”
“It’s OK, Papyrus,” Alphys tried to reassure him. “I think everyone cries the first time they watch that. And besides!”
Her brows dropped into a fierce, smiling glare, confident exuberance radiating from her stance as it only did when science and anime were involved. “Madoka is definitely not for children! There are several different types of anime, like shonen, shojo, seinen, and josei, and they’re for different age groups and genders! Madoka is a seinen anime, which means it’s meant for adults!”
“A cartoon for adults? Ridiculous! Humans are so strange!”
Rage flared through Alphys’ eyes, and Toriel stepped between the lizard and the skeleton, much to the visible disappointment of the fish who’d been enjoying her girlfriend’s display of passionate fighting spirit.
Smiling brightly, the boss monster interjected, “At least their monster history is covered. My child, I believe you passed through Waterfall, did you not?”
Frisk nodded, taking a step away from Papyrus and as Alphys continued to glare at the skeleton in the background, Toriel’s face waxed reflective. “Though, that is only a glimpse of it… not that there is much to tell after the barrier was created.”
“Yeah,” Undyne sulked, “No big battles, no flowery princess swordswomen, no dramatic forbidden romances... man. Our history sucks. Oh, well!” She brightened suddenly, eager ferocity flashing in her one yellow eye.
“Now that we’re on the surface, I’m sure something badass will happen soon! I mean, there are humans making history all over the place! And they’re already exploring space, so we have to find hostile aliens sooner or later, right?”
Darkness washed across Frisk’s face, and Sans watched their features closely as their head tilted toward the ground. “I hope not,” the child muttered, and Undyne turned toward them with what looked like genuine shock.
“What? Why not?!”
“Well, it...” Frisk’s face lifted, pain sparking in their perpetually almost-closed eyes. “Stuff like that’s OK for you, Undyne, because you like to fight. But...”
Their gaze fell again. “I don’t like it. I only fight when I have to, and I already had to way too much in the Underground. Now that we’re up here, I just want things to be peaceful for a while, with no fighting.”
Silence descended on the ledge like a mist of soundless rain, and Sans let his eyelids fall shut. Undyne’s going to upset them again in three, two…
“Aw, that’s no fun! Can’t we at least have a sparring match now and then? Don’t worry, I promise I’ll go easy on you!”
Right on schedule. One of these days, I need to teach her how to read the audience. Not that I have a flawless track record when it comes to that.
I wonder if I should say something.
Before he could make a decision, Toriel stepped in, a hint of sternness flickering in the back of her warm, motherly eyes. “Undyne, Frisk has already been through a great deal, and it sounds like you were partly responsible.”
It was remarkable how quickly that gentle, maternal tone could turn flinty. Not to mention the glare – he wouldn’t say Toriel could do stink eye with the best of them, so much as she’d probably make the second best flinch. It wasn’t often that he saw Undyne shrink away from someone like that – the movement was subtle, but it was definitely there.
Seeing that she’d made her point, the boss monster softened. “I think they are right; it would be good to allow them to just be a child for a while, would it not? After all, every child deserves to have a time when they can feel safe and taken care of.”
The look of surprise and confusion on Frisk’s face made his heart twist. They looked as if Toriel had suggested that they visit one of those alien planets Undyne was so eager to see.
As if the concept of being safe and cared for was still barely beginning to scratch the surface of a pool iced over with pain.
But then, given what they’d said to him earlier that timeline, Sans knew that he shouldn’t be surprised.
“Thanks.”
Frisk’s voice was quiet, and while the confusion and hurt still lingered in their eyebrows, their mouth had lifted in half a smile. “That’s… I… I’m not really used to that, and I don’t know if I even know how to feel that way, but… I think… it would be nice.”
Tears began to well up in Papyrus’ eyes again, and Alphys started to blink faster than usual. Fondness, pain and regret flickered in Undyne’s golden stare, and once again, Sans found himself wondering if he should say or do something.
I want to, but right now… I’m not sure what to say.
Asgore and Toriel both moved toward the human at the same time, only to pause as the smaller boss monster gave the larger one a look that stated clearly that she didn’t want him any closer than he was.
Alphys fidgeted, looking as uncertain as Sans felt, and as the other monsters hesitated, Papyrus took the opportunity to monopolize child-hugging detail.
“Fear not, lonely human! I, the great Papyrus, will take excellent care of you! You will know nothing but the utmost care and absolute safety, and you’ll be well-fed on my… on my…” His nasal cavity began to work, air jolting sharply into nonexistent lungs, then anatomically improbable eyeballs suddenly bulged from his head.
“MY SPAGHETTI!”
The acrid smell of burning noodles permeated the air, and Papyrus practically sailed across the ledge, hauling a startled Frisk in one arm and reaching for the pot with the other. “Nyoo hoo, my perfect artisan’s creation is ruined! How can I compete with Alphys’ terrible instant noodles under these conditions?”
“Don’t worry, Papyrus,” Frisk assured him, grunting the words out from a ribcage that looked unpleasantly compressed. “We can still eat the spaghetti at the top. And I can eat just about anything!”
Easily reassured as always, Papyrus instantly brightened. “That’s true! I almost forgot, you have no standards! I mean…” His features flattened, in tandem with his voice. “You did eat garbage during your fight with Mettaton. I saw it on TV.”
A sour expression crawled across the human’s face – whether because of the pre-bitten burger or the brutal fight, Sans couldn’t tell. “I grabbed it by accident when I was reaching for a hot dog. But anyway, in a fight like that, the only standard that matters about food is how many HP it gives you.”
And now, again, their face fell into shadow and took Sans’ mood down with it. “That’s the only thing about food that I’ve cared about for a while now.”
A solemn hush fell over the group, and Sans felt his eye sockets slip closed.
I wish I knew what to say. I know I helped a bit today, but when this much damage has been done… is there anything I could say that would even matter?
~*~*~*~
Timeline 4
That’s strange.
According to the readings on the timeline chart, he’d fought the human five times now. They’d survived his opening attack easily, but the barrages that followed had scored enough glancing blows to drain their meager HP into the single digits.
And yet, for some reason, they weren’t eating.
He could smell the pie in their pocket, sweet and nostalgic and reeking of injustice, but they hadn’t touched it. He’d heard the rattle of Alphys’ instant noodles, pilfered from her home no doubt, but those, too, were ignored.
Just like all the food in their pockets had been ignored in every battle he’d witnessed.
As he launched his fifth attack, covering the floor in bones and silently cursing his inability to weed the platforms of harmless magic out of the onslaught, Sans mentally replayed the murders he’d forced himself to watch on Alphys’ coldly glowing screen.
Most of the attacks could hardly be called fights; one monster after another had died in just one hit.
But even when outnumbered or confronted by an enemy as powerful as Undyne, the human had never spent a single turn on eating, no matter how low their HP was.
They just kept dying over and over, jolting the timeline back and forth until they could survive the conflict without healing even once.
They’d eaten between battles on occasion, so Sans knew that they knew that food restored health. But in combat, they kept a strict diet of attack, attack, attack.
A self-imposed challenge? Is this like getting an achievement in a video game?
Is that all we are to them?
For a moment, sick anger twisted through him, sending a yellow flash of rage through his eye.
Then one of the fragments of magic grazed the human’s head, and Sans’ stare probed every microexpression on their resigned, guilt-ridden face.
No… that’s not the expression of someone who’s playing a game. It’s… no, not quite, but… something almost like…
Self-punishment?
They were stumbling now, struggling to stay upright while the battle box vanished and their narrow chest labored for air, and Sans watched in disturbed fascination.
Would someone go this far just to punish themselves? As opposed to, say, just jumping off a cliff?
It would mean the timeline is in the hands of a seriously twisted person, but at least it would also mean there’s enough of a soul in there that there’s a point in trying to get through.
Even if it meant having a conversation that he’d never been willing to have with anybody else.
The human swayed for a moment, their feet braced wide beneath their warily bent body, like a hunting animal securing its balance and preparing to spring. A predictable forward rush followed, and as he ducked beneath the blade, Sans inwardly shook his head at the irony of what he was about to do.
Of all the people to be the first one I confide this to…
“You can’t understand how this feels.”
He wasn’t sure how he’d thought they’d respond to his words, or to the hopelessness he allowed to leak into his tone. Indifference… derision… maybe regret, if he was lucky?
Whatever it was, it wasn’t what he got. The way the human’s fists clenched and their torso shrank in on itself didn’t look like any of those.
It looked more like… denial.
Troubled, pained, almost sympathetic denial.
Are you saying you think you DO understand? CAN you understand what it’s like…
As the battle box closed around his tormentor and his next attack began, Sans allowed the pain to finally flow, to fuel the fury of his assault.
Knowing that you have no future? That everything you do will be undone, everything you say will be forgotten, every hope and dream is permanently out of reach, and every effort you make is pointless?
To wonder how many times you have done and will do the same futile things, and be powerless to stop the cycle?
To know that even if you get a happy ending… or if you give up on ever having one, and give yourself a different kind of end… no one will even remember that it happened?
All because an invincible immortal in the skin of a child decided that we’re nothing more than toys to be used and broken.
“Knowing that one day, without any warning... it's all going to be reset.”
They turned to face him, but their expression was hidden. They’d let their hair fall over their eyes, as if the thin brown veil could block him out, shield them from the pain in his words and narrow their focus entirely on their next attempt to take his life.
This time, their attack was aimed better, and the skeleton was forced to use a short teleport to escape the wild, desperate slash that his dodge almost failed to evade.
Heh… that was closer than usual. Looks like you’re getting eager to shut me up.
The truth hurts, doesn’t it?
There’s a reason why I don’t make a habit of sharing it.
As his counterattack swept across the battlefield, the concentration that tightened the human’s face made Sans suspect that they were seeing this turn for the first time.
But he knew that wouldn’t last. They’d probably evaded his first few assaults by memory alone, and it was only a matter of time before they could do the same here.
Before the words that had put that pain in their stance ceased to have meaning.
Have they heard me say these things before?
Did they listen?
Do they care?
And are they really capable of knowing that it’s like, to live in the world they’ve created for us?
~*~*~*~
Timeline 2
“I hate this.”
If it weren’t for the events of the last few hours, the night would have been beautiful. The fresh, clear air spread endlessly above them, gulfs of emptiness stretching away into the glittering depths of space, and even now, Flowey could still find it in himself to marvel at the sheer vastness of it.
The world outside the Underground was so breathtakingly huge, strewn with endless possibilities… and yet, amid all that space and all these new people and things, there was that one persistent fly that kept ruining the ointment.
Glancing to his human companion as they sat on the ledge beside him, the golden blossom asked, “What, the waiting?”
Their soft face ducked in a miserable nod, and they drew their knees closer to their chest.
“Yeah. I can’t stop wondering when it’s gonna happen. Every time I talk to someone, or eat a meal, or try to take a nap, I wonder if it’s going to happen right in the middle of it, and if there’s even a point.
“And explaining things to everyone... every time I do, they say the same things, and… I’m trying to be patient, because it isn’t their fault that they sound like a bunch of reruns, but it’s starting to feel like there’s no point. Even if I just tell them to stop talking because I’ve already heard it, I’ll probably be the only one who even remembers I was rude.”
The only one who remembers… The thought was nostalgic in a way that made him sick.
The first time he’d tried killing a moldsmal, it had been partly to see what would happen, and partly to see if it would make him feel anything.
To his surprise, it had worked; guilt had washed over him so powerfully that he’d immediately reloaded his save to try to rid himself of the feeling.
That part had not worked. Just his luck, that his soulless state would steal his capacity for love and compassion, but not shame.
In the wake of that, the only thing that had comforted him was the mantra he’d started chanting in his head: I’m the only one who remembers.
As long as that was the case, there was no need for his guilt to linger, because nobody was even aware that they’d suffered. Being the only one whose memories survived had been so freeing, until it began to make the people who forgot look like boring toys.
But Frisk… Frisk was different. They remembered, too. They weren’t just another forgetful plaything, looping mindlessly through the same set of responses over and over.
They knew how it felt to watch other people act like characters in a video game, until actions and words that had once meant everything ceased to mean anything.
“Heh.” A bitter smile spread across the flower’s face like a spill of sour milk. “I guess I was right... you really are the only one who understands me.”
For a brief moment, the expected flash of sympathy and warmth flickered across the human’s face.
Then it was drowned in a sudden tide of uneasy, half-defiant dread. “But… I don’t want to end up like you.”
That was ruder than he’d come to expect from them. But under the stressful circumstances, he could hardly blame them, and he knew all too well that he’d earned it. “I didn’t think you would. Golly, I didn’t want to end up like me. I fought it for a long time. But eventually, it happened.”
Silence fell in the wake of his comment, lingering for a long moment beneath the dazzling celestial display before Frisk’s muted voice returned. “It’s weird… you can’t feel most of the things I feel, but you’re the only one I can really talk to about those things. I tried talking to some of the others, but then when I died, they all just forgot.
“I’m so tired of having the same conversations over and over. You’re the only one I can talk to and know that you’ll remember, even if I end up having to reset.”
A sigh heaved slowly from their narrow chest, and they folded in on themselves, looking smaller than ever as they rested their forehead on their knees. “I don’t want to reset. I don’t want to lose all the memories we’ve all made together.
“If I end up having to reset, I wish… I wish there was a way to take care of this in another timeline, and then come back to this timeline where everyone remembers me. Or something like that.”
Memories flickered through Flowey’s mind, and he shook his head. “Sorry, Frisk. If there is a way to bend the rules like that, I don’t know what it is. Goodness knows I tried enough times.
“Part of me thought that maybe, if I got enough power… if I took enough souls… I’d be able to reset things back to before I was a flower. To when I was myself. But it seems like that’s impossible. You can only go back as far as the moment when you first got your power.”
A soft moan escaped from Frisk’s small, tired body, and Flowey smiled sadly. “I guess there are a few things you’d like to reset, huh? From before you came to Mount Ebott?”
Dull, empty eyes stared hollowly from the child’s face as a weary effort lifted their head from their knees. Somewhere amid that half-dead blankness, Flowey caught the unmistakable flash of pain.
“Yeah,” they answered quietly, their flat tone turning slightly husky. “There are. When I reset the first timeline, I tried really hard to go back far enough. But if it’s possible, I don’t know how.
“It wasn’t even like hitting a wall; if it was, maybe I could push through it. It was like there was just… nothing. Nothing before I fell through the barrier. Nothing to reach for, nothing to grab or put my feet on. I don’t know how to push through that.”
Flowey’s head bobbed in a knowing nod. “That sounds like what happened to me.” He sighed. “I guess even people like us can’t have everything we want. All we can do is try to keep what we have now.”
Frisk’s head lowered in what could have been either a nod, or simply going limp in the face of an insurmountable task. “Yeah… I guess you’re right.”
~*~*~*~
Timeline 4
“Look. I gave up trying to go back a long time ago.”
The human’s eyes were avoiding his face, their gaze fixed resolutely on his feet as they attacked. He could see his words sinking in, like stones through the murky surface of a lake, but he couldn’t tell what happened to them after they landed.
“And getting to the surface doesn't really appeal anymore, either.”
It was strange, how easily the words were coming. As if all the painful truths he’d been storing inside, but couldn’t bring himself to inflict on the people he cared about, were finally rising to the surface in the presence of someone who mattered to him in the worst possible way.
Mattered to him… that was a scary way to put it.
For a moment, he’d almost stopped looking for the human’s reactions. Stopped probing for guilt, regret, and ways to work his way through the cracks in the wall they’d erected around their soul.
All of his focus had been on forcing himself to launch an attack that should have come easily, but that nearly fell short of the speed and ferocity that he knew he could put into it.
Why? Why is it so hard for me to use my full power on my brother’s murderer?
Even as he mentally asked the question, the answer was written on the human’s face. A flicker of melancholy had twisted their features at the mention of trying to go back, a hint of the same sad resignation that he saw in his reflection every single day.
And even as he followed his dismissal of going to the surface with a volley of death-bearing magic, for just an instant, the child stopped focusing on his attacks, and almost looked him in the eye.
The glance was so brief that a blink would have cost him the sight of it, but even the haste with which they returned their eyes to his attack couldn’t mask the horror, confusion and pain that blazed through the ever-present haze of guilt.
I know why I still care. But why do you?
Sans’ attack faded, and the human’s answering assault was as wild and desperate as it was hesitant. As if they were trying to throw everything they had into the strike, but just couldn’t bring themselves to aim it properly.
Yet again, they stumbled to a halt, and the lines of the battle box closed them off from their target.
I know you’re listening. Please, understand. Please realize what you’re doing to us. “’Cause even if we do,” the skeleton continued, watching their face more closely than ever, “we’ll just end up right back here, without any memory of it, right?”
It was supposed to make the human falter. Baring his soul, while using it as a weapon – fitting, he supposed, for a member of a species whose attacks sprang forth from the culmination of their beings.
Instead, their horror dissolved, like smoke swept aside by a sudden wind of fierce, steely resolve.
Their glance became a sword edged with fire, unspoken words hovering in the air like the echo of a timeline he couldn’t remember, and even as he wondered what he’d awakened in them, a bigger part of him wanted to know what they’d said to each other in that moment whose memory teased the edges of his mind.
As if that one conversation was the answer to everything, and all these mysteries would be solved if only he remembered it.
His volley brought his opponent down to their last five HP, and their next attack was fiercer than any that had preceded it, as if something in his words had solidified their resolve. Even as he dodged it and continued to speak, Sans wondered if he was pounding nails into his own coffin.
“To be blunt, it makes it kind of hard to give it my all.”
To his relief, it looked like he wouldn’t have to. His next assault grazed the leaping human’s leg, leeching the last of their life force out of them and sparing him the need to wring more ferocity from a soul that couldn’t seem to stop holding back.
The world went white, then black, and even as he felt himself being pulled away from the present moment, a flicker of regret carved a crack in his attempt to steel himself for the next round.
I’m going to forget this. The look on their face, that feeling of being so close to an answer… they’ll hide it next time, and I’ll never even know that that moment happened.
Just one more thing to forget, in a timeline I don’t want to remember. This is one thing I’ll be glad to give up.
~*~*~*~
Timeline 3
“What did you give up, Sans?”
A moment ago, the sentry’s attention had been consumed by the crisp chill in the air, the possibilities and predictions that waged war in his mind, and the strange familiarity of the presence beside him.
A human. A species so rare in the Underground that few had expected to even see one in their lifetime, and a representative so young that the power of their soul seemed almost foreign in a body so small and vulnerable.
And yet, they held such remarkable abilities, and claimed to have used those abilities to reverse a past timeline in which the two of them had become friends.
No wonder their face had looked so familiar, and the echoes of emotion had been so warm.
Now, as their words cut through his contemplations, the crunch of snow beneath his slippers paused, and the air seemed to shrink away from him as he glanced at the child who’d been walking by his side.
A corner of his mind reflexively checked the vicinity for eavesdroppers, but it seemed that Frisk knew him well enough to be aware of his desire for secrecy. They’d waited until the two of them were alone, and now they were staring up at him, concern etched into their small, soft face.
“What do you mean, kiddo? Did I say something in the last timeline?”
They nodded, the fingers of their right hand tightening around the back of their left, and worry tugged even harder on their forehead. “After Flowey absorbed everybody’s souls, I found your soul inside his during our fight.
“You didn’t really seem to be awake, but you were talking. You told me… you said, ‘just give up, I did’. And then you said, ‘you’ll never see them again; why even try?’”
Their face lowered, and their grip on their own hand tightened in a way that reminded him of Alphys. “I know you don’t like to talk about stuff. Papyrus says you never tell anybody anything. But...” Their eyes rose shyly to meet his, lit with uncertainty and hope. “Maybe talking would help? Or maybe I could?”
The bone sheaths over his eye sockets fell closed, and he let a small, soft sigh escape from the hollow of his chest. “Heh… from what you’ve said, you’re pretty good at fixing people’s problems. I have no doubt that you’ll help a lot of people in this timeline, just like you did before things fell apart in the last one. Maybe this time, you can even get it to stick.
“But the way you described it… it sounds like even your ‘special power’ only goes back so far. The things I wanted to go back to… the people I tried to bring back…”
He didn’t mean to let the pain become visible on his face. But he felt it gripping his features anyway, even as he opened his eyes. “They’re probably beyond your reach.”
As he’d expected, they weren’t ready to accept his verdict that easily. Not without asking the all-important question. “Why? Did it happen before I fell down here?”
“Yeah. Long before.”
With that, their narrow shoulders slumped, defeated as he’d suspected they would be. “Oh,” they said softly. “In that case, you’re probably right; I might not be able to help.
“I can only go back to the moment when I first fell into the Underground, when I’m still falling down. I guess it was right after I passed the barrier. I’ve tried to go back further than that, but I couldn’t. I guess... maybe the barrier or monster magic activates my power somehow?”
“Hm. Maybe. Or maybe the barrier blocks time travel as effectively as it does everything else.”
It was almost strange, to feel the scientist in him waking up again. To feel curiosity for its own sake, rather than all his powers of investigation being fully concentrated on finding the anomaly, ways to keep Papyrus happy, ways to antagonize Papyrus, and reasons to keep getting out of bed.
“That might be something worth exploring,” he continued. “If you could find a way to increase your power level somehow, maybe... heh.” The end of that train of thought came into sight, and he decided it was time to derail it.
“Actually, now that I think about it, I’m not sure it would be a good idea. A lot has happened since then; who knows what could change, and if the changes would be good.
“Besides, from what you’ve said, things got dangerous for you before you came to Mount Ebott. If you go back that far, and your ability to self-resurrect doesn’t work until you fall down here, who knows; maybe you’d end up dying before you ever came here.”
A frown slid across Frisk’s face, dark memories haunting their narrow, lowered eyes. Their small body shrank into itself, and the echoes of all-too-recent events sent a shiver through them that had nothing to do with Snowdin’s ever-present cold.
“You’re probably right. I barely survived the first time, and next time it would be even worse. But...”
A hint of hope and defiance flared to life, burning a hole through the shroud of dejection on their face. “I’ve survived lots of fights since then, and gotten good at not dying, and next time I’d know what to expect.
“I’m still scared, but if I could get strong enough that I could handle it…” Their eyes fell even lower, and the look of pain and longing on their face was far too familiar. “I also have someone I want to see again.”
“Doctor Alphys! As much as I hate to contest your brilliance, I must insist!! That you cannot!! Put instant noodles!! IN SPAGHETTI!!!”
As his brother’s rising agitation took audible form in an equally rising voice, Sans felt his grin pressing the edges of his cheekbones. A few feet away, Alphys was withering beneath Papyrus’ superior stature as the persnickety skeleton inadvertently loomed over her, but her feet stayed rooted to the ground as she defended her culinary decisions.
“But P-Papyrus, you don’t normally put c-cut up hot dogs in spaghetti e-either!”
“Nonsense! Cutting up hot dogs into other food is a time-honored Snowdin tradition! A-HA!” The sudden revelation drew Papyrus to his full impressive height, and he placed his fists triumphantly on his narrow hips. “THAT’S why you haven’t heard of it – you live in Hotland! Wowie… I’m glad I don’t live in Hotland.”
A second later, Undyne’s powerful right hand interrupted the conversation, colliding with Papyrus in a friendly backslap that nearly folded the skeleton double. “No she doesn’t, doofus! Nobody lives in Hotland anymore! At least, not for much longer. Isn’t that right, Frisk?”
Even before he turned to look at the human, Sans could hear their small body bouncing on the stool next to his, bobbing up and down with the force of their exuberant nod. Their soft features glowed with pride, and their teeth flashed in a grin that rivaled his own.
“Yup! Everyone’s going to move up here, right? Or, almost everyone – Gyftrot said it wanted to stay underground once the teenagers went away. But it doesn’t live in Hotland.”
“In that case,” Papyrus cheerfully proclaimed, “it’s OK! As long as everyone is safe from living in the land of lasers and conveyor belts, your quest was almost a success – even if I didn’t become a member of the Royal Guard.”
Frisk giggled, and while Alphys didn’t seem to agree with his assessment of her home, the eyeroll she sent in the skeleton’s direction seemed more fond than annoyed.
Turning to Toriel, Frisk stretched a bit higher, as if subconsciously trying to match the boss monster’s formidable height. “Do you think anyone else will come and join our celebration picnic?”
“I am not certain, my child. Although...” Glancing at the battery-powered oven, relocated cupboard and counter set, water cooler and water-catching bucket that sat scattered around the mountain ledge, Toriel raised an eyebrow slightly. “Can you still call it a picnic, if Doctor Alphys and Undyne have turned the ledge into a full outdoor kitchen?”
Confusion washed across Frisk’s face, as it tended to when the matter of social customs was broached. As if noticing the child’s consternation, Asgore took a step closer to the table Undyne had carried to the picnic site, smiling down at the tiny human.
“I think the important thing,” he commented, “is that we’re all here, celebrating our first day of freedom together.”
“Yeah,” Undyne piped up, her yellow teeth flashing in a fierce, exuberant grin. “Hey, Frisk, maybe you and I oughta cook something, huh? Show these punks how it’s done?”
To the surprise of no one who knew Undyne, Frisk’s expression tensed with reluctance, and they shuffled slightly on their stool, as if an adequate amount of fidgeting would produce the diplomatic escape they were searching for. “But Undyne,” they protested nervously, “what if we burn down the mountain?”
A small snort of laughter escaped from Sans and Alphys, and the short skeleton watched as tension flared through Toriel’s body. “I am sure Doctor Alphys made the equipment safer than that… did she not?” the former queen asked uncomfortably, and the yellow lizard responded by twisting her claws together.
“W-well… I normally d-do, but Undyne wanted a s-special oven, to match her f-fighting spirit, so… um…”
“So the dial only goes one way,” Frisk supplied, “and I… um…” Their face turned groundward in embarrassment. “I blew up the stove and burned down the house.”
“Yeah,” Undyne added, “it was great! An explosive start to an awesome friendship. You know, looking back, I kind of regret not doing that scrapbook project I suggested. I mean, how badass would that have been?! Commemorating the best moments of our first and final battle while surrounded by roaring flames!”
“That sounds dangerous,” Toriel protested, predictably disturbed, while Frisk shrank slightly, their body tightening in a way that sent a trickle of uneasy pity through Sans’ ribcage.
“What’s with the expression, kiddo? Is scrapbooking a pet peeve of yours, or was it mostly the fire?”
The human’s uncomfortable frown deepened, and Undyne looked slightly abashed. “Oh… right. They don’t like boss battle scrapbooks. Which is really too bad – our fight was awesome!”
“No it wasn’t.”
The muted voice drew every eye to Frisk, and Sans felt the cheerfulness draining from his grin. The child’s face was downcast, and the tension in their mouth and fingers spoke of angry pain.
Whoops. Good job, Undyne.
“It isn’t fun.” Frisk’s voice was still tight and restrained, as if part of them resisted the idea of making a scene, but another part couldn’t keep quiet. “Being hit with spears and told to die isn’t fun.”
Their face lifted toward Undyne, and the frown grew into a full-fledged glare. “And throwing spears at children shouldn’t be considered fun, either.”
If the target of Frisk’s statement had been anyone else, Sans could have hoped that they’d at least have the sense to show a bit of remorse. Especially after what he’d been told about the fish’s mid-battle speech.
But this was Undyne, lover of all things combat-related, and Sans doubted she could bring herself to consider a fight to be something bad enough to regret.
“Come on!”
Sure enough, her voice was as cheerfully forceful as ever, and Sans inwardly cringed as she went on.
“Where’s your fighting spirit? You were great in that fight! I mean, you were practically a pro! If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I trained you myself! Didn’t they teach you to enjoy a good spear fight in human school?”
“I didn’t go to human school,” Frisk replied, consternation and discomfort stealing some of the anger from their frown, and to Sans’ relief, the comment diverted the exuberant warrior from her accidental bout of blatant insensitivity.
“Seriously? Man, you’ll have to hang out with Alphys and I sometime! She can teach you all sorts of cool stuff, even if her human history course might need some revision. But hey, anime is cool too, even if it isn’t real.”
“I have already assembled a curriculum on human history,” Toriel pointed out, a flicker of proud enthusiasm sparking to life on her face. “Though, I still need to gather information about recent events; very little news reached me in the Ruins.”
Her gaze flicked sideways to Sans, and he felt a spark of pride of his own as she added, “Since Alphys upgraded my phone, I have been able to connect to the human internet, and I have already started to use it for my research. Sans has helped me to locate some good resources, so I am certain that I can manage both of our education.”
“Man, you’re already using the internet for work?” Undyne grinned. “Alphys and I have just been watching anime! We even managed to get Papyrus to watch Madoka Magica with us, once we’d convinced him to hold off on playing ‘ambassador’ for a day.”
Irritation rattled through the tall skeleton’s bones. “I can’t believe you got me to waste four whole hours on a children’s show when important work needed to be done!”
“Oh, come on, dude! You were crying by the end of it! And don’t tell me you caught something in your eye – that something was definitely tears.”
“The great Papyrus only cries when it’s entirely justified! I was crying because! ...Because!! Because… because I can’t believe that in a cartoon for children…”
Papyrus had no lip to quiver, but his eye sockets were starting to water again. Quietly, Frisk slid off of their stool and took their friend’s hand, prompting Papyrus to mash them face-first into his battle body.
“Nyoo hoo, I can’t believe that I’m blubbering in such an uncool way about a kid’s show...”
“It’s OK, Papyrus,” Alphys tried to reassure him. “I think everyone cries the first time they watch that. And besides!”
Her brows dropped into a fierce, smiling glare, confident exuberance radiating from her stance as it only did when science and anime were involved. “Madoka is definitely not for children! There are several different types of anime, like shonen, shojo, seinen, and josei, and they’re for different age groups and genders! Madoka is a seinen anime, which means it’s meant for adults!”
“A cartoon for adults? Ridiculous! Humans are so strange!”
Rage flared through Alphys’ eyes, and Toriel stepped between the lizard and the skeleton, much to the visible disappointment of the fish who’d been enjoying her girlfriend’s display of passionate fighting spirit.
Smiling brightly, the boss monster interjected, “At least their monster history is covered. My child, I believe you passed through Waterfall, did you not?”
Frisk nodded, taking a step away from Papyrus and as Alphys continued to glare at the skeleton in the background, Toriel’s face waxed reflective. “Though, that is only a glimpse of it… not that there is much to tell after the barrier was created.”
“Yeah,” Undyne sulked, “No big battles, no flowery princess swordswomen, no dramatic forbidden romances... man. Our history sucks. Oh, well!” She brightened suddenly, eager ferocity flashing in her one yellow eye.
“Now that we’re on the surface, I’m sure something badass will happen soon! I mean, there are humans making history all over the place! And they’re already exploring space, so we have to find hostile aliens sooner or later, right?”
Darkness washed across Frisk’s face, and Sans watched their features closely as their head tilted toward the ground. “I hope not,” the child muttered, and Undyne turned toward them with what looked like genuine shock.
“What? Why not?!”
“Well, it...” Frisk’s face lifted, pain sparking in their perpetually almost-closed eyes. “Stuff like that’s OK for you, Undyne, because you like to fight. But...”
Their gaze fell again. “I don’t like it. I only fight when I have to, and I already had to way too much in the Underground. Now that we’re up here, I just want things to be peaceful for a while, with no fighting.”
Silence descended on the ledge like a mist of soundless rain, and Sans let his eyelids fall shut. Undyne’s going to upset them again in three, two…
“Aw, that’s no fun! Can’t we at least have a sparring match now and then? Don’t worry, I promise I’ll go easy on you!”
Right on schedule. One of these days, I need to teach her how to read the audience. Not that I have a flawless track record when it comes to that.
I wonder if I should say something.
Before he could make a decision, Toriel stepped in, a hint of sternness flickering in the back of her warm, motherly eyes. “Undyne, Frisk has already been through a great deal, and it sounds like you were partly responsible.”
It was remarkable how quickly that gentle, maternal tone could turn flinty. Not to mention the glare – he wouldn’t say Toriel could do stink eye with the best of them, so much as she’d probably make the second best flinch. It wasn’t often that he saw Undyne shrink away from someone like that – the movement was subtle, but it was definitely there.
Seeing that she’d made her point, the boss monster softened. “I think they are right; it would be good to allow them to just be a child for a while, would it not? After all, every child deserves to have a time when they can feel safe and taken care of.”
The look of surprise and confusion on Frisk’s face made his heart twist. They looked as if Toriel had suggested that they visit one of those alien planets Undyne was so eager to see.
As if the concept of being safe and cared for was still barely beginning to scratch the surface of a pool iced over with pain.
But then, given what they’d said to him earlier that timeline, Sans knew that he shouldn’t be surprised.
“Thanks.”
Frisk’s voice was quiet, and while the confusion and hurt still lingered in their eyebrows, their mouth had lifted in half a smile. “That’s… I… I’m not really used to that, and I don’t know if I even know how to feel that way, but… I think… it would be nice.”
Tears began to well up in Papyrus’ eyes again, and Alphys started to blink faster than usual. Fondness, pain and regret flickered in Undyne’s golden stare, and once again, Sans found himself wondering if he should say or do something.
I want to, but right now… I’m not sure what to say.
Asgore and Toriel both moved toward the human at the same time, only to pause as the smaller boss monster gave the larger one a look that stated clearly that she didn’t want him any closer than he was.
Alphys fidgeted, looking as uncertain as Sans felt, and as the other monsters hesitated, Papyrus took the opportunity to monopolize child-hugging detail.
“Fear not, lonely human! I, the great Papyrus, will take excellent care of you! You will know nothing but the utmost care and absolute safety, and you’ll be well-fed on my… on my…” His nasal cavity began to work, air jolting sharply into nonexistent lungs, then anatomically improbable eyeballs suddenly bulged from his head.
“MY SPAGHETTI!”
The acrid smell of burning noodles permeated the air, and Papyrus practically sailed across the ledge, hauling a startled Frisk in one arm and reaching for the pot with the other. “Nyoo hoo, my perfect artisan’s creation is ruined! How can I compete with Alphys’ terrible instant noodles under these conditions?”
“Don’t worry, Papyrus,” Frisk assured him, grunting the words out from a ribcage that looked unpleasantly compressed. “We can still eat the spaghetti at the top. And I can eat just about anything!”
Easily reassured as always, Papyrus instantly brightened. “That’s true! I almost forgot, you have no standards! I mean…” His features flattened, in tandem with his voice. “You did eat garbage during your fight with Mettaton. I saw it on TV.”
A sour expression crawled across the human’s face – whether because of the pre-bitten burger or the brutal fight, Sans couldn’t tell. “I grabbed it by accident when I was reaching for a hot dog. But anyway, in a fight like that, the only standard that matters about food is how many HP it gives you.”
And now, again, their face fell into shadow and took Sans’ mood down with it. “That’s the only thing about food that I’ve cared about for a while now.”
A solemn hush fell over the group, and Sans felt his eye sockets slip closed.
I wish I knew what to say. I know I helped a bit today, but when this much damage has been done… is there anything I could say that would even matter?
~*~*~*~
Timeline 4
That’s strange.
According to the readings on the timeline chart, he’d fought the human five times now. They’d survived his opening attack easily, but the barrages that followed had scored enough glancing blows to drain their meager HP into the single digits.
And yet, for some reason, they weren’t eating.
He could smell the pie in their pocket, sweet and nostalgic and reeking of injustice, but they hadn’t touched it. He’d heard the rattle of Alphys’ instant noodles, pilfered from her home no doubt, but those, too, were ignored.
Just like all the food in their pockets had been ignored in every battle he’d witnessed.
As he launched his fifth attack, covering the floor in bones and silently cursing his inability to weed the platforms of harmless magic out of the onslaught, Sans mentally replayed the murders he’d forced himself to watch on Alphys’ coldly glowing screen.
Most of the attacks could hardly be called fights; one monster after another had died in just one hit.
But even when outnumbered or confronted by an enemy as powerful as Undyne, the human had never spent a single turn on eating, no matter how low their HP was.
They just kept dying over and over, jolting the timeline back and forth until they could survive the conflict without healing even once.
They’d eaten between battles on occasion, so Sans knew that they knew that food restored health. But in combat, they kept a strict diet of attack, attack, attack.
A self-imposed challenge? Is this like getting an achievement in a video game?
Is that all we are to them?
For a moment, sick anger twisted through him, sending a yellow flash of rage through his eye.
Then one of the fragments of magic grazed the human’s head, and Sans’ stare probed every microexpression on their resigned, guilt-ridden face.
No… that’s not the expression of someone who’s playing a game. It’s… no, not quite, but… something almost like…
Self-punishment?
They were stumbling now, struggling to stay upright while the battle box vanished and their narrow chest labored for air, and Sans watched in disturbed fascination.
Would someone go this far just to punish themselves? As opposed to, say, just jumping off a cliff?
It would mean the timeline is in the hands of a seriously twisted person, but at least it would also mean there’s enough of a soul in there that there’s a point in trying to get through.
Even if it meant having a conversation that he’d never been willing to have with anybody else.
The human swayed for a moment, their feet braced wide beneath their warily bent body, like a hunting animal securing its balance and preparing to spring. A predictable forward rush followed, and as he ducked beneath the blade, Sans inwardly shook his head at the irony of what he was about to do.
Of all the people to be the first one I confide this to…
“You can’t understand how this feels.”
He wasn’t sure how he’d thought they’d respond to his words, or to the hopelessness he allowed to leak into his tone. Indifference… derision… maybe regret, if he was lucky?
Whatever it was, it wasn’t what he got. The way the human’s fists clenched and their torso shrank in on itself didn’t look like any of those.
It looked more like… denial.
Troubled, pained, almost sympathetic denial.
Are you saying you think you DO understand? CAN you understand what it’s like…
As the battle box closed around his tormentor and his next attack began, Sans allowed the pain to finally flow, to fuel the fury of his assault.
Knowing that you have no future? That everything you do will be undone, everything you say will be forgotten, every hope and dream is permanently out of reach, and every effort you make is pointless?
To wonder how many times you have done and will do the same futile things, and be powerless to stop the cycle?
To know that even if you get a happy ending… or if you give up on ever having one, and give yourself a different kind of end… no one will even remember that it happened?
All because an invincible immortal in the skin of a child decided that we’re nothing more than toys to be used and broken.
“Knowing that one day, without any warning... it's all going to be reset.”
They turned to face him, but their expression was hidden. They’d let their hair fall over their eyes, as if the thin brown veil could block him out, shield them from the pain in his words and narrow their focus entirely on their next attempt to take his life.
This time, their attack was aimed better, and the skeleton was forced to use a short teleport to escape the wild, desperate slash that his dodge almost failed to evade.
Heh… that was closer than usual. Looks like you’re getting eager to shut me up.
The truth hurts, doesn’t it?
There’s a reason why I don’t make a habit of sharing it.
As his counterattack swept across the battlefield, the concentration that tightened the human’s face made Sans suspect that they were seeing this turn for the first time.
But he knew that wouldn’t last. They’d probably evaded his first few assaults by memory alone, and it was only a matter of time before they could do the same here.
Before the words that had put that pain in their stance ceased to have meaning.
Have they heard me say these things before?
Did they listen?
Do they care?
And are they really capable of knowing that it’s like, to live in the world they’ve created for us?
~*~*~*~
Timeline 2
“I hate this.”
If it weren’t for the events of the last few hours, the night would have been beautiful. The fresh, clear air spread endlessly above them, gulfs of emptiness stretching away into the glittering depths of space, and even now, Flowey could still find it in himself to marvel at the sheer vastness of it.
The world outside the Underground was so breathtakingly huge, strewn with endless possibilities… and yet, amid all that space and all these new people and things, there was that one persistent fly that kept ruining the ointment.
Glancing to his human companion as they sat on the ledge beside him, the golden blossom asked, “What, the waiting?”
Their soft face ducked in a miserable nod, and they drew their knees closer to their chest.
“Yeah. I can’t stop wondering when it’s gonna happen. Every time I talk to someone, or eat a meal, or try to take a nap, I wonder if it’s going to happen right in the middle of it, and if there’s even a point.
“And explaining things to everyone... every time I do, they say the same things, and… I’m trying to be patient, because it isn’t their fault that they sound like a bunch of reruns, but it’s starting to feel like there’s no point. Even if I just tell them to stop talking because I’ve already heard it, I’ll probably be the only one who even remembers I was rude.”
The only one who remembers… The thought was nostalgic in a way that made him sick.
The first time he’d tried killing a moldsmal, it had been partly to see what would happen, and partly to see if it would make him feel anything.
To his surprise, it had worked; guilt had washed over him so powerfully that he’d immediately reloaded his save to try to rid himself of the feeling.
That part had not worked. Just his luck, that his soulless state would steal his capacity for love and compassion, but not shame.
In the wake of that, the only thing that had comforted him was the mantra he’d started chanting in his head: I’m the only one who remembers.
As long as that was the case, there was no need for his guilt to linger, because nobody was even aware that they’d suffered. Being the only one whose memories survived had been so freeing, until it began to make the people who forgot look like boring toys.
But Frisk… Frisk was different. They remembered, too. They weren’t just another forgetful plaything, looping mindlessly through the same set of responses over and over.
They knew how it felt to watch other people act like characters in a video game, until actions and words that had once meant everything ceased to mean anything.
“Heh.” A bitter smile spread across the flower’s face like a spill of sour milk. “I guess I was right... you really are the only one who understands me.”
For a brief moment, the expected flash of sympathy and warmth flickered across the human’s face.
Then it was drowned in a sudden tide of uneasy, half-defiant dread. “But… I don’t want to end up like you.”
That was ruder than he’d come to expect from them. But under the stressful circumstances, he could hardly blame them, and he knew all too well that he’d earned it. “I didn’t think you would. Golly, I didn’t want to end up like me. I fought it for a long time. But eventually, it happened.”
Silence fell in the wake of his comment, lingering for a long moment beneath the dazzling celestial display before Frisk’s muted voice returned. “It’s weird… you can’t feel most of the things I feel, but you’re the only one I can really talk to about those things. I tried talking to some of the others, but then when I died, they all just forgot.
“I’m so tired of having the same conversations over and over. You’re the only one I can talk to and know that you’ll remember, even if I end up having to reset.”
A sigh heaved slowly from their narrow chest, and they folded in on themselves, looking smaller than ever as they rested their forehead on their knees. “I don’t want to reset. I don’t want to lose all the memories we’ve all made together.
“If I end up having to reset, I wish… I wish there was a way to take care of this in another timeline, and then come back to this timeline where everyone remembers me. Or something like that.”
Memories flickered through Flowey’s mind, and he shook his head. “Sorry, Frisk. If there is a way to bend the rules like that, I don’t know what it is. Goodness knows I tried enough times.
“Part of me thought that maybe, if I got enough power… if I took enough souls… I’d be able to reset things back to before I was a flower. To when I was myself. But it seems like that’s impossible. You can only go back as far as the moment when you first got your power.”
A soft moan escaped from Frisk’s small, tired body, and Flowey smiled sadly. “I guess there are a few things you’d like to reset, huh? From before you came to Mount Ebott?”
Dull, empty eyes stared hollowly from the child’s face as a weary effort lifted their head from their knees. Somewhere amid that half-dead blankness, Flowey caught the unmistakable flash of pain.
“Yeah,” they answered quietly, their flat tone turning slightly husky. “There are. When I reset the first timeline, I tried really hard to go back far enough. But if it’s possible, I don’t know how.
“It wasn’t even like hitting a wall; if it was, maybe I could push through it. It was like there was just… nothing. Nothing before I fell through the barrier. Nothing to reach for, nothing to grab or put my feet on. I don’t know how to push through that.”
Flowey’s head bobbed in a knowing nod. “That sounds like what happened to me.” He sighed. “I guess even people like us can’t have everything we want. All we can do is try to keep what we have now.”
Frisk’s head lowered in what could have been either a nod, or simply going limp in the face of an insurmountable task. “Yeah… I guess you’re right.”
~*~*~*~
Timeline 4
“Look. I gave up trying to go back a long time ago.”
The human’s eyes were avoiding his face, their gaze fixed resolutely on his feet as they attacked. He could see his words sinking in, like stones through the murky surface of a lake, but he couldn’t tell what happened to them after they landed.
“And getting to the surface doesn't really appeal anymore, either.”
It was strange, how easily the words were coming. As if all the painful truths he’d been storing inside, but couldn’t bring himself to inflict on the people he cared about, were finally rising to the surface in the presence of someone who mattered to him in the worst possible way.
Mattered to him… that was a scary way to put it.
For a moment, he’d almost stopped looking for the human’s reactions. Stopped probing for guilt, regret, and ways to work his way through the cracks in the wall they’d erected around their soul.
All of his focus had been on forcing himself to launch an attack that should have come easily, but that nearly fell short of the speed and ferocity that he knew he could put into it.
Why? Why is it so hard for me to use my full power on my brother’s murderer?
Even as he mentally asked the question, the answer was written on the human’s face. A flicker of melancholy had twisted their features at the mention of trying to go back, a hint of the same sad resignation that he saw in his reflection every single day.
And even as he followed his dismissal of going to the surface with a volley of death-bearing magic, for just an instant, the child stopped focusing on his attacks, and almost looked him in the eye.
The glance was so brief that a blink would have cost him the sight of it, but even the haste with which they returned their eyes to his attack couldn’t mask the horror, confusion and pain that blazed through the ever-present haze of guilt.
I know why I still care. But why do you?
Sans’ attack faded, and the human’s answering assault was as wild and desperate as it was hesitant. As if they were trying to throw everything they had into the strike, but just couldn’t bring themselves to aim it properly.
Yet again, they stumbled to a halt, and the lines of the battle box closed them off from their target.
I know you’re listening. Please, understand. Please realize what you’re doing to us. “’Cause even if we do,” the skeleton continued, watching their face more closely than ever, “we’ll just end up right back here, without any memory of it, right?”
It was supposed to make the human falter. Baring his soul, while using it as a weapon – fitting, he supposed, for a member of a species whose attacks sprang forth from the culmination of their beings.
Instead, their horror dissolved, like smoke swept aside by a sudden wind of fierce, steely resolve.
Their glance became a sword edged with fire, unspoken words hovering in the air like the echo of a timeline he couldn’t remember, and even as he wondered what he’d awakened in them, a bigger part of him wanted to know what they’d said to each other in that moment whose memory teased the edges of his mind.
As if that one conversation was the answer to everything, and all these mysteries would be solved if only he remembered it.
His volley brought his opponent down to their last five HP, and their next attack was fiercer than any that had preceded it, as if something in his words had solidified their resolve. Even as he dodged it and continued to speak, Sans wondered if he was pounding nails into his own coffin.
“To be blunt, it makes it kind of hard to give it my all.”
To his relief, it looked like he wouldn’t have to. His next assault grazed the leaping human’s leg, leeching the last of their life force out of them and sparing him the need to wring more ferocity from a soul that couldn’t seem to stop holding back.
The world went white, then black, and even as he felt himself being pulled away from the present moment, a flicker of regret carved a crack in his attempt to steel himself for the next round.
I’m going to forget this. The look on their face, that feeling of being so close to an answer… they’ll hide it next time, and I’ll never even know that that moment happened.
Just one more thing to forget, in a timeline I don’t want to remember. This is one thing I’ll be glad to give up.
~*~*~*~
Timeline 3
“What did you give up, Sans?”
A moment ago, the sentry’s attention had been consumed by the crisp chill in the air, the possibilities and predictions that waged war in his mind, and the strange familiarity of the presence beside him.
A human. A species so rare in the Underground that few had expected to even see one in their lifetime, and a representative so young that the power of their soul seemed almost foreign in a body so small and vulnerable.
And yet, they held such remarkable abilities, and claimed to have used those abilities to reverse a past timeline in which the two of them had become friends.
No wonder their face had looked so familiar, and the echoes of emotion had been so warm.
Now, as their words cut through his contemplations, the crunch of snow beneath his slippers paused, and the air seemed to shrink away from him as he glanced at the child who’d been walking by his side.
A corner of his mind reflexively checked the vicinity for eavesdroppers, but it seemed that Frisk knew him well enough to be aware of his desire for secrecy. They’d waited until the two of them were alone, and now they were staring up at him, concern etched into their small, soft face.
“What do you mean, kiddo? Did I say something in the last timeline?”
They nodded, the fingers of their right hand tightening around the back of their left, and worry tugged even harder on their forehead. “After Flowey absorbed everybody’s souls, I found your soul inside his during our fight.
“You didn’t really seem to be awake, but you were talking. You told me… you said, ‘just give up, I did’. And then you said, ‘you’ll never see them again; why even try?’”
Their face lowered, and their grip on their own hand tightened in a way that reminded him of Alphys. “I know you don’t like to talk about stuff. Papyrus says you never tell anybody anything. But...” Their eyes rose shyly to meet his, lit with uncertainty and hope. “Maybe talking would help? Or maybe I could?”
The bone sheaths over his eye sockets fell closed, and he let a small, soft sigh escape from the hollow of his chest. “Heh… from what you’ve said, you’re pretty good at fixing people’s problems. I have no doubt that you’ll help a lot of people in this timeline, just like you did before things fell apart in the last one. Maybe this time, you can even get it to stick.
“But the way you described it… it sounds like even your ‘special power’ only goes back so far. The things I wanted to go back to… the people I tried to bring back…”
He didn’t mean to let the pain become visible on his face. But he felt it gripping his features anyway, even as he opened his eyes. “They’re probably beyond your reach.”
As he’d expected, they weren’t ready to accept his verdict that easily. Not without asking the all-important question. “Why? Did it happen before I fell down here?”
“Yeah. Long before.”
With that, their narrow shoulders slumped, defeated as he’d suspected they would be. “Oh,” they said softly. “In that case, you’re probably right; I might not be able to help.
“I can only go back to the moment when I first fell into the Underground, when I’m still falling down. I guess it was right after I passed the barrier. I’ve tried to go back further than that, but I couldn’t. I guess... maybe the barrier or monster magic activates my power somehow?”
“Hm. Maybe. Or maybe the barrier blocks time travel as effectively as it does everything else.”
It was almost strange, to feel the scientist in him waking up again. To feel curiosity for its own sake, rather than all his powers of investigation being fully concentrated on finding the anomaly, ways to keep Papyrus happy, ways to antagonize Papyrus, and reasons to keep getting out of bed.
“That might be something worth exploring,” he continued. “If you could find a way to increase your power level somehow, maybe... heh.” The end of that train of thought came into sight, and he decided it was time to derail it.
“Actually, now that I think about it, I’m not sure it would be a good idea. A lot has happened since then; who knows what could change, and if the changes would be good.
“Besides, from what you’ve said, things got dangerous for you before you came to Mount Ebott. If you go back that far, and your ability to self-resurrect doesn’t work until you fall down here, who knows; maybe you’d end up dying before you ever came here.”
A frown slid across Frisk’s face, dark memories haunting their narrow, lowered eyes. Their small body shrank into itself, and the echoes of all-too-recent events sent a shiver through them that had nothing to do with Snowdin’s ever-present cold.
“You’re probably right. I barely survived the first time, and next time it would be even worse. But...”
A hint of hope and defiance flared to life, burning a hole through the shroud of dejection on their face. “I’ve survived lots of fights since then, and gotten good at not dying, and next time I’d know what to expect.
“I’m still scared, but if I could get strong enough that I could handle it…” Their eyes fell even lower, and the look of pain and longing on their face was far too familiar. “I also have someone I want to see again.”
Author's note:
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