Asriel regained consciousness by increments. It started with a dull throbbing in his paws, and then an awareness of absolute stillness. There was no thunderous cracking or ringing emptiness, no sad voices or sensations of falling.
He didn't want to open his eyes. He imagined that he was safe in bed and that a vivid nightmare had just startled him awake.
The worst nightmare he could possibly have imagined.
Terror tore through him, so intense that his chest hurt. He clamped his eyelids tighter and whimpered, too scared of what might be on the other side.
A voice—gentle and weary—whispered in the back of his mind. It's okay, Asriel. You can look.
He cracked his eyes and beheld a room.
It was small and carpeted. He spied Chester drawers, a wardrobe, and a toy box. It was dark, but an orange glow radiated from a nightlight shaped like a candle.
He pushed himself to a sitting position and realized that he was lying in an actual bed. It was soft; he felt warmer than he had in decades. He covered his face with his bandaged paws and began to cry. He wasn't sure if it was from relief or anguish, but he shook the whole bedframe.
The voice spoke again, almost apologetically. Big kids don't cry, remember?
"Asriel! It's okay!"
He choked on a sob and went silent. He looked across the room to see a bed identical to his. A small body was buried beneath the covers. Its head poked out and was turned towards him.
Asriel cleared the blur of tears from his eyes and looked again. It was Frisk.
"You're safe now… Everything's… fine…"
The nightlight illuminated the child's face. It was furrowed with worry and unsettlingly pale. His eyes fluttered as if he were struggling against the tide of sleep. "You don't have to cry… again… It's alright… now…"
Frisk's head drooped back to the pillow and he lost consciousness. Asriel watched as he continued to shift fitfully, in some stubborn fight with his own fatigue. Frisk's arms wormed their way free to clutch at his chest. A fresh bandage was wrapped around his right arm from elbow to wrist. Five dark spots had soaked through the cloth.
Frisk's breathing eventually slowed to an even rise and fall. It brought a bit of comfort, but Asriel couldn't stop himself from picking at his own bandaged paws. Memories of the last loop swam so close to the surface that he could practically feel the way Frisk's skin had given way under his claws. He shuddered and clenched his paws into fists. Pain bloomed in his knuckles, but it felt right. He deserved it.
Stop it. Were you even listening to him? He doesn't care about that. He's not going to hold a grudge, believe me.
Asriel relaxed his paws and hung his head. "I'm so sorry…"
The voice sighed. How long are you going to keep apologizing for things that aren't your fault?
"But I—"
He won't hate you. I promise… Just give him a smile when he wakes up. That's all he's ever wanted.
Asriel sat very still, unable to sleep, but too afraid to stand up.
"Where?" he eventually murmured.
Home, Asriel. We're home.
"We're…"
He placed his paw on the soul floating over his chest. Red light and heat surged in response to the touch.
That's right. We're.
The shadow of a smile touched Asriel's face. It was such a foreign sensation.
There you go. Asriel felt a little nudge in his chest. Come on. If you aren't tired, then let's look around. Watching you sleep's been pretty boring.
Asriel's legs freed themselves from the covers, but slowly, as if they were asking permission.
"Okay," he whispered, still clinging to his smile.
The house brought an eerie sense of déjà vu. Every object Asriel encountered pricked at the back of his thoughts, but nothing dislodged. He stared at a picture frame of a tall, white-furred monster and its child. They wore matching robes emblazoned with some symbols. It hurt to look at their smiles and not understand why.
Anything?...
Asriel shook his head.
It's alright. Give it some time.
Asriel crept through the halls, half-expecting something to leap out and devour him.
We aren't in danger, you know. Nobody's… No. Nobody's going to hurt you. But, uh, if you really want to sneak, you should walk toe-to-heel and bend your knees… Control your breathing, too.
Asriel jumped as he caught sight of another figure slinking down the hall. He raised his arms defensively, and the figure did the same. They both held the pose for a few seconds.
…That's a mirror.
Asriel blinked a few times and waved a tentative arm at the reflection. A heat of embarrassment washed across his face.
Snickers echoed through his head, only making it worse.
Oh wow, you still do this. You blush so hard I can see it through your fur. Quick, get closer. Get closer.
Asriel looked at the monster face in the mirror. It had long droopy ears and sharp fangs. Two blotches of red peeked out from under its fur like roses in the snow.
The features and colors sent sparks arcing through long-dead memories. Asriel raised a hand and touched the reflection's face.
The snickers died down. He remind you of anyone?
"The picture frame… That was me?"
A swell of melancholy poured out of the soul on Asriel's chest. Yeah… you and Mom.
"I would appreciate it if you were more forward with me about this, Sans. I have many questions, and this is hardly the time for jokes."
"right, sorry… guess my knock-knock game is off today." Sans shifted in the over-sized recliner with some effort. His limbs barely heeded him. "it's just a little hard to explain… not even sure if i've got the whole picture."
Toriel sat on a cheap fold-out chair with her hands clasped in her lap. Her eyebrows hung heavy as she looked at Sans. "Anything you could tell me would be beneficial. What were you doing here? Why was Frisk so terribly injured? And my son—" She broke eye contact and stared into the fireplace. "How is my son…"
"hey! uh, do you mind getting me some tea? i could really use a cup right about now."
Toriel closed her eyes for a long blink. "Of course, I am sorry. I do not mean to push you. I can see that you are very tired."
She rose stiffly and disappeared into the kitchen.
Sans let out a haggard sigh. what am i doing?
He rewound his thoughts like a VCR. The last twenty-four hours played back, ending on Toriel's appearance in the ruins. The look on her face was burned into his mind. It was horror, but more than that. The accusation in her burgundy eyes made him squirm just thinking about it. He couldn't blame her. She had stumbled upon him standing over two wounded, unconscious children. It must have seemed pretty incriminating at the time.
It was a good thing she'd shown up, though. If she hadn't come looking for them, then Frisk might have actually…
He shook his head. what am i supposed to say?
Toriel returned with a ceramic coffee mug, steaming with tea. She handed it to him without a word and resumed her seat. In the exact same posture, with the exact same expression. She waited for him to take a sip before speaking.
"My child—Asriel—died very long ago. I am certain you have heard about it. Rumors in the underground tend to become legend, given enough time." She leaned forward and placed a paw on Sans' knee. "So please tell me, why is my child asleep in the other room? Whose soul is that on his chest? …How?"
Sans rubbed at his eye sockets and stumbled through the start of a few sentences. "does—does 'chara' mean anything to you?"
Toriel sat very straight. "Who told you that name?"
"look, tori, i need to know about this, please. who was chara?"
"He was my… second child."
"you had more than one?"
"We adopted him."
"huh?"
"He was human, the first to ever fall into the underground."
A web of comprehension strung itself together in Sans' mind, but he kept his face stony and impassive. He labored to find a tactful way to pose his next question, but couldn't. "did he ever seem dangerous to you? were you ever afraid of what he might do?"
"Dangerous? I asked you to cease your jokes, Sans. Chara was a good child. He was troubled, but he meant well…. up until he passed…"
can i even tell you?... should i?
"what about asriel? was he—"
Toriel rose to her full height. "Stop. Are you telling me that that soul is Chara? That one of my children came back from the dead bearing the other on his chest?"
Sans strained his neck to meet Toriel's eyes. "well… yeah. i'd say something like 'stranger things have happened', but you asked for no more jokes…"
Toriel spun on her heels and turned her back on Sans. She made for the children's bedroom, but halted mid-step.
Asriel stood in the hallway.
Nobody moved or spoke for nearly a minute. Sans was the first, lowering himself from the chair and hobbling a few steps closer. "you're quiet when you want to be."
Asriel locked his eyes on Toriel, seemingly blind to Sans' presence. The soul pulsed, staining the fur of his neck with red light. He took a stumbling step forward, as if he'd been pushed. "…Mom? Are—are you Mom?"
Toriel made a pained noise, but said nothing. She fell to her knees and engulfed Asriel in her arms. Her shoulders began to bob with inaudible sobs.
Asriel rested his chin in the crook of her neck and stared into empty space. Tears tumbled from his eyes and soaked his cheeks, but his face was totally blank. He stood stock-still, not returning the hug.
An awkward sensation gnawed at Sans' spine as he watched the exchange. Part of him wanted to tear the two apart and shout the kid's sins into his face, but another wanted to leave the room and give them some privacy. In the end he just stood there, trapped staring at Asriel and the crimson light that spilled around the folds of Toriel's robes.
Toriel's voice was strangled and small. "Is it really you?"
Asriel half-mouthed a few words, but nothing came out. He squeezed his gray eyes shut for a moment, and they came back red. An expression crossed his face: surprise. Like a kid who'd been pushed onto a stage in front of thousands.
Toriel spoke again, even smaller. "Please… tell me."
The child finally returned the hug, fierce and frantic. He winced as he grabbed fistfuls of Toriel's robes and buried his face in her shoulder. His words came out muffled and choked. "He's here, Mom. He really is."
The hug lasted for some time. Sans' legs began to tremble from exertion, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything.
The child lifted his head and finally looked at Sans. A lot was buried in those glistening, ruby eyes. Desperation. Fear. A silent plea. And something else.
Something like hope.
It was an expression he'd seen from Frisk countless times.
guess i deserve what i get, then.
Sans shrugged and closed his magic eye for the first time in a long time. He pantomimed drawing a zipper across his mouth and throwing away the tag.
alright, kid. it'll be between us.