Additional Tags: Pre-ToG canon, crossover, Rachel is mentioned a lot, temporary character death.

I.

Rachel named you Bam, after the night sky in her language. She named you after a number, too, before you knew what numbers were, before you knew what the sky was. She named you, but it never settled right in your skin. But no names really do, you realize, like you were something else a long time ago and you don't know how to handle that fact. But you cannot word this. You don't know how.

She called you a boy back then too, and that had never settled right either. It wasn't wrong but it wasn't right. But you didn't want to scare her, to hurt her, to upset her and make her go away forever (it often felt like forever when she was gone) so you didn't tell her this, and let her think what she wanted. It seemed to make her happy to do that, so you let her keep doing it.

Your name isn't the name you choose either, in the end. You know it isn't but you liked the sound of it, the feel of it swiping your fingers in a certain way. You like having a lot of ways to talk. There's not enough water here, so you're often thirsty.

The ghost at the end of a tunnel teaches it to you and then when Rachel shows you how, you learn twice as fast. She pats your head. This is what love feels like to you. Conditional. Earned.

Rachel is your light, you think, often. Light is not always good, but you don't know this yet. At that time, her light is enough for you to live off of, even though your body and heart deep down yearns further. You delude yourself. You think that you're content. You think that you're happy.

(You have never been happy until now.)

You're determined to keep her. You're determined to stay with her. The ghost isn't like that, you don't want to bother the ghost, so you let it come to you instead. It can't replace a real person, not at first.

And then she leaves for too long, and you're hungry.

So you wander off in search of food. You'd been hungry before, starving, thirsty, a lot of things. The sensations are nothing new. It's the loneliness that makes it hurt. Hunger is more than physical, you think, in not so many words.

Rachel had told you about fighting the other day. She'd warned you that people do it when they're angry, when they're sad, when they don't want to be hurt, and that it is wrong to fight without it being for someone else. You believe her, despite the word fight making your chest warm and your stomach clench with anticipation.

But you understand the idea of fighting for something more than fighting at all. You think you would fight for Rachel. You know you really can't, but if you had to, you could probably do anything for her if you tried.

But you aren't fighting for Rachel when you fall down, deeper into the caves. You aren't really fighting at all. You're too tired. You're much too tired by then.

The flowers are comfortable. Your body hurts, but these plants are comfortable and warmed by something far over your head, over the roof of the cave. Another light from much further up.

Is that the sun? You wonder. Is it one of the many stars? Rachel never told you that the stars were warm.

The ghost from the end of the tunnel shakes your shoulder and you open your eyes to them. Their big round eyes, rusty red from the light, the pink that dusts their cheeks forever because they're dead. They taught you what death is like, with big words and solemn promises to not be as stupid as they were. There are things scarier than dying to you, and they know it. They think that's pretty dumb, but they were like that once so they get it. But in turn they make you promise to try to not die anyway, because the people you love more than fear dying for will be heartbroken if you do not return. Rachel will be sad.

You promise them because they look at their shoes when they ask, and it clearly means a lot to them, and they let you stand up and call for help.

"Nobody will come," they say after a few calls, preparing you to start walking. "Nobody ever -"

They are surprised when she does. A voice that is not Rachel, a voice that is concerned without hesitation, no shock, no sorrow, no other things. Just a single minded drive.

Your heart fills with something like hope and it's not yours. It's theirs, but you like the feeling and keep your discomfort to yourself.

"Mom…" they say in your ear, wistful. Bitter but wistful.

You call for help again and instead of her, a flower rises from the rest.

"Howdy," it says. "You don't have to be so loud there buddy! Let's be friends." They hold out a leaf like a hand and you tilt your head. "My name's Flowey. Flowey the Flower! Let me show you around!"

"Don't," says the ghost and the hope has faded to heartbreak. "Don't, please."

You shake your head immediately. The ghost knows well.

The flower doesn't like that.

Whatever he hits you with hurts like hunger, but smaller and pointed. You gasp, but you dodge the second attack as the flower chirps out. "You really are an idiot."

Your first moments in the Underground are nothing but pain and laughter. Well, at least one of these is familiar.

You bend your knees to jump for a third time but then flames shoot past your eyes and knock the flower away. It shrieks in irritation and vanishes in seconds. You frown, but then your heart jolts. The ghost is whimpering, almost impossible to hear. But you have always heard the ghost. You reach out behind your back and loop your wrist against theirs, so it doesn't look weird, so it can't be seen.

"Do not be afraid, my child," she says after tutting away the flower. "My name is Toriel. It looks like you're quite lost."

She doesn't understand that you do not feel fear. You feel loneliness and that is much worse.

You nod because yes that's true. You want to shake your head because you don't really understand the idea of being lost, just of losing things. But you are not in a place where Rachel can find you and call your name, so you suppose that she isn't wrong.

"Come with me," she says, offering her hand to you. "I'll help you through these dangerous ruins."

It's significant, this moment you're sure it's significant, but you can't place why. So you take her hand and hope you'll find an answer.

(This is your first experience with dissatisfaction and knowing it. It fills you with determination, though you don't know what that is either.)

But you will. Because the ghost knows and he often tells you a lot of things you don't know.

You're always grateful to them, even if they won't tell you their name.

Well, you won't tell me yours, they say to you and you smile. Because you would. Just nobody's asked.

Miss Toriel (not mom, for some reason that word makes your heart ache and you think of Rachel but even that isn't quite right either) guides you gently, lets you try a couple of things. She encourages you to take a candy and you do. You don't eat it but you want to. Who knows when you will get another chance later? Who knows if you'll ever see it again? You want to share it with Rachel.

She lets you press your bare, hurting feet into the "leaves" and they tickle, brushing in the gaps between your toes in a way that softens your heart and makes you breathe easier.

You're still hurting. Miss Toriel doesn't notice. She just seems… anxious, hopeful, things that Rachel is but isn't whenever she's in the cave with you. She hurries with you because the cave is dangerous, the ruins have traps that could hurt you. You don't tell her that you're quite hurt already. She probably won't listen. It's like being hungry. Besides, maybe you can stop hurting when you get to where she wants to go.

You miss Rachel. You should return to her soon.

Still, she takes you to her home. She takes you and feeds you and gives you clothes. You don't put them on. It feels wrong for some reason.

You think you should be happy. She asks you what your favorite pie is. You don't have a favorite thing of any kind, except a person. You miss her. You should go see her soon.

These clothes are warm wool, she says. A bit scratchy, and she's running her claws gently through your hair like a comb.

"Would you like a bath, child?" she asks.

Bath? Bath is… cleaning. Bath is water and soap and eye stinging. You're not sure if you want it, but you feel scratchy, so a bath might help.

It does until she sees you are hurt. Then she nearly cries, tracing your bruises and bumps and the dried blood with guilty fingers.

You wish she wouldn't. Rachel crying twists your stomach. This twists your heart.

You need to leave soon before both turn into knots, you think.

But you don't say so. Instead you watch her place the ointment on and memorize the sensation, fumble through how to tie knots for two times until you've mastered it and smile when she looks at you because people seem to like that. All three people you know prefer when you draw up your mouth and don't bare your teeth.

You'd bared your teeth at Rachel once, you think. She'd fled. You've never done it again. You don't know why it's bad.

Rachel's weak and you are frightening, murmurs the ghost and you wrinkle your nose. None of those things make sense. You're not even sure if they matter.

But Miss Toriel carries you easily. She looks at your body, disapproving of something.

"Really now child, you're much too small and thin."

You fail to understand the significance.

(You don't know what kindness is you know what light is and Toriel is not your light.)

(You have always needed many lights. You are the night you are the night itself and the night is supposedly full of stars but even so you do not want her to be your light. You don't know why but you do not.)

(Maybe, like Rachel does, she belongs to somebody else. So you are not going to hold on. Rachel is not yours, you realize but you are hers. You don't know if you are ready to be anyone else's.)

You don't say so. You sleep on your first bed, in your first pajamas and she is humming as you sleep.

And she is watching.

You don't know why this unnerves you, but it does.

You are filled with something like fear.

You don't like it.

You decide to leave after some time.

Not because Miss Toriel isn't kind and loving and good because you think she is all those things (you can't really explain the concepts, but she lets you sign and sound out words and is more patient with you than Rachel, but you think that's because she's older. Rachel said older people sometimes did know better and this helped a lot in confirming that.) but because you feel an itch of restlessness. These clothes don't belong to you, you think.

Children wear stripes here, supplies the ghost who won't say their name. They sound bored now, the more time you spend with Toriel the less interested they become. Do you want a knife?

No, you don't. You're not even sure why you would need one.

You know why, says the ghost, but they shrug it off anyway.

You think you know why. The idea niggles in the back of your mind, red as the blood that's seeped from your fingers, red as the color of your eyes in certain lights.

You do not want to do that.

You don't think you have the courage.

So you refuse to do that.

Toriel, though she is kind and loving and good, nearly doesn't give you much choice.

She attacks you with fire, her eyes steely and set, and she doesn't hesitate. But maybe she means differently, maybe she doesn't want to hurt you because even though it hurts, she starts making them easier to avoid, better for you.

But you don't attack. You keep the toy knife in your new pockets and you don't attack. You keep your hands in your newfound pockets (your hands are so warm now.) You're getting better at dodging, you think, until you see the look of horror on her face as white hot red burning pain fills your body like peppered kisses of heat except so much worse and then you die.

It sucks but you die.

And then you're alive again in your bed, gasping for breath, clutching your chest as tears fall down your face. She killed you.

She didn't mean to but she killed you. She killed you, the nice person hurt you and fought you and killed you. They weren't supposed to do that, they weren't-

You sob and sob all night, but quietly, because you know what death is like now. You know why people fear it.

And you know why Chara the ghost is so hurt.

Their fingers fold soothingly over your own.

Just get past her, they tell her. Don't gotta hurt her. Just gotta pass her. And then you'll be okay. We'll figure it out one step at a time.

You nod. It's for Rachel. You'll do this for her. She is probably worried that you aren't here.

That is enough to fill you with determination.

A/N: Bam is a determinator gentle berserker boy and he honestly should have died so many times but he didn't. And here is me running on why. Enjoy! Also sorry for all of the Rachel/Toriel comparisons and stuff he knows a grand total of one person and one ghost until now rip.