Interlude 3: Worries

Alphys Residence:

"No no no. It's not okay… it's not okay at all!" Alphys worried, sitting on the sofa as she examined Frisk's latest results saved from the laboratory's destruction.

The sheets showed many figures and statistics; sitting next to her girlfriend, Undyne saw curiously and ignored these formulas. As she suspected, the monster fish understood nothing about this language that only Alphys could decode. But with Alphys's agitation, the monster warrior knew enough to know that it wasn't good news.

"This is all about punk, right?" Undyne guessed, studying the representative drawing of the little human that the professor had plucked from notes and observations. "It's not good, is it?"

"Indeed," Alphys admitted, sighing as she took off her glasses to clean them, then put them back on her nose. "When Frisk's Soul went into overdrive during the exam, his DT levels became abnormal. Th-That's never a good sign..."

Huddled against Undyne, the lizard held back a grimace as she felt a tugging on her skin, where the bolt of energy had struck. There was no physical damage, and Toriel had healed her, but the residual power remained.

"I-I thought it was attacking us specifically," she declared, as her sturdy tail tapped nervously on the sofa, "a-and I feared I made a terrible mistake handling it. B-but, in its rampage, it also harmed itself, and Frisk too."

"Soooo… Frisk's Soul kind of went haywire, and it was attacking everything nearby indiscriminately," Undyne summed up, turning her head back with her blood-red hair tossed to the side as she She tried to imagine the scene with a little difficulty.

In a past life, she had fought against Frisk, and many times, a relentless Undyne had stood before her target's Soul. Except for floating in front of his spears and dodging them, before cowardly fleeing her grip on its little legs, the cluster of light had never acted hostilely. Funny way to run away, she thought, the warrior female not remembering ever seeing Frisk fight for his own life.

Undyne knew that humans could be fierce and dangerous adversaries. Under his tutelage, Asgore had often warned her (also, the anime, with the magical princesses with large, powerful swords). Frisk had disappointed her in the way he ran away from combat - although Undyne had been impressed by his resilience - and, since she had lived on the Surface, no human had ever shown the slightest desire to attack monsters. In fact, they had seemed rather afraid of them at first. Makes you wonder if those cowardly losers were really the ones who sealed them.

Undyne had asked herself this question quite a few times, regularly seeing her human friend as strong as a shrimp who never escaped her grasp, and all the other neighbors easily impressed by her friendly smile.

But this evening, front the material damage that Frisk had unconsciously caused in his coma and the physical discomfort in everyone... Undyne had to admit it: "If I hadn't seen with my own eye the lab, I wouldn't have believed it. Who would have thought the kid was capable of that?"

"H-Human Souls are mysterious entities independent of their host, fundamentally different from our monster Souls, who are even capable of surviving long after death" Alphys answered spontaneously. "Each is unique and has its own characteristics. C-However, I myself do not know how a damaged Human Soul would behave: would it return to normal, or would the human host-subject slowly weaken, until its destruction?

Some who heard it might think that Alphys was expressing a scientific fascination with this question; however, her eyes narrowed with worry betrayed the great fear for her friend, Frisk. Her claws anxiously rubbed the rough yellow scales on the back of the other hand, as many dark what-ifs tortured her head. Undyne noticed this, while Alphys shook her head exhaustedly, not knowing what to expect.

"There-There are far too many variables and unknowns to make a diagnosis! Furthermore, Frisk claims not to know what had happened. I don't even know what could have caused this crack in his Soul, or under what circumstances. As for predicting if a future crisis is to be feared, or if it stays there, unless it gets worse then I can't find a solution..."

"Don't panic, Alphys," Undyne reminded her, as the yellow lizard began to hyperventilate. "Punk is a solid guy! He still overcame your weird robot and remained sane - a great feat!" The ex-soldier grimaced in disgust as she thought of the said robot, while watching Alphys who had stopped speaking as she tiredly rubbed her eyes surrounded by black bags, and the mermaid woman continued, obliging her to face him: "But you, on the other hand, are at the end of your rope. You look like you're going to collapse. When did you give yourself time to recover a little?"

"It-It's nothing…" Alphys sputtered, fighting a counter-indicative yawn as she nervously searched for an excuse. "I-I need to study all this data for Frisk before returning to Hotlands to examine it again. Oh, and-and, without forgetting those of Amalgamates and..."

"Enough blabbering! I say it's time for you to rest, now! "

Neither one nor two, Undyne firmly grabbed Alphys and, to the great amazement of the latter who could not react, she pressed her against her legs which now served as a pillow for the scientist. Paralyzed, Alphys was helpless and unable to react, feeling the blood rush to her head and her scales turn scarlet red as her thoughts raced.

But, above all, so comfortably installed, an irrepressible desire to sleep invades her. And, this time, she couldn't hold back the yawn that had been threatening since earlier, to the point that her glasses fell to the side, making her vision funny and blurry.

Delicately, much more than she let on, Undyne retrieved them, folded them, then placed them on the side.

"You seem to carry everything on your shoulders, but you can take a break from time to time. There, Alphys, I know that you are passionate and that you want to do your job well. However, you should take care of yourself first: if your mind wants to go faster than your body can and it ends up faltering, you risk taking longer to get there. Don't you think so?"

"U-Um... You-You must be right, I think?" Alphys stammered in a small voice.

"I'm right, you mean!" Undyne added with a willing smile, as she made herself a little more comfortable. "And then, it will make for a nice evening for two, since Sans has returned with Papyrus. It's been a while since we took advantage of it."

Alphys thought she would overdose, but a new surge of fatigue overwhelmed her. A little less guilty, and Undyne's strong legs beneath her being the absolute comfort, the nerdy scientist was tempted to close her eyes a little. Just a little, then, she agreed, allowing herself this little whim.

As Undyne began to look for the remote to watch some TV channels, she felt Alphys get comfortable and soon she was pleased to hear the small sounds of her breathing slowing. The fish monster checked under her, to happily see her girlfriend finally asleep.

"I think we must all be exhausted after all this," she agreed, tucking a strand of scarlet hair behind her ear as TV flipped through several channels.

His choice of show fell on the program Suprem Chief, a special inter-species edition, where different monster-human candidates prepared numerous dishes to serve to an equally mixed and blindfolded jury. Usually, Undyne loved watching this show and argued every move, enjoying the energy and aura that emanated from the competition which she compared to a battlefield.

But not today.

She didn't smile ; she didn't get excited, and as soon as Alphys dozed off, Undyne resumed the serious expression that never left her.

No matter how tough she seemed, Undyne couldn't stand to see anything happen to her friends. Even more knowing that at that moment, at the embassy, Frisk was under HER responsibility and that of Papyrus. But Undyne condemned herself more harshly for not having intervened sooner, even though Asgore had warned them to act quickly. As a warrior to the depths of her own Soul, this was a terrible blow to her honor; an affront that she could never wash away unless she discovered who was responsible. And Undyne would without hesitation bring her last seeing eye to bear on the culprit, as the image of the arrogant and despicable Senator Jordan Krim haunted her vision.

If "bad" had to be anyone, it would be him. From day one, Undyne had felt that he was a threat, a danger to the monster people.

"I swear, in the name of the safety of my friends, to drop your mask and your head, felon" Undyne made herself swear, as she finally decided to turn off the television, not having the heart for it .

With one arm, Undyne held Alphys, still sleeping, more firmly against her - the scientist fidgeted a little before calming down - and she remained there, staring terribly into space.

This night, the soldier had the impression that the shadows, darker than usual, were watching for her own release, before throwing themselves upon their world.

The feeling didn't leave her until she finally relaxed and slept. Even so, her posture remained straight and her face vigilant.

House of Sans and Papyrus:

"and bun the bunny was so happy to see his friends again, that it is said that he jumped higher than the clouds. end," Sans concluded, sitting on a chair he had set up near Papyrus's car bed.

For his little brother, he told the ritual story of the evening: this time, it was that of "Bun the Bunny". Papyrus had seemed happy, lying comfortably in his bed and with a smile on his face. Taking that as his departure, Sans closed the book, before placing it on the bedside table.

"good night, little brother. see you tomorrow."

"WAIT, SANS," Papyrus held him back, making the smaller skeleton stop before he reached the door. In a small voice, weak under his duvet, he asked: "DO YOU BELIEVE THAT FRISK WILL FEEL BETTER TOMORROW?"

Usually, Sans would respond with a joke of his own to this kind of question, citing every bone a skeleton had. But when he turned back to him, Papyrus was no longer smiling at all and he seemed genuinely concerned - even Sans knew that a bad pun would be very inappropriate. As childish and naive as his brother could be, he could be very serious about his friends' health, and Frisk had been one of his first true friends. The only one who hadn't made fun of him, encouraging him to have more confidence in himself – the human had even enjoyed his spaghetti dish.

Faced with Papyrus's expectant gaze, Sans didn't have the heart to respond lightly; so his response was: "I don't know, dad." Then, faced with the sad look of his little brother, Sans added with more enthusiasm: "but, hey! you remember that he was in great forme when he left. the little guy is tough, you'll see."

Papyrus hummed a little, thinking about Sans' words. "MAYBE A GOOD DISH OF SPAGUETTI MADE BY ME WILL HELP HIM RECOVER FASTER?" he suggested, settling back into bed as he seemed in a good mood. "NOTHING BETTER LIKE HEALTHY FOOD MADE BY A FRIEND TO RECOVER YOUR STRENGTH!"

His brother chuckled and assured him that would be the case; satisfied, Papyrus finally dozed off, holding the blanket to his face. "Good night, brother."

"g'night, pap."

When he was sure his brother was sleeping well, Sans slipped quietly out of the room and left the hallway. Once downstairs, the skeleton headed straight into the kitchen where, rummaging through the refrigerator, he pulled out a bottle of ketchup.

Sans opened it quickly, then began to consume his favorite drink as usual. Now that Papyrus was gone, the dim glow in his eyes and his low sockets showed a different mood than earlier as he read the evening story, despite his permanent smile.

"it didn't stop today," he declared to himself, as the chubby skeleton fell flat on the couch with an exhausted groan.

He was at the end of his strength: before Undyne and Papyrus came to get him, Sans had made a "shortcut" to where he had found Asriel. Looking for the strange energy he recognized; if only out of necessity, he had made an effort to at least check the place out. It had disappeared: no trace left. No longer surprised, Sans had expected it a little, and he turned around until he came across the duo on the way, Undyne leading him back to the residence upstairs by the hood - literally.

Still in his jacket and slippers, as he sat lazily on the cushions, Sans stared at the ceiling of this house, where he and his brother had lived hundreds – no – rather thousands of times.

Suddenly, after only closing his eyes for a moment, he was back in his old bed - in Snowdin Town - and with the sensation of having had a strange dream. Fragments of memories came back to him, random and all different as coming out of his room, Papyrus lectured him for being a late riser, while Undyne waited for them to go on patrol; Papyrus towards the entrance to the village, Sans towards the Ruins area.

Return to the Underground, and start everything from scratch.

Again.

Again.

Would the scenario repeat itself this time again?

Maybe it would be for the better... or for the worse, who knows? During his absence, Sans knew that something abnormal had happened with Frisk's Soul. And often, that can only mean one thing, he reminded himself, his eyes becoming significantly darker.

In his head, images of several lives paraded incessantly; some he had experienced, and others he had not.

Among these many pasts that could have been, Sans saw himself facing the one he sometimes considered one of his best friends. But, in this hall of judgment where the monster was the guardian, stood before him a being beyond forgiveness and redemption. Other times, everyone had lived happily on the Surface. Then, after a while, the one who had freed them took turns making them disappear.

Then Sans woke up, and everything started again there too.

"now, what will you do, kid?" he asked himself, knowing that Frisk could decide at any moment to send them back there, their fate still in his hands.

And what should he do?

In Toriel's house, its inhabitants slept soundly. Downstairs, a thunderous rumble filled the living room – in reality, it was Asgore and his cavernous snoring. Toriel's room was very quiet, in comparison; the former queen being a fairly light sleeper, the slightest noise from the corridor would certainly wake her up.

At the bottom of their bed, Asriel and Frisk were still sleeping. Neither of them had barely moved, except for Frisk who was moving strangely in her sleep. His eyes moved erratically beneath his closed lids. His fists opened and closed nervously, grasping for air. He grimaced a lot and moaned, as if caught in a terrible nightmare, gradually becoming more numerous and louder.

Suddenly the child stopped struggling. "Frisk" opened two large eyes, red and empty, which watched for the slightest suspicious movement in the room. Then, sitting up on the bed, he coldly observed Asriel who was snoring beneath him; Unconscious, the young goat monster continued to sleep. "Frisk" seemed to hesitate then, judging that there was no risk, the child stepped over the body of the sleeping monster which barely moved.

His staggering, as if drowsy, gait carried him dragging his bare feet to the center of the room.

No, I don't want !

|ACT|❤

|STOP MOVE|❤

At that point, a glow burst from his chest and stopped him abruptly.

The child grunted in pain, feeling his grip on the body weaken briefly before returning to him. Understanding where this resistance came from, "Frisk" raised a heavy arm. His hand moved, ready to perform the act and, roughly, the child thrust it deep into himself. He bit back a groan of alarm, as he painfully tore away the fissured Soul.

In a dominant position, the entity contemplated this heart which was both cruelly necessary for its anchoring to this existence but, in the current state of things and until it became completely its own, a useless weight.

"Don't get involved further, partner," the creature warned it gently, in a falsely sweet voice. "Unless you want this cute, adorable «brother» of you, wakes up without his ears on the head. It would be such a shame, wouldn't it?" To complement their words, appearing in their other hand, the Real Knife appeared in all its murderous crimson glory.

The handle rested in their palm, the blade flashing with a menacing brilliance towards the little Boss Monster. The Soul emitted a small pulse, its light fading, as if expressing a cry or a frightened complaint. Satisfied that their threat had guaranteed its obedience, the entity made the weapon disappear with a flick of their hand, and headed towards the toy box in this room. In there, they let the Soul fall, trembling, as the child prepared to lock him away.

"Please stop being like a crybaby," the creature chided with a huge smile that, on Frisk's usually warm and friendly face, was frightening and demonic. "I'm borrowing this body from you for a short while: there's no point in taking you with me, you risk bothering me again - anyway, once you're back in you, you won't remember anything. And I definitely want to prevent more unwanted visitors from coming with you."

Then, ruthlessly, the entity lowered the lid, locking the Red Soul in this box, in the middle of the toys and alone in the darkness. There was a crunching sound coming from the window; then, a dull noise, like something falling to the ground, and the sound of footsteps moving away until they became silent.

It stayed in there for a long... very long time.

After a while, they returned; the entity, still controlling Frisk's body which had become strangely disheveled, recovered the abandoned Soul without any gentleness. They put it back inside them, quickly, and took a few steps towards the bed. As soon as his legs touched the mattress, the red glint in Frisk's eyes faded; he blinked, slowly.

"What am I doing here ?" he mumbled, confused and not exactly awake.

The child instinctively sought to return to his bed, wanting to go back to sleep right away. He sat down next to Asriel who, feeling jostled, grunted in displeasure and rolled to the side. "Five minutes, please…" begged the kid, before going back to sleep.

Frisk did the same, without thinking about what had caused him to get up in the first place.

He wasn't even bothered by his bare toes, covered in grass and soiled by dirt, until the next day.