Chapter 6: You Can't

You and Sans stayed at the hospital for a week. Papyrus was awake and moving within a few days. The two of you stayed in his room with him most of the time, talking. You both treasured the time you spent just living with him. The relationship between you and Sans seemed smoother than it had before. Doctors had informed Sans that Papyrus could go home in a day. Papyrus had sprung up and pulled the three of you into a hug. You were overjoyed.

Home had never looked so enticing. You smiled as you stepped through the front door after Sans and Papyrus. Protected arm in a sling, you slid your shoes off with one hand and wiggled your toes on the soft, living room carpet. You sighed, relief and happiness flooding through you. Looking back at you, Sans graced you with a forgiving smile, which you happily returned.

You walked over to him and threw yourself into his arms. "It's so good to be home."

You felt Sans nod against the top of your head. "It really is," he whispered, holding you tight.

The first month was flawless. You and the reunited skeleton brothers spent every waking moment together. You ran down the halls with Papyrus every morning to wake up Sans, who pretended to be asleep just so Papyrus would pounce on him. Papyrus cooked spaghetti for breakfast, which never tasted so good. Soon, things started to seem perfectly normal.

It was a Wednesday when you woke up from the first nightmare. Papyrus, covered in rubble, limbs mangled and skull cracked down the center. Dead. Sans, lifeless and unmoving below you, empty pill bottle in his hand. Dead. Your body, hunched over in a chair, gushing blood out of a gash through your throat. Dead.

"Frisk!" A sharp cry tore your eyes open. Your throat burned and your face was wet. Despite how freezing you were, you were sweating all over.

"P-Papyrus!" You saw his face, concerned, hovering over yours. Your arms had never darted out so quickly.

"It's alright, human. It was just a dream."

"I thought- I thought you had died." You sobbed, inhaling the scent of his scarf as you buried your face in his shoulder.

"Me? The Great Papyrus? Of course not!"

You laughed. Everything is fine.

Friday, you walked into the living room to see Sans sitting silently on the couch, eyes closed. You sat down next to him and rested your head on his arm.

"Hm?" You heard him grunt. It was a soft sound, gentle and tired. After a moment you felt his arm shift beneath you and rest across your back.

"Frisk!" Papyrus called for you in the kitchen.

Carefully, as not to disturb Sans, you got up. Looking back to see him still asleep, you retreated quietly. "What is it?"

"Human! Help me make this pasta sauce!"

You smiled at him, his enthusiastic expression brightening your own. Seeing he had already laid out a knife and a few tomatoes for you, you reached for your tool but stopped abruptly. That knife. You vividly recalled bringing it to your neck and applying pressure. Breath catching in your throat, your hand reached up of its own accord to rub your neck and your eyes went wide.

"Frisk?"

You turned. Papyrus was looking at you, visage puzzled.

"Is something wrong?"

You shook your head. "No, nothing!" You grinned, not wanting to worry him.

Reassured, he turned back to stirring the spaghetti and you tentatively began cutting. It's okay, you told yourself. Everything is fine.

Sunday, Papyrus had a limp. He leaned his weight on his right side when standing still and clutched at his ribs when he sat down. Sans asked him about it, to which he replied that he slept wrong. You tried to tell Sans he was being paranoid when he asked again, and he shut his mouth.

The limp persisted, worsening by Monday. Papyrus agreed to go to the hospital at Sans' request. They found nothing wrong, simply saying his bones were still weak from the incident and that he should stay healthy and eat a little more. You all were sent home again.

By Thursday, Papyrus could barely walk. He winced whenever someone touched him and dropped things constantly. Sans brought him to the hospital once more. They readmitted him, saying that his bones were not regaining strength like they should. He was put on an IV and a strict diet for the next two days.

By Saturday he lost his voice. Sans was livid. He yelled at the nurses and doctors, but they didn't have a clue what was happening. A magic specialist was brought in to examine his soul. It was weakening, he said, but couldn't pinpoint why. He began to grow frustrated, stating there was no reason for his health to be declining so fast.

Sunday came again. Nobody could explain what was happening to Papyrus. He was transferred to several different wings around the hospital but nothing could be found out. Too weak to be brought to another hospital, you and Sans were forced to accept his fate.

"He's dying," a short, thin monster told you, expression grim. "He only has a matter of days left."

"C-can't you do anything?" Sans stuttered, not bothering to hold back tears.

"He can barely stay conscious, but he's not in pain anymore. The only thing we can do is make his fall as comfortable as possible." The doctor paused, looking over the both of you before sighing. "I'm sorry. You should spend as much time with him as you can the next few days."

Sans was silent. "Thank you," you said, taking Sans' hand and leading him back in the room when he made no attempt to move on his own. "We won't leave his side."

As soon as you entered the room, he collapsed into your arms. "I can't," he sobbed, voice fragmented and broken. "I can't lose him again."

You looked over at Papyrus, sleeping peacefully on the hospital bed, various tubes connected to his bones. You clutched Sans tighter and bit your lip, holding back a cry.

"I'm sorry." You whispered.

"Me too." Sans pulled away from you. "Can't you fix this?"

You couldn't meet his gaze. "I- I don't know how."

Sans' clenched his fists. "Can't you load your from your last save point?"

"The only way I managed to do that last time was by dying." Your voice was hardly more than a murmur. When you looked up, Sans had stopped crying, tears now replaced with a mixture of shock and pity.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't know-"

"Sans," You stopped him, "don't be a hypocrite."

He sighed. "I'm going to the caf. I'll be back soon."

Nodding, you turned back to Papyrus. Hearing the door open and shut lightly behind you, you sighed, feet taking you to Papyrus' bedside of their own volition. Your hands found his face beneath them, bone light and brittle beneath your fingers. You smiled sadly. Despite everything, he was Papyrus, beautiful and happy, always understanding and besotted with living. At least he was going to die as an innocent monster, surrounded by his closest companions. Secretly, you envied him.

His eyes fluttered. Drawing your hand away from him, you watched as he slowly roused from his sleep, beaming up at you. His eyes still held the same light, even in his final hours. "Frisk," he whispered, voice light and airy.

You couldn't help but smile wider. "Yeah. I'm here, Papyrus."

His expression contorted in discomfort, but only for a second. "Where's Sans?" He asked, eyes flickering around the room. Not a moment later, his eyes closed and he groaned. The monitor beside him beeped.

Panicking, you ran outside, screeching for a nurse. One came instantaneously, rushing to his side. "He's beginning his journey," she said, gently caressing your shoulder. He's dying. You felt tears running down your cheeks and your breath hitched.

Sans entered a moment later, casual look turning confused and then troubled as he saw the situation. "Papyrus?" He rushed over to his brother, gripping his hand. You saw the younger skeleton squeeze Sans' hand back. "I love you, Papyrus." Sans breathed, voice clear but soft, his words meant only for his brother to hear. The monitor beeped a few more times before flatlining. You covered your mouth and sobbed. Sans, not making a sound, leaned over Papyrus and hugged him, chest gently resting against the other skeleton. After what seemed like forever, he drew back and walked out of the room.

"Sans?" You called. When he did not return, you hurried into the hallway before colliding with him. "Sans?" You repeated.

"Can you try reloading your save?" His eyes were empty, tone monotonous.

"I don't know how, but-"

"Just try." He demanded.

Taken aback, you muttered a weary "Okay" and closed your eyes. Think, Frisk, think. How did you feel just before you died? You were broken, nothing left to live for. You opened one eye, Sans' silhouette still before you. No, that won't do. Come on, you have to do this! For Sans and Papyrus! Filled with determination, you thought harder, telling yourself to go back, but nothing worked.

"I'm sorry. I-I can't." You fell to your knees before him.

"That's okay."

Opening your eyes, you saw Sans drop to one knee. His hand met your shoulder and he brought you into a hug. You could hear him exhale by your ear.

"Forgive me, human."

As soon as he spoke, you felt a sharp, stabbing pain through your stomach. Not having the time to be shocked or confused, you gagged, feeling a hot, sharp pain delve deeper into your gut and then retreat. Falling onto Sans, you coughed. The last thing you saw was blood on the hospital tiles before there was nothing.

You wake up in Sans' lap, Papyrus driving down the highway.