Conviction

An Undertale Story

FemaleFrisk/Sans, post True Pacifist ending

Chapter Two

Frisk was sitting at a bar stool in the kitchen, listening to Papyrus prepare breakfast. She yawned heavily, eyes watering. She and Sans had stayed up too late watching movies, and she had woken up too early. She checked her phone for the time, cringed at what she saw, and turned the screen back off. She huddled over her coffee mug, eyes bleary.

"What are your plans today, Frisk?" asked Papyrus over his shoulder, wielding a large knife. "Any meetings we need to go to? Or how about ne'er-do-wells that need correcting?" He brought his knife down with a large smack, making her jump. "Oh, I'm sorry, would you like more coffee?"

"No, thank you Papyrus." She moved her cup instinctively towards her; this particular mug of coffee had been secretly prepared by her. Papyrus's own brew would stop her heart if she tried even a sip. "I'm still nursing the one I have." She turned on her phone again, selecting her planner. "I didn't have anything in particular planned today. Actually, I think my schedule is pretty clear, believe it or not. Maybe I'll call Mom, I might be able to help her out with the festival if she needs it."

Papyrus turned around and clapped his hands together. He was wearing an apron with abs on it. "Do you mean, we journey to Newest Home?!"

Frisk gave him a hopeful smile. "If we can come up with a plan here within the next hour or so, we just might be able to head out there later on this afternoon."

Papyrus let out a giddy trill of laughter. "Well then, let's get you fed and out the door! Voila!" He raised a plate above her head and set it gently down before her. "A fully balanced meal, covering all of the required food groups!"

She stared down before her. The breakfast of champions that Papyrus had prepared included a sprig of broccoli, an apple, rolled up lunch meat, a handful of corn flakes, and a tube of portable yogurt. Where the knife had been involved, she wasn't sure. She picked up the broccoli and put it in her mouth.

"Perfectly prepared, Papyrus. Thank you very much."

He beamed. "You are more than welcome dear Frisk!" He turned around to do the dishes, which he had created a mountain of. Again, she wasn't sure how any of the multitudes of bowls and spatulas had at all been involved. She ripped open the top of the yogurt with her teeth and stuck it in her mouth, freeing up her hands to search through her phone. She held it up to her ear, eating quietly as she listened to the ringing on the other end.

"Hello?" A pleasant woman's voice was on the other end.

"Hi Mom!"

"Well hello my dear child!" She could imagine her mother on the other end, sitting in the breakfast nook, her favorite part of the house. At this hour, she would still be dressed in her robes, likely enjoying a cup of imported tea from the Underground. "How are you? Are you eating well? Staying away from boys?"

"I'm fine, eating great, and I'm married to my work, you know that already Mom. How are things there? Dad doing alright? How's the planning going for the anniversary?" She took another bite of yogurt. Her mother sighed on the other side of the phone.

"Your father is fine, albeit hard to handle as of late. We've been having some trouble with some of the humans in Newest Home, the ones we've let move here. Your father, after everything that happened in Underground, has been reluctant to pass any sort of judgement on these people who have been harassing some of the citizens and poking their noses where they shouldn't be." Frisk knew without asking that Toriel was referring to the door they had erected at the entrance to the Underground. "When I try to talk to him about it, he always laughs it off." Another sigh. "I feel... partially responsible for the way he is acting. As you know, certain... decisions were made by him in response to... well... I was the one who punished him in the first place for his rash response with the first humans that fell. Now I feel as if he's afraid to go too far."

Frisk's yogurt turned sour in her mouth. While her mother had eventually told her the truth of everything that had passed long ago regarding her two children, one born, one adopted, and their fate, Frisk had already accidentally stumbled across their sad story. She recalled the dark laboratory hidden within Alphys's own lab, and the tapes covered in dust sitting next to a long-unused television. The voices she had listened to, she knew almost all. One, however, remained unknown to her. Process of elimination would say that it had belonged to their child named Chara, but the voice had not been human. It had been distorted and too hard to hear, but it had stirred a primal sense in her that warned of danger. She hadn't asked about it before, not wanting her parents to discover what she had found. Maybe she'd ask Sans, though perhaps that would be too inappropriate.

Frisk noticed that Toriel had become very quiet on the other end of the line. She bit her lip, her stomach pulling in regret. "I-I'm sure he'll be fine, Mom. Do you need me to send anyone out there? I've got a few people that can extract any unwelcome citizens."

"No no, that won't be necessary. Undyne does a fine job on her own stepping up where Asgore will not. Either they come to their senses, or they're asked to leave. She can be rather persuasive when the situation calls for it."

Frisk chuckled nervously. "I'm sure. Well if you say it's fine, then I'll leave it up to you guys."

"Well of course! I am not going to have my own daughter be the one to come to her parent's rescue. That is our job. Though if you do want to help me with something, I would appreciate having you get me a few supplies needed for the festival. Between dealing with your father, the children at school, and whatever else duties are required of me, I've managed to fall behind."

"Yeah sure Mom, let me just put you on speakerphone so I can put all of this down." She pulled her phone away, pressing a button on screen. "Hear me?"

"Yes-"

"Hello Mrs. Queen! It is I, Papyrus!" Papyrus had come up behind her and was leaning his whole body over hers, nearly toppling her off her chair. She grabbed onto the counter, holding on for dear life. Frisk struggled to right herself, then shot him a disgruntled glare. He did not notice.

Laughter trickled out of the phone. "Toriel is fine Papyrus. Hello! Are you taking good care of Frisk? How are you liking your job as Assistant Ambassador? The King has had nothing but high hopes for you."

Papyrus beamed like a lighthouse next to her. Frisk refrained from groaning; Papyrus did not need anymore grooming as he fluffed his own feathers just as well on his own.

"Frisk could arm wrestle a whole restaurant after being under my care!" Papyrus's eyes narrowed as he caught another train of thought. "Being Assistant Ambassador is a privilege and a pleasure, but..." He put on a smile, laughing nervously. "Some humans are a little difficult to with. They remind me of puzzles that are too hard to solve. However!" He slammed his fist on the table. Frisk caught both her plate and her phone in the air. She set them down gently, relaxing in relief. "I will solve these puzzles known as humans, and we will look like those cities on the movies where happy music plays right before the credits start! This I swear to you on my honor as Assistant Ambassador!"

Frisk tilted her head up, looking at Papyrus looming over her. His face was set in a determined expression, fixed on the phone. She smiled softly at him, and tapped his arm gently. He looked down at her, surprised. "Oh, my apologies Frisk, I forgot you were there."

"That's alright, Papyrus. I need to make this list now so we can leave." She smiled bigger at him. "Thank you for your help. I'm sure we'll figure out a solution."

He blinked at her again, and then broke out into a vibrant red that covered him head to toe. Monsters, Frisk thought, were strange creatures. "Oh Frisk, you always know how to flatter me!"

"Papyrus."

"Yes, sorry! Goodbye Mrs. Toriel, we will see you soon!" Papyrus turned back to his dishes. She noticed that his motions had taken up an almost prideful flow to them, very similar to the way he looked when she first met him. She shook her head , slid off her bar stool, and left the room to finish her conversation in peace.

Frisk doubled checked her list. "I think that's everything." She was back in her room, laying stomach down on her bed. She set her phone down on her bed and tucked her head against her arms, staring at the picture of her and her mother that appeared below her mother's phone number. Their call had gone on for longer than an hour now. Her heart began to ache.

"Hey... Mom?"

"Yes dear?"

She hesitated, not wanting to travel too far down the road she had stumbled upon last night. "Did you... watch the human news last night?"

"Mhm," hummed Toriel. "I was waiting for you to bring it up. Are you alright, dear? I know you feel very strongly about that law."

"As I should feel!" belted out Frisk more passionately that she had expected from herself. "Doesn't it make you afraid, Mom? You have humans in Newest Home. Surely a few of them have relationships with some of the monsters. It's inevitable that-"

"I am aware, Frisk. And yes, you are right, we do have a few. We, however, do not have the resources here to assist any mothers that fall into... that situation. We never had the need for 'hospitals' in the Underground, monsters never required them. We're made of magic and recovered from illness or injury through rest or a proper meal." Her mother's voice took on a sad, sympathetic tone. "They all eventually have to retreat back into the city to seek help. I worry for some though. Just the other day, we had a lovely fishwoman leave with her partner towards the city. She had been feeling very sick, and was not getting any better... There are rumors floating around here that say there are some rogue human doctors that are trying to assist our kind. Perhaps she attempted to try to find them because she knew something was wrong."

"Yes, but..." Frisk's heart twisted. "Even if she found someone..."

"I know, dear. There aren't any happy endings yet."

There was a long silence. The ache in her chest was hurting enough to make it hard to breathe. She tucked her face further into her arms, her stomach turning as her emotions began to take hold.

Would she have been able to make the same decision that the woman had made? She could imagine a faceless monster and a human man travelling in the dark. They were in a beaten up car that was barely able to run. In silence they made their way towards Metropia, a city filled with people who hated her and what she was. Through a mere rumor, they had made the decision to leave what was safe, for only a chance. Frisk could feel the chill of the unknown as the monster and her loved struggled to hold onto the hope they so longed for, even though it was fruitless.

The vision changed, and she became the monster, holding onto her stomach. She felt the life inside of her, the one that would never be given a chance to experience the world. The vision changed again, and she was standing in front of the city, a knife in her hand. Her face was streaked with tears, an unbelievable pain in her heart. The city hummed with the magic that ran like blood through it's steel bones, shining so bright that it hurt her eyes. Her mouth opened and she was shouting, but the words never came, lost to the wind. Metropia rippled with response, and then abruptly all of the lights went out at once, plunging the world into darkness.

She breathed heavily, feeling whispers crawl along her skin like slugs. They crept under her clothes and up her neck, through her hair and into her ears, becoming chaotic thoughts and carnal desire, incessant and unending. She dropped to her knees, her eyes staring into the void before her. The shadow that was once the city grew long and wide, towering above her. A rumbling entered her chest and went into her mind, stopping her breath. The shadow grew even bigger until it became the sky. She heard someone calling her name, but she could not move. The shadow opened up, and a mouth made of evil eyes roared. It came down upon her, swallowing her whole.

"Frisk!"

Frisk came back into her body, jolting. She gasped and began to cough, drawing in air like she was starved of it. She sat up and brought a hand to her forehead. It was drenched with sweat. Her whole body trembled. She flexed her hands and clasped them together repeatedly to try and stop the shaking. Distantly, she noticed her mother's voice calling her name. She fumbled for her phone, cradling it in her hands.

"S-sorry mom, I got something caught in my throat. Hey, I need to get started with the day, I'll try to be there later."

"W-wait now! Frisk, I don't think-"

"Love you." She ended the call, the screen going blank. Unable to hold onto it anymore, she dropped the phone next to her and collapsed back onto the bed. She pressed her hand to her chest, feeling her heart beating rapidly.

What... had that been?

A nightmare, to be sure, but to have one during the day, in the middle of a phone call? She turned onto her side and reached for a pillow. She pulled it close to her.

She was suddenly remembering her journey through the Underground, specifically the end. She remembered Asriel, first as a flower with a twisted face, then as a demon whose bitter influence crossed time and space. She remembered being thrown over and over again through realities, only able to settle as she found the souls of her friends and held onto them like a liferaft lost at sea. The chaotic world in her dream had felt too similar to what she had experienced back then. It filled her with a deep sense of dread.

She recalled from earlier the memory of the story of Toriel and Asgore's children. Then, the tapes, full of mystery.

Who was that voice... Was it really...?

She could hear the unknown voice's garbled words just as clearly as if she were sitting in that dusty room listening to them. She replayed them over in her head, again and again, the nonsense of the warped language beginning to make her feel ill. Tentatively, she began to pick at the sentences, deciphering them at face-value. Unable to get any farther than she had previously, she focused in on each part, taking it syllable by syllable.

The room around her faded away as Frisk began to become lost in thought. She mulled over the parts, and when she recognized something within it, she went on to the next part. Each solved piece she connected together, leaving behind her fragments of a whole. She tried to force the fragments into the gaps of missing logic. They snapped into place, fitting into places she did not know existed, but had been there for a very long time. One word, another piece, bit by bit she worked at the murmuring in her mind.

What was unknown was suddenly starting to gain clarity, a song without a tempo acquiring a beat. The song was crooked, and made from an old violin rotten from the inside out. Frisk's hands moved on their own accord, grasping onto the instrument. She held it up to her shoulder, pressed the bow to the strings, and began to play, the jagged notes painfully coming to life, each one an abomination.

As the song went on, she felt her arms no longer become her arms. She tested her strength; nothing happened. She tried to move her feet; she remained in place. Woefully Frisk played, the notes stumbling forward, scratching, and rewinding over itself, warping around her. The song held, even as she began to chill, and her world became smaller. It began to swell and crest, until it reached a peak. A long trill came out, harsh and painful. She instinctively wanted to clap her hands over her ears, but her hand kept the bow to the strings. She held still, waiting for the stranger she knew was watching.

Are you... listening? Whispered a voice inside her that was not her.

For now, she responded blankly.

She could feel the presence's surprise dissolve into amusement. It clicked around her, the strings holding her body captive vibrating from an unseen force.

Everyone with a Soul has a song inside of them. Do you like my song?

The sound was repeating the high-pitched wail. She could catch the end of it, but before she could continue onwards, it looped back in on itself, slipping out of her grasp. Frustrated, Frisk tried to drop the song altogether, but it held. She couldn't move her body, her motions still held under the unseen influence. The sound was getting into her thoughts, making her teeth chatter. She felt someone behind her, the tips of fingers brushing against her arms.

She suddenly became angry, and she wrenched her body away. The grasp that was on her broke like dried out vines from a wilting flower. The sound dropped abruptly. Her thoughts went black and quiet, an endless void.

The voice chuckled. You are strange, and not like the others. You are like me. A pause. I would love if you came to visit me again.

Who are you?

A child's laughter echoed in her mind, followed by more empty silence. Frisk held still, waiting.

Lips came to her ear. "Shhh..."

She turned to the noise. The face was right next to hers. Brown eyes met with bleeding red. It smiled at her with a grin of tar that split it's face from chin to scalp.

Someone was shaking her. There was a loud noise. She realized it was her own screaming.

"Snap out of it kid!" Frisk choked, drawing in one long breath before she started panting, reality and dream fading in and out from each other. "Not like that, take slower breaths. You're going to pass out at this rate." She heard an even inhale, a short pause, and a slow exhale. "Like that."

She mimicked him, struggling against her desire to take in more air. Her fight-or-flight response was still in high gear, her adrenaline rushing through her body. Unable to move due to the strong arms wrapped around her torso, she could only shake and exist in the place she was slowly beginning to realize was her room. She looked down at the arms through her sweat-covered bangs. They wore blue sleeves. She looked in front of her. Two legs with a matching pair of of feet sat on the bed before her with fresh socks and pristine fuzzy slippers

A trickle of stillness began to fill her, starting from the top of her head and down her spine, spreading throughout her body. The stillness was the realization that Sans had pulled her out of the world she had somehow stumbled into. As it flowed, her muscles began to relax, and her breathing was no longer forced. It pooled in her mind, her racing thoughts slowing. The world came back into full-view.

They were propped up on the backboard of the bed. Her back was pulled tight up against his chest, his arms unmoving bulwarks. Her hands were clasped tightly around his legs. Noticing, she slowly let go, the muscles in her fingers cramped. She splayed them out over his pants and then folded them in her lap. She closed her eyes. The room was cool against her sweat-slicked skin.

"What were you doing," asked Sans. It sounded like an innocent question, but she knew very well that he was angry.

"I had a nightmare."

"Since when do you fall asleep before noon?" His arms remained locked in their position. "What were you doing?"

"I'm telling you the truth, Sans." She was too tired to argue with him. "I was taking to my Mom, started reminiscing a little bit, and fell asleep. I had a nightmare." She shifted in his grasp. "I don't know what else you think I could be up to."

He shrugged around her and they remained in silence. The curtains in Frisk's room were shut, but she could tell by the sliver of light coming from the cracks that it was still early. The eternity that she had been in was, in reality, only a few minutes long. She considered that fact.

"Why didn't you join us for breakfast?"

"I wanted you to test the waters first. I'm glad I did; whatever he's serving I ain't buying after looking at you."

"Oh hah hah." She tried to sit up, but he held on. "Sans, let me go, I told you it was just a dream. I wasn't doing anything."

His grip tightened. Startled, she pressed herself back up against him in response, the top of her head nudging his chin. She thought she felt him curl ever so slightly around her, his legs brushing up against hers. He held her there for a moment, and she let him without complaint, her body too drained to do anything more than lay against him.

"Do you promise?"

The worry in Sans's voice hit her square in the chest. In rapid succession, each moment of that dark world flashed in her mind, ending with a screaming grin echoing in her ears.

She let out a cry that startled the skeleton, making him pull back and stare down at her, stunned into silence. She rolled in his arms, forcing her face into his coat, a long awaited sob shaking her shoulders. He sighed, shaking his head, gently resting his arms around her. He held onto her as she cried quietly, patting her back. It recalled within her moments from long ago, when she had been hurt or scared, but never alone. She poured out her frustrations, her anger, her fear into the fabric of Sans's jacket. It was a long while before her tears stopped.

"I'm sorry I worried you," she mumbled into his chest some time later. They were laying together, she on top of him. She was wrapping and upwrapping a string from his coat around her finger. "I'm not sure what happened. I really do think it was a nightmare, but..." Her eyes opened slowly, afraid to see what was in front of her. "It was the most frightening nightmare I have ever had. It felt... so real. I'm sorry. I really am." She propped herself up to look at him. He was staring up at the ceiling, his finger moving as he counted each star. He stopped when he met her gaze.

"Was it something more, Sans? Is that why you were worried?"

Sans stared at her for a moment, his hand paused in his counting gesture. Then he smiled, propping his head up with his hand. "Nah. You were making a ruckus and you had me convinced you'd had too much to drink."

"Sans, I'm not twenty-one! And it's not even noon!"

"Precisely my point."

She pushed herself up off of him, purposefully adding strength. He let out a wheeze and clapped his hands over his chest. Sans glared at her. Frisk glared back. "If you could so kindly hold a higher opinion of me, I would appreciate it."

"You could start convincing me by maybe keeping on schedule with your own plans. Papyrus can only clean so many plates."

Memory kicked her hard, and she jumped up. She grabbed onto her phone and checked the time. "Ah, shhh- alright, I need to get going." She slid out of bed, stumbling on her feet. Sans was behind her to catch her, righting her slowly. She thanked him, a small voice in her mind pointing out that he had been on the other side of the bed moments before. "Are you coming with?"

"To do chores?" He had his classic expression on his face, hands in his pockets. "Boy, while I really wish I could, I've got plans already. Shame, too. Sounds like fun."

She looked at him dryly. "A 'no' would suffice." She grabbed her coat and purse patting her pockets for her things. Frisk opened her door, but paused. She looked back at Sans who was still standing in the middle of her room, watching her go. She took a hesitant step forward, then committed, walking briskly up to him and hugging him tight. Sans kept his hands in his pockets, but his grin softened into a warm smile as he looked down at her. After a moment, she slowly pulled away, their eyes meeting. She searched his gaze, a questioning smile on her lips. Then she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Gotta go! C'ya later!" She broke away from him, waved him farewell, and ran out into the hallway. "Papyrus, c'mon we need to get going! The bazaar is going to be packed at this rate!"

Sans watched her all the way until she left his sight, and remained where he was until he heard the roar of Papyrus's car coming to life and drive away. The manor became suddenly very quiet, even the maids unheard. He looked around the room, taking in the sights of Frisk's clothes hung over antique furniture, and the light scent that was umistakably hers. Sans paused in his rotation around the room, catching hold of what he was looking for. His smile disappeared, his eyes darkening. He held up a hand, and as if parting a curtain, he brushed it in front of him.

Voices and images garbled and blurred in front of him like an ill-prepared slideshow on a broken television. The air around him crackled, and a long, harsh laughed filled the room. Then, it all echoed away, dirty clothes and pleasant scent returning to normal. Sans tucked his hand back into his pocket, sighing.

"Better get going." He turned around, took a step, and disappeared into a shortcut.