Chapter Twenty Six: What? No, he's Totally Calm
Oh, how he loathed this. The voice of reason whispered in the back of his skull, that he shouldn't feel so harshly towards himself. Unfortunately, emotions cared little for logic's weak voice. Sans glared out the window and watched their beautiful surroundings speed past his line of sight. He was content to wallow in misery at his own powerless position, though it seemed the anomaly had other plans.
"OTHER SANS," it called him, shattering the silence.
"What."
"YOU'RE HOMESICK, AREN'T YOU?"
He glanced at the entity. Its focus remained on the road.
"Guess ya could say that."
"JUST AS I THOUGHT! YOU MUST MISS YOUR PAPYRUS, YOUR FRIENDS, YOUR PRODUCTIVE ROUTINES…."
"D' you got a point or…."
"WELL, YES." It paused. "MY POINT IS! THAT YOU'RE NOT BEING VERY NICE! IT'S OKAY TO BE HOMESICK, BUT YOU SHOULDN'T TAKE IT OUT ON THE PEOPLE AROUND YOU. ESPECIALLY PEOPLE WHO ARE TRYING VERY HARD TO BE YOUR FRIEND AND MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER!"
He turned to look at the creature. "Let's not ferget, none o' this woulda been goin' on if you an' yer 'friends' knew how t' mind yer own dang business."
"YES, BUT HAVEN'T WE APOLOGIZED FIFTY FOUR TIMES ALREADY? AND-"
"Apologies don't fix nothin'. Still happened."
The creature looked at him with a mixture of confusion and irritation. There was something else woven into the minute details of its expression however: guilt.
"I KNOW. BUT ALPHYS AND HER FRIENDS ARE TRYING TO TRYING TO MAKE IT UNHAPPEN. THEY ONLY WANTED TO MAKE A COOL DISCOVERY AND SHARE IT WITH THE WORLD! AND I…. WELL, IT WAS ABOUT TIME I TOOK REVENGE ON MY BROTHER FOR HIS LAZINESS! DID I MENTION THE SELF-SUSTAINING TORNADO OF GARBAGE?"
"Yeah. Twelve times."
"WHAT I'M TRYING TO SAY IS THAT BEING MEAN WON'T HELP ANYTHING. NAPSTABLOOK WAS AFRAID TO JOIN US BECAUSE YOU MADE HIM THINK YOU DON'T LIKE HIM. GHOSTS MAY BE UNSETTLING, BUT THAT WAS JUST RUDE!"
The car slowed to turn onto the proper street.
"An' ya think bein' nice is gonna help?"
"YES! BEING NICE HELPS EVERYONE! IN FACT, BEING NICE IS HOW FRISK BEFRIENDED EVERYONE IN THE UNDERGROUND AND HELPED US GAIN OUR FREEDOM! SHE WAS VERY KIND, EVEN…." Silence as memories played out before his-its eye sockets. "EVEN THOUGH SOME OF US DIDN'T REALLY DESERVE IT. AND THEN, SOMEHOW, SHE BROKE THE BARRIER AND FREED EVERYONE!"
They pulled into the driveway. He sighed as the seat belt released him with a click. He opened the door, and was in the midst of pushing it out of his way when a gloved hand reached over to close it. He glared at the anomaly's perplexed look.
"ISN'T THAT HOW THE FRISK OF YOUR WORLD SAVED EVERYONE?"
The words poured from him before he found the chance to stop them.
"No! Monsters never needed savin', 'cause we never got put underground in th' first place! There never was a war between humans 'n monsters 'cause people had bigger problems t' deal with than whatever you guys fought over. 'Cause our world's not some fairy tale! There's no happy endin'! Life goes on, one disaster after another an' ain't nothing gettin' fixed jus' like that, 'specially when we don't got no weird powers like all the freaks livin' here!"
"ARE-ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT MAGI-"
"There's no such thing as magic," he yelled, shoving his way out of the car. He stood there scowling at the being, adding, "ain't no fairies, no santa, an' if there's unicorns they'll shish kabob ya t' death!"
He slammed the door, already regretting his words. Emotion overruled logic as he stormed into the unlocked house, up the stairs, and into his makeshift oasis.
He sat on the bed, put a pillow to his face, and screamed, mentally berating himself for losing control. Idiot! Now his death was a certainty that stole any chance of air from his lungs. What had he become? What had happened to leave him so impulsive? Where had his composure gone? Could mind control have swayed him to this extent? Had he simply lost it? He trembled as he struggled for air, willing his body to at least try to preserve itself. His legs were too weak to support him. His grip on the pillow tightened until a numb aching spread throughout his fingers. A fogginess crept into his skull with an attack of vertigo.
What was to become of the world he knew, and the sister he would never see again? What were these beings planning? Did they seek to destroy his world, take it over, shape it into a soulless replica of their own? Papyrus could handle herself when it came to normal issues; he'd taught her to look after herself. But against an army of anomalies? Beings with the power to leave a seasoned agent completely helpless?
They're gonna kill 'er, they're gonna kill everybody, they're gonna take over th' world, everybody-everybody's gonna die an' it's 'cause I couldn't stop it! I can't-I can't- think! How-why-I can't- I'm gonna die! Papyrus' gonna die! They know I'm not-they know-they know I know stuff they don' want me t' know-they know I know they're plannin' t' kill everybody! Idiot! Ya stupid, useless pile of garbage! Why'd ya do that? PAPYRUS' GONNA DIE 'CAUSE O' YOU! Undyne, Toriel-that's okay, Toriel can die-she's creepy, but Papyrus! You had one job an' y' screwed it up and now we're all gonna die! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean… I didn't- I didn't- they're all jus' so stupid!
His thoughts further spiraled, consumed by chaos as rage and terror tore at his insides.
When at last he found himself again, Sans realized a crucial fact: he was still alive.
As he laid there, vision growing stable and oxygen returning, he didn't even bother to question when he'd fallen from the bed. A tiny spark of something flared to life within him as he panted, and that tiny, precious fragment of hope was enough to keep him going. He wasn't dead yet; there was time. It would take a convincing act to trick the creatures, and he feared losing control of his useless feelings once again. There existed a chance however, to turn this catastrophe around, and he would take it.
Hope, joy, relief…. It escaped him in the form of quiet laughter, and he conceded this: perhaps he was just a bit unstable.
This Sans isn't the nicest person to be around, but hopefully everyone can understand his point of view to an extent at least. If the southern accent thing is too much, I can tune it down a bit...?