It's so cold in these gardens. Your feet feel like blocks of ice, and it you feel as though you're fighting your way through drifts of snow rather than rain, but you don't dare stop. The rain pounds relentlessly, the wind sweeping it sideways and stinging your eyes, but you can't let that slow you down. They'll find you if you do.
You hear a shout behind you, and you have barely enough time to dart into the bushes. Your sodden hair drips down the collar of your soaked shirt, making you shiver violently as you hug your knees to your chest and try not to make a sound as you cry. "Help me," you whisper against your knees.
But nobody came.
There are footsteps now, closer, crunching on the gravel paths. You let out a soft whimper, tears stinging at your eyes. The crunching stops, and you don't dare breathe. You want your mother, and you don't care if it's your human mother or your monster one, you just want her. You are so cold, and scared, and alone.
Don't let this happen.
"I don't have a choice," you whisper into the dark.
Of course you have a choice! They want to push you around? Push back!
"I can't. Good children don't talk back. I'm a good child."
Well that's a load of crap. Good kids sure as heck fight back when grown ups are being wrong. And they're wrong.
Blinking your tears away, you raise your head to stare through your sodden hair at the boy crouched opposite you. He rolls his eyes, and tugs off his gloves long enough to unwind the bandanna from around his head and knot it around yours so that you can see.
"Grown ups aren't supposed to be wrong," you tell him.
No, they're not. But they're people too, and people screw up all the time. We both know it's true.
"But… I'm just a kid. What can I do?"
A heck of a lot more if you fight than if you just sit here feeling sorry for yourself, that's for sure. Get up!
"No!"
Do it!
"I can't!"
Blinding light slices through the dark, and you throw your arms before your eyes in an attempt to block it out. Immediately, a hard hand reaches toward you, and leather-clad fingers close painfully around your arm. You cry out, but your captor is merciless as they drag you from the bushes. More light falls upon you, and you cringe away from the towering figures surrounding you. Their blue uniforms are untouched by the pouring rain that lashes you and steals the warmth from your body.
They aren't human. At least, you think they're not. Their heads are nothing but flashlights, the lights trained upon you like a dozen unblinking eyes. They can't be human, but you have never met a monster as callous or cold as the one that drags you forward, scraping you across the gravel when you try and fail to get your numb feet beneath you.
"Please," you beg. "Please, let me go. I just want to go home."
"But that's where we're taking you." The kind voice speaks in sharp contrast to the grip that's leaving bruises on your chilled skin. "A kid like you needs to be taken care of."
They're marching in step around you, but as lightning flashes overhead, you can see between them just enough to see the building looming on the hill before you. It's not anywhere you've ever called home. Not a warm house in a ruined city, or or a cozy, snow-covered one tucked away in the trees. You recognize it. It's a place out of nightmares from a past that never happened. It's bigger, somehow, the white walls warped and twisted, but you will never forget those bars on the windows. Panic kicks in, and you struggle to breathe.
"No! Please, don't put me in there!"
"It's okay, kid. We just want what's best for you."
And that's the most awful part. You can see their souls now, illuminating them from within. They mean it. They really do want what's best for you. They just can't see the truth of that place. Their lights cut through the darkness, but illuminate nothing. The light in the windows shifts, and they become eyes staring at you from the heart of the storm. A corner of the doorway lifts in a leering grin before the doors swing wide, the darkness between them waiting to swallow you whole. That place will eat you alive, and anything that comes out again won't be you. Not any more.
It's now or never.
He's walking beside you, unseen by the figures that drag you toward the creature on the hill. Grinning, he winks at you and gives you a thumbs-up.
Warmth trickles through your icy limbs, filling you with strength again as an orange glow kindles deep within your chest. Your eyes narrow, and as your captors reach the path that leads up the hill, you swing around and drive your head deep into the midsection of the one holding you.
He doubles over, his hand loosening, and a hand clad in a red glove shoots over your shoulder, slamming into the switch on the thing's head. The light flickers and dies, and your captor topples to the ground.
Now! A gloved hand seizes yours, and you bolt through the gap left by your captor. The others reach for you, but you're smaller and faster, and you duck around the grasping hands as you make a break for the trees.
See? Sometimes you have to push back.
Nodding, you break through a thicket, not slowing your pace as you race through the woods. "I didn't like it."
You don't have to like it. You just need to make sure they listen, and don't let them walk all over you if they don't. You matter, too.
"But…" you duck a low-hanging branch, and your heart clenches as a beam of light sweeps past you. "I want to be good. I want people to like me."
You can be good without being a doormat, he scoffs. And you can be tough and still have people like you. C'mon, you know that.
He's right. You do. You just never thought of yourself that way.
More beams flicker across the leaves before you, and you glance back over your shoulder. They're coming, lights bobbing toward you between the trees. You are fast, but their legs are very long, and they're gaining on you. Turning back, you let out a cry, teetering to a stop on the brink of a precipice. Not far below, water thunders past, a flash of lightning illuminating the churning, frothing river.
"What do I do?" you cry out, clinging more tightly to his hand. "I can't go back!"
No, he says, you can't.
You have barely a moment to realize what he's thinking before his gloves collide with your shoulders, hurling you into the stream. The icy water drives into you like a punch in the gut, and you gasp for breath as your head breaks the surface. He's standing on the shore, watching as the river tears you away from him, and just before he vanishes from sight, he gives you another thumbs-up.
You can do this, Frisk. You're tougher than everyone thinks.
You lurch awake, gasping for air, but the weight on your chest won't let you breathe.
"F-frisk, can- Oh! Undyne, move your hand."
"Wh- oh. Crap. Sorry, punk."
The weight lifts, and you take greedy gulps of the air that fills your lungs. Two faces, one bright and one dark, swim into focus above you, and you squeak at the sharp yellow teeth bared far too close to your face.
Undyne grins and sits back on her heels. "Yeah, she does that too." She jerks her thumb at Alphys, who blushes and straightens her glasses.
"A-are you okay, Frisk?" She reaches out a hand, helping you to sit up, and then draws your blanket around you, frowning at your shivering.
"Sure," you answer, surveying the remains of the slumber party around you. It's pretty typical to end up in a giant knot of blankets and pillows, and the popcorn scattered around at random isn't out of the ordinary, either. The nicecream, at least, got put away this time. Waking up to a soupy puddle of compliments isn't as much fun as it sounds. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Undyne reaches out a finger to swipe your cheek, mindful of her claws, and displays the drop on the end.
"Oh," you say, pulling the blanket over your head like a hood.
"Yeah." She tosses her braid, still mostly intact from when you made it last night, over her shoulder. "You were yelling a lot, too."
Groaning, you retreat further into your blankets, but the groan turns into a yelp as a bright flash of pain stabs through your leg. You struggle free of the blanket, tugging it back to reveal the safety pin still attached to your pyjama pants, dangling a half-finished friendship bracelet. "Ow." You pull the open pin away, glaring at the jab.
"I got it." Alphys struggles free of the blanket nest and heads for the kitchen.
Rolling her eyes, Undyne banishes the spear she summoned when you cried out and takes the bracelet from you. "Here, gimme that before you make things worse." She pins it to her pillow and thumps it down into her lap as Alphys returns.
Obediently, you roll up the leg of your pyjamas and let Alphys stick a bandaid on the pinprick. You really don't think you need it, but Alphys takes your healthcare pretty seriously. "There," Alphys says, pulling the pyjamas back down. "Feel okay?" You give her a thumbs-up, and she grins.
"Good." Undyne slings an arm around your neck, yanking you against her side. You glance up at her, and she flashes you a grin full of teeth. "So now you gonna tell us what's bugging you?"
"It's nothing," you insist, wrapping your arms around her beefy one. "Just a stupid dream."
"Ohh. Well if it's just a STUPID dream, you know what you gotta do," she says.
Alphys' eyes widen and she scrabbles through the pillow mountain. "N-not the new pillows, use the old ones!" She yanks the sparkly sequined pillow Undyne just grabbed out of her hands and replaces it with the old one she was sleeping on.
"Punch it in the face," you intone dutifully.
"PUNCH IT IN THE FACE!" Undyne gleefully holds the pillow in front of her, and waits for you to haul back and whomp it as best you can. It spits a few sad feathers into the air. Undyne watches them flutter to the blankets. "Man, we gotta work on your punch."
"Just not on the good pillows." Alphys tucks them back onto the couch with a careful pat, and flops back down next to you. "So… now that we're all up…"
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Undyne asks.
"New clothes time!" Alphys struggles back to her feet and runs up the stairs to their room to fetch the fruits of yesterday's shopping excursion. "Is it a pants day or a dress day, Frisk?"
Some days it takes you a while to decide, but today you don't even have to give it a thought. "Pants!" you call after her, bouncing a little in excitement.
It didn't take long for Undyne and Alphys to take charge of helping you buy your wardrobe. Your parents' tastes are nice but old-fashioned, and the skeletons will stick you in pretty much anything with sleeves, but Undyne and Alphys are great at picking out stuff that you find really cool, no matter what mood you're in. It isn't long before Alphys returns in a pink skirt and sweater, bringing your clothes with her. You drag the jeans into your blanket nest and wriggle your way into them, doing the same with your new shark hoodie.
Once you're dressed, Alphys sits behind you and starts to separate your hair into sections. While she's busy with that, Undyne scoots over and drops her rapidly unravelling braid into your hands. Shaking out the heavy mass of red hair, you begin the repair job while Alphys begins gathering your own uncooperative hair into a ponytail. Undyne, always annoyed with empty hands while you do this, begins working on the unfinished friendship bracelet.
"Hey… we're friends, right?" Your voice is quiet, and you keep your gaze firmly on Undyne's braid, but you feel Alphys' hands still as Undyne turns her head to exchange a look with her.
"Uh, YEAH," Undyne says, brandishing her wrist at you. The stack of friendship bracelets she's wearing practically glow against her dark scales. "According to these, we are totally BESTIES, remember?"
You grin, and nod. "I remember. I just…" Frowning, you bite your lip as you tease apart a stubborn snarl in Undynes' hair.
"Just what, punk?"
"If anyone ever came and took me away from my parents, would… would you guys still come visit me?"
Alphys finishes wrapping the elastic around your ponytail and scoots around until she's next to Undyne. As you tie off her braid, Undyne swings around too, both of them looking at you with concern.
"F-frisk, is that what you have bad dreams about? Those social workers?"
"Sometimes," you admit. "Not always."
Undyne snorts. "Aw, man. We'd come visit you, sure, but it's never gonna be a thing. I may not know all the stuff that went down last year, but I pity anyone who tries to get between you and your parents. You remember that time your Mom walked in on your training and set my spear on fire?"
"Yeah," you giggle. "That was awesome."
"Pfff. For you maybe." But she grins as she punches you in the arm. It's light, for Undyne, which means you only topple onto your side rather than fly across the room. Sighing, Alphys picks you up again and settles you between them.
"S-she's right though," she says, placing an arm around your shoulders. "Nobody's taking you anywhere without going through a heck of a lot of monsters who like you right where you are." She grins at you. "Besides, I might have kinda sorta locked down your old records. Big time. Nobody's getting through that encryption but me."
"HA! My baby is such a REBEL!" The look Undyne gives Alphys has the scientist blushing furiously, and Undyne just looks smug. She unhooks the friendship bracelet from the pillow and knots it around your wrist. "Face it, shrimp. You're stuck with us."
You turn the bracelet slowly on your wrist. The divide between your careful knotwork and Undyne's looser, messier section stands out sharply, but as far as you're concerned, it just makes the bracelet even better. As your eyes burn with that familiar stinging, you pull your hood over your head, hiding behind the white felt teeth that line it beneath the floppy shark fin.
Undyne and Alphys laugh softly, and you're enveloped in hugs from either side. Alphys leans in, dropping a kiss on your cheek, and Undyne plants a much more enthusiastic one on your forehead. Giggling, you squirm between them, but only enough to get as much of your arms around them as you can. In typical fashion, the hugs escalate into wrestling, which quickly erupts into a full-blown pillow fight, mostly between you and Unyne as Alphys rushes to rescue the good cushions. After a frenzy of frenetic pounding, you end up sprawled on your back, gasping for breath as tears of laughter pour down your face. She's standing over you crowing her victory, but even as she does, Undyne glances down at you with a question in her eyes, and you give her a thumbs-up. Cackling, she throws herself on Alphys and wrestles the sparkly pillows away from her. You don't need to wait for an invitation before you fling yourself after her.
A year ago, the thought of being in a fight with two monsters would have been the kind of thing that happened in your nightmares. Funny how today, it's the thing that saves you from them. But then, you're a pretty tough kid. How could you expect anything less?