A/N: Writer's block writer's block writer's block. A fun fact about this chapter is that it's been in development for over a month. I know exactly what to do next. I don't know a thing about the scenes inbetween.

An echo coursed through the perfect silence, pulling every ticking clock, computer whirr, whoosh of breeze and rush of a passing car back to reality. It would've been impossible to return to the silence of before. The kid grunted something, and Sans could only make out one word, one he had feared and loved at different points- DETERMINATION.

Sans looked at them expectantly, his eyes emptying both of hope that he'd be able to get anything out of this kid and pupils. The kid looked up, annoyance in their eyes. They had obviously thought themselves audible. They looked back down, and mumbled the same thing again. Sans thought he heard a few more words, but it was impossible that this green-shirted kid could possibly be telling the truth.

Chara had died before Sans had even been born.

But still, there was no logical explanation. Even if Chara was long dead and by no means a live, dark-eyed child about Frisk's age, that was the only lead available. He'd have to act as if it were true, at least until he figured out what was true. There was a kind of tension, a jagged line between the two you could practically see. Silence was becoming too much to bear.

Frisk's eyes fluttered open.

After a few seconds of a glassy-eyed stare at the ceiling, the fog cleared from her eyes and she jolted upright, only to cringe and sink back down. Her eyes snapped shut again, and Chara (?) sunk right to their knees, starting to shake as if the room was drained of warmth for them.

None of this made sense to Sans, and it was hard for him to trust this weird celebrity lookalike. As far as he knew, they murdered his- er, Toriel's- child. For a long time, it was distressingly silent.

Seconds passed that could have been hours.

They turned into minutes, which dragged on.

Finally, something happened.

Frisk's lips parted, forming words that Sans could barely hear and only by luck understand. The words were in a voice that sounded like something sweet and perfect was being strangled. Sans realized that he had never heard Frisk speak ever since they'd reached the surface. When they used to speak, their words would fall apart between hacking fits and be coherent only with the assistance of her arms flying dramatically to illustrate her points. The coughs were so loud and unnatural-sounding, they blocked her voice out of his memory.

"Well… I thought I'd be fine… Apparently… not."

She grinned slightly, sort of a happy wince. She looked like she'd be fine, just a bit paler than normal and her breathing was a bit shallow. "Chara" spoke up, their hands shaking and their eyes sparkling. "You'll… It'll work out… I swear…"

And then everything was fine the end.

Or, at least, that's what everybody involved would've hoped.

Instead, the doorbell rang.

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long

I'll release one whenever I finish one

I write inbetween Minecraft PVP rounds… sorry