.
Not with a Bang but with
Warning: This chapter contains alcohol use/implied alcohol addiction, and PTSD implication. Also, possible arachnophobia tag for some spider-y imagery, if not actual spiders.
CHAPTER SEVEN:
The Thought Terrifies Me
oOo
Last night's dream clung to Frisk like wet clothing. She fell back asleep at some point, and when she awoke to the sound of her alarm she felt almost chilled, her soul weighed down by something sodden and heavy. As she ate her oatmeal, smiling her way through Papyrus and Undyne's ritual breakfast battle, she stayed mostly quiet.
Everybody noticed. Everybody asked her what was wrong, and Frisk fed her family the obligatory "I'm okay; just tired," which wasn't technically a lie. She noticed Dunkle Sans watching her hard after she said that, and was careful to avoid his gaze for the remainder of breakfast.
Frisk was relieved when it was finally time for her to leave for school. Ebott was small enough that she could go some of the way on her own – there was only one main street to cross, and every day, in shifts, one member of her family took her as far. On Fridays, when it was Uncle Papyrus' turn, he never failed to bolster her confidence for the coming day, and this Friday, she was positively relieved by his presence and overenthusiastic chatter. The streets were deserted that day, and she clung tight to his scarf as they walked, losing herself in talk of puzzles and great battles and DID YOU SEE what UNDYNE did when we were sparring last night, tiny human?
"AHA! The Great Papyrus senses that you are distracted!" Papyrus spoke up, and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, narrowing his eye sockets in thought. "You give off an AURA OF UPSET! You must tell me what troubles you, tiny human! The Great Papyrus is VERY SKILLED and WELL-PRACTISED at warding off demons, NYEH-HEH-HEH!" Frisk gave a startled yelp as she was suddenly picked up. She could never figure out how Papyrus could do that, anyway – she must weigh three times as much as he did, what with him being made of nothing but bones.
But Frisk avoided his eyes. "I'm okay," she mumbled. "I'm just kind of tired. I didn't sleep good – it, uh, must have been the popato chisps I shared with Dunkle Sans last night before bed."
Papyrus huffed loudly. "Yes… do not let my lazy brother's UNHEALTHY HABITS pass over and INFECT YOU!"
"I won't," Frisk promised, and Papyrus beamed.
"Well, of course you won't! How COULD you, after all, with a cool skeleton like ME to guide you along the right path?!"
"Uh-huh! Anyway, let's go," she said quickly. "I'm gonna be late for school."
Papyrus' eyes widened. "Of course! You do not want to arrive late!" And then he picked her up, set her on his shoulders, and began to run. They crossed the street to arrive at the corner where she was to be left off. Papyrus then set Frisk back down; his heroic sprint had been short-lived. "Goodbye, tiny human! GOOD LUCK AT SCHOOL TODAY AND DO NOTHING THE GREAT PAPYRUS WOULDN'T DO!" He ruffled her hair, and Frisk was grateful for the gloves.
"I won't," she promised again, and Papyrus beamed wider than ever, pleased.
Frisk looked out to the streets she had yet to navigate by herself. It was just over a five minutes' walk from here, really, she just had to turn a corner, cross the little bridge that went over the river, and from there it was only three blocks to her school. And yet…
Frisk reached up to clutch at Uncle Papyrus' scarf, and he cocked his head at her. "Tiny human?"
"Hmm?" Frisk murmured, distracted.
"Something disturbs you. Perhaps you do not want to make the treacherous journey to school by yourself and yearn for my noble company! The Great Papyrus would be MORE THAN HAPPY to escort you!"
She tightened her grip on Papyrus' scarf a moment, then dropped her hand, her eyes still on the path ahead. "I-I'm fine. Really." Frisk broke into her most cheerful toothy grin. "Bye, Uncle Papyrus! See you later!" She assumed a quick stroll, looking over her shoulder to give a quick wave. Papyrus waved back, with both arms.
As soon as she'd turned the corner out of sight, Frisk broke into an even faster pace, her steps so quick she herself was nearly tripping over her own feet. She felt a sudden burning sensation in her chest and she lifted a hand to press it against her heart, clawing at the suddenly stiff and oppressive fabric of her shirt, but the feeling only worsened to the point that it felt as though her soul was being clutched very tightly and squeezed so hard the Determination oozed out.
What was nagging at her so much? It was just like Dunkle Sans had said last night: dreams couldn't get her. They meant nothing. Her dream hadn't even made any sense, and now that she reflected on it, she could only recall a few tattered scraps. She remembered the drooping man and the girl who'd run, remembered a garbled, broken voice and a cryptic warning of a man who spoke in hands. Typical dream nonsense. And yet the dream would not let her go.
Frisk clutched the straps of her backpack and kept her head down. She couldn't wait to get to school; she was desperate for something to take her mind of all this. Maybe they'd have a pop quiz or something; that would do the trick. Hadn't the teacher been hinting towards one in spelling class?
She'd only taken a few steps across the bridge when the world fell away.
It happened very suddenly. One moment she was walking across the bridge, the next the sky began to unravel, the bridge crumbling underneath her in mere seconds, and she fell.
Frisk might have screamed, but the only sound she managed to produce in her shock was a choked gasp. Her hands reached up to claw at the infinite, all-surrounding blackness where the sky had once been, as if she might somehow be able to find something to hold onto, and she felt her backpack slide off her shoulders. The void space beneath her swallowed it up, as if it were hungry, as if it had been waiting.
Suddenly she felt a tugging pressure and came to a jerking stop, as if a bungee cord kept her suspended in the air. Now dangling in place, Frisk kicked and wriggled, and her toes brushed something solid beneath her. She stretched one short leg and scraped against it with the toe of her shoe, testing it. Good, definitely solid. Frisk wriggled some more, and suddenly whatever had been holding her came loose and dropped her a few inches onto the ground, finding whatever surface she was standing on to be made of planks of wood.
Frisk stood uncertainly in place, rocking back and forth on her heels. The wood creaked under her weight.
It was cold.
She hugged her arms across her chest, shivering, and peered out into the surrounding blackness. It was the kind of blackness that was so deep, so profound and infinite, it seemed to swallow up everything around it. But the longer she looked, the darkness began to dissipate, a scene manifesting before her.
It started with faintly blinking lights that distributed themselves across the blackness in scattered clusters, and at first Frisk thought they were stars. Then the scene cleared and she realised they were in fact glowing stones embedded in a rock ceiling. Waterfall again.
She was standing on the edge of the pier that hung over the lake. She'd passed through here, once, just before evading Undyne's spears for the first time. Her heart had been racing then, her blood pounding in her ears, but now Waterfall was eerily silent. She couldn't even hear the rhythmic plink-plink of raindrops as they dripped from the cave ceiling, or the distant sound of rushing water from the river.
Frisk tried breathing a little louder, just to fill the silence. There was nothing to see around here, so after one last brief look around, she turned on her heel to continue.
But what was happening? What was happening to her? To the world? This wasn't a dream; she knew it wasn't. She pinched herself to be extra-sure, and felt the pain.
It struck Frisk, oddly hazily, that she'd never been more afraid in her entire life. For some reason, images of the melted man from her dream came to mind again.
Behind her, the groan of wooden planks – someone there. Frisk gasped and spun around, small hands forming small fists, which was ridiculous because she wasn't a fighter and, according to Undyne, couldn't pack a punch to save her life.
They were standing on the very edge of the pier, facing away from her. Their toes were nearly peeking out over the edge of the dock. They were small, about her height. A little armless dinosaur monster, like Monster Kid; but this monster's scales were a pale, dusty grey, as if something had tried to erase them from the world, the ghost of writing left behind on a chalkboard wiped clean.
Frisk swallowed, then timidly approached. "Hello," she said quietly, uncurling her fists to raise a hand in greeting.
The monster did not seem surprised she was there. They turned around slowly, face blank, and now Frisk could see their eyes, which were far too empty, ]a vacant milk-white.
Frisk came closer. "Um… I'm Frisk. Do you know what's happening?"
The monster blinked at her, tilting their head in vague curiosity.
Frisk held out a hand, then, remembering the monster had no arms, thrust it sheepishly behind her back. "Um… you look kinda like my friend Monster Kid. But they're… yellow… "
They spoke then. Their voice was a low whisper. "Have you ever thought of a world where everything is the same… except you don't exist? Everything functions perfectly without you."
Frisk balked. "Um, pardon?"
The monster laughed mirthlessly. "Ha, ha… the thought terrifies me."
Frisk bit her thumbnail. "That… that does sound pretty scary." The wood bent slightly and she nearly toppled over. When she steadied herself, the grey monster was looking out onto the lake. She swallowed hard. "Excuse me, but… where are we?"
Blink. The monster turned to face her again. "We are nowhere."
"Huh?"
"Nowhere. This is the Void. The empty nothing that is found both outside and between space and time. And so. Effectively. Nowhere."
"Oh. It looks like Waterfall."
"Yes."
"Um… how'd we get here? Do you know?"
The monster's tail gave a slight twitch, empty eyes flashing with something like recognition. "I believe… I fell. We all did. This is the place where lost things go."
"Oh." Frisk didn't know what to say to that. "And what about me? Am I lost? Did I fall too? How did I get here? What's going on?"
This time, there was no pause. "Him," said the monster, simply.
"Him?"
"Him."
Frisk's soul felt oddly tight in her chest. "Well… like I said, I'm Frisk… who are you?"
The grey monster smiled, a little sadly. "I don't remember."
Frisk blinked. "Oh. That's sad. I… I'm sorry to hear that."
The wood creaked again. Frisk looked down at it and in the faint light she realised it was rotting, slick with moss and mould and crawling with maggots. Her stomach lurched and her face twisted in disgust. Then the monster stiffened, standing rigid, capturing Frisk's attention. "He is coming."
The air was suddenly filled with static. Frisk wheeled around, and on the far end of the dock, a mass of television snow had gathered, hissing and crackling. Approaching. Her heart began to race faster. She turned desperately to the grey monster, but now their head was obscured by a cloud of static, too, and their body flickered in and out of existence.
"What's going on?!"
"Him… the Void, he… he is returning… " The monster was glitching so rapidly it hurt Frisk's eyes to look. "He is… the timeline. Your. Determination. …. Save. Reset. You… it is Sans who you… holds the answers… the … Doctor Gaster…. "
The mass of television snow on the other end of the dock was getting closer. It was spreading outward, now, reaching out to touch the cave walls, the ceiling, consuming even the lake water on either side of the pier. And then, from that lump of static, hands began to emerge. Pale, skeletal hands, with gaping holes carved into the palms and fingers too long for comfort. Five hands, ten, twenty, a hundred, crawling from the static and skittering towards her along the rotting wooden pier like spiders.
"Just a dream," Frisk whispered to herself, holding onto the words like a prayer.
"No," she heard the monster behind her say, and she spun to face them. Their entire body had been obscured by static, the glitches large and fizzling, humming like live electricity. "Not a… hands… beware… "
"Shut up!" Frisk's voice went high and frantic. "It is too a dream, it is too, shut up, shut up, shut up – "
The hands were quicker than the static. One made a grab for her ankle and Frisk cried out, snatching her leg back and giving it a panicked kick. The hand fell into the water with a hollow splash, its fingers still opening and closing in a clutching motion.
"Just a dream," she whimpered. "Just a dream, just a … "
Two hands closed tight around her ankles, and Frisk screamed, trying desperately to shake them off, but to no avail. Another pair of hands crawled up her legs to take hold of her wrists, holding her arms high above her head.
"Help me!" Frisk shrieked, struggling desperately. But nobody came.
She managed to turn her head around, only to find that the cloud of static where the grey monster had been was now entirely gone. She turned back around to face the cloud of static, it was approaching faster now, and there was nothing, nothing she could do, nothing she could do to stop the oncoming static that was not so much a cloud anymore as opposed to a wall, nothing she could do to stop those skittering skeletal hands –
Her soul flared, desperately. There was a flash of blinding, brilliant red light.
The world gave a lurch.
And then Frisk found herself standing on solid concrete, the world restored around her, in the middle of the road.
And a car was heading straight towards her.
Frisk's body responded accordingly: she froze on the spot and stared at the oncoming car – it was really coming quite quickly – with enormous eyes.
Ding.
Her soul was suddenly gripped by something, magic holding it tightly in place, and Frisk looked down, saw the deep blue glow there, recalled her dream, and instinctually she let out a strangled gasp, clawing at her chest.
The car must have been mere inches away and there was no way it could slow down in time –
And all of a sudden Frisk was hurtling through the air and across the street. She nearly rammed directly into a small figure before she came to an abrupt stop and the grip on her soul was slowly, gently released. Frisk took in the sights around her, the breath she'd been holding back coming out in quick, short bursts.
Home. She was home, she was in the world, the real world, she was sure of it – no, no, she wasn't just sure of it; she could tell, she could simply tell, as if her soul were telling her the facts, as if the knowledge sat at her very core. She could feel the sun on her neck and the slightest hint of the cool October breeze, and the solid pavement beneath her feet. She could see the cars whizzing by, including the one that had come so close to hitting her.
And she could see Dunkle Sans, standing in front of her, final traces of glowing blue magic fading from his fingertips. "Frisk?" he uttered. "What the heck were you thinking, standin' in the middle of the road like that?"
Frisk stared. She teetered on the spot for a moment, then threw her arms around him, and promptly burst into tears.
Sans looked shocked for a moment, then his arms enveloped her, pulling her closer to him. "Ah, jeez. C'mere, kid. Hey. Hey, it's okay."
"I… I… " Frisk clung to him tighter, burying her nose in the fabric of his hoodie. Sans shushed her softly and rubbed the small of her back, pointedly ignoring the stares of passers-by. He did with notable expertise, as if he had a good deal of practise in comforting crying children.
"Hey. Heya, 's okay, kiddo. Why don't you tell me what happened, huh? It's okay." He held her out at arm's length, allowing her to mop at her tears with her sleeve. "And, uh… you can tell me what you were doin' wandering the streets two whole hours before school gets out."
Frisk sucked in a breath, stopped and frowned. "Two hours – school hasn't even started yet."
Sans raised a brow, letting go of her shoulders to stuff his hands into his pockets. "Frisk, it's one in the afternoon."
Frisk froze, her mouth opening a little in shock. "It's… what?" Sans pointed upwards, and when Frisk craned her neck up to look she saw that he was right: the sun was much higher in the sky than it had been when she'd left the house.
She frowned deeper. "But… I was only there a few minutes… "
"Where?"
She bit her lip, recalling her strange – no, not dream. Vision? Now she realised something else was wrong, too – her backpack was missing. "The… the grey monster called it the Void."
Silence. Frisk wondered for a moment if he hadn't heard her, or misunderstood. But then, when Sans spoke, his voice was low and oddly forceful. Gone was his usual easygoing drawl. "How do you know about the Void?"
Frisk took a step back, startled. "I… I don't know! I was just there, I didn't know where I was but it looked like Waterfall and then the grey monster said – "
"What grey monster?" Sans seemed to take in her frightened state. "No, no. It's… okay. Calm down. Start from the beginning. What happened?"
Frisk hesitated. And then, in a rush, she did. She told him about last night's dream, the one with the drooping man. She told him about how she'd been crossing the bridge when the world had simply fallen away beneath her feet, of the pier in Waterfall slowly rotting, of the grey monster's words and the static. She left out the detail of the hands. When at last she was finished, she let out a whoosh of air. "The grey monster said you had the answers," she added.
Sans had started clawing at his inner wrist in what was clearly some sort of nervous tic. "Did they, now," he said, voice hollow.
"Mmhmm. So… do you?" Sans didn't answer right away, and so Frisk pressed on. "They also said something about – " She winced; feeling a sharp pain in her chest – "to beware somebody called Doctor Gaster?"
Ever since her first dream, Frisk had caught Dunkle Sans acting a bit strangely. Worryingly. Bones going stiff when she said certain things to him about her dreams, gaze fading to fix on something in the distance she could not see. The way he reacted now topped them all off. He stiffened now, certainly, but his gaze didn't just become unfocused; his eyelights vanished completely, making his eye sockets look as hollow as they were. He stayed that way for a spell, and then he started to tremble ever so slightly, his breath coming in short, rattling rasps.
Frisk had to say his name three times to bring him back to earth, but even as he stilled and his breathing grew normal again, even as his usual eyelights returned, he said nothing, his gaze remaining unfocused.
"Dunkle Sans?" she finally prompted, reaching a hand out. "Are you – "
Sans looked pointedly away. "I don't talk about that," he said shortly.
"But the grey monster said you – "
"I said, I don't talk about that," he snapped, and Frisk flinched. It didn't pass his notice, and he gave a hefty sigh. "Sorry, kid. I just… that's a part o' my life I ain't shared with anyone before. It was a pretty long time ago, but it's… not somethin' I look back on too fondly."
Frisk looked down at her shoes. The tight feeling on her soul was starting to come back, and she knew if her dreams hadn't been able to leave her alone, this vision certainly wouldn't. "Please, Dunkle Sans," she whispered. "Please. I-I'm scared. I wanna know what's going on, and, and the grey monster said you know. I don't know what's happening and I'm scared it's gonna happen again. I don't think I can tell anybody else."
Sans went very quiet, then, somehow even quieter than before. He held himself in an oddly rigid manner, his shoulders slightly hunched, hands stuffed too stiffly into his pockets, permanent grin both frozen and faded. The lights in his eyes had dimmed again to barely-visible pinpricks, and they were looking downward. Finally, he let out a sigh and his form relaxed like a deflating ball until he stood sagging and limp. He raised his eyes and looked at her, hard, before lifting a hand and running it down his face.
"Okay, kid," he said at last. "I guess it ain't fair otherwise. Let's go to Grillby's, whaddya say? I'm going to tell you everything."
oOo
Grillby's was one of the few establishments in the Underground that had so far managed to re-open on the Surface. This was due in no small part to the bar's immense popularity, for even the monsters of exciting New Home had to admit that a grubby little restaurant in Snowdin served the best junk food in the Underground, not to mention the best drinks.
Though the new Grillby's had been open for almost three months now, the fire monster had yet to serve any human patrons. When Sans and Frisk walked through its doors, however, it was crowded with the old regulars, and Sans greeted them all, slipping right back into his laid-back old self, a well-practised routine.
"Hey, everyone, no need to get up from your seats, hold your applause, 's just me and the kid." He shuffled, slow and casual, across the hardwood floor, Frisk staying close behind him. Sans climbed up onto the barstool that Frisk was pretty sure had been elevated just for him, and Dogamy got up from his seat to help her adjust the height of the barstool next to him. Sans nodded to Grillby but held up a finger – just a sec – to turn to Frisk. "So, whaddya want? Fries, burger, milkshake, grilled cheese?"
"I'm not really hungry," she admitted. "I just had breakfast."
Sans raised an eyebrow at her. "No, ya didn't. You had breakfast hours ago."
Frisk opened her mouth to argue, then realised he was right. She was hungry. Her stomach grumbled as if to make a point. "Okay. Then strawberry milkshake, please."
Sans glanced over at Grillby, who was hovering. "You heard the kid. One strawberry milkshake, and the usual for me." Grillby nodded once, then disappeared into the back kitchen.
Frisk grinned teasingly at Sans. "Is the usual a burger with lots of ketchup?"
"Hmm? Oh. Nah – aw, man, thanks, Grillbz – the usual's a drink. I'm not too hungry." Sans slid the bowl of peanuts over to Frisk. "Want one?"
Frisk took a peanut and looked at him pointedly. "You, not hungry?"
"Nah. I'll eat at dinner, Al's gonna heat up that mushroom dish your mom made." He winked at her. "Anythin' you can't finish, I don't mind takin' from your plate – really it's okay – hey, thanks, Grillbz!" Sans grinned at the bartender as he delivered a clear drink in a small glass with a wedge of lime floating in it. Frisk leaned over curiously to get a closer look, then pulled a face.
"What's that?"
"Gin and tonic." He bopped her on the nose. "This little guy contains al-co-hol. Not for kids to drink."
"I wouldn't want to – it stinks!"
Sans chuckled. "Well, your milkshake'll be here in a minute, and you know Grillbz makes one hell of a milkshake. Go, have your peanuts."
Frisk popped a few into her mouth, then frowned. "But you said – you just said – you brought me here 'cause you were going to tell me about… Gaster."
Sans' grin faltered just a bit. "Heh. I did, didn't I? That's funny, huh? But y'know, a good story needs a good drink to go along with it. Why don't we wait 'til – "
"No. Now." Frisk hesitated. "… please?" When Sans didn't answer, she continued. "Does it… hurt you to think about?"
He didn't so much chuckle as burst out laughing at that. "Oh, you don't got the faintest idea."
Frisk looked down at her lap. She felt very guilty, really, over forcing Dunkle Sans to talk about something that was so hard to discuss. If anyone knew what it was like to try and avoid unhappy memories, it was her: in her short life, Frisk had been in and out of nearly twenty foster homes, and not all of them had been good.
But the strained feeling on her soul wasn't going away anytime soon, and Frisk was afraid. She tried not to dwell on her selfishness as Grillby arrived with her milkshake, and she busied herself in stirring the straw around in her glass. Sans' wish had been granted after all: a good story accompanied with a good drink. If he shared, at any rate. Frisk was just starting to doubt he really would, so she was surprised when he spoke up.
"So. Dr W.D. Gaster, huh?" Frisk's head snapped up to see Sans swishing his own glass around. "Okay. I guess since I'm the only one with the answers accordin' to your Monster Kid friend."
"The grey monster looked like Monster Kid," Frisk corrected. "But it wasn't really them. They didn't even sound like a kid. They must've just been small, like you, or Auntie Alphys."
Sans grunted. "Maybe. Anyway. Couldn't tell ya who they were, and you said they couldn't either, so I guess it's just a mystery all-round." He knocked back much of his drink. "So. Here goes." He let out a long whoosh of breath, and his voice went quiet so as not to be overheard. Frisk almost had to lean in to hear him properly. "So you know how Alphys is – was – the Royal Scientist of the Underground?"
Careful to keep her voice similarly low, Frisk nodded. "Mmhmm! But then Mum fired her." The pair of them actually got on quite well, considering.
"That's right. Well, there was a Royal Scientist before her, see – she'd only been Royal Scientist, what, eight years? Still pretty new to the job. Anyway. This other Royal Scientist guy…. That was Doctor Gaster. Dr W.D. Gaster." Sans hunched forward, tapping a phalange against the rim of his glass. "And he was somethin', let me tell ya."
Frisk tilted her head. "So did he do some bad things?"
"You could say that." Frisk watched as Sans ran a hand up and down one arm, seeming to ponder on something. "He did all kinds of things really – guy was a genius. That much I can't dispute." He released a whooshing breath. "And he'd been Royal Scientist, for, oh, I dunno – most o' the time we monsters were stuck underground, so maybe… seven hundred years?"
"Whoa."
"Heh. I know, right? Anyway, as Royal Scientist, his main job was to study the Barrier and find a way to get us all out – he did other stuff, too, of course, but trying to find a way to shatter the Barrier was a pretty big deal down there. But he really did do all kinds o' things as Royal Scientist. Prob'ly the biggest thing he ever did was build the CORE."
Frisk was impressed. "The CORE was huge! And it powered the whole Underground and everything, right?"
"Yep. Now. Another project of his? Create a vessel that could break the Barrier before the, ah, seven human souls were collected. Save us a lotta pain and suffering, y'know?" An awkward pause. "Sorry, us monsters are just kinda – don't mean anythin' by it."
"I know. It's okay." Frisk paused, taking a long slurp of milkshake. "So what happened?"
Sans chuckled dryly, crunching a peanut between his teeth. "'What happened?' Phew. Well. That's the question. The short of it is that the project was a failure." He bit the word out with a bitterness that seemed out of place to Frisk. "He tried it from all kinds of angles, but it never worked. Guess that bit's obvious, seeing as he was gone by the time you showed up."
Sans paused, tapping his finger against the side of his glass again. "He… made me to try and trick the Barrier into letting me pass through. Make a powerful weapon outta me, make me nice and strong, so that I could take the remaining human souls, bring 'em back, and return 'em to the King, and help lead us monsters into the war against humans."
Frisk stopped and stared. "What?"
He sighed, and Frisk missed neither the hesitation nor the guilt that flashed across his features. "Look. I'm an experiment."
The human child just continued staring, at a total loss for words. She had no idea what to make of this information, or of Sans' attitude towards it. Perhaps because the idea was just so very out there, or perhaps because she had not been sufficiently exposed to science fiction. She barely even understood what he meant. Frisk had been through her share of rough foster families, but the very worst of them had done nothing more than hit her when she misbehaved, and even then there'd only been two of those, and she'd stayed with neither for over three months. The idea of being an "experiment" sounded quite a lot worse.
But Sans ambled on: "Anyway, pretty soon it became clear that wasn't gonna work. But he wasn't just gonna give up. So he got the idea I could just straight-up shatter the Barrier, boom. He ran with that one for a while – crazy, I know, heh. He tried all kinds o' things. He even tried making another test subject when stuff started to go wrong with me. That's how I got my brother, heh. I was seven." He glanced over at her, noticed the way she was staring with her eyes wide and frightened. "Aw, don't look at me like that, kid – look, you've barely touched your milkshake."
Frisk had forgotten about it. She took a long slurp. "Oh." She hesitated. "But I don't understand, um – "
Sans cut her off smoothly. "The big idea was to try and make me, I dunno, more like a human, I guess. And humans have something called 'Determination.'"
Familiar words. Frisk slurped at her milkshake. "You said I have that!"
He tilted his head. "That's right. You do. You're prob'ly the most Determined thing of all, who knows. You got the will to go on, to hold on, no matter what. A physical will, a power that's the key ingredient of the magic making up your soul." His gaze slid to his drink. "But you ain't the only human with that power. And when humans started fallin' down here, their souls were made of pretty strong stuff. Doctor Gaster got permission from the King to study the souls o' the fallen humans. And he started workin' from there. He got pretty hooked on this whole Determination thing. It was a helluva power – don't tell your mom I said that word – to work with. None of those kids were as Determined as you, but…
"Eventually he decided to drain the Determination outta the human souls – literally suck it right up." He mimicked a slurping noise. "And that… well, that did work. Made this giant machine, called it a Determination Extractor."
He cast a glance at Frisk just as she shuddered, and chuckled. "Yeah. You saw it, right? Scary-looking thing. Kinda funny how big it was, and those souls were so small. But hey, whatever. He did what he was out to do. And decided to inject it into his most grown-up test subject. I was a kid then – just about your age, don't really remember exactly no more."
Frisk's eyes had gone even wider as she recalled the Amalgamates. "'course," Sans went on, "no offence to Al, Al's great, but Doctor Gaster spent way more time studying souls and DT than she did. A good hundred or so years more. He got a better idea of how powerful it could be. If you start out with a teeny, tiny amount o' Determination and combine it with a magical extract specially suited to a monster's magic type to inject it into 'em… well. That monster can start to develop a tolerance, y'know?"
Her eyes widened further still. "Did it hurt?"
"Hmm? Oh, nah. 'course not." At her pointed look, he chuckled dryly and gave a little shrug, looking off to the side. "Well, maybe a little when the needle went in. Just a sting."
Sans' voice went hollow and flat again. "But it's different for you humans. Determination comes naturally to you. 's what makes you so strong. With the power of Determination… comes the opportunity for a whole bunch of power. Like the ability to Save. Reset." He cut his eyes in her direction. "Only a few Determined beings got those abilities. And they're what's called an anomaly. Ever heard that word before?"
Frisk shook her head.
"Well." Sans walked his fingers across the counter like a pair of legs. "That's what he tried to do with me. Make me an anomaly. Make me do this huge Reset that'd undo the whole war.
"But it didn't work. He fell into the heart o' the CORE after that, and next thing ya know, he got erased from existence. So, uh, if you ask anyone about him, they'll just look at you funny." Sans smirked a bit, then knocked back the last of his drink.
"But how – why – "
Sans flagged down the fiery bartender. "Hey, Grillbz. Wanna get me another?" He swished the last few drops of liquid around the ice in his glass. The ice was melting.
Grillby paused, giving Sans a long look. Then he approached, taking the glass from Sans, and made to fix him another gin and tonic.
Frisk shifted uncomfortably on her stool. She waited a moment, then spoke up. "Mum says you drink too much."
He stopped. "Does she, now."
"And Auntie Alphys. And Uncle Papyrus – "
"Hey. Kid. Kid," Sans cut her off smoothly. "You want another milkshake?"
Frisk stopped, staring down at her empty glass. She'd finished it without realising. Then she shrugged. "I… no thanks." It felt rude to be slurping away at a milkshake at a time like this. Something that she could scarcely wrap her head around. It was scary seeing her Dunkle Sans so serious, and she badly wished he would just make a bad pun, or pull out his whoopee cushion, or do a terrible impression of his brother. Anything but this.
She didn't want to think about all this anymore.
"Well. If ya say so – though if I were you, I'd've finished, like, ten milkshakes by now, d'you know how much sugar's in one of those things? It's amazing."
"You could," Frisk suggested meekly. It would probably be a lot better for him than what he was about to order.
But then his second gin and tonic arrived as if on cue, and Sans winked at he raising his glass. "Naw. I got this." He knocked back most of the drink in one go before wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "Hey, don't look at me like that, kid – I ain't finished yet. Want me to go on? Don't worry, story's got a happy ending."
Frisk paused, then nodded.
"Well, Doctor Gaster fell, and then it was just me and Paps – he was this little toddler back then, smaller'n me if you'd believe it – on our own. He doesn't remember anything. He'd've been too little to remember even if Gaster hadn't been erased. I took him from our house and ran. Raised him on my own. We lived rough for a coupla years. Then I got a job with King Asgore. After that… well." He finished off the last of his drink in one shot. "Time passed, and then you showed up."
Frisk stared down at her lap. She didn't dare speak for a very long stretch of time. Then she felt a hand cup itself gently under her chin, lifting her head and turning her face to look at him. Sans smoothed her hair back from her face, and gone was the dead, hollow look and the empty eye sockets: his expression had softened, his gaze warm and tender, and he looked much more like his usual self. "Hey. Kid. Listen. I know how it sounds, but listen, I promise ya, you don't gotta worry about me. Your Dunkle Sans is fine. Totally fine. And whatever's happenin' now… 's gonna work out okay. I'll see to that. 'kay?"
He tapped his teeth against the top of her head, a skeleton kiss, and Frisk smiled a little, leaning over in her barstool to give him a hug. "Okay."
"There." Another skeleton kiss. "Ya feelin' better?"
Frisk nodded into him. "Yeah. I'm just scared."
"I know. Me too."
At last he pulled away, expression contemplative. "In that other dream… when ya saw him – it musta been him – what didja say he looked like, again?"
Frisk scrunched up her nose in thought. "Um… kind of like a skeleton, but not really. He was all melty and droopy."
Sans chuckled and grinned to himself. "Oh, man. Awesome."
Frisk gave him a pained little smile and didn't say anything. There was a prolonged silence. At long last Frisk glanced at the neon clock on the wall. "Maybe we should call Uncle Papyrus and tell him he doesn't need to pick me up. I don't want him to wait for nothing."
Sans seemed pleased. "Good idea. I'll tell 'im I was hanging near your school and decided to save him the effort. Speaking of which… I should prob'ly give your school a call too, tell 'em you're sick today, or else they'll ring the house if they haven't already, and we'll all be in trouble."
Frisk kicked a toe against the bar but nodded, eyes on her lap.
"Just lemme get one more drink and we'll head on out."
Her head snapped right back up. "What?" But Sans was already nodding to Grillby again. This time, Frisk didn't say anything as he ordered another gin and tonic and then requested some more peanuts, even though Frisk had barely touched them since her milkshake.
The drink arrived faster this time, and Frisk still didn't say anything as Sans knocked it back with an ahh. He set the glass down on the counter, slid it over to Grillby, waved his hand in a put-it-on-my-tab gesture.
"Oh, man." Sans brought a hand to his head. "Three gin 'n' tonics… maybe not a great idea, heh-heh. Paps is gonna gimme hell f'r this." He was slurring ever so slightly. He slid down from the barstool and teetered on the spot slightly for a moment. "Whoa. Ha."
Frisk hopped down from the stool, reaching out to support him, but he waved her off.
"Nah, I've got it."
"Are you, um, drunk?" Frisk bit her lip.
He chuckled. "Eh. Gettin' there. But nah, 'm good. Don't sweat it, kid." He thrust his hands into his pockets and began to make his way out of the bar, his steps maybe a little more careful than usual, but certainly steady. Too steady, considering. Frisk waved goodbye to Grillby and his patrons, then scuttled off after him.
Once in the street, Frisk reached out to slip her hand into his, remembering to approach from his left side as Papyrus had taught her. "Dunkle Sans?" she asked, very quietly. "Dunkle Sans, what about that vision thing? What does it mean?"
He swivelled his head to look at her, permanent grin unreadable. "It means I got work t' do."