"I'm, ah… I'm sorry about the vase," Grandt murmured.

He sunk a bit into the wooden chair in Toriel's living room. The whole place was just as he remembered it – low ceilings, nice furniture, and warm from the fireplace. (Although was it just him, or did it feel a bit warmer than he remembered?) Too bad he was currently trying not to meet Toriel's gaze, even as she smiled back warmly.

"I told you," she said, waving him off. "It is absolutely fine, my friend. You did not do it on purpose, right?"

Grandt thought back to what must have been five, ten minutes earlier. He hadn't broken it on purpose… had he? No, of course not. It'd been an accident. Sure, he'd thrown his arm out to the side on purpose, and he'd meant to hit something, but he didn't plan to knock the vase over.

"… nnnnooooo," Grandt drawled.

Toriel stared at him for a moment. "Well," she deadpanned, "I suppose that not everybody can have restraint."

"In my defense, it was an accident," Grandt said, still looking away. "Really, I didn't mean to break it." Then he looked down and gave a rueful smile. "Though I guess by my age, intention doesn't really mean all that much."

"I am not worried about that," Toriel said. She frowned. "I am worried about you, my friend, not some silly vase. You are still not fully recovered, and… Well, I simply do not want you to strain yourself again."

Grandt nodded slowly and touched a hand to his chest. He winced as soon as it made contact. It was then that he realized that it wasn't just his heart that ached. His skin, his muscles, and even his ribs throbbed with heat on contact. How hadn't he felt it earlier? Had he just been that tired, or…?

He looked up at Toriel and finally met her eyes. "What happened to me?"

Now it was her turn to wince, to look guilty. Toriel glanced away.

"I…" she started before trailing off. "I am sorry."

"It's fine," Grandt reassured her. "Believe me, it's fine. I'm still alive."

"I know, but–"

Grandt pushed himself forward so that his arms rested on the table. "Please," he said seriously, "just tell me what you did. I won't be angry."

She shook her head. "You say that now…"

"Of course I'm saying it. You saved my life. No matter what you did, the fact is that I'm still alive. That's all that matters."

His chest was burning, now – burning like the scar under his beard had all those years ago. Even the way the fabric of his snail-pattern pajamas rubbed up against it caused him pain. He was half-tempted to just rip the damned top off to get it to cool down a bit.

"Alright," Toriel said very slowly, bringing him back to the real world. "I will tell you, then."

Grandt slumped back in his seat and immediately regretted it. The pajama top continued to rub at his injury. And was it just him, or was the fabric starting to stick to it? That wasn't–

Then he paled. "Oh, God…"

Toriel shifted about uncomfortably. "I-I am so sorry," she whispered. "But when I found you in the cave, you had clearly been unconscious for a long time." She paused. "You were not breathing, so I… I panicked. And then I ripped away your shirt – ah, that is why you are wearing those clothes, in case you were curious – and tried to restart your heart."

Grandt's hand hovered mere inches away from his chest. He couldn't bring himself to touch it. It hurt too much.

Once again, Toriel refused to meet his eyes. Though to be fair, he was also trying to avoid hers, if only so that he wouldn't have to see how guilty she felt.

"I used lightning magic."

"You restarted my heart again," Grandt said.

Toriel paused for a moment, a look of confusion crossing her face, before she shook her head. "Yes." Her voice was softer than he'd ever heard it before. "But I overdid it."

There was a long pause. Grandt struggled to say something, but it was hard – harder than he would've thought, at any rate.

Finally, he managed to loosen his jaws. "How much?"

Toriel looked up. "How much what?"

"How much is burnt?"

And Toriel winced and looked back down again. "I am so sorry."

It hurt. It all hurt so much. What had before been just a dull throb of heat had become infernal. It was like his whole chest had become a slab of charred meat. Like a steak someone had left on for too oh God oh God please stop.

He didn't care anymore. He didn't care if Toriel was watching. Grandt grabbed the shirt and threw it over his head. It hurt too much to leave it on.

And then he saw his chest, and a gurgled gasp was the only sound that escaped his lungs.

It wasn't just burnt; it was charred. His flesh had been scorched so badly that it had gone from whitish to black. Everything around his heart smelled like a house fire.

"You… You burned it." His voice had gone quiet. Empty. "You burned it all."

And then he laughed. It was a hollow laugh. The kind of laugh only let out when nothing really mattered anymore.

"You burned it, Toriel," Grandt repeated. "I can feel it. You burned my heart."

He'd woken up in the cave. He'd woken up in the cave and his heart was ablaze and it hurts so much it all hurts so much I can't

"Please–" she started.

But she stopped. She stared at him, then, and a look of complete and utter shock crossed her eyes. She stared at Grandt as he laughed emptily.

"How…" she whispered. "How do you know my name?"

The laughter immediately stopped.

Grandt looked over at her, wide-eyed. "What do you mean, 'How do you know my name'?" His voice came out as a hiss.

stop

He stood up and stumbled a bit. "Of course I know your name! You… You're Toriel, and I'm Grandt, and we're all so damn close!" He was laughing again. "All such great pals, y'know?! Fucking soulmates!"

stop it

But it all hurt so much and he couldn't stop no matter how much he wanted to. His body and words were acting on their own.

Toriel shrunk back into her seat. "Please," she begged him. "I-I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Of course you do. You burned my heart, after all! Right after that damn flower went and ripped me in half! After Kallis went and MURDERED EVERYBODY!" His laughter was louder, now. "Of course you know who I am! You have to! It's all… It's just all so… so…"

The laughter changed, then. It changed into sobbing. Quiet, empty, broken sobbing.

And he cried. He cried for a long while. Then he heard the sound of Toriel's chair being pulled out. He heard her stand up and walk over to him. He felt her wrap her arms around him and pull him into a hug.

"I'm sorry…" Grandt whispered between the tears and pain and anger. "I'm so sorry…"

"It is okay," Toriel said just as quietly. "It will all be okay."

"No it won't. It won't be okay. It can't be."

"It will be. I promise."

He choked back a sob. "It just… It just hurts so much."

"I know."

Grandt shook his head. "No, you don't. You don't know."

But Toriel pulled him in closer. "You are right," she admitted, "but I am sure it will get better. I am sure of it."

Grandt was quiet for a moment. Then, "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"Do not apologize. Please." Toriel went quiet. "I am the one at fault. Not you."

"But I was so cruel… I just… I was just so angry…"

"And you were right to be angry," she said. " You are right. I cannot imagine it. I cannot imagine your pain."

Grandt shook his head. It wasn't as bad as having his arm and legs ripped in half, but then, what was? It was just a constant source of pain for him, flickering in his chest. He could still smell the smoky, charred mess that was his skin. He could still feel the burns in his muscles and ribs. And his heart, of course, was still burnt.

"I'm so sorry," he wheezed. His tear ducts had gone dry. "I'm so sorry, Toriel."

There was another pause, longer this time. Then Toriel said, "It is okay. It is okay. But please," she added slowly, gingerly, "tell me… Tell me how you know my name."

Grandt froze in her arms. His whole body went numb for a moment. He'd thought he'd heard her wrong before – that some part of his temporary madness had made him mishear her words –, but this time he'd heard them perfectly.

"No…"

Toriel blinked. "What?"

"No!"

Grandt shoved himself out of the embrace. He pulled back until he was halfway through the arch between the living room and the entrance. His charred flesh was once again perfectly visible.

Toriel took a step forward, her eyes filled with concern. "My friend, please, don't–"

"I'm not… No…" Grandt took another step back. "You… You should remember me! Why can't you remember–?!"

Pain shot through his chest, and Grandt let out a choked gasp as he fell to his knees. His hand flew to the spot of blackened flesh over his heart. His breath was becoming more labored than before.

Toriel cried out and ran over to his side. "Please," she begged him. "Please, just cooperate with me! I can… I-I will get you to bed, and–!"

"Get away from me!" Grandt screamed, forcing himself back to his feet and stepping back again. "This isn't… This doesn't make sense! It isn't right!"

Then he turned around.

And he ran.

He heard her cry after him. He heard her footsteps as she pursued him down the stairs, down the passageway, and through the darkness. He heard something break through the walls around him. He heard her shout in anger behind him – a shout that soon became quieter as he went on.

But more than any of that, he felt. The heat in his chest had become volcanic, and every breath sent pain through his whole body. His heart throbbed and burned and begged to be allowed to stop.

Grandt almost gave it its wish.

But he continued along, forcing the air into his lungs all the while. He continued along, only vaguely noticing as black turned to white and as warm turned to cold. Too bad the frigid weather did nothing to cool off his burns.

Grandt stumbled forward past trees and over ice and snow. He only stopped when he reached a familiar-looking gate, at which point he leaned against it so that he could rest.

His breaths were still labored and pained and hot. Everything burned, now, instead of just his chest. It was a miracle he hadn't had a heart attack on the way down, but he'd made it.

Then Grandt paused, and clarity returned to his mind.

"Why… Why did I run?" he wheezed. "Why did I run away?"

What had been the point of it? To get away from Toriel? Why did he need to get away from her? She hadn't been threatening. She hadn't tried to hurt him.

It just… happened.

But she'd forgotten about him. She'd completely forgotten about him. Why? And how?

It hadn't been a joke. Toriel loved jokes, but that wasn't a joke. That fear in her eyes, that confusion – they were real. She'd somehow completely forgotten about him.

Grandt pressed his back against the gate. He was bare-chested, but he hardly noticed the cold. The heat was so great that it seemed to spread down his whole body. Even if he hadn't been so badly burnt, he probably wouldn't have noticed. His mind was working too quickly to think about trivial things like hypothermia and frostbite.

He pressed a hand against his forehead. "I'm such a moron…" he said to himself. "I'm such a moron!"

Then he brought his head forward and slammed it back against the gate again and again. "Stupid!" he hissed with every impact. "Stupid, stupid, stupid old jackass! Why doesn't it make sense?" Another crash, harder this time. "Why doesn't any of this shit make any sense?!"

He'd woken up in the cave. He'd woken up in the cave wearing that jacket, and he'd had a heart attack, and Toriel found him and brought him back to her house. But it made no sense! Why was he in that cave in the first place? Why did he have that jacket? Why had Toriel forgotten him?!

"It makes no sense…" Another crash. "No sense at all!" Crash, crash, crash. "Nothing makes… Nothing makes…"

He slid down the gate a bit. His head was terribly sore, but he didn't care enough. Any logic – any sense, any reality – had been completely and utterly decimated. What could he trust? Who could he trust? Everything had gone insane in the span of what had felt like a few minutes.

Crack.

Grandt grabbed at his arms and stared down at the snow. His eyes were wide. His teeth were grit so hard they were likely to break. "It isn't right… It isn't right…"

And beneath it all – beneath the pain in his chest, the insanity, and the sheer impossibility of his situation –, Grandt could still hear what he'd said to Toriel ringing in his ears.

She didn't mean it. She didn't mean to hurt me. Why did I why did I why did I–

Why was I so cruel?

His nails dug into his arms. Suddenly, without warning, Grandt turned around and began slamming his head into the gate even harder than before. "Stupid!" he screamed this time in spite of his screaming chest. "Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!"

His vision was growing dim. There was something wet on his forehead, and Grandt didn't care.

And then he stopped. He stood there, fingers trembling against the gate, blood dripping down his face.

"What's the point…?" he whispered. "What's the point? It doesn't make sense. Nothing makes sense. What's the point in trying? What's the point in anything?

"I'll never get back, anyway."

With those words, the last bits of hope in Grandt's heart died. Those last thoughts that he could return to Ebott, that he could see Frisk again, that he could speak with Dyse and Kira and Ledger and everyone all went away. Because he was weak. Because he was dying. Because there was nothing he could do.

He was just an old fool. A stupid old man who'd gotten in way over his head. He couldn't traverse the Underground on his own. He couldn't do anything on his own. He couldn't even save the people who mattered most to him.

He was just useless. He nothing. He was empty.

"You're a good man, Major," someone had once told him. "You're too good. One of these days, something's gonna happen to you, and all of that idealism's gonna go away forever."

And he'd been right. He'd been very right. There was nothing left for Grandt. There was nothing left to hold dear. Nothing left for him to do. Nothing left that he could do. And there was nothing left in him, either. Nothing but a burnt out heart and hopelessness and defeat.

So Grandt did the only thing he could: he laughed. He laughed until tears rolled down his face, until the heat came back and he broke down into a coughing fit, until he heard footsteps behind him.

Until he turned around.

Until he found himself staring into the empty eyes of a grinning skeleton.

Until something sharp pierced his throat.

Until he fell to the ground and choked and gurgled.

Until he realized he couldn't breathe.

Until he panicked.

Until he struggled.

Until he drowned.

Until he died.

Grandt woke up.

He woke up in a dark cave with a patch of golden flowers in the center.

This time, he did vomit.

And then he did nothing. He didn't move or think. He didn't question his situation. He didn't wonder why he was wearing his jacket again or why his heart wasn't burnt anymore. He didn't do anything at all.

Because there wasn't any part of him that wanted to. The part that questioned these things – the part that cared – had just been consumed by Sans's black eyes. There wasn't anything left for him, now.

Sure, he could return home, and then what? He would die, soon. And he would awaken here in this cave. Just like last time. Just like now.

But Grandt wasn't thinking about that. Sure, there was some part of his brain that knew he'd somehow reset his journey back to square one, but the rest of his brain didn't care. It was sluggish. Empty and devoid of any substance, just like his laughter. There was just… no point to thinking anymore.

So he just lay there. He lay next to his vomit and he lay next to the golden flowers without thinking. He didn't notice when Toriel eventually came by. He didn't notice when she spoke to him, or when she picked him up and carried him. He didn't notice the Ruins as they passed through. He didn't notice as Toriel brought him to her home and lay him down in bed and tucked him in and prayed.

He didn't notice as he stared at the ceiling for weeks on end.

He didn't notice as his heart started to ache again.

It wasn't until his heart finally decided to give out that he woke up to the world around him. He choked and gasped as the pain hit again, as darkness clouded his vision. Because no matter how many times he'd died, it hadn't gotten any easier. Then he heard the door open, and he looked out. And there was Toriel, standing in the doorway again with tears in her eyes.

And as Grandt died again, he reached out to her with the only arm that moved – his left arm.

In those last few moments of clarity, the only things Grandt could think about were her and Frisk.

Grandt woke up.

He woke up in a dark cave with a patch of golden flowers in the center.

He pushed himself up from the ground and leaned back against the wall. His throat was dry and his limbs were sore. But his neck, arm, and legs weren't broken, and his chest wasn't burnt. And he was wearing his jacket.

Grandt looked up at the hole in the ceiling through which light streamed down. A grim smile formed on his lips, and he chuckled bitterly.

"So," he said to nobody in particular, "I died, huh?"

It was strange how easily the words came out. Maybe it was because of how absurd they sounded. But for all that absurdity, they were completely and utterly true.

He continued to stare at the ceiling. "If only it'd been a bit earlier. If only I woke up before I fell down here, none of this would've happened."

He would've saved Toriel a lot of heartache, at any rate. Multiple Toriels.

And he could've gone back to Frisk, if only he'd awoken back aboveground. Maybe in the cave where he fell down for the first time, when he saw that person outside holding a gun. He would've gone back to Ebott and spoken with Frisk and everyone else. He would've told her how proud he was of her. He would've spoken with the people around the village and thanked them for everything. He would've finally written that letter to Relef he kept putting off for the last ten years. He would've visited Warren one last time.

Now he couldn't do any of that. He couldn't do any of that because–

Because why, exactly?

Because I won't get out of here, he thought. Because I'll be trapped down here forever.

Why? another part of his mind countered. It won't be too hard to get out. It'll be easy.

How?

Because you can keep trying. Because you can restart from zero with ease. Because if you screw up, you can keep going again and again until you get it right.

Grandt paused. His smile shifted, going from rueful to sly. Pressing his head back against the wall, he chuckled. This time, though, it was a chuckle without emptiness – a chuckle with genuine mirth behind it.

He could do it, couldn't he? He could finish this. He could reach the end of the Underground because no matter what happened, he wouldn't really die. Or at least, he hadn't really died so far. Sure, he didn't plan to blindly put himself in positions that looked dangerous (and he winced and touched his neck), but he could at least try more things without having to worry. As long as he was patient, nothing was impossible.

He just had to stay connected to the world around him. He just had to keep going, no matter what. And the things that he could accomplish, this time around, too! The mere thought of it got him excited.

Anything. Anything at all to justify himself. That was all he really needed. He needed some way to pretend that he wasn't really useless, that his life had meaning. Some way to keep himself from sitting still and doing nothing until he died again and again. Helping people? Saving people? Maybe giving someone else's life meaning? That would do perfectly.

And then his smile faltered as he remembered the last two "iterations" of his journey.

Before he did anything else, he needed to apologize to Toriel. He owed her at least that much. Even if it wasn't "this" timeline's (was that the correct term for it? Timeline?) Toriel he owed an apology, it hardly mattered. She'd probably still do the same things no matter what happened. She'd probably still try to save his life even if it required her to burn his heart or to watch him decay in bed. She'd probably still be willing to comfort him even if he screamed at her about things she didn't and wouldn't understand. She was too kind for her own good, like that.

And Papyrus – well, Grandt still owed him a cooking lesson. This time, he'd be sure to deliver. Papyrus was so friendly, and Grandt wanted to get to know him better.

And Sans–

Grandt stopped there and shuddered. Black eyes. Empty eyes. Drowning.

No, no! Sans was his friend! Or at least… he had been Grandt's friend, once. Not that he'd remember it. Not that he'd ever remember it.

He could work on that, though. Grandt could try to become Sans's friend again later. Anything to get those eyes out of his head. That feeling of drowning. That sound of meat being cut…

Crack.

And Grandt shook his head again. Stop it, he thought. It's over. Flowey won't even remember it, anyway. That helped him to relax, if only a little bit.

At least he could focus. At least he could stand up and make himself keep walking. For Frisk. For Dyse and Kira. For Shord and Fain. For Relef. For Warren. He would walk as much as he needed to – alone, if need be –, until he made it out. Then he could do all things he'd meant to do in the first place.

Was this situation insane? Was it maddening? Yes and yes. Of course it was. But Grandt wasn't about to have another iteration he spent his time doing and thinking nothing. He wasn't going to lie in bed until Toriel walked in on his corpse, again. He couldn't do it. He wouldn't.

Even if he was willing put her through that again, what else was he supposed to do? It wasn't like he could just sit around, anyway. He'd just wind up back here time and time again. There'd eventually come a time where he'd have to move on; where he wouldn't have a choice anymore.

Now or never, he thought a bit grimly. Never or now.

Moving forward, walking even in the face of adversity… That was all he could do. Even if the idea of traveling through time like this terrified him, he had no choice but to keep going.

But if he went into the next room, then that flower would be waiting for him. Grandt would have to confront the cause of his first death head-on, and he wasn't sure if he was totally ready for that just yet. The flower may have forgotten, but Grandt sure as hell hadn't. If he had to see him again, if he had to hear one more "howdy"… Well, Grandt didn't know what he'd do.

So he stood up. He reached into the bag by his feet and pulled out the water bottle and drank it down as he had twice before. He brushed the insects and dirt off his arms, then, and set the bottle down on the rocky floor. Then he walked out into the middle of the flower patch, sat down cross-legged, and waited.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Oh!" Toriel gasped as soon as she walked into the cave. "I-I am sorry, I did not… It is just that humans do not usually fall down here."

Grandt just stared at her for a moment, and then he forced himself to look shocked and dazed. "Ah… I-I fell…?"

"Yes," Toriel said, her face shifting into something much warmer. "You did. I-I am sorry."

"Hey, don't apologize," he said, smiling a bit. "It's hardly your fault. I… I should've watched where I was going, that's all. And besides," added as he slowly stood up, "at least I didn't hurt myself too badly on the way down. It could've gone much worse."

Crack.

He bit down on the inside of his lip. Keep calm. Don't make her suspicious. Just smile and be friendly. She won't hurt you.

She might. She won't mean to, but she might.

Grandt swallowed and forced himself to keep smiling.

Toriel smiled back. "Yes, I suppose so…" There was a pause as she seemed to think over what she wanted to say next. "In any case, would you mind coming with me? I understand if you do not trust me for being a monster, but I–"

"Sure."

She blinked. "What?"

I said I'd apologize to her. I'm not gonna let something that hasn't happened – that won't happen this time around – get in the way of that. Especially not when she only did it because she wanted to save my life. She's still Toriel. That's not something that's going to change anytime soon.

Grandt's smile was no longer forced. In fact, it had become so genuine that it took all his effort not to grin like a loon. "Sure, I'll come along," he repeated. "There's nowhere else for me to go, anyway. Besides, you seem friendly enough."

"Well… Alright, then." Toriel shifted a bit before her smile returned in full. "In that case, please do come with me. Ah, before I forget!" she added. "I do not believe I have introduced myself just yet. My name is Toriel, and I am the caretaker of the Ruins."

Grandt stepped up to her and extended a hand. It was incredibly hard to keep it from shaking. "It's good to meet you, Toriel," he said. "My name's Major Grandt Journa."

Toriel accepted his hand. "Very well. It is a pleasure to meet you, Major."

"Please, just call me Grandt." And after a moment of thought, he added, "All my friends do."

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, but this had to be done.

I know you must hate me for this. Even if you can't hear me – even if you don't even know I exist –, you probably hate me for all of this.

But that's okay. You don't need to like me. Nobody does.

Nothing else matters, as long as I can promise everybody a happy ending.

AN: And here we are, ladies and gentlemen: the point where Grandt's journey truly begins. This chapter was initially meant to be three separate pieces - the first being the beginning of the chapter to Grandt's death at Sans's hands; the second being the part where Grandt lies around and does nothing until he dies; and the third being everything else.

I changed it because of two reasons. First and foremost, each chapter was too short. I planned to upload all three chapters within a few days of each other, but I changed my mind since that lead directly into the second problem. The second problem being that it'd take until Chapter 3-5 for Grandt to figure out what's going on, artificially lengthening the story and making it much less interesting. Not to mention that I felt merging the chapters like this was the best way to go about it, even if his third reset is incredibly short.

As for all the obvious questions like, "Why can Grandt reset?", "Who's speaking at the end of the chapter?", and, "When will ZaleAcon become a good writer?", those will all be answered later on. Well, two of them will. The third one probably won't.

Jokes aside, thank you to everyone who has favorited, followed, reviewed, or even just read the story up to this point! I assure you all that if Eldertale's been in a slump for the past couple chapters, that's about to change very, very soon.