.

Not with a Bang but with

CHAPTER FIVE
Stay Determined

oOo

Mt Ebott was a vast mountain – not especially tall, but unimaginably wide. It needed to be, to house all those monsters. On the northern side of it was the small village of Williams Creek. On the southern side was the larger town of Ebott – Ebott was hardly a metropolis, but it was a sizeable town all the same, and this was where most of the monster population was presently situated.

Humans hadn't exactly welcomed monsters with open arms, but they hadn't run out with torches and pitchforks – or, these days, knives and guns – on sight of the first Snowdrake, either. Which was better than anyone had expected. No-one had had very high hopes for human-monster relations, except perhaps Papyrus, but six months since the destruction of the Barrier and things were going along more smoothly than anticipated. It turned out being a society that used solid gold pieces as its currency had its advantages, and the technological feats that had been achieved by Doctor Alphys proved that this strange new race had something to bring to humanity. All this certainly encouraged humans to be a little more open-minded about an entire civilisation showing up on their doorstep literally overnight.

The two races co-existed, more or less, in that monsters had been granted education and work permits and in that humans were not, technically, allowed to bar monsters from any public spaces or refuse them service. This remained a lingering problem anyway.

But things could have been worse. Excluding those monsters that had chosen to remain behind in the Underground, efforts had been put aside to make sure every member of the monster race, plus Frisk, was provided with sufficient housing. Even if that housing was restricted to the worst neighbourhoods in Ebott and many monsters were forced to live under the same roof in groups as large as twelve.

The house that had been found for Toriel was one of the better ones – the neighbourhood was poor, but not crawling with crime, and it was spacious enough, considering that it was home to six people.

It was on the porch of this house Frisk was now seated, curled up on a rickety, oversized lawn chair, homework untouched on her lap. Her gaze was fixed on the sky, just starting to darken with the first bruises of nighttime.

An October breeze rustled past, disturbing the dried fallen leaves on the lawn. Frisk shivered slightly, wrapping her arms round herself. Her thin sweater did nothing to keep out the cold, but she stayed put.

The front door creaked open. Sans poked his head out, hands stuffed, as ever, into the pockets of his omnipresent blue hoodie. "Hey, bud, aren'tcha freezing out here? Even I'm cold, and I'm a skeleton."

Frisk looked over at him, flashing him a toothy grin. "Are you chilled to the bone?"

Sans made a show of wiping tears from his eye sockets, making Frisk giggle. "You make me prouder every day, kid. Move over, lemme sit down."

Frisk obliged, scooting aside to make room. The lawn chair was plenty large enough for both of them. Sans settled down next to her, ruffling her hair.

"Heh, heh. Hey, speaking of bein' chilled to the bone, wanna piece of advice?"

Frisk looked up at him questioningly.

"Don't go falling asleep in the snow when winter comes. Happened to me in Snowdin once, talking to your mom. Rude, I know, but she has a soothing sorta voice, y'know? And a guy can only listen to someone talk about snails for so long. Anyway, dozed right off, woke up a few hours later, and found that so much ice had formed in my joints I couldn't move. Had to shortcut home and thaw out by the stove."

Frisk giggled.

"Seriously! You don't know how freaky it is, having ice stuck in your kneecaps like that. And boy, did Papyrus give me an earful when he got home from whatever the big guy does. Though I guess that whole thing's more of a skeleton experience, huh?" A custom chuckle. "Anyway. Whatcha doin'?" Sans took the notebook from Frisk's lap and squinted at it. "Homework? Isn't it too dark to see out here?"

Frisk took the notebook back, shrugging. "I wasn't really doing it. It's just math. Boring."

Sans leaned over her slightly, angling his head to further study the paper. "Multiplication, huh? Timetables? Yeah, that stuff's pretty slow, I guess. Jus' memory work. Math gets pretty great later, though, once you start playing around with the equations, solving stuff."

Frisk shrugged. Math had never interested her, and Sans gave a small chuckle. "Not so much your thing, huh?"

Frisk shrugged again, and Sans sighed, scratching the back of his skull.

"You're awful quiet tonight." Sans' expression softened. "More'n usual, anyway. What's rattlin' your bones, huh?"

The porch light gave a flicker; Frisk craned her neck up to look at it and pressed closer to Sans. "Nothing."

Sans wrapped an arm around her, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "You miss your mom?"

"Yeah." She nodded into him.

"Heh. Me too. Miss her cooking. Except for the snail dishes, anyway."

Frisk nodded enthusiastically.

Two pairs of eyes made their way to the sky. It had darkened significantly since Frisk had last glanced at it; stars were beginning to emerge. After a few minutes, she looked over at her Dunkle Sans. He was still watching the sky, face alight with a soft smile. It wasn't as wide as his usual cheeky grin, but more genuine. It met his eyes. The only times Frisk saw him smile more genuinely than that was when he was watching his brother. He looked a little sleepy, he looked content, and he looked at peace.

It suited him.

"You gonna keep starin' at me all day, or were you planning on saying something at some point?" His voice was a low murmur, but Frisk startled anyway, and Sans laughed.

"What, no-one tell you skeletons have peripheral vision? Well, I do, on the left side anyway. Papyrus has it on both, though, he's cool like that. Geez, kid, you've only been livin' with us six months. Thought you'd have noticed by now. Hell, I'm pretty sure everyone's got at least some peripheral vision – nevermind, forget the skeleton thing, one would think it'd just be intuitive, no?" Frisk stared at him uncertainly, and Sans laughed again, ruffling her hair. "Aw, only jokin' with ya. You can keep staring if you want."

Frisk looked down at her math homework instead. Even by the flickering porch light, it was too dark to see it.

"Hey." A thumb and forefinger positioned themselves under her chin, guiding her face up. Frisk tried to avert her eyes, but feeling her Dunkle Sans' gaze on her, gentle yet pointed, she returned it. "You really are bein' quiet," he mumbled, releasing her chin to stroke a hand over the top of her head. Frisk resumed leaning against him. "Wanna tell your Dunkle Sans what's up? I'm a great listener for a guy with no ears."

"I… " Frisk bit at a thumbnail, her gaze sliding down to her sock feet. There was a long pause, in which Sans waited patiently. "It's stupid," she finally muttered.

"Well, then, kid, it's your lucky day. I like to hear all about stupid stuff. The stupider, the better, I always say."

She smiled shyly at that, then drew in a deep breath. "Yeah, but it… it really is stupid."

"On the edge of my seat, kid."

Frisk sighed, wringing the fabric of her striped sweater. "Remember how I had a scary dream last night? I know it's dumb, but… I can't stop thinking about it."

A weighty pause. Frisk waited for Sans to tease her, or even laugh at her. Tell her to stop being silly. Being scared of a nightmare nearly twenty-four hours later was taking things a bit far, after all. She awaited his judgment with bated breath. When he finally delivered his verdict, his words were slow and thoughtful.

"One o' those kinds of dreams, huh? The kind that ya can't shake no matter what you do?" He gave a little shudder, and Frisk found herself nodding in agreement.

"Yeah." Her grip on her sweater tightened. "It's like it's clinging to me. I know it's just a dream, but… do things ever happen to you and you feel like they want you to remember them? Just like that."

He didn't answer, his gaze focused on something in the distance. She could feel him stiffening against her, and she worried she'd said something he didn't like.

"Dunkle Sans?"

A twitch, and then he jerked right back, like a machine that had been given a good, hearty thump to gets its gears turning again. "Wha – oh. Yeah. Whoops. Think I might've just been fallin' asleep back there. Must be the lazybones kicking in. Thanks for waking me. I'm lucky I don't have skin; else Papyrus would have it." He stretched and slid off the seat. "Whaddya say you help me with dinner? Alphys is making me cut some vegetables for the salad, and she'll be pretty mad if I keep hiding from her."

She hopped off the seat herself, incredulous. "You only came out here to talk because you were hiding from her?"

"Weeell. Partially." Sans laughed, scratching the back of his skull. "C'mon, you can pass me some carrots or something while we talk more about that dream o' yours. And keep an eye on the kitchen door, too. Papyrus and Undyne'll be back soon and we can't have them near the stove."

"Mum says we can't afford to have another kitchen installed," Frisk agreed, and she took his outstretched hand to follow him inside, leaving her math homework behind on the lawn chair.

Cooking with Auntie Undyne had been fun, but, in hindsight, a bit hazardous. And she'd never actually gotten to find out if Undyne's aggressive approach to cooking really made the food taste better or not. Privately, Frisk doubted it: she'd gotten used to her mother's cooking and was certain that there wasn't a person in the world, human or monster, who could prepare a better meal. Her mother had a way of making even regular commercial breakfast cereal taste delicious. Even the snail dishes were tolerable with enough salt, and if she held her nose while swallowing.

Her mum had been nervous about leaving for a week, and in the end, she'd stuffed the fridge to its capacity with food to be heated up. The only responsibilities she'd left the four remaining adults in the household in terms of cooking had been to wash and chop vegetables for salad.

Frisk pulled herself up onto the table, swinging her short legs contentedly. A bunch of carrots – Frisk counted five of them – were lying next to her on a plate, already washed and peeled.

"Right, then," Sans muttered to himself, riffling through the cutlery drawer. "Knife… knife… " At last he found a suitable one, placed it next to the cutting board on the counter. "And carrots." Frisk reached for one, but Sans held up a hand, a playful grin on his face. "Wait, hold up. You're gonna love this – just be careful." He snapped his fingers, and suddenly, all five carrots were flying hovering in the air, floating slowly towards the counter. All of them emitted a faint blue glow.

Frisk's jaw dropped.

Sans' grin widened, and, waving his hand, he sent the carrots flying this way and that, even throwing in a loop-de-loop. The second time he tried, the magic wavered, and the carrots fell to the counter with a clatter.

Frisk was delighted anyway. She clapped her hands together. "That was so cool!" she crowed, kicking her feet a little, and Sans took off an imaginary hat and gave a bow.

"Thank you, thank you, m'lady. You've been a great audience. I do shows twice weekly, astonishing displays of telekinesis, right here in the same place. Next time I'm thinkin' of doing cucumbers. Tell your friends. Spread the word. Thank you. Thank you."

"I didn't know you could do telekinesis," said Frisk appreciatively.

Sans placed one carrot on the cutting board and picked up the knife. He began to chop, a little sloppily. "No-one ever told ya? Yeah, I can do a little telekinesis. Cool, huh? But no big deal. 's a skeleton thing. Well, sort of. Not for every skeleton. Not even for Paps. But he can do other cool stuff. Like – "

" – walk on air," Frisk finished. "I know, I've seen him. It's really neat."

"It is, yeah." Sans fell contemplatively silent for a moment, and the only sound was that of the knife coming down on the cutting board, slicing the carrots in pieces. Then, "So. Your dream."

Oh. Right. Frisk bit at a thumbnail. "I just… I dunno. It's like the dream won't go away. Like it's… trying to hang on to me. And it won't let go. Does… does that make sense?"

The sound of chopping carrots had a certain finality to it. "Yeah, I guess I know what you mean. See, the thing about dreams is – "

Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by the sound of the knife, and a sharp intake of breath. Sans dropped the knife, finger flying to his mouth, as he winced. "Gah – dammit – "

Frisk hopped down from the table and hurried to his side, brows knit in concern. "Are you okay?!" She tilted her head to look at his injured finger, and saw the beads of red there.

"Yeah, yeah, 'm fine. Just nicked my finger. Stings a bit is all. 's nothin'."

"You're bleeding," Frisk protested, in a mix of both concern and fascination. "But you don't have blood or veins or guts or anything."

Sans' eye twitched. He brought his finger surreptitiously to his pants, wiping it off. "Heh. Don't worry. It's, uh, not really blood… "

Frisk tried to see. "What is it, then?"

He flexed his hand, and the red stuff from his finger was wiped clean. Only a tiny bit was leaking from the cut. "Nothin'." He turned to face her, laying his hands on Frisk's shoulders, and his eyes softened. "Listen, kid. I know that dream scared you. But your Dunkle Sans knows a thing or two about dreams, so listen up, k?"

She bit her lip. "Okay."

He let go of her shoulders and, hand now pressed against the small of her back, began to lead her over to the living room, which Frisk took to mean that they were about to have a serious discussion. "Here. Dreams can't get ya, Frisk. Okay?"

Frisk sighed. "Yeah. I know. … I mean, okay."

"Dreams can't get ya." They reached the sofa, and he broke into a sudden grin as they both settled down upon it. "…But I can!"

And he pounced.

Frisk wriggled in delight, shrieking in her attempt to evade tickling phalanges. There was something about bare finger bones that gave them an especial tickling power, and she continued to scream as Sans tickled her stomach and under the chin, her two most sensitive spots. Sometimes, she tried to reach up to tickle back, but then she'd find herself consumed by a fresh wave of laughter and her arms could only flail uselessly at her sides.

"Stop – tickling – meee!" she managed to gasp out, sock feet kicking as Sans went for her ribs.

"What was that? Sorry, didn't catch that; you're laughing too much, kid."

Frisk squealed.

"Oh, I think I got it!" He nodded his head in exaggerated thought. "You said, 'keep tickling me, Dunkle Sans.' That's what you said, right?"

"Nooo! Nooo, I said stop tickling me! Stooop!"

"Keep tickling ya? Okay, got it," said Sans, and went in for the kill.

"NOOO!"

The front door burst open; Papyrus and Undyne were home from their jog. The distraction gave Frisk an opportunity to escape. She climbed over the sofa and fled for the door. "Uncle Papyrus!" she gasped out. "Uncle Papyrus, Auntie Undyne! Help! Sans is tickling m– eeek!" She shrieked as Sans turned her soul blue, bringing her back to the sofa to resume his attack.

Papyrus stepped forward, a hand pressed dramatically to his chest as he assumed his most valiant position. All he needed was a wind to blow his scarf in the breeze and the look would be complete. "DO NOT FEAR, TINY HUMAN! FOR I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, KNOW ALL MY LAZY BROTHER'S MOST TICKLISH SPOTS AND SHALL COME NOBLY TO YOUR RESCUE!"

Sans froze for a moment, his eye sockets widening. "Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no. Oh, no, you don't, no, bro, please – "

Papyrus was already on the sofa, hauling Sans off Frisk and onto his lap and tickling him in the ribs. Frisk, giddy at the sight, stood up on the sofa and began to bounce up and down on the spot, egging Papyrus on. "Come on, Uncle Papyrus! Get him! Get him!"

The brothers fell to the floor with a muffled thud and began to roll around, tickling each other in every sensitive place they could reach – under the arms, under the jaw, in the ribs, on the feet.

"Get him! Get him!" Frisk cheered.

Undyne had, thus far, been taking in this display with an amused expression on her face. Now, kicking off her sneakers, she broke into a wide grin. She snatched Frisk up and gave her a brief, slightly painful noogie before tucking her securely under one arm and took to tickling her in the belly with her free hand. Frisk shrieked and wriggled in a futile attempt to escape; Undyne's grip was strong. After some wiggling, Frisk twisted, reached over, managing to tickle Undyne however briefly in the ribs. The two of them collapsed onto the floor in a blur of limbs and laughter.

A fierce tickle battle broke out, the likes of which had never been seen before in the history of monster and humankind, and the four of them rolled around on the floor, tickling each other and howling with laughter. Any attempts to escape resulted in the coward in question being yanked forcefully back into the heart of the battlefield, usually by Undyne.

At some point, Alphys came from upstairs, where she'd been watching anime in the privacy of her and Undyne's bedroom, to see what all the commotion was about, headphones still looped around her neck. Undyne wasted absolutely no time in heading straight for her.

At some point, Undyne snatched up a sofa cushion and a pillow fight was initiated. They laughed and they shrieked, tickled each other and whacked each other with pillows. By the time they finally settled down to dinner, Alphys having escaped to finish chopping the carrots, Frisk had forgotten her unsettling dream entirely.

oOo

In the dream, Frisk was in Waterfall. Barefoot.

Yes, that was right, she remembered that. Almost as soon as she'd gotten there, she'd stepped in a deep puddle, soaking her feet right through. She hadn't been able to stand the squelching of her feet, and the shoes, which she'd never liked in the first place, were probably ruined anyway. So she'd stopped to pull them off along with her dripping socks, and had left them behind against the cave wall before traipsing on.

The feeling of thick, cool mud between her toes was just as nice in the dream as it had been in reality.

She'd liked it best in Waterfall, had revelled in the quiet and the peacefulness and the dark. Snowdin had been nice enough, but rather too bright and loud. The caverns here were far smaller than those of Snowdin. Darker. The cave ceiling dripped stalactites and water droplets, and the rock was embedded in generous scatterings of those beautiful stones that glinted in a mockery of what monsters had once had. That, combined with the historical plaques on the cave walls and the Echo Flowers that repeated snatches of the passing conversations they overheard in mournful murmurs, set it apart from the other regions of the Underground.

Snowdin was lovely enough, but it was all bright, warm Christmas lights and obnoxious facade.

Waterfall was more honest of the monsters' experience.

She passed Gerson's shop, poking her head inside, but the Royal Guard veteran was nowhere to be seen. Then she paused, listening. The sound of rushing water was louder here, filling her with Determination, and she could hear a breezy voice humming to itself. The Riverperson must have been at their Waterfall station. Frisk headed down the path toward the dock, giving the cloaked figure a wave.

"Hi."

The Riverperson turned their hooded, faceless form towards the human child. "Tra la la," they singsonged, voice featureless as the wind. "Care for a ride?"

"Yes, please."

"Where will we go today?"

Frisk thought. "Do we have to go somewhere? I thought maybe I could just go for a ride and see what I feel like. It's just a dream, after all."

The Riverperson bowed their head solemnly and under their cloak some unseen limb was raised in a gesture of invitation. Frisk climbed aboard.

"Tra la la. Then we're off." The boat pushed gently away from the dock, the river burbling and bubbling away beneath them.

After they'd been riding for a few minutes, Frisk made herself more comfortable, drawing her legs out from under her and letting them dangle over the edge of the boat so her toes skirted she surface of the water.

"I would not touch the water if I were you. Best to stay back, small one."

Her head snapped up and her brow crinkled in childish confusion. A strange feeling churned in her stomach. She'd taken the ferry many times on her journey across the Underground, and a few times in her dreams, too. And never, never had the Riverperson ever actually spoken in something other than riddles, actually reacted to something she said other than a request for a ride. She swallowed, but obliged, drawing her legs back up onto the ferry and shuffling into a more comfortable kneeling position. "Why not?"

"Tra la la. Beware the man who speaks in hands," the Riverperson hummed by way of reply.

Frisk's breath caught. "You said that to me once before. What does it mean?"

The Riverperson resumed humming their song, and didn't answer. Dejected, Frisk leaned over the edge of the boat, trying to get a glimpse of the water to see what was wrong with it. The water of the Underground's main channel was dark, she supposed, darker than the rivers and ponds that filled the rest of Waterfall, but then this entire network of caves had always been poorly lit.

She squinted and continued staring. Then, after a minute, it struck her. No reflection.

They glided there, along the river together, for a while longer, with nothing but the quiet rush of water and the Riverperson's strange, tuneless song to fill the empty silence. Frisk was startled when they unexpectedly spoke again. "Waterfall is so quiet. Sometimes you can even hear yourself think. Tra la la, that's impossible to do anywhere else nowadays."

Frisk drew her knees to her chest, thinking. "Can we go back there? To Waterfall?"

The Riverperson inclined their head, and the boat headed on. Frisk had never quite been able to make sense of the course of the river. It seemed to go in a straight line, not a circle, and the boat always seemed to head in the same direction. Yet somehow it always arrived at its destination without passing any other docks.

The boat did the same thing now, pulling back up at the Waterfall dock, where it had only just picked Frisk up in the first place.

Frisk disembarked, giving the Riverperson a thank-you and a wave.

"Come again sometime. Tra la la."

Frisk waved once more, then turned – and startled.

At the top of the riverbank, a figure stood, with shoulders hunched and arms crossed across its chest. A human figure, a child not much taller than she. Frisk recognised it as the girl she'd seen in last night's dream. Shadows fell across the girl's face, which was only further obscured by the bangs that hung in her eyes. Frisk was struck by the strange impression that she knew the girl from somewhere, that in wakefulness she might have recognised her, but in the dream she couldn't for the life of her recall who it might be. The girl's identity lingered just out of reach.

"Hello," she called out, waving as she approached. "I'm Frisk. What's your name?"

The girl did not respond. Her arms dropped to her sides. She stared at Frisk a moment, then, quick as silver, turned on her heel and ran, disappearing around the corner.

"Hey!" Frisk exclaimed, and set off after her. "Hey, wait! I want to know your name! What are you doing here? Who are you? I won't hurt you, I prom – hey!" The girl's longer legs served her well, and she kept a steady pace ahead of Frisk, darting through the caverns with the easy grace of one who knew them off by heart. The girl's feet sidestepped and leapt over deeper puddles where Frisk had to make a conscious effort to avoid them.

Past the turnoff to the Blook Farm and Undyne's house.

They reached the cavern of the little bird that was always pleased to carry passengers across the stream. The bird was not there. Frisk expected the girl to make a running leap across the river, but instead she stepped into the water and ran straight across it. The water barely came to her knees. She climbed out of the shallow stream and in one fluid motion she was running again, out of sight in the next room. Frisk hastened after her.

"Hey, wait!" Frisk slipped in the mud at the bottom of the stream and fell, and was forced to pick herself back up again and clamber awkwardly out of the water. The mud clung to the side of her legs.

Through the opening to the marshlands alight with phosphorescent mushrooms and lined with ponds of water so bright with magic it would have been considered dangerously radioactive on the Surface.

Past the turnoff to one of the Nice Cream Vendor's stops.

Past the telescope Sans had pranked Frisk into trying to look through. The telescope stood alone, pointed meekly to the glittering stones above. Although the telescope hadn't looked terribly old to Frisk when she'd been in the Underground, it was now beginning to rust in places. It looked like it was falling apart.

The girl was just ahead of her. Despite her stumbling awkwardness, Frisk was catching up.

Beyond this one should have been the room with the little table in it, on which had sat that piece of cheese that had been on the table so long a crystal had formed around it. Frisk remembered creating a Save point in that room, though she'd had no cause to return.

Instead, Frisk could see a new and unfamiliar cavern, one she was certain she'd never passed through while crossing the Underground. It was darker than the other rooms, long and narrow and empty.

At the cave mouth, the girl stopped, quite abruptly, without slipping and stumbling the way one normally would when running. She was simply running one moment and standing death-still the next, without the slightest in-between or transition of motion.

The girl angled her head to one side, as if listening for something. Even with her back to Frisk, Frisk could feel her smile.

"Hey," Frisk spoke up as she finally caught up to her, stumbling. "Are you trying to show me something?"

A raindrop fell on her nose, making her blink in surprise, and when she opened her eyes, the girl was gone. Frisk found herself wondering if she'd ever been there at all.

The room before her waited in anticipation.

An Echo Flower at her feet, barely more than a bud, whispered to her: "Frisk… "

Frisk's heart skipped a beat and she spun around, her fist clenching reflexively where it would have held her stick. "Hello?"

"Frisk… " the flower repeated, and the voice it echoed was like the skittering of a thousand insects' legs.

Frisk shivered at some unfelt breeze. Her gaze slid down to her feet. The Echo Flower was gone.

She was reminded further of last night's dream, with its grabbing mist and disembodied voices and that girl –

But it was just a dream, and in her dream state Frisk told herself she was being silly. She was sure the girl had meant no harm – no more harm than any of her friends had meant while she'd been here anyway.

She entered the cavern.

The room was plain, nothing setting it apart from the other caves Frisk had walked through. It resembled every other cavern in Waterfall, but it lacked the natural beauty possessed by so many other caves of this region. Something seemed to keep it from the room; though Frisk couldn't have said what.

The room was completely empty save for a single grey door that had been built into the cave wall. It did not look as if the rock face had had to be carved to accommodate for this addition. The door looked as if it had always been there, as much a part of the mountain as the rocks and the glinting stones.

Perhaps a monster lived here. Perhaps they had been alone down here all this time. Perhaps they had been forgotten about in all the excitement.

Frisk went to knock on the door. Then, fist in the air, she paused, thinking.

Maybe she was wrong.

Maybe she had passed through here before. It wasn't as if she'd memorised every single cavern in this place, after all. She was fairly certain she would have tried the door, but maybe if it had been locked, she'd continued on and forgotten all about it.

It was just an ordinary door, after all. Not half so mysterious as that door in Snowdin, near Gyftrot's lingering spot, or even the door to Sans' bedroom.

Forgettable.

She lowered her fist.

She reached for the doorknob, gave it an experimental jiggle.

The door opened.

On the other side, a blank slate of a room. Grey concrete floor, very clean.

It was cold.

The air here was strange – tense and wavering, as if it itself were holding its breath.

The room opened into a short, narrow passageway, that gave way to a small, blank foyer at the end of it.

In the centre of the foyer, a man was sitting.

So someone had been forgotten down here. How long had he been alone? Frisk wasn't sure if speaking to the man in the dreamscape would do anything for him in the waking world, but it was worth a try. Hey, Mister, why are you still here? Haven't you heard? The Barrier broke, and monsters can return to the Surface now! They're living with humans peacefully and everything. You shouldn't be alone down here; you should go join them. You'd like it.

Maybe they were both asleep, sharing the same dream in the impossible way of the Underground.

The sound of rushing water had faded to nothing, replaced by a long, monotonous buzz, like the distant hum of machinery.

She lifted a hand in a wave, unsure of why she suddenly felt so wary. "Hello."

The man didn't answer.

Click, clack, click, clack.

A sound like knitting needles.

It took Frisk a moment to place it as the sound of bones clicking against each other. Dunkle Sans sometimes made that noise when he drummed his phalanges together.

Frisk realised she wasn't moving. She blinked out of her trance and headed forwards towards the man.

He seemed to be kneeling on the floor, slumped forward with his head lolling like a marionette with its strings cut. He wore what looked like an old-fashioned black overcoat. It was draped around his broken form like a beggar's shawl, and if his hands hadn't been resting, palm upturned, on his lap, Frisk would have thought he was clinging to it. Instead, the coat seemed to cling to him, and its hem gathered at his feet in a pool like black blood. He cast no shadow. His head – no, no, his skull – was badly damaged, a long crack running up from one socket, another trailing down his face from right below the other eye. He looked something like a skeleton, but he better resembled a wax figurine of one half-melted.

Click, clack, click, clack.

He did not respond to her presence as she approached him.

Click, clack, click clack.

"Hello? Mister?"

Click, clack, click clack.

She reached out a hand to touch him, give his coat a light tug.

Her fingers closed around the material, but where she should have felt fabric, the coat was thick and warm. There was a squelching noise, like petting an Amalgamate.

In that moment, the man began to push himself off the ground, but he seemed to grow and expand as he did so, that pathetic form now looming. Frisk startled and quickly took a step back as she felt her soul give a sudden painful jolt, as if it were being wrenched from her chest. She cried out, hands flying to her breast to claw desperately at her sweater as if that could keep her soul in place, and the thing that had once been a skeleton vanished.

The world narrowed to a point, and she was blinded by a brilliant white light.

A ringing in her ears.

The sound of lingering nothing, pressing in on the edges of her mind.

Ding.

Frisk surged into wakefulness, sitting bolt upright, a hand flying up to clutch at the front of her pyjamas. She could almost feel her heart thudding against her chest. She sat there for a long time, breathing hard. Her entire small body wracked with shudders. She didn't know why she was so unsettled. But once her breathing evened out, she lay back down, pulling the covers high over her head.

She didn't want to disturb Dunkle Sans tonight. Not over this.

She tried to fall back asleep, tried not to think back to the strange grey room and the man with the cracked face. But she ended up doing so anyway, and thinking back to her dream, she thought she recalled a voice, incredibly faint and almost broken, filled with static as though coming to her through a badly tuned radio. The very same voice that had whispered her name in last night's dream. She'd heard it in the split second before the man had disappeared.

"Human… stay determined… "