Frisk woke up the next morning feeling stiff and sore, but not in the fun ways. The couch was not the most comfortable place to sleep. At least they were short - even shorter than Sans, though not by much - and could easily fit on the couch.
Yawning, they checked their phone. At two in the morning, Sans had responded with a simple “goodnight.” Hopefully he was fine, wherever he was. They wanted to text him, to ask about how he was doing, to hear about his day… but he probably wanted his solitude, so they’d leave him be.
They had a lot to do today.
A sinking feeling filled them and they flopped back onto the couch. What a mess they’d gotten into. Were they really going to tell Toriel everything…? Not about Asriel / Flowey, of course, that wasn’t theirs to share, and he’d made his opinion on that clear. They could talk about him with their timeloop conspiracy, but not with Asgore or Toriel.
But the rest of it? Chara, murdering everyone, destroying the universe? And with Chara, if they mentioned them, how much detail should they go into? The whole “I think they were aware the entire time they possessed their corpse in the flowerbed” thing might not be great for Toriel’s mental health. She might blame herself for Chara’s current insanity.
Frisk covered their eyes and groaned.
The point of this timeline - now, anyway - was to give it to Toriel to decide. Not that Frisk would necessarily do as Toriel bid, but at the very least, they could know Toriel’s choice. They just had to keep Flowey’s advice in mind the whole time, to make sure Toriel thought positively of them as they did it.
Frisk got up and awkwardly went to the kitchen to dig around for breakfast. They wondered if they should-
“FRISK! YOU ARE AWAKE! GOOD MORNING!” Papyrus said happily, coming in from his room as they gave up on finding anything both edible and suitable for someone older than a five year old.
“Morning,” they said wanly, smiling at him.
“IS IT NOT A GOOD MORNING?” he asked, his face falling a little.
“It’s fine,” they said with a small laugh. “Just kinda… lost in my head. Lots to think about.”
“SANS HAD THAT PROBLEM, TOO,” Papyrus noted.
“Oh?” they said, sitting down at their small kitchen table.
“YES. HE WAS VERY CONCERNED ABOUT SOME FRIENDS OF HIS THAT I HAVEN’T MET YET,” Papyrus said, sitting down next to them.
“Some friends of his?” Frisk asked.
Papyrus nodded seriously.
“HE NEEDED MY HELP WITH A MORAL DILEMMA!” he said proudly.
Frisk had already been curious, but now their eyes were practically glittering.
“Well, of course he did,” they said with a grin. “Who else would he go to for something like that, other than the great Papyrus?”
Papyrus’s eyes were as bright as Frisk had ever seen and they giggled as he did his whole self-aggrandizing thing for a minute.
“So I’m curious about these friends of his,” Frisk prompted after he settled down. “I might know them?”
“ONE IS KIND OF LIKE YOU!” Papyrus said. “HE IS VERY LOYAL, BUT SANS THINKS HE IS TOO LOYAL, BECAUSE HE THINKS OF HIMSELF AS KIND OF A SLAVE TO THIS GIRL. SANS WANTS THEM BOTH TO BE HAPPY AND WANTED TO HELP THEM.”
Even expecting it, that twisted oddly in Frisk’s heart. It was sweet and endearing in a way that they hadn’t quite anticipated. It would have been Friday night, after they’d first had sex. Sans had said he’d spoken to Papyrus, just before coming over and accepting them.
They wondered if they had Papyrus to thank for that acceptance.
“That is very sweet of him,” they said, trying to keep their face steady. “I do know the couple, as it happens.”
“DO YOU THINK I CAN MEET THEM?” Papyrus asked.
“Maybe,” Frisk said, smiling. “Might be hard to make it work out, but we’ll see. I’m curious what your advice was? The, uh, girl was having a lot of trouble with the situation.”
“IT WASN’T REALLY A MORAL DILEMMA,” Papyrus said. “SANS WAS HAVING TROUBLE AND IT DIDN’T MAKE SENSE. HE IS HAPPY THE WAY HE IS AND SHE WANTS TO BE WITH HIM, SO HE SHOULDN’T CHANGE, AND THEY SHOULD BE TOGETHER.”
The simple, no-nonsense tone, sounding as though the conclusion was blatantly obvious, made tears spring up into Frisk’s eyes. Papyrus looked confused and Frisk just grinned, getting up and giving him a hug.
“WHAT’S WRONG?” he asked, sounding perplexed.
“Absolutely nothing is wrong,” Frisk said, wiping at their eyes. “Just, sometimes I manage to forget how amazing you are.”
“THAT IS NOT SOMETHING YOU SHOULD FORGET! BUT WORRY NOT, FOR THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL REMIND YOU!” he declared and they giggled again.
Frisk was hit by a sudden, intense desire to tell Papyrus everything. Well, not everything, not about the murders or things like that, but about their relationship with Sans. But it made sense for Sans to be the one to talk to Papyrus about it.
But also… their joy ebbed as they abruptly remembered that this was a dead timeline. Right. They shouldn’t be interacting with Papyrus at all. Movies and other superficial things weren’t too bad, but personal conversations like this…
They wanted it to be real. They wanted to repeat this conversation, even, if they could manage it. He should remember this.
“Hey, uh, I wanted to let you know that I was able to make last night work out, but I have a lot of things I need to get done over the next while,” Frisk said. “Until I resolve the situation that Sans is dealing with, we’re both going to be hugely busy. But I really want to talk to you about some stuff in my life - happy things, just to share with a friend, you know? So as soon as everything’s taken care of, we totally need to hang out.”
“I UNDERSTAND,” Papyrus said with a solemn looking nod, which was adorably over-acted. “YOU ARE A VERY IMPORTANT PERSON, FRISK! I HOPE YOUR AMBASSADOR WORK GOES WELL AND THAT SANS DOESN’T MESS ANYTHING UP.”
Frisk giggled.
“I’m sure he wouldn’t do anything that would cause problems,” Frisk said. “And… well, thank you, Papyrus. You’re a wonderful friend and a great brother to Sans.”
“OF COURSE I AM! YOU ARE BOTH LUCKY TO HAVE ME, FOR I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS!” he said, puffing out his chest so much it looked like he might hurt something.
Frisk’s cheeks hurt, they were smiling so much. With a few more pleasantries exchanged, Frisk went on their way back to their house, feeling much lighter. Papyrus’s ability to uplift people was practically magic.
It wasn’t quite enough to keep their spirits lifted as they approached the house. Still, they clung to that feeling of hope as they reached the door, the sensation small and trembling as they braced themself to go inside. The joy he’d shared with them seemed painful, mixed with the rest of the emotions roiling in their chest. Why?
They paused, one hand on the door.
Fear. They were afraid. Why were they so frightened?
They stared at the door, trembling, as they tried to place it. This fear ran deep, probing into cracks in their soul that were maybe still a little too tender, too raw. Places they didn’t want to look. Touching on things they didn’t want to remember.
But they needed to know. What was this fear? Why were they trembling so?
Their breath caught as it came to them.
Because deep down, they didn’t actually feel worthy of Toriel’s love. Tears brimmed at the realization. She was too gentle, too kind, too pure, for someone with hands as filthy as theirs. Stealing her love… and Papyrus’s, while Frisk was thinking about it… it didn’t feel so bad. They could love the Frisk they knew, and if it wasn’t the full truth, if it was a little shallow, it was still wonderful.
In the end, though, it was a sweet illusion, and nothing more. And today, Frisk was going to break that illusion.
Frisk didn’t deserve Toriel’s love, or Papyrus’s, not really. They deserved to be rejected by them both, and if they knew… if either of them knew, they should reject Frisk.
Except…
Tears fell as a wretched memory came to them. Too close, too relevant to this moment, too powerful… it swept them away.
Papyrus… even when he knew, he…
Papyrus, standing on their path to Waterfall. His normal smile is gone as he condemns them. He speaks of them shambling about, their hands always covered in dusty powder. That he feels their life is going down a dangerous path.
He was right, completely right, to call them a “freaking weirdo,” to gaze at them with frustration and flickers of genuine anger.
But then, he’d closed his eyes, smiled, and…
“I, PAPYRUS, SEE GREAT POTENTIAL IN YOU! EVERYONE CAN BE A GREAT PERSON IF THEY TRY! AND ME, I HARDLY HAVE TO TRY AT ALL!” he says, laughing in his silly way.
Charming, towards an entity entirely immune to his charms. Eyes that only see darkness, and so are blind to his golden light.
A flicker of pain and fear are still in his eyes, but resolute compassion burns brightest. How can compassion and gentleness look so fierce?
Chara pushes them to step closer and he calls them out in frustration again.
“HUMAN! I THINK YOU ARE IN NEED OF GUIDANCE! SOMEONE NEEDS TO KEEP YOU ON THE STRAIGHT AND NARROW!” he says boldly. “BUT WORRY NOT! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL GLADLY BE YOUR FRIEND AND TUTOR!”
No, Papyrus, no, run, you don’t understand… but the memory can’t be stopped, it can’t be changed. They couldn’t tell him then, they couldn’t tell him now, they could only watch helplessly as…
“I SEE YOU ARE APPROACHING!” he says, his face lighting up. “ARE YOU OFFERING A HUG OF ACCEPTANCE? WOWIE! MY LESSONS ARE ALREADY WORKING! I, PAPYRUS, WELCOME YOU WITH OPEN ARMS!”
He opens his arms wide, grinning at them brightly, and doesn’t flinch as they grow closer still.
Another sob tore from them. No, Papyrus, no, no…
“How pathetic,” Chara says in Frisk’s mind, dismissive and utterly uncaring as Frisk writhes in pain.
“No, not Papyrus, I can’t, I… he’s… god, no,” Frisk sobs, as their face stared emotionlessly at one of the gentlest people they’d ever met.
Not enough pain. They had hurt, in that moment, but they hadn’t hurt enough. Their LOVE had numbed them. If it had hurt this much, they would have stopped. They wouldn’t have been able to breathe, let alone step forward, if it had hurt this much. Papyrus…
His arms have been held open for a hug and he simply waits with a hopeful expression on his face.
“You aren’t going to give up, are you?” Chara asks coldly. “He needs to die.”
“But… he’s…” Frisk whimpers.
“He’s forgettable,” Chara says, accompanied by the impression of rolling their eyes.
Frisk screams a denial, raging at them, cursing them.
“Make up your damned mind,” Chara says with a mental sneer. “Give up or move forward.”
“I… I don’t give up…” Frisk says.
“Good.”
The memory of the toy knife in their hand as Chara pressured them, dragging forth a ripping desire to kill that blended with the shield around them. Frisk didn’t want to, they didn’t, they couldn’t, but they…
The knife is suffused with an intent to kill, Frisk’s intent to kill. Bolstered by Chara, but still Frisk’s choice. Always their choice.
There was no one else to blame. Not Chara, or their situation. They made this choice.
They needed to know. For that, this is their choice. They choose that Papyrus should die.
The strike lands.
His head falls, his body fading quickly. But still, he hangs on, he speaks. Only his skull remains, but still he tries to smile.
“W-WELL, THAT’S NOT WHAT I EXPECTED,” Papyrus says, and Chara scoffs.
“Because you’re an idiot,” they say, amused, but Frisk refuses, and so no sound escapes their lips.
Frisk clings onto every word of their friend, twisting in pain as they listen.
“BUT… ST… STILL! I BELIEVE IN YOU! YOU CAN DO A LITTLE BETTER! EVEN IF YOU DON’T THINK SO! I… I PROMISE…” he says.
“Pathetic,” Chara says again.
Frisk feels pressure from them. Chara is trying to get them to move forward, to crush Papyrus’s skull under their heel. They scream again and their body holds still, for no decision has been made. His skull scatters to dust after a moment.
It is done. Papyrus… he is gone, and nothing remains but a pile of dust in the snow.
The walls of LOVE thicken.
Silence, as Frisk could not breathe.
They didn’t deserve Papyrus’s love, his mercy, his acceptance. That generous, gracious, sweet, heartfelt, earnest love that he shared freely. His, or Toriel’s.
Another sob tore from them as they fell to their knees, one hand still on the door handle. Facing this, facing Toriel, facing the idea of confessing to someone who wasn’t Sans, or Alphys, or Flowey, who didn’t have a stained soul herself…
With Alphys, it was different. She wasn’t pure the same way, and they weren’t quite as close. It had hurt, it’d been hard to tell her, but this was… it was…
Another choked sob pulled from them.
The door opened and they startled, looking up at Toriel.
“Frisk?” she asked, looking gravely concerned. “I heard your car… what happened? Come, come inside.”
She helped Frisk stand and guided them inside. They almost resisted, feeling that Toriel shouldn’t touch them, but that was stupid. It would worry Toriel to reject her, even if they felt so painfully unworthy of her love in this moment that her touch burned.
“Are you alright?” Toriel asked, guiding them to the table. “Would you like something to drink?”
“I…” Frisk started to say, but choked and shook their head.
“Did something happen?” Toriel asked.
Frisk shook their head again.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” they whispered. “I didn’t mean to be like this…”
“It is alright, my child,” Toriel said. “Can you tell me what is troubling you?”
Frisk took a careful breath and wiped away their tears.
“I refuse to keep things from you,” they said, looking up at her. “I made up my mind to tell you, so I will. I… I just…”
Their voice went from forceful determination to wavering and they swallowed.
“I’m afraid,” they said, looking away. “I… I let myself think too closely about… about s-some of the things I need to say.”
“These are painful memories,” Toriel said, apparently deciding it was obvious enough not to make it a question. “You can take your time.”
“No, I can’t,” Frisk said. “You have school tomorrow, and I don’t know when Sans will be back, but when he returns, I expect he’ll want to reload. The less time that passes before reloading, the better. We need to make our plan soon. Today, ideally.”
If they could keep going forward with the choice to kill, despite… despite Papyrus… and Toriel, and Undyne, and everyone… because it was their plan, then there was no fucking way they were giving up with this. They could face pain. They would walk forward, eyes wide open, and would receive the judgment, rejection, and hatred that was their due.
They trembled, but they never fucking gave up.
They could do this.
“Very well,” Toriel said. “But I believe we should have breakfast first. And I suspect this conversation will require pie, hot chocolate, and blankets.”
“Blankets?” Frisk asked, confused.
Toriel’s eyes were soft.
“Whenever my children needed to talk to me about something painful, Asg- ah, that is, we made a little sitting area of pillows and blankets on the floor. We would all sit together, on the same level, as a family,” she explained.
Frisk felt a flicker of recognition from the faint impression that was all that remained of Chara.
“That sounds nice,” Frisk said softly.
“So, Frisk, go on to your room,” Toriel said. “Rest, try to relax, and be ready to come out for breakfast. If you need more time, merely tell me. Do not fret on my account.”
Frisk nodded and shakily stood. They were almost to their room when they paused.
“Mum?” they asked weakly.
“Yes, my child?” Toriel said.
“If… if after this… if you hate me…” Frisk said, tears starting to fall again. “Just… just remember that I’m sorry, okay?”
Toriel came over and swept them into a hug.
“Frisk, I am not going to ask you what it is you did, not yet,” Toriel said. “But let me ask you this. Do you care about doing what is right?”
“Yes,” Frisk said.
“Do you regret the mistakes you have made?” she pressed.
“Yes,” Frisk said.
“Have you made precautions, or some measure of decision, to prevent you from repeating those mistakes?” she asked.
“Y-yes,” Frisk said.
“I do not need to ask if you care for others, for I have seen that on your face, and in your tears, and in your words and actions, for all the time that I have known you,” Toriel said. “I do not know everything, but I know enough. I love you, my child, and I will always love you. Go, and rest. Do not be afraid.”
With that, Frisk was gently herded into their room. Toriel’s smile was downright angelic.
Frisk collapsed face-first onto their bed. They had to do something that they really didn’t want to do. They’d told Flowey they’d let him know when they were going to tell Toriel things…
But they’d missed a work message. They blinked and rubbed away the last of their tears. They must have missed it while they were… taking their time at the door.
They’d get to that in a second. They quickly shot Flowey a few texts.
Frisk: Okay, so the plan is to eat breakfast - she’s making it now - and then talk.
Frisk: About things.
Frisk: Look, I really don’t…
Frisk: I mean
Flowey: I’ll be there!
Frisk: I’m not going to tell you not to be there.
Frisk: But this conversation is going to be hard.
Flowey: Those are the best ones to watch.
Flowey: Are you going to cry? :D
Frisk: You’re being an asshole again.
Flowey: I guess it doesn’t matter. I’ll see when I’m there.
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
Frisk: Fine. But I’m going to pretend you’re not there, and if you’re too much of an asshole about it, I’ll do what I can to make sure you can’t spy on my next interesting conversations.
Flowey: Don’t worry! You’re so good at warning me if I’m about to push things too far. As long as you keep doing that, there won’t be a problem.
Frisk: You could always try actually respecting my feelings for once.
Flowey: Maybe when you get around to getting me a soul. Until then, we’ll just use clear communication.
Frisk: I guess it’s stupid of me to expect anything else.
Flowey: You’re learning!
Frisk cursed Flowey out a little under their breath, but didn’t respond. It was kind of stupid to expect anything else. He could have his moments, such as when they’d gone to his house a month ago to talk about their fears in regards to approaching Sans. But never over text.
Anyway, on to their work email.
They had a full staff to help them with their job. Basically, it amounted to a public relations team. Frisk would cheat with timeloop powers for big things, like meetings with politicians or whatever, but there were a number of human workers who knew a hell of a lot more than Frisk did and were critical for the regular stuff.
One of them had sent Frisk an email. She used an AI to scour posts, news articles, and so forth, all around the world, searching them for anything that might cause diplomatic issues that Frisk should be aware of. Normally, Frisk just got a daily summary of current events that they needed to be kept aware of, though it was somewhat common to get a more immediate notification.
Apparently, something weird had happened in Santiago, Chile early this morning. Frisk sighed and started reading the attached link. It’d probably help calm them down a little, and besides, it was important for them to keep up with this stuff. Hell, since they were reloading, they might even be able to get Sans to… prevent… it…
“Death came for us all, with a glowing blue eye and the light of judgement,” says the sole survivor of the gang named, “The Crazy Dudes.” “Death himself, he came, and he spared me only as I prayed for mercy and forgiveness.”
Uh. That sounded suspiciously like…
Frisk had forgotten about their turmoil as they scoured the translated article. The sound of a massive explosion, along with a glaringly bright light waking up half the neighborhood, was reported by dozens of people and confirmed by reporters, without any actual sign of an explosion. The article also helpfully included a clip of a brief flash of light… as seen from space, taken by satellite. Probably why it was getting some international attention.
Five corpses, four with no sign of injury, and the last with bleeding wounds that didn’t conform to any known weapon.
There was a picture of the corpse’s arm included, to show off the strange injury.
That was way past merely supiciously familiar and fully into outright recognition. Frisk had seen that injury before. Many, many, many times. It was interesting to see it like this, when it wasn’t fresh - it wasn’t quite a cut or a stab, it looked more like a bruise than that, but it sort of ripped and tore all the way along the length of the strike. Almost all the physical damage was on the skin. Lightly, partially shredded might be a way to put it. Thoroughly unpleasant, especially the first few hundred times they’d been hit by it.
Well. If Sans needed to blow off steam, random members of a drug gang were a reasonable option, they supposed. Why he felt the need to go to Santiago, they weren’t sure, but he certainly had more travel options than most.
Their smile grew warmer as they read over the article again. They missed him. Hopefully he was having fun.
They replied to the email, their gut twinging a little as they lied and said that they were sure this had nothing to do with the monsters. They said it should blow over soon. And really, considering the targets and witness, it probably would just be disregarded as a weird fluke.
Already the commentary over the event was the standard crap, with some people using it to say monsters were all evil, and others saying that clearly the monster in question had been defending themself.
But people bickered about all sorts of things online. Odds were, it wouldn’t cause any trouble before they reloaded, and even if it did, they could just delay anyway.
Their mind drew back to Sans and they relaxed, thinking of him. In context to what they’d just been struggling with, it was interesting. They didn’t feel unworthy of Sans’ love, but it was… different. Being someone’s most valuable possession, being something precious, was different than the - Frisk felt a surge of twisting pain at the thought - the gentle love from Papyrus and Toriel. They weren’t entirely sure why it was so different, but it was.
They chewed on their lip.
Sans loved them… because they were of value to him, not because they were worthy of it. They didn’t need to be a great person, and they didn’t have to hide anything from him. He decided he wanted what they were offering, and that was that. At least, that’s what they thought.
So it was okay, as long as they were good, valuable, helpful. A good tool, his favourite tool, even. That was what they should aspire to be.
These thoughts hurt. They wanted him here. For multiple reasons. Their body twisted with desire at the thought of his return, of course, but even beyond that… they just wanted him here.
Regardless, it was a distracting thought and they unknowingly found themself drifting into pleasant daydreams until they heard Toriel call out to them that breakfast was ready.
They blinked their way back to reality and made their way out to the dining room.
“You are looking much improved,” Toriel said, beaming at them.
“Yeah,” Frisk said, smiling. “A work email managed to get my mind off of unpleasant memories, and then I just drifted in happy ones afterwards. I figure I’ll be depressed enough soon; no sense in speeding it up.”
“Anything interesting with work?” Toriel asked.
“Just news reports and things,” Frisk said with a shrug, helping to set the table. “Nothing that’ll end up being relevant before, um.”
“Before you return back in time,” Toriel said.
“Yeah,” Frisk said. “Man, this smells great.”
“You always love the smell of bacon,” Toriel said, smiling. “Come, let us not speak of anything heavy while we eat. But I am curious. Surely you have some fun stories, with this power?”
Frisk grinned and leaned forward.
“Do I ever,” they said. “You remember that huge gala, with that asshole, Mr. Soren?”
“Yes,” she said, nodding and chuckling. “He was humiliated at that event, was he not?”
“Which, of course, I had nothing to do with,” Frisk said with a smirk.
“Naturally,” Toriel said, amused.
Frisk regaled her with a tale of eavesdropping, excessive reloading, and poisoning attendees against Mr. Soren’s machinations. About thirty attempts on that one, since Frisk was so fed up with his unending efforts against monsterkind and wanted him to make an absolute fool of himself. Flowey had helped enormously - Toriel knew about him distantly, but only as one of Frisk’s staff members, and Frisk painted him as someone clever and insightful, but not aware of the loops.
This led into stories of Mr. Soren’s sabotage efforts against the monsters, which had never actually happened in the real timeline, but were occasionally hilarious. The one where an aid spilled red wine on Asgore and stained his fur made Toriel crack up.
Frisk moved from that to telling stories of the disasters prevented through the alert app. Hate crimes against monsters accounted for only a small portion, fortunately. Car accidents were the most common, but there were also a few accidental instances of destruction, such as by Undyne. She’d destroyed an entire concrete walkway once, at a beach, just from slamming it in excessive enthusiasm from Alphys’ reaction to her affections.
In fact, there had been quite a few reports from Undyne that Frisk had had to undo. At least Alphys was really fast to report them, and now that Undyne was in on the loops, she was, too. Though maybe not as careful anymore as she should be… lately, she took out a building or the like every couple of weeks.
Toriel kept Frisk talking about happy uses of their power for nearly two hours. By the late morning, Frisk was relaxed and comfortable. Toriel took over speaking for a while, telling some stories about the children she’d dealt with over the week. Teachers always had stories.
“I have enjoyed this discussion with you,” Toriel said, after wrapping up a tale of terrifying a bully with nothing but stern words and a piece of chocolate.
“Same,” Frisk said.
“Your heart seems much lighter than this morning,” Toriel said, her voice still gentle. “Do you think you might be up for heavier topics?”
Frisk’s face fell and their heart clenched. They looked down at their hands.
“Right,” they said. “I… did it again. I managed to forget that this was a dead timeline and just got caught up with it all. Normally I just avoid everyone aggressively - this whole halfway thing is really throwing me off. You’re going to forget all of that…”
“You seemed to enjoy the telling of your stories,” Toriel said with a smile. “You can tell me them again.”
Frisk smiled wanly.
“I hope so,” they said, wringing their hands.
“You are still afraid,” Toriel noted.
“Damn right I’m afraid,” Frisk said with a rough laugh. “I’m downright terrified. I…”
They swallowed, their eyes immediately brimming.
“I don’t want to lose you,” they confessed. “And if that’s your choice, if that’s the plan we make, then… then…”
“Come, we have to grab those blankets,” Toriel said, standing up.
Frisk blinked, wiped away their tears, and followed along after. Toriel got some hot chocolate heating in the kitchen, and then went and grabbed some blankets and pillows. Together, they set up a sloppy sitting area on the floor in front of her fireplace. She poured them both a mug of chocolate and then they sat down together.
Side by side, they watched the fire, listening to it crackling softly. Toriel pulled Frisk into her side with a little hug before letting them go.
“We have time, my child,” Toriel said, gazing into the fire and not at Frisk, putting no pressure on them at all. “Take your time in silence, if you wish. When you are ready, tell me what I need to know in order to understand.”
True to her word, Toriel remained silent for a long moment while Frisk trembled.
Eventually, they spoke.
“The… the first thing I have to tell you, for things to make sense, is… it’s not about me, it’s…” Frisk said, swallowing. “I… god, I don’t want to do this to you. But I don’t know how to explain anything without it. I need to tell you about Chara.”
Toriel’s eyes widened and she looked over in shock.
“Chara?” she repeated, her voice wavering.
“Y-yeah,” Frisk said.
So they told her. They spoke of how Chara had pressured Asriel into killing them with the poisonous flowers, in hopes of getting him to take their soul, cross the barrier, and free all of monsterkind. About how the rest of the story went as Toriel already knew, where Asriel couldn’t go through with their plan and ended up killing no one, instead dying himself upon his return.
Frisk shared their speculation that something about the process of absorbing the soul, and then Asriel dying with Chara’s body, somehow impressed something into the corpse. They spoke of how Chara had memories of their time in the coffin.
“And the reason I know all this is because, when I fell, whatever remains of Chara went into my head,” Frisk said, staring at the fire. “I think either their mind wasn’t fully… uh… retained after their death, or maybe they just went insane during the century of being dead. Or both. But, um. That ghost is in my mind. I have flashes of their memories. I hear commentary on stuff. I’ll recognize things that I have no business recognizing.”
“Are… are they able to speak?” Toriel asked, her voice tight.
“N-not exactly,” Frisk said. “You can’t talk to them, and even if you could, you… they… they’re not sane. Or good. Their plan, with Asriel? They were okay with, uh, awful stuff, even back then, but they wanted to do it for good reasons.”
Frisk looked down at their feet.
“That’s the part they lost,” they said. “The, um, good reasons part.”
More than that, really - Chara was missing quite a few aspects of self. But the gentleness of a soul… that was a critical missing piece.
“This is very difficult to hear,” Toriel said. “I understand why you were hesitant to tell me. But I think it is good for me to know this. I knew that they had difficulties in their life. I had hoped…”
She trailed off.
“I think they wanted a good life with you,” Frisk murmured. “But they wanted to have purpose more than anything.”
Frisk smiled more gently.
“I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about them, and that, I think, has been a driving motivation,” they said in a low tone. “They want a reason. A focus, a point, a purpose for their determination to latch onto. Our determination, now. They'd lost it while dead, and that is what they… er… obsessed over when they merged into me. What they always commented on, what they strengthened in me at every chance, what they remembered each time we died.
“And that obsession with the idea of purpose, that goes way back. They had a chance to give up their life to save you. They could make their life matter, make their death matter, and they could save you all. Your family, all the people who had taught them to love. They went about it in a horrible way, but…”
Toriel nodded, smiling weakly.
Frisk ran a hand through their hair.
“But… but they lost what was good,” Frisk said. “Only the drive to move forward remained, and none of the soul behind it. And all this, so much of this insight, it took, um, a lot of work to gain. Because… um…”
Toriel took Frisk’s hand as they struggled, and their trembling eased.
Frisk told her of the first timeline. Of how this unknown and confusing ghost had made them unsure even of who they were, confusing their identity a few times. How a few moments and implications were deeply concerning. How Frisk had been terrified of them and what they represented. How their mind slowly cracked under pressures of fear and uncertainty. How they were terrified of the implications of dealing with possession, with as much power as Frisk wielded. How they’d tried to get Sans and Alphys’s help, but they just didn’t know enough.
“And that was the key issue,” Frisk said, still staring at the fire. “I just didn’t know enough. But one thing I did know was how to pull Chara forward. They stirred most in situations of violence, of horror. They… seemed to like those things, were drawn towards them.”
Frisk swallowed.
“And when I do things, I don’t do them by half,” they said with a rueful laugh. “So I committed to going back to the very beginning. Undoing everything, because I knew I could fix it. I would go back and no one would know me. And I would kill everyone, find out as much as I could about Chara, and then fix it all.”
Toriel was silent for a moment.
“Did you kill me?” she asked.
Having Toriel herself ask them this, gentle and calm and solemn and so very alive…
The memories raged.
They felt the cool weight of the toy knife in their hand, the sensation of Chara’s hate rushing through them, as the blade cut through Toriel’s magic, her body, her self. The look on her face as pain and realization hit.
The dust on the floor, and the aching, cold, wretched emptiness of that dark corridor.
Frisk was shaking and, after a moment, was surprised to discover Toriel’s arm around them, pulling them into her side. She wasn’t turning them away…
“N-no, Toriel, I d-don’t deserve to… I don’t deserve your kindness, not after I… I…” Frisk choked out, a sob tearing from them.
“Shh,” Toriel said, squeezing them again. “You are still my child, Frisk.”
Frisk whimpered at that.
“But I killed you,” they confessed brokenly. “I betrayed you, I watched you die by my hand. I killed them all. The Froggits and Whimsuns that played near your house. Papyrus, and the teenagers that lived in Snowdin forest. The sweet dogs of the royal guards. Civilians who didn’t evacuate quickly enough. I don’t deserve…”
They cut off, barely able to breathe through the tide of awakened memories.
“What you have done is terrible,” Toriel said, but her arm was still wrapped around Frisk’s shoulders. “But it would seem to me that it is not so simple to judge. You did not do this because you wished to hurt anyone. You did this because you believed none would be hurt in the end, and you did it for knowledge. Did it work?”
Frisk nodded shakily, leaning up against Toriel as they watched the fire.
“With every kill, Chara grew clearer, stronger. Do… do you know about Levels of Violence and Execution Points?” Frisk asked.
Toriel glanced over at them.
“It has been a long time since I have heard those terms,” Toriel said. “They have not been spoken of since the war, so very long ago. I remember them well enough.”
“Chara is somehow empowered by them,” Frisk said. “As I grew in LOVE and grew more detached from my own self, increasingly locked behind numbing barriers in my mind, Chara grew more expressive. But LOVE doesn’t come with when I reset, so in the end, it was safe again.
“But… yeah, I learned a great deal. And it’s why I was committed to keep going all the way to the end. I decided to kill literally everyone, until it was no longer having an effect on Chara. Until I’d learned all I could. Then I’d undo it.”
They were both silent for a time, Toriel chewing on this.
“I find it interesting that you were able to kill them at all, as gentle as you have been,” she said. “But I suppose I can see the reason for the contrast. I recall how strange you were, in those first moments we met. How much pain you seemed to be in, which was not touched by my healing magic. The way you threw yourself into my arms when I reached out to you.”
Frisk nodded.
“When I saw you, I was kind of overwhelmed. As for how I did it… well. I did kill in my first timeline. Undyne,” Frisk said softly. “And some Froggits in a state of panic. I didn’t realize they were intelligent. And with Undyne, she was… difficult.”
Toriel smirked a little at that.
“I can see that,” she said.
“But I undid it all,” Frisk said. “Because I really don’t want to hurt anyone. Still. I… knew how. And once I started…”
“It grew easier,” Toriel finished, after Frisk struggled to continue.
Frisk nodded at that. They were silent for a time, and still, Toriel did not push them away.
“Then Sans stopped you,” Toriel said eventually, her tone thoughtful. “He saved you from yourself, you had said.”
Frisk nodded and sighed.
“Yeah,” they said. “He, um. He was really trying to avoid breaking his promise. It wasn’t until pretty much the entire underground was either dust or evacuated into Alphys’ lab that he confronted me. He tried to discourage me early on, in Snowdin. He, uh, he wasn’t the only one to try to talk me out of it.”
“I would imagine,” Toriel said.
“Killing people was bad enough, b-but,” Frisk said, swallowing. “I… was given a lot of opportunity to stop, um. To stop what I was doing. And… as bad as killing was, that… those things were…”
“You should speak of it,” Toriel said. “If nothing else, so that you are no longer afraid that I will hate you for it.”
Frisk trembled at that and nodded.
Shaking and uncertain, they told Toriel of Papyrus’s stand of mercy and kindness against them. She hugged them tight as they broke down sobbing.
“I am glad you told me,” Toriel said, smiling, her own eyes wet with sympathetic tears. “I am very proud of Papyrus, in hearing that story.”
“Y-yeah,” Frisk said, wiping their eyes. “He… he is incredible.”
“He is a proper friend, good and true,” she said approvingly. “Unwise, in some ways, I will admit.”
Frisk couldn’t help but laugh at that.
Next, they told her of Undyne. About her transformation, her brilliance, her power. About how they had murdered the truest hero they had ever seen or heard tell of in any legend.
“Have you told Undyne herself of this?” Toriel asked and Frisk shook their head. “Why not?”
“I… I couldn’t… I…” Frisk stammered.
“It may be worth using the resets to see if she can endure the knowledge,” Toriel said. “It is a grand story, and you are right that it is a shame that only you truly know what she is capable of being. Even the lesser story, from just your words, is of value. She may wish to know this about herself. She deserves to, I would think.”
Frisk nodded weakly.
“Those two were the worst, I think,” Frisk said, looking down. “You… you don’t hate me?”
“I do not hate you,” Toriel said. “But I would hear the rest of your story first. You had begun to speak of how Sans saved you?”
“Right,” Frisk said. “Um. He waited until the very end, basically. He, uh, he and Alphys had some analysis stuff that suggested that, with my connection to time, I might destroy reality itself. It’s complicated, but the point is, he waited until he felt like there was no other option. Talking to me wasn’t good enough. He had to stop me.”
Toriel gave Frisk a curious look.
“He does not strike me as much of a fighter,” Toriel said.
“He, um, he is,” Frisk said awkwardly. “But, um, I don’t want to really go into his past stuff, because that’s not mine to share. But I’ll just say he’s skilled enough that he was… difficult to get past.”
Again they spoke of memories, but this time, their voice and face changed. Rather than quailing in fear, guilt, and pain, they spoke with admiration and appreciation. They spoke of Chara’s presence and Sans’ endless attacks on mind, body, and soul. His brilliance and insightfulness as he cut to the core of who they were, as he pressured them.
They spoke of how, instead of giving up or turning back from that pressure, they broke and were destroyed.
More hugs were had when they spoke of how they gave up control to Chara, to let them take over in the fight to murder the one they loved.
They answered her questions and let her see the madness that had consumed them. Their embrace of death in an endless dance of pointless opposition, the erosion of every aspect of their self, save the love that remained and grew within the shell of LOVE, and the determination that drove them and fueled their power. All else had been lost and destroyed.
They spoke, at last, of Sans’ final effort, his desperate entreaties, his loss as he collapsed from having given them absolutely all he had to give. They spoke, too, of Chara’s pressure to give more over to them, how it felt like a tipping point that would allow Chara true control. How they realized that their love for Sans mattered more than their existence, their determination, the purpose that they had thrown themself at. How they were reborn, all of the strength of their determination forged by their soul and Chara alike, blended with their love and commitment to Sans, and how that formed the new core of all that they were.
How they thanked him and reset, and neither LOVE nor Chara’s full presence came with. How, a short time later, they spoke to Sans and tried to give themself over to him to whatever extent he would accept.
“And that was the beginning of this timeline, the last timeline,” Frisk said, staring at the fire. “He wouldn’t accept me in the beginning, of course, not my service and such. He was willing to be my friend, to help me, to support me, and he forgave me for what I did really quickly. But he’s always been pragmatic that way.”
“Hmm,” Toriel said. “He is rather pragmatic, when he is not making jokes.”
Frisk chuckled at that.
“Since then…” she went on, looking thoughtful. “You have sought to bring him into the loops so that he may have influence, so that you would not be alone with your burden.”
“I promised him I would make that a priority,” Frisk said. “He was really motivated to remember. Like I said, he already had some hints from his analyses with Alphys. I wanted to bring in Alphys, too, actually, but…”
Toriel smirked.
“But if it requires the level of intimacy that you alluded to, then perhaps Undyne might have some objections,” Toriel said teasingly.
Frisk blushed.
“... yeah,” they said.
“But then, she might not,” she went on, her voice thick with mirth.
“Oh my god,” Frisk said, blushing deeply and covering their face while Toriel laughed.
“I can’t believe you would say something like that,” Frisk muttered into their hands, their voice muffled.
“This should not be surprising to you,” Toriel said, her eyes glinting mischievously. “It is the privilege of parents everywhere to embarrass their children.”
Frisk pulled away their hands and gave her an uncertain smile.
“So you’re… okay with all this?” they asked tentatively.
Toriel’s face grew solemn.
“I do not believe you did what was right,” Toriel said. “But it is unreasonable to expect someone to never make mistakes. You did not choose to do wrong. You were in a difficult situation and strove to do the best that you could think of. You chose a path that would, in the end, result in no one other than yourself being harmed. Knowing right from wrong is difficult in many ways, and your unique power makes that already challenging problem far more nuanced.”
Toriel smiled softly at them.
“But I have heard it in your voice and seen it on your face,” Toriel said. “You did not shy away from this challenge. You did not make excuses or justifications. It is clear that you regret what you have done.”
She took Frisk’s hand and squeezed it tightly.
“I, myself, do not know what is right or wrong in regards to this power,” she admitted. “It is a matter that will require much thought. Even if I decide that your choice was a truly evil one, it is clear that it was not done capriciously or for evil reasons. It, too, is clear that you have learned and grown from this, as you have focused on that aspect greatly, in your retelling.”
Frisk managed to avoid flinching at that.
“In the end, I see that my child has struggled to do what is right. To learn, to grow, to become all that you can be. You have been hurt greatly in this struggle, and it is my place as your mother to help you to heal, not to judge you for your wounds,” she said, hugging them.
Flowey had been completely correct. Their gut twisted oddly at that realization.
Still, warmth filled them from Toriel’s acceptance.
“Thank you,” they whispered.
“Always, my child,” she whispered back.
She pulled away and looked at them with an expression of loving pride.
“So long as you strive to be good, you never need to fear my rejection,” Toriel said. “Now, it would seem that the next order of business is to make our plans for my other self.”
“Yeah,” Frisk said. “I’m, um, kind of exhausted from all that.”
“I must admit, I am, as well,” Toriel said with a little laugh. “I have much to consider. Perhaps I should attempt to come up with a plan myself, rather than leaving it to you.”
“I would appreciate that so much, you have no idea,” Frisk said, and Toriel laughed.
“Then I will consider it,” she said. “Perhaps we can both do our best and compare plans tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” Frisk said. “Do you think you’ll go to work tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Toriel said, looking a little confused. “Why would I not?”
“I mean, you could call in sick,” Frisk said. “It’s not like… I mean…”
“It does not matter what I do tomorrow?” Toriel said and Frisk nodded.
She smiled and ruffled their hair.
“Of course it matters, Frisk,” she said.
“But… but nothing you teach will be remembered,” Frisk said. “Nothing you do will remain. It’s all going to be undone.”
“I, too, am going to be undone,” Toriel said. “Does that mean I do not matter?”
Frisk flinched hard at that. Toriel laughed softly.
“Of course I matter, Frisk,” she said, her voice gentle. “You know this as well. Those deaths hurt you because they mattered.”
Frisk winced even harder.
“But…” they tried to protest.
Toriel waited a moment, but they couldn't find words.
“I do understand your uncertainty,” she said. “The simple truth is, what matters is who we are.”
Frisk looked up at her softly smiling face and the faint sorrow in her eyes.
“Even if all that I teach is forgotten, I will still have taught them, and they would once have learned,” Toriel said. “Those that are dead can be said to not matter anymore, either, but I do not think the lives of those lost to history are meaningless. Whether we speak of someone’s life ‘once upon a time,’ or ‘once upon a timeline,’ it does not seem to me that it makes a difference.”
Frisk just stared, pained.
“The Papyrus who stood with open arms to embrace a buried hope within darkness - what he did mattered, did it not?” Toriel pressed.
Frisk nodded shakily.
“So, too, did the Undyne who raised her spear and stood unbreaking against a great and terrible evil,” Toriel said.
Another trembling nod.
“They mattered, even if their time no longer exists,” Toriel said. “Whether another timeline, or simply a distant point in time, who they were matters.”
She stood up and reached down to help Frisk stand, as well.
“The Toriel who teaches the children in a world that is about to end,” she said, her smile more sorrowful. “I believe that matters, too.”
“It does,” Frisk said, tears brimming.
“Then, naturally, I will be who I am,” she said. “I look forward to hearing your ideas tomorrow, my child.”
“I look forwards to yours, too,” Frisk said. “I have a lot to think about.”
“Off with you, then,” Toriel said with a little laugh. “I will be in my room if you need anything.”
“Same, though I might end up going out,” Frisk said.
“Let me know if you’ll be home for dinner,” Toriel said.
“I’ll text you,” Frisk said lightly. “See you.”
Toriel smiled in an odd way, memories dancing in her warm eyes.
“Be good, alright?” Toriel said.
Memories lashed at them, with these words.
Her parting words in the Ruins as Frisk was left to their own devices. In one timeline, to creep forward with fear and curiosity. In another, with the intent to slaughter. In this last, with the desire to fix all that they had destroyed.
Her final words as she died in the first timeline, when they had accidentally killed her, innocent of the nature of the unique defences of monsters.
“I will,” they said… but no. That was not enough.
Sans would not object in the least to this.
“I swear it,” Frisk said, smiling, determination blazing in their eyes and in their soul.