AN: Wow... this is the longest chapter I've ever written for anything... that being said, it was also a huge ordeal for me to edit so if there are any mistakes at all, please please please forgive them. I've had a few people asking me to make the chapters longer so I gave it a shot. I hope it worked out. Other than that, please enjoy!

Chapter Thirteen: Give Me Envy

Mettaton clapped his hands together almost violently as he faced the troop of girls. He'd been so uptight lately after everything with Flowey and without meaning to, he took it out on the girls. Three months. This was his deadline to get Frisk stage ready. It kept him up at night and the deadline was still two full months away. Not even Papyrus could soothe him.

"Again," he said harshly and all the girls groaned. Flowey had ordered new acts for everybody and that only added to his stress level because he had to pick all the songs and crate all the choreography, then teach all of the choreography to the girls which was the stage they were at now.

"Come on Metta," Stacy complained, straightening her high pony, "We've done it fifty billion times today alone! Give us a break, would you?" Mettaton fisted his shoulder length black hair, the stress evident on his face.

"We don't have time for a break. Do you know how much choreography we still have left to learn?"

The club always shut down for three months out of the year so the dancers could practice their new routines. This was not a new process. During those times, the staff usually had a lot of fun. Right now, was not one of those times.

Papyrus, never one to give up on anyone, stepped up and put his hand on Mettaton's shoulder.

" Mettaton , let them rest. They need a break and so do you..." he nodded at the girls who scurried off the stage. Frisk was the only one who stayed. Metta whimpered and hung his head, turning into Papy's embrace, his head falling dejectedly to his chest. Papyrus rubbed his back as he wallowed in self-pity, letting him be for a moment before lifting his chin so he could look into his baby pink eyes.

"I know you're stressed," he told him, "I know. But you cannot give up on these girls." Mettaton knew exactly what he meant by that... he couldn't give up on Frisk. True, he'd been a bit distant from her lately but it was difficult for him knowing exactly what she was going to face. He had to be tough for her but here he was falling apart.

"You don't think I know that?" Mettaton snapped, pulling away and turning his back. He pulled out his rose gold iPhone from the pocket of his grey sweat pants when it buzzed. The message he was looking at made him curse and shove his phone back into his pants.

"Shit!" He kicked at the floor and rubbed his temples.

"Let me guess," came a voice from the door. Frisk's hazel eyes lit up the moment she heard it. She beamed and ran down the steps so she could hug Sans. He ruffled her hair gently, looking back at Mettaton .

"You forgot Frisk here had a costume fitting today at two thirty?" Metta glared at him. Honestly, although he was grateful for what he'd done, he didn't want him anywhere around Frisk. He knew enough about him to know he wasn't good for her, but who was he to make that decision for her? He wouldn't smother her but maybe it was time they had a little chat.

"No worries." Sans continued, wrapping an arm around Frisk and pulling her closer. "I can take her."

"Absolutely not," Mettaton countered, "Frisk, darling, run upstairs and change really quick and we'll go okay?" Metta tried to smile as Frisk scampered off to change out of her work out clothes and into something more comfortable.

Mettaton stalked up to Sans, his heels clicking angrily the hole time.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, jabbing a perfectly manicured finger into his chest. Sans just shrugged, smirking a bit.

"Honestly, just trying to help out ol buddy ol pal. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Oh bullshit," Mettaton growled, "The only person you care about helping is yourself!" Sans faked looking wounded.

"Hey now. I'm just here to provide moral support for the kid. You brought her into this, yeah, but she's going to need more than just you to get through it." Slap. Mettaton's hand came across Sans face as quickly as the words left his mouth.

"You're a filthy dog Sans Faunt . Scum. If you didn't help Flowey move his product I'd ban you from the premises and you'd never lay eyes on her again."

"But that's just the thing darling ..." he cooed in a sickly-sweet voice his one blue eye extremely intense. "You have no control here anymore." Before Mettaton could even think about slapping him again, Papyrus, who had been on-looking quite terrified, stepped between them his hand pressed to either of their chests. Sans backed down now that his brother was involved but Metta wasn't done. He tried to push past Papyrus but he was too strong.

"Enough Metta," he said gently, "Frisk will be down any second. Do you really want her to see you feuding like children?" He placed both hands on Metta's shoulders now.

"You're needed here alright? The girls are willing to work. They just needed a moment. Let Sans take her to her fitting. He's not out to hurt her," he added optimistically, a huge smile on his face. "You'll see!"

Mettaton jerked backward, narrowing his eyes. "You'll say anything ot defend him. It's clear whose side you're on." He turned away, leaving Papyrus with big puppy eyes, wondering what he did wrong.

"Girls!" Metta yelled, "Five minutes!"

When Frisk reappeared moments later, the girls were back to rehearsing and Papyrus was being consoled by a very pissed off Undyne . Sans was sipping Coke from a glass at the bar and Frisk tapped his shoulder, feeling the tension in the room.

"What happened?" she inquired quietly and he just ruffled her hair again.

"Best not to ask kid. Let's go."

Sans had a red sports car that his brother had picked out. It was Papy's dream car and since Papyrus had too much anxiety to drive, Sans bought it so he could at least ride around in it all the time. He rolled the top down and let the wind tousle their hair.

"You can listen to whatever you want, kid," he said. She was just kind of awkwardly sitting in his front seat, clutching the seat belt as she shifted every so often, trying to stay comfortable. The seats were leather and kept sticking to her exposed legs in her shorts. She didn't touch the radio though and left it on the station he had it on until a certain song came on. Her eyes lit up and she immediately grabbed the dial, turning it up which made him smile. Still, she sat quietly even though he could tell she wanted to sing. He nudged her with his elbow.

"Come on Frisk! You're about to be a performer so do what you do best. Perform." She seemed to warm up to the idea and was soon singing the lyrics to I Hate Everything About You by Three Days Grace. Sans eventually joined in and they began feeding of each other's energy. This was exactly what she needed to loosen up and seemed completely relaxed by the time they reached their destination. The sign out front read From Flour to Flower and the smell of cinnamon wafted through her nose as Sans cut the engine. When they first walked into the shop, Frisk noticed it was a bakery. Whole pies were on display in glass cases along with cakes, brownies, cookies and other sugary treats. Most of them had golden flowers painted on them with icing. Now she understood the name of this place. A bell rang when they opened the door and a tall woman with chubby cheeks came rushing out of the back, her graying blonde hair in a tight bun atop her head, helped in place by bobby pins. When she saw exactly who had walked into her shop, she gasped and immediately came behind the counter, pulling Sans to her chest. Frisk felt a bit of jealousy rise up in her but she didn't let it bother her too much.

"Sans!" the woman exclaimed in the motherliest tone. Her tone was soft and kindhearted. Frisk could tell she was a good person from the sound of her voice and the look in her lavender eyes. She was so gentle in nature. "It's been too long." Sans chuckled softly.

"How ya been Tori?" Before she could even answer, she looked over with another gasp.

"Oh, you just be Frisk!" she pulled her close next. "I've heard so much about you. Everyone has told me you're such a dear. I'm excited to work with you. I'm Toriel by the way." She walked over and flipped the small sign on the door to closed before looping her arm through Frisk's. "Come on back. We have so much to do."

Toriel lead them back through the kitchen and up a set of stairs to a locked green door. Frisk was in complete awe when she was finally allowed inside. Along the walls were rows and rows of fabrics and racks of dresses and sequined costumes. So, this woman could cook and sew? She was rather impressed.

"Welcome to my workshop dear," she said, patting her shoulder. "We're going to have a lot of fun." Toriel walked over to one of the racks and began pulling garments off hangers and slinging them over one arm one by one.

"Now, Mettaton did the easy part and measured you but that doesn't mean everything will fit like a glove. I will make adjustments as needed." Once the final costume was off the hanger, Toriel ushered Frisk into the adjoining room to what she assumed was meant to be a living room and was surprised to find a bed and a chest of drawers inside.

"Go ahead and undress dear. I'm only here to help." She smiled warmly and Frisk relaxed, beginning to disrobe.

"You sleep here?" she asked softly, looking around at the neatly decorated bedroom as her clothes came off.

"I do," Tori told her, "I moved in here after my divorce was finalized." Frisk immediately pinched her lips together and felt guilty for asking.

"Oh, don't look so wounded dear," she chuckled, helping her into a sparkly pink and purple leotard. It fit her so perfectly. There was pink tulle around the sides and back to create a half tutu. The arms were sheer white, the sequins ending in a heart cut that framed her chest.

"I don't mind talking about it anymore."

"What happened?" she asked, mainly because she wondered who could have hurt such a wonderful person.

"Well it happened after our son died," she explained and Frisk tensed up again, about to apologize but Tori kept going. "Relax Frisk. All the girls know my story. It's your turn now. Asriel died when he was twenty-three, trying to protect his sister from a group of gangbangers. She was walking home from the club she worked at when they grabbed her. She and Asriel had a fight that night and he made her walk home instead of giving her a ride but felt guilty and went back for her. They shot him five times on sight. Chara couldn't live with herself after that and left home. Asgore and I... well we each found our distractions. He submersed himself in work and I opened this bakery. I've been a seamstress for more than thirty year but it was always Asirel's dream to be a baker and have his own bakery. Frisk, I encourage you to never give up on whatever dream you may have. Every day is a gift. Don't forget that."

Frisk smiled through her watery eyes and nodded. She'd promise this woman anything. Then it clicked with her.

"Wait... chara ? Did you say Chara ? Like the dancer at the Underground Chara ?" Toriel sighed and nodded, doing a few small adjustments as she spoke. "That's the part of the story I always leave out but you remind me so much of her that I guess I let her name slip. Please don't tell the others. I know she's a handful but now you at least have insight as to why. Now, go show Sans how flawless you look."

Frisk was quiet the whole car ride home, this new information buzzing around in her head. She only perked up when Sans cut the engine and they weren't back at the club.

"What are we doing here? She asked shyly, eyeing the café sign as she realized just how hungry all that moving around had made her.

"Getting milkshakes," Sans told her. "My treat."

"But Mettaton will get upset if I'm not back by four." She eyed the clock wearily. They only had half an hour before that time.

"So, we tell him the fitting ran late. Come on kid." He gently took her hand. "I can handle the drama queen. Besides, you look like you need to get a lot off your chest. Let me lend you an ear." He pulled his hand back from hers and a small plastic ear laid in her palm' the kind you get from Halloween stores or corny joke shops. She couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up in her throat and lightly pushed him. "Okay... but only because you're buying."

Across town a uniformed officer holding a dozen gold flowers entered the bakery and the soft smile that always seemed to grace Toriel's face faded into a hardened grimace.

"Special delivery," the officer said with a goofy smile, extending the flowers. She took them with a heavy sigh.

" Asgore ," she began, "We've talked about this. You cannot just show up unannounced with flowers and think it's okay. It's not."

This didn't deter Asgore at all, his smile even widening.

"I know, I know, but I think I've got a lead. A real one this time. Some girls went missing from-" Tori held up a hand to stop him.

"Save your breath Asgore . I'm not interested in hearing another one of your leads." His leads used to keep her going but she'd been let down too many times to count. Now she was moving on... Healing even and he should be doing the same.

"How many times have I told you to let it go? You're the Chief of Police now. You should be focused on other things. You have cases that need your full attention. Let it go Asgore . Solving this won't bring him back. He's gone."

"But what about Chara ?" he asked, "What about justice for her? Is she well?" Toriel pinched the bridge of her nose.

"You know I haven't seen her. She refuses to speak to me..." She wiped the single tear that rolled down her cheek, some old wound having opened up today.

"I think you should go." Defeated, Asgore turned to leave.

"I still love you Tori. Never forget that."

"Go!" she yelled, beginning to cry once he was gone. Still, she put the flowers in an empty base of water and set them atop the display case.