A Tale of Consequences

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Chapter 4

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Inevitably, the storm would end, ebbing away and leaving the human lost and listless on the floor of the cell.

No. Not the human. Frisk. Frisk.

They clung to their name, using it as a wall to shore up their feeble defense against the other. They didn't know how much more they could take. Each attack chipped away at their will. The other was wrong. They weren't pathetic. They weren't done. Even Sans was wrong. Frisk wasn't giving up.

I can't do it again.

End the circle and the other could never hurt anyone again.

They wished they could go back and end it before it started. To undo the lives the other had taken.

They'd tried.

They'd tried so many times.

This was the most...free they'd been in...they didn't even know how many resets.

All because Sans missed.

It had been Game Over.

Frisk trembled, waiting for the other to swoop back in and begin dictating again. They were there. Frisk could feel them. Waiting. But waiting for what? To try and goad Sans into killing them again?

They hurt. Hurt so much. Even the ambient aura of green magic couldn't cure wounds of the soul. Frisk took each one and stored them away, tucking them deep down, away from the other. It was Frisk's pain, and Frisk's alone.

Something beeped. Some sort of sound muffled by the thick glass surrounding them. Frisk almost didn't care, but decided to look away. They carefully raised their head, eyes hidden behind overlong bangs as they strained to see what was beyond the tinted, cloudy glass.

A shadow, short and round. Leaning against the glass. Frisk crawled closer, each movement exaggerating their healing wounds, but they were focused on that splash of blue even through the glass' green tint.

Sans.

His snores reverberated through the glass. Frisk couldn't help a smile. Skeletons didn't have to breathe. Frisk was pretty sure they didn't have to snore either.

They curled up with their back against the curved glass, only a few inches from his. Something about the monster made them feel safe. Even if he'd killed them 30 times. Frisk would die 30 more times if it meant they would never have to kill a friend again. He was here. He was the one person Frisk had never been able to kill. One more reset, and he'd be gone too. They knew it. It happened with Papyrus when they'd fallen crying into his arms. Reset. Dust. They eventually let Undyne impale them, intent on making things right next time. Rest. Dust.

I wish I could stop…

Frisk couldn't say the words, even if they could force their throat to work.

The other giggled

Can you do it, partner?

Could you look him in the eye and tell him no?

Tell him his brother is dead forever, just to feel better about yourself?

...Sometimes the freedom of choice was like a dagger to the heart. They hugged their knees to their chest, small wordless sobs lost amongst the skeleton's faltering snores.

They couldn't do this anymore.

Not alone.

But you are never alone, partner. You have me.

x-x-x.

Eventually the quiet noises trailed off into restless sleep.

Sans cracked open an eye and glanced up at the amalgamate. The tall indistinct humanoid just stared blankly at him.

"Hey. You can phase through stuff right?"

It didn't say anything. But it did shift. Slowly.

"Think you could get the kid a blanket? Don't want them to get frozen to the bone in there."

It faded from view. Sans sighed and slumped into his jacket again, the fur lining the collar tickling at his skull. He hadn't needed the monitor's warning to know the human had woken up. He could feel them now, an exhausted warmth at his back.

A skeleton had an empty ribcage...so why did he feel a faint heartbeat?

What the hell did we do, kid?

Yesterday all he wanted was vengence. And then his internal counter had ticked over nearly half a dozen times, and now he didn't know what he wanted.

Now…

"Pap isn't around to do it for you anymore, bonehead." Sans let out a disgusted grunt, the bitter words hanging in the hushed silence of the lab. "One way or another, you gotta decide."

What did he want?

Black.

Pink.

A heart beating in his chest, one that didn't exist.

He needed to look up some information about souls. He knew...the basics thanks to-static- his notes.

A scribbled drawing, his own messy scrawl.

Don't Forget.

Something had to change.

He couldn't keep the loop going.

The image was burned into his memory, black cracks spreading through the struggling soul. He'd...felt it. Oily and thick

Especially if he could talk Alphys over, although he didn't think he'd have much luck getting the skittish monster to come within twenty feet of this room. He really should let her know...he hadn't bothered going to her first this time...

Later.

His aborted nap was calling.