AN: I know I disappeared for, wow, almost seven months. I had planned on not getting much done during the holidays, but I was certainly not planning on mandatory overtime at work since January. I am currently working 60 hour weeks, every week, and as you can imagine that's been cutting into my free time something fierce. I'm not 100% happy with this chapter, I wanted to include more of the actual party, but at this point it's what I can manage. I'll try to update on a more regular pace, but I can't really guarantee anything because the work situation is still ongoing. But, still.

Thank you all for being so patient with me.

(Warning: This chapter contains a panic attack and misgendering.)

It was Saturday morning and Frisk was with Papyrus in his convertible, driving to Oswald's birthday party. True, the car's roof was up due to the cold weather so it could hardly be called a "convertible", but it was still an awesome car anyway. Papyrus was bobbing his head in time with the music on the radio, wearing sunglasses to keep from getting sun glare in his eyes (a real danger on a clear morning after a light snowfall when the snow was so blindingly white and the roads were just wet enough to reflect the sun's rays). Chara was with them too, though they had to hang on to Frisk's shoulder or they would have spent the entire trip floating a foot and half behind the car.

Frisk continued their conversation, "Ozzie's hair is starting to grow back, but he's still… um, still kinda senstive about it…"

Papyrus frowned. "I don't see why he should regret losing it. Hair is non-aerodynamic!" He brushed a free hand against his smooth skull. "But, anything to avoid embarrassing your friend during their special day!"

Chara rolled their eyes. "Humans are used to having hair and we're taught standing out and being different is bad. So if you notice he's wearing a wig don't say anything about it. Pretend you don't notice."

Flowey, unaware of Chara's contribution to the discussion, chuckled darkly. "Are you sure it's a good idea to tell me all your friend's weaknesses, Frisk? You know what I'll do with it if I get bored, heh heh heh…" His attempt to put on a menacing air was undercut slightly by chuckling into the bright pink scarf wrapped around his stem. Frisk was carrying him in a simple earthenware pot on their lap, his face just high enough to peek over the dashboard if they strained and did not care about obstructing Frisk's view. Which he did not.

"Flowey! That's not very nice!" Papyrus objected.

Frisk was a bit more malevolent. "If you make Ozzy sad, I'll put you outside to cool off. Without your scarf."

"That's even more not nice!"

Flowey sneered and stared out the window at the frost-covered ground. "Fine fine, I won't torment him. No promises about anyone else." He sulked into the pile of scarf so only the top petals poked out. "Don't know why you're bothering to bring me anyway if you're not going to let me have any fun…" Frisk actually only brought Flowey because Chara insisted, but they could not very well tell him that could they?

"Thanks for doing this for me, Papyrus," Frisk said. "I'll have to do something extra nice for you on your birthday. Um, when is it?"

Papyrus shrugged. "That's a good question, I don't remember!"

Chara slapped a hand over their mouth. Frisk gasped and said, "What? Does… did no one ever celebrate your birthday?"

"Oh, it's nothing like that," Papyrus waved off. "Sans says it's May 1st. He usually gives me something, even if it's just food for his pet rock or an old greeting card. Still, he tries and I recognize and applaud his effort. But to me it doesn't feel different from any other day. The way Sans tells it there was an accident a few years ago and I lost my memories. We tried a few things to bring them back but nope, no dice! Everything before I woke up is a complete blank."

Flowey piped up, "Before you get any ideas, no, not the same accident that erased most of the lab tech. I looked into it myself, he isn't a memory-wiped Gaster or anything like that. Papyrus doesn't look or act anything like him, and for another thing Gaster was mute while you can never get this guy to shut up. Just saving you some time."

"Yes," Papyrus said, distracted. "Sans was also very insistent that I was not Dr. Gaster when I pointed out the coincidence. Anyway, we tried a bunch of things to recover my memories, lots of experiments and stuff. But, nothing worked. What a shame! If I'm this amazing now, imagine how incredible I must have been before!"

Chara looked like they were about to say something but suddenly went very still. Their eyes traced up and down the road. "Where… where are we?" They began to shiver.

"Very close now!" Papyrus explained. "Should only be a few blocks away!"

Flowey perked up. "Oh… I know where we are. Hey Papyrus, take a left here, I wanna show Frisk something." Papyrus squinted but said nothing, merely obeying Flowey's instructions.

Chara's eyes darted left and right. The smile disappeared from their face and their breathing became rapid and shallow. Their fingers dug into Frisk's shoulder so hard they started to actually hurt. "Frisk," they said, their teeth chattering. "Don't wake me up until you're back home. I-I-I-I can't-" With their last shred of willpower they squeezed their eyes shut and vanished. The pressure on Frisk's shoulder disappeared. Frisk stared into empty air, offended at Chara ghosting them without an explanation.

"That's it," Flowey motioned with his floral disc. "On the other side of the street. Doesn't look like much, I know, but that's the spot where- where the Prince was killed."

The car passed by a grassy field. Frisk had seen it once before in a memory belonging to someone else. The razor wire over the top of the fence was new, and in the frigid late January weather the golden flowers would not be in bloom, but Frisk still recognized it. This was the field of flowers near Chara's home on the surface. Chara had spent their nights relaxing there, before the fence went up and kept them from their release. Which meant this was the neighborhood Chara grew up in thirty years ago. Suddenly they understood. Oswald lived in the same neighborhood Chara had grown up in. They had recognized the streets and all their memories came flooding back. Frisk decided, instead of being angry at Chara, they would save a piece of cake for them.

"Oh dear," Papyrus said, slowing his car to a crawl. "This is where it happened? I had been meaning to come here for some time, I know Asgore and Toriel have been here already but- oh! I should take a picture… except, it doesn't look all that interesting. There should be a statue or at least a plaque, but it's just some flowers behind a fence! Without being told no one would have any idea this was such an important place!"

Flowey nodded. "Yeah, I figured it would be… I dunno, different. Or that I'd feel different being here. But it's just a field. I mean, back when it was warmer it was nice to hang out when I needed a break from everyone. Nobody's going to go looking for ol' Flowey in a golden flower field, that'd be looking for a needle in a haystack. But I don't feel like it's a special place. I'm not angry, or sad, or ashamed, or anything when I look at it. It's just… there."

"Did you expect it to be different?" Papyrus unintentionally said something rather inconsiderate, but Frisk could not exactly explain he was grilling Flowey about the place he was murdered. They had promised Flowey, after all.

"I dunno, you tell me. I'm the one who can't feel much, remember? Anyway, just thought you'd like to see it while we were in the area. Alright, detour's over, onto the kid's place." Papyrus nodded. He sped up and continued on his way to Oswald's house. Frisk stared out the window, unsuccessfully trying to find which of these houses might have belonged to Chara's surface family.

The address was a simple one-story home nestled in the suburbs, halfway down a dead end street. Even if they did not have the house number it was clear which house was the target; both sides of the road had lines of parked cars, and in the center of them was Oswald's house. Frisk got out of the car and, since both of their hands were occupied by Flowey's pot, closed the door by bumping it with their hip. Papyrus adjusted the scarf of his Ambassador Attire as he walked up to the front door and rang the bell. Frisk put a finger to their lips as Oswald's mom opened the door. She put a hand to her mouth in surprise, evidently expecting someone in a costume instead of the real thing. "Sweetie?" she called out when she recovered. "Your, ah, friend Frisk is here."

"Hey Frisk!" Oswald called out from around a corner. "We're in the main room, come on in."

"Sorry I didn't get to wrap your present," Frisk said with a big smile as they walked into the room.

Coming in right behind them, Papyrus finished, "It's just that I was also their ride here, and driving the car from inside a box would be a strain on even my talents! Happy birthday, Frisk's friend!"

Oswald and three other children were in the living room. All of them were smiling and laughing about something, but their smiles disappeared and their jaws dropped as their eyes trailed up Papyrus' tall frame. Oswald had been sitting on the couch, but he shoved himself off it and half-walked, half-stumbled toward Papyrus in stunned awe. "It's you," Oswald said, tearing up. He reached out to touch Papyrus' hand and the skeleton obliged by offering it to him. Papyrus got down on one knee to give him a better look. Oswald smiled widely and wiped his nose on his sleeve as tears started to pour from his eyes. "It's you, the real you, I… I am such… a huge fan!"

"There there," Papyrus said, pulling Oswald into a hug. "It is normal to be overwhelmed in the presence of my greatness. Fear not! I will neither tease nor mock your complex feelings, but instead comfort you as only a skeleton can! Nyeh heh! Only now do you understand, it was no jest when I said skeletons were cuddly!"

Oswald cried into Papyrus' arms and nodded. The other children, now that they knew how to feel about this turn of events, cheered and clapped. Frisk laughed with a great big smile on their face, and even though Flowey was rolling their eyes even he had to admit Frisk had chosen their present well.

Thomas Mack had a good job, a good wife, a house in the suburbs, and a daughter with a second kid on the way. He paid his taxes on time and went to church on Sunday. He made a strong distinction between "news" and "politics", keeping up with the former while never engaging with the latter. He liked the occasional drink or smoke but never to excess, liked to buy expensive appliances and run them into the ground, had a fantasy football team that was doing well, and posted many photos of his home, food, and vacation spots on social media but never any selfies. He was, to put a point on it, normal. But normal was not good enough for Tom. He wanted to be extraordinary. He wanted to be a hero, a daring man with superlative valor and bravery. He wanted not just to be appreciated, but to be lauded and revered. Working a nine-to-five salaried job was nice but it would not land anyone in the history books. It would not earn the accolades he felt were his due. If there had been a great war in his younger years he would have signed up for the army on the spot, but the opportunity never came and now he was getting too old for soldiering. He went through the motions of a successful, happy life while a sense of regret gnawed on his insides, telling him there must be something more, an opportunity that must have passed him by.

He was, on this particular Saturday, with a neighbor discussing the status of Thomas' snowblower currently sitting in said neighbor's shed and how it might be returned to its rightful owner. Thomas knew his wife was with his daughter Merry at some kid's birthday party, so he did not think too much of it when he received a notification on his phone. He left it while he continued his discussion with his neighbor, but when a second one came only a moment later he decided it must actually be important. He checked his messages and his entire body stiffened in equal parts fear and rage. His daughter had taken a selfie in mid-laugh, revealing two of her missing baby teeth. She was being cradled in the arms of a skeleton straight out of a science textbook or a nightmare, with one of her arms draped around his neck in an approximation of a side-hug. Her second message served as a caption for the picture:

Frisk's present was The Great Papyrus! He's soooooo funny!

"I'll kill him!" Thomas screamed. He attempted to turn away but was stopped when the neighbor grabbed his forearm.

"Woah there," the neighbor said with a raised eyebrow. "Where are you off to all of a sudden?"

Tom yanked his arm free and snarled, "One of those things is in the same house as my daughter! The skeleton thing from TV, the monster! I'm not letting that freak lay one finger on her!"

"I get exactly where you're coming from," the neighbor consoled. "But you can't do it like that. Those mon-sters, they're really good at playing the victim. And if you bust in there and ruin a cancer kid's birthday party that's gonna play right into their hands."

"Then what am I supposed to do?!" Tom stamped his foot. "We can't just let them do whatever they want!"

"Well, nobody's saying that either," the neighbor tugged at his graying beard and calmly explained. "Let me see that message a second." Thomas handed over his phone and the neighbor hummed. "Says here one of the other kids, 'Frisk', brought that skeleton there. Now that name rings a bell. Do you remember, the kid that went missing for a couple days last year? The news said they found a family to foster 'em… huh. That family that must be real close with the monsters. I wonder… if there's something more to it."

"What?! You mean the government is mixed up in this?"

"Of course. We all knew that already, didn't we." And the neighbor held up a hand with his index finger pointed toward the sky. Tom finally understood; he had heard of these people. He had always considered them crackpots, but now that evil had shown up on his front door he realized they were kindred spirits. He cracked a smile and raised a single finger of his own in response. A secret sign, flashing a hand signal for the number "one" to each other. The sign for First. The neighbor nodded knowingly. "We'll get to the bottom of this, don't you worry. What you have to ask yourself is, what are you willing to do to keep your family safe? Are you willing to put your safety, your reputation, even your life on the line to do what's right?"

Tom understood the meaning of the question. "Yeah," he said without hesitation. "Whatever it takes. No matter what."

The only brand of heroism Thomas recognized could never be achieved through clever wit, or a noble heart, or a careful word. Only through conflict, violence, and blood. He had finally found what he believed was the only thing he lacked: an evil to oppose. To destroy. He would be a hero.

"-and this puzzle, it's got all kinds of crazy rules, right? 'purple tiles make you smell like lemons' and 'green tiles mean you have to fight', completely bonkers. and the machine controlling it all, it's going to make the puzzle completely at random. so my bro, he flips the switch and you'll never guess what happens, never in a million years."

Darnell leaned forward, hanging on every word. The other early afternoon patrons at Grillby's gave them room, having heard all of Sans' stories about his brother a thousand times before, but to Darnell they were all new. "Naw, what?"

Sans was barely keeping a snicker in check as he finished, "the 'puzzle' it comes up with is a straight shot right through the middle! just walk on through!"

Darnell slapped his knee and laughed through clenched teeth. "No fuckin' way! Aaaaaaaah, that's hilarious!"

Sans chuckled, "yeah, paps couldn't believe it either. he takes one look at it and stumbles away like he guzzled a case of beer by himself."

"Oh man!" Darnell wiped a tear from his eyes. "That's too rich! And that's the kind of stuff you do as adults? Man, you two must have gotten in all kinds of trouble when you were kids!"

"i, uh, don't got any cool stories about when we were kids." Sans took a drink from his soda to keep himself from saying anything else.

A cloud descended over the two of them. "Shit," Darnell said, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry, I didn't mean-"

"it's nothing," Sans was quick to reassure him. "my dads died young, that's all."

"Still, didn't mean to bring up anything bad. Tell you what, I'll tell you a story about my time in the army."

"the army?" Sans smirked. "this ain't a story about killing people, is it?"

"Those stories aren't any fun, and besides I don't have any of those." Darnell scratched himself just over the eyebrow. "The place I got sent to didn't really have an army to fight against, we were just supposed to look scary and keep everyone in line. I know lots of other troops that got in fights with insurgents and stuff, but I guess I lucked out. Anyway, I was with my guys on patrol, trying to keep from boiling to death in our armor. We're all on edge, because even though we probably won't run into trouble we might. And one of us, Carlton, he puts his foot right into a sinkhole."

"a sinkhole?"

"Empty spots where the earth drained out. They look like solid ground, but put the wrong amount of weight on them at the wrong time and they open up beneath you. They're pretty rare but you get them every so often around the oil rigs. If you haven't spent years in the desert it can be hard to tell where they are until you get sucked down. Anyway, Carlton was lucky and the one he stumbled into was only a few feet deep. But the funny part, see? The funny part is when he fell he didn't call out for help, or shout about a sinkhole, or anything. No, as he went down he screamed at the top of his lungs, 'IT'S EATING ME!'"

Sans chuckled, about as close as he got to a real laugh nowadays. "man, what? why'd he yell that?"

"No idea! We asked him while we were digging him out and he just clammed up all indignant. He must've thought he was in a horror movie and some kinda sand worm was coming up from under him."

"heh, crazy." Sans took another sip from his soda. "so, uh. all this time and you're not gonna ask about the soda?"

Darnell shrugged. "Maybe you're the designated driver, maybe you're trying to stay on the wagon, maybe you just wanna hang out without getting hammered. Whatever it is ain't my business unless you want it to be." He paused for a moment. "Wait, is the soda a setup for a joke and I've been missing it?"

"nothing like that," Sans said in a way that suggested he was not about to elaborate further. "Just, it's rare to find someone with, you know, that kind of care and insight into other people's feelings. someone who comes into a bar day after day and orders the worst food off the menu and never any alcohol, most people would start wondering what their story was."

"Everyone's dealing with their own shit. No, listen, this may be a little bit of the buzz talkin'," Darnell warned Sans. "But the way I see it, people always say the things they do are 'cause of how things are while what other people do is because of how they are. Like, if you steal money you'll say it's because times are tough, or you worked hard and deserve it, or the person you're taking it from won't miss it. Stuff like that. It's not like you're a bad person or nothin'. But if you see some guy on the street picking pockets you won't make any of those excuses for him, he's a thief and that's that. And I think that maybe if we thought of things the other way around, to really look at ourselves and what are actions say about us while trying to understand where other people are coming from when they do their thing, that we'd be kinder people and have a kinder world."

Sans leaned back on his stool and let the words wash over him. "that's pretty deep," he said. "but here's the thing i don't get: if you're this smart, what are you doing driving cabs?"

Darnell gave him a wry smile. "There's lots of different ways of being smart, and it turns out the kind of smart I am don't pay the bills. Besides, you're making too much of it. I was a cop for a while, and you know they don't let you be a cop if you're too smart? True facts."

Sans blinked. "woah, you were a policeman too?"

Darnell stopped smiling and shook his head. "Shit, forget I said that-"

"said what?" Sans said with a wink, not missing a beat.

His companion nodded. "Yeah, thanks. Hey, Homura, I'm talking stupid, can I get a water to sober up?" The oni gave him a nod from across the bar. Grillby may have been closer but asking a fire elemental for water sounded rude in a way he could not articulate. "How about you, Sans? Why do you hang around in a place like this? You aren't so stupid either."

Sans winked. "ain't i, though?"

When Frisk got home that night they waited until they were back in their room before calling Chara back. Chara popped in exactly as they were when they vanished, early in a panic attack. Frisk calmly waited them out while Chara's brain thrashed and writhed in anticipation of a threat that was not there. After a few minutes Chara managed to calm themself to the point where they could have a conversation again. "Thank you," they said, their face still a bit flushed. "That, came suddenly. I apologize for leaving you alone, just-"

"I get it," Frisk said. "You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want. I'm sorry you had to miss the birthday party, I know you were looking forward to it too…"

Chara tilted their head with their eyes closed. "It could not be helped. I did not recognize the address written down but when I got close… I assume Flowey took you to the field. How was it? I imagine it has not changed much."

Frisk smiled. "It was pretty." They paused, unsure whether they should volunteer the bit of information Chara was clearly trying to angle toward without asking directly. "Asriel… didn't think much of it. He said it was just a field to him, even after what happened. I guess… he can't feel sad or angry about it."

"I see." Chara's smile shifted into something more sardonic and their eyes narrowed. Frisk guessed Chara was starting to recriminate themself again. They were about to say something when their phone buzzed with a new message. Chara floated over and read over Frisk's shoulder. "It's Ozzy," they said, curious. "He wants to know if you had fun at the party."

Frisk hit a button on the phone and dictated, "Yeah, I had a lot of fun. Sorry I couldn't let you keep my present!"

Frisk: Yeah I had a lot of fun sorry I couldn't let you keep my present

Ozzy: its cool
Ozzy: wasn't the guest i thought youd bring, though
Ozzy: i thought id finally get to meet the other person whos been reading my messages

Chara's voice trailed off as they finished reading the message aloud, burying their face in their hands and groaning. Frisk swallowed and stared at the message, a dread prophecy come to life. They tried to deflect…

Frisk: What are you talking about

Ozzy: frisk
Ozzy: come on
Ozzy: im not dumb
Ozzy: I know you arent good at reading
Ozzy: I can tell you write these by talking into your phone
Ozzy: and that sometimes someone who doesnt type a thing like you responds

Frisk could not read what Oswald was typing but so many messages being fired so fast probably meant they were mad. They licked their lips and their jaw trembled. What were they going to do? What could they do? They had promised Chara, but if they did not tell Oswald something he might not want to be their friend anymore. Even though some of the rest of the class was warming up to them he was still the closest friend they had there and-

"Breathe, Frisk," Chara said, putting a calming hand on theirs. "It's alright. It's okay." They looked up to see Chara looking back at them, smiling sadly. "This is my own fault. I should be the one to suffer the consequences." Chara turned to the screen and took control of Frisk's thumb, typing out a message with practiced speed and precision.

Frisk: Greetings. Before anything else, I must apologize. It was not my intent to deceive or poke fun at you. Due to various circumstances I must keep myself hidden from the outside world. Nevertheless, at various times I have spoken with you by borrowing Frisk's name and voice believing you would be unable to realize the truth. I wanted to keep my existence secret, but also believed my short interactions with you to be harmless. I did not mean to put you or Frisk in a difficult position, but my carelessness has created friction between you. And so I am sorry, both to you and to Frisk.

Ozzy: geez calm down
Ozzy: im not mad or anything ;)
Ozzy: you seem pretty cool
Ozzy: it was just kinda weird
Ozzy: so… do you have a name

Frisk frowned at the screen. "You want me to give you a fake name?"

"No," Chara said. "If he was able to deduce this much on his own he deserves to at least know who he is speaking with." It was a risk, especially since Chara's name was in the news nowadays. Their sister Carol had recently released a memoir, 'Driven', detailing her childhood. It went into her and Chara's history in altogether too much detail. It was not impossible, and if fact somewhat likely, that Oswald would realize that Frisk's friend 'Chara' and the dead child 'Chara' were the same person. Still, even if he did come to that realization there was no chance Oswald would be able to share his findings, either with other people in the class or with the rest of the monsters, especially Asgore and Toriel. Chara moved Frisk's thumb over the keys to type out the reply.

Frisk: I am Chara. It is good to speak to you directly, Ozzy.

Ozzy: good to meet you chara
Ozzy: is that chara like character or like car-a

Frisk: The second one.
(All things considered it probably should have been 'kha-RAH', the ancient Greek pronunciation, but even back when they first chose this name Chara realized they did not want to constantly be correcting every single person they gave their name to.)

Ozzy: ha ha, okay
Ozzy: frisk still here?

Frisk: I'm here
Frisk: I'm sorry too I didn't mean to lie but Chara gets lonely and ah what its true don't

Frisk: I've been libeled!

Ozzy: u ok?
Ozzy: u havent said anything in a while

Frisk: It's fine we're having fun
Frisk: Anyway, without going into too much detail we are inseparable. Whenever you speak to one of us the other will surely hear as well. Going forward I hope all three of us will remain good friends. :)

Ozzy: sounds great!

It was not until that Tuesday that the hammer fell.

Silas nearly missed everything. He had been having a tense but productive day, succeeding at one ploy to have a case thrown out on a technicality while in the very next case wheedling the prosecutor to accepting community service in exchange for a guilty plea. His phone kept ringing but he ignored it or put it on silent, if someone needed him badly enough they knew the numbers to reach to have an assistant call him out of the courtroom. A little after 2 PM his client dismissed him from his case and insisted on representing himself under maritime law, claiming the gold fringe on the American flag meant the courtroom was legally a boat. Everyone else had groaned as they saw a terrible case unfolding in front of them, but Silas had just been given free reign to leave and took advantage of the opportunity. His phone rang again on his way out but he silenced it, opting instead to read through the instant messages piling up…

Beatrice: I am calling for a meeting of all the monsters and their human allies, all hands on…
Goatmom: Mr. Pembrook, there is a very serious situation at home which…
PAPYRUS!: SILAS! I DO NOT WISH TO ALARM YOU BUT THERE IS A SMALL MATTER…

Silas started at the top and went down; despite growing up with this technology he never was able to remember that messages were displayed in reverse chronological order. Beatrice wanted to set up a conference call as soon as possible with all the monsters to discuss "the latest situation". There was some conversation following it about discussing when, with some gentle ribbing that Silas had still not responded. He texted a reply to give him ten minutes to get himself up to speed and then he would be ready. Next was Toriel. She was very worried about a crowd in front of Silas' condo. She took a picture of first herself poking at the camera (which seemed to be an accident) and then a view out their front window. There was a crowd of fifteen to twenty people blocking the road. They were waving signs and pointing up in the air. Damn, did those Humans First people find out Toriel was living at his house? He knew it would happen someday but he had always been hoping that day was a little longer in coming. He told her as long as she stayed inside she should be fine but to keep the door locked just in case. Then Papyrus' message. Papyrus was trying to warn him that there was a new website that had spread through social media and gone viral, and it included some info Papyrus found very dubious but also troubling.

Silas stopped walking. He stared at his phone in numb shock. "… What the hell is this…?"

Papyrus' message concluded with a picture of a banner advertisement. The banner showed what he recognized as a picture of Frisk which had been shown on the news when they went missing but manipulated to be nearly unrecognizable. The color in their eyes had been changed from red to blue, and their skin had been lightened significantly so they appeared much less brown than normal. In addition the smile had been inexpertly turned upside down and someone had added tears running down their face. But most chilling of all was the text to go along with it. It read:

An innocent girl stolen from her parents and held captive by monsters! Visit to learn her heartbreaking story!

AN: I hope you enjoyed the slice of life stuff in the last couple chapters!… because they won't be coming back for a while, mwahaha.