I willed my heart to not beat quite as fast. It didn't work.

"Uh," I said. "Hey, Toriel…"

She rushed to me, her eyes wide. She placed a gentle hand under my chin and faced me towards her, letting her get a good look at my face. For a moment, I could see her take in my features, and then she went absolutely still. I could see tears poking at the corners of her eyes.

"C-C…" she stuttered, and I seized her by the wrist. It was a bit harder of a grip than I'd intended, but she stopped.

"Not around them," I whispered, leaning towards her. My voice came out harsh, frantic. I hadn't meant for that to happen. I considered it for a moment, and then added "…Please."

She paused for a moment, concern in her face. Then she slipped her arm out of my grasp, turned vaguely in Sans' direction, and said "Uh…" Her tone turned to something that, while clearly emotional and joyous, managed to still be oddly dignified. "Would you, please, leave us alone?"

I was impressed. Really, really impressed. I'd known Toriel pretty well back in my first life, yes, but that was on a personal level. I knew her as a friend, as my caretaker, and, I guessed, as my adoptive mother (though that still felt weird). I'd known, in theory, that she had to be a strong woman, considering her status, but I'd only rarely actually seen her acting in her official capacity. So to see her rebound from all that had happened in the last few seconds so quickly and manage to actually say a coherent sentence without letting her emotions slip too much… damn. She was good.

Sans stared for a moment, seemingly confused. I got a bit of satisfaction from that. Sometimes it was nice to get a reminder that he could be as clueless as anyone else, and actually knowing something he didn't gave me a pleasant sense of smug superiority. I figured it was probably wrong to like that feeling, but I didn't particularly care.

Then, he said "alright. let's go, paps," and walked out of the door. Papyrus looked on for a moment, then shrugged and followed him.

When the two of them were securely out of sight and – hopefully – earshot, she knelt down in front of me. "My child…" she said. "How is this possible?"

For a moment, I struggled to think of a lie. Coming back from the dead wasn't the easiest thing to explain away, but then again, the sheer improbability of the situation was a boon for me, too. She had no frame of reference for this, and wouldn't exactly be able to fact-check my explanation. I could tell her just about anything, and unless it had a glaring hole right in it, she wouldn't be able to argue, especially not in her current emotional state. Still, trying to come up with a lie on the spot was hard, especially about something as inexplicable as resurrection. There was nothing I could immediately think of.

And then it hit me. She'd known me when I was alive. And I'd never had the greatest sense of humor. I grinned my best grin and said, "Would you believe me if I told you my ghost had possessed someone?"

Her wandering gaze snapped to me for a moment, her eyes concerned and serious, and then she seemed to realize something and chuckled. I had to keep myself from smirking, and instead managed, with some effort, to keep up my sincere-looking smile.

I'd just told her a half-truth. Yes, that wasn't technically how it'd worked, and yes, that wasn't anywhere near the full story – but it was close enough. I'd told her a half-truth, and I'd gotten her to assume that it was a joke. That meant her thoughts probably wouldn't wander in that direction, and I kept the freedom to tell her just what she needed to know. Of course, I still needed to think of a lie, but I doubted the consequences of failing to make it convincing would be as bad now. I'd managed to make sure that, as suspicious as she might get, as much as she might see through my lies, she wouldn't figure out what the actual reason was. And frankly, I doubted she'd even get that suspicious, or be that good at seeing through my lies.

She smiled at me. It was a warm, genuinely happy smile – not in Papyrus' usual, overblown way, though. It was something subtler, but at the same time, something deeper. Perhaps she didn't show her emotions as much as Papyrus did, but her expression left no doubt that inside, she was – quite possibly literally – happier than I could ever imagine. I found myself smiling back, a desire to just share in that deep well of joy overtaking me.

"Very well," she said. "I understand if you do not want to talk about it right now."

Now that was unexpected. It made things easier, certainly. I didn't even have to worry about the lying part. And besides… that felt good, too. Knowing that she didn't want to pry into my life or dig out my secrets, that she was content to let me talk about what I wanted and keep the rest to myself... it was nice. It told me, I supposed, that she really did have my best interests at mind, that she really wanted what was best for me more than anything else. That she really loved me like I was her very own child.

"Thanks," I said, still smiling.

She rose from the floor and sat down on the couch, right next to me. "So, how are you, Chara?"

My eyebrows rose for a moment before I realized she'd just said my name. That felt weird. I hadn't heard anyone use my name in a long, long while. My face mellowed out again, and I said "I'm fine. How have you been?"

"I've been…" she started, and then paused for a moment. "Fine, too, I suppose."

I glanced down at the floor for a moment. It couldn't have been that good, living in the Ruins. She was all alone, with no friends or family, isolated from the outside world. Her only company were the books she had in her home, and considering how long she'd been living there, it felt quite possible that she'd read them all already. It was probably a lonely, dull life – and she suffered it without complaint, just so that when, every so often, a human fell down, she could protect them. How often did that happen? Barely ever, I was willing to bet. Yet still, she endured, waiting for the few moments in time when she could make a difference, when she could save a life. The worst part, she had yet to succeed even once, not counting me – and in this timeline, my survival was far from a certainty. It struck me, for the first time, just how much strength it took to persevere in the face of all that. If I'd been stuck in the same situation, would I have done the same?

No. No, I didn't think I would've. I didn't think I could've.

We sat in silence for a moment. Then, I said "Well… Sans got you to come here for a reason."

Her eyes widened. "Oh! Right! I had almost forgotten." She leaned over, taking a look at my arm. As she did, her eyes grew even more shocked. "My child…" she whispered. "What happened?"

"Mm…" I hesitated for a moment. "Would it be okay if I said I didn't want to talk about that right now either?"

She said nothing, but nodded. And then, she wrapped her arms around me.

It was just as warm as Papyrus' hug had been.

I felt an energy spread out throughout my body. It was similar to what I'd felt when I'd eaten the pie, but the feeling I'd experienced back then had been nothing but a pale echo of Toriel's true magic. What I felt now wasn't a feeling I could describe, not in a few words. It called to mind images of birds fluttering through the air, of warm sunshine shining on a patch of flowers, of children laughing and playing. I felt like someone coming back home and reuniting with their family after being away for far too long. It was something between relief, joy, excitement, satisfaction, happiness – and, most of all, sheer, simple peace.

I expected some sort of crunching noise and flash of pain as my bones set themselves back into place. I knew that wasn't how monster healing magic worked, of course, but in my subconscious, the expectation was still there. That didn't happen, though. My bones settled back into their proper place as calmly and unnoticeably as a river slowly changing course over hundreds of years – just in a matter of seconds. I didn't feel any sort of pain, or even any discomfort. I just felt the dull ache already coming from that arm slowly recede, and after a moment's time, I realized I could move it again.

I threw both of my arms around her, ignoring the little tingle still present in the right, pressed close to her, and leaned my head on her shoulder. "Thanks," I said.

"You are welcome," she said in response, and hugged me tighter. I felt something wet drip on me. She was crying, and somehow, I knew they were tears of joy.

We sat like that for a few seconds before I gently pulled away. For a moment, again, we sat in silence, and then she said, "My child, may I ask you something else?"

I shot her a wry smile. "Depends."

"Chara…" she said, "while you were in the Ruins, you looked… different. Why was that?"

I licked my lips. "Uh… that's something else I'd rather not talk about." She glanced to the side for a moment, and then turned back to me. She looked... worried and hurt and a bit suspicious. But she nodded.

God, I felt awful. She was one of my three oldest friends, and the only one of the three I could talk to. I should've been pouring my heart out to her, telling her everything that had happened, leaving out nothing. She, of all people, deserved to know. But instead, here I was, being secretive as a mouse. I had a good reason for it. I couldn't tell her what had actually happened. If I'd led any other life, if I hadn't messed up so badly, if I hadn't done quite so much awful things, I would've done what I should've and told her everything. But I couldn't. She may have deserved to know, but she couldn't. I needed to keep this a secret. And somehow, the fact that she was willing to just accept it made it hurt all the more.

I'd told Papyrus, though. If I'd told him, why couldn't I tell her? Maybe I could tell her, too. It wouldn't actually be that bad. She was a kind person, and besides, she basically saw me as her child. She'd be willing to forgive me, I knew. She'd understand that I really did want to be a better person now, that there was no point in dwelling on what I may have done in some timelines that didn't even exist anymore. Hell, I'd told Sans, too, and he wasn't anywhere near as forgiving as that. Sure, that had been an event born of necessity, but still, if I could tell him, I could tell her too.

I tried to say Actually, I have something I need to tell you. But I couldn't.

Dammit. Dammit. I'd had my resets taken from me, and I'd persevered. I'd had someone who gave my life meaning die, and I was powerless to bring her back – and I'd persevered. I'd survived a close brush with death, and I'd persevered – and even managed to give the knight a pretty good fight. And I was being a coward now? Now? That wasn't happening. I wasn't going to be like that. I was going to tell her everything. All I needed to do was bloody well say it!

Nothing came out of my mouth.

I bit my lip. Oh my god. Why? Why the hell was I so scared to say it? She wasn't going to judge me for it. She wasn't going to be mad at me because of it. She wasn't that kind of person. I knew that much. At most, she was maybe going to be a bit disappointed, but…!

It hit me. That was why, of course. Because as much as I didn't want her to be mad at me, as much as I didn't want to face her wrath, the thought of disappointing her was even worse. Her child had come back from the dead. Today was supposed to be the happiest day of her life – and I didn't want to ruin it by forcing her to face what I'd done. I had no right to ruin it all like that.

Or was that just what I was telling myself? Was that just a comfortable lie? Was that just my way of trying to convince myself it was alright, even when it really wasn't?

I looked down. Yeah, probably.

She placed an arm on my shoulder. "My child…" she said, so quietly she was almost whispering. "You haven't…"

I looked back up at her, and tried not to let my emotions show in my expression. She paused for a moment, staring at my face, trembling.

Finally, she said, in a motherly, compassionate, comforting voice, "You haven't… done something, have you?"

The words felt like a slap across the cheek.

She suspected something. She thought I might've done something bad. Yet she wasn't accusing me of anything – she just wanted to talk to me about it. She wanted to help me through it.

She was a good person. She cared about me. And I wasn't telling her a thing, just because I was too much of a coward to face her reaction. Because I was too much of a coward to open up to anyone.

I just looked down and blinked a few times. She clutched my shoulder tighter and leaned in closer. "My child…" she said, the words full of emotion. I was sure that if I looked up, I'd see her crying.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever you did…" Toriel said, her voice shaking, "I'm sure it can be forgiven…"

I looked away even more. I was becoming more and more sure that it couldn't be.

She hugged me once more, and I felt more tears drip down onto me. "Please, just…" she said, her voice pleading. "Tell me. Tell me what's wrong."

I dared to look towards her, just a little bit. I bit my lip. My throat felt tight. I couldn't speak. I just shook my head weakly.

She turned aside for a moment. "I understand…"

I felt like crying.

I wrapped my arms around her, too, and buried my head in her fur. I could feel her tears roll down my cheek. Soon enough, they were joined by my own.

"I'm sorry," I sobbed. "God, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

I wanted to tell her. I wanted to tell her so much. I wanted to just let this all be behind us both, to just make sure we both knew where we stood. I wanted to let her help, to let her comfort me, to let her tell me it was alright. I wanted to just let it out, to just admit it, to stop hiding secrets from the one person who cared more than anyone else.

I just couldn't.

Dammit. Why was it so hard?! Why was I being such a bloody coward?! Why in the world was I hiding things from her, of all people?!

And all of a sudden, something burned bright inside me. Something that roared like a fire, consuming all the sorrow that had been eating through me. Within my mind, it glowed like a blazing furnace, and like a furnace, it tempered my thoughts. It focused them, turning scattered confusion into single-minded concentration, turning the roaring whirl of emotion inside me into sheer, blazing purpose. I recognized the feeling. It was rage – rage at myself.

What the hell was WRONG with me?!

Suddenly, I knew something. I knew something with a conviction so fierce that it was simply unfathomable that I could be wrong. I knew something deep within me, deep within my very soul. I knew that I wasn't going to let this fear control me. I knew that I wouldn't hide secrets from one of my oldest friends. I knew that I was going to tell her everything.

I realized, somewhere in the back of my mind, that this feeling wasn't simple rage. It was something far stronger, something far more essential to everything I was. It was determination.

It was a familiar feeling. But never before had it been quite this strong.

I gathered it. I turned it into sheer will, something primal and elemental. I let it blaze through my thoughts, charring everything else inside my head – all the conflicting emotion, all the despair and fear and hopelessness – as it made its way to the forefront. I focused it, throwing my entire being into that power's embrace. I felt it roar through me, wild and powerful. And I turned it all towards a single thought – I was going to do this, damn it!

And I just couldn't say it.

But that was alright. I was going to do this, after all. I knew that much. I wasn't going to give up, not now. All that meant was that I couldn't just will myself into saying it. I needed to do something else first, prepare myself. And I knew how.

I turned towards Toriel. The notion of looking her in the eye, at least, no longer scared me. "Please," I said. "Give me a moment."

She nodded, almost imperceptibly, and said "Very well, my child." She released me, and I her in turn. With razor-sharp purpose to my actions, I stood from the couch and walked up the stairs. I went into Papyrus' room. I needed isolation and privacy, and the skeletons were still outside. It was the best place I could get.

I walked to the bed and kicked my shoes off. I sat on it, cross-legged, and closed my eyes. I tried to steady my breathing, and though it didn't quite work, it calmed me down a little.

I couldn't tell Toriel what I'd done. Not as I was right now. The thought just scared me too much, no matter how much I hated that fact. However much I tried, I just couldn't talk to her about it. I just couldn't face what she'd think of it.

Then maybe first, I needed to face what I'd done. I needed to face what the consequences had been. I'd realized, sometime during that conversation, that my resets hadn't erased everything. There was still one thing that my endless crimes had ruined, perhaps forever. And if I couldn't even face that myself, what hope did I have of facing anyone else's thoughts on it?

I needed to talk to the one person who'd been hurt more than anyone. I needed to talk to the one person who'd know everything I'd done, who could judge me for it all. I needed to talk to the one person who, perhaps, had been doomed by what I'd done. I needed to see the consequences of what happened when I abused my powers. I needed to see them firsthand.

I needed to talk to the one person who had been just like me.

I took a deep breath and looked within myself.