Seconds stretched into eternity as the void swallowed up every sound, every image, every sensation. Frisk screamed at Sans, fighting to pry off his hand, but he stayed resolute and motionless. Then finally, the void disappeared and reality poured in.
Frisk took a deep, shuddering breath and forced Sans's hand off her shoulder with a violent tug she hadn't known she was capable of. She staggered forward until she found something strong to support her and leaned against it, pressing her forehead into the coolness of it. Her body was already exhausted from the day's events, but even so it was trying to panic once more. She didn't even know if there were a solid reason for it this time. Sans had only grabbed her shoulder, after all.
"You alright, kid?"
Frisk exhaled slowly and opened her eyes. Unsurprisingly she was leaning against a wall. From the look of it, it seemed to be one of the ones in Sans and Papyrus's house. She turned to Sans as her eyes quickly adjusted to the much dimmer lighting of indoors. Strangely enough, the expression fixed on his face wasn't a smirk or a sneer. She wasn't quite sure what it was, seeing as Sans's skeletal face could only emote so much, but it didn't seem threatening or mocking.
"I'm fine."
"If you say so." He paused for a moment, looking hesitant. "If you want, we could, uh. Go to Grillby's for dinner. So we could- so we could talk."
Frisk turned away, lips forming a straight line. She couldn't think of anything less agreeable than that. At the same time, what if he threatened her into going no matter what she said?
"You...don't have to come," Sans said after a few seconds, tone quieter than usual. "If ya want, I could bring you back something. Eating spaghetti three times a day gets pretty borin'."
Again, she didn't know what to say. She'd spent five months without even the smallest amount of decency directed her way. The old her would've accepted an offer like that in a heartbeat, if she hadn't gone along in the first place. But for even this small act of consideration to be given her didn't feel right. She couldn't help but wonder what Sans had up his sleeve. Perhaps he and Undyne were doing some sort of good cop, bad cop routine? But what they could want from her after her newly revealed uselessness was beyond her.
A sudden, chilling thought swept through her. Perhaps this was something similar to what American prisons did before execution. Wasn't it some sort of tradition to give the prisoner whatever they wanted for a meal the day before they died? What if Sans was only offering her this as pity before he killed her? After all, last she'd checked, he still thought she'd killed Papyrus in an alternate timeline. That thought was one she had to explore at a later time when she wasn't chin-deep in trauma.
"I'm fine," she said again, hoping the answer would get him to leave her alone.
"I'm sure ya are. But d'ya want Grillby's or not?" Sans stepped backwards toward the door. "Last chance."
She opened her mouth to respond but shut it once more. Sans huffed and opened the door, muttering an "Okay, then. Cya."
The door clicked closed. Frisk stared at it suspiciously for a few seconds, but when it didn't reopen she relaxed slightly. Since Papyrus wasn't home - if he were, she would've heard him by now - it seemed she was alone.
Frisk plopped down onto the sofa and stared blankly at the TV. It was tuned to what she was beginning to think was the only channel in Underfell: Mettaton's channel. He was in the middle of what seemed to be a...soap opera? The weird thing about it was that he was the only actor, so he somehow played six parts all in the span of a minute. After watching it for a few minutes, Frisk found herself tuning out from sheer boredom. Instead of the TV, her thoughts began to turn to her current situation.
She couldn't deny that things were different this time. Almost everything was different. Other than Flowey, every monster she'd met looked as dissimilar to their usual appearance as could be, and many of them were acting strangely. Although Frisk hadn't spent enough time with Toriel to really discern anything, Papyrus and Undyne were markedly different: still loud and energetic, but Papyrus seemed sweet and Undyne had showed Frisk mercy. That would never have happened in any previous reset.
Flowey...she felt a pang in her chest. Flowey had been her friend in the months she'd spent down here. They'd hadn't been intimately close, but shared near-death and actual death experiences had given the two a bond she'd thought was lasting. Out of all the monsters, she'd thought that he would be the least likely to share in some sort of Underfell-wide prank.
But what other option could she consider? The only other choice was one she'd tried her hardest not to think about.
What if these monsters...weren't the ones she knew?
A door slammed against the wall, startling Frisk out of her reverie and causing her to hold a couch cushion against herself protectively.
"SANS, HUMAN, I'M HOME!"
Papyrus paraded into the living room, scarf magically fluttering about him. He was holding what looked to be a grocery bag of sorts and looked extremely pleased. He glanced about, locked eyes with Frisk, and gave her a mega-watt grin.
"THERE YOU ARE! BUNNY, OUR GROCER, GAVE ME EXTRA-SPECIAL PASTA INGREDIENTS, YIPPEE! I THOUGHT I WOULD USE THEM TONIGHT TO COOK YOU A SPECIAL MEAL, SINCE I WILL NOT BE SEEING YOU AGAIN FOR A WHILE!"
For a while? Did Papyrus not know what would've happened if Undyne hadn't spared her?
Frisk gave a short, stiff nod. Regardless of if he knew or not, he didn't need to know what had transpired mere minutes ago. She suspected that, despite what Undyne had said, either Sans or Papyrus would be killing her in the next few days. Now that she couldn't reset she needed the extra time in order to plan an escape, even if it didn't work. Now that her survival instinct had been rekindled, she'd rather die trying than give up the remaining remnants of her determination and be slaughtered like an innocent lamb.
"BY THE WAY, WHERE IS SANS? I THOUGHT HE WOULD'VE HEARD ME BY NOW."
She scoffed. She was entirely positive that every monster within a thirty-yard radius of this house could hear Papyrus.
"He's...probably upstairs sleeping," she muttered, unwilling to inform Papyrus that she was alone. "I'm sure he'll be down shortly."
"OH, OKAY." Papyrus nodded a few times, spun, and strode into the kitchen. "I WILL BEGIN PREPARING OUR MEAL, THEN."
Frisk left that without a response. She lay back on the couch again and trained her eyes towards the TV once more. Thankfully, Mettaton had gone absent in the few minutes she'd been turned away. In his stead was a monster Frisk had never seen before who was talking about...souls?
"Human souls," he was saying, in a very deep, documentary type of voice, "are very different from monster souls."
An assortment of different-colored hearts popped into view. With a hint of unease, Frisk noticed a familiar red heart - unblemished, like hers had once been - among the rest. She'd heard that there were apparently seven humans before her, so she guessed that one of them must've had a similar soul to hers. It still felt strange, though.
"Although monsters are almost entirely magical with each species having varying amounts of magic, the only magical part of humans is their soul. That is why their souls are colored, while ours are white. Some theorize that all souls show their owner's traits. Monster souls are theorized to have six of the known traits, such as perseverance, kindness, or courage. Humans are supposed to have a maximum of three dominant traits inside their souls, with the strongest trait creating the soul's color. However, this is only theory."
Papyrus dropped something, causing a loud clang that made Frisk flinch. She recovered quickly, though, completely absorbed. The few times she'd seen a monster's soul they hadn't seemed white. They'd seemed...grayish, almost. Some darker gray than others.
The stark black of Undyne's soul, the iron-gray of Sans's, and the steel of Papyrus and Asgore's made her cringe in remembrance.
"One distinctive difference between human souls and monster souls," the monster continued, pointing to a picture which contained examples of both, "is that humans have a naturally occurring, large amount of Determination in their souls while monsters do not. Obviously monsters have determination, in that they have the will to live or the drive to succeed, but monsters cannot have a large amount of Determination with a capital D without overloading their magical energy and melting. Nearly all humans have a naturally occurring source of Determination in their souls. Therefore, the respective power a human has compared to a monster is exponential. Think of it like two variables being multiplied together: a soul's strength times its Determination equals the amount of power inside it.
"Now, the antithesis of Determination, a lesser known trait which all souls can have, is known to turn souls dark. This trait is called-"
Papyrus bustled out of the kitchen and practically leaped in front of Frisk, blocking her view of the TV. "HUMAN! THE CELEBRATORY SPAGHETTI IS NEARLY FINISHED!"
Seriously? The documentary had just been getting to the good part! Frisk glared at Papyrus and gritted out, "That's nice."
Papyrus nodded enthusiastically. "YES, IT IS! HUMAN, WOULD YOU MIND GOING UPSTAIRS TO WAKE UP SANS?"
Frisk just barely fought down a grimace. "Of...course."
Papyrus thanked her and strode back into the kitchen.
The TV announcer was still talking. Frisk caught snatches of speech as she tried to think of a solution to the dilemma she'd gotten herself into.
"-through natural means, a human soul's Determination cannot be-"
"-although the trait determination can be-"
"-in addition, monsters' Determination can be drained but-"
Frisk huffed. There was nothing else to do. She had to go upstairs, pretend to look for him, then report back that he'd mysteriously gone missing. She heaved herself off the couch, cast the TV one last longing look, and shuffled up the steps. She opened the door and made a pointless show of looking around the room before padding right back down.
"WELL?" Papyrus asked from the kitchen, presumably hearing her footsteps descend the stairs.
"He's not in his room," she replied. Then, as confidently as she could, "Maybe he decided to go to Grillby's?"
Her voice came out nearly as a squeak, but Papyrus didn't seem to notice. Instead, he just sighed. "I WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND WHY MY BROTHER INSISTS ON EATING THAT JUNK. OH, WELL. I GUESS THERE IS MORE FOR US, THEN!"
Frisk didn't favor that with a response. She sat back down on the couch. The monster seemed to be wrapping up the program, as he was giving a brief summary of everything they'd gone through: human souls were colored; human souls could have Determination; monster souls were the opposite; Determination could not be taken from a soul...
Frisk yawned and tuned out. She settled back into the couch and closed her eyes briefly. After all, she'd only had around five hours of sleep, give or take, and then she'd had all that crap that had come afterwards with dissociating, panicking, and nearly killing Sans. Which...still bothered her. Not because she liked him (hell no, she hated him with everything in her), but because...
She hadn't thought she was that weak. At the very first opportunity she'd had, she had immediately attempted to kill him.
Gran would be ashamed, she thought, and her stomach curdled unpleasantly with guilt.
"FRISK! THE CELEBRATORY SPAGHETTI IS READY!"
Right on cue Papyrus emerged from the kitchen with two steaming plates of spaghetti in his hands. He set them on the table set against the wall, before pulling it out and conjuring up two chairs out of bones.
Frisk blinked at the sight, less freaked out than she would've been three days before. Sans usually ate his food in his room or on the couch, but she'd noticed that Papyrus seemed to like eating at a table. He'd conjured up the bone-chairs a few times before. The first time had nearly scared her out of her wits.
"FRISK, COME SIT!"
She reluctantly stood up and approached the table. She pulled her chair and plate as far away from Papyrus as physically possible, before sitting down and reluctantly digging in. Surprisingly, it was slightly better than she was accustomed to - the sauce was actually seasoned semi-properly, and the noodles were reasonably soft. When Papyrus asked her how it was she allowed a grudging nod. It somehow served to catapult him into an ecstasy of happiness.
"FINALLY YOU HAVE COME TO SEE THE MAJESTY OF HOME-COOKED SPAGHETTI! OH, HOW I HAVE LONGED TO SEE THIS DAY, DEAR HUMAN FRIEND FRISK! I WISH ONLY THAT IT HAD COME SOONER, THAT WE WOULD HAVE HAD MORE TIME TO ENJOY SPAGHETTI TOGETHER!"
Frisk smiled awkwardly. She would've liked not to react at all, but Papyrus's impassioned speech needed some kind of response, however small.
"TO BE HONEST, FRISK..." Papyrus's voice suddenly quieted a little. It was still above normal volume, but she recognized it must be his version of lowering his voice. "I WISH WE HAD GOTTEN TO KNOW EACH OTHER BETTER. NOW YOU ARE GOING AWAY AND I WON'T SEE YOU FOR A VERY LONG WHILE! IT IS VERY SAD, BUT I SUPPOSE YOU FEEL CALLED TO GO BACK TO THE SURFACE WHERE YOU BELONG."
Go where?
"Uh, Papyrus..." the words flew out before she could stop them. "I'm not going back to the Surface."
She wasn't sure what she expected: a sinister laugh, perhaps. An 'of course you're not, I'm going to kill you right now!'
Not...confusion.
"OH? THAT IS NOT WHAT SANS TOLD ME. WHERE ARE YOU GOING THEN?"
"Um...I'm..." she stared across the table at Papyrus. His eyes were so very different from the Papyrus she was used to. There was no cruelty or malice or sadism, only a childlike innocence and naivety. And suddenly she realized with absolute certainty that Papyrus actually didn't know. He didn't know Undyne had been going to kill her. He didn't know Sans would've done it in Undyne's place.
How? How could he not know something the two closest people in his life were both in on? But at the same time, if he didn't know, could she really tell him? Even if this were a front - no, it couldn't be, those eyes were so innocent - could she really tell someone who could look like that that his brother and best friend wanted to murder her?
She remembered what she'd thought barely an hour before. She'd wondered if these monsters could really be the same ones she was used to. The same ones with darkened souls and red eyes. She still wasn't sure.
But the Papyrus she knew would never, could never, look like that.
"...going to stay here, actually," she finished awkwardly.
The reaction was instantaneous. Papyrus lit up. She swore there were literal sparkles floating about him as he leaped up from the table and went to grab her, before she flinched and he backed away abashedly. He settled instead for giving a passionate speech about their blossoming friendship and how he hoped she would also grow 'much, much closer to my dearest brother as well!'
Heh. Yeah, right.
Finally Papyrus's enthusiasm abated. Frisk stood up. Papyrus had taken their dishes into the kitchen to clean them, so Frisk sat back down on the couch. Papyrus had turned the TV off while they were eating and she didn't feel like standing up to turn it back on, so she just stared blankly at the black screen in an attempt to process her thoughts.
She supposed this ground-breaking revelation wasn't really all that unexpected after all. Even from the beginning things had been different, starting with her closest friend abandoning her. Now one of her fiercest enemies hadn't even known his brother wanted her dead.
She sighed. There was no way to reconcile the Papyrus she'd known previously and the Papyrus in the kitchen now, clacking plates and silverware together loud enough to break them.
There was no other way around it, no other way to say it. This Papyrus was a completely different person from the Papyrus she knew.
And whether that meant every monster was different, whether that meant this entire Underground was different...well. She'd come to that conclusion later.
Far away, galaxies apart and timelines separated from Frisk, she watched and listened.
She hadn't expected Frisk to piece it together so quickly. She'd thought that the abuse Frisk had suffered would've been more than enough to cripple her decidedly for months. At the very least, she'd thought that that oh-so-convenient knife would've caused the girl to break and kick-start a Genocide. But this Frisk seemed made of sterner stuff than the children she was accustomed to watching. Interesting. And infuriating. It seemed she would need to move onto plan C.
Although that infernal smiling threadbag had screwed her plans up in Underfell, she had her ways. She always had another plan, another trick up her sleeve. She'd been alive through countless resets and innumerable timelines. She knew how to turn anything to her use, even the kindness and sympathy of a naive, spaghetti-loving skeleton.
After all...betrayal always hurts the most when you start to trust those you never thought you could trust.
She just needed time.
And oh, did she have time.
Chara let out a low, cruel laugh.