*Slowly emerges from something that looks suspiciously like a bunker* … so, uh, about that whole "it's going to start getting better next chapter" thing from last time…

Artemis was not a man who was disappointed easily. When you had the highest tested IQ in Europe, it was only logical to expect the people around you to miss the obvious, to miss all the little details you yourself saw, and to not understand everything that you understood. Even if you surround yourself with clever, experienced people, there was bound to be something you thought that had never even occurred to them, if only because it was not their specialty.

However, Artemis found himself in the unprecedented position of actually feeling, not just irritation, but disappointment as he stared down at his younger brothers. The irritation was only to be expected – after all, his siblings eavesdropping on his office during as sensitive a conversation as the one they had been in the middle of had made gathering the information they needed from Frisk that much more difficult. The disappointment, on the other hand, had come from the thought that, since the twins themselves had both tested positive for a higher than normal IQ (Myles' score had been almost as high as his own), they would know better than to eavesdrop on him and Frisk today.

Apparently, he had made a mistake in assuming as such.

"I would have expected you two to be able to deduce, based on what you already know of Frisk thanks to your burgeoning friendship and Myles' psychoanalysis of them, that eavesdropping on this conversation would be exactly the opposite of a fantastic idea."

Myles and Beckett, now just inside his office doors, shifted uneasily. Normally, both twins would be trying to stare him down, or worm their way out of trouble with the help of Myles' silver tongue and Beckett's surprisingly potent innocent poker face. However, today the twins looked more as if they were about to empty their stomachs on the office rug than a pair of boys about to start trying to wheedle their way out of punishment.

(Despite his annoyance, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity. Neither Myles nor Beckett could have possibly been expecting the conversation they'd stumbled across – for goodness' sake, Artemis himself hadn't been expecting it to go quite so badly so quickly. However, the inconvenience they'd caused him, and the unnervingly heartbreaking sight of Frisk fleeing from the room in blind panic upon realizing their secret was out, kept that pity well-hidden.)

"We didn't actually mean to eavesdrop for so long this time," Beckett mumbled, shuffling his feet.

"No," Myles agreed immediately, crossing his arms and giving his older sibling a glare that came across as slightly watery, but otherwise just as sharp as normal. "We only intended to listen in long enough to make sure you weren't scarring them for life, Artemis. Everyone saw the mood you were in earlier at the breakfast table."

"You can get pretty scary when you're fishing for information," Beckett agreed weakly. "We just… wanted to make sure Frisk would be okay. We were only going to listen in for maybe a minute at most, to make sure they weren't freaking out too much, but when we actually heard what they were saying…"

Morbid curiosity had won out, Artemis surmised, and then concern for their friend as the conversation had slowly but surely gone downhill. While that concern for others certainly put his brothers head and shoulders above what he'd been like at their age, in this case, it had done them little good.

"I think," he said, very deliberately, "that if you want to help fix some of the problems you've caused here with your good intentions, then you should not be explaining this to me."

The twins started, staring at him as if he'd grown two heads.

"You heard him," Holly said, speaking up for the first time since Frisk had fled the room. "You saw what Frisk was acting like when they left – do you really want to leave them wherever they've gone on their own?"

That wiped the last trace of surprise off their faces, and the boys exchanged looks.

"Where are they?" Myles managed.

Holly tapped the side of her helmet, bringing up her coms. After listening for a few moments, she pointed out the window. "Down in the garden. They're headed for the fairy roses."

"We will be having a more in-depth discussion about your punishment for this later," Artemis told his siblings flatly. "But for now – go. Quickly."

They were gone in moments, two sets of footsteps disappearing down the hall and out of hearing range.

When the office had been quiet for several moments more, Artemis sighed, his shoulders sagging as he let himself sink down from the imposing posture he'd taken on to express his displeasure into something significantly wearier. "It is at moments like these, that I sympathize with the universal constant that is the LEP upper management's blood pressure."

"That was not something any of us needed," Holly agreed weakly. "They really take after you in the worst of ways sometimes, Artemis."

"What did you expect of a couple of mini-Fowls?" Foaly snorted disparagingly. "I'm almost impressed – they only needed to be here to mess things up. I'm pretty sure you still need to at least start talking first, Mud Boy."

The Irishman shook his head. "If they had not been caught, then them being there would not have been a problem, at least not until later."

"The point is that they did get caught, though," No. 1 pointed out sympathetically. "And honestly… I'm not sure we should blame them for it. We've all been nauseated, horrified, grossed out by everything in Frisk's memories. Hearing them start summarizing everything the way they did…"

"And now we're going to have to start all over again, once Frisk's calmed down." Foaly shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not sure I could handle doing that whole good-cop bad-cop routine a second time."

…In perfect honesty, Artemis was not entirely certain he could handle it either. It had been harder than he'd expected, to slowly nudge Frisk towards speaking up about their secrets. He'd been able to see the child closing up the farther they pushed, getting more and more nervous as the conversation progressed – and seeing them suddenly dive into a full-blown panic attack, hyperventilating right there in his office, was probably going to result in more than a few sleepless nights. But…

"I'm afraid we don't have a choice at this point," Holly said grimly, as if reading his thoughts. (After so many years of knowing one another, he honestly wouldn't be surprised if she could.) "We need to know what happened during those timelines that Frisk was so… bloodthirsty. We'll give them time to calm down, but after that, we'll have to ask them again."

"Or," a new voice drawled. "You could just ask the other monster that knows a thing or two about what's goin' on."

Everyone in the office started, eyes darting up and about to face the office door. Leaning against the doorframe, glowing pupils dim but still visible in their sockets, Sans lifted one hand to give them a half-hearted wave of greeting.

"Best to leave the kiddo be for now," the skeleton said. "Only seen this happen once or twice, but once they start panicking they're going to take a long time to calm back down." His eye sockets went dark. "So – you got questions. I might have answers for 'ya… if you're willing to answer some questions of my own."

Frisk felt like they couldn't breathe. They couldn't breathe and the whole world around them looked like a blur of color. Halls, windows, doors, passing by in blurs, and then the green of the gardens as they ran.

They didn't stop until the distantly familiar sensation of a gut-wrenching tremor in the world registered. Even then, standing in the middle of a blurry spiral of orange, their breath didn't return, and their vision was clouded and everything felt so wrong.

They know.

The thought was quick, stuttery, short as if it too was affected by their lungs refusing to draw in air.

They know. Fowl knows. The fairies know. The twins know, they all know –

* … isk!

A voice. Familiar, in the same way the unmistakable feeling of the SAVE point was familiar. Not a voice they heard through the ears, either, just… suddenly there. But so distant, and why would anyone bother to talk to them, now that everyone knew what they'd done?

"…calm the fuck down!"

* … yperventilating!

Two familiar voices now. And though it was hard to think through the haze of self-loathing (rightfully earned, why had they ever thought they could be a good person, they ruined everything), they recognized what the first voice, the one in their head, was saying.

Oh. That's why I can't breathe.

But who cared if they were breathing too fast, too shallow? Everything was ruined anyway – passing out wouldn't make it worse. Maybe they could take it one step further and just end everything again. One death and nobody but them and Sans and Flowey would know what had happened –

Flowey. He was one of the voices, the one screaming below their chin for them to breathe damn it, you idiot. And the other was…

Chara.

*...inally! Frisk, listen to me –

Their voice was clearer now. Frustrated. But calm too, and that felt wrong to think even in the middle of their world shaking on its foundations because they were usually the calm one, just one more way they'd messed everything up –

*Frisk. Listen. To. Me.

Frisk tried to focus on the ghost's voice.

*Deep breaths, partner. In. Hold. And out.

Breathe in. Hold for ten seconds – they barely remembered that doing that was something you could do to stop hyperventilating. Breathe out. Repeat.

*Good. Focus on here and now. What can you see?

Slowly, the world came back into focus, one bit at a time.

They were sitting on the grass of the manor gardens. Around them, Bravery-orange roses waved gently in a quiet breeze, and the SAVE point's golden star floated before them. They couldn't see anyone around them. Just the plants, the star, and the distant wall surrounding the manor grounds.

*What about smell?

Frisk could smell the grass, and the roses. It wasn't their favorite flowery scent, but it was… nice. Nicer than they deserved, after everything they'd done.

*Think about that later. Now, what about feel?

The grass under them. Flowey's pot in one hand. Pain on their face, like the rose's thorns had scratched them.

*Never mind that. Now – hear?

Rustling of plants in the breeze. Chara. Flowey grumbling in his pot.

*And taste?

Humidity in the air. A tang of blood in their mouth.

*Good. You back with us now?

Frisk took in a slow, shuddering breath. Slowly, they felt the panic starting to ebb away. It was still there (as it should be, when they knew just how much of a monster they were, what they'd done), but they could actually think properly now without being unable to breathe.

"I am," they croaked.

"Finally," Flowey groused, though more quietly and less vehemently than he would normally. "You're annoying when you panic like that – you don't listen!"

*Can I take over and smack him?

"No smacking Flowey, Chara," Frisk managed.

*Oh good, you are back. Now get your fingernails out of your cheek.

Oh. That was why their cheek hurt. Slowly, Frisk pulled their hand away. Their fingernails were cut short – they'd never seen the point of having long nails like some of the girls they'd met did – but they still had just enough length to them to scratch, apparently. There were little smears of red underneath them, apparently the keratin had broken skin, and the air against what they could only assume was the scratches left behind stung.

"Now eat something, idiot," Flowey ordered. "Do you want Mom to worry?"

"Don't have anything on me," they muttered.

"Damn," the flower hissed. "Why'd you have to leave your healing stuff in our room, huh? Okay, new plan, plant me in the ground and I'll sneak underneath our window and grab it out of the bag –"

"No." Their voice was a little clearer, now, just a bit. "No, if Mom's in there she'll see you."

*We can't let you keep bleeding either, moron.

"I know." They needed to take care of the wounds somehow. And – oh god, they'd run through the manor in a panic. They hadn't been able to see much while in the throes of terror, but they knew they'd at least seen Sans on their way past. Who knew how many of the other monsters they'd run past, had seen them panicking so hard? Not Undyne, she would have been throwing a fit they could hear from the garden by now if she had, but – Papyrus? Toriel? Alphys? Had they seen?

The twins saw me run. Artemis, the fairies – oh god. Frisk wrapped their arms more securely around Flowey's pot, fighting to keep the all-encompassing terror from coming back. What can I do? I just – I panicked, right in the middle of us talking. I panicked, I couldn't handle it, what if they think I killed people on purpose? What if they still think I'm the sort of person to just kill and kill and kill and kill –

And, as if the universe had decided it was time to punish them for all of their sins, that was when they heard the distant sound of Beckett's voice, shouting their name. Frisk stiffened. Their eyes widened, the panic started to come back – oh god, they'd heard. So much for being their friend. Who would want to be friends with a murderer? What murderer even deserved friends? They seriously considered taking off running, but by then they could hear Myles' voice join Beckett's, hear their tones shifting into something like relief (relieved that they hadn't killed anyone yet, something in them whispered, like you always do) and footsteps approaching fast.

Then the twins were there, and it was too late to run. Because Frisk could see their faces as they came to a near-screeching halt, as Myles nearly doubled over wheezing from running too fast and Beckett stopped just in front of them, blue eyes wide, and…

No fear.

They… weren't scared of them. They weren't scared even though they'd heard that Frisk was a murderer. No, they were…

"Frisk, are you okay?!" Beckett reached out, as if going to grab their shoulder, then paused, looking uncertain and a little alarmed. "You're bleeding! Why are you bleeding?!"

…concerned.

Myles finally recovered from his sprint and came over. Unlike Beckett, however, he didn't say anything right away – instead, his eyes flickered down to Frisk's cheek, then the hand that had scratched it. They could all but see the cogs turning, Myles' experience in psychology telling him exactly what had just happened, and they quickly turned their face away – or rather, tried to, because Beckett had pulled several bandaids from somewhere and with a quick here, hold on, began to carefully apply them.

"Myles has some monster candy in his room, I think," Beckett babbled fretfully, as Frisk slowly, disbelievingly, lifted one hand to touch one of the brightly-colored bandages he'd just put on one of their self-inflicted scratches. "He got some from a little monster shop that opened up downtown that sells the stuff, he said it was better than getting band-aids but I always keep a few on me anyway, because what if you get a cut and it gets infected before you can eat something to heal it with? Or dirt or something? That'd probably be really bad –"

The babbling might have been comforting under any other circumstance, but today, all it did was make a half-baffled, half-overwhelmed sob escape from them.

"Oh shi –" Beckett cut himself off, finally looking panicked but for the completely wrong reason (why should someone be scared for the murderer?) He looked helplessly over at Myles, who looked nearly as wide-eyed as his twin. "Okay, uh, really not okay. Are you hurt anywhere else, or –"

"Why." The word slipped out before they could stop it, sounding slightly strangled and oh-so-pathetic. "Why are you helping me?"

"Uh –" Beckett began. The twins looked like a pair of deer caught in headlights, and still not afraid of them, why –

"Why aren't you scared of me?" They nearly choked on each word as they came out, desperate to get them out in the open. "You listened in! You know what I've done now – you know that I've killed people, so many innocent people. I killed the entire underground not just once but twice, you shouldn't be helping me, you shouldn't care that I'm hurt or crying, you definitely shouldn't be acting like you still want to be a murderer's friend! You should want me dead -!"

And then Beckett shut them up, not with words or a glare, or fear, but with something that murderers didn't deserve either – a sudden, nearly back-breaking hug. Frisk choked in shock, floundering for a moment in abject bewilderment – people didn't hug people that just admitted to killing people what the heck why – and then nearly choked again as Myles, who never seemed the sort to do touchy-feely stuff, did the exact same thing.

"We may not know the full details of the situation yet," Myles murmured shakily (over the grumbling of a certain flower about being smushed between the three of them) "but we both know you're a better person than that, Frisk. If you really were the merciless killer you see yourself as, then would you be feeling so guilty right now?"

He couldn't – he couldn't be serious. He couldn't be, he was smarter than that, why would he say that –

Not just saying it, either – when Frisk gawped at the twins, they could see that they believed it. Believed it with every inch of them, with their very souls –

I –

Their vision blurred.

I don't –

Their entire body started to shake, a hiccup popping out of their lungs.

I don't understand.

And then, still bewildered and overwhelmed and full of self-loathing, the dam finally broke and Frisk burst into tears.

You know a story's really gone downhill when you start fighting back tears when writing a new chapter. Uh… please don't lynch me? *Sweats*

In all seriousness, though, believe it or not, this is actually going to help Frisk psychologically in the long run. Think about it – in the Genocide run, in canon, everyone except Papyrus basically outright says that you'd be better off dead when you start going all serial killer on the Underground, and most of the main friend squad outright try to kill you in order to save monsterkind, and even humanity from you (admittedly, with good reason). That's emotionally scarring for us, as the people playing the game – now imagine it from Frisk's POV. They're being told by people that are friends and family in other timelines that they wish that Frisk was dead, that the world would be better if they were dead. Combine that with Frisk's abusive upbringing due to their biological parents, their own guilt at the events during the Geno runs, and the crippling fear that they might happen again? Oh yeah, little Frisky-bits has some serious issues they need help with. Issues they'd definitely need help to get over.

But up until now, they haven't had anybody that COULD help them through the issues. The only people that knew about the Resets, let alone the Geno runs, before now were Sans, probably Asgore, and Flowey, and none of them are exactly qualified to help them through this, professionally or otherwise. Sans, though he likes Frisk in this timeline, knows what they've done in previous timelines, has traumatizing nightmares of the Geno runs, and can literally see the EXP from all their kills throughout the Resets, and as such distrusts them big time. Combine that with his nihilism about the whole situation and… yeah, he's not helping. Asgore, on the other hand, might know about the different timelines existing, but he doesn't know the details, and Frisk doesn't want to burden him with the knowledge that in another timeline, they were the murderer of most of his people – and he'd need to know about that to help them through their issues with it.

And Flowey… no. Just, no.

But then here comes Myles and Beckett, now in the know somewhat, one of them being a trained psychologist no matter how young, and they outright tell Frisk that despite everything they think about themselves, after everything they've done, they're not a bad person?

It's not huge, and yeah, it let loose the waterworks BIG time, but it's a very good start towards recovery.