The Catacombs

Her hand trembles as she opens the place where she kept the Reset button.

Flowey pops up, and everything goes dark but him. "Hi," he says. "Seems as if everyone is perfectly happy. Monsters have returned to the surface. Peace and prosperity will rule across the land." Frisk draws a shuddering breath. She knows that.

He smiles. "Take a deep breath. There's nothing left to worry about."

There is an awkward pause. "... Well. There is one thing." The smile slides off his face. "One last threat. One being with the power to erase EVERYTHING… Everything everyone's worked so hard for." A rock seems to have settled into her stomach, sharp as ice and heavy as death.

"You know who I'm talking about, don't you?" He smiles, frowns, then smiles again. "That's right. I'm talking about YOU. YOU still have the power to reset everything. Toriel, Sans, Asgore, Alphys, Papyrus, Undyne… If you so choose… Everyone will be ripped from this timeline… ...and sent back before all of this ever happened. Nobody will remember anything. You'll be able to do whatever you want." She's not doing this because she wants to!

"... That power. I know that power. That's the power you were fighting to stop, wasn't it? The power that I wanted to use. But now, the idea of resetting everything… I… I don't think I could do it all again. Not after that. … So, please. Just let go. Be happy. Live your life." Tears stream down her face. She wants nothing more than that, but she can't.

"... But. If I can't change your mind. If you DO end up erasing everything …" He smiles weakly. "… You have to erase my memories, too."

"... I'm sorry. You've probably heard this a hundred times already, haven't you?" She shakes her head vigorously, desperately, but he doesn't notice.

"... Well. That's all. See you later." A small cry escapes Frisk as she starts forward, arm outstretched to the place where he disappears. Then, before the last light of the sunset outside her new bedroom window can change her mind, she slams her hand down on the Reset button, and all goes black.

Frisk wakes up in a familiar patch of golden flowers. She just lays there for a while, unable to find the determination to move. Finally, she pushes herself up, clutching the small stick that fell with her.

Slowly, legs heavy, she walks through the ornate archway at the end of the hallway, turning her back on the little bit of sunlight that filtered into the mountain.

"Howdy! I'm Flowey! Flowey the Flower!" he says, with his familiar shit-eating grin. I'm going to save you, Asriel. Frisk thinks. Just hold on.

"Golly," Flowey is saying, "you must be so confused. Someone ought to teach you how things work around here!"

"I know," Frisk says in a monotone. "It's kill or be killed, right?"

"Ah-hah-hah-hah-ha!" Flowey laughs that creepy laugh of his, where multiple echoes layered strangely upon each other and it created the beginning shocks of an earthquake in her brain. "So you know how this works. Let's play, then." His face contorts demonically, and Frisk's soul glowed red.

A circle of seeds starts closing in around her, and she pales as it approached. Maybe she had rushed the dialogue too much. Maybe Toriel wouldn't come on time. She shrinks into a ball as the first seed presses against her heart.

A fireball appears out of the dimness, and confusion fills Flowey's small face. Then he shrieks as he is flung aside, and disappears from view. Toriel runs into the small patch of light, skirts in hand.

"What a terrible creature, torturing such a poor, innocent youth…" she says, her voice soft and gentle. Oh, if only you knew, Frisk thinks, with a strange desire to both laugh and cry.

"Ah, do not be afraid, my child." Toriel says, mistaking the reason for her trembling. "I am Toriel, caretaker of the ruins. I pass through this place every day to see if anyone has fallen down. You are the first human to come here in a long time. Come, I will guide you through the catacombs."

"This way," she says, turning and walking through a similar ornate archway, emblazoned with the same simple crest.

"Catacombs?" Frisk feels her mouth move without thinking, and winces as Toriel turned back. Toriel smiles, but it seems forced. "Ah, do not worry, child. That is a name from the distant past. I meant the ruins, of course." She turns, the smile slipping from her face as she did. Frisk is not too slow to notice.

Frisk follows her through the archway. "The shadow of the ruins looms above, filling you with determination," says the small voice in the back of her head Frisk has learned to trust. Her childish companion has helped her many a time before.

Frisk saves and walks up the hard stone steps.

"Welcome to your new home, innocent one," and Frisk's heart aches. How could she ever tell her mom that she had to kill her, to save someone she didn't know necessarily deserved to be saved? And there was the strange grey pallor, the way that none of these creatures lingered anywhere long, the life-sucking chill in the room behind the cracked grey door - how could she know if the same thing would happen to anyone, at least anyone without her levels of determination, who heard his name? That they would disappear from existence, fading in and out forever? The souls of all the monsters in the underground would hardly be enough to save him, if the calculations she had made based off the translations of the notes in Sans' back room had been correct. She couldn't risk it.

Meanwhile, Toriel had solved the puzzle and waits for Frisk to step forward. She looks at her strangely, and Frisk wonders briefly if her mom can read minds. She shakes off the chill that runs down her back and follows.

In the next room, Frisk flips the labelled switches.

"Splendid! I am proud of you!" Toriel says, and Frisk cringes at the praise. "Let us move to the next room."

"As a human living in the underground, monsters may attack you," Toriel says as Frisk enters the room. Frisk resisted the urge to hang her head. "You will need to be prepared for this situation." Toriel's voice fades out as Frisk's vision tunnels. She walks numbly over to the dummy. This one's only a dummy, she thinks. You'll have to do much worse than this.

She still shakes as her soul starts to glow. She gingerly reaches her hand back, then punches the dummy, hard. She stifles a cry as it crumbles into dust, coating her in the thick powder. She conceals her watering eyes with a sneeze.

"Ahh, the dummies are not for fighting! They are for talking!" Toriel says. "We do not want to hurt anybody, do we…?" There is the slightest quaver of uncertainty in her voice, and the slightest of pauses before she speaks again. "Come now."

Numbly, Frisk follows, nodding to Toriel's muted words. Then she encounters Froggit. Her breathing ragged, Frisk clenches her hands and slashes out blindly with her stick. More dust settles upon her as Froggit crumbles. She shakes and continues after Toriel, who seems unaware of what just transpired behind her.

Toriel takes her hand to lead her through the spikes, and Frisk gasps at the warm softness of it. Tears spring to her eyes, and she swallows through a closed throat, choking them back. She pushes her feelings away, distancing herself in order to keep a straight face.

Frisk vaguely recognizes the next room. Toriel explains something to her - that she would have to walk to the end of the room on her own, she remembered. Toriel strides quickly away, her long legs carrying her more quickly than Frisk could have followed, even if her legs weren't numb and shaking. Frisk stumbles forward, seeing Toriel's shadow peeking out from behind the large, conspicuous pillar.

Toriel hands Frisk her cell phone and she accepts, staring fixedly at it. She heads off, presumably to gather the ingredients for the pie. That's what Frisk recalls. She decides now she wiil listen, hang on to their every precious word. She can't afford to lose herself to the task. That would create a true monster, in the sense that humans understood the term.

As she steps into the next room, her phone rings. Her hand steadies a little as she picks it up, hearing Toriel's voice in her ear.

"Hello? This is Toriel." Frisk smiles, though the pain lingers in her eyes. "You have not left the room, have you? There are a few puzzles ahead that I have yet to explain. It would be dangerous to try to solve them yourself. Be good, alright?"

I'm sorry, mom, she thinks. I can't be good. But you don't have to worry about me. She lets out a choked laugh. I'm not the one in danger.

Playfully crinkling through the leaves fills you with determination, the voice says. I'm doing this for her, too, Frisk reminds herself. She lets out a sigh. Child, Toriel calls her, but she left that behind long ago.

She encounters another Froggit, and this time doesn't hesitate, stepping through the dust before it settles. She can't afford to linger over things that will be reset eventually anyway.

Then she recalls something, and walks up. She grabs a handful of monster candy, knocking over the bowl in the process, and stuffs it in her pocket. She knows she'll need it later.

She exits, walking around until she encounters monster after monster, mainly Whimsuns. She strikes true each time, until she coughs from the white powder that fills the air.

She slashes more quickly each time, dodging a multitude of attacks and being hit by almost as many.

Finally she wipes a streak of blood from her mouth with the back of her hand and charges the remaining Migosp, who now that they are alone is dancing to their own beat. Frisk hesitates just slightly, then brings the stick down once, twice. The deed is done.

Her soul starts to glow, and an ominous feeling falls upon her like warm standing water on a summer day. She rolls her shoulders. But nobody came, whispers the voice at the back of her head.

After some time, her phone rings.

"He-hello?" she stammers.

"Hello? This is Toriel. For no reason in particular…" Toriel paused for a second. "Which do you prefer? Cinnamon or butterscotch?"

"B-butterscotch," Frisk manages. She can almost smell the cinnamon-butterscotch pie scent wafting through Home. Why does everyone have to be so nice?

"Oh, I see," Toriel replies. "Thank you very much!"

There is a click as she hangs up. Frisk walks a few steps before the phone rings again.

"Hello? This is Toriel. You do not dislike cinnamon, do you? I know what your preference is, but… Would you turn up your nose if you found it on your plate?"

"No," Frisk sighs.

"Right, right, I understand. Thank you for being patient, by the way."

The phone clicks off again, then rings after Frisk moves past the now-disabled puzzle.

"You do not have any allergies do you?"

"No…" says Frisk.

"Huh? Why am I asking?" Toriel says, misreading the silence. "No reason… No reason at all."

Click. She hangs up.

Frisk easily moves past the pitfall puzzle, her heart hammering heavily as she speaks to the stubborn rock. At least she doesn't have to fight it. It's just a rock.

After she crosses over the spikes, she decides to try something. It isn't a monster, but perhaps…

"Hey," she calls back in a throaty stage whisper. "Does the name Gaster mean anything to you?"

"The rock turns even grayer than it had been, if that was possible.

"Can't say that it does," it says, in a monotone so unlike it's usually high-pitched, accented voice.

Without a word, Frisk crosses into the next room, then turns back. The rock is gone, and the spikes block her way back. Well, she thinks, at least that answers that question. When she saves, the voice only says, determination.

Napstablook lies across the path a few rooms later, and Frisk tries to force him to move. A flicker of annoyance passes through the back of her mind, but she pushes it away. She flies from foot to foot, protecting her soul from the ectoplasmic tears that threaten and pausing to pant for breath when he said "Not really feeling up to it right now, sorry."

After not too long, she slashes across with what should have been a killing blow.

"umm…. you do know you cant kill ghosts, right? we're sorta incoporeal and all. i was just lowering my hp because i didnt want to be rude. Sorry… i just made this more awkward… pretend you beat me… oooooooooo"

Napstablook fades, and Frisk feels the small amount of power she had gathered drop just a bit. No, she panics, her heart pounding faster and more painfully, like it was trying to break free of her chest. She needed all the power - She could live without killing him, if it was impossible, but how could - she couldn't do this over again, it would have to be enough (please let it be enough)

She continues, letting the spinning of her mind unravel her tangled thoughts, buying a spider donut and some spider cider from the webs. The thought springs to her mind to stomp on the spiders, and she pushes it away, shuddering. There would be enough death already, and they weren't monsters.

Chills keep running down her back, as if someone was watching her. But nobody came, the voice in her head said, mocking her.

The phone rings.

"Hello?" It's Toriel, of course. "I just realized that it has been a while since I have cleaned up. I was not expecting to have company so soon. There are probably a lot of things lying about here and there. You can pick them up, but do not carry more than you need. Someday you might see something you really like. You will want to leave room in your pockets for that." Frisk doesn't even hear the click as she hangs up.

That's right. She has to think about what she is going to carry. Not all monsters will be easy to - um, to, oh god no

Frisk starts humming an old lullaby to distract herself from that train of thought.

Floating part-weightlessly through one of the pitfalls, she finds the faded ribbon. She puts it on with shaking hands. Though she is unable to steady them, a thought comes to her. She is going to have to stop being so emotional about all this. Otherwise, she'll never accomplish her goal. And, after all, this isn't going to be a permanent thing. She will reset.

She continues with an infinitesimally lighter heart. Pushing the switch under one of the pitfalls, she walks until she comes to the room with the view of the old city, tall and stately buildings crumbling to dust with age and disuse. She picks up the toy knife, throwing away the stick in the process. It makes her uncomfortable, even though it is only a toy, but she grasps it firmly and moves on.

"Oh dear, that took longer than I thought it would," Toriel's voice rings through the room in front of her house. She runs forward, her phone to her ear, then a look of surprise crosses her face as she sees Frisk.

"How did you get here, my child?" Toriel says, rushing over. "Are you hurt?" Concern is evident in the pinch of her eyes. "There, there, I will heal you." A rush of energy, like a breath of mountain air, passes from her outstretched hand to Frisk, revitalizing her.

"I should not have left you alone for so long," she continues, smiling sadly. "It was irresponsible to try and surprise you like this. Err…" she trails off, putting a hand to her face. "Well I suppose I cannot hide it any longer. Come, small one."

Frisk's stomach twists as she walks away and the faint smell of butterscotch wafts towards her. She takes a deep breath, feeling the musty air settle into her lungs, and follows her.

Determination, the voice says.

As Frisk enters the home, Toriel is waiting for her. "Do you smell that?" she asks, smiling. "Surprise!" The smile crinkles her eyes. "It is a butterscotch-cinnamon pie. I thought we might celebrate your arrival."

Frisk's throat tenses and a feelings of sidery heat runs up and down her esophagus. She swallows, and continues listening.

"I want you to have a nice time living here. So I will hold off on snail pie for tonight. Here, I have another surprise for you." Toriel turns and walks to the right with long strides.

Frisk follows Toriel into the hall, blinking rapidly and swallowing with difficulty.

"This is it," Toriel says, and takes her by the hand. Frisk wants to hold her hand as hard as she can, in fact she wants to throw her arms around Toriel and bury her face in her chest, but instead only grasps the offered hand lightly.

"This is it," Toriel proclaims proudly. "A room of your own! I hope you like it." She rubs Frisk's head, and Frisk lets out a heavy breath.

Suddenly, the tops of Toriel's ears perk up. "Um, is something burning…?" she says quickly. "Make yourself at home!" She rushes off, picking up her skirts as she runs, leaving Frisk to enter the room alone.

Frisk climbs on the bed wearily, not even bothering to take off her shoes. She falls into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

When she wakes, the first thing she sees is the slice of pie Toriel has left for her. She snuggles under the weight of the quilt that has been tucked over her and does not move for probably half an hour. Finally, she thinks, it's like taking off that bandage. It's less painful to do it all at once.

She follows the hallway down to the left. She finds Toriel sitting in a comfy armchair, reading a book with small eyeglasses perched on her nose. It is a homey scene.

"Up already, I see?" she says when Frisk makes a small noise and pats her knee. Um, I want you to know how glad I am to have someone here. There are so many old books I want to share. I want to show you my favorite bug-hunting spot. I've also prepared a curriculum for your education. This may come as a surprise to you… But I have always wanted to become a teacher." Her eyes narrow. "Actually, perhaps that isn't very surprising. STILL." Her face resumes its calm, comforting expression. "I am glad to have you living here. Oh, did you want something? What is it" Her eyes focus back on Frisk.

We're not going to be able to do those things, Frisk thinks sadly, then reasons, but even when I didn't kill her, we didn't. And I am going to reset.

"I want to go home," Frisk says simply.

"What?" Toriel says, about to try to distract her, but Frisk persists.

"Please," she says, deviating from the script she followed the last time.

"But-"

"Mom," Frisk says, and the look in her eyes must convince Toriel, because she stands.

"... I have to do something," she says in a rush. "Stay here."

Despite Frisk's earlier resolution, her mind is buzzing so much with the knowledge of the upcoming battle, like static across a screen, that she can't hear Toriel's warning about Asgore. She pursues her to the door, and as Toriel raises her arms, fire flickering into existence, she strikes.

Jumping forward. Two slashes of the toy knife, as the first one almost misses and rips into her face. Make it quick, painless. But she cannot manage even that.

"Y... you really hate me that much?" Toriel asks, and Frisk longs to cry, no! But she is as silent as if she is possessed.

"Now I see who I was protecting by keeping you here. Not you... but them! Ha… ha…" she gasps, then turns to dust in a fluid downward spiral. The dust itself spirals upward, then settles like snow. Her soul persists for a second, shivering in the air, then cracks, falling into pieces and disappearing.

Frisk knows she cannot stop. She wades through the dust, passing through the door without a backward glance.

"Hahaha," Flowey greets her, laughing, already speaking. "You're not really human, are you." No. "No, you're empty inside." Yes. "Just like me." No, not yet. "In fact… You're Chara, aren't you?" A chill runs down her spine, as Flowey speaks a name she does not know but that somehow sends intense deja vu shuddering through her. It was not the name she had given, Lilly.

"Oh yes," Flowey says. "Still inseparable after all these years. Should I tell you my plans to become even more powerful than you and your stolen soul? If I do, we can destroy everything in this awful world together." He disappears from sight.