AN: Back to Chara POV again!
This is not Frisk's body.
You think maybe you should've noticed straight away? But you didn't. It's been so long.
This is not Frisk's body; it is yours.
You're skinnier than them, more angular, less soft. They're a bit taller, you think, judging by how your arms and legs feel shorter than they should be. But that might just be because of age. Your skin is paler and you blush more easily, face turning red and blotchy at the slightest provocation.
Your scars are in different places.
Asriel is still standing next to you. No, wait, he was sitting down before; he's standing up now, you think you pushed him off the bed. You've pushed yourself into the corner, as far away as you can get, because he can't be real. None of this can be real.
Your breathing speeds up until you're hyperventilating, gasping for air. Your nails - what's left of them - dig into your palms. You can't stop staring at your hands. They're your hands. They're your hands, not Frisk's, you have your body again, and Frisk isn't here. Frisk isn't here.
A tide of hysterical laughter tears itself from your throat, bubbles out from somewhere deep inside you. Oh god. Oh, god.
This is all so funny, isn't it? You're laughing so hard it feels like it might drown you, ribs aching with the force of it. You can't stop. It's just so funny.
How many times have you wanted to be rid of them? Have a body of your own again? Not have their stupid voice yapping at you all the time, telling you what to do and not to do, no, Chara, we're not going to fight them, put that down, we can find another way, I'm sure, pulling you out of every frenzy you manage to work yourself into, trying to keep you in line, trying to, trying to, trying to save you-
You don't realise you're crying until your vision blurs and the tears drip down your chin and onto your hands. The laughter sounds more like sobs at this point but you still. Can't. Stop.
Why? Why did they always have to try to fucking save everyone?
... well, they can't save you now. You're alone. You're not sure what you did, but it finally got what you wanted. Well done, Chara.
Are you satisfied?
In time, the tears dry out and the laugh comes to a halting stop, gives way to a low moan as you fold in over yourself. You're alone. You're alone. Frisk isn't here. Frisk isn't-
-but Asriel is. Asriel is here.
With more determination than should be needed for such a small task, you lift your hands and wipe at your face with your sleeves. It comes away soaked in tears and snot. Gross, you think, but there's no one to answer you. You breathe in as deeply as you can, steeling yourself for the sight, and turn your eyes to Asriel.
He's still standing by the bed, but he's shaking, eyes wide and anxious, paw hovering near your shoulder but not touching you.
You're scaring him.
Is he scared of you or for you? You genuinely can't tell anymore.
With another deep breath you grab his paw, pressing it to your cheek. He takes his cue and steps closer, wrapping you in a hug, he's- he's so small. He's still sort of shaking. You want to keep crying, you want to tell him it's okay, I'm okay, stop looking like that, stop it, you want, you want, you want.
You don't tell him any of that. You just squeeze your eyes shut and try to breathe. You're still not waking up.
You don't understand how or why, but you don't think you're dreaming. Somehow, you're really here. Somehow, you're back.
"...don't," you manage to force out after a while, stumbling over the words, "don't tell A-Asgore and Toriel."
"But Chara-!"
"No. Please, Asriel. They can't know. Please."
He tenses up, face scrunching up into a wobbly grimace, and then he sags, dropping his head down on your shoulder. "Alright," he mumbles. "I won't tell."
"Do you promise?"
"...yeah. I promise."
You card your fingers through his fur. It's soft. You'd almost forgotten. "Thanks, 'Ree."
It is with much reluctance you detach yourself from him again. You want to stay with him and keep pretending it's all just a dream and you'll wake up again in just a little while. You want to let him keep holding you forever. But your skin is buzzing, and you need to get out. You need to sort this out. You need to think.
"I need to be alone for a while," you tell him, ignoring the guilt. "Cover for me?"
"..."
"Asriel…?"
"...yeah. Sure."
He sounds unhappy, which, of course he does. But it's not the first time you've disappointed him.
"Thank you."
When you leave the room you don't look back.
Light spills in through the windows, bathing the hall in gold. Your steps echo on the floor. There's… a lot of memories in this place. A lot of things that went unsaid, or were only ever hinted at.
You remember coming here with Frisk, thinking that it was the last step on your journey. You remember how purposeful the both of you were, so determined to reach the end, to make it through, to set things right.
You remember what came after.
Even so… It's not so bad, this place. It sets your mind straight, soothes you, somewhat. The only dust here comes from the combination of time and lackluster sweeping.
There's a sound behind you and you flinch, for a moment expecting to find sans standing behind you to bestow judgment upon you instead of on Frisk, but it's just a monster shuffling through, probably on their way to see the King and Queen. Nothing to fear.
You still step behind a pillar before they see you.
Hiding like this sort of reminds you of the lamp back in Snowdin. You crack a smile and think Close one, huh? All hail convenient hiding spots.
There's no reply. The smile drops from your face.
It's such a strange thing to be alone in your own mind.
For the longest time, it's been you-and-Frisk, separate minds but the same entity, almost. At times your consciousness would bleed over to theirs, or theirs to yours, and it would feel like being a single person. It would feel like you had a soul.
... your soul. Do you have that, here? Your hand presses down on your ribcage, even though you know you can't actually feel it that way. How do you find out? You don't know how to draw it out on your own. Frisk tried, a couple of times, with and without your help, but neither of you ever managed to make it work outside of a fight. You suppose you could ask Asriel or Toriel or Asgore to spar with you, but-
the fire never burned before but it burns you now there is a thin coating of dust on your hands on your clothes flying up around you when you hit the ground everyone crumbling into pieces there is only atk and def and LOVE you need to raise your LOVE you need to
- you don't really want to.
You think… without Frisk, maybe it would be for the best if you never fought anyone again.
You're biting your lip hard enough to bleed. You don't need LOVE anymore, you don't need to fight anyone anymore, this world is not kill or be killed, it isn't, it isn't, Frisk showed you that, the two of you proved it together, you don't need LOVE. There are other kinds of strength, and you have love, now. You have-
This... is the place where you first found love. Back before Frisk, back before all of it. They loved you. You loved them (you still love them).
You know that you, out of everyone in this world, has no right to be here, has no right to be happy here, but could you really bear to leave it again?
Can you leave it again?
Tentatively, you reach out for a SAVE, but there's nothing there. Of course not, you think, face twisting into a bitter grimace. It'd be too much to ask for things to ever just be simple, huh?
Once again you are met only by silence.
Whatever.
Knowing there's nothing to anchor you to anything anymore is… strange. If you died now, it might actually kill you.
Huh.
You shake of the thought, thinking focus, Chara, get to the point, and then you do. Get to the point.
Why are you here? You close your eyes, try to remember if anything had been different before you woke up here, but nothing comes to mind. No strange artefacts, no ominous deals with mysterious strangers, no potential gateways to different dimensions, just… you and Frisk, going on with their life, like always. You'd been feeling a bit worn out, you guess - sort of stretched thin, aimlessly drifting now that your existence suddenly didn't have a clear end goal in sight - but that wasn't exactly unusual, just sort of annoying. You'd never really expected to have to go back to a normal existence again, after… everything. You'd always planned to go out with a bang, and then that would be the end.
And then 'the end' turned out to only be a new beginning.
And none of that seems even vaguely relevant to the situation at hand.
With a frustrated sigh you rake your hands through your hair. This isn't doing you any good. You're not getting any answers.
You need some air. And… you need to find your parents. Need to confirm that they are still here, too, that they haven't disappeared while you had your back turned. This world feels real, but that doesn't really mean anything, does it? Appearances can be deceiving. Until you know what's going on you can't trust it, this could all fall apart around you any second.
Or you could.
Enjoy it while it lasts, you think again, forcing your mind away from the depressing possibilities, Cherish every moment, Chara. Don't let go yet.
Trailing your hand over the wall, you start making your way towards the throne room.
You may, you realise as your body grows numb and you stand petrified only a few steps out of the doors, have made a slight miscalculation. Turns out things are a bit more difficult to deal with when you can't just disconnect yourself and let Frisk run the show on their own for a while. Probably you should've seen this coming.
Last time you were here there were golden flowers everywhere, covering the entire garden, almost glowing in the light. But those were only there because of you, because of Asriel, because of your mistakes.
Now, there are buttercups.
They're so bright it makes you nauseated just to look at them, but you can't tear your eyes away. Everything else goes away, the world narrows down to this one thing. You can hear your heart beating in your head, a phantom pain in your stomach, the taste of them still lingers on your tongue- you feel your worst sin crawling on your back-
"Chara," someone says behind you. You startle, flinching away from the voice and instinctively falling into a defensive stance, ready to strike at the threat, and then it properly registers in your mind. No threat. Nothing here is a threat to you. They do not mean you harm. You risk a glance up at the one who spoke. It's Asgore. He doesn't look angry, but sometimes it's hard to tell, and sometimes things change very quickly. Once you were convinced he'd never be able to bring himself to intentionally hurt anybody (once you thought this made him weak) but…
He could hurt Frisk, as much as you're certain he hated every second of it. He did hurt Frisk. The two of you died over and over and over again as you tried to find a different solution but there was none, there was nothing you could do, he refused to let you spare him, and you refused to give up when you had come so far. Frisk died.
He made Frisk fight.
But… that was long ago. It was long ago and it hasn't happened yet.
Your breaths are still quicker and more shallow than they should be but you stand up properly, letting your hands fall to your sides. The hem of Asgore's robe trails over the ground. He'll get it all muddy again.
He doesn't chastise you for your reflexes. Instead, he gently nudges you away from the flower patch, tilting your head upwards with a gentle paw. You're not sure what he sees in your eyes. You're not sure what there is to see anymore, if there ever was anything. Does he see a murderer? A demon? A soulless husk? You were all those things, once. And then came Frisk.
….and then they were gone.
Whatever Asgore is looking for he seems to find it. He pulls his paw away from your chin and places it on your shoulder instead. "We know it was an accident, Chara. You have been forgiven, and no lasting damage was done. It is in the past now. You do know that, don't you?"
For a moment, one single blissful moment, you think this means he knows after all. Maybe they all know where you're from, what has changed, what you have done, and maybe, as outrageous as it is, as little as you deserve it, they have found it in their hearts to forgive you. Maybe you don't have to feel guilty about being here after all. Then your thoughts catch up and you realise: oh. The buttercups. This must be just after you and Asriel made that pie. It wouldn't have been many days from now you ask him to help you with your plan.
Maybe you already have.
"Yeah," you tell him. "I know."
Something in your voice must betray you, because Asgore's brows knit together in a frown.
"Are you alright, my child?" he asks, paw heavy on your shoulder. You must hesitate a moment too long before nodding, because he keeps going. "Chara. We all care very deeply for you, and we want nothing else than for you, and Asriel, to be happy. If there was something bothering you, anything at all… you would tell us about it. Would you not?"
Your mind throws you for a loop, weighing the risk of telling him vs the risk of lying only to be caught in that lie when Asriel tells him about this morning, and then you realise you're being ridiculous.
Asriel is not a tattletale. He wouldn't tell on you, not ever. He never did.
Not even when maybe he should have, you think, guilt like concrete in your chest.
"I'm okay, Mr- I mean, Dad," you say, as softly as you can muster. The word feels as odd in your mouth now as it did then. Now. Then. Frisk doesn't really call Asgore 'dad' much. "Really, I am."
He nods, slowly. "You know, it's been… quite some time since we last spent some time together, you and I," he says, and for one terrifying split of a second you think he'll ask you to help him in the garden and you don't trust yourself around anything sharp right now, but instead he just smiles. "Would you care for a cup of tea?"
Your eyes fill with tears and you tilt your head down again so you can hide behind your bangs, scrubbing furiously at your eyes in a useless attempt not to cry. God, you're so pathetic. "Yeah," you say, voice disgustingly wobbly. "Yeah, Dad. I'd like that."