A/N This has been in the makings for a couple of years. I came up with the plot while listening to Silver Lining by Hurts, thinking of it like a music video. Ginny had been Frisk's older sister from the beginning; her name has meaning behind it, similar to Frisk's name sounding similar to "pacifist", and Chara's looking like a shortened form of "character". Everything Undertale belongs to Toby Fox; Ginny, as well as anything unfamiliar, is of my creation.

When one thought of a restaurant, and what job positions there were, the most obvious ones would come to mind: cooks, waiters and waitresses, hosts and hostesses, etc. Maybe even musicians and singers, if the place was fancy enough.

But there were also less-than-glamorous positions, often behind the scenes. One such consisted the role of taking out garbage bags to the dumpster behind the building. It was messy, as the plastic bags could easily be torn by a misplaced chicken bone or hardened piece of pasta. And it was quite physical, with the trash bags being big, even before being stuffed with trash. Not to mention there being several bags. And it, surprisingly, also required a hint of cleverness, between getting the bags to the dumpster without them ripping from being dragged on concrete, and getting them into the dumpster itself.

This job belonged to Ginny.

It was getting close to evening, and the end of her shift, when she finally dragged the last bag out of the back of the restaurant and to the dumpster. She had worked this job long enough to have a routine that worked nine times out of ten: pull the bag over your shoulder like Santa Claus, but let most of its weight drag behind you so as not to throw your back out; let it sit on the ground once you reach the dumpster, grab the handle close to the bulk of the garbage inside, and swing it into the dumpster as fast as you can. Don't forget to let go of it as soon as it was over the container, or you ran the risk of smashing your wrists onto the metal casing. This got both easier and more difficult the more bags were in there.

But she was finally done for the day. Dusting off her hands and arms, she ambled back inside. Her arms and upper back were aching, but it was worth it to be finally finished.

As she cracked and stretched her fingers, she glanced through the door that lead from the back of the restaurant to the main eating area. The hinges had been getting rusted due to the humidity in the kitchen, so the doors would sometimes slow down when closing, or even get stuck open. It wasn't too big an issue that it needed to be fixed. Or so her boss claimed.

Evenings were moderately busy most of the time. Their busiest times were usually weekends or just before holidays; occasionally, there would be a large party for a birthday or anniversary. But it was a casual evening at the moment, with a handful of human adults, and a few kids mixed in. No monsters though.

She froze, and her eyes widened. Through the stuck-open door, she saw a small child with long brown hair, a blue shirt, and dark skin. She held her breath as she inched closer to the doors, still examining the child from afar. But her heart dropped when she realized they weren't whom she was looking for.

"Hey!"

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the shout, and when the door was pushed shut harshly. Her boss stood in front of her, glaring at her as if she were dirty gum stuck to the bottom of their shoe. "How many times do I have to tell you? You're the garbage woman! You're supposed to take out the trash, not get seen by other customers! I mean, look at you! Do you want to get seen?"

Ginny glanced down at herself with a sigh. Instead of a uniform, she wore a long-sleeved orange shirt that was so stretched, she had to tie the slack around her waist, blue and cyan-striped stockings that had one or two holes, and shorts that were once pure white. Her nicest article of clothing were her black combat boots, though those had seen better days too. The laces were tied in places where they had fallen apart, and the ends were broken or frayed.

"No," she mumbled in response, having heard this lecture so many times, she could recite it by heart.

"Exactly! What would they think, seeing an employee as disgusting as you look? Whom would they complain to?"

She tuned them out as punched out, pulled on her coat—a dark-purple overcoat that was missing a couple of buttons—and made her way to the exit. While her boss continued to rant, seeming to not realize she was leaving, one of her coworkers met her by the exit. He didn't say anything directly to her, but he did discretely pass her a plastic bag that felt full and warm. She didn't need to look inside to know what it was; this was a common thing, where he would save food that was sent back, and give it to her in secrecy as she left. He had gotten so good at 'reverse-pickpocketing', as he called it, they rarely got caught.

She nodded her thanks and stepped out of the back of the restaurant, making sure to avoid being seen until she was walking down the sidewalk. She paused a moment to stuff the bag in one of her inside pockets. It wasn't too bulky in her coat, and it was still warm. As she glanced around, she saw numerous people walking the streets, some with children.

Seeing the children brought tears to her eyes. Not because she thought of children as innocent beings that were too good and sweet for the world—some definitely were, and some definitely were not. It was because she was missing her little sibling, the one she had mistaken the child for at the restaurant.

"Frisk, where are you?" she whimpered, rubbing at one of her eyes with the heel of her hand. It had been four weeks since they disappeared, and she was still no closer to finding them. And it just seemed no matter whom she spoke to, be it neutral citizen or police officer, they weren't as worried for them as she was.

After all, there were hundreds of missing children. Frisk was just one in a million, in a bad way.

No one had ever said that to her face, but she couldn't help but wonder if that was what they were thinking. If she had better resources, she would go out into woods, or to the mountains—no, the world, and find them herself. But at the moment, she was stuck in Ebott, with little to no clues as to which direction Frisk might have even gone.

"They couldn't have gone far. They're six years old, after all," most people would remark when she asked if they knew anything. But in four weeks, they could feasibly been anywhere. And that was if they were even walking around on their own in the first place. What if they had gotten kidnapped? Were they even on the same continent?

Just thinking about it made Ginny lose her appetite, despite the delicious smell coming from her bag. Sighing, she stuffed her hands in her coat pockets and continued on.