Head hung low, arms tucked away in their pockets, Frisk proceeds down a sidewalk; to their left, the rush of Mirstone traffic goes about its usual haste. Never have they felt as exposed as they do now, wandering out in public in the direction of somewhere- anywhere but the tense environment of City Hall, which is currently surrounded by no shortage of hostile and fearful faces.
Frisk hopes they didn't waste their breath back there, even if the word of a confirmed murderer understandably wasn't cause for much inspiration. Consoling a confused city and offering them words of encouragement seemed trivial compared to the looming threat of an unstoppable slayer of worlds, but they couldn't help themselves.
The war between monsters and humans has suffered enough casualties. If there is one thing that can be done to help make amends for the even greater level of suffering imposed by their past Genocides, Frisk knows stopping further bloodshed would be a good start to a long path of redemption.
A path I may not be able to finish by the time they arrive... how long will my doppelganger wait before coming back? Weeks? Days? Hours...?
Every time Frisk dwells on the inevitable encounter, the butterflies in their stomach grow more erratic. Chara's words left no room for interpretation. Their shared tormenter is practically invincible; fighting will not change what's to come.
Still, they'll fight anyway. They owe that much.
Nearby, a car breaks away from the continuous queue of vehicles and pulls up beside the weary human. They only see it in their peripheral vision, paying the driver no mind. Undoubtedly a civilian craving an interview with Mirstone's most recent subject of controversy. It's only after the car door opens that Frisk turns to the noise-
-and stops once their eyes process the grey station wagon. The very same vehicle they've ridden in for years with-
"Frisk?"
Time pauses. All other noise, such as the continual honking and strong wind, are rendered extraneous, and thus, indecipherable. Even the sound of their own heartbeat pounding away in their ears is relegated to a nonessential process.
Having walked around the hood of the vehicle, Toriel stands just a meter away on the same sidewalk, her stunned expression looking exactly how Frisk feels. They both stand there, residing in the same pocket of reality exclusive to its only two residents.
A step is taken without even realizing it, their mind subconsciously gravitating towards what may as well be a beacon. The brightest beacon Frisk has ever seen. Toriel doesn't give them a chance to get closer. She lunges forward, entrapping the human in a solid embrace, the wetness of her tears warm against their skin. Suddenly, Frisk too is crying.
Together, they tighten their hold against the other, almost as if to make sure this is real. And to their immeasurable relief, it is.
...
To say learning of the human's secretive misdeeds made Toriel overwhelmed with conflict would be an understatement deserving of laughter. Truthfully, she didn't know who or what she'd find near City Hall. It'd either be a cold shell of the person she believed to have loved her, or a complete stranger content with no longer masquerading as a monster sympathizer.
What she found instead was Frisk. No imposter, no lesser version, just Frisk. The child who made every day worth relishing. The child who always tried to do nothing but the right thing. The child whom she loved dearly. Her child.
Not much was said on the way home, likely due to neither they nor Toriel wanting to shatter what could be a wishful illusion. But no words were needed. Instead, they held each other's hands, pleased with the lively warmth of the other's palm. No matter what happens, another separation will never come to pass. She won't allow it.
Once they got home, she waited until she heard the shower running before making a few calls. While the elated Boss Monster could hog this miracle to herself, Frisk needs more than what a single shoulder can offer. In the meantime, she decides a treat could help lift their spirits.
The first batch of cookies finished baking by the time Frisk got out of the shower, once again dawning their normal set of clothes. It was more familiar, though Toriel must admit, they looked cute all dressed up. Right when the teen sits down at the kitchen table, she sits a plate of three chocolate fudge cookies in front of them, the delectable scent of the fresh goodies heavy in the air.
"Thought we'd switch it up," Toriel winks. "Besides, pie is more of an afternoon dessert."
At the comment, Frisk smiles, but they do a poor job of making it look genuine. Something is wrong. They only stare at their sweets, not lifting a finger to dig in. Taking notice of the hesitation, Toriel asks:
"Is something wrong?"
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
The question lingers in the mute house for several uncertain seconds, going unanswered. Frisk evades their mother's piercing eyes, still looking down at the plate. Toriel puts her hand on their chin and gently guides them to face her direction, allowing both gazes to meet.
"Don't ever ask me that again."
"But I-!"
"Did something wrong," she finishes. "It's part of living, Frisk. Sure, you may have harmed me before, and yes, it hurts knowing that in a past life, I could rouse so much contempt that you'd-"
"No!" they interrupt, rising from their chair. "It was never you, Mom. Never."
Smiling, Toriel places both hands on her child's shoulders.
"Regardless, look where I am now. Standing in my home, freed from the underground, holding the best thing that has ever happened to me. No matter the mistakes you've- we've made in the past, we can only look forward. Know that there is always a place in my heart for you."
Refusing to burden Frisk with another river of tears, Toriel pulls them for another embrace, and it is returned swiftly. Both of them stay like that for an interminable amount of time-
-until a knock at the door breaks it up. A little guilt rises inside of the Boss Monster seeing how concerned Frisk looks.
"Knock knock," a familiar voice says from outside only to be met by the annoyance of many others.
"Who's there?" Toriel calls back, beaming at them to spark some reassurance.
"Cow says," the other voice answers.
She nods to the door, hopefully communicating what she wishes for the apprehensive human to do. From the alarmed look on their face, they appear to understand.
"Uh... cow says who?" they utter.
"Wrong, cow says-"
The door bursts free of its hinges, slamming against the dark blue corner to its right. A skeletal frame speeds inside like a blur, and in a moment's notice, Frisk is being squeezed in its bony arms.
"FRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISK!!!" Papyrus cries, a large stream flowing from his bulging eyes. "NOT FOR A SECOND DID I DOUBT YOUR INEVITABLE RETURN!"
"-moo," Sans finishes, emerging on the other side of a now empty door frame.
He's not the last. Trailing behind him is Asgore, Alphys, and lastly Undyne, all taking part in what is bound to be an interesting reunion.
...
It would take a fearsome blade to pierce through the air's thickness. Gathered around the small living room, sitting in various sets of furniture and or chairs, are a group of monsters that can be considered no less than kin. There was no seat big enough to support Asgore's frame, so he stands next to a curtained window left of the splintered front door.
He, Toriel, and Papyrus seem like their normal selves, almost as if they're oblivious to the horrific things their beloved friend of seven years has done. The others aren't so indulgent, each wearing expressions with differing degrees of hostility.
Sans must already be aware of their increased Level of Violence going off of the way he's looking at them. That in itself will be a whole other can of worms to explain. Still, Frisk is relieved they're not getting off so easily. They shouldn't, and Toriel's eagerness to forgive so fast...
I don't deserve you, Mom.
After greetings were exchanged and Asgore was treated to a brief tour of the house- he and Toriel's rekindling is something they'll have to ask about later- it was straight to business. First, Frisk gave them an incredibly simplified version of what they've been through, deciding to leave out Undyne's murderous rampage, Doctor Gaster and his experiments, Asriel's accompaniment, and Chara.
It was tricky dancing around such significant details, but Frisk succeeded for the most part, feeling a rush of shame for continuing to lie, even if it was for the best. Disclosing the truth about the Dreemurrs, on top of the skeleton brothers' human background would be too overwhelming and most definitely a breach of privacy.
"-then they brought me back, and... well you know the rest."
"FRISK TWO SOUNDS SCARY! BUT UH, NOT TO ME, OF COURSE." Papyrus says.
"Wait, wait, are we really calling them Frisk Two?" Undyne asks, sitting on a kitchen chair now being repurposed for today's meeting alongside Alphys.
The only answer she gets is a subtle shrug from Asgore. Frisk Two it is.
"Oh, I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that," Toriel says, sitting next to Frisk on the large sofa.
She pulls them closer with one arm. Despite the imminent threat bound to arrive soon, in Toriel's presence, Frisk has never felt safer.
"T-time anomalies are nothing new, but the multiverse?!" Alphys says. "We've often d-dismissed the theory due to its lack of testability B-but now... the possibilities are e-endless."
"When do you think Frisk Two will show?" Asgore inquires, directing his question to the original.
"I'm not sure," they answer. "But when they do, I need to be alone."
"Absolutely not," Toriel says, looking down at her child with a look of resolve that makes them doubt their own Determination.
"Your Mother is right," Asgore says. "Leave it to us. Our power will be more than enough to ward off your clone."
"You don't get it," Frisk argues, losing their patience. "They have ki- defeated you both more times than you can imagine."
"Say, kid, when was the last you SAVED?" Sans asks, leaning against the small comforter his younger brother occupies.
Frisk lowers their brow. They know where this is going, and they dread the good point it will make. Technically, nothing is wrong with more help. But the truth is the human can't bear to see any of their friends get hurt. An all-too likely possibility if they take part in this deadly conflict.
"Right before we walked out of Mount Ebott," Frisk reluctantly answers. "The power went away shortly after."
"Gotcha, so if you die, you're gonna be forced to reset anyways, correct?"
Frisk doesn't answer, but they don't have to.
"That means whichever way you slice it, our lives are still on the line here. So what's the harm in strengthening your chances against this weirdo version of you?"
"He's right," Asgore nods. "And from how you described it, Frisk Two has only fought us individually. Let's see how they'll fare against us all together."
Undyne abruptly leaps from her chair, summoning a blue spear and slamming the blunt end on the floor.
"They'll pay for what they did!!" she proclaims.
"YEAH!" Alphys encourages, a righteous fury consuming her.
"We'll kick their butt so hard, they'll think twice before messing with any version of us ever again!"
"YEAH!"
"THEN WE'LL CELEBRATE OUR VICTORY WITH SOME HOMEMADE PASTA COOKED BY YOURS TRULY!" Papyrus chips in.
"Yeah...?"
Frisk watches with rising stress as Undyne continues rallying the troops, so to speak, solely fueled by the inextinguishable flame of justice encompassing her very being. Then they feel the fur on Toriel's hand lay on top of theirs. Looking up, her smiling face comes into view.
"Everything is going to be alright, my child."
More than anything, Frisk wants to believe that is true. But they can't help but feel a heavy sense of foreboding dread that something terrible is going to happen.
...
It is going to rain soon. One look at the thick layer of dark clouds making the day look like anything but, and it becomes clear another heavy downpour is not far away.
That's not the only storm coming.
Acting on what the heroine recognized as childish instincts, she walked outside eagerly anticipating the watery droplets that would soon meet her skin and take her somewhere that wasn't here. Apparently, the sky is hesitant to deliver unto her the relief she desperately desires.
So she waits. Sitting on the trimmed grass of the backyard that borders part of the extensive maze that is Mirstone Forest, Undyne stares ahead at the crater that lies in the middle. An impact born from her future opponent, who is keen on coming back to finish what they started.
If they're half as Determined as Frisk One, then...
Undyne shakes the thought away, angry with herself for allowing doubt to fester. Even if it is warranted, she knows it will hardly do much to help with the upcoming battle. Right now, the world doesn't need just another brave face. It needs a hero. Conviction rising, she returns her focus to the crater, picturing numerous battle scenarios-
-only to allow her mind to be once again ensnared by the surrealness of today's revelations. After the meeting was adjourned, Frisk hurried back to their room, looking as desperate to get away as Undyne was to chew them out. Had Toriel not been there, the little brat might not have been in any capacity to walk away at all.
They killed us. All of us... just like what the second Frisk is doing now.
True, she doesn't have a full grasp on these time-bending shenanigans, but what little of it she does understand is nothing short of terrifying. All this time, everything- the entire world and its populace- has been at the mercy of someone just now learning how to drive. And allegedly, in past events lost to the erasure of reality itself, she was slain by this very someone...
And I might be again.
An involuntary tremble couldn't have been more poorly timed, as whoever opened the backdoor bore witness to it. Thankfully, the voice that follows belongs to Alphys, who announces her presence with a simple:
"Hey, Undyne."
"Hey," she responds, not shifting her gaze.
Beside Undyne, her girlfriend plops down on the grass, taking part in looking at the crater and understanding its blatant significance. Hopefully, Alphys doesn't mind the rain. She's the only one who'll make it real.
"At least you're not making me think I'm crazy," the heroine says, rubbing her forehead.
"Are you r-really surprised?" Alphys asks. "Frisk is Toriel's child, Papyrus never holds a grudge, and Asgore i-is... well, Asgore."
"Still, it doesn't make any sense. They murdered us, Alphys... just for fun. We've been trapped in some sort of time loop and played with like toys. It... it's UNACCEPTABLE WHAT THEY DID!"
Until now, it's been all Undyne could do to not lose it. Even the monster's inability to keep cool has one-upped her in this week's string of losses.
"It is," Alphys says, nodding to her last comment. "I feel used and b-betrayed. They had no right to do that to us... but I know what it's like to d-do something unforgivable."
Undyne looks at her lover, her eye wide open in a mix of surprise and disappointment.
"Not you too-"
"Remember the amalgamates?" the scientist responds. "All of them had their nature twisted and morphed against their will, entrapping them in a nightmarish state of living. It was all m-my fault. There were times I t-thought everything was over, like there was, uh, no going back for me."
"Alphys..."
"But there was! Everyone understood a-and forgave me. I got a second chance, and a life with you, all because of Frisk."
"That's different!" Undyne objects. "What you did was an accident."
"But people were still hurt. I'm not saying we should forget about w-what Frisk did, but I understand what it's like trying to make up for something you c-can't take back."
Undyne sighs, leaning back on the soft ground. In doing so, she realizes just how angry she is, as indicated by her pounding heart and heaving lungs.
"It's g-going to take time, but let's see who they continue to be instead of staying mad at who they were before."
At first, Undyne doesn't say anything, only staring up at the blackening clouds. Then, she turns to Alphys.
"You're right," the fish-monster relents. "Like always."
The scientist's cheeks flush red.
"I, uh, have m-my moments," she says, avoiding eye contact.
"You do," Undyne agrees, pulling her closer. "Every second of every day."
One drop. Then two. Then several. Snuggled tightly in each other's arms, the two monsters stay where they are as rainfall showers them with newfound clarity; each droplet just as tangible as the others.
...
When Sans arrived, he'd been expected.
Standing at their window, watching the pouring weather, was Frisk, who didn't look back when their door creaked open. They were well aware of who it was. When they turned around, the skeleton nodded to the left-side wall, and they followed him to what should have been a solid obstacle-
-until the path ahead distorted into a soundless blip of white. Now it's freezing and wet. It takes but a second for the human to get adjusted to their new but recognizable surroundings; untamed wilderness as far as the eye can see. Despite being in Mirstone Forest, the exact destination of Sans' shortcut doesn't appear to be anywhere near home.
A perfect place for privacy, and if he deems it necessary... a discreet murder.
The relaxed skeleton leans against a nearby tree opposite of Frisk, resting their eye-sockets- however that worked. Due to his wide grin, it is impossible to get a grasp of his emotional state. Arguably his biggest talent, that being the ability to read expressions, is useless against the master.
Unlike last night, Frisk doesn't welcome the harsh chill of the gloomy woodland, with the relentless rain shower intensifying every subsequent shiver. Luckily for Sans, his lack of skin is a blessing in a climate such as this.
"I appreciate you being honest," he says, unmoving. "Sure, it may have been forced out of ya, but at least you didn't try and sugarcoat things. You told it like it was... but there's one secret you left out, at least that I know of-"
"My Level of Violence?" Frisk says, already knowing that to be the answer.
"Bingo," one of Sans' eye-sockets open, resembling a wink. "Apparently you've taken over a new leaf, promising to never hurt anyone ever again. That begs the question..."
The iris of his only open eye socket burns bright blue.
"Why'd you have to go and break your promise, and tell me why I shouldn't break mine?"
Moment of truth. Frisk decides not to hold back in their honesty. Sans deserves nothing less.
"Remember when I said I ventured into the true lab and stumbled upon a machine that brought me to another world?"
"The DT Machine," Sans guesses correctly. "Funny you should mention that. Something about your description lies at the tip of my memory but I can't place what it is."
"Because you built it."
Sans tilts his head.
"Uuuuh... pretty sure I'd remember building something like that, kiddo. I can't even get my own projects to work."
"In the past you did," they explain. "Back when you were fully human."
The skeleton's hard-to-read expression does little to shield his shock- his silence is a dead giveaway.
"You're different from them, you already know that much," Frisk continues. "You also know you don't belong here- that you come from another world. But you don't remember any of it because of what happened to him."
"Because of what happened to who?" he echoes, intrigue unhidden in his voice.
"W.D Gaster. Your brother."
Immediately, the monsters' shining white pupils disappear.
"I only have one brother."
"You used to have two," they say. "The first royal scientist. One day, he fell-"
"-into his own invention," Sans finishes. "Yes, I've seen the records and have talked with his followers. Because of the CORE's magical properties, a SOUL would be dispersed through reality, theoretically erasing one's-"
He stops.
"You never answered my first question."
Frisk takes a deep breath that's drowned out by thunder.
"Gaster didn't die, Sans. Worse. He fell into the world between worlds, watching every timeline play out without him. Watching... the things I did... it drove him mad."
The teenager tries to keep their composure. Breaking down now would be pathetic.
"He attacked us. You, me, Papyrus, and a version of him that wasn't yet corrupted. He murdered all of them just to get revenge and... I killed him. It wasn't an accident."
No words. That was always the worst part. Yelling was bad, but at least then, the other person's emotion was clear. However, in this case, Sans could be feeling any number of things. It is a special kind of torture to be met with silence after a confession of this magnitude, and Frisk is sure they deserve it.
"Just know, above anything else, Sans, that Gaster loved you. He learned his fate and was just glad to hear that you and Papyrus were happy."
Finally, the skeleton takes a step forward. Frisk braces themself for whatever is about to happen next, tightly closing their eyes-
-and they're pulled into a hug. Their mind rapidly tries to process what's happening. Is this a fakeout- an attempt to pull them into a false sense of security before delivering the final blow? One last joke?
"Thank you for telling me this, kid," Sans tells them, not a single trace of humor in his voice.
Having their suspicions crushed by the sincerity of the skeleton's gratitude, Frisk wraps their arms around him, tightening the embrace. Both of them are unable to hide their tears from the other.
...