Saying Goodbye

by Curved Silence of Ishtar

Dealing with life is hard enough, but when you being illness into the mix, you never know what to expect. This is going to be a dark one, so please don't read it if you want warm fuzziness. There is not going to be a lot of that here. I have not written in a very long time, so please bear with me as I remember how to do this... Rating for cursing and dark subject matter.

21. Chapter 21

Saying Goodbye

They all sat, listening to the human talking in front of the crowd of people. People who all had grown to know and love you. Sometimes there would be a sniffle or a quiet sob, but all in all, there was just the damned silence. Nobody wanted to say anything after the old man at the podium finished, nobody could find the right words.

Your monster family watched as people filed past the ornate urn that housed what was left of you. Laying at the top were a few pieces of jewelry. A bracelet that you had made with Alphys, a pair of earrings that your parents had given you when you graduated, and a plain silver locket that had been a gift from Sans. Things that people knew you would never want to be parted with, spared the fire by their nature and their unwillingness to let them be burned with you and your clothes.

The table you rested on was festooned with bright flowers, so many that several baskets and vases sat on the floor around it, the petals dancing merrily in the breeze that came in through the open window. Toriel and Asgore thanked people for coming and accepted condolences, standing a little ways away from the table that held you. Undyne and Alphys sat quietly, watching out a window as a few puffy clouds rolled by. Of course it was sunny today, they thought, you would have it no other way.

Papyrus sat with Sans, his hand on his brother's still shoulder. His tears ran fast and hard, but surprisingly silent. He worried for his brother, who had not said a word since that day that Alphys had called them, her words coming in rapid gasps as she told them that they needed to get back that very minute. Sans' eyes had gone wide and dark and he launched them through a series of 'shortcuts' so rapidly that the taller skeleton had barely had time to register the jumps. You had held on long enough for them to get there, every breath an obvious trial, before you finally let out one last rasp and stilled.

Sans had not said a word since.

Papyrus had stuck around the apartment after you were taken away and everybody else had gone to begin their grieving and planning for the funeral. He watched as Sans sat on the bed, unmoving. He tried to get him to come downstairs and talk to him, but he did not respond. Finally, Papyrus had left a bowl of reheated pasta on the dresser and left, not knowing what else to do. When he came back the next day, he had not moved more than a foot.

Now he was sitting in a cheap chair at the front of the crowd, his wide blank eyes on the urn. He barely looked up when Asgore stood before him and called out to him. In one large hand he held a bundle of envelopes, tied with a green string. When he knew Sans was listening to him, at least for the moment, he sifted through them before pulling one from the stack and holding it out to him. The short skeleton stared at it dumbly for a moment before taking it and letting it rest on his leg as his eyes unfocused and went back to staring straight ahead.

Asgore sighed and patted him on the shoulder, telling him to come to the house when he felt up to it, that he and Toriel would be happy to have him around. He circulated through the others, handing out the envelopes. Nobody opened the letters yet. Nobody had the heart to look at a page that had your careful pen strokes.

Nobody was surprised to see that Sans was gone when they went to leave. Toriel and Asgore held your urn and upended it from their rooftop, watching as the breeze caught you and sent you cascading through the air. A few smaller urns were waiting downstairs, with a little ash in them and the trinkets from earlier, to be given to the others. They stood watching as the cloud of ash spun and twirled away, thinking of your happy laughter.

Sans stood in the living room of the apartment, alone again. His movements were mechanical as he moved to the bedroom again. He spent most of his time there now, waiting for you to be there. He pulled off his jacket and stared at it when he heard the sound of crinkling paper. He had forgotten about the letter in his pocket. He opened it with shaking hands and settled into the chair in the corner that had been his almost constant post for the last six months and took a deep breath as he began to read.