A/N: Guys, I'm genuinely sorry that this chapter took so long to come out. It was pretty hard emotionally to write, and I've also been away from my computer more than I should have been over the past month. In fact, I wrote most of this chapter in Samsung Notes on my phone while I was in New York, so if the formatting's messed up, that's why.
I feel kind of like a prick for advertising another story here, but since as of right now it's only had 11 views... Yeah. Anyway, I've got another fic up called "Cynicism and Innocence," and it's a deconstruction of all those self-insert stories you see where the OC drags the Undertale characters into our world. If you're interested, then check it out, I guess.
Also, for the one guest who asked if Jake Featherston's inclusion was a reference to the Timeline-191/Southern Victory series, yes, it was, and there are in fact several references to it throughout In At the Death (including the title).
Viewer discretion advised.
Somebody had told Frisk once that everyone had their breaking point. She couldn't remember who, and at this point she didn't care. A point at which they couldn't function anymore.
A point at which they were simply unable to keep going.
A point at which they couldn't...
They couldn't even keep themself alive.
Had she had the strength, she would have laughed, unable to stop, rivulets of frantic, insatiable, unstoppable laughter coursing from her lips and filling the night with their cold, uncaring anachronism. But what did it matter? What difference would a few breaths spent on a meaningless action make?
None. An obvious answer from the start.
The red convertible trundled along on its doomed path down the road, bouncing slightly occasionally. Frisk's arm moved up and down, slowly and inconspicuously, in a continuous, monotonous, motion, as she stared out the window at the fading sky. For the first time, she understood how Caleb felt on the eve of his death.
And who is to say this is not the eve of mine?
Bitter self-resentment coursed through Frisk. Why? Why did I leave Asriel under the impression that I still hated him? There was never a point. It was just my petty pride... my petty FUCKING pride... I HATE MYSELF.
Frisk's arm continued to move up and down, each stroke sending the stolen pen into her arm to leave another puncture hole. The waves of pain provided a small amount of relief, yet they were nowhere near to helping to repent for what she'd done.
Blood trickled unsteadily down her arm, glad to be free of her deplorable body, as it should be.
And yet... it wasn't enough. She cast about the inside of the car for something else to use, but Papyrus had kept the interior spotless. Dammit.
She let herself rock slowly from side to side. There was pain coming from somewhere, which was strange... hadn't she let the pen fall from her limp fingers to the ground by now?
Frisk didn't realize that she was slamming her head into the window next to her until Papyrus started shouting from the driver's seat, and then he was spinning the car onto the side of the road.
"FRISK! FRISK! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? STOP!"
Gee, I don't know. What does it look like I'm doing? Frisk turned her head. Trickles of sticky red blood spattered the window, and as she pulled her head away from the window her hair clung to the stained, cracked window.
Papyrus shoved the door open and pulled Frisk from her seat. She let him, hanging limply from his hands. Tired resignation swept over her. What does it matter? What does any of it matter?
There is no meaning, Frisk.
Papyrus gently set Frisk to the ground next to the car, kneeling next to her with a melancholy expression.
That is the sole truth. It's just shapes all around us.
"FRISK... WE NEED TO TALK."
Shapes that do nothing useful.
"About what?" Frisk replied, swiping blood from her arm with her free hand. "There's nothing left to say but speak of how few remain..."
Shapes...
"THERE IS FAR, FAR MORE THAN THAT." Papyrus placed an arm gently around her shoulders. She didn't resist. "YOU'RE... BROKEN INSIDE, AREN'T YOU? I UNDERSTAND. I WAS JUST LIKE THAT AFTER SANS DIED."
Shapes that kill, murder, rip life from your grasp, give you a chance to take back everything you once had and more...
"Then you'll know that you can't stop me." With a heavy sigh, Frisk leaned back against the car door. "Is there even a point to keep me alive right now? I'm more of a hindrance than anything. Just let me end my worthless life, take my soul, and go save the day yourself. You'll be the hero monsters deserve. I certainly can't take that title."
And just as you come into contact with it, it's torn from your limp fingers...
"THAT IS NOT TRUE." Papyrus retaliated firmly. "YOU ARE ALREADY OUR HERO. YOU LIBERATED US FROM MILLENNIA OF IMPRISONMENT..."
"And subjected you to the hell of the surface!" Frisk stubbornly refused to let herself cry. I will show no weakness.
"YOU GAVE US A CHANCE! YOU GAVE US HOPE! YOU LET US FINALLY SEE THE SUN AND STARS! AS FLEETING AS IT MAY HAVE BEEN," acknowledged the tall skeleton, "IT WAS STILL THERE. FOR THOSE FEW MONTHS... YOU GAVE US A HAPPINESS THAT COULD NEVER BE REPLICATED ANY OTHER WAY."
And you fall to the ground crying, calling out for someone to save you...
"And?" Frisk felt something drip from the bottom of her chin, and felt vaguely annoyed. Didn't I promise myself I wouldn't cry?
"AND WHAT? NONE OF THIS IS YOUR FAULT, FRISK, AND DON'T DELUDE YOURSELF INTO THINKING IT IS. WE HAVE A CHANCE TO SAVE THOSE THAT STILL REMAIN, AND YOU WILL THROW THAT AWAY ON MISGUIDED GUILT?"
Papyrus looked like he was about to say something else, but whatever it would have been was ripped away by a sudden shout: "Get away from the girl!"
No... Somehow, in the time they had been talking, a police car had come up alongside them with neither of them noticing.
Papyrus's head jerked up. "THERE IS NO NEED TO BE HOSTILE, OFFICER." he said pleasantly. "I WOULD NEVER HARM A FRIEND."
Tilting his head, the officer wondered aloud, "What are you doing out here, anyway? Didn't they send all you freaks to Idaho?"
BUT NOBODY CAME.
Papyrus's eyesockets narrowed. "YOU WILL NOT HURT FRISK." At a flick from his wrist, a bone surfaced from the ground and nestled gently in his hand. Speaking calmly and keeping his eyes fixed on the policeman, Papyrus said in a firm voice, "IT APPEARS YOU WILL NEED TO SAVE THEM ON YOUR OWN, FRISK. THE DEATH CAMP'S OVER THE NEXT RIDGE. ALL YOU NEED TO DO IS RUN." Turning his head and smiling warmly, he added, "I BELIEVE IN YOU!"
Frisk ran, and she didn't need the sound of gunfire to tell her of Papyrus's fate.
Nobody came for me, either.
Dust drifted in the wind, and a skull fell to the ground.
A quiet voice asked, almost wonderingly, "SANS, IS THAT-"
And then another gunshot cut off whatever they were going to say.
But if someone had listened closely enough, they might have heard a quiet, barely audible, voice say, "shhh... everything's going to be okay, papyrus. just... let go."
Asriel let his gaze drift, disinterested, to his mother. Toriel's eyes were hollow and focused on nothing in particular.
She's been like this since the convoy left Frisk behind. Caleb supplied.
I'm surprised I feel so detached myself.
I want it to end.
Asriel's head smacked against the window as the bus hit a bump, but he made no effort to change position.
And then Caleb suddenly shouted, Son of a bitch!
What? Asriel asked. He didn't really care what Caleb was shouting about, but he might as well ask.
This was all part of Frisk's plan! Caleb yelled incredulously. She wanted to make you hate her, so it would hurt less when she killed herself! When she went into the shop, she was probably going to shoplift something to kill herself with!
What? But even as Asriel tried to deny Caleb's reasoning, he knew it was true.
I want it to end...
The bus abruptly halted, and Asriel gazed apathetically out the window at the gray concrete construct before them. Oh, look. We've arrived.
Something about this doesn't seem right... Caleb muttered.
Distantly, Asriel could hear someone shouting at the monsters to get off the bus. Something about a processing station.
I... want it to end...
He obeyed blindly, following Toriel as she stiffly filed down the corridor in the center of the bus, to the door, through the dreary grass, to another door. It creaked open, revealing a wide, gray clearing, surrounded by a high wall topped with barbed wire. The far wall was covered by an extended awning.
I... want... it... to... end...
This doesn't feel right. Caleb was clearly on edge, scanning the room.
A sharp metallic click filled the clearing as the door closed behind the monsters, trapping them.
I WANT IT TO END!
Suddenly, they materialized from under the awning.
Soldiers.
Each carrying a fully loaded machine gun.
Caleb was shouting something, but Asriel ignored him. This is what I deserve.
And even as the guns rang out, spewing their deadly arsenal, and even as monsters fell around Asriel, he was untouched.
Even as Toriel crumpled beside him, faintly smiling as she crumbled to dust, he was unharmed.
What?
Caleb's soul pulsated, glowing yellow under the surface of the red hoodie. An ethereal, green shield had materialized around Asriel, deflecting away the bullets that had been aimed at him.
What the hell did you just do? Asriel snapped.
I saved your damn life instead of letting you die from this idiotic guilt is what happened! Caleb snapped back.
No! Asriel clenched down on Caleb's soul with all his strength, forcing it down, until with a howl of anguish Caleb let the shield drop.
"I've got this." said one of the soldiers, breaking ranks to step forwards. "I've still got several bullets left." Stopping a few feet from Asriel, he leveled his rifle at the fallen prince from point-blank range. Asriel regarded it apathetically.
What have I been doing?
I've been taking away what was a happy ending and made it into hell.
Asgore, Sans, Napstablook, Mettaton, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Toriel...
This was never about them.
This was never about you.
This was always about me.
I've became the very monster I profess to despise.
Not real? Don't make me laugh. I put so much thought and care into this world that it might as well have been real.
And now I am become death, destroyer of worlds.
I'm sorry, Asriel. But this was inevitable.
"Nothing personal," said the soldier, and squeezed the trigger.