AN: Let's just... not talk about how late this is, yeah? I have no excuses.

CW: This chapter contains physical violence, blood, and death.

Beatrice Lincoln, age twenty three, had been working in this office for only a year but it had felt like an eternity. The career was dead-end, the workplace was toxic, and the networking opportunities basically non-existent. With her skills and accomplishments it would not be difficult to find a better job but she stuck it out. Not out of any loyalty to the company, that was a fool's game in this day and age, but rather that she discovered an opportunity for a huge payout. That was also why she stayed late today, so late the only people still in their office, or perhaps even the entire high-rise, were her and her supervisor, the accounting department head. Beatrice knocked on the door of his office and he allowed her in with a perfunctory, "Yeah?"

Walt Antrim, the kind of manager that should have died out in the '80s but somehow never did. He was loud, brash, and abusive, keeping his underlings in check through intimidation and fear. His displeasure resulted in tantrums and screaming, and he had been known to reduce both men and women to sobbing wrecks. He was using one of his favored tactics, sharpening a letter opener as an employee came in. Beatrice was fairly sure he had never used it for its intended purpose, he had a secretary to manage his mail for him, but he would sometimes display how much care he took with it by slicing a document which displeased him right in front of that document's author or stabbing it into his desk and leaving it there for the duration of the conversation. The picture window taking up the entire back wall of his office would have offered an amazing view of the city from the twentieth floor but the room lights cast such an oppressive glare it was impossible to see out of them. "Make it quick, I'm in the middle of something," he barked, not even acknowledging Beatrice was going above and beyond by staying so late. In his mind that was her duty as an entry level worker.

Beatrice opened up with, "I was wondering if you had heard back from Jessie yet. She came down with a sudden illness, is her work piling up?"

"She'll be out for a few more days." He sighed in annoyance as he put the letter opener aside. "I'm taking care of her duties personally until she gets back, don't worry your pretty little head about it."

"About that," Beatrice said, trying to keep the knowing smirk out of her voice. "You have so much to do already, it can't be easy doing the work of two people. I finished the account I was working on before, so would you mind if I took a look at it? I have some experience in accounting so I believe-"

"Listen, Bea," Walt sneered, being overly familiar with her name. He tilted his computer monitor to hide it from her view, far too late to hide that it was open to a screen saver. "You've only been here, what, six months? Nine? Jessie's been taking care of the books for longer than you've been out of diapers. Nobody can handle them like she can. There's only one person I trust to handle things in her absence, and that's me. I've already taken care of it for this week so even if I were inclined to let you do it there's nothing to be done. So I appreciate the initiative but you're acting above your station. Stay in your lane, Bea. We clear? Then scram." He shook his head and huffed, a single exhale somewhere between a laugh and a groan.

"Oh, see, the thing is…" Beatrice said, opening up the manila folder she had kept hold of for just this purpose. She took out a few sheets of paper and splayed them across his desk. "… I already took a look at them, and discovered a number of discrepancies going back years. You said you already did the sheets for this week, so how did you miss them?" Walt frowned and his face twisted into feigned incredulity but Beatrice was already tired of playing with her food. "Oh, don't bother denying anything, I've already figured out the broad strokes. The two of you have been embezzling funds from the company for over ten years, totaling millions of dollars. You can keep it up so long as the two of you never take a break at the same time so someone is always around to cover your tracks."

Walt stared at the papers for a long while without picking any of them up. He did not need to; he knew what they said. He scratched the top of his head and stood up, pacing towards the corner of the room. "You didn't just find this," he accused. "You've been sitting on it. Waiting. It wasn't enough to catch me red-handed, no, you had to humiliate me first, is that it?"

"Hardly," she insisted, business-like. "While finding the embezzlement was easy enough, I didn't have enough evidence to prove your involvement. You helpfully provided that yourself."

He looked out across the city and sighed. He was silent for a while, fiddling with the shades. Raising, lowering, opening, closing, deep in thought. He left them down and closed before sighing and slowly walking back toward his desk. "And now you're going to bring this to the folks upstairs and ruin my life."

Beatrice laughed, "What would be the profit in that? Taking you down would be good for the company but it wouldn't be any benefit for me. No, I'm not going to turn you in… provided you make it worth my while. What's one more conspirator after all? Whatever you're splitting two ways, make it three. And, as a gesture of good will and to give me just as much skin in the game as you, a lump payment up front. I think, a third of the money you've stolen in the last ten years from each of you should suffice. That way we each end up with nice, even, equal shares. It sure beats being handcuffed and walked out of the office-"

She did not get to finish her proposal. Walt delivered a meaty backhand across her face, knocking her over onto the desk. Before she was able to react Walt was already looming over her and wrapping his hands around her neck; she was only able to make a strangled yelp before his thumbs pushed into her windpipe and cut off her air. He brought his weight to bear and pinned her in place, his teeth bared and his face flushed with rage. "You think you're so smart!" he screamed. "From the moment you came here you thought you were better than everyone else! Well how fuckin' smart are you now?!" She grabbed at his fingers but her desperation was no match for his fury. His hands were locked tight and she could not find any purchase.

The thought had occurred to her that he might seek to have her killed rather than submit to the blackmail. Were she capable of breathing she would have informed him that if anything happened to her the files detailing his crimes would find their way to both internal and external regulators. She expected him to be resentful but that his greed and cowardice would win out. She was supposed to get a handsome payday for her secrecy and get the seed capital she would need for her own aspirations. She had not taken into account his wrathful temper. She did not consider his anger might be so powerful as to overrule his sense of self-preservation. She never dreamed he would murder her with his own hands in his office within full view of the security cameras. She realized too late that while he would not be able to escape responsibility for killing her Beatrice would still be worse off because she would be dead. There were some people who hated losing so badly they would rather flip the table out of spite than admit they had been beaten. The tuition for this lesson would be her life.

Beatrice slapped the desk with her right hand and closed around something with a handle: the letter opener, thin and metal and sharpened more than any office tool ever should have been. With a final burst of strength she plunged the makeshift weapon into Walt's left armpit. He bellowed and reared back from the pain, stumbling backward and releasing his grip on her throat. She rolled off the desk and heaved great big gasps but did not dare linger. She half-stumbled to her feet and ran as fast as her heels would allow, out the door and into the main office. "You little bitch!" she heard behind her as Walt recovered. "You're dead! When I get my hands on you-!" His voice was cut off as she slammed the door to his office shut, buying her at most a few seconds but they could be the difference between life and death.

The office was set up in rows of cubicles, with narrow corridors criss-crossing the room every few modules. There was no obstacle course to navigate, no maze to hide in. Beatrice had to get out of there. She had barely turned the corner when the door opened with a crash, Walt only a moment behind her. She heard rather than saw the blood-soaked letter opener sail past her head and ducked her head down from reflex, far too slow to avoid the attack if it had not missed on its own. She was quietly grateful her morning self had decided on a pantsuit and not a miniskirt today, otherwise the chase might have been over as soon as it began. As it was her heels and his lack of fitness canceled each other out. She did not dare look behind her to see how near he was or whether he was closing in, her only thought was escape, away from the office, away from him!

She ran clear past the elevator and directly to the stairs. Even if it was right there she would not be able to escape if Walt caught up to her there; the doors would become the seal of her coffin. She went down as fast as she dared, for if she stepped on a heel wrong and twisted her ankle now it would be the end of her. Down down down, as many floors as she could, she could hear Walt continuing to chase her as he took stairs two or even three at a time-

Then his noises changed. Instead of panting and rushing Walt made a series of thuds and scrapes as he tumbled down the stairs, coming to rest where the stairwell hit a U-turn between floors. She had gone done another half flight before realizing his pursuit had ceased. She stopped and strained her ears but heard nothing more. She turned and started back up the stairs, as quietly as she could with her heartbeat still pounding in her ears. Up, up, up, back to where she last heard Walt.

The first thing she noticed was the blood, trailing down the stairs and pooling under his body. He stared straight ahead with his mouth slightly ajar, ignoring Beatrice as she approached and knelt down next to him. His right armpit was soaked through, a truly hideous amount of blood. In her adrenaline-fueled state she had not noticed his breath slowing, his face paling, his pace stumbling during the chase. Likely he was not aware either of how badly he had been wounded until he was nearly in shock already. Neither Walt nor Beatrice were familiar with anatomy. They did not know of a major artery which ran through the left armpit and if severed would cause a person to bleed to death in under a minute. Beatrice could not have known her wild stab with the letter opener, sharpened over years so it was more of a dagger than an office implement and never used in a way which would dull that edge, was lucky enough to score a fatal blow. But she did notice his lack of movement now, even his chest failing to rise and fall with the breaths he was not taking. His murderous rage from moments ago had evaporated and he now showed complete passivity. Even as she felt for a pulse on his neck she already knew she would not find one. He was dead by Beatrice's own hand.

She went over the story she would tell the dispatcher as she fumbled for her cellular phone. She could not admit to blackmail, but how else to explain what happened and why Walt attacked her? She had discovered some irregularities in the cash flow indicating embezzlement and came after hours to bring them to Walt's attention. Over the course of the conversation Walt turned erratic and evasive before lashing out at her; it was all she could do to defend herself. Everything else would be the truth, all she had to do was lie about what the conversation consisted of. The security cameras would not have audio so they would not betray her, and the embezzlement would come out on its own soon enough. It would probably lead to the collapse of the company, but none of the blame would fall on Beatrice. She would escape any suspicion, and Walt's death would be simply defending herself.

She could only laugh as she typed in the emergency number and hit the call button. All her tricks and lies and manipulation, and the best she was able to do was avoid jail time. She still had so much more to learn…

"And we're gonna be living here?" Frisk asked, looking up at the spacious entry hall of Beatrice's estate. Even if they had seen the inside of Beatrice's home before, that was as a visitor. The reality that a place so big and grand was going to be *their home* filled them with awe anew.

"Only for a short time." Silas put additional emphasis on the word "short". Silas had a backpack and a suitcase carrying his wardrobe, and one additional suitcase for Frisk's clothes. His heart condition may have given him extremely poor stamina but his physical strength was not so far behind an average person's. Not that he should have bothered; Toriel was more than mighty enough to carry everything herself if need be, especially because she traveled so light. "Once Toriel's house is finished being built we'll move into her place until the adoption goes through." After these last few scares it would be a good place to collect themselves and regroup. Frisk was taking a few days off school and Silas had been given 'clerical tasks' to perform in lieu of a case load. In actuality he was doing work a paralegal ought to have been doing, but government being as understaffed as it was some people needed to work below their pay grade to keep the whole thing functioning at all. It was true though, all three of them needed to retreat from public life and wait for the heat to die down. Despite Papyrus' assurances that everything was perfectly fine on the political front, the whole debacle had ended with the monster rights bill tabled as the politicians of both parties adopted a "wait and see" approach for which side public opinion fell to. With their personal, professional, and political lives on hold the most important thing Silas, Toriel, and Frisk could do was take a breath.

"Indeed," came an aged voice from a nearby hallway. Beatrice rolled in, sitting in a motorized wheelchair, still managing to exude dignity and strength. She was wearing a simple floral dress, a far more dressed down state than the pantsuits they had seen her in on every occasion so far. Lilly walked behind her and off to the side, acting as though her aunt's state was completely normal. "You will find few better refuges away from the prying eyes of the press and the outside world than this, the home of the reclusive, eccentric, and feared Beatrice Lincoln." She waved her hand in the air to try and brush off their stares. "Yes, yes, I need assistance to get around my own home. It would take me all day to walk from one side of the house to the other without it. I try to hide this from business rivals and random guests but I don't have the energy to conceal it from housemates." She gave a thin smile. "Try not to take advantage. Oh, Miss Toriel, is that the same robe I saw you in the last time you were here? That simply will not do, a woman must have a variety of clothes to match the roles she is expected to perform."

Toriel was rather nonplussed by the reaction. "Not the same robe, I do not believe, I have several copies of it. But… yes, my wardrobe has been rather limited. I have discovered there is not much available off the rack for a woman of my… proportions. Is it truly so bad?"

"I will get you in touch with a few of my tailors," Beatrice sniffed, as if the answer to Toriel's question were so obvious she could not be expected to respond. "They would relish the opportunity, I think. 'Finally', they will say, 'something besides a business suit with shoulder pads!'" She chuckled at herself. "Anyway, for now your guest quarters are up the stairs and to the left. Do whatever you need to make yourselves feel at home."

"On that note!" Toriel said, clapping her hands. "Why don't we have a party? I think it would be just the thing to lift our spirits after the awful last few days, and it will help us settle in. We could play games, and have some music, and oh! Do you think Doctor Alphys could bring some of her cartoon movies to watch?"

Beatrice's face drooped. "You can have full run of the whole wing if you want but I won't be joining. I was never much for television and it's far too late for me to start now."

"I think it would be a good idea for you to join in, Auntie B," Lilly smiled. "It would help them settle in, make it feel more like they were in a home and not just guests. And it would be a good chance to get to know them better. Know them all better." Niece and aunt looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes, appearing to have a silent and tense conversation.

Beatrice finally sighed with unfeigned exhaustion. "If you insist I shall put in an appearance. But before you all go crazy with your planning get out of this hall and find your rooms. Go on, go! Lilly can show you the way."

"Right this way!" Lilly said cheerily, waving toward the stairs.

Toriel and Silas gave Beatrice quick pleasantries and followed Lilly up the stairs. Frisk, however, lingered a moment behind them. They studied Beatrice carefully, looking her up and down similar to how they did when they first met. Beatrice smiled and gave them a tiny wave, but that only served to break the trance; Frisk dashed off toward the stairs, their suitcase rolling behind them. Beatrice, seemingly unperturbed, leaned back in her chair and turned herself around, back the way she came.

Ozzy: hey
Ozzy: you set up at the new place yet?

Frisk: Yeah its really big and fancy looking but they don't even have a tee v

Ozzy: for real? what does the old lady do all day?

Frisk: Contemplate new ways to torment sinners and arrange deals for people's souls, I imagine.

Ozzy: hahaha
Ozzy: she is helping you two out though chara you ought to be at least a little thankful ;)

Frisk: I suppose.
Frisk: And how is the school handling everything?

Ozzy: most of the kids had gone home already
Ozzy: teachers didnt say anything about it
Ozzy: just that there was a dangrous person here yesterday
Ozzy: and schools gonna be closed a couple days

Frisk: And what about merry how is she doing

Ozzy: she says shes okay but
Ozzy: she blames herself :(
Ozzy: says if she hadnt gone to my party
Ozzy: maybe her dad wouldntve gone crazy

"I doubt it," Chara narrated as they borrowed Frisk's thumb to type their reply. "If she had not gone he would have found something else to ruin his life over. Some people are just born bad, and no matter what they can't change-" They cut themself off as Frisk's thumb disobeyed their will . Frisk looked up at them with a frown, prompting Chara to respond to the unspoken accusation, "What?"

Frisk spoke into the phone, "Sorry, Chara's being a dingus. But they're right that she shouldn't blame herself."

Chara accused, "You don't know what that word means."

"Neither do you."

"Of course I don't know the meanings of imaginary words." Curious, they looked at Frisk's phone to see how the speech recognition software transliterated it.

Frisk: I doubt it. If she had not gone he would have found something else to ruin his life over. Some people are just born bad, and no matter what they can't cha
Frisk: Sorry car as being a dingus but they're right that she shouldn't blame herself

Chara boggled. "The phone thinks it's a word, what?!" Frisk stuck out their tongue in victory.

There was a knock on the doorframe. Frisk hurriedly shifted their clothes around in the suitcase before giving a verbal signal that it was okay to come in. Lilly gingerly opened the door the tiniest bit and slipped inside like a thief. Her skin was a much healthier shade than the pale pallor of the last time they saw her, though her straw-blond hair still looked dry. But her smile was brighter and her eyes shinier and she looked a whole new person. "Hello! I just finished showing Toriel to her room and I've come to see how you're settling in."

Chara smirked. "I'm chatting through text messages while helping Frisk organize their clothes. Just a pair of normal activities."

Frisk tilted their head sideways, knowing they should be angry but unable to determine why, but Lilly only fidgeted nervously. "Is… is Chara trying to talk to me? I'm sorry, I can't see or hear them any more." Chara tested this by waving a hand in front of her face; Lilly stared straight through it. She even failed to flinch when Chara raised their hand as if to slap her. Finally Chara sighed and shook their head.

Frisk nodded. "Yeah, you said something like that last time I think. About how you couldn't see Chara so good."

"As long as they're still there and happy that's enough assurance for me. How do you like your room?"

Frisk could only shrug. "It's a room, I guess." They did not have the words to explain how it felt to occupy a space you had no right to. This room, like every other, was only a temporary refuge. Knowing the one place that is supposed to be safe could be snatched away from you at any time was a silent oppression Frisk did not have the vocabulary to explain despite having years of familiarity with it. "I kinda just want to go back to school. I was just starting to make friends and they're worried about me."

Lilly nodded in understanding. "A few of my friends messaged me the other day to check up on me, too. Oh, I should be clear, I meant my old friends, back when I was alive. They're all middle age now, ha ha! We don't really… have anything in common any more, so visiting would have been awkward. They're glad I'm alive but I'm not part of their lives any more. It's okay though, I'm making new friends at school! Oh, I'm going to private school right now, that's why you haven't seen me. But let me know if you need anything around the house! I'll be happy to help!" Frisk nodded non-commitantly. They did not want to be rude, but they also could not continue unpacking their clothes, not considering what was right underneath them. Lilly continued, "You can ask Auntie B too, if you like. I know she seems mean but I promise she's really nice once you get to know her. Oh, and please don't be angry at her for the licorice from last time, that was my little joke. I know Chara doesn't like it so I wanted to play a little trick. Auntie B had nothing to do with it. She doesn't even know about Chara, I never told her, so- what's so funny?" Halfway through her explanation Chara had glided behind her. Their eyes and mouth were dripping with a black substance and they held out their hands toward Lilly with their fingers draped down and their legs curled exaggeratedly behind them to look even more like a spooky ghost. Frisk had been unable to pretend it was not happening and starting laughing. Lilly sighed. "I see… Chara's really upset, huh? Well… I'm very sorry, Chara. I'll make it up to you somehow. I'll… leave you alone so you can keep unpacking, but I'll be back later when dinner's ready."

"I'll haunt yoooooouuuuuu~," Chara wailed, grasping at Lilly as she made her escape. "I'll haunt you to the ends of the earth…!"

As soon as Lilly closed the door Frisk let out a breath. They moved the clothes in their suitcase to reveal seven glass cylinders. The soul canisters. Chara has wisely told them to pack them among their clothes so they would not clink together or break during transport. They were large enough that Frisk needed both hands to hold them but light enough that lifting them was not an issue, so Frisk piled them all into the bottom drawer of their new dresser and covered them with socks and underwear. That was the best they could do right now. They still had not filled a single one yet, and it was possible for them to be discovered at any time. But what could one eight year old human child and one maybe ten year old human ghost do? Was it impossible for them after all…?

Wait… a ghost?

Frisk whirled around, frowning deeply. "'Pair a' normal asktivies'?!"

Chara barked a laugh as they wiped the black gunk from their mouth off on their sleeve. "Took you long enough."

"AAAAAGH! You're the worst!" Frisk screeched, throwing a pillow at the source of an ethereal cackle.

Beatrice's study was mostly dark except for the desk light where the old woman was working. The windows were covered with blackout curtains so even in the middle of the day it was as midnight in this room. She was able to concentrate better when there was less around to distract her, just one of the many idiosyncrasies she had developed over the years. One of the upsides of living so long is that you develop a finely attuned sense of how your mind and body worked and how to get the most mileage out of them. The downside was by the time you figured it out your body was no longer capable of very much, and only if you were lucky was your mind capable of much more. A sliver of light pierced the edge of her vision as Lilly entered without knocking, already knowing Beatrice would have retreated here after what passed for a polite welcome to her home. "You're still at it?" Lilly admonished. "You stayed up late last night, you should be resting."

"There is still so much to do. I can rest all I like soon enough." Beatrice chuckled to herself at her little joke. "Or maybe not, depending on how you look at things."

"Auntie-"

"I apologize," Beatrice cut her off, already knowing what she was going to object to. "Knowing precisely when I am going to die, and how, has given me a different perspective on life and death. And knowing I will go right up to the limit keeping busy, well, there are some people I knew a long time ago that would find that incredibly funny. Rest assured, I have already made arrangements for the most important matters. You will be taken care of and will have nothing to fear. The trust I have set up will ensure you could do nothing and live in comfort for the rest of your life. Or you could do anything you desire. And of course the monsters will receive support, already the plant for monster food is ready to expand. The monsters will be responsible for a whole new renaissance in Weymouth, and that will make them indispensable for years to come regardless of whatever the naysayers and demagogues want to say about it. The rest of it, what I'm doing now, is mere busywork in comparison. Things like, making arrangement for that infernal contraption you've finally wrung out of me." At Lilly's blank look she clarified, "The new television. It will be arriving tomorrow. You figure out where to put it, I'm not helping to set it up and I'm certainly not paying to have cable strung all the way up here from the city."

Lilly shrugged. "We're on a mountainside, satellite will work fine."

"Is that how it works?" Beatrice hummed. "Fine then, since you know so much I'll leave it entirely in your hands. And how is our littlest guest doing?"

Lilly sighed. "They're hard to read. I think they need a little more time." Time, each of them knew, which was quickly running short.

Beatrice laughed. "I get the sense they don't like me very much. Which is fine, there is not much an eight year old child and an eighty year old woman have in common. But you know the old saying, 'youth and energy will lose to age and experience every time'."

Lilly shook her head. "Auntie B, you can't go tricking them. You aren't going to be able to force them into anything. It's not going to work like you're used to."

"Nonsense." Beatrice chuckled as she wrote out a note to herself. "Children are people like anyone else. Find what motivates them, put pressure on them, and they'll agree to whatever you want. Perhaps their motivations are less logical than an adult's but the principle is the same. I have been doing this for a very long time, Lilly, a very long time indeed. Have some faith in my expertise this one last time."

She wanted to be able to trust her. Beatrice was the smartest woman she knew, and when she set her mind to accomplish something she would not let anything stand in her way. But she was used to adults, other people who had wants and desires Beatrice could relate to. She had little experience with children, she did not know how they could be crafty and cruel in their own ways. And if things went poorly they would not be able to get another chance, not before it was too late.