Return to the Ruins

Slowly, Frisk sat up in the small patch of flowers. Snapped stems and torn petals marked the familiar shape of their body. They had only seen this cavern once before, but it stuck out in their memory. The first thing one sees after waking up from a… fall… it leaves an impression.

The cave was still dark, but there was a clear path forward.

Frisk took quick stock of themselves before pushing on ahead. Surprisingly, they were still wearing the shirt they had put on at the school, not the old dirty shirt from their first trip. Turning on their magic sight, they could see the red glow of magic running under their skin, brighter than they had seen it before, before dimming back to its normal intensity. The small red heart stayed in their chest, just as they remembered it.

Suspicious, Frisk felt their face and hair. There were no scratches or patches of dirt or bug bites from days spent entirely outdoors without access to cleaning facilities. Their hair was still straight and cut above their ears, not having grown since that September day before their first day of seventh grade. Last time, it was a bit below their ears and messy from their time outdoors.

Hadn't the voice, in their words, restored them? Shouldn't they be in the same state that they were when they fell down the first time?

A part of them wanted to attribute this to the Nonsense of the Underground, but that wouldn't align with what rules were in place here. Maybe it was the Linearity of the world? If things are only supposed to move forward here, then perhaps they couldn't be restored completely to a previous state.

But then what happened before when they were killed by Undyne? If they could only be restored to a previous time as their current self, then wouldn't they have stayed dead, regardless of the time travel?

Or maybe death was a special case.

Regardless, it didn't matter right now. Presumably, they were back in time. If the voice did what they said they'd do, then Frisk was about to meet Flowey for the first time again. They felt oddly conflicted about moving forward to meet the monster that they had killed in a previous timeline. Well practiced at suppressing their feelings, they shoved the annoying emotions behind their mental barrier where they could be safely ignored.

They only let a sliver of hope trickle through, pretending that Flowey wouldn't remember what they had done. Frisk knew that the hope was futile, but they couldn't quash that emotion entirely. Not on purpose at least. Not yet.

Steeling themselves, Frisk walked towards the large dark room where they expected to find Flowey.

Just as before, there was a lone yellow flower in a spotlight on the ground. He gave them a wide smile.

"Howdy! My name is Flowey. Flowey the flower." He told them. As they approached, Flowey's smile turned into a wicked grin. "But you already know that, don'tcha?"

Frisk went still. They didn't think they were scared. They didn't think they were nervous or excited or anxious either. Some feeling was beating against their barrier, but they wouldn't let it through. Instead of reacting to his presence, they froze.

"You look a bit different from last time. How strange. You must be the same human though. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here to greet you!" Flowey winked, "How long has it been anyways? Not long, by the looks of you. Definitely no more than twenty or thirty years, if I had to guess. Probably even less than ten! You still look about the same size as before!"

That strange comment broke Frisk out of the mental paralysis. Humans didn't look the same after twenty or thirty years. Not even when they were adults. Why did he think that humans aged so slowly? There was an idea tickling their brain, like they should remember something, but they couldn't.

"Still not talking? That's fine by me. I don't need you to talk to KILL YOU!" Flowey laughed as he surrounded their soul with seed-shaped bullets.

"Dodge, you idiot!"

Frisk flung their soul upwards, out of the ring of seeds. As they did, a familiar heat wave swept the area in front of them, knocking Flowey to the side.

"What a miserable creature, torturing such a poor, innocent youth. My child, you are safe now. I am here and I can protect you." Toriel said to them.

Once again, Frisk froze. They didn't know how to feel about Toriel. For months, she was the mother and teacher that they wished they had always had. She helped them learn at their own pace, in their own ways, and let them be themselves. She was patient and kind and empathetic when they refused to speak a word until the very end of their time in the Underground.

She also fought them. She threw fire and fists in their direction when they tried to see what else might be beyond the basement door. She loved them and hugged them and held them while they cried, just like their father. She cast them aside without looking back, just like their mother. When they tried to call her, she didn't pick up. When they needed help, she wasn't there.

She had been their safe space until she abandoned them. It still hurt. They loved her dearly, but she still hurt them, and they weren't sure if they were completely ready to forgive that yet.

That fact alone made them uneasy. Toriel was with them through everything for months. She weathered the good and bad with them while they were lost and confused and depressed and anxious and mute. She made space for them in her home and treated them like they were her real child. And then she cut them off.

She gambled with their life and only won because the voice that was stuck to them restored them. Without the voice, they would have died.

They would be gone forever.

And Toriel could have prevented that.

Frisk crouched away from Toriel and made themselves smaller. Toriel's extended hand flinched in response but stayed put.

"My name is Toriel, caretaker of the Ruins. This place is filled with many puzzles and traps that you are not ready for. I will guide you through the Ruins and take you back to my home where you will be safe from any monsters who would try to harm you."

The hand remained extended. She was hoping that Frisk might take her hand, but they were scared. What if she remembered them when she took their hand? What if she remembered and chose to throw them out again? They survived the first time, so she might think they'd be fine without her help. The Underground isn't that big. They would just be a drain on her limited resources.

Frisk didn't notice when their breathing started to speed up.

Anxiety bled through their barrier, and they couldn't do anything to stop it. They didn't know what to expect and it was paralysing. What if Toriel took them in just long enough to send them on their way? Would they be able to accept it if they weren't worthy of her attention anymore? What if she never loved them to begin with? What if she always intended to abandon them and was just waiting for the right time? What if they had overstayed their welcome last time or offended her in some impossible way? If she remembered that, then they'd be left alone again.

They couldn't handle being left alone again.

But what if she didn't remember? Would that be better? They couldn't say. What if Toriel didn't remember but abandoned them again? That would make it their fault that they were cast out, right? It wouldn't happen twice if it wasn't their fault.

"Frisk."

Toriel shouldn't know their name. Does that mean that she remembered them? Did she hate them for running away to Asgore when she warned them not to leave? Even if she was the one who wouldn't let them come back?

They felt unsteady on their feet. Frisk slowly sank to the ground, not paying any attention to their surroundings.

"I don't like having to go back on my word and I can't tell you what to do, but the deal still allows me to strongly recommend that you start taking deep breaths!"

Frisk was lost in their spiralling thoughts. They didn't notice as Toriel slowly inched her way towards them.

What could they do to make sure that Toriel didn't force them to leave again? Would they need to be a more loving kid? Act the age that they looked? Get perfect grades? There was too much that they couldn't predict, and they didn't know her endgame. She said that she gave all the others a week, but she never knew what happened to them. Asgore could have killed them or stolen their souls, and she didn't know. She admitted that!

She forced them out and locked the door behind her to a world that could potentially kill them. And she didn't care.

They couldn't trust her, but they needed her.

Their vision started to darken. Were they being pulled into a fight? Their heart began to beat faster than before. Instinctively, they threw their hand out and smacked the thing reaching toward them. They didn't want to hurt anyone; they just wanted that thing to get away.

Frisk spent several breaths waiting for the inevitable retaliation from whatever they hit. When it didn't come right away, they tensed up and started breathing harder. When would it come? They had to be ready.

"My child. Is – okay – to touch you?"

There were words. Frisk only half understood them. They just wanted it to stop. They wanted it to go away.

Maybe it understood. Maybe they made some sound that communicated their distress. At this point, the only thing Frisk could perceive were their own thoughts and panic. The touch never came.

"I would do this for you if I could. Too bad I'm just a memory. I don't have the influence to do anything right now. Oh well. Guess you're stuck like this forever. Hah! I didn't think starting over would be quite this fruitful."

For some reason, this voice was clear when the other one wasn't. They were torn. Could they ask this voice to help them? Where was the guarantee that they could be helped? They were having a hard time placing just what or who this voice was at the moment, but there was a part of their panicked brain that wouldn't let them trust it.

That same part of their brain was also urging them to spite it.

Frisk struggled to focus on the present. Magic was rushing through them, trying to find an exit. Their heart was pounding hard and hot and fast while their breathing blocked out their vision and hearing. Despite all that, they did their best to stay determined. They needed to find a way back to their body and regulate. They needed to be in control and ready for whatever was coming. For that, they needed to be able to see the threat coming and they needed to be calm enough to react.

Determination could be anything and do anything. For a split second, Frisk was determined to become the person they were when they jumped into the void. They wanted to be that person who wasn't afraid to do anything to get what they wanted. They wanted to be determined.

In that moment, a red starburst flashed behind their eyes and Frisk stopped.

Everything felt still and slow.

Frisk took a deep breath in and slowly released it. Their heart was beating at a steady, leisurely pace. All emotion was tucked neatly back behind their barrier.

"Over already? How sad."

Was this voice going to make commentary the entire time?

"Only if you want me to. Or if I feel like it. I can't tell you what to do or judge you, but I can do anything else if I feel like it."

Great. Just peachy. This wouldn't be distracting or annoying. Not at all.

"Glad you like me!"

Sarcasm!

"Whether you like me or not doesn't matter. I'll still be here. And you can't do anything about that."

They'd just have to get good at ignoring the voice then. Maybe if it got to be too annoying, they could spend their time sleeping or reading or doing some other boring activity that left it with nothing to do. At the very least, Frisk wouldn't be bored while trying to annoy them.

"Fine, fine. I'll shut up for now. I'd rather see what you do on your own than watch you try to spite me."

And Frisk returned to the present. Toriel was closer than she had been before. She had a strange look on her face, like she was confused and shocked at the same time. Her arm was stretched towards them, and her hand was only a few centimeters away from their shoulder. Her fingers were curled back a little, not to make claws, but to show her apprehension.

They must have worried her with that episode. If she was worried at all. There was no way to know.

At the same time, they didn't care. They couldn't bring themselves to care about her when they knew that she didn't truly care about them either.

With the small amount of bravery awarded by their detachedness, Frisk looked up to meet Toriel's eyes.

"My child? Are you… alright?" Toriel looked a bit frightened.

Frisk couldn't blame her. They were freaking out pretty badly, then stopped on a dime for no reason. They must look crazy to her. Still, they gave her a nod. They were brave enough to look her in the eyes, but they weren't brave enough to speak yet. They weren't even sure if they could speak if they wanted to.

If this was anything like last time, Toriel wouldn't make them talk. That was the one thing they could still trust and appreciate.

They placed a hand on their knee and stood up from where they'd been crouched on the ground. Toriel took a step back to give them space.

Just like last time, she led them through the entrance to the Ruins. She solved the button puzzle with the confusing clue, she attempted to hold their hand to walk them through the spike trap, and she told them that they needed to talk to the dummy. To test her reaction, Frisk punched the dummy lightly. Toriel rewarded them with a small frown and a light scolding, but nothing major.

It was a bit ironic that she believed in talking to people to de-escalate a situation. She would tell them that there was no monster that they couldn't pacify by talking through the situation. Yet, when they tried to talk to her to stop fighting them, she refused to back down. When the tried to call her and ask to come home, she refused to answer.

Would that make it ironic? Or was it hypocritical instead? The two words always seemed to mean the same thing to them.

"Glad to see that someone is finally willing to call her out on her bullshit. Even if it's just in your mind."

They thought that the voice said it would shut up.

"Yeah, well, I'm bored. You're just walking through these rooms, past all the puzzles, and hardly even paying attention to the obstacles. You're even walking around the froggit nests and the piles of leaves where the whimsun's play. What else am I supposed to do?"

Toriel had left them alone to wander around while she went home. Frisk wasted no time in heading forward. The sooner that they could get through the Ruins, the sooner they'd get to Asgore's castle and fix their mistake.

It was the voice who wanted to come back this far, even though they had the option to start at the fight with Asgore instead. It was their own fault, so Frisk couldn't bring themselves to sympathize. Besides, spending so much time with Toriel the first time left them with an intimate knowledge of the Ruins. It made it easy to avoid other monsters and proceed quickly. It wouldn't be long before they were back at Toriel's house.

"I know. But when you avoid all the fights, it's way less interesting!"

Frisk had no intention of fighting any monsters. They were pretty sure that Asgore wouldn't agree to let them live with him if they started picking fights with his subjects.

"Not true. I- Others who fell down would fight the monsters all the time. The king still let them live with him. And his family. He even let them play with his kid!"

For as tough of a fighter as Asgore could be, he sounded a bit naïve when it came to understanding what those threats were, that he should fight against. Why would he let someone who picks fights play with his kid? It sounded a bit irresponsible to them, but maybe Asgore thought that he could keep his kid safe.

Wait. Didn't Asgore say he had two kids? What about the second kid? Was he only afraid about one of them getting hurt?

"No, he cared about both kids. Pretty equally, too. But… I guess this was before he adopted the second kid."

Wow. The voice must have been around for a long time, if they'd been around to see Asgore adopt his second child.

"Yepp. I've been hanging around for centuries. Couldn't interact with anyone properly either. Not until you."

Did they want to elaborate?

The voice didn't answer right away. Frisk couldn't avoid Napstablook, since they were lying in the middle of the path. Napstablook accidentally triggered a fight and started crying tear-bullets out of guilt. Frisk dodged them easily enough and gave them a thumbs up when Napstablook showed them their hat.

To be fair, it was a pretty dapper hat.

Once Napstablook faded out of existence, the voice gave a quick answer.

"No. Not unless you figure it out first."

Figure out what?

"Hmm. I guess I don't want to be too bored. If you figure out the general idea, I'll fill in the details for you. If you can figure out who I am, I'll tell you my whole tragic backstory. Sound fun?"

Why not? Frisk was curious, but they didn't actually care that much. Agreeing just to placate the voice cost them nothing either.

Frisk purchased a spider donut from the bake sale.

"Don't be like that. That makes it sound like you don't care about little old me."

They didn't. At best, this could be considered a symbiotic relationship. Entertainment for not letting them die. Nothing personal about it.

"And here I was, hoping we could be friends."

Sarcasm didn't suit the voice at all.

"You're no fun."

So they've been told. Why spend time talking to them at all if they were so boring?

"How much did you enjoy your time in the void? No one to talk to, and no one to talk back. I'm severely understimulated."

The voice couldn't have spent that whole time in the void. They'd seen the king's family and, presumably, watched the children grow up. If it could watch those kids, then why couldn't it watch any other kids? Even if it was human-specific, there were six other kids between the first fallen human that Asgore adopted and Frisk themselves. Surely the voice could have watched those kids and offered them the same.

"You aren't entirely wrong. I did watch those other kids. I just couldn't speak to them the same way that I can with you. I'm just a memory. There's nothing that I could do. Memories aren't tangible things, and only exist in the brief moments that they're remembered. All I could do was wait around and watch. Well, that's not entirely accurate, I guess. Functionally though, I don't exist."

Then what's so special about Frisk that the voice can talk to them and use their magic to restore them?

"You're getting closer, but I'm not telling you that answer until you guess."

Frustrating and childish. That's what this voice was. Obnoxious too. And a bit pretentious, claiming to have all the answers to their problems and offering deals without disclosing their reasons.

"I'm so wounded."

Was it something special about their soul? Or their magic? If that was the case, they should have been able to interact with that first human too. They were also a red soul.

"No, the first human was the special case. Not you."

So it did have something to do with their soul or their magic?

"Yeah. Your magic is uniquely suited to letting me help you. Between your magic and mine, we might even be a proper match for A- Flowey's abilities."

A match? But Frisk had beaten him before.

"Not in a real fight. It wouldn't be the same, but I think, between the two of us, we could achieve a similar, but situational result to Flowey's powers. If he ever bothered to use them properly, that is. He's always been such an idiot! He has the ultimate power at his fingertips and uses it to try to copy me of all people! Like, why? Why would he do that when he could be doing so much more?"

What are Flowey's powers then? All they could glean from the context clues is that it's not true time travel. But that doesn't really narrow it down.

The voice paused a moment before asking another question.

"I think I'm feeling generous today. Wanna know how my powers work?"

Why not.

"I can restore. I take the idea of timelines quite literally. Think about a piece of string. Pulled taut, it's a straight line. But you can bend it and loop it around, even tie it in knots! As far as a line goes though, you can just bend it and loop it around and even make it cross itself. All I need to do is loop the timeline around so that now and earlier are touching. Then I can just pull until an old object jumps forward to now, or the current object jumps back. I restore things, like worn out shoes by pulling them forward in time. I can restore you after death by pulling your soul back in time to when your body was fine. It's easier if I take mental photos of places and things in the timeline, so I can find the points I need more easily, but with enough effort, I can make do without."

But what about paradoxes? This sounds complicated.

"I know, right! It took me a little while to figure it out, but eventually it made more sense to me than anything else. From what I can tell, the paradoxes aren't really a thing here. Not like you're thinking. The new shoes were new the first time they were worn, and they were still new when they were pulled forward in time. No memories being rewritten or anything like that. Just timelines being bent and objects jumping around. Just think about it for a minute. Why would time give a damn about a pair of shoes?"

Frisk couldn't think of an answer. It didn't make much sense to them. Then again, this was a Nonsense world. It would only make sense that the magic here didn't follow logical reasoning. Good for the voice, then. They must be pretty smart to have figured out such niche and complicated powers.

"I like to think so, but it seemed obvious to me when I could see the strand of time everywhere.."

Strands of time?

The voice didn't answer.

What does all that have to do with Flowey's powers though?

"He keeps trying to copy me! And he can functionally recreate my powers with his own, but somehow, he doesn't realize that it's not the same! He thinks his powers work exactly like mine, but they couldn't be more different! He could destroy the world and rebuild it anew. He could fashion himself into a god with an ultimate final form a become invincible to anything that could ever hurt him. Instead, he tries to be me. A pathetic memory that can't die for as long as he still begs for me to come back to him. Like, what does he even want me back for? I can't understand him. Never could."

The voice and Flowey knew each other? How old was Flowey?

"Not as old as you might think. Flowey's been causing chaos for only a few decades."

But… hadn't the voice been a memory for centuries? If Flowey had only been around for decades, then how did they know each other?

"That is the question, isn't it?"

Which the voice would decidedly not explain.

"That's right! And you'd probably be too dumb to understand."

And how did the voice come to that conclusion?

"You can't even understand your own powers. You've actively used them at least once, that I've seen, and have been using them passively for ages. Despite that, your still don't have a clue about the theme of your magic. How can I expect you to understand my tragic backstory when you can't even figure yourself out?"

Is understanding what they really wanted?

"Who knows."

Frisk hit the final switch in the rotating room and approached Toriel's house. Outside, the same old tree stood alone in her front yard. They felt a small wave of nostalgia flow from their barrier when they heard the familiar crunch of paws on dry leaves.

Toriel walked around the tree, phone in hand, before stopping in front of them.

"My child! I'm so glad that you have made it all this way on your own. And you are unhurt as well? It is good to see that you took my advice to heart. There is no problem you cannot resolve by talking and asking the monsters to please stop fighting. However, I am disappointed that you did not wait for me like I asked."

It was too bad that Frisk didn't care what she thought. They were just here to get what they needed from Toriel's house before moving on. Maybe stick around a few days to annoy the voice if they felt like it.

Toriel took their silence as acceptance and gestured for them to follow her inside. She showed them to their room, led them through the living room and into the kitchen, explained how magic food worked, and made sure, in no uncertain terms, that they were never to go downstairs.

Frisk just nodded and accepted a plate of overcooked, salted snails. The familiarity of the food and the background scent of cinnamon and butterscotch had emotions trying to beat down their barrier. It held strong, and they ate their meal in silence, not betraying a hint of their conflicting feelings about this situation on their face. Toriel couldn't know that they'd been through all this before.

And yet… she never called them to ask their preferences. No question of whether they preferred cinnamon or butterscotch. Did she call them the first time? Or did she ask them when they woke up in her house? They were sure that she asked them at some point, that first time. Maybe she didn't ask because she intended to use both flavours anyways. That makes sense.

Should it make sense though? This was a Nonsense world, after all.

Regardless, nothing they could do about it now.

They snuck their piece of pie into their impossibly large pockets when Toriel turned her back to start washing dishes. It wouldn't hurt to have this on them when they tried to convince Asgore to let them stay.

Frisk spent the rest of the evening reading the books they'd read a dozen times before, sitting in front of the child-safe fire, and allowing their mind to relax in the comfortable quiet of Toriel's home in the Ruins.

Tomorrow, they'd play it by ear. See how the day goes, then make a plan to either stick around, try to pretend that Toriel could care about them, or make a clean break and leave as soon as possible.

There was no rush. They had time to sleep on it.