Title: But Nobody Came
Summary: "Everyone knows the legend." Against all reason, a human makes the climb.
Warnings: Questionable decisions of the parental variety
Disclaimer: Man, I wish I were creative enough to come up with characters and a story as engaging as Undertale is.
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Mt. Ebott was an ominous, looming shape in the distance when she set out. That hadn't changed much in the miles she drove to get here. It had just grown steadily bigger and blacker, and somewhere among its peaks and crevasses was nestled a cavern. A yawning mouth that swallowed unfortunate adventurers without a trace.
So the tales went, anyway. No one that had been brave or foolish enough to try their luck ever made it back to confirm or deny anything.
The young woman's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, whitening at the knuckles. She swallowed hard – an action which only served to make her notice that her mouth and throat had gone dry – and stared into the woods at the base of the mountain. Nothing about the environment, from the towering trees to the undergrowth tangled about their thick roots, looked friendly.
Not to humans, at least.
Sucking in a breath that was meant to be more steadying than it was, the woman made herself let go of the wheel and turn to look at what rested in the back seat. The engine was still running. All she had to do was turn right back around, and no one would ever know she'd even considered this.
But she hadn't just considered it. She'd planned it. She'd spent days waiting for the perfect moment. Every obstacle, every potential setback, all accounted for. She wouldn't have even been able to make the drive if someone had been around to see her go.
Her parents would have been horrified. Rightfully so, she knew, but she also knew they'd never understand.
"Why?" they'd ask.
No reason would ever satisfy them, because of course there were better ways. Acceptable ways.
And her boyfriend? She'd probably never see him again, if he knew the truth of what she was about to do. No, she could never tell him. Never tell anyone.
With a burst of decisiveness, she cut the engine.
This was her burden to bear.
The woman got out of her car and opened the rear door. Taking another deep breath, she reached in and took a warm shoulder in her hand, shaking gently. She had to fight hard not to think about how cold this body would be soon.
"Wake up. We're here."
Sleepy eyes fluttered open, confused and unfocused. Their owner blinked groggily once, twice. "Mm?"
"Wake up," the child's mother repeated. "It's time to get moving." Her words were as gentle as her touch. Her throat constricted when she realized she was still acting like a mom.
Even now, she was trying to make the child feel safe. Safe in just about the most dangerous place in the countryside.
She closed the car door gently behind her kid, took them by the hand, and started into the forest. The thought of ticks crossed her mind almost as soon as plants started to brush her legs, but she shook the thought off. It was something she could worry about when she got home.
When she got home. She'd be coming home to an empty, quiet apartment. It would stay empty apart from her for several days.
The thought had her insides twisting with some emotion she didn't want to analyze too closely, for fear that it would be too near happiness.
The slope was gentler than she would have expected, she realized some way into their trek. How long had they been walking for? Mere minutes? Half an hour? Longer? In all of that time, the child didn't utter a word. It was, frankly, almost unnerving. Children were supposed to be loud, talkative, and constantly questioning things.
Not this one. They had warned her that it would probably be difficult. She had just never stopped to consider what that meant. She'd expected diapers, screaming, needing to be up every few hours. Nothing she'd ever been read or been told about children had prepared her for this…silence. This difficulty in grasping some basic concepts.
This borderline obsessive drive when it came to certain things.
The woman found herself wanting to speak, if only just to hear her own voice. Something other than the rustle of their footsteps on the leaf litter and distant birdsong.
She said nothing.
Gradually, the incline grew steeper, and finally the mother found herself unable to continue. She was sure they'd been walking straight and that if she just turned around, she'd find her way back to the road. The anxiety that she'd get lost herself, though, had finally taken root and refused to be shaken off.
"Oh no. I just realized I forgot our picnic basket in the car."
She hadn't even brought one. The supposed picnic, the story about the kid being allowed to walk to school alone, the missing person report she'd inevitably file – all building up to a child that would never be found.
She felt sick.
"I'll have to go back and get it."
Her heart was beating in her throat. Its rhythm pounded in time to a single thought: This-is-wrong, this-is-wrong, this-is-wrong.
Of course it was wrong.
"You stay right here. Don't move an inch."
Don't follow me.
"I'll be right back."
Her strides lengthened until she was crashing through the foliage, her breath coming in ragged gasps that were more like sobs. She missed her footing, slipped, crashed into a very solid tree. Her shoulder protested the impact with a lightning bolt of pain, paralyzing her briefly. Despite that, she was back at the road before she knew it. Back in the car with no memory of walking to it. On the road without being sure of when she got in and started the engine.
With miles quickly being put between herself and the child she'd just effectively sentenced to death, she expected to start feeling lighter.
She didn't.
And as time stretched on and the shadows grew longer, promising the onset of nightfall, the child she'd left behind grew terrified. Though they'd been told not to wander, they did. Though they were usually mostly silent, they cried and wailed, calling for their mother.
They kept searching even long after said mother was already back at home, starting to make herself dinner for one.
The child, abandoned and scared, shouted and pleaded and sobbed until they had no voice left to call out with.
But nobody came.