Just Cause
An Undertale Fanfiction
Chapter 5: Surrendered Memories
Table of Contents:
Chapter 1: Looking For a Bad Time
Chapter 2: What The Killer Gave Up
Chapter 3: A Dangerous Path
Chapter 4: Fatal Mistakes
Chapter 5: Surrendered Memories (you are here)
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
Chapter 3: A Dangerous Path
Chapter 4: Fatal Mistakes
Chapter 5: Surrendered Memories (you are here)
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 4
“Hm, that expression… that’s the expression of someone who’s died ten times in a row!”
Enough times that their face, which had been written with pain before they entered New Home, was starting to go flat. Repetition had drained the emotion from their features, and for what was starting to feel like the thousandth time, Sans wondered what could possibly be worth such sacrifice and self-destruction.
At least for him, becoming as jaded as he was hadn’t been so thoroughly self-inflicted.
“Hey, congrats!” he continued. “It’s the big one-oh! Let’s invite all your friends over for a big shindig. We can have pie, and hot dogs, and…”
And the mention of those foods struck a chord. The note was soft, carefully muted in the human’s face, but he could sense its presence in their stance.
The pie did not surprise him. He could smell it on them, after all. But the hot dogs… So we WERE on good enough terms for me to sell them hot dogs in past timelines.
And yet, now… “Hmmm… wait. Something’s not right.”
His eye sockets darkened, and part of him was surprised by how much his opponent’s body tightened in response to his next words.
“You don’t have any friends.”
~*~*~*~
Timeline 2
“You’re letting them die?”
Flowey had not seen this coming. He’d wholeheartedly believed that Frisk would stand their ground to the bitter end, refusing to budge until even the abstract concept of despair gave up and knelt before them.
There had been a bored, jaded time when he would’ve been thrilled to be so surprised. Now, his petals were curling with disappointment and fear.
But then Frisk shook their head, the familiar flare of determination burning through the resignation that had darkened their face, and his spirits flickered up again.
“No,” they answered firmly. “I mean, not forever. But… there’s something I have to do first.”
~*~*~*~
Timeline 4
How many turns does it take to exhaust a human?
More than it takes to wear out a skeleton, it seems.
Weariness was starting to seep into Sans’ bones, draining the speed from his movements. As he ducked beneath the flashing blade, he felt a sickening tug on his hood, and the rasp of tearing fabric told him how narrowly he’d dodged his inexorably approaching death.
I can’t keep going like this. I need to stall them. Need to rest.
Need to find out if what I keep seeing in them can be brought back to the surface.
“Ugh…” Stumbling to a halt, he spun quickly to face his assailant, unwilling to leave them outside his line of sight for more than an instant. To his relief, they were breathing as hard as he was – possibly harder – and sweat was pouring from their dazed, exhausted face.
Please be as tired of this as I am.
“That being said,” the skeleton panted, shuffling his slippered feet back into their familiar pose, “You, uh, really like swinging that thing around, huh?”
They tried to smile, but the attempt fell flat, and that failure gave Sans hope. “Listen. I know you didn't answer me before, but... somewhere in there. I can feel it. There's a glimmer of a good person inside of you. The memory of someone who once wanted to do the right thing.”
It’s true. I really can see it. In the guilt on your face, the regret in your stance, the reluctance in your movements. So please, don’t keep covering it up. Don’t put that mask back on.
And don’t… look at me… as if you’re suddenly, weirdly afraid?
Sans kept his stare trained steadily on the child’s face, forcing himself to keep making eye contact despite the temptation to search for clues in every part of their body language as he continued. “Someone who, in another time, might have even been... a friend?
Their hands were trembling now, and the deep, sharp inhalation that ducked into their chest sounded less like a breath than a sob. Longing blazed in their eyes, shining desperately through the veil they struggled to keep over their features, and Sans knew the answer to his question before he even asked.
“C'mon, buddy. Do you remember me?”
~*~*~*~
Timeline 3
“Do I know that person?”
As Papyrus questioned his brother about his own half-felt knowledge of timelines lost to oblivion, Frisk closed their eyes and let the words wash over them.
The tide was cool and calming in its friendly familiarity, yet it burned with the cruel reminder of what had been lost.
“Do you not know who you know?”
The answer was so mischievously Sans-like that it sent a wrenching, agonized twist through the child’s chest.
Yes, Papyrus… Sans… you do know me. Or you did. And I still know you.
But now…
Burning pain rose in their eyes, and they bit the inside of their cheek in a desperate effort to press down the tears that were flooding through their soul.
Now, I still remember, but everything we shared together is gone.
And the process of remaking it feels more and more hollow every time.
~*~*~*~
Timeline 4
“Please, if you’re listening… let’s forget all of this, OK?” Or at least, reset and let me forget.
Light flashed around the room as the blade’s reflective surface shook in the child’s unsteady hand, and Sans kept the dagger in his periphery as he forced himself to hold eye contact. “Just lay down your weapon, and…”
And he couldn’t promise them anything better than this one painful opportunity.
Another reason to never make promises.
“Well, my job will be a lot easier.”
~*~*~*~
Do you mean it, Sans?
In the darkened lab, it took Alphys several seconds and a sharp burning in her chest to realize she was holding her breath. Do you really remember being friends with the person who killed Undyne? I…
I…
Liquid fire welled in her eyes, and as her gaze fell from the monitor, the royal scientist found herself blinking back tears. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I know the feeling.
At first, while I monitored them through my cameras, I felt like I was watching an old friend. Or a distorted echo of one. And I couldn’t understand why they were acting the way they were.
It seemed wrong, out of character, as if I were watching Undyne run crying from a fight.
Is this feeling real? Her eyes returned to the other screen, where the timeline chart still glowed blood red, ominous black, and stark, deathly white.
In one of those other timelines... were we really friends?
If so… why?! Why would they do all this? Was it something we…
The all-too-familiar feeling of horror and guilt jolted violently through her gut, and her mind strayed to the paraphernalia that was scattered upstairs.
Game show prompts. Jetpack parts. ‘Human soul substitute’.
All the things she’d planned to use in her callous, selfish charade with Mettaton.
Was it something I did? Did me using them like that convince them that monsters deserve this?
No. No, no, please no…
Her eyes returned to the screen that showed the battleground, flashing with fear, desperation and guilt. Human, please, listen to him. If you really were our friend once, please don’t take my mistakes out on Sans.
I know he wouldn’t have hurt you. He’s a good person, unlike me. Please don’t punish him for my failures.
Please…
~*~*~*~
Clinnnnk.
The ring of metal on tile sang through the room, and shock flashed through every fiber in Frisk’s body. What-
Their startled glance jolted to the floor, blurring for a moment before regaining focus, and amid the storm that had engulfed their mind, part of them wondered when the dagger had slipped from their burning, sweat-slicked hand.
One moment, it had been scorching their trembling fingers, painful and far too heavy to hold, like a heated brand made of lead.
The next, it was lying on the floor, looking as defeated as its wielder felt.
After all that… Visions of dying monsters flashed through their mind, keeping time with the suffocating throb in their chest. In spite of everything…
I still failed.
Exhaustion swept through their soul, and a tremor in their legs warned them that their knees were about to buckle. Their entire body shook like a doll in the hand of a sadist, and part of them wondered if they’d even be able to pick up the dagger if they tried.
“You’re sparing me?”
The skeleton’s startled voice shook them from their thoughts, and with an effort, they raised their head to look at him. And immediately wished they hadn’t.
Sans’ smile had reached his eye sockets for the first time that day, and part of them warmed at the sight of the flicker of relief they had created.
The rest of them screamed with terrified self-loathing at their own weakness.
“Finally.” Sans was still talking, and they forced themselves to pay attention. “Buddy. Pal.”
Don’t call me that. Please. Not now.
“I know how hard it must be… to make that choice. To go back on everything you’ve worked up to.”
You don’t. You really, really don’t. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how important the thing you were trying for was… you still have no idea…
“I want you to know… I won’t let it go to waste.”
But Sans, you don’t have a choice. I have to… I… I have to…
But then the skeleton lifted both his hands, extending them toward the shaking human in a warm, familiar invitation. “C’mere, pal.”
And with that, the dam finally broke. The sob that had been building in their throat burst forth, guilt and longing crashing through them with a force that nearly drove them to their knees, and warmth spilled across their cheeks as the ocean that had been rising in their eyes overflowed.
Without even choosing to take the step, they found themselves moving closer to him, a part of their body they could no longer control straining toward the offered embrace.
I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t… but I really need-
“Are you offering a hug of acceptance?”
Within five feet of Sans, the echo of a murdered brother’s words struck the child full in the face, slamming into their trembling soul like a boulder thrown by Undyne. A painful gasp broke from their lungs, then withered into a whimper as their arms constricted around their aching chest.
I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve to be hugged.
I… IIIIIEEEAAAAAAAHH!
Agony blasted through their senses, overwhelming every conscious thought and transforming the stammering word into a desperate, soundless scream.
The world blurred before their eyes, and Sans’ frozen smile turned to fuzz before stretching into a dizzy white streak as the human’s stare fell toward the bone attacks that had erupted through their feet.
No… not just their feet. Their entire body. Every cell was screaming, and everything hurt.
This…
The world began to fall away, fading into the familiar darkness of the save screen, and Frisk let their wide, stunned eyes slip closed as the distant murmur of Sans’ voice faded into the void.
“If we’re really friends, you won’t come back.”
Of course he didn’t want them to. Even if they really had been friends.
This, I do deserve.
~*~*~*~
“Golly, pal. I’ve got to know. What did you expect?”
As the two of them hovered in the dark, the unique consciousnesses of a pair of time travelers lingering in the hollow space between life and death, Frisk allowed their eyes to fall closed.
What, indeed. From Flowey, or from Sans.
In the flower’s case, maybe a bit more sympathy from their ‘best friend’.
But that was delusional, wasn’t it? Expecting compassion from someone who was fundamentally incapable of it, at a time when they couldn’t even give it to themselves.
“I don’t know.”
Their voice was a hollow, husky whisper, as dull as the feelings that lay lifeless in their chest. What WAS I thinking?
I guess I wasn’t. I’m just… I’m just so tired, and everything hurts so much.
“You know he’s trying to get you to reset. He thought he was helping you go back in time.” The flower’s brow tightened with grim resignation, and his intense stare seemed to bore into Frisk, willing them to understand. “And you also know you’ve got to go back in there.”
A painful, silent moan wound its way through their chest, and their mouth pressed tightly shut to avoid letting it escape.
Don’t let them hear you scream. Don’t let them hear you cry.
Don’t let them know you felt anything.
“Frisk.” Flowey’s voice was firmer, more insistent now, and its urgency was pierced by a sliver of anxiety. “You know what happens if you don’t go back.”
“Yeah. I know.” I know, but I don’t want to move. I know my body will go back to being less tired when I reload my save, but for now, I’m tired. So tired.
“The longer you think about it, the longer it will take, and the longer you’ll have to keep suffering. The best thing to do now is just get it over with.”
He was right, of course. Frisk was really starting to hate it when Flowey was right.
Remember, Frisk. Remember why you’re doing this.
With the resolute push of a will that now had to strain to perform a task that had once come automatically, Frisk dragged themselves into the light, reflexively falling into the rhythm of the step they’d been in the middle of when they last saved.
Yes, Sans. You were right. I remember being your friend.
The door to Asgore’s house yawned around them, and Frisk pushed themselves forward, treading the now-familiar ground with a deliberately steady stride.
I remember so many things. But I also remember why I have to do this, and why I absolutely cannot let you find out.
“Hm, that expression… that’s the expression of someone who’s died ten times in a row!”
Enough times that their face, which had been written with pain before they entered New Home, was starting to go flat. Repetition had drained the emotion from their features, and for what was starting to feel like the thousandth time, Sans wondered what could possibly be worth such sacrifice and self-destruction.
At least for him, becoming as jaded as he was hadn’t been so thoroughly self-inflicted.
“Hey, congrats!” he continued. “It’s the big one-oh! Let’s invite all your friends over for a big shindig. We can have pie, and hot dogs, and…”
And the mention of those foods struck a chord. The note was soft, carefully muted in the human’s face, but he could sense its presence in their stance.
The pie did not surprise him. He could smell it on them, after all. But the hot dogs… So we WERE on good enough terms for me to sell them hot dogs in past timelines.
And yet, now… “Hmmm… wait. Something’s not right.”
His eye sockets darkened, and part of him was surprised by how much his opponent’s body tightened in response to his next words.
“You don’t have any friends.”
~*~*~*~
Timeline 2
“You’re letting them die?”
Flowey had not seen this coming. He’d wholeheartedly believed that Frisk would stand their ground to the bitter end, refusing to budge until even the abstract concept of despair gave up and knelt before them.
There had been a bored, jaded time when he would’ve been thrilled to be so surprised. Now, his petals were curling with disappointment and fear.
But then Frisk shook their head, the familiar flare of determination burning through the resignation that had darkened their face, and his spirits flickered up again.
“No,” they answered firmly. “I mean, not forever. But… there’s something I have to do first.”
~*~*~*~
Timeline 4
How many turns does it take to exhaust a human?
More than it takes to wear out a skeleton, it seems.
Weariness was starting to seep into Sans’ bones, draining the speed from his movements. As he ducked beneath the flashing blade, he felt a sickening tug on his hood, and the rasp of tearing fabric told him how narrowly he’d dodged his inexorably approaching death.
I can’t keep going like this. I need to stall them. Need to rest.
Need to find out if what I keep seeing in them can be brought back to the surface.
“Ugh…” Stumbling to a halt, he spun quickly to face his assailant, unwilling to leave them outside his line of sight for more than an instant. To his relief, they were breathing as hard as he was – possibly harder – and sweat was pouring from their dazed, exhausted face.
Please be as tired of this as I am.
“That being said,” the skeleton panted, shuffling his slippered feet back into their familiar pose, “You, uh, really like swinging that thing around, huh?”
They tried to smile, but the attempt fell flat, and that failure gave Sans hope. “Listen. I know you didn't answer me before, but... somewhere in there. I can feel it. There's a glimmer of a good person inside of you. The memory of someone who once wanted to do the right thing.”
It’s true. I really can see it. In the guilt on your face, the regret in your stance, the reluctance in your movements. So please, don’t keep covering it up. Don’t put that mask back on.
And don’t… look at me… as if you’re suddenly, weirdly afraid?
Sans kept his stare trained steadily on the child’s face, forcing himself to keep making eye contact despite the temptation to search for clues in every part of their body language as he continued. “Someone who, in another time, might have even been... a friend?
Their hands were trembling now, and the deep, sharp inhalation that ducked into their chest sounded less like a breath than a sob. Longing blazed in their eyes, shining desperately through the veil they struggled to keep over their features, and Sans knew the answer to his question before he even asked.
“C'mon, buddy. Do you remember me?”
~*~*~*~
Timeline 3
“Do I know that person?”
As Papyrus questioned his brother about his own half-felt knowledge of timelines lost to oblivion, Frisk closed their eyes and let the words wash over them.
The tide was cool and calming in its friendly familiarity, yet it burned with the cruel reminder of what had been lost.
“Do you not know who you know?”
The answer was so mischievously Sans-like that it sent a wrenching, agonized twist through the child’s chest.
Yes, Papyrus… Sans… you do know me. Or you did. And I still know you.
But now…
Burning pain rose in their eyes, and they bit the inside of their cheek in a desperate effort to press down the tears that were flooding through their soul.
Now, I still remember, but everything we shared together is gone.
And the process of remaking it feels more and more hollow every time.
~*~*~*~
Timeline 4
“Please, if you’re listening… let’s forget all of this, OK?” Or at least, reset and let me forget.
Light flashed around the room as the blade’s reflective surface shook in the child’s unsteady hand, and Sans kept the dagger in his periphery as he forced himself to hold eye contact. “Just lay down your weapon, and…”
And he couldn’t promise them anything better than this one painful opportunity.
Another reason to never make promises.
“Well, my job will be a lot easier.”
~*~*~*~
Do you mean it, Sans?
In the darkened lab, it took Alphys several seconds and a sharp burning in her chest to realize she was holding her breath. Do you really remember being friends with the person who killed Undyne? I…
I…
Liquid fire welled in her eyes, and as her gaze fell from the monitor, the royal scientist found herself blinking back tears. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I know the feeling.
At first, while I monitored them through my cameras, I felt like I was watching an old friend. Or a distorted echo of one. And I couldn’t understand why they were acting the way they were.
It seemed wrong, out of character, as if I were watching Undyne run crying from a fight.
Is this feeling real? Her eyes returned to the other screen, where the timeline chart still glowed blood red, ominous black, and stark, deathly white.
In one of those other timelines... were we really friends?
If so… why?! Why would they do all this? Was it something we…
The all-too-familiar feeling of horror and guilt jolted violently through her gut, and her mind strayed to the paraphernalia that was scattered upstairs.
Game show prompts. Jetpack parts. ‘Human soul substitute’.
All the things she’d planned to use in her callous, selfish charade with Mettaton.
Was it something I did? Did me using them like that convince them that monsters deserve this?
No. No, no, please no…
Her eyes returned to the screen that showed the battleground, flashing with fear, desperation and guilt. Human, please, listen to him. If you really were our friend once, please don’t take my mistakes out on Sans.
I know he wouldn’t have hurt you. He’s a good person, unlike me. Please don’t punish him for my failures.
Please…
~*~*~*~
Clinnnnk.
The ring of metal on tile sang through the room, and shock flashed through every fiber in Frisk’s body. What-
Their startled glance jolted to the floor, blurring for a moment before regaining focus, and amid the storm that had engulfed their mind, part of them wondered when the dagger had slipped from their burning, sweat-slicked hand.
One moment, it had been scorching their trembling fingers, painful and far too heavy to hold, like a heated brand made of lead.
The next, it was lying on the floor, looking as defeated as its wielder felt.
After all that… Visions of dying monsters flashed through their mind, keeping time with the suffocating throb in their chest. In spite of everything…
I still failed.
Exhaustion swept through their soul, and a tremor in their legs warned them that their knees were about to buckle. Their entire body shook like a doll in the hand of a sadist, and part of them wondered if they’d even be able to pick up the dagger if they tried.
“You’re sparing me?”
The skeleton’s startled voice shook them from their thoughts, and with an effort, they raised their head to look at him. And immediately wished they hadn’t.
Sans’ smile had reached his eye sockets for the first time that day, and part of them warmed at the sight of the flicker of relief they had created.
The rest of them screamed with terrified self-loathing at their own weakness.
“Finally.” Sans was still talking, and they forced themselves to pay attention. “Buddy. Pal.”
Don’t call me that. Please. Not now.
“I know how hard it must be… to make that choice. To go back on everything you’ve worked up to.”
You don’t. You really, really don’t. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how important the thing you were trying for was… you still have no idea…
“I want you to know… I won’t let it go to waste.”
But Sans, you don’t have a choice. I have to… I… I have to…
But then the skeleton lifted both his hands, extending them toward the shaking human in a warm, familiar invitation. “C’mere, pal.”
And with that, the dam finally broke. The sob that had been building in their throat burst forth, guilt and longing crashing through them with a force that nearly drove them to their knees, and warmth spilled across their cheeks as the ocean that had been rising in their eyes overflowed.
Without even choosing to take the step, they found themselves moving closer to him, a part of their body they could no longer control straining toward the offered embrace.
I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t… but I really need-
“Are you offering a hug of acceptance?”
Within five feet of Sans, the echo of a murdered brother’s words struck the child full in the face, slamming into their trembling soul like a boulder thrown by Undyne. A painful gasp broke from their lungs, then withered into a whimper as their arms constricted around their aching chest.
I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve to be hugged.
I… IIIIIEEEAAAAAAAHH!
Agony blasted through their senses, overwhelming every conscious thought and transforming the stammering word into a desperate, soundless scream.
The world blurred before their eyes, and Sans’ frozen smile turned to fuzz before stretching into a dizzy white streak as the human’s stare fell toward the bone attacks that had erupted through their feet.
No… not just their feet. Their entire body. Every cell was screaming, and everything hurt.
This…
The world began to fall away, fading into the familiar darkness of the save screen, and Frisk let their wide, stunned eyes slip closed as the distant murmur of Sans’ voice faded into the void.
“If we’re really friends, you won’t come back.”
Of course he didn’t want them to. Even if they really had been friends.
This, I do deserve.
~*~*~*~
“Golly, pal. I’ve got to know. What did you expect?”
As the two of them hovered in the dark, the unique consciousnesses of a pair of time travelers lingering in the hollow space between life and death, Frisk allowed their eyes to fall closed.
What, indeed. From Flowey, or from Sans.
In the flower’s case, maybe a bit more sympathy from their ‘best friend’.
But that was delusional, wasn’t it? Expecting compassion from someone who was fundamentally incapable of it, at a time when they couldn’t even give it to themselves.
“I don’t know.”
Their voice was a hollow, husky whisper, as dull as the feelings that lay lifeless in their chest. What WAS I thinking?
I guess I wasn’t. I’m just… I’m just so tired, and everything hurts so much.
“You know he’s trying to get you to reset. He thought he was helping you go back in time.” The flower’s brow tightened with grim resignation, and his intense stare seemed to bore into Frisk, willing them to understand. “And you also know you’ve got to go back in there.”
A painful, silent moan wound its way through their chest, and their mouth pressed tightly shut to avoid letting it escape.
Don’t let them hear you scream. Don’t let them hear you cry.
Don’t let them know you felt anything.
“Frisk.” Flowey’s voice was firmer, more insistent now, and its urgency was pierced by a sliver of anxiety. “You know what happens if you don’t go back.”
“Yeah. I know.” I know, but I don’t want to move. I know my body will go back to being less tired when I reload my save, but for now, I’m tired. So tired.
“The longer you think about it, the longer it will take, and the longer you’ll have to keep suffering. The best thing to do now is just get it over with.”
He was right, of course. Frisk was really starting to hate it when Flowey was right.
Remember, Frisk. Remember why you’re doing this.
With the resolute push of a will that now had to strain to perform a task that had once come automatically, Frisk dragged themselves into the light, reflexively falling into the rhythm of the step they’d been in the middle of when they last saved.
Yes, Sans. You were right. I remember being your friend.
The door to Asgore’s house yawned around them, and Frisk pushed themselves forward, treading the now-familiar ground with a deliberately steady stride.
I remember so many things. But I also remember why I have to do this, and why I absolutely cannot let you find out.
Author's note:
If you want to read my original novels, you can find them here.
If you'd like to help me publish new chapters faster, please consider supporting me on Patreon or Ko-fi so I can spend more time writing stories and less time doing other things to make money.
Author's note:
If you want to read my original novels, you can find them here.
If you'd like to help me publish new chapters faster, please consider supporting me on Patreon or Ko-fi so I can spend more time writing stories and less time doing other things to make money.