It didn’t take long before Frisk started pushing for experimentation to begin. Alphys wasn’t the royal scientist anymore, but she did still have an appreciation for the field and was willing to help. They informed her about the resetting power and Chara, but not about everything Frisk had done to get that knowledge. Alphys was… a little less resilient about that sort of thing.

Sans slowly got accustomed to Frisk’s pre-loop warnings. They’d make a plan together, Frisk would manifest and anchor the timeline, and then their expression would abruptly change, followed by Frisk reporting the results.

Honestly, Sans kinda wished science was always that easy.

After a couple of months of failed attempts, Sans eventually okay’d an experimentation procedure with injecting determination into him and other monsters, to find out the amount that would be safe on a long term basis.

They’d needed a human soul for that, and Sans had surreptitiously acquired one, extracted a significant amount of determination, and then let the soul go. He’d played it off as leftover determination supplies Alphys hadn’t realized they still had, because he knew Alphys would have trouble with ethical issues, especially with determination experimentation. Best not to make her uncomfortable.

They got everything they needed and Frisk went to save. The haunted look that had appeared on Frisk’s face in the moment after they saved, as they reported they’d finally figured it out, had not made him too happy. Nor had the fact that they’d cried into his jacket again when he offered a hug.

In their subsequent conversation, he discovered that that round of experimentation had taken over a year, with most reloads happening within just a few days. The last stretch had been six months, because they’d wanted to know it was safe, and the 6-months-in-the-future Alphys had been confident that it was.

Apparently, that version of himself had been diligent about the experiment, but had otherwise been remarkably lazy and relaxed. Had even caused a few international incidents with some hilarious sounding pranks on world leaders.

He had to admit, that sounded awesome.

But there was a part that hadn’t sounded awesome. That whole conversation had been difficult, but he’d pushed them and found out about some difficulties with that timeline. Emotional struggles, that sort of thing. Frisk had been emotionally isolated in a way that they needed to not do again.

They had a rule for the resets - no personal conversations during timelines that would be undone. That way he wouldn't be left out, that their friendship would be equally remembered. The only interaction Frisk had with Sans that he wouldn't remember would be pure work.

Frisk’s biggest complaint about the lost year of work was how much they’d missed him, and everyone else. They tried not to pursue anything personal with others, either, because of the same issue, and had been incredibly lonely. Hadn’t seemed to have an impact on their devotion to him - they’d seemed just as fanatically attached as before, if not more so.

It was a shame that Frisk could only have a single save, though - what Flowey called a save file. Once they saved - that was it. They could go either to that moment, or all the way back to the day they fell into the underground, with nothing in between. They tried to be careful about saving, because of that - always making sure that everyone was okay, usually the morning of.

It also meant that they couldn’t really do any experimentation with the determination injected into him without saving after he’d been injected. As a group they knew they had a fallback option: if long term, untreatable effects showed up, Frisk could always talk to Flowey and reset absolutely everything to the beginning. Not ideal, but that meant even in the absolute worst case, they all would still be okay, in the end. Even if this version of them ceased to exist.

It was kinda destroying the world to do so, as he'd discussed with them at the MTT restaurant, but he also did not have very optimistic predictions of how things would go if something happened to him. As attached as Frisk was… yeah that didn't seem promising.

Frisk did talk to Flowey sometimes. Not often, and when they did speak, Frisk often seemed disheartened afterwards. They reassured Sans that things were fine, but that Flowey was the only one who’d really lost anything, and Frisk was just sad about that fact.

Sans was still quite uncomfortable with the idea of Flowey, but he didn’t feel like there was anything he could do about that whole situation. Some of the details he’d learned from Frisk over the last two months…

In any case, they had apparently done all of the safe, obvious approaches to get him to remember resets in the very first timeline. It was only because that other Sans hadn’t wanted to really push, in the beginning, to really abuse Frisk’s power’s for knowledge, that they’d abandoned that line of inquiry. And that was also why Frisk didn’t feel like they’d seriously tried.

After all, “determination” seemed to be a critical ingredient for the power, and they’d never tried giving Sans any. They also knew it wasn’t sufficient on its own - Undyne had gained enough determination to melt herself and hadn’t remembered.

Sans had questioned if monsters could achieve it at all. They might just physically be unable to hold as much determination as was necessary. And the fact was, he didn’t remember any of the loops of the experiments where he’d been injected with determination; nor had the amalgamates remembered anything.

Saying this did not, of course, shake Frisk’s determination in the least. Collectively, they either gave up or pressed on. Worst case wasn’t melting or dying - he knew he should have six months of safety, from the last trial, and even if things went haywire afterwards, Frisk would do everything they could, and they could do a lot. To save him, he was a little concerned they might do too much, but at least it meant his odds were as good as they could get.

And in the absolute last extreme - Frisk could do a full reset to the beginning and fix everything all over again. Sans didn’t like this outcome, but on a purely selfish level, he did appreciate the pseudo-immortality it gave him. He’d have never agreed to be an experimental subject like this otherwise.

The injection proceeded without any complications. The next day, Frisk went to save and made absolutely sure he was okay before they committed to saving. He saw the fear in their eyes before they saved, but he reassured them that this seemed like the right thing to do.

He didn’t remind them that the reason he felt that way was because this seemed like the only way to protect the world from Frisk’s possible eventual madness, but that was unnecessary. He said to save, and so they did, and that’s all there was to it.

He was trying really hard not to take that for granted. But in any case…

It was time to bring the experiments to the next level.

—

* The day before, months before, a time that never was

—

“The tests came back with everything looking great,” Alphys said, nervously adjusting her glasses as she glanced over the reports. “Sans appears to be in perfect health. They all are. I think we did it, Frisk. This is a safe amount.”

“We’re waiting the full six months, of course,” Frisk said, their gaze a little empty.

“Y-yes, obviously, but…” Alphys said and then sighed. “Frisk?”

“Yeah?” Frisk said, their eyes finally focusing as they looked at Alphys.

“I don’t know how to ask this, but um… are you okay?” she asked.

Frisk sighed and leaned against the wall, putting their head in their hands.

“We can’t do this,” Frisk said. “You know that, right? I can’t have personal interactions because you’ll forget and it’ll make our relationship uneven and it’ll mess things up.”

“But you’re not okay,” Alphys said. “I’d be okay - the other version of me, I mean - not remembering this if it meant I could help.”

Frisk looked away. After a moment, they sat down, leaning against the wall. Alphys gave them an uncertain look, like she wasn’t sure what to do.

“I miss everyone,” they said after another bit of silence. “I miss everyone so much, but I miss Sans most of all. I keep dreaming of things being… different than this.”

Alphys came over and sat by Frisk.

“How so?” she asked.

Frisk smiled distantly, their eyes looking through the ceiling.

“Where everyone I love remembers the resets. Where Flowey has a soul again and has become Asriel once more. And we can be real friends, not this… strange sort of thing we are. Where we all laugh and dance together through time, true immortals, all of us, playing in this world all together, never having to be afraid of the future, never having to be afraid of death taking any of us. Ever. Where Sans…”

They trailed off. Alphys nodded.

“Where he likes you back?” Alphys prodded with a little grin, making Frisk blush hard.

They didn’t look at Alphys, but their smile grew more pained.

“... yeah,” they admitted.

“Does he know you like him?” Alphys asked.

It was kind of a silly question. It wasn’t something that was easy to miss.

But the question also hurt, because Frisk had told Sans everything. He knew how they felt - there was no further confession to be made, was there? He enjoyed their company, enjoyed hanging out, but he’d never implied anything about being good with the idea of anything… more than that.

Not that they knew what “more” would even mean.

Maybe that was a problem?

Their gaze sharpened again at the realization. What if Sans wasn’t capable of “more?” That’d mean they were being ridiculous, right?

Or maybe Sans was just sitting back and letting things flow as they would, and even if he would like more, it’d be on Frisk to initiate anything. That seemed like him.

But to even have an idea of what was possible, they needed to learn more.

Their gaze flickered over to Alphys.

“Hey Alphys,” they said, instead of answering her question. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything!” Alphys said happily.

“Um,” Frisk said. “It’s really awkward and difficult and I’m realizing I have absolutely no one else who might know, other than you. But as a scientist, with your background… and as a friend…”

Alphys looked a little nervous but nodded encouragingly.

Frisk turned more sharply so they couldn’t see each other’s faces.

“I, er… basic monster sex ed?” they said awkwardly. “Specifically, um, if sex is a thing with monsters, and if it’s in a way that’s, um, compatible with humans.”

Alphys stammered excessively in response to this.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Frisk added.

“N-no, it’s, um, a question that, uh, you’re right, you should know, and um, not a lot of monsters would know about humans, um…” Alphys managed.

“Sorry,” Frisk said.

“O-on the b-bright side, I won’t even remember this whole conversation, wh-which makes me feel better,” Alphys said, and she sounded like she was awkwardly smiling.

“That makes me feel better, too,” Frisk said, a little relieved. “I felt like I was being awful and taking advantage of your company.”

“Taking advantage?” Alphys said, sounding concerned. “Maybe this isn’t working. Maybe you need to not have long stretches like this. How… how long has it been, anyway?”

“Ten months,” Frisk said, their tone flat.

“Since you’ve had a real conversation with a friend?” Alphys asked, sounding startled.

“I can talk with Flowey,” Frisk amended. “But…”

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“Yeah,” Alphys said after a minute, and Frisk heard the sound of fidgeting. “This isn’t good, Frisk. You deserve better than this.”

“No, I don’t,” Frisk said, their tone flat and cold.

“But… Frisk… you saved everyone, you freed us all, you’re so nice. How can you say that?” Alphys asked.

Frisk stayed silent.

“I won’t even remember this conversation,” Alphys said after a moment. “You could tell me, you know. I’m… I’m guessing it’s like me, isn’t it? You’ve done something and you feel guilty, don’t you?”

“... yeah,” Frisk said and then sighed. “But it never happened, so it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to you,” Alphys said.

Frisk sighed heavily.

“Yeah, it does,” Frisk said.

“You could tell me, and I could try to help you feel better, like you helped me,” Alphys said.

“I don’t want you to hate me,” Frisk said, their voice trembling a little.

“I could never hate you,” Alphys said. “Especially since, whatever it was, it never happened! And besides, even if I did, it’s all getting undone anyway. So you can tell me. Frisk, you need a friend.”

“Sans and Flowey know,” Frisk said.

Alphys was quiet for a long moment.

“So… is…” Frisk tried to ask haltingly.

“O-oh, r-r-right, um,” Alphys said, swallowing audibly. “U-um. M-monsters do, um, they can, um, they’re c-compatible with… uh…”

“Monsters feel sexual desire and have bodies that are compatible?” Frisk asked.

They swore they could feel Alphys’s blush from over there.

“Y-y-ye-yes,” Alphys managed.

“But… er… how… I mean, I can imagine how it works if they have bodies that are, um, kind of biological looking, but um…” Frisk said.

“But Sans doesn’t?” Alphys said.

Frisk wondered if Alphys could feel their blush from over here.

“Y-yeah,” Frisk said.

“Monsters aren’t exactly the same as humans,” Alphys said. “Not at all. But… l-like I said, compatible. And, um, monsters are… um… made of magic more than humans are. Or, uh, I mean, humans aren’t at all. But the more magic a monster’s body is, uh, the… the more magic they are.”

Frisk took a breath, bracing themself.

“So… Sans should have… um… parts that work, that are compatible with humans, and made of magic,” Frisk said, sounding half strangled, but they managed to get it out. “And he should be, uh, capable of lust and things.”

“That’s, uh, that’s correct,” Alphys said.

“I really appreciate it, Alphys,” Frisk said. “Anything else I should know?”

“U-um,” Alphys stammered. “There’s a lot more, um, individual variation in monsters… especially monsters that are more, uh, magic than physical, comparatively. I, uh, there’s things that would have to be learned, um, on a case-by-case basis. Um, a lot more things than with humans. Uh. Unfortunately.”

“Anything about both parties having magic, maybe?” Frisk asked.

“Oh! Um, yes, actually, sorry,” Alphys said. “But it’s, um, not necessary. And, uh, even the one-way sort of interaction you can have with monster’s magic, uh, even that can form a bond of sorts between the two, at least, uh, at least I’m pretty sure that’s the case.”

A bond, huh? Frisk thought wistfully, and the thought itched at them for some reason.

“So that’s all, right?” Frisk asked. “Sans should be able to do something with me, with magic, that can form an optional bond thing that’s a nice bonus. He should be capable of wanting sexual things, experiencing them, sharing them, completing the act. So, if… if he wanted, it’s… it’s possible, is what you’re saying.”

“Y-yes,” Alphys said.

“I appreciate it a lot, Alphys,” Frisk said softly.

Alphys turned a little to glance at them, and they were looking up at the ceiling.

“I’m glad I c-could help,” Alphys said. “But, Frisk… I want you to be okay, too. Hating yourself because of guilt… I’ve been there. It’s not a good way to be.”

“No, it’s not,” Frisk said.

“Do you think Sans hates you for it?” Alphys asked.

“I… don’t think so,” Frisk said. “He says he doesn’t. But he can be pragmatic that way. And while he doesn’t hate me, I think… I do think he sees me differently, knowing I was capable of that.”

“Maybe you should ask him,” Alphys said.

“That’s the sort of thing that absolutely would need to be in the true timeline,” Frisk said with a sigh. “It’s bad enough that we’re talking like this.”

“The other me won’t realize how bad this is if you don’t tell her,” Alphys said. “Please, Frisk. Please tell her. She wants to be your friend, too. I happen to know.”

“You are my friend, Alphys,” Frisk said, their voice wavering again.

“In the sense that we care about each other? Yes we are,” Alphys said. “But Frisk… I didn’t know about your guilt. I kind of miss things, sometimes, with people. But you can tell me. I want to be there for you, like you were there for me. That’s what friends are for.”

“I hate that you’re going to forget this,” Frisk said, their voice starting to break. “I’m… feeling kind of alone, right now. I feel like I’m talking to an echo, a ghost. And maybe that’s cruel to say, I don’t know. I’m just… I need to…”

They just breathed for a minute. Alphys didn’t say anything.

“Three months,” Frisk said, speaking to themself. “Three months, and I’ll reload, and I’ll be with the real versions again. Just three months.”

“I guess you can’t talk to Sans, but… maybe you can try talking to Flowey…?” Alphys suggested, sounding forlorn.

Frisk laughed bitterly.

“He doesn’t feel almost anything,” they said, their voice desolate. “We’re… a difficult pair. I remind him painfully of everything he’s lost, everything that was ripped from him. He reminds me of everything I’m desperately striving not to become. It’s hard to really talk, because of that. We can’t connect on an emotional level, because he can’t. And he knows I’m afraid of what he represents. And I’m always sad about what he’s lost. He isn’t, exactly, but has a sort of… mournfulness about it. Like he kind of resents the fact that he can’t even be properly sad about it. Resents how hollow his life is. And the fact that I can feel sad about what he lost and he can’t…”

Frisk sighed.

“We do talk on occasion, and I try to help support him. And he tries to be supportive of me. But we’re very… alien to each other, and bound in weird ways, and it’s… a whole thing,” they said. “But regardless, it’s not exactly the social connection of real depth of friendship that I need.”

“That… that makes sense,” Alphys said awkwardly. “Look, I… I don’t know how to help, but I know this isn’t good, this isn’t right, and I want you to be okay, Frisk. Maybe you can practice with me? We could roleplay, like you’d suggested before, pretending I’m Sans! Or, you could see how I react to finding out about what you did, and when I don’t hate you, it’ll make you feel better.”

“And if you do?” they asked dryly.

“Well, I won’t,” she said. “It can’t be worse than what I did.”

Frisk laughed at that; a rough, bitter sound.

“But even if I do, you’ll know, and you won’t have to worry about how I’d take things,” Alphys pressed.

“What’s the point…?” Frisk asked despairingly. “I’m pretty sure I know how you’ll react and I don’t want to live through it.”

“Y-you remember who you’re talking to, right?” Alphys asked. “Come on, Frisk. You sound like I did, back then.”

Frisk stayed silent for a moment.

“I miss you,” Frisk said after a while. “Knowing all this is just… a temporary timeline, that I’m building something real and forever, but this isn’t part of it… it’s so… empty. I didn’t really get what Sans meant, before, in that other timeline. I mean, I did, but… I guess I didn’t fully understand. How the knowledge it was all temporary made everything feel utterly pointless.”

“Well… why didn’t it feel pointless before?” Alphys asked.

“Because I was learning, growing, accomplishing things,” Frisk answered immediately. “I hadn’t really… come to terms with what reloading meant, as far as friendships and relationships go. Sans and I had cared for each other more mutually before I reset everything and made someone I love cease to exist. All that we had built, and the relationship we had… lost, in a moment of idiocy.”

Frisk looked down.

“In a way, I killed the one I love, and replaced him with a different version of himself. A stranger, in a new context that means we can never regain what was lost. And then I did evil… terrible, true evils, in pursuit of knowledge. You, Alphys, you made an honest mistake and got caught in a spiral of guilt from that mistake. I deliberately used the ability to undo timelines, my immunity to consequences, to gain knowledge. And nothing so gentle and tame as what we’re doing now.”

“O-oh,” Alphys said. “Well, um, that’s not good. But. But, Frisk, you were trying to learn things. It never happened. Whatever you did, it’s not real anymore. And with Sans… I’m sorry, Frisk. But you can tell the other version of me that, I would understand. And even if… if you had the conversation with this me, and things felt a little uneven, and you just told the other me about it, about our conversations, I’d understand, Frisk. We can talk about that timeline, what things were like with him. You can talk to me.”

Frisk wiped away a few tears and stood up to leave. They reached the door and paused.

“On the first day,” they said, their voice distant. “The first time I met Undyne, the day I fell into the underground. When she died, Alphys, yours was the first name on her lips. And in another timeline, when I was the Angel of Death who emptied the underground, when I followed the path of genocide and left nothing in my wake but dust… she grinned as she died, because she had faith in you, that you would evacuate everyone - and where else would that be, but the True Lab? - that you would preserve all that remained. Even before your confession, before we broke the barrier, Undyne loved you and believed in you.”

They sighed and didn’t look at Alphys to see her reaction.

“See you later, Alphys,” they said and left.

—

* The last day within the long reset, before the reload

—

“yeah, everything feels good still,” Sans said. “no issues. gotta say, other than having to deal with the tests every few weeks, this has been a fun little vacation.”

His tone was maybe a little too cavalier, but he was grinning nonetheless.

“Yeah,” Frisk said with a pained expression. “I’m glad.”

“you haven’t been taking care of yourself, have you?” he asked.

“Not as much as I should have been,” Frisk said.

“T-these readings look good,” Alphys said. “You, um, did what we asked, right? Pushed yourself, tried to feel as determined as you could?”

“kinda hard, under the circumstances, but i gave it my best shot,” Sans said. “no melting, not even feeling funny. which is a shame, because i’m always funny.”

“Ha,” Frisk said, a tentative laugh, and then asked. “You feel safe, right? Doing this for real? We can move forward?”

“i think it’s the best we can do. so yeah,” Sans said, looking at them speculatively. “hey, frisk. need ya to do something for me.”

“Anything,” they said immediately, their gaze sharpening.

Alphys gave them an awkward, but understanding look. Sans had his usual impassive expression, but his eyes had shed the illusion of mirth.

“you need to own up to the other sans and alphys what this is doing to you,” he said and they winced. “haven’t seen you this torn up in a while. you can’t hide it from the other us’s, the way it looks like you were hiding it from me the last few times i’ve come here for testing.”

“I… I didn’t want you to think that there was any p-pressure, to give the okay before the planned timeframe,” Frisk stammered.

“the whole point of all this isn’t for me to have a good time,” Sans said, the relaxed cheer in his voice entirely gone. “the point is that you and your power are a risk to the whole world, if you snap.”

He glanced at Alphys, who wasn’t surprised, and looked back at Frisk.

“it’s good you told alphys,” he said. “but it’s not good enough. you need to be honest with the real sans.”

“I don’t know what I should do,” they said, looking at Sans with a lost expression. “Please, Sans, tell me truthfully…”

“whatever it is, you should ask the me who will remember,” he said, cutting them off. “that sans is your friend. i’m about to not exist. asking me isn’t fair to him.”

“I… I can’t…” they said, and started crying. “This isn’t the same, right? I’m not betraying you, right? I’m not killing you?”

“you are killing me,” he said with a shrug, and Alphys flinched at the matter of fact tone. Frisk's face twisted with pain. “but it’s not betrayal, because we talked about it and agreed on this plan. this wasn’t a little jaunt, a few minutes, or anything. it’s been six months. maybe we shouldn't do anything this long again. ‘cause from where i’m standing, it feels like i’m about to die. i’m trying not to be upset about it, but. well.”

He shrugged again.

“i don’t hate you, frisk,” he said. “let’s just hope this all works, that all this matters in the end.”

“Can… can I hug you goodbye?” they asked, their voice breaking.

“i’m not real, frisk,” he said, looking away. “save it for the other sans. i think we’re done here? you know everything you need to go ahead and reload?”

“Y-yes,” they said, their voice hitching.

“then let’s just get to the point,” he said, looking out the window.

“G-goodbye,” Frisk said, tears beginning to stream down their face. “To both of you.”

Sans didn’t reply.

“You can tell the real me, Frisk,” Alphys said. “Please do, okay? I still care about you, I don’t hate you.”

“But you’ve never looked at me the same,” Frisk said, closing their eyes. “I’ll think about it, Alphys. Thank you for being my best friend, in this timeline.”

“Always, Frisk,” Alphys said, sounding nervous. “Goodbye.”

With a surge of will, the room ceased to exist. Frisk faintly saw the black void, faintly saw an outline of Flowey, and then they were standing in the same room. Six months earlier, 13 months earlier, or having just saved, depending on perspective.

Sans’ expression was cheerful and lively, and Alphys looked eager.

“Well?” Alphys asked. “Did it work?”

Frisk tried so hard to hold it together.

“Yeah, it did,” they said, their voice tight. “I have the dosing regimen memorized, with both yours and Sans’ approval.”

“hey frisk,” Sans said and they managed to meet his gaze. “you okay, kid?”

“M-maybe we shouldn’t do any jaunts that long again,” they said hoarsely.

Sans scratched at his head awkwardly.

“uh… you look like you maybe need a hug,” he said, his tone halfway a question, opening his arms a little.

They threw themself into his arms and started sobbing.