Ten at night. Right after the end of the visiting hours.

The group was split into two. Papyrus’ car cannot fit in the two Dreemurrs. He was already at maximum load with his gang.

Gaster followed him back.

Cenna meanwhile arranged a taxi to send the Dreemurrs back. Paid in advance.

The trip itself was as silent as winter.

Gentle snow floated down on as Toriel watched the urban lights of human society pass by. Her thoughts wandered through the frigid weather of this foreign landscape, back into the past…

* * *

Four hours ago, Doctor Gaster finished his extensive testimony of The Core Incident.

The science behind it, the preparations he took, and the people involved. Everything up to the final moment.

Toriel could tell it was subtly biased against Sans. That alone already put her against Gaster, disappointed that he had implicated her dear joke buddy.

Asgore had more authority over this case, however. He was the one who endorsed the project in the first place.

“Hmm, I see. How unfortunate.” Asgore nodded, “There’s not much we can do.”

Undyne crossed her arms. “We can always banish him back to… wherever the hell he got lost in. Lifetime imprisonment.”

“No, no. That’s cruel and pointless.” Asgore replied. “Besides, his knowledge may still benefit us all.”

“Are you serious?” The Captain furrowed her brows. “We got Alphys. She knows her Determination sciences too!”

Gaster then explained, “But she's lacking in experience and confidence.”

“You--!”

‘King’ Asgore raised his hand, asking the two to quiet down. “Sorry, but I’m not quite done yet.”

Although on opposite sides, the fish and the skeleton both honoured Asgore. They quickly hushed themselves.

So he began: “Doctor Gaster. As much as I appreciate your tireless effort, I can’t let you go just yet. You must apologize to everyone affected by the tragedy.”

“Including Sans,” Toriel glared. Oh she noticed the spike of tenseness in the scientist’s bones when she mentioned that name.

“Yes, yes.” Asgore agreed. His large hand motioned over to the dark-skinned human. “This is Cenna Caraway. Our dear Magus was one of the many victims who lost their loved ones in The Core Incident. You should make amends with her first.”

Gaster bowed deep before his King. “Thank you, your Majesty. I swear will do everything I can to atone for my sins.”

Fanciful as ever. At least he’s honest about it. Toriel watched him slide towards Cenna with a lowered head.

“I apologize for causing much grief and brokenness in your life, Miss Caraway. Is there anything I could do to compensate?”

Cenna huffed. “Yeah. Right, as if ya could bring them back. Makes me wonder how you’re gonna settle this.”

“As I had sworn to the King, I will do anything and everything.”

“Even it means crawling under my boot?”

It seems that the humiliation tactics of days past still existed today. Gaster’s face contorted from the thought, battling against his immense dignity.

In the end, he dropped on his ‘knees’ and said: “Yes. I will. I won’t back down on my oath.”

Cenna threw her head back and let out a short laugh. “Oi oi, who do ya take me for? I ain’t so petty. Stand tall. I was just wondering how far you’re willing to go, is all.”

“My sincerest gratitude.” Gaster got up and dusted himself off. “The Association’s Vanquisher is truly kind.”

The next moment later, there was no more jesting from the Magus. “Heh, surprised someone knows our stuff,” she answered. “Yeah. I’m a Vanquisher. One of the folks who specialize in DEMON extermination. If they refuse to move on, we eradicate them by force.”

He nodded. “Certainly someone such as I could be of assistance in that case. As the former Royal Scientist, Determination and the SOUL are my areas of expertise.”

“Hmm… Well there's one thing. See, we got a major issue, doc. One you started. It’s only fair you help me end it too. If it’s a success, I’ll call both Sans’ and your debt a hundred percent paid.”

“How does it correlate to the tragedy?”

Cenna explained, “If my old folks didn’t die, Frisky and I wouldn’t be orphans. The little one wouldn’t attend their foster parents’ camping trip to Mount Ebott. No trip means no wandering off unsupervised and falling down that giant hole.”

“Let me make this plain and clear: the newest generation of ‘humanity’s ultimate weapon’ is none other than our beloved Frisky. Time-traveller extraordinaire. The very same human who saved the Underground from their eternal imprisonment.”

Toriel remained calm. She had already heard the tales over the phone in the conversation with Cenna’s colleague. The time had come where all the puzzle pieces fall together.

On the other hand, Asgore had gone paler than his white fur. “W-what? They… that… that explains why they told me strange things like I had ‘killed them ten times’. Such a power is too huge for their tiny hands.”

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Cenna continued, “Age is only part of the problem now. Frisky’s possessed by a damn stubborn DEMON. A parasite. They’re sharing bodies, with that blasted worm leeching off Frisky’s power.”

“I’m amazed they’re still holding it together after all these time. But, if we don’t get rid of that rot sooner than later… we’ll lose Frisky for sure.”

Toriel squeezed her hands. She had an inkling of what this entailed, but she didn’t think it would be quite so turbulent. How strange, the Surface worked: they often had to resort to violence to prevent more violence.

“Do you know the DEMON’s true identity?” asked Gaster.

“…Yeah.” Cenna answered.

“That’s all the confirmation I required. Does anyone have pictures of ‘Frisky’ for reference?”

Asgore, Toriel and Undyne searched for pictures of Frisk on their phones. Those were happier and idyllic times.

“By the way Doctor Gaster, that’s a nickname.” Toriel corrected, “Their proper name is Frisk.”

“Ah, I see. Mind give me a summary of their character?”

Each member of Frisk’s close ones chipped their own testimony. They described the child’s behaviour: kind, charismatic in their own cute way, unusually responsible, and very wise beyond their age.

Gaster committed the details to memory. “Thank you. I must admit that they’re adorable. Now I could tell the difference between our dear ‘Golden Quiche’ and the decay hidden within.”

The fire alarms went off.

Cenna grumbled. “The bugger’s making their move. I’ll be damned if it’s a real fire.”

“I believe we can turn this situation to our advantage,” thus said Gaster. “Allow me to perform a live inspection. Then, we can plan our final assault.”

After his search, the scientist returned with ‘Frisky’ in tow. He remained friendly around the child and played the role of an elegant uncle.

As for Frisk themselves? Toriel saw nothing out of the ordinary. She prayed so hard that this was all a major misunderstanding.

Alas, her prayers did not come true.

The moment they left Frisk for the night, Gaster’s expression turned stern. He kept his voice low and careful.

“We do not have much time,” he said. “It’s imperative that we resolve this issue tonight. Or else, doom is upon us.”

* * *

The taxi arrived at Mount Ebott’s town square. The Dreemurrs gave their thanks and watched the transport drive away.

“Will you be fine, Toriel?” asked Asgore.

“Yes,” she replied. Although her face was anything but cheerful. “You should go prepare.”

Asgore nodded to her in silence. Then, the King left to settle his urgent business.

Toriel walked home alone to her own thoughts. It had snowed in Ebott Town as well. Her bare-furred feet pressed down on the soft powdery puffs, crunching and turning into cold slush under the weight of her body.

It dragged her down with every step. The constant trudge reflected the weight of her concerns.

The whole procedure carried a great risk.

Will it go well?

Or will it be a disaster?

No one knows the future.

How she wished that she could hug her child in her arms and never let go. It brought her back to the days in the Underground’s Ruins, when she tried to stop Frisk from leaving.

Just when she was about to reach home, she spotted a snow-covered figure sitting at the front porch.

Small.

A little pudgy.

Blue jacket.

“…Sans?” Toriel muttered.

The white light in his eyes returned upon her voice. His attention shifted to her.

“Oh,” he said. “Hey Tori. How’s it going?”

Whatever irritation she had against the missed calls vanished. Judging from the layer of fresh snow, her friend didn’t move an inch since the flakes fell.

Her maternal instincts sensed deep pain. “Are you alright, Sans?” she asked. “Did something happen?”

Sans remained as silent as a dead man.

“Nothing.” He replied at last. “It’s just another normal day.” A bold lie at its most shameless.

“What about your phone? I couldn’t contact you at all.”

“Gone. Lost. Swimming with the fishes. If it’s not down at the bottom of the ocean, the water would have killed the electronics. Same difference.”

The reply raised more questions than answers. But, Toriel knew better than to pry.

“Do you want to go inside?” she asked.

Sans replied in his faux-happy tone. “Nope. I’m good. Trash belong out here anyway.”

What would get through him?

Toriel stepped around her joke buddy and entered the house proper. Closed the door behind her. Then, she sat down on the floor.

Gave the door a couple of knocks. “Knock knock,” she said.

The first time was a no show. Toriel tried again.

Second time, nothing either. But she won’t give up just yet.

On the third time, she heard some shuffling from the other side. Snow fell down on the path. Bones thumped down on wood.

“Who’s there?” asked Sans.

“Icy,” Toriel replied.

“Icy who?”

The old lady smiled. “‘Icy’ a mirror of myself.”

“Sorry. Can’t agree with that.” Sans responded, “You’re not trash.”

At this point, she couldn’t quite agree. “I met your mentor today. Not by choice, though. Undyne arrested him, and you know how it goes.”

“Papyrus told me you had a ‘bad time’ with him. I don’t know the details. But, whatever it was, I understand how you feel. Because, if I was in your position… I would have tried to do the same.”

Again, it brought back memories of the Ruins. “I would have kept Papyrus in the dark. Confine him to a zone where I thought he’d be safe. Never let him out into the ‘dangerous world’… Just I had once done for Frisk. Love and fear, it’s quite a toxic combination sometimes, isn’t it?”

The two remained quiet. That was fine. They didn’t need to talk to understand each other. After all, they became friends without ever knowing their faces for a long, long while…

Sans mused: “‘Tibia’ honest. I’ve always wondered what if the kid chose to stay with you from the beginning. Like, would you let me in?”

Toriel chuckled. Ah, the good old what ifs. “Maybe. I’ve always wanted to see you in person.”

“Aww shucks, you trust me that much? Not afraid that I’m gonna do my job and report to Asgore and the Royal Guard?”

“If you were a spy, you wouldn’t have promised to protect the human,” so she said. “It takes a certain integrity to love bad jokes.”

“…Heh.”

Sans then asked a question she never hoped to hear.

“Tori, how’s the kid doing?”

How could she explain? Her poor friend had gone through so much in one day. Now, she had to deliver worse news.

Should she lie to protect him? No. If she tried, Sans would have noticed. His sense of discernment was almost frightening.

“…Frisk is in critical condition,” Toriel answered. “Their illness is far worse than we anticipated. We won’t know if they will survive the next few hours. There’s nothing we can do but pray.”

The old goat heard a sigh.

“Guess it’s back to square one, huh?” said Sans. “In the end… we can’t do anything.”

Helplessness.

In the Underground, their people had resigned to eternal confinement for aeons. The people had learned to accept that they could do nothing.

With imagination, they made replacements. Gem caves served as false stars. Artificial lighting gave the illusion of sunlight. People decorated their homes. Those in Snowdin went as far as to paint rocks into the fabled trees.

And yet, they still had the nagging feeling of being unable to change their fate.

The replacements weren’t so bad. They provided distractions. Something Sans needed right now.

Again, Toriel knocked on the door. “Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?” Sans answered.

“Needle.”

“Needle who?”

“Needle little money for the movies.”

The skeleton snorted, even though he had no nose. “God, that one never grows old eh? Hey, I found a really nice one from the human internet. Wanna give that a try?”

“Sure,” Toriel chuckled.

“Okay.” Sans knocked twice. “Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?” she answered.

“Banana.”

“Banana who?”

Instead of dropping a punchline, he knocked again. “Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Banana.”

Toriel started to get a little confused. “Banana… who?”

“Knock knock.”

She had heard so much that Sans was a ‘trollmaster’, but this started to stretch a bit too far. “Who’s there?”

“Orange.” This time, the statement changed

“Orange who?” Toriel answered.

And now he set off the joke like a row of dominoes: “Orange you glad I didn’t say banana?”

The two burst out laughing. They couldn’t help it. An entire minute passed before Toriel caught her breath.

“That was the longest knock knock joke I’ve ever heard!” She exclaimed.

“I know right?” Sans replied. “I tried this on Papyrus. He outright screamed at the end. He was so loud, the birds flew off in all directions. Priceless.”

The two carried on making more knock knock jokes, back and forth with laughs abound. If they can’t do anything about their current situation, might as well make it all a little less heavy.

That’s the monster way of life.