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Why Children Climb Mountains

(everyone's waiting for you)

Days passed. The incident in the council chamber made front page news for nearly a week and the council itself was in shambles. In light of a monster stepping forward to take the blame and the story Sans had told, the government was forced to reconsider the monster removal act. It seemed clear to everyone that Sans had been the true culprit all along. For now, the act had been suspended and it seemed likely it would be repealed altogether. Monsters were safe.

As for Sans himself, nobody could agree on what had happened. Was he dead? Had he escaped? The council chamber had been so full of gunpowder and plaster debris that nobody could tell if his dust was mixed in with the wreckage. His friends still held out hope but Frisk couldn't stop the seed of doubt that had already taken root in their mind. Sans had expended tremendous amounts of energy in that council room. Far more than simply teleporting and summoning a few bones. The authorities were still on the hunt for him, but so far nothing had turned up and nobody even really knew where to look anyway.

Amazingly enough, there had been no casualties suffered after Sans' little stunt. Several soldiers had gotten roughed up a bit but injuries were overwhelmingly minor. Following the incident, Sans' friends and brother had undergone several rounds of intense questioning pertaining to Sans as well as each of their possible involvement with him as collaborators, but as they really hadn't known anything about his plans, they were deemed unconnected fairly quickly.

With everything finally beginning to blow over, Frisk was at last able to come out of hiding. The first thing they did after assuring the authorities that they were safe and had in fact stayed in hiding of their own volition was go home and give Toriel a big hug. The large woman swept them up in her arms and cried for ages as she held them fiercely. Asgore joined the hug as well. He wrapped his large arms around the two of them and just held them while they cried.

Mayor Winterlance was furious, of course. He'd suffered immense public humiliation at Sans' hands and lost the bulk of his support immediately following the broadcast. Some people still sided with him, but they were vastly outnumbered by those who sympathized with Toriel and Asgore. He had mostly disappeared from the public eye to lick his wounds, but Frisk had a feeling they hadn't heard the last of him. Not just yet.

During the following week, Frisk spent a lot of time at Sans and Papyrus' house keeping Papyrus company while he waited for any word from his brother. Papyrus was the firmest believer that Sans was still going to come home. Day after day he maintained his optimism even as the rest of their friends began to lose theirs. Frisk was extra careful not to let him see them cry.

At night, when Frisk was all alone, they would replay Sans' last moments in their head. Over and over, they watched Sans wink at them before a rain of bullets descended on him. They wished they could go back in time and stop him from ever appearing in that council room; travel back to the moment of their conversation the night before and talk him out of it. He'd promised that everything would be okay. They'd believed him. They hadn't expected his definition of okay to be so vastly different from theirs. "This isn't okay, Sans," they whispered into the darkness as hot tears formed saline tracks down their cheeks.

In their weakest moments, usually in the middle of the night when everyone else was sleeping, Frisk considered resetting. They would be lying in their bed in the dark and the button would just be there, hanging in front of them like a promise. Once or twice they'd found their hand reaching for it. How easy it would be to go back to the beginning and do it all again. They could hide any evidence of the other children's visit to the underground and tell everyone the children had been eaten by wolves or something. You could sneak into Mayor Winterlance's house at night while he's sleeping and ensure that he never gets the chance to breed ill sentiment toward monsters. Just a quick stop by his kitchen on the way and then you—

Frisk pounded on their head to silence the voice and willed the reset button to disappear. As much as they wanted to see Sans again, they just couldn't betray him like that. It had been his final wish that they not reset and they would honor it, no matter what.

Another week passed. Then another. Finally, even Papyrus gave up hope.

They decided to hold Sans' funeral on the one year anniversary of the dispelling of the barrier. It seemed fitting. They had no dust to sprinkle on Sans' favorite thing, but all of his closest friends—Frisk, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Toriel, and Asgore—gathered together on the cliff where they had all watched their first sunrise together to say their goodbyes. How strange, Frisk thought, that exactly one year ago today, Sans had stood here with them grinning and telling Papyrus, "we call that 'the sun', my friend."

And now he was gone.

Each of them took turns doing something to honor Sans. Toriel told a knock-knock joke, Undyne set a bottle of ketchup by his grave marker, Alphys added a quantum physics book with a joke book inside it next to the ketchup, Papyrus regaled them all with a few home-cooked bad puns, and Asgore sang the official royal song of sending. When it came time for Frisk's turn, they emptied their backpack and carefully stacked precisely thirty hot-dogs next to the ketchup and quantum physics joke book. "Here. Have fun," they said simply.

After that, they all sat in a circle by the empty grave and spent a few hours sharing their memories of Sans. Undyne talked about her early memories of him, back when he'd visit the castle with the old royal scientist. She told them how he'd been quiet at first but wouldn't fail to regale her with bad jokes whenever she tried to talk to him. Alphys talked about the times he'd helped her out in her lab. She'd always been impressed by how knowledgeable and diligent he was despite his claims that he hated working. Papyrus told them all kinds of amusing stories about how slovenly and lazy he was. According to Papyrus, Sans went out of his way to make messes and he delighted in being difficult about cleaning them up. He was also the worst sentry ever, always skipping out on work to go to Grillby's or pop off to who knows where. Papyrus sniffled and wiped at his eyes while he talked and it was clear to everyone that despite Sans' many faults, his brother loved him dearly. Toriel talked about the times she and Sans exchanged knock knock jokes through the door to the ruins and how precious those times had been to her back then. His jokes had been her sole company in an otherwise lonely exile. Lastly, Asgore talked about all the help Sans had been in settling disputes in the past year and the good advice he always gave whenever Asgore was having trouble understanding and working with human leaders. Everyone was thankful to Sans and they all would continue to miss him and remember him in their own ways. He would never be gone from their hearts.

Frisk stayed a long time after everyone else finally decided to go home. They just sat there next to the grave and the ketchup and the quantum physics book and the thirty hot-dogs and thought about Sans and what he would've thought of his funeral had he been there to see it. They thought of the possible puns and silly comments and he'd have made and how he'd probably have laughed at Toriel's knock-knock jokes. Then they started to cry, because even though they'd already known Sans was gone, they realized in that moment that they'd actually been holding out hope all along.

The sun was already sinking below the horizon by the time Frisk finally thought about going home. Still, they didn't move. They just sat and stared out across the valley as the last of the day's light began to disappear. They continued to sit and stare silently even when they heard the crunch of footsteps approach from the direction of the cavern.

"Nice view, huh?" an unfamiliar voice remarked as the footsteps came to a stop just behind them. Just what Frisk needed, some happy hiker to come bother them in their gloom.

Frisk shrugged and continued to stare out over the valley, hoping the hiker would lose interest and go away.

The person just laughed at their cold shoulder. "Hey, now. Don't you know how to greet a new pal?" they asked good-naturedly. "Turn around and shake my hand."

Frisk's back promptly straightened and they let go of their knees. It couldn't be…

Standing up, they slowly turned around.

A teenager stood before them, grinning affably. He looked to be around fourteen or fifteen with dark, scruffy hair and bright blue eyes. His hand was outstretched, waiting for them to take it. He was not who they had been hoping to see and Frisk felt disappointment settle heavily in their chest. Still, he seemed friendly, so they complied and grasped his hand. It was soft and warm and welcoming. The boy grinned wider. "Nice to meet you, Frisk."

Frisk jumped in surprise and quickly pulled their hand away as if burned. How did he know their name? Frisk was sure they'd never met this boy before. They looked him over carefully, wondering if perhaps he went to their school. His appearance was somewhat familiar, now that they thought about it. They frowned as they tried to place his face in their mental catalogue. The boy's smile fell away as he looked at them questioningly and suddenly, Frisk knew who he was.

"You're…Oliver Winterlance," they uttered, taking a small, disbelieving step back. They knew they were right, and yet, it didn't make any sense. Oliver Winterlance should be in his forties, but here he stood, just a few years older than the boy in the photo they'd seen just a month before.

Oliver's grin returned. "The one and only," he confirmed, placing a hand on his hip. "And you're the ninth child, Frisk Dreemurr."

Frisk shook their head, still trying to wrap their mind around the boy before them. The fading light caught his eyes and to Frisk they looked like the sky on a clear winter's day. He was so pale, as if the sun hadn't touched him in a very long time. "How?" they asked, looking him up and down illustratively. "You disappeared thirty years ago."

Oliver chuckled. The sound sent a shiver up Frisk's spine. They'd heard that chuckle before. "How is it that I can appear before you as a dashing youth?" he translated, smiling goofily. He turned then to gaze out across the valley and the chilly winter air rustled his hair playfully. "Well, I imagine this will sound like a terrible cop-out, but blame the food." At Frisk's puzzled look, he explained. "In the underground, there aren't many natural resources, right? So monsters learned to produce food magically. Unfortunately, while monster food can sustain a human magnificently, it doesn't contain the nutrients necessary to build our bodies. Essentially, I've been more or less trapped in time for thirty years. I suspect I aged only about two years the whole time I was down there."

Frisk's mind was reeling. All this talk of magic and not aging coupled with meeting a person they weren't even certain was alive five minutes ago, all on top of mourning the death of their best friend, had them feeling slightly squeamish. They had so many questions for this boy; countless questions; but the one that ended up tumbling out of their mouth was, "Why now? You hid for so long…why come back now?" They swallowed. "Is it…was it because of…because of Sans? Did you know…?"

Oliver's smile faded. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket and regarded them with a kind of wistfulness. "To be honest, I never planned to come back. Oliver Winterlance was dead and I was fine with keeping it that way," he told them. His tone wasn't sad, necessarily, but it wasn't happy or angry or anything else either. He just sounded detached. "But then you said something that made me realize that I was looking at things all wrong."

Frisk started. "I did?"

He nodded. "You said that a person who hides can choose to come back and that's what sets him apart from a man who is truly dead. It got me thinking, what was I really accomplishing by trying to be dead? Wasn't I just lying to everyone? You made me realize that my existence could still mean something. Maybe there was a role for me yet, y'know?"

Frisk felt their face heat up. "You mean you were listening when I said that?" They hadn't imagined that the child they and Sans had been discussing might actually be aware of their conversation. Now they felt all kinds of embarrassed.

Oliver grinned. "Sure. I generally do when you talk to me."

Frisk cocked their head, confused. "Talk to you? But I've never talked with you before. That was…"

Their eyes widened. They took another step back as their eyes raced over the figure before them. Little things like his height, his grin, the blue of his eyes and the familiarity in the way he talked to them, as if they were someone he'd known for a long time, all were coming together in their mind to paint a bigger picture of a person who up until that moment had been distinct from Oliver Winterlance in every conceivable way.

Swallowing the lump that had risen suddenly in their throat, Frisk croaked, "Sans?"

Oliver's grin widened and he winked. "sup, kid?"

Suddenly, the backs of Frisk's eyes were burning. They stared at Oliver Winterlance, no, Sans, as though seeing a ghost. In many ways, they were. They didn't know what to think or how to act; they just knew that they were going to burst into tears at any moment and it was going to be the grossest, ugliest cry ever cried by anyone on this green earth.

Sans opened his arms in invitation. "come now, don't you know how to greet an old pal?"

Frisk felt the tears spill over. Abandoning all pretense of control, they let out a cry of joy that echoed all the way across the valley and leapt.

oO0Oo

Extra special thanks to PanicAtTheBombShelter, BadDRUMMERboy15, b3wRe The 4N Wh0 5pEkS 1n hnd5, Psygirl, Someguy, coincidencless, KaidaShi, and two kind but mysterious guests for your comments! I can't believe how many people are commenting now! I thought this fic would just fly under the radar. Seriously, thank you all so much for reading and enjoying.

With this we only have one chapter left. It's been a fantastic ride and I hope you all enjoyed reading this story as much as I did writing it. Even though there's just one more chapter, I've been thinking about writing a little more for this universe. Maybe turn it into something of a series. I don't know if I'll write a full-on sequel, but possibly some fun little oneshots to give a glimpse of life after this story.

But I won't get too ahead of myself here. We still have one more chapter, after all. ;)