Frisk hated doctors. The profession, not the people. Dr. Alphys Guardsmen was a good woman, always coming to check on her while Chara worked in the school and bringing her food, but her status as a doctor made her the last person Frisk wanted to see on any given day. She hated the way they talked, especially to her.

"W-w-well, Ms. Dreemur, I th-th-think we've made progress in your treat-t-tment." The notes of surprise in her tone were not lost on the young lady. She folded her hands against her nightgown and nodded as the good doctor kept rambling. Dr. Guardsmen scratched something into her notes. Notes. Another thing Frisk hated about doctors. "We m-m-may even be able to p-p-partially restore you vision," Dr. Guardsmen said. There was a sweet sound to her voice, like she was smiling as she said it.

Frisk pinched the bridge of her nose right by her eyes. The warped, scarred flesh felt like leather under her touch. Chara told her it did not look bad. Like a spiderweb, actually. Lacey and strange, but beautiful. She wished she could see it for herself. Would she find it beautiful? What about her eyes? Were they foggy and pale, or blackened and scarred as well? No one ever mentioned her eyes.

Her hand rested in her lap again. "I'm glad, Doctor," she said, her voice soft. Her lips spread into a smile. "When do you think we can start?" Hope swelled in her chest, a geyser ready to burst and drip off her eyelashes.

Tapping, the pen against the journal probably. "The n-n-next month or so, I'd say." For a moment, she did not sound like a doctor. No formal tone, just a kind voice. A good woman. "Oh, before I-I-I forget!" There was a clatter, and heavy footsteps rushed downward. More clattering from below. Frisk giggled as she heard the steps rush back up. A rich savory smell filled the room, tomatoes and garlic. "U-Undyne made you s-s-some spaghetti for lunch. She said y-y-you'd better eat it all." Table legs scrapped across the floor, and the sound of a porcelain plate being placed made her stomach grumble.

Dr. Guardsmen placed her hand on Frisk's. The feeling of rough plates jarred her, but she dared not pull away. She tried that before. The doctor guided her hand to the fork and plodded away. The food had a slight charred taste, but it did not bother Frisk. Chara's cooking did not fare much better. She listened as the medical bag was refilled and clicked shut. "Make sure t-t-to get plenty of exercise, M-M-Ms. Dreemur." Frisk nodded in response.

The heavy thump thump thump of feet going down the stairs and the front door swinging open and shut released a breath she did not realize she was saving. She finished the food and made her way down the stairs, one hand holding the empty plate and the other clutching the banister. It had taken time, but Frisk had memorized the floor plan of the small town house. She navigated past the few chairs and around the dining table to the counter.

The door opened as she felt for the faucet. Her sister's shoes clicked against the wood floor. "Sink's to your left." Chara's voice held the lilt of a smirk, which Frisk copied.

"I'm aware."

"You can use it, you know?"

"How? I'd never get it clean enough," Their words were snarky, but their smiles and laughter that followed betrayed any bitterness. Frisk reached for the sink. Chara stole the plate and nudged her sister to the side. "And now I'll never learn." She placed her hand against her head and sighed dramatically.

Chara rolled her eyes. "How did your appointment go?" She knew how her sister would respond, grumbling and muttering about how she disliked the prodding and pushing. Still she listened. She nodded and murmured agreements. "I had a rather interesting visitor." She smiled softly as she remembered his snow white hair and entrancing eyes. "Do you remember the boys we use to play with?"

Frisk remembered the garden, running with her skirts gathered in her hands and laughing as a boy chased after her. Frisky, I'm gonna catch you! "Yes," she said in a whisper. It did not take a large leap of logic for the grand conclusion, "They're back?"

Chara told her about Papyrus, about Jerry (for which Frisk snickered), and the invitation. "So dinner with the walking trash tonight?" Frisk mused, laughing at the discomforted air her sister radiated. The day passed away, and while Chara was not looking forward to the evening, she sat ready at the door for their unwelcome visitor. An hour passed, then two. Then three. By the fourth hour, Chara elected to change out of her nice green dress and into a black nightgown.

Frisk shuffled her way to her sister's bedside and laid beside her. "Are you terribly heartbroken, sister?" Chara wrapped her arms around her sister and nuzzled her short brown curls. They fell asleep curled around one another. Neither would hear about Jerry's disappearance until the morning after.

Sans loved two things in this world. First and foremost, Frisk Dreemur. Ten years dragged on agonizingly slow, and every day he looked at her picture to remember his beautiful beautiful beautiful Frisk. The image had faded some, but that did not bother him. She was so close so close so so so very close. He could not wait to run his phalanges through her hair. Her skin would be so soft, yielding as flesh is against bone and magic.

His red room was the second. The dark crimson walls, the blood splattered floor, the many toys available. Father had provided him one, and he had been without one for so long. It was so unclean, unsavory, unright to kill in alleyways. So public, so easy. Red rooms made it much more fun. No nasty policemen to interrupt. Papyrus promised him a room, and now he delivered. Oh what a good brother Papyrus was!

But he would leave his room alone tonight, its guest gagged and drugged with only the best his brother could provide. His guest would stay quiet while beloved Frisk sat downstairs. Passing by a mirror, he paused to look at the reflection. The pale skin and white hair seemed as natural as the bleached bones. His body shivered as he heard the front door open. The desire to teleport into the living room was a terrible temptation, one Papyrus warned of constantly. This did not mean he could not run. He sprinted through Gaster Manor – Snowdin Manor, he had to remember his new name – and slid into the entry. Papyrus held a green and yellow striped cloak, smiling down at a lady with red hair and a green dress. Beside her stood a young lady in blue, brown hair twisting in curls around her jaw and framing her face.

His eyes widened when she raised her face to reveal brown eyes, the area around them covered in thin white burns. Carefully he crept forward. "Miss Frisk?" He asked. The girl tilted her head and smiled. "FRISK!" He pulled her tight to his chest, smiling wildly as he felt her soft flesh. "I'VE MISSED YOU SO MUCH!"

She laughed, a sound like the angel's singing. "I missed you too, Sansy!" He let her back onto her feet, grinning as she smirked up at him. She was so much smaller than him. How precious!

His magic seized and nearly fell when she lifted her hands to his face and touched the facade. Her fingers felt like ice against the pretend flesh, but oh how it chilled him. She traced every part of his face, gentle as she passed over his eyes and up into his hair. The feeling of her nails stroking his head made his soul ache. "You haven't changed much," she said with her head tilted and her gaze level to his chest.

"You've gotten so much prettier," He cupped her face. "So much prettier. Oh you must tell me everything! Everything that's passed these ten years!" She looped her arm in his and let herself be led into the dining room, his excited words echoing through the halls.

Papyrus rolled his eyes and offered his arm to Chara. "Shall we?"

"We shall," she answered as she took it.


Okay, honestly wasn't expecting to post more for this, but here it is. Shorter this time, but hopefully good enough for the glorious Semisolidmind.

By the way darling, I'm glad you survived the Purging.