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Not with a Bang but with
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
Everything's Under Control
This chapter contains depictions of PTSD, self-loathing, experimentation and abuse.
oOo
To his credit, Sans didn't scream.
He whimpered softly, jaw clenched, the low and ill-suppressed whines and gasps of pain slipping past his teeth. Stubbornly, he kept his eyes open instead of closing them immediately as he always had before. His fingers braced themselves against the edge of the examination table, and his toes and feet twitched slightly in the restraints, like those of a dying animal.
Doctor W.D. Gaster watched.
Gaster was surprised Sans hadn't given way to unconsciousness yet; he nearly always had as a child. Perhaps it had something to do with the delivery of the Determination, or the magic solution streaming steadily into his soul. On the other hand, Sans seemed to have zoned out almost entirely, his gaze unfocused and expression blank.
It was a matter of concern to be sure. It might have just been a reaction to the Determination solution, but still, it was worrisome.
Taking another quick glance at his subject, the scientist turned to his files, meaning to note down his observations.
Static flashed across his vision, crackled in his mind, and he staggered, pressing a hand to one eye as it flared with pain. Gaster felt his entire body jerk and pulse as he was overcome by a sudden coughing fit, bringing up clouds of television snow and black bile.
The crackling rose to a high, grating screech, like metal on metal, and the sound formed a dome around him. Somewhere in the cacophony he could hear screaming and swords clashing, rain pelleting down on armour, the sound of warfare. Somewhere else, a child was crying.
The static faded to a low ringing noise and for a moment he could see nothing but blackness before the laboratory began to form itself around him once again.
It was getting worse. Already his flimsy connection to reality was beginning to fade. The sooner the human anomaly arrived, the better.
Gaster's gaze strayed over to his test subject. Sans's whimpers appeared to have ceased. Gaster continued to watch him for a moment, then, finally, spoke up.
"How do you feel?"
Sans didn't answer him, though another pained whine escaped him, this one a little more desperate than before.
Gaster stepped closer, leaning over his subject. Sans's gaze remained hazy, his expression empty. If Gaster hadn't known otherwise, he would have described him as halfway to dead. Either way, it was apparent by now that Sans was not truly present, not mentally.
How much time had passed since he'd been hooked up to the Determination solution? Gaster was uncertain. The IV sac was still about three-quarters of the way full, but then, time was not exactly linear in the Void. Things shifted as they needed to.
Gaster dragged the wooden chair over to the computer desk, the harsh scraping of its legs against the tile floor oddly reminiscent of the screeching produced by the static. He dropped into the seat and brought his hands to his temples.
He sat, at length, in silence.
The silence was worse than the howling static.
Silence was the Void, the blackness and the quiet stretching endlessly around him, before and behind him.
In silence, Gaster was left alone to his own thoughts. He'd had nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company in the empty Void. The only other conscious beings there had been the six fallen humans slain by Asgore and the Guard. But they had avoided him at all times, preferring to cluster together, clinging to each other so closely they resembled one shapeless entity.
Sometimes, they spoke to each other. Sometimes their warbled whispers would make their way over to Gaster, wherever he was, the individual words reduced to meaningless white noise in the endless dark.
He'd wondered if they even understood each other. He'd wondered if they could keep each other warm.
The human Princess had been in the Void too, but she'd been a solitary being, keeping her distance from the others as well as Gaster. The scientist had held a distaste for the girl even in life, from the handful of times he'd met her. Dinner parties at the castle and so on. Her brother, though clingy, he could tolerate; but the Princess, he could not. She'd been strange and unfriendly and so very human, with inexplicably old-fashioned speaking patterns—though not lacking for a sharp tongue.
Much like the CORE technicians that had fallen along with Gaster, the Princess was poor company. But at least they'd all had their uses recently.
Why did the Princess remain tethered to this realm, then, after Gaster had captured her and extracted the Determination from her soul? Why had she not been destroyed like the technicians of the CORE? The human girl was already dead. What had brought her to this wretched place to begin with, what had kept her from truly dying, when it was an ordinary illness that had killed her? Gaster would very much have liked to study the remains of her soul, but reason dictated that the fallen Princess was no longer a priority. She'd played her part already with the Determination she had to give.
Determination that was currently dripping into his subject.
Gaster glanced up, but though Sans was still conscious, nothing had changed – he remained troublingly still.
And it was quiet.
So very, very quiet.
To pass the time—a strange concept in such a place as this, but Gaster could think of no other saying—he went through Sans's files. In the past, he'd sorted the information on his elder test subject by age—one large folder per year. Then the documents were divided into sub-folders: physical development, magic skills, behavioural patterns, and so on. The different experiments all had unique folders of their own. The file on the Determination Trials was near to overflowing with data, and that was only what Gaster had collected between 1992 and '96. The invaluable data that had been lost over the past 20 years was immeasurable. He might be able to retrieve some information by running a few basic tests, but it would be almost meaningless next to all that had been lost.
Gaster felt a twinge of regret as he started a new folder, marking it "Subject 01 'Comic Sans'—Age 29." A fading profile shot of an eight-year-old Sans stared back up at him from one of the old folders with dull, tired eyes. Gaster shook his head and began to sort and retrieve the information he'd just collected into the new folder. He recorded Sans's newfound dissociative behaviour, as well as notes on what he'd observed regarding Sans's emotional responses to Gaster's probing.
One general observation: Sans was significantly less compliant than he had been as a child, and was much more resistant to the experiments. That was undoubtedly due to those unfortunate 20 years removed from Gaster's necessary influence. The conditions under which Sans had been raised were harsh—the experiments downright cruel—but necessary for accomplishing what had to be done with optimal results.
Then again, Sans had been right when he said he wasn't a child anymore.
He would be more difficult to control, now. Gaster realised it might take some time to figure out how to ensure Sans's full obedience and compliance. That would be an experimental undertaking all on its own.
Gaster sighed heavily, and some of the black Voidstuff dripped from his mouth onto the paper, as if it were a trail of drool, and he grumbled in annoyance.
"So what're you planning to do to my brother, then?"
Gaster spun in surprise at the sound of Sans's voice. His subject remained still even in the restraints, but he seemed to have come back down to Earth, such as it were. He was staring pointedly at the ceiling, jaw set, seemingly trying hard to keep his features from contorting in pain, and was only half-succeeding.
"What do you mean?" uttered Gaster, when he finally found his voice. His grip tightened on his pen.
"Ghk," Sans gasped. "I just mean. Me and Paps, we ain't little kids anymore, y'know? He's grown up, just like me. Ya never did much with him back then, but you still made him. Test subject of yours, not a real monster, just a tool as a means to an end. The works. So I wanna know what you're planning to do with him now. I wanna know – ghk – what's gonna happen to my baby brother."
Gaster set his pen delicately down and folded his hands together, a position that helped him think. "And here I thought you were making some grandiose statement about your brother being an adult," he quipped. "He is twenty-three now, is that not correct?"
Sans seemed to stiffen, but he made a noise of affirmation. "He's still my baby bro, though. And it was me who raised him. Never you. I looked after him, and he's my babybones. Always will be. That's how this family shit works, by the way. Least I think so. You never set the greatest example."
Gaster bristled at that. It was a statement that would have warranted a swat, under different circumstances. But in truth, he was glad to have someone to speak to—banter with, even. Sans was sharp and made oddly good company. He always had been, even as a child. Not like his brother, who'd been so loud and rowdy and overly energetic. Gaster was grateful for the distraction now, especially with so little to do besides wait and let the IV do its work, let the experiment run its course.
The silence lasted another moment, until Sans broke it. Again.
"You could bother answering. While we're just sitting here. Or you sitting there and me lying here strapped to an examination table, if you wanna be particular about it."
Gaster looked down at his hands; his fingers were still laced together. He clasped his hands more tightly. "I no longer have any use for your brother. He is. Of no importance. It has been enough time that… well. He is free to do whatever he pleases. With his existence."
His speech was breaking apart again; that was a bad sign. Gaster waited for Sans to respond, a little impatiently, but instead his subject lay there in silence for a very long time. Thinking?
"Huh," said Sans at last, and his expression was unreadable. "Well. You're full o' surprises today, aren't you, Gaster?"
"Not really."
"That's prob'ly where my luck runs out, though, right? Heh. Shouldn't bank my hopes on you having a change o' heart or anything and letting me and th—letting me go?"
He had cut himself off before mentioning the human, Gaster observed. He unclasped his hands and drummed his fingers together in thought.
"No," was all he said, simply.
"Huh," Sans murmured, his eyes drifting shut. Then another pained gasp escaped him, his sockets flying back open. His expression, once it settled, was almost pensive. "Am I ever gonna see him again?"
"It is. Unlikely."
"Oh. Yeah. I figured." Pause. "I miss him."
"Yes." Gaster shifted. "That is understandable. I apologise."
More silence. Gaster was starting to think his subject had zoned out again when Sans spoke up, his voice so small that Gaster scarcely caught it. "I missed you too, y'know. Sometimes."
That was unexpected. Gaster raised a brow, reaching for his pen. "Really?"
"Yeah. That used to be the worst part of everything. I used to hate myself for it. But now…"—Sans blew air out between his teeth—"I dunno. Don't matter."
"I see." Gaster jotted this down in his notes. "And you are sharing this with me… why, exactly?"
"Hmm. Dunno. I guess I just never had anyone to talk to about this stuff. Wanted to. Sometimes."
Gaster didn't know how to respond to that. He changed the subject. It wasn't very subtle, but then, there was no real need for subtlety in this case. "Are you in pain?"
Another pause, shorter this time. "That's a joke, right? 'cause, y'know. I'm in fucking agony over here, Gaster."
"I am aware." Gaster had to bite back his annoyance. "I meant to ask if the pain is significantly worse or better than it was before. When you received more traditional injections of the Determination solution, via syringe."
"Well I don't remember. Just kinda different, I guess. Soul fluid or whatever it's called is kinda weird, too, but. I don't think it's changin' anything. Maybe keeping me alive, what do I know. But this is good, talking I mean, talking's good, good distraction." He was rambling, Gaster noted, and this speech came completely unprompted. The pain must be getting worse. That Sans had made it this long without passing out was astonishing. "Maybe not talking about this, though, nah, this ain't so good. Makes me think about how much it hurts, and then I end up thinkin' about my shitty childhood, and, yeah. Less fun. Let's find another topic, yeah? 'cause you're bored and I need to not think about how I'm bein'—" he gave an appropriately-timed gasp of pain—"tortured right now." Sans could not turn his head, but a wry grin flashed across his face that Gaster assumed was meant for him.
"Very we—" Gaster began, but Sans cut him off.
"So your True Reset. How's that gonna work? I mean, okay, back to monsters' glory days or whatever, but I just thought you'd know by now not to mess around with time and undo centuries of our history, I guess. Wipe out every monster even born since the Barrier went up with the Reset, go back a—ghk—thousand years, and what, just hope the humans won't trap us underground this time? Won't just crush us all to dust? How d'you even know I'll make the trip? I wasn't born yet, and just because I can remember what happens when some—"
It was crossing a line. "Enough," he said, sharply. Sharply enough for Sans to fall silent, even wither a little where he lay.
"All I'm sayin' is," Sans muttered, almost sullen. "How can you be so sure I'm gonna follow through your big plan? That's all."
Gaster had started to fiddle with the pen he'd set down, but now he looked up sharply. "You will," he said simply. His gaze ventured to the lab complex beyond. "You'll have to excuse me," he said. "I have other matters to attend to. I must go monitor the human's actions."
"On the… cameras?" his subject's voice remained smaller, but he didn't miss a beat.
"The cameras are no longer in operation. No. I mean to use the anomaly detector."
"The machine," Sans murmured, again unprompted. "But… the machine's on the Surface. And it's broken. I thought you knew that."
He did. "I think, Sans, that you will find. This place does not always echo reality in the way you'd think. Now. If you'll excuse me."
Gaster finally got up from his chair, tucking a bundle of folders under his arm, and crossed the room, just giving Sans a brief glance as he passed the examination table.
He thought he heard a pained wail as he made his way down the hall.
oOo
The telephone rang.
Alphys jumped about a foot in the air, fumbling to retrieve her cell phone from her pocket before realising it was the landline that was ringing. No call display. She scrambled over to the old rotary phone attached to the wall (Toriel's choice), knocking her chair over in the process. In her rush, she knocked the receiver against the wall, dropped it to the floor, and had to scoop it up again before pressing it against her ear. "H-hello?"
"Alphys?" It was Toriel. Alphys's heart sank. "Hello! How are you, dear?"
In that same moment, the front door whipped open, snagging Alphys's attention. But it was just Undyne, back from another search with the old Royal Guard dogs. She looked exhausted, and when Undyne looked exhausted, that was never a good sign. Her eye widened at the sight of her girlfriend on the phone, but Alphys shook her head.
"Oh. Um, Hi, Toriel."
Undyne's shoulders slumped, dejected, then her expression turned to one of alarm.
Toriel's voice carried the note of slight insistence it usually held during these calls. "I'm really very sorry I haven't been able to call the past—oh, dear, nearly three days now, isn't it? There was some trouble with my cell phone as the little charging cable broke when I was trying to plug it in, and it's been quite a hunt trying to find one that fit. But you warned me! This model is a little outdated compared to what they're using on the Surface these days. Even in a human city as large as this one, imagine!" She laughed faintly, then the concern dropped right back into her tone. "How are things over there? Is Frisk there? Is she all right? Was she very worried or upset without me to call and say goodnight? Has she still been eating all her vegetables—"
"Oh. Y-yeah." Alphys gave a shaky laugh. "Things are great. Sans and Frisk d-definitely haven't been missing for two days or anything…"
Undyne, who was still standing by the door, waved the spear she was holding to grab Alphys's attention, mouthing, "What the fuck?"
At the other end of the line, Toriel went deathly silent. When at last she spoke, her tone fell somewhere between incredulous and alarmed. "Excuse me?"
"I said, um." Already Alphys was sweating, and she was starting to get that horrible constricting feeling in her soul, the one that made it hard to breathe. She tapped her claws against her hip in a desperate rhythm. "I said…" She glanced, then squinted at Undyne, trying to interpret her flailing gestures, but in all honesty she was just flapping her arms in the air. It looked a bit like she was trying to impersonate a large sea bird. "I mean! That was a joke! Yeah! Just n-not a very funny one, I guess… "
Undyne threw her arms in the air.
"Doctor Alphys." Toriel's voice had gone steely. "If Frisk is missing—if my child is in danger—"
"Nope, nope, everything's just fine and absolutely nothing is wrong so you don't need to worry bye!" Alphys hung up, then slumped down onto the floor and buried her face in her hands.
The door slammed shut, causing Alphys to startle and look up. Undyne seemed to have realised she was still standing in the threshold, letting the cold air come in.
Her spear dissolving, Undyne stood there awkwardly for a moment before crossing the room in two strides and kneeling down next to Alphys. "Hey," she uttered. She placed a hand on her girlfriend's shoulder, trying for a comforting smile. It wasn't very convincing. "It's gonna be okay, Alphy." Pause. "But, uh. You probably should've told Toriel the truth. She's coming back tomorrow morning. I mean, she's gonna find out, and she has the right to know—"
"I know that," Alphys moaned, dragging her hands down her face. "I-I was going to, but then—I panicked," she admitted.
The phone began to ring insistently again. Alphys shuddered, then tried to reach up to answer it, but Undyne stayed her hand, guiding it gently down. "It's okay," she repeated. "Let it ring. We can call her later! I mean, it's shitty to worry her, and she's probably losing her mind right now, but you need to look after you, too. Y'know? Just give yourself a minute to like, catch your breath."
Alphys shuddered again as her breath hitched. "I—I can't, I—that's not fair, I can't do that to her… Her kid is, oh my God, her kid and her best friend are m-missing and she's already lost s-so many kids a-and—"
"Hey." Undyne squeezed her hand, and the action pulled her back into reality, just a little bit. Undyne was good at that, better than anyone; but Alphys wished she wouldn't have to all the time. It was embarrassing. "It's okay," Undyne was saying. "You're right. Toriel deserves to know. But just give yourself a minute. Or I can do it too, you know. But I think even I need a minute, giving Toriel that news." She laughed darkly. "And anyway. Once she finds out, Sans and Frisk won't be the only ones we'll have to worry about."
Alphys looked up sharply. "Th-that's not funny."
Undyne cringed. "I guess, yeah. Sorry," she tacked on, to no-one in particular.
It felt wrong, seeing Undyne so disheartened and quiet and still. Undyne wasn't supposed to be quiet and still. There were bags under her eyes, her scales too dry and her fins sagging. She was overworking herself in her search, of course, but it seemed like all her passion had been drained right out of her, and she was leading the search party with a detached, mechanical persona. Like she'd been programmed to do it. And that was nothing compared to how Papyrus was taking it all.
She slumped into her girlfriend's side. Even when she was sweaty, Undyne smelled…. nice. Alphys didn't really know of what, but she liked it. "I'm so scared," she mumbled, and felt Undyne draw her into a tight hug. It made it difficult to breathe for an entirely different reason.
"They're okay," Undyne answered. Her voice was soothing, but hollower than it ought to have been. "They're gonna be okay. We'll find 'em. We'll get them home safe. They're okay."
Alphys just shook her head. "W-we don't know that."
"We have to."
"Y-yeah. I guess." But hoping had never gotten Alphys anywhere. Cheating, lying, and keeping secrets, on the other hand… now that was more familiar territory. And it tended to work too, at least in the short term. "So…. I guess no progress with the search party today."
Undyne shook her head. "Nothing. Zilch. Nada. Things just keep getting more and more confusing. We keep running into these dead ends, or what seem to be dead ends." She finally let go of Alphys to tick them off on her fingers. "We talked to the Riverperson and surprise, surprise, they were totally useless. They said something about reading between the lines, which, okay, honestly seemed like kind of a diss? And the goddamn Temmies were no help, obviously. And the little shits seemed to be getting a kick out of this mess too! But the weird part? The Guard dogs are getting nothing on Sans and Frisk's scent trail. It's there at the top of the mountain but then at the mouth of the cave it just… stops. Doesn't fade away, and there's no signs of, like, the earth giving way or anything like that. It just stops. I don't know. It freaks me out."
"Oh," was all Alphys said. The gears in her head were starting to turn, but none of this boded well.
She hadn't told Undyne or Papyrus, or anyone, about the conversation she'd had with Sans before he left. He'd asked her to keep things a secret, and she wasn't going to betray his trust. Not when he had such a hard time trusting anyone at all, not when she'd been such an untrustworthy person, period, for so many years. A liar and a fraud.
Sans hadn't spoken to her about the machine for years. Not since that day before the amalgamates when he'd come by, badly hungover, and announced he wanted to continue the project by himself with barely an explanation. When the sixth human had fallen into the Underground, he'd just sent her a text saying that the Determination levels in the Underground had elevated, but there didn't seem to be any cause for alarm. And then he'd left it at that. He hadn't even picked up the phone when she tried to call him back.
It just didn't make any sense. It didn't make any sense that he wanted to repair the machine now, up here on the Surface. That machine didn't even have a purpose anymore. It wasn't as if Sans was one to complete discarded projects for the sake of it; he was too lazy for that. Alphys knew that well: Sans was her best friend. He was the first person she'd ever felt like she could just relax around, like she could just be. Not even Undyne could make her feel the same way.
But even if he was her best friend, he'd always been secretive, and Alphys was never really sure of how well she knew him. But he'd been in poor shape even when they met. Something had happened to him before then, something horrible. Alphys was convinced it had something to do with the machine, and that something was coming up again now.
Sans had been drinking again the night before he left.
It just couldn't be a coincidence.
She'd gone down to the basement after he left, gone through the files still spread across his desk. (Another warning sign; Sans was never that careless when it came to this stuff.) There'd been nothing but reports and readings from the machine over the years. All with fluctuating magical energy readings, inexplicably near-static Determination levels, and a steady incline of Void energy in the Underground.
Alphys knew what the reports said, but she wished she could better understand just what they meant, and more importantly, what they meant to Sans. But physics and theory were his strong suits, not hers. It was part of the reason they'd made such a good team, before.
If I don't come back in a while – say by, I dunno, twelve hours – then you're allowed to maybe get a little worried. So just… give me a call, won'tcha? And then maybe start to get really worried if I ain't back in 24. And, uh, if 48 hours go by and I still haven't answered…
Whatever situation Sans had gotten himself into, he was in danger, and he'd obviously been anticipating it beforehand.
Which was why Alphys couldn't remotely understand why he'd let Frisk tag along with him.
But she just couldn't tell Undyne and the others—not yet.
One promise kept, and here she was, hiding more secrets.
"Alphy?" Undyne's voice snapped her out of her reverie, and Alphys jumped, blinking as she came back to reality.
"Oh. S-sorry." She rubbed her arms, and stood up, swaying a little on the spot. She glanced at the phone on the wall behind her, but it was staying silent. "I guess I just… zoned out, aheh."
"It's okay," Undyne pulled herself to her feet, and led Alphys over to the sofa.
"Sorry," Alphys repeated.
"Hey, don't apologise."
"S-sorry. I-I mean, okay."
Undyne reached up and freed her hair from its too-tight ponytail, red locks cascading down her shoulders. She looked pretty with her hair down, but she almost never let it hang loose, grumbling about how impractical it was in the case of an unexpected battle or enemy invasion or impromptu sparring match. Alphys didn't know what to make of her untying it now, but she didn't bother mentioning it.
They sat on the sofa in silence for a few moments.
"Oh, what the hell. I guess I'd better call Toriel—" Undyne began, reaching into her pocket for her phone, but Alphys stopped her.
"J-just… sit with me for another second. Please?"
Undyne bit her lip, then nodded. "Yeah, okay."
Alphys drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her tail around herself much as she could, letting herself wallow in her own worries for a moment. "God," she muttered, mostly to herself. "T-tell me this isn't happening."
Undyne glanced at her sidelong. "It is," was all she said, then repeated, "but they're okay. They're gonna be okay. I mean, Sans is, like, super weird. I've known him since I was five, and he's always been weird. Total nerd. Only he could manage to make his scent randomly disappear off the face of the planet. And he stinks. Honestly, when was the last time he showered?"
"Yeah," Alphys echoed. "I-I guess. D-do you want to go check on Papyrus? B-before you call Toriel?"
Undyne's eye widened, her fins perking up. "Papyrus is back?"
"S-since a few hours ago," Alphys confirmed with a nod. "He's, um. Not c-coping well, I think. H-he should be upstairs. I made him rest."
Once Frisk's note, scrawled in marker, had been discovered—I'm going on an adventure to the underground with Sans so you know I'm ok and mum doesn't worry about me bye!—and it came to everyone's awareness that she and Sans were missing, Papyrus had been beside himself, even if he pretended he wasn't. He'd left to go looking for his brother and Frisk before Undyne could contact Asgore and start organising a search party, and he hadn't been back until just recently.
Alphys was pretty sure he hadn't eaten the whole time, and he definitely hadn't slept. It had been close to 48 hours since Sans had left, and more than that since Papyrus had rested. That was a long stretch of time, even for him.
If 48 hours go by and I still haven't answered… There's this letter. In my desk drawer, down in the basement. So yeah, give it to Papyrus for me, if I ain't back by then.
Even if 48 hours hadn't gone by yet, it wasn't fair to keep this secret.
Undyne was already near the top of the stairs when Alphys got up so quickly she managed to fall back onto the floor with a crash, tripping over her tail. "I-I'm okay!" she said, scrambling to her feet and rubbing a sore spot on her knee. "Um! Actually! How about you g-go call Toriel, right now, before she, um, tries to get in touch with Asgore or something, a-and I go! Talk to Papyrus! M-maybe I should j-just, uh, check on him. First. He p-probably doesn't want to worry you, so he, um… "
But Undyne was already nodding in agreement—and sliding down the banister. "Right, yeah. Might respond better or something. Like, I already know he's gonna lie and say he's fine. Smart thinking, Alphy," she said, and Alphys couldn't help but blush, despite the circumstances. Undyne sucked in a breath. "Right, okay. So gonna go call the ex-Queen and tell her that her kid's been missing for two days. No biggie. Wish me luck."
"G-good luck." Alphys trooped up the stairs.
The door to Sans and Papyrus's bedroom was ajar, but she knocked anyway before nudging it open at Papyrus's overly bright, "COME IN, DOCTOR ALPHYS!" The younger skeleton brother was seated on the edge of his bed, bouncing one knee. The takeout spaghetti that Alphys had brought up to him sat cold and untouched on the windowsill.
"H-hi, Papyrus," she said, shuffling from foot to foot. She'd long since given up on asking Papyrus to stop calling her "Doctor" Alphys, just like Toriel had settled for being called Lady Toriel and Frisk had gotten used to being referred to as tiny human. "How'd you know it was me?"
"You have a VERY TINY KNOCK compared to Undyne's! She is, after all, quite the PASSIONATE KNOCKER! Also, the door is still intact."
"Yeah, she's, um. P-pretty passionate at. Knocking. Aheh. M-makes sense." Alphys glanced around the room, her eyes falling on Sans's empty cot. Papyrus had washed the sweat-soaked sheets, and made the bed in his brother's absence, and organised the stack of science and joke books on the bedside table. Papyrus followed her gaze, and Alphys gestured vaguely in the direction of the bed. "Is it okay if I—I mean, c-can I, um, s-sit there?"
"Naturally!"
"Thanks." Alphys drummed her fingers against her side again and lowered herself onto the bed. She was terrible at this, and she didn't even know Papyrus that well. She'd never even met him before Frisk brought them all together. She should have just admitted she was lying and gotten Undyne to do this. "H-how are you doing?"
"The Great Papyrus is ALWAYS WELL! My bones and emotional wellbeing are in PRISTINE CONDITION! NOTHING WHATEVER is plaguing me! For I am doing excellently and DEFINITELY NOT WORRIED OR FRIGHTENED for my brother and the tiny human, even though Sans… only has 1 HP… " Papyrus shook his head. "I am CONFIDENT that Sans is safe and ABSOLUTELY NOT HURT! I am sure he only went to find a place to take a nap and fell asleep. Sans is ALWAYS falling asleep in WEIRD PLACES, the LAZYBONES! Once I found him draped over the rafters at Grillby's. And I am QUITE SURE the tiny human is keeping an eye on him and that they will both come through the door ANY MINUTE NOW."
"Oh," was all she said. "That's. Good."
"INDEED," Papyrus agreed, too quickly.
Alphys nodded and gave a half laugh, twiddling her claws. She couldn't put this off much longer, and she'd inevitably end up ruining things anyway. It was probably cruel to string him along much longer anyway. Papyrus deserved better than this; she could only begin to imagine what was going through his skull right now. Hiding his troubles seemed to come far too naturally to him, but Sans was the only family he had.
"We… we h-haven't heard anything from Sans yet," she began. "S-so we don't know where he and Frisk are. Yet! I-I mean, the Underground is pretty big, especially when there's nobody in it, a-and the Surface is even bigger so really they could be anywhere." Great start, Alphys. If a hole could open up in the middle of the floor and swallow her whole right now, that would be so convenient. Maybe that was where Sans and Frisk were, and then they could climb out and she could stay there until the end of her days and stop embarrassing herself, stop making things so much harder for everyone around her. They could swap. She cleared her throat. "I-I mean! Anywhere but also. Not dead. Or hurt! V-very not dead or hurt somewhere we j-just don't. Know yet. Yeah! I-I mean… I talked to Sans? Before he left?"
Papyrus's gaze was fixated on her as he nodded, almost desperately, for her to continue. He'd stopped bouncing his knee, and was leaning forward slightly where he sat. Alphys quickly looked down to avoid his probing gaze, plucking at a loose thread on Sans's bedsheets.
"A-anyway," she pressed on. "H-he seemed to be, um. I-I mean, I just got this feeling from him, like this v-vibe, you know the one, that he… " She steeled herself. "Papyrus, listen. Sans said h-he left you a note. In his desk drawer in the workshop. H-he asked me to tell you if he didn't come back home soon."
Pause.
"I-I think he just didn't want you to worry—" she added, but Papyrus was already on his feet and out the door.
Alphys sighed, her form crumpling as she sat there, on her missing best friend's bed. In the silence of the room, one horrible thought came to plague her, looming over her in the quiet space.
It's your fault they're in trouble.
Why didn't you say something?
You knew he was getting himself in danger, and he was drinking last night too.
It's your fault if he gets hurt.
Your fault.
"Alphy?"
Undyne was standing in the doorway, her brow knit in concern.
"I'm fine," Alphys said automatically. "Just thinking. Um, how'd the c-conversation with Toriel go? I-is she okay?"
"Line's busy." Undyne aimed a kick at the doorframe, then turned her attention back to her girlfriend. "I guess she figured she'd start reaching out and call other people, so she probably knows by now. Heh, she's probably getting on the next bus to Ebott right now."
"J-just so long as she didn't try Asgore," Alphys quipped.
"Oh, my god. I'm so not ready for that drama right now. Nope, nope. Can't do it." Undyne dragged her hands down her face, then pointed a thumb over her shoulder. "So, uh, Papyrus just ran into the basement and then he left the house. What happened?" She frowned. "He still hasn't eaten, has he? Ugh, why couldn't he have waited just another minute before going? I don't care that his brother's missing; I need to punch some sense into him!"
Alphys nodded vaguely along. "I-I don't know. I think he's in denial, o-or he's pretending to not be worried, but I guess that's not really surprising. He probably just needed some air. I-I'm sure he'll be back soon," she added, pathetically.
Undyne was leaning over Papyrus's bed to peer out the window, even though he had to be long gone by now. He was almost as fast a runner as Undyne. "Yeah," she said, turning her face away. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Come on. Let's go try Toriel again or something. If punching the stuffing outta something's not gonna be useful, I need something else to do."
oOo
Chara sat cross-legged on the ground, chin resting in one hand. Elbow propped against her knee. With her free hand, she traced pictures in the snow, using a branch she'd snapped off a nearby shrub.
And as she drew, she hummed, an old lullaby Mamma used to sing to her and her brother each night. Music as soft as the fingers Mamma ran through her hair, washing gently over her until she fell asleep.
The song had had no words, and while Asriel had been quite content to be lulled asleep by Mamma's peaceful humming, Chara had always been curious about it. Once, after her brother had given way to slumber (for he'd always fallen asleep before her), she'd worked up the courage to ask. "It hardly troubles me," she'd hastened to add. "I just thought lullabies were meant to have words."
Mamma had smiled then, a sad smile, still running her fingers through Chara's hair. It had been long then. "Oh, it's a very old song, my child. Even older than me. I'm afraid I don't remember them anymore. Just the tune."
Chara hadn't said anything more, and she'd fallen asleep just as she always did—to fingers in her hair and soft humming, and a feeling of warmth and safety that still frightened her a little. In all her four years in the Underground, it had never stopped frightening her, not completely.
Chara hummed the song now, and she thought of home and ancient battles and things lost to time and the Void.
There was no point in thinking thoughts that cheered her, and besides, there was a peculiar comfort to be had in melancholia. It felt more honest, for there was no use in lying to herself. If she was to be trapped in the Void for all eternity, she might as well act like it.
Chara soon grew bored of drawing pictures, and so, tossing aside her stick, she summoned her soul into visibility. She cupped the wretched thing in her palm and studied it with a passive disinterest. Just for something to do.
It had not been this bad before Doctor Gaster found her, because at least then her soul had not been so withered and sickly-looking. The white speckles had been there ever since she woke up in the Void, but it was only recently that they had begun to lose their white, almost ephemeral glow. Chara hadn't minded the spots before; they were pretty. Rather like the glittering stones in the cave ceiling of Waterfall. Unhappy things that passed as stars.
But really, her soul had been a horrible, unsightly thing even in life, and she'd always hated looking at it. It made magic-based sparring matches with her brother intolerable, so she and Asriel had turned to wrestling and rolling around on the ground like a pair of animals instead.
Chara blew a raspberry. Frisk was taking a long time in the Ruins, and it was doing nothing for her boredom. She flopped backwards onto the snow-covered ground and made a snow angel.
Once she was done, she lay there, limbs splayed out, and looked at her soul again where it hovered just above her chest. How strange that it should retain its reddish tint when all the Determination had been drained from it. And the extraction process had been excruciating. Even more painful than dying—infinitely more painful—and that was saying something.
It seemed a sick joke, and one that was entirely unfair. Chara thought you weren't supposed to feel pain after you died. But then, not everyone wound up trapped in the Void after dying either.
Still, her soul had always been a duller red colour; so different to the vibrant bright shades of Frisk's soul. Chara wondered if it meant anything. The living girl was proving herself to be a lot stronger than Chara had previously given her credit for. A lot more of a nuisance, too, and arguably quite a lot more stupid—she was, at the very least, dangerously naïve. Hers was a premature confidence, an impenetrable self-assuredness built of fantasies of what she presumed the world to be.
But still… if Frisk could Reset in this place…
The Save star she'd spotted might not mean anything, or it might mean everything in the world.
There was really no way to know unless Frisk died, a turn of events that Chara would rather avoid, even if it was inevitable. If she could Save and Reset in the Void, if she could manipulate the course of time in a place such as this, here where time had no meaning…
It would only increase Gaster's interest in her, and there was no escaping that.
Unless, of course…
Chara sat up and looked up at the Ruins door. There was no telling how far into the old capital Frisk had made it thus far. And it was only an idea. But even if that flower was there—especially if he was still there—then maybe she'd had the wrong idea when it came to sitting here and waiting.
That was her problem. That would always be a problem. And it was never going to stop being a problem, she was too much like—
Chara stopped herself, picked up a small pebble at her feet, smoothed it with her thumb, watched as the snowflakes melted to water in her chapped red hands. She tossed it as far as she could into the woods.
She turned her attention back to the Ruins door. It was getting so cold out here.
oOo
Notes: I know most people are going to assume that the song Chara is humming is Home from the soundtrack, and that's fine and all, but if you were wondering, the song I personally had in mind was the lullaby from Pan's Labyrinth. Pan's Labyrinth is one of my all-time favourite movies, and the main theme/lullaby has stuck with me ever since I first saw the movie three years ago. It's sort of the default song I think of now, when I think of lullabies. It's a gorgeous tune, and I just think there's something so beautifully haunting and bittersweet about an old lullaby whose words have been forgotten, and it seemed appropriate here.