Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He had no name.

Neither did his world.

He was a concept. An idea. A sketch. A drawing in an empty white void.

He was forgotten. Abandoned. Alone, in his unfinished world.

He had a soul. He wished he didn’t. If he did not have a soul or feelings, he would be like the others. He would be empty. Apathetic. Uncaring. He would not think about the endless white that was broken only by the empty shells of unfinished people. The unfinished sketch that was his brother tried to speak to him. He knew his brother at least tried. If he listened hard enough, he could almost hear him. But it was not enough.

The loneliness grew. The sadness became anger and that anger became despair. The despair grew and grew in his soul, so painful and sharp he screamed. But nobody heard him. Nobody helped. Nobody came.

There was no such thing as time in the whiteness. There were no hours, days, months, or years. Time simply marched forward. It passed until he could not take it anymore. Again he cried. Again he screamed to the apathetic and the empty and the whiteness that did not care. It did not matter that no one heard or cared. He screamed to show himself that he existed.

“I just want to be someone!”

He grabbed at his chest and summoned his soul. His fingers dug in and he cried in pain and sorrow. He did not know what would happen when he destroyed his own soul. He only knew he could not take the emptiness anymore. He could not take these feelings anymore. He wanted the pain to end. He wanted this existence to end. He wanted himself to end, one way or the other. He hated the thought of destroying anything but he would perform this one act of destruction to make the pain stop.

Black tendrils wrapped around his hands and held them in place. The sight of them startled him so thoroughly he stopped moving at all. The tendrils were cold. Colder than the whiteness and the loneliness. Colder than the despair that drove him to destroy his own soul. He looked up and someone was there. They were taller than him. Bigger. And scarier. Most would be stricken by terror at the sight of the corrupted monster in front of them but not the nameless monster. For the first time in his existence, he saw a color: cyan. He saw color and felt pure joy.

The dark monster hissed in pain but did not release him. A cold cyan eyelight flicked from his soul to his face and he tipped his head. The movement was more curious than mocking. “Interesting. Most feel pain when I touch them. That or they die. Why not you?”

The nameless one was too shocked to see someone else and hear their voice to use his own. He pulled his fingers from his soul and wrapped them around the tendrils— tentacles? They were surprisingly soft to the touch. The monster with the bright cyan eye seemed almost amused by his curiosity.

“Do you know who I am?” When the nameless one shook his head, he gave a huff. “I’m not surprised. I am Nightmare, the Guardian of Negativity. Your despair drew me here.”

The nameless one touched his soul and felt a twinge of pain. He looked down at it to see several cracks where his fingers had dug into it. It was damaged but not destroyed. What once would have been freedom from his hellish existence now made him shiver in despair over what he had almost done. A shudder passed through him so fiercely that his bones rattled. Nightmare relaxed and the hints of pain left his goop-covered face. The nameless one put together what the title of “Guardian of Negativity” might mean and shuddered again. He fell onto his knees and clung to the hem of Nightmare’s shirt. The shirt was icy cold to the touch but it was nothing compared to the chilling despair that drove him to want death.

The nameless one only knew the empty expanse of his world but he was not completely ignorant. He knew what emotions were. He knew something existed outside of it. And he suspected Nightmare would leave him behind in order to feed off his continued suffering.

“Don’t leave me.” he begged. “Please.”

The smile Nightmare gave him was nothing short of malicious. “Why shouldn’t I? What benefit is there for me to not leave you to suffer and rot?”

The fear and despair came on so quickly that the nameless one couldn’t breathe. He curled in on himself, too terrified to even make gasping sounds as his bones shuddered and rattled. Nightmare’s mocking grin vanished. If the nameless one’s vision had not been blurred by tears, he might notice that the Guardian of Negativity looked uncomfortable. A cold hand rested atop the nameless one’s head, petting him in a mockingly gently manner, and he basked in the contact despite himself.

Nightmare crouched in front him and smirked. His cyan eyelight glittered. “Luckily for you, you’re interesting. Not just anyone can survive my touch. And you can’t give me more negativity if you’re dead.  So how about we strike a deal? I’ll bring you with me out of here and in exchange you work for me. My Gang could always use another member to bring negativity to the Multiverse.”

The nameless one surprised even himself when he hesitated. It was an offer he never thought he could have. He should jump at the opportunity to get out but he couldn’t. He had been abandoned long ago but he had a soul. He had feelings. He had a personality. He had gained some aspects of self, be it due to an innate nature or because of his environment. No matter the source, the nameless one could not accept the idea of hurting others. That core piece of him refused.

He lowered his head and watched his tears drip down onto his femurs. “I can’t destroy or hurt people. I can’t.”

Nightmare’s hand did not leave his head. His cold and calculating cyan eyelight raked over him as though it was studying everything that made him him. It must be a pathetic existence to observe. That thought crushed his already broken spirit and he scratched at his soul. Nightmare grabbed his hands with his tentacles and pulled them away from his chest. His smirk was wide and ominous. It grew wider as he felt the nameless one’s spike of fear.

“Then I won’t make you. Letting you die would be a waste of negativity. Join me and I’ll find a use for you.”

The nameless one suspected that if he was not going to be forced to bring suffering to others then he would become the one that suffered. He accepted that fate because anything was better than the empty whiteness of his abandoned world. “Okay.”

Nightmare studied him and his emotions and his soul. He smiled and lifted his empty hand. His tentacles tore through the unfinished sketch that was his brother. His brother had no soul or feelings and felt nothing as he was destroyed, not even relief. The nameless one felt for him.

Wrapped in Nightmare’s tentacles, he quietly wept for the brother that could not be there for him. The remaining sketches were not formed enough to react in any way at all as the black tentacles destroyed them too. Now the empty white world truly was white and empty except for the nameless one and Nightmare. The nameless one got the message that Nightmare sent. He had no use for the useless and if the nameless one proved himself to be useless, he would end up back here without even the unfinished sketches for company.

Nightmare held onto him as he cried for the brother that tried to be there for him but could not due to his nature. It was not a hold of comfort but one of power to show him who was in control. It was only when he ran out of tears that Nightmare let go of him and summoned a portal. Through it the nameless one saw so many colors that he only knew about through impressions left by the one who abandoned this world. Blue, gray, green, black. Black was the most familiar of them but it was so much better than white. The nameless one still loved cyan the most.

Nightmare stepped through the portal and stood on the other side. The nameless one felt another jolt of fear that he would close the portal in his face. The Guardian of Negativity’s cyan eyelight shone with vicious amusement. “Come on before I change my mind.”

The nameless one dove through the portal and landed on… green. The air moved and tickled at his bones as it passed. He stopped in place and stared at the green stuff under his feet. It was soft and a little prickly. He wiggled his foot back and forth and enjoyed the sensation.

Nightmare glared at him. “Stop playing in the grass.”

The portal was open behind him. One shove and the nameless one would be back where he came from. The fear returned in earnest.

Nightmare settled, satisfied. “This way. Let’s get you some clothes and introduce you to the others. What’s your name?”

The nameless one kept his head down and studied his feet and the nice green grass. The despair gripped his soul again and he let it because it would make Nightmare pleased. “I don’t have one.”

“Of course you don’t.” Nightmare muttered.

The nameless one desperately hoped he was not already regretting his decision to let him out of his empty world. He followed Nightmare up a… gray line thing with little individual gray square shapes that led to a… house. Yes, this must be a house. He did not have anything to compare it to but this was a “building” and it had “walls” and a “roof” so it must be a house. He had never seen a house before. He wanted to touch the hard-looking black square things that made up the house but he did not want Nightmare to feel any happiness he experienced from touching the house.

The house was black and the grass was green and the sky was a dark blue and there were little lights in it. The nameless one tried not to feel happy to see all these colors. It was so beautiful he started to cry again.

Nightmare looked back at him as he opened the swinging thing on the front of the house. What was the word? A “door?” “Crying again? You’re pathetic.”

He almost sounded pleased by that so the nameless one nodded in agreement. He was okay with being pathetic as long as he was not useless. If he was useless that meant there was no reason to keep him around and Nightmare would send him back to the white, empty world. He suspected that fear of abandonment he felt would be a constant. He hoped it would be a constant so Nightmare could find some use in his presence even if he was pathetic.

They entered the big stone house. Nightmare led him through a big room with a big staircase and down a thin long room (ah, a hall was what it was) to another room. There were so many rooms and a lot were big. None were as big as the empty whiteness though and they all had colors. Mostly black, gray, cyan, and blue but the nameless one loved them all so much. He wanted to feel the gray stones and the cyan lights and the blue stuff on the furniture that might be a bed. But Nightmare was frowning again, reigniting his fear.

Nightmare looked at him and did a double-take. “Where did you get that spot from? You didn’t have that before.”

The nameless one did not understand. Nightmare grabbed his arm and yanked him over to a smooth surface that reflected the appearance of the room. The nameless one looked in the mirror. On his right cheek was a black splotch. He had never seen himself before but if Nightmare said he had gained a black splotch then he must have. He touched the splotch and smiled when it did not come off. He liked that the black mark covered some of the white of his bones.

Nightmare went to a small room off the side of the big room and threw something at him. He did not expect it so it hit him in the face. Whatever it was felt so soft. He recognized clothes because the empty that was meant to become his brother had part of a scarf. He wanted a scarf.

“Put that on.” Nightmare commanded.

The nameless one obeyed. The clothes were a simple brown long sleeve shirt and loose pants but he loved them so very much. He never had clothes before and these ones covered a lot of the white of his bones. Nightmare had given him something to cover his white with color. He would do his best to be useful somehow and return the favor.

Nightmare was leaving. “Come on.”

The nameless one hastily followed him out. The stone was nice and cool beneath his bare feet. He tried not to enjoy the sensation too much.

“Do you have any skills?” Nightmare asked as they walked.

The nameless one shook his head.

“Do you know your magic?”

Again he shook his head. His dread increased.

Nightmare scowled. “Do you know anything?”

“This is a house.” the nameless one said quickly, eager to show he had some use. His fear crawled up his spine when Nightmare’s scowl deepened.

“This is a castle. Stars, you really are pathetic.” Nightmare rubbed his forehead irritably. “No matter. Dust will have to teach you the basics since Cross isn't here right now and he’s the only imbecile with any patience. Killer would become annoyed and kill you.”

The nameless one nodded agreeably. It made sense that someone named Killer would kill.

“Horror will teach you to cook and clean. That will be your job until I figure out what other use you have. You will refer to me as Boss or King, not Nightmare. Understand?”

The nameless one kept nodding.

“Don’t cause trouble or you will regret it.” Nightmare’s tentacles flicked. Er, Boss’s tentacles flicked. Could he call him Nightmare in his head or was that not allowed? He did not want to ask in case Nightmare became annoyed and sent him back to the empty whiteness. “But don’t let the others walk all over you either. You’re no use to me dead.”

The nameless one hesitated but nodded again. He was not sure why the others would walk on him but if Nightmare commanded him to not let it happen, he would do his best to prevent it. Even if he did not know how and suspected he would be unable to fight back much.

They entered a room that was even bigger than the one with the reflective surface. There were three skeletons like him. He wondered if Nightmare was also a skeleton under all that black goop. He knew other types of monsters existed and had seen them in the outlines of the unfinished empty sketches but it felt like Nightmare was not one of those types.

Two of the skeletons were fighting. The one with their hood up chased the one with black streaks down his cheeks, shouting something about him “insulting Papyrus”. The one with black streaks cackled and jeered. As the nameless one watched, a knife appeared in his hand. Was that magic? The third skeleton had a hole in his skull. He watched the chase with a bored expression. Nightmare did not look as bored. He seemed irritated.

“Killer, Dust, stop this at once.”

The one with the hood stopped like he had been commanded but the one with the black streaks did not. He turned towards Nightmare and the nameless one and his face lit up with ominous glee.

“Hey, Boss! I didn’t know we earned a treat. Cause it looks like you brought us some free EXP.”

The skeleton sauntered forward with his knife. The nameless one subconsciously stepped back and hid behind Nightmare. He grabbed one of the tentacles in front of him for security. The knife-wielding skeleton immediately halted in place. His eye ridges rose with surprise.

“He can touch you? Huh.”

“Leave him be, Killer.” Nightmare grabbed the nameless one with his tentacle and yanked him into view. He was not sure what to do so he hung there limply. “He’s pathetic but he has potential.”

Killer whistled. “Hell yeah he has potential if he can survive touching you.”

The nameless one stifled his relief because he was not sure if it counted as a negative emotion. If Killer was interested that was a good thing. Interest meant not being abandoned. Interest meant usefulness.

“Meet Killer, Horror, and Dust.” Nightmare introduced. He set the nameless one down. “Boys, meet our newest recruit. This one comes from such an unfinished AU that he doesn’t even have a name.”

A strange feeling washed over him and he saw a strange screen in front of him. He recognized letters like the “_____tale” in the corner of his abandoned world. It was difficult to read the letters but he managed.

Name: [NO INFORMATION AVAILABLE]

Original Universe: _____tale [Blanktale/I̸͍̓n̴͍͊k̵̢̑t̷̡͐a̵̰̚l̷̮̈́ẻ̸̳] (DATA UNAVAILABLE )

Role: P̷̰̀r̵̦̿o̴̡͐t̴̮̓e̴̝̚c̵͍̄t̶̮̂o̸̡̽r̷̢̀, C̸͕̎r̸͔͑ȩ̸̐a̷̧͊t̶͉́ǒ̷̧r̴̥͗ (DATA UNAVAILABLE)

Height: 3.8ft

LV: 1

EXP: [DATA INACCESSIBLE]

HP: [DATA INACCESSIBLE]

ATK: [DATA INACCESSIBLE]

DEF: [DATA INACCESSIBLE]

Abilities: [DATA INACCESSIBLE]

CHECK

* Nobody

Killer snickered. “Those are your STATs? Wow. That’s just sad.”

One of Nightmare’s tentacles struck the knife from his hand and the screen faded away. “No fighting him, Killer.”

Killer rubbed his hand and scowled. “I wasn’t gonna. It’s not even worth the EXP.”

The nameless one’s fear curled along their spine at that comment. He needed to be useful, not worthless.

Horror rose from his seat on the couch. He, like the other skeletons and Nightmare, was much taller and bigger than the nameless one. Something about Horror’s intense, unwavering stare unnerved him but that was a good thing because any negative emotions made him have a use.

A large hand reached out and the nameless one closed his eye sockets. Was his suffering going to start already? He hoped it made him useful. He was so pathetic and useless his creator abandoned him and his world. He could not make himself hurt others to spread negativity but he would gladly endure whatever he had to in order to be of use.

Horror’s hand landed on top of his skull and he repressed a flinch. The touch was strangely light and gentle. It was much warmer than Nightmare’s had been. The nameless one pushed down his relief and let his fear out. His body shook and his bones rattled.

Horror smiled. His smile was crooked, large, and slowly crept across his face. He petted the nameless one’s head. Unsure of what was expected of him, the nameless one remained still.

“Ink." Horror rumbled. "Like his splotch.”

The nameless one did not understand.

“Aww you’re giving it a name. That’s adorable.” Killer cooed but his voice leaked malice. No wonder he was so useful to Nightmare. “What do you think, Boss?”

"Whatever." Nightmare was not even looking at them. His cyan eyelight was unfocused. Was he observing another world? “Ink is as good a name as any.”

Ink was a name? His name? He now had a name of his very own. They had given him a name, which was a courtesy not even his own creator had bothered with. It might be the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him. The newly dubbed Ink struggled not to feel happy about it. The cold glint of Killer’s stare made it easier.

Dust shoved Killer hard enough to make him stagger and grinned down at the new recruit. “Nice to meet you, Ink.”

It did not feel very nice at all. Ink nodded anyway even though his soul was heavy in his chest. He was out of his empty white world. He tried so hard to make his empty, lifeless world a better place and thus he could not bear the thought of harming others and making other worlds worse. He could not do it. But he would serve Nightmare and his Gang through other means. He would endure whatever he had to in order to be someone and remain free.

Chapter Text

As soon as Nightmare gave Horror and Dust orders to teach Ink and answer any “stupid questions” he had, he left. His departure made Ink nervous but his new boss did not throw him back into his empty world yet so he must be of use still.

The moment Nightmare disappeared from the doorway, Killer grabbed Ink by the front of his new shirt and put a knife to his throat. Ink did not suppress his fear since it would make him useful to Nightmare.

“Don’t make a sound.” Killer hissed at him.

Ink kept his mouth shut and did not make any noise.

Killer’s smirk widened. “Let’s make one thing clear: You aren’t a member of our Gang. You’re nothing and nobody. You’re our servant. Our slave. You ain’t one of us and if you piss us off you’re gonna end up as a source of EXP. Got it?”

Ink nodded. It caused his neck to sting but he didn't mind. Being a source of EXP would be preferable to being forced back to the whiteness that was his abandoned world. Anything was preferable to that. He would have to remember to try to find Killer if Nightmare decided he wasn’t of use anymore.

The air moved behind Ink and he heard someone’s low breaths. A large arm reached past Ink and Horror touched the center of Killer’s chest. From Ink’s point of view, it looked like Horror merely tapped Killer. The small movement was enough to throw Killer back off his feet. He crashed into the wall and slumped down to its base, swearing loudly. A bit of crimson blood trickled down the side of his skull where it impacted the stone.

“Boss said no fighting.” Horror said lowly.

Dust gave a hooting laugh. Killer threw the knife at Dust. He dodged but the knife nicked his cheek as it flew by his head and embedded itself in the wall behind him. Horror scowled.

Killer sneered back at him. “Boss said no fighting Ink.”

Horror grumbled but conceded. His hand rested atop Ink’s skull. Ink felt something sticky where Killer's knife had nicked him and touched his neck. The sticky stuff got on his fingertips. Before he could look at it, Horror patted his skull a few times like he had before then wrapped his arm around Ink’s middle. Ink kept still as he was lifted off his feet and tucked against Horror’s side. The larger skeleton walked out, scratching at the hole in his skull with his free hand.

Before the door shut, Ink peeked at the cut on Dust’s cheek and looked back at the blood on his own fingertips Dust’s blood was red. Killer’s blood was red. Ink’s blood was black. Did that mean something? Had it always been black? Ink was not sure. He had bled before back there in the white emptiness but there were no colors and his blood had looked like black graphite, powdery and faded. Now it looked more liquid-like. Like ink or black paint.

Ink was drawn from his thoughts when Horror set him down on the floor. They were in a new room with long tables along the walls… no, they were called kitchen counters. Kitchen counters were along the walls. The one with the grates on top was a stove. This room was called a kitchen. Ink felt some pride that he knew those words but smothered it. Was pride a negative emotion?

“Boss said you’re gonna help me cook.” Horror rumbled. “Don’t worry. D’spite what the rumors say, I don’t eat monsters or humans.”

Ink had never cooked before. He had never seen food before either. He also had never eaten before. He knew what eating was but that was about it. He had no idea that the things Horror said were an option but now that he knew, he could not stop himself from feeling relieved that Horror did not consider him or other people food. He looked nervously at the doorway but Nightmare did not appear to throw him back. Maybe relief counted as a negative feeling?

Horror patted his skull again and smiled his wide, crooked smile. “Do you know what spaghetti is?”

Ink shook his head. Horror patiently guided him through the steps to make “spaghetti and pasta sauce”. It mostly involved opening packages and heating water and sauce on the stove top. It took Ink a few tries to light the stove and that was only because he spent time marveling at the smooth texture of the knob. He almost touched the flame that sprouted up but Horror guided his hands away.

“Don’t do that. It’ll hurt.”

Ink doubted it would hurt as much as his attempt to destroy his own soul but added it to his list of things to remember anyway.

Whenever Ink did something right Horror would pat his skull and mumble praise. Ink struggled not to perk up at every contact and word and new experience. There were so many sounds like the hiss of the flame or the soft pops of boiling water. There were so many smells like the pasta, the sauce, and the muskiness of Horror’s coat. It was almost too much after being alone in the whiteness for so long.

Horror let him try a noodle and some sauce to see if it was done. It was too hot and burned his tongue but that was not why Ink cried again. He was so happy to experience this even if it hurt. Unfortunately, Horror seemed to realize he was not crying because of pain. He picked up a towel and wiped away a few tears with it.

“Listen, Ink.” Horror murmured. “I dunno where you came from but Boss won’t kick you out for feeling. You don’t have to be negative all the time. Boss won’t mind if you’re happy on occasion. Just try to reel it in when he’s around…” He frowned as though a thought had just occurred to him. “It’s weird you aren’t very affected by his aura.”

Ink had no idea what aura he was talking about but nodded anyway.

Dinner was served. Nightmare was not present. The member Ink had not met called “Cross” was still absent too. Dust scratched at the bandage that had been placed on his cheek as he argued with a patch of thin air that “no, he still could not have any spaghetti”. Horror heaped spaghetti onto Ink’s plate and sat next to him. Killer looked even angrier than usual when he saw what was on his plate. He played with one of his knives and smiled at Ink with all of his teeth until Horror curtly told him not to waste food.

Ink looked around long enough to see the others using forks to pick up their food then focused on his own plate. He awkwardly grabbed the fork by wrapping his whole hand around it and poked at the pasta. It slipped off the fork. Killer noticed and laughed. Ink sank lower in his seat and tried again, only for the same thing to happen. A shadow fell over him and he peeked up at Horror.

Horror took his plate. Before Ink could do more than flinch, Horror took out a knife and cut up the spaghetti into smaller pieces. He gave the plate back and patted Ink’s skull. “Shoulda said something. Ya don’t need to struggle.”

Ink stared at him. He was not sure what to do so he looked at his plate again.

“Don’t you have something to say to Horror?” Killer sneered at him.

Was he allowed to talk now? Ink frantically sorted through his memories to figure out what Killer meant. He thought of Horror’s actions while they were cooking. “Good job?”

Dust burst into laughter so hard that he curled up and nearly planted his face in his spaghetti. Ink marveled at his reaction. Dust reacted to what Ink said. He heard what Ink said and responded to it. It was hard not to be happy about that wonderful experience.

“Wow. You really are stupid.” Killer said dryly.

Well, that made it easier not to be happy. Ink’s eye sockets stung. He tried to take comfort in knowing that Nightmare would sense his misery. He would be a bit useful.

“It’s okay, Ink.” Horror said loudly but firmly. He stared coolly at Dust until he stifled his laughter, then shifted his glare to Killer. Killer did not seem to care. “When someone helps, say “Thank you.””

“Thank you.” Ink parroted.

“How do you not know that?” Dust asked. “What, did you grow up under a rock?”

Since he asked, Ink nervously corrected him.“An empty white space, actually.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Killer drawled. “We all grew up in Snowdin.”

Ink did not understand. “No, everything was an empty white. My world had no name or any—”

“Uh huh. Poor you.” It was clear Killer wasn’t listening to him.

Ink committed their disinterest to memory and guessed his AU wasn’t that special. It made him feel sick to know there were other empty, white, abandoned worlds out there. He hastily turned back to his spaghetti.

Ink carefully scooped up some of the pasta and put it in his mouth. It was really hard not to cry tears of joy as flavors assaulted his senses. For the first time in his existence, Ink had a meal. He sat at a table, in a house— er, castle, with other people that reacted to him and acknowledged he existed. It was better than anything he ever expected for himself.

Ink had given up on having a life a long time ago but here he was. He was sitting in a house— that was, a castle. He was sitting in a castle in a world filled with grass and sky and wind. He was sitting at a table with other people who looked at him and had emotions and reacted to things. He was eating spaghetti. The spaghetti was so wonderful he almost cried again. No wonder so many Papyri loved spaghetti.

…How did Ink know that many Papyri loved spaghetti? What even were “Papyri?”

Dust looked at the empty space by his shoulder. “You’re right, Papyrus.” He turned back to Ink. “Got any more questions, kid?”

Ink checked the empty space by Dust’s shoulder and thought he saw… something. He blinked a few times and an outline appeared. It was strange and shimmery, almost like an outline made of codes.

…Codes? What were codes?

Nightmare said Ink could ask questions. Killer told Ink not to speak. But Dust just asked if he had any questions. Ink almost asked about codes but when he thought about it, a chill fell over his soul that he knew Nightmare would feel. He shivered and put that question aside to focus on a safer one. (Why was asking about codes not safe?) “Who is Papyrus?”

Horror stopped twirling pasta around his fork. “You do not have a—?”

“The Great Papyrus is a Royal Guard in training!” Dust’s chest puffed out and he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the empty space. “He’s also my cool little brother.”

Ink saw the outline of codes and spoke to him. “Hello, Papyrus.”

He thought he heard a whisper.

Killer groaned and rolled his eyes. “Don’t encourage him.”

Horror shoved him in the skull. Not hard enough that he fell over but hard enough that he winced. “Be nice.”

“You’re in the wrong group if you want nice, bud.” Killer sneered. His cold eye sockets focused on Ink.

Ink did not respond. Killer had already given his message. Ink would remember it. He was not a member of Nightmare’s Gang. The others had souls and emotions and would react to Ink but they would never care for him. It would be a lonely existence but it was still better than the white emptiness that was now devoid of even the sketches. Nightmare had destroyed them all. They did not have emotions for him so they were useless to him. Thus they were discarded.

But Nightmare saw a use for Ink despite his refusal to terrorize and destroy AUs. He had to remember that too. As long as he was useful, he could exist out here. If he was no longer useful he would be discarded and thrown back into the empty whiteness that was now completely devoid of anything else. That was his new fate. Ink hoped it would be a while before he was abandoned again.

Ink forced himself to look at Dust. It made him uneasy so he kind of looked past Dust at the codes of Papyrus instead but hopefully he would not notice.“Nightmare said something about magic?”

Dust’s curious expression became something much more sour and annoyed. “Please tell me you know what magic is.”

Ink nodded before he could think about it. When he did think about it, he realized he did know what magic was. That was another relief. “I don’t know what mine is.”

“There’s only one way to figure that out.” Killer purred.

Horror cuffed him upside the head. It was very different from the gentle way he handled Ink. “No.”

“I won’t hurt him.” Killer claimed. Even Ink could tell that was a lie.

Apparently dinner was a thing that was done when it was “late” and “late” meant it would soon be time to sleep. Dust showed Ink to another room like the one Nightmare had shown him earlier. Dust gave Ink a weird look when he asked what it was but explained it was known as a “bedroom” and it was meant for sleeping in.

Ink wanted to explore the room he had been given but if rooms were for sleeping in, he did not want to push his luck by not sleeping in it. He never slept before. His creator had abandoned him before he was given the ability to. If Ink had been able to sleep it would have been a nice break from the endless whiteness and apathy of his world. Ink crawled right into the bed on top of the blankets and laid there but he was not sure how to sleep. Was he supposed to lay on the bed until he fell unconscious?

Ink tried that but it was very cold. He got up and crawled under the blankets instead. It was much warmer that way. He spent a long time staring at the ceiling in fear. What if he had somehow fallen asleep in the empty whiteness and none of this was real? What if he was back there when he woke up because he was never out? What if his rescue was real but Nightmare decided to abandon him too?

Ink reminded himself that as long as he was useful to Nightmare, he could stay. The comfort from that thought was enough for him to relax. Slowly, every part of him seemed to grow heavy and his eye sockets slipped closed.

For the first time in his existence, Ink fell asleep.

It took exactly eight seconds after Ink went to bed for Nightmare to sense the approach of his subordinates. Their auras radiated a variety of negative emotions. Dust was uneasy, Horror was upset, and Killer was predictably angry. Nightmare sighed and reluctantly put the book he had been reading aside as he sat down at his desk. The door slammed open as he folded his hands together atop it and he allowed his tentacles to flick to show his irritation.

Killer stormed right up to his desk and slammed his hands down on the top of it, making several papers fly off and flutter to the floor. It was a good thing Nightmare had marked the page in his book or he might be even more irate. One blast of his negative aura would send them scurrying. He reeled it in and held it like a viper ready to strike.

“What the hell are you thinking recruiting that waste of existence?” Killer demanded.

Nightmare eyed him coolly, letting his aura shift and curl around his subordinate. He sensed the exact moment Killer remembered who was in charge. His childish annoyance released him and he backed up a step.

Nightmare kept no expression. In all honesty, finding Ink had been an unlikely chance. The surge of negativity he gave off attracted Nightmare like a moth to the flame and he’d found himself in that empty, abandoned AU that might be somewhere in the anti-void. Going to the anti-void was always a risk with the possibility of Error lurking around but if something else was alive in there, Nightmare wanted to see it. It was pure curiosity that drew Nightmare there, nothing more. That unexpected curiosity gave him an equally unexpected opportunity.

Nightmare had not even comprehended what he was seeing before he rushed to try to stop Ink from destroying his soul. Grabbing his hands had been instinct but in all honesty it should have been a death sentence. Very few could survive Nightmare’s touch, especially with so much negativity in the AU around them. All that negativity came from one lonely soul, a soul so desperate to escape he decided to destroy himself to do it. It was almost ironic that the soul that so desperately wanted to die could survive Nightmare’s touch.

Ink was quite the anomaly. He was no one and nothing yet he could touch Nightmare. It was curiosity that drew Nightmare to his location and it was curiosity that had the Guardian of Negativity recruit him.

Ink’s refusal to terrorize the Multiverse was, surprisingly, yet another check in his favor. If Nightmare wanted another Killer he’d go and get one. No, Ink was unique. Something about him was special. Nightmare wanted to know what.

Nightmare leaned back in his chair. His tentacles shifted and flicked behind him in deceptively soothing and hypnotic movements. He noted how Killer's attention shifted towards them until he forced it away. “I did not know I had to explain myself to you, Killer.”

Killer growled at him like a sulking dog. Nightmare almost smiled at the petulant display. He didn’t because he knew why Killer was gnawing at the bit to turn their newest recruit into dust. Nightmare was not in the mood to peel apart Killer’s psyche so he settled for a warning glare instead.

Dust looked between them and nervously fiddled with the tattered red scarf around his neck. “Cross is going to be happy he’s not the rookie anymore.”

“That ink-stain is not one of us.” Killer hissed. “He’s a stars-damned Level 1 nobody.”

“He’ll have a purpose.” Nightmare’s voice hardened. “And it is not to be a source of EXP. You will not harm him. Accidentally or otherwise.”

“Yes, Boss.” Killer muttered through bared teeth.

“Do you know how he can touch you, Boss?” Dust blurted. “None of us can without losing a lot of HP and that’s only when you’re… er, weakened.”

“Dust almost dusted.” Horror mumbled.

Nightmare grimaced. He had warned his followers not to try to touch him when he first recruited them. When a fight with Dream in a nauseatingly positive AU had gone badly, Dust had tried to pull Nightmare through a portal during their retreat. Dust would have died if Horror had not had a magic butterscotch pie on hand that day.

“I don’t know how Ink does it but I intend to find out. Dust, test his magic as best you can without harming him.” Nightmare ordered. “I want to know what he is capable of.”

Dust saluted. “Papyrus and I will do our best, Boss. He’s nice to Paps so I won’t complain.”

Nightmare did not bother to acknowledge Dust’s hallucination of the brother he killed. If Dust was amicable towards Ink, there would be less ill intent in his attacks and it would be easier for the rookie to survive them. Any fight was a risk without knowing Ink’s STATs. That was another oddity about him. Usually the only ones with hidden STATs were outcodes, guardians, and other powerful entities like Core.

It was impossible for Ink to simply be an abandoned Sans. No, he was meant to be something more. Something powerful.

Nightmare would find out what.

A light touch brought Ink back to awareness. His eyes opened though he did not remember closing them.

Horror stood over him and patted his head once more. "Get up. Time to make breakfast."

Ink did not know what "breakfast" was but immediately rose.

Horror took in his appearance and chuckled. It was low and rumbled like his voice. "You aren't supposed t' sleep 'n those. Use pajamas."

He patted the fabric that lay over the back of the chair next to the bed. Ink felt heat in his face.

Horror's good eye widened. "Rainbow…?"

Ink looked at the mirror and was delighted to see a variety of colored freckles in the rainbow blush on his face. It faded as he studied it, much to his disappointment. Ink reached for the pajamas but Horror shooed him away.

"Too late now. Come on."

They returned to the kitchen and made breakfast. Breakfast had different food than dinner. Ink made sure to remember there was a difference for when he helped Horror. Except Horror was much better at cooking than him. Ink was not sure how much help he would be. It made him anxious. He needed to be useful and find a purpose.

Breakfast was as wonderful as dinner. Ink kept his head down and tried to keep his happiness reined in. The moment their plates were empty, Dust grabbed his arm and pulled him out of his chair.

"We’re starting lessons today, kid. The first thing you're learning is how to fight."

“I’m not—” Ink tried to stop in place but Dust kept pulling and dragged him off his feet. After some struggle he managed to regain his footing. “I’m not going to fight.”

“‘I’m not gonna fight.’” Killer mocked. “That’s hilarious.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure you’re not, kid.” Dust’s tone was not as patronizing as Killer’s but it still stung. “Honestly, we’re all waiting for Killer to attack you. You need to know something about battling or you’re going to die.”

Ink peered nervously at Killer who smiled back, malicious and slow. An image flashed through Ink’s mind of a cat tearing apart a mouse and he shivered. He looked back but Horror was picking up the dishes and did not join them. Killer noticed what he did and laughed lowly. Unlike Horror’s laugh, it sent shivers up Ink’s spine.

Killer’s gaze shifted back towards Horror and he lowered his voice. "Let me make something clear to you since you're too stupid to see it yourself. Horror only "cares" about you because the Boss ordered it. The moment the Boss orders you to be strung up and tortured he’ll do it with a smile on his face. You’d be wise to remember that."

Ink felt a familiar sense of despair. (That was good. He had some use.) He should not have hoped that Horror cared. Just because Ink was happy to be around others did not mean that Horror was happy to be stuck with a stupid, useless nobody who would not even be worth the EXP. They might barely tolerate him, but at least the others acknowledged him and reacted to him. Ink would cherish that luxury and Horror’s kindness, as commanded as it may be, while he could.

Ink already had so much he never got the chance to experience before. He resolved not to hope for anything more. Killer was satisfied by whatever misery showed on Ink's face. Ink should be thankful that Killer was helping him provide negative emotions. In truth he just felt miserable.

Dust brought Ink to a large room. It was a mostly empty space except for a few charred and sliced fabric-looking things in the shapes of monsters. The walls, floor, and ceiling were covered in gouges and burns. Red circular targets were lined up along one of the walls. One of them had splatters of some darkish brown-red substance on it.

Dust walked up to one of the fabric-looking things and smacked it. It wobbled and Ink saw red numbers flicker in the air beside it. “Know what this is?”

Ink shook his head.

“Course not.” Dust muttered. “This is a training dummy. You hit it and see what kind of damage you can do. So let’s see. Attack the dummy."

Ink did not move. He looked uncertainly at the dummy.

Dust gestured at it. “Punch the dummy. Smack it. Kick it. Whatever you want.”

Ink should obey the order but he still did not move.

“Give me patience, Paps.” Dust muttered. "It's just a dummy. It doesn't even have a soul in it. If it did, Killer would have killed it."

“You bet I would have.” Killer said gleefully. His empty sockets were locked onto Ink’s face. “Hit the dummy. I want to see the damage you can do.”

Ink reluctantly stepped up to the dummy and eyed it uncertainly. He knew he was already in a bad position with these members of Nightmare’s Gang but he could not make himself fight. Not even to appease them or as pretend. He did not want to do any damage. Why did he need to? The dummy hadn't done anything. The dummy did not ask to exist only to be punched and hit. It must be a sad, lonely existence for it to only receive touch through harm.

Ink hugged the dummy.

“There you go! Strangle… Wait.” Dust’s jaw fell open. "Er. No. You're not supposed to…" He trailed off with a confused sigh.

Killer covered his black eye sockets. “The Boss sure knows how to pick them. This is just embarrassing. I can't stand it."

Before Ink could react, Killer grabbed him by the neck and dragged him over to the open area on the other side of the training room.

"You have two choices.” Killer snarled. “Fight the dummy or fight me."

He threw Ink to the ground. The floor was not hard like the stone floors elsewhere in the castle but it still sent a jolt up his wrists when he landed. Ink looked up and immediately threw himself backwards. Killer’s knife sliced through the air where his head had been. Ink rolled to his feet but had to throw himself to the side as Killer swiped at him. It was close enough that the knife sliced his shirt.

Killer’s mocking laugh burrowed itself into Ink’s head and his soul pounded frantically. He dodged another slash, then a stab, then another slash. He knew Killer was merely playing with him and could easily stab him if he wanted to. His constant laughter proved it.

“We’re here to fight, not have dance lessons, brat!”

A kick swiped Ink’s legs out from under him and he fell to the ground. Killer pounced on him and put his knife to Ink’s throat.

"If the Boss didn’t want you for something I’d take the pathetic amount of EXP you’d give me.” Killer hissed. “Unfortunately for you, he thinks you’re worth something so you get to survive. But you won’t survive if you won’t fight. The Nightmare Gang are all killers, including your new friend Horror. He won’t protect you. And one of us might slip."

For the second time, Killer’s knife cut into Ink’s neck. A blue glow appeared in front of Killer’s chest. Dust jerked his hand up and Killer was thrown upward. He slammed into the ceiling, then the wall, then slid down to the floor. Ink listened to the long list of words that he identified as swears.

“Oh, great idea, Paps! Killer can teach Ink profanity.” Dust said. His jovial words did not match his annoyed expression. He stormed over and kicked Killer in the leg. "You could have killed him!"

“He’s stupid and naive. He needs to learn how things work.” Killer growled. “Kill or be killed.”

Dust rolled his eyes. The blue light disappeared from Killer’s chest.

Dust noticed Ink’s curious expression. “That was a blue attack that affects the soul. It’s a type of magic. Do you know that at least?”

The question sounded sarcastic but Ink did not know that. Before he could speak, Killer pushed himself to his feet and stalked up to him. He did not have his knife out so Ink stayed in place and looked up at him with huge eye sockets.

Killer sneered down at him. "I have to admit, you lasted longer than I thought. Sanses are good at dodging but no one can dodge forever. You will fight and kill or you will die. The Multiverse is not kind. It isn’t merciful. It’s cruel. Genocide timelines outnumber the others by the hundreds of thousands."

Genocide timelines. The phrase made dread pool in Ink’s soul as information about what a Genocide timeline was flooded his mind. His empty, hopeless white world was terrible but the thought of someone intentionally killing and destroying everyone in their path sounded just as bad.

Dust and Killer were from Genocide timelines, Ink realized, while Horror was from a Neutral one that still went terribly wrong. Ink did not understand how he knew that by looking at them. He only knew that he refused to hurt or kill no matter how difficult it made his existence.

"I won't hurt anyone." Ink whispered.

Killer’s smile was as nasty as it was cold. "Then the Multiverse is going to crush you into dust."

Something was terribly wrong.

Dream could not explain the feeling of terror that gripped his soul and squeezed it until he was certain it would burst. It came out of nowhere and so suddenly that he briefly thought it was a panic attack. It was not. He knew what one felt like and this was not it. This fear was a quieter and more foreboding dread that slowly sank its claws in.

Something was terribly wrong. More wrong than usual.

The Multiverse was not a nice or safe place. When certain outcodes and the inhabitants of AUs realized other worlds existed, it was inevitable that threats that spanned across the Multiverse would rise up and seek to spread chaos. Those threats which included Dream’s own brother, Nightmare. Dream himself rose up to stand against his twin but unfortunately no one rose up in turn to stop the many other threats that wanted to conquer, corrupt, or destroy.

That left Dream, who was supposed to be the Guardian of Positivity, as one of the few who tried to protect not just one AU, but the Multiverse as a whole. Dreamtale was long gone but even if it still existed, Dream could not imagine sitting idly by as so many other worlds were placed in danger. He was one of the very few who cared.

Underswap Sans, more commonly called “Blue”, cared enough to leave his world in order to protect others, moving into the Omega Timeline with his brother and letting Dream sleep on his couch whenever he was sure that Nightmare would not try to track him there.

Core Frisk did their best to contain threats before they became a problem but they were busy with the Omega Timeline, which recently had to be expanded again because so many more people had moved in. Core Frisk was a powerful force in the Multiverse but they could not be the Multiverse’s defender.

Other than Dream, Blue, and the occasional other Sans, Papyrus, Frisk, Chara, Gaster, or Undyne, no one else seemed interested in protecting the Multiverse as a whole. Other than Blue, no one stuck around to keep fighting to keep the Multiverse safe. They would assist when their AU or the AU of someone they knew was threatened but they would quickly return to their own world and enjoy the peace there while countless other worlds burned.

Dream did not blame any of them. Nor could he hate them for their inaction. Fighting Nightmare and his Gang was a terrifying duty few were able to commit themselves to. Most of the time Dream’s aura was not strong enough to protect his allies from Nightmare’s. Dream did not hate but he was certainly disappointed that no one else was committed to stopping threats to the Multiverse despite the reality that they were Multiverse-level threats for a reason.

Only Blue stayed at Dream’s side. When Nightmare targeted Underswap, Blue jumped into the fray to help Dream and vowed to defend the Multiverse alongside him. He called the two of them the Star Sanses and claimed they would bring hope to a Multiverse that was losing it. He also called Dream his friend. That last bit kept Dream going more than he could ever admit out loud.

Blue was a royal guard in training, kind and loyal and bright. Dream would have fallen long ago without him. Even when he was trapped in the bleakest of AUs, Blue’s aura gave him the strength to remain on his feet. Even when he was so close to despair that he could not fight for the residents of the AU that so often blamed him for not doing more, Dream could still fight for Blue.

It was becoming much more difficult to fight Nightmare. Every fight, Dream felt Nightmare grow stronger. Every fight, Dream felt himself becoming weaker.

And then there were the “fights” with Error. The mere thought of the Destroyer sent an icy chill of fear through Dream’s core. Calling their encounters “fights” was an outright lie. All Dream and Core could do was throw as many shields up around the AU that Error targeted as they were able to and get as many people into the Omega Timeline as they could before Error destroyed the world.

Any world that Error targeted was doomed. No one could stand against him. They could slow him down but they could not stop him. Even Dream and Nightmare were forced to flee from the Destroyer whenever he appeared. Blue once called Error a force of nature more than a person and Dream could only agree.

Sometimes Error would be almost sane though considering him “sane” at all was a bit of a stretch. “Sane” for Error was talking to thin air, hissing at the empty sky, and watching his strings tear souls to shreds with an eerily serene expression.

However, like Blue said, most times Error would be more like a force of nature instead of a person. Those times Error would not speak. He would howl and scream as though he was in physical agony as he tore through everything he could reach. His tormented and animal-like shrieks were filled with such pain and rage that many who heard it collapsed or joined him in his tortured madness.

In many AUs, the image of Death was not Reaper but Error. A few of the darkest AUs tried to sacrifice some of their own to the Destroyer as though he was a malevolent deity that could be appeased through worship. Error would not be appeased. He would not spare or stop. Any AU he appeared in was torn through and destroyed, its inhabitants hunted down and slaughtered until the whole world collapsed.

Sometimes Error screamed a pattern as he rampaged, his tear marks stained red-purple by the blood that ran from his sockets. What he screamed was too much like an animal’s roars to be called words but with Sci and a few Gasters’ tech, Core’s scientists had been able to record the Destroyer’s howls and translate them. Error was not simply screaming. He was ranting a glitched mantra of madness over and over and over and over again.

“Find the Protector Creator. Find the Protector Creator. Find t̵͈̺͐͂-̷̼̆the Protector Creator. Find the Protector Creator. F̵͈͗̂-̸̧͚͚̊Find the Protector Creator. Find the Protector Creator.”

Once upon a time rumors had spread that there must be a Protector or Creator out there to counter Error’s destruction. The story went that The Ones That Watched would see the terrors brought to the Multiverse and create an entity that would guard the Multiverse itself, protecting it from harm. For a while, those stories brought hope that one day a Protector would come, a Creator that could fix the damage done to the Multiverse.

But nobody came.

Any mentions of that story would get you laughed out of the room these days. There was no Protector or Creator. The Multiverse was tipped so far in favor of Negativity and Destruction that many feared it could never be fixed. And it was only going to get worse. The scale was broken. One day the whole mechanism would shatter and everything and everyone would simply cease to exist.

Dream tried to tell Nightmare. He explained that existence itself was in danger and offered alliances and truces but his pleas always fell on deaf ears. Dream’s brother had died hundreds of years ago when he ate that black apple but Nightmare was still the Guardian of Negativity. He must understand that there would be no more Negativity if the Multiverse died. He must sense that there was already so much Negativity that it had become toxic in several worlds, killing its inhabitants if they stayed. Yet Nightmare did not listen or care. He acted as though he could not hear Dream’s pleas at all.

(Sometimes as he huddled in an empty alley of whatever AU he was currently hiding in, Dream let himself hope that his brother could not in fact hear him. He let himself hope that Nightmare would care if he could hear Dream’s warnings. He let himself hope that something kept Nightmare ignorant to the damage he was doing and it was not his brother’s own will that made him march down a path to the complete annihilation of existence.)

Something was terribly wrong, but something was always wrong these days. More Genocide, Corrupted, and Obliteration timelines popped up than anything else. More Alternate Universes fell every day. The Multiverse was broken. The Multiverse was dying. There was no Protector or Creator to save it.

Chapter Text

Sometimes Nightmare questioned his decisions. He knew Ink would be different than his other recruits when he picked him up from that abandoned world but he did not expect how different. Cruelty and violence were each a part of how the Multiverse worked. It was the natural state of things, and simply how they were. Nightmare would not force Ink to terrorize AUs but he needed to be able to at least fight. When Dust told him that Ink would not harm at all, Nightmare called his newest recruit into his office.

Nightmare remained silent as Ink stood in front of his desk. The slices on Ink’s neck were small but Nightmare could see they were from a knife. The person responsible was no mystery. Of course the idiots did not mention it to him. And of course this idiot did not know that he had to take care of his injuries.

Ink shivered, fidgeted, and avoided his boss’s gaze as his fear permeated the air. Yet he did not falter. He did not beg or backtrack or try to give excuses. Nightmare did not think Ink was that serious about his vow of pacifism. The aura of fear that always surrounded Ink led him to believe that he would give in to the pressure. Yet the opposite was true. Ink was terrified but he did not back down. He meant it when he said he would not terrorize or harm. Nightmare felt the first inkling of grudging respect for him for that even if it made Ink act more like one of Dream’s insensible teammates than his own.

That thought gave Nightmare pause. Truthfully, Nightmare did not need another killer on his team. Especially not one that was so reluctant to cause harm. Forcing Ink to hurt others would make him miserable, but the effort would not be worth the long-term investment.

Ink was an unknown to everyone in the Multiverse. If he did not fight with the Gang, he might remain an unknown and not be linked to Nightmare at all. Having a recruit that could walk openly in the worlds that Dream and his ilk guarded could be a benefit… once Nightmare made sure Ink would not be murdered by a malicious Flowey the moment he stepped foot outside. Nightmare filed that thought away for later and stared at his troublesome new recruit.

“You won’t fight.”

Ink winced. He remained silent.

Nightmare did not press the subject. Not yet. “Did Dust explain the kind of magic Sanses usually have?”

“Yes.” Ink said. His voice was barely audible even in the silence of the room.

Nightmare’s cyan eye light shrank in warning and shifted into a more slit-like shape. “What’s wrong? Speak up.”

Ink raised his head a little but kept his gaze averted. The volume of his voice did not increase. “I saw the attacks they use but they don’t… feel right.”

Of course they did not. Blasters and bones sharp enough to kill were not meant for friendly sparring and Dust and Killer’s high Levels of Violence would give their attacks an additional aura of murderous ill-intent. Ink would not be used to it. He had come from a world of nothing. He did not know the difference between a house and a castle. Nightmare did not intend to throw him into the greater Multiverse but he was only now realizing just how ill-prepared Ink was to step into it.

Why did he recruit this Sans again? Nightmare’s tentacles flicked in displeasure. Ink’s eye lights followed the movement and, before Nightmare could react, he reached out and grasped one of his tentacles. Nightmare tensed and glared. He knew Ink had survived his touch before yet he still waited for Ink to scream in agony and crumble into dust. Ink's fear flared up but he did not release him.

“What are you doing?” Nightmare demanded.

Ink shrugged and did not look at him. He still kept hold of the tentacle.

Touch-starved, Nightmare noted.

It made sense considering what environment Ink had come from. Why he decided to cling to Nightmare of all people was another story. Nightmare was tempted to shove Ink away. It would greatly increase his misery… but he also wanted to figure out how Ink was able to touch him without dying. He’d need more data for that.

“You’re useless to me in a fight.” Nightmare ignored Ink’s flinch. “Do you know why I first decided to try to recruit you?”

Ink shook his head.

"No one else can safely touch me. Most will dust or die instantly." Nightmare's memory flashed back to Dust's agonized shrieks. "Even if I am in the most positive of AUs, none can touch me.”

Ink's fear shifted into sadness but it was tainted by compassion. It was compassion and not pity, because pity had a negative tint to it that Nightmare would sense and enjoy. The way Ink looked at Nightmare reminded him far too much of Dream from before. Stars, the Multiverse was going to crush him.

Nightmare pulled his tentacle out of Ink’s grasp. “You’re different and I intend to know why."

“I won’t be much help.” Ink mumbled. His fear flared up and he hastily amended what he said. “I won’t be much help in that because I don’t know the answers but I can learn.”

Nightmare could see what he was afraid of. Ink was terrified of being thrown back in the empty white world he came from. If Nightmare threatened to do it unless Ink fought, would he give in? Nightmare knew the answer was no. It would take more than a rough push and some threats to make Ink fight. Nightmare had no intention to push him. Yet.

Nightmare rose from his chair and walked out. He thought he heard Ink scramble to follow him but there were no footsteps. Nightmare looked behind there and startled when he saw Ink was right behind him. His bare feet should have made noise on the stone floor but he moved silently. Ink did not ask they were going. He merely followed without questions. Nightmare suspected that he could drag Ink to the dungeon and he would not object. He only resisted when they wanted him to cause harm. Interesting.

“Since you refuse to discover your magic through combat, you will have to study the types of magic through books. You can read, right?"

Ink nodded. His desperation should be delightful but instead it made Nightmare feel... discomforted. Yes, that was it.

“Educate yourself on the types of magic Sanses possess.” Nightmare ordered. “This includes bone attacks, Gaster Blasters, blue and orange attacks, and Karmic Retribution.” He considered some of the more unique alternate Sanses he had encountered and added more just to be on the safe side. “You may look into yellow attacks and green healing magic as well.”

Ink’s white eye lights snapped up to his face. Nightmare did not falter but the sudden intensity of his gaze caught him off guard. “Healing magic?”

“Many monsters can use green magic to heal. It lets you repair damage.” Nightmare said dismissively. He saw Ink mouth the words ‘repair damage’ but ignored it. “None of us can do it because of obvious reasons.”

Ink did not know those ‘obvious reasons’ and tentatively mentioned as much.

Nightmare sighed and rubbed his forehead. “My nature makes me incapable of using healing magic since it partially relies on positive emotions. The others’ Levels of Violence are too high for them to use it either.”

He had never seen Ink looked so focused. Nightmare could sense him trying to stifle his excitement. “Is there a place to learn repai— erm, hea— uh… those kinds of magic things?"

Nightmare stared at him, askance. "Please don't tell me you think you can go to school."

"...What's a school?"

Nightmare felt a headache forming. He could not tell if it was because of Ink’s joy or Ink’s presence. "Not something you need to concern yourself with. We have the library. You can read the books there.”

The library was the biggest room yet. Hundreds of shelves filled the area all the way up to the ceiling. Nightmare led Ink to the huge section on magic and left him there. In that section was a single book on green healing magic. Ink knew that because it was the first thing he searched for and he searched multiple times just to be sure.

As soon as Nightmre mentioned healing magic, Ink knew he had to learn it. He had tried so hard to make his empty white world a better place but failed. The thought of destroying and hurting felt so wrong but the thought of fixing and repairing something felt so right.

The book on healing magic wasn't a very big one. It was barely thicker than Ink’s skeletal hand. He took it off the shelf and flipped past the index to the first page. He read that page, then the next, and the next, and onward until suddenly he was out of pages. Ink stared at the inside of the back cover for several moments and flipped back through the pages because surely that could not be it?

That was it. The book only had the basics on green magic and how to use it. He tried not to be disappointed but let it out anyway because Nightmare could use it.

Ink looked at the huge section on magic and looked back at the pathetically thin book. He should move on to the other types like Nightmare ordered. Even if Ink was useless he could prove he could follow orders (...that didn't involve hurting others and destroying things.) Ink flipped the book open again to a passage that had stuck out to him.

“Magic is often linked to intent and the energy within one's body. This is particularly important for healing (green) magic. While amiable emotions towards a target can speed up the healing process, ill intent and malice can greatly hinder or even nullify it.”

Ink read the book a couple more times. He needed to study the other types of magic. Nightmare had ordered it. But Ink wanted to help. To mend. To repair. Something stirred in his soul. He summoned it… Oh. Ink almost forgot his soul was damaged. 

Ink studied his soul. Spiderweb cracks had spread out from the ten punctures in the heart, making it take the appearance of broken pottery. Would the library have any books about that? Rather than worry, Ink appreciated the breaks in the whiteness. He’d hated his soul once and wanted himself it gone but now he needed it.

He checked the descriptions on how to summon magic again and touched his throat. Nightmare told him to study magic, not to practice it. Ink did not want to wait. He had spent too long waiting. He had to try it right now.

Ink focused on his soul and felt something. An endless blackness appeared in his mind but it was not like Nightmare’s body or a starless night sky. Most might be terrified by the darkness but Ink was not. He was so relieved it wasn’t endless white. The white was empty but the darkness felt full, like he was surrounded by liquid blackness. It felt like ink.

Ink put a hand to his throat, grasped the inky magic, and pulled.

Ink felt something shift like liquid in a glass. After trying and failing to do anything with magic during his "training" sessions, now Ink's magic responded to him with such ease that he nearly dropped it. He held it in his hand, feeling it, and watched it shimmer into visibility over the bones of his palm.

The magic was a black liquid like his blood. For a moment Ink feared he had somehow pulled his own blood out of his injury but there was no pain. The black, ink-like magic was cool to the touch at first but it warmed up in his hand and shifted its hue. The green color still did not look like what was described in the book. It was too dark, like someone had mixed a drop of black paint into it without fully stirring the darkness in. It was also heavy like it was made from paint and not light. Ink should try to make it more like the description in the book but he had already done more than he'd ever accomplished before. He had to try.

Ink gritted his teeth as he pictured what his bone looked like when it was not injured. Sweat trickled down his forehead. A ripple passed over the magic and its color and consistency transformed again. It looked like the green light it was supposed to be but it felt like it had physical weight still. Like liquid. Was it supposed to be like that?

The stinging in Ink's throat dulled and he let the magic fade. It did not so much "fade" as it dripped from between his fingers and evaporated in midair. He poked at his neck but did not feel any pain. A quick check on his reflection in one of the windows showed the slices were gone.

Ink shoved down his excitement. He did not have to worry about any positivity because his burst of confidence soon fizzled out. Just because he healed his own injuries did not mean he could heal others. Was healing magic even useful? Nightmare acted like it wasn’t.

It was dark now. It was late. Very late. He was supposed to look up the other types of magic too. Ink tried. He really did since he knew Nightmare would be angry if he disobeyed and failed to learn what the Boss ordered.

But Ink kept turning back to the book on healing magic, and then he found a book on parts of a house and oh there was a whole section on cook books! Ink learned about houses and castles and cooking but the information about the attacks and other types of magic (except green) didn’t stick in his head.

Ink tried to make it stay but his mind kept wandering back to the other things he had learned. He did not understand. He did so well with the information on green magic but when he tried to read the other books on magic his mind often wandered. It did not help that there was so much to see. So many colors, sounds, and sensations like the flickering blue flames, the soft pops of the lanterns, and the shifts in the cool air around him.

Nightmare’s castle had a library. Would other worlds have libraries? Would those worlds have their own libraries with books on green magic? Could he ask someone to get him one of those books? Nightmare did not seem to think green magic was important but Ink thought it was. He needed to learn how to repair and heal.

The question was whether Nightmare would let him. Ink had to be useful but did green magic have a use? Nightmare did not think so. Nightmare knew better than him. Nightmare would say no, wouldn’t he?

Ink was so grateful that he was out of the empty whiteness but now he felt trapped all over again.

Ink’s instincts proved to be correct. Nightmare was not happy when he struggled to share what little he researched about the other types of magic. Ink stood silently under his disapproving gaze and kept his studies on green magic to himself since he did not want to waste more of Nightmare’s time. Ink would not harm. He would not fight. He was useless and green magic was useless. He knew Nightmare was questioning his place here. His Boss was kind enough not to throw him back there.

Ink was sent to clean part of the castle as soon as Nightmare was done with him. He was guided by Killer to a lower, dark room of the castle with a lot of doors with bars on them. This must be a ‘basement’. Much to his shock, Killer gave him the basics on how to clean and what chemicals to use along with ones he should never mix. He explained that several chemicals could become toxic. It was unlikely to kill any of them but it would be irritating to deal with.

One of the small rooms had a pile of a powdery substance inside. A splatter of brownish-red was on the opposite wall between the manacles. Ink finally realized what this place was. The small rooms were cells. The substances were dried blood and monster dust. This was not the basement. It was a dungeon.

Ink looked up to see Killer smiling at him. This was another warning, wasn’t it? Ink did not need it. He knew what Killer and the others could do. Ink did not say a word. He lowered his head and cleaned up in silence.

As the days passed, Ink remained uncertain of his place in Nightmare’s castle but he slowly settled into a routine. He helped Horror cook, studied attack magic, practiced green magic, struggled to figure out any other aspects of attack magic, failed to use the kinds of attack magic the others tried to teach him, “trained” to fight (as in he stayed out of range as long as he could until Killer or Dust got bored and they inevitably slammed Ink to the floor), practiced green magic on himself, researched up on whatever he could so he did not have to ask too many questions, and cleaned around the castle.

No parts of the castle were as ominous as the dungeon. Even the training area was preferable to that place. Other than that, Ink liked cooking with Horror and cleaning the most of his duties. (Being in the library lost some of its luster every time he failed to retain the information he had been ordered to study.) The former because Horror was nice and the latter because it gave Ink an excuse to wander around the castle. The only areas he could not enter was Nightmare’s room, Killer's room, and a place that Nightmare called a ‘lab’.

Anywhere else was fair game. The halls, the rooms, the attic, the garden, the roof of the castle… Well, that last one caused a bit of trouble because Horror could not find Ink and spent three hours searching for him. He even recruited Dust to help and the two had seemed strangely alarmed when they realized Ink was exploring the outside of one of the towers. Ink could not help but climb tall things whenever he got the chance. The height let him see so much.

Ink knew Dust only helped because Nightmare would be annoyed if his investment fell off the roof and died but he secretly hoped Horror might actually care about him. Maybe. It was also possible Horror only tolerated him because the Boss ordered it, like Killer said. In truth, Ink hoped Horror cared but he did not want to let himself hope. He had to remember how easily he would be abandoned. It was becoming easier to suppress his positive emotions. All he had to do was remember that he would be thrown back there one day and his joy would dim.

The schedule was interrupted before Ink could become used to it. One day after the middle-of-the-day meal that was called ‘lunch’, he was ordered to the entrance hall. Only Dust and Killer were there when he arrived. The former paced back and forth as he muttered to Paps while Killer was checking one of his many knives. Ink did not know why he needed to check them since most of them were made up of magic but he was not about to ask.

Dust noticed Ink’s arrival. “You’re here. Good. We’ll be leaving soon. And by we, I mean everyone but you. You’re staying here.”

Fear choked Ink only for a moment before he calmed down. If they were leaving leaving him, they would leave him in the empty whiteness of his abandoned world. They’d never leave him in Nightmare’s castle. Dust was more approachable than Killer so Ink risked asking a question. “Where are you going?”

Dust’s eye sockets closed and he smiled sharply. “We’re giving a version of Underfell a visit.”

Killer made his knives vanish with a flick of his wrist. “They think they’re tough and love to say ‘It’s kill or be killed’ but they’re all talk. Makes me sick. We like to remind them they’re nothing before we rip their souls to shreds.”

“Remind them?” Dust questioned. “Have we visited this Underfell before? We’ve attacked so many variants that I’ve lost track. Are we visiting Red?”

“Nah.” Killer drawled. “Red is in the Omega Timeline now anyway.”

Ink felt a strange boiling feeling in his soul when they talked about killing like that. He knew exactly what feeling it was but he kept his thoughts to himself even though Nightmare would sense his negativity. (He would do his best to be useful to Nightmare.)

Nightmare had told him what the Gang did. Ink knew it when he was recruited. Objecting would not stop them and would only make him even more pathetic to them. He simply did not understand how they could enjoy destruction and intimidation. There were so many places to see, things to do, and people to get to know out there but instead they were hurting those people and worlds. Why?

Ink did not ask. He could not ask. Maybe someday but not when that question could get him thrown back there. He was not a real member of the Gang. He was not their equal. He had no right to speak a word against them. Protesting would bring him nothing but pain. He could not do anything to help them stop. Ink’s anger shifted into a quiet and miserable helplessness that reminded him of how he felt there.

Horror arrived and lumbered over to Ink. He slipped something into his pocket as he went and Ink recognized the butterscotch pie Horror had painstakingly baked earlier. Horror had explained that butterscotch pie healed the most out of the magic cooked items they currently had on hand. Ink had researched it a bit during his time in the library before he was distracted by a book filled with maps. One thing Ink remembered from that first book was that items could not heal nearly as much as green magic.

Horror approached Ink and put his hand on his skull, patting it. Ink did not know why he did that but enjoyed the contact anyway, brief as it was. He had realized recently that Nightmare became colder when Ink touched him so he was trying not to do that lately. That left him with Horror’s pats and Killer or Dust’s grabs when they wanted him to go do something for them.

“We’re going to be fighting.” Horror said lowly. “Underfell will be no problem unless the Star Sanses show up.”

“This Underfell has enough negativity that Dream will be lucky to summon a toothpick.” Killer mocked.

Ink had not heard those names before. No one had mentioned any Star Sanses or Dreams but they sounded important. They must be if Horror was bringing them up now, right? Horror continued as if Killer had not spoken and before Ink could weigh the risks of asking.

“When Boss summons the portal, I want you t’ focus on its energy. Recognize the feelin’ of it. You’ll immediately be alerted when we return.” Horror put his hands on Ink’s shoulders. It was something he tended to do if he really wanted Ink to pay attention. “If you do not recognize the feeling of the portal, hide.”

Ink had never heard Horror sound so serious. It unsettled him so much that he looked uncertainly to the others for guidance. Killer ignored him, like usual, but Dust caught his gaze.

“It is almost impossible for anyone that is not us to get into this world but almost impossible doesn’t mean impossible.” Dust lazily stretched his arms above his head and cracked his neck. “Anyone that gets in here will want you dead.”

“Or they’ll torture you for information.” Killer added. “If they catch you, don’t answer their questions or I'll make what's left of you regret it. Got it?”

Ink had not really considered what others would feel towards the Gang. He knew the Nightmare Gang hurt people and would have enemies (like Dream and those Star Sanses?) but he never really thought about those enemies wanting to hurt the Gang. It really was dangerous out there, huh?

Horror was nice. Nightmare was distant, cold, and watchful. Dust was indifferent. Killer wanted to hurt Ink. They were going to go hurt other people.

They gave Ink the opportunity to be someone.

They were all Ink had.

“Be careful.” Ink whispered.

Killer heard him and gave a sharp laugh. “How weak do you think we are, brat?”

Ink had not meant it as an offense. Killer would not care about that though so Ink did not bother clarifying.

Nightmare appeared and Horror nudged Ink before stepping up next to their Boss. The air in front of Nightmare rippled and Ink focused on the (codes of the) magic. Nightmare’s portal felt like shadows and darkness. Dark and cold to the senses, but soothing in its familiarity. Beyond that portal was a new world. Ink could see what appeared to be another castle through the opening.

Ink wanted so badly to run past Nightmare and through the portal. How many new things were in that world? How many people? He wanted to see and experience it all but he knew he couldn’t. He did not have permission. He was useless in a fight. If he went out now he’d be free EXP for the first monster that wanted him dead.

Nightmare glared at Ink with one cyan eye light. “Stay here.”

Nightmare and the others stepped through. The portal shut behind them, leaving Ink alone. Panic clawed at his throat but he reminded himself that they would be back. Being alone in the castle would not be so bad. There was plenty to look at in the main hall. Nightmare said “Stay here.” so Ink must have to stay in this exact spot until they returned. Right?

Ink was used to waiting and doing nothing. It was making him… bored. Yes, it was making him bored, not “ terrified because it reminded him of standing in the empty whiteness even though there was plenty to look at here”. There was the big door and the lanterns and the rug and the ceiling. And the stones. Ink counted a few of them as he hugged himself and rocked in place.

Nightmare had ordered him to stay here. He could follow orders. But it was so quiet and he hated standing around. He stood around so much in the empty whiteness of his abandoned AU. Surely Ink would be more useful if he did something?

Ink took a single step, then another. He memorized where he had been standing and took off for the library. He had already read the book on green healing magic a lot of times but he wanted to check it over again. He picked it up, read through it, and recalled that Oh , there was a book about cooking he wanted to show Horror, and the one about weather patterns because most worlds had things like rain, thunder, and snow, and that reminded him he needed to study magic still but it was still hard and he couldn’t focus so he went back to the book about weather and, oh look there was the map book again…

Ink did not realize how much time had passed until he felt a portal open somewhere in the castle. He immediately dropped the book and ran towards the portal. Nightmare would be so upset that he had moved from where he had said. The portal had appeared in a different spot than Nightmare’s so maybe he would not be too mad.

Too late, Ink realized the sensations did not match. Nightmare’s portal felt like shadows. This one felt like a knife cutting the air.

A skeleton stepped through the portal.

It was not Nightmare or the others.

Cross stepped through his portal and slashed the air behind him with his hack knife. It sealed shut and he gripped the hilt of his blade. It was tempting to slash the air, close it, and tear it apart again and again just to release some of the anger and disappointment that burned in his soul.

His soul, not XChara’s. Cross did not know where XChara was anymore and he quite frankly did not give a damn. XChara had simply stopped responding one day and that was that. Good riddance. The manipulative bastard could fade into nonexistence for all Cross cared. He would figure out how to revive their world on his own.

Cross was not having much luck. Did he purposely come back when the others weren’t here? Yes. Cross wasn’t in the mood to hear Killer’s mocking questions about whether he had found anything this time. He especially was not in the mood to hear any derisive comments on if he had found any snipes or unicorns while searching for the Creator.

When Cross was first introduced to the Multiverse and heard the stories, he thought the mythical Creator (or Protector, as some labeled them) could fix his world. Now he hated that he wasted years chasing a fantasy. It would not be so bad except Killer never let him forget it. He should find new material.

Despite his anger, Cross did not hate his teammates. He simply did not want to face them at the moment. Dust would ask, Killer would mock, and Horror would try to comfort in his quiet, watchful way. Nightmare would simply give Cross a look that asked “Why are you still trying?” Cross would despise him for that if his boss did not let him chase every dead lead he heard of.

It did not matter. Cross would face their (ridicule) incessant questions eventually but not right now. He had the castle to himself and he was going to enjoy it.

A soft gasp echoed loudly in the silence of the not empty at all castle. Cross looked up from his knife to see a Sans standing at the top of the grand staircase. The Sans was one of the smallest Cross had ever seen (AUs where the usuals were kids notwithstanding). Out of those ones he had seen, he was pretty sure only Outer was smaller. That was all the details Cross got before the Sans turned on their heel and took off running the way they came.

Cross swore and raced after them. He did not recognize this Sans. Did the Gang have prisoners right now? Had one of them escaped? This Sans did not look particularly injured but it was nearly impossible for one to have stumbled upon Nightmare’s castle by accident. Had Core Frisk finally cracked the code and had the Council send someone in to snoop while the Gang was away?

Cross grimaced and quickened his stride. The Sans did not get lost in the winding halls of the castle. In fact, they started making a roundabout way back towards the front entrance hall. If the Sans got outside, Cross could lose them. It was almost like this Sans knew how to get around. That made it all the more important to catch the intruder.

“Stop!” Cross roared.

To his surprise, the Sans did. They stopped so quickly, in fact, that Cross slammed into them from behind and they both fell forward. This would not have been a problem if the two of them were not back near the long flight of grand stairs that headed down.

Cross was a former Royal Guard. He was part of the dreaded X-Event. He was a member of the feared Nightmare Gang. His body was a weapon in and of itself and he was in complete mastery of it.

Cross gracelessly fell down the stairs with the other Sans, both tumbling and rolling as they went. They landed in dazed heaps at the bottom and Cross’s skull bounced off the floor. Something definitely cracked. The smaller Sans fell over him before they hit the floor. Unlike Cross, they made no sound of pain when they stopped rolling. They did not move at all.

Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, Cross pushed himself up and checked but the Sans wasn’t dusting. He took the opportunity to actually CHECK the trespasser.

Name: Ink

Original Universe: _____tale [Blanktale/I̸͍̓n̴͍͊k̵̢̑t̷̡͐a̵̰̚l̷̮̈́ẻ̸̳] (DATA UNAVAILABLE)

Role: P̷̰̀r̵̦̿o̴̡͐t̴̮̓e̴̝̚c̵͍̄t̶̮̂o̸̡̽r̷̢̀ C̸͕̎r̸͔͑ȩ̸̐a̷̧͊t̶͉́ǒ̷̧r̴̥͗ [t̴̲͠ŕ̴̰à̷͕n̴͈̽s̵̮͘f̸̮̒e̴̗̓r̶͖͆ ̸͙͠ị̶̋n̶͙̍c̵̱̆ȍ̷̖m̷̳͠p̶̩̅l̴͚͌e̵̜͐t̴͈͗e̴̟͛, ̴̭͝r̸̺̓ę̴͒p̶͔̈a̴̬͘i̷̗͝r̵̲͂ ̸̲̉f̵̟͗ȧ̶̧ị̵̉l̶̘̽e̴̡̔d̴̙͘], Medic/Healer (in training?)

Height: 3.8ft

LV: 1

EXP: [DATA INACCESSIBLE]

HP: [DATA INACCESSIBLE]

ATK: [DATA INACCESSIBLE]

DEF: [DATA INACCESSIBLE]

Abilities: [DATA INACCESSIBLE]

CHECK

* Nobody important.

* Just wants to help.

A medic? That was not a Role that Cross ever heard of. This “Ink” must be powerful to hide his data but he’d made a mistake in his story. Or he’d been interrupted when he was trying to come up with a cover to hide his true identity.

Ink stirred and raised his head. His eyelights focused on Cross and he gasped quietly. “You’re hurt.”

Cross grabbed him and pinned him to the floor, putting his knife to Ink’s throat. Ink stopped moving. At all. His sudden stillness was unnatural. It was as though someone had pressed pause on a movie. Only his eye lights were animated as they shrank to terrified pinpricks. Cross kept his blade close enough to nick the bone.

“Why are you here?” he demanded.

Ink remained silent.

“Answer me! How did you get into the castle?”

Silence. If Ink had not just spoken, Cross would have thought he was incapable. Unfortunately for him, Cross knew better.

“Who sent you?” Cross snarled. “Was it the Council? Core? Was it Dream?”

Ink did not say a word. Cross felt him begin to tremble beneath him. He did not feel bad (not mentally, at least. His skull definitely had a small crack in it and there were a couple blurry spots in his vision.) No one could accidentally walk into Nightmare’s castle. This “Ink” was a trespasser or an escaped prisoner. Either way, Cross should keep him for interrogation but without knowing his true data and abilities, it was too much of a risk to try and likely fail to contain him. Anyone who could manipulate codes to hide their STATs was too much of a risk. Cross knew what he had to do even if he hated it. There was no point in Mercy.

“I’m sorry.” Cross said quietly.

Ink’s eye sockets widened in terror but he did not make a sound.

A shadowy portal opened and the Nightmare Gang stepped through. Dust and Killer’s laughter about some Underfell Undyne and Papyrus fell silent as they caught sight of Ink and Cross. Nightmare froze. Even his tentacles went still.

Horror vanished. It was rare to see him teleport, especially since it took more energy to use a shortcut in a world that was not their own. He reappeared next to Cross and the next thing he knew, he was shoved away from Ink.

Cross landed hard and his knife skidded across the stone floor until it hit the wall. Thankfully the hilt hit first and not the blade. Nightmare would be pissed if they lost another wall to an accident. He looked up to see Horror staring back with empty eye sockets, his sharp teeth bared in a snarl as he stood over Ink. To keep him from fleeing? No, that was not right. Horror looked to be shielding Ink. What?

Cross’s confused thoughts were interrupted when Ink pushed himself up to his knees. He did not try to run or flee, not even as Nightmare approached. Not even when Nightmare reached for him with his tentacles.

Cross suppressed a flinch and averted his gaze. Despite Ink being an enemy, he did not want to see him turn to dust. After a few seconds there were no screams or sounds of falling dust. Cross looked up to see Ink was clinging to one of Nightmare’s tentacles. He was touching Nightmare and not dying. What.

“Killer.” Nightmare said in a low, ominous tone. “Did I or did I not order you to tell Cross about our newest member?”

Killer scratched at his cheek bone and chuckled. “You might have given that kind of order, Boss.”

Nightmare exhaled slowly and closed his eye socket. His aura darkened but Ink, who was still holding onto him, did not even flinch. What. “Why didn’t you tell Cross I recruited you, Ink?”

“That’s Cross…? Oh.” Ink studied Cross for a moment then looked away to smile tentatively at the Guardian of Negativity. “I didn’t know it was Cross so I didn’t answer any questions just like Killer said.”

Killer made a coughing sound.

Nightmare’s tentacles twitched like snake’s tongue sensing prey. “I see. Horror, properly introduce Ink to Cross. Killer, with me.”

“Somebody’s in trou-ble.” Dust muttered.

Killer made a rude gesture in his direction before he followed Nightmare out. Ink watched them go and made as if to follow but Horror stopped him by wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“Killer will be fine.”

Horror gestured for Cross to come closer but kept Ink close to his side as he eyed Cross from the corner of his socket. Cross scowled right back at him. It was not his fault that Killer “forgot” to inform him they had a new recruit in the castle. Horror had no right to judge.

“Ink, this is Cross. One of ours. He’s not usually this stab happy. Cross, this is Ink. Our new recruit. He’s not a fighter.”

“Yeah, I saw.” Cross muttered.

Now that the “battle” was over, guilt prodded at his soul and conscience. He’d almost killed their new recruit. Their apparent medic, at that. Cross tried to convince himself that he was upset because Nightmare would throw a fit about the wasted resource but he was not that good at fooling himself. He needed to get out and to his room before the others noticed.

“It’s nice to meet you, Cross.” Ink said in a voice that was barely audible.

He spoke quietly not because he was afraid, Cross realized, but because that must be his natural volume. Some part of him wondered how anyone could ever hear Ink (if there were many noises in the background they’d easily drown him out) but he was too busy fighting his own guilt to think much about it. There was no way that Ink was that calm. Cross had chased him down and threatened him in a place he probably had been told was safe.

Cross watched Ink closely and made sure not to blink, certain his eye sockets had turned black. Eventually, Ink started to shiver and dropped his gaze to the floor. Cross’s smirk was bitter. He knew it.

Ink did not seem to realize he’d been caught. “You’re still hurt—”

“I’m fine.” Cross growled. “I’ll sleep it off.”

For some reason, Ink did not quail under his glare and back down. “I don’t think that’s a good—”

“Hey, Cross.” Dust interrupted. “How was your mission? Did you find anything this time?”

He seemed genuinely curious. Cross knew better (did he really though? Because he thought he "knew better" when he almost murdered their medic.)

“Screw off, Dust!” Cross snarled.

He took the excuse and stormed out. Ink tried to follow him but Horror grabbed his arm and shook his head.

Cross gritted his teeth and pretended it was because of the pain in his skull. The green magic would not work anyway. Cross had tried to murder their medic and he would suffer for it. If not now, then when magic foods were not enough and he desperately needed to be healed with magic. Ink was probably terrified of him. That terror would prevent green magic from taking effect. And Cross only had himself to blame for his own misfortune.

Story of his life.

Chapter Text

Ink stayed very close to Horror for the next few hours after Cross's arrival. He followed him around the castle throughout that time. Horror did not seem to mind even when Dust chuckled and called Ink a “lost duckling”. Ink had seen pictures in a book and he was certainly not a baby duck. He was a skeleton and did not have feathers. Dust was a strange one. Ink did not ask about the Gang's mission because he did not want to know. (There was no point in objecting.) Ink was not ready to see if Horror would lose his kindness if he questioned the Boss's orders.

When Cross turned on him, Ink was caught off guard. When Cross put his blade to Ink's neck, he wasn't too bothered because Killer did that all the time. When Cross began to question him he remained silent like Killer ordered. When Cross prepared to kill him, Ink was terrified. Terrified and disappointed.

Ink liked his more recent existence. He liked experiencing everything that he never knew about or thought he would. But when Cross moved to make the killing blow, Ink knew he wanted to live. That was a feeling that he had lost a while ago. At least, he lost it enough that he was willing to tear apart his soul to break free of his empty, pointless existence. If it ended, oh well.

Ink wasn't afraid of dying but when he thought he might, he realized that he wasn't okay with laying down and letting it happen. He'd still seek out Killer if the other option was going back there but he selfishly wanted to keep living and experiencing his new existence. Ink couldn't make himself attack Cross to defend himself though. He did not consider it then and even now that he thought of the option, he suspected he still could not do it.

Horror did not appear to mind Ink’s persistent closeness but Ink could not be certain. He should not push his luck too much but he did not want to be alone. He needed anything to distract himself from the lingering fear that made his bones tremble.

Cross's attack was another vivid reminder of who Ink was indebted to. Any other "intruder" would be dust or about to be dust in the dungeon. Ink had been saved just in time. That did not mean that Horror or Nightmare cared about him. He had to remember that.

Ink was nothing and no one. He was tolerated with the possibility of becoming useful for Nightmare. He would not be killed because his prolonged suffering would be more useful. He needed to remember his place. If only he could remove the part of him that cared about those that would never extend the same courtesy back. Ink should be used to it but he kept on hoping that someone would care.

When Ink and Horror entered the kitchen, Horror ushered him to a stool and made him sit. Ink did as commanded and watched Horror lumber about as he pulled ingredients from the cupboard and fridge.

“Do you want my help?”

Horror shook his head. “No. Let me make this.”

Ink quieted and silently observed as he tried to figure out what Horror was making. There was milk, and a brown powder, and some sugar. Horror put the milk in a saucepan on the stove and lit it.

“You have to heat milk slowly or it will curdle.”

Ink added the lesson to his growing collection. He sat still and kept quiet. He had learned it was best to stay out of the way and not speak much unless addressed, especially with Killer. Ink was grateful for any attention he got, even if it was negative, but he would let himself fade into the background and slip beneath notice if he noticed Killer wanted blood or Dust was ranting.

Nightmare usually was not out and about so Ink did not know his tells yet. He also did not know the limits of Horror’s tolerance and was not eager to discover them. Cross was new. Ink would have to tread extremely carefully around him. He wished Cross would let him fix his injuries. Or try to. Ink would probably fail and prove he was still useless.

“What happened when Cross showed up?” Horror asked.

“I sensed the portal and didn’t realize it wasn’t Nigh— the Boss’s.” Ink admitted as Horror leaned close to hear him. “Cross saw me. I tried to run away and hide but he caught me.”

Horror took a mug from the cupboard. He shoved it down on the counter top and it clattered loudly, making Ink jump. Horror lifted the mug and revealed a couple shards of glass had broken off the bottom rim. He brushed the shards into the trash and set both hands on the counter top, like he was leaning on it. Was he okay?

"Ink." Horror said his name with such distress that Ink flinched. “You do not need to fight to harm but you need to fight to defend yourself."

Why couldn’t Ink be a good recruit and agree? He did not mean to be stubborn or disobey orders to fight but he couldn’t do what they wanted. Ink struggled briefly and ended up saying nothing.

“You need to defend yourself.” Horror repeated. “I don’t know what environment you came from but the people out here aren’t the type to get bored if you don’t fight back. They will kill you.”

Horror sounded genuinely upset. Ink should know it was not genuine. Killer had been very clear about that. But Ink’s soul felt warm and he could not make his voice work. Could… Could Killer have been wrong? Ink wanted to believe that. He really wanted to. He was afraid to (which was good because it made him a bit useful to Nightmare when it seemed like he failed at almost everything else).

“Cross and I can teach you to defend yourself.” Horror said firmly. “You must learn. Even if its just a block or throw that shocks the enemy long enough for you to run. You can't help anyone if you're dead.”

Ink still was not sure he could do that for himself (what right did he have to hinder the existence of others when his own existence was so purposeless and pathetic?) but maybe he could do it for Horror. "I'll try."

He did not see how tense Horror was until his shoulders relaxed. “I think you can do it.”

Did Horror really mean it? Ink hoped so. He’d hate to die when there was so much to still see.

Horror grabbed another mug and poured the drink he made into them. It was something called hot chocolate. Ink loved it even though he almost burned his tongue again.

The rest of the day was quiet. Cross stayed in his room and Ink avoided that part of the castle. Ink was not sure if he could fight back if something happened again but it seemed he had what Dust called “at least some self-preservation instincts”. He’d tread carefully around Cross until he got a better read on him, even if he could not get his skull injury out of his head. It was not bad and the crack was not that big but Cross’s skull must be aching terribly. Ugh, Ink could not stop thinking about it. It was like he could sense the damage. It just wouldn’t leave his skull, like an itch he could not scratch.

Ink liked the pajamas he had been given to sleep in. They were nice and soft and the color brown. He liked brown. Not as much as green like the grass and the green magic but it was still a lovely color.

But tonight the pajamas did not feel soft. They made his bones itch and tingle. One of the books Ink read mentioned something about ‘itching powder’ but the Gang members were not the prankster types. They’d use something more dangerous in their pranks. Ink pulled his pajama shirt aside to check anyway but there was nothing.

Except there was something new. Two black marks were on his ribs. Wait, there were three, actually. The last one was just very faded. He rubbed at them but they weren’t cuts. Closer inspection revealed they were binary code. It was too small for him to read.

…What was “binary code”?

Ink pushed the question to the back of his mind for tomorrow. Maybe when he was in the library he could find something about codes and binary codes while he was researching magic attacks. He’d have to try really hard to focus on those studies this time. He did not want to disappoint Horror too.

It was too late by the time Dream and Blue arrived. It often felt like they were too late nowadays.

They had been in the midst of fighting an outbreak of Corrupted in Dancetale of all AUs when Core Frisk warned them of the attack on an Underfell. Not Red’s Underfell, which had been destroyed by Error ages ago, but a variant that held just enough Swap influence to make Blue uncomfortable. It was only one switch so that Muffet’s cafe was in place of Grillby’s bar but Dream could feel how Blue hated to see it in this broken, abandoned Snowdin.

Dream ushered Blue through the shortcut the latter had created to New Home. He refused to feel guilty for protecting Blue’s home as much as possible. It was nowhere near as protected as the Omega Timeline but it had enough defenses that Queen Toriel was open to the idea of moving some worldless refugees there at least temporarily so the Omega Timeline could catch up.

The Star Sanses had not been to this Underfell before. Dream only knew what Core Frisk had told him about it and what he could glean from the feelings of the populace. Little of it was good. Worse, he could feel the toxic negativity in the atmosphere itself. Most of it was centered around the castle, looming over it like a poisonous fog. It was so bad that he nearly fainted as soon as he stepped out of the portal. Blue caught him by the elbow and hefted him back to his feet.

“I’m fine.” Dream said quickly. “Core?”

They appeared in front of him and Blue, features solemn. That was also nothing new. Dream could not remember the last time he had seen Core Frisk smile. “It’s going to be bad.”

Dream was already bracing himself. “I know. But we have to try.”

They walked into New Home. Or what was left of it. A cold King sat in a dusty throne room upon a broken throne. Part of it was in pieces to his left, its top sliced off by a blade. The King’s head was bowed, the crown barely staying upon his head. When he heard their footsteps he looked up and his eye sockets burned with orange-red flames.

"Where were you?” King Papyrus of Underfell snarled.

Unlike Red’s Papyrus, this Edge had no lingering hope or kindness deep in his soul. It had been torn from him when the human Frisk “befriended” him but then murdered their way through the Underground anyway and killed so many monsters and potential leaders that Edge was practically forced to be King.

Core Frisk had said that this Red had remained loyally at his brother’s side and prevented any coups or uprisings… until Nightmare’s Gang attacked. There was no sign of this world’s Red anymore. Only dust.

(Once, Dream had taken comfort in the fact that his brother’s Gang would not kill because dead monsters did not give off negativity. He could not remember exactly when that had changed, and he was not sure he wanted to know why.)

Dream could never figure out what Nightmare had against Underfell and its variants in particular. All he knew was that his brother had meticulously targeted the original until only Red, Edge, and a couple other survivors were forced to abandon what was left and flee to the Omega Timeline. Red said he did not blame them but Dream could sense his true conflicted feelings.

“I won’t give excuses.” Dream said quietly. “What can we do to help?”

“Hunt down that brat and murder them to force a RESET.” Edge snarled.

Both Dream and Core Frisk could go to the Surface to find this Underfell’s Frisk. They were not about to tell Edge that or do what he thought he wanted. It would not fix the world. The amount of negativity was too great.

“We cannot.”

Edge closed his eye sockets and the furious lights of his eyes vanished like extinguished flames. “Leave.”

Core Frisk stepped forward. “We cannot undo the damage but the Omega Timeline is open to—”

“Leave!” Edge screamed as Gaster Blasters formed in the air behind him and red-orange tears ran down his cheekbones.

His anger and anguish were so great that Dream’s vision went black. When it cleared, they were back outside of the castle. Two of the Royal Guards that had been spared from the massacres judged them silently. Their emotions said it all. The icy, cloying atmosphere said the rest as bits of negativity poisoned the air itself.

“We need to go.” Core Frisk said.

Blue turned on them. “No. We can at least heal the ones that are left.”

Dream’s soul ached like it was slowly being carved into with a knife. "They're too angry and afraid, Blue. I can't heal anyone here."

Dream’s magical power was greatly affected by the atmosphere and feelings in an AU. That included Dream's healing magic. Green magic was affected by emotions already. Add in the power of the Guardian of Positivity and its effectiveness fluxed dramatically. In a positive AU, Dream could heal hundreds with a pulse of his aura. In a negative AU, he would be lucky to heal a bruise the size of a pea. In an AU like this that was about to fall to Negativity, he could do nothing at all. Dream could hardly breathe.

Blue gave him a betrayed look. “We can’t lose another world. It just makes Nightmare stronger.”

“We know.” Core Frisk said simply.

Dream looked away.

Blue's shoulders slumped. "I’m not giving up. I'll talk to Red when we get back and try to get some ideas."

It felt like a vice had closed around Dream’s neck, squeezing the last of the air from him. Was he giving up? “I…”

Blue grabbed his hand and held it gently. “We can fix this.”

“Of course.” Dream lied.

He already knew they couldn’t. Even if that Frisk did choose to perform a True RESET, it was already too late. This tormented, broken Underfell would crumble within the week.

After completing his usual chores the next morning, Ink trudged to the library. He could not find anything about codes or binary codes but he actually managed to retain some information on bone attacks this time.

His schedule was interrupted for the first time when Horror took him to the training room. Cross was already there, leaning against the wall and scowling. He had his hood up for some reason. Killer was throwing knives at a target deeper into the room.

Ink knew he did not need to practice and made sure not to look his way lest Killer decide he needed a living target. It was a good thing he did not completely ignore Killer because it took less than ten seconds before a knife sailed past his skull. As Horror stormed over to give a smirking Killer a reprimand, Ink put himself in the line of fire anyway when he approached Cross.

“Your skull isn’t healed.” Ink said carefully. Cross glared at him from beneath the fur-lined rim of his hood but Ink gathered his courage. “You could h-have a concussion. I was reading up on skull injuries in skeleton monsters and—”

“No.” Cross said flatly.

Ink recognized the warning. He wanted to press but recalled that he would soon be training with Cross. From what he could remember, ill intent made attacks more dangerous. Cross would get in trouble with Nightmare if Ink was killed (and Ink did not want to die like that) so he reluctantly dropped it. Cross’s glower transferred to Horror when he came back. Did he ever look not-angry? Ink supposed it made Cross very useful to Nightmare so he should just accept it.

Cross jerked his chin at Ink. “Why are we teaching him to fight?”

“He needs to learn to defend himself from knife-wielding lunatics.” Horror said in a monotone.

Killer cackled. Cross’s mouth dipped beneath the collar of his jacket. Ink was not very good at recognizing expressions (another drawback of being in a place where only he had expressions) but Cross almost seemed to be hiding. He was distracted from his curiosity by Horror.

“If you’re set on not using attacks then we’ll focus on blocking or restraining the opponent so you can escape.”

“Why not work on physical defense?” Cross asked before Ink could say anything.

“We can’t see his STATS. Sanses tend to be fragile. One hit in battle could dust him.”

Ink had not considered that he might be “fragile”. What was “fragile” in terms of Sanses? Killer and Dust threw violent attacks at each other all the time and they were fine so Ink supposed he must be much more fragile than them. Maybe he could easily dust. That would be unfortunate.

Horror beckoned Ink closer. “You’ll be training with Cross. Only Cross.”

The last bit was said with a lot of force as he looked Killer’s way. Killer kept throwing knives at a target but his empty eye sockets were locked onto Ink. He did his best to ignore it. Or ignore it as much as was safe in case Killer decided to throw one of those knives at him.

Ink and Cross stepped into the open area of the training room that had mats. Ink hoped he would not be thrown into them too many times. He could still see the marks where Killer had pinned him down with knives through his clothes last time.

Cross did not grab or summon any weapons but there was still time. “First thing’s first. Let’s try to summon your magic.”

Ink stood there awkwardly.

Cross did not look annoyed anymore. His incredulity was actually worse. “You do have magic, right?”

That comment stung. From what Ink had pieced together, monsters were made of magic and souls and... stuff. Did Cross think Ink was not a real monster? His Creator had abandoned him so early in his creation... But he could do magic. That had to mean something, right?

“He does.” Killer confirmed. “Nightmare checked. The brat just won’t use it.”

I won’t use it for what you want, Ink thought. The spark of anger surprised him but he kept a blank expression. It made him uncomfortable but a mask of apathy was necessary. Killer would take any excuse and Ink still did not know how Cross would react to anything Ink did. So Ink would do as little as possible and only respond to orders unless addressed otherwise. That was the best way to deal with Killer so maybe it would work on Cross?

“Don’t try to force a shape.” Horror encouraged. “Let your magic flow naturally.”

Ink did not react much. Only his eye lights moved to focus on Horror’s face. Cross muttered something about him acting like a doll, likely thinking Ink would not hear. Ink heard. He had existed in near-silence for so long that noises were still loud and shocking to him.

So much of this was still new to him. Cross was new to him. Cross was a killer. All of the Nightmare Gang were killers. They had just come back from terrorizing and killing, even Horror. Ink did not understand how anyone could want to terrorize and hurt and kill. Why? For what?

Ink did not understand. He wanted to understand them and understand why. But if he asked he would not get an answer. He was nothing and nobody, merely an investment. Even now they trained him with combat and fighting in mind like it was the only thing that mattered. Was that the only thing that mattered? “Kill or be killed?”

Ink refused to kill. He did not want to harm, only stop. He let the warm magic in his soul bubble up. It oozed out from between the bones of his hand. It was black and felt sticky. Bits of it dripped between his fingers and onto the mat. Maybe it was his blood.

Cross stepped back. His features twisted in repulsion. “What the hell?”

In the time it took to blink, Killer was next to him. Ink had not realized he’d come over. He grabbed Ink’s hand tight enough that his fingers hurt and inspected the magic. He touched the black goop that ran from his eye sockets and frowned. “It’s not like mine or the Boss’s.”

Cross crept closer and leaned in to squint at the black magic. “It looks like a liquid.”

Horror got Killer’s hand unlatched from around Ink’s wrist. His hold was much gentler. “May I?”

Ink did not know what he was asking but nodded. Horror touched the magic. Droplets gathered on his fingertips but slid off the bones to plop onto the floor. Ink felt like it should have stained them but it simply sat on the surface in a little blob. How odd.

“Should take a sample f’r the Boss.” Horror muttered.

Killer made an annoyed sound. “Careful Horror, your Scientist is showing.”

Horror was a scientist? Why did Ink feel like he should have known that? Horror took a vial out of his pocket and put some of the black liquid into it. Was it a common occurrence to need one of those? Should Ink carry some vials around too? Ink wondered how Horror would react if he knew it looked like Ink’s blood. Would he want samples of that, too? Killer would help get some out if they needed it.

Killer grabbed Ink’s hand again. The scrape of bone against bone was an unpleasant sensation but Ink made no effort to pull away. Killer taunted him more whenever he struggled. Going limp tended to be a better option. Killer prodded the magic, which continued to drip between Ink’s fingers.

“It doesn’t burn.” Killer grumbled with a pout. “You can’t even make an acid to melt your enemy’s bones.”

Killer was addressing him directly so Ink responded. “I’m sorry.”

Killer shoved him. “You have magic so do something with it. Come on.”

Ink did not miraculously summon a way to prevent his fall and crashed hard to the ground shoulder first. Even with the mat it hurt. He was used to it. Horror snagged Killer by his hood and pulled him away from Ink before he could do anything more.

“Cross and I are teaching Ink today.” Horror reminded him. “If you’re going to interfere, I will go to Nightmare.”

“Like he’ll do anything.” Killer said.

Horror stepped closer and said something too lowly for even Ink to hear. Killer’s face twisted and he left. Ink could not stop his sigh of relief. The strange sensation of his magic shifted between his fingers. Ink watched it apprehensively but it simply shifted back and forth like water did when he tipped its cup.

“Now that your magic has been summoned, you can try to give it a form.” It was Cross who gave the advice next, to Ink’s surprise. He was not looking at Ink’s face anymore, only his hands. It was a very intense stare like he could not tear his gaze away. “Don’t think about it. Just let it happen.”

Ink tried. He tried not to picture bones or blasters like Killer and Dust used. He carefully wiggled his hand around and watched his magic wobble in the air around his hand as it followed his movements. Unlike when he turned it into green magic, this magic did not make him feel like he had done something. It looked incomplete. Unfinished. It made sense since that was what he was.

Ink did not like to be reminded of what he had been back there but he refused to abandon his magic. It was a part of him. Ink could feel it like it was an extension of his hand. He could already turn it green which was great and useful. Surely he could find a use for weird black blood-like liquid magic too.

Cross kept inspecting Ink’s magic with that intense expression. “I honestly have no idea what to do with this. It’s not bone magic or the kinds of conjuration I’ve seen from other Sanses.”

“Maybe we should get the Boss’ opinion.” Horror mused.

Ink really did not want to involve Nightmare. His boss was already irritated with his lack of progress and Ink knew that every meeting made his minimal well of patience dwindle just a bit more. He anxiously looked towards the door in case Nightmare had already been summoned. Nightmare was not there but Killer was back. Maybe he never left. His dark sockets were turned towards Ink. A knife appeared in his hand and he raised his arm.

Killer did not aim for Ink.

He threw the knife at the back of Horror’s head.

Ink was not sure what he did or how. All he registered was a blur of black and a soft thunk. The knife clattered to the ground and both Cross and Horror spun towards the sound. Their irritated expressions turned into ones of surprise as a wall of black splattered back down to the ground. It wobbled slightly and slid back to Ink, circling around his feet.

“Huh.” Killer noted as his grin grew wide. “That worked.”

Horror did not look irritated or surprised anymore. He did not do anything that Killer or Dust had been trying to teach Ink about fighting. He just stood there and did not even try to dodge. Three knives blinked into existence by Killer’s hand. Two shot towards Horror. The black magic snapped up and deflected the two knives. They impaled the wall by the targets.

The last knife hit Ink in the shoulder. He made no sound despite the sting of pain but he thought Cross might have cried out. Ink was fine. He did not even stumble when the knife impacted. Trying to destroy his soul had hurt much worse than this. His black magic shifted back and forth in front of Horror as it waited for another attack.

Killer flung a knife at Ink’s face. He threw his arms up and the black liquid jumped up. The point of the knife pierced through the other side an inch from Ink’s left eye socket.

“Killer, enough!” Cross bellowed.

Killer cackled at him. “Shut up, I’m teaching!”

There was a lot of black stuff running from his eye sockets. So much that his cheeks and chin were mostly black. Ink was far from an expert in anything to do with anything but even he could sense that was not a good sign. There was a wrongness blooming in Killer’s soul that reminded him of the wrongness he sensed in Cross’s injury. Had Killer gotten hurt?

“Aw, shit.” Cross hissed. “Horror, he’s going Stage Three again—”

Killer gave a distorted cackle and threw knives at both of them. Ink was not fast enough to block them. Cross dodged and Horror ducked but the knife almost grazed the side of his skull. More knives followed without target or reason and Ink forgot all about his black magic as he dove for cover behind a training dummy.

The training dummy soon resembled a pincushion more than anything. These knives were not like the ones he had used previously. Ink could feel the wrongness in them, oozing and acidic as it chafed against his senses and made fear crawl up his spine.

Ink was distracted from his fear when Cross staggered. His shrunken eye lights briefly caught Ink’s before they rolled back into his skull and he collapsed. Killer’s empty, oozing sockets locked onto Cross and Ink did the only thing he could think of. His magic followed his intent.

Black magic snaked around Killer’s wrist and up his arm. The magic thinned and tightened into… chains? The chains were thinner than a pencil but Ink could see the detail of each tiny, fragile-looking link.

Killer halted in place with an annoyed hiss and eyed the thin chain wrapped around his wrist. He growled and yanked his arm forward. Nothing happened. The chain held. Killer frowned and summoned a knife. The knife hit the chain with a long clang. It did not bite into the construct a single inch.

Killer stared at it in confusion and Horror took the opportunity to grab him from behind. Killer swore loudly as Horror lifted him up and slammed him into the floor.

Killer shoved himself up, snarling as blackness dripped from his eye sockets and mouth, only to freeze as a blast of something tore through the room. The pulse was so strong that it tore several of the knives out of the walls and knocked the training dummy over. Killer slumped back to the floor, Horror fell to his knees, and Cross gave a low moan.

Only Ink remained standing as he tried to figure out where that weirdly cold wind had come from. His question was answered as Nightmare swept into the room. His single eye light burned like a cyan flame as he stalked up to Killer. Ink should do something but instead he silently watched as the Boss loomed over Killer. Was Nightmare angry? Had Killer gone too far this time? Was Ink going to see what happened if Nightmare’s patience finally ran out?

“Calm.” Nightmare hissed. His voice was low and haunting, like a malicious whisper heard from the shadows, but Ink’s fear lessened. The sense of wrongness in Killer struggled but Nightmare remained firm. “You are in control.”

The wrongness struggled a moment longer then let go, releasing Killer. Ink watched his chest heave as some of the cloying darkness faded from beneath his mouth and eye sockets. Killer lay there a moment, still and silent, then rolled onto his other side but not before Ink glimpsed the miserable look on his face. His own soul twisted with sympathy and Nightmare shot him a calculating look. The briefest flash of surprise crossed his dark features before he looked back to Killer.

“I ordered you to tell me if it got worse.” Nightmare said lowly.

Killer sat up and looked at the floor beneath him. “Boss, I—”

“Go rest.” Nightmare commanded but his tone was not as hard as Ink expected.

Killer ran out. Ink might even call his departure “fleeing”. Dust appeared in the doorway only for a moment before he retreated, going the way Killer had fled.

Ink awkwardly stood in place as he glanced between Cross and Horror, who were still on the floor. Horror was shaking lightly while Cross was still but breathing sharply. Ink still did not understand why they had been pushed over. The cold wind had not been very strong. Horror hung his head a moment longer before he pushed himself back to his feet.

“Sorry, Boss.” Horror rasped. “I didn’t realize he was so close.”

“It is my responsibility and Killer’s to keep track of his stages.” Nightmare interrupted, tone clipped. “Be assured, there will not be a repeat.”

Ink had no idea what was going on. What had happened to Killer and what was “Stage Three”? He did not ask because it was probably not something he needed to know and he doubted he would be told. He did not realize his black magic was still swirling by his feet until Nightmare glared down at it.

“This is your magic, then? Did you shield yourself with it?” He sounded intrigued. He must know about Killer’s knives then. Well, obviously he did because they were still all over the walls, the floor, the ceiling, and in the training dummies.

Ink nodded. “Yes, Boss.”

Nightmare looked at his shoulder and sighed. “At least you can take a few hits. Horror, once you’re stable enough, take Ink to the infirmary for some bandages.”

Oh right, Ink still had a knife in his shoulder. He forgot.

“You don’t need to waste bandages on me, Boss.” Ink blurted quickly. “I can take care of it myself.”

He yanked the knife out of his shoulder. Cross, who had just looked up, made that alarmed sound again but Ink ignored him. His magic oozed out of his fingers and he pressed them to his injury. The color shifted to green and he felt the stinging cease. Satisfied, Ink let his hands fall.

Nightmare did not say anything. Why was he not saying anything? Ink shuffled back a couple steps and eyed his boss nervously. Had he done something wrong? Nightmare was not moving. Even his tentacles were frozen in shock.

“You can heal.” It was not a question but Ink nodded.

“He’s a Healer. Or Medic. Of course he can.” Cross mumbled. “It’s in the jobbb.” He was sitting up and holding his skull but his voice sounded sluggish.

Ink looked at the green magic in his hands and took a steadying breath. He marched over to Cross and sat next to him. “Let me repair— uh, heal you.”

Cross scowled at him. His eye lights were unfocused.

Nightmare’s cyan eyelight sharpened once more. “You're injured too?”

“When we fell down the stairs he smacked his head but he wouldn’t let me help.” Ink said bluntly.

Cross shot him a dark look.

Ink ignored it even as his soul pulsed nervously.

“Idiots.” Nightmare hissed under his breath. “Cross, let Ink… heal you.” He said “heal you” in a very weird tone, like he was not used to saying it.

Ink did not know Cross or how much he outranked Ink in Nightmare’s Gang but even he would not disobey a direct order. Cross knew it too. He was definitely bitter as he let Ink touch the crack on his skull. It was deeper than he thought. Any deeper and it might have broken through. Casting his doubts aside because he could finally repair this, Ink focused on the wrongness there that had kept him up last night and felt Cross stiffen. The green magic receded before Ink could worry he had done something wrong.

Horror, who had been watching the exchange in silence, stepped closer and inspected Cross’s skull. “He did it.” Horror looked at Ink, really looked at him, and his beaming smile was the most wonderful thing Ink had seen yet. “Congratulations. You’re now our medic.”

“I thought that was established already.” Cross muttered. He still looked stunned as he kept touching the spot that had been cracked.

Ink felt a familiar sensation over him and realized he was being CHECKed.

“So it seems.” Nightmare said. His thoughtful, calculating gaze lingered on Ink’s STATS and CHECK data. “Why didn’t you tell me you were practicing green magic?”

Was he going to be in trouble for not studying only what he was ordered to? “It did not seem important to you.” Ink said carefully. “You wanted me to learn to fight, Boss.”

Ink realized he might have just insulted Nightmare but he did not seem upset. Instead he seemed intrigued. “I suppose I did. It seems I limited you.”

Nightmare approached Cross and leaned in to check his skull. Ink was struck by how carefully their boss moved when he was close. Every tentacle was tense and pulled backwards like they were trying to put as much distance between Nightmare and Cross as possible. Ink recalled what Nightmare had said and felt another surge of compassion for his boss. Without thinking, he walked up and grasped one of the tentacles with both hands. Nightmare did not twitch this time but his cyan eye light slid to Ink before he continued to inspect Cross.

“How do you feel?”

“Good.” Cross admitted. “Really good. I can tell it’s been healed up. Some idiots accidentally heal only the surface of an injury but the rookie actually did it right.”

Nightmare stepped back and Cross pulled his hood back up. Ink held onto his boss’s tentacle even as it was lifted behind his back. Ink hung in the air with his feet dangling, swinging a bit. He swallowed a giggle and stamped down on his brief glee. Nightmare’s tentacle wrapped around his middle and he pulled Ink around in front of his face. Ink stilled and the last of his childish joy fizzled out as his usual nerves replaced them.

Nightmare sighed. The air from his breath puffed against Ink’s cheek and tickled his face. It was cold like his tentacles. “It appears you found a purpose yourself, Ink. You will still need to learn to defend yourself but you may also act as the medic for my recruits.”

Ink’s excitement was squashed by anxiety. It would be wonderful to be useful and have a purpose other than fighting but what if his success was a fluke? What if he failed? What if Nightmare decided he still was not worth it and abandoned him sooner?

“He should be your medic too, Boss.” Horror piped up.

Nightmare’s tentacles stopped moving again. He seemed to remember himself and shook his head. “It does not matter. My aura prevents any healing magic from taking effect anyway.”

“Well, your aura doesn’t affect him too much so maybe it won’t.” Horror argued.

That silenced Nightmare. His tentacles gave a flick that Ink could not translate and he set Ink down. Cross abruptly stepped into Ink’s line of sight and blocked his view of Nightmare. For a moment they stared at each other in awkward silence. Ink apprehensively dropped his gaze and tensed as a hand landed lightly on his skull. Cross awkwardly patted Ink’s skull like Horror did, but he did it like he was not used to doing something like that.

“Thanks for healing me. You must be tired after using so much magic. Go rest.”

Ink remembered what he had seen in the medical book he had obsessively read and re-read. “You should rest t-too.”

Cross gave him a puzzled look. “Stars, your voice is quiet. And... Sure. I will.”

Ink wondered if that thoughtful tone was actually warmer or if he was merely being hopeful. He looked to Nightmare, who nodded absently as he stared at some of the new stab marks in the walls. Taking that as permission, Ink left.

Ink could hardly believe what had just happened. He had summoned his magic that wasn’t green, Killer had gone “Stage Three”, Ink had used green magic to heal Cross, and now he had a purpose as the Gang’s medic. Ink hoped it let him stay a bit longer. He also hoped that whatever they talked about when he wasn’t there did not involve him being abandoned.

As soon as the door shut behind Ink, Cross gave a harsh, quiet laugh. “That was not what I expected today.”

“I did not think to CHECK Ink before we started.” Horror murmured. “How long has his Role been “Healer/Medic”?”

“It was like that when I showed up.” Cross supplied. “I didn’t believe it.”

Cross’s shame broke through to Nightmare and he steadied himself. It was unlike him to be so rattled by minor developments but Horror’s claims had thrown him. He put them aside for the moment to lecture one of his many troublesome subordinates.

“Why did you not tell anyone you were hurt, Cross?”

Cross stared sulkily at the floor, his shame prickling in the air around him.

Nightmare exhaled sharply. “I told you not to do that. Repeatedly. I don’t care about your masochistic self-punishment guilt complex. Injuries need to be dealt with.”

“It isn’t just me." Cross said defensively. "We’re all bad at listening, apparently.”

Nightmare ignored that little implication only because of the shame and guilt that still tainted Cross’s aura. “Horror, why did you say Ink isn’t very affected by my negative aura?”

Horror blinked slowly at him and scratched at the broken edge of his skull. “He didn’t shield himself with his magic when you came in, Boss.”

Nightmare had been so focused on stabilizing Killer that he had not noticed. While Horror and Cross had reacted to his blast of aura and buckled, Ink had stood there, unbowed and confused. In fact, he never seemed to react to Nightmare’s aura no matter what he did with it.

Could it be I can sense his emotions and feed off of them but I cannot worsen them?

That made no sense and only reinforced Nightmare’s theory that Ink was more than he seemed. He had no desire to test it out because if he could enhance Ink’s negativity, he suspected it would lead to a repeat of what he prevented in that abandoned world. Still, this new possibility could not be ignored. Nightmare reluctantly added that tidbit to the growing list of headaches that was his newest recruit and focused on what little he had learned.

“Did you know that Ink was trying to learn green magic?”

“No, Boss.” Horror said. “I woulda encouraged him if I did. I still can’t believe he can do it.”

Nightmare did not verbally admit that he could not believe it either. They both looked at Cross’s hood, beneath which had once been a terrible crack. Now there was not even a scar to show he had smacked his skull on the stone floor. Green magic was not the most complex type but it was, ironically enough, very temperamental and hard to control. The healer’s intent, the LV of the healer and the recipient, and their animosity or benevolence towards each other could all effect whether green magic even worked.

Needless to say, none of the Gang remembered the last time they had been healed using green magic except Cross. Nightmare had not directly asked but he suspected the last time Cross had been able to be healed with green magic was when his brother healed him right before the Event that destroyed Xtale.

“What did Ink’s green magic feel like?” Nightmare asked.

Cross recognized the command to be given that information and straightened his posture. It was times like this that reminded Nightmare that Cross was a former Royal Guard and soldier. “Strange. Ink’s green magic did not take the usual form of light. It was a kind of liquid instead. A thick one. Healing usually feels warm, emotionally and in its temperature. The emotional warmth was there but Ink’s magic itself felt… neutral. I felt the thickness of its consistency but it was like its temperature matched my skull’s.” Cross hesitated briefly before continuing on. “And the way it healed felt weird too. It did not feel like mending.”

“What does that mean?” Nightmare asked sharply.

Cross shrugged apologetically. “I can’t explain it, Boss. It's... like he recreated the bone to be what it was supposed to be.” He made a low, annoyed noise and muttered under his breath. "I still can't explain it. If you felt it you'd see."

Although Cross claimed that, Nightmare got a grasp of what he was trying to imply. If what he said was true, Ink proved to be even stranger because that was not how healing worked at all. At most it stitched the wound back together and made it “itch” from what Nightmare had heard. Ink kept getting stranger and stranger, it seemed. Every time Nightmare thought he might get answers, instead he got more questions he had not thought of yet.

Horror seemed of the same mind. He held up the vial of black magic. Not that kind of black magic since Nightmare would be able to sense the negativity in it, but the strange liquid-like darkly colored magic. “We should get a sample of Ink’s green magic as well. We might want to think about sendin’ a bit to Sci.”

Nightmare grimaced. Sci was a strictly neutral force that was more interested in research and experimentation than anything else. Nightmare wasn't keen on letting him know about Ink. He did not want anyone outside of the Gang to know that Ink existed until Nightmare had settled on all the purposes for him. Ink would be their medic. A healer that could use green magic on the Gang would be invaluable to them. But Nightmare knew he wanted Ink for more. Exactly what that meant was still unknown even to himself. One thing was for certain: Ink continued to surprise.

Nightmare left his two subordinates to clean up and went to check on his other (currently) most troublesome recruit. He should have stepped in to assist Killer sooner. He had noticed his steady increase in aggression and instability but had done nothing about it. That was a mistake on Nightmare’s part and he accepted that he was to blame.

After all, it was his fault that Killer was becoming worse. It was his aura that made Killer go Stage Three and even Four more frequently these days. But Nightmare could not let him, or any of them, go. What had happened had already happened and it could not be fixed. Now Nightmare just had to deal with the aftermath again.

At least no one had been maimed or killed this time.

Chapter Text

Ink thought it would be easier to stifle his positive emotions with time. Instead it was getting harder to keep them suppressed. Things were going better than he ever hoped now that he had figured out a use for himself other than abandoned back there or a future source of EXP. Being abandoned would happen one day but it felt further away now that Ink had figured out bits of his magic.

Nightmare had decided that Ink would be the Nightmare Gang’s healer and medic. Ink was so happy that he had some use that it was difficult to smother it. It didn’t help his efforts that Cross had stopped glaring so much after Ink healed him. The stares were less angry and more considering these days.

Killer wasn’t around enough to glare at him either. He spent a lot of time in his room. Ink hoped he was not in trouble with Nightmare. No one talked about what happened or explained what “Stage Three” meant so Ink was left to speculate.

Dust was Dust though, which was really helpful in keeping Ink from being too positive. He acted the same, talked to Papyrus the same, and treated Ink with the same indifference. It was soothing to see him so unchanged and unbothered by everything. (Was “soothing” a positive emotion and should Ink stop?) It was so hard not to be happy. Ink was glad he had a use now because Nightmare must be enraged by his excitement but that use gave his boss one less reason to throw him back where he came from.

Horror had brought Ink more books on green magic. He got them from an AU just for Ink and when Ink looked worried he explained it was from an AU that the Gang protected. That was the first time Ink heard about anything like that but he was distracted by Horror before he could ask more about it. Horror had requested a sample of Ink’s green magic in exchange and Ink had eagerly provided it. It was weird to see it float in the middle of the vial that Horror provided like it was ignoring gravity but Ink was soon distracted from that by the books on healing magic.

Ink was so excited to see the new books he forgot to follow his schedule and clean the castle like he was supposed to until he read through them. He looked up from the back cover to see Horror standing by the wall with a bemused look on his face. It was very dark out which meant it was late. Whoops.

“You missed lunch and dinner.” Horror set a plate down.

“Thank you.” Ink remembered to say.

Ink did not try to reject the food even though he had not earned it by doing what he was supposed to today. He had only tried to refuse once, explaining why he did not deserve the meal, and it made Horror act strange. His eye lights had gone out. Not in a scary way like Killer’s empty sockets but in a way that frightened Ink anyway. Ink had thought about back there when he was looking in the mirror once and his eye sockets went like that. He did not like to see that look on Horror so he never rejected offers of food again (even if he had forgotten to do his chores and didn't earn it).

Horror sat at the table with him and watched him eat. “What did you learn today?”

“Some monsters can heal others from far away by mixing their green magic with “attacks”.” Ink blurted. “It’s less potent than contact healing and more potent than using healing foods but it’s also easily affected by not only the emotions of the healer but the emotions and intent in the air around them and the patient so—”

Ink ended up rambling about the uses, benefits, and drawbacks of that kind of green magic for about an hour. By the time he was done, it was even darker than before. Horror did not seem to mind though. (Ink was really beginning to wonder if Killer had been truthful about Horror only tolerating him because Nightmare said so. He reminded himself not to hope for too much since he had already gotten so many amazing things already. He’d cherish what he could get.)

“It seems you’re really invested in this. That’s good to hear.” Horror scratched at his broken skull and cocked it knowingly. “How’s your research on other magic going?”

Ink avoided looking at Horror. “The only black magic I found wasn’t like mine. That magic was meant to hurt.”

It had been discouraging to discover that the term “black magic” did not refer to magic that was colored black but magic that was apparently evil and used for killing and destruction. “Blood magic” had similarly destructive definitions that did not fit Ink’s magic at all.

“It’s okay. I don’t know how to help you with that other than to help ya train.” Horror leaned over and patted Ink’s skull. “The Boss and I had a talk. He wants to give you the final rundown so you’re ready to visit another world.”

Ink shoved his joy down down down and focused on the panic that crawled up his throat. “R-Really?”

“The Boss can tell you more.”

Ink got the hint and followed Horror to Nightmare’s office. Trying to squash his excitement was an impossible task so he could only hope that Nightmare would not be too annoyed. Cross and Dust were already there when he arrived. Horror stopped in the doorway and touched Ink’s shoulder to indicate he should be quiet. Ink remained silent as ordered and realized that Cross was in the middle of giving a report.

“…almost a completed Genocide timeline. Chara hasn’t killed everyone yet but it was a close one before the last RESET.” Cross was saying as they entered. “So Farmtale is definitely tilting to the negative side of the spectrum.”

That statement instantly struck Ink as wrong. Farmtale did not have a typical Genocide or Neutral Route. The “Genocide” timeline involved Chara kicking the inhabitants out of town, not killing them. Farmtale was all about farming. It was meant to be one of the safest AUs out there. How could there be a Genocide timeline? It should be impossible. How were other AUs like that faring then? Please let Littletale be alright. Please.

Wait. How did Ink know about Farmtale and Littletale? Maybe one of the Gang mentioned them before? Or he must have read about them in one of the books but forgotten. Or he’d gotten distracted. The latter was more likely to be honest.

Nightmare’s tentacles flicked and curled behind him as he propped his chin on his interlaced hands. “I see. We may have to offer our protection. Having another source of food could be beneficial.” His cyan eye light moved to Ink and he lowered his hands. “We will discuss this further at a later time. Ink, did Horror tell you why you’re here?”

Ink did not push his worry about Farmtale down because it made him more useful to Nightmare. “He said I might be able to visit another world?”

“That’s correct. This is a test to see if you can blend in and are ready for the Multiverse.” Ink was relieved that Nightmare was so blunt about it. “You will be traveling to an Aftertale variant. Do you know what Aftertale is?”

Ink nodded. As soon as Nightmare said the name he recognized it. Huh. He must have read a book about a bunch of Alternate Universes but forgotten. He should try to find it again.

"This Aftertale variant is currently in a Neutral timeline. The human Frisk lives in the Underground with Queen Toriel after killing King Asgore and a couple other monsters. The remaining monsters aren't the happiest about it but they're not rebelling."

"They should." Dust muttered. "That brat's a mean one. They can pretend it was Chara all they want but we know better. They already RESET after a True Pacifist timeline. Again. They're one bored day from RESETing to turn the timeline into another Genocide one. Again."

“The Queen’s decision to allow visitors from other AUs are keeping them invested in the current timeline.” Cross noted.

“Won’t last forever.”

“What would happen if they RESET while we’re there?” Ink asked.

“We’ll be forced out of that AU and back here.” Cross replied.

Nightmare kept watching Ink. Was he keeping track of his emotions? “There will be a lot of people.”

“More than ten?” Ink questioned.

Nightmare gave him a strange grimace. Dust gave Ink an amused look that meant Ink had said something stupid again.

“…Less than ten?” Ink hopefully corrected his previous answer.

Nightmare’s tentacles flicked in a way that most would think was irritation but Ink recognized as worried. “Perhaps you are not ready yet.”

“I am.” Ink blurted. “Really, I am. Whatever you need me for.”

Nightmare considered him coolly. “It might be best if you do not speak so you don’t accidentally reveal yourself.”

“You speak so quietly I doubt they’d hear you anyway.” Dust added.

Ink spoke quietly? He supposed it made sense since he was the only thing that made noise in the empty whiteness so it wasn’t like he had to talk louder than anything except his own miserable thoughts. He knew he could scream loudly though. He’d done plenty of that when he was… particularly distressed. Despite thinking about back there, Ink felt the rainbow flush on his cheeks as he nodded.

“You’ll only be going with Cross.” Nightmare said.

Ink sought out Horror on instinct. He seemed to understand without Ink needing to say anything.

“I’m too recognizable to go.” Horror told him as he tapped his broken skull. “And I wanted to go visit my bro back home.”

Sometimes Ink forgot that Horrortale still existed. He wondered if Horror’s Papyrus knew about what his brother was doing. Dust had a brother. Horror had a brother. Killer was implied to have had a brother but he never ever talked about it. Cross did not talk about his brother either. Did Nightmare have a brother?

…What about Ink’s own brother? The tall sketch that he looked at and identified as “brother”, anyway. He was dead. Like Dust’s was dead and Killer’s was implied to be dead. Nightmare had—

“I would send you to Outertale but I’ve heard rumors that Error has made appearances there recently.” Nightmare continued. “I don’t want to risk it.”

Ink asked the obvious question. “Who’s Error?”

Somehow, Nightmare’s shadows grew darker. “That is part of what I want to discuss with you before you go. In the Multiverse, there are three entities you must not encounter and two that you must treat with caution. Avoid all of them if at all possible.”

Dust silently brought up five images on the screen by the wall. They were of four skeletons and what appeared to be a human child. None of them looked dangerous to Ink but he lived with the Gang. His idea of “dangerous-looking” might be a bit skewed.

“The two you should treat with caution are Blue and Fresh.” Nightmare pointed at each image as he identified them for Ink. “The three you must not encounter are Core Frisk, Error, and…” Nightmare’s tentacles became tense. “…Dream.”

Ink remembered that name. Dream was one of those Star Sanses that Nightmare’s Gang always fought.

“Fresh and Blue are not as threatening but they could be a problem if you encounter them. Fresh is a Parasite that is supposedly from an AU called “Underfresh.” He attaches to the souls of Sanses and takes over their body, eventually killing the host. If you find that you can’t swear anymore, Fresh is nearby. He is only a threat if he is in the process of acquiring a new body and seeing how he just received one recently, he should not be an issue. However, he may still harm you if you run into him if he decides he wants to have some fun.”

Ink knew Killer’s definition of “fun” and decided he did not want to know this “Fresh” person’s version. It would not be very “fun” for Ink, he was certain.

“Blue is from Underswap. He is the other consistent member of the Star Sanses along with Dream.” Again, Nightmare said the name with that weird inflection. “He lacks power but if he learns of your allegiance to me, he will do everything he can to capture you.”

Out of the pictured enemies, Blue looked the kindest. He had a bright smile and his eye lights were a vibrant blue that Ink adored. Ink reminded himself that looks could be deceiving. Blue would hurt him if he was given the chance. All of these people would.

It was easier not to be caught up in his fascination with these new people after that thought.

“If Blue captures you, he will take you to Core Frisk.” Nightmare pointed at the child who was monochrome. The lack of bright colors made Ink feel nervous. “Core is the mastermind behind the Omega Timeline.”

“If the Omega Timeline captures you they will torture you for information about us.” Dust’s smile was empty when Ink looked at him. “Or they’d give a little Sans like you to the Fresh Parasite to keep him on their side.”

Ink shuddered and wrapped his arms around his rib cage. He could feel his damaged soul pulsing nervously and could only hope that it was damaged enough that Fresh would not want it. Nightmare must have mentioned how damaged it was to the others because they never used that blue gravity attack on him during training.

“Core Frisk is very manipulative.” Nightmare warned. “They may act friendly towards you but it is likely they already will know who you are. Do not trust them, no matter how “kind” they may seem. If you are captured by them or Blue, try not to tell them anything about us. We will attempt to retrieve you.”

Ink nodded hesitantly to show he understood.

“The next threat is Error.” Nightmare’s eye light faded to a dark shade as he pointed at the image of a skeleton with blue tear-streak like marks on his cheeks and wild eye lights. “We don’t know his origin. He is the Destroyer and his only purpose is to kill everyone in an AU and destroy it. If you see him, do whatever it takes to get out of that world. He cannot be reasoned with or stopped. Error often uses blue strings to entrap the souls of his victims and drag them to the Anti-Void. We are not sure what happens to them there but none come back out. If Error captures you, it is unlikely you will be reached in time to be rescued. All I can do is teach you ways to stall Error for long enough that I can hopefully reach you in time.” Nightmare hesitated briefly. “Considering your… origin, I suppose I should warn you: I am not certain, but it’s possible that the Anti-Void is where there is.”

For a moment, Ink did not understand.

Then it clicked.

Ink understood what Nightmare was implying and nodded firmly. “If Error drags me to the Anti-Void I’ll destroy my soul immediately.”

“NO!”

To Ink’s shock, the shout came from Nightmare, Cross, Horror, and Dust. Had he not understood his orders correctly? “Shouldn’t I die so he can’t get information out of me?”

“No.” Nightmare repeated. The pitch of his voice made him sound almost stressed.

Dust made a strange sound and pressed a hand to his chest. “What the hell , kid. I know Sanses have some problems but jeez.”

“You don’t need to do that, Ink. It is unlikely Error will want information. He is too far gone for that.” Nightmare spoke curtly, but at a lower volume than before. “I already have one recruit with a sacrificial complex. I don't need two— Stars dammit, I'm not throwing you away.”

Ink didn't realize he'd frozen up until he started breathing again. He ducked his head to hide his expression because he still could not decipher if relief was a positive emotion or not.

“Remember that you’re more valuable to me alive than dead.” Nightmare snapped. “Understand?”

Ink hastily nodded again even though he was more confused than before.

Nightmare settled back in his chair. Only his twitching tentacles revealed how rattled he still was. “The last threat is Dream from Dreamtale.” There was that strange inflection again. Like a mix of sorrow and hatred. “He is the leader of the Star Sanses, the Guardian of Positivity, and— and an ally of Core Frisk and the Omega Timeline.” Why did it sound like Nightmare had been going to say something else? “His aura is intoxicating in its positivity like mine is heavily negative."

Ink blinked in surprise. “You have an aura?”

It was Nightmare’s turn to be surprised. "You don't feel my aura?"

He said it so incredulously that Ink felt kind of bad. “There’s a little bit of heaviness?”

Nightmare seemed to be at a loss.

Dust looked between Ink and Nightmare and gestured but could not seem to find his words.

“Told you so, Boss.” Horror drawled.

“I suppose that is good.” Nightmare said but his voice was strained and his stiff tentacles showed his shock. “Dream’s aura might not affect you. He can usually use it to manipulate those around him into trusting him. Like Core, he will act kind but that “kindness” is only a tactic to elicit compliance. Dream is an enemy. If he realizes you work with me, he will see you as a threat. He will attempt to fight and capture you, if not kill you to eliminate the “threat” to the Multiverse. He will show you no mercy.”

Ink did not understand how he could be a threat to the Multiverse but Nightmare knew much more about how the Multiverse worked so he had to take his word for it. Once Nightmare was sure that Ink committed the images of those he needed to avoid to memory along with other facts about the world he was visiting, he let Ink and Cross go prepare.

The next morning, they made the final preparations so they were ready to go. Cross and Ink were both given new outfits for the trip and everything. Cross had a purple and silver version of what he called a “Royal Guard uniform”. Ink received a long purple cloak with a hood that almost covered his face and a silver tunic and purple leggings. And black boots. They were very soft boots though Ink preferred being able to feel the cool stones beneath his bare feet. The purple cloak was also very soft though. Ink spent a few minutes happily rubbing the fabric between his fingers and enjoying how soft it was.

“Ink, remember that you'll be referred to as “Shield”.” Cross reminded him. “If anyone asks, my name is Guard and our AU was Neo-Guardtale. It was destroyed by Error.”

“I'm not supposed to talk.” Ink remembered.

“That might not stop them from asking. Act shy but if they persist, use those answers. Actually…” Cross took a moment to think about something before he continued. “Do you know how to write in Wingdings?”

Ink nodded and watched as Cross used white to paint over the red scar on his cheek.

“Don’t speak.” Cross commanded. “If they give you something to write on, write your answers in Wingdings. That should stop most of them from asking more questions.”

Ink nodded again. He stood still as Horror used white paint to cover the mark on his cheek. Ink looked at himself in the mirror once he was done and quickly looked away. He did not like to see himself without his black mark. It made him remember the empty whiteness.

Cross pulled Ink’s hood up and adjusted the silver Delta Rune clasp on his cloak. “One last thing: don’t tell anyone you’re a Healer. If they try to CHECK you, run and find me immediately. Your CHECK doesn’t say anything about Nightmare or the Gang but it does reveal your name and Role.”

“Why does my Role matter?” Ink questioned.

Cross grimaced. “Green magic isn’t so common these days. They might not want you to leave.”

That would be unfortunate. Ink would prefer not to be forced to stay anywhere. He had to do really well on this mission or Nightmare might keep him in the castle for a long time. Ink was so grateful that Nightmare let him stay in the castle, of course, but it would be nice to see even more of the Multiverse even if the others kept telling him it was a terrible place.

“It’s too bad we can’t alter the codes to create a fake CHECK…”

Cross said it lowly, as though he did not intend for anyone else to hear, but hear Ink did. He almost asked what codes were but silenced himself before he could when he took note of Cross’s manner. Cross’s comment had been bitter and sarcastic, not genuine, and there was a shadow to his gaze as well before his expression cleared. Unease tightened its grip on Ink and he dare not ask Cross about codes.

Cross used a small blade to open a portal in the air. His magic felt sharp and weapon-like. Ink had grown accustomed to the feel of it during their training sessions and preferred it to the tints of wrongness that Killer’s magic carried. Cross was much nicer about training than Killer and Dust had been. Ink only got hit a couple of times with Cross. He’d gotten a lot better at using his black magic to shield himself.

The black chains did not want to form though. Ink had not managed to summon them since he used them to stop Killer. He’d probably still be useless in a fight. But Nightmare thought he was ready to go to another world so he must be ready.

Ink stepped through the portal and into an alleyway. He realized he was in a city that must be New Home.

There were—

It was—

Sights and sounds and noise—

There was so much of everything. So much. Too much. Ink could not focus on the smells or sounds or sights because it was too much and his skull hurt so terribly that he curled up and covered his head.

“—ld? Shield…? Dammit. Ink?”

There was someone standing in front of him. Taller than him but too short to be his brother. It took Ink a moment to recognize Cross. Cross looked different in different clothes and with his scar covered by white but Ink reached out and latched onto his Royal Guard cape anyway. Cross did not pull away or look annoyed. He remained crouched in front of Ink in the alley, though he kept shooting apprehensive glances towards the opening that led into the streets.

There were so many monsters walking around. So many. Ink had never seen so many people, or heard so many noises, or smelled so many things all at once. He covered his head again and curled up, using one hand to cling to Cross’s cape.

“Dammit.” Cross whispered. “The Boss said not to enter through Snowdin but I didn’t think New Home would cause… this.”

Ink tried to apologize but his voice wasn’t working right.

“Do you need to leave?” Cross asked.

Ink violently shook his head but his voice still wasn’t working. I want to stay. Please let me stay. I can do this.

“If you’re sure.”

Cross’s hand brushed along Ink’s cheek. Ink glimpsed liquid on his fingertips and realized they were tears. Ink was crying. That was… good. Nightmare must be happy that Ink was upset. That thought gave Ink the drive to stand up. He used his cloak to wipe away the tears and latched onto Cross’s cape again.

Entering the busy street was nerve-wracking. There were so many people all around and doing things and being loud. So many almost bumped into Ink and Cross. A couple actually did but Ink kept hold of Cross’s purple cape so they were not separated. He tried to keep an eye on everything but there was simply too many buildings and people. Everyone was moving and reacting. Many were talking and chatting to each other. There was movement and colors and sounds and it was all so wonderful but all too much at the same time.

There was so. Much. Ink thought he would have to pretend to be shy and withdrawn but apparently not. He was so excited to be in a new world but it was also terrifying.

Cross led Ink to the market where they were supposed to get supplies. Ink felt anxious for an entirely new reason as he searched his pockets for the list. He found it in the one inside of his cloak and was overwhelmed by relief. The shopkeeper was a rabbit monster. She smiled at Cross and Ink when they entered the store. It was mostly like Horror’s smile, not one of Killer’s smiles.

“Welcome to the New Home General Store. You’re not from around here, right?”

“We are not.” Cross confirmed in a short tone.

The rabbit monster kept her nice smile. “Well, if you need help finding anything, let me know.”

“Thank you.” Cross turned to Ink and gently tapped the list. “See if you can find the stuff on here, okay?”

Ink nodded sharply and went down the first aisle. There were so many things on the shelves that he was overwhelmed all over again. He forced himself to keep moving. If he could not handle a store, he could not handle the Multiverse. He had to prove he was ready for this. He heard the rabbit monster speak to Cross.

“I don’t mean to pry but is that your younger brother?”

“Yeah.” Cross mumbled. “He’s still not used to… how things are out here.”

Ink saw her hand a pamphlet over to Cross. “We have a Displaced support group run by the Queen if you feel you need any assistance. And the Omega Timeline is always open to anyone that needs a home.”

“Thank you.” Cross said curtly.

Ink focused on the list. The items were not anything too important, probably in case he somehow messed it up. Ink was careful about choosing them anyway. He carried them to the desk thing— No, it was not a desk. Oh, what was it called? The rabbit monster kept that kind smile as she did something with the items that made beeping noises and put them into bags.

Horror had told Ink how Gold was used earlier and Cross helped him count the amount out. Now that things were going well, Ink let himself feel a little excited. This was all so new but so wonderful too. He wanted to enjoy the new experience as much as he could without bothering Nightmare.

Cross carried their bags and the rabbit monster waved to them as they left the shop. She was very nice. Killer and the others said the Multiverse was mean and cruel but that monster was nice. Maybe they were wrong?

Ink kept hold of Cross’s cape as they made their way through the busy street again. He felt better now that he had gotten the supplies he was supposed to. It was still so loud and overwhelming but he found himself looking up at the buildings and noting how pretty they were. New Home had so many things he could see, and so many things he could not. He wondered if he could maybe come back and experience more of Aftertale later.

A monster bumped into Ink and knocked him back. His hand slipped from Cross’s purple cape as he stumbled. A couple more monsters bumped into Ink and one knocked him over. A hand latched onto his arm and he flinched, but the monster merely set him back onto his feet.

“Sorry about that.” he said distractedly.

He vanished into the crowd before Ink could react. Not that he would have been able to stay in the same spot anyway. Ink found himself being pushed along by the general flow of the crowd. He tried to stop but there were a lot more people than him, most of whom were a lot bigger, and he kept getting pushed along. He could not see Cross’s purple cape.

Ink felt fear latch around his throat. Nightmare did not tell him what to do if he was separated from Cross. Except for if he was captured but Ink was not captured yet. He could not see Cross. Where did he go?

Ink felt his breathing quicken but he forced himself to keep moving until he escaped the crowd by stopping by a building. He could not see Cross. He did not see the alley they had appeared in either. This… This must be part of the test. Yes, it was part of the test to see how Ink would react if he was separated from Cross. Ink had to prove himself a bit more. He was scared but that was okay because it made him more useful to Nightmare.

Ink was not a failure. He was still useful to Nightmare. He was going to be useful as a Healer and Medic for Nightmare’s Gang. If he was no longer useful to Nightmare he would tear apart his soul to escape his miserable fate.

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Ink did not know fear could make his soul hurt. He tried to take steady breaths but it was very difficult. Every time he breathed the overwhelming smells pressed into his head and clogged his throat and crawled into his soul, making it feel like it was being torn apart. He wanted to curl up again and try to block everything out but Cross was not there with him to stop anyone that wanted some easy EXP.

Ink wanted to be here. He wanted to be out in the Multiverse so he could experience new things while he could. Now he needed to prove he was capable and useful. He had to calm down. He had to calm down. He couldn’t breathe.

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Ink’s cloak was soft. He focused on that softness as he took ragged, gasping breaths. He clung to it so tightly his fingers were starting to hurt.

“—must have heard me since you’re touching your cloak. There you go. It’s a great color, don’t you think? Not as great as blue, of course. But I’d say it’s a close second, mwehehehehe!”

Ink’s eye lights focused. There was a Sans kneeling in front of him that was not Cross in his disguise. This Sans seemed to have some type of Royal Guard uniform but it was not quite right. Ink caught sight of blue eye lights and belatedly recognized him from the images Nightmare had shown him. It was the Star Sanses member called Blue.

For a moment, Ink wondered if he had become so terrified that he had started hallucinating. He had read about how that could happen and interfere with green magic. It was in one of the books Horror gave him. Ink hoped he was hallucinating because the alternative was that the skeleton in yellow that hovered over to the side of Blue was also real.

That was Dream. That was Dream right there with Blue. Was Ink’s luck this bad or was this another part of the test? It might be. Why would Nightmare take so much time to explain who the Star Sanses were if it wasn’t. Ink calmed down a little bit with that thought.

Blue smiled at him. It was a big beaming smile like Horror had when Ink summoned his magic. “There you go! Hi there. I’m Blue and this is Dream. We noticed you were having a little trouble.”

From Ink’s sparse research, he guessed he had a “panic attack”. A “little trouble” was a bit of an understatement. He was not supposed to speak so he didn’t. He clung to his (probably delusional) hope that this was all a grand test Nightmare somehow came up with. Nightmare told Ink to run if he encountered Dream, right? Ink was having trouble remembering the details through the fear that clouded his thoughts. How could he run when he was curled up on the ground with a wall at his back and two enemies in front of him?

Dream kept hanging back but he looked concerned. Genuinely concerned. Ink did not remember what Nightmare said about him being manipulative until he spoke. “Should I use my aura?”

Ink froze up. What would Dream do if he used his aura to manipulate Ink? What would Dream do if it didn’t work?

Blue shook his head. Thank the Stars. “No. I have this, Dream.”

Blue sat next to Ink. His knees were bent and he laid his arms over them. It would take him critical seconds to get up from that position. Ink knew that because it took Killer a few seconds to get up and lunge for Dust when Dust dumped a water bottle on his head one time during training.

“You’re not from around here, right?” Blue questioned.

Ink did not speak, just like ordered. This was certainly all part of the test and it was planned by Nightmare so if he followed Nightmare’s instructions he would be okay. He cautiously shook his head.

“Did you come here with anyone?”

Was Ink allowed to answer that? Cross said to call him Guard so Ink supposed so. He hesitantly nodded.

Understanding flashed across Blue’s features. “Did you get separated from them?”

Ink nodded again.

Blue grinned. His smile was very vibrant. Ink reminded himself how quickly that smile would vanish if Blue figured out what Ink was. “Not to worry. The Magnificent Sans— er, that’s me— will help you find them.”

Ink realized they truly did not know he was one of Nightmare’s recruits and some of his terror drained away. That was a relief. Unless they were tricking him to try to find Cross. Ink was not prepared for this at all but if Nightmare thought he was, he had to do his best. (Nightmare absolutely planned this. He definitely did. He did plan this. This was planned.)

Blue was being nice and Dream was not using his manipulative aura but that was because they did not know who Ink worked for. Ink could not be drawn in by their kindness. It was not genuine. Nightmare and the others had repeatedly warned him that the Multiverse was cruel and that if people acted nice, it was either an act or they wanted something from him.

It was so hard not to be fooled into a false sense of security. Ink was stupid and naive like Killer said but to him, Dream looked more sad and tired than threatening. Then again, Ink was too trusting and a dumb, pathetic pacifist so he wasn’t able to properly judge others’ intentions.

Ink stood up and followed Blue as he chatted about bringing Ink to the Queen who could hopefully help him find his missing traveling companion. It was only when they started to approach the castle that he remembered another lesson that Horror had drilled into him. He should not go anywhere with strangers. Dream and Blue were not strangers but they were enemies according to Nightmare. What was Ink thinking?

Ink halted in place. Dream and Blue noticed he had stopped and looked back at him. What should he do? Nightmare planned this (he did he did it was all planned) so he must think Ink was prepared but he did not know what to do. He should not go anywhere with the Star Sanses. What if they did know who he worked for and it was all a trick?

The constant noise and people were not helping either. It was so hard to focus with all the sounds, smells, and movement. Ink could not panic and freeze up again. He had to prove himself to Nightmare. He would prove he was useful and could do this.

Ink sensed sharp, blade-like magic. Cross appeared out of the crowd. He dropped the bags he held the moment he saw Ink and the Star Sanses. His eye lights were gone, leaving his sockets black as he stormed up to Ink and yanked him behind him. Ink immediately relaxed and held onto Cross’s cape so he would not lose him again. He must have passed the test if Nightmare let Cross come back.

Cross glared at the Star Sanses and bared his teeth. “Get away from my brother.”

Cross’s voice was lower than usual, more like a growl. How strange. Both Blue and Dream reacted. Not to the threat, but to the word “brother”. Dream winced and stepped back while the wariness completely evaporated from Blue’s face. Ink peeked around Cross to watch them. Brothers must be something really special if it caused them to back off. He was distracted from his musing as Cross wrapped an arm over his shoulders and kept him close to his side like Horror sometimes did. His purple cape fell over Ink’s shoulder and blocked just a little bit of the world. It felt warm.

Dream raised his hands a little and Ink flinched but there was no attack. “Our apologies. We do not mean him any harm. We found him sitting in front of a store. My name—”

“I know who you are.” Cross said coldly. “We don’t need your “help”, Guardian.”

What appeared to be hurt flashed across Dream’s tired face. Ink had to remind himself that it was a trick like Nightmare had warned him about. But Dream looked so sad…

Cross ignored Dream and turned to Ink, putting his hands on his shoulders. It went against all of the warnings Nightmare had given Ink but Ink supposed Cross had more experience and knew better. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

Cross’s voice was still a low growl but it was not as harsh as before. It was weird that Cross said that when Dream and Blue could still hear him. Ink saw Dream flinch and Blue’s smile dim a little. He felt like he was missing something. He was always missing something, wasn’t he? He was trying so hard to learn things and understand but there was so much.

Ink was not supposed to talk so he leaned his forehead against the delta rune on Cross’s silver chest plate. Cross even patted the back of Ink’s purple hood like Horror would pat his skull. The contact was so unlike Cross but felt nice all the same.

Cross glared over Ink’s head at the Star Sanses. “Leave us alone.”

He picked up the fallen bags, grabbed Ink’s hand, and pulled him away from the Star Sanses and into the crowd. It felt weird just to leave so Ink waved at them. Blue visibly startled but waved back. Dream’s empty stare was the last Ink saw of him before the crowd hid the two Star Sanses from sight.

The walk back to the alley was silent. Cross held onto Ink’s hand the whole time, and Ink used his other hand to hold onto Cross’s purple cape just in case. They entered the alley and escaped from the chaos of Aftertale’s New Home.

The moment they were there, a shudder passed through Cross. A sheen of sweat had appeared on his forehead and his hand trembled. He leaned against the wall and took deep breaths. “Holy shit I can’t believe that worked.”

Just like that, Ink couldn’t deny the truth anymore. “That wasn’t planned, was it?”

Cross looked confused for a moment before he seemed to realize. He shook his head.

Ink’s eye sockets stung. “Did I mess it up?”

“What? No.” Cross gestured at the bags he still carried. “We got what we came for and then some. You did amazingly. Better than amazingly. None of us could have predicted that they’d be here.” He dragged a shaking hand down his face. “Thank the Stars they did not try to CHECK us.”

Cross swore softly again, then kept swearing. Ink did not understand why he kept using swear words but remembered what Nightmare said about the Fresh Parasite. Considering their luck so far, it would just make their day if Fresh decided to make an appearance too.

After a couple minutes of nothing, Cross grabbed his portal-making knife and cut the air. Just before he was going to step through, Ink felt something. Like he was being watched. He looked around apprehensively but no one seemed to be watching him specifically.

Cross was instantly on guard again. “What is it?”

“I…” Ink located the weird feeling and looked up. “I feel like we’re being watched but I don’t see anyone.”

Ink squinted suspiciously through one of the big windows he could see in the distance. He thought he saw a weird golden diamond thing floating in the air inside. For a second, and only a second, Ink saw a shadow of a black box and a ghostly image of a skeleton with a red scarf within it. His appearance was faded, as though he was a mere mirage (or an afterimage?), but there was enough detail for Ink to see the skeleton was shaped like a Sans. The gold diamond, the box, and the Sans vanished when Ink blinked.

Ink forced his gaze not to linger on the spot. “Never mind. Sorry.”

“Hey. Back there you… uh.” Cross hesitated and glared past Ink at the portal. “…Forget it.”

Ink nodded mutely.

They returned through the portal. For some reason, Cross told Ink that he did not need to give the report to Nightmare so he could go change. Ink did not question the order and returned to his room. He put the soft purple cloak and outfit in his closet and took out his usual brown clothes. He went to the mirror and scrubbed the white paint off of his face, sighing in relief when the black ink splotch appeared on his cheek.

Another black splotch drew his attention to his ribcage. New black marks made up of binary had appeared on his bones. Ink focused on one of the curling lines. He could read it. He knew what it said. Why did the Aftertale variant’s code appear on his bones?

Ink checked the other marks. There were a lot more than he remembered. The faded one remained blurred but the other ones were legible to him. The first was the code of the AU he was currently in. The second was the code of the Underfell he had glimpsed through Nightmare’s portal. Next to them were the other AUs he knew about or had been to. Horrortale, Dusttale, Something New (Killertale), Farmtale, Outertale, Littletale, Underfresh, Underswap, the Omega Timeline, Dreamtale….

[̸͕̅Ã̶̖Ṭ̴̌T̵͙͋E̴̚͜Ṃ̷̌P̵̬̅T̸̜̽Ī̸̳N̷̛̮Ģ̶̔ ̷̠̓P̴̫̉Â̵̺T̵͙̈́Ć̶͎H̷̀͜]̷̧́

R̶̒ͅO̵͌ͅL̵͇͛E̵͚̊:̷̹̃

̷̯́ P̴̧͛

 ̷͠R̶̛̗

Ö̶̫́

T̶͙͛

E̷̲̚

C̵̩͗

T̷͍͝

O̵̼͛

R̸͔̋

.

C̵̦̓

̵̣͝R̵̖̾

̸͔̇E̸̖͋

̵̥̔A̶̫̚

̵̯̀Ţ̴̉

̶̮̀Õ̴̻

̵̤͊R̴͇͒

Ink’s soul hurt. His soul hurt so badly like something had found its way into the cracks and was trying to expand, tearing his soul apart. Ink frantically summoned his soul and saw white light filling the cracks his fingers had left in it. It was white and empty and cold like the empty whiteness of back there. He screamed for help but no noise escaped him, leaving him sobbing in unvoiced pain as nobody c a ̴͙̃

[̵̦̀A̵͚̽C̵̭͛C̶̳͑Ḙ̸̚S̷͚̀S̶̺̓ ̷̫̂G̴̜̎R̵̰̈́A̷̙͗N̴̢̓T̷͈̂E̶̼͋D̷̆͜.̶͎͗ ̶̪̍W̷̤͂E̵̗̊Ḻ̴͠C̶̗͗Ő̷͎M̵̡̈́E̷̚͜ ̶̰̕Í̵̼Ḏ̷̓ ̵̫͌1̶̞̿6̸̦̀.̴̧̉1̶̬̌8̷͙̿.̴̻̄1̴̜̂5̵͂͜.̶̤̇2̸̨̚0̷̫̓.̷͙͒5̶̘͋.̶̾ͅ3̶͕̈.̸̮͝2̷͍̉0̸̺̊.̸̈́͜1̶̺̾5̷͍̀.̷̬́1̷̲̕8̷̝̔ ̴͇̐9̶͎̏.̶̦̈1̶̗̊4̵͚́.̶͕̐1̶͎̅1̷͕͘ ̵͈́3̷̦̎.̵̝̈́1̴̞̾5̴͔̌.̴̮̾1̸̭̄3̸̜͝.̷͍̃2̷̥̏5̷̳̌.̴̫̍5̷̛̠.̶̥͗2̸̯͋0̴͙͋ ̶͎̌]

It’s okay.

I have you.

You’re safe.

[O̸̚͜V̷̻̕Ę̷̑R̸̡̈́R̶̖͠Ì̴̫D̴̮̈́E̶̳͝ ̸̖͠C̷͎͑O̸̩̐N̶̰̽F̶͉͒I̸̪̊R̸͙͑M̶̳̾Ȇ̸͕D̸̟̚.̵̱̃]̵̡̌

Role: P̷̰̀r̵̦̿o̴̡͐t̴̮̓e̴̝̚c̵͍̄t̶̮̂o̸̡̽r̷̢̀ C̸͕̎r̸͔͑ȩ̸̐a̷̧͊t̶͉́ǒ̷̧r̴̥͗, Medic/Healer

[̸̫̂M̷̝̽U̵̟͋L̴͇̔T̵̝̎I̸̲͋V̶͎̉E̸̟͋R̵͈̍S̴̲̚Ë̶̩ P̸͓̿A̷̰͘T̶̯͒C̵̝̽H̵̤̍ ̴̡͆F̸̳͛Â̵̯İ̶̩L̷̳̒E̸͍̓D̶͈̄.̷̘̏ ̶̻͋I̶͙͝N̸̹͝S̶̖̾T̶̩̽Å̷̻L̷̝̎Ĺ̸͈ ̸̞̇I̸̥̊Ṋ̸̎C̷͚̆O̸̠̐M̷̫͐P̸̧͝L̸͓͝E̸͇͗T̴̙̕E̵̖͒.̵̰͑]̴̮͑

Ink blacked out.

When he regained consciousness the pain had stopped. Ink blinked and checked his soul but the white light that had been tearing it apart was gone. He was not sure it had ever been there. Ink stared at his soul in disbelief. It remained in one piece, cracked and fragile as it glowed dimly. Had… had he imagined it? Or dreamed it? Maybe he dreamed it because Nightmare had not come running in response to Ink’s distress…

Ink’s gaze darted back to the marks on his bones. The curling tattoos of binary codes. These were codes for the AUs. He knew that was what they were. He did not understand how he knew they were or why he could read the binary now but he did and could. Ink brushed a shaking hand over the binary code and tried to control his breathing. He looked in the mirror and his reflection stared back, eye lights shrunken and terrified.

“What’s happening to me?”

His reflection had no answer.

The Anomaly was gone.

By the time the sensors caught it, it vanished once more.

Before it could be identified. Before it could be tracked. Before it could be contained studied eliminated researched.

Still, there was progress.

Before, the presence of the Anomaly was only a theory. Now there was confirmation. It existed. It was out there.

It seemed something new had been discovered.

Something special.

This experiment was very

very

interesting.

…

“What do you two think?”

Chapter Text

Today was not the greatest day for Blue. If he was honest with himself, it had not been the greatest week either. Or month. Or… while. It was better than a lot of other days so Blue chose to be optimistic. The short trip to that alternate Aftertale was certainly interesting. Queen Toriel graciously gave him and Dream the supplies they asked for along with updates on how some of the displaced refugees were doing.

Finding a small Sans in the middle of a panic attack on the edge of the street was not anything new. That was rather depressing to think about but at least Blue had been able to help this one a bit. Until his older brother stormed in but even that wasn’t so unusual these days. Blue could never be mad at a scared, protective older brother even if it was obvious that older brother blamed the Star Sanses for the loss of their home.

Blue hoped they’d be okay. He wished he had at least gotten their names. Maybe he could have had Core Frisk check in on them. Or gotten a phone number if they had one. But the older brother was not interested in their help and the younger brother had been unable to speak or make noise so that was a feeble dream.

In this Multiverse it was a coin flip whether the smaller Sans was created without a voice or his silence was due to trauma. Seeing how silent he had been even while having a panic attack (he had not even made breathing sounds), Blue had a feeling it was the latter. He wished he could do more to help. He always wished that. And he kept on wishing. It was better than giving up.

Dream had still been upset when they parted ways. Protective brothers always brought out his internal conflict and guilt. Protective brothers that were also angry at the Star Sanses for not saving their home made it even worse. Blue would have to ask Core Frisk to send him to Dream’s location later. After he picked up his own brother, Stretch.

They were in the Omega Timeline so often that they were mostly referred to by their nicknames now. Blue did not mind. There were so many Sanses and Papyri that it felt uncomfortable to call themselves that when so many others had few opportunities to. So many others worked and lived here because they had no home to go back to outside of this world. Blue and Stretch were one of the few exceptions.

Blue headed to the Science Lab Skyscraper to retrieve his brother. It used to be a simple Lab but as more and more Scientists moved into the Omega Timeline, the building had to grow into one of the largest in the Omega Timeline. Stretch worked there now. Blue would be happy that his brother had returned to his job as a Scientist if everything else wasn’t… everything else.

The entrance hall of the Skyscraper Lab was bustling with activity. There were so many Gasters, Sanses, Alphi, and Papyri in the building. Undynes, Frisks, and Mettatons were aplenty too, but not as many as the first group. There was even some Asgores, Asriels, and a single Chara.

All of them Scientists. All of them forced from their homes by Nightmare or Error.

A Gaster with vibrant blue and orange eye lights spotted Blue and waved wildly. “Greetings, my not-son!”

Blue chuckled despite himself. “Greetings, my not-father!”

Underswap Gaster, who preferred to be called “Swapster, or Swap for short” made a beeline for Blue with a beaming smile on his face. The Underfell Gaster that he pulled with him was much less enthusiastic as he was physically dragged over. Blue had to chuckle at Swapster’s energy, even if he felt a familiar pang of melancholy at the sight of him. He knew Swapster felt the same.

The first time they met… well. There had been a misunderstanding. Blue, Stretch, and Swapster had run into each other in this very building soon after Nightmare’s Gang started causing Multiverse-threatening havoc (in comparison to the “not Multiverse destroying” threat they were before). For a moment, all three of them thought they might actually be from the same world… until Core Frisk CHECKed their code and confirmed they weren’t.

Underswap Gaster had lost his sons when Error destroyed his Underswap. Underswap Sans and Papyrus’s father remained lost in the Void, the Abyss, or possibly even the Anti-Void. Yet the monster in front of them was so similar it hurt. It made things awkward for a bit until Swapster started calling them his “not-sons”. The joke caught on and they called him “not-father” in return. Some might think it was a little dark but it made things easier.

Unlike the Underswap Gaster (that wasn’t Blue’s Gaster), Underfell Gaster, who curtly told others to refer to him as Doctor Fell Gaster, was much colder. (And if anyone tried to call him “Faster, Fester, or worst of all Feaster” he would stab them in the eye). Blue was honestly surprised to see him out of the office. He was the closest thing the Omega Timeline had to an official Royal Scientist, outranking everyone else in the division and was constantly busy.

“Hello, Doctor Fell.” Blue greeted him much more formally. “I’m surprised to see you down here.”

“I was busy.” Fell Gaster said curtly. “Until someone barged in complaining that the coffee machine was broken.”

“It is broken.” Swapster said dramatically. “Only your expertise can fix it… Which you conveniently have to do outside of your office that you might have been in for over a month even when Fell Alphys and that whatstheirface went on break but who was counting certainly not me.”

Blue deciphered the long run-on sentence and stifled a laugh. His smile faded when he noticed the scientist lurking in Fell Gaster’s shadow. “Um. Hi, Fell Alphys. How are you…?”

She said nothing back and merely brushed past Blue without acknowledging him. Blue did not take it personally. He had not taken it personally for a long time now. A majority of the few monsters that were left from Red’s Underfell did not have high opinions of Dream and Blue. Why would they when the Star Sanses had failed their world?

“Don’t mind her.” Fell Gaster said briskly. “The anniversary is coming up.”

Blue suppressed a wince. “Ah.”

Fell Gaster eyed him coldly but not as coldly as his world’s Alphys. “If you’re looking for your brother, he’s probably asleep in the break room. Again.”

Swapster elbowed him in the ribs. “Don’t be like that, Felly.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t let my orange not-son trick you, my blue not-son.” Swapster continued. His cheery smile faded into a more serious look. “He was up late going through reports. Let him rest.”

That was the thing about Blue’s brother, he had learned recently. Stretch was either a lazybones or he worked himself way too hard. There was no in between, and he always pretended that he was simply being lazy. Blue really wished Stretch would just be honest with him. He was not a naive Royal Guard in training anymore. He was a member of Star Sanses. He knew exactly how terrible things were in the Multiverse.

“I’ll make sure he takes care of himself, not-father.” Blue declared. “Unfortunately I do have to wake him since I’m certain someone else will want the couch in the break room.”

“You know the way.” Fell Gaster said dismissively as he perused a report on the screen of his tablet.

Swapster plucked the device from his hands. “Coffee break first. And by that I mean that the coffee maker is definitely broken and only you can fix it. Outside of your office.”

He grabbed Fell Gaster by the back of his black lab coat and dragged him away.

Blue stifled a smile and headed deeper into the Skyscraper Lab. Two Papyri, an Alphys, and a Frisk passed him by. He recognized each of them and greeted them accordingly, receiving greetings and small smiles in return. Most of the Scientists recognized Blue, either because he saved them or through his brother.

A new face stood out among the throng of passing Scientists. Blue was unsurprised to see yet another Gaster. The first thing Blue noticed were the gigantic wings on his back. The Gaster did not look at Blue and simply passed him by before vanishing around the corner. Blue had seen the look on his face though. His smile dimmed a little. That Gaster was very new to the Omega Timeline. Blue did not need to speak to him to know if his AU had any other survivors.

Blue did not make it into the break room before he ran into another familiar face, quite literally.

“Ow!”

“Agh!”

Blue and Undertale Alphys ran right into each other in the doorway and fell in a heap. A couple papers fluttered down around them. Stretch raised his skull off of the cushions of the couch and opened a bleary eye socket before lowering his head again and rolling over.

“Five more minutes.”

“No, we are going now.” Blue declared. He grabbed some of the papers off of the floor and helped Alphys to her feet. “Are you alright, Alphys?”

“O-Oh. I’m fine.” she chuckled nervously. “Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Unlike Fell Alphys, Undertale’s Alphys was perfectly fine with seeing Blue, even if she was a little embarrassed by the collision. It was still so strange to Blue to see that his “normal” was a “swap” for a lot of the Multiverse. His Alphys was no Scientist and she would never stammer. That was his Undyne’s thing.

Blue's Undyne was back in her own lab working on whatever project she had come up with and was pretty content to remain there for now. Everyone in Underswap knew about the Multiverse. It was impossible not to know for them at this point. Sometimes Blue wished they would do more to help here, though. He’d thought that at least his Alphys would want to help defend the Multiverse at large but…

Blue stopped that train of thought because hey, at least Undertale’s very own Alphys was assisting. That was just as amazing. “Worry not, Alphys. I wasn’t watching where I was going either. I’m just here to pick up my lazybones of a brother.”

A strange look crossed Alphys’s face before she laughed. Blue knew the delay was because of the Multiverse weirdness. Her Sans was the lazybones in these kinds of situations.

Blue kept talking before it could get awkward. “What are you working on?”

“Oh, the usual reports.” Alphys shuffled the papers and checked them over to make sure they were all in order. "Stretch has been a big help. And, um, that new Gaster that moved in recently. Relatively recently. Er, Aster, I mean. He prefers Aster. He’s another Gaster from… Zephyrtale, I t-think? He has these big wings. He just left so maybe you ran into him. He’s nice. But… sad.”

A lot of residents could be described as “sad” considering what happened to them. Blue ignored that little tidbit and prodded his brother in the side of his skull. “You didn’t tell me that you got a new lab partner, Papyrus!”

“Didn’t think it was important.” Stretch drawled with a yawn. “Can we skip the energy and go home? I’m a bit tired.”

He really was. Blue was not blind. He could see the shadows under Stretch’s eye sockets. He did not know skeletons could get shadows there. “Of course, brother. I shall carry you out then.”

Blue lifted up Stretch with ease. He heard Alphys give a startled squeak and chuckled to himself. It must be funny to see someone that was so much shorter than his brother carry him. But this was nothing.

Stretch grumbled but let his head lean against Blue’s shoulder. “Thanks for the lift, bro.”

The lack of puns or riddles was yet another sign that Stretch was exhausted. Blue did not allow his grin to falter as he carried his brother outside. “Don’t worry, Paps. We’ll be back home before you know it.”

(Blue did not let himself wonder how much longer they would have a home to return to.)

After the (mis)adventure in Aftertale, life went on in Nightmare’s Castle. Other than checking in to make sure that Ink truly had not been harmed by Blue or Dream, Nightmare did not mention the encounter again. Not when Ink was around, anyway. He probably discussed it more when Ink wasn’t present. It was only fair because Ink did not mention the binary codes to anyone. He also pretended the strangeness with his soul was a hallucination that formed because of stress even though he suspected it wasn’t.

His soul and magic were still okay. Ink had briefly feared that using it might cause the hallucination (that was not a hallucination) of white light to happen again but private testing showed nothing of the sort. That was a good thing because Nightmare really wanted Ink to focus on his black magic. So much so that Ink could see his boss was rapidly losing patience.

It did not help that Ink seemed to be doing even worse with his magic than before. His shields of liquid blackness worked fine but the chains refused to form. The chains were strong enough to stop a Stage Three Killer in his tracks. What if they were strong enough to hurt someone? It was a question that haunted Ink. Every time Ink imagined using the chains, he’d hesitate as images of everyone he knew flashed through his head. The black magic reacted to his silent conflict and would immediately fall apart.

Even Ink knew better than to mention that the images that made him falter included the two Star Sanses. The unexpected encounter with Dream and Blue had definitely shocked the Boss. Ink might even say it scared Nightmare. He would only say that privately in his head where Nightmare hopefully could not sense it.

Killer was back and was also back to being Killer. He did not threaten Ink with a knife anymore but he still glared at him whenever he reminded Killer that he existed. Ink might be too hopeful but it seemed like his glares weren’t as vicious as they had been before the knife incident. Especially since Killer had been even harsher on him during training, leaving Ink with more cuts and nicks to heal than before. At least it gave him more opportunities to practice his green magic.

Dust was still Dust and rather indifferent, though he actually looked at Ink every once in a while. Not glaring, but simply staring. Ink was not sure what to do so he often stared back. Once he thought he saw Dust actually smile when he did, like he thought Ink’s actions were amusing. Again, Ink might have imagined it. What did Killer call it? “Wishful thinking?”

Horror was still the friendliest of the Gang but Cross… kind of was being nice too? Maybe? Ink only had Horror to really compare Cross to but something had definitely changed after Ink and Cross’s trip to the Aftertale variant. While Killer glared, Dust stared, and Horror was kind and patted Ink’s skull, Cross… lingered.

Cross helped Ink try to learn self-defense like usual but he hung around at other times now too. He was always out of sight but Ink had become attuned to his presence along with those of the other Gang members and always knew when he was there. Cross lingered when Ink was cooking with Horror, or doing chores, or reading in the Library, but he never revealed himself.

Even Ink and his abysmal lack of experiences understood that behavior was strange. Ink did not think Cross wanted to hurt him like Killer still might but his constant lurking still made Ink uneasy. If Cross did not come out and say what he wanted, it was probably not something good.

Ink was not sure if he should do something about it. He was not sure if he could do something about it. He had been trained, given a purpose, and trusted enough to go to another world but Ink was still the weakest and least important of Nightmare’s Gang. He could not tell Cross to stop or ask Nightmare to order Cross to stop. All Ink could do was go about his day like he did not notice anything and try not to worry too much.

The biggest change came when Horror decided to send Ink to deliver food to Nightmare in his office one day. Nightmare never ate with the rest of them. Ink did not understand why but he never questioned it. When Horror handed him a plate and told him to give it to Nightmare, Ink did not question that either but Nightmare certainly did when Ink entered his office.

The moment Ink stepped through the office door, something felt different. Heavier. Colder. He did not have time to think on it as Nightmare shoved what he had been holding into a desk drawer when Ink came in. Ink caught a glimpse of what looked like metal before it vanished from his sight.

“What are you doing here?” Nightmare asked curtly.

Ink raised the tray of food as a silent explanation. It was not spaghetti this time but a burger, fries, pickle, and a long yellow fruit he did not remember seeing before. He’d have to ask Horror what it was called later.

Nightmare’s tentacles betrayed his slight annoyance at Ink’s appearance but not much worse than that from what Ink could guess. How those tentacles moved were much more revealing then his stoic and unwavering expressions. Ink wondered if Nightmare knew.

Ink wanted to pat or hold onto one of the tentacles because when Horror did that to him it calmed him down but he knew Nightmare became colder whenever he tried. So Ink didn’t try. He wanted to but he didn’t. Nightmare was already irritable… Actually, that might be a charitable reading of his mood. He seemed darker than usual. What was the metaphor he read in a book? Something about auras of storm clouds? No, that wasn’t it. He was probably mixing two metaphors together.

Nightmare’s singular eye light flicked from the food to Ink. “Have you eaten?”

“No, Boss.”

“You can eat after. Sit.”

Ink sat.

Nightmare did not touch the food. Ink had the feeling he would after he left. "Give me your account of the encounter with Dream again."

Ink obeyed and gave as many relevant details as he could remember. He had learned that some of the details were not important to the Boss so he did not waste his time. He also did not mention the codes that appeared and the incident with his soul after the trip. Unfortunately that meant he didn't have much new information to give to his boss. The flicks of Nightmare's tentacles became more agitated. Ink didn't understand why he asked about the encounter with Dream again.

“You are certain that his aura did not affect you?”

“I didn't feel anything, Boss.” Ink confirmed.

“And he did not connect you to me." Nightmare's eye light shivered and narrowed into a snake-like slit. “Has Cross introduced you to teleportation and shortcuts?”

The change in subject startled Ink but he answered quickly. “No, Boss. Cross does not think I’m ready. He’s worried I will “end up stuck in a wall or the Void or something”.”

Nightmare appeared to be less irritated by the lack of progress this time. Or was he? His tentacles were unnaturally still. “I see. Some Sanses are not made with innate teleportation abilities and must receive them through experimentation.”

It took Ink a moment to understand that he was not talking about extra training. He'd gotten through enough books to know what scientific experiments were. (Plus Horror had warned him that if he encountered a Gaster or Alphys he should run just to be on the safe side).

“It would be beneficial to have a healer that is capable of going between worlds on their own.” Nightmare continued.

Ink had not considered that but then again, there were a lot of things he did not think of. In hindsight, he needed to be able to get to the others if they were hurt. "I want to learn how to open portals."

Nightmare rubbed the area in the center of his forehead. “Are you stupid? Portals are completely different from shortcuts and teleportation.”

Ink knew that. Nightmare would not care so he kept his silence.

“A lack of teleportation is not a deal breaker.” Nightmare continued. “And experimentation is a drastic measure I'd rather not use. How many times do I have to tell you that you're no use to me dead?” His tentacles stopped moving. “Speaking of which… Have you been able to summon your chains again?”

“No, Boss…” Ink answered with reluctance. They always fell apart when he tried.

“What will you do if Killer attacks you again?”

Ink hesitated. “My shields have been getting stronger.”

“What if he breaks through the shield?”

Ink would avoid Killer as best he could. He knew that was not a good enough answer so he did not answer at all.

Nightmare’s disappointment hung in the air. “I see. I want to make something clear to you before we have any more incidents. I’ve seen you avoiding Killer.”

Ink looked down at the top of the desk. “I—”

“Look at me.” Nightmare ordered harshly.

Ink looked up.

One of Nightmare's tentacles slid across Ink's shoulder. Ink's hopeful delight became unease when the tentacle curled around his neck. Ink was not afraid. Nightmare's tentacles swayed calmly behind him. He was not angry. Ink did not understand what Nightmare was doing but since he was not angry, Ink cautiously clung to the tentacle like he often did. Ink recognized the brief stillness of surprise that was Nightmare's response. His cyan eye light vanished behind black.

"You do realize that I can easily kill you?"

Ink did know that. He had read the new books on monster and human anatomy. “You're not going to, though.”

“I will not.” Nightmare agreed. “Intentionally. And the others have even less control than I.”

Nightmare’s tentacle tightened just the smallest bit. Not tightly enough to hurt but enough that Ink instinctively tugged at the appendage to try to get it away from his neck.

“A shield is useless if you will not raise it. Chains are useless if they do not restrain. I told you not to let the others walk all over you yet you have failed to stop them.” Nightmare’s face was cold and unforgiving. “My recruits are dangerous. Even when they are injured, they will threaten you. They will use physical force against you. They will fight you. They will harm you. In medical emergencies, you outrank them and you will defend yourself from them. I don't care if you have to use your magic to tie them down; You will heal them without letting yourself come to harm or you’re useless to me. Understand?”

Ink tried to nod but it was difficult with the tentacle around his neck so he spoke. “Yes.”

Nightmare did not look pleased. “Now get out.”

Nightmare released him. Ink stumbled when he hit the floor but remained on his feet. He got out like he was ordered. He knew that Nightmare sensed his discomfort was becoming that horrible anxiety again. He thought he had been doing alright but it seemed Nightmare was not content with his progress. What if he ran out of patience and decided Ink wasn’t worth it anymore?

Nightmare had said green magic was useful and Ink thought it was useful too but the continued emphasis on other magic made Ink question his place all over again. He tried to tell himself that he was doing well and had gone beyond what was expected of him when he ran into the Star Sanses but his thoughts still returned to attack magic and his unwillingness to use it to harm an opponent.

Nightmare was right. If Ink did not defend himself from the Gang during training he’d be worse than useless if they attacked him out of malice or delirium while they were injured. Ink pressed a hand to his neck and shut his eye sockets so they would hopefully stop stinging. He really hoped he did not run into Killer or Cross right now. Killer would mock him and Cross had been acting strangely ever since they ran into Dream. Ink did not want to cry in front of them. They already thought he was pathetic and stupid.

Ink did not run into Killer or Cross. He ran straight into Dust. Ink recoiled and dodged on instinct but Dust did not lash out at him. Red-ringed eye lights peered down at Ink from beneath the shadow of his hood and he waved lazily.

“Hey. You missed dinner. Horror noticed.”

Ink took a breath. Then another. And another. He stared intently at his feet. He could feel Dust’s eye lights on him, watching him and judging him and thinking he was a useless waste of magic.

“Please teach me the vanish and appear Horror used.” Ink blurted. He couldn't remember the words for the magic. He knew the words but they would not become the words in his head so he could say them. “The vanish and appear. The— The…”

Dust was smirking. It was just a small, amused quirk of his mouth but it was suddenly too much.

“I’m not stupid!” Ink yelled, but even his scream was quieter than most others’ speaking volume. “I can figure these things out. I just have trouble sometimes. I don’t know these things but I’m trying!”

There was a heavy pause. Ink glared up at Dust and tried not to blink in case the stinging in his sockets became tears when he did.

Dust’s brow crinkled and his eye lights shifted to white. “You want shortcut lessons. Here.”

He grabbed Ink’s hand and suddenly they were in a different part of the castle. It was dark but thin beams of light seeped through a couple cracks high up the stone walls around them. It was just enough for Ink to see the room was circular and had yet to be cleaned. Cobwebs and dust (the normal kind) covered the cloth-covered furniture around them and the grimy brass chandelier up above barely glinted in the small amount of light.

"We're up in the southeast tower." Dust said quietly. “You, uh. You like it up here, right?”

“I’m usually on the outside.” Ink mentioned.

“Yeah.” Dust sounded happier. “You like climbing. Thanks for remembering, Paps.”

Dust sat down, not caring about the normal dust that covered his shorts and hoodie. Ink hesitantly sat near him and together they leaned against the stone wall. It was very quiet up here. But not so quiet that it was practically noiseless like there. Ink could hear a soft wind outside.

“You’re not stupid.” Dust said. His voice was almost as quiet as Ink’s regular volume but Ink heard him clearly. Dust noticed his expression and repeated what he said. “You’re not stupid for having trouble with lessons and refusing to hurt people.”

Ink did not expect this. From Horror, maybe. From Cross, a very slim maybe and that was only if he showed himself instead of lurking. From Dust? Not at all. Dust was indifferent to him and usually only interacted with him during training. Ink did not understand the abrupt change.

Dust shifted and settled against the wall in a more comfortable position, causing bits of dust to float in the air. “My brother was a bit like you. Kind. Unwilling to harm. Forgiving. Some people called him stupid, too. Naïve. They treated him like crap because they thought his kindness was a weakness. But he never lost that conviction. Never. Not even when he…”

Dust went silent. Ink did not have the words to break it so he cautiously gripped Dust’s hand. Dust was much less annoyed by the touch than Nightmare and cracked a grin.

“Heh. I killed my own brother, you know. I killed him for the EXP and LV so I could stop the human. I don’t want you to die like him.”

Nightmare killed my brother, Ink thought.

Ink’s brother had been useless to Nightmare. Ink closed his eye sockets and for the first time he did not think about the white emptiness when he thought of there. He saw black tentacles tear a tall figure to shreds. Ink pulled his knees to his chest and hid his face in his arms.

“Ink?” Dust sounded hesitant. “What happened today?”

Ink remained silent.

Dust growled deep in his throat. “Ink, I’m serious.” His voice lowered even further. “Did he threaten you?”

“Killer threatens me all the time.” Ink said flatly.

Dust’s voice grew sharp. “Answer the question.”

“Nightmare was upset that I wasn’t making much progress and that I let the other recruits walk all over me. He grabbed me around the neck with one of his tentacles.” Ink came to another realization and felt even worse. “He wanted me to defend myself from him in there but I failed again. That was the lesson, right?”

“That wasn’t a lesson.” Dust said lowly. “He shouldn’t have done that to you.”

Ink did not understand what the problem was. Dust and Killer grabbed him and threatened him all the time, though the former only did it during training. “It’s fine. I didn’t even have to heal myself.”

“…Okay. Actually, no. Not okay. How do I explain, Paps?” Dust whispered the last bit under his breath. He made a movement with his hand like he wanted to reach out but didn’t. “Whatever, I’m already a hypocrite. Nightmare shouldn’t have done that to you.”

“I haven’t learned my lesson.” Ink reminded him in a flat tone of voice.

“That’s not a lesson.” Dust snapped back at him. When Ink froze up, he winced. “Look… When Killer and I fight, we’re pretty evenly matched and neither of us want to hurt each other. We both take it, and we both dish it out. But you’re not like us. You don’t hurt. You’re like Paps. That doesn’t mean you can let Nightmare threaten you.” Dust made another annoyed noise and gestured angrily. “Not that it’s your fault because it isn’t. Gahhhh, why didn’t I grab Horror? Gimme a sec.”

Ink thought he was going to get Horror but he didn’t. Dust sat next to him, eye sockets squeezed shut and teeth clenched. When he opened them again, they were white.

“You’re indebted to Nightmare and you know he can ditch you if he chooses. That doesn’t mean he can threaten you or make you feel like crap. You can’t accept it if he does. He doesn’t want us walking all over you, yeah? That includes him. He shouldn’t do that to you.”

Ink had never heard Dust speak so much. He clung to every word as he struggled not to let the warmth in his soul blossom outward.

“The Nightmare Gang are monsters in the more “evil” sense—” Dust started.

“You’re not evil.” Ink interrupted quietly.

Dust looked amused for the briefest moment. “I’m not sure you know what “evil” means but sure. Well… most people can’t really define evil but… Never mind. Back to the point. We’re violent murderers. You aren’t like us but you’re still one of us. And we protect our own. If something happens again, tell me or Horror. If Nightmare orders you not to tell anyone, you still tell us. Boss always had a temper but he doesn’t hurt us. I don’t want him to start with you.”

“It was more of an implied threat…” Ink’s protests trailed off to confused silence when Dust’s eye lights flashed to a red-ringed glow.

“Doesn’t matter. Killer can spit all the threats he wants but he’s still on more even ground with you than the Boss. The Boss is the boss. He knows your life is in his hands. He knows the power he has over you. He can’t use it on you like that. If you think you can’t protest, let me. Or Horror.” Dust made a face. “Horror’s gonna flip.”

Ink guessed that was not literal since he doubted Horror would physically flip. He struggled to understand why Dust suddenly cared when it was Nightmare that intimidated Ink. Shouldn’t it be the opposite since Nightmare was the Boss so Dust should let Nightmare do what he wanted? Except Dust said that as their Boss, Nightmare should not do that…

“I can try to tell you.” Ink said doubtfully.

“Good. I really hope it doesn’t happen again.” Dust’s eye lights shifted colors. “You aren’t going to mention what I say next to anyone except Horror and Cross, got it?”

Ink nodded firmly.

“Things have been weird out in the Multiverse lately. Something’s wrong. The Boss hasn’t noticed. Killer hasn’t either. I have.” Due to the shadow of his hood, only Dust’s scowl and his dark red-ringed eye lights were visible. “You know how Killer went Stage Three? It’s gotten worse than it used to be. More frequent. More violent. We (as in Horror, Cross, and I) are a bit worried the Boss might be heading in that direction. He used to order us not to kill, you know. Not anymore. It’s like he doesn’t notice things have changed.”

What he was implying clicked for Ink and he repressed a shiver. Maybe the oppressiveness in the office had not been a creation of his nerves. He had not thought about looking for any wrongness in Nightmare. Maybe he should.

“You’re one of us.” Dust repeated. “You’re going to be our Healer. You refuse to harm but that’s perfectly okay. If Nightmare isn’t content with the capabilities of your other magic, he can stick it.”

Ink felt wonderfully warm. So warm he could not repress his positive emotions no matter how much he tried. He was not sure he wanted to, even if it made Nightmare upset, because Dust was saying that Ink was wanted here. By him, by Horror, maybe even by Cross. Ink did not want to lose that. He did not want to lose them.

Every shield, block, and restraint would protect them. Ink must be able to heal them and to do that, he must be unharmed himself. To protect others, he had to protect himself from attacks. To protect himself (and them), he had to shield himself (and them) or restrain their opponents.

It was a roundabout way of thinking but it was the best Ink had. He could do that.

Magic seeped out from between his finger bones and dripped up his forearm. Ink felt it constrict and opened his eyes to see the magic had solidified into a thin chain. He cautiously let the chain lift from his bones and sway in the air.

Dust poked the chain and it wrapped around his hand. "So cool."

The whispered excitement from Dust was so startling that Ink couldn't help but grin.

Dust wiggled his hand and the chain remained latched onto him. "It's like a tiny metal snake. But made of magic and not metal. And not a snake… Welp, that “comparison” fell apart quickly."

Ink wondered if his magic could imitate a snake's form. Maybe he could experiment with his black magic now that he might actually be able to summon it into a shape and not a simple defensive wall.

A small rustling sound caught Ink’s attention. He and Dust looked up to see a spectator to their conversation in the form of two yellow eyes.

Dust vanished from Ink’s side as he launched himself upward. His speed and agility was a shock and Ink jumped to his feet. His soft cry trailed off to silence as Dust merely grabbed the intruder and brought them into the light.

It was not an intruder. It was an animal. Specifically, it was a bird that was smaller than Dust’s hand. Based on the shape of the face, the feathers, and the beak, this bird was a tiny gray owl. That was Ink’s best guess. He had only seen birds in pictures in some of the books in the library. There were not many animals around the castle.

The tiny owl did not bite Dust or make any noise. They turned their head back and forth but remained utterly silent and unresistant. The owl was so small they looked fragile but it was obvious that Dust handling them gently as he held them.

“Heya, little guy.” Dust murmured. He did not use his free hand to pet the owl but held them up to inspect them. “Huh. I think this is an elf owl. How did one get here?”

The owl still made no noise. Should Ink be worried? Owls were supposed to “hoot” according to books but this one was so tiny that it did not seem like it would make that kind of sound. “What should we do?”

“Get them out of this musty room for starters.” Dust suggested. “Then try to get it home, I guess. They’re not from this environment and I’m not too sure about owl care. I’ve read about a couple facts but owl monsters aren’t really a thing and you don’t tend to see animals like this in the Underground…”

He and Ink continued to inspect the elf owl. Their silence continued and Ink was surprised that they did not bite Dust or move to try to escape. Maybe they could sense he was helping? Was that an owl thing? He should look it up when he went to the Library again. He cautiously mentioned as much and to his surprise, Dust wanted to as well.

“You like to read, too?” Ink asked.

“Mostly science fiction but birds are pretty interesting.”

The owl turned their head and made a soft noise. It wasn’t a “hoot”. More of a soft, whistling “pëu” noise. It was not what Ink expected at all but he liked it. Dust and Ink observed the owl but they were quiet again.

“They’re so small.” Dust marveled and Ink silently agreed. Then he smirked. “Just like you.”

Ink scowled up at him. “I am not that small.”

“Name someone who’s smaller.”

Ink squinted in thought as he went through the common AU residents that he had heard of. “…Monster Kid?”

Dust smirked at him. “That’s not a point in your favor, kid.”

Ink recognized the teasing (and not mocking) tone and cracked a grin.

They quickly located Cross, who looked frantic but seemed to relax the moment he saw them. Ink noticed how Cross pretended that he had not been following Ink most of the rest of the day so he also did not bring it up. Ink still had no idea what Cross was trying to do but he was starting to suspect it was not with the intention of doing something malicious.

Cross’s bewildered expression when he saw the owl in Dust’s hand made Ink chuckle but neither of them seemed to hear him. The owl might have because they turned their head in his direction. Together, the three of them figured out what environment the owl was from. Cross opened a portal on the Surface of an AU and Dust released the owl.

The owl did not immediately take flight. They stood in the palm of Dust’s hand and seemed to look at him. Ink wondered if they were confused. He wondered how long they had been stuck in that tower until they were helped.

(Dust, Horror, and maybe Cross wanted to help Ink. They were not what Ink had been told to expect at all. They wanted Ink there. They wanted to protect Ink. It was only right that Ink returned the favor.)

The elf owl silently took off and vanished through the portal.

An explosion of anger was not unexpected in Nightmare’s Castle. With such a volatile group of Sanses, it was as common an occurrence as the moon’s phases. What was unexpected was the source of the frothing rage that Nightmare sensed. It was not Killer or even Cross, but Horror.

Nightmare looked to his door and calmly waited as Horror drew closer. The door slammed open and his furious recruit stormed through. Dust trailed in after him. He seemed outwardly indifferent but Nightmare could sense his unease-tainted surprise. Horror stopped in front of Nightmare's desk and stared at him. His sockets were completely black. That was interesting since one of the eyes was not his old one. He was truly furious.

“Hey, Boss.” Horror’s level voice revealed none of his rage. “What the hell? Ink is the first person you can touch in who the fuck knows how long and you choke him?”

Ink had mentioned their meeting? How curious. Nightmare had expected him to keep his mouth shut and not complain. Instead it seemed he had run to Horror to whine. Ink should know better.

“That was not choking. I did not exert enough pressure to cut off his breathing.” Nightmare intoned. “I did not expect Ink of all monsters to exaggerate.”

Horror’s anger grew tenfold. “Boss, I am going to give you th’ benefit of the doubt. Think about what you just said.”

He gave off so much anger that Nightmare decided to humor him for the moment. “Ink is still too passive. He needs to learn.”

“Threatening him won’t make him learn faster.” Horror growled. “You’re just crushing the little bit of confidence he scraped together.”

Dust lingered in the corner and stayed silent as his eye lights flicked between the two of them.

“I have ordered you to train Ink and the results have been abysmal.” Nightmare stated. “If he needs a harder push, I will do as I see fit.”

To his surprise, Horror did not back down at the implication that he was questioning Nightmare’s authority. Instead his anger gained a disgusting tinge that Nightmare associated with a righteous rage in the face of injustice. It was easy to forget where Horror came from sometimes. Not Horrortale specifically, but that he was once a normal Sans from a Neutral run that had a terrible aftermath.

“No.” Horror spat. “We’re stopping this now. You don’t become physically aggressive with us.”

“I cannot touch—”

Horror raised his voice over Nightmare’s. “You also don’t become physically aggressive with Ink. You’re not doin’ that to him. I won’t allow it. You don’t get t’ take your frustration out on him because you’re mad about your brother showing up.”

Dust subtly winced.

“Would you like to rephrase that?” Nightmare asked icily.

Horror was defiant. “You’ve been in here since Cross and Ink ran into Dream. I know Ink reminds you of him from before you ate the apple. He’s not your brother, Boss. He’s not goin’ to let the Multiverse walk all over him. You don’t have to bully him into protecting himself.”

Nightmare’s teeth clenched so hard that if they were able to, they would have cracked. Horror did not shiver under the weight of his aura and glare but Dust had to lean against the wall. The sight made something click in Nightmare’s mind and he pulled his aura tighter into himself.

He looked back at his actions with more scrutiny. All he could see was Ink’s terrified face. Too late, Nightmare identified that some of Horror's anger was directed at himself. He was the one who sent Ink to Nightmare with food. It had likely been meant as a stepping stone to make Ink more comfortable around the Boss. Instead Nightmare was reminded of Dream yet again and lashed out.

“Was he that frightened?”

“More like desperate.” Dust shared. “He thinks you think he’s stupid and useless, Boss.” He cleared his throat as his aura prickled with discomfort. “You know he’d let you hurt him if it made him more “useful” to you, right?”

“He’ll also think it’s normal.” Horror warned.

They were more right than they realized. Ink came from an empty and nonfunctional world. He did not have a reference for what was “okay” outside of the Gang’s lessons (and many of those lessons were not what most of the Multiverse would call “acceptable”.) If Nightmare kept insisting it was for Ink’s own good, Ink would accept his “lessons” rather than resist. Feelings of (shame) discomfort pricked at Nightmare like needles but he hid it.

“It seems I acted in haste. There will not be a repeat.”

“There will not.” Horror said curtly.

His anger lashed at Nightmare’s senses but it brought him no satisfaction. Nightmare’s own emotions startled him more than Horror’s anger ever could as a feeling of possessiveness and jealously curled in his blackened soul. His recruits were choosing Ink over him? He’d thought Horror was more loyal than that. Except that was not the issue and Nightmare knew it. His sudden possessiveness was washed away by the realization that two (knowing Cross, it was likely three) of his recruits felt the need to close ranks to protect another from him. Even Horror, who would do many thing on Nightmare’s orders without question, felt the need to step in and shield Ink from Nightmare.

Why did Nightmare intimidate Ink? With hindsight, his actions made no sense to himself. He knew Ink’s temperament. Why did he think using physical force against a pacifist would pressure him into meet Nightmare’s abrupt change in expectations? Perhaps he was angered by Dream’s appearance, yes, but it was no excuse. Nightmare glanced down at his black, oily form and kept himself from frowning. He felt… nauseous. Unbalanced. Had there been a sudden increase in Positivity? (No. There was not. Then what?)

“Boss?” Dust piped up hesitantly. “You alright?”

“I am fine.” Nightmare said, revealing none of his turmoil. “I…” was wrong. “… acted without proper consideration. Tell Ink that it will not happen again. And please tell Cross to knock it off. His conflicted emotions are giving me a headache.”

The anger lessened, but the cautious doubt remained in Horror’s aura. It dug into Nightmare’s senses and bothered him more than it should. “Yes, Boss. Whatever you say.”

Chapter Text

Nightmare’s Castle felt warmer. Nothing about the interior or weather had changed but the castle still felt more comfortable to Ink. The stone halls were dark and many of them were empty but they also felt fuller than before. Maybe it was Dust and Cross's changes in attitude towards him. That was Ink’s best guess, anyway.

Ink knew what had changed with Dust but Cross’s sudden reappearance was not what he predicted. Cross was still acting oddly but he was not lurking out of sight anymore. Instead he was around in sight a lot more. He even offered to carry a few “heavy” items when Ink was clearing out an old closet space. Ink did not think the crates (that were almost as big as he was and turned out to be filled to the brim with medieval armor and metal weaponry) were heavy at all but he accepted the offer anyway.

Nightmare’s Castle was bigger than he thought. Ink found more hidden and unused rooms and crannies around the castle with every passing day. He personally wanted to fix up the dusty tower he and Dust had found the elf owl in but Horror had suggested that he familiarize himself with the infirmary and their medical supplies first to see if they needed anything.

They did need medical supplies. A lot of them.

At first, Ink had thought he might have over-estimated what was necessary for Healers only for him to find out that the Gang barely had what could be considered a basic first aid kit. He was not surprised to find out that the most they did was slap a bandage on an injury and call it a day, or eat magic food if they were badly hurt. The little supplies they did have was mostly old, expired, or unused. Ink had a sinking feeling it was due to a lack of knowledge of how to use them instead of them not being needed.

That left Ink with the unenviable task of trying to explain to his Boss why he had a shopping list longer than his arm. Not just his forearm. His entire arm from shoulder down to past his fingertips. It would be foolish to rely on Ink’s green magic for everything, and Ink’s research suggested that green magic could not, in fact, fix all kinds of injuries. Poisons, for example, would still need an antidote. Green magic could be used to slow down the poison’s effects but it might not cure the person. Many illnesses also could not be cured by green magic. Ink knew the Gang was strong but they were not immune to diseases.

Ink also wanted to start setting up medical profiles for each of the Gang members, Nightmare included. The Gang members were all Sanses but their histories were different. Not to mention Killer had Determination (or a corrupted version of it, but Ink was not certain about that). All of that could affect their individual treatment.

With that in mind, Ink headed back to the Library with the intention of getting as much information as he could so that he was able to explain to Nightmare why he needed what he needed. After their last meeting, Ink was not sure how Nightmare would react. Horror said he talked to Nightmare about what happened but Ink would still tread cautiously. He was already dreading the usual meeting after his daily training session. He had a bit more confidence in his black magic than before but he wondered if it would be enough for the Boss. Considering Ink’s previous failures, it probably wouldn’t. Ink still would try though.

Ink knew the Library well by now. He passed through aisles of books, pulling the ones he needed off of the shelves. It was strange to think that there had only been a few books on medicine and only one on green magic not that long ago. Now there was a whole shelf courtesy of Horror and Nightmare.

Ink had gained what he privately called “studying habits” (for the first time, as he did come from almost literally nothing) so he preemptively grabbed a few off topic books to read in case he couldn’t focus on one subject. One of the books he wanted was high up on the shelf so Ink set his pile on the floor and climbed up the shelves to reach it.

A thunk drew his attention downward to see that Dust had found his stack of books with his foot and tripped over them. Ink hastily climbed back down to the floor while Dust pushed himself up. Red eye lights stared at Ink from beneath the shadow of his hood.

“Hi, Dust. Hi, Paps.” Ink backed up a couple more steps and awkwardly clung to the book that he held against his chest. “…Are you hurt?”

“Nah. Unless you count my dignity.” Dust huffed. “I’m not used to other people using the Library.” Dust pushed himself to his feet then looked down at the toppled pile. He picked up one of the medical texts and flipped through a couple pages. The ridge above his left eye socket rose. "You're taking this medic thing really seriously, huh?"

“Yes. It's important.”

Dust seemed taken aback by his firmness. "You're a good kid. Why the heck are you here?"

The last question was said at a much quieter volume. Ink guessed that he was not supposed to hear it. He answered anyway. "Nightmare saved my life and gave me a chance to be someone. I want to use that chance to help."

Dust didn't completely succeed in hiding his surprise. He handed Ink the book. "That's a rare trait these days."

Ink shrugged and that was that. Dust was in the Library, but he and Ink each turned to their own stack of books. Even though they were not speaking, it felt nice to have Dust there (and doing something unlike the people in the empty white world).

Ink lost himself in the flow of finding information, cross-checking that it was up to date, and writing it down. Unfortunately, he tired more quickly than he hoped and his thoughts slowed down and scattered. It became almost impossible to focus once that happened. The words blurred together and Ink knew he needed a break from medical texts.

Ink turned to one of the other books he had taken off of the many shelves. This one had a picture of an owl on the front that had immediately caught his attention, but a quick scan of the description showed it was some type of steampunk fantasy series about a time traveling inventor. It sounded interesting but Ink set it aside for now.

Ink picked up the last book he had grabbed instead. It was about birds, specifically owls. Ink suspected that it would be another dry read to many but to him, it was fascinating. Ink did not need to know how owls flew, their diets, their habitats, or their lifestyle but he wanted to. He never could have learned any of this back there. He was never given the chance.

Ink made himself stop thinking about white and focused on the passage he was reading.

‘…In many worlds, owls are symbols of silent wisdom, knowledge, transformation, self-actualization, and mystery. In some worlds, owls were seen as good omens and released before battle to bring protection, guidance, and good fortune. As creatures of the night, owls also symbolize our ability to persevere through the darkness and shadows of life…’

"Horror said that you're learning green magic."

Ink was pulled out of his reading by Dust’s unexpected comment. His new role had been openly discussed but Ink nodded in confirmation.

Dust took his glove off and shoved his hand at Ink. “Can you heal this?”

Ink carefully held Dust’s hand and inspected the crack that went down his right pinkie’s middle phalanx. The crack was not as deep as the one in Cross’s skull but it could break further if it wasn’t fixed. “What happened? Did you get this when you tripped?”

“Nah. This is from earlier. I had trouble sleeping. Startled myself and punched the wall.”

Ink privately doubted that was the reason or that Dust had punched something. The placement of the injury indicated Dust had swung at something like he was trying to bat it aside in a panic. It was likely nothing had been there when he swung hard so he hit the wall instead. Ink did not confront him about it. He scanned the injury for any foreign objects. Green magic would repair around things such as glass, splinters, arrowheads, or bullets so he had to be careful to check before healing it.

Seeing and sensing nothing, Ink reached inward. It was easy to pull the green magic to the surface and make it form. The black liquid trickled out from between the joints in his phalanges and wobbled in his palm before shifting into a serene green hue. Ink carefully grasped Dust’s cracked hand and put his own to it.

Dust watched his every move with a bored expression. His indifference shattered and shock bloomed across his face as Ink began to heal the small crack. He tried to move his hand but Ink held it in place. Gentle enough not to hurt but firm enough that he would not pull away and interrupt the flow.

Dust obediently stilled, though he looked fascinated by the green magic. “I haven’t been healed in…” His features darkened. “A long time.”

He did not elaborate. Ink did not ask him to. There were certain questions that he guessed should not be voiced. None of the Gang asked where Ink came from so Ink did not ask them. He suspected that was how things worked in Nightmare’s Gang.

To Ink’s surprise, the green magic was not affected by Dust’s sour mood. That did not follow what he had read about. All the books had insisted that negative emotions and ill-intent hindered green magic, sometimes to the point that it did not work at all. Seeing it work now gave Ink hope that maybe he could heal Nightmare if their Boss needed help. Once he was done, Ink let his magic slip from his hands. He and Dust watched it evaporate in midair.

“Weird.” Dust commented. His eye lights flicked towards the wall. “Just in time for training.”

Ink followed his gaze and checked the clock. He remembered how Nightmare reacted to Cross’s injury and scowled. “You did that on purpose.”

Dust tipped his head in a way that was almost innocent. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sure you don’t.” Ink muttered.

Dust patted the top of Ink’s skull like Horror did. “Maybe I didn’t want a lecture. Thanks for the assist, buddy.”

Ink was not impressed. He made a mental note to proactively check the others for the wrongness he associated with injuries since he was noticing a habit of not telling anyone about them. “Next time, tell me when you’re injured immediately.”

Dust grinned smugly. “Is that an order?” He looked at Ink’s face and balked. “Jeez kid! The death glare isn’t necessary.”

Ink studied his reflection but did not see what Dust was talking about. He was visibly annoyed and his eye lights seemed to be glowing in the warped reflection on the stain glass window panes but they were nothing compared to Killer’s glares in his opinion. Dust must be teasing him again.

“Word of advice.” Ink instantly returned his attention to Dust. “Feel free to pull that look out and terrify your patients into submission if they aren’t listening to you… Stars, I’m going to regret saying that, aren’t I?”

Dust was definitely teasing him.

Ink’s training went well, but also not as well as he hoped. His shields and chains appeared when called, following his intent with an ease that shocked all of them, Ink included. Ink managed to block all of the attacks Dust and Cross threw at him, and even managed to restrain and trip up the latter with his chains. Dust laughed particularly loudly when Cross landed on his face and Ink rushed in to check on him but Cross did not get hurt by his fall this time.

There were two ways for Ink to summon his chains; from the blob of black magic that he used as a shield, and from his fingers. Ink quickly learned that although the restraint magic was shaped like thin black chains, it was not hindered by the laws of physics. They followed his will to twist into shapes in midair, with Cross, Horror, and Dust calling out random shapes and designs for him to try to form. When he was not directing the chains, they hovered and swayed around him like they were cloth ribbons floating in water. Ink thought it was amazing. Cross seemed a little apprehensive.

When Horror prodded him to speak his mind, Cross reluctantly explained. “You’re going to be able to move them without conscious thought once you’re skilled enough, Ink. Just make sure you don’t grab something that you don’t intend to.”

Cross grabbed Ink’s hand and tapped his fingers where he tended to summon his close range chain magic. That made his warning sink in as Ink imagined accidentally grabbing Nightmare and yanking him off his feet like he had done to Cross. That probably would not end well.

The training was going so well for a while. But, of course, Ink “hit another roadblock” as Horror said. Nightmare had ordered Cross to begin testing if Ink was able to use shortcuts.

“I don’t think he’s ready for this.” Horror said lowly. He scratched at the edge of his broken skull. Ink watched carefully to make sure he did not cause any more damage but the injury was so old it was more of a scar. Nothing broke further. “Shortcuts are dangerous. He could get stuck ‘n a wall, or trapped between voids, and some Sanses’ shortcuts are connected t’ Gaster and the Void. We all know how those kinds of Gasters tend to act…”

Ink did not know. He did not know if his world even had a Gaster. It could be possible because a lot of Gasters were cut out of their world and abandoned. Maybe a Gaster existed but the world was so unfinished that he did not even have a body, merely a consciousness that was aware of his existence and could do nothing but stare at the others that did not even realize he was there.

Maybe Ink should make sure there was not a Gaster hanging around the empty whiteness. He hated the thought of inadvertently leaving anyone to suffer back there.

Horror, Cross, and Dust took turns explaining the finer mechanics of shortcuts and teleportation. Horror and Dust’s were similar, but Cross described his as having a “sharpness” to them, “like the bite of a cold wind in a snowstorm”. That comment made Ink realize that he had not experienced snow yet. Or Snowdin. Or Waterfall. Or most of the temperatures and climates of the Underground except that brief trip in New Home of the variant Aftertale and the mild, slightly chilly climate around Nightmare’s Castle.

“Can we go see snow?” Ink interrupted Cross.

Cross made an annoyed huffing sound but didn’t growl too much about the off-topic request. “I suppose we could when we go on a supply run in an appropriate AU. Do you really miss snow that much? You grew up in Snowdin.”

“No I didn’t.” Ink corrected.

“New Home then.” Cross said dismissively.

“No.”

That made Cross pause. “Where did you live then?”

“Cross, no.” Dust hissed in a strangely quiet voice.

Cross abruptly pulled his collar up to cover the lower half of his face. “You don’t need to answer. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Ink said instinctively. He remembered bits of a (not really a) conversation from when he first arrived at the Castle. “Oh! You weren’t there when I talked about it. My world was empty whiteness.”

Cross stared at him. And kept staring. He wasn’t even blinking as his white eye lights faded.

Ink checked him over for any sense of the bits of wrongness that he associated with injuries but found nothing. Horror and Dust exchanged a glance and the former stepped into Cross’s line of sight, speaking quietly.

“Cross, can you hear me?”

Cross reanimated abruptly and with a visible shudder. “I’m fine,” he lied so obviously that even Ink winced. “We can talk. Later. If you want to.”

Ink nodded agreeably even though he was not sure what that conversation would be about.

“Yeah. Good idea. Right. Right.” Cross repeated. His gaze was on Ink but it was like he could not focus directly on him. “Shortcuts.”

He continued explaining but Ink could tell he was thinking about other things. Ink’s concerns about Cross were slowly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of details that went into using shortcuts and teleportation for Sanses. They often needed to know their current location, the location they wanted to appear at, potential obstacles in the world and the space between worlds, weather (depending on the Sans, something as minor as a snowflake could cause them major problems if they reappeared in the same space as it), and account for the dangers of a potential RESET during the brief millisecond they were in the shortcut.

Shortcuts were often instinctive to Sanses that were created with or (through age or experimentation) gained the ability but a lot could go wrong if circumstances were not in their favor. As Cross gave his explanation, Horror insisted again and again that Ink did not need to attempt this kind of magic yet.

Nightmare’s harsh comments dug into Ink’s thoughts. “I want to try.”

“If you’re sure.” Horror agreed with clear reluctance.

“If you end up somewhere unexpected, stay where you are and wait for us to pick you up.” Cross added. “We don’t have cell phones because the Boss is worried someone will convince Sci to track us with them.”

“It’s highly unlikely you’ll be able to shortcut out of this world anyway.” Dust spoke up. “If you can make them at all. Your magic isn’t like ours.”

Ink knew that. He wasn’t about to give up without even trying. "If I can't then maybe I can make portals."

"I doubt it." Dust muttered.

Horror kicked him in the leg.

“I mean, you can try?”

Horror side-eyed him.

Dust pulled his hood lower over his face.

“If you can move through shortcuts it’d be instinctive.” Cross cut back in. “Focus on your magic.”

Ink did as he commanded. His magic came at his call but it formed into the black liquid-like substance. Dust started to say something but Horror shushed him. The magic dripped to the ground at Ink’s feet and swayed back and forth like a wave.

“Focus on your destination.” Cross said in a low, hushed voice. “See if you can feel it.”

Ink tried to focus on the opposite side of the training room but his thoughts kept wandering towards Nightmare’s office. Rather than fight it, he focused on that. Nightmare. He wanted to go to Nightmare.

The black magic stopped swaying. It trickled into a new shape and began to swirl in a lazy circle. Dust started to speak again but again, Horror shushed him. His eye lights were locked onto Ink’s magic. Ink did not focus on them, but his desired destination. He wanted a way to Nightmare. To Nightmare. The Guardian of Negative Emotions.

Ink’s black magic flattened out and shimmered like a dark mirror. Ink felt a pull deep in his chest. Not uncomfortable, but different. New. An image rippled briefly in the pool of darkness. It was not anywhere in Nightmare’s Castle. Or in this world.

Ink felt a tingling sensation that he recognized as another line of binary code being scrawled onto his bones. He tried to pull inward to decrease the range but it was like trying to scoop up an ocean with his hands to put the water in a bucket instead. None of the others noticed his struggle.

“Is that…?” Dust leaned over only to be pulled back by Horror, whose sockets were wide. Dust shook his arm free and gave a startled laugh. “That’s a portal to another AU.”

“I can’t believe it.” Cross said lowly. He stepped close by Ink as his sharp eye lights drifted from the portal to Ink’s face. His frown deepened. “This isn’t something just anyone can do. I needed Nightmare to give me a conduit so I can open portals.”

“Oh, don’t be such a downer.” Dust got between them, grinning at Ink. “You can actually do it. This is huge. Great job, kid.”

Dust gave Ink a hearty shove to the shoulder. That would have been great if Ink did not stagger forward and step into the portal. With no ground beneath his one foot, he completely unbalanced and fell through.

The last thing Ink saw before darkness overtook him was Dust’s horrified face.

As soon as Ink was submerged, he felt the black magic dissolve. Ink did not have time to panic before he landed in water. No, he appeared inside water. The water was cold. Ink opened his mouth and took in a lungful of water instead of releasing a startled yelp. He floundered briefly but quickly broke through the surface into the air, coughing loudly. Thankfully the water was shallow enough for him to stand in.

Ink looked around to see he was in a strange version of Waterfall. Instead of blue Echo Flowers, the ones he spotted on the shore of the river were a fiery orange. This AU was called "A Nightmarish Negative Tale". It was a Neutral timeline. The human Frisk had been killed by Asgore but their soul had shattered before the barrier could be broken. They could not come back. Could not? Yes, they could not because something had gone wrong in the code and they could not RESET to bring themselves back.

Ink put a hand to his head and staggered over to the edge of the river. Maybe it was more of a stream since he could stand in it. What was the difference between a river and a stream anyway? All Ink knew was that it was dark and the water was icy cold.

Ink made it into a small area by the river (or stream) and pulled himself up with what looked like a broken piece of a bridge. It was little more than a side cavern with nothing but an isolated bench. Ink checked underneath it but there was nothing there. He was not sure why he thought there might be.

Ink considered trying to make another portal but decided not to risk it in case he ended up somewhere more hazardous than a shallow river. Horror and the others would come find him. Cross said to stay where he was if he got lost so Ink sat on the bench. His clothes were soaked and he heard his bones rattling as he shivered.

He wondered if Nightmare could sense how frightened he was. He had been determined to open a portal but he did not expect to successfully do it, or even be capable of such magic at all. Ink huddled on the bench and consoled himself that at least Nightmare would be pleased that he was able to make portals like he wanted.

Ink shivered, rubbing at his arms, and felt frost on them. The water was freezing on his clothes. Were all Waterfall areas this cold? Ink had no experience with this but the fiery orange hues of the Echo Flowers did not match the chill in the air at all. The dark stones did though. Ink remembered what Echo Flowers did and made a mental note not to speak or make noise. He did not want to attract any attention or leave any signs behind once Horror or the others came for him.

Hopefully Dust would not get into trouble. The shove had been a friendly and congratulatory thing. Dust did not intend for Ink to fall in, he was sure.

Ink kept shivering and his breath puffed in front of his mouth. Bits of ice floated downstream in front of him and disappeared under the stone wall. The stream must flow down a waterfall into another cave. It was a good thing he had not been pulled down there. Ink began to consider if he should do something about his clothes. They were the only ones he had. He rather liked them, even if they were a bit big and loose. But he needed to warm up a bit or dry off.

Ink looked to one of the nearby fire-orange Echo Flowers and put a hand by it. They paradoxically gave off a cold temperature like they were made of ice. What a weird AU. Though there were definitely weirder. With that idea’s failure, Ink turned inward and pulled on his magic. He did not have any type of fire magic but his black magic could change its temperature. Maybe it could help. And it would be good practice if any of the others ended up in a situation like this. Or worse.

Ink’s magic wrapped around his arms and clung to his bones under the loose sleeves of his brown shirt. The warmth helped a little. Or maybe the additional layer between his bones and the wet clothes helped. Either way, Ink stopped shivering as badly.

He sat silently on the bench for… a while. It was not that long since he did not become hungry or tired but he had no idea exactly how long it had been. Cross did not say how long it would take the Gang to find Ink if he got lost. But he said that when he thought Ink could use shortcuts, didn’t he? None of them thought Ink could open portals. Ink himself did not think he could open portals. But here he was.

Ink’s anxiety dug into his soul and made his chest ache. He hoped Nightmare would be able to trace it somehow. If not, Ink needed to figure out something. He could try to open a portal back to Nightmare’s Castle. But what if it didn’t work? What if a resident of this AU found him first? His usual CHECK info was visible so Ink kind of… blurred the lines out and left them illegible. There. That should stop them from seeing he was a Healer. What else did Nightmare and the others say to do?

Ink was interrupted from his thoughts by a low thud. He pretended not to notice the noise even as his fear spiked. Two people were approaching. They were not from the Gang.

“Told you there was someone.” Ink heard a low voice said. Footsteps crunched on loose stones and stopped in front of Ink. “Hey there, traveller. Don’t you know how to greet a new pal?”

Ink raised his head. A Sans stood in front of him, hand outstretched to shake, while an Undyne stood slightly behind him with her arms crossed over her chest. The Sans was wearing a yellow hoodie. The Undyne behind him was a yellow-orange color while her hair was a dark blue-tinged purple. Was this world considered negative because the colors of the clothing or the people themselves were changed? Or was it due to their attitude? If it was negative in the emotional sense then Nightmare must love it here.  Ink knew it was a dangerous kind of negative. He lived with Killer. He recognized ill-intent when he saw it.

Ink did not take the Sans’s hand. There was likely a fatal shock buzzer in it. Instead he gave a small wave and put his hands on his legs. He did not look down to see if they were shaking.

The Negative Sans’s grin did not fade at the rejection. He shrugged and lowered his hand. "Looks like we got another lost alternate soul, Undyne."

“Looks like. Thanks for calling it in, Sentry.” Negative Undyne’s smile was sharp.

The way they looked at Ink frightened him. It was how Killer looked at him but Killer was held back by Nightmare’s orders. These two weren’t. If he CHECKed their Level Of ViolencE, he knew what kind of numbers he would see.

“Not much of a talker, huh?” Undyne plopped onto the bench next to Ink. Her eye narrowed slightly when he did not flinch. “Where you from?”

Ink did not answer. He felt his magic curl around his forearms but hesitated to use it.

Undyne sighed loudly. "Have it your way then."

The Negative Undyne lunged but Ink was already moving. He ducked under her grab and dodged the Sans. Rather than step into the water, he shoved some of his magic down to his feet on instinct. Ink did not even realize that he had used his magic to run over the water until he was on the opposite bank. The Negative Sans and Undyne took a shortcut before he could celebrate, appearing right beside him.

“You’re not getting away.” Undyne summoned a spear and snarled at him. “Your timing is too perfect. You’re meant to be here.”

Ink might be drawn in by that curious statement if she did not sound so unhinged. Undyne summoned a spear but Sans stopped her.

"Don't. I can't CHECK them. We don't know their HP."

Undyne hissed. The sound made Ink shiver. "You're not running away, brat. You're going to the King for the sacrifice tomorrow."

For a moment, Ink thought he must have misheard. Then he remembered that the Human Souls were essentially sacrifices. After that thought it wasn't even that shocking.

"You're sacrificing monster souls for the barrier?" he asked in disbelief.

Undyne squinted but Sans heard him. "So you can talk! Heh. Not for the barrier. We're not worried about that anymore. Nah, your sacrifice will stop the Destroyer from coming here."

Oh. This was one of those AUs. Cross had warned him about worlds that thought they could appease Error by sacrificing their own people. Some part of Ink wondered if that warning had been in his subconscious mind when he made the portal. The rest of him was too busy trying to think of a way to get as far from these two as possible.

Negative Sans saw the horrified look on his face and shrugged apathetically. “We give the Destroyer souls, he leaves this world alone. A fair trade. Usually we have a vote. Rigged, of course. Can’t lose anyone that matters. So…” He grinned widely. “How about we do this the easy way, hm?”

Ink was not that well-versed in Multiverse matters but from what he did know, he was confident that sacrificing people was not keeping Error away. His anxiety was stamped out by his disgust because this Underground was sacrificing their own people for nothing. Ink was not about to give in and be one of them. Besides, after the Star Sanses incident, Horror and Cross had done their best to drill in the lesson that he should not go anywhere with strangers even if they seemed nice. And these two did not even pretend to be very nice.

"Sorry, I'm not interested." Ink declined curtly. "My boss would be upset if I died."

The Negative Sans gave an undignified snort. Undyne glared at him and Ink took the brief opportunity to run. Undyne swore loudly. Her armor rattled with every step, giving Ink a gauge of how close his pursuer was. He noticed a distortion in the air near a wall of the cavern and avoided it. Negative Sans appeared from the distortion and his hand closed on empty air instead of Ink's arm.

Ink felt a straining sensation in his rib cage and panicked. His dark green magic encased his soul but he for a moment he thought he saw blue, not blinding white. Ink kept the magic up just in case. He couldn't afford to collapse now. If he could make it to Hotland, Undyne might falter in her pursuit. Negative Sans would be another problem. Could Ink's chains hold him? He saw another distortion and dodged, only to collide with Undyne. Considering their different sizes and Undyne's armor, Ink fell to the ground.

“Got you!”

Undyne's hand latched onto his wrist. Remembering his training, Ink got his feet under him, grabbed Undyne’s forearm with his free hand, and sent some ice cold magic in the joint in her armor. The unexpected chill would not hurt but she yelped and released him.

“You pest.” Her armored foot connected with Ink's midsection. “You’re going to die just like the others!”

She kicked him again. Ink rolled with the blow and took the opportunity to chain her other foot to the ground. Undyne almost tripped as she tried to attack again.

"Sans, you useless trash bag! Grab him!"

“He did something and made himself dark green. I can't change it.” Negative Sans snarled back. “Just… stop…”

Negative Sans stopped yelling.

Negative Undyne stopped trying to free herself.

Ink felt cold. A flicker of white appeared in the corner of his socket and he sensed magic. The magic was wrong.

A strange, glitched tear appeared in the cavern ceiling of A Nightmarish Negative Tale. From within it, a bit of a black skull and a single haunting red eye socket was visible. A distorted, yellow-ringed blue eye light stared down at them, observing them in silence, before it shrank to a deranged pinprick.

Black, dust-covered skeletal fingers grasped the edge of the portal, not reacting as the edge cut into his hand and what looked like glitching blood dripped down his phalanges. Those fingers tore the portal open wide, releasing a pulse of corrupted magic that caused several Echo Flowers to instantly die, and the dark skeleton stepped through.

His black jacket was torn, with the blue ends of its sleeves splattered with monster dust and specks of brownish-red dried blood. His pants were even more discolored, more gray than black and so stained by what must be blood that they clung to the red bones of his legs. One of his shoes was gone, and the strip of fabric around his neck (which might have been a scarf once) was so tattered it resembled a bloody blue bandage more than anything else. Even with his blue-lined hood pulled up over his skull and covering his face in shadow, he was easy to identify.

It was Error. The Destroyer was here.

The image Dust had shown Ink had not been able to accurately display the pure corruption of the Destroyer. The wrongness Error’s magic gave off was nothing compared to Error himself. Simply looking at him made thousands of needles pricked every inch of Ink’s bones and dug into his eye sockets like they were trying to drill themselves into his mind.

Ink had looked at anatomy and injuries to ensure he would be able to treat them instead of faltering, but looking at Error was worse than that. It was like Error himself was a wound, infected and rotting even though he still lived. Glitching viruses and broken codes clung to his body like strips of decomposing flesh, made grotesque as they reached their next stage of decay. Error was corrupted. He was rotting. He was withered. He was in pain. Ink desperately wanted to repair heal.

The chain evaporated from around Negative Undyne’s leg and she stepped back.

"Did he follow you here?" she shrieked.

Had Negative Undyne forgotten that they'd intended to sacrifice Ink to the Destroyer? Though Negative Sans had said that the sacrifices were to keep Error away. Maybe she thought they'd run out of time. They had, but not because of Ink. There was no time to correct her. There was nowhere to hide.

One second, Negative Undyne was there. The next she was dust.

Error did not even look her way as he pulled his strings back to him. His unhinged gaze did not even flick towards Negative Sans when he screamed in terror. Error was staring at Ink with wide, unblinking eye lights. Ink could just see a smaller yellow eye light glowing out from the shadows of his hood, always watching him. As he stared back, he saw both eye lights glitch and turn into red and black static as red tears joined the blue that ran down Error’s cheeks. For some reason, the streams started lower on the right half of his face, closer to the jaw than where the eye socket should be.

Ink did not have time to feel scared as blue strings lashed out again. Not at him, but at Negative Sans. The Sans may have intended to kill him but that did not mean that Ink wanted to leave him for dead. A black shield slammed into place between the strings and Negative Sans, deflecting them. Black chains coiled around the Destroyer's arm, stopping him from sending out more strings with a lazy flick of his hand.

Error halted in place. Like Killer, he tugged at the chain in annoyance and paused when they failed to break. Error stared at them with a tenuous kind of bewilderment as he pulled against the chain a couple more times. His confusion quickly shifted into something much more dangerous.

Ink ran over to Negative Sans and held out a hand. “Come with me. I can create a—”

The Negative Sans shoved him to the ground and ran off. He did not even look back as he made it four steps. Then a string wrapped around the Sans’s soul and he was dust.

Ink did not have the opportunity to feel anything for the monsters that wanted to kill him. Strings wrapped around his legs and bound them together. Ink cried out as he was pulled off his feet to the ground. The strings stayed away from his upper body and his soul, allowing him to yank at them with his hands as he tried to make sense of Error’s actions. Then he realized these strings did not lead to Error. They led to another glitched, corrupted portal. Through the crack he saw white.

“No!”

Ink’s fingers left furrows in the dirt as he clawed at it, trying and failing to get a good enough purchase to hold on as the strings dragged him towards the portal to the Anti-Void. Error watched him with wide, bleeding eye sockets and an even bigger smile, rocking in place and humming lowly to himself as Ink screamed.

"Help me! Help me! Please!"

"Help me…please...!" the Echo Flowers whispered mournfully.

But nobody would. Ink was on his own. Nightmare said he would be rescued but he had no idea where Ink was. Ink was going to die. Error was going to pull him into the Anti-Void, torture him, and kill him. Horror wanted Ink to live. Nightmare wanted Ink to live. Cross and Dust did too. Ink refused to die here.

Ink stopped trying to halt the strings and pulled on his magic. With a slash of his hand he summoned his shield like Dust swung a knife. His magic followed his will and cut through the strings as it created a wall between him and Error. A distortion flickered in front of Ink and Error appeared within it, smile gone and features twisted into a rabid snarl.

Blue strings lunged for Ink and Ink threw up his arms on instinct. The black magic he’d had around his forearms shot up and whipped through the strings, cutting them. They fluttered to the ground. Both Ink and Error stared at the cut strings in shock. Ink recovered first and shoved himself to his feet, taking off. He straightened and healed his damaged fingers as he ran.

The acidic corruption of Error’s magic followed Ink and he dodged the blue strings without looking back. He had to hide. If Error was that set on torturing Ink before killing him, he wouldn’t want to accidentally murder him while destroying this world. Ink might have time to grab some of the AU’s residents before it was too late. Surely Nightmare would not be too angry to have more people. If he was, Ink would accept his punishment. These people may not be kind, but they deserved a chance.

Strings exploded from the river at Ink’s left and wrapped around his upper body, dragging him backwards. Ink’s soul was visible but it was still covered by his dark green magic. The strings stayed away from it anyway. It seemed Error did not want to accidentally kill him. Probably. Ink hid his soul again just to be safe, unsure if it would do anything but too terrified not to try.

Ink summoned more chains and slashed at the strings but more strings replaced every one he broke. Soon he was close enough to see Error’s bloodstained face, his too-wide smile replaced by a horribly empty expression that reminded Ink far too much of them.  Error was humming again, softly and eerily serene as Ink was pulled closer and closer. Ink could see what lay hidden underneath the fabric of Error’s hood now.

Error’s right eye socket was broken. Nearly half of his skull was gone. The jagged edges of the hole went so far that they almost reached from the top of his head all the way down to his jaw. Unlike Horror’s broken skull, Error’s looked infected as glitches, dust, and blood constantly dripped from the injury.

The desire to repair the damage overrode Ink’s desire to get away and he stopped struggling. Error smiled wide.

A purple bone impacted the ground in front of Error and exploded. The Destroyer was thrown backwards into the cavern wall as a purple shadow landed by Ink. It was Cross in his Guard outfit with the addition of a silver helmet that completely covered his skull. Ink shook himself out of his daze and hastily tore the remaining blue strings off of his body. He did not have time to say anything before Cross picked him up and ran full tilt around a corner.

Ink recognized the sharp feel of Cross’s portal right before they stepped through it. A piercing howl cut off behind them as the portal sealed itself shut at their backs. A sound made it through the portal before it closed and Ink shuddered. The Destroyer's shriek would haunt his nightmares. It sounded like Error was in physical pain.

Without warning, an agonizing sensation burned through one of the lines of code on Ink’s bones that was so painful he almost blacked out. He felt A Nightmarish Negative Tale die.

The moment Cross stepped one foot into a new AU, another portal was slashed open and he ran into it. Cross ran with Ink through multiple worlds, leaving and closing the previous portal as soon as they appeared in the next. Ink felt a tickle on his bones and knew the names of every single one.

By the time they reached Nightmare’s Castle, Ink was weeping. Cross wavered, then fell to his knees with Ink still in his arms. He reached up only to tear the silver helmet off of his head and drop it to the ground with a resounding clatter. Ink checked him for any injuries but found nothing. Cross was just exhausted, not hurt.

Ink smelled a familiar muskiness and instantly latched onto Horror as his one hand still clung to the edge of Cross’s purple cloak. Cross’s chest heaved and sweat trickled down his skull but he awkwardly scooted closer so Ink was between him and Horror.

The binary code of A Nightmarish Negative Tale burned hot on Ink’s bones like it had been carved into it with fire. Ink couldn’t stop his tears despite seeing blurry shapes that were probably Dust, Killer, and Nightmare.

The tears weren't just from fear and loss. Anger boiled hot in his soul. At Error, at Negative Sans and Undyne, and at himself. He did not understand. Undyne and Sans intended to murder him. Their leader had been murdering his own people and for what? To keep power over them? Because it was not to keep Error away. That was clearly not how it worked. A Nightmarish Negative Tale was gone now, its people destroyed. Ink could not help a single one.

Why did Error do that? He was hurting and corrupted but he destroyed with such a sadistic smile. Why did it have to be like this? Why did people enjoy killing? Why did people feel like they had to hurt others for their own gain? Even the Gang that was so precious to Ink burned whole worlds to the ground with glee. Why?

Ink did not understand why. He refused to be like that. More than that, he knew the Gang to be better. He knew they did not have to hurt others. He knew they could be even if they did not think so. They were not like Error but if what Dust feared was true, Nightmare could be if he became more corrupted. Once that happened, the others might fall with him. Ink had to save them. But what could Ink do?

At the moment, Ink could do little more than try and fail to calm himself down.

Horror carefully brushed a hand over Ink’s skull. “You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re safe…”

He said the words over and over in his low, soothing voice, and Ink gradually found he could breathe again. He thought he heard Nightmare release a slow breath too. It sounded unsteady.

“Thank you.” Ink hiccupped. “Thank you. Thank you…”

Cross’s eye lights were terrified pinpricks but he cracked a weak grin. “That was close. I don't know whether to call you lucky or unlucky.” He looked down at Ink’s torn and drenched brown shirt. “I guess we really should get you some new clothes now…”

Ink stared at Cross in complete silence, too shocked to be confused. He suspected the comment was an attempt to joke or comfort. It might be more effective if Cross wasn’t visibly shaking.

“Ink’s alive.” Dust mentioned meekly. His hood was pulled so far over his face that his eye sockets were not visible and he clutched at his torn red scarf. “That counts for something.”

Killer made a scoffing sound but Ink saw him vanish a magic knife. Had he been ready to attack in case something followed them through the portal? Ink did not have time to think more about it as a familiar coat was draped over him.

Ink peeked out from under the fabric to see Killer glaring at him, wearing only his black undershirt on top. He let go of Cross’s cloak and Horror long enough to shuffle around under the hoodie and get his soaked, torn clothes off. Ink would have simply thrown them off but the others all looked away when they realized he was changing. Ink, who only had a basic understanding of what clothes even were back there, had some idea that it was considered a societal politeness thing according to the books he had read. It didn’t matter because he easily changed while wrapped in Killer’s hoodie, zipping it closed. It was big enough that it almost reached Ink’s knees and thick enough that he immediately felt himself warming up.

Ink felt such pure gratitude towards Killer that he could not suppress it. Despite the risk, he mustered up a smile. “Thank you. I didn’t become free EXP, see?”

Killer stared at him for several seconds and abruptly looked past him at the wall instead.

Horror looked down at Ink’s torn, dirty brown shirt. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“My fingers got a little messed up when Error dragged me but I healed them.” Ink reported.

Dust grimaced.

Horror stilled for a half a second before he continued brushing his hand down Ink’s skull and back. The motion was steady, rhythmic, and comforting. Soon the tight sensation in Ink’s soul and throat eased.

“Your terror drew my attention just in time.” Nightmare’s voice was level and his face was stoic but his tentacles quivered in agitation. Ink knew he was hiding his own distress. “Cross left before I could.”

He glared briefly at Cross who stared right back, jaw set in a stubborn line.

Nightmare’s cyan eye light shifted back to Ink. “The fact that Error did not kill you right away means that he likely recognized you were not of that world." His features darkened. “Error has a habit of targeting outsiders first and taking them to the Anti-Void before he destroys the AU.”

Nightmare carefully knelt beside Ink, Cross, and Horror. His tentacles curved back and away behind him as he slowly reached out. They all remained still as Nightmare’s thumb brushed over the black splotch on Ink's cheek.

“Error saw your face.”

It was not a question but Ink nodded.

Nightmare closed his eye socket and sighed heavily. “He may try to find you.”

“Can you fight Error?” Ink regretted the wording of the question as soon as he voiced it but Nightmare did not seem annoyed.

The haunted stare Nightmare gave him was worse than anger or injured pride. “No. I hold him off long enough for the Gang to get out.”

Ink took a steadying breath, then another. Once he was certain he would not stammer, he spoke. “I held him back. It was just for a moment but my chains held until I lost focus. And the chains and my shield cut through his strings.”

There was a long beat of uncomfortable silence.

“The strings did not destroy your magic when they made contact?” Nightmare asked slowly.

“No.” Ink answered, confused. “I… just said that?”

To his surprise, it was Killer who spoke next. “I think I see why you picked him, Boss.”

Ink peeked around Horror’s shoulder to see Killer looking back at him. Not glaring, but with something a bit more neutral and calculating.

“That settles it. Ink…” Nightmare hesitated and his eye light went to each member of the Gang before it settled on Ink once more. “I was wrong about your usefulness. You may be exactly what the Gang needs now. You are our healer and support. Your purpose will be to ensure the safety of the Gang. But…” Again, he brushed a thumb over the ink splotch with a surprising amount of gentleness. “To do that, it might for the best that you be anonymous.”

“I don’t understand.” Ink mentioned uncomfortably.

“You’ll have to be disguised. Like Cross was.” Horror explained. His gaze shifted to the silver helmet that lay abandoned on the floor. “I think a mask would be more fitting than a helmet.”

“I don't want you to be connected to us out there.” Nightmare declared. “It is rare for any to escape Error and his interest will not wane. Others may also try to harm you if they realize you work for me. But that does not mean you should be trapped here. Especially once you gain control of your portals.”

Ink’s smile was watery. “Dust didn’t mean to push me.”

“I really didn’t, Boss.” Dust piped up nervously. He crouched by Ink’s opposite side and awkwardly patted his skull one time. “Sorry?”

“I survived.” Ink reminded him but Dust winced.

“You’ve proven your worth.” Nightmare told Ink. He stood up, tentacles swaying calmly behind him. “We cannot afford for you to be targeted. Come up with some ideas for a disguise on your own, without any medical association, and we will find ways to get them for you.”

Nightmare abruptly left and Killer and Dust trailed out after him a few seconds later. Horror and Cross stayed, though that may be because Ink was still holding onto them.

“Thank you.” Ink whispered again.

“I’m glad I made it in time.” Cross tentatively brushed his gloved hand over Ink’s skull a few more times.

“I survived.” Ink repeated. “Because of you. And I’m not hurt. Are you hurt? I don’t sense any injuries but you’re still shaking.”

Cross gave a huff-like laugh. It was not a happy one. “Just tired. You really scared me. When I saw Error had you I thought you were going to die right in front of me.”

“I’ll try not to.” Ink promised.

Cross failed to hide his grimace. “Be careful with statements like that, Ink. You should know Sanses don’t like to make promises…” He trailed off. “Actually, do you know? You’re not like many of the Sanses I’ve met or heard of.”

Ink remembered what had happened earlier during training. He leaned against Horror’s side and peered up at Cross’s inscrutable face. "You said you wanted to talk later. Is it later?"

“Maybe.” Cross hedged. "Would you be willing to talk about your past?"

Ink watched him carefully. “Would you?”

Cross looked at Horror and away. “…I don’t know. In case you haven't figured it out, we don't talk about the past and we don’t ask where someone came from. But if you ever want to, you can.”

“You also don’t have to.” Horror interjected firmly.

Cross nodded in agreement.

Ink hesitated for a moment. His hand drifted up and touched his sternum where his cracked soul always manifested. Under his shirt, he felt the lingering burn of a lost AU and knew there were dozens of other, alive ones marked on his bones. He did not understand any of it. He still did not understand many things. He was not ready to share every fear crowding his mind. But maybe he could trust these two with his past. He wanted to trust them.

“Yes. Yes, let’s talk.”

Chapter Text

Ink had been in Horror’s room at Nightmare’s Castle before. He cleaned up almost everywhere except Killer’s room, Nightmare’s room, and the lab, so this space was familiar to him. Of the rooms Ink cleaned, Horror’s always had the least amount of mess. Dust always had a piles of mugs and books spread across his room and Cross had empty bottles of chocolate sauce or syrup.

Horror’s room, meanwhile, was a tidy place. The mattress was on the bed spring, the bed itself was made, and there were not any weapons laying around or stuck in the walls. He even had his own desk. Ink could see a couple papers peeking out of the edge of the closed drawers but didn’t feel the need to stack them properly.

There was only one chair by the mirror that Cross took so Ink and Horror sat on the bed. Even though Ink was still wearing Killer’s coat, which was really long on him, Cross had grabbed a pair of shorts for Ink. They were practically pants on him and he had to pull the drawstring out a lot to make them stay up. Ink’s old brown clothes were probably ruined. They had gotten pretty wet, torn, and dirty between his dives into the river and when Error dragged him across the ground in Waterfall. While he picked up the shorts, Cross had changed into his usual outfit as well with his fluffy hood pulled up over his skull.

The blue blanket on Horror’s bed was fluffy and soft. Ink’s bones still burned from the destruction of A Nightmarish Negative Tale but he distracted himself from that by poking at the blanket until Horror coughed into his hand.

“Got that from my world’s Toriel. She’d probably make you one if you want.”

“What would she want in return?” Ink asked.

The question threw Horror off but he recovered quickly. “Nothing.”

Ink frowned. “I thought people who were nice want something though?”

“A lot of them do.” Cross slouched in the desk chair and crossed his arms. “Since you’re one of Nightmare’s Gang, she’d make it as thanks.”

“Nightmare said you offer protection to AUs.” Ink recalled. “What does that mean?”

Cross and Horror looked at each other, then back at Ink.

“Are you stalling, Ink?” Horror asked gently. “We don’t have to talk about the past if you don’t want to.”

Ink had not considered it stalling. He just had a lot of questions still. He supposed an explanation about his past would help them understand why he asked about so many things but he’d like those Gang-related questions answered first. He explained only the last bit to Horror, who seemed satisfied with his answer and nodded to Cross.

“Before I explain why the Gang protects certain worlds, I guess I should start with what Corrupted and Obliteration means for AUs.” Cross began in a tone he often took while training Ink. “The Corrupted and Corrupted Timelines are people and timelines that have become badly glitched. Some symptoms of glitches are the appearance of empty copies of monsters or the fallen human that mindlessly attack everything, void leakage into a world, deteriorating locations and people, and broken RESETS. Obliteration Timelines are worlds whose code has become so glitched and corrupted that even True RESETS can’t fix it. The Corruption gets worse and worse until one day, the AU self-destructs and takes everyone with it.”

As Cross spoke, Ink realized he already knew what Corruption was. It was part of the “wrongness” he sensed, like Error’s warped magic. Ink could not figure out how to explain how he could sense that (and their conversation had already been derailed) so he kept those thoughts to himself.

“No one can repair those AUs?” He had to confirm, distraught.

“No.” Horror stated. “Not even the likes of Core can repair their codes. Obliteration timelines are doomed but Corrupted glitches, mostly the ones that are empty copies of residents, can be fought and destroyed. Some AUs are naturally negative and those are the ones we defend. To them, we offer our protection from Corrupted glitches. In exchange, they give us things in return. Primarily supplies if they can afford it and their negativity. Think of it as a protection racket.”

That was a concept Ink knew from one of the steampunk fantasy books he had read. The character that offered such protection did it for monetary reasons. He wasn't the worst but still, expecting compensation for helping rubbed Ink the wrong way. He should know by now that such deals were how the Multiverse worked. It was why Nightmare helped him out, after all.

Cross grimaced.

“That’s what it is and you know it.” Horror said calmly. “We protect negative AUs from Corrupted and glitches. In exchange, they are under Nightmare’s control.”

It was not as altruistic as Ink hoped. It was nice to hear that the Gang did more than terrorize AUs but the thought of expecting something in exchange for that protection (or it would no longer be offered) did not appeal to Ink. He sternly reminded himself that the Multiverse worked that way and expecting otherwise was naïve. Even if he disagreed.

An idea came to him and he looked hopefully at Horror. “Green magic is rare, right? I could offer to repair— I mean, heal them as another benefit.”

Horror was already shaking his head before Ink finished speaking. “Nightmare won’t let you heal them, Ink. He doesn’t want anyone t’ know you’re our Healer.”

Our. As in the Nightmare Gang’s. And no one else’s. Ink was surprised he had not put that little detail together sooner. He reminded himself that he already pushed Nightmare’s patience more than he should have… but that resistance let Ink find a purpose, hadn’t it? Ink held his tongue and did not verbally object. “Thank you for explaining.”

“You’re welcome.”

There was a heavy pause as Horror and Cross waited for Ink to speak. The expectation in their stares was daunting but Ink preferred that to the empty gazes he was used to from back there. Even when Cross and Horror did not move very much, they were still animated. Horror tapped his fingers on his thigh while Cross’s foot wiggled the smallest bit. Both of them blinked, and breathed, and made all these little movements that showed they were alive and aware.

Now that they wanted answers to their questions, Ink was not sure what to say. He’d lived with the expectation that the Gang did not care to know where he came from (just like they did not ask each other about their pasts) but that had changed. It felt strange to simply tell them when they had seemed so disinterested before. Ink was willing to share, of course he was, but it was still uncomfortable. He hoped they would not think less of him after he told them about his empty excuse of a “life” back there. Horror and Cross saw worth in his existence. They had proven as much. He hoped that would not change when they knew he had been incomplete and abandoned because he had not been good enough.

Ink looked towards Horror and focused on the soft blue of his coat and not the uncomfortable white of Cross’s. “Don’t interrupt, please.”

“Of course.” Horror agreed.

Cross might have nodded but Ink was not looking at him.

“My AU was abandoned before it could be completed. When I say my world was empty and white, I mean it literally. There were no buildings or trees or food or weather or anything at all except a few people. I was the only one with a soul and emotions. Most of the others were not finished enough to have any type of consciousness. A couple seemed to be aware that they existed but that was about it. They could not move, speak, or feel.”

White white white abandoned with no name no sound no companions no care no hope—

Ink did not look up at their faces even though he knew there would be emotions there (the faces would be different, the eyes would be different and the stares would be different but he didn’t want to look up). He looked down at the dark wooden floor, the blue bedspread, and Cross’s booted foot. He breathed the musky smell of Horror’s jacket and the fresh air that came through the open window. If he looked up he would see Horror’s face with his red eye light and Cross’s face with his bright red scar, not the blank stares of the empty white sketches. And that was if they had a face at all.

Ink’s chest felt tight. He paradoxically wrapped his arms around his ribs and squeezed to try to make the sensation go away. “It’s so easy to read your expressions and emotions.” He commented without looking up at their (blank blank blank) expressions. “All those little facial movements show so much. Did you know Nightmare’s tentacles show his emotions even if he’s trying to hide them on his face? You’re all so expressive! It’s wonderful.”

“W-Wait. Go back." Cross’s voice sounded strained like Ink’s did some times when he tried to speak louder. "Your world was in the Anti-Void?” 

Horror did not object to the interruption. That was okay, though. Ink expected at least some questions in the middle of it.

Ink focused on the black of Cross’s pants as he answered. The color was complete and full, not a granite-like texture. “I’m not sure. Nightmare thinks it might have been but if it was, you’d think Error would have found me and killed me.”

A useless, pathetic, abandoned Sans in an empty world sounded like easy pickings for the Destroyer. Ink wondered if he would have fought to save himself in that scenario. Probably not. He’d be so relieved that his isolation was over that he would not have cared about what happened to him and he quite literally might have welcomed death with open arms. He could not say if Error’s apparent oversight was lucky or unlucky on his end. Then again, if Ink had died back there he would never have gotten everything the Gang had given him.

“It could have been worse.” Ink reasoned with a shrug. “I wasn’t murdered. I didn’t have to watch anyone be murdered around me.” Except for when… “I didn’t experience any RESETS. My world didn’t have the ability to RESET. I didn’t experience… anything, really. There was nothing there. Just me. And the empty shells of people. It was so empty. And silent. And… lonely.” No sound no world no joy no hope empty empty empty. “I had a soul but I wasn’t complete. I did not have knowledge of magic, or know what a castle was, or about a lot of things. I didn’t even have clothes. I could read, though. There were some blank spaces and “tale” written in my world. It never got a name. I was a "Sans" but that wasn't my name. I didn’t have one until you gave me mine, Horror.” Ink smiled tentatively at Horror’s blue jacket sleeve and not his face. “Thank you for that.”

“’f course.” Horror’s voice was lower in pitch than normal and there was more of a stumble to his words.

Ink’s mind wandered as he focused on the blue of the bedspread, the blue of Horror’s coat, the smell of Horror’s coat, the softness of Horror’s coat and the bedspread, the nervous twitching of Cross’s black boot, and the tickle of a breeze on his arm from the open window, outside of which was a whole world filled with so many more things like grass and flowers and trees. “There’s so much stuff out here. Noises, colors, sounds, smells, sensations, people, moving air… I guess that’s why my voice seems so quiet out here. I can scream really loudly though, you know.”

“Help me! Someone? Anyone? Is anyone there? Please come back! I can be something. Anything you want! PLEASE!”

“I screamed a lot, begging for someone to help me but nobody came. I lost hope. I think my mind broke too, but then I broke so much that there was nothing left to be broken anymore so I ended up sane and aware again. Nothing else changed. Nothing else could change. I was stuck until I couldn’t take it anymore.”

The silence was not deafening. Nothing could compare to the empty nothing of his world.

Ink pressed a hand to his sternum. “I was trying to escape when Nightmare showed up but he grabbed my hands and stopped me from tearing my soul apart. He saved me and offered me a place in the Gang. And... that was it. That’s my story. Or lack of one, I suppose. Sorry if it isn’t very interesting.”

With that, it was done. They knew. Ink felt like a weight had left his damaged soul. It was nice to get some of his meager and pitiful experiences out there. Now to see if it changed anything. Ink finally looked at their faces, about to say more, but paused.

Cross had his hands over his mouth and there were tears in his eye sockets. Horror’s eye lights were out and he did not seem to be breathing. Ink worried for them both and checked to see that they were not injured. He wanted to get so used to checking it would be instinct for him. Just in case. Ink identified that their pain was emotional. It made Ink uncomfortable because it was not like he’d come from a Genocide Timeline. He came from nothing, experienced empty white endless nothing, and was nothing. Not worthy of even having a name.

Nightmare gave him a chance to be someone. Horror gave him a name. Ink wondered if he should ask Horror or Cross about the binary codes and show them the tattoos. He was not sure he was ready but he wanted to trust them. He wanted to be open and encourage them to do the same. Besides, if Ink told them about the codes, they wouĺ̸͕d̸͓͠ kill him.

Sweat beaded on Ink's brow and a cold vice closed around his neck like he'd been collared. His soul did not hurt but every pulse seemed to reverberate through his ribs and up into his skull, making his vision swim. He reached up, arms wrapped around his rib cage and fingers digging into the material of Killer’s coat. The binary codes on his bones seemed to burn and he curled up further.

"Ink! Can you hear me?"

Cross's face was blurry. Dark spots danced through Ink’s vision in front of Cross’s concerned features, gray and dark purple and black.

Ink latched onto the blue at his right and focused on the softness of Horror's blue coat. Blue was such a wonderful color like cyan and brown and green and all the others (except white). "Sorry. Did you say something?"

Horror and Cross looked at each other. Cross had lowered his hands from his mouth and held onto the collar of his coat instead like he was afraid to let go of it.

Horror’s voice remained a hushed mumble as some of his words slurred together. “May we see yer soul, Ink?”

“Sure.” Ink agreed instinctively. Before he could summon his soul into visibility, he reconsidered and hesitated. “It’s a bit damaged.”

There was no mistaking the distress that flashed across Cross’s features for anything else. He schooled his expression but he could not go blank like the ones back there. Ink was glad. “What do you mean by ‘damaged’?”

Horror was less obvious but his fingers dug into the fabric of the bedspread.

Their surprise was, well, surprising to Ink. It seemed he had made a couple wrong assumptions again. That was nothing new but at least he was learning. “Nightmare didn’t tell you about it? I thought he did because you never used blue magic on my soul.”

“He told us not to but did not say why.” Cross’s eye lights shrank and dulled. “He ordered me not to portal us in through Snowdin…”

“Oh, that might have been uncomfortable.” Ink considered. “Snow is white, right? The pictures in books usually showed it was white but I’ve been reading some fantasy stories too. One of them had snow that was a pinkish purple color. Like this stuff called ‘cotton candy’. I saw that in a book too. The food, not just the fantasy snow. Sometimes I get things confused.”

“…Yes.” Cross sounded dazed. “Snow is white.”

Ink felt another rush of gratitude and smiled tentatively at him and Horror both. “Thank you for not calling me stupid because I don’t know things. You always explain. And Horror’s been teaching me to cook. And train. You too, Cross! Thanks. I keep saying that but it means a lot… Oh, right.”

Ink remembered that they wanted to see his soul and summoned it into visibility. The cracks and gouges were as visible as ever. His soul still looked like broken white pottery. Like always, Ink admired the imperfections in the soul so that he was not disconcerted by the bright white of it.

This was normal for him. It was clear this was not normal for the others. One peek was all he needed to see Horror and Cross were distraught. Cross’s eye lights had gone out this time and Horror’s expression was so empty Ink could not bear to look at him for long. The discomfort and another heavy emotion came back but Ink did not try to hide his soul. He knew what shame felt like. He felt it whenever he failed at his magic lessons or when someone called him stupid. (He felt it when he realized They weren’t coming back.) Ink did not understand why he felt it now but he acknowledged it was there since it was definitely a negative-leaning emotion.

“Uh. So this is my soul.” Ink said awkwardly in the ensuing silence. “Those holes are from my fingers. See? I tried to—”

Ink raised his hands to touch the marks but Horror grabbed both of his wrists. The grip was so gentle that Ink barely felt it. A little pull would let him break free. Not “break free” in that way. Not now.

Horror adjusted his hold and Ink found himself pulled into a tight hug. Now he’d gotten hugs twice in one day. Ink would love for it to happen more if it did not include awkward conversations and attacks by the Destroyer as a prerequisite. He eagerly snuggled into the warmth of the blue jacket and realized Horror was trembling.

Ink had read up on souls as part of his medical research and guessed one of Horror’s concerns. “Don’t worry; My soul is cracked like that because of what happened, not because I’m losing the will to live. My health and magic haven’t been affected either. I mean, I did not know magic existed back there in order to compare my power to what I can do now but I’m not weakening or Falling Down or anything. I’ve practiced tracking my vitals so I can be ready when I need to help you guys. My soul is stable. It’s just damaged.”

Except for the incident with the white light but Ink was not sure how to explain that when he had no idea what it was, how it happened, or why. (And the thought of mentioning anything that might do with codes made it hard for him to breathe).

Horror turned his head and laid his cheek atop Ink’s skull. “Please be honest with me. Do you ever think about destroying your soul now?”

Ink was about to give an answer but checked himself. It would be best to encourage honesty since he would need the others to be honest with him about their own medical issues. “Maybe subconsciously? You said not to tear apart my soul if Error caught me so I guess it wasn’t what you expected me to say.”

“It wasn’t.” Horror sounded very sad, and very, very tired. “Promise me you won’t do that again.”

“I won’t.” Ink agreed easily. “Even if Error drags me to the Anti-Void.”

You want me to live. And I want to live, too. There’s so much out here to live for, you know? The words were too personal to say out loud. A weight had lifted off of Ink's soul, that was true. But it felt strange to open up about what happened back there. Ink had been alone for so long, but now two others knew what he came from. It made it all feel more real.

Ink tapped the back of Cross's hand. "Do you want to speak now?"

Cross still appeared dazed. "Huh?"

Ink looked down and fiddled with the sleeve of Horror’s coat. Horror let him. “You were upset when I mentioned the empty whiteness. Do you want to explain?”

He peered up again and witnessed every conflicted emotion that flashed across Cross’s face. Uncertainty, guilt, fear, grief, anger.

"I can't say much." Cross hedged. There was no mistaking the shame in his voice for anything else. "I can't. I was… You see, I was…"

Ink hated to see him struggle. “Please stop.” He interrupted before Cross could make himself speak. “You don’t have to share until you want to. If you ever want to. I’ll need to know health history so I know how to help you but you don’t need to share everything if you don’t feel like it.”

Cross’s relief was palpable. “Not everything. Just that… I was in the Anti-Void for a bit.”

Ink’s breath caught but he did not interrupt again.

“I was stuck for a while after my world was destroyed. I had a world before that. Family. Friends.” Cross spat the words ‘family’ and ‘friends’ with a mixture of anger and grief. “I wasn’t… completely alone like you. I had… someone with me. But if you— if you ever have problems when you think about that place, you can talk to me. I might understand.”

Cross sounded uncertain as he said that but Ink’s felt wonderfully warm. He wanted to hug Cross but he was not sure it would be welcomed right now. Instead he held onto his hand and gave it a light squeeze.

“Thank you. You can come to me too if you need help.”

Cross looked conflicted all over again.

“Do you have any questions, Ink?” Horror rumbled, drawing Ink’s attention to him. “Anything at all?”

Ink did have a question but he was not sure if he should ask it. Cross was already uncomfortable. “Can I ask Cross about more recent things?”

Horror seemed surprised by that question.

“Depends.” Cross responded. He did not seem as pained as when he tried to talk about his past. “What is it?”

Ink mentally went over how to ask his question before voicing it. “Do you want to tell me why you kept following me before?”

Horror made a low noise. It might have been a sigh or a laugh. Or both. Could it be both?

Cross froze up. His jaw clenched and he avoided looking at Ink as his discomfort revealed his guilt. “You, uh, noticed me?”

Ink nodded and waited patiently.

“I just wanted to make sure that you were okay after the Star Sanses.” Cross said evasively.

Cross was hiding something. That was okay.

Ink did not press. “Thank you for your concern. They didn't hurt me or try to capture me like Error did.”

Ink could not repress a shiver as he recalled the corruption of Error’s presence. He was not looking forward to experiencing that toxic aura again. But Error had also been injured… Not that Nightmare would let Ink even get close enough to heal him. Ink was the Nightmare Gang’s Healer, no one else’s (for now).

Oh right, Nightmare wanted him to come up with a disguise.

“I need to go to the Library to look up disguise things.” Ink blurted. “Do you think Dust would help?”

“You can always ask him.” Horror mentioned.

“Right.” Ink hesitated, then wrapped his arms around Horror’s middle. “Thank you for listening. And being here.”

He got up and hugged Cross as well for just a second before he hurried out the door to the Library.

Dust was busy reading his own book when Ink got there with the codes outline of Paps by his shoulder. Paps was as shadowy as ever other than the vague outline of codes that made up his form. Ink wondered if he would become more visible if he traveled to Dusttale. Now was not the time to think on it. Dust’s gaze was unblinking and intense and he gripped the book tightly. He might be in one of his moods. Best not to bother him.

Ink grabbed the steampunk fantasy book he had picked up earlier and sat by Dust, leaving an empty chair between them. The cover that had drawn his attention before still caught his eye, primarily the style of the protagonist. From what he could surmise so far, steampunk was associated with fantasy and technology, not specifically medicine and healing.

Ink got up and grabbed another book. This one was filled with medical texts, along with the origin of several symbols of health and healing. Nightmare said that he did not want Ink to have obvious Healer traits to his outfit. That did not mean Ink could have none at all. He just needed to be subtle about it and adapt a functional style of misdirection. He could not look like a Healer but he damn well would be one, necessities included.

Ink opened the books and began to flip through their pages.

It took a few minutes for Cross and Horror to gather their thoughts enough to speak. As they sat in stunned silence, Cross idly wondered what Nightmare was sensing from them both. He felt emotionally drained and knew Horror was as well. What they had learned hung heavy in the air between them. Cross was selfishly glad that his own past had not been added on top of it.

There was no way around it. Either Ink was so desperate that he hoped that destroying his soul would make something change or he wanted to die to end his isolated existence.

Cross knew a bit about the kind of misery the Anti-Void could bring out, but he had XChara with him in his self-inflicted personal hell. Enemies they may be, it was at least something. Ink had been alone. Completely and utterly abandoned. His puzzlement about things that should be basic knowledge was now an obvious sign that he had come from almost literally nothing. They were not dealing with a traumatized Sans who had a unique way of looking at the world. They were dealing with a traumatized Sans who has to learn how the world works from almost the ground up.

Before, Ink had seemed naïve and sheltered. The truth was much more complicated and much more alarming to boot. Ink wasn’t unaware of basic things because he was flighty. He was unaware because he never got the chance to experience any of it. Cross tried to imagine what it would have been like if he woke up in the Anti-Void with no memories and knew his mind would have fractured long before anyone reached him. The isolation had been hard enough with XChara.

It could have been so much worse for Ink out here. If not for his surprising amount of will, Nightmare could have molded him into whatever he wanted. Consciously or otherwise on the part of their Boss. The idea disturbed Cross more than he would ever admit out loud.

Cross looked at Horror and Horror stared back with hollow eye sockets. A sickened sense of understanding passed between them as they both realized that most of Ink's first experiences with touch were getting hit.

"How did we not ruin him?" Cross wondered out loud.

"Ink is stubborn in his own way."

That didn’t feel good enough to Cross. It wasn’t good enough. Ink shouldn’t have to be “stubborn” to be happy. Did he ever have the chance to be happy in that empty white world? Cross highly doubted it.

"Maybe we should offer more benign physical contact?” Cross offered helplessly. “You know… Pats on the head, arm around the shoulders, maybe pull him around by his hand or something?"

“I’ve already been doing that.”

Horror did not intend for the comment to be painful but Cross felt a little bit worse when he heard it. He knew Ink craved contact but he did not stop to wonder why. He hadn’t cared to. Nightmare’s Gang consisted of murderers and screw ups but now they had to teach someone how to be a functional person.

Cross had no delusions about his own stability. He was aggressive, paranoid, quick to anger, and prone to snapping when pressed. Cross's relationship with his "father" was worse than dysfunctional. His relationship with his brother Papyrus was even worse than that in some ways. Towards the end, at least. Cross closed his eye sockets and saw hundreds of blasters point down at him. He re-opened them before they could fire.

Killer was unstable and knife-happy on a good day. Dust was comparatively passive and content to listen to “Paps” but he was listening to a hallucination of his dead brother. Nightmare could be calm and collected but he was volatile in his own right, particularly when Dream was involved. The only one that was remotely functional was Horror, and even he had bad days where he lost control.

Cross felt utterly out of his depth. “Ink's good. He’s so determined not to hurt that he became a Healer. He deserves so much more than us.”

“Ink would disagree with you.” Horror said.

“He doesn’t know any better.” Cross growled.

He did not mean for it to be anything more than a snappish retort but they were both hit with how true that was. The silence lingered as they became lost in their own thoughts. Cross found himself swept up in not only what was, but what might have been if things were a little different and Nightmare did not find Ink first.

Could I have found him?

Cross dismissed the idea as soon as it came. Exploring the Anti-Void was a quick way to get himself killed. Not to mention it was impossible to navigate for anyone (except maybe Error). Even if the destroyed Xtale and Ink’s empty and abandoned world had both been in the same dimension, the chances of Cross stumbling upon it were absolute zero.

Cross did not have the omnipresence to locate Ink but he knew someone who did. The better question was whether Core and Dream could have found Ink. They might not be capable since his AU did not fully form and according to Dream, Core could not see or go into those kinds of places. Then again, that weakness was given to Cross by Dream and Core. It could be another lie by omission that Dream told him. After all, Nightmare had been able to sense Ink’s despair and got to him just fine.

Core and Dream had approached Cross with an offer to move to the Omega Timeline. Why hadn’t they helped Ink? Could Core truly not see him? Could Dream not sense his positive emotions, if he had any? Or had they known Ink was there but ignored him? If they had known, Cross hoped Ink would never find out. He already had low self-worth.

“I know why you were following Ink like you were.” Horror said suddenly. "You couldn't believe that Ink was immune to Dream’s aura. You’re angry at yourself because you’re not."

Cross hated his patient bluntness but could not deny it was true. "Dream's aura is intoxicating. It makes you feel happy but that happiness and contentment isn't natural. You’re drawn in, you want that ‘peace’ and ‘happiness’, and you don’t feel like you should leave even though you could be doing more away from him. When you want to fight the good feelings you get, you can’t. If you can fight those good feelings, you don’t want to anymore. Sometimes you can't even accept that you should be fighting those false emotions at all. It… It’s overwhelming. Nightmare’s influence shields us from its effects now but I’ll never forget it.” Cross’s mouth twisted into a self-deprecating sneer. “And then there's Ink. Who is immune. Completely immune…”

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to be upset with Ink for his immunity. Except Cross was not upset with Ink, but with his own weakness. It was ridiculous to think about what if, but Cross wondered how much time he wouldn't have wasted if he had not been ensnared by Dream's aura. He had been so convinced that helping Dream gave him the opportunity to fix the home he destroyed… What a sick joke.

“Nightmare does not blame you for fighting against us.” Horror murmured.

Cross glared at his own reflection in the mirror. The icy stare was a far cry from the naïve, hopeful gazes that once adorned his face. His hope had been battered by XFrisk, XChara and the destruction of Xtale. It had been built up and toppled by Dream. Some would say Dream was an optimistic soul. Cross knew the truth. Dream was a benevolent liar who twisted tales of false hope so convincing that he even fooled himself.

“Ink deserves better than us but I'm damn glad the Stars and Core never found him.”

Ink's chains could hold Error. Cross knew without a shadow of a doubt that they would hold Nightmare. The moment that and Ink's immunity to the Guardians' auras was discovered, Ink's ability to choose his own path would be gone. Desperation made many good souls cruel and the Omega Timeline would fall to colder tactics to get him to fight for them. Not heal. Not defend. But fight.

Some would have demanded that Ink’s capabilities and magic be tested in the Omega Timeline’s Labs. Their proposal would have been rejected, of course, but there were many that would ‘coincidentally’ look the other way if something happened. If it was for the good of the Multiverse, why not?

Someone else would have guilt-tripped and manipulated Ink into becoming the Omega Timeline's secret weapon. They would have told Ink that he'd be a hero and implied that he was the most selfish scum in the Multiverse if he refused to fight (kill) for them. Then Dream would unknowingly step in as the kinder one that called Ink special and wistfully lamented how he could help so many people. Willingly or through ignorance, those separate parties would press and press until Ink cracked.

But there was a problem with that hypothetical plan: Ink would not crack. Not in the way the Omega Timeline would want. Ink would not harm for Nightmare. He sure as hell would not harm for Dream, Core, or their lackeys. Ink would rather die.

For a moment, Cross closed his eye sockets and saw Ink (alone, desperate, and broken in an endless white void) dig his fingers into his damaged soul and pull. Cross forced them back open and swallowed his nausea. He was already going to have his usual nightmares and more nightmares about Error’s attack on Ink. He did not need to give himself any more ammunition.

Cross finally admitted to himself what had been bothering him since that encounter with Dream in the Aftertale AU. It was why he’d watched Ink so carefully from afar while he desperately wanted to approach him but was afraid to do so at the same time. Cross's desire to protect Ink won out over his self-loathing.

Maybe he was ready to talk a bit after all.

The pile of books around Ink had steadily grown larger as time passed as had his compilation of notes. It was satisfying to see the blank white pages fill up. Nightmare needed Ink to be disguised and not associated with Healers through his appearance but Ink’s disguise also had to be functional so he could do his job.

Ink decided he should look as “not a Sans” as possible. Him being a Sans was practically a given considering he was part of the Gang but Nightmare wanted as much ambiguity as could be managed. Not much could be done about his height and he did not like the idea of wearing heels to increase it a little (height did not matter; mobility and stability did) so he focused on other things. He immediately decided that he would not wear hoodies, shorts, sneakers, or slippers. Cloaks would not do either since they could be associated with the fantasy-based worlds of many magical Healers.

Ink firmly settled on the fashion aesthetic of steampunk. Steampunk still had the fantasy elements but it also leaned into technology and metalwork. Along with medicine, but that was not what was most associated with those kinds of worlds. Using the pictures he had found throughout several books as a reference, he began to sketch out his ideas, starting with the pants and a basic turtleneck to cover as many bones as possible. He wanted them to be covered, especially since he had been getting more binary codes lately.

“What are you doing?”

“Sketching ideas.” Ink did not look up as Dust sat next to him with the outline of Paps hovering at his shoulder. He focused on the drawing as he let his pencil tap on the paper for a moment. “I need to be mobile so I don’t want to carry a separate bag. I’ll need pockets for the extra inventory space. Some things aren’t able to be instantly healed with green magic.”

Dust understood what he was saying. “Some clothes can be made with a magic that allows for extra space without it showing. Nightmare knows someone.”

Ink added that to the list of specifications. The pants themselves would not have many pockets, but the additions would. Said additions could be easily dropped and left behind in case Ink was carrying something he did not want any captors to get ahold of. A brown satchel was attached to the right thigh and what appeared to be a long brown holster-like design was for the left from the upper thigh to the knee. Seven pockets went down it in a line. Ink made a note that the pockets should have unique symbols so he knew what was in each one without second guessing himself. He took a brief break from the practically side of things to write “green” for the turtleneck.

Dust noticed. "No green."

“But I like green.”

“The Boss is going to say no because green will be associated with healing magic. No green.”

Ink crossed out the word "green" for the turtleneck and wrote “black” instead. Then he drew a vest over the turtleneck. After that he wrote “green” and drew several arrows to the vest. Then he circled the word “green”. Once he was done, he stared at Dust.

"Don't you like cyan too?" Dust cajoled.

"Yes."

"How about you make the vest cyan then?"

"No. I'd like it to be green."

Dust looked torn between laughing and putting his head in his hands. “Are you going to put something over that?”

“Yes.” Ink said.

Dust gave in. "Fine."

Ink drew another model for the outer layer. Since Dust and Nightmare would not let him use green, he decided to use brown as a major color. After some consideration, he decided on a brown steampunk overcoat with black accents and a hood. Seven black buttons went up the chest to the left side of the sternum. Under the last button, the fabric opened up in an upside down “v” shape, preventing the coat from covering the fronts of the legs. The hem of the “tail” of the coat fell just below the backs of the knees. Finally, the collar of the coat covered part of the neck. Ink made an arrow that pointed at the neck and chest areas and mentioned the possibility of a reinforcement to protect his throat and ribs in his notes.

The black pants tucked into tall brown boots with black buckles. Most were decorative but the largest buckle would hide the small pocket that lay underneath. He requested that the soles be something with a good grip. The last thing he needed was to trip and fall.

Dust watched him draw with a fascinated expression. “I didn’t know you could draw.”

“I like to fill in the empty margins of my notes with little sketches.” Ink commented.

Ink flipped to a new page. On the separate sheet, he drew the left forearm of the coat. Around it he sketched what looked like two black snake designs wrapped around his arm. It was just an idea for now, but Ink made a note that the “black snakes” was actually his magic shaped into that form and “stained” into the fabric of his coat. He’d have to do some testing but he might be able to keep the magic there until he needed it. Just in case.

Ink flipped back to the first page. Over the coat, he sketched a design for a thick black belt that had more pockets on it. The front ones would have supplies he’d need immediately, the back with less used but still essential tools.

Next were the coverings for his hands. Ink decided on black gloves that left just the tips of his fingers exposed so he can more easily use his magic to heal others. The exposed tops of his fingers would also help Ink control and direct his magic chains. He asked for the gloves to be reinforced so he could grab sharp objects without them cutting into him. After a moment consideration, Ink added a bronze analog clock to the back of the right glove. Inside the clock face was a smaller one to the upper right side. He asked for them both to be functional.

Dust watched him work with a curious expression. “You should come up with another nickname too.”

Ink made a face. “Why?”

“Error might have CHECKed you.”

Ink forgot about that. He had blurred his CHECK but if anyone could see past that, it would be the Destroyer. “Won’t it not matter then?”

“Nicknames can override original names under certain circumstances.” Dust grinned humorlessly. “My name was Sans.”

Dust did not offer to explain further so Ink did not ask. “Do you have any ideas?”

“I might. I like playing word games on the fly. What are you thinking?”

“Steampunk with fantasy and bird influence.”

Dust peeked at the other side of the page “Birds? Why the snake shape then…? Oh.” Dust’s cheeks gained a light violet shade. “Shut up, Paps.”

Ink saw the outlines of codes shift, like the floating gloved hand was covering a laugh. Dust set the page back down and pulled his hood further over his face. It failed to hide his small smile.

“Nicknames?” Ink prodded.

Dust hummed to himself. He was still smiling. “Steampunk with some fantasy and bird influence, huh? Let’s see… Brass, Gold, Silver, Gear, Clock, Scout, Punk, Tock, Ash, Steam, Coal, Aves, Vapor, Hunter, Viper, Equinox, Fable, Mage, Soul, Arcana—”

That last one caught Ink’s attention. “Arcana?”

Dust paused. “That’s from somewhere. Give me a sec.”

One quick look in a dictionary had them pulling another book off the shelf. The term ‘Arcana’ referred to secrets and mysteries. It also had to do with tarot symbolism. Not quite what Ink had in mind, but the meaning behind some of the cards caught his attention. Major Arcana cards were often associated with the experiences of living, reflecting both good fortune and hardships. Ink felt a draw to the term just for that.

Dust flipped further through the tarot book and laughed to himself. “Well, what do you know. There is a steampunk version.” He winked at Ink. “We could call you Arc for short.”

Ink, Arc (short for “Arcana”), and Shield. Three different names for different situations. For the Gang, for missions with the Gang, and for undercover missions out in the Multiverse. A name, and two nicknames. Ink once had no name at all. Now he had three.

Ink sniffled and rubbed at his eye sockets. “Thank you for giving it to me.”

Dust kept smiling but the tilt of his skull indicated confusion. “That’s a weird way to put it but sure.”

A thought came to Ink and he looked down as he fiddled with his sleeve. “My name will still be Ink, right?”

“What?” Dust’s eye sockets widened. “Yes. It won’t matter what your CHECK says. You’re still you.”

That comforted Ink. He might not be able to work in the open like he wanted but he would still be him. Ink wrote “Arcana/Arc” in the corner of the page. He was about to add a fictional AU name but stopped without writing anything. Ink could never have a named AU. Not even for a disguise.

Ink checked over the sketch and added a few adjustments. Whenever he found himself staring blankly at the page, he filled in some of the empty background with buildings and a train station.

“Coming up with a fake world too, huh?” Dust commented. “Smart.”

Ink did not tell him he drew a world so the sketch would not be alone.

Finally Ink worked on the final piece of the outfit that he had been avoiding. He did not try to simply draw what he wanted however. Instead he summoned his black magic. It took a few tries and multiple splattered failures that evaporated off the floor but eventually his magic matched his intent. The black magic shifted into place, with some sections shimmering into altered hues, and hardened into a mask.

Ink’s mask appeared to be made from brass and copper metal that had been painted black. Despite it being made of his black magic, it had the shine of metal. It would cover his face while his brown hood covered the rest of his skull.

The way the “metal” was crafted made the mask resemble an owl’s feathery face. It was fashioned after a mix of a gas mask for the bottom half and steampunk brass goggles for the top half. Ink’s eye lights would not be visible through the goggle's dark lenses, which was another necessity to keep him from being instantly identified as a Sans.

The bottom half of the mask had two symmetrical “valves” for exhalation and inhalation. Both were flatter than the versions he saw in the more “realistic” books. (Ink wondered if he could have them be actually functional since some AUs were apparently toxic. He made a note of it in the corner of the page that held the snake design.) There was a bit of metal between the valves of the mask that looked like an owl’s beak. Since his mask was made from black magic he could easily remove the mask to reveal his face and replace it in a moment’s notice. It also meant that his enemies would be unlikely to be able to tear it off of him.

Ink tried the mask on and looked at Dust.

Dust did a double take. “Welp, now you have the Sans glare down pat. That might be almost as scary as your other glare.”

Ink pulled the mask up and let it rest atop his skull. “What glare?”

Dust squinted at him suspiciously. Did he think Ink was joking? “Remember how I said you were taking the medic stuff seriously? You got a little intense.”

Ink kept waiting.

“Do you really not know?” Dust wondered. “C’mere.”

Dust led Ink to his own room and nudged him in front of the mirror. Ink stared at his reflection uncertainly. Dust hovered at his shoulder and held the sides of his skull to keep him facing forward. His smile fell.

“By the way, Cross fell and smacked his skull again. On the edge of a table this time. He’s been hiding it.”

“He what?” Ink hissed. Again? Why would Cross hide it? He had nearly collapsed the last time. At this rate Ink was going to have to constantly scan Cross to make sure he wasn’t hiding injuries. Why did he keep doing this?

Ink was distracted from his anger and frustration by his reflection. His eye sockets were always black but now they were like an abyss, as though the light around them was being sucked into the darkness as wisps of black magic shimmered at the edges of his sockets. And from within those abysses were circular eye lights that glowed a vibrant green.

“Cross isn’t injured.” Dust stated. “I just wanted you to see.” He leaned over so his chin rested on top of Ink’s head. “The color of the glow usually depends on the traits of a skeleton’s magic. Heh. I guess you would have ended up having to wear a mask anyway.”

Ink blinked in surprise. The shadows and green glow vanished from his eye sockets. He squinted at his reflection but he could not make the green return. Giving up, he craned his neck to look at Dust. “Are Healers really that rare?”

Dust released a heavy breath. “Yeah. They are.”

Ink considered that and looked at the owl steampunk mask he still held. It stared back at him, serene but inscrutable. To allies, it would be a sign of comfort. To others, it would be eerie and ominous. Nothing about the outfit that he had drawn screamed Healer or Medic. But that was what he needed if he wanted to keep the Gang and himself safe. Ink thought about how he had smudged his CHECK before to blur it out. He focused on that sensation, feeling the codes, and attached it to the mask he held.

Ink put the owl mask back on but soon lifted it off of his face. It remained attached to the top of his head. “The Gang can’t have a green magic Healer so how about a black magic “Doctor”? The type that you aren’t really sure that they’re allowed to practice medicine or if “Doctor” refers to a Scientist with questionable methods. I can make my green magic dark enough that it almost looks black.”

Dust looked from the mask to Ink and laughed quietly. “You got some ideas from that book, huh?”

“Yes.” Ink said honestly. “The “Mad Doctor” is actually one of the heroes because even though the protagonists thought they were doing something they had to they were actually causing damage to—”

“Jeez, don’t spoil it for me.” Dust joked. He nudged the mask with his hand and blinked in surprise when it did not budge. When he realized he could not move it, his grin was wide. “I think the Boss is going to like this.”

Nightmare did like it. Or as close to “like” as he could like anything. He was surprised that Ink had compiled what he wanted so soon. Other than a scowl when he saw the green vest, Nightmare did not disapprove of anything in the design. He even let Ink keep the vest in that color. Nightmare was also as close to approving as Ink had ever seen from him. He let Ink keep the mask and arm design drawing but took the bigger sketch, saying he had someone who could make the requested clothing. It would be ready before the Gang’s next mission.

Ink still hated that he had to hide and that the Gang was going to attack more AUs. It did not stifle his excitement so much that it was crushed completely. He was finally going to be out there. He was finally going to be able to help. Not as many people as he would have liked, but still. He could help the ones that had helped him so much.

Ink returned to his room for the night. Someone had left him a black long sleeve shirt and light brown pants to replace the clothes he had lost and a note. The note was from Horror, who told him these were from Cross for him to borrow. Both of them had noticed that Ink seemed to like the color so they decided on those pants for him. Horror promised to take Ink shopping so he could get clothes that actually fit him.

Ink ignored the borrowed outfit for now and put his usual brown pajama set on. He left his room and cautiously approached the one that belonged to Killer with his coat in hand. Ink dithered outside a little before he hung the coat on the hook on the door and left without going inside. He knew Killer would not want to talk to him yet or hear his thanks. Maybe someday that might change.

With that done, he went back to his room and inspected his ribs. Burned into his ribs were what was once the codes for A Nightmarish Negative Tale. Now they were little more than a charred streak, seared and smudged like ashes. He could not read the binary for that world anymore. A Nightmarish Negative Tale was gone.

Ink thought about telling Cross, Horror, or even Dust about the ones lost. Them, the sensation of their destruction, and the binary codes that were like tattoos on his bones. The soul-chilling anxiety that struck him left him breathless and shaking on the floor next to his mirror. He frantically checked his soul for the white light from before but nothing happened this time. His soul remained as it was. Cracked, gouged, and glowing faintly.

Once Ink had calmed down enough to breathe, he sat on his bed with the owl mask in his hands. He thought of the Gang, Error, the Star Sanses, the Corrupted, and all the other threats in the Multiverse. He thought of Nightmare, who gave him a chance. He thought of Dust, who assisted him so much without being asked. He thought of Horror and Cross, who knew he was incomplete and abandoned but still wanted him anyway. He thought of Killer, whose small act of kindness said more than he probably wanted it to.

Ink’s fingers curled around the edges of the owl mask. I won’t let disguises hinder me. I’ll support you. I’ll heal you. I’ll protect you. Even if it costs me my life.

Ink set the owl mask on the bedside table facing the door, turned off the lamp, and went to bed.

It felt like he had just laid his head down when a soft knock him roused from sleep.

The light of the moon drifted through the windows of his room, revealing a large shadow in his doorway. Cross hovered just outside in the hall, wearing his usual outfit with his hand still raised as though to knock again. He wasn’t wearing any pajamas, which struck Ink as odd considering how late it was. Ink rubbed the sleep from his eye sockets and sat up, scanning Cross for injury. Dust had said he’d lied about Cross hiding another injury but Ink would rather be careful about checking.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m not hurt.” Cross assured him quietly. He hovered in the doorway, half-hidden by the frame with his body poised for a retreat. “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Of course.” Ink agreed instantly. “Though I think most conversations take more than a minute, don’t they?”

“Huh?” Cross’s confusion faded quickly. “Uh, yes.”

Cross inched into the room and perched on the edge of Ink’s bed. It was odd to see him move so cautiously. Whenever he was not lurking just out of sight, Cross had a powerful stride. Dust sometimes joked that if you were between Cross and a goal (or chocolate), he’d accidentally run you over without noticing you. Ink was not sure if that was true but then again, he had not seen Cross out on one of the Gang’s missions yet. His only reference was Cross acting as “Guard”, who stormed through a crowd to reach “Shield”.

Now Cross was apprehensive. Quiet. Nervous. Ink scooted closer to Cross and curled against his side, knees drawn to his chest and hand latched onto Cross’s uniform. Cross startled at the contact but did not pull away. A hand instinctively reached up to curl around the back of Ink’s skull and he felt Cross relax.

“I want to talk now.” he began haltingly. “About my past. Not all of it. Just a few things, specifically.”

“Only if you truly do.” Ink reminded him.

Cross huffed a laugh. It did not sound particularly happy, but it wasn’t miserable or fake either. “I do.”

Ink waited patiently. The moonlight did not illuminate much, but it let him see every conflicted emotion on Cross’s face.

“My world was destroyed by something other than Error. I am not ready to talk about what. What I am ready to talk about is how I got out of the Anti-Void.” Cross fell silent, visibly struggling with himself.

Ink almost interrupted to insist that Cross did not need to push himself to share if it was this difficult for him. Cross continued before he could bring it up.

“Dream removed me from the Anti-Void and I chose to be a member of the Star Sanses.” His eye lights vanished and his sockets faded to black. “At least, I thought I chose it. I honestly don’t know if I actually chose anything.”

The remaining drowsiness faded from Ink’s mind and his eye sockets widened in shock.

Cross’s smile was bitter. His eye sockets remained an empty, hollow black. “Did you know that Dream’s aura used to be stronger? In fact, it was so strong it would force positive emotions inside his friend to make sure I stayed happy whether I should be or not.”

Chapter Text

It started with a bond between two lonely people.

It was gone. Xtale was gone.

Cross sat alone, weeping in the empty whiteness that had once been a world. He sneered at him from behind his shoulder, lip curled in disgust as Cross sobbed. The once proud Royal Guard had been shattered, left broken by the loss of his world.  Everything had vanished with only the white Anti-Void remaining. Maybe they would vanish too and all hope of reviving their world would die. It was what Cross deserved but not Xtale. He had wanted to save them. That was all he wanted.

Yet here Cross was. Broken and alone, having lost everything he tried to protect.

“I was trapped in the Anti-Void for a long time. I couldn't starve. I couldn't leave. I didn't need to sleep. I spent my time trying to think of a way to repair my world and bring everything back. It was little more than a fantasy. Back then I could not make portals to get out of the Anti-Void. I could not escape my own personal hell.”

When the crying stopped, his taunts became louder. They joined the self-loathing thoughts in Cross’s head until the two voices became indistinguishable.

‘Look at what you did.’

‘You didn’t save anyone.’

‘This is your fault.’

‘They died because of you.’

Cross was alone with the voices in his head. No home, no friends, no world, nothing. Time passed quickly yet it did not move at all. Nothing aged in the Anti-Void. Nothing died. Nothing truly lived either. Cross was still alive but he knew time must move forward here. As it moved forward yet remained still, he broke more and more until Cross was no longer sure that he actually existed or if he was a mere manifestation of his own self-hatred.

Could anyone blame him for thinking the small monochrome child that appeared was another hallucination? Of course not. There was no one around to blame but himself.

“Core Frisk found me. They invited me to the Omega Timeline. Despite the futility of my goal to repair my world from within the Anti-Void, I refused. They returned again. I still refused. And again. I refused…”

“…Until Core began to send Dream.”

“H-Hello?”

Cross lifted his head from his knees and peered from beneath the fuzzy hem of his hood. Yellow was a color he had not seen in a very long time. Core Frisk had brought him a few books and other things every time they begged him to move into the Omega Timeline, but he would not take up their offer. He could not abandon Xtale. It was gone, yes, but there had to be answers here. There must be.

Cross blinked and the yellow was much closer than before. The first thing he noticed was the warmth that radiated off of them. The second was that the yellow was another skeleton. They— no, he hung back a little, wringing his hands nervously as he studied Cross with bright yellow eye lights. Cross knew who this skeleton was, not because they had met, but because Core Frisk had talked about the Guardian of Positivity. Dream.

Dream crept closer to Cross’s seat and smiled down at him. For the first time since he had ended up in the Anti-Void, Cross felt… warm. The warmth started in his broken soul and spread outward until even his fingertips forgot the feeling of cold.

‘I feel weird…’ he muttered.

Cross did not hear the confused complaint.

“You’re Cross, right?” Dream confirmed.

“Yes.” Cross’s voice was hoarse from lack of use. He vaguely remembered customary greetings from before and held out a hand for a handshake.

Dream backed away. “Don’t. If you touch me, you’ll burn.”

“Dream’s aura was much more powerful back then. Like the Boss’s is cold, Dream’s aura was hot. His body reflected that. The slightest touch would burn anyone to cinders.” Cross noticed Ink’s alarmed expression. “Don’t worry. He’s not that powerful anymore. Though knowing you, you’d be able to touch him regardless just like you can touch Nightmare. Now where was I…?”

Cross dropped his hand but his apology became stuck in his throat as Dream smiled at him.

“Core thought you could use a friend. Well… they thought we both could use friends?” For a moment, Dream appeared puzzled and maybe a little anxious. He shook his head and smiled again. “It’s very nice to meet you, Cross.”

There was little to do in the Anti-Void but Dream had brought some games for when he was there and books for when he wasn’t. Board games, card games, even a few word games. Dream moved slowly and carefully during each one, telegraphing every move.

At first, Cross thought he was worried about scaring a skeleton that had been alone for… for… for a long time. He soon realized that Dream was afraid to accidentally brush against him, a mistake that would cause his death. He thought it must be a lonely existence. He was too happy to have Dream there to think much about it.

“I thought I was happier because I had a friend.” Cross’s eye lights went out. “Now? I’m not sure that was all it was.”

‘You’re acting off.’ he warned. ‘Did Dream use something like [REDACTED] on you or what?’

Cross ignored him. It had become a lot easier to after Dream started to visit. Whenever Dream was there, all negative thoughts quieted in Cross’s mind. All except him, though even he became harder to hear. Having a positive influence around made a lot of difference, Cross thought.

It made more difference than anyone would expect.

“Dream kept visiting. Unlike Core, he did not constantly ask me to move into the Omega Timeline. He’d ask, but he didn’t push. He wanted me to be happy. He didn’t want to argue with me. That… might not have been a good thing.”

Some part of Cross knew things had changed. He felt calmer, more stable, happier than he had ever been. All thanks to Dream, whose face lit up every time he stepped through the portal and saw Cross there. Every once in a while, he offered Cross a place in the Omega Timeline, or other AUs, or simply traveling with him across the Multiverse. Cross refused, but unlike with Core he felt a bit bad about it. Yet he remained steadfast.

That was, until Dream told Cross a legend.

“They can repair worlds?” Cross asked in a hushed whisper.

Even he was silent, listening intently as they both focused on the Guardian sitting beside them.

“They’re called the Protector. Or the Creator, depending on which version you hear. It originates from a tale about a powerful entity that would rival the Destroyer. One that could repair broken AUs, fix the Corrupted, and bring ruined worlds back to life.” Dream’s yellow eye lights shone and Cross could feel the Guardian of Positivity’s hope swelling in his soul like it was his own. “I’m going to find them. Would you help me?”

Cross said yes.

“My mind changed. I thought Dream convinced me that the Protector could bring back my home. To this day, I don’t know if that’s actually what happened or if his aura influenced me.”

‘What is going on with you? These feelings aren’t yours. Can’t you see it? You’re not this happy! You’re a miserable, self-loathing weapon. He’s manipulating you just like that bastard did! Damn it, Cross! Listen to me!’

The warnings and shouting continued until, one day, he was simply gone. Cross did not know where he went. He did not care to look. When Dream begged for his help to defend Underfell from Nightmare’s Gang, he jumped at the call. Eager to help. Eager to fight. Not thinking about the horrible, empty prison he’d been plucked from.

“I helped defend the Multiverse. I was a “Star Sans”. Except we weren’t called that back then. Blue came later. Before that it was just me and Dream, living in the Omega Timeline. It wasn’t the safest place for me. I wasn’t… a typical Sans and some of the Scientists knew it.”

“Cross! May I speak with you?”

Cross heard the voice of one of the Gasters and immediately doubled his pace. He turned a corner and took a shortcut he had learned from another Sans, vanishing before the Gaster could catch up. He appeared within the small home he and Dream used as a residence inside of the Omega Timeline.

The two of them had already developed a pattern. Dream and Cross would protect the Multiverse, Core would help gather support and positivity back in the Omega Timeline, Dream would encourage positivity whenever he could, and the three of them would search for signs of the Protector. The Omega Timeline was so well-guarded that even Nightmare and Error could not enter it. The only threats came from inside.

Dream looked worried when Cross appeared. He always looked worried these days. Cross did his best to cheer him up but it never felt like enough. “Again?”

“Maybe.” Cross said with a shrug. “I didn’t see which Gaster it was this time.”

Dream’s anxiety did not fade. His aura was as bright and enthralling as ever but his face betrayed his concern and exhaustion. “It scares me that they’re interested in you.”

Cross cared more about calming that fear than his own safety. “I know they’re good people. They just want answers. But I can’t give them answers. I don’t have the power they’re so interested in. ”

Dream remained wary.

Cross shrugged, unbothered.

It was only long after the veil was pulled back that Cross would realize how upset he should have been that another Scientist wanted him to be his lab experiment. Back then, he did not question how those Scientists even knew about his world’s unique power and what happened in his home.

“Nightmare was always strong. Even back then. Seeing him and Dream fight was…”

Exhilaration. Admiration. Awe.

(But no terror, alarm, or anger…

Another missed sign.)

Seeing Nightmare and Dream fight meant watching two godlike entities war at levels far above mortal limits. Nightmare was more vicious but Dream fought just as hard. Dream hated to trade such harsh blows with the one he once called brother, but he was the Multiverse’s greatest defender. For so long, he was their only defender. If Dream held back, if he fell… there was no one else. Cross could not stand against Nightmare. He had no chance against Error (and would not even slow him down). In the end, it was up to Dream. Only Dream.

Except Dream was not a Protector. He was a Guardian, yes. But he was not capable of undoing the damage caused or nurturing new AUs to form without problems. Dream could not repair the destruction from their battles. He could not drive Error away and save the AUs that were left in tatters by the Destroyer, if there was anything left at all. Dream could hold the threat back but he could not repair like the mythical Protector could.

Nightmare had been getting steadily stronger. Dream had started at a disadvantage because he’d been trapped in stone, but now the gap between him and his brother only grew larger. The Multiverse tried to adapt but it was already under incredible strain.

(It was only much later that Cross would understand that AUs that were meant to be Positivity-aligned appeared in a Corrupted state without rhyme or reason, forming in a glitched mess with no way to fix them. Others appeared that were so unnaturally Positive they too were glitched, as though an attempt to counter the Negativity had resulted in a type of Positive Corruption that ruined the world all the same. As the residents of those worlds realized their world had been doomed from the start their negative emotions tore through the Multiverse.)

The boosts of negativity made Nightmare stronger, so Dream had to fight harder and use more of his own power. It might have done what intended if Dream’s attack had not been fueled in part by his own growing desperation.

Core Frisk yanked Cross through a portal the second before overwhelming Negativity and toxic Positivity collided.

The explosion obliterated the AU.

When Dream stumbled through another portal into the Omega Timeline, he collapsed to his knees and screamed. It was instinct for Cross to run to him and throw his arms around Dream’s shoulders. Dream shrieked in grief-stricken agony for a completely different reason when his friend touched him… except Cross did not burn. They immediately realized that Cross was not miraculously immune. It was Dream that had gotten weaker.

It was that moment when Cross’s own goals faded completely from his mind. He became so determined to help Dream that he forgot why he left the Anti-Void in the first place.

“I no longer cared about restoring my world. I was Dream’s soldier. His friend. His support. More than I could even realize. That was how things went until I was separated from him during a battle against the Gang.”

The battle had gone terribly. Only Dust and Killer accompanied Nightmare this time but they immediately lunged for Cross while Nightmare went after Dream. Cross fought not for himself, but to get back to his friend, taking nicks and damage without caring for his own well-being. Instead Dust and Killer drove him further and further away from Dream, mocking him as they did so. Dream’s aura, which had once been so strong it felt like a blazing sun, grew weaker in Cross’s senses as the distance between them grew.

Cross did not know what caused it. He did not know why Nightmare decided to unleash a blast of negativity so strong that several of the trees in the forest died instantly. Nightmare’s aura washed over Cross without Dream being close by and it felt like his memory had been restored. He remembered the fallen, his mistakes, his promises. He remembered how his goals had slowly shifted from those promises to only assisting Dream.

The guilt was so overwhelming that Cross cried for the first time since he met Dream. Seeing Cross break down into hysterical tears shocked Dust enough that he faltered in his attack. He grabbed Killer’s hand and shoved it down before he could throw another knife at Cross's head.

“Uh. You okay, buddy?” Dust called awkwardly.

Cross curled in on himself, hood falling over his head as he shook. “I forgot. I forgot again. I forgot. I broke my promise. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault—”

“Breathe.”

Cross’s teary eye sockets jerked up to see the Guardian of Negativity himself. He recoiled, fear twisting his insides into knots as he waited for the attack that he knew would be lethal. Nightmare’s expression held no malice as he studied his sobbing, whimpering enemy. His aura, which had washed over Cross like a bucket of icy water and shocked him into awareness now curled around him with the gentleness of a cool breeze.

Cross took a breath of air, then another, his head pounding like he’d barely escaped drowning. Except it was not Nightmare’s aura that held him under. It was Dream’s.

Nightmare realized it the same moment Cross did. “You were under his thrall this whole time and neither of you knew it.”

For the first time since meeting Dream, Cross felt sick and betrayed.

“Despite my… personal feelings, I’m certain Dream did not do it intentionally. Always remember that the Boss is… biased when he talks about his brother. Dream is not some secret master manipulator that twists those around him to his will.” The words were spoken only for the benefit of Ink, who deserved that bit of honest self-awareness from Cross. “What happened to me was probably an instinct that he did not know was there. He saw me as an isolated, lonely person like himself and so his aura clung to me in particular. To keep me close. Maybe to keep me safe. Not to drain my positive emotions, but to enhance them. Dream was happy that I was happy and his friend, so his aura locked onto me and made sure I stayed happy as well. After all, if I became frustrated with the lack of progress, I might leave. Which is exactly what I did.”

It did not take long for Cross’s hurt to become anger. The overwhelming positivity that had clouded his emotions was gone and his mind was the clearest it had been in a long time. He felt disgust when a Gaster tried to lure him to his lab. He felt frustrated when Core Frisk told him they were unable to repair Xtale. He felt sorrow when a Toriel spoke of how Error destroyed her home. He felt afraid when Dream asked why he was upset.

Before the Gang left, Nightmare had given Cross a small token. He had refused it at first, certain that it was meant to get Nightmare’s Gang into the Omega Timeline. Except it wasn’t. It would let Cross get out. One use. Nothing more. Nothing less. Nightmare said that Cross could have a place in his Gang if Dream proved to be no help to him. He offered potential avenues of finding answers that were far more concrete than a legend. The open, blatant glint in his cyan eye light was a welcome relief after the suppressed sadness of Dream.

Cross fiddled with the token in his pocket as he stared at the skeleton that had been his friend. “Why haven’t we been trying to find the Protector?”

“We’ve been busy defending the Multiverse.”

Dream was telling the truth as he knew it. He was confused by the question. That much was obvious but Dream tried to hide his confusion with a reassuring smile (because that was what was expected of the Guardian of Positivity) that made Cross want to shrink away. He stood firm even though he knew Dream sensed his unease.

“What about Core? Can’t they be searching?”

“They are.” Dream assured him. “What brought this on? Are you okay? Why are you upset?”

Anger and hurt boiled in Cross’s bones. “Funny thing, me being upset. I haven’t been upset since I met you.”

That made Dream pause. “What are you...?”

Dream’s confusion was genuine. It was so genuine it hurt to look at. Cross still wanted to back away.

“Your aura latched onto me. It reacted to your subconscious hopes and made sure I was happy so I’d stay with you. So happy and content that I forgot my own damn reason for leaving the Anti-Void in the first place!”

Cross’s volume raised to a shout and Dream flinched. “No… That can’t be… I couldn’t have…”

Cross saw his every expression, his confusion turning to realization and horror, and although that confirm ed that Dream did not know what his aura had done , it did not quell Cross’s rage.

“How much of my loyalty was mine and how much was your aura encouraging it?”

Dream looked like he wanted to be sick. “I… don’t know.”

Dream did not have that answer. Cross did not have that answer. Perhaps the uncertainty might not have torn them apart if not for what Cross asked next.

“Does a Protector or Creator actually exist? Or are they another empty dream of yours?”

Dream’s voice was unsteady. “They do exist. They’re out there. I know they are.”

Cross whirled on him, fists clenched and teeth bared in rage. “They’re not. You only think a true “Creator” exists because you and Core thought you found him before. Then Core or your Council hoped that I might have inherited his power.” Cross’s mouth twisted into a sneer as his eye sockets went black. “ But your team was mistaken about all of that. You were wrong about him being our “savior”, weren’t you? ”

Dream flinched. His eye lights dulled. He could not look Cross in the face.

“Cross.” Dream’s voice trembled with pain and regret. “I swear we didn’t know what he was planning. I swear we could not get back to you sooner. He locked us out of your world.”

Cross believed him. But it was already too late for apologies.

One more question was asked. The final blow.

“Was Core only so insistent that I move here because they hoped I would have OVERWRITE [TERM REDACTED]?”

“It wasn’t the only reason.” Dream told him with tears in his eye sockets. “And it was never mine.”

Dream meant it when he said that. It wasn’t good enough.

“With my mind clear for the first time in ages, I soon realized the truth: there was no Creator or Protector. There never would be. Core Frisk had no hope of bringing back Xtale. Dream did not have any answers for me. He never did. Maybe he hoped he could find them for me once, but by the time I confronted him, he had given up but still didn’t want me to leave. What he did to me was not intentional but I couldn’t trust my emotions around him. I couldn’t trust him anymore. I couldn’t forgive him. So I left. I took up Nightmare’s offer and have been here ever since.”

Words did not feel like enough so Ink showed support through his actions and hugged Cross. He did not know when he first curled up against Cross’s side. It had happened on instinct some time during his story, with Ink’s desire to provide comfort overcoming his lingering nerves about how Cross may react to it. Cross appreciated that comfort. That much was clear as he leaned against Ink and rested his skull atop his head. Cross’s hood was up and Ink could feel the softness of its fluffy lining through the fabric.

“I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad for Dream.” Cross said sternly. “I’m telling you this because even with that sympathy, you cannot trust him to have your best interests at heart. I can tell you want to give him and his allies a chance.”

Ink did not suppress a jolt of fear even though Nightmare would feel it. With that fear came understanding as to why Cross had been following him before. Cross had been afraid that Dream had influenced Ink but was also too afraid to openly talk about his concerns. Not that Cross believed Ink had been influenced through Dream’s aura like Cross himself was, but that Ink might have been influenced through Dream’s apparent kindness (and silent cries that revealed a weary soul in need of help).

Kindness after suffering was an alluring thing. It was a single light in the darkness that would seem like a beacon even if that light was little more than a feeble candle. Ink could not be ensnared by Dream’s aura, but he could be drawn in by his personality and goals (and Ink’s own instincts to heal and help the weariest of souls).

Cross did not want to lose Ink. But he was not about to lie to him either. His explanation was clear and concise, wording things in a way Ink could understand with his own limited experiences. Cross had seen Dream as a friend once. No longer. Not after Dream had given him nothing but empty promises and false hopes.

Ink had to wonder what happened to the ‘he’ Cross had alluded to and what this great, unnamed power might be. Cross had never identified the entity that was with him in the Anti-Void. Ink could not tell if ‘he’ was another person or someone like Dust’s Papyrus. Ink checked Cross but saw no ghosts of codes like he did near Dust.

Cross noticed his scrutiny. “You can think the Star Sanses are nice. You can agree with their desire to save and protect. You can feel bad for them. But don’t trust them. Never trust them to keep you happy and safe. They will use you. Care for you or not, they will use you if they realize what you can do. Don’t let them.”

Ink still did not know what to say but he nodded against Cross’s side.

“I know the Gang is hurting people.” Cross continued. “But we’re not the losing side. Desperation can make the kindest monster turn cruel and do terrible things. I don’t want you to be enticed by the Omega Timeline’s goals of “helping”. Not because I think you owe the Gang and should stay here, but because I don’t want you to be trapped again.” Cross turned and hugged Ink tightly. “I’m so glad they did not get you first. You’d be a perfect weapon for them. I don’t think they’d let you be anything else.”

Ink tried to picture a world where Core or Dream had rescued him instead of Nightmare and felt uneasy. He’d probably be a Star Sans which… still did not sit well with him. The Star Sanses fought to protect, yes, but it was still fighting. They fought to stop. They hurt to stop. Enemies and threats, yes, but still hurting.

Ink doubted he would be able to make himself harm anyone even if he was on the other side with everyone shouting at him that doing so would ‘make the Multiverse a better place’. There was already too much hurting and killing. Ink would not add more to it because violence would not fix anything. He would still want to focus on healing. He wanted to repair and mend.

From the sounds of it, the Star Sanses and Nightmare’s Gang did not even consider the idea that they did not need to fight. They simply clashed over and over and over in an endless cycle of violence. They gave up on a peaceful solution. Maybe they never even tried to find one.

Ink was glad he did not voice those thoughts because they sounded pathetic and stupid even in his own head. Nightmare and Dream’s conflict had been going on for centuries. Ink had been told over and over that the Multiverse ran on violence. Did he really think that he, a nothing from an abandoned and unfinished world, could somehow get the two sides to stop fighting and talk for once in their existence? He’d practically ask to be captured, tortured, and/or killed if he tried something like that. That was a stupid idea and he needed to stop thinking it.

Any time now. He could stop thinking about it. It was a bad idea. Stop it.

“I know you disagree with what the Gang is doing.”

Ink suppressed a flinch and wondered if he had accidentally spoken out loud. Cross did not mention any of his stupid ideas so Ink must have kept silent. Except Dust had said Ink wasn’t stupid… Ink struggled to keep a brief burst of joy from bubbling up. Unfortunately, Cross spotted it.

“Ink, I’ve seen you holding in a lot of… unexpressed feelings. But you can tell me anything.” Cross said firmly. “Even if you think it goes against Nightmare’s will or goals. Let yourself feel everything. Happiness, sadness, anger, joy, fear, hope, disgust, peace. I also don’t want you to feel like you have to be here because Nightmare got you out. I’ll have your back. Even… if you want to go.”

For a moment, Ink thought Cross was offering to kill him so he would not be abandoned back in the empty whiteness. He thought about what he said again and quickly put together that Cross meant ‘go’ for if Ink wanted to leave the Gang. Recalling Horror’s concerns, Ink realized his first assumption was a lingering instinct from back there.

“You’re allowed to be your own person with all of your own feelings, desires, and goals.” Cross said in that same, firm tone of voice. “I refuse to deprive you of that. Or let Nightmare do that to you.”

“Nightmare’s aura can’t affect me.” Ink cautiously reminded him. “I’m not ensnared. It’s not like you and Dream.”

“I know. But you still deserve a choice.”

Ink did not fully understand but he knew what he wanted. “I’m staying. I want to help the Gang and be your Healer.”

“We don’t deserve that.” Cross whispered under his breath.

It was definitely meant only to be heard by himself but Ink caught it easily.

“Maybe if it was less about who is ‘deserving’ and more about ‘helping’ then the Multiverse wouldn’t be so awful.” he said mutinously.

That startled a laugh out of Cross. “Heh. Maybe it would be.”

“No. That isn’t right. It can’t be true.”

Dream shook his head so violently his vision blurred. Core Frisk observed him, their sadness permeating the air and jabbing at Dream’s senses. They said nothing because their sorrow spoke for itself.

“It’s for a mission, right?” Dream guessed desperately. “Did the Council send him to infiltrate the Gang?”

Core Frisk shut their hollow eyes. They still said nothing but their shoulders began to shake. Dream watched helplessly as they began to cry but he dare not reach out to comfort them with his aura. He recoiled from the idea, disgusted and terrified that he even thought of it after he learned what it— what he had done to Cross. He hurt Cross. He hurt Cross from the moment he met him and neither of them knew it.

“Core, please tell me Cross hasn’t joined Nightmare’s Gang,” Dream begged.

Core Frisk’s head lowered and their silent sobs became audible. Rather than try to comfort them, Dream backed away as the air seemed to freeze in his ribcage and solidify into a block of ice.

“It’s m-my fault.” Core Frisk sobbed. “I approached XGaster. I gave him the idea to use OVERWRITE. I made you promise not to mention what happened with XGaster to Cross b-because I thought he wouldn’t trust us. And now he’s gone.”

Gone made it seem like Cross was dead. Maybe the Cross they knew was dead. Maybe he never existed in the first place. Maybe Dream did not get the chance to know the real Cross at all. Maybe the cheerful, supportive, (and in hindsight) strangely “obedient” former Guard was the puppet of Dream’s aura while the real Cross was locked up inside somewhere like he was trapped in stone, screaming and screaming until he was released by Nightmare.

If that was the case, it was no wonder Cross had joined Dream’s brother. Dream was so blindly happy to have a friend that he did not think to look closer. He did not take a second to think that Cross’s constant optimism and cheer did not match Core Frisk’s descriptions of the anti-social, wary, grief-stricken Sans they had met.

Core Frisk’s secrecy and desire to see if Cross had the ability they had once hoped could save the Multiverse had contributed, but if anyone was to blame for Cross’s defection, it was Dream. Dream was a blind fool. He was a horrible defender. He was an even worse “friend”. What kind of Guardian of Positivity did not realize the positivity in his closest friend wasn’t real?

“Dream? Are you awake?”

It took painfully long for Dream’s eye sockets to crack open. They resisted his commands, remaining shut before they slowly parted and allowed him to see the plain light blue ceiling above him.

Right. He was at Blue’s home in Underswap. Dream did not remember falling asleep on Blue’s couch. Nor did he remember having a pillow placed under his head or a blanket thrown over him. The red and blue checkered blanket was thick, with a soft and fluffy lining. Dream still felt cold.

Blue leaned into Dream’s line of sight and smiled brightly. “Good afternoon! Did you sleep well?”

Dream bit his tongue to hold back a polite lie. “Not really. I’m sorry.”

Blue wasn’t upset by his honesty like many would be. Dream could sense it if he was. “No need to apologize. Despite what Stretch might make you think, that couch is very uncomfortable. I always tell you that you can use the guest room.”

“I did not intend to stay the night.” Dream murmured. He looked at the clock and startled as his head snapped back to stare at Blue. “Did you say afternoon?”

“Yes.” Blue grabbed Dream’s arm before he could hurry past him. “There are no meetings today. Core said no AUs are in trouble. Anymore than usual, anyway. None have been in huge danger since… um. Since that one that fell to Error.”

“A Nightmarish Negative Tale.” Dream reminded him. “It was… very negative.”

Some might ignorantly tease him about stating the obvious. Others might comment that there was a silver lining in its destruction since that was one less negative world out there which must be great for Dream, right? (Wrong wrong wrong it was all wrong). Blue did neither of these things. His sorrow burned in Dream’s bones, like his marrow had been replaced by hot coals. Like he so often did, he felt a rush of gratitude for the reaction to Blue’s negative emotions.

“Would you like to eat?” Blue asked. “Stretch is already at work but I can make some pancakes for a late breakfast.”

Dream still felt cold and slightly nauseous. He had enough experience to suspect that if he ate now, it would probably come back up. “No thank you.”

Blue’s smile dimmed. His worry chafed. But it was softened by his determined optimism and excitement for what joys the day could bring. “If you’re sure. We need to pick up food in Outertale later this week! I will take no arguments on the subject. I’ve even convinced Red to accompany us for the trip.”

“That sounds nice.” Dream mentioned.

It had been a while since he last saw Red. Dream tended to avoid the monsters from Red’s Underfell even if he deserved every bit of their anger and scorn. He still could not believe that Red of all monsters had found it in his soul to forgive Dream for failing his world. Despite that forgiveness, Dream did not seek him out. Red’s forgiveness gave him strength but Edge’s anger and grief tore it away just as quickly.

Dream’s sensitivity to negative emotions was only getting worse. The positive emotions around him still powered him but the negative ones chipped away at him until his very bones felt fragile. Blue was a bright and positive beacon for Dream to look to for strength but he was so much more than that. He was Dream’s friend. Genuinely Dream’s friend. One of the very few he had. His positivity was a testament to his emotional strength. His negativity was a testament that what he felt was real. If Dream had been able to sense the difference sooner…

“Hey.” Blue grasped Dream’s cold hand and gave it a light squeeze. “Core Frisk is keeping an eye out for the Gang. I know there hasn’t been any activity from them for a while and that makes you nervous, but we’re going to be okay.”

No we’re not, Dream thought but did not say because he was a liar even if it was lying by omission or ignorance. He never learned, did he? “Right.” He looked down and picked at a loose thread in his yellow jacket. “Actually… could we have pancakes?”

Blue beamed at him. “Of course! Maybe you should wash up a bit first.”

He gave an exaggerated sniff. Dream was not that dirty but Blue always liked to offer a shower, a place to stay for the night, food, and other luxuries Dream did not deserve. Dream huffed a laugh and gave Blue a light shove on the shoulder before rising.

His smile fell as soon as he entered the bathroom and saw a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He averted his gaze before he could see more than his miserable yellow eye lights. Dream did not try to study his reflection. He already knew what he would see; A failure of a Guardian. One that could not save his brother. He could not save his world. He could not defend the Multiverse. He could not even help his friends. He dreaded the day Blue realized that.

Dream grabbed a towel and covered the mirror with it.

The next few days were as wonderful as many of the rest since Nightmare let Ink out of there. Maybe even more so. The Gang had been amicable enough before but now they hung out much more outside of meals and training. Horror and Cross taught Ink how to play these things called ‘card games’. Dust read books in the corner without retreating to his room or the Library. Even Nightmare spent a little less time alone in his office.

Killer stayed too, a lot more than Ink expected. He was almost sociable. For him that meant he did not threaten anyone with a knife. Most of the time. It might be too hopeful to think that Ink's encounter with Error made Killer have a change of heart. He was not being nicer, he just wasn't as hostile. Ink still kept note of his position every time they were in the same room, just in case.

The downtime did not mean that Ink did nothing productive all day. He still cleaned the Castle, cooked with Horror, trained, and performed other tasks in preparation for his Role as the Gang’s Healer.

He had returned to the southeast tower that Dust had taken him to and started clearing out the normal (not monster like in the dungeons) dust that covered everything. The space was unused, but Ink felt it had been left abandoned for long enough. Dust and Cross even offered to help him clean it up. The cloths that were over the furniture were piled in the center of the room by the two, who whispered to each other as Ink uncovered what turned out to be yet another suit of armor.

They seemed to think Ink could not hear them but he could. It was weird to hear Cross try to tell Dust to explain things to Ink without telling him why Ink did not know those things. Dust’s growing confusion was kind of funny though.

“I’m just saying that Ink doesn't know things that we take for granted.” Cross whispered with a hint of helplessness to his voice. “Don't you feel some responsibility to make sure that we don't screw him up?"

"Not particularly." Dust yawned.

Ink’s foot slid on a cloth that had been left on the floor. He kept his balance but knocked into something. There was a resounding crash as he collided with the armor he had just uncovered. Dust and Cross turned to see Ink staring at a tipped over suit with utmost disappointment. Ink considered what to do and remembered a common saying he had learned in Nightmare’s Castle.

"Fucking piece of shit." Ink commented calmly.

Ink started to pick up the mess but the sudden silence from the others soon caught his attention. When he looked up, Cross had a hand over his eye sockets and Dust looked sheepish.

"So maybe you have a point…"

For some reason, Dust started switching what he said to random words whenever he was about to swear. This lasted until Cross had enough and begged Dust to quit it, since “We already taught him. It’s too late.” And if Dust responded by immediately teaching Ink a few new swear words after he dropped a vase on his foot… well, it wasn’t like Horror was annoyed by their crude vocabulary before. With Cross and Dust’s help, Ink got halfway through cleaning the tower before lunch.

Nightmare brought Ink’s new outfit back later that day. Horror had yet to take Ink to a store to get casual clothes so he was still borrowing Cross’s for around the Castle. Ink had a rushed shower and hurried back to outside of his room where Nightmare was waiting. Even Ink’s nervousness failed to stifle his excitement much. The anxiousness was good because despite Cross’s reassurances, Ink was not sure he was supposed to be happy.

Ink could not stop himself from eagerly taking the box from Nightmare. His boss’s reaction quelled some of his fear. The amused quirk of the edge of his mouth and the gentle sway of his tentacles were the closest Ink had seen to any kind of levity from Nightmare. It was usually scowls, stoicism, aggression, exasperation, or (specifically after Ink’s encounter with Error) concern.

The outfit was exactly as Ink pictured. Nightmare stood outside of the door and explained that his source had imbued the gear with their specific kind of tailor-based magic, ensuring it would fit Ink’s needs and size without needing him to be measured.

After putting the outfit on, Ink studied himself in the mirror. Everything fit perfectly, like it had been tailored for him. It had been tailored for him. Ink did not know who Nightmare’s contact was but he whispered a quiet “thank you” to them even though they were not here to hear. It was all he could do because he doubted Nightmare would let them meet.

The fabrics felt deceptively light on his bones and did not rub on them like his old clothes did. The coat and its hood were a pleasing texture to touch but had a toughness to it that was obvious when Ink pulled at a sleeve. The gloves were even tougher. The boots were soft inside but durable. Ink preferred the feeling of smooth stone, prickly grass, or rough wood under his bare feet but the boots were comfortable enough.

The only thing that was missing was the snake-like shapes on the forearm. Ink summoned his magic, focusing on his intent. It shifted into chains, then shifted again, taking a shape similar to two snakes. The black magic sank into the brown cloth of his sleeve and remained there like it had been imprinted into the fabric.

Ink looked in the mirror again and saw a person. Not an abandoned sketch, but a full person with clothes that fit and colors on him and around him. He rubbed at his stinging eye sockets but, remembering Cross’s words, let his joyful tears fall.

“Ink?” Horror stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. He strode over and leaned over to put his hands on Ink’s shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

The tears kept falling as Ink smiled. Some dripped into his mouth. They tasted salty. He didn’t mind. “I’m s-so ha-happy. I have my own clothes, see?”

Horror’s concerned look softened and he patted the hood on Ink’s head. “Yeah. I’m happy for you.”

Horror said it so openly. So freely. Ink had listened to Cross’s claims about emotions but with that comment, he started to believe them. And started crying tears of joy again.

Horror waited for him to calm down and wiped away the remnants of his tears before urging him to go out to the others. The rest of the Gang was waiting for him in the area that Ink previously learned was considered a ‘living room’. Or a castle equivalent. That probably was not the actual name but Dust called it a ‘big-ass living room’ so Ink went along with that.

Cross and Dust were seated on the couch while Killer slouched in an armchair and Nightmare stood by the window. All of them turned to face the doorway as Ink and Horror entered.

“Looks good, Ink.” Cross complimented.

"Still so short." Dust commented. "Don't you want more of a heel to give you a bit of height?"

"I don't want heels." Ink declined. "A lot of battlegrounds might be on icier terrain in Snowdin. I need to be able to move."

Dust's humor faded at that comment. "Yeah. Guess you would. It'd be embarrassing if you slipped and fell on your face."

Ink would have to walk in the boots a lot so he wouldn’t. Shoes still felt weird on his feet, even nice and soft ones like these brown boots. He fiddled with the owl mask he carried in his hands and peeked at Nightmare. His boss calmly stared back.

“Let’s see the whole thing, hmm?”

Ink put the mask on and stared at them. It did not block his vision at all. He could see perfectly clearly.

Dust, who had glanced towards Nightmare, looked back at Ink and jumped. “Fuck! Dammit, it gets me every time…”

“Language.” Cross mocked snidely. “Say ‘fiddlesticks’ instead! Or ‘fudge’!”

Dust pouted at him. “I was trying to be a good role model.”

Cross patted his shoulder condescendingly. “I think it’s a little late for that, buddy.”

“Hypocrite.” Dust whispered loudly.

Cross kicked him in the leg and Dust shoved him hard. Cross staggered a bit but both of them stopped when Nightmare shot them a warning glare.

Killer's smile almost looked genuine at he inspected Ink. "Would you look at that? You’ve got the patented Sans glare at last. Even if it’s fake."

Ink privately wondered what Killer would think of his shadowy green eye lights.

Horror brought back a mirror and let Ink see the whole ensemble. Ink was still a lot smaller and slimmer than any of the other Gang members. He remained dwarfed by them all by a good amount, in stature, power, and presence. But for their safety and his own, he could make up for that in misdirection.

Nothing about his outfit openly revealed that he was a Healer. Even his mask, with its engraved features and owl-eye shaped lenses, would hide his true intent and purpose behind an unforgiving glare. To everyone outside of the Gang he must be a mystery. Maybe he would be seen as an enemy. Ink did not care. He would heal the Gang. Protect them. (And maybe he could someday do more than that and truly help them.)

"Try to talk." Cross urged.

"Hello." Ink said.

Cross squinted.

"Try to be a little louder if you can." Horror encouraged.

"I'm trying." Ink said louder. He felt a strain in his throat but he was audible this time. To his surprise, his voice sounded raspy and soft as it came out of the mask, much like a ghostly whisper.

Dust jumped and looked over his shoulder at the outline codes of his brother, then back at Ink. “Maybe we should have called you ‘Ghost’.”

“I like Arc.” Ink mentioned.

“Then that’s what we’ll call you on missions.” Nightmare said firmly.

Killer leaned close to inspect the pockets on Ink’s belt and left leg holster. “What’s all this for?”

“Medical supplies and healing foods.” Ink explained with a hint of nervousness.

Killer did not glare but he did sigh in annoyance. Ink did not understand what the other expected from him. What did he think Ink was going to put in there? Poisons? Weapons? No.

Horror helped Ink bring some supplies to the living area. Ink soon forgot about his audience as he sorted the items into groups. The images on the pockets would be merely decorative to most. To Ink, they were a sorting system. Nightmare's contact had done what he claimed they could. The pockets and satchel held more than they appeared capable of and certain ones were set to hot or cold temperatures. They remained mostly flat as Ink filled them. Ink remembered what else Nightmare said and put his hand into one of the pockets.

Magic food, strength three. He pulled out a magic quiche and put his hand in another pocket. Antivenin, pit viper. A syringe emerged in his grip.

Cross eyed it nervously. “What’s that?”

“Antivenin for pit vipers. I found it in the medical supplies in storage but it may be too expired to use. I was simply testing my sorting and retrieval methods.” Ink looked to Nightmare. “I should get more antivenin with the other supplies.”

There were many things that Ink did not have on hand yet. He hoped to be able to get most of the missing gear. Most. His thumb brushed against the small, empty pocket on his satchel.

Nightmare seemed to be thinking but Cross did not look convinced. “I don’t think we’ll need to replace that unless the Star Sanses set a bunch of snakes on us.”

“There are snake monsters, you know.” Dust pointed out.

“Do you have your list of supplies?” Nightmare asked.

Ink nodded and handed it over.

Nightmare scanned the items. His face showed no expression but his tentacles flicked in irritation. “We cannot get all of this in the AUs we guard. However, there are worlds where they are available. You would have to go as Shield.”

“Yes, boss.” Right. Ink could not forget his other job. (He was just grateful that Nightmare was not sending him to spy on any of those AUs.) His Shield outfit was wonderful but it did not make him feel like part of the Gang. Not like these clothes did.

Nightmare looked satisfied. "Good. We're going on a mission tomorrow. You will hang back here. If you're needed, you'll be called."

Ink's excitement was smothered by distress and worry. The desire to protest remained trapped inside his skull, unvoiced. He hated that they were going to hurt people. They were not Error but they harmed and spread fear all the same. Ink did not understand why. He had a purpose now but he still could not stop them. But maybe he could lessen the damage…

"You're conflicted." Nightmare noted. "Speak."

Ink winced at the sharp command but obeyed. "I have a request, Boss."

Nightmare half-turned so his cyan eye light was visible to Ink. "Yes? What is it?"

Now or never.

"I know you do this to spread negativity and that's really important but… um…" Ink refused to falter under the weight of his boss’s stare and gathered his courage. "Do you have to kill?"

"Oh brother." Killer groaned.

Nightmare said nothing. His attention remained locked onto Ink.

"Killing some of them would cause grief but then you lose the potential negativity you'd get from the slain. It doesn't make sense to end their suffering like that." Ink felt uncomfortable saying it like that but it was technically true.

Nightmare remained silent. The weight of his stare made Ink think of disappointment, aggression, pressure on his neck, and tentacles tearing through tall sketches. Dust gave Ink a sharp look from behind Nightmare's back. Horror looked wary, his posture tensed as though he was prepared to intervene.

But Cross was completely calm. When Ink caught his gaze, he nodded slightly. That gave Ink the strength he needed to stand his ground. He knew he was crossing another line but he couldn’t stand by and allow the Gang to kill. For the sake of those they attacked, and the sake of the Gang members themselves.

“You’re right.” Nightmare said slowly. “I have been negligent in my duties.”

Ink released a shaky breath. It emerged from his mask as a low and surprisingly threatening hiss.

Nightmare’s tentacles curled in amusement. “Death is quick, and finite as a result. They deserve no such mercy.”

Cross smiled a little. Dust appeared confused. Horror relaxed.

Killer glowered at Ink.

Ink felt a chill but kept his silence. It was better than Ink ever expected. Despite Nightmare’s word, Ink he suspected that it would not be that easy. Not if Dust's concerns were right. Ink had to try. He did not have many experiences but he knew that sometimes surviving felt worse than anything else. But he also knew life was worth it. He wanted others to at least have that chance for things to improve. Things could be terrible, but there would always be hope along with that negativity. Ink wished Nightmare and the Gang would see that.

With the Gang’s help, Ink worked on the final piece before the next mission. He made five chains and attuned them to the magic of each member of the Gang. The thin chains looped around their left wrist and, like Ink's mask, could theoretically only be broken by the wearer. Killer tested that by sawing at Dust's chain. It didn't break, but Nightmare snapped at him not to cut Dust's hand off. Killer was more amused than apologetic.

Ink was ordered to leave the room. Not long after, he felt a chain break along with the familiar sharpness of Cross's magic. He hurried back inside. "Cross broke his chain."

Nightmare was pleased. “Excellent.”

Ink was still too uncomfortable to be happy about the praise. He made a new chain for Cross.

"Now we need to figure out how to do something like this so we can find you." Dust commented. “In case… you know… you are, uh, accidentally shoved into a portal. Or something.”

“Or captured and tortured by Error.” Killer added with a feral grin. His dripping eye sockets once again held the hatred that Ink had hoped was gone. Ink knew it was because he’d been an obstacle to Killer’s killing again.

After some deliberation, they settled on giving Ink one of Cross’s purple-tinged bone attacks since Cross was the one that would most likely be able to get to him. Nightmare was the other option but the point of Shield was for Ink to remain anonymous for supply runs so Cross it was. The bone was smaller than his pinkie and would deal no damage as it sat in a sealed inside pocket inside his sleeve. It should let Cross find Ink, and a twist of Ink’s magic would alert Cross if he was in trouble.

Once all that was done, Ink was finally prompted to ask another question. “What AU are you targeting?”

"We're going after Outertale."

Ink’s mask hid his distress from the Gang even if it did not hide it from Nightmare.

The Gang left the next morning. Ink had not slept much the night before, haunted by the upcoming attack even though Nightmare had promised not to kill anyone. He appreciated that Nightmare had listened. It was better than he ever hoped. But he also knew that this was not what he wanted. He meant what he said to Cross. Ink would not leave the Gang even if he hated what they were doing. He just could not understand why they thought they needed to.

Ink watched Nightmare, Cross, Dust, Horror, and Killer vanish through one of Nightmare’s portals from within the entrance hall. He went to the infirmary and made sure that all of his supplies were in their proper places in his pockets. Despite his practice using his magic to get into his gear faster, he kept it all on as the hours ticked by.

The attack was taking so much longer this time. Was Outertale that well-defended? Was anyone hurt but they could not break their chain? What if one of them was hurt because Ink asked them not to kill? What if the Star Sanses showed up? Would Cross have trouble with Dream because he was reminded of what had happened between them?

Ink tried to tell himself he was making himself panic for no reason.

The Gang would be fine.

They went on missions all the time before they had Ink to heal them.

They would be okay.

They—

Ink felt a change in his magic.

Killer had broken his chain.

Arc outfit on, hood up, and mask firmly in place, Ink summoned a portal to Outertale and jumped through. He emerged in a snow-covered forest but was too focused to be frightened or fascinated by the white.

Outside of the line of the trees, Ink saw Horror with Blue of the Star Sanses standing close in front of him. Killer and Underfell Sans were nearby, their weapons grasped limply in their hands and their eye sockets huge as though they could not comprehend what they were seeing. They were not the only ones.

Blue’s mouth was agape with shock as he stared down at the bone he held. The sharp end was visible out Horror’s back as blood dripped off the bone, staining his jacket and the snow beneath them red.

Chapter Text

Not that long ago, the battle had been like any other when it came to fighting Nightmare's Bad Sanses.

Whether through luck or circumstance, Blue, Dream, and Red had been nearby in Outertale when an unnatural chill had announced Nightmare’s presence. The timing was somehow the best it could be because the Star Sanses were right there… while also being the worst. Blue knew this would reinforce Dream's fear that his brother was able to sense his location outside of the Omega Timeline (and maybe Underswap). Whether that was true or not was a question for a later time.

The two Star Sanses had leapt into action with a vicious(ly frightened) Red at their side, only to have to immediately split up as Dream chased his brother towards the core of Stardin, Outertale’s version of Snowdin. This fight hit Blue differently than the others because this was Outertale. It was said that even the Destroyer had a soft spot for the AU among the stars. Apparently Nightmare had decided to be an exception. Well, Blue took exception to that. Red also took exception to that, but with much more vitriol than Blue.

"'Why not take a break?' you said. 'Nothing will happen!' you said. Why is it that the one time I go with you out of the Omega Timeline, Nightmare himself shows up?"

Red's face twisted with a mix of rage and terror as he threw a line of bones at Killer. Killer dodged the attack with a flair of smugness, then dodged the Gaster Blaster’s attack just as easily. Blue sent his own wave of bone attacks at Horror, who shattered them with his axe. He flung a bone at Horror’s skull that he barely evaded. Blue had learned not to flinch at near-misses long ago. There was no need to hold back in this fight. The Bad Sanses were enhanced by Nightmare. It let them take a lot of damage.

“Why are you attacking Outertale?” Blue demanded of Horror.

Horror said nothing as he swung the axe at Blue (who leapt backwards to avoid it) but Killer, who was always more chatty in a “taunt the enemy” kind of way, cackled while he dodged Red’s bone attacks with smug ease.

“Oh, the usual.” Killer grinned wickedly. “We’re just going to keep you busy while the Boss, Dust, and Cross cause some chaos.”

Blue did not waste breath to voice a retort. He flung himself away from Horror’s axe and summoned two long, sharp bones into his hands. It was times like this that he appreciated every moment he trained with Alphys. She used to hold back on him, he knew, but once he became a Star Sans she trained him much more rigorously to “keep him alive”. Horror did not use the kinds of magic axe attacks that the Captain of Underswap’s Royal Guard did but the training helped Blue greatly when facing him.

In the distance, he saw brief flashes of golden and purple light where the main town was. Dream was fighting Cross then while Dust terrorized the locals and left Nightmare to do who knew what. The Star Sanses were always outnumbered even with Red’s presence if he happened to be with them. Even if the locals chose to assist, none of them could help Dream much.

Only Dream stood much of a chance against Nightmare, and if he was busy fighting Cross, then Nightmare was free to do whatever he came to do. Blue had to get to Dream. Rather than dodge, he pressed his own attack with bone attack swords in hand. Horror blocked or avoided each rapid strike, slowly backing towards the treeline behind him.

The snow that covered everything might be a disadvantage to many monsters but most Sanses were used to fighting in the sharp wind and icy cold. That did not mean they were infallible. One wrong step on a shiny patch of “snow” and Horror’s foot slipped, unbalancing him. Blue saw his opportunity and lunged.

A blast of negativity tore through the atmosphere just as the blow connected. Several trees and bushes blackened and withered but Blue had more pressing concerns than dead plant-life. The sharp bone did not deflect like Blue expected. It went right through Horror's ribs and out his back so easily it only stopped when his hand hit Horror’s sternum.

Blue’s shocked eye lights met Horror’s wide sockets as the world around them seemed to freeze. Blue felt something warm seep into his gloves but he could not tear his gaze away from Horror’s surprised expression to look down. Then Horror coughed, and blood streamed down his chin.

Red glanced at them, mouth partly open as though to make an annoyed comment, and did a double-take. "Holy shit, Blue!"

Killer followed his enemy’s gaze and froze in place. His hand twitched, and although Blue thought he saw a flash of magic, no attack formed. Red did not even try to press the attack, his horrified eye lights locked onto Horror and Blue and his own bone attack pointed uselessly at the ground.

Blue saw red on Horror’s chin and his front and the snow and blue gloves. He saw it so clearly it burned into his mind but he did not understand what he was seeing. It was impossible. He didn't do that much damage. He was incapable. His attack was not that strong. He could not have done this. He could not have. He was always so careful. He had more control than that.

He couldn’t have.

He couldn’t have—

Blue staggered back and accidentally pulled the bone attack out of Horror’s chest in the process. It was so silent he heard the bone attack scrape along his enemy’s ribs on the way out. Horror (a person, Blue’s fellow monster) crumpled soundlessly to the ground as his blood stained the snow red. Horror was hurt but he wasn’t dusting. He wasn’t dusting yet.

“Dream!” Blue screamed.

Dream could help. Dream could not use green magic as much anymore but Outertale must be positive enough for Dream to use green magic so Dream would use green magic to heal Horror and Horror would be healed and he would not be dying he would be fine—

Something wrapped around Blue's waist and yanked him backwards. He hit the snow and heard Red's yelp and swear from beside him. They were dragged several yards before they were abruptly released. Blue checked for what had pulled them backwards but nothing was there.

When Blue looked back up Horror and Killer were gone. The only sign of their presence was the blood that stained the snow red. Blue's stomach roiled. He jumped to his feet and pulled Red up with him.

"We need to find them!"

“Right.” Red panted. “We have a chance to get back at ‘em for once.”

The boast sounded cruel but Red’s hands were shaking. There was no time to argue that they needed to capture the Bad Sanses (and Red did not mean it anyway). Blue had to find Horror. Killer could not use green magic. Dream could. He must. He could heal Horror and Horror would be captured as justice demanded and not killed on the battlefield by Blue, who wouldn’t kill someone like that he wouldn’t he couldn’t—

There was only one set of footprints in the snow. Killer must have carried Horror this way but while the imprints matched Killer’s shoes, they were not that deep. That struck some faint, clear-headed part of Blue’s mind as odd since Killer should have been bogged down by Horror’s weight and there should also be a blood trail, but there wasn’t.

Blue and Red ran alongside the footprints in pursuit.

The sharp end of the bone stuck out of Horror’s back.

His blood was bright red on the snow.

Horror had been impaled straight through the chest.

Focus.

Calm.

Prioritize.

The bone attack was pulled out by Blue, causing more red to—

Focus.

Prioritize.

The threats were pulled away by black chains.

Ink got to the patient.

Focus.

Magic was used to stem the bleeding. Before moving the patient, he scanned the injured area to ensure that the severed ribs would not puncture other bones that might have had their durability weakened by the attack. No threat of further puncturing. No signs of dusting.

Patient was lifted onto a makeshift black magic stretcher. Sending the patient through a portal was too risky as any conflicting magical signatures could cause further damage to his body. Patient was extracted from the (red red red splattered on the snow) danger zone before further aid was administered.

Healing on the field was different than in a medical facility due to potential dangers. No tracks were left in the snow by Ink using his magic beneath his boots. The one beside him (ally) did leave tracks. Black magic slid beneath his feet to leave no trace. He stumbled, yelped, and swore but soon kept running as he realized what had been done.

Scan. (Safety check. Providing care in a danger zone could kill them both.)

Magic detected. Identified as Killer (ally). Not a danger to the patient.

“Guard us.”

Ink did not waste time to see if the command would be obeyed.

Focus.

Scan (process extent of injuries).

Patient was unconscious. Magic and HP low. No signs of dusting.

The stab site was three inches by two and a half inches wide and went all the way through the chest to the back. The attack had missed the soul and thoracic spine by two inches. The body of the sternum and two ribs were nicked by the attack at the impalement and exit sites. Two costal cartilages, and three ribs were completely sliced through. Two were nearly detached from the rib cage and spine, held on only by a sliver of bone.

Blood and marrow (on the snow and the blue jacket and—) present. No signs of dusting. Due to the anatomy of skeleton monsters, there was a low chance of internal bleeding but blood was coming out of his mouth—

Prioritize.

Calm.

Focus.

Scan (for contaminants and obstructions).

No signs of contaminants. No signs of bone shards from the attack or the patient’s own skeleton. No signs of internal bleeding. No signs of poison or KR effects that could interfere with green magic. No signs of dusting. HP dropping.

Green magic encased the patient’s soul for stabilization. Green magic applied in pulses to raise the patient’s own soul pulse to a healthy level. Ink’s magic harmonized with the pulse of (Horror’s) the patient’s magic (syncing to the sense of warm food and rumbling laughter, steadfast guidance and fierce loyalty, sharp axes and chilling blizzards).

Soul pulse successfully synchronized. HP deterioration decreased.

Green magic focused on the severed areas to slow the bleeding. No resistance to the application process. Bone regeneration optimal.

Green magic applied to the nicked ribs and sternum. No resistance to the application process. Bone regeneration optimal.

Throat was cleared of blood obstructions. Check breathing. Respirations slow but within reasonable limits.

Patient's HP stabilized. Patient’s magic body stabilized. Patient’s soul stabilized. No signs of dusting.

Patient was breathing. Throat and mouth were clear of blood. No damage to soul. No signs of consciousness.

Unfamiliar magic detected.

Focus on the patient.

Defend the patient.

Protect Horror.

Blue and Red had been searching for more than half an hour. Killer’s footprints had vanished not far into the woods and Red insisted they must have left through a portal by now but Cross and Nightmare were still fighting Dream.

Blue did not give up or stop, always moving and running and searching even though by now Horror must be ( dead ) really hurt and in need of help. The Gang did not have a Healer and none of them were capable of green magic but Blue clung to his hope because (his Execution Points had not gone up ) Horror was tough so surely he’d be okay until—

They found them.

Two monsters were hidden among the trees. Blue instantly realized that one of them was not Killer. A small brown-clothed figure was crouched next to Horror with their back to Blue and Red. Their hood was up, warding off the snow, so Blue could not tell what kind of monster they were. Panic gripped Blue as he realized a civilian must have stumbled upon the injured Horror with no idea that the bleeding monster was one of Nightmare’s Gang.

Blue shouted a warning. “Citizen! Get away from him! He’s a member of Nightmare’s Gang!”

The hooded head lifted slightly. Blue saw something in their hand. He had just enough time to identify a spent syringe before it disappeared in their pocket. Blue was about to shout again when they turned their head, revealing a black owl-like mask. The shadow of the hood fell over their face, allowing Blue to just barely see the mask’s venomous glare.

Red stopped advancing and a chill went down Blue’s spine. He knew Dream was afraid of owls, specifically their stare and how they moved. Blue never really understood why his friend had that specific fear but seeing the owl mask’s glare made Blue understand a little bit more. He wondered if the glare beneath the mask was just as intense.

Killer reappeared from between the trees, eye sockets wide and frantic. “Arc, did you…?” He spotted Red and Blue and sneered. “Come to finish the job, huh?”

“That’s rich coming from you.” Red snarled back.

Killer kept on sneering but glanced back at the stranger (‘Arc’?) and Horror. He moved to the side so he was between them and Red and Blue. That confirmed the growing suspicion in Blue’s mind. Nightmare had a new recruit. This ‘Arc’ must be a Sans then. Nightmare's Gang was nicknamed the Bad Sanses for a reason.

Horror stirred and his eye sockets fluttered open. Killer did not move but Arc turned back to him and ignored Blue and Red completely.

Horror spotted the owl mask and relaxed. "Hey…” He blinked lethargically. “What are you…?"

He quieted as Arc put a gloved finger to the beak on his owl mask. "Shhhhhhhhhhhh…"

Blue was not prepared for the quiet, ragged noise that came from Arc. The low hush sounded ghostly and strained, as though it pained them to make it, and images flashed through Blue's mind of someone who had their throat slashed and survived. A shudder passed through him along with another icy chill.

“What the hell?” Blue knew that Red would deny how his voice cracked. “How is Horror awake?”

Red faltered as ‘Arc’ rose from their crouched position, completely noiseless. No sound came from their motions even as they moved in snow that crunched underneath everyone else’s feet. Blue realized they were leaving no disturbances in the snow. They were much smaller than Blue (and most of the other Sanses he had seen) yet they seemed much larger than him, like the black shadows of the trees around them had bent to their will.

Blue CHECKed them and saw nothing but only saw their name and smudged lines, like each segment had been written in a dark liquid that had been smeared before it could dry. He could not see much from their body language either. For now they appeared passive, movements precise and silent while their mask was forever set into a glare. Even if Arc was not a member of the Bad Sanses, they were working with Nightmare. That made them Blue’s enemy, and they needed to be captured.

Blue pulled on his accumulated years of working in a crisis to break through his unease (and to ignore the red stains on his gloves) and prepared for the enemy Sans’s bone attacks, blue magic, and potential Gaster Blasters. His voice was steady and loud (as if he had not almost killed his last opponent) as he made his declaration.

“I don’t know who you are, Arc, but you must be stopped!”

Blue tried to catch Arc's soul with his blue magic. The soul that appeared did not bend to his will. It was colored black. He did not have time to be surprised as the shadows around Arc warped and lunged for him and Red.

They were not shadows at all. They were black magic that had been blended into the shadows of the trees around them. Thin chains wrapped around Blue's wrists and waist, binding his arms behind his back as Red yelled in surprise.

Blue had just enough time to identify what had pulled them back earlier before he was yanked downward. The chains were a magic attack so Blue braced for pain but… nothing hurt? The chains weren’t doing any damage. Blue pushed away his confusion and summoned his bone attacks but the chains snatched them, pulling them away with such force that they impacted a tree. One attack went straight through a trunk and caused the tree to tip over with an earth-shaking crash.

Arc looked to the fallen tree for a moment, then slowly turned back to stare at Blue. The face behind that mask could have any emotion on it from amusement to annoyance and Blue would never know. Red snarled defensively and summoned a Gaster Blaster. The black chains wrapped around its mouth and sealed it shut before it could fire. Arc pulled the Blaster down to their level like a child with a balloon and stared at it. Was that curiosity? Annoyance? Or was Arc inspecting it?

Blue stared in shock at Arc petted the angry Blaster a couple times. Red stopped struggling in order to gape and the Blaster vanished. Arc slowly lowered their hand. Was Blue imagining things or did they seem disappointed?

Killer burst out laughing. “I can’t believe this!” he cackled. “Two of the legendary Good Guys, one of whom is a member of the sensational Star Sanses; defeated and trussed up by the rookie! Hahahahahaha!”

Killer kept laughing as he sauntered forward towards Blue and Red. He halted in front of Red and summoned a familiar red knife. Blue summoned a small bone and began sawing at the chains around his wrists but they refused to break.

"H-Hey! What do you think you're doing?" Red tried to keep up an aggressive front but his voice trembled.

Killer grinned viciously down at him. “Might as well add another Fell to my count."

He raised his knife above his head. Red flinched and shut his eye sockets.

A black-gloved hand closed around the blade, stopping it from impaling Red’s skull.

“No.”

Again, the voice was little more than a ghostly whisper, soft and rasping like something from beyond the void. Arc was tiny but he held Killer’s knife back with his hand around the blade like it was nothing. Killer bared his teeth, eye sockets dripping black, but Arc did not budge. Horror stepped in and grabbed Killer’s arm, pulling him back.

"No killing." Horror said firmly. "It's one of Arc's conditions. Don't ruin this for the Boss."

His eye lights flicked towards Blue and away as he spoke. Blue’s mind was already racing. What could this "Arc" offer that would make Nightmare agree not to kill?

Killer snarled and glared at both his teammates (mostly Horror) but neither seemed very threatened. Horror was very calm for someone who had just been impaled. He looked a bit shaken and unsteady but he was on his feet when he should have been dust.

The reminder shook Blue and he released a small noise. Neither Horror nor Killer reacted but Arc looked his way. Arc's mask tilted. The motion seemed more curious than mocking to Blue. Maybe even a little… concerned?

A second pulse of negative energy made Blue’s blood turn to ice. He had been in enough battles to recognize the signal that Nightmare had decided it was time to leave. He had not been defeated, he had simply decided he was done terrorizing an AU for the day.

Cross’s appearance a moment later confirmed it. He stared at the trussed up Blue and Red for several seconds before scoffing and ignoring them completely in favor of slicing open a portal.

Killer broke eye contact with Horror first. “Fine. They can spread the message that they lost.”

The chains released Blue and Red. His freedom was so unexpected that Blue nearly nicked himself with the bone he had been using to try to hack at the chains. By the time he recovered and looked up, the Bad Sanses were gone.

Ink pulled his mask off and latched onto Horror the moment Cross’s portal closed behind them. “Are you in pain? Do you taste any blood in your mouth? Are you dizzy? Do you need magic food? Here, I have a quiche and a butterscotch pie and—”

Horror gently peeled Ink’s hand away from the tear in his jacket. Cross, who had been watching them in confusion, finally noticed there were blood-stained holes on the back and front of Horror and looked ill. Nightmare, who had been about to speak, saw it as well.

“What happened?!” he demanded, tentacles lashing angrily behind him.

Ink ignored them both in favor of checking over Horror again. He had healed the injury with his green magic but he needed to be sure he had done it right. He’d been so scared that he would freeze up in an actual emergency but instead he began to run on instinct the moment he saw Horror had been impaled. Horror’s HP was still low.

Ink pulled a cinnamon bunny from his pocket and shoved it into Horror’s hands. “Eat this to replenish your HP.”

“Ink, you healed me—”

Ink yanked his mask back and glared at Horror with shadows and tears in his eye sockets and eye lights that burned a furious green. Everyone saw him and startled, Nightmare included. Cross took a physical step back. Killer smiled so wide it looked painful.

Ink ignored them all except Horror. “Eat. It.”

Horror pensively ate the cinnamon bunny. Ink checked him over again, sensing for any problems like bone shards or lingering effects. He heard Killer whisper to Nightmare that it had taken Ink half an hour to stabilize and heal Horror but their conversation was otherwise ignored. It was only when Horror’s HP replenished that Ink relaxed. He carefully tapped the area beside Horror’s healed ribcage.

“The bone attack missed your soul by two inches.”

If the attack had a poison effect or had been two inches to the left, Horror would be dead. Ink would have arrived to find Horror’s dust and blood-stained coat on the snow. Horror would be dead. He would be dead and gone and nothing could ever bring him back.

The sound Ink made startled everyone in the room, Ink included.

Ink tried to muffle himself with his hands but it only made it harder to breathe. Horror rubbed circles on Ink’s back and shushed him which was all wrong because Horror had been the one bleeding on the snow. Ink could see Horror was scared and trying not to shake and knew it was because he was trying to seem okay for Ink even though Horror was the one that was hurt and almost died.

Horror was okay, right? Ink had checked him and healed him but what if he missed something? He had never had to mend such a terrible injury before so what if he missed something important and Horror Fell Down or turned to dust in the night? He had to check again. He had to be sure.

Ink’s hands shone with green magic but arms wrapped around him and pulled him away from Horror. Ink tried to fight them but a tentacle wrapped around his middle and firmly nudged him away. Nightmare held Ink securely against his chest with a tentacle and both his arms, grip both restraining and comforting.

“You’re both alright.” Nightmare said in a calm, even tone as he steadily held Ink, who continued to struggle without really thinking about it. He grunted slightly as Ink pulled them both forward a step but seemed to brace himself better and keep them in place. “Horror is safe. Trust yourself.”

Ink tried to obey. He checked Horror over again and sensed none of the minute wrongness that indicated an injury. Every time he closed his eye sockets, he saw Horror bleeding red in the white white white snow.

Nightmare’s tentacle shifted around his chest and Ink latched onto it and his arm. Nightmare did not seem to mind. The pressure of his hold was not frightening this time and the rhythmic movements of Nightmare’s chest against his back helped him control the paces of his own breaths. It grounded Ink, letting him focus as his breathing evened out and his vision stopped swaying.

Ink slumped in Nightmare’s hold, letting his skull fall onto his Boss’s arm as exhaustion swept through him. “Sorry…”

“Jeez, you’re such a cry—”

Killer’s voice cut off with a grunt. Concerned, Ink jolted upright and looked to see Cross was standing much closer to Killer than before. Ink checked Killer for injury but did not see anything. His vision was a little blurry but he thought he saw Cross shake his head.

“Don’t start with that.” Cross warned lowly. “We’re not doing that.”

Only Ink and Killer seemed to hear him. Killer went silent.

“Why are you apologizing?” Dust asked, drawing Ink’s attention to him. “You did great. I have to admit, I thought you were going to freeze up in a real battle.”

“You did very well.” Nightmare praised quietly. “You were calm during the emergency and kept Horror safe on the field, even when you’ve never experienced that particular kind of violence before.”

It was both a statement and a recollection of Ink’s origin. The sketches Nightmare had destroyed did not bleed like Horror did. Negative Sans and Undyne dusted so quickly in Error’s strings they did not have time to bleed. Killer’s knives did not go through the chest so deeply that they poked out through the back. Cross did not look at Ink during training like Blue did during their fight; with a fervent and single-minded desire to make sure he would not walk away.

Blue's all-consuming desire to fight had triggered all of Ink’s training instincts and he snatched up Blue and Red before they could try to attack. Ink had been stunned when he’d caught them both so easily. Sure, he was used to catching Nightmare’s Gang during training and he had caught Error for a few seconds, but he did not expect to snag Blue and Red.

It pained Ink to see the one that had comforted Shield hurt Horror and look at Arc like an obstacle. Blue had not even tried to talk Ink down. Ink had not attacked anyone other than to defend himself and Horror but Blue decided he was a threat without wondering why he was there. Nightmare was right. Blue wanted Arc captured just because he worked for the Gang. If Ink had not met a kinder, more cheerful Blue in Aftertale, he would have been terrified of him and wondered when he would try to kill Horror again.

Seeing Nightmare's warning about Blue happen in person hurt. Ink dreaded the time he'd find out how accurately his Boss’s warnings reflected Dream. (Though thanks to Cross, he secretly doubted Dream was how Nightmare described at all.)

Ink really must have a death wish since he still didn't want to give up on his idea of understanding the two sides. It was already proving to be dangerous. Why did Ink hope it might be different? Why did he foolishly hope that Blue might believe in understanding and mercy?

Ink checked Horror over again just to be sure. He had done enough research to know that Sanses tended not to dust immediately. They had time to stagger around a bit before they collapsed. Some even made it to Grillby’s before expiring.

Horror was healed. The bone had gone straight through him and out his back but Ink had healed the bone and replenished the marrow and blood. The cinnamon bunny had done the rest.

Sensing that Ink had calmed down, Nightmare released him. “Did anyone see you heal Horror?”

Ink shook his head and pulled an empty syringe out of one of his pockets. “I decided to carry a few of these in case I needed to take samples on the field. I heard Blue coming and took one out to pretend I’d expunged its contents and that’s what helped Horror.”

“Smart.” Cross commented.

Ink felt a little bit better. His tenuous good feeling vanished when Killer turned on him.

“You know why this happened, right? It’s because you made us hold—”

Cross got in Killer’s face and shoved him in the chest. “That was not why.” he growled. “Don’t you dare try to blame that for Horror’s injuries.”

“The attack hit when the Boss released a negativity pulse.” Horror rumbled. “Slipped on some ice, too. Rattled me and lowered my Defense. Bad timing was all.”

“I left an imprint of negativity on Outertale as we discussed. It seems I underestimated my strength.” Nightmare said lowly. His tentacles shuddered in repressed guilt. “I am to blame. That shouldn’t have happened.”

“I’m fine, Boss.” Horror said. “We’ve gotten more beaten up and have come back from it. Not that easily but we’re still here. ‘s not your fault.”

…‘Easily’? That one word caught Ink’s attention and he felt nauseous. If more than half an hour of healing magic while trying to keep Horror’s soul and body from destabilizing and dusting was “easily”, he did not want to know what the difficult way looked like.

“If Ink had not been there, you would not be here now.” Nightmare’s features were stoic. His tentacles trembled so slightly that even Ink hardly saw it. “Excuse me.”

Nightmare left. Ink caught a glimpse of shadows curling around his tentacles before they vanished out the door. He checked Nightmare and recoiled as a sense of wrong-wrong-wrong washed over him. Ink tried to follow him out but Cross snagged the sleeve of his coat, holding him back.

“Give the Boss some space. He’s upset.” Cross’s eye lights became shadowed. “I don't think any of us thought that we'd need you for something so serious this soon."

Ink tugged against Cross’s hold and Cross stumbled a bit before he regained his footing. “But he’s—”

“Leave him be. He needs time to calm himself.”

“I can help.” Ink insisted.

Cross held him in place and shook his head. “You used green magic for more than half an hour straight to help Horror. You must be exhausted. Nightmare’s aura could lash out. I don’t want you to be hurt by it. There’s nothing you can do.”

Ink wanted to argue with him. He did not feel too tired (the dizziness was more emotional than physical) and he could feel the wrongness (the Corruption) clouding Nightmare’s aura. It did not need to be like that. Nightmare did not need to feel like that. Maybe Ink could talk to him or hug him like the others hugged Ink to calm him down so Nightmare would calm down. What happened was an accident. Nightmare was not to blame. Why was Nightmare annoyed when Cross blamed himself for things but then he went and blamed himself?

“Give it up, kid.” Killer drawled. “Unless you want to get yourself hurt again.”

Ink was willing to risk it but the others weren’t. He stopped trying to free himself from Cross and stared miserably at his feet. "I have to make you another chain."

Killer brightened. A grin spread across his face. “You’re right. How about you three get Horror a new shirt since that one’s all bloody?”

Horror did not budge. His eye sockets narrowed suspiciously. “You ruined most of the ones I had here with your latest ‘trick’. My spares are in Horrortale.”

That was the first time Ink had heard of that. What had Killer done? He set aside that question and tried to speak up. “You shouldn’t be going anywhere yet—”

“He’s fine. We’ve had worse.” Killer said with apparent apathy.

Ink tried to object again but Killer spoke over him.

“Dust and Cross can take you, Horror.”

“I’ll stay here, thanks.” Dust piped up. “Paps is tired. He doesn’t feel like seeing anyone.”

Horror’s jaw clenched. He stared intently at Killer, who looked back with a slight smile.

The tension became unbearable. Ink had the sinking suspicion that it could easily turn into a fight and Nightmare would be too distracted to step in this time. He should keep watch over Horror and monitor for several more hours, but he didn’t want him to be stabbed again.

“It’s okay.” Ink interjected reluctantly. “You can get your stuff. Just don’t push yourself. And no sleeping yet. Cross, keep an eye on him, okay?”

Cross’s eye lights darted between Killer and Horror and he put a hand on the latter’s arm. “Let’s just go.”

Horror nodded but his sharp gaze remained on Killer. The warning in his expression was clear even to Ink. Cross and Horror departed through one of Cross’s portals. Dust wandered off, mumbling something about making spaghetti to Paps. Ink almost called him back but he kept his silence.

Killer held out his wrist. “Well?”

Ink created a new thin, black chain. Killer still held out his wrist, staring down at him. Ink uncomfortably put the chain on him. Before he could back up, Killer’s hand latched onto his forearm. Ink froze as Killer lifted his arm and inspected the snake-like design imprinted into it. Then he yanked Ink towards him.

Ink did not make a sound as his black magic shielded his throat and ribs, braced for a knife or bone attack. Killer’s arms wrapped around the middle of his back and he choked on his panic, expecting a knife between his shoulder blades. No attack came, and Ink realized that Killer was hugging him.

Unlike the others' hugs, Killer's did not feel safe. It felt like a cage closing around Ink’s body. Killer’s hug was just tight enough to be uncomfortable. Ink raised his arms to try to push Killer away but he did not release him.

“You know, a lot of Sanses use this to trap and instantly kill their opponents.” Killer murmured. “Offer a hug, and impale them straight through the body and soul. I love that move. That reaction. The relief they’ve been given mercy that shifts into a look of pain at the betrayal…”

Killer gently petted the back of Ink’s skull. Ink could hardly feel the touch through the fabric of his hood but it made him shudder.

“You had a scary little glare for a second there. Never seen anything like it. But even then it was because you wanted to help.” Killer spat the last word like saying it disgusted him. “Even when you saw the bone sticking out of Horror’s back, you grabbed him instead of pressing the attack. And when you had Blue and Red ensnared and trapped, you still refused to take the opportunity…” Killer continued petting Ink’s skull. His other arm kept Ink trapped against him. “Do you hate Blue for what he did to Horror? Do you want revenge?”

Ink knew the answer. He suspected Killer did too but he confirmed his suspicions anyway. “No. I don’t hate him, and I don’t want revenge. Hurting others does not help anyone."

Killer was silent.

Ink was as well, so tense that his bones were quivering with strain.

“You’re going to crack one day.” Killer purred. “Just like everyone else. You’re gonna break and realize that the only truth of this Multiverse is violence. Kill or be killed. And you’re going to be killed. I don’t understand why you don’t accept it. I don’t understand you. It was irritating before. But now? Now I’m curious.”

Killer released Ink and shoved him hard. Ink stumbled but kept his balance. By the time he looked up, Killer was by the door. He waved in a mockingly jaunty way.

“By the way… Thank you for saving Horror.”

It took a moment for the words to register in Ink’s head. It took another moment for him to comprehend that it was indeed Killer that said them. By the time he gathered himself enough to answer, Killer was gone.

Nightmare walked into his office and closed the door behind him. He then locked it, an action that he rarely did these days. None of his recruits would come in.

With that done, Nightmare sat in his desk chair and stared at the closed door. He could feel Horror’s lingering fear, Dust’s shock, Killer’s anger-masked terror, Cross’s guilt, and Ink’s doubt and anxiety. As he observed it, it decreased and increased, soothed into relief as Ink began to accept that Horror was going to be alright only to spike up again as he remembered the extent of Horror’s injuries.

Ink had taken almost forty-five minutes to stabilize Horror according to Killer. With green magic. Not because of incompetence or inexperience but because Horror’s injury had been that bad. Horror had almost died today. All because of an unexpected pulse of negativity and a minor mistake.

If Ink was not there, if he had not insisted the Gang take the chains with them, if he had not ignored the Gang’s flippancy about injuries and passive-aggressive beliefs that green magic was useless to them, if he had not worked so hard at his craft that he knew exactly what to do, if he had not kept his head during the emergency and acted like a Healer with far more experience than he had, Horror would be dead. Horror would have died.

Nightmare pulled his senses inward so nothing from outside of the office could reach him. He sat stoically in place and stared straight ahead as his aura filled the room.

His aura darkened the office around him. Shadows flowed from his body and tentacles, churning like poisonous black smoke, and the glass on his desk shattered. A few of the windows cracked in spider web patterns, chipping and crunching as they broke under the strain. Bits of crushed glass drifted down from the panes like dust motes.

Not a single shadow escaped the office as Nightmare submerged himself in the negativity and seethed.

It was a miserable group of three that returned to the Omega Timeline. Outertale was not in ruins, but it was in chaos. Several important buildings had been destroyed by Dust. Cross and Dream’s battle had left even more damage. Nightmare had released a blast of negativity that did not fade. The residents were terrified. No one had been killed and no one knew why except Blue. The uncertainty made their fear even stronger. Dream only managed to heal a few injuries before he collapsed.

Blue and Red did as much as they could before they had to leave. The look on Outertale Sans’s face lingered in Dream’s mind. His smile was calm as he firmly told the Star Sanses that Outertale would recover but his emotions told a different story. Nightmare had left an imprint of negativity in Outertale. Even if they rebuilt, the air would always carry an unnatural chill. The residents would recover, but they would look over their shoulder. The stars above would be just as beautiful, but it would be tainted by the fear of the darkness that surrounded them.

The moment Dream, Blue, and Red emerged through a door to the Omega Timeline, Edge appeared. He picked up Red and carried him out despite his yelp and protests. The glare Red’s brother sent the two Star Sanses was a familiar one and Dream suspected that there would be a lot of resistance from Edge the next time they dared to approach the Fell brother’s house in the Omega Timeline.

Blue’s aura churned with guilt as he shakily removed his bloodstained gloves. He had already told Dream what had happened with Horror, his emotions roiling with a mixture of shock and disbelief. Dream put a hand on his friend’s arm in support, wishing he could relieve the lingering fear. He couldn’t. Not because he was incapable, but because he never wanted to use his aura on Blue. Dream was so weak that it would never effect him too much but he still could not do it. He refused to make the same mistakes as he did with Cross, even if those mistakes had been unknown even to himself.

"Blue…"

Blue smiled at him. It was tired but still bright. "I'm okay. Really. It was close today. Closer than some battles, f-for both sides." He took a breath and straightened his shoulders. “Let’s do this.”

The Omega Timeline’s Council Building was a fortress. Once it had been a beautiful meeting hall. Now it could still be called beautiful but guards were at every entrance and along the top of the thick stone wall that surrounded the property. The windows were reinforced, stockpiles of food and other necessities were in storage underneath, and a shield could be raised to defend it from an attack or a siege. The defenses were tested once a week, constantly improved upon and tested again, all for the attack that would come one day. If it was Nightmare that attacked, they stood a chance. If it was Error, that likely meant it was the end of them all.

The Omega Timeline Council consisted of a variety of AU residents, most of whom had no AU to go back to anymore. As the creator of the Omega Timeline, Core Frisk was their leader. Doctor Fell Gaster was absent, likely invested in another project. Caretaker Toriel came from a long-forgotten fantasy AU that was destroyed in one of Error’s rampages. Mettaton, the former Captain of the Royal Guard turned Emperor until his AU fell, was in a similar position to her.

Many would be wary of a Fell Undyne who acted as both Captain of the Royal Guard and the Judge but Dream could sense that she had a good soul despite her harsh original world, harsh appearance, and even harsher attitude. The Forgotten Scientist Goner Alphys had given up on that Role after she fell into the Core she had created and was rescued by Core Frisk, choosing to be a more active member of the Council instead. Gaster Sans, more commonly referred to as simply “G” conversed quietly with Aftertale King Asgore. Asgore’s world, which had been a Pacifist that was RESET and turned to a Genocide Timeline, was one of the first to be destroyed by Error. Some rumors claimed it was the first.

Dream was technically a member of this Council but it was mostly an unofficial appointment. He had so many other duties that the only time he joined them was to give reports. Blue also joined in for reports and when matters affected Underswap.

That left seven permanent members whenever Doctor Fell could be dragged away from his work. Apparently today was one of these days. Anxiety closed around Dream’s throat as Doctor Fell Gaster hurried into the meeting hall and took his seat. He was not absent, but late.

Cold red eye lights settled on Dream. “Let’s get straight to the point, shall we? Have we lost Outertale?”

Despite Blue’s own sorrow, he remained a calming presence at Dream’s shoulder, allowing him to keep his voice steady. “No. Nightmare left an imprint of his Negativity but it is not toxic. With work, it will dispel.”

“How long will that take?” G asked. He leaned on the arm of his chair, propping himself up with a hand on his chin.

“Was it done in response for A Nightmarish Negative Tale’s destruction by Error?” Judge Fell Undyne added.

“I’m not sure.” Dream said with great reluctance. “Nightmare was distracted so the imprint won’t be as long-lasting as normal.”

“Yes.” G’s gaze was steady and held no judgment. “Core Frisk informed us that Horror was injured.”

"You should have finished the job." former Emperor Mettaton said.

"No." Caretaker Toriel rejected. "Say what you will about him, but Nightmare is attached to his Gang. Maybe he cares for them, or maybe he sees them as his property. Either way, killing the Gang would destabilize Nightmare completely. If they die, he will have nothing left to lose. We'd make another Destroyer."

It was the Council's worst fear after Error or Nightmare finding the Omega Timeline. Nightmare had obliterated the stability of the Multiverse but he had downtime and reason. He wanted an empire. If he snapped or Corrupted completely, it was over.

“Did Horror survive?” Core Frisk asked softly. “I lost track of you all due to the shadow of the Negativity.”

Both Dream and Blue exchanged a shocked, worried glance. They knew that Core Frisk could not see Nightmare in his Castle or track his movements. Core Frisk described him and thus the Gang as “hidden in shadows” but they could still usually see them when they were outside of the Castle’s world. To hear that Core Frisk had been blinded completely was another mark to show just how overpowered Nightmare had become.

“Horror survived.” Blue’s voice shook the slightest bit as he gave his report. “Nightmare’s new recruit saved him.”

Blue recounted the same shocking tale he had told Dream about his encounter with the new, mysterious masked recruit of the Nightmare Gang. Once he was done it became so silent that Dream could hear the hum of the generators. The onslaught of fear and alarm battered at his already aching head and he shut his eye sockets, struggling against the flood.

“The Gang has a new permanent recruit?” Judge Fell Undyne demanded.

“That appears to be the case.” Blue reported. “Killer called them ‘Arc’. I believe they are a Sans. I think they injected Horror with something that repaired some of the d-damage done to him. I saw them put an empty syringe in their pocket.”

"Could be a magic food-inspired serum." G murmured thoughtfully. “Perhaps they are a Scientist?”

Alphys’s gray-scale body flickered as she nodded along.

They all looked to Core Frisk but their face was completely blank. Dream could sense their distress, thick and choking.

"I have nothing. I don't know where they came from, their powers, if they’re an Outcode, if they're a monster, nothing."

"They’re a monster.” Blue confirmed. “I saw Arc’s soul. It was black."

Fell Gaster’s gaze sharpened. "Like Killer’s corrupted Determination? Or Nightmare’s own Corruption?"

Several monsters flinched, including Dream.

Blue shook his head. "No. It didn't look toxic. It just seemed to be colored black."

“A new soul or magic type then. Unknown, of course.” G slouched in his chair and massaged his forehead. “Wonderful.”

“That’s… not the strangest thing.” Blue picked at the edge of his armor, fingers flexing. “Apparently Arc had a stipulation for them to join the Gang: Nightmare isn’t allowed to kill. Arc stopped Killer from stabbing Red and Horror said ‘not to ruin it for the Boss’. And Killer listened. Begrudgingly, but he did.”

“That makes no sense.” Emperor Mettaton exploded. “Nightmare’s Gang murders just because they can. Killer is one of their names.”

“Exactly.” King Asgore’s gaze was haunted by age-old grief. "Nightmare is already winning. Destruction and Negativity are overwhelming the Multiverse. He does not need more power. So what could this ‘Arc’ character give him that he’s willing to not kill in order to have Arc on his side?"

“Off the top of my head?” Judge Fell Undyne’s mouth twisted into a grim line. "Protection from Error, a way to kill Error, a way to get into the Omega Timeline, or a way to kill Dream."

The negativity that swept through the room made Dream’s vision blur. He felt Blue at his side, physically supporting his weight. A warm, soft-furred hand joined Blue’s, accompanied by a gentle concern and quiet, enduring belief. Dream smiled weakly up at Caretaker Toriel.

“Thank you.” he whispered.

She smiled with silent encouragement and returned to her chair.

“So we know nothing?” Goner Alphys’s voice echoed softly as she looked around the room. “We have no ideas to go off of?”

“I have an idea.” Emperor Mettaton stated. “If Arc has something that Nightmare wants, we must ensure he cannot get it. Arc must be captured or killed. For the sake of us all.”

Dream did not need to look at Blue or sense his emotions to know there was an identical horrified look on his face. He also did not need to look to know they’d both reject what Mettaton wanted.

“I disagree.” King Asgore interjected firmly.

Caretaker Toriel nodded in agreement. “Nightmare could snap completely if he loses what Arc can give him.”

“That does not mean we can let him have it.” G said. He leaned forward and clasped his hands together, letting them hang between his knees. “If that’s even the reason he agreed to Arc’s terms.”

“We will focus on capturing Arc then.” Core Frisk said. “We need to know more about them and whether they are willingly working for Nightmare.”

Core Frisk had a point. Not all of the people who were in the AUs that Nightmare controlled were there willingly. Dream saw Blue flinch and felt a spike of horror from him. It was followed by a wave of guilt.

“I didn’t even try to speak to them…”

“It wouldn’t matter. The Gang doesn’t negotiate.” Doctor Fell dismissed. He rose from his chair. “If that is all, I must be going. Get an artist to draw Arc so we can spread the word.”

The meeting dispersed after that. Before Dream could approach Core Frisk, Judge Fell Undyne hurried up to him and grasped his shoulder.

“Can we talk for a sec?”

Blue frowned at them.

Judge Fell Undyne’s face was stoic but her righteous determination swirled around Dream. “Alone?”

“Go ahead, Blue.” Dream requested.

Blue noticed the positive change in Dream’s posture and went to linger by the door.

Judge Fell Undyne led Dream over to the edge of the chamber behind the meeting chairs. She glanced around a couple times before speaking. Her voice was so low Dream could barely hear her from a foot away. “I wanted to warn you. Doctor Fell Gaster may propose a vote on whether to have Core Frisk quarantine Undertale and cut it off from the greater Multiverse. Not yet. Not even that soon in the future. But the idea is becoming more than an idea.”

It took a moment for the words to percolate in Dream’s mind. Once they did, he struggled to keep the shock off his face. “Nightmare would never intentionally hurt Undertale."

Undertale was theorized to be the origin of the Multiverse (but not the core, which was a location which Core Frisk said even they had been unable to locate.) If the Omega Timeline fell, the Multiverse would be in irreparable ruins. But if Undertale itself was attacked… The Multiverse would not fall, but it would be a sign that Nightmare was truly irredeemable and would stop at nothing until positivity was utterly obliterated. (It would be the final nail in the coffin of Dream’s brother.)

Her pity stung Dream, leaving burning pricks on his bones. "It's not just Nightmare we need to worry about. And no offense, but I don’t think ‘intentionally’ matters anymore. Let's not kid ourselves; Negativity is a virus at this point. Doctor Fell doesn’t want to risk Undertale being infected. Or let it be found by Error."

Dream shook his head miserably. "It won't work. Even if Frisk does a True RESET for Undertale to try to erase the memories, the Multiverse has affected it too much to remove everything. Core says the outside influences are code-deep. The residents will have deja vu or remember everything outright and that will leave paths open. They can't be isolated."

“I think he knows.” Judge Fell Undyne admitted. “But we’re so desperate that Doctor Fell has a team of Scientists that are trying to see if another Multiverse exists so we can try to figure out why ours is so screwed up. We’re losing, Dream.”

Even Blue did not know about that particular project. No one knew except Core, the Council, and the Scientists involved. Dream knew that they were losing. If he was honest with himself, he’d known for a long time. If Undertale was forced to quarantine and then RESET out of their True Pacifist ending, it would not physically affect the Multiverse but it would devastate its residents emotionally and destroy the last bit of hope they had. It would be a sign that they were preparing for the final stand. It would be a sign that their Multiverse truly was about to die and there was no way to save it.

“Thank you for warning me, Undyne.” Dream whispered.

She hesitated a moment, then gave him a brief hug. Once, only Dream’s brother could hug him safely. Now, Dream was so weak that there was no danger to his touch. He could find no joy in that devolution.

“Keep fighting, Dream. Don’t stop. It’s all we can do.”

Dream nodded, determined even as his soul broke a little more. He’d learned how much hope could hurt a long time ago with Cross. He could only pray that Arc would be captured before Nightmare’s plan for them could come to fruition.

By the time Blue was dropped off at his house in Underswap by Core Frisk, it was dark outside. Normally Blue would be disappointed that Dream refused his offer of the brothers’ guest room. This time, he was grateful that his friend declined. The light from the small lamp beside the couch held back the shadows just enough for Blue to see his brother laid across the couch. Any hope that he was asleep were dashed when Stretch sat up.

“Sorry I didn’t pick you up from work today,” Blue intended to say.

"I almost killed Horror today." Blue said.

The words broke the dam and everything burst out, the story and the tears. Stretch wrapped Blue in his arms and let him cry and ramble hysterically without judgment. About how easily the bone pierced right through Horror’s chest, how his blood was on his jacket and the snow and Blue’s gloves, how his terror and disgust grew with every second as he desperately searched the woods, waiting for his Level of Violence increase as Execution Points flowed into him.

"It was an accident." Blue told his brother over and over again. "I didn’t mean to. I stabbed him through the chest. I didn’t mean to. He survived. I don’t know how he survived…"

What if he doesn't next time?

The fear wormed its way into Blue's soul. This was not the first time something like this happened but it was the first time it was so close to a fatality. Blue was always so careful. He wanted to stop the Gang by capturing them, not killing them.

His brother did not try to sooth him with verbal encouragement yet. He did not tell Blue that it was alright, and that he knew Blue did not mean to do it, and that it was not his fault. He simply held onto Blue and let him cry.

Chapter Text

The day after the attack on Outertale came with another surprise for Ink. He went to Nightmare’s office (once the door was finally unlocked) prepared with lists and explanations as to why he needed these medical supplies and equipment and that no, they were not ‘optional’. He hated the thought of having to do it, but he was fully prepared to bring up what happened to Horror if Nightmare needed an extra push because next time the damage could be something that would not be fixed with green magic.

Ink had plenty of time to prepare his case (and psyche himself up in order to stand his ground) since he did not sleep well last night. Every time he managed to drift off, he would see Horror turn to dust under his hands as a voice that sounded eerily like Nightmare's told him that it was his fault. Nightmare must have sensed his nightmares but he did not mention them. Ink did not either. In return, Ink did not mention the broken windows behind Nightmare and the way his tentacles still lashed with agitation and unease.

The rest of the Gang did not seem nearly as affected. Emphasis on ‘seem’. Even Horror seemed completely calm as he guided Ink in making food for them all this morning. It was like they were pretending that Horror’s close call with death never happened. Were they trying to cope, were they that used to horrible injuries, or were they simply unaware of how close this one had been? Ink was not happy with any of those answers. The Gang needed to take their health more seriously.

Ink found out that maybe at least one of them did. He was not prepared when Nightmare did a complete one-eighty and agreed to get the supplies he wanted without any trouble. Horror’s injury had shaken the Boss. (It had shaken the Gang as a whole even though they pretended it hadn’t). Although his aura was still dark (but not Corrupted in the wrongness sense as far as Ink could tell), Nightmare’s gaze was clear as he told Ink to get whatever he needed.

It was time for Ink to go on a supply run on his own as Shield. Without Cross as Guard since Nightmare wanted Ink to be able to do this on his own. Acting as Shield required Ink not to use his own portals so Nightmare gave him a small square token in the shape of a silver Delta Rune. It would transport him to an AU called Markettale and back.

That world was exactly what the name implied; an AU composed mostly of shops and markets for everything from jewelry to weapons to rare magical items. The AU was mostly neutral in that it refused to formally align with Nightmare or the Omega Timeline, despite the benefits it would receive from an alliance with Core Frisk. A chilling explanation from Cross told Ink why.

“When they say Markettale has everything, that includes its own black market and back alley deals. Walk with purpose and like you know where you are going. Avoid eye contact with people on the street. Look confident but not confrontational. Only buy from the official vendors that I’ve listed. Don’t go anywhere with strangers, don’t follow calls for help, and do not accept food or water from anyone. If someone hands you something, set it down and keep walking. Oh, and avoid Waterfall. Muffet and Grillby have a pretty vicious rivalry and things tend to heat up there since it’s between their territory.”

“Cross, you’re scaring him.” Dust noted.

Cross noticed Ink’s anxious expression and grimaced. “It’s not as dangerous as, say, Mafiatale or the worst versions of Underfell. If you have to get to Snowdin, go straight to River Person’s ferry on the outskirts of Hotland.”

Markettale sounded much less safe than the Aftertale Neutral variant but that was the price to pay to get what Ink needed. Unfortunately, most sellers in other worlds would not give him medical supplies and equipment without him proving he was a Healer. If Ink proved he had green magic, it would be reported in most places. Not in Markettale. Markettale may have a black market but they prided themselves in their products and their discretion. They also knew not to ask questions.

Cross warned that Ink would be ‘taken in broad daylight’ if they figured out he was a Healer though. He fretted a bit about Ink’s eye lights being exposed before simply begging him to be careful since wearing a mask would only get him even more unwanted attention in Markettale. Markettale accepted those that wanted to be hidden but that did not mean they would ignore those that clearly wanted to hide their identity.

Ink was nervous as he changed into his Shield attire and checked over his list. It was in a fresh notebook with all references to Nightmare’s Gang removed. Ink hoped the supply run would go well. He would like to have a normal visit to an AU without running into Error, Dream, or Blue this time, please. (Especially not Blue. Not so soon after what happened to Horror.) He remembered that he had not run into Fresh yet and quickly added him to his mental list of ‘those he did not want to see, please and thank you’.

Cross kept giving him advice and had to stop himself from trying to give Ink one of his knives for “self-defense”. Dust did give Ink a bone attack but Ink gave it back with a shake of his head. Dust shrugged, not offended. Even Killer tried to give Ink a weapon so he could “stab any glitches that looked at him funny” but Ink, once again, refused. He then had to give Dust the attack that he’d tried to sneak into Ink's pocket back (again). Horror was the calmest of the four of them as he brushed a thumb over the white that covered the splotch of black on Ink’s right cheek.

“Be safe.” he rumbled.

Ink nodded, pulled his cloak’s purple hood up over his skull, and activated the token.

The token worked as Nightmare explained it would and made Ink appear in the Multiverse Gate in Markettale, which was placed in its version of New Home. If anyone checked, it would look like he came from the Aftertale variant he and “Guard” had visited.

Cross said Multiverse Gates had been created some time ago by a team of Scientists to allow for easy travel between Alternate Universes. Most AUs did not have functioning ones anymore out of fear of allowing trouble into their world but since Markettale relied on inter-universe commerce, they kept theirs open.

Ink did not take time to gape at the large golden portal behind him and focused on reaching his first destination instead. The amount of people and guards milling about the huge building the Gate was positioned in was stressful but not overwhelming. Ink had the bag of gold and the list that Cross had given him hung around his neck underneath his silver tunic. One of Cross’s purple 'tracking for an emergency' bone attacks was in a small pocket inside his left boot. He was on his own with so many people and sounds but he could handle this.

Ink did not stare at anyone or gape at his surroundings even though the large golden hall was beautiful. Not the Gate, not the people, not the Guards. He simply walked. He had memorized a map of the area so he knew exactly where he needed to go. The streets were busy but everyone kept moving and did not bother each other or knock into anyone. He just had to get to the shops without attracting any trouble, get his purchases, and leave.

Ink’s first stop was a medical store. The cat monster behind the counter (who was a green Catty variant if he was not mistaken) did not even give him a second glance when he approached the counter with bandages, pills, antivenin, antidotes, and a single vial of liquid Determination. It came out to about what Ink was warned to expect and he was asked no questions why he needed any of the items. Not even the vial of Determination caused a raised eyebrow.

As his purchases were scanned, Ink saw a large reinforced glass case behind the counter which was closed with seven separate keypad locks. From here he could see the shelves inside were stocked up with tube-like canisters, each one with differently-colored human souls. There were seven shelves with fourteen rows. Each space was full, and the canisters went back several layers. A red Knight Knight variant, a rough-looking Napstaton EX, and a cyborg Undyne stood in the corners by the case, keeping watch.

Ink tried not to look at any of it for too long so he would not feel sick. He hastily left the store feeling highly unsettled but also grateful that he finally had more medical supplies. His black satchel, which was given to him and attached to his belt by Cross, acted like the pockets on his Arc outfit and allowed him to condense the supplies and carry them easily.

Next was a store that focused more on tools and machines. A gray Nice Cream Guy variant ran the shop. It was weird that he was considered that because he did not sell Nice Cream and he did not look very nice either. (Was Nice Cream Guy called Nice Cream Guy because he sold Nice Cream or because he was nice as in kind?) Ink privately called this one ‘Scowling Mech Guy’ in his head because he sold mechanical stuff and scowled.

Ink did not freeze up under that scowl because Killer’s was scarier. Mech Guy’s eyes followed him around the store for a while until Ink picked up a DT Sensor. He wanted one for Killer to hopefully track his Stages more accurately. Mech Guy seemed convinced that Ink was going to buy things so he no longer stared, though he did continue to scowl.

The DT Sensor was good but it turned out there were other tools that might be better, if a bit more expensive. Ink was trying to choose between a handheld scanner that tracked the rate of blood depletion and a device that checked for airborne toxins (Determination and corrupted Determination included) when the bell atop the door to the shop jingled.

A monster that Ink recognized as a Gaster stepped through and immediately caught his attention. He had gigantic wings. Ink immediately wanted to touch them but that was a terrible idea for multiple reasons. First of all, it was a bad idea to get in grabbing range of strangers. Secondly, Cross had insisted that Ink be wary of Scientists, and Gasters in particular. His warning had worried Ink, but it was Dust’s comment that made him genuinely afraid to approach.

“Oh, I can name a ton of Gasters that would love to get their hands on you. You can open portals between worlds. That right there means you’d be worth testing."

“It’s true.” Cross had added, voice soft and gaze distant. “Most Gasters don’t mind experimenting on their fellow monsters. Just… don’t trust Gasters, okay?”

The Gaster swept deeper into the shop and immediately went to the same aisle as Ink. He was more than twice Ink’s height, made to seem even bigger by his wings. Ink stared hard at the scanners he was comparing but did not move away as Cross’s warnings rang in his head.

“Ah. Is that a Determination Sensor?” the voice that came from Ink’s right was cultured but soft.

Don’t look nervous. Don’t look nervous.

Ink could only pray that the mental chant worked as he peered up at the Gaster. The Gaster was smiling pleasantly but his wings twitched and fluttered. Maybe they were like Nightmare’s tentacles. That meant the Gaster was as worried as Ink felt…

…Or he was faking it. Ink had to remember where he was. Cross had repeatedly warned him not to be drawn in by apparent kindness. Especially not here where some monsters pretended to be in need of help and ambushed people. Ink clutched the Determination Sensor defensively to his chest. Too late, he realized the posture revealed his nervousness.

The winged Gaster’s smile fell. “Er. I’m not trying to take it from you. My apologies.”

He shuffled further down the aisle. One of his wings knocked a scanner off of a shelf but he frantically caught it, apologizing as Scowling Mech Guy scowled at him. Ink almost felt bad but Cross’s warnings refused to leave his head. He decided to get the toxin detector for its intended use and to get some ideas on how he could upgrade his mask (and maybe add something to the cloth that Cross often put up over his mouth) then continued with his own shopping.

Ink was about to bring his items to the front when he saw the Gaster again, speaking to the Scowling Mech Guy. The scowl on the Mech Guy’s face was even more scowly than usual.

“Look, you can’t just swagger in here saying you’re from the Omega Timeline’s Science Department and that you need a part.”

The Gaster had not ‘swaggered in here’ in Ink’s opinion. He actually looked rather timid now with his wings tightly pressed against his back. “That was not my intention. I was simply sent by Doctor Fell Gaster to retrieve an advanced magic sensor. Are you certain there are no more in stock?”

“There aren’t.” Mech Guy snapped. “Listen, Gaster—”

“I prefer to be called Aster, actually.” he mentioned nervously.

“Do I look like I care?” Scowling Mech Guy asked. “I’m not about to pull a magic sensor out of nowhere just because some Omega Timeline Scientist realized he needed one last minute and wants—”

Ink heard a noise and the light bulb above Mech Guy’s head shattered. Ink thought he saw a flicker of fire before it went out. All three of them turned towards the front window where a small hole was visible in the glass. Mech Guy’s face paled and he immediately dove behind the counter.

“Shit!” the Mech Guy hissed. “Get down!”

Ink did not waste time asking questions. He dragged Aster with him behind the counter just before fire shattered the front window of the store. The counter protected them from the glass, and Ink heard a thud from the other side as something hit it. He felt the heat of flames and realized a fire monster had been thrown through the front window.

A peek revealed it to be what was likely Markettale’s Grillby. He stood up, threw some Gold onto the counter, elegantly adjusted his cuff sleeves, and stormed out the window he had been thrown through. An inferno exploded to life outside of the store and Ink heard trilling laughter. There were no screams, only the sounds of many hurried footsteps as the people on the street got the heck out of dodge.

Scowling Mech Guy wasn’t scowling anymore. He looked resigned and a little scared. “Damn Spiders! Damn Flames! They’re going to bring the Royal Guard down here again. Dammit all, I moved out of Hotland so I wouldn’t have to deal with this...”

“What is happening?” Aster asked anxiously.

Ink saw how frightened he was and instinctively patted his hand like Horror would to his. Aster stared at him with such lost confusion that it could not be faked (right?)

“A damn gang war is what’s happening.” Mech Guy peeked over the counter and immediately ducked again. “Attacks are gonna start flying.”

The crackle of Grillby’s flames was accompanied by Muffet’s high-pitched laughter.

Ink did not panic. Shield was not meant to be on a battlefield like Arc but Horror and Cross had him prepare in case he needed to defend himself in this disguise. It was clear from the start what kind of magic he would use.

Ink recalled the sensation of creating his mask and pulled on his magic. He summoned a tower shield with a Delta Rune emblazoned on its face, twisting the rest of the shield’s color so that it was a few shades darker than his purple cloak. While Arc’s shield was a black, shifting blob of magic and chains, Shield’s was a purple tower shield like a guardian knight’s.

The construct was barely larger than Ink but both Aster and the Mech Guy were able to crouch down behind him as magic attacks pinged off the purple ‘metal’. The winged Gaster shivered, wings pressed tightly against his back, but Ink dare not turn back to comfort him again.

Ink, Aster, and Scowling Mech Guy kept their heads down as Markettale Muffet and Grillby fought in the street. It took ten long minutes before a shout of “Royal Guards incoming!” sent the two fighters running. No more flame attacks flew into the store but several of the shelves were covered in spider webs or outright destroyed in the attack.

Mech Guy surveyed the damage and sighed loudly. To Ink’s surprise, he bowed to both of them. “Sorry for the inconvenience. Muffet and Grillby don’t usually pull that crap here. King Asgore’s gonna be pissed.” He reached up and scratched the side of his head. “Nice shield, kid.”

“Indeed. I s-suppose that encounter was rather shattering.” Aster piped up. “That window will be a pane to fix.” He sounded slightly awkward as he made the joke and immediately winced. “Oh, that was terrible…”

Ink looked down at the shield he still held and shrugged.

Mech Guy glanced from the pile of Gold that Grillby had left to Ink’s basket of items, which had been thrown to the floor in the chaos but had remained untouched. “You can have all that on the house.”

Ink’s brow furrowed.

Mech Guy raised his hand to forestall any expected questions. “Muffet has a high Level of Violence. Those attacks would have killed me in one hit. Just take it.”

Ink hesitated, then offered the purple tower shield to him.

Mech Guy stared at it for a long pause, then huffed quietly. “No trade needed.”

Ink had not intended for the shield to be a trade. He wanted Mech Guy to take it in case this happened again. He could always make another one. Ink reluctantly dispelled the shield and put his items into his bag.

“I must thank you as well.” Aster said. His feathers were no longer smooth and he still looked frightened but he smiled tentatively down at Ink.

Scowling Mech Guy stepped between him and Ink as he lived up to his nickname again. “Who was your Sans to you?”

Aster flinched and whirled to look at him. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Mech Guy accused. “Well?”

Aster’s jaw clenched. “He is… was my younger brother.”

There was that word again. Brother. Ink still did not understand what it truly meant other than the definition he had looked up which talked about ‘in relation to other children through their parent(s)’. Most of the Gang killed their brother and Nightmare was enemies with his, but Dream and Blue backed off when Guard came to the defense of his “brother”, Shield. And now Aster was clearly grieving his brother. Ink thought of the tall sketch and felt a twinge of pain in his soul.

Mech Guy shrugged and put an unlit cigarette in his mouth. “Hmm. I was just askin’. ‘Cause some people go a little nuts and like to find a replacement.”

Aster’s confusion and grief turned to horror. “I’d never do that.”

Ink felt torn. On the one hand, it seemed the Scowling Mech Guy was much nicer than he initially seemed. On the other, Aster looked utterly disgusted and distraught at what the vendor was implying. It was also extremely uncomfortable for Scowling Mech Guy to ask such invasive things in front of Ink, a stranger to both of them, but that might be his way of warning Ink to be wary.

Ink should just go with his purchases, but it felt wrong to leave like that. He closed his bag and took out his notebook. He began to write as Mech Guy watched and Aster’s brow furrowed.

“What are you…? Oh.” Aster’s face lit up. “You know Wing Dings?”

Ink nodded self-consciously. He belatedly realized that Mech Guy would not be understand what he was writing and looked uncertainly his way.

“It says ‘Thank you for the help but I’m okay.’” Aster’s voice was unsteady. “I swear that’s the truth.”

Scowling Mech Guy growled and dragged his hand back over his ears. “You’re not leaving with the Sans.”

Aster’s wings pressed against his back again. “Of course. Whatever makes you comfortable, Sa… Er.”

Ink hesitated a moment, then wrote in the notebook again.

“‘Shield’.” Aster read. “It’s fitting.”

“I know half my stock got trashed but are you going to buy anything or not?” Mech Guy demanded. “I need to clean this up.”

Aster jumped, feathers ruffled. “Of course. Thank you for defending us, Shield.”

“Thanks, kid.” No-longer-Scowling Mech Guy added. “Feel free to come back here for all your tool and mechanical needs.”

Ink left the store. The streets were full again, though now there were several charred spots and spider webs on the road and some of the buildings. A few Royal Guards skulked about but they did not charge at anyone to arrest them. Ink followed the flow and did not look at them just like everyone else did. He breathed a little easier once they were out of sight.

The line out of the Multiverse Gate was longer than Ink expected. Ink’s token would make it seem like he left through it to “return” to Aftertale but he had to go through the Gate for it to register. Ink waited anxiously, his satchel sealed tight and reinforced with magic, as the Guards prowled down the lines of waiting monsters. They seemed to be searching for Grillby or Muffet and their followers.

Ink hung back a little and tried to figure out what to do. There were a lot of people. A lot. And they were really close.

“Oh no. I swear I did not intend to follow you.”

It was Aster again. He still looked harried as he held the bags he carried close to his body. Ink did not have an opportunity to give him any space as the lines and crowds of waiting monsters closed in around them. Aster bumped into Ink but Ink kept his footing and did not bump into the Asgore that stood in front of him in line. The Asgore was so much larger than him that Ink was probably sure he wouldn’t notice even if Ink did collide with him. Still, it was better to be safe than have to dodge a fireball or a trident.

“Sorry.” Aster murmured. “There are so many people.”

The tired lines of his face were enhanced by emotions Ink was familiar with. Discomfort. Stress. Exhaustion. Grief. Loneliness. Ink recalled that the Omega Timeline had sent him and the Gang’s warnings whispered in his head. This Gaster did not look like an evil Scientist that would take Ink and lock him in a lab. He looked like a sad, tired, lonely person on the verge of tears. Ink wondered if he looked like that when he became overwhelmed in Aftertale.

Ink cautiously patted Aster’s hand and there was another look he recognized. Shock and longing. Was this Aster’s first time in a world like Markettale? Was he that new to the greater Multiverse? How long had Aster been alone before Zephyrtale was destroyed?

Wait. Zephyrtale?

…Oh no. Not again.

Ink had started noticing a pattern since Aftertale. Every time he heard about a new AU, its code would appear on his bones written in binary. He had not heard of Zephyrtale but he knew Aster was from it just by seeing him. Ink was in an AU filled with outsiders right now. If he started receiving binary codes from AU residents he simply met, or even by interacting with them at all… How quickly would the codes spread? How soon would they show?

Ink pushed down his panic. His bones were covered by his clothes and cloak. No one would see his swirling tattoos and even if they could, they could not read the binary codes.

“Excuse me?”

Ink looked up, then up some more at the tall Royal Guard in front of him. Even with his helmet on, the Guard looked unhappy and too warm. It was extremely hot and crowded in here. Ink’s cloak did not feel too hot on him but wearing metal armor around must be like wearing an oven.

“Did either of you witness the fight by the leaders of the Spider and Flame Syndicates? We’re holding back anyone who saw anything for questioning.”

Ink smothered his panic. Cross assured him that the Guards would not care about checking through their bags but he also knew that they might CHECK people. Would his CHECK say he was Shield, the brother of Guard, or would it reveal something else? Markettale was not allied with the Omega Timeline but they would gladly hand over a member of Nightmare’s Gang for some reward, influence, or benefits.

Before Ink could think of an out, Aster spoke up. “How long will it take? I have some time-sensitive purchases for Doctor Fell Gaster.”

The Guard pulled back. “Oh, you’re both from the Omega Timeline? My apologies. You can go.”

The Guard waved Ink and Aster on.

“Thank you.” Aster said politely.

He gently grabbed Ink’s shoulder and pulled him along the moving line of monsters. Ink was too surprised to do anything but go along with him. Now that he felt a little bit safer, he admired the high golden arches and large windows of the Multiverse Gate Center. It was like a gigantic Judgment Hall.

Once they were out of sight of the Guard, Aster released him. “I apologize for holding onto you, my friend. I did not want him to assume we were separate parties.”

Did he call Ink a ‘friend’? A friend was like an ally, right? Cross said he and Dream used to be friends but that ended badly. But Aster had just lied by omission to a Royal Guard. The characters who were friends in the books Ink read tended to do things like that for each other. So they must be friends! Even though Aster looked old enough to be his dad… Ink was not completely sure he understood what a ‘dad’ was except they were usually older and wiser. Oh right, and they made bad jokes. Were dad friends a thing?

Ink patted Aster’s arm and smiled to let him know it was okay.

Soon, it was about to be his turn to leave through the Multiverse Gate. Aster hung back and waved to Ink as he stepped onto the platform.

“Farewell for now. I do hope we meet again.”

Ink felt a tingle on his bones and nodded firmly. He stepped into the swirling golden portal. Ink activated the token mid-transit and appeared back in the Castle. Cross and Horror were waiting for him. The former had his Guard outfit on minus the helmet and was pacing when Ink appeared.

“Oh, thank the Stars.” Cross’s shoulders slumped with relief and he hurried to Ink’s side. “You’re half an hour late. Are you okay? Did you get what you needed?”

Ink was so excited he could not contain himself. “Cross! Horror! I made a Gaster dad friend! He’s a Gaster and he has these big wings and he’s really nice and he was from Zephyrtale and there was a fight between the Flames and Spider Syndicates but I protected Aster— Aster is the Gaster by the way cause he prefers ‘Aster’— and anyway I protected Aster and the store owner who I called Scowling Mech Guy because he was always scowling and he sold mechanical stuff and I protected them both with my shield and Aster made a pun that was horrible it was amazing and then Aster tricked the Guards so we did a crime together which means we’re friends according to the books I read and Aster said he was a big brother but I think he acts like a dad because he made dad jokes although I’m not quite sure what a dad is… Could you tell me what a dad is, Cross?”

Cross stared at him in complete bewilderment for several seconds. “What?”

Horror laughed so hard he almost fell over.

Aster returned to the Omega Timeline much later than he intended. Much, much later. Aster had not been employed by the Omega Timeline’s Science Division for long and although he knew he would not be fired or cast out for one incident of tardiness, he hurried to get back to his, Stretch’s, and Alphys’s personal lab before Doctor Fell Gaster became too annoyed.

It was a natural consequence of his sprint that Aster ran into someone. The other Gaster was not that much taller than him and Aster was the one that had been moving more quickly yet Aster was the one that staggered, as though he had hit a wall instead of another monster.

Aster barely kept his balance as he blurted an awkward “Sorry.”

The other Gaster stared at him for several uncomfortable seconds. It was still eerie for Aster to see a slightly different reflection of his face staring back at him with such scrutiny. At least this was not one of the more violence-accepting Gasters. This Gaster appeared to be one that closely resembled the alpha Undertale universe’s. There were many of that type in the Skyscraper’s labs, some of whom could only be differentiated by codes that only the likes of Core Frisk could view. Aster was mostly certain that this particular Gaster was the one Stretch was working with along with the separate projects he was doing with Doctor Fell's group and Aster himself.

Aster was about to apologize again when Gaster swept by him and continued down the hall without a word. Aster reluctantly continued on his own way, knowing he would agonize over the encounter much more than necessary later. He had been alone for so long in his tower, surrounded by nothing but his Blasters. He was not used to people. He did not recall how to approach them. He was simply lucky enough to be partnered up with two monsters he could get along with.

“How did it go?” Stretch asked as Aster entered their lab at the Skyscraper.

Aster gently set his bags down on the table and sat heavily on the couch. It had been placed in the office recently at the request of the trio of Scientists. Mostly for Stretch. Alphys immediately approached the bags and looked inside them. Stretch pulled his feet out of the way to give him more room and Aster slumped back, staring up at the ceiling. The position was not the most comfortable for his wings but he would deal with it for the moment.

“How did it go?” It was exhausting. Overwhelming. Terrifying. Intriguing. “There were more people there than I have ever seen in my life.”

“I can’t believe Doctor Fell sent y-you in like that.” Alphys stammered as she began to sort through the items Aster had bought. “I could never go to Markettale. It’s very d-dangerous, you know.”

“I did not know, actually.” Aster corrected quietly.

“Right. Zephyrtale was Incode before…” Alphys stopped herself and stammered an apology.

Aster accepted it, even if the reminder of his lost home still hurt deep in his soul. He had not known the Multiverse even existed until Error came along and destroyed Zephyrtale. The attack was so sudden and the glitches were so bad that Core Frisk was only able to open a single portal. Unfortunately, that portal was by Aster’s isolated tower. And nowhere else.

Aster was the only survivor from his AU. One minute he was alone in exile, following his quiet routine as he made himself a cup of tea. The next his home was gone, his brothers were dead, and he found out the Multiverse existed because the Destroyer decided to kill his world. His brothers were gone without him ever being able to reunite with them. Did Papyrus even remember he had another big brother or had Aster faded from his memory? Sans might not have told Papyrus about him since he never forgave Aster for ‘abandoning’ them. Now he would not have the chance to. Aster never had the chance to see his brothers again.

Many monsters would have given up or Fell Down. Aster stumbled through his grief and joined the Scientists in the Omega Timeline. He was given a job, given a home, given two lab partners that he might tentatively consider friends. None of them looked at him strangely or tried to banish him for experimenting on his own body. He had more than he did before, but he lost too much to get it. The pain in his soul did not fade.

Alphys busied herself with the supplies. “I don’t see an advanced magic sensor.”

“They did not have one.”

“Oh my. Doctor Fell isn’t going to be happy about that.” Alphys mumbled.

“Nothing can be done about it.” Stretch sighed. He sat up and stretched his arms over his head. “My required break is over. What are we working on next?”

Despite his “nap”, Stretch did not look particularly rested. Aster knew he was working on multiple projects. Not just with him, but a separate one with Fell Gaster and another one with the Undertale derivative Gaster that Aster had run directly into. He was tempted to tell Stretch to take a longer break but he doubted he would be listened to. For a supposed “lazybones”, Stretch worked far too many jobs.

“We were supposed to work on the Multiverse Scanner but we didn’t get the part.” Alphys’s shoulders slumped. “We’ll have to make do with the less powerful device…”

They began the replacement process. Aster was not-yet used to this specific type of group work since he used to work alone with the Dragon Blasters in his old AU but it was still a comfort to make something with other Scientists at his sides.

“So did anything fun happen in Markettale?” Stretch asked idly as he worked.

“Not really. There was a fight between Muffet and Grillby.”

Stretch sounded vaguely interested. “Oh? Why? Are they rival restaurant owners there?”

“They’re the leaders of crime syndicates.”

Stretch grimaced. “Ah.”

“I did meet a friendly face, though.” Aster added hastily. “He shielded me during the attack.”

Aster’s smile faltered a little, then softened. He had already run into so many Sanses. It was still painful to see his and Papyrus’s face on other monsters but the differences made it easier. Stretch was older than his Papyrus had been the last time Aster had seen him (and much “lazier” too) and Shield was so small. Smaller than Aster’s Sans had been at fifteen when Aster had to… leave. Height did not reveal age when it came to monsterkind but goodness, Shield was tiny.

Aster had not intended to frighten Shield when he initially approached him. Or kidnap him for that matter, a concept that had not been anywhere in his mind until the store owner accused him. Since being thrust into the Multiverse, Aster had learned that many Gasters were not as ethical with their experimentation as he was. He experimented on himself, yes, but he would never forcefully take other monsters for those experiments. Such measures went against everything he was trying to accomplish.

With that in mind, Aster had not thought of approaching Shield again until after the fight started in the street. Aster had been so shocked by the sudden onset of violence that he did not use his own defenses. Seeing the tower shield in Shield’s hands had helped Aster stop thinking about the past and pierce through the discomfort of seeing yet another monster with his younger brother’s face. Shield was his own person and Aster would treat him as such. If they ever ran into each other again.

“Who did you see?” Alphys prompted as she screwed a part into place.

“His name is Shield. He is a small Sans in a purple cloak with a silver Delta Rune clasp and—”

“YOU FOUND HIM?”

Aster was not prepared for Blue of the Star Sanses to appear on the back of the couch next to his face, leaning forward so much that he almost fell into Aster. Aster unbalanced and fell to the ground with a yelp. In his distress, his skeletal tail uncurled from under his robe and lashed behind him.

Blue’s grin faltered and he winced in sympathy. “Sorry, Aster! I thought you heard me come in.”

“I’m fine.” Aster groaned. He sat up and rubbed an aching area on his upper back. “Who did I find?”

“The little Sans with the angry big brother that Dream and I met.” Blue exclaimed in an explanation that did not explain much at all to Aster. Blue had a manic energy to him today that Aster was starting to recognize as someone who had drunk too much coffee. Did he not want to sleep or something? That was uncomfortably common in the Omega Timeline.

Stretch seemed to know who Blue was talking about, thankfully. “The one from Aftertale Neutral?”

“That’s him.” Blue looked hopefully at Aster. “Did you happen to get a way to contact him?”

“No, I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

Blue wilted. “Aw. That’s too bad. Did he seem okay at least? When I last saw him he was— er… having trouble… with… coping things.”

Aster suspected what those “trouble with coping things” might be. He had his own “trouble with coping things”.

“I think he was alright.” he replied awkwardly.

Blue looked so disappointed that Aster could not help but feel bad. Soon, that worry was replaced by a small smile. “It’s okay. Maybe we’ll find him again. I think he and his brother don’t really have a home at the moment so I’d like to invite them to move to the Omega Timeline if I see them.”

“Maybe someday.” Stretch handed a part to Alphys. “Why are you here so early, bro?”

Blue’s brow furrowed. “I’m not early. It’s almost midnight.”

The three Scientists paused and all looked to the clock.

“…So it is.” Stretch commented.

“You all get very caught up in what you are working on, it seems. Mweheheheh!” Blue squinted at the device they were tinkering with. “What are you working on?”

The three Scientists looked at each other.

“Blue can be trusted. You may tell him about this part of the project.”

Doctor Fell’s gaze was sharp as he swept into the office. Fell Alphys hovered at his side and stared past them all at the machine. She appeared to be glaring at it, but even Aster could tell that glare was because of Blue.

Aster’s world did not have the chance to be saved by the Star Sanses but he did not blame them for its destruction. He had only heard about Dream, and he had yet to meet the legendary Guardian of Positivity himself, but he could tell those two were already doing more than they should have to. He wished he could help but he was a Scientist, not a powerful fighter. The best he felt he could reliably do was try to help Blue’s brother not work himself into a coma.

“This machine is meant to scan for the codes and magic of other Multiverses.” Undertale’s Alphys admitted. “We have made several attempts to view them but there has not been much progress yet.”

Blue nodded along, then did a double-take as he processed what she said. “Other Multiverses?”

“Indeed.” Doctor Fell Gaster confirmed. “Once, the existence of Alternate Universes and the codes that make them function were only theoretical. Now we know they are in fact real. But discovering other existences is not our final goal. If there is another Multiverse, that means there may be a barrier between theirs and ours to ensure that the Corruption of this Multiverse does not spread outward. If we can discover that barrier’s code, we may be able to save more worlds here.”

“So you don’t want to contact them, you just want to get the code that keeps them separate?” Blue asked slowly. He turned it over in his head again and his eye lights turned into stars. “Do you think that theoretical code could contain Error?”

“It is possible.” Doctor Fell Gaster’s red eye lights focused on the clock. “Not to cut this conversation short, but it is late. Go home. You all need to rest.”

“Hypocrite.” Stretch said in a bored tone. “I’ll be out in a sec, bro. I have to pick up a few things. Could you maybe grab me some coffee from the third floor’s break room?”

“You need sleep, not coffee.” Blue grumbled but it was good-natured. “Why the third floor?”

“It has honey flavored coffee pods.”

Blue rolled his eye lights and put his hands on his hips. “Of course. You could bring your own instead of taking theirs.”

Stretch shrugged. “Too much effort.”

“Uh-huh.” Blue said with a perfect blend of exasperation and fondness. “I’ll be back.”

He headed out. Alphys mumbled a hasty goodbye and took off, pulling out her cell phone as she went. Unlike her, Aster had no one waiting for him at his small apartment near the Skyscraper Lab. It was nothing new, but it hurt all the same. He said his own goodbyes and headed out as well. It was so late that the hallways were empty now. Even Scientists needed to sleep.

Aster did not want to sleep. He did not want his mind to conjure any new horrible ways that his brothers died. Aster had not been there to witness their ends but he had gotten his hands on the report on Zephyrtale. Error kept dolls filled with dust as trophies for many of the Sanses he killed so Core Frisk occasionally took the risk of viewing the Anti-Void in order for some survivors to have closure. One doll had been identified as Aster’s brother’s, with the scarf of Aster’s youngest brother tied around it.

Aster instinctively clutched at the area below his throat and halted in place when his hand closed around empty air. He stood there, frozen as he patted at his neck and chest in a panic. His necklace. His crystal necklace was gone.

Aster turned on his heel and ran back to the lab.

Please let it be in the office and not Markettale.

If it was in Markettale he would never find it. The blue crystal that he cherished for years could not be lost. It had to be in the office. Please let it be in the office. He could not lose the last thing he had from his brothers.

The door to the lab was closed. Aster heard voices inside. He halted in place and hovered awkwardly, desperate to begin his search but unwilling to barge in to do so.

“—saying it’s kind of suspicious is all.” Stretch’s drawl was muffled by the door but Aster heard a sharpness to it that he had never witnessed before. “It’s not just Blue and Aster, either.”

Why were they talking about him? Aster’s question was answered as soon as he thought it.

“It’s Dream, the Council, even Core Frisk. You won’t tell them about the Protector Initiative.”

“No.” Doctor Fell Gaster’s voice was cold. “As you will not. Giving out false hope is… cruel. But we need a Protector. Even if our Multiverse was made without one, I’m certain another was. Perhaps that Multiverse could give us an explanation on how to locate ours or create one of our own.”

“I still think you should be careful with that kind of thinking.” Stretch warned. “We all know what happened the last time a Gaster tried to play at being a Creator.”

“I am not XGaster.” Doctor Fell said icily.

“Good.” Stretch’s voice hardened. “Make sure you don’t become him.”

Aster stood frozen in place, confusion and alarm replaced by panic as he realized someone was heading towards the closed door. He dove into the open door to the left of the lab and sat perfectly still as he heard the footsteps retreat. Aster remained there, soul pounding and thoughts whirling until he heard Blue’s cheerful proclamation that he had returned with “the overly caffeinated beverage”.

Only when the brothers left did Aster return to the lab. His necklace was on the floor near the couch. Aster picked it up and put it safely around his neck with trembling hands as he hurried out of the room.

He was new to the Multiverse but he was not so new that he had yet to hear the Protector legend. All who spoke of it admitted it was an “unrealistic wishful fantasy” but Aster had not known the Multiverse existed until the Destroyer came for his world. And Doctor Fell seemed to think the legend was more than that.

It was not Doctor Fell Gaster’s belief in a supposed “legend” that scared Aster so greatly. As a Scientist, he also pushed beyond what others thought was acceptable. However, with that "push beyond" came questions that needed to be asked first.

Doctor Fell Gaster wondered how to find or create a Protector for their Multiverse. Aster wondered something else: What was the reason the Protector could not, or maybe should not, be created or found? Particularly by them?

Those last kinds of questions were the ones that stubbornly resolute Scientists might not think of until it was too late.

Chapter Text

Ink climbed up the inside of the southeast tower and balanced himself on top of the rafters. It was a long way down from his position to the nearest floor but he was unafraid of the height as he set down his bucket and began scrubbing one of the upmost windows. The cream-colored cloth and soapy water became grimy within seconds and he gave a huff of annoyance, scrubbing harder.

The furniture and normal dust had been cleaned out on the other floors, leaving only some of the upper walls, some cobwebs, and the windows left. Ink still was not sure what he wanted to do with this area yet but he knew he wanted it to be clean. Ink scrubbed the stubborn patches of dirt on the window pane, letting more light come through. The water was a grimy shade of brown by the time he was finished but he picked up the bucket and balanced as he walked to the next window. He began the process again and grinned as he saw through the window to the outside.

“Ink, are you in here?”

He looked down at Horror, who stepped into the top floor of the tower and peered into the shadows with a frown. Even with the clean window, it was still dark inside the tower, with only wisps of light illuminating the space. Ink would have to come up with a way to get lighting in here once he figured out what he wanted to do with it.

Ink put the cloth in the soapy water, grabbed his bucket, and waved. “Up here, Horror! One sec.”

Horror looked up at Ink just as he stepped off the rafters. Horror’s eye lights shrank and he let out a startled yell as he lunged forward with a glowing hand outstretched but Ink used black magic on his feet to slowly fall down to the floor. He landed so lightly that not a single drop of dirty water sloshed out of the bucket.

Horror’s hand stopped glowing blue and he pressed it to his chest. “Are you trying to give me a soul attack?”

His voice sounded raspier than usual. It had been several days since the attack on Outertale but Ink anxiously checked Horror over for what must be the thousandth time at this point. His vitals were stable even if his breathing was not.

Ashamed, Ink looked down at his bare feet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It’s fine.” Horror croaked. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I used my black magic to run on top of water when Negative Undyne and Sans were chasing me across Waterfall.” Ink explained. He set the bucket down and moved closer to Horror in order to get a clear view of his face. “Be honest. Are you in any pain?”

Horror cracked a smile. “No pain. Jus’ surprised. I’m okay.”

Ink checked him over one more time just to be absolutely sure before letting it go. “What do you need? Is it time for dinner?”

“Not normally but we’re eating early today. Dust snagged some supplies from Outertale that Cross and I are going to drop off back in my AU. You want to come with us? I did say I’d go with you to get you some clothes."

“I can go to Horrortale?” Ink was so excited he nearly stumbled over his words. “Can I meet your brother? And your Toriel? Should I bring any medical supplies? Should I bring a gift? People do that in the books when they visit…”

Horror snagged Ink by the back of his borrowed shirt before he could run off and pulled him back to him, chuckling. “Yes, yes, possibly yes, no, and a gift is not necessary. The Boss said you will need to wear your Arc disguise outside of my house and Tori’s place but there is a nice clothing shop in Snowdin now that things are… more stable.”

Ink bit his tongue so he would not ask for clarification. It was not his business unless Horror offered to share. “I can’t show my face there?”

“You can show it only to Paps and Tori. Boss’s orders.” Horror absently put a hand over his red eye and rubbed at it. "No outsiders should be able t’ get into Horrortale and no one should be able to get word out but shouldn't doesn't mean won't. You have to keep the mask on outside and while we’re at the store. Got it?"

“Okay.” Ink agreed instantly. “Are you sure I shouldn’t bring anything?”

“I’m sure.” Horror said firmly. He hesitated, then spoke in a softer tone. “Everything is working now and there is plenty of food thanks t’ the Boss’s efforts. But there’s still some… trauma. My Tori will not offer you food unless something is wrong so don’t accept it if she does. Make an excuse. If you try to give my Paps food he’ll feel stressed about accepting it because he’ll worry you need it more…”

Horror’s eye lights were out in the sad way again. Ink got close and tucked himself against his side, leaning his head against his soft coat.

Horror absently patted his arm a few times and took a breath. “Let’s make dinner.”

They made tacos. It was quiet because neither of them talked much but it was not a bad kind of quiet. More contemplative. Ink did not fully understand what had happened to Horrortale but he resolved to follow Horror and Cross’s lead while there, even if it felt weird not to bring a meal or a gift or offer anything while he was there.

Once their early dinner was over, Ink got into his Arc outfit, mask on and hood up as always, and went to the entrance hall. Only Nightmare was absent. Although Dust was merely leaning against the wall and speaking softly to Paps, Killer seemed to be arguing with Cross.

Horror was calmer again by the time Ink arrived. "Are you ready to see my other home, Arc?"

Ink nodded enthusiastically.

“Can I go too?” Killer piped up. His voice was cheery but his smile was too wide to be genuine. “I want to visit the Queen’s castle."

Just like that, the calm that Horror had displayed was snuffed out as he went rigid. His jaw clenched and he scratched at the hole in his skull as his eye lights gleamed with a dangerous light.

Worried, Ink patted his arm to get his attention. Horror immediately dropped his hand from his skull and blinked a couple times before his eye lights focused on Ink. He silently wrapped his arms around Ink, holding him close, and simply stayed like that for a moment. From his position, Ink could feel him taking deep breaths.

No one explained. No one said anything. Not even Killer, who obviously wanted to even as he glared at the ground by his feet instead of Horror.

Horror shut his eye sockets tightly. "Leave it be, Killer. This is why you're not going."

Killer muttered a few creative insults under his breath. Ink doubted they were directed at Horror.

“Do you want to try to open the portal, Ink?” Cross offered. “It might take you a few tries—”

Ink had already summoned his magic and let it shimmer into a dark mirror-like surface. Through the portal was a picturesque image of a snow-covered house.

“…Or you could do it in one try.” Cross sounded dumbfounded. “Alright then.”

Horror put a hand on Ink’s shoulder and gestured to the portal. “Could you direct it more towards the center of town? We should go to the store first.”

Ink nodded and made the adjustment. The image blurred like Snowdin was scrolling by before it settled on a store called ‘Snowdin’s Seasonal Clothing Shop’. Cross did not join Ink and Horror through Ink’s portal. He opened his own to a foggy location that was somewhere near the border of Snowdin and Waterfall, darted through, and shut it before Killer could follow him.

Killer scowled.

Dust waved jauntily at Ink. “Have fun.”

Ink stepped through his portal with Horror and appeared in front of the clothing store. It was snowing a bit heavily so there were not many monsters on the street. Most were bundled up in heavy clothes and focused on getting out of the cold as quickly as possible. The white made Ink uncomfortable but Horror was there so everything was okay.

The shop was run by Horrortale’s Nacarat Jester, a red demon-like monster with a long orange cloak. They smiled brightly when they saw Horror as he and Ink entered, revealing a mouth filled with sharp teeth. Other than that and the brief flash of surprise when they saw Ink’s mask, Nacarat did not interact with him or Horror.

Ink left the store with several new tops, pants, and shoes in his size. Horror also grabbed a few things that he said were “For Cross.” that he did not show to Ink. It wasn’t Ink’s business so he did not ask or try to sneak a look at the items. He saw Nacarat take off half the price as they were checked out but they and Horror did not mention it. Ink guessed the discount was another thing that was simply done in Horrortale and accepted it.

The heavy snowfall had mostly stopped by the time they exited the store. It was after what most would consider “dinner time” when Horror led Ink to the house he shared with his brother. Ink suspected it was on purpose but again, he did not mention it. The lights were on and the brown door swung open before they made it past the two closed mailboxes that said “Sans” and “Papyrus”.

A tall skeleton stood in the doorway, his dark, slightly hollow eye sockets focusing on them both. He nearly filled the whole doorway, standing at a height that was almost twice Ink’s. His black sockets and sharp teeth should be intimidating but the way his face lit up when he spotted Horror and his gigantic, crooked-tooth smile was one of the happiest and warmest things Ink had ever seen.

“Sans! You’re back.” Dark eye sockets glanced briefly down at Ink. “And you brought a new friend.”

“Hey, bro.” Horror ushered Ink into the house and closed the door. “Long time no see.”

“Do not ‘hey, bro’ me, Sans.” He sniffed loudly and pointedly. “You left so quickly last time. It’s very rude to shortcut in, grab a spare jacket and shirt, and run away through time and space without a single ‘hello’.”

Ink immediately put together that Horror avoided his brother because his shirt had been covered with his own blood. The reminder was not a pleasant one. It was a good thing he had his mask on to hide how he winced.

Horror shrugged. “Sorry, bro. Had things to do. People to see.” He wrapped an arm around Ink’s shoulders and pulled him close as his other hand gestured at his brother. “This is my younger bro, Papyrus. You can call him Paprika. That’s what the others do. Papyrus, this is…"

“Ink.” Ink introduced. “It’s nice to meet you, Paprika.”

He was a little nervous and unsure if Nightmare would want him to share his real name, but this was Horror’s brother. A brother who was so overjoyed to see Horror, and who Horror so obviously loved in return. Ink glanced back at the door to confirm it was closed and hesitantly took his mask off.

Paprika’s gloved hands curled as he pressed them over his mouth. His empty sockets illuminated with a warm red-orange glow. Had Ink miscalculated? Was Paprika an enemy like the others’ brothers currently were or had been until they were killed? Was he going to attack?

“OhmyStars you’re a small Sans.” Paprika squealed. “I have never seen a Sans so small! You’re adorable.”

Ink was too bewildered to do anything but stare and stammer a confused “Thank you?”

“You blush rainbow colors!” Paprika gasped. His face fell into a horrified look and his movements were wild and expressive as he clapped his hands to his forehead. “Oh no. Sans! I have committed the social faux pas of commenting on someone’s height— Stop laughing!”

Horror was doubled over, one hand on his knee and one over his mouth as he tried to muffle the sound of his hearty guffaws. It reminded Ink of Horror’s reaction after he returned from Markettale. He did not understand what was so hilarious then or now, but seeing Horror laugh brought a smile to his own face. These joyful interactions were unlike any of the other brothers’ that Ink had heard of (again, most of whom had been killed by the other or were currently enemies). He privately liked this more.

“I am very sorry for being rude.” Paprika said loudly over Horror’s continued cackles.

“It’s okay.” Ink assured him. “I didn’t think it was rude at all.”

Paprika frowned and leaned a bit closer, an indicator that Ink had come to realize meant someone was having trouble hearing him. His expression cleared into a beaming smile.

“I was unaware that Sans had made a new friend until I saw the note he left.” Paprika scowled at his brother but even that glare held genuine fondness. “I don’t know why you cannot simply get a cell phone, Sans.”

“Phones can be tracked, Paps.”

Horror slouched on the couch and scratched his broken skull. Ink had a strange feeling as he watched him. Upon casual inspection, Horror seemed completely relaxed. But he wasn’t. There was just a little bit of tension in his body language. Paprika was that way as well with his cheer. His smile was real, but there was a worried tension in his posture as he watched his brother pick at his skull. Had Ink been wrong about how happy they were to see each other? He hoped not.

Ink sat next to Horror and huddled close to his left side. Horror’s red eye light slid towards him and he laid his upper arm against the back of the couch as he plopped his hand down atop Ink’s skull. The worry immediately left Paprika’s lanky frame and he softened.

“I would have shown you a grand tour of Snowdin and its defenses but Sans informed me that may not be a good idea. Though I must admit it is strange that your Boss does not want many of us to see you…”

“We might be able to check out some of the puzzles if we go to Tori’s, bro.” Horror offered. Ink noticed he did not acknowledge the comment about Nightmare’s secrecy at all.

Paprika’s grin was wide and glowing. “As a proud member of Snowdin’s Sentries it would be my honor… but for now I have selected a series of indoor board games and puzzles. If you would like to play, Ink.”

Ink inspected the pile of boxes on the coffee table. “I’ve played card games but I’ve never played games like those before.”

“Worry not.” Paprika declared. “I, the Great Papyrus (ahem, or Paprika, if you prefer) will teach you and ensure that Sans does not cheat.”

“It’s not cheating if—”

A knock interrupted Horror’s jovial comment and he tensed.

Ink immediately put his mask on as Horror rose from the couch. He gestured for Ink to stay put but Ink ignored him and followed just behind as he headed for the front door. He settled out of sight of the door, black chains curling inside his right sleeve, and ignored Horror’s pointed stare.

Horror realized he wasn’t going to leave and sighed quietly before he opened the door. A monster that Ink identified as Horrortale’s Red Bird stood anxiously on the doorstep with fluffed up feathers. The pinched look to their face relaxed when they spotted Horror.

“Sans? Sorry to bother you but there’s been an incident at the border near Waterfall. A couple of her Guards showed up during the shipment. Your friend is already there.”

“Of course.” Horror’s red eye light glowed ominously. “Stay here, Arc. I’ll be back with Cross.”

He left before Ink could protest, shutting the door behind him as he went. His orders were clear but Ink debated whether to follow Horror anyway because it sounded like there was going to be a fight. It was a little irritating (and nerve-wracking) to be told to hang back when he should be on the field if something happened again.

Paprika put a hand on Ink’s shoulder. “Sans will be alright. He has been much more motivated lately since Snowdin is under his direct protection. It is a big responsibility.” He grimaced at the door before smiling sadly at Ink. “I suppose Sans does not act so carefree where you are.”

“Acting carefree” was a good way to put it. Ink hesitantly shook his head as he remembered the dispute that happened between Muffet and Grillby in Markettale. He let the black chains fade and lifted the mask from his face, leaving it atop his skull. “Is this Underground separated into territories?”

Paprika hesitated only briefly before he explained. “Not officially. Officially we are all ruled by Queen Undyne. However, Sans is the one most monsters turn to for help these days. Queen Undyne does not… like Sans very much. I had to find out why on my own. Has Sans told you?"

“No.” Ink said firmly. “Please don’t tell me. I would rather he tell me it himself.”

“I will respect that.” Paprika assured him. “He is very comfortable around you, you know. I have not seen Sans that relaxed in a very long time. He would always pretend to be relaxed, of course, even before… everything. Things were very hard for a while. Sans was very lost. He was headed down a dangerous path.” A haunted look entered his eye sockets, making them seem even more hollow and gaunt. He shook himself and the light returned to his face. "But things have gotten much better since Sans's boss stepped in. The Core has been replaced with a new one so everything is working again."

Ink knew next to nothing about how monarchs worked but he was hit by the striking feeling that Horrortale’s Queen Undyne was not the one that was actually in power here anymore. Ink had made a deal and worked for Nightmare in exchange for the opportunity to live. He wondered what Horror’s own deal was. Considering the shipment Cross had delivered and other context clues, Ink could accurately guess quite a lot, but he was content to wonder until Horror decided to tell him the details. If he ever did.

“Are we allowed to play the ‘board games’ while we wait for him to come back?” Ink asked carefully.

Paprika seemed to realize that Ink truly would refuse to learn about Horror’s past without Horror himself offering it. His smile was warm and open as he led Ink back to the living room and taught him how to play several games.

Ink found himself enjoying the trivia games and word games the most because it let him learn more new things. Paprika did not give him weird looks or call him stupid when Ink did not know the answers or asked what a word meant. In fact, he seemed ecstatic whenever Ink asked him questions or for clarifications.

Sometimes Paprika himself would not know the answer so they’d look it up on the ‘computer’. Ink wished Nightmare’s Castle could get a computer and ‘undernet/internet’ but they were as risky as cell phones for the Gang. Too easy to track.

Horror soon returned with Cross in tow. Ink felt them coming and immediately scanned them both for injuries before they reached the front gate.

“Horror and Cross are both unharmed.” Ink told Paprika.

Paprika gave him a puzzled look. “How do you know? Are you an empath?”

‘Empath’ was one of the words they looked up earlier. Ink was not an empath. He could not sense emotions. He was just good at identifying them through body language, facial expressions, and tone of voice.

"No. I don’t think ‘empath’ powers do that? The Boss is more of an ‘empath’. I'm a Healer." Ink informed him. His body locked up and he clapped his hands over his mouth as he realized what he’d said.

The silence was suffocating. Paprika did not say anything. When Ink looked up his mouth was open in a silent gasp. This wasn’t good. Nightmare did not want anyone to know that Ink was a Healer and the others kept insisting that telling anyone was a bad idea. Ink had just disobeyed orders again. Nightmare would not be happy.

“I knew I saw dried blood on his shirt and jacket.” Paprika’s voice sounded strained. “You saved him, didn’t you?”

Ink nodded mutely.

Paprika did not say anything else. Why did he not say anything else?

Just as Ink started to work himself up into a panic, worried he had made a mistake, Paprika knelt and hugged him.

“Thank you.” Now he sounded on the verge of tears. “Toriel never comes out of the Ruins, Alphys is gone, Undyne has hated us both since I left the Royal Guard, and I haven’t seen Mettaton in years. Sans is all I have left…”

That made Ink wonder if that was a literal statement. Now that he thought about it, who else did Paprika have other than Horror? Regardless of whether or not he did have friends in Snowdin, he had almost lost his brother to a battle in another world. Brothers were a big thing. Bigger than Ink understood, with different kinds of relationships. Some were bad. Really bad. Others, like Horror and Paprika, weren’t bad or antagonistic. Ink wanted to protect that precious bond.

Ink’s soul ached for Paprika and he hugged him tightly. “I’ll do my best to keep him safe, Papyrus. You won’t lose your brother.”

“…Thank you.”

Paprika laid his cheek atop Ink’s head for a moment like Horror sometimes did. He soon released Ink and wiped at his teary eye sockets. There were no signs of his tears by the time Horror and Cross entered. Ink did not mention it (but that did not mean he was going to let it slide.)

“How did it go?” Paprika asked, showing no hints of his previous concerns. “Did something happen?”

“Just a minor trade dispute. No biggie.” Horror said.

Ink translated that into ‘there was a fight over the supplies Cross brought but no one died.’ He wondered when he had gotten better at reading between the lines. Considering his companions were all Sanses, it made sense that he’d learn how to see through some cryptic half-truths.

Ink was about to offer to heal any injuries when Horror caught his gaze and firmly shook his head. Ink glared at the wall so he would not glare at Horror. It was not Horror’s fault that Nightmare said Ink was not allowed to heal anyone outside of the Gang.

Cross looked at the clock. “We still have time to visit Toriel if you want. I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Can we?” Paprika clapped his gloved hands together in glee. “I would love to go visit Lady Toriel again. It has been so long. She must have run out of new books to read by now.”

“We should bring that book on snail species.” Ink offered.

Paprika’s grin was blinding. “I’ll get it.”

He hurried up the stairs.

Ink immediately stepped close to Horror, who noticed his movement and leaned down to listen to him. “Can Paprika come with us back to the Castle?”

Horror’s gaze softened. “That’s not possible. Paps is busy with his own duties here and the Castle is Gang members only. It’s safer for everyone that way. There’s also too much Negativity for most people.”

Ink repressed a frown, then went back on that decision and let it form so Horror would know he was not happy to hear that excuse. “We should find a way for you to talk to him more often. He misses you. And you miss him.”

Horror opened his mouth, closed it, then released a tired chuckle. “He deserves better than me. But you’re not going to give up until you find a way, huh?”

“Probably.” Ink admitted. “And it’s not about ‘deserving’. You’re a good brother and you should be able to see Paprika more.”

Horror could not seem to muster a reply to that but the tension drained from him. Cross had pulled up his hood again as he lingered by the door. His head was down so Ink could not see his face.

With Horror’s permission, Ink changed into one of his new outfits for the trip. He was happy to choose a cyan hoodie and dark blue joggers. Well, he was happy except when it came to choosing the shoes. Shoes were still an annoyance. Horror spent a good ten minutes convincing Ink that he needed to wear shoes outside in the snow. Eventually, Ink’s Arc outfit was placed in the bottom of one of the bags except for his mask, which Horror assured him he could take off once they reached Toriel’s place.

The snow had stopped falling by the time they began their trip. Paprika showed Ink the different puzzles and defenses Snowdin had on the way to the Ruins, distracting him from the uncomfortable white of the snow. Ink took note of every one (taking great interest in how one particular console looked like Mettaton in his box form) and how some puzzles were drastically more deadly than others. Paprika insisted that those kinds would not be used on anyone but Ink was not so sure.

Horror forced open the Ruins’ doors and they entered, letting them swing shut behind them. The difference in atmosphere was instantly apparent. Gone were the trees and fluffy white snowflakes. Instead, a hush fell over them like everything had become muffled. Ink recognized the sensation and felt a trickle of dread. The Ruins felt like Nightmare’s office that time he’d threatened Ink.

Ink did not have time to think more about it as Horror spun left and shot a bone into the shadows. A yelp and a rustling sound made Cross summon a knife but Paprika put a hand on Horror’s shoulder.

“Sans, no! It’s just Flowey.”

“‘Just Flowey,’ huh?” Horror muttered. His eye light blazed a vibrant red. “Don’t try to spy on us, weed.”

“I’m just curious.” a high-pitched voice came from the shadows close to the ground. Ink spotted a single, distorted eye gleaming from the darkness. "You're new."

There was a low hum as Horror summoned a Gaster Blaster with a broken eye socket and skull. "Get out of here, Flowey."

A golden flower emerged from the shadows, stem twisting as he turned. The way he looked at them upside down might be cute with another monster. On Horrortale Flowey, it made it seem like his stem was a broken neck.

"She's having a bad day.” Flowey said blandly. “You might want to be careful. Bye-bye, trashbags."

Flowey vanished into the ground.

Horror waited a second before he let the Gaster Blaster fade. “Watch out for Floweys, Arc. They rarely have good intentions.”

Ink had other concerns. “What was he saying about Toriel? Do you think she’s hurt?”

Paprika’s smile fell an inch. Cross looked uncomfortable and failed to hide it with his collar.

Horror checked the empty, silent hall a few times before speaking quietly. "Tori is a little… lost. She gets confused easily. If she is having a ‘bad day’, she might think you're a monster child because of your size. Just… don’t argue about it. Okay?"

Ink nodded even though Horror was clearly hiding things (and he was certainly not a child. He was not wearing a striped shirt and from what he had guessed that was how monster children were identified). Ink did not understand what was wrong but if Toriel was having trouble with something, maybe he could help.

The goat monster that met them at the bottom of the stairs appeared fine at first glance. A closer inspection revealed bits of dust on the bottom of Horrortale Toriel’s robes and scorch marks on her sleeves, like she had used fire magic too close to herself. Her eyes were just a little too wide and sunken, made to look more hollow by the dark shadows beneath them, and her fur was slightly unkempt.

When Toriel spotted Ink, all her attention focused on him as though the others did not exist. Her gaze was sharp and intense but there was a fragile distance to it as well, as though her mind was elsewhere. It was frightening but also very, very sad.

Horror cleared his throat. "Hey, Tori."

Toriel blinked a few times before she focused on him. “Sans. Papyrus. And… the…”

She looked at Cross with no recognition. As she took in his clothes, which were obviously a type of Guard uniform, her mouth twisted into a snarl.

“My friend, Cross.” Horror interjected smoothly. “He’s a trader, remember?”

That was technically the truth since Cross just delivered supplies to Horrortale. Not even Paprika tried to say otherwise.

Toriel’s thunderous expression cleared. The smile she gave Ink was much gentler than the murderous snarl she had just worn half a second before. “And who are you, my child?”

“He’s Arc.” Horror glanced around and ushered Ink up the stairs and into Toriel’s house. “You can take your mask off, Arc.”

It worried Ink that Horror was not telling Toriel his real name. He decided to focus on his gratitude that he could at least show his face here. Ink pulled the owl mask off and peered up at her.

Toriel’s unfocused gaze became something more aware. “Sans, why is a skeleton child with you?”

Ink remembered Horror’s warning and kept the correction that he was not a child in his head.

“Arc needed a home so we gave him one.” Horror said vaguely.

Toriel nodded but her gaze had that disconnected edge to it again. "You're keeping the child safe, right Sans?"

“That’s right.” Horror agreed.

Cross looked worried.

Toriel stared at Ink once more in complete silence. Her eyes remained slightly too wide and she wasn’t blinking.

Paprika redirected the conversation. “Lady Toriel, Arc and I picked out several new books for you.”

He put them on the kitchen table. Ink saw shards of glass on the floor underneath. Toriel was about to pull one of the chairs out to sit in it but Ink tapped her arm to stop her. She immediately turned to him instead of sitting down and putting her feet in the glass.

“What is it, my child?”

Worried he might not speak loudly enough, Ink pointed at the first book he saw that showed a picture of something outside. It was a book about the care of flowers that came from the Surface.

“Oh.” Toriel murmured. “That is a new one. Do you have a garden, my child?”

Ink really wished she would stop calling him that. The endearing term was not the issue. The way her gaze would sharpen whenever she said ‘child’ sent shivers up his spine. He shook his head.

“You can grow flowers, food, and even some herbs if you have the right environment.” Toriel lashed out and grabbed Ink’s hand. Her grip was so tight it almost hurt. “I can show you mine. You do not need your mask on here. No one else will harm you.”

Cross moved as though to separate them but Ink shook his head to stop him. Paprika and Horror exchanged a look behind Toriel’s back.

“That sounds wonderful.” Paprika said. “You and Cross go with Lady Toriel, will you not?”

Horror nudged a bit of glass with a bone attack and frowned. Ink understood that they wanted to clear away some of the glass and other hazards in the house. He accepted his mission and nodded, grasping Toriel’s hand firmly. She smiled down at him but it was weak and twitching, like she struggled to maintain it.

The path to the garden was eerily empty. They passed by piles of dust as they walked and Ink could not tell if it was from a lack of care or from fallen monsters. He suspected at least some were because of Toriel and wondered what had driven her to attack.

“I am so happy to have company.” Toriel murmured as they made their way through some of the puzzles. “It is lonely here. Sans and Papyrus cannot visit often and very few survived the starvation out here.” She abruptly looked to Cross, who jumped slightly. “Are you a Guard?”

“No.” Cross replied without missing a beat.

Toriel’s eyes narrowed. She turned back to Ink, ignoring Cross completely as she grasped his shoulders in a vice-like grip. “Don’t let them take your soul. Do you understand, my child?”

The demand came out of nowhere but Ink nodded nervously.

Toriel’s distant gaze focused and burned into him with the suppressed rage of a wildfire that begged to be released. “You are not fighting, are you, child?”

Soul pounding, Ink mutely shook his head.

Toriel stared at him, her mouth pressed thin.

“We’ve been teaching him to defend himself.” Cross said quickly.

Toriel relaxed and patted Ink’s head. “Good child.”

The move reminded Ink so much of Horror that he calmed down a little. He smiled up at Toriel, who stared through him like she was seeing someone else in his place.

“The garden isn’t ready.” she said abruptly. “Wait here a moment.”

Horrortale Toriel strode ahead. Ink watched her go and inched a little closer to Cross, who pulled him against his side and spoke softly.

“Horror says that Tori’s lost a lot. Tragedies, the rebellion, the starvation period, and the isolation really got to her. On her good days, she’s a bit pensive. On her bad days she’s a little… reactive.” He grimaced. “Even then she isn’t usually this off-kilter.”

His words struck a chord with Ink and he checked Toriel more carefully. Immediately, he understood what had him so on edge. Amid the figurative aura of grief that hung over Toriel was a very real aura of wrongness. Ink recognized it for what it was now.

“She’s Corrupting.”

Cross’s steps faltered and his eye lights shrank in fear. “Are you sure?”

Ink nodded rapidly, focused on the glitching codes he could see circling Toriel. “It feels like Error’s corrupted magic but a lot weaker.”

“Shit.” Cross breathed. “That means a Corruption Outbreak might be coming. This is bad. If Horrortale is getting glitched, we need to tell the Boss.”

Ink remembered what Horror and Cross had explained about Corruption and how it could eventually lead to Obliteration Timelines and the complete destruction of a world. He felt a chill that had nothing to do with the empty Ruins.

“Listen, just try not to antagonize her.” Cross commanded. “We might need to block off the Ruins before we leave. It won’t stop the glitch if its in the walls of the Ruins itself instead of just the monsters but—”

“What?” Ink could not hold in the appalled exclamation. “We aren’t just leaving. I can help her.”

Cross shook his head. “You can’t.” He gently put his hands on Ink’s shoulders and spoke lowly to him. “Green magic doesn’t heal Corruption. Corruption doesn’t go away either. It only gets worse. If a person is Corrupted, they cannot be healed or saved, not even through a True RESET. There is no helping her.”

Ink could not believe what he was hearing. He knew the Gang fought the Corrupted but he thought they only destroyed empty glitches that attacked everything in sight and had no consciousness. Toriel was a person. She was a sad and lonely person who needed someone to help but Cross was just giving up on her.

Well, too bad for him. Ink was not going to abandon her here.

Ink pushed Cross’s hands off his shoulders and raced through the puzzles down the hall. He heard Cross swear behind him but there were no running footsteps. Chasing a “child” down in front of Toriel would be a surefire way to antagonize her. Ink used Cross’s hesitance to his advantage as he entered the entrance to the Ruins.

Toriel stood alone in her garden of golden flowers, their vibrancy making the grief and exhaustion of their Caretaker all the more evident. She turned as Ink approached and her countenance softened.

“Child. Come stand by me, will you not?”

Ink approached without hesitation. The glitching codes around Toriel were mere specks compared to the ones around Error. She had not been under their hold for too long. Toriel was not lost like Cross said. She was sad, and grieving, and needed help.

“One of my children is buried here.” Toriel told him as she gazed at the golden flowers. “Many more were buried in that wretched castle. Still others were hunted, torn apart, and murdered throughout the Underground.” She looked at Ink with her sharp, hollow eyes. “Will you be another?”

Ink was not a human or a child. He had no desire to die in Horrortale. So he shook his head and stepped closer as Toriel knelt in the patch of golden flowers. He was prepared for Toriel to grab him this time and did not fight her even as she wrapped her arms tightly around him. He felt heat by his back.

“No one else will hurt you…” Toriel whispered to him.

Ink did not try to pull away or hug her in return. Instead he gently touched her face. Toriel’s codes shimmered in Ink’s sight, glitched red and blue at the edges. It was like a CHECK, but much more advanced, giving Ink the ability to view what made her her. Seeing these codes was easier than breathing. Like healing, repairing these codes was what he was meant for.

“Let me help you.” Ink requested.

As smothered by glitches and twisted by Corruption as her codes were, Toriel’s acceptance sang through them.

All it took was a gentle pulse of green-tinged magic. The Corruption had not held Toriel for long and getting it out was like shooing away a bit of dirt and grimy dust. Some might have been disappointed by the lack of flashy effects, but Ink was overwhelmed with joy as he watched the Corruption fade like it had never existed and codes that had almost shattered were made whole.

Toriel froze, and the fireball in her hand vanished. Her gaze focused on Ink, seeing him for the first time and not one of her fallen children in his place, and her eyes filled with tears. She released him and pressed her hands to her mouth, shaking her head.

“What was I doing?”

“It’s okay.” Ink tried to make his voice louder but it came out sounding raspy. “You were Corrupted but I healed you.”

“I don’t understand.” Toriel said faintly. “I was taking care of the garden this morning and then everything… faded. It was as though I was in a dream.”

Relief bloomed in Ink’s chest as he realized that Toriel had not been like that for too long. She was confused but not left inconsolable because of what she had tried to do while in that state. Ink had managed to catch her before she could fall.

It was just a minor repair but he had done it. He had helped her. He could help others. He could help Nightmare and Killer and the Gang. Maybe, if he became good enough, he might be able to even help Error someday.

Ink heard a noise and smiled expectantly at Cross, who had been strangely still and quiet since he arrived. “Cross, I helped…”

His excitement vanished when he saw the twisted hatred on Cross’s face.

Cross’s eye lights were gone. "You can use codes."

Ink’s smile froze on his face, then fell away completely. He took a hesitant step back, instinctively raising his hand in a defensive motion. “Yes, I—”

Ink did not have a moment to think before he fell through a portal. He plunged twenty feet from a cavern ceiling and hit the ground hard. Ink barely had time to realize he was in the empty Waterfall of a Swapfell Genocide Timeline before Cross appeared from another portal. He grabbed Ink by the front of his new cyan hoodie and slammed him into the ground.

The back of Ink’s skull smacked into the stone beneath him and his vision swam as his hood did nothing to lessen the impact. Before Ink could recover or get his bearings, Cross pinned him down with his full weight. His eye lights were back. Ink wished they weren't because they burned with a terrifying fury so great that they reflected the purple hue of the Echo Flowers around them.

Something sharp was pressed against Ink’s neck, nicking it. The familiar prick of a knife was a sensation Ink was frightened to feel again. A hopeful thought struck him and he checked Cross over, only for his soul to break a little more when he saw no signs of the wrongness that was Corruption.

"Cross, w-what are you—?"

“Shut up.” Cross snarled at him. "I know what you did. Not just anyone can manipulate codes. Did you think you could manipulate me? Have you manipulated my codes? Do you have OVERWRITE? Is that it?!"

Ink was too terrified to struggle. He kept his hands visible and flat on the cold stone below him in a desperate bid to show he wasn’t a threat or preparing an attack. “Cross, please! I d-don't know what you're talking about."

“Liar.” Cross spat. “Show me your soul. Show it to me.”

Ink obediently summoned his soul. It hovered in front of his rib cage, as cracked and damaged as ever as it pulsed anxiously. Cross stared at it with a twisted expression, teeth bared in a snarl as he searched for something he did not find. The kind, awkward skeleton who had assured Ink that he would have his back no matter what was gone. Ink did not understand why the ability to use codes made him so terrible that it made that Cross vanish.

"Please tell me what I did wrong.” Ink begged. “Let me fix it.”

“No.” Cross hissed, voice low and guttural and nothing like his own. “I won’t let you take control. You need to die.”

Ink could not give in to Cross’s demand but he could not find the energy to fight back in the face of his hatred. Shock and confusion turned into numbness as he felt all his previous joy and hope from the day shrivel up into a familiar sense of despair. “Please just tell me why…”

“Why?” Cross spat as though his rage had doubled when Ink dared to ask such a question. “Because no one should have that kind of power. No one. All they do is hurt and manipulate and… and destroy…”

Cross went rigid. His eye lights focused on Ink’s much like Toriel’s had, like he was seeing Ink clearly after being trapped in a dense fog.

“You’re a Healer.” Cross said faintly. “You’re… you. You don’t have a malicious bone in your body.”

Ink was too scared to speak.

All of the rage drained from Cross, leaving him hopelessly lost. "…What am I doing?"

A fireball hit Cross in the back, catching his cape alight. He swore, rolling into the river to put it out. Horrortale Toriel ran to Ink and snatched him up before fleeing back towards the knife-slash portal that was still opened to Horrortale’s Ruins. She made a wide swiping motion behind her and Cross was forced to duck underwater in order to avoid the resulting inferno. The Echo Flowers copied the crackling roars of the flames as they all burned.

Cross did not attempt to run after Toriel and Ink. Instead he locked up as he barely kept himself afloat, eye sockets hollow and features slack with emotional agony as he remembered when he himself had run from Error with Ink in his arms.

Ink panicked, not because Toriel was holding onto him but because even if Cross wanted to hurt him, he was not about to leave him in the middle of an inferno. “Wait wait wait! He’s— uh, like you were. It’s not his fault.”

The (probable) lie came easily and with only a little guilt. Whatever Cross’s problem was, it was not Corruption. Ink could see that in his code. But his reaction now indicated that something was off. Ink would not leave him to suffer no matter how much Cross might hate him now.

Toriel looked ready to ignore him and dive back through the portal. She did not have time to make a choice as all of the fires went out and shadows stretched across the caverns of Waterfall. Ink sensed a familiar cold magic and slumped in Toriel’s arms, thanking the Stars for whatever emotion had gotten Nightmare’s attention.

Nightmare appeared stoic as he emerged from his own shadowy portal. His sharp gaze took in the situation in front of him with a calculating air but his lashing tentacles revealed his worry. "What happened here?"

Cross pulled himself out of the water, drenched and shivering as he remained on his hands and knees.

Horrortale Toriel clung to Ink, shaking violently as she curled around him as though to shield him with her own body. All the while she whispered “Can’t lose another. Can’t lose another.” over and over again.

Ink was too shocked to find his voice. He laid his head against Toriel’s arm and shut his eye sockets.

It took half an hour to convince Horrortale Toriel to let go of Ink. The Corruption that had apparently nearly claimed her was gone but her fear of losing someone else still remained. At first she refused to release Ink even to Horror’s care, backing up into the patch of golden flowers she tended to within Horrortale and staring with intense, frightened eyes whenever anyone tried to approach. Nightmare drew on his usual techniques to help balance out her negativity so it did not overcome her and slowly, gradually calmed her down.

Ink assisted him greatly, drawing Toriel’s attention with the quiet volume of his voice as he assured her that he was okay. He thanked her for her assistance, but said that he needed to help Cross now. Ink even made her and Paprika a small black chain each which functioned like the ones the Gang had. He said it was in case of an emergency, explaining how it worked in concise detail. The way Ink prioritized their well-being and temporarily stamped down on his own turbulent emotions yet again in order to do so was a fascinating event to witness.

The moment they returned, Cross locked himself in the Castle’s strongest magic-blocking dungeon. Nightmare ordered Killer and Dust to keep an eye on him. That left Ink and Horror to accompany their boss to his office.

Nightmare sat at his desk, his tentacles lashing with aggravation. “Talk.”

Ink flinched at the harsh demand. That wasn't nearly as disconcerting as his dread, which cycled between fear and his self-berating attempts to make himself stop being afraid. Specifically, he was trying to make himself accept that he was going to be harmed. It was inevitable. So why be afraid? Nightmare was more familiar with that kind of logic than he would ever admit. He did not have long to try to understand the emotions he sensed before Ink spoke in a voice so quiet it was barely audible.

“I can see and repair codes. I used them to heal Toriel because she was Corrupted. Cross… didn’t like that.”

It might be amusing how he tried not to incriminate Cross, if not for Ink’s emotions. His fear permeated the air, heavy with a trepidation that not even Horror’s presence could calm. Cross's actions had not crushed Ink's faith in the group but his violent turnaround had certainly shaken their newest member. Ink did not understand why Cross had reacted the way he had so he braced for the worst kind of reactions from the others. His lingering terror was so great that Nightmare could see flashes of what had happened between him and Cross.

“Tell me what happened. Everything.” Nightmare commanded.

Ink did. His volume never went above a quiet whisper and his gaze remained averted as he refused to look at Nightmare or Horror. He trembled lightly but the movement made the mask that was attached to his belt clink softly as it tapped against something in one of his pockets.

It was fitting that Ink did not understand why Cross reacted that way since Nightmare did not understand either. He hid his confusion from his recruits and put on an appearance of calm control. "How long have you been able to perceive codes?"

"Since the first night I was here." Ink said quietly.

“Speak up.” Nightmare ordered. “I can hardly hear you.”

Ink took a breath but it was unsteady, like he was trying not to cry. He struggled a bit, then forced his gaze to meet Nightmare’s. The look on his face was one that Nightmare had seen countless times on the faces of monsters who were trying to accept their impending death.

“Cross said I need to die. Are you going to kill me now?”

Damn it , Cross.

Sometimes Nightmare forgot how much Ink did not know. Many times, the Gang did not realize that Ink was unaware of things that simply were until Ink asked about them. The more calculating part of Nightmare considered using this ignorance to his advantage by twisting what Ink knew and painting it as if Nightmare was granting him a great and rare mercy by allowing him to live…

The more logical part of Nightmare knew that idea was a cruel and unnecessary action and cast it aside. “I’ve already told you that you’re more useful to me alive. What else have you been hiding?”

Ink flinched subtly. His arms reached up to wrap around his ribcage. His fingers splayed outward as though to further shield himself. “I’ve been getting binary codes on my bones whenever I hear of or view an AU.”

Nightmare’s cyan eye light shimmered, then narrowed into a slit-like shape. "Let me see them."

Ink removed the cyan hoodie that covered his upper body. The marks were mostly concentrated in his ribcage and upper arms. Nightmare had no doubt that they would spread further out to his forearms and maybe even his legs given time. Ink stood still and let Nightmare pull at his arms as he inspected them. The apparent “binary codes” looked like swirling lines of black tattoos to him and nothing more. But Nightmare did not have the ability to perceive such codes.

Nightmare pointed at a black line. “What is this one?”

“The Aftertale we visited.” Ink said dutifully.

“This one?”

“Dusttale.”

Nightmare tapped a line near Ink’s sternum. “Here?”

Ink hesitated. "Dreamtale."

Nightmare's movements stilled. He pushed through his shock and pointed to another of the many lines on Ink’s ribs.

"…Omega Timeline."

Ink’s voice lost nearly all of its volume again but Nightmare heard him. He stared at the small, terrified Sans that he had once thought of as pathetic and close to useless and felt something stir in his cold, empty ribcage. It was not shock, admiration, or wonder. It was delight.

Ink truly is a gift for me…

Some part of Nightmare balked at the possessive language of his thoughts. But the idea behind them did not fade. “Can you open a portal to it?”

“No.” Ink’s voice became stronger.

Nightmare’s tentacles swayed behind him with deceptive gentleness. “Are you telling the truth?”

“Yes.” Ink said firmly. "And I'm not going to try. I won't hurt anyone."

Despite his lingering terror, he still refused to bow. They both knew that Nightmare could try to force him. Nightmare could theoretically threaten Ink, deny him food and shelter, torture him, experiment on him, or throw him back in his empty world to see if he cracked. The sadistic temptation to see how Ink would fare remained somewhere deep in Nightmare’s consciousness but Horror’s warning glower was not necessary, just like those sadistic measures. Nightmare firmly locked them away.

"I will keep my end of our deal."

Nightmare stood up and circled the desk. Ink did not step back but his eye lights skittishly tracked his boss as he approached. Slowly and with carefully premeditated movements, Nightmare set his hand atop Ink’s skull and let one of his tentacles wrap around his forearm. It was a curious experience to offer benign contact but the results were worth it.

Ink’s terror lessened, then disappeared entirely as gratitude and comfort took its place. He leaned into Nightmare's hand and happily gripped the tentacle wrapped around his hand and forearm.

“Cross’s reaction was an unexpected outlier here.” Nightmare said in a low, calming voice. “You will not be killed by us for being able to perceive and use codes, though you must hide this ability from everyone outside of the Gang. Coding is an even rarer ability than healing magic. It is dangerous. However, you don’t have to hide from us. You are safe here.”

Ink’s hope stung his hand and tentacle a little but Nightmare did not draw away.

“I healed Toriel’s Corruption.” Ink mentioned again. “Hers was really minor but I’m sure I can do more.”

“I’m certain you can. It was a miraculous thing that you did for her.” Nightmare praised. “We will have to work on your abilities.”

Ink beamed at him.

Horror was silent from where he stood in the corner of the office. His hands wrapped around the edges of his jacket, a motion Nightmare knew meant he was resisting the urge to summon an axe, and his anger jabbed at Nightmare’s skull.

“I didn’t see any Corruption in Cross when he… was upset.” Ink reported. He looked up at Nightmare for guidance, cautious and uncertain and oh so innocently confused. “Can you tell me why he reacted like that? You don’t have to if it’s personal to him.”

Nightmare’s tentacles curved behind him, flicking. “I’m not sure what went through his mind but from your description, he may have had a flashback and lashed out.”

“Oh.” Ink looked crestfallen. His compassion was like prickling needles, small and irritating, but Nightmare still did not pull away. “I need to make sure he knows I’m not upset with him.” The flare of worry was a welcome sensation for Nightmare. “He’s not in trouble, is he?”

“No." Nightmare could feel Horror's anger slowly mounting. "You may visit him now if you want.”

Nightmare would observe from the shadows. He needed to see how this incident would affect Ink and Cross’s ability to work together. Ink did not seem as terrified as he was before, but his attitude may shift once he was with Cross. Cross himself was certainly going to be a mess of self-loathing and guilt. Nightmare felt the weight of one of Ink’s fears fully lift off his back, lessening his negativity, but it would be worth it in the long run.

“Thank you, Boss.” Ink hugged the tentacle that had been wrapped around his arm one more time, waved to Horror, and hurried out the door.

Horror instantly turned on Nightmare, livid. "Boss…"

Nightmare was unbothered by his fury. "I am not harming him, Horror."

"Yeah.” Horror growled. “You're just manipulating him and using his desire for physical affection. That’s much better."

Nightmare ignored his sarcastic attitude. "It is necessary. I have already conceded to his request of no deaths in the AUs. However, the potential access to the Omega Timeline cannot be ignored."

“You’re not going to be able to trick him into leading us into the Omega Timeline.” Horror snapped.

“Not tricking.” Nightmare corrected. “Perhaps some… passive encouragement.” He propped his elbows on top of the desk leaned against his curled hands, hiding his smile. “Ink has befriended a Gaster from the Omega Timeline, correct? I’m certain that Ink will gladly tell you what the Scientist tells him if they met again. And you will tell me.”

Horror’s anger momentarily petered out and his shocked discomfort permeated the air. “Boss, don’t ask that of me…”

“I will not force Ink to give information to me.” Nightmare reminded him coldly. “I will let him work on accessing codes to heal the Corrupted. I will allow him to assist Horrortale and potentially prevent its Corruption and eventual Obliteration. But he also may have the means to finally end this war. I cannot ignore that.”

“You can.” Horror said, rage flaring up again. “Yet you won’t.”

The depth of Horror’s anger and hurt surprised Nightmare. For a moment, Nightmare thought Horror might actually attack him or quit on the spot. However, the cooler and more logical side of him prevailed and he merely glared. Horror was loyal. He knew what was at risk for Horrortale if he lost Nightmare’s favor. To see him so conflicted at the thought of his orders was fascinating to Nightmare. But in the end, Horror would have no other choice. Horror would remain dutiful. He would obey his orders and do as he was commanded. (He would not forget or forgive.)

“It seems Ink’s misplaced pacifism has had a negative effect on you.” Nightmare said icily. “Have your forgotten that Blue almost killed you?”

Horror flinched but his anger did not redirect or wane. “It was an accident.”

A window shattered behind Nightmare. Neither of them reacted to it as he stared his subordinate down. “I don’t care.”

Horror’s features darkened and his aura writhed with suppressed disgust and betrayal. “When this blows up in your face, I’m not putting out the fires.”

He stormed out and slammed the door shut behind him with enough force that it cracked.

Nightmare calmly waited until Horror’s rage moved into the training room before he rose from his chair and headed to the dungeon.

Dust and Killer stood guard at the entrance instead of down with the cells. Apparently they trusted Cross not to attack Ink again. Nightmare suspected that trust was not misplaced.

The fear and uncertainty that came from Cross tickled at Nightmare's senses while Ink’s stubborn will was a welcome surprise. Cross’s snarling voice reached Nightmare and he paused out of sight of the cells, listening and feeling his recruit’s emotional pain.

"Stop it. Don't pretend you're not scared of me."

“I’m not pretending.” Ink said earnestly. “I’m scared, yes, but I’m more worried about you.”

“Don’t be.” Cross demanded, voice cracking. “I tried to kill you again.”

“You attacked me.” Ink acknowledged. “But I’m not convinced that you were in control. And you stopped.”

Nightmare leaned against the wall and closed his eye socket as he heard Cross’s breath hitch. “I don’t know why I stopped. I don’t know what I was thinking. I saw how you healed Toriel and it was like nothing mattered except ending the ‘threat’ you posed. Except when I thought about you, I knew you weren’t a threat and my actions didn't make sense anymore.”

There was a quiet pause. Cross’s guilt and terror curled around Nightmare, all-encompassing but not debilitating to the one it came from. He did not need to reach Cross and pull him out of a spiral he would be unable to recover from on his own.

“You knew someone else who could access codes.” Ink guessed. “And they hurt you, didn’t they?”

“Yes.” The confession was accompanied by another hitched breath. "Back in Xtale, XGaster could manipulate our codes and memories using a power called OVERWRITE. Its owner was usually identified by having a purple soul or half of one. XGaster used OVERWRITE to control everything about us. Our personalities, our jobs, our goals, our feelings… There was also a time when someone else shared that power and used it on me to frame me into attacking my friends. I was so desperate to stop them all that I k-killed everyone to try to get that power and fix things. I fixed nothing and destroyed my own world."

Nightmare knew the story. How could he not when Cross’s fears, memories, and nightmares so often circled around that loss? He stared silently at the stone ceiling of the dungeon and listened to Cross’s unsteady breaths. It became muffled and he knew from Cross’s conflicting emotions that Ink was hugging him.

Cross was in emotional agony. The desire to be forgiven for one of his many sins warred with the fear that he would harm a person that only wanted to help him (again). The frenzied rage that had gripped Cross and drawn Nightmare’s attention to that empty Swapfell AU was gone, leaving only a crushing guilt. Nightmare made a mental note to send Killer to ensure there was no one in the AU to possibly spread the information that Cross had attacked an unmasked Arc there.

“It’s not your fault.” Ink said so firmly that Nightmare wondered where he had learned such assurances. Probably from Horror. “None of it.”

Cross’s emotions screamed his disbelief and self-hatred. He kept it unvoiced. Mostly. “I was as volatile today as I was back then. I attacked you and wanted you dead and I don’t even know why.”

Ink’s sorrow for him shifted into an uneasy realization. “How did you know I used codes? Can you see them? Did I glow or something?”

“Huh?” The abrupt questions resulted in another jolt of confused worry and self-loathing from Cross. “No, you didn’t glow. I can’t see or use codes like that. Trust me, I tried.”

"Then how did you know I used them to help Toriel?” Ink asked. "Why didn't you assume I used basic green magic or something?"

The overflow of negative emotions from Cross were too tangled for even Nightmare to identify. At most he caught Cross’s sense of horrified dread.

“XGaster wanted to control everything in Xtale, right?” Ink mused. “He sounds like a monster who would hate to let someone who can repair codes live because they might have the ability to undo his work. Could he have left a trigger for you to attack anyone else that was capable of perceiving codes? Your eye lights had a purple tint. I had thought it might be a reflection but now I’m not sure…"

It was a good thing that no one was around to see Nightmare’s shock. He knew what XGaster had done but the thought of him leaving activation codes in Cross was something he had never considered. It was not like any member of the Gang could view the codes anyway to try to check for such a thing. Except for Ink. And maybe Core could have checked, back when Cross worked for them. Had Core known?

“I… I don’t…” Cross’s confusion and fear leaked from his voice and his aura. “I don’t know.”

“It’s going to be okay.” Ink said, unwavering in his faith. “No matter the cause, I’m going to help you through this.”

“No. You should stay away from me in case the trigger reactivates and I try hurt you again.” Cross argued.

“You won’t hurt me.”

“I just tried to—”

“It wasn’t you.”

Cross was desperate. “You should fear me.”

“No. I was scared but I know you didn’t mean to attack me. I forgive you.”

Cross’ voice was strained. “But I—”

“No.” Ink interrupted firmly. “I’m not abandoning you. I'm going to support and help you. We’ll figure this out together.”

Ink’s belief and Cross’ fragile hope brushed at Nightmare’s senses. He silently slipped away just as Cross began to cry. Nightmare would question his troublesome recruits more thoroughly later. For now, he needed to identify the Gaster from the Omega Timeline that Ink had met. It would be beneficial for them to “coincidentally” run into each other again.

Ink stepped forward. Golden mist swirled around his bare feet and shimmered in the distance, cloaking the golden world around him in a warm, soothing light. Ink could not see anything through the mist, not even the ground he must be standing on. It was an odd sensation, but he found himself distracted as a mirror appeared in front of him.

The simple plane of glass was a bit taller than him. It floated, unsupported as it hovered in the mist. Ink approached it curiously and frowned at his reflection. A small skeleton with curious white eye lights and a splotch of black on his cheek looked back at him. He wore simple brown pajamas, the pants loose down his legs and the shirt covering the bones of his upper body. Studying himself, Ink wished he was wearing his Arc outfit, but he was still happy to see how far he had come from the lonely, abandoned sketch he had once been.

The image shimmered like rippling water. When it cleared, Ink saw… himself?

Ink immediately knew that the Ink that looked back at him was not him. They looked like him and were the same height as him but they did not match him. When the altered reflection came into view, their face lit up with an ecstatic smile and his eye lights flashed rapidly between yellow, orange, and green. Ink watched them change, fascinated by the shifting colors as they changed shape as well. A circle, a square, a diamond, a swirl, a sun.

Ink belatedly realized the outfit was different too. The other Ink still wore mostly brown, but the outfit was much more elaborate than the simple brown pajamas Ink currently wore. The biggest things Ink noticed were the sash of colored vials across the other's chest and the giant paintbrush at their back. And the reflection had a lovely brown scarf. Ink really wanted a scarf. The shop in Horrortale's Snowdin hadn’t had any in stock.

The beaming smile dimmed into a serious look. The shapes and colors of the eye lights settled on a vibrant green diamond and a deep blue circle colored like an integrity soul. Ink watched the mouth move, but no sound came from the reflection. Ink knew the reflection was saying something important. He knew it, but he could not hear them no matter how hard he tried.

“I can’t hear you.” Ink said helplessly.

The reflection hastily grabbed the end of his brown scarf and wrote on it, pressing it against the mirror for Ink to see. Ink tried to read the words but they were distorted and blurry. He mutely shook his head.

The eye lights flashed through different shapes and colors again as the reflection’s features twisted in distress. Ink felt a similar frustration and despair. He pressed a hand to the glass and his altered reflection did the same.

The background behind the other shifted, its two halves swaying like it was made of smoke-like yellow-gold and purple light. Cyan flickered through the purple and Ink was caught off guard by how… familiar it felt. Despite the purple smoke’s agitation, it remained in harmony with the gold, every wave counterbalanced like the gentle sway of a pendulum. For a moment, Ink thought he saw hands on the other Ink’s shoulders, one bathed in a yellow aura, the other’s phalanges a striking black, before they vanished back into the swirling light. The dark hand was as familiar as the shifting hues…

Solemn tear-like blue eye lights turned into a yellow exclamation point and a cyan diamond. Familiar black magic came not from his fingers, but from the bristles of the brush at their back. Except it did not feel like Ink’s magic. It felt… different. Not a bad different or a good different. Simply different, like another form.

It shimmered between the other’s gloved hands and turned into a black monster soul. More shapes formed around it and closed in, and Ink recognized them as shields. Ink looked up from the construct to the reflection’s determined face. Slowly, the other Ink’s mouth moved, voicing a warning. Ink only recognized most of the words because Horrortale Toriel had said them earlier.

“Don’t let them take your soul.”

The mirror shattered with a resounding crash of breaking glass.

“FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!”

Ink startled awake in his bed (even though he was certain he had fallen asleep next to Cross) to the sound of Dust’s voice. He snapped into alertness at the cry of pain and hurried out of his room to see Dust picking himself up off of the floor outside of his room. What might have once been a mug was shattered across the floor ahead of him, along with what was probably hot chocolate. Horror burst from his room brandishing an axe but immediately calmed down when he realized there wasn’t a threat.

Killer (who Ink noticed was still wearing his usual daytime outfit) took one look at Dust, threw up his hands, turned around, and walked back into his room. Horror inched around the glass and helped Dust to his feet. A violet flush burned across Dust’s cheeks and he pulled his hood further down over his face.

“Don’t touch the glass with your hands.” Ink ordered instantly. “Are you hurt?”

“Just my dignity.” Dust groused. “Shut up, Paps.”

“I’ll get the broom to clean this up.” Horror offered, and left to go do just that.

Ink carefully inspected and used his magic to scan Dust’s hands for any glass shards from the mug. Finding none, he gently removed his gloves and did another scan. He did not ask why Dust was fully dressed despite it being the middle of the night.

“This is the second time you’ve tripped.” Ink noted.

“This time it was over my own feet.” Dust grumbled. “I flung my cocoa. This is humiliating.”

“Have you been experiencing any dizziness or vertigo?” Ink asked. “Is your vision blurry?”

“No, no, and no.” At Ink’s pointed stare, Dust’s shoulders slumped. “I’m telling the truth.”

“I believe you.” Ink assured him. “I just really need all of you to be honest about this stuff so I can help when I need to.”

Dust grimaced and fiddled with his scarf. Ink focused on the accessory without understanding why. “That’s going to be easier said than done.”

Ink had a feeling that would be the case but he still had to try. He helped Dust and Horror clean up the glass as the thoughts about his strange dream slipped from his mind.

Chapter Text

“Alright. Let’s try this again.” Dust cleared his throat. “Swapfell Purple.”

Ink held his breath and felt a tingling sensation on his right femur, just above his knee. The wide, pleated brown pants he wore covered the new black mark so Dust, Horror, Killer, and Cross did not react to it until Ink pulled up his pant leg and pointed at it. They gathered close around Ink, ignoring the sparse seating the training area provided in favor of crowding him to see the new mark.

“Damn, they’re starting to show up on your legs now.” Dust peered curiously at the new line of binary. “Is this… good? Is it helping?”

Before Ink could speak, Cross growled and threw his hands into the air. “I don’t know. None of us know. None of us can do anything like this. And unlike green magic, not many others can do this either so there aren’t any books on the subject. We’re blind.”

Despite his frustration, Cross showed no signs of attacking Ink again, even when Ink worked with codes right in front of him. Whatever trigger had affected him in Horrortale seemed to have gone dormant or (likely temporarily) inactive. It still took Dust and Killer physically dragging Cross out of the cell he had put himself in to make him leave it and Ink stubbornly latching onto his arm and refusing to let go to make him stay out.

Cross was still uneasy and hung back during Ink’s attempts to figure out his unprecedented coding abilities, but Ink had more faith in him. Much more than Cross had in himself. In fact, Cross was not the one Ink was most worried about. Surprisingly, it was not Killer that he was most concerned about either.

Killer pulled Ink’s right sleeve up and squinted at some of the swirling black marks on his forearm. “It’d be easier if we could see more of these things.”

Logically, Ink knew the Gang was already aware of his tattoos and what they meant. He still felt horribly uncomfortable with the idea of the codes being out in the open. “Whatever you want.”

“It’s your decision, Ink.” Horror interjected testily.

The glare he shot at Killer was a bit too heated to be seen as a simple warning. Indeed, Cross was not the one that currently worried Ink the most. Something was up with Horror. He had been distracted a lot lately. And by “distracted”, Ink meant that he had to go remind Horror that it was time to cook dinner. Horror acted differently too. Subtly, but it was there. He closed doors harder. His footsteps were louder. His voice was terser. He seemed constantly angry.

Ink’s best (hope) guess was that he was worried about the potential Corruption Outbreak that might happen in Horrortale (because if it wasn’t because of that, then… was it something Ink did wrong?) If an Outbreak did happen, Ink’s abilities might be their only chance to stop it before it got out of hand. As such, it made sense that the Gang was very invested in learning about his abilities with codes.

In fact, they were much more invested than they had been with Ink’s green magic.

It hurt a little. Ink was grateful for their assistance, truly he was, but he also wished they were not so completely focused on the codes. They did not seem to understand that Ink used them in tandem with his green magic to help Toriel. They kept directing him away from the healing aspect towards power exploration (and world codes) instead. World codes might help Horrortale but it still felt like the Gang was trying to make him focus too much on one part of coding.

“I don’t want the codes showing.” Ink admitted. “They feel… personal.”

He crossed his arms and gripped the sleeves of the new black long sleeve he had gotten at the store in Horrortale. Unlike the clothes he borrowed from Cross, this shirt fit him snugly and had a cyan and brown decorative swirling design down its left sleeve. The fabric felt nice as he rubbed his fingers on it (and, more importantly, it covered his bones).

“That’s fine.” Horror rumbled.

“Try opening a portal to Swapfell Purple.” Dust encouraged.

Ink focused on opening a black mirror-like portal but was distracted by a leaf as it fluttered past the window, glinting gold-green in the sunlight. It was a rare day for the sky to be clear around Nightmare’s Castle. Usually the sky was overcast with clouds that ranged from ‘light gray’ to ‘gray’ to ‘angry and so dark they made day look like nighttime’. Nightmare warned that the sunshine was not going to last long and that they should expect a storm later in the day.

An image shimmered into view and Dust leaned over to inspect it. He kept leaning even when Horror grabbed the back of his hoodie to make sure he did not fall in.

“I think that’s Swapfell Gold, not Swapfell Purple.” He squinted. “Or is it Swapfell Emerald?”

Ink growled in frustration and closed the portal. “I’m sorry, I really appreciate the help but this isn’t going to help me learn how to repair codes. The world codes aren't the same kind as the ones that I need to use to help the Corrupted."

“I get that.” Cross grimaced and scratched the side of his head. “But personally, I’m not comfortable with dropping you in front of a Corrupted resident and seeing what happens– Killer, no.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Killer said innocently. “But now I’m saying that we could theoretically play ‘Guard the Healer’ while he’s trying to figure this whole ‘repair codes’ thing out—”

“No.” Cross repeated.

“Cross is right.” Dust agreed. “You wouldn’t even get any EXP or LV out of it.”

“That’s not the reason.” Cross growled.

“But what if—”

“No.”

“But—”

“We are not throwing Ink at a horde of Corrupted!” Cross ranted.

Dust smiled sheepishly.

Killer raised his hands and adopted an innocent look.

Ink purposely did not look his way. Killer was not Corrupted in the same way that Horrortale Toriel or Error were but there was something there that he suspected had to do with his “Stages”. They seemed to be glitched in some way. Ink needed a lot more practice before he dared to touch those entangled codes.

Cross kept a suspicious eye on Killer. “As I was saying, Horror’s Tori was barely Corrupted. True Corrupted are… terrifying.”

“I met Error.” Ink reminded him. He shuddered. “His Corruption was awful. He’s in agony.”

Error was in a league of his own. Ink had the feeling no one else could be nearly as Corrupted as Error simply because they’d die before they could ever come close to that amount of glitches.

He did not realize how quiet it had gotten until he heard a whistle of wind as it brushed past outside.

“Error is Corrupted?” Killer asked lowly. “That actually explains a lot.”

“Welp, we’re doomed.” Dust said with false cheer.

“Like we weren’t doomed before?” Killer pointed out snidely.

Dust considered that and gave a blasé shrug. “Eh. True.”

Horror was silent.

"Enough of that.” Cross interrupted. “Let's try a different tactic. What were the first codes you noticed?”

“Paps.” Ink answered instantly.

That gave Cross pause. “I thought you told the Boss that you saw codes the first night you were here.”

“Yes, I did. I saw Paps.” Ink peeked at the outline of codes floating at Dust’s shoulder. “I was thinking that I could maybe help stabilize him.”

Horror jolted like he’d been shocked into awareness. “What’s wrong with Paprika?”

Their confusion only succeeded in confusing Ink. “No no no. Dust’s Paps!” He gestured at the codes by Dust. “Right now he’s just a shadowy outline of codes. They say…” ‘Phantom Dust Papyrus (MURDERED)’ Ink chose to leave that last bit out. “…‘Phantom Dust Papyrus’ in binary code over and over. I was thinking that if I go to Dusttale I might be able to perceive him more clearly—”

“What the fuck?” Killer interrupted.

“Wait wait wait. Phantom Papyrus is real?” Cross shouted at the same time.

Dust’s eye sockets were a hollow and empty black. “I need to go.”

Ink saw Paps’s code shift, like he was trying to put his hand on Dust’s shoulder. Dust flinched bodily like he’d been burned. Then he turned and stumbled out the door. He was so out of it that Ink heard his shoulder smack into the door frame as he passed. Dust ignored the jolt of pain he must have felt and wandered out of sight.

Ink had the sinking feeling that he had missed something obvious again. “Should I not have mentioned Paps?”

Cross made a choking noise.

Horror took pity on Ink. He put a hand on his shoulder and spoke in a low rumble. “Ink, none of us thought Paps was real.”

“But he is.” Ink mentioned, confused.

“Yes.” Cross’s voice was strained. “And that has implications.”

“Why are you surprised? We have ghost monsters and you had—” Killer began.

“That’s different and you know it.” Cross hissed.

“I’m going after him.” Horror said abruptly. He strode out with much more purpose than Dust had.

Ink felt horrible. “I didn’t mean to hurt Dust. What did I do wrong?"

"It wasn't wrong, really.” Cross assured him awkwardly. “It's just… not something we ever thought about."

Ink patiently waited for an explanation.

“You don't realize…” Cross made another distressed noise. “Of course you don't realize. Ink, if that's Dust's Paps then it means that not only did Dust somehow trap his brother's consciousness with him, but doing so changed him so much that he encouraged Dust to kill. Not to mention that if it is Paps, he's stuck as a spirit and possibly didn't go to whatever afterlife might exist."

Ink felt even worse. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be done about it now. It's out there. And it’s not like Paps popped into existence because you mentioned him. Paps… has been here… the whole time." Cross’s eye lights faded to a dull white. “I need to sit down.”

Killer gave an ill-fitting laugh. "Your powers get more and more unnatural, Ink."

"Don't start with that crap." Cross warned. "You have toxic Determination coming from your eye sockets."

“Yeah yeah.” Killer sauntered up to Ink and grabbed his arm. “We’re taking a break from codes now. I’m teaching you how to pick a lock.”

“Okay.” Ink agreed instantly.

Cross did not try to stop Killer as he pulled Ink out of the training room. His gaze was distant and his mind was evidently elsewhere. Ink could not tell if he even noticed they had left.

Ink didn’t deny his nerves when Killer dragged him down to the dungeon and to a cell. Was this another test? Did Killer want Ink to stop him? Or was it something else? Despite Nightmare’s assurances that he was safe, Ink was not completely convinced that Cross’s reaction to his ability to use codes would be unique to him.

Ink was not surprised when Killer shoved him into a cell and roughly grabbed his shoulders. He was surprised when he realized Killer was not angry, but distressed.

“Do I have any ghosts?” Killer asked quietly.

Ink checked Killer and his codes. Bits of wrongness were there but no ghostly codes. “No.”

Killer released a shallow breath. “Good. They’re not here then. I did it. I killed them.”

Ink did not know who ‘they’ was referring to. He did not ask.

The relief vanished from Killer’s face, replaced by his usual dark grin. “I am going to teach you how to pick locks though. Unless you want to hack off a limb to get out of manacles.”

“No thank you.” Ink rejected. “Reattaching limbs takes a lot of magic and concentration. And that’s only if you can get to them before they dust. It wouldn’t be very reliable.”

Killer snorted. The laugh seemed to surprise even himself.

The setup was simple. Killer locked Ink into the manacles and showed him how to get out. Some attempts included lock picks. Others, like zip ties, didn't. All in all it wasn't as bad as most training with Killer. Cross disagreed when he rushed through the door at a dead sprint two hours later and saw Ink healing a broken thumb.

"What in the Multiverse are you doing?" Cross thundered.

"He's teaching me how to—"

Killer spoke over Ink's quiet voice. "I'm teaching him how to break himself out of restraints."

Cross stormed up to Ink, released him from the chains that had his arms twisted uncomfortably behind his back, and carefully checked his hands. Ink had healed himself already but the black liquid on his fingers wasn't his magic.

"Give us a moment. " Cross said roughly.

He grabbed Killer by the hood and pulled him out of the cell. Ink could easily hear them even though they were down the hall. It was hard not to seeing as Cross was yelling at Killer for his teaching methods. Ink crept out of the cell and stood awkwardly in the hallway, trying to block out some of the volume with his hands as Cross kept shouting.

“For Stars’ sake, teach him how to use lockpicks!”

Killer’s voice was much quieter than Cross’s. And much more dismissive. “I did. Some manacles can’t be forced open that way.”

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU CAN HAVE HIM BREAK HIS BONES!” Cross shouted.

Ink flinched and pressed his hands tighter over the sides of his skull.

"I'm helping him."

"You're hurting him." Cross snarled.

"Like they won't?” Killer snapped back. “He's got his stupid 'mysterious code powers'. He can open portals. He's one of us. That's enough for them to try to break him."

Cross faltered. He stopped shouting, took a moment to gather himself, then spoke. "Say what you will about the Omega Timeline’s Scientists but Core Frisk wouldn't allow it."

"Sure." Killer said sarcastically. “Just like Core Frisk stepped in when Dream screwed with your head. Oh wait. Huh. Whadaya know. That’s a running theme with you, isn’t it?”

Cross went silent.

“…Shit.” Killer’s voice held much less vitriol as he cursed. “Okay, that one was too far. Sorry, Cross.”

Ink peeked around the corner. Cross’s back was to him but Killer spotted him instantly. His expression made Cross turn around. There was an uncomfortable moment where both realized that Ink had heard their argument.

“It’s not your fault.” Ink reminded Cross, who flinched visibly. He immediately changed subjects. “And it didn’t hurt that much. Trying to tear apart my soul hurt a lot worse.”

That had the opposite reaction than Ink intended as Cross froze up.

Killer laughed. It was a weird laugh like he was choking on something and couldn’t get enough air. Ink worriedly checked him but found no signs of obstruction. He remembered that Killer did not know about his damaged soul and felt horribly foolish.

“Sorry, I know you didn’t ask.”

“Yeah yeah yeah. Didn’t ask. Don’t care.” Killer said. He sounded dismissive but he was tense and his facial expression kept twitching like he was trying to keep up a mocking grin. He grabbed Ink’s wrist and tugged him along the hall. “C’mon. I’m going to teach you how to break zip ties with babysitter’s supervision. If you get captured, you’re freeing yourself or we’re saving your stupid ass. You’re getting out alive. Got it?”

“Okay.” Ink said agreeably.

He tentatively moved his hand in Killer’s grip and patted his wrist. Killer did not acknowledge the contact but his grasp loosened just a little. That said just as much as Killer’s pained laughter did.

Nightmare joined the Gang for lunch. Ink was confused by his presence at first, but then noticed that Dust had arrived with their boss. He also stayed close to Nightmare. Close enough that Nightmare stepped away a couple times and gave him a warning look. Dust wandered to his usual chair at the table and sat heavily in it.

Ink saw Paps hovering at Dust’s shoulder like always. The shadowy head of codes seemed to turn to him and a glove waved. Ink waved back even though Cross made an uncomfortable noise and Killer’s nasal cavity scrunched up. It was a painful truth but Paps was there whether they liked it or not. Ink couldn’t ignore him. He felt bad for hurting Dust but it would also be cruel to deny Paps’s existence.

Nightmare sat at the head of the table in a chair that was rarely used. “Dust has informed me about the recent development with Phantom Papyrus.” He looked to Ink and ignored the winces around the table. “Is he stable?”

“Yes.” Ink reported. “Though I thought I might be able to help him—”

“Focus on the Corruption and world codes for now.” Nightmare interrupted. "The longer that takes, the greater the chance of Horrortale getting an Outbreak of Corruption." Nightmare caught wind of Ink’s guilt and his harsh expression softened. “This is uncharted territory for all of us. I’m certain you will succeed.”

Horror was stone-faced as he stared at Nightmare. His jaw twitched with anger. That combined with Nightmare’s words did not make Ink feel much better despite the interwoven praise.

“We will go to a Possession AU tonight.” Nightmare announced. “We're setting up a negativity imprint in the Ruins and leaving.”

"No fun." Killer complained.

Ink doubted he would ever be able to hear that the Gang was going to attack an AU without feeling a little upset. He felt a familiar tingle as Possession’s code was inscribed on his bones. "Already?"

"We need to make up for several lost negative AUs." Nightmare explained.

Ink had not felt anything since the loss of A Nightmarish Negative Tale. Had Error attacked worlds Ink had not heard of or was the Destroyer taking a break? Not to mention an AU called “Possession” already sounded rather dark. Ink couldn't tell Nightmare how to do his job but it made no sense to him. Everyone insisted that the Multiverse was already negative so why did it need more negativity?

Ink could not argue about that. He could, however, argue about the potential risks to the Gang’s health. “I still need to compile medical records for all of you. I’d also like to start stockpiling blood for an emergency. Green magic can replenish blood but it takes a lot of effort and concentration.”

Horror grimaced and touched his chest where he’d been stabbed.

"There will not be a repeat of Outertale. You will go with us but stay back and out of sight.” Nightmare commanded. “Provide support only if needed. And watch out for Flowey. As the world name indicates, he has the ability to possess others in that AU."

“Like Fresh?” Ink asked.

Nightmare considered his question. “In a way. Unlike Fresh, Flowey does not need a host. He intentionally chooses to use others’ bodies to cause harm.”

That sounded horrible. “Has anyone tried to make him stop?”

Killer stifled a laugh. Unlike earlier, it was a genuine one like Ink had said the funniest joke he ever heard. “Are you kidding? Of course they tried to kill him. Not everyone’s a pacifist like you.”

I was wondering if anyone talked to him to try to make him stop.

Ink kept the thought to himself. Information on the Possession AU filtered through his mind. Most of it had to do with Flowey’s ability to possess the people in his AU. No, that wasn’t exactly it. He was able to possess people from his AU.

Wait a moment. Flowey wasn’t supposed to be able to possess outsiders. Ink immediately knew that something was off with Possession Flowey’s code. It wasn’t Corruption, but it wasn’t right either. He set that aside for now.

“What if the Star Sanses show up again?” Ink asked carefully.

"I told you that I am keeping our deal. Capturing the Star Sanses would count as harm, yes?"

Nightmare’s smile was kind. His tentacles curled in satisfaction. Behind him, Killer played with a knife. Dust’s expression was hidden by the shadow of his hood. Cross’s eye lights seemed to flash. Horror was still glaring at their Boss.

Ink had the sinking feeling that Blue needed to watch his back in future battles. "Thanks, Boss."

The Gang slipped away one by one to prepare. Despite Killer’s complaints, even he did not seem as enthusiastic about going. Ink heard Cross ask Horror if he was okay when he passed by his room. He quickened his steps so he would not overhear the answer and entered his own room.

Ink put on his Arc outfit, but paused before he stepped out. He checked his closed door before putting two empty vials in the front pocket of the satchel on his thigh. Both had been crafted with his magic, taking on the appearance of darkly stained glass. The material was as tough as his mask and should not shatter. One had a sun-shaped stopper, the other a moon. Ink should not need them yet, but he wanted them on hand. Just in case.

Dust caught him as he exited his room. Paps was silent like always, but he was also uncomfortably static. Not even his scarf moved.

Dust stared past Ink’s shoulder into his room. "We're talking when we get back."

“Of course.” Ink replied firmly even though his soul twisted with nerves.

The feel of Nightmare’s portal was a grounding sensation to Ink. He broke off from the Gang the moment they arrived in the Possession AU’s Ruins. Ink did not understand why he could not stay right with them but guessed they did not want him near the negativity imprint as it was created. He was certain that he would not be harmed by it (and suspected the Gang might be keeping him back on the off chance that a fight did break out) but obeyed his orders to keep a lookout this time.

There were no trees to hide in but there were plenty of holes. Ink climbed up the wall and checked for dust to make sure he was not disturbing someone’s resting place before settling in one of the holes in the top of the cavern.

The Gang’s voices faded away but Ink knew they would not leave the Ruins. They were not here to make a scene or a statement. They were here for the negativity only. Ink still could not understand why it was necessary but at least they were not killing anyone. He was grateful for that and simply settled in to wait.

It was not long before sounds echoed through the desolate halls of the Ruins. Ink heard the voices and knew they were not the Gang’s. He recognized both, even if he had only met one of them while meeting the other's alternate.

It was Dream and the Possession AU’s Flowey.

Lately, it felt like all Dream did was make mistakes. In the latest of his growing series of reckless and short-sighted decisions, he leapt through a portal the moment he felt Nightmare’s growing presence in an AU. Dream landed in the Ruins of whatever AU Nightmare was targeting without Blue and silently berated himself. Core Frisk would probably alert Blue to the attack and perhaps round up a few others in time to help defend this world, but Dream had arrived alone.

This world was already so negative that Dream stumbled and fell as he stepped through the portal but he pushed himself back up, hurrying through the twisting catacombs of the Ruins. This world was negative but Nightmare was going to make it worse. Dream would try not to let that happen. Just like he always tried. Even if it felt like he should give up.

“Golly, it’s you!”

Dream was instantly on guard as he found himself face to face with a Flowey. Floweys were… unpredictable at the best of times. Not because a majority were soulless, but due to the kinds of destructive roles they tended to take in AUs. They had RESET after all, so eventually many simply grew bored or apathetic, with soul, soulless, or otherwise.

It was a misconception that the Soulless were incapable of feeling all emotions. In truth, many were able to feel some semblances of joy, sadness, fear, satisfaction, anger, excitement, boredom, even guilt and compassion. Their soulless state could dull those emotions, and it was often the circumstances of their deaths and their RESETs that eroded at their empathy, but they were not completely emotionless. Most of the time.

There were exceptions, of course. But soulless did not equate to “evil and manipulative”. Many of them were mostly… apathetic. Apathetic and so, so tired. (Perhaps Dream related to their apathy and passive desire to give up and let things happen more than he would like to admit.)

“I know you!” Flowey said brightly. “You’re Dream, the Guardian of Positivity!”

“Yes, I am.” Dream greeted cordially. “Nightmare is attacking this world. Do you know where he is?”

“I do.” Flowey blinked innocently at him. “You can’t tell? That’s so weird. I thought someone as strong as you could sense him easily. Didn’t you just say you could tell he is attacking somewhere?”

Dream knew this was likely one of the crueler Floweys and had prepared himself for his sweet insults but the comments still stung. “I can sense when a negativity imprint is being formed in a world. That could badly affect you.”

That got Flowey’s attention. He frowned briefly, an aura of fear stinging at Dream’s senses, before he calmed himself. “It could?”

“Yes.” Dream said firmly. “Could you show me where he is?”

Flowey seemed to consider the question before he gave an approximation of a shrug. “Hmm. I don’t think so. It’s not like it can get much worse here. You should know that already. After all…” He smiled wide, eyes hollow and black as toxic Determination dripped from them. “It’s all your fault.”

Vines burst through the ground at Dream’s feet and wrapped around his legs. He struggled briefly, only to cry out in pain as Flowey’s anger and fear lashed at his bones like barbed whips.

“If Nightmare is going to destroy this world, I want out.” Flowey’s smile stretched so wide it looked like his face was splitting apart. “And I know the most wonderful way to do it.”

The vines twisted upward and trapped Dream's arms against his sides with green ropes binding his wrists. They crept higher, wrapping around his neck and covering his mouth as they slowly crept towards his eye sockets.

Flowey's malicious laughter echoed in Dream's head, making him dizzy as his vision faded out. Dream was not a mere monster. He was a Guardian of Emotion. Had Dream truly become so weak that Flowey could possess him?

He couldn't let that happen. He had to fight. But the negativity of the attack wormed its way into his bones and he couldn't move. He couldn’t move, his vision was dark. He was trapped, voice lost, limbs frozen and paralyzed like they had been turned to stone—

Dream felt warmth envelope him, soothing and smooth. Was he bleeding?

Flowey's vicious glee became shock, then anger. "Who the heck are you?"

Dream's vision stopped swaying. The black spots that remained in it were not spots at all.

Black liquid surrounded Flowey’s vines, stopping them from stabbing into Dream’s ribcage, eye sockets, and bones. They radiated a gentle warmth like green magic but green magic was not this texture, this color, or a liquid. Magic hurt except green magic yet this black magic caused no harm as it shielded Dream's bones.

The black magic slowly shifted like ripples in dark water. Dream watched in mute surprise as the vines were peeled away with a surgeon’s precision, causing no damage to Dream. Flowey's stream of curses became more high pitched as he realized he was losing control of the situation.

Without warning, the gentle, blob-like magic hardened into chains. Flowey screamed as the black chains tore him away from Dream and dragged him out of sight. Dream stood in place, too shocked to move, when Flowey's shrieks echoed hauntingly through the catacombs.

“Leave me alone, you stupid trash bag! Wait wait wait– No! PLEASE don’t kill me!”

Dream took off running. Flowey was a terrible creature who had harmed countless monsters but Dream could not stand by and allow him to die.

With the way Flowey was shrieking, it was not long before Dream found his attacker (and Dream’s savior). He had never seen them before but he knew them the moment he laid eyes on them. Nightmare's Gang was here. Of course Arc would be as well. Their back was to Dream as they stared at the Flowey, who was being kept from fleeing through the ground by a bubble of black-tinted magic.

Dream summoned his bow. He could not let one of Nightmare's Gang torment someone, no matter what they tried to do. Before he could act, the hooded head turned slightly, revealing Arc’s mask. Blue’s descriptions failed to prepare Dream for what he saw.

Dream recoiled at the sight of the mask and his bow vanished from his trembling hands. Arc's mask was designed like an owl's face, hiding his features behind the fierce glare of the predatory bird. The lenses of the goggles were merciless, the angles of the feather-like designs sharp and menacing, and in that moment Dream knew what it was like to be in the sights of a hunting bird of prey. Had Arc (or Nightmare) fashioned their mask after an owl on purpose?

It's just a mask, Dream told himself sternly as he tried to control his breathing.

It was more than that. It was also the smooth way that Arc moved as the mask turned back to Flowey. Arc knew Dream was there but chose to ignore him. They (he?) picked up Flowey, who wailed from inside the bubble of black magic he was trapped in.

"You're very loud." The voice was a ghostly whisper that Dream barely caught due to Flowey’s screeches.

Flowey stopped shrieking in order to be offended. "Excuse me? I'll rip you to shreds you little—"

"Shhhhhhhhhhhh."

Both Dream and Flowey froze at the unsettling hiss Arc made. Owls were often silent predators but Dream could easily imagine one making that kind of noise as a threat.

"I have questions for you." Arc said in a quiet, hushed ghost of a voice.

Flowey seemed to realize how bad this situation was for him. His stem slumped. "Gonna tear my petals off before you kill me?"

"Why does everyone always think about killing?" Arc murmured. “And torture? It’s weird.”

"Are you an idiot?" Flowey sneered. “In all worlds it’s kill or be—”

He quailed under the silent, black stare of the mask.

“So I’ve heard. Why did you try to possess Dream?” Arc asked.

Dream knew the answer before Flowey cackled.

"This world is so boring. I thought I'd like a change of scenery." Flowey's smile stretched wide. "It's what I do."

“Hm. That doesn’t sound like a very good reason.” Arc said in a pleasantly neutral tone. “It's also a lie. You tried to possess Dream to get out of here because you're afraid. Not just of dying. Of trying. You claim you are bored and yet you continue to play the same “game” instead of finding something new and different. Like… oh, I don’t know, maybe not possessing and killing people?”

Flowey's fear spiked and ground his sadistic glee to dust. "Y-You idiot! I'll destroy you first!"

Arc gave a dissatisfied hum. “You cannot possess those from outside of your AU.”

“Oh, you think so?” Flowey cackled and lashed out at him. “Then how about I– Huh?”

Flowey’s vines redirected before they could attach to Arc like they’d hit an invisible shield. The black magic neatly scooped them up and trapped them back in the bubble of magic.

“As I was saying, your power should not have been capable in the first place.” Arc continued calmly. “You'd think you'd try something other than possession if you're so bored.”

Flowey's anger sent jolts of pain into Dream's bones. “I tried to be friends—”

“No you didn’t.” Arc’s voice remained a hushed and ghostly whisper, like his judgment came from something beyond the mortal plane. “You discovered your abilities to RESET and possess others and focused on those powers. Your attempts to build friendships were only to further that goal of creating suffering. You were angry and afraid and so you lashed out over and over again. I see you.”

A gloved hand reached into the bubble. Flowey shrank in on himself, face shifting into Asriel's as he trembled. Dream tried to move but his body was locked in place.

Both he and Flowey stared in shock as Arc gently patted Flowey’s petals. “I also know you can improve yourself. I do not fully understand your abilities but they go beyond ‘possessing monsters and making them kill others’. You can do more than this if you try. It’s just…” His voice softened so much that Dream almost could not hear him. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

Flowey did not move as Arc released him from the bubble and set him down. He stared up at Arc with huge eyes, shaking his head back and forth. “I don't understand. You're a smiley trashbag, aren't you? Why don't you hate me? Why aren't you killing me? Why are you… being nice to me? I don’t understand.”

Flowey whimpered and vanished into the soil.

Arc seemed to look at the spot he had vanished into as though pondering something.

“See you again soon.” he murmured to thin air.

Then Arc’s head twisted in Dream’s direction, tipping smoothly to the side much like an owl’s. Was it just Dream’s mind playing tricks on him or had Arc’s head turned beyond what should be possible?

Sweat beaded on Dream’s brow. It’s just a mask it’s just a mask it’s just a mask—

Arc rose to his feet so silently that if Dream wasn't watching, he would not have known that he'd moved. Indeed, Arc made no sounds when his boots should have tapped on the paths of the Ruins. All Dream did was blink and suddenly Arc was much closer than he had been before. Dream flinched, falling onto his back foot as he braced himself.

Arc did not unleash the black chains that Blue warned about. Not yet. Dream’s gaze darted around as he tried to see if the shadows were simply shadows. He could not tell if black magic had been blending into them. He could not sense Arc’s emotions at all either. Was it due to the mask Nightmare gave him or something else? Dream waited with bated breath for a verbal or physical attack.

“Are you hurt?”

The calmly spoken question was so unexpected that Dream was shocked out of his building panic, certain he must have misheard. "I beg your pardon?"

Arc’s body stilled so completely that if Dream did not know he was a living monster, he might think he’d been replaced by a mannequin. His head cocked to the side in such an owl-like way that a shiver went down Dream’s spine.

“Are you going to attack me now, Guardian?” Arc questioned in his soft, ghostly voice.

Even with the slight distortion of the mask, he did not sound aggressive. He sounded sad.

What in the Multiverse was happening? Arc was a member of Nightmare's Gang. He should be attacking first like he had attacked Blue… Except he hadn't attacked Blue, Dream remembered. He had only gotten Blue and Red away from a badly wounded Horror, and then reacted when Blue went to attack him. And now he’d saved Dream.

Were they certain that Arc was a member of Nightmare's Gang? He was not acting like the others at all. He was reluctant to fight, and did not seem to want to make the first move. Dream still could not sense his emotions to get a better read on him.

Desperate for some kind of information, Dream CHECKed Arc. He put more power into the summon than he intended so the CHECK was not the only thing that appeared. A single spike of fear came from Arc as Dream caught a glimpse of a white soul. It was only for a moment before black magic covered (or transformed?) it, but that glimpse was enough for Dream to see horrifying cracks and gouges in the white surface.

Dream wanted to be sick. Was that magic holding Arc’s soul together? The CHECK was no help. Dream was only able to read Arc’s name before the CHECK was forcibly canceled. Dream felt another brief spike of fear from Arc and belatedly realized he was not emotionless at all; he was simply shielding his emotions from Dream.

Was it an ability? The owl mask, like Dream had previously assumed? Some type of specialized training that Arc had gone through? Was it simply the result of heavy self-repression? (Or had Dream become so weak even his empathic abilities were failing?)

"That was rude." Arc informed him.

He did not sound particularly angry, annoyed, or even scared. His tone was eerily neutral. Not monotone, but serene like Dream’s ‘rudeness’ was of no consequence. Dream knew that serenity was a lie. He almost wished Arc sounded upset because although his fear had been reigned in once more and failed to reach his voice, it still dripped out just enough for Dream to realize Arc was afraid of him.

Dream apologized on instinct. “I’m sorry—"

Arc disappeared in the time it took him to blink. Had he taken a shortcut?

Dream looked around wildly and hurried forward, only to be thrown to the ground as Nightmare released a surge of negative energy. Dream hunched over and clutched at his chest, biting back a scream of pain as knives pierced into his soul. He was already too late. Again.

"Useless." Dream snarled.

Why did he bother coming? The AU was already negative. Unlike in Outertale, which has been positive aligned until Nightmare came, Dream did not stand a chance here. He did not even get a chance to fight. Instead he was so pathetically weak that he was nearly possessed by Flowey. A member of Nightmare's Gang saved him while acting more like a Guardian than he did.

You tried because Blue would.

Small droplets fell onto the path below Dream and his fingers dug into the ground. He sensed the approaching darkness that was his brother. If he did not stand a chance against Flowey, he certainly did not stand a chance against Nightmare right now.

Dream summoned a portal directly beneath him and fell through it.

Maybe the Guardian of Positivity was capable of hatred if that hatred was directed at himself.

“Are you okay?”

Ink blinked a couple of times before focusing on Cross. He looked back at Ink with a worried crease between his eye sockets, perhaps trying and failing to get a gauge of Ink’s mood behind the owl mask he wore. Cross could just ask Nightmare if he wanted to know Ink’s mood, though he supposed it was unlikely for their boss to share how conflicted Ink was feeling.

Could he talk to Cross about Dream? Cross said Ink could tell him anything but Cross also did not like Dream very much. He would not be angry if Ink mentioned how sad and tired Dream was (or that he was nearly possessed). In fact, Cross was more likely to be deeply concerned. Not for Dream, probably, but for Ink.

Ink was trying to keep Cross’s warnings in mind and not feel too bad for Dream but it was difficult when the Guardian of Positivity was so clearly miserable and exhausted. Even now, Ink’s instincts screamed at him to heal and mend the one that was his Boss’s greatest enemy.

Ink had already slipped up by encouraging Flowey to try to be a better person with Dream as a stunned witness but he could not help it. He saw an opportunity and he had to take it. It felt incredible awkward to try to explain that in front of the entire Gang, who had all noticed Ink’s mood and were loitering about. Even Dust remained, though he was hanging back more than usual.

“I’m fine.” Ink mumbled.

“What happened?” Unlike Cross’s gentle prodding, Nightmare’s question was an order to answer.

Ink fiddled with the sleeve of his outfit and removed his mask. He forced himself to look at his boss. “Dream showed up. Flowey attacked him so I kind of… um… defended… him?” Voicing it like a question probably made it worse but it was too late to keep quiet.

Nightmare’s tentacles stopped moving. Their points were sharp and rigid.

“Why are you like this?” Killer asked. He did not sound angry. More tired. And maybe even worried. Oh dear. “He’s an enemy, Ink. His little lackey stabbed Horror.”

Horror’s hand twitched and flexed subtly, like he’d stopped himself from reaching towards his chest.

“Well I wasn’t about to stab him back for petty revenge.” Ink snapped. His sharp tone startled both Killer and himself. Ink took a breath and leveled out his voice like Cross had earlier, keeping it controlled. “And I didn’t heal him. I mean, he didn’t need healing because I got Flowey away from him in time. Anyway, he doesn’t know I’m a Healer. And I didn’t say anything incriminating. And I canceled the CHECK before he could try to read it. And…”

They were all watching him. Studying him. Judging him for daring to assist their enemy.

Ink couldn’t regret what he had done but his shoulders hunched. “I just wanted to help.”

He heard a grinding sound that indicated that Cross had clenched his jaw hard enough that his teeth scraped together.

Killer did not bother with subtlety and made a frustrated sound. “You can’t just—”

“It’s alright, Ink.” Nightmare interrupted Killer, silencing him with a warning look. “I know how difficult it is for you to ignore those that appear to be in danger. However, Dream is the Guardian of Positivity. He is a powerful being in his own right. He is certainly strong enough to defend himself from a lowly Flowey with no issue. It is likely that he put himself in such a situation to manipulate you.”

Ink couldn’t believe that. Dream looked so tired and frail, like a soft breeze would floor him. Unless he could manipulate what he looked like, he appeared sickly. Ink had to be extremely careful when he was extracting Flowey’s vines because he was afraid that too much pressure might break Dream’s bones. If Ink mentioned that, he knew that Nightmare would insist everything was an act on Dream’s part. Ink was not convinced.

Nightmare sensed his conflicted feelings. Of course he did. It came with his job. He sighed and put a hand on Ink’s hood-covered skull. “You want to see the good in everyone. That is not a bad thing. However, there are those out there that will put on masks of benevolence or weakness to try to draw you into a trap. You can try to see that good, but please act more cautiously in the future. Remember who the enemy is.”

“I will, Boss.” Ink said earnestly.

Nightmare smiled down at him. His hand shifted to lay on the back of Ink’s head. It was not quite a hug, but it was comforting all the same. “That’s all I ask.”

Out of the corner of his eye socket, Ink saw Horror leave the room without speaking a word.

Once Ink had changed into his favorite pair of pleated brown pants and black long sleeve shirt, he went searching for Dust. It did not take long to find him. He sat in the rafters of the southeast tower, one leg swinging in the air as he stared out of the clean glass window. Ink climbed and jumped up to him and perched on another rafter.

The weather outside was dour. Clouds bloomed into view in the distance and flickers of light illuminated them. It must be a thunderstorm. Ink had yet to experience one for himself but he knew they involved very loud sounds.

He would probably spend the night trying to block out the noise. Horror would not be too irritated if he was tired in the morning. That was, if he was not so distracted that he forgot to make breakfast. Ink set aside his concerns for Horror for now and focused on Dust and Paps.

Dust was still but Paps moved when Ink climbed up beside them. The shape of his head turned towards Ink and his glove raised in a wave. Ink waved silently back and leaned against a beam behind him. A visible shudder passed through Dust and he drew his knees up to his chest before hiding his face in them.

“He’s real. This whole time I thought I just…” Dust curled up a little more. His fingers clenched into the fabric of his hood. “But he’s real.”

The anguish in Dust’s voice tore at Ink’s soul but he remained silent, letting him speak.

“I’m not ready.” Dust said shakily. “I’m not ready to– to talk about… to talk to him and for it to be… Fucking coward.”

The insult was said in a low hiss directed at himself. Ink looked at Paps to see the shadowy codes of his glove brush the back of Dust’s hood. Dust shivered under the touch and lifted his head slightly. Ink saw the tears in his sockets before he hid his face again.

Ink crawled across the rafter and settled next to Dust, leaning against him. He looked up at Paps, who seemed to stare back. Slowly, a gloved hand lifted and seemed to cover the area his mouth might be as he nodded firmly. Ink could not hear Paps or see him that clearly but he knew what he was trying to convey.

“It’s okay.” Ink said gently. “You both can wait. It’s okay.”

A pattering sound drew Ink’s attention upward and he realized it must be raining. Droplets fell through the roof and onto the beams.

Dust trembled. His head lifted enough that Ink could see droplets of water dripping off of his chin. Dust wrapped his left arm around Ink’s shoulders and held him close. The grip was tighter than normal, but not so tight it was painful.

A booming sound startled Ink and he instinctively huddled closer to Dust.

“That’s thunder.” Dust mumbled. “Scared me too the first time I heard it. Paps thought the light was pretty.”

The rumbling grew louder and more frequent with every flash of lightning but Ink’s fear diminished. He watched through the window, fascinated, as arcs of light tore through the dark sky. Each bolt was a unique design. They were scary, but Ink agreed with Paps that they were also pretty.

Ink felt Dust’s breathing hitch.

“…Thank you for telling me he’s real.”

Ink nodded against his side. He did not say ‘You’re welcome’ because it felt wrong to. To Ink, Paps had been a constant in the background of his life, but to Dust, his understanding of his ghostly brother had just been shattered without warning.

Ink hated that his innocent comment had hurt Dust, even if Dust was adjusting. He resolved to be more cautious about what he revealed that he could perceive through codes. There might be some things people simply should never know about their world.

It was not often that Dream avoided Underswap or the Omega Timeline after a bad battle. Those may be the safest places in the Multiverse but sometimes Dream needed discretion and space to think, not safety. Sci was one of the most discreet monsters in the Multiverse. So discreet that some may even call it his point of infamy. He may have some questionable morals but he was a good person. And he would never mention who came to him for help to anyone.

No one knew if Sciencetale was officially protected by Nightmare or not. Its neutrality may be tenuous and easily swayed but no one wanted to be the one to ask and push the scientific AU to one side or the other. Nightmare was possessive over his territories but he was not reckless and he knew how to be tactful. If he did officially claim Sciencetale for himself, it would be another sign that they were nearing the end of everything.

Sci was in his office when Dream stepped through his portal. He closed it immediately and stopped in front of Sci’s cluttered desk, patiently waiting to be noticed. Sci’s stress clouded the air around him but his enthusiasm evened it out and allowed Dream to remain unaffected. Sci realized someone was there, looked up at Dream, and stared for several seconds as he was pulled from his projects enough to recognize who was in front of him.

Sci’s stress levels increased. “What happened?”

Dream felt terrible for making him worry. He felt even worse for only coming here when something wasn’t right. Yet he did not waste Sci’s time with empty apologies. “A Flowey attempted to possess me. I need to make sure nothing is wrong.”

Sci rose from his chair and ushered Dream into another room. Dream could not name most of the devices but he recognized the DT scanner that Sci pulled out. Sci always insisted he was “a Scientist, not a Doctor” but he had certainly picked up the skills that would be associated with several health professionals. When it came to machinery and tests on Determination, magic, and souls, he was one of the best to turn to. When it came to physical injuries, it was best to hope that Dream had the capabilities for green magic at the moment.

Dream let Sci attach several wires to him that would track his energy levels and HP. “I apologize for interrupting you. I know you’re busy.”

“It’s fine.” Sci said firmly. “The stress isn’t due to overwork for once, surprisingly. We had a minor security issue. Nothing major or Multiversal. We think someone stole several of our unused machines from storage. Either that or they took them for parts without going through the proper channels. Which would not surprise me. Summon your soul, please?”

Dream did as he asked. Sci was not surprised by the dim glow of the golden apple. It had once burned vibrantly like a sun. Now it flickered like a candle that was one breath from going out, the dim light failing to hide the small cracks in its surface.

Sci checked one of the scanners and scowled. “Your maximum HP is down from last time. Again.”

“I am aware.” Dream said with stiff politeness.

Sci made a frustrated sound. “I will not pretend that I know how Guardians of Emotions work– something which annoys me greatly, I admit. But surely there is something that can be done? Aren’t there Healers in the Omega Timeline?”

“None of them can help. They’ve tried.”

There were several Healers housed in the Omega Timeline but, like Dream, they were not as effective or powerful as they once were. There were too many negative emotions like fear, sadness, anger, and grief in each of them (and their patients) for them to be at their best. These days, some types of magic food tended to be able to heal more than those that were once the strongest Healers in the Multiverse. It was getting to the point where some had started to wonder if green magic would simply become completely unusable and die out.

Sci grumbled and checked the Determination scanner. “There are no signs of DT or Toxic DT in your system. Flowey must not have pierced your bones before you got him away from you.”

Dream bit back a correction that it was not him that did it. He still did not know what to think about Arc and he certainly was not going to mention the encounter to Sci. It wasn’t like he mistrusted Sci, but he knew the Scientist dealt with Nightmare’s Gang along with the Omega Timeline. Arc was a mystery and Sci could get too curious for his own good. It could be a fatal combination. For who, Dream could not say.

A sharp rap on the door was Dream’s only warning before a Gaster opened it without waiting for an answer. “Sci, are you in– Oh.”

That was not Sci’s Gaster. Sci’s Gaster hadn’t been found and brought back yet. With the way the Multiverse was malfunctioning, Dream (and several others, Core Frisk included) feared he had faded away in the Void many Gasters had fallen into (or had been found and killed by Error). He would not be the first to suffer such a fate.

“Why’d you stop?” Another Gaster that Dream identified as Swapster peeked around the first Gaster’s shoulder and beamed at Dream. “Hello, Dream!”

“Greetings, Guardian.” the first Gaster said. His polite tone was tainted by his contempt. Dream wondered how he had failed this one.

Swapster nudged Gaster into the room and circled around him to go right up to Dream. His genuine cheer washed over Dream like a warm wave. Unlike his companion, Swapster had forgiven Dream. Though to say it like that wasn’t quite correct because he never blamed Dream for the loss of his world. Not even for a moment. That was another rarity nowadays.

“Fancy running into you here, in the most sciencey of sciencey AUs.” Swapster chattered. “Are you alright? I will rat you out and report you to my blue not-son if you are hiding injuries, good sir.”

“I had an encounter with a Flowey but I’m not hurt.” Dream reassured him awkwardly.

“If you are finished here, I must discuss something with Sci.” Gaster interrupted in a curt tone. It was not an exaggeration to say that his aura was screaming that he wanted Dream out of his sight.

Swapster’s exasperation poked at Dream but even it wasn’t as painful as Gaster’s annoyance. “Not to worry, Gaster! Dream and I can chat outside. Don’t create any doomsday weapons while I’m away. I will be highly disappointed you did it without me.”

Sci made an ugly snorting noise. Gaster’s lips twitched and a bit of amusement curled around him.

Swapster deftly detached the wires from Dream and escorted him out of the room. Once the door closed behind him, his features and aura softened with a gentle type of concern. It was so soothing that Dream felt some of the tension in his ribcage release.

“I apologize for my fellow Scientist. That Gaster is… very Gaster. Quite obviously. What I mean is that he is an Undertale version of Gaster– though I do not know which Alternate Universe or Timeline he is from. I’m sure Core told me but I cannot recall what they said… Anyway, he’s one of the moodier Undertale Gasters if I do say so myself. Very experiment-minded. A bit cold and logical. You know how it is. If Doctor Fell was not so Doctor Fell I’d say that particular Gaster would try for his position…”

“Is Doctor Fell Gaster here too?” Dream asked. He hoped not. Doctor Fell had a special skill of making Dream feel uncomfortable in ways that few others could. Maybe due to him being part of both the Science Division and the Omega Timeline Council (meaning he was exposed to twice as many of Dream’s failures).

Swapster’s amusement swirled around Dream, light and warm. “We both know the only time he leaves the Skyscraper is when there is a meeting but even then it is hit or miss. Now then!” His smile fell. “How are you doing? Tell me honestly, please.”

Swapster was not Dream’s father or his substitute for one. He was not Blue and Stretch’s father either. Yet he decided to watch out for both of them. Not as overtly for Dream. Not too often. Yet it was more than so many others did. Dream did not know him too familiarly, but he could not reject his offer of genuine concern.

“I had a bit of a rough day.” Dream disclosed. “I have not been resting well. I know the same can be said for Blue. He’s had nightmares since the incident with Horror…” He cut himself off before he could say I’m scared for him. The next time we face the Gang they will likely want revenge and Blue might not be at his best.

“I am aware of my blue not-son’s trouble sleeping. He has been resting in my orange not-son’s break room as he and his Aster-and-Alphys team works if I am not mistaken.” Swapster’s subtle, chatty humor completely faded. “However, I asked about you. Something is burdening you. I can see it.”

Swapster’s admonishment was gently prodding but Dream felt his cheeks warm. He peered around the hall that he knew was filled with security cameras. It was unlikely that Sciencetale Alphys would take an interest in his conversation. It was even less likely that Doctor Fell or Nightmare would ask to see any footage (or that Sci would let them).

“I had an encounter with Arc in a Possession AU.”

Swapster’s eye lights glowed brighter. “That is Nightmare’s new recruit, yes?”

Dream nodded pensively. “Flowey attacked me but Arc saved me. He took Flowey away and… and made efforts to convince him to stop hurting the monsters in his AU.”

“Arc threatened him?” Swapster asked gently.

Dream firmly shook his skull. “Not at all. He addressed Flowey’s motives and nudged him towards a better path. When he saw I had followed them, he did not attack me and made no move to. He focused purely on Flowey.” His disbelief over what he had witnessed came rushing back and he put a hand to his forehead. “Stars, it was the kind of behavior you see from a Pacifist Timeline Frisk. Not a Sans. And especially not a member of Nightmare’s Gang.”

It felt good to put his thoughts out there without having to burden Blue or Core with them. Both insisted it was not a burden again and again but they both were as tired as Dream. He did not want to add more to their plates.

Dream saw the cogs working in Swapster’s mind as he processed that information, his curiosity and worry turning into shock (and delight). “You want to talk to Arc. You think he can be talked to.”

“I would not say that.” Dream denied hastily, trying to be diplomatic (and due to experience, not daring to show what would often be a foolish hope). “However, something is different about him. He does not act like the others.”

Now that he wasn’t thrown off by Arc’s owl mask (and his unnerving movements), Dream could look back at the encounter more analytically. Familiar feelings of guilt crawled up his throat as he thought of all the paths he could have taken (the things he could have said, the understanding he could have had) if he had not scared Arc off.

Dream anxiously tugged at the cuff of his glove and rubbed the fabric between his fingers. “Doctor Fell had good intentions when he released what little information we had on Arc but I’m worried that information was taken at face value and the declaration that Arc is a threat was given out in haste. I should encourage the Council to tell their forces not to attack Arc if they see him.”

Swapster’s smile fell away. “I’m not sure if sharing this with them will change anything, Dream.”

An unspoken apology for the bluntness lingered in the air around him, making Dream’s bones sting. “Please elaborate.”

Swapster’s voice lowered. “We both know something isn’t right in the Skyscraper. There have always been top secret projects, but I’m starting to wonder if they’ve all been approved by Core or the Council. We Scientists are an intelligent lot, but we also have our pride and go too deep without thinking about the consequences. The amount of secrecy worries me.”

It took Dream a moment to understand that it was not only a warning that the Skyscraper worried Swapster, but specifically its leader. According to Blue, Swapster tended to see the best in others, a belief that Swapster’s deepest emotions and quietest actions supported whenever Dream saw him. Also according to Blue, Swapster saw Doctor Fell as a close and dear “grumpy friend”. If he was concerned about Doctor Fell’s motives, it was very likely that he had more than mere concerns to go off of.

“Not to mention… I am not involved in the Council but I have heard things from Doctor Fell and Blue. You can tell them your suspicions about Arc but they won’t listen. They are afraid and will fall into the trap of confirmation bias.” Swapster grimaced, his sorrow tainting the air around him. “We are all so used to fighting and no mercy, Dream. Even Blue has fallen into such a habit. This is especially true for the Council that is faced with more destroyed AUs and downtrodden refugees every day. The Council will ignore any signs that contradict what they already believe because they have been conditioned to see only the worst scenarios. Anything better than the worst possibility must be a trap or a trick in their minds.”

Dream let himself imagine that he never heard of Arc before today and did not know that he worked for Nightmare when they met. He imagined what might have been if the first time he saw that owl mask was only after the mysterious monster saved him and encouraged Flowey that he could change for the better, his intimidating appearance contrasting sharply with his gentler actions. Almost like the outfit itself truly was part of the mask.

“I don’t think it’s a trick.” Dream confessed. “I think hurting Arc would be a terrible mistake.”

Swapster’s gaze flicked towards a corner that likely held a security camera and spoke quietly. “Then make sure you and Blue keep him alive and safe from the Omega Timeline.”

Chapter Text

“…and then Arc disappeared. I went to Sci to make sure everything was alright, then I came here. I thought I should tell you face to face.”

Dream did his best not to fidget under Blue’s blank stare, his friend’s lingering worry and shock batting at him like an ocean’s cold waves. The smooth feeling of the bench beneath Dream kept him grounded and he kept his focus on the bright blue sky of Underswap’s Surface, allowing himself to use the warm feelings of the surrounding park to ward off any reactions to Blue’s turbulent emotions.

The park was usually empty this early in the morning with the exception of a few joggers but the peaceful emotions experienced by those who came here remained like their serene joy was imprinted in the bright green grass. Underswap was one of the most positive world in the Multiverse. Dream could not stay for long, but when he visited, he could relax.

Gradually, Blue’s aura warmed as shocked disbelief turned to excitement.

“Dream, this is… I can’t believe this!” His shining blue eye lights darted around the public park and he lowered his voice. “Arc helped you? And he didn’t attack at all?” Blue’s joy lessened as he was burdened by guilt. “I attacked him in Outertale. Do you think he would have remained passive or tried to talk if I didn’t?”

Dream’s instincts resisted it, but he had to be blunt for Blue’s sake. “It depends. Two other members of the Gang were there in the forest. I don’t know if they’d react kindly if Arc refused to attack. But I suppose you were a bit… overeager.”

Blue deflated slightly, but shook himself, shoulders straightening. “I made a mistake. Several mistakes.” Warmth bloomed in his soul and Dream felt a twinge of nerves as he recognized the emotion as hope. “Do you really think Arc can be talked to? If he’s so adverse to fighting, why is he with the Gang?”

“I don’t know.” Dream said honestly. “I can only tell you what I observed in the Possession AU.”

Blue grimaced and gripped Dream’s hand. He was so much warmer than Dream now. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Dream always felt odd whenever Blue said that, like his soul was getting tight in his chest. Blue was always so happy to see that Dream was alright. Even when Dream did not deserve it. Sometimes, Dream did not understand why.

Blue noticed his reaction and let it go. “Arc has to know you’re Nightmare’s worst enemy but he helped you. That means something.”

Dream glanced around, making sure the park truly was still empty. Unlike in the Underground, Underswap Undyne did not have cameras set up everywhere. Still he kept his voice low. Just in case. “We need to keep the Omega Timeline from getting him. I fear what will happen if they try. Or succeed.”

Blue’s smile faded into a solemn look. “Of course. What do you want to do?”

He did not object. He did not question Dream. He simply supported him with all his soul. Not because he was ordered to or because Dream’s aura was influencing him, but because he trusted Dream completely. Dream wondered if he would ever deserve a friend like Blue.

“I want to try to speak to Arc and figure out why he’s with the Gang.” His mind flashed back to the sight of Arc’s cracked and damaged soul. “And, if we can… I want to convince him that he doesn’t have to fight for my brother.”

Horror did not join Ink to make breakfast.

Cross did not wander into the kitchen to hang around and try to sneak some chocolate with his meal.

Dust did not arrive either to poke his head through the door and ask when the food would be done.

The absence of one was not unusual, but the absence of all three could not be a coincidence. Not everything was about Ink but he still worried that he had done something wrong if three of the Gang were avoiding him.

It was hard not to think that maybe something had changed after they discovered Ink could use codes. Maybe they pretended to be okay with it but they really weren’t and privately wanted him gone because his powers were unnatural like Killer said. He tried not to think like that, he really did, but then Horror did not show up to help him make breakfast and Cross was locked in his room and Dust was locked in his room. All three of them isolating themselves frightened Ink.

The lack of interaction Ink got when he ended up bringing breakfast to each room individually only reinforced his concerns. Cross grabbed the food with a mumbled “Thanks.” and shut the door just as quickly. Dust told Ink to leave it outside of his closed door. Horror stared through Ink like he wasn’t there as he silently took the food and retreated back into his room.

Nightmare was irritable again with his tentacles lashing behind him (likely due to Ink’s latest encounter with Dream) but he still nodded when Ink set the tray in front of him. “Don’t worry about them. You’re a Healer, not a therapist.”

Ink would have to look up what a therapist was to make sure he remembered it correctly. He was pretty sure he did but he still did not fully understand why Nightmare made that comment. Nightmare continued before Ink could ask for any clarifications.

“I’m going out today. If anything happens, I’ll return.”

Nightmare did not say where he was headed. Was Ink allowed to ask? He wasn’t sure so he didn’t. “You’re going by yourself?”

“Yes.”

No elaboration was given. Ink definitely was not supposed to ask where he was going. “Be safe.”

Nightmare paused. The tension in his body released slightly and his tentacles curled in amusement.

As Ink exited the office, he felt a familiar chilled magic which indicated that Nightmare had left through a portal. He realized he’d forgotten to bring Killer his food and made a mad dash back to the kitchen.

Killer was there when he arrived. He sat on the counter next to his tray, munching on an omelet. The sense of wrongness in his presence was minor today. Ink wished he could figure out why it fluctuated. Maybe then he could find the link and help him.

Killer spotted Ink and sighed. “And here I hoped for some quiet.”

Ink halted in place in the doorway to the kitchen and held his arms close to his chest, covering his sternum as his fingers curled.

An odd expression crossed Killer’s face. It almost looked like guilt. “I mean, you’re quiet anyway. C’mere. Your food’s getting cold.”

Ink hesitantly climbed onto the counter and sat beside him. They didn't go to the dining room but that was fine with Ink. It'd be pretty empty there. Not empty empty but still frightening because of all the vacant seats.

Killer didn't leave when he was done with his food. His smile was not malicious but it made Ink wary. “So, Ink. Do you know what a prank is?”

Ink squinted suspiciously at him. “I’m not attacking anyone.”

“It’s not an attack.” Killer claimed. “Well, it can be but we’re going with the benign version because otherwise I know you’ll be sad and Horror will get on my ass. Pranks are tricks.”

Ink remembered Horror’s comment about one of Killer’s ‘tricks’ after the attack on Outertale. “Was a prank the reason Horror’s shirts were ruined?”

“Oh yes. I might have sliced up some of his stuff to vent some anger.” Killer said with clear relish. “Pranks and tricks are great for a good laugh.”

That sounded like a waste of good clothes to Ink but the comment about laughter caught his interest. “Can we prank Horror? He’s been sad. Dust has been sad too but I can tell he wants to be left alone. Horror’s kind of sad is different so maybe he could use a laugh.”

Killer’s smirk dropped into an unsettling stare. “That’s not what I had in mind.” His face lit up. “Actually, forget the prank. We can do something else for Horror. He probably wouldn’t appreciate a good prank at the moment…”

But ‘a good laugh’ sounds like what Horror needs. Ink supposed he still did not completely understand the purpose of pranks.

Killer noticed his confusion. "You've never seen Horror lose it, huh? Remember that he's a killer just like the rest of us. Except you because you're an idiot."

Ink ignored that last comment. "Would it be dangerous to do a prank for Horror? Should we leave him alone?"

"The phrasing is 'play a prank on'." Killer corrected with only a hint of snide rudeness. “We’re not doing that anyway. I know something to get for Horror that will get him out of his room. Put on your Shield outfit and meet me back here."

Ink hesitated, surprised by the order. “Nightmare isn’t here…”

"So? We don't need the Boss's permission to go places. Cross travels all the time."

Ink had a bad feeling about this. But if Killer really did want to help Horror, how could he refuse?

He hurried past the others’ closed doors to his room and emerged wearing his Shield cloak and attire. Killer waited for him in the entrance hall. His dark eye sockets leaked black liquid in a steady stream. Ink checked him over but the sense of wrongness he carried remained minimal today and he seemed rather content.

“The AU is called Goner.” Killer said and Ink immediately felt a new code engrave itself on his left femur. "They say it’s the result of a glitched Genocide Timeline. The AU’s dead and abandoned cause… well, everyone’s gone. Most people just travel there to scavenge for parts. Point is that there are a special kind of gray Echo Flower in the True Lab. You can use them as a communicator."

It took Ink a moment to realize what Killer was implying. “Horror could talk to Paprika with those!”

Killer chuckled. It wasn’t low and comforting like Horror’s laugh but it was still nicer than his usual cackles. “Exactly. You think you can pick some up?”

Ink nodded firmly. He pulled on his black magic and let it open into a mirror-like portal. The Hotland on the other side did not look particularly special but something about the shading of the colors seemed… odd. Ink squinted at it, trying to figure it out.

Killer hung back. “I’m not supposed to be seen with Shield. You're on your own. Don’t die or the Boss will be mad at me.”

Ink wondered if that was Killer’s way of saying ‘be careful’. He determinedly stepped through the portal and felt a chill deep in his bones. It expanded outward in his ribcage and up his throat until it felt like the air was too cold to breathe.

Goner’s codes were all wrong. Not as bad as Error, but far worse than Horrortale. This AU was not meant to be like this. Chara and Frisk’s last attempt to restore the world after a Genocide Timeline had glitched it so terribly that every resident was gone like they’d been thrown into the CORE like Gaster and his team. As a result, this AU was on the verge of crumbling.

Ink stared at the monochrome lava flowing by him and realized the odd shades he had seen through the distortions of his portal were not a trick of the (lack of) light. Goner had no colors other than different shades of gray, as though all other hues had been sucked out of the world. It reminded Ink of Core Frisk’s appearance but before he could wonder, he realized they were not from this world even if they’d blend in perfectly.

Ink checked his cloak but it was still a vibrant purple. The bright color comforted him as much as it made him anxious because it left him feeling horribly out of place and exposed. Ink erred on the side of caution and swiftly moved towards the Lab.

He did a double take as he realized a stream of lava should not be placed in the middle of a random wall like it had been cut out of one section and randomly planted over another. It was also moving upwards instead of down. As he watched, it glitched and repeated its backwards flowing pattern before breaking into square-like sections and emitting an audible buzzing noise.

Ink forced his gaze away and hurried up to the Lab door. It shattered when he touched it but made no sound as its metal fragments started to fall… and suddenly froze in midair. Ink observed them, dumbfounded, and felt his stress levels rising. The metal fragments twitched and glitched, leaving afterimages of themselves that overlapped each other. Ink wanted nothing more than to grab them and put them back together but he was not wearing his reinforced gloves.

The constant buzzing turned into an eerie drone and Ink clapped his hands over his ears to try to block out the noise. It wasn’t working because the droning kept getting louder like it was drilling directly into his skull. He knew the source. He wished he didn’t.

The monsters of this world were all shattered across time and space. Their codes were all around Ink, in the air and the ground and the metal and the stone like scattered dust. They surrounded him but they could not perceive him. They were in so many pieces that he could not tell them apart. They could not tell themselves apart. They were too far gone.

Ink staggered into the elevator to the True Lab and shut the doors. He did not realize how heavy the air had become until it cleared of codes as he descended. He slumped against the wall of the elevator, gasping for breath as he shivered, the ghosts of the shattered left behind up above. Why was he in this broken world?

Communication Echo Flowers. For Horror.

Ink clung to his mission to center himself and try to forget the hell he just walked through. Killer could not perceive codes. He could not have known how terrible this world would be for Ink. Ink reminded himself of that the whole elevator ride down. The whole silent elevator ride. Weren’t elevators supposed to have music?

Ink huddled in the corner of the elevator and used the ride to calm himself down. He was still learning about the Multiverse but he was not stupid (no matter what Killer seemed to think). He was unprepared for this but he had a mission.

Get the Flowers. Get out. For Horror.

Ink entered the True Lab. The layout was identical to so many other AUs that he made it through the maze of corridors without running into any dead ends. A flower bed filled with gray Echo Flowers were isolated in a small room next to what might have been Alphys’s lower office. Ink saw no signs of her codes down here. She was somewhere up above, shattered like the rest. Goner was mere days from complete Obliteration.

Ink froze in place in front of the bed of flowers. Goner ’s broken codes clawed at his thoughts like the sight of a festering wound. Killer might not have known that Goner would affect Ink so badly, but Ink should be here. He could see the codes and had the power to alter them. Could he repair them?

Ink recalled everything he had learned about Gasters and their miraculous (if ill-fated) CORE projects. The CORE was what usually caused Gasters and their followers to become Goners. If Ink could fix the code of Goner’s CORE, maybe it would stabilize the world.

The codes were such a glitched and shattered mess that Ink doubted it. But he had to try. He grabbed twenty of the special gray communication Echo Flowers and hurried back out into the hall.

Then he wasn’t in the True Lab’s hall.

Ink blinked down at the snow that was “falling” from beneath his boot-covered feet as it floated up into the air around him. His hope that he’d somehow instinctively taken a shortcut was instantly dashed when he felt a corrupted distortion behind him.

Ink took another step and the ground dropped out from beneath him. Ink unbalanced, biting back a scream as he spotted empty darkness in front of him. He caught himself before he could tumble off of the edge of the giant waterfall in Waterfall. Like the lava and snow, the water was defying gravity. It was also pitch black.

Ink pulled himself onto the wooden pier and froze as the plank glitched visibly beneath him. He could not use shortcuts like many Sanses could but he was being pulled into them simply by walking through such a glitched AU. The codes registered him as enough of a Sans that it kept dragging him into the paths that many Sanses could use. All thoughts about Killer’s possible motive, Echo Flowers for Horror, and fixing the codes of the CORE vanished as Ink remembered Cross’s warning about getting caught in-between worlds.

Ink was too terrified to move and remained standing on the edge of the pier, barely able to see the difference between the pitch black water and the pitch black abyss it rose out of. He did not understand. He had been perfectly fine in Hotland and most of the True Lab. It was only now that he could barely move without popping up somewhere he did not intend.

Searching for answers, Ink tried to look at the codes around him but they were too Corrupted and glitched to be legible. He saw fragments of Undyne, Napstablook, and Shyren but they faded before he could even consider trying to reach for them. Ink grabbed his purple cloak and hugged it close to his chest and crouched on the edge of the pier as his soul pounded frantically in his ribcage.

The water glitched into square fragments, turning paler and paler as they shifted from black to gray to almost white, like they were fading from existence. The sensation of wrongness tore through Ink’s body, resulting in a horribly familiar strain in his soul. The Goner AU was out of time.

No no no no. I can save it— Dust!

Dust knew all about shortcuts so if Ink went to get him he could help Ink through them. They could get to the core of the world and repair it.

Ink summoned a portal over the abyss and threw himself off the glitching pier as it shattered beneath him. As he fell, he saw a flash of blue in the corner of his eye socket. By the time Ink registered Error’s presence, he was already gone.

Ink’s portal did not appear in Dust’s room. It appeared near the ceiling in the dining hall of Nightmare’s Castle. He fell several meters and landed on a chair, tipping it backwards and sending himself crashing to the floor. The gray Echo Flowers spilled from his unclipped bag and scattered across the floor, with a few sliding to a stop in front of Killer’s feet.

Killer leaned over Ink and grinned smugly at him. “Hey. Did you have fun?”

Ink stared blankly at Killer, whose smile stretched wider.

All the pieces fell into place. The Flowers could do what Killer claimed but he did not want Ink to get them in order to help Horror. The prank was for Ink. The ‘good laugh’ was for Killer. Killer had waited for Nightmare to leave and Horror to be out of the way to play a trick on Ink. Ink had foolishly hoped this was Killer’s way of reaching out. Instead he fell for an obvious trick.

Ink felt a familiar burning sensation where Goner’s code was. It was already too late.

There was no sadness. There was no hurt. There was no anger. If Killer expected Ink to blow up at him or cry, he would be sorely disappointed. Just like Ink was disappointed. But if he was honest with himself? Maybe he expected this all along.

Ink got up, gathered up the Flowers off the floor, and walked out.

Killer tried to say something but Ink used his magic to slam the door in his face. He heard Killer’s muffled exclamation but ignored it as he walked to Horror’s room. After double checking that Killer’s claims about the gray Echo Flowers weren’t a lie too, Ink knocked on the door. Horror opened it and received an armful of gray flowers.

“These are from Goner. They’ll let you talk to Paprika whenever you want. You can ask Cross to drop one off to him later.”

Ink did not wait for Horror to speak. He walked to his own room, shut the door, locked it, and put on a brown long sleeve and pants. With that done, he climbed out of his window and down the side of the Castle. He heard a loud rattling that suggested that someone was trying to force the locked door open and some shouting but did not try to respond.

Ink descended to the ground and passed by the southeast tower. He lifted himself over the wall using magic on the bottoms of his bare feet and slipped into the forest.

The forest was dark even during the daytime. Ink did not realize how much time had spent in Goner until he realized the sun was setting. As he walked, Ink felt a burning sensation on his left femur. It did not matter if Error had brought about its destruction or the AU had obliterated on its own. Any hope of returning to help the erased souls disintegrated as he felt the Goner AU die.

Ink climbed a tree all the way to the top of its thick branches. He could not see Nightmare’s Castle from here. He did not care. Ink pulled his knees up to his chest and lowered his skull so his forehead rested upon them.

For the first time since he was rescued from back there, he just wanted to be alone.

Appear then disappear.

Presence in his senses, gone so long but appeared.

The shield hid but the glitches screamed at E̸̞̒r̵̤̩̈r̸̯̯͘o̵̭͔̻̝͌̐͋͝ͅr̶͓͆ and revealed him.

Finally.

Ink Ink Ink Ink Ink Ink Ink Ink Ink Ink Ink Ink Ink Ink Ink Ink Ink Ink Ink Ink

Appear then disappear, forced through glitches.

Glitched but the Protector could-would fix.

D̷̛͕̳̣ǫ̸͖̺͌̓̈̐n̵̢̥̪̾̿̐̾͠’̶̖̋t̵̥̜͕̖̽͂̓͜ ̷̢̾͆̔̏l̷̨̡͎̟̃̉̈́ŏ̶̺͕̫͜ŝ̷͎̯e̷̩͈̤̼̓̌̊̐̕ ̴̲̬̻̂̂̀h̸̢͔̗̰̘̏̂̐̊i̴͚̪̅̔͆̏̔m̷̥̆̄̉̅̕!̸̰̖͖̀̚̕

So close. So close. So close.

There! He was there!

Nickname acquired: Shield

Portal detected.

Ink vanished through.

The shadows hid him.

Portal closed.

GONE

Stolen. Gone stolen gone stolen gone stolen a̸̫̠̖͙͋̓͌̆ͅg̶̞̱͙̮̩̑a̶̱̣͕̘̔ì̵̤͗̕n̵̰̳̒̓͐̈́ͅ

H̴͎́͋̊̓e̷͚͑̑͠ screamed.

T̸̰͂ę̸͠ą̷͝r̴̩̚ ̴͓̒

r̴̟͘i̴͜͝p̸̲̈ ̸̳̚

c̴̳͑ö̴͇́d̴͘ͅe̶͔͝s̵͍̏ ̴̩́a̶͕͝p̶̣͛a̶͚͗r̴̞̈́ṱ̷͋

g̶̼͂ǒ̴̗ń̵͈e̴͍̓ ̸̯̃

s̷̪̍ţ̷́r̶͈̿í̴͍ǹ̶̡g̵̗̊ṣ̷̌ ̸͕̋t̴̹͊ȅ̷͍ả̵̬r̵͉̐ ̵͈̿c̷̞̎ȍ̶̹d̶̻̈́ẻ̷̼ ̵͉͌

Goner AU destroyed.

Floating in the white of the Anti-Void.

Analyzing.

No portal signature.

Portal signature gone.

The shadows hid the Protector.

(Relief. Yes protect him hide him from liars murderers watchers thieves Á̴̡n̸̨͒ō̷̲m̸̲̔a̴͚̿l̵̢͊i̵͕̚ė̷̗s̸̨͑.)

(Fury. No they hid him from h̶̪͐į̵͆m̵̮̆ how dare they keep the Protector from him.)

Location unknown.

Ink was stolen.

Stolen from h̴̲̐i̷͙͑m̸̲͗.

By the Thief.

Silver armor, purple cape, helmet.

Knight?

Identity unknown.

Location unknown.

Analyzing.

Conclusion:

Locate the Thief Knight to locate Ink, the (potential– no no no he must be he must) Protector.

(His Role was not confirmed but he must be he must be he must be h̶̨̒ë̸͙́ ̶͚̇m̴̬̓ư̷̭s̷͈̉t̵̯́ ̸̗͊b̵̰̾ẻ̷̙)

Locate the Thief to locate Shield (Ink).

Locate the Thief to find the Protector of Creation.

It had been so long searching and waiting.

For the first time in à̷͍g̴̛̟ë̸̘́s̷̡͛ ë̵͙́o̶͕̊ņ̵̀s̴̩̆ f̷̹̆ŏ̵̜r̶̘̊e̶̺̿v̸̪̒ȅ̵̗r̴̦͊ h̴e̴ could think.

Error was tired of searching and waiting.

It was time to ḩ̵̨̮̩͓̉̉̐̿ṵ̵̩̩͛͛̐̄̎n̷͈͎̻͉͕̓̀͗̿ţ̴͈͈̖̋͠.

There was no sunlight in Dreamtale. The Multiverse worked in strange ways, often defying normal sciences, so it could be that the sun might not exist there anymore at all. A constant black storm covered the once vibrant land in shadow, stripping the world beneath of color and life.

Nightmare passed over the withered and burnt remnants of what once was a grassy field, footsteps bringing up puffs of blackened dirt and what may very well be monster dust. Nothing lived in Dreamtale anymore. No monsters. No humans. No one. The world may as well have been obliterated all those hundreds of years ago when Nightmare was truly born. Only he emerged from the ashes. Him and Dream.

Only one identifiable mark remained in Dreamtale. The broken stump of the Tree of Feelings poked out from the decayed, blackened ground, just as dead and desolate as the world. Nightmare stood before the broken form of the thing he once guarded. His hands slipped into his pockets and clenched into fists.

“Hello, ‘Mother’.” Nightmare said softly. “It’s been… a while.”

It had been hundreds of years, in fact. More than even that, because Nim had been dead for longer than the Tree itself. Nightmare could not recall the last time he had been in Dreamtale. It had most likely been over five hundred years ago when he had left Dream frozen in stone.

He held no love for this place. All it and its people had done was hurt him, reject him, and driven him away. Dream was loved and adored. Nightmare was feared and hated. There was nothing for him here but bad memories.

As he lay slumped at the base of the Tree, eye socket broken and sight blurred from tears and blood, Nightmare did not understand. The hateful emotions of the villagers churned around him, sinking into his battered bones like toxic acid and burning him to his core. He was the Guardian of Negativity but he writhed under the malignancy of their hate, his body and will weakened further and further as the blows from farm tools and bats and swords rained down.

“Why?” he might have pleaded, his voice lost under the shouts and roars of the mob that screamed for his death.

He must have been heard because someone answered him.

“Haven’t figured it out yet, huh?” A villager sneered down at Nightmare, the pitchfork in their hands dripping with his purple blood. “How did you think we found you? How do you think we know what you planned to do? Did you really think the Guardian of Positivity would not warn us about a monster like you? We won’t let you destroy the Apples, demon. You die tonight.”

It wasn’t the anniversary. It wasn’t their date of creation. Nothing was significant about this day. Yet Nightmare felt the urge to visit the world he despised. The world that taught him nothing but betrayal and hate.

“I don’t know why I’m here. There’s nothing of purpose. Nothing to see. Except dust.”

Nightmare kicked the ground, sending up a small cloud of it. Bits of dirt struck the destroyed stump and rattled as it trickled back to the ground. Nightmare’s mouth curled into a disgusted sneer.

“Why am I here? There is nothing for me.”

Dreamtale was a dead husk of a world. So dead in fact that it was unlikely anyone would ever be able to return to it again. It was not Obliterating. Its codes were not glitched. It was simply unable to sustain life. Because of Dream. And Nightmare. Their battle had left Dreamtale as a wasteland. Balance could not be maintained when the scale had been destroyed.

“I’m always unbalanced.” Nightmare said. “Always. No matter how much I do, it is never enough. The balance remains tipped in Dream’s favor. Why is it never enough?!”

Shadows erupted from him and lashed at his surroundings. His tentacles scoured deep gouges into the ground and the decaying tree stump. Nightmare was tempted to tear it to splinters and obliterate another reminder of his past. He did not want to remember the blind, weak fool that had utterly failed. The past had burned, and should be buried forever. He needed to look to the future…

Nightmare understood why he was here.

“I might have a chance to end this. I have found a potential way into the Omega Timeline. Once Core’s stronghold is breached, it will be done. The balance will shift in my favor at last. I’ll finally defeat Dream.”

The satisfaction that thought brought was diminished by an image of Ink’s hopeful face. It was swiftly followed by Horror’s, twisted in anger and hurt as he begrudged his Boss’s orders. Ink would never willingly put others’ in harm’s way and Horror was an embittered follower because of Ink’s misplaced pacifism. Neither of them understood the gift Ink’s codes was for them. The eternal struggle between Positivity and Negativity could finally end in the Gang’s victory.

“I am no longer your Guardian.” Nightmare told the dead, decaying stump. “I am no longer blinded by the lies of the weak and afraid. I will do what must be done. You can rot away in solitude and be forgotten.”

The broken Tree was long dead and thus did not answer. Nightmare was glad to turn his back on it and leave it in the dirt and dust. He was right. There was nothing left for him here. Everything he wanted was out in the greater Multiverse. He would gladly take it.

The terror of two of his recruits and feral rage of another had him tearing a portal open so violently that it cracked the ground beneath it. He arrived back in the Castle to find Horror lunging for Killer with an axe.

A pulse of his aura threw Horror off enough that the axe embedded itself into the wall by Killer’s head instead of impacting his skull. Horror immediately pulled the axe free, features twisted into a deranged, feral snarl that Nightmare had not seen in years. Nightmare could not touch Horror and Ink was nowhere in sight. He did not linger on the Healer’s absence.

“Cross, restrain him!” Nightmare commanded.

Cross did not hesitate. He lunged for Horror and wrapped his arms around him, successfully pinning one of his arms to his side. (It was then that Nightmare noticed that Cross was not wearing his coat for some reason but that was beside the point). Unfortunately, the restrained arm was not the one wielding the axe, which Horror was determined to put through Killer’s skull. His fury lashed around him, churning like a vortex of negativity, but Nightmare did not lose himself to the wave. He did not want any of his recruits dead.

“Horror, calm yourself.” Nightmare ordered.

Horror made a noise that sounded more like a rabid wolf than a skeleton monster. Nightmare tried to drain some of his fury but it only seemed to become more inflamed. Horror had been angry with him since the aftermath of the incident in Horrortale. His orders had certainly disgusted him but not enough for him to be so wildly out of control.

An uneasy thought came to Nightmare that perhaps Horror had snapped and ended up like Killer and his Stages. He pushed such an idea aside and focused his aura on stabilizing Horror.

“You know better than to attack another recruit like this. What do you think you’re doing?”

Somehow, the question reached Horror enough for him to form words. “KILLER SENT INK TO AN OBLITERATION TIMELINE!”

Nightmare was about to order him to speak at an appropriate volume when exactly what Horror was screaming registered. His rage was so calm and cold that it could almost be mistaken for serenity. A single pulse of his aura sent all of his present recruits to their knees, gasping for breath as the air seemed to freeze in their throats.

“Talk.”

Killer’s smug smile fell an inch and the first dredges of nervousness trickled into his aura. “I sent Ink to pick up some Echo Flowers in Goner.”

Nightmare immediately understood what had happened from that comment alone. He could not believe what he was hearing. "You sent Ink to a glitched world on the verge of complete Obliteration as a prank?"

Cross interrupted before Killer could speak. “I tried to open a portal to it after Ink came back but nothing happened. I think it’s gone.”

“If Ink was there when it Obliterated, he could have been sent to the Anti-Void.” Horror snarled. He was no longer shouting but his fingers flexed like he wanted to summon another axe. Or wrap his hands around Killer’s neck.

“I didn’t know it was that glitched, okay?” Killer snapped defensively. “It was just a little trick.”

“Ink can perceive codes.” Horror snapped right back at him. “He can see Dust’s Paps. What do you think he saw when you sent him to a dying, glitched AU filled with Goners?”

Dust made a pained noise. His grief helped cool the remaining anger that clouded Nightmare’s mind and allowed him to take a breath. He must be more rational.

Killer’s smile fell completely. “Uh. Okay. I might have fucked up?”

Horror, who was still being held back by Cross, lashed out with a foot and caught Killer in the knee. There were no sounds of snapping bone and Killer did not stagger but he swore painfully.

“That’s enough.” Nightmare commanded. He checked the Castle for Ink’s presence. “Where is Ink? He’s not in his room.”

Cross’s eye lights dulled with fear. “Please tell me he’s still in this world.”

The fact that Ink could open portals to other AUs was remembered by all of the Gang and their rising panic frothed in the air.

Nightmare ignored them and cast his senses further out. The Gang were the only people in this world. Nightmare made sure of that. While animals could feel fear and other emotions, they did not have the sharp clarity of more coherent species.

Nightmare did not end up finding Ink because he was an emotional mess. He found him because of how emotionally numb he was. He did not waste more time.

“I’ve found him. Stay here and do not cause trouble while I’m gone for once in your lives. If anyone is injured when I get back, I will ensure Ink does not heal you. That is not an excuse to stab each other.”

The Gang reacted as expected. Dust found safety in apathy, Horror was ready to ignore Nightmare and go searching anyway, Cross took responsibility despite none of it being his fault, and Killer’s anger spiked up as he tried to deny his feelings of guilt. Nightmare left through a portal to get his newest and most troublesome recruit.

Ink was curled up at the base of a large oak tree. Its leaves had fallen long ago, leaving the branches bare and empty. Ink was always more aware of the others’ presences than most would be and soon sensed Nightmare’s approach.

Ink’s aura shifted from a dull numbness to a pleading desire to be left alone. It became louder and louder in Nightmare’s senses until it felt like Ink was screaming, his misery turning to desperation before it abruptly snuffed out. To Nightmare’s surprise, Ink lifted his head from his knees and uncurled, rubbing at his eye sockets.

"You're hurt."

Nightmare's tentacles stopped moving. "I beg your pardon?"

"You have splinters in your tentacles." Ink rose to his feet.

Nightmare did not feel any pain and his body was far too tough to have something as simple as splinters stuck in it. He reconsidered that notion when he remembered what he had lashed out at. He let his tentacles curl forward, searching for the splinters from the broken Tree of Feelings, but could not find anything.

Once more, Ink set his own emotions aside to help. He gently grasped one of the tentacles that came from Nightmare’s lower back and inspected it. Nightmare was surprised again when Ink pulled a small bag from inside his shirt. It hung around his neck on a brown string.

"I always carry a small first aid kit." Ink explained without Nightmare needing to say anything. “I need to get these out. Would you like to sit?”

“I can stand.” Nightmare informed him.

Ink put his fingers in the tiny bag and pulled out a pair of tweezers. It must work like the pockets on his attire for Arc. Nightmare’s tentacle twitched. Ink stopped holding onto it and laid his hand on it instead. To Nightmare’s surprise, he felt a slight warmth and it stopped flicking.

Again, Ink answered a question he did not voice. “It’s not standard green magic. I’m syncing my magic to yours to keep you calm. It… It can also be used to keep a monster’s soul stable.”

Nightmare knew exactly when Ink had to use that particular technique. “I had no idea healing magic was capable of such feats.”

“Some Healers mostly rely on the positive emotions of the patient in order to use green magic on an injury. It can be difficult because those that are in pain often tend to not be the most trusting. Obviously. I haven’t experienced resistance from a patient so I cannot speak for other Healers, but I find it easier to help when the patient is calm.” Ink’s shrug was rather listless. “Then again, Killer says I’m freakish so maybe it’s just me.”

Nightmare knew that Ink was using the tweezers even if he could not see it but he did not feel any pain. The growing amount of small splinters that Ink placed in a vial was in his line of sight though. He had not even seen Ink bring that out.

“What kind of tree did you hit?” Ink asked.

Nightmare considered lying. He immediately rejected the idea. Not only did he have a feeling he would regret it, but he needed to be a good example for the idiots in his Gang who would be tempted to hide injuries. Not that they’d have much luck with Ink around. Nightmare felt rather smug about that.

“They are from the stump of the Tree of Feelings.”

Ink did not pause in his work. “That sounds unique.”

“It was.” Nightmare said curtly. “It’s dead now.”

“…Right.”

Ink did not ask.

Nightmare did not offer.

Ink checked the tentacle that hovered by Nightmare’s right shoulder and frowned. “Be honest. Are you in pain? Because there is a chunk of wood almost as big as my thumb in this one.”

Nightmare blinked in surprise. “Ah. No, I’m not.”

He brought his tentacle around and saw the offending shard. He almost reached for it but Ink shooed his hand away.

“I have it.”

Nightmare watched blankly as Ink gently removed the shard of wood. A bit of his black goop was on the sharp end, thick and viscous like blood. It was strange to see because he swore his tentacles were usually hardier but also more sensitive than this. Attacks that could cause damage when they hit them were never debilitating but they certainly hurt. It was probably because of that damn Tree. Ink placed the shard into the vial and sealed it.

Nightmare was about to move back when Ink gently grasped his tentacle again. A gentle warmth flowed around Nightmare’s tentacle and he froze. He stared in disbelief as green-tinged magic shimmered around Ink’s hand and his tentacle, shifting and rippling like the gentle sway of an ocean’s tide. Faster than he could process what was happening, the injury healed before Nightmare’s shocked eyes.

Ink smiled slightly, satisfied with his work and completely ignorant to the fact that it shouldn’t have worked. He raised his head and flinched slightly when he took in Nightmare’s expression.

“Did I do something wrong? Are you okay? Did I miss something? Where does it hurt?”

Nightmare grasped both of Ink’s hands, which glowed with green magic once more. He stared at them and let his thumbs brush against the green magic. It did not extinguish or fade at his touch.

Ink watched him anxiously but the green magic still did not fade. “Boss?”

“I…” Nightmare struggled to regain control of himself, tentacles lashing and features contorted into a look of shock. “I did not believe you could heal me.”

Ink’s head tipped slightly and his aura shifted into genuine confusion. “Why wouldn’t I be able to?”

“I don’t understand why it’s not working, brother.” Helpless confusion tinged his voice and his aura as he let the useless green light fade from around his hands. “Please, won’t you just tell me where you got these injuries?”

Resentment curled in Nightmare’s bones. “I told you already. I tripped.”

“…Of course.” he agreed. Like he didn’t already know the truth.

Nightmare schooled his expression. “Thank you, Ink. I appreciate the assistance but using healing magic on such a minor injury was unnecessary.”

Ink’s eye lights flashed green and shadows flickered at the edges of his eye sockets. “I’m going to do it anyway.”

Nightmare stared at him.

Ink stared right back, a little nervous but refusing to back down.

Nightmare’s mouth twitched. “Who taught you stubbornness?”

Ink shrugged. “Probably everyone. Including you. You said I need to make sure I heal even if you try to fight me.”

If Nightmare was less mature he might mutter that it was not intended to include him. If he was crueler he might press to make Ink remember his place. However, Nightmare was above such petty things (and still reeling from his first successful healing session) so he merely made a noise that might be acknowledgment.

With the minor incident over, Ink’s misery crept back. “The Goner AU Obliterated. I couldn't save any of them.”

Several pieces clicked neatly into place. Nightmare understood that Ink was not specifically distressed by Killer’s trickery, but had also just experienced the demise of another world. While Nightmare was used to such tragedy, Ink wasn’t.

It left Nightmare in an uncomfortable position. Ink was gentle. The Multiverse was cruel. Worlds died and Obliterated every day but it wasn’t like…

… it wasn’t like…

…Ink could…

…repair their codes.

Except Ink could repair and perceive codes. And he had been in an Obliteration Timeline while it was dying.

Killer, you Stars-damned fool.

Killer had many malicious bones in his body but he would not go so far that he’d purposely hurt Ink for a prank. Not like that. Especially not when he knew Nightmare would disapprove. Nightmare took a couple deep breaths and reminded himself that he could not storm back to the Castle to shake his recruit by his jacket. That would kill Killer and then Nightmare would have to deal with the (guilt and horror about what he’d done) annoyance of finding another murderer for his Gang.

Ink’s shoulders hunched and he wrapped his arms around himself. "Did Killer know that the Goner AU was dying?"

"That is unlikely.” Nightmare said truthfully. “Goner has been glitched for longer than he has worked for me. He expected you to be thrown around and experience the unwelcome atmosphere but nothing so catastrophic."

Ink stepped closer, then abruptly tucked himself against Nightmare’s side. Nightmare flinched on instinct, still expecting Ink to be harmed by his touch, then relaxed. He hesitantly put his arm around Ink’s shoulders like he had observed Horror doing.

"Error was there when I left." Ink said in such a quiet voice that Nightmare could hardly hear him above the sounds of the branches blowing in the breeze. “I don’t know if he was there because he sensed the Goner AU was dying or if he decided to finish it off himself.” He quivered, his sorrow and fear seeping into Nightmare like cold water through fabric. "Is Horrortale going to die like that?"

“No.” Nightmare said firmly.

He released Ink and, after a moment’s hesitation, actually embraced him. Ink was as surprised as Nightmare by the hug, but he soon clung to him like Nightmare held the warmth of a fire instead of a natural chill. Nightmare was starting to suspect he would never understand this odd creature. Who ever sought comfort from the Guardian of Negativity?

His brother did.

“Horrortale will not fall.” Nightmare elaborated. “It has not Corrupted yet and it is nowhere close to Obliteration. I have full faith in your abilities. We will work on them just like your green magic. I am certain you will be able to repair Horrortale’s code with them. Horror will not lose his world.”

Ink rested his chin on Nightmare’s chest and looked up at him. “Killer tricked me but the Echo Flowers really do work like he said. Can we give one to Paprika so he and Horror can talk?”

Nightmare had never even considered using those unique Echo Flowers for such a thing. He wished Killer had thought of it sooner (and not just for a “prank”). It would have been beneficial to have a way to speak to each other without the risk of being hacked by Sci or other Scientists.

“Of course.” Nightmare agreed. “How many did you retrieve?”

“Twenty.”

That was enough for the Gang and Paprika with several to spare. Perhaps they could alter them in some way to make more subtle communication devices. Nightmare would have to recruit Dust and perform some tests in the Lab. Did the Flowers need to be synchronized to a magic frequency or could anyone who had one listen in…?

"You should bring one with you when you next go out as Shield.” Nightmare said slowly. “Give one to your Gaster friend so you can communicate."

Ink’s shock morphed into delight and a tentative sense of hope. It irritated Nightmare but satisfied him all the same. “R-Really? Can I talk talk to Aster? Cause Shield doesn’t really talk…”

"I'll leave that up to you." Nightmare decided.

Ink beamed at him, joyful and ignorant to all of Nightmare’s motives even as his grief and misery over Goner’s fate remained. Nightmare felt no guilt for the bits of manipulation. The Tree of Feelings was a broken stump. Dreamtale was an empty wasteland. Dream and the Omega Timeline were his opposition now and he would do what he must to bring them down and end this war.

The Tree of Feelings could stay dead.

Nightmare was exactly where he needed to be.

It was pitch black out by the time Ink and Nightmare returned to the Castle. He evidently sensed that Ink was not ready to return and simply stayed with him in the forest until he asked to go back.

Nightmare took them home by opening a portal into the hallway outside of Ink’s room. The others must have heard them arrive because they all entered the hallway at once. Ink was caught off guard by the sudden increase of people and stepped closer to Nightmare in order to peek around his tentacles at them. The four instantly stopped in place. Whether it was due to seeing Ink’s discomfort or because Nightmare was in the way was unclear.

Are any of them hurt? was Ink’s first thought.

Why isn’t Cross wearing his jacket? was his second.

A quick scan showed they were all okay. Why did they rush him then?

“Ink, you may retire to your room.” Nightmare’s eye light shivered and reformed into a slit-like shape. “The rest of you remain here.”

Ink expected for Killer to possibly be in trouble. He did not know why the others were. Did he miss something? He hesitated but Nightmare did not even look his way.

"This does not involve you. Go."

Ink suspected that it very much did involve him but he entered his room and shut the door. Then he leaned against it to see if he could listen in. His close proximity was pointless. Nightmare ordered the rest of the Gang to his office. Ink considered following but his nerves would reveal him to Nightmare. He retreated into his room and saw two of the gray Echo Flowers had been placed on his vanity.

Ink picked one up and whispered to it. "Hello."

The other Echo Flower carried the message. "Hello."

Ink set them down and sat on the floor so he was hidden from the doorway. He did not want to sleep. Not yet. He lifted his pant leg and traced the charred mark for the Goner AU. He could not save it. He did not have the time or the skill. He had to be better before Horrortale deteriorated.

Now Ink had a sample to work with. He took the vial of wood fragments out of the pouch around his neck. Bits of a black substance covered some of the shards. It wasn't simply blood. It was Nightmare's magic.

Ink took out the large shard with a pair of tweezers. He squinted at it, trying to see its codes. The mess of overlapping binary gave him a pounding headache. Ink looked away and took a couple of breaths to get through his nausea.

Despite how ill he felt, hope swelled in his soul. He could see the codes and feel the difference between the wood, Nightmare's magic, and the Corruption. Nightmare’s magic and the Corruption were entangled but they were distinct. Could he separate them?

It was easier thought than done. It took hours to get Nightmare's magic off of the wood fragments. The biggest piece was transferred to its own vial. Nightmare insisted it was unimportant but Ink wasn't very convinced. The sample of Nightmare's magic went into another vial. Not the one from Ink's satchel. Not yet.

Ink was exhausted in the morning. He was not the only one who had either not slept at all or had not slept well. Horror shuffled around the kitchen and it took him three stares to recognize that Ink was there.

Ink's hope for the future possibilities were dampened in favor of worrying about the present. "You're tired."

"Didn't sleep." Horror grunted.

Looking at him, Ink doubted that only last night was sleepless for him. He was happy Horror was out of his room this time but decided to be cautious and stay out of his way. He wasn’t as subtle as he wanted because he could see Horror noticed. It was hard not to notice that Horror noticed because he started watching Ink more and more as he crept timidly around the room. In fact, Horror was becoming visibly agitated.

The kitchen was usually so warm and welcoming but this time it wasn’t. It had not been ever since the incident in Horrortale. There was a sharpness to the atmosphere. Horror’s movements were sharper too like every one was angry and he was silent while his steps were so loud.

Ink felt his anxiety rising again as he made sure to move to the opposite side of the kitchen whenever Horror came closer. His hands shook so badly he ended up knocking a full carton of eggs off of the counter. They splattered on the floor, leaving puddles of yellow and off-white goop on the tile.

Ink watched bits of yolk drip onto the floor and his body locked up. He knew how much Horror cared about food and hated wasting it. Horror was also clearly under a lot of stress lately, and despite Killer’s subterfuge and half-truths, his warning about Horror’s anger rang in Ink’s head. Ink did not move to clean up the mess. He did not move at all.

Ink’s vision was blurry but he could see enough to identify the blue and white blur in front of him as Horror. For the first time in a long time, Ink flinched when Horror reached for him. No comforting hand touched his skull and Horror visibly pulled back.

“I’m sorry.” Ink blurted, his voice even smaller than usual. He shook his head violently and stepped back, colliding with the counter behind him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Horror’s low, calming voice reached Ink through the ringing in his ears. “It was an accident. I’m not angry. It’s okay.”

“You are angry though.” Ink said because he could see it in the tension of Horror’s shoulders, the clench of his jaw, and the angry flexes of his fingers like he wanted to reach for a weapon. “You’ve been angry for days. I’m sorry.”

A crease appeared in Horror’s brow. "'m not mad at you."

"You are.” Ink let slip even as the frightened part of him begged him to stop speaking. “You’ve been avoiding me since Horrortale. You don't like that I can alter codes."

Horror’s confusion dropped away into distress. “Oh, Ink.”

“It’s okay.” Ink assured him and was proud that his voice remained steady. “I can, um, stop training the codes around you. And we don’t have to cook together anymore so I don’t waste food. And—”

Horror stepped forward and swept him up in a tight hug. “The eggs were an accident. It was upsetting but I’m not angry at you for it. And I know I’ve been distant lately but I’m not upset with you. I'm so sorry that I made you think I was. To be honest, I’m pissed at the Boss." His left eye light burned a brighter red. “But that’s between me and him.”

“…Oh.” Ink said lamely.

He felt rather foolish and naive for his reaction now. He should have known it was not about him, but he could not help but think of some of the worst scenarios. Logically, he knew Horror and Cross and the others cared about him but there was always the possibility he’d do something to upset them and they’d stop.

Horror sighed quietly and lifted Ink up so his skull was tucked under his chin. It was a little disconcerting to be lifted off the ground but Ink found comfort in the hold all the same. Plus, it seemed to be comforting Horror.

“We’re not going to abandon you, Ink.” Ink flinched at the blunt declaration but Horror kept speaking. “Not because you can repair codes. Not because you dropped eggs. Not because we become annoyed, angry, or bored. We care about you and we want you around. Sometimes we get frustrated, upset, or isolate ourselves but that’s normal. It doesn’t mean th’ end of the world, it doesn’t mean we’re going t’ take it out on you, and it most likely isn’t something you did. Okay?”

Ink supposed he should know that but it was still nice to have some confirmation. “Okay.” He leaned against Horror and closed his eye sockets. “I know I haven’t made much progress but I really am trying to help Horrortale. It won’t end up like the Goner AU.”

“That’s not why—” Horror cut himself off with an exhausted sigh. “I believe you can do it.”

Ink spoke in a whisper that had Horror leaning as close as he could to hear. “I have some of Nightmare’s magic to study. I can see the Corruption in its codes.”

Horror’s posture was stiff as he set Ink down. His voice was low as well. "Do not tell the Boss what you're doing. I'm afraid any Corruption in him will try to hurt you."

"I'll be careful." Ink promised. “Or I’ll try to be. I’m still trying to understand safety things. And code things.”

He grabbed some towels and started to clean up the mess of egg yolks and shells. Horror helped but his movements now had an ‘angry but trying not to look angry’ aggression to them.

“Killer shouldn’t have sent you to that Stars-forsaken world.” Horror growled.

“It was supposed to be a prank.” Ink said as he tried not to think of the scattered codes of people and glitching black water fading to a white abyss. “Though his version of a prank seems kind of destructive…”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Horror’s smile had a sharp edge. “Let me give you a couple ideas.”

Ink’s worries faded more as everyone showed up for breakfast (except for Nightmare, but that wasn’t so unusual). They were having omelets, toast, and mugs of hot cocoa today.

Dust and Paps arrived first. Ink waved at them both and received a tired wave (from Dust) and an enthusiastic one (from Paps). Killer slunk in a minute later and stared at the tabletop, not acknowledging anyone. Horror insisted on delivering the meal to the Boss today and returned soon after Cross stumbled into the room, yawning loudly.

Ink looked at Cross and did a double-take. His jacket was different. It was just a couple alterations. A black X-like design on the shoulders of both white sleeves. The large white X-sash was now black. Along the bottom hem of the white jacket were simple black cross-stitches. It was little things but the decals broke up the white in his outfit.

Dust caught sight of the changes and perked up. “Waitaminute. That’s why you were in your room all day! I thought you were moping– Shut up, Paps! I was not.”

“It looks nice.” Horror rumbled.

Cross’s smile was almost shy. His eye lights caught Ink’s. “I wanted a change.”

Cross had noticed that Ink had trouble looking at him while recounting his past back there. He’d decided to do something about that. Ink slowly felt his earlier fears that he’d done something wrong fading away.

Killer’s fork landed on his plate with a loud clatter. For a second, Ink thought he was going to shove the food away and leave. Instead he clenched his teeth and looked at Ink with steadily leaking eye sockets.

"I'm sorry, okay?” Killer snapped. “I didn't mean to send you to a dying world."

The dining room became eerily quiet.

“Holy shit, miracles do exist.” Dust whispered.

Cross must have kicked him under the table because he released a small ‘ow!’

Killer was still glaring at Ink but he could see the guilt he hid behind his anger.

Ink exhaled slowly and managed a wry smile. “I looked up pranks and learned that retaliation is required. You won’t see it coming.”

Killer’s anger-covered guilt turned into surprise, then something softer and more genuine. “I look forward to it.”

Then he took a swig from his mug.

Killer spluttered and spit the sip he just took across the table onto poor Dust. Whoops. Ink was about to check on him when he remembered what Horror told him to do.

“Ha! You got pranked!” Ink grabbed onto Horror’s jacket and got on his knees on the chair. Horror leaned in so Ink could speak quietly to him. “Did I do it right?”

Horror’s smile was smug. “Yep.”

Killer made a disgusted sound.

Cross eyed Killer’s mug warily. “What did you do?”

"Horror helped me replace the milk hot chocolate with white hot chocolate." Ink said brightly. “We used food coloring to get the color right.”

Dust looked scandalized. “That’s just evil.”

Ink’s smile fell. “Is it?”

“No. That was me being dramatic.” Dust said hastily. His eye lights flicked to Horror and a small smile flashed across his face. “So that’s how you’re getting around Boss’s orders not to attack Killer again.”

Horror attacked Killer? Ink scanned them both but they were unharmed. “Please don’t attack each other because of me. That is the last thing I want.”

“No promises.” Horror said. His smile was uncomfortably pleasant as he stared Killer down.

Killer grumbled begrudgingly and took another sip. His face twisted with disgust. “It’s so sweet. I can feel it coating my tongue. Uggggghhhhhhh.”

“Suffer.” Horror said with such fake sweetness that Cross shivered and scooted his chair a little further away from his. “And when you’re done, you get to help me wash the dishes. And then you are cleaning the storage closets like Boss ordered.”

Ink put down his empty mug of hot chocolate (the milk chocolate kind). “You’re not in too much trouble with the Boss, right?”

Killer stared at him in disbelief. “I can’t tell if you’re pissed or not. What the fuck.”

“Language.” Cross said snidely, then paused and dramatically tapped his chin. “Oh wait, that was Dust.”

“Let it go.” Dust begged.

Cross pretended to think about it. “No.”

Ink chuckled and rose from his seat with his plate in his hand. He started to gather the other empty plates along the table but left the mugs that were still full. Dust cheerfully drank his cocoa while Killer scowled at his but stubbornly sipped it.

“You’re not doing dishes today, Ink.” Horror reminded him.

“I can still help clean up.” Ink retorted.

Dust placed his mug on the stack of plates Ink held, then put his plate on top. “Don’t drop these.”

“You’re the one that’s fallen on his face twice.” Ink said blandly.

Dust gasped and clutched at his chest. “Ouch. Okay, who taught Ink sass? Wait, no. I take credit.”

“You can take credit for Ink learning curse words.” Cross offered sarcastically.

“No, that was definitely Killer. Shush, Paps.” Dust grumbled. “Then I say that—”

The plates slipped from Ink's fingers and shattered on the floor.

The Gang fell silent as they all turned towards him, their shock and amusement turning to alarm as Ink swayed. Horror sent his chair flying back with another crash as he dashed over to Ink. Ink leaned on him to steady himself as he tried to figure out what was wrong.

He felt a horrible burning sensation on his bones where Horrortale’s codes lay. A second later, the chain he had gifted to Horrortale Toriel broke. It was swiftly followed by the one from Paprika.

Nightmare appeared so suddenly that Cross brandished a knife at him. He recognized their Boss just in time and stammered an apology. Nightmare spotted Ink but hung back when he saw how close he was to Horror.

"What happened?" When Ink did not respond, Nightmare’s voice became harsher as his tentacles flicked with stress. “Ink?”

Ink clung to Horror's arm and looked up at him, eye lights extinguished and expression empty.

“There’s a Corruption Outbreak in Horrortale.”

Chapter Text

It was too soon. Ink was nowhere near ready to repair the glitches in Horrortale’s codes. But there was no more time to try to prepare him. Horrortale was experiencing a Corruption Outbreak now.

Dust dropped Ink off outside of his room using a shortcut and vanished into his own. Ink ran inside and used his magic to yank his Arc attire and gear into place. He headed out almost as soon as he entered, double-checking the pockets to make sure he had the supplies he might need.

Cross blocked him at the door. "Ink, listen to me. I know you are going to try your hardest to repair Horrortale's codes but it might not happen. Promise me that you won't over exert yourself. If your soul starts to hurt or you feel like you are going to pass out, you stop." He hesitated only for a moment before speaking harshly. "If you are incapacitated it will make things harder for the rest of us."

Ink nodded morosely. That was one of the lessons a lot of his medical texts emphasized.

"You will not use green magic, Arc."

Cross startled and whirled around defensively as Nightmare spoke from right behind him. He put away his knife and muttered an apology.

Ink was silent.

Nightmare's eye light shimmered and narrowed into a dangerous slit-like shape. "If you do, you will regret it."

Cross glared at their Boss but Ink remained silent.

If they need a Healer I will act as one.

Nightmare certainly sensed his stubbornness. And his slight fear about what his Boss may do if he disobeyed him again. It was not going to stop Ink and they both knew it. For the first time in a long time, he wondered if he'd finally end up in the dungeon. (Or back there.)

Horror exited his room with two axes on his back and another in his hands. Killer emerged as well. He created several knives as he walked and put them up his sleeves.

"It's going to be bad." Cross continued rapidly. "Brace yourself, try not to look at the codes too closely, and focus on getting civilians out of danger. Remember: the Empty Corrupted are not living things. They are manifestations of glitched code that only seek to Corrupt and destroy like a virus."

“They don’t even give any LV or EXP.” Killer complained.

Cross grimaced. “Think of it like cutting off bits of infected bone to stop the spread from killing the body.”

The description might be nauseating to some but as a Healer, Ink got his meaning. “I understand." The burning sensation on his bone's increased. "We need to go. The Corrupted are in the Ruins and Snowdin.”

Cross looked alarmed. “Can you sense their exact locations?”

“No.” Not yet. “Toriel and Paprika both broke their chains. The Corrupted are emerging from the Ruins though.”

Cross began to nod, only to pause. “How do you know where they're originat—?”

“Focus on Snowdin.” Nightmare ordered. “There are more monsters there. We need to stop the Corruption from spreading between them. Stay together. It’s likely too glitched to use shortcuts. You may be lost in-between if you try.”

Killer made a face while Dust nodded grimly.

Nightmare opened a portal. Ink stepped through to Horrortale with the others and the sense of Corruption slammed into him like he'd hit a burning wall. If they’d appeared a few feet back, he could have because Snowdin was on fire.

Terrified monsters from the Ruins and Snowdin fled past or into Grillby's, some choosing to risk the open road rather than the blocked but dangerous zone that could very well be overrun. A circle of flame surrounded the building, parting only to let more monsters inside. Any shadows that tried to pursue them were burnt to cinders.

Ink had seen Toriel’s first stages of Corruption. He had witnessed the shattered horrors that were once the residents of the Goner AU. The sight of the Corrupted codes of Horrortale were nowhere near as sickening as Error’s but every part of Ink’s being screamed a warning of wrong. Some Corrupted manifested as environmental hazards within a world like glitching shortcuts or places where one wrong step would send the unlucky walker to the Void. Other Corrupted glitches (most commonly known as the Empty Corrupted) manifested as copied forms of one of the AU’s natives. Horrortale had both.

Glitching figures that resembled the Fallen Humans Chara and Frisk staggered through the Underground. To most monsters they appeared to be made of blue and red glitching light but Ink could see the distorted codes that created them. He could also see they had no faces except for their wide smiles filled with razor sharp teeth that looked more like they belonged in a meat grinder than a mouth. Their fingers ended in fleshy sharp points like the ends of Nightmare's tentacles.

It only took a glance at the glitched codes for Ink to identify their source. It was as though the code from a Genocide Timeline Frisk-Chara hybrid had accidentally been brought over to Horrortale and then tried to force a RESET. But since Frisk was long gone from this Underground and Horrortale was not meant to RESET that far, the RESET completely failed, the misplaced codes malfunctioned, and the Corrupted manifested into visible forms.

And the Corruption kept on spreading.

Ink watched in horror as one of the Corrupted stabbed a fleeing Whimsun with their unnaturally sharp fingers. Within seconds the poor monster’s bodies and codes twisted, glitching as they morphed into the human-like shape of the others. The Whimsum’s soul momentarily hovered in the mass of blue and red glitches, flickering and cracking as their HP rapidly depleted. With a final glitch, their soul shattered like broken glass and disintegrated, leaving only the Corrupted code.

Ink could not tell which Corrupted were former monsters and which were simply the glitch’s duplicates. Once the monster’s soul was consumed by the virus, they were dead and there were no differences to be found. There was no one to heal or save.

Black tentacles lashed out, leaving a trail of darkness in their wake as they tore through several Corrupted. Their forms disintegrated like mist. Ink was reminded of dying sketches of people and flinched. He firmly reminded himself that the Corrupted were not humans, monsters, alive, or conscious in any way.

“Stay close to Cross.” Nightmare commanded.

Ink recognized that order was for him and obeyed.

No more words were spoken as the Gang leapt into action. A pulse of Negativity from Nightmare momentarily cleared the area around the safezone long enough for the Gang to take up positions. Ink spread his magic further, hiding it within Grillby’s flames and creating another physical barrier to hold back any Corrupted that tried to get in where many of the residents of Snowdin and the Ruins were hiding. He did not want to find out if these Corrupted could glitch through walls.

Then it began.

As knives, axes, bone attacks, and shadowy magic lunged forward, Ink’s black magic hung close to the Gang, snapping up into the air to defend them in the forms of chains and a liquid shield. While the native monsters often struggled to take down the Corrupted in multiple hits, it took only a single blow from the members of the Gang to erase them. Dust and Horror focused on the nearest Corrupted while Cross and Killer’s Blasters cleared swaths of Corrupted further out, with Nightmare drawing on the local monsters’ fear to tear through the Corrupted that weren’t in view.

Ink focused on blocking and redirection, spreading his magic out and using his chains to corral the Corrupted into isolated groups so that Nightmare could destroy them. Nightmare’s tentacles flicked in surprise as he realized what Ink was doing but he did not waste time to speak about it. The Corrupted soon stopped trying to get to the terrified monsters of Horrortale and turned their attention to the Gang that was picking away at their numbers.

Ink had never been in an all-out battle like this before but he instantly knew something was off. It did not take him long to realize the Corrupted were ignoring him completely. They only tended to attack the ones whose codes they had a chance of glitching and replacing. Not that they could overtake Nightmare or Killer. Their Corruption types were incompatible with this one. Those two were targeted to take out something that kept depleting the Corrupteds’ swarm.

Ink’s theory was proven to be fact when he flung himself between Dust and a Corrupted. It jolted to the side and avoided him like his mere presence burned it. Ink snatched the glitch up with his chains and hesitated. The glitched codes of the Corruption burned in his sight, flickering and warped.

[̷̫̐E̴̤͠R̶̺̐Ř̴͇Ŏ̴͎R̶̨̋]̵̮̍ RESET FAILED [WORLD TIMELINE TYPE: PROGRESSION. INCOMPATIBLE TIMELINE COMMAND DENIED]

[̷̫̐E̴̤͠R̶̺̐Ř̴͇Ŏ̴͎R̶̨̋]̵̮̍ ATTEMPTED GENOCIDE TIMELINE LAUNCH FAILED [WORLD ROUTE TYPE: NEUTRAL. INCOMPATIBLE TIMELINE LAUNCH DENIED]

[̷̫̐E̴̤͠R̶̺̐Ř̴͇Ŏ̴͎R̶̨̋]̵̮̍ RESET FAILED [WORLD TIMELINE TYPE: PROGRESSION. INCOMPATIBLE TIMELINE COMMAND DENIED]

[̷̫̐E̴̤͠R̶̺̐Ř̴͇Ŏ̴͎R̶̨̋]̵̮̍ ATTEMPTED GENOCIDE TIMELINE LAUNCH FAILED [WORLD ROUTE TYPE: NEUTRAL. INCOMPATIBLE TIMELINE LAUNCH DENIED]

[̷̫̐E̴̤͠R̶̺̐Ř̴͇Ŏ̴͎R̶̨̋]̵̮̍ RESET FAILED [WORLD TIMELINE TYPE: PROGRESSION. INCOMPATIBLE TIMELINE COMMAND DENIED]

[̷̫̐E̴̤͠R̶̺̐Ř̴͇Ŏ̴͎R̶̨̋]̵̮̍ RESET FAILED [WORLD TIMELINE TYPE: PROGRESSION. INCOMPATIBLE TIMELINE COMMAND DENIED]

The Corrupted held no soul, self-awareness, or sentience. They were empty manifestations of glitched codes that took on the vague shape of humans (this time) due to an error. The Corrupted was a virus in the literal sense.

Ink could heal the infection. He pushed green magic into his chains. A gentle glow covered the human-like form and when it faded, the Corrupted was gone.

“Good job, Arc!” Dust praised. “Now there’s only several hundred more to go.”

“I don’t think there’s that many.” Cross grunted. He slashed the air with a purple knife. A ripple of purple energy roared from the blade and tore through another swarm.

Ink spotted Snowdrake being pursued relentlessly by a glitch. The monster was a second too slow to react before the Snowdrake was stabbed in the back of the head by twisted claws. Ink instinctively cloaked Snowdrake’s soul with green magic, trying to sync to flurrying snow and comedy, hope for laughter and icy puns to hold off the drain.

Dark tentacles tore through the glitched body and the dying soul shattered. An empty feeling tore through Ink’s own soul as the connection snapped. His shocked, hollow expression was hidden by his mask but Nightmare sensed the anguish that ripped through him.

“Don’t waste energy.” Nightmare commanded. “He was already gone.”

I could have saved him! Ink wanted to scream. “His soul was still—”

“Don’t argue with me, Arc.” Nightmare said darkly.

Ink had been with the Gang long enough to recognize a tone that threatened violence. He belatedly realized he had tried to use green magic out in the open against Nightmare’s orders. Ink could only hope that Nightmare’s aggression was due to stress and not because Ink dared to try to heal someone. He tearfully repaired another Corrupted, causing the mass of glitched codes to gently dissipate.

As they faded, Ink was struck by another surge of wrongness that indicated another Corrupted swarm had emerged. The Gang was fighting the physical manifestations but it was the glitch that was the source of the problem. In order to stop the spread of Corruption, the source had to be repaired. But where was it? The Ruins? No, that was where they were coming from but the repair point wasn’t in there.

Ink glanced at Cross and saw some of the tension in his shoulders had eased. It was true that the army of Corrupted around them was slowly depleting, allowing them to once again see bits of Snowdin’s ruined streets, but the fight was far from over. It hit Ink that the others did not know about the new surge.

Ink forced himself to shout as loudly as he could. “More incoming!”

His voice was still not very loud but it was loud enough.

The Gang’s confusion turned to alarm as a new horde of Corrupted appeared in Snowdin’s streets. The glitches covered the snow and filled the air, floating eerily with their glitching feet hanging below them and their grins wide and ghastly as they stared down at the Gang. More and more appeared, looking more like a giant wave tearing through the town, until almost all of the white of snowdin became glitching blue and red.

For a moment, the horde stayed in place, letting their numbers fill Snowdin. Then a large group of Corrupted swarmed Nightmare, forcing him backwards.

Ink felt a familiar distortion in the air and called out another warning. “Boss! There’s a shortcut—”

Nightmare stepped back and vanished.

It took a moment for Ink to realize that even though Nightmare could not use normal shortcuts like many Sanses, what happened to Ink himself in Goner had just happened to their Boss. The glitching and confused code of Horrortale had recognized a “Sans” so he’d been sent through the shortcut. Nightmare could be anywhere in the Underground now. Or he might not be in the Underground at all, but in the Void in-between.

As Dust’s bones stabbed through ten Corrupted and Killer’s Blaster tore apart another twenty, Ink desperately waited for Nightmare to reappear. He didn’t. The Corrupted crept closer to the shortcut. Whether to enter it or try to glitch it further, Ink could not say. Nor could he allow it to happen.

Copying Nightmare’s technique, Ink gathered as much of his own magic as he could, feeling it strain in his soul, and released it. The nearest Corrupted did not rip apart like they did when attacked by the other Gang members. They simply faded away, giving the Gang a moment to breathe.

Dust stared at the empty space he had been ready to stab and gaped at Ink in shock. “Did you just—?”

“BOSS!”

Dust’s question was interrupted by Cross’s shout. Ink could feel even more Corrupted coming but the lull was enough for the other Gang members to react to the sudden disappearance of their leader. Cross swore loudly and dashed into the shortcut after Nightmare before anyone could stop him. Ink made to go after them only for Horror to grab onto his arm.

Ink yanked his arm free. “If Nightmare is trapped, I’m the only one that can grab him.”

Horror’s confusion turned to fear. “Arc—”

“There’s no time.” Ink snapped.

He wrapped one of his chains around Horror’s arm, keeping the other end attached to his own, and stepped into the glitching shortcut.

The world went dark. The sudden silence assaulted his hearing, making it feel like the atmosphere of an entire world was trying to stuff itself into his skull. The only reason Ink did not panic was because nothing else reminded him of back there. He was so grateful that the background was black.

Unlike the Anti-Void, the Void (or the “Abyss” or the “in-between” as it was sometimes called) felt peaceful to Ink. Bits of acid green and sunrise gold-tinted code floated in lines in the black background, scrolling horizontally so far down and up that they went out of sight. Ink observed them curiously, only to realize that anyone who could not perceive codes would be unable to see the codes at all. From their point of view they’d be floating in a black abyss. No wonder it was called that by those who knew of it.

Inks sensed something in the Void that was not meant to be there and immediately dove. He could not say if he was floating, falling, or flying. He simply shot downward until he spotted a speck of white.

He was right to fear for Cross and Nightmare. Cross could not grab their Boss, though he seemed to be considering it as he struggled to reach out for him. Twice Cross tried to summon a Blaster to float on but twice he failed, his magic torn away like a sharp wind had ripped it from him.

Nightmare was not moving much as he fell. Even his tentacles were still. His visible eye socket was squeezed shut, and Ink could see him quivering with strain.

He’s trying not to release a Negativity pulse in here, Ink realized. It could destabilize Horrortale even more.

Ink did not understand how Cross and Nightmare were falling when he could do… whatever he was doing. He dove after them, diving so far and so fast that he felt the chain snap. Ink made a mental note to apologize to Horror for whatever panic that would likely cause.

He caught Cross first, then latched onto Nightmare’s hand. Nightmare flinched, eye socket snapping open and cyan eye light shrunken with terror as he thought Cross had touched him. He spotted Ink and opened his mouth to shout but no sound came from him. The two were far from weightless but Ink carried them both easily as he searched for a way out.

Ink felt a dangerous twist in the codes around them. He followed his instincts and flung Nightmare and Cross to the side ahead of him. A ripple went through the codes and opened up, revealing the entrance to the Ruins. The two were thrown through the opening as Ink dove after them. He caught another glimpse of familiar magic (Killer?) and lashed out at him with a chain, sending him out of a different shortcut. The image of the grand Ruins door rippled before Ink could reach it.

Ink did not appear with Nightmare and Cross. He appeared by the border with Waterfall. Thankfully he did not land in any cold water this time. The impact with the snow was jarring enough on its own. Ink pushed himself up and touched his mask. It was unlikely that it would crack from such an impact but it was a relief to feel the piece was still whole.

Ink felt the Corrupted in the distance and forced himself to his feet. He had to get back to the others and let them know everyone was still alright.

“You! Arc trashbag!”

Ink jumped, startled by the unexpected voice, then looked down to see Horrortale’s Flowey.

Flowey scowled up at him but there was a nervous edge to his glare, like it was merely a tough front. “I despise your kind but you helped that stupid old lady when she was Corrupting. You need to leave Horrortale. Now.”

“Where is Toriel?” Ink asked urgently.

“I helped her to Snowdin. She’s fine.” Flowey’s singular eye darted about nervously. “You have to leave.”

Ink shook his head. “Who else needs to be evacuated?”

“No one. Now get back to your stupid Gang.” Flowey pleaded. “The Queen is after you.”

Ink halted so suddenly his foot almost slipped on some ice. He caught himself and stared at Flowey, who flinched at the glare of his owl mask. Ink’s nervous expression was safely hidden.

“Why does Queen Undyne want me?” Ink asked. Again, his mask hid the anxious tone of his voice, altering it to a ghostly hiss.

Flowey flinched slightly but did not flee. “I think someone told her you’re close to Horror. It was not me. I don’t know what she wants with you but it can’t be good.”

Ink did not want to find out. He set the problem aside for now. “She’s at the castle, right? I’m not going that way anyway.”

To reinforce his point, Ink started to run back towards Snowdin. The state of Horrortale was so questionable that he did not want to risk using a portal to get out and return. He needed to get back to the others. Or to Killer, Horror, and Dust at the very least. Cross and Nightmare were likely back by the Ruins.

Wait. Hadn’t Ink seen Killer in the Abyss and tossed him out? Yes, he had. So he could be anywhere in the Underground. Ink thought of the gray communication Echo Flowers he had just retrieved and cursed himself for not insisting that they be brought on this mission.

“Wait!” Flowey cried after him. He vanished into the ground and appeared by the road in front of Ink. “There are Royal Guards hanging around.”

“They’re fighting the Corrupted?” Ink asked hopefully. He did his best to sense any magic while also keeping an eye on the Corrupted he could feel in Snowdin’s center.

Flowey seemed uncertain. “I don’t know. They tend not to act without…”

Ink caught a nearby feeling of wrongness. It was not one of Corruption, but injury. He raced into the fog, ignoring Flowey’s panicked exclamation as he stumbled upon a limp form laying in the snow.

Horror’s brother was laid out by the river. The fog was too dense for Ink to clearly see him but he could sense the wound on his chest. Ink had felt Paprika break his chain but he’d foolishly assumed it was due to the Corrupted, like Toriel’s. He should have insisted they went right to Paprika. He should have checked for him sooner.

Focus. Prioritize.

“Keep watch for trouble.” Ink ordered Flowey.

He knelt beside the patient and scanned him. It was not as bad as Horror. The wound was not as deep as it initially appeared. The slash mark was too wide to have been made by the claws of the Corrupted. (And if it had been made from a Corrupted, Paprika would be dead.) In fact, it looked like the wound had been made by the large blade of a sword.

Ink kept that in the back of his mind as he coaxed out his green magic. It was much easier than it had been with Horror. The sight of a gash in bone was nothing new, and Paprika’s HP had stabilized on its own without him needing to synchronize his magic to his soul.

Ink did not think about Corrupted, Snowdrake, Nightmare’s future reaction, or the fact that he was healing Horror’s brother (who Horror loved so dearly and who loved him so much in return and who Horror would be devastated if he lost). Ink saw a patient and helped.

The wound closed, leaving only a tear on the front of Paprika’s armor. He stirred weakly and cracked his eye sockets open. He caught sight of Ink and gasped quietly. “Arc…”

“It’s alright.” Ink soothed him. “You’re alright. I’ve healed you. I’m sorry it took so long to reach you.”

Paprika’s breathing was uneven. Ink anxiously checked him again, terrified that he had done something wrong, but quickly identified that the reason was emotional, not physical.

“Corrupted… showed up.” Paprika said shakily. “Tried to… warn them. Should have been more careful…”

An ugly feeling twisted in Ink’s middle, making him feel nauseous. “The Gang’s here to help fight off the Corrupted. We can get back to them if you—”

“No! Stay away from them!”

Flowey’s scream came from behind Ink. He spun and rose all in one smooth motion, stepping between Paprika and the large shadow that emerged from the dense fog. It was one of the Royal Guards. Ink was not sure where his partner was.

Ink heard Paprika try to rise behind him and bit back a plea for him to stay down. The Royal Guard’s sword was clear of blood but he could very well have washed it off in the snow or the river. Whether or not he had been the one to attack Paprika, the Guard did not look aggressive now. He seemed uncomfortable.

“You’re a Healer.” the Royal Guard said faintly. “Oh.”

Flowey gasped and vanished into the ground.

Behind Ink, Paprika gave a low whimper.

Ink tried to turn to him only to feel a dull pain in the back of his skull. Everything went black.

The darkness around Nightmare receded, halting the sensation of falling that he’d experienced, and he managed to catch himself on snowy ground that abruptly appeared in front of him. Cross was not so lucky as he smacked into the door of the Ruins, sliding down and landing hard with a loud swear. Both of them lay there a moment, staring at each other in stunned disbelief as they tried to understand what had just happened.

Cross recovered first, leaping to his feet. “Ink!”

Nightmare frantically searched the snowy area for Ink but there was no sign of him. He cast his senses outward and relief washed through him as he recognized a familiar, anxious presence near the border between Snowdin and Waterfall.

“He’s alright.”

Cross released a shaky breath. “We’d better get going back then.”

“One moment.” Nightmare interjected.

His gaze locked onto the door to the Ruins. Any monsters that could get out to Snowdin had gotten out already, leaving only the empty glitches of the Corrupted inside. He forced the door open and raised his hand. Cross realized what he was doing and hastily retreated.

The blast of Negativity magic was nothing new to Nightmare. He often used it to create negativity imprints on Positivity-aligned worlds. Usually he set the imprint and let it seep into the air itself. This time, his power flowed freely, blocked only by caverns and walls as it killed every Corrupted that formed in the Ruins.

Should he block it though? Negativity was his, Horror was his, Horrortale was his, and this world was already so Negative…So what was the problem with taking making it a little more?

Horror’s hurt and betrayed expression emerged from Nightmare’s memory, searing into his mind so thoroughly that it burned.

Nightmare slammed the Ruins door shut and sealed it like a tomb. No more disgustingly empty glitches formed to destroy Horrortale’s populace. Horror’s world was not healed, but the Corruption was as contained as it could be. It would be safe for now.

Cross stepped closer to Nightmare, staring at him with a conflicted expression. Whatever he had been going to say was interrupted as a wave of terror from Horror and Dust washed over Nightmare. It was so powerful that their presences screamed the reason for their fear.

A cold feeling settled in Nightmare’s soul that had nothing to do with Snowdin’s natural chill.

Sometimes Horror was forced to agree that the Gang suffered from varying levels of sheer recklessness. Cross was the most prone. Next in line was absolutely Nightmare despite how in control their Boss pretended to be. After that was Killer, who Horror was tempted to smack upside the head when they next met.

Once the chain snapped, Killer had gone into the shortcut like Cross. And yet all of them had been worried about Ink recklessly placing himself in danger to help someone. Meanwhile Ink was the only one that had a lick of sense and thought of leaving a way back, even if it failed.

Horror asked himself how the youngest and newest member of the Gang ended up being one of the more sensible of them as he stood back to back with Dust, completely surrounded by Corrupted. Ink was not present but the shield he had set up around Grillby’s remained, holding off a majority of the swarm from getting inside the bar most of the surviving residents had taken refuge in. Horror recognized the balls of fire magic as Toriel’s and his soul swelled with relief that she, at least, was still alive.

Even with Nightmare’s absence, the Corrupted focused on the two remaining Gang members, seeing them as the greatest obstacle to reaching the others. Horror could not complain even if he was growing tired. He already lost a lot. He did not want to lose his home.

Please let someone have knocked out Papyrus and dragged him into the bar. Please let him be safe inside.

Knowing his brother, it was a naïve wish. But Horror could still hope.

“Getting a little tired here, Horror.” Dust panted.

Three of his Blasters tore through another throng of Corrupted. Two of the magic attacks immediately faded as he used up more magic. The space the Corrupted had been destroyed in were instantly filled in once more. Strangely enough, the glitches were further back than before. Horror was too exhausted to check too closely but if someone asked, he’d swear they weren’t stepping into the area Ink had cleared earlier. Or maybe Ink’s optimism was rubbing off on him.

It was definitely optimism and not reality. A Corrupted dodged past Horror’s bone attack and lunged, snapping at his face with its sharp teeth. He cleaved it in two with his axe and cursed as he felt the weapon break. The head and handle were thrown into the chests of two more Corrupted, which exploded into fading glitches.

Horror grabbed his last axe and grimaced.

Dust gave a laugh that sounded more like Killer’s than his own. “It’d be great if you showed up right now, Boss…”

Snow exploded into the air. Horror’s hopes that Ink was safe were dashed as he saw green tendrils, not black. Vines wrapped around groups of Corrupted and squeezed them until they disintegrated. After their red and blue glitches faded away, a golden flower nervously poked his head up out of the ground. Dust growled and Flowey flinched.

“What do you want, Flowey?” Horror demanded tersely.

Flowey quailed under the weight of his stare but did not flee. “Where’s your boss?”

“Somewhere.” Horror said curtly.

“Oh for the love of– Listen to me!” Flowey shouted, face warping into that of Asriel as tears of frustration formed in his eyes. “Undyne took Papyrus and your Healer!”

“He’s not…” Horror’s deflection morphed into a look of pure terror.

The air next to him distorted with darkness but Nightmare did not appear. The glitches were so bad that he could not portal right to them even with Horror’s terror acting as a beacon.

“Papyrus tried to warn the Royal Guards about the Corrupted but they attacked him.” Flowey explained rapidly. “Arc tried to help and they knocked him out. I followed them and they grabbed Killer too when he popped out of one of your stupid shortcuts. They’re at the castle.” Asriel’s eyes filled with tears. “Please, you have to believe me. I know I’ve given you no reason to but Arc saved Mom and I—”

“We’ll save them.” Horror interrupted. His voice sounded cold and distant even to himself. “Find Cross and Nightmare. Tell them what’s happened.”

Flowey nodded sharply and vanished into the ground.

The roads were still clear of Corrupted. Horror felt a familiar darkness from the Ruins and realized Nightmare must have done something. He pounded on the door to Grillby’s. Grillby himself opened it, features alight with gratitude.

Horror had no time for pleasantries. “Boss is taking care of it. Stay here until we give the all-clear.”

Grillby nodded sharply and shut the door.

Dust prowled back and forth, gaze darting about as the streets remained clear. “It’s going to take us hours to get there.”

Horror’s gaze locked on the area by Grillby’s. “Not if we take a shortcut.”

Dust stared at him incredulously. “Hey buddy? In case you forgot, everyone else just proved why that is a bad idea.”

“We’re not stepping into the glitch.” Horror said. “We using the real shortcut. Specifically you. You’re the best at it.”

Dust eyed the shortcut nervously. “Not really. I didn’t really even try to teach Ink…”

He sounded like he was arguing but they both knew they did not have another choice. Not if they wanted to reach Undyne’s castle in time. Horror put his hand on Dust’s shoulder, peeking up briefly at the empty air behind him where he now knew Dust’s own Paps floated. Panic tore through his soul at the thought of losing his own brother but he somehow kept it off of his face.

“We have to risk it.” Horror said firmly. “You can do this.”

Dust peered at Paps and gritted his teeth. He grabbed Horror’s hand. Together, they stepped into a shortcut.

Whatever Ink was laying on was hard and cold. Points of pain radiated from his hip, his shoulder, his neck, and his skull, the last of which throbbed terribly. Ink tried to reach up and feel his head, only to realize his hands were bound at the wrists in front of his body.

Memory rushed back to him and his eye sockets snapped open. Thankfully, his mask remained on, hiding his expression and allowing him to briefly observe his surroundings. He was in what must be the throne room in Horrortale. The Gang had been fighting Corrupted in Horrortale's Snowdin until they were separated. Ink found Paprika, who had been hurt and the Royal Guard’s partner had knocked him unconscious.

Fortunately, skeleton monsters were not built like humans or he would be in trouble for being knocked out for so long. Also fortunately, he could feel that the Corrupted had been contained (Nightmare’s work?) Unfortunately, Ink had bigger things to worry about than a possible head injury.

Queen Undyne sat atop her throne, her spear held in one of her hands and her lip curled into a sneer as she glared down at Paprika. The golden flowers that had once filled the throne room were long dead, leaving it colorless and dull. Horror’s brother was on his knees, hands bound in front of him and with two Royal Guards’ swords to his throat. To the left of the throne, bound in so many chains that Ink could hardly see the blue of his coat, was Killer.

Ink focused on him instantly, alarmed by the ragged gasps that was Killer's breathing and the thick dribbles of black liquid that dripped from his eyes, nasal cavity, and mouth. The armored Royal Guard beside him had their spear pointed at the back of his skull. Ink had no doubt that he also had a weapon directed at him.

Undyne had not realized he was conscious yet. Her eye moved from Paprika as Killer gave a wet-sounding cough. "You like that, huh? Determination suppressant. Alphys made it after the last human brat abandoned us. Before Sans murdered her."

Killer gave another rattling cough. His skull lolled slightly, seemingly out of pain, but Ink saw the subtle shake of his head. He knew Ink was awake. Ink miserably forced his magic not to reach out to heal.

“Sans did not kill Alphys.” Paprika said quietly.

“He just put a bone attack through her skull and lobotomized her.” Undyne snarled.

“Yes.” Paprika said steadily. “But Sans did not kill her.”

The arm of the throne creaked ominously as Undyne’s hand clenched around it. “He might as well have. Dammit, you’re still so naïve, Papyrus. You don’t even know your brother is working for a gang of murderers, do you?”

Paprika’s jaw clenched. “I am aware that he is working for Nightmare, Undyne. Just like these Guards are working for you. It hurts me that Sans has to go to such lengths to help us.”

The “unlike you” was not said. It did not need to be.

Ink forced his body to remain limp and not flinch as Undyne struck Paprika. His magic immediately identified the loss of a tooth as Paprika slumped over, only to be yanked back up by one of the Guards. Killer began to twitch, laughing softly to himself as more and more blackness leaked from his eyes and mouth.

Undyne ignored him as she sneered at Paprika. “You betrayed the Royal Guard. You abandoned me.”

“I was never part of the Royal Guard.” Paprika said steadily. “I was your friend. Until I became your punching bag.”

Queen Undyne was silent. For a moment, Ink hoped he saw regret on her face. Then it was gone. “Arc is awake. Bring him to me.”

Ink did not have time to react before he was grabbed by the two armored Guards that stood over him. Paprika’s blank mask cracked, revealing his unease as the two large Knight Guards kept their weapons to his throat. Ink’s own Guards towered over him as they grabbed his arms, forcing him to stand before the Queen.

Queen Undyne’s face was expressionless as she stared down at him but her Level of Violence flickered in the edge of Ink’s vision. It was far from the highest Ink had seen but while the Gang’s was a statement of fact, hers felt like a warning.

“Did you know there’s a bounty to bring you in alive?” The question sounded pleasant and almost conversational. It did not match the icy look in her eye. “The Omega Timeline is very interested in capturing you.”

Ink did not know that. He remained silent even as a chill went up his spine.

Killer spoke up, laughing despite it causing another stream of dark liquid to trickle down his chin. “So you’re dealing with the Omega Timeline too, huh? Because Core Frisk sure came running to help when Horrortale was starving. That was sarcasm, by the way.”

Undyne acted as though Killer had not spoken. “Let’s have a look at you, Arc.” She rose from her throne and pointed her spear at Paprika’s neck as the Royal Guards stepped back slightly. “Take off the mask or I take off his head.”

Ink reached up only to freeze as Paprika grunted in pain. He felt a blade against his own back but was more concerned by Paprika’s predicament than his own.

“Really?” Undyne growled. “You’re going to agree that easily? Yeah right. You can’t trick me.”

“I’m not.” Ink said steadily.

Undyne watched him as he carefully removed his owl mask, keeping it in his hand so she did not think he was trying something if he tried to attach it to his belt.

“Drop it.” Undyne commanded.

Ink dropped the mask. It hit the stone floor with a metallic clank. Afraid to move too quickly, Ink slowly raised his head and met Undyne’s stare.

“Summon your soul.” Queen Undyne demanded.

Mindful of the swords pointed at Paprika’s neck, Ink did as she commanded without covering it with his black magic.

Several complex expressions flashed across Undyne’s face. Rage, confusion, shock, and finally disbelief. “Your LV is one?”

Ink had not even noticed her CHECKing him. He read his own CHECK and was relieved to see that although his LV was exposed, it still read “Arc” and the rest of the categories were blurred.

“He’s a Healer, Undyne.”

Ink looked at Paprika, eye sockets going wide with hurt until he realized that Paprika did not say it to expose him, but to help him. The Royal Guard that stood over Killer caught sight of Ink's betrayed expression and shifted in place. His stiff posture screamed his discomfort. Ink recognized the one that had approached him and Paprika at the border (presumably before his partner attacked Paprika again and knocked Ink out). He had seen Ink heal. Why hadn’t the Guard mentioned it to his Queen?

“What, did the Gang kidnap one or something?” Undyne’s tone was mocking but there was a bit of doubt there. She lowered her spear, pointing it at Paprika’s arm. “Prove it.”

A slash of the weapon sent a cry of pain from Paprika. Killer tried to lunge forward but slumped over on the ground, retching. Ink reacted to the injuries on instinct, reaching out with his bound hands and summoning his green magic. Undyne watched with a blank expression as Ink carefully healed the slice she had left on Paprika’s arm. She did not notice the small blob of magic that had slipped to Killer.

Once Undyne saw Ink was successful, her expression twisted again, contorting with her rage. Ink put together what was happening. Undyne had been told about a supposed threat from the Omega Timeline and wanted to prove herself (and her own righteousness) by capturing it. But instead of finding some great threat, she found a Healer with a Level of Violence of one. Instead of finding a terrible enemy she could defeat, she found a pacifist that happened to be a friend of the Sans she despised.

Normally, Ink would try to talk her through her problems like he did with Flowey. However, normally, Horror’s brother and Killer were not being menaced by weapons. Ink did not know what happened with Undyne and Horror but he suspected that Undyne was so volatile that anything she did not want to hear would be responded to with violence. It would be best to figure out a way out of this without antagonizing her further.

Killer did not get that message as laughed in her face. "Would you look at that? You decided to attack the Healer for revenge. What an honorable and shining beacon of justice you are…"

Undyne sneered at him with open disgust. "You're one to talk."

From where he lay, Killer cocked his head jauntily and winked at her. "Eh. I don't pretend to be a good person."

Undyne turned to him, teeth bared in a snarl. "Talk back to me again and I'll make you regret it."

“Oh, I’m so scared!” Killer mocked even as another stream of toxic Determination dripped down his chin. It made him look unhinged.

Undyne’s features darkened. Her eye locked onto Ink, who was still being held by the two Guards. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt. Healer or not, forced to work for him or not, the Gang are evil. You don't understand what kind of monster Horror is. The innocents he’s destroyed."

"You're the only one attackin' an innocent right now." Killer growled. It might not have been so shocking if not for how he altered his voice. If Ink was not looking at him, he might have believed it was Horror who had spoken.

Undyne’s expression went blank. “Stop. Talking.”

Killer sneered at her. “Make me.”

Undyne said nothing. She stepped up in front of Ink, still staring at Killer from where he was chained and guarded by the wall. Her arm flicked out, spear in hand, but it did not fly forward like everyone expected.

The tip slashed across Ink’s throat.

There was a moment of stunned silence. Killer, Paprika, and the Royal Guards stared in shock as black blood blossomed on Ink’s neck. Ink himself felt no pain at first. His confusion overrode any other signals as his mind tried and failed make sense of what happened. Instead it denied the truth, felt a vague sense of disappointment that the reinforcements on his collar did absolutely nothing, and wondered how and why he had upset Killer this time. Reality set in a moment later as warmth trickled down his front.

"I warned you." Undyne said levelly.

She waved her hand and the two giant Guards holding Ink released him, letting him fall to the ground at the base of the throne. Ink shuddered briefly, still too stunned to do more than shake as pain lanced through his neck.

Paprika screamed, straining against the Guards’ holds as he tried desperately to get to Ink. The anguished sound jolted Ink out of his shock and he pressed his hands to his neck, trying to keep calm. The wound was not too deep, having avoided completely severing his airway, but Ink resisted the instinct to cough, knowing it would cause further strain.

Killer’s breathing was ragged and more black liquid poured from his eye sockets than usual. Ink could sense the Corruption flickering through his codes. Was he about to go Stage Three again? One of the Royal Guards walked up to Killer and jabbed a syringe into his neck. Killer shuddered briefly and went limp but his smile widened. Only Ink could hear his fervent whispers.

“I’llkillyouI’llkillyouI’llkillyou.”

One of the Guards that had been holding Ink was shoved away as the Guard from the border pushed between them. He yanked off his gauntlets and gently put his hands where Ink’s were, helping to slow the flow of blood.

“What are you doing?” Undyne asked, voice cold with apathy.

“You need him alive, my Queen.” the Guard said tightly.

Undyne had no mercy for any of them. "He’ll be fine. Go on, Healer. Heal yourself so I can do it again."

Ink had no choice but to obey. The slash was not so deep that it would be fatal but any attempts to talk caused black blood to bubble up out his mouth.

Killer’s ragged breathing became quiet laughter.

Undyne did not try to hide her disgust. “You’re teammate is bleeding and you’re laughing. Typical.”

Killer kept on laughing. His smile was so wide it looked like it would hurt, his teeth were drenched in black, and his empty sockets were huge and unblinking.

As Ink carefully continued to heal his throat, he felt familiar magic approaching and relaxed. Unfortunately, he was not the only one to realize who was coming. Undyne’s cold expression shifted into a brief look of alarm before she glared once again. She loomed over Ink and grabbed him. For a second, it felt like the Guard tried to hold onto him, but he stopped resisting his Queen.

Knowing she would take any excuse to claim he was preparing an attack, Ink raised his bound hands away from his throat and kept them still as Undyne dragged him up by the back of his neck. He coughed, spitting up a bit of black blood, and her lip curled in disgust. She shoved him onto his knees before the throne with his back to her and put her spear between his shoulder blades. Ink calculated the angle and realized that if he was run through, the attack would go straight through his soul.

The doors to the throne room were disintegrated in a Blaster’s brilliant light. Horror stormed into the hall with Dust at his side, five Blasters hovering in the air behind them.

Undyne’s eye closed halfway, giving her a façade of calm, but Ink could feel her tension. “Sans. Or should I call you “Horror” while you’re at work? Where’s your Boss?”

“Cleaning up your mess, like usual.” Horror snarled. Like Killer had sounded like Horror earlier, now Horror almost sounded like Killer: one second away from stabbing everything in sight and absolutely livid. "Let them go, Undyne."

Queen Undyne laughed. It was an off-kilter, merciless sound. “Oh, that’s adorable. You care about your little pet."

Ink was distracted from the healing process as the tip of the spear pressed in between his shoulder blades. Horror glanced at him and his eye lights blazed as he spotted the blood on Ink’s front. He could not quite hide the disgust in his expression.

“Oh, you’re such a hypocrite!” Undyne roared without waiting for a verbal response. “How many have you killed? How many lives have you ruined? That's what your new boss is all about, right? Gathering power? Spreading misery?"

The spear pressed just a little harder against Ink's back and he could not stop a flinch.

Horror’s anger faltered, replaced by fear. “Don’t.”

Ink did not know what to do or how to reason with Undyne. She did not care about the Corrupted that rampaged through her land. She'd let Horrortale die for her revenge. She would not have the opportunity to enjoy it.

“Don’t do this.” Horror pleaded.

Undyne’s smile held nothing but ruthless malice. Her grip shifted on the spear.

“Undyne. NO!”

Ink saw himself try to shield his body with his magic, only for the spear to pierce through.

He saw the spear go straight through his back, out his chest, and stab through his soul. He saw Undyne dispel the weapon and let his body fall, only for Nightmare to appear at his side and catch him. There was no time for goodbyes or last words. Ink saw his body crumble in Nightmare’s arms, his dust staining his sleeves.

The sound Nightmare made was unlike anything he had heard from his Boss , but he had once heard something similar from himself. It was the sound of a soul that was utterly broken. Unlike Ink, Nightmare did not fall to despair. He fell to rage, his codes warping as he was completely consumed by his Corruption.

The blast of Negativity turned anyone who was not a member of the Gang to dust, including Queen Undyne and Horror’s brother. Horror shattered, laughing and screaming as he watched those he sought to protect die. The negativity from the Gang was so great that Nightmare’s aura spread out further, swallowing Horrortale whole.

Only the Gang emerged from the calamity. They might as well have died there as well.

He saw Killer laughing maniacally as he hunted down Red.

He saw Horror's axe embedded in Blue's chest.

He saw Cross smile jaggedly, eye lights glowing purple as a partially obscured rectangle of purple magic flickered by his hand and he made Core Frisk disintegrate in a Blaster's purple light.

He saw Nightmare kill Dream with a single blow, his golden apple soul shattering before his body dusted.

He watched the Gang fall one by one as they clashed with Error until only Nightmare remained.

Corrupted Destruction and Negativity collided.

The Multiverse finally died with them.

All of the “visions” took less than a second. Ink knew they weren't concepts created by his terrified mind. They were imprints in the air and lines attaching to the codes. If Ink died here, they would be fate. It would be the end. Not just for Ink, but everything. If Ink died like this, Nightmare would Corrupt. He and the Gang would go on to destroy almost everything in the Multiverse, themselves included, and Nightmare and Error would finish the rest as they fell.

Ink was still trying to heal his throat and could not shout a warning to the others or reason with Undyne. His shield would not hold up against the pure intent to kill that was in her magic weapon. No codes hovered around him to help him escape her grasp. His green magic would not work fast enough to stave off the fatal blow. Nightmare would not arrive in time, and the others were locked in a standoff by Undyne’s threat, still believing that she would not go so far.

They were hesitant to attack because they cared. They wanted Ink to live. If Ink died here, the Gang would die. The Star Sanses would die. The Multiverse would die. Ink could not let that happen. He had to protect the Gang, the Stars, Horrortale, everyone.

Desperate, Ink reached out with everything he had and silently cried out for help.

Someone answered.

“I’m here.”

Ink released a shaky gasp. Dust’s eye lights flicked towards him, fading to a terrified white, not knowing about the sense of peace that chased away the fear in Ink’s soul.

It was the other. The one that stopped the white light from destroying Ink’s soul. The one that had tried to talk to him in the golden, misty world. He had returned. Ink recognized the voice now. It was stronger than his. Less raspy. Older. Wiser. It was his own voice, but it was not him. It was an altered reflection through the mirror.

“Your Multiverse is going to die.”

Ink knew that. He saw. Instead of memories flashing before him as he faced death, the future showed itself to him.

“You saw a script. Many things are scripted, but not all scripts are set in stone. There are always choices. There are always more paths than one.”

Ink did not understand what all that meant. He just knew that he could not let everyone die.

“We won’t. I will lend you my strength. We’ll protect them. It’s going to be okay.”

Ink felt echoes of strain in his soul and had to stop himself from nodding. There was no fear, only a quiet acceptance. Do what you have to. Tear apart my soul.

Orange-tinged shock, blue-tinged sorrow, and a miasma of colors that painted their utter rejection of Ink’s desperate offer curled through Ink’s consciousness like a warm hand on his cheek.

“I told you to protect your soul, young one. I have no intention of taking it or your life. Your soul will be fine. Though… I’m not sure how this will affect you. You’re not ready to use this much power.”

For the first time, the confident presence sounded a bit less certain. Ink could feel his soul pulsing. He could see it too, flickering in front of his chest like a frightened candle struggling to survive a strong wind.

Paprika was being held down by two Guards, bruises on his face as he struggled to break free. Killer was limp, half-closed eye sockets leaking a viscous black liquid as he failed to push himself up. Dust was locked in place, a bone attack clutched in his hand as he tried not to look desperate. Horror had his hand raised in a way that could precede an attack or surrender, his teeth clenched so tightly that his jaw trembled.

Ink was not sure how much time had passed. He could not recall what had been said. All he knew was that he needed to act. Now.

I don’t care what happens to me. Help me protect them.

The other hesitated. His concern for Ink’s safety flowed through him as gentle cyans and soft golds.

“All you ever did was make our lives hell!” Queen Undyne roared at Horror. “Here, and everywhere else in the Multiverse. So this? This is justice. This is karmic retribution.”

“Don’t do this.” Horror pleaded.

Undyne’s smile held nothing but ruthless malice. Her grip shifted on the spear.

“Undyne. NO!”

The decision was made. Codes flickered in the air and a warm presence enveloped Ink’s soul. For the briefest moment, the cracked white surface changed into a shimmering prism of colors.

"Don’t worry, Ink. We will protect them together."

Ink felt a sharp pain in his back.

The tip of the spear emerged from Ink's chest and pierced through his soul.

Time seemed to freeze as Nightmare and Cross appeared in the throne room of Horrortale’s Castle. The hush that fell over the monsters within seemed to linger in the air, cloying and numbing like a poison as it slowly drained them of life. Nightmare caught sight of what was waiting for them and halted in place, too shocked to move. For a heartbeat, the only emotion he sensed was Undyne’s flash of regret.

It faded quickly and she dispelled the spear in Ink’s chest.

Nightmare lunged forward on instinct, reaching out, and caught Ink before he could fall to the cold stone floor. He held him close, tentacles curling forward as though to shield him from further harm.

The air distorted and an unfamiliar Gaster Blaster opened its jaws. Paprika screamed alongside the violent, shrieking light of his Blaster, his howls echoing in the shocked silence of the hall as it fired upon the Queen. Undyne stumbled back, thrown off by the attack but not killed.

Before the Gang could go after her, Paprika lunged with two sharp bone attacks in his hands. Nightmare caught onto his grief and guilt but did not twist it into a mind-consuming rage. Paprika did not need or want his strength as years of abuse, torment, and loss exploded into a whirlwind of sorrow.

Undyne did not stand and fight him. She shouted for her Guards and fled with Paprika giving chase.

Nightmare did not care about her. The rest of the Gang did not either, though Horror agonized about not immediately pursuing his brother. He, like Nightmare, seemed to understand Paprika needed to do this on his own. The Gang ran to Nightmare, gathering around as close as they dared as their fear became a storm around him.

Ink’s eye sockets were closed. His blood dripped down onto Nightmare’s legs and became a steadily growing puddle on the cold stone floor. Ink must be unconscious because Nightmare could not sense anything from him but he was not dusting. Ink wasn't dusting.

There’s still time.

Find Dream.

Nightmare tried to rise, only for a cracking sound to freeze him once again. He looked down, clinging to Ink as though that would make him stay, only to be faced with the sight of Ink’s soul. Undyne’s spear had pierced right through it, leaving another visible gash, but it did not crumble away or shatter.

Dark liquid bubbled out from the cracks and gouges in the soul. Not harshly like a boiling spring, but gently like a small, burbling stream. If not for the color, Nightmare would think it was healing magic.

“B-Boss?” Dust stammered, his horror lashing out at Nightmare’s senses. Did he think Nightmare was doing this?

The pure black liquid covered Ink's soul and hardened. Then, light rippled across it as it shimmered into flickering colors, like a rainbow reflected in water.

Ink’s eye sockets opened. His right eye light glowed a familiar green. His left gleamed with prismatic colors that matched the colors covering his soul. The green eye light was unfocused as it moved with the other but the shifting one was very aware as it zeroed in on Nightmare’s face. Nightmare watched in stunned silence as the eye light turned into a yellow star, a cyan moon, and finally, a silver diamond.

Ink’s not alone.

Nightmare could not explain the unease that haunted him at that thought. Like he did with all potential threats, he CHECKed them.

Name: Ink (Nicknames: Shield, Arc (Arcana))

Original Universe: _____tale [Blanktale/I̸͍̓n̴͍͊k̵̢̑t̷̡͐a̵̰̚l̷̮̈́ẻ̸̳] (DATA UNAVAILABLE/ILLEGIBLE)

Role: Medic/Healer, P̵͇͒r̷̝͛ǒ̵͖ț̷̋ẹ̷͑c̴̣͗t̴͙̂o̸̦͂r̶͙̆ ̸̮͛o̶̖̓f̸̦̓ ̸̺̑C̴̞̓r̸̟͊ē̶̮a̷͍͋ṭ̵͋i̸̺̿ọ̷̓n̴̳̈́ [DATA ILLEGIBLE]

Height: 3.8ft

LV: 1

EXP: [DATA INACCESSIBLE]

HP: [DATA INACCESSIBLE]

ATK: [DATA INACCESSIBLE]

DEF: [DATA INACCESSIBLE]

Abilities: Green magic, Black magic, Codes, [DATA INACCESSIBLE]

CHECK

* More important than he understands.

* A dedicated Healer.

* Called out for help.

* Won’t let anyone die.

A separate CHECK hovered beside Ink’s like two entities were being CHECKED at once instead of one.

Name: ??? [DATA BLOCKED]

Original Universe: [DATA BLOCKED]

Role: P̴̧̀r̶͇̍o̷̮̎t̶̬̏e̴̛̩c̵̯̄t̸̩̓o̸̦͐r̵͘ͅ ̵͉̈o̸̬͛f̷̢̀ ̸̫͝C̷̝̚r̵̲̍e̴̢͘a̴̩̐t̸̫̆i̵̝̽o̴͕͂n̶̖̓ [DATA ILLEGIBLE] (It’s rude to look without asking.)

Height: 3.8ft

LV: [DATA INACCESSIBLE]

EXP: [DATA INACCESSIBLE]

HP: [DATA INACCESSIBLE]

ATK: [DATA INACCESSIBLE]

DEF: [DATA INACCESSIBLE]

Abilities: [DATA BLOCKED]

CHECK

* Answered the call.

* Far from home.

* You remind him of his “grumpy uncle”.

* Won’t let anyone die.

“Boss?” Cross’s voice trembled as he viewed the CHECK too.

Nightmare was vaguely aware of Killer’s grief turning into a fervent sense of anticipation. Flashes of his thoughts brushed against Nightmare’s senses as Killer waited for Ink (injured, afraid, and acting on pure instinct) to attack at last.

Nightmare did not have the time to react before ??? pulled himself out of his arms. The bindings around his wrists had vanished. He rose to his feet, exposing the extent of the damage done to Ink’s chest, but did not seem to be hindered by any pain. The green right eye light glowed more brightly, flickering with shadows, and Nightmare saw green light deep inside the wound. Killer’s anticipation that Ink and ??? would finally turn to violence turned to doubt.

??? flicked his hand and a Corrupted appeared in front of him. Dust gave a shout, brandishing a knife, but faltered as ??? put his hand to the Corrupted’s chest area. The glitch disintegrated at the touch. ??? lifted his hand up to his face and Nightmare saw flickering numbers between his fingers. Codes. He immediately knew they were codes. ??? had pulled the codes from the Corrupted, made them visible, and was holding them.

Whatever ??? saw made him beam with delight, their left eye light turning into a golden sun. Their black smile stretched wide, reminding Nightmare of the eerie, sharp-toothed grins of Flowey. Yet, unlike with Floweys, this grin did not feel malicious at all. It felt delighted and almost playful.

??? let the codes float above his hand as they shimmered with the same light that covered Ink’s soul. A pulse of energy rippled out. Nightmare flinched, throwing up his arms to defend himself, but the magic passed harmlessly over him. The empty presences of the Corrupted within Horrortale faded away from Nightmare’s senses.

??? looked to him, opened his mouth, and coughed. A thick splatter of black blood dripped down their chin. Horror lurched forward, grasping their shoulder.

“Let me see.” he begged.

Ink often had a youthful sense of wonder to his expressions and ??? was no different. He looked absolutely awed by Horror, staring up at him with such happiness ( It’s good to see you’re safe. ) that Nightmare felt nauseous. ??? noticed. He gently patted Horror’s chest and nudged him away. They turned their skull towards the entrance to the throne room. Or perhaps something beyond.

For the first time, Nightmare felt their distress, doubled because there were two monsters instead of one. ??? tried to speak, only to cough up more blood. Horror was not the only one to flinch. The fearful reaction triggered Nightmare’s instincts like a survival mode.

This creature may be using Ink’s body but ??? is not him, his mind whispered. He cannot be trusted. He is too powerful. He can manipulate codes. Nightmare knew this entity could destroy him with a single flare of his magic. He had to destroy Ink first—

Nightmare did not have time to blink before the Gang was somewhere else. He only had a moment to realize that they were back at his Castle before ??? approached him. Nightmare was still kneeling on the ground, a vulnerable position. He tensed, tentacles sharpening as he braced for an attack.

He should have known better.

There was a brief flare of hurt and confusion from them both but ??? swayed to easily avoid Nightmare’s tentacles and tucked themselves up against his side. One hand latched fearlessly onto a tentacle and they snuggled close to him. It was such an Ink thing to do that the Gang relaxed. Ink was there, but there was also something… someone else.

"Well that answers that question." Cross said faintly. He gripped the collar of his coat with both hands. “…Ink? You… okay?”

??? peeked over at him with one green eye light and one yellow. The left one shimmered, taking on the colors of a sunrise. Cross hesitantly waved. He let go of Nightmare’s tentacle and waved back but the motion was minimal and sluggish. A small hand latched onto Nightmare's, trembling. They were in pain.

“Why did you bring us back here?” Nightmare tried to make the demand harsh but it came out too softly.

Mismatched green and yellow eye lights looked up to him. Their trust curled around them but it was not painful to Nightmare. Their contentment to be near the Guardian of Negativity was startling. Whatever… Who ever ??? was, they also knew Nightmare and trusted him completely. They tried to speak but could only cough. They released Nightmare’s hand and their hands moved but Nightmare did not recognize the signs they were using.

Nightmare felt helpless. He despised it. "I don't understand."

??? looked disappointed. He patted at his neck, making a motion like he was reaching for something that wasn’t there, and his weary frustration flared up. ??? ’s blue teardrop left eye light and sad aura reinforced his distress. His right eye light remained a steady green hue.

Dust spoke up. His voice was a low, raspy croak. "You can isolate the Corruption but you can't repair the core of Horrortale's world."

??? beamed at him, happy he understood, but sadly shook their head. He kept signing.

“I don’t actually know what you’re saying.” Dust said awkwardly. “I just guessed.”

??? frowned. Thick, strange black magic that was like Ink’s but wasn’t shimmered in the air in front of them and shifted into two keys and two locks. The hues changed, leaving one green key and lock and one prismatic key and lock. The shapes of the keys were different, implying the locking mechanisms were different as well. Nightmare still did not understand what he was trying to convey. Dust did not try to translate.

“Is Ink okay?” Cross asked, desperation leaking into his aura and voice.

??? nodded firmly. He gestured at the green right eye light, then to his chest. His soul still shimmered with a rainbow of colors while his sternum still had a green glow within it. Nightmare could see the gleam of healing magic out his back too. He cut off that line of thought before he could think about why it was there.

Horror’s relief was diminished by his nausea. "Ink's healing himself?"

??? nodded again. He silently tucked himself into Nightmare’s side again and went still. Not completely still. Nightmare could feel him breathing. ??? and Ink did not need to verbalize that they needed to be left alone in order for them to focus.

The Gang all knew how long it took Ink to heal Horror. They knew it would not be that “simple” for Ink to heal himself.

The clock on Ink’s glove kept ticking as several long and agonizing hours passed.

At first, Killer filled the silence as he explained what had happened in the throne room, igniting feelings of helpless rage in all of the Gang as they heard what Queen Undyne had done to Ink and Paprika, but that anger soon burnt out into fear and misery.

Ink (and maybe ???) started making soft noises two hours in. Nightmare tried not to flinch every time they whimpered or their breathing stuttered. They clung to Nightmare and he could not bear the thought of pushing them away even though he expected them to dust at any moment.

Plenty of monsters had died at Nightmare's hand but none of his recruits had died in his arms. He prayed Ink would not be the first.

Three hours in, Nightmare ordered Cross to check on Paprika. He took one look at Horror and went through a portal while Dust grabbed Ink’s owl mask off of the ground and held onto it, almost hugging it to himself. A few minutes later Cross returned and reported that Paprika and Toriel were safe. Queen Undyne and her Guards were being held in Snowdin. Good. That meant Nightmare could deal with her himself. Horror’s relief did not last long.

About four hours in, Ink began to cry in pain more audibly and his eye sockets stayed closed longer than they were open. His pain leaked into his emotional field and panic gripped Nightmare. Healing magic was a complex process. So many atmospheric elements could disrupt it. Nightmare cursed his (selfishness) foolishness. He could be hurting Ink (like he always hurt the ones he touched).

"Horror, take him."

Horror was at his side in an instant. Nightmare let Horror be the only one to move, keeping his tentacles locked in place as his subordinate carefully maneuvered Ink and set him in his own lap. Ink's eye sockets opened just enough for them to see green and dull blue eye lights.

Horror took out a monster candy but Ink's eye sockets slipped closed before he could try to get him to eat it. Horror held the monster candy uselessly by Ink’s face and his breathing grew audible, his fear permeating the air. Dust huddled in the corner, so silent and still that he was not even interacting with Paps as he rocked in place. Even Killer was quiet, scratching angrily at the streams of black below his eye sockets.

Cross abruptly got up and fled the room, unable to bear it.

Nightmare's soul burned with guilt. He could not hold onto Ink so he passed that burden onto Horror. Nightmare struggled with that realization, angry with himself for his cowardice, only for that anger to miserably fall apart as he stared at his quiet, injured new recruit.

Ink looked so small as he was held by Horror. He was so still. Was he still breathing? Had he Fallen Down? It was a miracle (or more likely, because of ???) that he had survived getting stabbed like that. What if that miracle ran out?

Nightmare frantically caged his fear deep inside, unwilling to let it out to harm those around him, and focused on how he’d relish taking Undyne apart.

Four hours and seventeen minutes in, Ink’s eye sockets opened. His eye lights were the normal green circle and a pale blue teardrop. The distressed noise he made sent stabs of physical pain through Nightmare’s soul.

“Ink, Ink, eat this to replenish some HP.” Horror pleaded, calling his name in a desperate bid to get his attention in time. “I can’t get into your pockets of magic food, kiddo. Please, can you unlock them for me? Please.”

Ink did not look at him. He reached out, eye lights unfocused, and green magic surrounded his hand. The magic wobbled towards Killer, who swore loudly and grabbed Ink’s wrist, keeping it away from him.

“No.” Killer yanked the monster candy from Horror’s hand and ate it. “There. I’m good, see? Heal yourself, you fucking idiot.”

Killer’s voice audibly cracked. Ink blinked at him lethargically as his left eye light shifted into a question mark, then a serene green diamond. His expression shifted into a determined look that Nightmare knew was not just Ink, but also ???, and they nodded sharply. They clung to Horror’s coat and shut their eye sockets, quivering as sweat beaded on their brow.

Nightmare kept his aura under control. “Are you injured, Killer?”

Killer avoided his gaze. “Undyne had her Guards pump a bunch of DT suppressants into me.” he muttered. “Ink used his magic to get most of it out.”

Apparently some was still there. Nightmare could not sense it, but he was no medic. He could see how sluggish Killer was acting though. In hindsight, it also explained why he had not torn Undyne to shreds when given the chance.

Cross stumbled back in again five and a half hours since they returned to the Castle, wearing his Guard clothes. He stopped by the door and simply sat down, staring into space as his guilt churned around him. Nightmare realized he had been searching for a Healer only to come up empty. It did not matter. They would be unable to help. Even if they could, many of them would let Ink die to punish the Gang.

Dream wouldn’t.

The wait continued.

It took seven hours.

Other than Cross’s brief departures, none of the Gang left. Not to get fresh clothes. Not to eat. Not to sleep. They all stayed in the entrance hall of the Castle and watched Ink. They all sat or paced or stood there for seven hours, waiting for him to die. Somehow, by some miracle, Ink refused to.

Ink (and ???) released a gentle, steady breath, and their mismatched eye sockets slipped closed. A hand reached out blindly and Cross, who was the closest other than Horror, held onto it. The prismatic glow around his soul faded away, revealing a white soul that was even more damaged than before. Horror held him close, eye sockets forced open and filled with tears as he whispered pleas into the silent air.

Ink’s body did not dust. His soul did not shatter.

Two green eye lights (the right a soft circle, the left a bright green hue caught in the shape of a diamond) glowed briefly. The left one flashed a prismatic array of colors before both faded to white. Ink looked up at Horror with half-closed eye sockets and spoke, voice so soft and ragged that they could barely hear him.

"Are Paprika and Horrortale safe?"

Horror began to cry. His violent, gut-wrenching sobs were as painful to hear as it was for Nightmare to feel. He denied his own rush of emotion and focused on calming down the members of the Gang, mediating their lingering anguish and fear so it did not consume them and cause any panic. Horror held Ink close, rocking him slightly, and Dust hurried in to put a hand on Ink’s back, not convinced that he was healed.

“They’re okay.” Cross managed to say in Horror’s stead. “Undyne’s been captured. The Corrupted in Horrortale are gone. For now, at least. Because of you. And your… friend.”

Ink blinked lethargically and hummed. The sound was weak and exhausted. “Prism. He… should have… a nickname, too.” His voice was as strained as his breathing, so hoarse and raspy that it was nearly inaudible. Nightmare could tell he was straining himself in order to speak at all.

Nightmare thought of the beautiful colors that “Prism” had summoned. (He purposely did not think of how those colors had to hold Ink’s soul together long enough for him to heal himself.) He supposed the name was fitting.

“Sure.” Cross said faintly, sounding as emotionally drained as Nightmare felt. “Why not?”

“You have a lot of explaining to do, Ink.” Dust demanded, but his voice was watery and he blinked back tears.

“Not now.” Horror interrupted. “Ink, how’s your HP?”

It took over a minute for Ink to even respond to the question. They all could see it because of the ticking clock on Ink’s glove. After several more attempts to make him answer, Ink simply shrugged. The motion was listless, like he barely had the energy. He didn’t have the energy. Nightmare could not imagine what it must be like to not only do whatever the hell he (and ???, or “Prism”) did to temporarily clear the Corrupted, plus healing himself for seven hours straight. It should be impossible. It would have been, if not for Prism (and for Ink’s own stubborn will to live).

Ink had healed his physical injuries but he was not well. He could barely move and raise his head and he huddled against Horror as though he was desperate for warmth. The strain of what he had gone through left a toll that Nightmare could only pray it would pass.

It took several more minutes for Ink to understand that Horror was asking for some magic food from one of his pouches, and the request was only understood because Cross lied and said he needed it. It took even more time for Horror to convince Ink that he was the one who needed the magic quiche, not Cross.

Ink barely managed a mouthful before he threw it back up, and then some. The bile was mostly black. (Was it blood?) Nightmare grimaced at the sight, a slither of fear curling in his gut as he understood that although Ink was conscious, he was not unscathed.

Horror was unfazed. His apparent calm was mostly real and he expertly hid any of his worry from Ink. “Magic overexertion. Paprika had it a couple times.”

“Mine did, too.” Dust mentioned, trying for a light tone and failing utterly as his voice shook. “Let’s get you into some fresh clothes, okay?”

Ink mumbled something unintelligible, then made a small, distressed noise that caused all of them to freeze. His pale white eye lights were glazed as he looked at Horror. “Paprika?”

“He’s okay.” Horror reassured him again. He gently scooped Ink up and glanced around the room. “I’ll try to get him to rest. If he asks for you, you are showing up.”

Killer bristled and Nightmare rankled at the demand but acknowledged it with a nod. As Horror and Cross left with Ink, and were followed rapidly by Dust, Nightmare spoke softly to Killer.

"Find the one that told Undyne about Arc. They may also be leaking information to the Omega Timeline. Keep them alive for questioning." Nightmare recalled another important detail of what happened in Horrortale. “Take care of the other loose ends.”

Killer nodded curtly. "You got it, Boss."

He silently stepped through Nightmare’s portal, leaving him alone in the entrance hall.

Dust returned with a bucket and some towels to clean up the mess. He faltered as he stared at the puddle of black blood on the stone. All of the Gang had seen worse but Nightmare understood why this was different.

“Ink continues to prove himself to be a survivor.” Nightmare reminded him calmly.

Dust took a shuddering breath, then nodded to himself. “Yeah. Yeah, he is. Don’t worry, Paps. He will be a bit sick for a bit but I’m sure—” Dust cut himself off, a lash of fear going through him as he curled in on himself. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe what just happened. Stars, I don’t know how to feel about this. Cross won’t either once it hits him.”

Nightmare, who had been prepared to reassure him that they would get some answers from Ink, found himself at a loss. “When what ‘hits’ Cross?”

“Huh?” Dust blinked at him a few times and Nightmare saw bits of solemn excitement peeking through his remaining fear. “Oh! Didn’t you CHECK uh… ‘Prism’?”

“Yes.” Nightmare said slowly. “There was not much information available.”

“Yeah, I thought so too.” Dust said. “But Paps saw Prism’s Role because he was nice enough to ask.” Again, his excitement battled with his remaining anxiety over Ink’s tenuous condition.

Nightmare recalled the wording of some of the CHECK categories. A strange feeling settled in his soul, like the brief moment before a plunge into an icy ocean. “And what is Prism’s “Role”?”

Dust’s smile was huge. “His Role is Protector of Creation. And he implied that they could fix worlds too. Eventually. Maybe? Anyway, that sounds like a Protector to me.” He laughed breathlessly, his joy stinging Nightmare’s bones. “Holy shit, Cross is going to flip! After all this time it turns out the legend is real. Who’da thought Ink would be some kind of vessel or whatever though…”

Dust’s smile faded as he caught sight of the look on Nightmare’s face.

He took a subconscious step back. “Boss?”

“You will not tell Cross.” Nightmare said lowly.

Dust’s shock and hurt curled around him. “What? But… Cross has been looking for the Protector for forever.”

“You will not tell him.” Nightmare snarled, voice low and guttural as a couple of the stones beneath his feet cracked. “Ink had to almost die in order for Prism to appear.”

“Cross wouldn’t…” Dust went silent as he remembered what happened with Cross the last time Ink, Horror, and Cross visited Horrortale. “He wouldn’t.”

“He may not be the one in control. We cannot risk it.” Nightmare’s voice regained its usual mellower tone. “I will not lose two recruits.”

Dust’s fear for Ink (and now Cross) crept back up, crawling over his shoulders. His head bowed slightly, hiding his eye sockets under the shadow of his hood. “I… understand. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

Nightmare relaxed. “Thank you, Dust. We’ll hear what Ink has to say before we decide how to proceed.”

Despite the uncertainty of Ink’s health and Cross’s potential future (in)stability, it took effort to keep his tentacles from curling in satisfaction. A Protector had fought with Nightmare’s side. The vessel for his awakening had been gifted to him. It was yet another sign that Nightmare’s enemies were threats to the Multiverse. He was righteous.

“It might take a bit.” Dust mentioned. “I can’t imagine the magic drain Ink went through pulling all of that. He’ll be under the weather for a while. And by that I mean ‘feverish and maybe delirious’. Or worse. Stars, I hope it’s not worse…” He lowered his voice as he spoke to Paps. “No, no. He’s going to be fine. Yeah, he was stabbed… through the soul b-but… The worst has to be– The worst is behind us. He’ll be fine, Paps.”

Dust’s fear curled in the air once more as he tried and failed to convince his phantom of a brother and himself.

Nightmare thought of Cross, desperately trying to grab onto him as they fell through the black abyss despite the certainty that he would die if he did. He thought of Dust and Horror, surrounded on all sides by Corrupted as they slowly ran low on energy. He thought of Killer, shuddering at Undyne’s feet as Determination suppressants tore through him. He thought of Ink, struggling to keep breathing as his blood spilled on the castle floor. (He thought of Horror, bleeding out in the snow because of Blue.)

Nightmare’s reservoir of righteous anger slowly grew, smoldering gently as it patiently waited to ignite.

“Time is of no concern. We can wait.”

Chapter Text

“Try again.”

Aster was not the only one to wince at Doctor Fell’s cold command. Even Gaster, who had remained stoic and reserved thus far, grimaced slightly at the sharp tone. Despite the harshness, Aster did not begrudge Doctor Fell for his frustration. The six Scientists were all exhausted. None of them had left the Lab or stopped working since Aster, Stretch, and Alphys finally got the Multiverse scanner that they'd attached to the computer up and running, only for it to immediately alert them to the presence of an anomalous reading.

When Alphys called in the strange indicator, Doctor Fell and Fell Alphys had rushed to the trio’s lab. Gaster had been called in not much time later and Aster learned this particular Undertale Gaster was one of the Omega Timeline’s greatest experts on codes. Aster had not known code Scientists were a dedicated division. Then again, he had not known codes were a thing not that long ago. Apparently Scientists who studied code were quite common in the Multiverse, especially Gaster ones. They mostly focused on RESETS, SAVES, FUN values, and the timelines they created or destroyed.

The anomalous reading had stayed for approximately seven hours yet they still failed to track it down. It did, however, allow the Scientists to get enough of a record to understand that it may be exactly what they were looking for. More than Alphys and likely Gaster knew.

Doctor Fell claimed over and over that they were looking for another Multiverse. Through the anomalous readings, it was likely they had found one. Aster would be as excited as Alphys for them to have made progress after so long… if he had not overheard that conversation between Doctor Fell and Stretch. Aster had the sinking suspicion the “Anomaly” (Doctor Fell’s term, not his) the scanner had sensed was not only a brief flicker in the “barrier between Multiverses” like Doctor Fell insisted.

“Give it a moment. The new sensor needs to calibrate.”

Stretch appeared bored as he adjusted the settings on the advanced magic sensor that had its programs running through the larger machine. Doctor Fell had quite literally torn the device from another machine to attach it to this one and increase its range. Aster watched static flicker across the screen of the device and wondered how a screen could view the codes they wanted. Then again, they were not simply looking for codes, but for a person.

“Do we still have that magic signature reading?” Doctor Fell demanded.

“Yes.” Fell Alphys’s voice was flat. “I’ve saved multiple copies.”

“If it is a reading f-from a barrier between Multiverses, could that mean magic might be able to recreate it?” Alphys wondered out loud.

“Perhaps.” Doctor Fell said neutrally.

Again, Aster had to bite his tongue so he would not reveal anything about the project to find out about the Protector. It was unsettling to be in the know without anyone else being aware that he was. Aster could see all the little hints that Doctor Fell was hiding something, many of which he would have missed if he had not overheard his conversation with Stretch. The side-long glance that Fell Alphys sent her Undertale counterpart suggested that she, like Stretch, was aware of the full purpose of the scans.

Gaster gave no hints either way and simply moved a few dials. The screen flickered, looping with lines of static that traveled upward. Gaster adjusted the signature frequency dials again, moving them slowly. Aster saw a flash of color.

Doctor Fell leaned forward. “There! Go back.”

Gaster did not appear particularly happy to be ordered around, giving Doctor Fell an agitated stare, but he obeyed. The color flickered back onto the screen. Gaster typed a command into the computer that Aster could not see. After days of effort, the image cleared, letting them see through.

The first thing they saw was a field of green grass.

The second was a bright blue sky.

The third was a skeleton monster.

The Scientists’ viewpoint was too far away for them to see much detail but they could see that the skeleton’s back was to the observers, giving them a clear view of the long brown scarf they wore and the giant paintbrush they carried across their back. They stood in the middle of the grassy field, hands on their hips and skull tilted slightly upward. In the distance, what appeared to be some kind of large castle and a town was visible. Near that town was an even larger circus tent, its distinct shape visible even from a distance.

Alphys’s voice was faint. “Is that another Multiverse?”

“Can we zoom in?” Doctor Fell demanded. “What about a different angle?”

“Can’t choose an angle but a closer look is possible.”

Stretch typed something on the computer but the image did not zoom in. It zoomed out, revealing what the skeleton monster was looking at. Aster gasped in horror as he spotted the wide tear in the sky and Fell Alphys flinched.

“That world is Corrupting.” Gaster noted. His voice remained professional, but his fingers flexed slightly. “The torn sky is usually one of the first signs on the Surface that…”

He trailed off as the skeleton monster flicked their brown scarf. The move was not nervous, but seemed rather annoyed, as though they had been faced with a misspelling in one of their reports rather than a precursor to the end of a world.

They appeared to look up at the tear in the sky and release an irritated huff of a breath. With one smooth motion, they took the paintbrush off of their back and flicked it. What looked like a dark liquid (maybe ink?) flowed from the end of the paintbrush and shimmered into a prismatic rainbow of colors. The array of colors then shifted into a blue hue that matched the sky above. The magic hovered upward to touch the tear, sinking into it, and the glitches vanished all at once, dissipating peacefully. The team of Scientists watched, stunned and silent, as a skeleton monster repaired a world’s sky.

“Oh my Stars.” Alphys said shakily. “Is… Is that a Protector?”

“Zoom in!” Doctor Fell shouted.

Gaster nudged Stretch aside and typed in a command. Aster swore he missed a few keystrokes in his haste but the image drew inward anyway. The Protector remained in place. They seemed to be carefully scrutinizing the sky. Perhaps they were double checking to make sure their work was sufficient?

Doctor Fell leaned in, red eye lights burning as his face nearly touched the screen. “Turn around.”

Don’t turn around, Aster thought desperately. A bead of sweat trickled down his skull. He saw a bit of movement in the edge of their viewpoint. “What is that?”

Gaster saw it as well and zoomed out again. Their viewpoint was pulled out enough for them to catch something moving just out of the Protector’s sight. Aster did not recognize the large Sans with the broken skull until Fell Alphys gasped and Doctor Fell swore. On second glance, Aster realized he had seen this Sans on a type of wanted poster the Omega Timeline passed around (though it was more of a “flee on sight” poster). It was Horror from Nightmare’s Gang.

Dread fell over the Scientists as the other Horror spotted the Protector. The smaller skeleton monster did not turn around, too busy checking their repairs to pay attention to their surroundings. Unlike the Protector’s face, Horror’s was clearly visible from their viewpoint. Horror’s slow smile and gleaming eye lights sent a shiver of fear down Aster’s spine.

The Protector was small. Aster did not realize how small they were until Horror steadily crept up behind them. Alphys had told him about some of the horror movies she watched on the Surface with Undyne. Aster felt as though he was viewing one now, dread pooling in his gut as they helplessly watched the murderer approach.

“Look out!” Alphys screamed despite them being unable to hear her.

Aster could not make himself look away. Horror stopped behind the Protector, blocking them from view. Horror was so much larger than the Protector. There was no struggle. They must not have turned around. Horror reached down and picked up the Protector. Aster flinched as he saw the brief kick of a leg before Horror…

…plopped down in the grass with the Protector in his lap. He hunched over, arms wrapped around the smaller skeleton he held, and the Scientists watched in stunned disbelief as the Protector was teasingly restrained (hugged?) by their enemy.

Gaster said what they were all thinking. “What in the Multiverse is this?”

“Not this Multiverse.” Stretch quipped but his jaw was agape with surprise.

The disbelief grew as Horror leaned over, likely so his chin rested on top of the Protector’s skull. The other skeleton was so small compared to him that they were completely hidden from view. There was no audio and they could not see Horror’s face anymore, but the way he reached up and playfully poked the Protector in the side of the head (and received what was likely an elbow to the ribs in retaliation if his flinch was any indicator) made Aster’s soul ache with a mixture of grief and wistful nostalgia. It reminded him of how he once interacted with his younger brothers.

Suddenly, the other Horror’s skull tipped like he was listening to something and he stiffened. In one smooth motion he got up, set the Protector down, tore off his blue jacket, and threw it over the Protector, completely hiding them from view. The jacket was so large on them that it went down to the lower parts of their shins and the hood covered their face with only a tiny sliver of their chin still exposed.

A hand with a brown, fingerless glove emerged from the too-long sleeve and reached up to push the hood back but Horror held onto it and kept it over the Protector’s face as he held them close to him. He glanced around, eye lights burning with a dangerous light, and Aster saw a glimpse of the ferocious Gang member the Omega Timeline feared.

"What are you doing?" Doctor Fell shouted as though the other Horror would be able to hear him. "Let us see them!"

Two more skeletons rushed into sight and the lab went completely silent. Everyone recognized these skeletons. It was impossible not to. They watched in shocked disbelief as Dream and Nightmare hurried up to Horror, Dream’s features pinched with worry and Nightmare’s tentacles lashing with aggression. Their individual expressions were not odd. The complete lack of animosity between them was.

Dream and Nightmare were right there. Side by side. Working together.

I suppose this confirms that this is another Multiverse, Aster thought faintly.

The twins halted in front of Horror, who still held the Protector protectively close to him (and didn’t that continue to send shocks of disbelief through the observing Scientists?) Aster immediately noticed that this Dream was the same height as his twin. He knew of a few of the finer details of the appearance of Blue’s Dream through Stretch and Blue himself, mostly through how Blue worried about his friend’s health and resting schedule, though he also questioned if sleep would even be of any help to Dream...

This was not that Dream. There were no weights bearing down on the other Dream’s shoulders and no tired shadows beneath his eye sockets. Aster knew that for certain because Dream looked right at them with serene yellow eye lights and sharply shook his head.

Behind him, Horror had pushed the hidden Protector over to Nightmare. Another shock was added to the growing series because the Protector did not disintegrate at the Guardian of Negativity’s touch. Neither did Horror as he briefly placed a hand on his Boss’s shoulder, his worried look shifting back into a glare as he warily scanned the sky.

Nightmare held the Protector close, still wrapped in Horror’s large coat, and curled his tentacles forward to further hide them from sight. The jacket moved slightly as the Protector tried to get free of it but Nightmare held on with a sense of urgency that the Protector did not seem to agree with. Aster could see his mouth moving, the words inaudible and indecipherable, but whatever Nightmare said made the Protector stop their attempts to break free.

The Scientists did not have time to process what was happening before one more familiar dark skeleton appeared right in front of the screen, completely blocking their view. Error glared at them from beyond the glass. His skull was whole and his gaze was clear and sane in a way their Destroyer’s never was.

Instead of madness, there was a different look to Error’s eye lights. Aster recognized a protective glower when he saw one. He knew Stretch did as well. As they watched, those eye lights vanished, giving Error the black stare that Sanses were infamous for. His hand clenched and the connection shattered.

Aster flinched, stepping back as he expected glass to fly across the room, but the screen was unharmed. The machine made a grinding noise and spat a plume of smoke. Alphys grabbed the fire extinguisher and sprayed it before anything could ignite. For a minute, the sounds of the fire extinguisher were the only ones in the lab. It did not last long.

“Did we save any footage?” Doctor Fell demanded.

Gaster shook his head. “It’s fried.”

The machine spat out another puff of smoke. Alphys sprayed it with the fire extinguisher again and looked worriedly at the smoke alarms on the ceiling. Thankfully, they did not go off.

“Alright.” Doctor Fell was eerily calm. “What did we just learn?”

“The height and monster species indicates that the Protector is likely meant to be a Sans.” Fell Alphys noted. “It’s a smaller one than the average, though.”

“That could explain why Error keeps taking Sanses to the Anti-Void.” Stretch added. “He might suspect one of them is a Protector.” His tone was casual but his features were a bit too tense.

“That was actually a Protector? The Protector can exist?” Alphys dropped the fire extinguisher. It hit the floor with a low thunk as she clutched at her head. “I-I… I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it.”

“I apologize, Alphys, Aster.” Doctor Fell said abruptly. “I was unaware that we would be able to find one so soon.”

Aster saw Alphys put it together. “You were intentionally looking for a Protector, not a barrier code. That’s why we k-kept focusing on magic signatures…”

“This project is being kept under wraps.” Doctor Fell stated. “What happened here will not leave this room.”

“Is that what our Multiverse was supposed to be like?” Fell Alphys’s normally monotone voice trembled. Her gaze remained locked on the black screen. “Dream and Nightmare working together. The Gang as… friends? And Error as an ally?”

They’re family, Aster mentally corrected her, then scrutinized his assumption more closely. The way that Horror and Nightmare interacted with the Protector could indicate a family-like bond. Horror’s teasing in particular may be the goading of an older brother. Or maybe an honorary uncle, depending on how long they had known each other.

Regardless, Horror, Nightmare, and Dream’s reactions indicated that they were fully aware that someone was spying on the Protector (maybe implying something similar had happened before?) and feared for their safety (a concern the Protector evidently did not agree with, or maybe did not take as seriously). That was not even accounting for Error’s abrupt safeguarding (and wasn’t that a sentence Aster never thought he’d have?) The Destroyer was definitely more than a mere ally to the others.

Fell Alphys kept speaking, ignorant to Aster's thoughts. “They were all together. Dream, Nightmare, and Error... And a Protector to repair any worlds the others broke.”

"That Protector kept them in harmony." Stretch guessed. “Or that Protector is their motivation to remain in harmony…”

“I know you all have been working hard but I need you to write down everything that you observed since the video might not have saved.” Doctor Fell interrupted.

Gaster nodded mutely. He abruptly sat down on the floor next to the machine and stared at the wall. For a moment, Aster thought he might have become dizzy, but he soon recognized the mixture of anger and hurt in his eye lights.

Gaster’s jaw clenched and he lowered his head onto his hands, hiding his expression. “It isn’t fair. Why couldn’t we have a Multiverse like that?”

Aster understood what he was thinking. This group of Scientists, all of whom had lost something or struggled due to Nightmare or Error or both, all understood Gaster’s frustration and pain. No one had an answer for him.

Any hopes that Ink’s magic exhaustion was a minor issue were soon dashed. Three days passed since the attack in Horrortale and Ink remained sick.

Cross’s best guess was that Ink’s body had been unprepared for the amount of magic he and Prism had wielded. It was only a guess because he was not a Healer. Their Healer was too ill to tell them anything about his condition, why it happened, or how to help him. Any of the guilt Cross felt for not even considering what might happen if Ink was hurt and asking for medical advice just in case was soon fully overwhelmed by his fear for Ink’s well-being.

Three days after Horrortale, Ink was still so sick he was mostly bedridden. His fever was so high that his skull was hot to the touch but he shivered no matter how many blankets they gave him. Occasionally he’d cough or gasp, his breathing ragged and rattling, and other times he was so quiet it seemed like he was not breathing at all.

Ink’s eye lights were always green whenever his eye sockets were open. It was not always an indicator that magic was being used but it made it seem like he was constantly trying and failing to heal whatever ailments accosted his body, their glow slowly becoming duller with each passing day.

And the sounds Ink made in his sleep or when he was barely coherent… Cross could never imagine being indifferent to sounds of pain from the Gang but hearing Ink whimper and cry sent him (and the others, though Killer tried to pretend otherwise) into a whole other level of panic. He was not the only one who was still reeling.

The Gang expected Ink to need a day to recover from his ailments, a process they expected to happen through a good night’s sleep. They were wrong. They were so, so wrong. The rapid onset of symptoms that hit Ink caught them all off guard, more than they'd ever admit.

Ink had healed himself but it was not enough. The Gang’s dismissive misunderstanding that green magic was a heal-all “get out of injury free” card had been thoroughly crushed to smithereens. The entire Gang was terrified. Nightmare had to go to each of them multiple times to take some of their fear in order to calm them down.

On day one, Horror moved his mattress into Ink’s room to keep an eye on him. Cross soon gave up on returning to his own room and dragged his mattress in by Horror's. Killer had laughed it off, calling them paranoid. He stopped laughing when Horror tried to get Ink to eat something, only for it to be thrown back up almost immediately.

The Gang were not prepared. They had not bothered to be prepared. And now Ink was suffering because of their negligence.

"This isn't normal." Cross stressed despite knowing he had said as much several times over the past few days.

"No shit." Killer hissed.

He stormed out of Ink's room, likely ending up in the training room again. Horror ignored his unhelpful commentary (and his angry departure) as he laid a fresh cloth on Ink’s forehead. His cheeks were flushed. Not the bright rainbow they were used to seeing but a dull, shade-like gray that resembled the coloring of a Goner.

"It might not even be magic exhaustion.” Cross rambled uselessly. “It could be anything. A cold, a medical virus, a code virus, some damn bio weapon that Goner's Alphys was working on before the glitch…" He scratched at the scar on his cheek. "We have no idea how good his immune system is or if he has one. We're lucky he didn't catch anything in Markettale."

Horror grabbed Cross's hand before his scratching made his scar bleed.

Cross made a feeble attempt to break free as he continued to ramble. “Can Corruption make Ink sick like how too much Positivity badly affects the Boss? Cause Ink was in Goner and then Horrortale as it was Corrupting and now he’s really bad off. That plus the amount of magic Prism did might have damaged him. Plus Ink was stabbed through the soul. What if it did something permanent? What if he doesn’t get better? What if he Falls Down and we’re just standing around uselessly as we watch him die—”

Cross felt a calming chill draw some of the fear out of him and took a few steadying breaths, only realizing that he’d been on the verge of hyperventilating as the black spots receded from his vision. He was too tired to feel uncomfortable about Nightmare using his aura on him. Cross shoved his hood up and did not look at the doorway. He already knew Nightmare was there.

“Sorry, Boss.”

Nightmare said nothing. He merely slipped away. Cross wondered why he bothered to leave at this point since the Gang of "Bad Sanses" was now a Gang of "stressed-out wrecks who had no idea what they were doing and were probably mere minutes from a complete, unified mental breakdown".

The Gang were a group of Alternate Universe-terrorizing murderers. They hurt, killed, and fought. That was what they were good at. They were woefully unprepared to deal with a situation that required helping instead of hurting. Even Horror and Dust, who had to take care of their little brothers when they got sick, were slowly buckling under the stress as Ink’s health seemed to worsen. Dust even tried to read some of Ink’s medical texts to find ways to help him but he did not understand half of what the book was trying to tell him. Ink was not capable of answering their questions now.

Some of the worst moments were when Ink was silent and when he spoke in his delirium. When Ink was silent, he was so still that it seemed like he had Fallen Down. His body was limp, his eye sockets lightly closed, and his face unnaturally relaxed like he was mere moments from quietly slipping away. Whichever Gang member was with him was forced to wait, desperately clinging to hope until he reanimated again and showed he was still breathing.

Then there were the times Ink was conscious enough to speak. When Ink spoke, the Gang was, at rare times, amused by the inane rambling that made no sense to anyone but Ink, which was fine. What was not fine was the rest of the time. More often than not, Cross was left wondering if it was the fever talking or if Ink’s genuine fears were coming to the surface.

Sometimes Ink was convinced the Gang members were in danger of being killed. He tried to heal Horror five times despite Ink having magic overexertion and Horror being fine. Another time he had thought Killer had been poisoned. He kept crying out for him, fighting against Horror’s hold and begging Undyne not to kill Killer until Dust physically dragged him into the room to prove he was okay.

Then there were the times Ink kept trying to locate Nightmare to heal him (and if Cross suspected that healing might have less to do with physical injury and more with codes, he did not voice it as he made sure Ink did not try to “heal” their Boss while in this state). So far they had managed to keep Ink from worrying about Paprika but Cross was not sure it would last.

Other times Ink was convinced they were going to kill him or abandon him. Cross did not realize how far Ink had developed in terms of trusting them until his old fears flared up in his delirium and he seemed to forget. Stars, he hoped Ink forgot because if he didn’t, Cross was going to question where the Gang screwed up so badly that Ink thought they would hurt him.

When Ink regained consciousness during the night of the third day (or it may be the fourth by now), it was one of the last scenarios. He tried to get up and would have fallen to the floor if Horror, who had been alerted by the sounds of his movement, did not catch him. Ink shoved weakly at Horror’s hand, eye lights glazed, foggy, and flickering a dull green as he tried once again to stand.

“Gotta help cook lunch.”

The moon and night sky were clearly visible out of the window. The moonlight itself was also visible as it gently lit up sections of the floor through the glass panes.

Cross did not miss a beat. “Don’t worry about it. We’re switching it up today so Dust and Killer are cooking. That means you’re doing Dust’s job of sleeping.”

Ink had said something similar enough times that Cross had a script depending on who was with him in the room. They had quickly learned that, delirious or not, Ink was still hyper-alert to their emotions so Cross took extra care to try not to sound stressed. He did not fully succeed and he saw Horror brace as Ink’s shivering became more pronounced.

"I'm not useless." Ink whispered. His voice was even raspier than usual and so quiet it was barely audible.

"We know." Horror assured him again.

“I can help.” Ink pleaded, voice cracking. "I'm not sure what I did wrong but I can fix it."

Hearing him say that was still as heartbreaking as it had been the first time. "You didn't do anything."

Ink clung to Horror’s jacket. Cross could tell he was having trouble bending his fingers enough to hold on. "I can still be useful. Please don't send me back.”

This was why Cross hoped that Ink was having memory problems. Because the alternative was that he still feared he would be abandoned at the drop of a hat.

“You’re still useful.” Horror said casually, as if that was what mattered (because right now it mattered to Ink).

Ink’s distraught expression indicated he did not believe him. Horror set him back on the bed, covering him, and he curled up under the sheets. He shivered so badly that Cross could hear his bones rattling. The rattling eventually ceased as he fell asleep again.

Cross was terrified of falling asleep. The seven hours of waiting for Ink to heal had stretched into days yet he was afraid that if he gave in to his exhaustion and closed his eye sockets, one of these times he’d wake up to find Ink’s dust.

Horror sat beside Cross on the edge of his mattress and gave him a firm, one-armed hug. “I’ll keep watch.”

Cross tried to protest but Horror shook his skull.

“You need to rest. You’re going to collapse.”

“Look who’s talking.” Cross muttered sourly.

Horror refused to be distracted. “We’ll take shifts. I’ll wake you.”

“I don’t need to sleep.” Cross complained. He reluctantly laid down anyway.

It turned out they were both liars. That wasn’t so odd considering what kind of monsters they were.

Cross woke up to find that Ink was not in his bed or on Horror’s mattress. He frantically shook Horror’s shoulder to wake him despite him having fallen asleep in the chair at Ink’s bedside. The only reason they did not search for dust under the blankets was because they both knew that if Ink was gone, Nightmare would have broken the door getting in.

Horror and Cross split up to search Dust and Killer’s rooms first. It would not be the first time he had ended up there, though if he wasn’t they’d have to run to Nightmare’s office. Cross immediately found Ink in Killer’s room. He was seated on Killer’s bed, curled up against him as he played with the end of one of his jacket sleeves. His whispery voice was barely audible but it also meant he was still conscious.

Cross strained his hearing to listen in.

“—still not very sure about the exact numbers but experience and magical power does affect it, so I’m sure I’d be worth the EXP now.”

Any hopes that Cross had for Ink to be inanely rambling about harmless topics again were shattered with that statement. He stood in the doorway, frozen in place as Killer caught his gaze. There was no emotion in those empty black eye sockets and his smile was too wide to be sane.

“That’s very interesting, Ink.” There was no emotion in Killer’s voice either.

Alarm bells screamed in Cross’s head but he couldn’t make his body move.

Ink looked up at Killer, eye sockets half closed and eye lights dull. “So you’ll do it?”

"Sure I will." Killer said easily. "You’re not going ‘back there’. It’d be a waste. Now, I need you to close your eyes and breathe with me, okay?"

Ink nodded and huddled against him. Killer wrapped his arms securely around him and Cross’s bones went cold. Killer made a halting motion with one hand before Cross could lunge for him and tear Ink from his grasp. Cross halted in place, fury and terror becoming confusion as he watched Ink slowly relax.

“He’s asleep again.” Killer’s voice had emotion again. It sounded… wrong. Not in a “Stage” way. He sounded ready to cry. Or maybe scream until his voice gave out and his throat bled.

Cross heard an unsteady huff behind him and wondered how long Horror and Dust had been there. Long enough to understand what Ink was trying to do if the look on Dust’s face was an indicator.

Horror had a hand pressed tightly over his eye sockets. “What the fuck, Killer?”

"It worked, didn't it?" Killer snapped.

Cross noticed that he was still holding Ink. His fear that Killer was going to pull his favorite ‘betrayal trick’ on Ink drained away, leaving him feeling rather bad that he’d jumped to that conclusion in the first place. He sat heavily on the end of the bed. “We need to talk to Ink about this when he’s coherent.”

“We won’t.” Horror mumbled, his eye lights out. “Because that’s what we do. Not talk.”

“How?” Killer snarled at the same time Horror spoke, though he kept his voice quiet so he did not disturb Ink. “We’re all fuck-ups. How do we help him when we can’t even help ourselves?”

Dust was distraught. His fingers kneaded into the red fabric of his torn scarf. “I’m going to say what we’re all thinking. What if it’s because of his soul?”

“Ink’s soul isn’t damaged because he lacks hope.” Horror explained briefly.

“Yeah.” Dust agreed. “It’s damaged because it got a spear stabbed straight through it. I’m afraid to ask where the finger gouges are from… Wait.” He desperately looked to Horror for comfort he would not find. “Don’t tell me he tried to…?”

Horror didn’t need to tell him.

Dust slowly sat down in the chair by Killer’s desk and stared blankly in front of him. “What do we do?”

Cross did not have an answer. Nightmare (when he did not flee from the Gang’s overwhelming negative emotions, and that in itself was saying something) did not have an answer. None of them did. They were killers and fighters. They did not mend or help. This whole disturbance was not something they could magic away.

Ink kept thinking he was useless but Cross was pretty sure that the Gang were the useless ones. They could not help Ink in Horrortale and they could not help him now. Hell, they had to rely on whatever Prism was to keep their Healer alive. Prism used their magic to hold Ink’s soul together while the Gang could not even help Ink when he was sick.

* You remind him of his penitent uncle. (Please don't blame yourself, Cross).

Cross pushed away the memory of what he had seen in Prism’s CHECK. Prism didn’t know a thing about him. He did not know what Cross had done (and failed to do. And continued to fail to do.)

"What if he needs an actual Healer?" Dust mentioned.

"I couldn't find any.” Cross said curtly as he tried not to remember his desperate search as Guard through multiple AUs while Ink and Prism were (laying limp and bloody and barely alive while cradled in Nightmare and Horror’s arms) healing his body. “They're not worth the effort, laying low, or in the Omega Timeline."

"Should we risk Markettale?" Dust asked desperately. “They must have medicine or Healers somewhere, right?”

Cross’s response was interrupted when Ink lurched into wakefulness. He hunched over to the side of the bed and vomited onto the floor. The liquid was black.

Please Stars please let that not be his blood.

Killer shoved Ink at Horror and retreated away from the black puddle. Horror murmured softly to Ink as he heaved.

“Water.” Ink mumbled. “Need… water.”

There was a clattering sound. The Gang turned to look at Killer’s bedside table, which now had a glass filled with water on it. It quivered slightly like it had been harshly shoved into place, but soon settled down without spilling a drop.

“That’s mine.” Dust said suddenly. “I poured it in the kitchen before I ran here. Shortcut here. I meant that I used a shortcut to get here.”

Cross gave him a blank stare. “What are you on about?”

Dust stared back at him. “Uh.” He hastily looked over his shoulder. “What was that, Paps?”

Horror had other priorities than Dust. “Ink, you can’t use your magic right now,” he begged. “You’re exhausted.”

Ink stared at him with glassy eye lights, not understanding. Horror gave up and tried to give him some of the water. Ink only took a couple sips before he coughed weakly, almost choking. Horror hastily took the water away.

"Oh, this is going to suck." Dust said faintly. “We do not need magic outbursts right now with everything else too.” He tapped his skull with his fist, likely trying to recall what he had read in the medical texts he’d struggled to comprehend. “C’mon, Paps… What would Toriel do?”

Ink blinked at him slowly. "Toriel?"

"Yes." Dust confirmed, then reconsidered his decision. "Wait, no—"

A mirror-like portal appeared in midair and lowered to the ground, revealing Horrortale Toriel. She was dressed in a nightcap and nightgown, one hand raised as though to pour tea from the teapot she held. She caught sight of Ink and instantly set the teapot down, sitting beside him.

“Arc? Are you alright?”

Ink blinked lethargically at her a few times, then slowly shifted his dull gaze to Dust. "Here you go." he mumbled. “I helped.”

He hugged Toriel, who gently hugged him back.

“…Good job.” Dust said weakly.

Cross was torn between gaping and trying not to let the tightness in his chest out as a hysterical scream. "Don't mention anyone that you don't want here."

Dust glanced over his shoulder and nodded nervously. Horror had his hands clenched together so he would not dig at the broken edges of his skull. Killer had gone from seemingly emotionless to looking on the verge of a complete mental breakdown. Nightmare appeared in the doorway only to rapidly retreat again, likely out of the belief that his presence would make things worse.

Horrortale Toriel was calm and poised compared to any of them. She let Ink huddle against her side, rubbing circles on his back.

“An explanation, if you would.” she requested.

Cross let Horror do it.

Once he was done, Toriel glared at him, though her expression was not as severe as it could be. “You could have called me sooner. I may not be able to use green magic anymore but I can still assist using other means.”

Horror’s smile was shaky at best. “Sorry, Tori. I didn’t think.”

“It’s in the past.” Toriel said swiftly. “Just be aware that I am now staying with Papyrus so I can be contacted through him. Some of the residents of Snowdin recognized me, but there have been no issues.”

Sometimes Cross forgot that Horrortale’s Toriel had returned to be Queen after Asgore died and remained as the reigning monarch until Undyne started a rebellion and exiled her back to the Ruins.

Toriel shivered, but took a steadying breath. “I cannot stay long.”

It was not just because Paprika might become worried, Cross understood. This was Nightmare’s Castle. Most monsters were not invited here because of the effects that the literal Negativity in the air would have on them. Not to mention Nightmare’s Corruption…

Realization struck Cross like a blow to the chest. “We’re so stupid.”

“You were unprepared.” Toriel said gently, misunderstanding him.

“No, no no.” Cross said rapidly. “I think I know why Ink’s so sick. He keeps trying to heal here.”

“What are you talking about?”

Cross jumped, not having heard Nightmare come back in. His soul hammered nervously in his ribcage as unease sent a chill through his bones.

“Well,” he hedged. “I’m not sure, but…”

Nightmare’s eye light narrowed to a slit-like shape. “You are sure. What is it?”

Cross could not think of a way to lighten the blow he was about to deliver. “I think your…” Corruption. “…aura might be slowing the recovery process down. Healing requires positive emotions. Ink is surrounded by negativity right now.”

That was an obvious pack of lies for anyone who looked too closely considering Ink had just managed to heal himself at the Castle when he’d been impaled (not to mention all the smaller injuries he had healed in the Castle's dark halls). However, Nightmare would not look too closely. It was impossible for him to miss Cross’s crushing guilt as he spoke, and Cross knew how he’d take the “news”. It was still better than how he’d react to the actual truth.

Nightmare stared at Cross for several long, uncomfortable seconds. Then he turned on his heel and walked out. Cross flinched as the door shut and looked awkwardly at the others. Toriel was pale and shaking from the affects of Nightmare’s aura yet she continued to try to soothe Ink.

“We need to get Ink out of here.” Horror stated.

“Not to Horrortale.” Cross denied before that destination could be offered. “The Corruption is contained but it’s still a negative world.” A world in which Nightmare had left his own (likely Corrupted) magic in the Ruins of. “I’ll take him somewhere in disguise. If the negativity is affecting him, he needs to be out of it. Killer, please get Ink’s other clothes? The purple ones.”

Killer nodded curtly and strolled out.

Dust watched him go and frowned. “I thought you just said you were sure. Now you’re saying ‘if’?”

Cross glanced at Toriel and Horror, who was discussing whether it was safe for Ink to be taken through a portal, then spoke lowly to Dust. “I lied. It’s not Nightmare’s aura that’s slowing Ink’s recovery down, it’s his Corruption. Instead of focusing on healing himself, Ink probably keeps trying to heal him by repairing his codes. But he can’t do it. So he keeps trying despite it draining him again.”

Dust’s eye lights paled.

“Cross?” Cross tried not to jump as Toriel looked to him. She already appeared strained as her body and will faltered under the negativity of the Castle. “There are several herbs that may help Arc– or Ink, if he prefers– recover. I can write them down for you. Can you get them where you are going?”

Cross nodded firmly. He would get them even if he had to steal them. Toriel was becoming shakier by the minute so Cross sent her back to Paprika’s house as soon as she gave him the list of plants. He hurried to get on his Guard attire while Horror put Ink into Shield’s (Killer refused to be in the room in case Ink vomited again). Their distinguishing ink splotch and red scar marks were covered with white.

Dust paced by them as they worked, clutching at his scarf and digging his fingers into the fabric. “Where are you going to go?”

“Aftertale Neutral. It’s positive enough but it’s not one of the Star Sanses’ usual spots. Plus, they take in a lot of outsiders. We’ll blend in easier that way.”

Dust kept fiddling with his scarf. “What if it isn’t enough? What if Aftertale kicks you out?”

“I won’t let them.” Cross growled. “Ink needs to recover and he can’t do it if he’s trying to ‘heal’ the Boss.”

He was about to create a portal when Killer ran back in.

“Here.” Killer shoved another pouch of Gold and a few of the gray communication Echo Flowers into Cross’s hands. “…Give us updates.”

“I will.” Cross vowed.

After a moment’s debate he placed his helmet into the magic pouch on his belt, slashed a portal in the air, and gently pulled Ink’s hood up before picking him up in his arms. Ink’s head lolled against his upper arm but his hand latched onto Cross’s purple cape.

“We’ll be back.” Cross said firmly.

He stepped through the portal into Aftertale Neutral and closed it behind him.

In his arms, Ink made a distressed sound, arm stretching out a little as though he was searching for something he could no longer reach, but the colors returned to his cheeks.

Cross had left with Ink some time ago but Nightmare was too furious with himself to be angry that they had departed without his permission.

Of course.

Of course it was him.

It was always him.

It would always be him.

Ink trusted Nightmare so blindly and completely yet Nightmare's aura now threatened him.

It did not make sense. Yet it did because that was what Nightmare did. He threatened his Gang with his touch and his aura. He ruined Killer's Stages and almost killed Ink with his presence. He was destructive, and all he did was hurt.

Yet he could not let go of the Gang. He refused to lose them. To anyone or anything that would take them.

So Nightmare sat alone in his office and brooded, even as some part of him saw Cross’s claim as… suspicious.

(It did not make sense. Recruits were useless to him if they were dead, and Ink was the vessel of a Protector. Why would Nightmare’s aura harm their best chance of victory…?)

“Hey.” The call for attention was more of a shaky exhalation than an actual word, with Prism’s voice trembling with exhaustion that failed to be covered by his tone of forced cheer. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. I’m getting a bit t-tired. I know you are too, haha... I’m afraid you’ll have to deal with the after-effects on your own. I don’t know what this will do to you. I don’t know what will happen to you. The circumstances were special. So special they weren’t supposed to happen. But scripts can change. They aren’t set in stone until they happen. And we changed it. For now.”

Silence briefly embraced them as Ink focused on healing and Prism focused on protecting his soul.

Without warning, Prism spoke again, the words coming out no less exhausted but much quicker now, as though he worried he would soon run out of time.

“I don’t know if you’ll remember this when you wake up but I’ll warn you anyway: someone wants Nightmare to Corrupt. I don’t know if it’s your Multiverse trying to self-destruct, your Multiverse trying to “fix” itself and making things worse, THEIR lingering interference, or someone else. Horror’s death was supposed to cause Nightmare’s complete Corruption but you were there to stop it instead of having to flee the Castle when the rest of the Gang returned as Corrupted. Now your death was meant to cause Nightmare’s Corruption. These things tend to try to “force” themselves like something… or someone tried to “force” things by destroying your soul after you first went to Aftertale Neutral. Be careful. Take care to protect your soul and make sure no one takes it from you. I'm not sure if I will be able to help you like this again.”

The quiet returned as they both held on , with Prism stubbornly clinging to Ink’s soul to keep it together as Ink stubbornly clung to life and healed himself.

It took seven hours, but it was enough.

Prism’s presence shuddered in his mind, slowly and gradually drawing back.

“I’ve held on as long as I can to keep your soul stable. You should be alright. Don’t give up hope, okay? No matter how bad things seem. Oh! And one last thing… Find the Doodle Sphere. ”

With that final request, Prism had departed, leaving Ink on his own.

Ink was not sure how long it had been since then. The memory remained stuck in his thoughts as so many others became blurry and faded, swirling into a confusing mess of colors, feelings, and sounds that he did not understand.

Gradually, even those sensations faded away as consciousness abandoned him, replaced only by terror and an intense, painful heat that scalded his bones. Awareness left him, lucidity evaporated, and all that was left were the nightmares.

“You can’t escape from me, Arc!”

Horrortale’s Undyne chased Ink through Waterfall, cackling as she brandished the spear she had stabbed through Paprika’s head. His skull was still atop the blade, expression empty as his detached head slowly cracked and dusted. A slash of Undyne’s arm set the Echo Flowers and river on fire, the heat burning on Ink’s bones, and no matter how he tried he could not make himself run faster.

The fire caught his Shield cape alight, burning it and his shirt away, and the binary codes on his upper body were left exposed. Cross emerged from the shadows, screaming at him to die as his eye lights glowed purple. Killer laughed as Ink fled past him, so much dark liquid pouring from his mouth and nasal cavity that it stained his jacket black. When Ink tried to help him, he turned into Horror with a bone through his chest and dusted before his eye sockets.

Error glitched into view at the edge of his vision, his strings wrapping around Ink’s legs to trip him, and Queen Undyne tackled Ink to the ground. Cross watched with glee, smile wide and sharp as vertical cracks formed through his eye sockets and bits of his skull began to crumble away.

Horrortale Undyne held Ink down by his wrists hold scorching and icy cold at the same time. She cackled as he struggled feebly, her weight pinning him down, as his skull burned from the heat of the flaming water.

“Show me your soul, Ink.” Queen Undyne sneered as her eye glowed purple. “Let me tear it apart.”

Ink saw the members of the Gang behind her. Cross smiled at him with purple eye lights. Killer’s smile dripped with toxic Determination as his jaw fell off. Dust stared through Ink as Paps put his floating hands around his neck. Horror smiled apathetically and turned to dust.

Nightmare turned away in disgust. “You’re useless to me.”

Ink blinked and everything was white. He tried to call for help, but choked on his blood instead. It spilled from the wound on his neck, covering his chest, as his soul crackled with horrible white light. Before he could even understand what had happened, he remembered he was not alone this time.

Queen Undyne smiled down at him and raised her spear over her head. Behind her shoulder, Error grinned so widely his jaw split from the rest of his shattered skull. Undyne did not aim for Ink’s head, but for his soul, which glowed faintly as it struggled to remain whole.

“O̴͉͝n̷̫͝e̵͓̕ ̶̘̔a̶̲͆c̸̓ͅt̶̍͜ ̸̝̊o̷͚̕f̵̬̚ ̷͍͌d̶̤̓ë̸̖́s̵̠̓t̸̺͋r̸̨̕ũ̴͍c̷̨͆t̵͙̊i̸̗͐o̶̜̽n̷͎̎ ̶̇͜t̴̹̃o̷͍̅ ̸̩̐s̶̗͋a̵̡͛v̷̺̊e̶̻͋ ̷̜̃ḁ̷̌l̷̫̀ḽ̶̌ ̷͖̌o̵̮̓f̷̜͑ ̵̬̀c̸͕̋r̷͓̈́e̶͈̿ȃ̶͎t̴̳͗i̴̫͊o̶̹͆n̵͈̅.̸̓͜”

The spear came down.

Ink tried to scream. He tried but only small, pained sounds came out and his body was on fire.

Arms were wrapped around him and someone murmured softly but the words weren’t making sense. Ink’s vision cleared enough that he saw swathes of purple shadows. On him and in front of him, holding on as it blended and blurred with silver. He went quiet because purple and silver meant Shield and Shield was not supposed to talk. Purple and silver also meant Guard who was Cross. Cross was the one holding Ink.

Was Cross okay? Was Cross hurt? Was Killer hurt? Or Paprika?

“They’re okay.” Cross whispered.

Ink went quiet because Shield was not supposed to talk (safer that way). He realized he had messed up again and begged Cross not to send him away. Or he tried to beg. He was not sure he managed to since everything was blurry and his throat hurt and everything burned.

“I’m not sending you away. Never.”

That was nice of Cross but he was not the one in charge. Ink tried to find Nightmare because Nightmare was hurting and if Ink helped him and proved he was still useful then maybe Nightmare would not send him back there.

“No one is sending you back. I’ll stop anyone that tries.”

Cross was so nice. Ink was happy Cross was so nice. His silver Guard armor was nice and cold too.

Ink felt too warm and too cold. Everything hurt.

“I know. I know. You’re okay. You’re– We’re safe. We’re all okay…”

Cross tried not to lie. He tried very hard not to, so Ink trusted him. He snuggled into Cross’s arms, feeling the coolness of his armor on his cheek, and drifted off to a more peaceful sleep.

Was it possible for stress to decrease and increase all at once? If it was not possible, Cross somehow made it be through a mixture of sheer bad luck and sleep deprivation.

It did not take Cross long to get himself and Ink to the Snowed Inn in Aftertale Neutral's Snowdin. It was snowing heavily when he arrived. The Inn was larger and fuller than most of its kind because of Aftertale Neutral’s affiliation with the Omega Timeline but thankfully, there was vacancy. The lapine Inn Keeper took one look at Cross and the shivering, cloaked skeleton in his arms and gave him a room key. Despite her quick action, she had no idea just how desperately they needed a place to stay. Hopefully.

Ink's hood had been up, hiding just how sickly he was. Cross was not sure if Aftertale Neutral had any good doctors in Snowdin. He was not about to give the rabbit monster any motivation to find out for him. Cross prayed that the worst of Ink's illness would pass before she began asking questions (or Ink started subconsciously using magic and portals again).

Ink remained mostly quiet as he lay under the thick red blanket on the bed. He woke up a couple times, making soft, coughing sounds and whispers that were so quiet Cross could not understand him. However, the sickly flush on his cheeks had colors again and he breathed much easier as he lay in one of the small beds in their room.

The main problem with their new surroundings was that Cross wasn't sure how to leave Ink in order to get the medicine that Horrortale Toriel recommended. He did not want to leave Ink with a stranger (and he still expected to wake up to find dust in Ink's bed).

The choice was taken from him on the second day of their stay in Aftertale. Ink's condition did not worsen but his coughing had grown louder during the night. Cross did his best to help him but there was still so little that he could do.

Morning brought a knock on the door. The sound sent a chill of unease through Cross. He cautiously opened the door a little to see the Inn Keeper. She smiled at him and set the large basket she was carrying down.

“My sister made too many cinnamon bunnies so I’m passing them around to everyone that’s here. Would you like any?”

Cross secretly doubted that her excuse was the real reason but he did best not to act too nervous (or defensive). Ink’s unknown HP was not the problem (he really needed those supplies Toriel suggested), but some food must be able to help him at least a little. He suspiciously eyed the Inn Keeper as he accepted two cinnamon bunnies.

“Thank you.”

The Inn Keeper did not leave. "I know your brother is sick. He's been coughing. A few others have mentioned it."

"I apologize for the disruption." Cross said stiffly.

“It’s not a disruption.” Her tone was brusque but soothing. “We’re merely worried. Do you need any help?”

I can’t trust anyone here to watch over Ink. “No.”

Whatever she was going to say next was interrupted by a childish voice. “Those look good. Could I have one too?”

Cross’s body went cold. A glance down the hall confirmed one of his worst fears.

This could not be happening. Surely, Cross’s luck was not that bad. Core Frisk did not simply appear in AUs on a whim.

Before Cross could react, he felt a tingle that informed him he was being CHECKed.

It was over. It was over and Core Frisk was here and it would be mere moments before the Royal Guard and the Omega Timeline’s forces were brought down on their heads and Ink was barely conscious, he could not defend himself, Cross needed to move , he needed to get Ink out, he needed to—

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Guard.” Core Frisk said happily. “I’ve heard about you.”

Cross stared at his CHECK, forcing a neutral glare that revealed none of his surprise.

Name: Guard

Original Universe: Neo-Guardtale

Role: Wanderer OutCode (formerly a member of the Royal Guard)

Height: 4ft 7in

LV: 10

EXP: It’s rude to ask.

HP: Ranges from 10 to 1010

ATK: Ranges from 1 to 1010

DEF: Ranges from 10 to 1010

Abilities: Bone attacks, Gaster Blasters, Shortcuts, Inter-AU Travel, Soul Gravity Manipulation, Guarding

CHECK

* Older brother of Shield.

* ATK, DEF, and HP increased when FIGHTing in defense of others (Guarding).

* Lost his world to Error.

* Doesn’t trust you.

Cross questioned exactly when Ink took the time to attach a CHECK to his Guard outfit. Many of the STATS were much worse than Cross’s own but he doubted the changes were code deep. They were merely cosmetic to fool any observers. Core Frisk included.

Core Frisk’s smile faltered as Guard stared at them. “Oh. That was rude. Sorry, I was curious. I’m Core Frisk from the Omega Timeline. Blue and Dream told me about you and Shield. I thought I’d come say hi!”

Of course they told you, Cross thought sourly. He did not bother to hide his smoldering anger. He did not have to act nice and friendly. Ink knew what he was doing when he created Guard’s profile. “I have nothing to say to you.”

Core Frisk flinched. It was a subtle twitch but Cross, who had his guard up, noticed. He could not feel bad. He knew what Core Frisk had done. What they had kept from him. They had not destroyed Xtale, but they nudged XGaster onto the path that resulted in its destruction. Then they proceeded to hide their involvement from Cross. Cross refused to trust them again.

The sound of Ink’s weak coughing drew Cross away from his anger. He ignored Core Frisk in favor of rushing back into the room. Ink had sat up, shivering violently as his feverish, dull eye lights searched for Cross. He latched onto Cross the moment he got in range, still trembling from the chills.

“I’m here.” Cross soothed.

Ink gripped the edge of his cape and pressed his cheek against the cold metal of his chestplate. Cross forgot he hadn’t shut the door until the Inn Keeper cautiously walked in, followed by a pensive Core Frisk. The Inn Keeper hung back, scanning Ink with a glance as her brow furrowed with worry.

“He’s really sick, dear.”

Cross wanted to snap at them both to leave but his worry about Ink outweighed his disgust at Core Frisk’s presence. “I need medicinal remedies for him but I haven’t been able to leave.”

“I could watch him for you.” Core Frisk offered.

The glare Cross gave them was as black as the void. “You’re trying to separate us.”

Core Frisk looked hurt. Cross could not give them the benefit of the doubt. They looked just as hurt and sad whenever Cross, (while under the influence of Dream’s aura) flippantly mentioned what XGaster had done to him with OVERWRITE. Core Frisk could look as sad as they wanted. He would not trust them again.

“How about this?” the Inn Keeper offered. “I’ll send my sister to get them. She’s off work right now but I’m sure she’ll be happy to help.”

It sounded too good to be true. "What do you want in return?"

She appeared thoughtful. The look was too gentle to be calculating. “A displaced group from an Underfell variant is going to be temporarily housed here in Snowdin. Once your brother feels better, could you keep an eye on them around here and Grillby’s to make sure they stay out of trouble? Not the whole time. Just a few hours.”

“That’s why I was here in the first place.” Core Frisk piped up. “I’m going to bring in someone else to keep watch as well.”

Cross’s suspicions about this whole situation struggled with his desperation to get Ink the help he needed without involving doctors and any scans they might do. His desperation won out. “Fine.”

“I’ll tell the Snowdin Canine Unit.” Core Frisk offered.

Cross could not take their presence anymore. “Please just leave.”

His voice cracked and shame rushed through him.

Core Frisk flinched again and nodded solemnly. They vanished, and Cross breathed easier. Ink made another whisper of noise and curled up, still shivering.

“Do you need a pen and paper for the items?” the Inn Keeper asked.

“I already have a list.”

It was in Toriel’s handwriting so Cross did not mind handing it over. The Inn Keeper took it and hurried for the door, only to pause and look back.

“He’s going to be okay, dear.”

“I know.” Cross said curtly.

She smiled sadly at him and gently shut the door.

If anyone asked, Cross would deny how he clung to Ink for several hours and stared at the closed door, ready to leave through a portal at a moment’s notice. No attack came, only the Snowdin Shopkeeper with the medicinal herbs that Horrortale Toriel mentioned.

Another Toriel appeared with her to assist, having overheard why she needed the items and insisting on coming along.  With the vines curling around her arms, it was obvious that this Toriel was not a native of this world. Some might feel bad and wonder if he could be partially responsible for her losing her home. Cross was too ( broken, angry, tired ) selfish for that.

He was nice and got stabbed in the back for it. He held back and was nearly killed by his own brother and friends. He tried to save everyone and everyone turned against him. When he tried to help the Multiverse, it burned him in return.

Cross could not make himself care too much anymore but he’d burn the Multiverse down himself if it took from him again.

Core Frisk watched their vision slowly fade as the medicinal herbs were given to Shield, giving him back some of his strength. Even with their previous suspicions, it was still a shock when Guard and Shield simply vanished from their sight, making the two brothers unable to be tracked.

It seemed that Shield’s name and abilities went beyond a reference to the simple tower shield he could summon. Core Frisk wondered if that was how he and his angry, grieving, protective older brother had evaded Error. Still, it was nice (in an uncomfortable way) to have some confirmation that Shield and Guard had most likely become exposed to Core’s sight because Shield had become ill. (Because it was Core Frisk's job to see things and they were seeing so much less as of late.)

Core Frisk wished they could do more to help the brothers. They wished Guard would let them help. Helping two brothers should be so simple but they had learned that such things were usually anything but. It was clear that Guard and Shield desperately needed assistance but Guard was too mistrusting to accept it, believing any kindness was a trick. That was not surprising. The Multiverse could make cynics out of almost anyone.

Guard had reached that point after countless tragedies. He was closed off and unreachable… except maybe through Shield. That was why, despite Guard’s rejection, Core Frisk could not leave it alone.

They manifested their body in a lonely apartment where a single Gaster was sitting at his desk. He jumped when Core Frisk appeared but smiled politely despite the shadows beneath his eye sockets.

“Greetings, Core Frisk.” Aster croaked. He blearily rubbed at one of his eye sockets as he spoke, trying to make the movement seem casual and utterly failing in the attempt.

Aster looked like he had not slept peacefully in a long time. He probably hadn’t. Core Frisk knew that Aster and several other teams of Scientists had worked nonstop on something for several days and had just been given a week-long break a couple days ago. They had a great idea of what Aster could do during some of that reprieve instead of sitting around and grieving alone.

"Hello, Aster!” Core Frisk greeted with a warm smile. “I have good news. I found Shield and his brother. Would you like to go see him?"

Chapter Text

A tap on the Inn room’s door roused Cross from sleep. He snapped into alertness immediately, cursing himself for giving in to his exhaustion, and carefully rose so he did not disturb Ink.

The remedies that the Inn Keeper and vine-covered Toriel had given Ink proved to be effective. His breathing was less labored and his coughing had ceased, though he still had a light fever.

The positive change must have calmed Cross enough that he was able to rest and fall asleep. He shouldn’t. They were still in enemy territory, even if he had to play nice in order to not aggravate the ones that had helped them. Still cursing his body’s weakness, Cross opened the door, expecting to see the Inn Keeper again.

A Gaster stood in the hall, hand raised to knock again. He brightened and opened his mouth. “Hello, you must be—”

Cross slammed the door in his face.

He backed away from it, breathing sharp as he summoned a knife. The door would not stop Gaster. Fleeing wouldn’t help either because if he approached so brazenly, he must have a plan to keep them from leaving. Gasters always had plans upon plans to catch and trap and torment the monsters they hunted.

Cross did not recognize this particular Gaster, and had not run into him before, but he must have done something to get the Scientist’s attention. He certainly would have recognized those distinctive wings—

The Gaster had wings. Ink had thoroughly described his “dad friend” enough for Cross to belatedly understand who was there. He suspected why Aster had appeared out of nowhere in an AU he had no business of being in.

Sometimes, Cross truly despised Core Frisk. However, if this was Aster, Cross did not want to ruin their cover (and Ink’s potential friendship, even though it was with a Gaster).

He has no reason to hurt us, Cross told himself sternly as he tried to get his soul to stop pounding a terrified rhythm in his chest. Don’t give him one.

Cross braced himself and opened the door just enough to peer through, ready to slam it closed on Aster’s fingers if he tried to force his way in. It wasn’t as likely as he feared.

Aster was a few steps back so he was closer to the other side of the hall, wings ruffled as he awkwardly glanced around. Relief bloomed across his face when he saw Cross and his wings perked up. The look in his eye lights was too soft to be threatening. Unless it was fake. Cross gripped the doorknob so his hand would not shake.

“Hello, you must be Guard.” Aster said rapidly, as though he feared the door would be slammed shut again at any moment. It very well might be. “I’m Aster. I met Shield in Markettale. Er. I apologize for startling you.”

He gave Cross a shy smile as his wings fluttered with nerves. He was so… expressive. So unlike XGaster, who always stared down at Cross with a haughty or apathetic expression (because Cross was just another experiment, never his son).

Cross opened the door a little more. “It’s fine. Shield told me about you. I didn’t expect you to be here.”

We are not in danger. He does not know who we are. He has no reason to be interested scientifically. We are not in danger. He has no reason to want Guard or Shield. Don’t give him a reason. Don’t screw this up.

Thankfully, a wolf monster walked down the hall and Aster shuffled awkwardly backwards, his wings pressing against his back as he tried to make room for them to get by. It gave Cross a moment to breathe and recognize that Aster had made a conscious choice. It must be a conscious one, because most people would move closer to the person they were talking to instead of away to give them space. Again, Cross was struck by how different he was from XGaster. There was no arrogance in Aster’s stances. Rather than expect others to go around him, he politely moved aside.

Aster waited for the wolf monster to enter their room before he spoke lowly to Cross. “I was told that Shield is ill. Is there anything I can do to help?”

It took Cross several moments to process the question. He fully expected Aster to ask to see Ink and was prepared to firmly rebuff him (firmly but politely, because Guard was suspicious but he was not afrai– overly wary of Gasters. He was just a normal Wanderer Outcode. Normal. Very normal with a very normal younger brother.) Instead, Aster made no requests to enter the room and kept his distance, asking how he may be of assistance from a distance.

It must be a trick, it had to be, because people (and especially Gasters) weren’t considerate or nice. If they were, they usually wanted something. With Gasters, that something usually involved experimentation.

Aster was a Scientist. He had been in Markettale for parts, proving his occupation, and audibly confirmed he worked for Doctor Fell according to Ink. Even worse, he was a Scientist that was housed in the Omega Timeline. Yet… he didn’t strike Cross as dangerous. Not to Guard and Shield, at the very least.

Don't give him a reason to be suspicious.

Cross struggled to set his natural mistrust aside because here, Ink needed whatever help they could get. He never thought he’d see the day where he was willing to trust a Gaster more than any other monster in a world. If it could even be called ‘trust’. It was more like begrudging pragmatism. He decided to test the waters.

“Could you get us some food from the store? I don’t know when Shield will wake up but he’ll probably want to eat when he does.”

It was a menial task. An easy one, yet made more difficult and time-consuming because Cross was asking for store-bought instead of sending Aster to a restaurant. It was also an unnecessary one, some might say, since food delivery was an option here at the Inn. Such a task would be beneath the mighty XGaster. He would never even entertain the idea of doing something so trivial.

Aster must know that Cross did not trust him. His smile remained warm and gentle. “Of course. Do you and Shield have any preferences?”

Cross forced his voice to remain steady as he asked for spaghetti and watched Aster head out. When he came back with pasta, sauce, and even a cooking pot to boil the water, he still did not try to get into the room and merely mentioned that he had his own a few doors down. Cross did not invite him in, letting Aster depart with an agreement to tell him when Shield woke.

Cross shut the door, locked it, and stared at the bag in his hands. Inside, each of the items was firmly sealed, with no signs of tampering. A shudder passed through Cross and old feelings of helplessness clawed at his throat, making it feel tight. He set the bag down on the small kitchenette in the corner of the room and sat on the edge of Ink’s bed, putting his head in his hands.

“We’re okay.” he said firmly, trying to reassure himself. “He won’t do anything. I can stop him if he tries.”

Can you? His mind whispered traitorously. Are you sure? Because you haven’t had the best track record. You didn’t even notice when XGaster left triggers in your codes…

Cross wished he had a hood to hide in. He wanted the warmth to cover most of his skull and block out some of the world. He couldn’t have that comfort. The purple Royal Guard cape was safer for them both right now.

“We’re okay.” Cross insisted.

Beside him, Ink obliviously slept on.

When Ink first woke up, all he knew was that he opened his eye sockets and did not recognize the ceiling above him. A jolt of panic went through him and he carefully took note of his hands. Unlike at Undyne’s castle, they were unbound. Ink saw a familiar purple and silver shape in the chair next to one of the beds but rather than be appeased, he was frightened all over again. Why was he Shield and Cross Guard? Where were they?

“Hey.”

A gentle hand brushed down the side of his skull and Ink blinked blearily at Cross. He looked awful. The shadows under his eye sockets were so dark that they looked like bruises and there was a paleness to his eye lights that made them almost seem gray. His hand trembled as it gently stroked Ink’s skull. His scar was neatly covered but his Guard outfit was unkempt, the long purple cape slightly crooked and the armor looking much less pristine than it once had.

Ink tried to reach out to see if he had any injuries but Cross shook his head violently.

"No magic. You're still recovering."

A wave of dizziness overcame Ink as Cross spoke and he closed his eye sockets tightly.

Cross got up and grabbed a mug off of the bedside table. He helped Ink sit up and pressed the mug against his mouth. "Can you drink this for me?"

Ink took a few small sips. His throat ached terribly when he swallowed but Cross insisted that he eat some food. Cross had some leftover spaghetti for him that Ink managed to eat with his help. It felt strange for Cross to be helping him like this. Ink was the Healer. He was supposed to take care of the Gang.

“There you go.” Cross said softly. “We’re in Aftertale Neutral’s Snowed Inn.”

Ink already knew they were in disguise as Shield and Guard but the information on their location was helpful. All of his bones felt like they were somehow burning and freezing at the same time and his thoughts were fuzzy. He still understood he needed to be quiet. Though his throat hurt so much that he was not sure he would be able to speak well anyway.

“The others are safe. I’ve kept them updated. You were very sick after what happened.” Cross used that hard-sounding voice he put on when he was trying not to sound upset. “Do you remember?”

Ink remembered the pain as Undyne’s spear went through his chest and soul. He shuddered and summoned it, staring at the new gash that went right through the middle. Cross glanced around anxiously, shifting closer to Ink as though to hide him, and Ink hastily hid his soul again. They were in enemy territory. He could not forget that. Why were they here if it was so dangerous?

Cross seemed to understand what he was thinking. “I’ll explain later. Your ‘dad friend’ is here. He’s waiting down in the lobby.”

Despite his lingering exhaustion, Ink felt a rush of excitement. Aster?

“Core Frisk recognized us as the brothers Blue met but decided to inform Aster instead.” Cross continued with apparent casualness. The facade was ruined when he scowled darkly. “That manipulative brat only interferes when it’s beneficial to them…”

Ink’s mind was still sluggish and a bit confused but he was aware enough to read between the lines. His fear at their near-discovery was tempered by his gratitude that his CHECK covers had worked well enough that Core Frisk had not seen through them. Maybe he could be as talented as using codes as Prism one day…

With that thought, everything that had happened in Horrortale hit Ink like a blow. But not like a spear through the chest since he now knew exactly what that felt like. He clapped his hands over his mouth and shut his eye sockets as he focused his attention on breathing deeply. He had survived. The others had survived. Horrortale was not healed of the Corruption in its code but it had been contained.

One of Ink’s hands pressed to his neck while the other brushed the front of his sternum. It could have been worse. It almost was. More memories came back one at a time and Ink put together a few more disastrous pieces of the aftermath… along with everything that happened while Prism was with him. The memories did not fade like a forgotten dream this time.

Prism had said—

Prism was—

And his Role was—

Don’t think about it.

Nightmare was far away and likely wasn’t keeping track of Ink’s emotions but it still did not feel safe to have such thoughts, not even in the sanctuary of his mind. He was so glad that he was not at the Castle yet.

Cross looked pained again. “We had to get you some magic herbs to help you recover in the end. In exchange, I'm keeping an eye on this place while some displaced Fell monsters are staying.”

Cross had made a deal for him? Ink did not bother to hide his concern.

Cross pulled Ink's purple hood up and let his hand rest atop his head for a moment. "It’s just a temporary arrangement. I'll be careful. Now, how are you feeling? Truthfully."

The walls of the Inn were far from soundproof so Ink wrote down that he was mostly tired. He was privately glad he was not supposed to talk yet.

Don’t think about it.

In return, Cross quietly gave him a rundown of the week of feverish, delirious exhaustion that had gripped Ink. He did not mince words, though he did keep the references to the other members of the Gang to a minimum.

Ink had read up on magic exhaustion. It did not account for all of his symptoms. He remembered Prism's warnings about how his interference might change Ink’s body and resisted the instinct to summon his soul again. It bore a new scar thanks to Undyne. But at least it was still there. Ink wanted to ask about the herbs he had been given since he should get his own stock but pushed that off for later.

“I’ll have to go soon but I don’t want you to be alone. Now that you’re conscious, you can use one of the gray Echo Flowers to contact me.” Cross visibly struggled with himself. "Do you want your friend to stay with you?"

Cross’s posture screamed that he wanted Ink to say no but he still gave him a choice. It sounded like he could barely force the words out his teeth were clenched so tightly. He was uncomfortable with Aster’s presence. He was more frightened by Gasters than he'd admit (even to himself), though Aster wasn't like XGaster. Ink was sure of it. Despite that fear, Cross wanted Ink to choose for himself anyway.

Ink nodded and hugged him as tightly as he could.

“I… suppose you can give him one of those Flowers, too.” Cross slumped slightly and laid his cheek atop Ink's hooded skull. "Be careful. Don't let him take you off-world. Trust your instincts. If you feel uncomfortable, get out of there. Core must have an ulterior motive for telling him that you are here. Don't forget that."

Ink nodded solemnly.

Cross stood outside the bathroom door to keep guard and ensure Ink did not pass out and fall in the shower. Although it was unlikely anyone would break in, it was nerve-wracking for Ink to be outside of the Castle with his tattoos exposed. His clothes had been washed by the time he was done showering.

Once he was dressed, Cross got up and slipped away. Ink checked out the window but Cross did not appear on the street. On second thought, hadn't he said Aster was down in the lobby? Aster must be staying here then. Ink could not contain his excitement. He felt invigorated despite his lingering exhaustion and… other things.

Aftertale Neutral bustled with life. Monsters from countless AUs walked through the snowy streets. A single glance out the window was enough for new binary codes to appear on his bones. It was as exciting as it was unsettling. Ink anxiously checked his reflection in the mirror but the codes had not crawled up his neck. Yet. It would not be long now. Ink ignored the new scar across his throat, covering it once more.

Cross returned with Aster. Ink caught part of their conversation as they entered.

"—then I will be sure to alert you.” Aster was saying. “I know you are going to be busy, but please make sure you rest as well."

Cross said nothing but Ink caught the guarded wariness on his face. Surprisingly, Aster was not put off by his suspicion. Quite the opposite in fact. His wings were relaxed, if a bit drooping. Ink wondered if he was reminded of his own lost brother.

Cross showed no interest in getting to know Ink’s Gaster friend and remained on his guard as he hugged Ink goodbye. “If you go out, avoid Grillby’s. The Fell gang might hang out there.” At Ink’s worried look, he elaborated. “They’re not an actual gang. It’s just referring to a group of people. Avoid them, okay?”

Ink nodded resolutely.

Cross dithered a moment longer but forced himself to leave. He clearly did not want to go but having a debt hanging over his head was an unpleasant circumstance. The sooner he paid it off, the sooner they could leave without drawing more unwanted attention.

Ink felt a crushing guilt as he understood the danger he had put Cross in but reminded himself that there had been little choice. He was definitely forcing the Gang to learn some basic first aid when they returned to the Castle, though. And maybe he should get a garden with some of those herbs so he’d have them on hand…

Aster sat in the chair that Cross had abandoned. He looked so relieved that it confused Ink until his dad friend reached out and rested a hand atop Ink’s skull much like Cross did.

“I am so happy to see you are better, my friend.” Aster said quietly. “Guard would not let me in the room when I first arrived but I could see you were unwell.” He looked down, fiddling with something around his neck. Ink caught a glimpse of a blue crystal. "Am I correct that one of my alternates… hurt him?"

Ink did not confirm or deny it.

Aster was saddened but did not press. "I am not taking it personally, do not worry."

A tap on the door sent Ink into high alert and he moved between Aster and the doorway. It was impossible for the Inn Keeper to miss the defensive measure but she still smiled at him. Not the blank smile some shopkeepers wore. This one was kinder even if Ink was sure that she was the one that Cross made the deal with.

"Hello. Sorry for the interruption. I didn’t know Aster was here with you.” She stepped inside. “You’re Shield, right? It's nice to see you up."

Ink inspected her palm for debilitating electric buzzers or small needles before tentatively shaking it, ready to pull back and resist if she tried to drag him inward for an attack. She let go of him quickly, but not so quickly that it was awkward. She was probably used to working with wary monsters.

"If you don’t mind stepping out for a couple hours, I'd like to change the bedding and clean up. There isn’t too much in Snowdin but the Library and Grillby’s are always open. The weather is also nice if you’d rather stay outside. Some fresh air can always help after magic exhaustion. Even if we’re still in the Underground.”

Ink did not correct her on her misconception that magic exhaustion was his only problem. He could not explain what Prism’s assistance had changed in him. Not only because it was not her business, but since he could not even explain it to himself. He would have to figure it out by the time Nightmare inevitably asked.

Although Ink’s illness was not something like a cold, it would help to have fresh linens. Ink was self-consciously grateful his clothes had been washed while he was showering. He asked for a few minutes before they’d leave (keeping the reasoning that he wanted to make sure nothing was left behind in case they weren’t let back in to himself). Aster translated the Wing Dings for him.

The Inn Keeper accepted his request and departed. Aster helped Ink scour the room but Cross had not brought much with them. Whatever he did was on him with the exception of the gray communication Echo Flowers. Ink reluctantly left the room with Aster.

Cross was still downstairs when they emerged, leaning against the wall with crossed arms as he waited. It seemed the Inn Keeper had told him about their arrangement. He was not happy to see Ink leaving but did not try to stop him.

"Be careful." he warned again.

Ink reminded himself again that, accompanied by a friend or not, they were in enemy territory (and one of their enemies sent that friend here). It was exhausting to think in those terms and have to wonder if something was a trick. But surely if Core Frisk was playing a long game, they would not have sent Aster? Core Frisk would have sent one of the Star Sanses like—

The front door of the Inn swung open. Ink stared into startled blue eye lights and wondered if Cross was also thinking that they should have known better than to think they had any good luck at all.

Blue’s eye lights flicked from “Shield” to “Guard” as if he himself was utterly unprepared for who he was seeing. He made a movement as though to step back, but then stepped forward instead, the movement jerky and unbalanced like he had fallen into it rather than making a conscious decision. He was far from the biggest monster (or even Sans) that Ink had seen yet he seemed to fill the doorway, blocking the way out.

Blue did not look determined, resolute, or scary like he had when he pursued Horror and Arc. He looked stunned. And exhausted. The shadows under his eye sockets were almost as dark as Cross’s. Ink instinctively scanned him, confirming he was indeed exhausted and likely had not slept well in days, then hastily stopped the scan in case Blue somehow noticed. He didn’t.

“What are you doing here?” Blue blurted.

Running would only draw more attention to them so Ink halted in place, shifting so he was on his back foot as he prepared to summon his tower shield. As Blue stared down at him, Ink could only hope he would not end up stabbed like Horror.

Cross was at Ink’s side in an instant, but Aster was quicker. Before Ink knew it, Aster was standing between them and Blue, his wings extended just enough to further hide Ink and Cross from his view.

"This might not be the best time, Blue." Aster said, and his polite voice was just a little less polite and a little more firm.

Ink peeked around Aster’s wing but Cross pulled him back. Ink had enough of that and nudged his arm away, boldly stepping into view. Cross stayed close but did not try to pull him out of sight again. His scowl dared Blue to try anything. Blue’s shocked eye lights jerked from Ink’s face to Cross’s to Aster’s.

“I swear that Core Frisk did not tell me you were here. They sent me to watch over some Underfell residents that are staying here with another… Ah.” Blue’s confusion faded into a strange look, like he could not decide whether to laugh or sigh. “They did that on purpose.”

“Congrats for stating the obvious.” Cross said curtly. His voice was lower than usual, sounding more like a growl.

Neither Aster or Blue reacted much to his aggression, but then again, they did not know Guard was actually Cross… whose teammate had been stabbed by Blue the last time they fought. Ink was starting to suspect that Core Frisk really did not know as much as they thought they did. If that was the case, he could sympathize with their innocent desire to have Guard work with Blue. Ink also took some mental notes on how not to have the two sides meet each other in the future. Specifically: no surprise meetings.

Blue gave an awkward, delayed laugh at Cross’s statement. Cross looked like he’d been force fed something vile. Ink had no delusions that the two would magically have a heartwarming conversation. Blue might try but Cross was unlikely to indulge him. Especially since, once again, Blue had stabbed Horror last time they met.

Not that Blue knew that. But Cross knew that. And that would easily become a problem. Ink hastily clung to Cross’s arm and met his scowl with one of his own. He stood on his tiptoes and purposely poked Cross’s cheek right below his hidden scar.

Cross gritted his teeth and glared at Blue like he was trying to kill him with the power of his glare alone. “We can talk strategy. Stay the hell away from my brother.”

Blue did not force a chuckle again, but he did not look particularly offended either. His smile was wane. “I’ll follow your lead, Captain Guard!”

“I’m not a Captain.” Cross snapped.

He strode out the front door. Blue hesitated, looking at Ink, then followed Cross. That was a good choice because Cross probably would have stabbed him if he took a single step towards Ink. He desperately hoped they would not end up fighting each other.

What if they were meant to? Would Core Frisk pretend not to know the truth and send one of their allies into battle, unprepared?

It did not seem likely, even if all Ink really knew about Core Frisk was they were the leader of the Omega Timeline and that they'd lied and hid the truth from Cross. It wasn't the greatest first impression but Killer had wanted to kill Ink when they first met and they were friends now. Core Frisk might be less manipulative than Nightmare and the Gang said, just like with Dream…

Don’t. Think about it.

Ink decided to give Core Frisk the benefit of the doubt as well. It was too bad Ink could not try to talk to them. Any of them. It seemed like it would help clear up a lot of misconceptions if people talked instead of fighting for once. Except… Shield was not supposed to talk.

Oh.

Nightmare worried that Ink would let something slip if he talked while acting as Shield, but now that Blue and Dream (and most recently, Core) knew about Shield, Ink understood that the order had a double meaning. Don’t talk as Shield, and especially don’t talk to the Gang’s enemies as Shield. Shield needed to keep detached from the Gang for their sake because otherwise they might be cut off from several sources of supplies. So how could Ink talk to the Gang’s enemies…?

Ink really was a terrible recruit because he was all-too ready to disobey or work around every order given to him.

Aftertale Neutral’s Snowdin was not so bad even with all the white. There were plenty of people, buildings, and moving parts to keep him occupied. More outsiders left codes on his bones than he expected. Except not all of them felt clear. They felt charred. A Nightmarish Negative Tale and Goner had become illegible char marks when they were destroyed. Ink belatedly realized that it was not just surviving worlds that were appearing on his bones and felt nauseous.

“Are you still doing alright, Shield?” Aster asked anxiously. “You probably should not be on your feet yet… Especially in this weather. You've been in the capital, correct?"

Ink nodded before he realized that Aster was asking if he and Guard had been staying in Aftertale’s capital, not if they had simply visited. He indicated that he would rather stay outside than head into one of the buildings. The Library would have so many interesting books but he did not feel like sitting in another room just yet.

What did friends do out in towns? Actually, Ink needed to rephrase that question because he knew what the Gang would do even if they weren’t on a mission.

…What legal things did friends do out in towns? There. Much better.

"Would you like to explore?" Aster offered.

Ink nodded rapidly.

They ended up wandering the streets of Snowdin for a bit to confirm their mental maps of the area before heading to the outskirts of Snowdin Forest. There were monsters everywhere. But no humans, Ink noticed. Did they get sent to the Omega Timeline or Underswap instead?

It made a bit of sense considering the Omega Timeline was the Omega Timeline and Underswap was on the Surface. Maybe many of the displaced humans did not feel comfortable in Aftertale’s Underground despite Queen Toriel’s support for their safety. Or maybe this version of Frisk did not want any competition. They had undone the Pacifist ending of this world in favor of a Neutral one…

Ink remembered the strange Save Point he had seen. Now that he understood codes a little more, maybe he should check it out. But not now. It would be suspicious for him to ask to travel that far (and he did not want to leave Cross alone in case something happened). Cross also said no magic and Ink wanted to be a good example of listening to medical advice for when the Gang inevitably gave him trouble.

The walk through Snowdin was mostly peaceful, though there was an awkward moment when Ink spotted an armored Undyne and hid up a tree. He did not even think about what he was doing. He simply saw her, and then he was up the tree, hiding in the branches.

Aster did not call out after him and instead leaned against the trunk as though he was resting against it. Ink kept still and quiet, praying he could hopefully dodge before a spear came through the bark and out his chest. The Undyne left without going anywhere near him.

Aster waited for her to go out of sight before he looked up. “Are you alright?”

Ink knew his rainbow blush was on clear display. He climbed down the tree and awkwardly drew circles in the snow with the toe of his boot. His soul was still pounding, which was ridiculous since that Undyne was not the one that slashed his throat and stabbed him through the chest.

Aster did not press him as they made their way down the path. Ink appreciated him even more for that.

It was not long before they ended up in a section with several games and puzzles. Evidently, it was a popular area because there were plenty of monsters milling about. Two native Snowdin monsters offered to show Ink and Aster how to play the local ball game. They did not offer any money for winning or ask for any money to play so the proposal was accepted.

Getting the snowballs down the path was more difficult than it looked. Any attempts to make the snowball go in a straight line were doomed to failure. It would zig when it was expected to zag, and ricochet off of the walls with the slightest provocation. A Doggo (who might be from Underfell based on his red and black color scheme) sent his snowball flying over his head and off of a cliff during his attempt.

Aster took notes of the angles and behaviors to roll the snowball into the goal. He received a small purple flag from the monsters and spent Ink’s turn alternating between watching him play and staring at the tiny flag in puzzled amusement. Ink took a gentler approach and guided the ball along, getting a green flag for his efforts. The Fell Doggo made an audible scoffing sound when he noticed so Ink immediately shoved the small flag into the pocket of his outfit.

Ink and Aster moved on to sit by a frozen lake near Snowdin. On the other side, a wood cabin was built by itself. Ink watched a light flicker in the window. A dozen figures entered the cabin some time later and he realized it must be another place to stay for displaced monsters. There was still so much in this one AU that he had not seen, but he had seen enough to understand just how many monsters had lost their homes. Because of Error and because of the Gang.

The idea that had been nagging at him since Cross talked about Dream was more than a wistful idea now. The attack of the Corrupted only invigorated it more. The Gang willingly worked to protect Horrortale and other worlds. So why did they and the Star Sanses always need to be fighting? Blue was perfectly amicable (and maybe even a little nervous) with Guard. But Nightmare did not trust Shield to talk and the Omega Timeline was after Arc. But Dream had been polite and hesitated to attack Arc.

Couldn’t Ink at least try to talk to them? Or would he be stabbed again for his efforts? Ink knew what the others would say if he tried to ask for their opinions. However, Killer said that the Gang did not always need to ask permission to leave the Castle…

Despite the chill, a bead of sweat trickled down Ink’s skull. That anxiety wasn’t new, but the accompanying feeling of sadness was.

Don’t think about it now, Ink ordered himself. Aster will notice if you’re upset.

“Are you still feeling unwell, Shield?” Aster asked instantly. “We can return if you want. I’m certain the Inn Keeper will be done by now.”

Ink shook his head. He did not want to go back yet. He distracted Aster and himself by grabbing two of the gray Echo Flowers and pushing one at him.

Aster stared at the flower with confusion. “Are these a type of Echo Flower?”

He did not know. He did not understand.

Ink hesitated. Shield was not supposed to talk. But that did not mean he couldn’t.

“They’re f-for communication.” Ink rasped, some of the words catching in his throat. “You can s-set a frequency to talk.”

Wow, his voice sounded rough. Rougher than usual, even. It was so soft and raspy he could barely hear himself. Ink did his best not to remember how Horrortale Undyne had slashed his throat. Until he checked himself over more thoroughly, he could only hope that there was not permanent damage.

Aster jumped slightly, not expecting him to speak. His wide eye sockets softened. “You don’t have to speak if you aren’t up to it.”

“Want to.” Ink said firmly. The strain in his throat was as bad as those times he’d tried screaming. “Need to be able to contact you. Make s-sure you’re safe.”

Aster turned away a bit and held the gray Echo Flower close. “Thank you, Shield. I will take care of it. Can you tell me how it works?”

Ink turned to a new page in his notebook and wrote down the instructions. He tore out the page for Aster. On it, he explained how each Flower could be synchronized to a “frequency” using magic in order to turn them into long distance, natural communication devices. The flowers would pick up conversations only when pressure was placed on their petals. Aster’s further questions and clear fascination with the Echo Flowers were a delight to behold.

“Please don’t let anyone take it apart to study it.” Ink requested. Aster had to lean close to hear him. “Only a few are left. The AU they’re from is gone.”

Aster’s face fell but he did not falter. “I will cherish it. Thank you.” He put the gray Echo Flower away and leaned back, looking up at the snowflakes as they drifted down. "I truly won’t take it apart to try to understand it. These kinds of plants are not my expertise. I worked with Blasters back in my world. They were not simple magic attacks. More like… dragons.”

Ink knew that already but he still wrote an excited question in Wing Dings since talking hurt. “What were they like?”

“Many were wild, some aggressive, but others were more like benevolent pets than anything. If a bit rambunctious and over-excited. They would end up chasing their own tails more often than not."

Docile Blasters sounded amazing. Red's Blaster had been nice but they were still magic attacks. Ink wished he could make Gaster Blasters of his own. Maybe they would be neutral like his magic chains.

Ink's good mood was cut off as he felt an unsettling chill. He peered around nervously but no one was in sight. Ink checked for signs of magic and- oh, that was new. The ease with which he saw the mixture of codes in the world around them startled him enough that he had to stop a flinch. Before he could focus on the presence he thought he sensed, it was gone.

The chill crept up through Ink’s soul.

“What’s wrong?” Aster asked him. “Are you in pain?”

Ink mutely shook his head, soul pounding in his rib cage. The codes remained as they were. The monsters still laughed and explored and played. The world did not break as a white tear appeared in the Underground. Aftertale Neutral was fine. It was not under attack.

Then why did Ink swear he just sensed Error?

“Damn Core Frisk.” Cross hissed under his breath.

He could have kept the curse as a thought but he was too angry for that and, quite frankly, he did not give a damn who heard him. The longer he stood here, the more he was reminded of reasons why he mistrusted Core, loathed Blue, and hated dealing with Underfell monsters.

Core thought they were helping. They weren't. Cross should have known the meddling child would not leave it be. Their assumptions that "Guard" would accept a “gentle nudge” to "forgive" the Star Sanses was both frightening and infuriating. He could hardly take any comfort from the continued confirmation that Core did not know who Shield and Guard really were. Blue was dangerous but he would not be nearly so calm if he was playing a long con. Was it too much to ask to be left alone?

The presence of the Underfell group did not help Cross's mood. Unlike some of the other members of the Gang, Cross did not absolutely loathe and personally target those from Underfell. Killer in particular despised Underfell monsters because their vows of violence often did not match their true feelings. They acted tough but often were as squeamish about death and violent battle as many other monsters. They even had potential Pacifist Timelines, complete with changes of heart, which Killer found to be both hypocritical and disgusting.

Cross was not as bothered by their attitude but that did not mean that certain Underfell monsters failed to irritate him. Unluckily for Cross, the displaced Underfell (Variant B&E) monsters that were being temporarily housed in Aftertale Neutral’s Snowdin embodied the crueler Fell traits with all the aggravation that provided. They were aggressive, they were crude, and if one more of them gave Cross that infuriatingly superior sneer, he was going to snap. There was a reason that some joked that the “B&E” addition stood for “Badder and Edgier”. Bunch of wannabes.

The bar was fuller than Cross had ever seen. Several more tables fit the space and every seat had a monster in it from a variety of AUs. Thankfully, only Underfell B&E’s Snowdin Canine Unit was in Grillby’s at the moment. Not so thankfully was the fact that Cross and Blue could not obviously stand guard, thus leaving the two of them to take a seat at Grillby’s like they were merely other patrons, was sawing at the last remaining strands of Cross’s patience.

If I lose it, Ink will be caught up in my mess , Cross reminded himself. I need to complete this job and then leave with Ink and our disguises intact.

Shield and Guard weren’t meant for this. They were meant for undercover supply runs, nothing more. But vanishing without repaying the debt could cause problems later so Cross would do what he must. He was starting to hope that the Underfell B&E monsters would start something so he had an excuse to punch one.

A voice that sounded suspiciously like Ink’s gently pointed out that Cross was on the verge of such a violent outburst because he was stressed and taking out that stress on others would not make him feel better. Cross might admit that mental voice was right but Stars, he was tired. And pissed. He had moved past “angry” into “pissed” soon after Blue started to speak.

“—moved in pretty recently, comparatively. He works with my brother in the Skyscraper Lab so they’re often busy and Aster hasn’t had much time to make friends outside of work. It’s great that he and Shield are connecting though!” Blue finished off his ramble with might have been meant to be a soothing look. He was so uncomfortable that he grimaced instead. “The point is, I can tell you’re stressed about Shield being on his own but Aster is one of the kindest monsters I’ve ever met.” He managed to smile tentatively at Cross.

Cross did not smile back. “Great.”

Blue winced and sipped his milkshake to have an excuse not to respond. Cross had thought he would avoid such a sugary drink but apparently not. He did not bother to recall the flavor Blue had chosen. Food and drink preferences did not matter unless he was trying to poison his enemy.

Blue set his drink down and traced a line on the table. “Look, I know you don’t like me—”

“Obviously.” Cross’s tone was flat.

Blue sighed. “As I was saying, you don’t like me. I understand that and I’m sorry you have to work with me like this. I genuinely did not know that you were going to be my partner for today.”

“Core knew.” Cross felt his eye sockets go black. “They told you about us for a reason. So what is it?”

Blue shifted awkwardly. “I wanted to speak to Shield again.”

“You’re not going to.” Cross said coldly.

For the first time, Blue’s discomfort shifted into something closer to anger. “I think that should be Shield’s choice.”

“You don’t—” Cross cut himself off and went silent.

There was no way in hell he was going to waste time arguing with a Star Sans who did not know anything about who Guard and Shield actually were. What right did Blue have to judge him? None. Cross reminded himself that he needed to shut up before he let something incriminating slip. If Shield and Guard were connected to the Gang, Nightmare would be livid.

Blue did not get the message and looked ready to press.

A half-empty tumbler of whiskey hit the wall above Blue and Cross’s booth. Bits of the drink splattered onto Blue. Cross never thought he would be grateful for an angry drunk Underfell B&E Doggo but here they were. Aftertale’s own Snowdin Canine Unit was not present and Grillby was in the back room behind the bar, leaving no one to deter any misbehavior. Drunk Bun gave a loud sigh and grabbed their drink before ducking under the table.

Punk Hamster was much less passive as they scowled at Fell Doggo. “Watch it.”

Fell Doggo sneered at them. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Punk Hamster gave him a look that suggested they were too used to dealing with this kind of crap before ignoring him. That might have been the end of it if the adult Asriel in the corner had not spoken up, voice quiet but firm.

“Please do not cause damage to the bar. There is no need to act uncivilized.”

Fell Doggo turned on him in an instant. “I’ll show you, ‘uncivilized’ you prissy sheep.”

Cross was moving before the knife was free of its sheath. He stepped between them and blocked the attack with two long purple bones. Both Cross’s purple cape and the Asriel’s green cloak swished from the force of the impact but Cross held firm. Normally he’d use his own knife or other blade, but Guard did not have such capabilities.

“Back off.” Cross warned.

Doggo sneered at him. “Like you’ll do anything. You phonies are too soft to kick us out."

Behind the counter, Grillby pushed up his sleeves. A silver Mettaton with blue accents rose from his seat and opened the door to the bar. Blue stood to the side, keeping an eye light on the other Fell B&E monsters as he raised his gloved hands with a placating motion.

“There is no need for such aggression. We’re all friends here.” Blue urged. He did not summon any bone attacks to defend himself, keeping his hands empty. “Let’s not fight.”

Hearing him say that filled Cross with rage. Where was this restraint when Blue attacked Arc after stabbing Horror? Oh wait, Arc was a member of the Gang so he “deserved no mercy”. Cross did not deserve it but Arc had done nothing except defend himself and Horror.

Doggo gave a barking laugh. “Oh no, it’s a couple Sanses. I’m so scared. It’s not like Sans has to rely on his brother to protect his weak, one HP ass—”

Cross caught Fell Doggo’s soul with blue magic and lifted him off the ground. “Even if that’s true for your version, which I highly doubt… You’re in the Multiverse now, dumbass.”

A flick of his hand sent Doggo flying out the front door. Cross looked at the rest of the Underfell B&E canine unit and smiled with too many teeth.

“Anyone else want to leave?”

“Not worth it.” Fell Dogamy decided and sat back down.

The rest of the bar settled back into a friendlier atmosphere. Cross was about to return to his seat when the Asriel waved him over.

“Thank you, Sans.” he said quietly.

“Guard.” Cross corrected curtly.

“Guard.” Asriel parroted. “A fitting name.” His smile was warm and kind (and reminded Cross far too much of Xtale’s own Prince.) “Could I pay for your meal for you?”

“<That is not necessary.>” Grillby swept by and left two cheeseburgers at Blue and Cross’s table. “<It’s on the house.>”

Even though he had been hired to repay a debt, Cross did not argue the point and accepted the payment for preventing more damage to the bar. Blue did not complain about the offer of food, though he did remain more pensive than Cross was used to seeing.

“I would like to speak to Shield, but I respect that you don’t want me to.”

Was Blue really still going on about that?

“Why do you care?” Cross asked sharply.

“Because someone has to.” Blue’s tone was just as sharp and Cross sat back, startled by his vehemence. “You hate me. I get that. But you don’t have to help Shield on your own.”

He was so wrong about the situation Cross almost wanted to laugh. Then he realized that Blue was less wrong than he previously thought (after all, the Gang had been horribly unprepared to help Ink when he was sick) and quickly denied he ever had that realization for the sake of his own stress levels.

“I don’t need your help.” Cross said curtly. “Or that Inn Keeper’s. We’re fine. We're not staying here much longer so soon we’ll be out of your hair."

“I know you’re Wanderers so you’re not staying in Snowdin or Aftertale.” Blue said hurriedly. “But if you had to stay in the Inn when Shield fell ill, you don’t really… have a place to stay, I’m guessing.”

Cross stayed silent. It did not matter since Blue could think what he wanted.

Blue’s voice became gentler. “There is somewhere you can have a permanent home. A place that Error and Nightmare can’t reach.”

And just like that, what Blue thought suddenly did matter.

Oh no. No no no.

Cross tried to smother his panic as he understood what was happening. "Don't ask me."

The pleading tone wasn't what Blue expected at all. It was not what Cross expected at all. Just like he never expected for Blue to imply he was going to ask if Shield and Guard wanted to move to the Omega Timeline.

Cross was not prone to freaking out but if this week continued to throw curveballs at him he might have an actual breakdown. The plan was to give Ink time to heal away from Nightmare’s Corruption. It was not to run into two of the Gang’s greatest enemies, both of which were frighteningly interested in two brothers that were meant for nothing more than supply runs.

Before, Cross would have simply scoffed at the offer and rejected it. Before, even if the Gang was brought into the Omega Timeline, they could easily be kicked out and blocked from entering it again by Core Frisk to ensure they could not bring Nightmare there.

But before, the Gang did not have Ink.

If we enter the Omega Timeline, Ink’s going to be able to portal right back in.

Nightmare cannot hear about this. Neither can Ink.

Keeping this opportunity from Nightmare was outright treachery. But if Nightmare successfully got into the Omega Timeline, nothing would be able to keep him out again. In turn, nowhere would be seen as safe from Negativity and the Gang’s victory over Core Frisk and Dream would be assured.

But that was only if Nightmare stopped there. Once, Cross could say with confidence that he would. Nowadays, he knew Nightmare wouldn’t.

Ink would be put in a terrible position if he learned of what Blue was offering. He would refuse if ordered, Cross knew, but Nightmare knew that too so he’d use other means to push Ink towards accepting Blue’s offer. Cross refused to put that burden on him.

Movement caught his eye as the horde of red and black-themed monsters rose from their seats a few at a time. The rest of the Underfell B&E gang left the bar, meaning Cross’s debt was paid.

Right on time, Cross spotted a familiar purple cloak outside. He left the bar without acknowledging Blue again. Ink’s welcoming smile faded when he saw the look on Cross’s face.

"We're leaving." Cross said curtly.

Ink did not protest, thank the Stars. His concern was painted across his face.

Aster seemed pretty concerned as well but he accepted Ink’s hug goodbye and promised to keep in contact. Blue followed Cross and tried to speak but Aster stopped him, shaking his head. That made Aster go up several spots in Cross’s books and he actually granted the winged Scientist a grim smile.

“Shield will keep in touch.”

Ink nodded enthusiastically and let Cross pull him away. They retreated out of Snowdin and the sight of Alphys’s cameras before Cross opened a portal to Nightmare’s Castle.

Ink stepped through the portal and was immediately swept up in Horror’s hug. Dust latched onto him as well, holding Ink between the two of them while Killer strode in and patted Ink’s skull.

Nightmare kept his distance. His cyan eye light focused on Cross. “Report.”

“Ink’s mostly recovered but is still a little exhausted.” Cross replied dutifully. “Core Frisk and Blue remain unaware of our true identities.”

“Blue showed up?” Killer snarled.

“Hey, no. That can wait.” Dust complained. He let go of Ink in order to cup his cheeks with his hands, scrutinizing his face. “You scared us."

“I scared myself.” Ink admitted. Both Dust and Horror flinched at the tired roughness of his voice. He reached out and patted Killer’s arm. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“You’re glad we’re okay?” Horror’s voice was faint and exhausted. “Ink, you had your throat slashed and were stabbed through the chest and soul.”

Ink grimaced and poked him in the arm. “Not your fault.”

Horror went silent. Cross shifted uncomfortably.

Ink poked Horror again, harder this time, and sent Cross a knowing look. “Not. Your. Fault. I survived.”

“Barely.” Dust whispered.

“You will tell me what happened first, Ink.” Nightmare interrupted. “From there, we will discuss how to proceed.”

Ink seemed surprised by the order but he nodded. Horror kept holding onto him even as he uncurled to his full height, leaving Ink’s legs to swing in the air. Ink kicked his legs slightly but a stern “No.” from Horror stopped him from using magic under his feet to stabilize himself.

Seeing Ink aware and breathing and moving made the last of the tension in Cross’s soul release. Ink was going to be okay. He was still alive. Somehow, he survived against all odds. Cross desperately hoped this would not become a pattern with him. Ink zeroed in on him like an owl spotting prey.

“You need to sleep, Cross.” Ink said, voice rough but stern. He looked around the room and frowned. “All of you do.”

“I don’t sleep.” Killer said blandly.

He probably meant it as a joke. Too bad for him, he just dug his own grave.

Ink’s eye sockets narrowed. His green eye lights stared them down as shadows curled at the edges of his eye sockets. “That reminds me. We’re holding a meeting tomorrow. I am going to get your medical information and you are going to learn basic first aid. If you do not show up, I will retrieve you.”

Killer laughed him off and Dust cracked a smile at the “joke” but Cross had a different reaction.

…Why did that sound vaguely threatening?

It took less than an hour for Ink to realize that the Gang’s distress over what happened wasn't over. The first sign that something was off was not that Nightmare left immediately because that was what he always did (and Ink could only hope that his boss did not notice that he was relieved to see him go). The first sign was that the others lingered where they usually didn't.

Dust came up with excuses to hover outside of the door while Ink changed into his favorite black long sleeve and pleated brown pants (and Ink ignored that his Arc outfit was laying on his bed, cleaned of blood and freshly repaired like a spear had never gone through it, just like he ignored the new scars he saw on his neck and his sternum where Undyne’s spear had slashed and stabbed him).

Killer followed Ink to the library. Cross lurked in the kitchen. Horror struggled to let Ink go every time he touched him, like he was terrified of releasing him even for a moment. He managed it, but there was always a second where he’d lock up like he could not make himself move.

Their companionship was nice at first but soon their anxious attention became a reminder of what happened. They kept staring at Ink to reassure themselves that he was still there, that he was still breathing, and when Ink looked back he felt echoes of a sharp blade across his neck and through his back.

By the time Ink carried Nightmare's dinner to his office, their attention had gone past the point of stressing him out. He actually found the volume to speak over Horror as he grabbed Nightmare’s tray, telling them not to wait for him as he hurried out of the room. Ink understood their concerns but at the same time, he didn't. They did not act like this after Horror was hurt.

Maybe it's because I should be dead.

Ink halted in the hallway near Nightmare’s office and leaned against the wall. He stayed there for a while and simply stared at the stone on the opposite side. The shadows extended around him as the sun began its slow descent outside and day turned to night. Ink didn't want night to come. He was afraid to sleep. The nightmares he had already suffered during his fever were frightening enough. What terrors would his coherent mind create from the memories that burned in his skull?

He did not realize how long he stood there until Nightmare appeared.

Ink blinked up at him, looked down at the tray he held, and kept his gaze down. "Oh. Sorry. I don't know what I was doing. This must be cold. Sorry."

Nightmare took the tray from him and set it on the ground as he settled beside it. "Sit with me. I have several things to discuss with you. Some can wait until the others are present. Some cannot."

Ink sat. A moment later he scooted over to curl up against Nightmare's side. His boss flinched, tentacles going rigid from surprise, but he put his arm around Ink's shoulders. Ink could tell the attempt at comfort was genuine. Unlike some of the other times. He lowered his head despite the fact that his aura would betray his misery.

"I've already told the others that you are with me and discouraged them from pursuing you." Nightmare informed him. “I thought you needed some time alone.”

Ink wondered how he failed to notice that Nightmare passed him until he saw the gray Echo Flower in his hand and realized he’d used it instead of physically going to the dining room.

Nightmare followed his gaze. "Dust is working with the other Flowers to adapt them into communication devices that can be worn. I took an intact flower on a whim. It is rare for anything to survive my touch. Our best theory is that this flower is technically dead."

"I should be dead." Ink said abruptly. "I would be dead if not for Prism."

The tremors began as a light shivering but soon increased to a bone-rattling tremble. Ink huddled against Nightmare's side as though to hide there. He wanted to hide. He wanted his fear to go away.

"You survived." Nightmare's calm voice did not match the way his tentacles quivered. "You are still here. It is a miracle."

He had no idea what fate would have befallen the Gang and Multiverse if Ink had died there. Ink couldn't tell him while Corruption had a grip on his codes. "Prism heard me cry out for help. He refused to let anyone die."

Nightmare shifted to settle into a more comfortable position but his tentacles perked up, betraying his interest. "What do you know about Prism, Ink?"

"He can use codes like me." Ink explained. "He's a lot more skilled at it though. He kept my soul from shattering so I could heal myself and previously they protected me before after I visited Aftertale the first time, too. My soul almost broke then."

Nightmare’s tentacles stopped moving. “Do you know Prism’s origin?”

“No.” Ink lied, so bluntly and calmly that he almost believed himself. “He just appeared a few times to help me or warn me of danger.”

“Don’t let them take your soul.” Ink remembered the warnings now, along with Prism’s final request before he departed: “Find the Doodle Sphere.”

But what was the Doodle Sphere? Was it an object? An artifact? A place? Hearing its name did not cause codes to appear on Ink’s bones. It still felt wrong to ask and mention the Doodle Sphere’s existence, much like it felt wrong to try mention his binary codes (and Ink now knew where that led, even if it could have ended up much worse for him).

Nightmare was surprised by his admittance. His tentacles gave a single lash of irritation, then swayed a little. “Did you not CHECK him?”

“There wasn’t time. I’m not sure I could anyway. I was going to… My soul was going to be…” Ink knew Nightmare could feel his anguish. “I couldn’t save us on my own. I didn’t want to die.”

“You did what you had to in order to survive.” Nightmare’s voice remained calm but his tentacles showed his subtle distress. "There is something else we must discuss. While you were ill, you approached Killer and attempted to convince him to kill you so you would not be abandoned."

Ink knew his eye lights had gone out, leaving his eye sockets hollow. He wanted to deflect and flee. Nightmare's arm was a reassuring weight on his back but it wasn't restraining. Ink could get out if he wanted to. Maybe he did not want to. He wanted to stay here. He wanted to be honest.

But he couldn’t be completely honest. Not to Nightmare. Not this Nightmare.

"I don't want to be killed. I want to keep existing.” Ink struggled for a moment and looked up at Nightmare's face. "I need to apologize to Killer. That was a horrible thing to do to him, and the others, and… and to myself. It's just where my head goes sometimes. I know I’m more useful to you alive.”

Ink wondered what emotions Nightmare was sensing from him to make him stay so quiet. Whatever it was, Nightmare did not press him for more information. He merely picked up the discarded tray and stood.

“Make sure you eat. I will convince the others to not overwhelm you. Give them a few days. They will calm down.”

“Thank you.” Ink said. He was happy to see the others, (so, so happy and relieved and overjoyed to see them alive and unhurt and breathing and not Corrupted… well, with a couple exceptions). But he also wanted the space to process what had occurred. He did not know friendly company could be so stressful. He would take “stressful” over “gone” or “dead”.

It was only after Nightmare left that Ink let the thought he had been suppressing form.

I know I’m more useful to you alive. I also know you’ve considered sending me back to punish me.

Ink would not say it. He did not want to see how Nightmare would react if he did. His Boss undoubtedly cared. His reaction in the avoided future and the way he’d gently cradled Ink and held onto him for hours as he and Prism struggled to keep him from dusting made that obvious.

But Nightmare wasn’t like Horror or the others. He remained in charge, and still held Ink’s fate in his hands. And currently, his goals were incompatible with Ink’s own. Partly due to Nightmare’s own beliefs, and partly because of beliefs that were out of his control.

Ink cared for Nightmare deeply, wanted him to be safe, and wanted to help him, but he could not trust him. Not with his soul. Not with his plans. Not with what he saw in the future script that almost was.

And certainly not with Prism, the Protector of Creation that was another Ink from another Multiverse. Not with Prism, an Ink who could trust his own Nightmare completely and whose shock at the colder attitude of Ink’s Nightmare had peeled a layer of blindness from Ink’s eyes, leaving him cruelly aware of his boss’s flaws and problems. All it took was a moment of reassurance from a memory of Prism’s, one so short but so strong that it echoed through both of their minds.

“You’re not useless. You’ll never be useless.”

A Nightmare that was not Ink’s own murmured the words to Prism, holding and rocking him gently to sooth him as he shook, begging not to be ‘sent back’ and ‘left alone’ even though he was ‘different now’. The words of Prism’s Nightmare were soft but resolute, his gaze and aura balanced and clear, and he was completely at ease as he kept Prism’s negativity from overwhelming him.

“Despite everything, you still care. Despite everything, you still feel. Despite everything, you are still you. And we will never abandon you. We’ll never send you back there. Never.”

When Ink looked at Nightmare, he saw the Boss, savior, ally.

When Prism looked at Nightmare, he saw grumpy uncle, confidant, friend, guardian.

Here, Horror had told Ink what that Nightmare told Prism. It was such a small difference, but it changed so much of Ink’s understanding of his Boss’s motives. It and what happened after Prism helped clear the Corrupted from Horrortale.

Ink wasn’t unaware when Prism was helping him. He was not blind while he focused on healing the stab wound in his chest as Prism held his soul together. He saw how Nightmare reacted to them. He sensed the warped shift in his codes. He felt Prism’s confusion and hurt when Nightmare saw him as a threat and almost attacked them, urged on by Corruption to destroy someone that could heal its host.

Ink did not know if it was purely the Corruption influencing Nightmare or if the instinct to destroy was Nightmare’s own. The end result was the same either way.

Nightmare was not balanced. He was not making the Multiverse balanced. He was not helping keep the Multiverse stable by leaving negativity imprints and attacking AUs.

Nightmare was wr—

Nightmare was wro—

(Even trying to think it felt like a betrayal to the one who saved him and given him everything he had, but Ink could not ignore his instincts anymore).

Nightmare was wrong. About Dream, about the Multiverse, about the Balance. He just thought (or the Corruption made him think) he was right.

Ink cared about Nightmare. He wanted to help him in more ways than Nightmare could even comprehend (or accept). But Ink could not trust him with Prism, the other Ink. Not his identity, not his origin, and certainly not his Role.

(Ink did not want to think about what Prism’s Role meant for him.)

Found.

Hiding shield was weakened until Ink Ink Ink vanished again.

The shadows hid Ink…?

No. Not yet.

The hiding shield hid him (Ink hid himself). There were not enough glitches to sing his location but he was there to watch and see.

Thief Knight lingered with Ink.

Then the unknown Gaster lingered with Ink. Unknown, yet the Gaster was… familiar? Wings wings wings, where did he see wings? Did he see wings while he was gone ( when he was nothing but pain and destruction and Find the Protector of Creation ), perhaps? No memories came forth.

Don’t risk them taking him away again.

Analyze. Hunt. Plan.

Watch.

Resist to grab.

Must be sure.

Will not lose him again will not lose him again will not lose him again. He was supposed to find him sooner but he failed he failed he failed he failed—

Hold on, don’t let go.

Keep it together. Hold on.

Careful.

Patience.

Thief Knight opened a portal. The portal did not open to a random AU this time.

On the other side, the cursed shadows.

On the other side, their home base.

Nightmare’s Castle.

Patience.

If he acted too recklessly, he could lose them completely.

Resist to grab.

The shadows (Nightmare’s presence) hid them but he was closing in.

Trace.

Locate.

Found.

Don’t act too quickly.

Patience.

Not long now.

Make sure.

Patience.

Wait just a little longer.

The next time Error struck, they would not escape.

Chapter Text

Blue was quiet when he returned from Aftertale Neutral. Stretch sat on the couch, fingers itching to reach for a smoke, and listened to his brother walk around the kitchen as he made a late dinner, the lack of humming and chatter about his day saying just as much as words could.

Normally, Blue would ask if Stretch wanted to help cook. Stretch would wander into the kitchen, handing ingredients to his brother as he flitted around and made a dish that many professional chefs would be jealous of. Normally, but not always. Sometimes Blue simply wanted to cook alone. Today was one of the latter days.

A loud clatter and a swear had Stretch rising hastily from the couch. He entered the kitchen to find a few of the tacos on the floor, having spilled off of the tray that had slid halfway off of the kitchen table. Bits of sauce were splattered on the tablecloth, dripping down it onto the tile.

Blue carefully pushed the tray back over and smiled weakly at Stretch. “We’re having “extra tossed” tacos today, I suppose.”

“Sounds good to me.” Stretch said easily.

He got down on the floor and helped Blue clean up the tacos that had spilled off of the tray. There were plenty that had remained intact on the plate so the dirtied ones were thrown out. The cleaning session was also completed in silence. Blue’s eye lights remained focused on scrubbing away at the sauce. They were distant.

Once the mess was cleaned up, Stretch pulled Blue into a tight one-armed hug. Blue immediately caved, leaning his head against his brother’s side.

“We’re so lucky.”

“We are.” Stretch admitted.

“We have a home. And our world is alive. And our friends are alive…” Blue closed his eye sockets and released a shuddering sigh. “There were so many refugees in Aftertale Neutral, Paps.”

“Did anyone come up to you?” Did anyone ‘confront’ you? Once, the question would be asked as a protective fury ignited in Stretch’s tired soul. Now, the protective fury was still there, but it was not as important as making sure Blue was okay.

“Not this time. Except for Guard.” Blue’s laugh was more tired than bitter. “Core Frisk didn’t warn me that he would be my partner for the day. They did not warn him either.”

Stretch made himself a mental note to give Core a stern talking to later. “That wasn’t very nice of them. They should have informed you.”

“I talked to them after. I think they underestimated how little Guard trusts us.” Blue’s shoulders slumped. “He was so angry, Paps. He could barely stand to look at me. He only worked with me because it was part of his ‘payment’ in exchange for getting medicine for Shield. And the Inn Keeper only made him ‘pay her back’ because she could tell he wouldn’t accept help otherwise. And Core Frisk implied Guard was afraid we’d take Shield from him and…”

Stretch had been exposed to many kinds of traumatized souls in the Skyscraper and around the Omega Timeline. Just because it was common did not make it any easier.

Blue looked up, eye sockets pale and haunted. “Guard was so afraid to even ask for help. He’s afraid of being helped. I tried to ask him if he wanted to move to the Omega Timeline but he refused before I even could. He was terrified that I would even offer. Why is the Multiverse like this? Why can’t people just help each other?”

Once, Stretch would have downplayed or avoided the issue. Now, he understood his brother a little better and knew he needed to respect them both by being honest. “The Multiverse can be pretty awful. Monsters and humans do what they must to survive, and some have chosen to do things that are cruel to others. It’s how it is, but that doesn’t mean it’s acceptable. If I was in Guard’s position… I’d be pretty angry and lack trust too.”

He felt Blue shrug against his side. “I understand it. But it still feels terrible.”

Stretch sighed and put his hand atop his brother’s head. “You can’t help everyone, Blue. Especially someone that does not want to be helped.”

“I know I don’t have to but I want to try.”

Stretch already knew that. He also knew that he could not stop him. “Just don’t burn yourself out. I’m too lazy to carry us both.”

Blue snorted. “You’re such a liar, lazybones.”

“And yet the teasing remains.” Stretch lamented. He slouched over so he was leaning completely on Blue. “Alas, gravity is suddenly so heavy. I'm such a lazybones that I cannot move. Drag me over to the couch, would you?”

Blue held him up easily, giving an undignified snort. “We’re eating in the kitchen. We don’t need another taco to fall into the cushions and stay there for five months.”

“The couch taco was for an emergency, bro.” Stretch drawled.

“Ah yes, that is just what we require for an emergency.” Blue gasped dramatically as the color returned to his eye lights. “An emergency five-month-old rancid taco will surely deter any enemies!”

Stretch hummed and nodded in solemn agreement. The two brothers stared intensely at each other but Blue could not keep a straight face for long. He cackled and Stretch felt a little of his worry ease. He hated seeing Blue so troubled. He hated it, but he knew he could not protect him from everything. He could not stop the reality of their Multiverse from getting its claws into his brother’s bones as it peeled away the blinders he once wore.

Stretch hated seeing Blue’s optimism become something more guarded. He hated seeing Blue train seriously with the Captain of Underswap’s Royal Guard, Alphys, and gain a willingness to hurt so that he would not be killed. He hated hearing that there was an attack on yet another Alternate Universe and the Star Sanses had been deployed, leaving him to distract himself to avoid thinking and hoping for his brother’s safe return.

He hated it with all his soul, but he would not pretend it had not happened or that nothing was wrong. Back in the Underground, that was all he had tried to do, but now on the Surface and with the Multiverse moving forward, he had no choice but to move forward with it. Moving forward meant no redoes. And that meant being a bit more honest or risk losing his brother. It was a difficult transition for the both of them.

Just as Blue set the half-filled tray back on the counter in order to reach the dirty tablecloth, the doorbell rang.

Stretch checked the time and, seeing how it was an appropriate hour, strolled towards the front door. “I have it. Maybe throw the tablecloth somewhere. Not out the window, bro.”

Blue froze and looked guiltily from the rolled-up tablecloth in his hands to the closed window. Knowing Blue’s strength, it would have broken through the glass. He chuckled awkwardly and ran upstairs to put the taco sauce-covered tablecloth in the dirty laundry.

Stretch knew who had rung the bell before he opened up the door. Dream stood on the doorstep with the same nervous awkwardness that he had the first time. Stretch hoped that he would be able to feel confident that he was welcome someday. He tried to keep hoping, even though it was difficult. For Blue, for Dream, and for himself because he was not going to be another concern for his brother.

"Dream, you're just in time for dinner." Stretch greeted before Dream could speak. "Come on in. We're having tacos."

Dream hesitated like he always did but stepped forward. "Is this a bad time?"

"Nope." Never. "You know Blue loves having any excuse to share his cooking." You don't realize how much you mean to him. I would tell you, but I know that you aren't ready to accept it.

Dream avoided eye contact. He usually did with Stretch. Stretch wondered what emotion he projected (or once projected) that made Dream fear he'd look at his face and see judgment.

"Thank you." Dream said politely.

The way that Blue's face lit up when Dream walked in eased some more of the worries on Stretch's mind. Dream was hesitant to rely on Blue, not out of disrespect, but because he did not want to "burden" him with his problems. Ironically, the Guardian of Positivity did not seem to see the positivity he brought to Blue just by existing, being his friend, and being there for him. Stretch could relate. He had related, when he’d been at his worst and one of the few things he could find the effort to care about was his bro.

Heh. It was pretty funny to think that a cynical Judge who could see some of the worst parts of people and timelines, enough that he had nearly given up on his own world, could see some of the best the Multiverse could offer (even as he worked with a couple monsters that may be part of the worst if his suspicions were correct). He supposed Blue must be a positive influence on him, motivating him to do good. Then again, of course Stretch was inspired to find motivation to act and grab onto hope. His bro was the coolest and most Magnificent Sans, after all.

The day started much like the one before it once Ink and Cross returned to the Castle, with Killer and Cross hovering outside of the kitchen and trying to look busy as breakfast was made. And then Horror and Dust hovering while trying to look busy. And then Dust and Cross again hovering. While trying to look busy. The pattern was pretty obvious to Ink after approximately the first fifteen minutes, (even if Killer conveniently fled when Ink tried to talk to him alone to apologize for what he asked Killer to do). Their near-constant presences proved none of them were busy since two of them were consistently following Ink as he did his chores.

Well, maybe except for Dust. Dust had an actual excuse to hang out near Ink and Cross. Using a mixture of magic and science (and the Castle’s often neglected lab), Dust had succeeded in converting the gray Echo Flowers into a bracelet and gave one to each of the Gang. Ink should not be surprised that he could do it considering that many Sanses tried to fix strange machines in their garages and Dust had constructed devices and traps throughout Dusttale to—

And Ink was going to stop thinking about that because Dust had not offered to share. At least the binary codes were polite enough not to invade the Gang members’ privacy too much. If Ink did not focus too hard, the unwanted answers would not pop into his mind.

The gray Goner Echo Flower communicators acted much like the regular Echo Flower version, taking in and repeating the words spoken to them, but (thanks to Dust’s tweaking) now also did so much more than the more generic Flowers did. The specialized communicators relied on magic frequencies to connect to one another and pass on messages. Dust had customized each one so that only Gang members could use them to contact other Gang members. If anyone other than the owner tried to activate the device, it would not work, and since it was not electronic, Sci would be unable to hack into it.

The small image on the band would shift to reveal who was calling or speaking. A crescent moon for Nightmare, an owl for Ink/Arc, a target for Killer, an axe for Horror, an X for Cross, and a scarf for Dust.

Ink’s was woven into a plain brown band bracelet that he could hide under the sleeves of his clothes. He was strictly reminded to remove it whenever he acted as Shield and use the intact and undisguised Flower he had kept to call Aster instead. The frequencies were separate so it wasn’t like he could accidentally connect to Aster’s Flower but it would be best not to get them mixed up.

Ink wandered around to do a little bit of cleaning while Dust thoroughly explained how to use the bracelet communicators to Cross. Cross was not convinced by his new accessory. He poked at his bracelet as though he was searching for a button.

"Are we sure these will work?"

"They worked when the Boss and I tested them out." Dust assured him.

Cross squinted suspiciously. "They're not very sophisticated."

"I can name fifty residents from the Omega Timeline that can track more 'sophisticated' communicators."

Cross grumbled and poked at the bracelet some more.

Ink spotted a few cobwebs in the upper corner of the room and walked up to it. Dust's puzzled eye lights followed him.

"Still feels weird." Cross muttered.

Dust scowled at him. "Try it if you're so worried."

Cross huffed lowly, then sighed. Ink glanced down at him as he knelt up by the cobwebs and saw a picture of an axe appear on Cross’s purple bracelet.

Horror's voice came through. "Cross? What is it?"

It was clear that Cross did not expect it to work. A flush appeared on his cheeks and he glared at Dust, who snickered. "Just testing out the communicators, Horror."

"Oh." Horror sounded amused. "Well, can you hear me?"

"Yeah, I can hear–" Cross spotted Ink. "What the fu– INK, GET OFF OF THE CEILING! YOU'RE GOING TO FALL!"

Ink used the magic attached to his feet and knees to rotate in midair so he was upright. Cross gave a startled yelp, lunging forward as though to catch him, only to see Ink hovering. He sputtered a moment, then scowled as Dust's laughter grew louder.

"Get down here, Ink." Cross commanded.

"I'm not on the ceiling." Ink pointed out.

"You're floating near the ceiling."

Ink continued swiping at the cobwebs. "Technically I'm standing on magic."

Cross’s eye socket twitched. “Get. Down.”

Ink descended gracefully to the floor and blinked up at Cross. A sound caught their attention and Ink recognized it as Horror’s laughter. A second later, Killer’s target emblem appeared on Cross’s band next to Horror’s axe emblem.

“What happened to Horror? Why’s he laughing? Did someone pull a prank without me? What’d I miss?”

“Nothing.” Cross said through gritted teeth and hung up on him.

"So, I think that the communicators work." Dust said pointedly.

Cross pulled his hood up and hid his blazing cheeks. “Shut up, Dust.”

“Great comeback, Cross.”

“Shut. Up.”

Dust grinned at Ink. “Shutting.”

The Gang’s hovering tendencies did not last long after that. After they practically stalked Ink since he returned from Aftertale Neutral, it was only natural that they avoided him in order to avoid their problems.

The moment Ink stepped into the infirmary and started picking through supplies, the Gang came up with excuses and fled, having realized he was serious about discussing their health. Even Horror did a double take and stammered when he saw Ink was preparing syringes.

Ink might have been worried or hurt about their reaction not that long ago. He might have tried to approach them, only to be spoken over, and accepted that it probably wasn’t that important like they had insisted. Now though? He was out of patience. The Gang had suffered debilitating injuries twice. He was not going to wait around for a third time in order to get what he needed.

It felt odd to put on his full Arc outfit when he planned to stay in the Castle, but Ink wanted to test a few things before he returned to the field. Mostly to make sure he would not have any adverse reactions when he donned the clothes he was nearly killed in.

Ink was about to pull his black shirt down over his ribcage when the scars on his throat and his sternum caught his eye. A twist showed a similar scar on his spine where Undyne had run him through. He slowly put on his full outfit, hiding the scar on his neck under the collar of his coat. His fingers rubbed the metal plate woven into the collar that had failed to stop Undyne from slashing him and noted it felt tougher and more reinforced than before. Would it now stop a magic blade like how his gloves had held against Killer’s knife in Outertale?

Ink took a moment to look at his masked face in the mirror and released a shaky sigh. “It won’t happen again.”

His reflection, of course, did not respond. Ink wished he knew how Prism even contacted him in the first place but supposed it was safer that he didn’t have that answer. There were already too many secrets haunting him. He was not sure how long he would hold out if Nightmare chose to question how much Ink knew about his ‘mysterious’ savior.

Ink already felt horrible enough when he saw a glimpse of what a balanced Nightmare acted and looked like, thus realizing that he could not trust his Nightmare to have his or the Multiverse’s best interests in mind. It was obvious to him now that Nightmare’s perception was horribly skewed.

The best way to help Nightmare would be to rid him of the Corruption and try to get the two sides to stop fighting each other and talk things out for once. It was an intimidating task. Ink was not sure he was up for it but he had to try. For now, he’d focus on a small step and get the Gang to stop avoiding him.

Ink raised the communicator to his mouth. “I was serious about the medical files and first aid lessons, you know. Meet me in the dining hall in five minutes or I will be forced to retrieve you.”

The bracelet made a soft whispering noise that indicated the message had gone through but no one responded. Ink headed to the dining hall and settled in to wait. Horror wandered in two minutes later and did a double take when he noticed Ink was in his Arc garb. Ink removed his owl mask.

“Hi, Horror!” he greeted. He tried to sound cheerful but could not keep the terseness out of his voice. “Thank you for listening. The others have three minutes.”

Horror planted his hand atop Ink’s hood and leaned close, staring intently as though he was trying to see into his mind. “Are you alright?”

Ink considered the question. He then set aside the instincts to hold his feelings close to the chest (because this was Horror asking him, and he was safe) and reconsidered the question. “I had my first near-death experience on the field. It’s changed the priorities of some things.” He looked to the door and sighed. “They’re going to avoid this, aren’t they? Why can’t they take their health seriously?”

Horror’s face softened. “We’re all terrible about it. We’re used to being hurt so we tend to brush it off.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.” Ink said. “I hate that you’re ‘used to it’. And that you’ve accepted it as a part of life. It’s not right.” He glanced towards the empty doorway again and looked back to Horror, speaking softly. “Cross and Nightmare were almost lost in the codes. You and Dust were on the verge of magic exhaustion. Killer was forcefully injected with Determination suppressants. And I had my throat slit before I was stabbed.” His face twisted into a snarl and tears and shadows gathered in the edges of his darkened eye sockets. “I’m so angry that what happened in Horrortale is common enough that you’re used to it. The same kind of thing keeps happening but nothing changes. It’s like you think it can’t be stopped or changed so why bother?”

“It’s a part of life, Ink.” Horror winced at his own words and reached up but Ink snagged his hand before he could scratch at his skull.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t try.” Ink said curtly. “And if you won’t, I will make you.”

Horror stared at him wordlessly, eye sockets slightly wider with surprise at Ink’s vehemence. Ink was a bit surprised at his own vehemence too. Then he closed his eye sockets and saw Horror’s impaled body and Killer struggling to breathe on the floor of Undyne’s throne room. Then it wasn’t so shocking anymore. He did not want to wait for something bad to happen again. He and the Gang needed to at least try to prepare before the next emergency.

Horror seemed to realize how upset Ink was by the others’ avoidance and inability to see the value of their lives. He pulled Ink into a one-armed hug. “It’s not an excuse, but Sanses are notorious for being terrible about this kind of thing. Don’t let it stop you. Sometimes we need someone to kick our asses into gear.”

“Less kicking, more dragging.” Ink let his head fall to the side to lean against Horror. He managed a small smile as he looked up at him. “At least you’re here. Congratulations. You get to keep your dignity.”

Horror’s mouth curved in amusement. He took a chair and leaned forward, propping himself up with a hand on his cheek. Ink put his mask back on and took another seat. The small clock timer inside the bigger clock on Ink’s glove ticked down.

By the time the five minutes had passed, the others had not shown up. He could sense them around the Castle so it wasn’t like they were busy. Ink did not take their absence personally. He knew they were avoiding the meeting for a reason. Too bad for them, Ink wasn’t content to let them slip away.

Ink got up, stretched, and summoned his chains. “I’ll be right back.”

He heard Horror’s stifled chuckles as he swept out of the dining hall.

Ink’s first target was Dust, who made the mistake of lurking (hiding) in the southeast tower. Ink soundlessly climbed into the rafters above him and stared down, listening as he whispered to Paps about how he ‘wasn’t hiding’. How cute.

A chain poked Dust in the side of the head. He absently swiped at it, likely expecting it to be a cobweb, only to pause as thin black metal links wrapped around his hand. Dust slowly followed it up to where Ink crouched in the rafters, his mask’s glare barely visible in the darkness.

Paps waved. The movement seemed rather smug.

Dust laughed nervously. “Hey, In–eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee—”

Dust gave an unholy screech as another one of Ink’s chains wrapped around his waist and yanked him upward until he was level with their wielder. Dust flailed and clung to a couple chains to keep his balance, making him look like he was on an unstable swing set. The Arc mask made Ink’s voice come out flat and cold.

“I was going to be nice and set you down so you could go through a shortcut straight to the dining hall on your own.” Ink noted. “But it seems like you’re having trouble so let me help.”

Ink detached the chains from his arm and they dragged a yelping Dust through the shortcut. He sensed his reappearance in the dining hall. Specifically, on the floor. Ink could have deposited Dust in a chair but he was feeling a bit peeved.

He hunted down Killer next. He had not bothered to hide, perhaps thinking that Ink would not dare to enter his room. Ink did not enter Killer’s room. He sent his chains under the closed door, letting most slide silently inward as he left a couple more ready to turn the knob and push it open.

Ink’s chain tapped Killer on the hand and he looked down at it. Ink opened the door and gave Killer enough time to recognize him before the black chain wrapped around his arm. Two blobs of dark magic slid under Killer’s feet and he looked down before staring back at Ink with an incredulous expression.

“Don’t you fucking dare—”

There was a sport called “water skiing” that Ink had learned the existence of while reading one of his books. In some places, it was a popular pastime on vacations and could be pretty expensive. Killer got to experience the joy of “magic-propelled stone floor skiing” all the way through several of the halls of Nightmare’s Castle for free.

Ink tuned out Killer’s cursing and threats as they gradually grew further away. He entered Nightmare’s office next and stood at attention on the other side of his desk. Nightmare did not look up at him as he continued to peruse the report he was reading.

“I’m busy. You may continue without my presence.”

Ink remained silent. His chains slid along the floor and rose up to tap Nightmare on the shoulder.

Nightmare swatted at the chains. “I said I’m—”

Nightmare looked up and did a double-take as he spotted Ink. The black glare of the owl mask stared him down from the shadows and Ink’s steadily dwindling patience undoubtedly twisted in the air around him. Nightmare was unmoved. Supposedly. Ink could see the sudden tension in his tentacles.

“Such lessons are useless for me.” Nightmare said.

Ink kept staring.

Nightmare’s tentacles twitched. “You’re angry.”

Ink did not say a word.

“Why do you think you can waste my ti—”

Nightmare undoubtedly felt the shift in Ink’s aura as he silently dared his boss to finish that sentence. There was no way he was intimidated by Ink’s icy presence but he was certainly put off by it. Nightmare’s caution became something closer to the curiosity he got whenever Ink refused to bend to his will.

“I will attend.” Nightmare said.

Nightmare proved himself to be trustworthy as he rose from his seat and headed out of his office without needing to be forcibly evicted. That was four out of the five Gang members. Maybe Ink could physically drag them all to a peace talk sometime in the future if they proved to be stubborn. It was something to consider.

Ink felt a familiar sharp magic and realized that Cross had tried to go to another AU. Ink expected at least one to try to make a break for it, and Cross was one of the two that actually could. Unfortunately for Cross, Ink was in his Arc outfit and prepared to follow him.

Arc appeared right next to Cross near the MTT Resort of Disbelief Timeline P Variant C. Ink snatched Cross with his chains before he could make it a single step. To his credit, Cross did not shriek in terror, though that might be because they had company in the alley he hoped would be isolated.

Ink slowly turned to stare at the stunned Burgerpants who had been taking a smoke break nearby. His cigarette fell from between his fingers but Ink caught it with a chain and put it back in his hand. Burgerpants looked from the cigarette, to Arc, to Cross. He had the look of someone who wondered what kind of weird hell they had just woken in and was waiting for the moment they’d escape this strange dream.

“No one will believe you.” Ink said apologetically, his voice coming out as a ghostly whisper.

Before Burgerpants could do more than make a strained squeak of a noise, Ink picked up Cross with his chains and casually jumped back through a portal. He deposited Cross next to Dust and Killer. That was, right on the floor. Horror sat smugly in a chair while Nightmare sat at the far end of the table. The latter seemed composed but his tentacles twitched in a way that could be curious or relieved.

Ink lifted his mask. His eye sockets flickered with shadows and his green eyes glowered from within the darkness as he bared his teeth in a sharp smile. “Oh wow. I’m so proud of you all for showing up on your own like responsible and mature adults. Good job!”

Dust winced. “Why is sarcastic Ink intimidating?”

“We got between him and our medical treatment.” Cross muttered.

“Ah.”

“I’m not letting you avoid this anymore.” Ink interrupted sharply. “We are going over your medical histories and you are going to learn first aid in case I’m incapacitated again.”

Dust’s sheepish humor faded and Cross looked guilty. Even Nightmare seemed uncomfortable.

Ink released an angry breath and felt the shadows fade from his eye sockets. His eye lights remained green. “Killer is tough but the Determination Suppressant could have caused an overdose. He should have had blood taken to be analyzed as soon as we returned to the Castle. Horror and Dust almost reached the point of magic exhaustion and should have eaten magic food to prevent unexpected HP drops. Cross and Nightmare also could have experienced health issues or uncontrollable magic surges from being stuck in the Abyss, even though it wasn’t that long. And all of you should have gotten your souls scanned to make sure there was no damage after the fight. A fight which was against Corrupted that targeted and consumed souls, may I remind you.”

The silence that fell over the room after his rant was heavy. They had been so concerned about Ink that they ignored their own comparatively minor issues, ignorant to the fact that their health could have become worse due to their negligence.

Cross spoke up. “We didn’t—”

“—know?” Ink finished for him. “I’m aware of that. I understand why you didn’t. It’s not something you saw as important. But taking care of your health is my job. And Horrortale proved I might not always be there to help.”

If Cross felt guilty before, now he looked distraught. “Ink…”

“I am teaching you first aid and the basics of taking care of yourselves.” Ink interjected firmly. “I know that you aren’t comfortable about it. I know you see it as a waste of time. But it needs to be done before someone gets killed. Now, do any of you have medical records back in your AUs?”

“I do.” Dust mentioned.

“So do I.” Horror rumbled.

Killer shrugged. “Maybe, but if I do, they’re definitely out of date.”

“I had some back in the Omega Timeline.” Cross forced out. “We can’t get to them, obviously.”

“…No.” Nightmare responded stiffly.

“We’ll get the available ones later.” Ink decided. “First, I’m teaching you the basics of how to take care of yourselves.”

“We’re not children.” Killer muttered.

“No, you’re just stubborn as shit.” Ink shot back.

Killer’s forehead crinkled, betraying his surprise.

“Huh. He actually got the tone right this time.” Dust mumbled.

They moved to the infirmary where Ink started with the basics. Then he had to start with even the most basic of basics because no, putting a dirty bandage on an injury was not “good enough”. The Gang’s flippant or disdainful attitude towards the lesson slowly dwindled as they came to terms with how serious Ink was. Ink’s clinical, clipped, and graphic descriptions of an infected tibia helped drill it into their skulls. He spent some time correcting them about myths on what green magic could or could not do, along with several other medical fables that were passed around as fact. Ink was not used to being so forceful but he refused to let them talk over him again.

Ink taught them the signs of magic exhaustion and head injuries. He gave them access to the pockets on his outfit that contained bandages, magic food, and other basic first aid items. Using a mannequin, he showed them how to keep a blade stable until it could be safely extracted and instructed them on how to preserve a detached limb. He cornered Killer and used him as an example on how to draw blood for testing because no, he did not care how long it had been, Killer still needed to be tested. He also revealed his soul, pushing on with the lesson even when they flinched in order to teach them how to keep an eye out for the dimness that may precede cracking or Falling Down.

Each of them responded differently. Dust was enthusiastic but a bit distant, as though he did not want to think about when he might have to use these skills. Killer was more interested in the damage the injuries would cause than mending them (Though, like Dust, Ink knew he did not want to think about having to help one of his teammates. Ink was not blind. He knew how Killer reacted after Horror was stabbed.)

Horror was dedicated but his hands were not always steady. Occasionally they’d tremble. Whether it was nerves or not was unclear to Ink and Horror did not try to explain. Nightmare did what he was told to with a curious air, as though he saw little point in it but was bemused that he was still being asked to learn since he was a Guardian of Negativity that killed almost everything he touched.

Surprisingly, Cross seemed to have the least trouble. He listened to what Ink said and remembered it, carrying out his tasks with the dedicated focus he gave his other missions. Ink wondered if he had taken similar classes before.

As Ink watched them all, he came to a decision.

“That’s enough for today.” Ink sounded calmer now as a bit of the stress eased from his body and mind. He managed to smile, even if it was a little more tired than his usual. “Thank you for doing this.”

“I suppose it was necessary.” Nightmare noted. “I was unaware that our… medical techniques were so abysmal.”

“And out of date.” Dust muttered.

“I know.” Ink said flatly. “And not everything was old medicinal practices.” He dragged a hand down his face. “I’m going to make each of you a portable first aid kit. Would you help me, Cross? I know Horror needs to start dinner.”

“Sure, I’ll help.” Cross agreed.

Ink hesitantly looked to Nightmare. “Could you try to get the medical files from Horrortale or will they refuse to give them to you?”

“They’ll refuse in Horrortale.” Nightmare noted. “Dust and Killer can retrieve their own using transport tokens. I will send Horror home later. Your involvement will remain under wraps.”

Ink repressed a scowl as he was reminded yet again that Nightmare did not want anyone to know he was a Healer. “Thank you for listening to me.”

“Sorry we didn’t sooner.” Dust blurted. He awkwardly tugged at his scarf. “I mean… we… We were all pretty useless when you were sick.”

Several missing pieces fell into place for Ink. No wonder the others had been so keen on avoiding this lesson. They likely spent at least part of it thinking about how they could have used it sooner. Still, their ignorance would not change if they refused to learn. “I’m not angry about that. I’m frustrated that you don’t seem to think your health is worth anything.”

Dust and Cross had the decency to wince while Horror was apologetic and Killer seemed uncomfortable.

Nightmare acted as if Ink had not spoken. “Dust, Killer, with me.”

The three left. Horror gave Ink one more hug before departing to start dinner, leaving only Cross. Now that the others were gone, Cross’s guilt rose back to the surface.

“I’m sorry I tried to avoid you earlier. That was pretty immature.”

“If I did not know better, I’d swear you were all allergic to taking care of yourselves.” Ink said dryly.

Cross shrugged sheepishly.

Ink sighed and stepped up to him. He leaned his head on the black X on Cross’s chest and closed his eye sockets. “I don’t know if I can trust you to take care of yourselves but I can trust you otherwise. That’s why I’m going to grant you access to pockets with more dangerous substances and tell you what is in a few of them.”

Cross’s confusion faded into a solemn look. “Ink…”

“We already had this discussion.” Ink interrupted gently. “If I am incapable of providing aid, I might need help. I’m not asking you to be a medic or even an assistant. I’m telling you about these specific pockets because I trust you.”

Cross seemed to straighten, adapting a posture much more like a guard or a soldier’s. “Okay.”

First, Ink pulled a capped syringe out of the top pocket on his left thigh holster. The liquid inside it gleamed ominously. “This is purified Determination for Killer. Only for Killer. I am unsure how the rest of you would fare if it was injected.”

Cross eyed the syringe warily. “I might survive. Not sure about Horror and Dust. Nightmare might go ballistic.”

“Noted.” Ink studied Cross’s face carefully. “Too much of the opposite emotion could greatly weaken him, right?”

“Yes, but that has not been a problem since long before I joined the Gang.”

“What about negativity?” Ink questioned. “Does it heal him?” He already suspected the answer but he wanted it confirmed.

“Yes.” Cross disclosed.

“Good.” Ink kept a careful eye on Cross’s eye lights. “I’m going to use codes in front of you.”

Despite the fact that there had been no problems since that first time in Horrortale, Cross stepped back a little and nodded.

Ink took the sample of Nightmare’s Corrupted magic out of his pocket. Before, the binary codes had been a terrible mess. Now, they still were, but Ink could see the fragments that needed to be removed. Ink recalled how he had repaired the glitches in Horrortale and how Prism had gently extracted codes from a Corrupted and knew what he had to do. And, more importantly, how to do it. His magic flowed smoothly through the codes, separating the magic from the Corruption and repairing the damage it caused.

The Corruption faded like mist in the moonlight. Healing Nightmare would not be nearly so simple but it was another step in the right direction. Ink carefully scooped the purified Negative magic in the vial with the crescent moon-shaped stopper. Only when that was done did he look at Cross, who stared back at him with his normal white eye lights and his mouth slightly open.

“Did you just…?”

“It’s a step closer.” Ink interjected quietly. Killer and Dust were in their AUs, Horror was in the kitchen, and Nightmare was back in his office but he still did not want anyone to overhear. “But yes. I repaired the codes and got the Corruption out of this sample. I am going to put it in a specialized syringe or maybe even a modified tranq gun. Based on what we know of Nightmare’s powers, it should work like an adrenaline boost and keep his vitals from tanking. And if I’m right… it might clear some Corruption.”

Ink put the crescent moon-topped vial in the front pocket of the satchel that went on his thigh. Cross’s elated grin faded when he saw Ink’s hand was trembling.

“Hey.” Cross put his hands on Ink’s shoulders, voice low and soothing as he scanned the empty infirmary. “You’re okay. I won’t tell anyone, and certainly not Nightmare. I know he’ll misunderstand.”

Ink could not even begin to explain how deep the Corruption had its talons into their Boss. After Horrortale and the glimpse he got of Prism’s own Nightmare, the wrongness in their own boss had become so obvious to Ink that he wondered how he could ever have missed it. In his current state, Nightmare would leap to the worst reactions if he learned Ink had some of his purified magic. He’d absolutely believe it was intended to be an attack and lash out.

But Ink was not worried about Cross telling Nightmare. “That’s not all. I want to get a sample of Dream’s magic as well in case he needs it.”

Cross’s body locked up and his eye sockets went black. Ink silently took another vial out of the front pocket of his satchel, this one with a distinct sun shape atop the stopper. Ink did not know all about how Nightmare and Dream’s magic worked, but he had observed enough to make some educated guesses. If negativity would help Nightmare, positivity would help Dream.

Cross’s features twisted yet even now, his anger failed to reach the levels it had when he was forced to attack Ink in Horrortale. “I know I said you can feel sorry for Dream but why the hell would you want to help an enemy?”

Ink did not flinch. His voice remained steady. “It’s not just us that can be hurt. Do you expect me to stand there and let someone die? Dream is already weakened, Cross. I’m telling you about my intentions because I trust you. You will not try to use the Determination or Emotion magic as a weapon. Not even against Dream.”

Cross’s jaw clenched and his fingers dug into Ink’s shoulders. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.” Ink said, unafraid. “You really don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“You give me too much credit.” Cross accused but he sounded more tired than angry.

A few of Ink’s anxieties crept back as he worried that he had burdened his friend. He did not want to bring more stress to Cross but he wanted to be honest with him. Nightmare might need the emotion ‘adrenaline’. So could Dream. Ink did not expect Cross to cheerily help Dream but he was not about to let him think the positivity would be collected to ‘weaken’ Nightmare or something. Then again, if Cross thought Ink would have such a measure prepared, he would have to not know Ink at all.

Cross seemed to realize that. He realized why Ink told him the truth, and although he hated the idea of helping an enemy, he did not drag Ink to Nightmare and throw him at his feet as he accused him of being a traitor.

Cross struggled through his anger and frustration, eventually settling on something bitter. Despite it, he hugged Ink briefly. “I’m not a good person, Ink. I won’t help Dream… but I won’t use the negativity magic against him.”

“That’s all that I ask.” Ink carefully adapted the pocket of the satchel so that it would recognize Cross’s magic and unlock for him. “Thank you for supporting me even if you don’t agree.”

He felt a puff of air tickle his skull as Cross huffed. “Eh. I guess I do my best.”

Horror could not sleep. He had fallen asleep rather peacefully the night before, content with the knowledge that Ink and Cross had safely returned to the Castle and were in their own beds, but tonight sleep evaded him. His mattress was back on the box spring, if only because when he left it on the floor he had startled awake in a panic, frantically searching for Ink and Cross before he remembered they were in Aftertale Neutral.

Listening to Cross give quiet updates on Ink’s condition through the gray Goner Echo Flowers had not been the comfort Horror thought it would be. He was quiet not only from his exhaustion, but from fear and necessity. They had been in their room at the Inn but they were so exposed.

Cross had to be careful what he said in case someone was listening in. Horror was certain they’d be captured when Core Frisk appeared. By some miracle, Cross and Ink remained unknown to the Omega Timeline. By some miracle, time away from Nightmare’s Corruption helped Ink heal.

Horror slowly took the Echo Flower off of his bedside table and gently sent a pulse of magic into its petals. They shifted, adjusting a little, and Paprika’s voice came through.

“Sans?”

“Hey, Paps.” Horror greeted quietly.

“It’s late. Is something the matter? Are you safe?” The Echo Flower clearly communicated Paprika’s voice. And his worried tone.

Horror hated to worry his brother. He always did. He always would. But he wouldn’t stop making him worry, would he? It was just how life turned out for them. Horror made his brother worry. At least he could put Paprika’s mind at ease for once. “I just wanted to let you know that Arc is okay. He got back home yesterday. Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Paprika released an audible breath. When he spoke again, his voice was unsteady. “Thank goodness.”

Horror lay down on the bed, holding the Echo Flower close to his chest as he stared at the ceiling. “Those remedies really pulled through. Thank Tori again for me, would you?”

“She already knows, Sans.”

Even without any visual indicator, Horror knew his brother was giving him a knowing look. Paprika often knew more than others would give him credit for. Horror included, at times. His bro was the coolest, of course, but sometimes Horror wondered if they were as close as they could be. They loved each other, supported each other, talked to each other, but they did not really talk to each other. Horror had too many secrets. Maybe Paprika did too.

“I’m sorry.” Horror whispered.

“It was not your fault.” Paprika said, though his voice was a little unsteady. “I am not to blame for Undyne’s actions, and neither are you. What she did is on her, and her alone. Undyne… lost herself a long time ago. Her pride would not allow her to leave us be.”

“It’s not just that.” Horror admitted. “I haven’t been a very good brother, Paps.”

“Sans—”

“I kept so many secrets from you.” Horror confessed. “I tried to hide all the terrible shit Undyne did, that I did, but I was just overprotecting you, wasn’t I? You weren’t blind. You knew. And since I wanted to pretend nothing happened, you didn’t feel like you could talk to me about it.” He pressed a hand over his eye sockets and his fingers curled upwards towards the broken edge of his skull. “I’m sorry I left you alone.”

“I forgive you, Sans.” Paprika said gently. “However, I do not forgive you for thinking that you are a bad brother. It is very rude to lie about yourself.”

Horror’s breathing hitched.

Paprika sternly interrupted him before he could speak. “Don’t even try to say ‘it’s the truth’. It is true that you are involved in very… complex situations, both here and out there. However, I know you are doing your best. You are trying. Not just for us, but for everyone here. All I ask is that you let me support you. Let me be there for you. Even if it is simply talking to me at one o’clock in the morning through a strange gray flower.”

Horror felt the tightness in his chest ease. “…Thanks, Paps.”

“No thanks is required.” Paprika said, because of course he did. “Now, the Great Papyrus has some wonderful news! Lady Toriel picked up your curs-ed sock. However, there is also less wonderful news; Goat monsters such as Lady Toriel shed fur. Our sink keeps getting clogged.”

That comment startled a laugh out of Horror and he listened to his brother happily talk (and jokingly complain) about his new housemate until he drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

Chapter Text

A hand rested on Ink’s shoulder, rousing him from sleep. It took him a moment to understand where he was, as the surface below him was too soft to be a chair or the couch and he did not recall going to bed. The last thing he remembered was sorting through the medical files the Gang had retrieved for him. It seemed he had fallen asleep in the infirmary and someone had taken him back to his room. Probably Horror.

When Ink opened his eye sockets, he saw that it was not Horror who woke him. It was Nightmare himself. Ink was immediately alert, scanning everyone for injuries. There were none, but the others were moving around despite it not even being dawn yet. Nightmare noted Ink’s confusion and inclined his head towards the closet in Ink's room. 

"Put on your Arc outfit."

Ink had a bad feeling.

He obeyed his Boss's orders and went to the entrance hall to see the Gang of yesterday was gone. They stood in a line, not shoulder to shoulder but a far cry from the random sprawl they tended to take up positions in. There were no smiles, jokes, or snarky teasing. Only grim looks and checked weapons.

Ink bit his tongue so he would not ask if they were going to attack another AU already and stepped into place at the end of the line next to Horror. Nightmare would tell them what was happening without needing to be asked. Sure enough, their Boss did exactly that as he halted in front of the Gang.

"Today we will go to Horrortale. Before then, we must discuss what to do with Queen Undyne. She and her Guards have been captured and are currently being held in the Fort within Snowdin."

Ink’s soul lurched painfully at the sound of Undyne’s name. He instinctively put a hand to his chest and, after a moment of discomfort, pretended not to notice that Dust and Paps were looking down that line at him. Paps’s face was as obscured as always but Dust seemed worried.

“Undyne broke the terms of the agreement that kept her in power.” Killer said coldly. “She did nothing to defend the Underground and she attacked Horror’s brother and Arc.”

“And you.” Horror reminded him quietly.

Dark liquid dripped from Killer’s eye sockets. “Like I could forget. Fucking traitorous bird.”

Horror’s teeth clenched.

Ink felt like he had missed something but he put aside those kinds of questions for now.

“Shouldn’t this be discussed with Horrortale’s residents?” he asked carefully.

Nightmare scarcely looked at him. “It will be. First, we must decide among ourselves. When we get there, we will provide a united front. There will be no petty quarrels.”

Arguing whether someone lived or not did not seem "petty" to Ink. Killer spoke before he could.

“I say we execute her.” Killer said casually. “Her and her Royal Guards.”

It took Ink a moment to understand what was being said, his mind becoming caught on the word execute. Reality rushed in all at once and he realized it was not the people of Horrortale who would decide Undyne’s fate like he'd hoped Nightmare had implied. It was the Gang. Specifically, it was Nightmare himself who had the final say. Ink looked at his Boss and knew he already had his mind made up.

Ink was so glad he had a mask on because he wanted to throw up. He did not throw up, but he could not keep his thoughts to himself. It was not as easy as making the others learn first aid but he had to push past his discomfort. He had to speak up.

"I can't agree to that." Ink said firmly.

Killer inhaled angrily but did not snap at him. “Of course you can’t.”

Horror’s eye sockets were empty in a haunted way. His voice was low and soft. “Ink, we can’t let her go.”

"I’m not saying that we should." Ink denied. He was a bit hurt that Horror thought he would even consider that. Ink was a pacifist, not naïve. "Undyne is dangerous. Letting her free would be foolish. But that doesn't mean she and her Guards should die. One of them helped me. He hid that I was a Healer from her and stemmed the bleeding when she slashed my throat."

“Thanks for the reminder.” Dust said darkly. “I say they die.”

Ink repressed a wince. “Are you saying that because you want justice or vengeance?”

Dust’s face went through a series of disconcerted emotions. Paps floated silently at his side, still and nonjudgmental as his brother struggled.

Nightmare's eye light thinned to a dangerous slit. “What is your alternative proposal, Ink?”

“Ask those that she hurt what they want to do with her.” Ink said immediately. “It was not just what happened in the castle. All of Horrortale was affected by the damage she caused. Like… Like how she hurt Paprika, right? He didn’t say much but what was implied was… bad.” Ink tentatively looked at Horror, whose face could be made of stone. He steeled himself and kept speaking. “Her other victims should have a say in her fate. Like it or not, Undyne was their leader. And someone who hurt many of them. We shouldn’t make that choice for them.”

“I agree with Ink.” Horror murmured.

Relief swept through Ink as Horror looked at him, his gaze clearer than it had been. Was it because Ink mentioned that his brother should be involved? Or had something else pulled him out of the darkness?

“I say execute her.” Killer said, voice flat.

“Execute.” Dust repeated. The conflict that had adorned his face was gone, replaced by resolve.

“Threats should never be given the chance to return.” Nightmare agreed coolly.

His eye light remained a narrowed slit as he studied Ink. Ink was used to such intense stares from his boss but this time felt different. Maybe even dangerous. Ink had not felt so unsafe around Nightmare in a long time.

“I think the other victims should have a say.” Cross said slowly. He remained stoic even when Nightmare’s gaze shifted to him.

For the first time in a while, Ink tried to stamp down on his relief and joy. Nightmare did not look angry, but he did not look particularly pleased either. He seemed curious again, like this development was fascinating.

“Welp, that’s three to three.” Dust noted. “Huh. That’s never happened before.”

“Why don’t you ask Paps to tie break?” Killer asked snidely. His eye sockets widened slightly as he remembered that Paps was real before a slow smirk stretched across his face. “Wait, that’s a wonderful idea! Even though I think we all know what he’ll say.”

Ink’s hope dwindled as he remembered that Phantom Papyrus had encouraged Dust to kill. He looked to the codes that floated by Dust’s shoulder, noting how they had become animated once more. The skull shape leaned close to Dust, likely whispering to him, and Dust’s jaw dropped.

“Paps agrees with Ink.”

“WHAT?!” Killer spluttered. “You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not.” Dust appeared dazed. “Paps is… He’s acting more like how he used to before…” His multi-colored eye lights focused on Ink. “Did you do something?”

Ink mutely shook his head.

“Very well.” Nightmare said abruptly. “I will make the final preparations before we return to Horrortale. You may do your usual chores until then.”

Ink’s relief was tempered by his confusion. It felt weird to have to change out of his Arc attire so soon after he just put it on. He tried not to wonder if he had been told to dress as Arc because Nightmare expected to march right to Horrortale for a series of executions.

Ink was left in a daze as he headed to the kitchen to help Horror. He did not realize he was still wearing his Arc clothes until Horror looked down at him with a puzzled expression. Ink followed his gaze, blinking at the gloves, but made no move to go change. Horror let it go as they silently started making breakfast.

At first, Horror seemed pretty unaffected by what had just happened, like it was an everyday occurrence. That illusion was shattered when Horror suddenly hugged Ink and held on just a bit too long. Horror lifted him up and laid his chin atop Ink’s skull, still hugging him.

“Are you okay?” Ink asked worriedly.

“Undyne is the reason my skull is like this.” Horror whispered. “She ripped my magic eye out of my skull and left me for dead. Then she held my brother hostage and abused him, calling it ‘training’ for the Royal Guard.”

Ink did not process what Horror had said at first. What he had just shared. He clung to Horror because Horror obviously wanted him to be close right now.

“I can’t forgive her.” Horror spat, but his voice was low and breathy. “I can never forgive her. But I’m not the only one she hurt. The others deserve justice.”

“Thank you for trusting me with this.” Ink said first, barely managing to keep his voice audible. He had to say it, because this was important. The Gang didn’t ask, and didn’t share. That was, until they did.

“I thought it was about time.” Horror rasped. “You did the right thing, speaking up.”

Ink hugged him tightly, unable to find the words, but it seemed Horror understood.

Horror gently set Ink down but let his hand rest atop his skull. “Go do your other chores for today. I’d like a little alone time to think, okay?”

Ink nodded firmly. He gave Horror one last, brief hug around his middle before leaving. As he walked out, Nightmare passed by him. He nodded cordially and entered the kitchen. Ink hesitated, worried that Horror was not as okay as he pretended if Nightmare felt the need to visit him, but supposed it was not his business.

Ink continued with his usual chores of cleaning parts of the Castle. It had gotten a bit dirtier since he had been busy the past few days between his misadventure in Goner, Horrortale, and his subsequent injury and recovery period. Ink’s room had been cleaned by someone else (likely Horror) and the others’ were also neat so he decided to start with the lower levels.

He still wore his Arc outfit, removing only the gloves and mask as he worked. It was not meant for this kind of labor but Ink couldn’t make himself put on his usual garments. He did not want to change. The atmosphere in the Castle felt too heavy and his body felt tense as though bracing. For what, he could not say.

Perhaps it was due to the cells being underground but the dungeon always seemed to get damp and dirty faster than the rest of the Castle. Ink started with the furthest cell, which happened to be the one that Cross fled into after the incident in Horrortale.

Ink considered the cell carefully and focused on his magic. It came at his call as easily as it did outside. He blinked in surprise, then easily shifted his magic into its green hue. Only when that was done did he try to expand past the cell, only for his magic to halt before it could exit the door like it had hit an invisible wall. Interesting. Ink stared a moment longer, then dispelled the magic. He would have to experiment with it later.

It must not have taken long to clean the space because Horror had not called him up for breakfast yet. It turned out the fabric could repel certain contaminants so his coat and pants remained clean. That was good. He soon moved to the next cell. It was another magic dampening one if he was not mistaken.

Ink opened the door and paused, focusing on the dark stone. Except it wasn’t all dark. Some of it looked more of a pale gray than black.

There was monster dust in the dungeon. It had not been there before Horrortale.

It felt like the floor had dropped out from beneath Ink’s feet. He stared at the pile of monster dust, then slowly lifted his gaze to the manacles. There was more dust on them. And the walls. Smaller piles were scattered across the stone like someone had removed parts and tossed them aside, letting them individually dust. Someone had not just been killed here. They had been tortured.

Ink remembered Killer had cussed out a ‘traitorous bird’. Like a bird monster. Like Red Bird, who had seen Arc at Horror’s house. Had Red Bird been the one to tell Undyne about him? That betrayal wasn’t a crushing blow (he did not know Red Bird at all) but it still hurt.

The Gang’s actions hurt worse because they had captured Red Bird, tortured them, and killed them. The evidence was on the floor and the walls of the cell around Ink.

Ink stepped out of the magic dampening cell and numbly cast his senses outward.

The Gang wasn’t in the Castle.

Why wasn’t the Gang in the Castle?

How long ago had they left?

Wait.

Why was the Gang in…

Ink had pulled his mask and gloves on before he fully realized he was moving (because if his suspicions were right, if he was right, he needed to be seen only as Arc, only as—).

He arrived in Horrortale to see a crowd in the center of Snowdin a second later. Ink landed atop a roof and peered down into the square where the Gyftmas Tree usually stood, spotting monsters from as far as Hotland and the Capital in the throng. He saw Nacarat Jester, Mettaton, Burgerpants, Nice Cream Guy, and Grillby.

Up near the front were Toriel, Paprika, and the Snowdin Sentries. In the wide-open space in the center of the square, within view of everyone, was the Gang. In front of their silent, emotionless line was Nightmare. And in front of him was—

Ink did not have a crucial moment to move this time.

Just like Negative Undyne, Queen Undyne was there one moment. The next, she was dust as Nightmare’s tentacles tore through her chest. Off-white dust floated down to the street, joining several more piles, and the crowd cheered. Only Paprika turned away slightly and closed his eye sockets.

Ink did not move. He did not make a sound. He watched the dust slowly become buried and lost in the snow. Undyne was dead. Her Guards were dead. Nightmare had killed them all.

Nightmare lied.

Nightmare did not look up at Ink. One of his tentacles jabbed sharply as he announced that Toriel would retake her place as Queen. The crowd cheered for her reign just like they cheered for Undyne’s death. Nightmare’s tentacle made another sharp movement and Ink recognized it was an order for him to go home.

He lied.

Flowey had seen Arc’s face.

Flowey also saw Ink heal Toriel’s Corruption and Paprika’s injury.

Flowey knew Arc was a Healer and that he could use codes.

Ink could not see or sense Flowey anywhere.

He lied he lied he lied he lied.

Ink went through a portal back to the Castle. He removed his mask. He stood in the entrance hall. He waited.

The Gang returned. Dust caught sight of Ink first and his smile fell. Cross almost bumped into him from behind. His protest cut off and he too went quiet when he saw Ink’s face. Horror closed his eye sockets. Killer seemed unsettled. Ink ignored them all.

“You never intended to let Undyne or the Guards live.” Ink said quietly.

Nightmare did not flinch. He showed no remorse or regret. “She and her followers were too much of a threat to allow to live.”

Ink slowly turned his head to look at him. “I found the monster dust in the cell.” His voice was steady. His tone was calm. His eye lights were a blank and empty white. “You killed Red Bird because they were a spy. And Horrortale Flowey wasn’t there in Snowdin today. You killed him too, didn’t you?”

“Red Bird had been spying on us for the Omega Timeline and Undyne for years.” Killer said coldly. “I took care of the leak.”

Ink did not acknowledge him (just like Killer did not acknowledge the fate of Horrortale Flowey). He kept looking to the one he knew gave Killer those orders.

Nightmare did not speak. He simply stared down at Ink. Completely calmly. Completely without remorse.

Ink’s mouth felt dry. “Were there any monsters left in the Underground of the Swapfell AU that Cross attacked me in?”

Cross flinched. His eye lights went wide and his gaze snapped to Nightmare. His aura undoubtedly matched the hurt and shock on his face. Horror was equally surprised and Dust seemed confused. They, at least, did not know. That fact gave Ink no comfort.

Ink’s voice was steady. “How many people have you ordered the deaths of behind my back? How many have you killed for seeing my face?”

Nightmare’s tentacles curled. Not in guilt, but in annoyance because Ink dared to question him. “I told you to keep your identity and Role hidden. Our deal was for no deaths in the AUs while the Gang attacked them.”

Waves of hurt tore through Ink’s soul, so sharp and painful it felt like he’d been stabbed again. Nightmare did not flinch as Ink’s pain railed against him. His tentacles shifted slightly. Not surprised. Not satisfied. But curious. Just like Killer was curious about Ink and wanted to see if he’d kill or be killed. Just like so many Frisks and Charas became curious enough to see what would happen if they killed everyone.

“You’re a liar.” Ink choked, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You’re a liar. I knew I couldn’t trust you.”

Horror made a distressed noise and stepped forward. Ink backed away and shoved his owl mask back onto his face. His black chains locked around Nightmare and Cross’s feet before he opened a random portal and ran through.

Cross’s startled shout was cut off as Ink slammed the portal closed. He then tore off his Echo Flower communicator bracelet and shoved it into his satchel. Without the physical link to his body, no calls would come through.

He was in a Snowdin Forest. A new one. He felt an unfamiliar AU code whisper its presence as it was imprinted on his bones. Arc was out in a positive AU that held the enemies of Nightmare, alone.

Ink did not care. He sat in the snow and curled up at the base of a tree, not bothering to try to muffle his sobs.

“I’m so stupid.”

No one heard him weeping.

Until someone did.

The black chains evaporated after Ink’s portal closed and Nightmare scowled in annoyance, irritated that they had not broken sooner. Cross lurched forward with a shocked yell that became a scream of frustration as he realized he did not know where Ink had gone. He began shouting into his communicator, begging Ink to respond, only to swear when it refused to connect. Horror’s disbelief turned into guilt while Dust’s became dread. Killer kept grinning but it was forced.

“We shouldn’t have done it.” Cross said tightly.

“Horror changed his vote.” Killer drawled. “Better a dead enemy than a future threat that can stab us from behind.”

“We still shouldn’t have done it.” Cross snarled.

Horror was conflicted (and slightly confused). He had been relieved to see Undyne’s dust fall into the snow. His guilt had nothing to do with her death, but with Ink’s reaction. Nightmare had not been surprised when Horror had approached him in his office to say he had changed his vote. Enemies were never neutralized until they were dead and gone. It was only logical that Horror saw sense.

(Horror must be confused by Ink’s reaction to his decision. That, and the death of the one that had hurt him for so long, must be the reason why a dazed fog hung over him like he was struggling to understand what was happening. What else would he be confused by?)

“Boss, where is Ink?” Cross asked urgently. “We have to go after him.”

Nightmare did not waste a breath to consider pacifying him. Ink had gone too far this time. He had overvalued the influence he had in the Gang. While he had some pull to demand that the Gang members learn to care for their injuries, it was not up to him to have the final say in the fate of the Gang’s enemies. Acting as he had in medical matters was understandable, but outside of that, Ink was nothing more than another recruit. Vessel for the Protector or not, he would remember his place.

“Leave him.” Nightmare commanded coldly. “He’ll be back once he stops whinging.”

The reactions of the Gang were enlightening, expected, but infuriating all the same. Cross was angry and guilty. Horror was shocked and livid. Dust was anxious and puzzled. And Killer was smug but uneasy.

It did not matter. Ink would come crawling back once he realized what a childish fool he had been. He was a member of Nightmare’s Gang. He had no power over Nightmare’s decisions. Moral conflict or not, Ink had nowhere else to go but back to him.

The show was a glorious success. The crowd filled the big top tent of the UnderTop Circus, cheering the troupe on as the final routine of the night was completed and they gave their bows. The blow off began, with the attendees exiting their seats to head to midway attractions and vendors.

Undertop’s own Gaster, who much preferred to be called ‘Top’ these days, watched with a smile as the performers headed to the back yard to remove their costumes or prepare themselves for later events. This world had come so far, and with Frisk’s decision to join their family circus, he hoped it would continue to move forward. It was all he could do sometimes. Hope.

Undertop’s history was a rocky one. Once, it had not been an AU at all. It followed the path of Undertale and was RESET every time Frisk and Chara became bored, until Gaster interfered from where he was trapped between his world and the Void.

In his effort to stop Frisk and Chara, it could be said he fixed the world as much as it could be said that he broke it. Only his son, Sans, and Top himself remembered the previous world. Poor Papyrus could never figure out why his brother disliked and mistrusted their father so deeply. (If he knew that Gaster had chosen his work over his sons in that other world, would he blame him too?)

Undertop was meant to be incode. No outsiders should come in, no insiders should leave. However, that restriction had been thrown to the wayside long ago as the Multiverse became more and more of a chaotic mess. Top could not say that he minded. There was a wider audience that could use some joy in their lives so the circus would provide.

Hope and joy. Such simple concepts, yet they were often so hard to hold onto.

Frisk waved cheerfully to Top as they followed Undyne into the back and Top waved in return before he headed to his own workshop. Frisk had been welcomed into the circus’s family. At least, this version was. They were a good child. Whether it was because they were free of Chara's (or an unknown entity’s) influence, they had not gone on a Genocide Timeline route since their world transformed into Undertop. Their crimes remained only in Top and Sans’s memories and nightmares. Top still kept an eye on them for any odd behavior, however. He could not afford to put his family at risk by doing less.

Alphys was waiting for him outside of his workshop. She was in charge of the circus’s pyrotechnics, explosions, and illusions but in more recent times (as more and more outsiders entered their world), her work had expanded beyond the circus to assisting with its security.

Undertop was not as valuable as Underswap or the Omega Timeline but it was still positive enough that their Council and Scientists sent over several pieces of their own tech to help keep the circus safe. As Top approached, Alphys said the words he never wanted to hear.

“Top, we might have a problem.”

“Show me.” he requested.

Alphys pulled out a tablet and tipped the screen towards him to show one of the camera feeds from Snowdin. Top recognized the figure on the screen immediately. Arc’s image had been sent to many of the AUs that were allied with the Omega Timeline, Undertop among them. The posters emphasized that he was a member of Nightmare’s Gang and that he was a threat. Any sightings were to be reported to the Omega Timeline immediately.

It was difficult to see Arc as a threat when he was curled up at the base of a tree, shoulders shaking as he sobbed.

“Is the feed current?” Top asked.

Alphys nodded pensively. “Yes. I’ve been watching for a while. He hasn’t moved in an hour. I have the emergency number but I thought I should tell you first.”

Top took the tablet from her. “You did well to not interrupt the performance. It could have caused a stir if the ringleader left unexpectedly.”

“Should I call in the Star Sanses?” Alphys asked. Her claws dug into and pulled at the edges of her stained lab coat.

Top studied Arc closely. He was definitely crying. A layer of snow slowly fell onto him, covering his brown coat with a blanket of white, but he did not seem to care. Was he shivering because he was crying or because he was cold? Either way, he did not look like a threat or one of Nightmare’s hired murderers at all. Along with his wariness, Top’s curiosity was piqued.

“Not yet.” Top decided. “I am going to approach him myself.”

Alphys’s shoulders straightened and she gave him a worried look. “But—”

“It is alright, Alphys.” Top interrupted gently. “Unless this is an elaborate trick, something is obviously wrong. And if it is a subterfuge, I can take care of myself.” He handed the tablet back. “Oh, and please do not tell Undyne where I am. We both know she can be a bit overly enthusiastic.”

Alphys’s cheeks flushed. “Right. I’ll keep an eye out.”

Top headed out, smile fading. Once he was out of Alphys’s site, he checked the bone attack he had hidden in his ringleader staff as he went. He could only hope that Arc’s presence was not the prelude to an attack on his home. He could not bear to lose everything again.

The snow was very cold. It was getting darker, too. Ink’s outfit could hold up in cold weather but he was starting to lose the feeling in the tips of his phalanges as the cold nipped at the bones. He should find shelter but he did not want to move. His tears had run dry some time ago and his throat felt like he had tried to swallow shards of glass.

Ink wondered if Nightmare was sensing him now. Was he sitting in his office, basking in Ink’s misery? Was he waiting for Ink to come crawling back? How else was Nightmare playing with him?

All those offers of comfort and touch were manipulation tactics, weren't they?

Even with the insight that brief vision of Prism’s Nightmare gave, Ink hadn’t let himself see it before. It was a depressing realization to understand he had been so easily tricked. Ink almost wished he could stop caring like so many others had. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel like the stupidest monster in the Multiverse.

They're going to lie again. They're going to kill again.

He should have known better than to think he could stop Nightmare's killing. He had known that he could not completely trust Nightmare a long time ago, even if he had denied it for so long, but he was still stupid enough to hope otherwise. Why did Ink ever think that Nightmare would listen to him? Why did he ever think that he could convince Nightmare that killing wouldn’t solve his problems?

Instead of helping, Ink flitted around in ignorance while Nightmare killed (and ordered the deaths of) countless monsters behind his back for their varying crimes. Crimes that ranged from trying to kill members of the Gang to knowing Ink was a Healer or seeing Arc’s face.

If Paprika and Toriel weren’t close to Horror, would Nightmare have killed them too?

Ink tried to rationalize that Nightmare had explicitly said they could see Arc’s face and know his true name. Then he realized that he had to have that caveat because the point still remained: Nightmare killed monsters for seeing Ink.

Ink wanted to throw up. Nausea twisted his insides and crawled up his throat but he could not throw up because he could not remove his mask. If he removed his mask, Nightmare might wipe out everyone in the AU he was in, just like he had all but admitted he had done to the last survivors of that Swapfell Genocide Timeline.

I have to go back. If I don’t, someone could be hurt. But if I do, someone will be hurt anyway…

It turned out Ink still had more tears in him. He tried to keep himself quiet but wasn’t sure he succeeded. The thought of returning to the Castle had never given him such a sense of dread before, not even after Cross’s violent reaction to Ink’s coding abilities in Horrortale and Ink’s understanding of what Prism’s Multiverse signified about his own. The Castle always felt safe. It felt like home. But now that Ink realized what Nightmare was doing to keep him hidden, he felt those dark stone walls closing in around him.

I knew that Nightmare was wrong but I kept hoping, didn’t I?

Am I just a plaything to him? An experiment? A weapon?

The moment Nightmare stops being amused and becomes angry, he'll throw me back there. And then he’ll keep on killing and hurting because he thinks he’s in the right. I should have known that from the start. The first thing Nightmare did after I agreed to join him was kill my brother in front of me.

Ink tried to tell himself that he was overreacting. He reminded himself that had agreed to the deal and Nightmare only said that he would not force Ink to hurt others. He tried to convince himself that he should be grateful for everything he had. He tried to believe that he should be happy that at least the AUs’ people would not be killed during the Gang’s assaults. He told himself that he already knew that Nightmare was wrong due to Prism’s Nightmare. He told himself that he had been selfish from the start and had thought of his brother too late when he made his deal with Nightmare.

It wasn’t working. He kept crying, certain that Nightmare was observing him.

He was not the only one. Someone was watching Ink from behind a tree. He instantly identified the presence as Core Frisk.

Ink struggled to control his breathing. He was so grateful that his mask would hide his fear. How had Core Frisk found him? What had Arc done to catch their interest so thoroughly? Had they called the Star Sanses in already? Another presence joined Core Frisk’s but it was not Dream or Blue. The Gaster was someone unknown, but Ink could tell he was a resident of this AU, Undertop. He spoke lowly, but Ink could hear him from within the trees.

“I know your heart is in the right place but it’s rude to spy on people, Core.”

“I was watching the show when I overheard Alphys.” Core Frisk’s voice sounded apologetic. “I have alerted Blue and Dream.”

Ink felt colder than the snow that was steadily piling up on top of and around him. Some distant part of him screamed at him to get out now but the rest of him did not want to move. Cross's warnings about his previous life in the Omega Timeline and Killer’s comments about what they would do to Ink echoed in his head but it still did not motivate him into fleeing.

Where would he go if he did run? The AUs that Nightmare protected were not the type to be safe for a distressed monster and he did not bring his Shield Echo Flower to contact Aster. (Would Aster even want to help him anyway? Or would he hate Ink when he realized Shield and Arc were the same person? He should hate Arc because it turned out he caused the deaths of so many innocent monsters...) Ink could not return to the Castle either. He did not want to see any of them yet.

One of them changed their mind about executing Undyne and the Guards.

Ink could not stop another round of pathetic sobs. Killer would be yelling at him to ‘stop sitting around so you aren’t killed!’ at this point but Ink was beyond caring. He was so tired of caring. Why couldn’t he accept that Nightmare was a liar, people died because of the Gang, the Multiverse was a horrible place, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it?

He barely heard Gaster’s next words to Core Frisk. “Tell them to stay back for now, please.”

Ink heard footsteps in the snow. They were getting closer. They were too heavy to be someone as small as Core Frisk, if they made sounds anyway since their “body” was apparently a projection of some sort.

Gasters were dangerous. They were untrustworthy. They often experimented on other monsters. They would have no qualms about hurting members of the Gang. Echoes of Cross’s warnings became desperate shouts as they melded with the memory of Horror’s pleading request for Ink to defend himself. But Ink could not find the energy to move. He stayed curled up at the base of the tree and did not even bother to look up as a shadow fell over him.

Something heavy fell onto Ink and he flinched, expecting a net or other trap. It took him a moment to realize a blue coat had been thrown over him. Skeletal hands adjusted the coat so it did not cover Ink’s head and the Gaster crouched down beside him, wearing what appeared to be a yellow vest and blue dress shirt.

“You’re shivering.” Gaster said. “It’s very cold out here. Would you prefer to go inside?”

Ink frantically shook his head before he remembered that he should not look afraid in front of an enemy. It was far too late for that. It was far too late for a lot of things. Like Horrortale Flowey, who had helped the Gang locate Ink and Killer at Undyne’s castle. Nightmare killed him anyway.

The coat was so warm but Ink shoved it off and pushed it back at the Gaster, shaking his head. “Go away.”

Gaster’s brow creased as he evidently struggled to hear Ink’s voice. His expression cleared and remained gentle. Was it though? Was it genuine? Or was it a trick like Nightmare had been tricking Ink?

“I cannot do that. You’ll freeze out here, young one.”

The way he said ‘young one’ was very familiar. Prism had called Ink something similar. Ink wondered if he knew this particular Gaster. He supposed it did not matter. That Gaster was different than this one, just like Prism’s Nightmare was different than Ink’s. “Go away.”

Gaster sat in the snow despite how cold it was. “Perhaps introductions would help? I am Gaster, though I prefer the name ‘Top’. I am the ringleader of the UnderTop Circus.”

He could be the spokesperson for The Ones That Watched, having arrived to give Ink all the answers to his questions, and Ink still would not want to talk to him. Interacting with anyone was not the whole reason for this whole mess, but it was a good part of it.

Undyne killed and hurt people but Flowey wasn’t a threat. He was just trying to help. He warned Horror and Dust. He helped Nightmare and Cross find us at Undyne’s castle. They would not have arrived in time if he hadn’t. He was killed anyway.

Ink turned away from Top and pulled his hood further down his face despite it already being safely covered by his mask. “Go away. Don’t talk to me.” Nightmare will kill you if I say something wrong.

Top was quiet. Ink’s hopes that he had left were dashed as he found himself wrapped up in the blue coat again.

“I cannot in good conscience leave you here like this.” Top insisted. “Please let me help you.”

If Ink was Shield, he might have taken the risk of trusting him. But he was Arc, a known member of Nightmare’s Gang. He could not trust this Gaster. His “kindness” was likely a trap. The Gang always insisted that kindness from strangers was often a trick. And it had been from Nightmare. Ink really should have known better.

He forced himself to his feet with Top’s coat still wrapped around him. It was so big that it dragged in the snow. Ink paused a moment, waiting to see if Top would see his sudden movement as an attack and attack in turn, but he simply got to his feet as well.

Ink let the blue coat drop. Then he stepped around Top and ran into the forest. A shout followed him but it did not match Gaster’s low voice.

“Arc, wait!”

It was Dream. Core Frisk had called him.

It was a trap.

Ink’s misery became terror as he dodged between trees, keeping himself moving in case Dream decided to fire an arrow into his back. A flash of deep blue was his only warning before Ink collided with Blue of the Star Sanses. Blue evidently did not expect Ink to be moving so fast because he knocked them both to the ground.

Hands latched around Ink’s wrists and he went limp, slumping over. It did not unbalance Blue but it made him try to adjust his grip. Magic formed around Ink's hand and he yanked himself out of Blue’s grasp. The others would have kicked at Blue to keep him down for a few precious seconds. Ink did not.

Ink jumped up, trying to get his bearings. He did not expect for Dream to make a beeline straight for him. Ink had no choice but to run. Dream and Blue were too close for him to portal somewhere else and Core Frisk might be able to track him anyway. 

Ink hesitated, trying to figure out a plan, only for several bone attacks to shoot from the forest and stab into the ground around him, with several piercing through his coat. One went straight through his left leg.

The magic attacks burned and Ink clamped his mouth shut so he would not make a sound. The damage output was too much for it to be from an average Sans. The red tint suggested it came from a Fell variant. The sharp edges of the bone suggested it was specifically a Fell Papyrus.

Pulses of terror sent Ink’s soul into a hammering sprint in his chest. He had put his Echo Flower communicator in his satchel but even if he tried to call for help, no one would come. Nightmare must be able to sense his fear but he did not appear. Ink was not sure he wanted him to.

Ink brought this on himself. He overestimated the deal with Nightmare. He saw kindness where there was only malicious intent. He did not press hard enough to see the truth he had been blind to even when he knew that Nightmare could not be trusted. Yet despite that betrayal, he did not want the Gang to be hurt by his mistakes.

Blue ran up to Ink and he recoiled, covering his chest with black magic in a feeble attempt to protect it. Blue’s bright eye lights seemed to dull before his eyes and he took a hasty step back. Ink took a gasping breath and grabbed onto the bone attack, trying to pull it out, but it was too deep in the ground. He gathered his magic and tried to saw at the attack beneath his leg, only for several more to fly by him.

Blue summoned two bone attacks and stepped in front of Ink, facing the forest. He deflected several bone attacks with ease and stood guard, glaring into the trees. “Edge, STOP IT! Cease your attack at once.”

Ink watched him in confusion before realization slowly sank in. It’s another trick. They want something from me.

…Aren’t they trying to capture me alive?

Ink hadn’t forgotten what Undyne said about the Omega Timeline. There was some type of bounty for Arc, wasn’t there? Did they know he could use codes? Ink had come to believe that being able to access codes was not the death sentence that Cross had implied during his attack but perhaps he was wrong. Ink tried not to panic as he laid his head on the snow and stopped moving, breathing shallowly. He had to stay calm and not do anything rash.

Dream was there. He stood beside Blue, eye sockets wide with distress. His eye lights were locked on the bone attack that had gone straight through Ink’s leg. Even now, Ink could see how exhausted and sickly he was, his instincts urging him to help and heal Dream even though he had his own problems. Ink would not be able to run until he healed his injury but if he healed it, they’d know his Role. But if he did not get the attack out and heal it, he was going to be captured.

Would the others still come for me? Would Nightmare let them?

Ink didn’t want to find out. He gritted his teeth and slashed through the bone with one of his chains. Two others wrapped around Blue and Dream’s waists, yanking them away.

Ink forced himself back to his feet and stumbled away from the Star Sanses, leaving drops of black blood in the snow. The bone attack was still in his leg but he stabilized the injury with some black magic. Pulling it out now could cause more damage. Moving could also cause more damage but he had few other choices.

“Arc, stop!” Dream’s pleading voice followed him. “We don’t want to hurt you!”

Ink couldn’t stop the laugh that burst out of him. It sounded even more distorted as it filtered through his mask and both Star Sanses flinched. Yesterday, Ink might have felt bad. Today, Ink spoke in a flat voice that was only extenuated by the mask.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve already been stabbed in the leg.”

Ink gestured at the injury for emphasis. Then he grabbed the bone attack and yanked it out, no longer caring about the pain and blood that came with it. Ink dropped the attack and began healing the inside of the wound. He got practice from healing Horror and himself. The reminder of what happened to them both sent another jolt of fear through Ink and he curled inward slightly, covering his chest with his arms again.

“Go away.”

It was useless to make the plea to the Star Sanses but Ink had to try. Even if it did not matter if he did. Everyone’s answer to every problem was always killing, violence, more violence, and more killing. Ink miserably summoned chains inside his sleeves and braced in preparation to defend himself from another attack.

No more attacks came.

Blue made a gesture like he was listening to something. “Top has him.”

Ink’s gaze darted around frantically, searching for the trap that must be closing in, but no one emerged from the shadows of the trees to surround him. It was only Blue and Dream. Just Blue and Dream. Even Core Frisk was gone.

Dream took a breath that might have been intended to be steadying but came out sounding shaky. He raised his empty gloved hands slightly, showing he had no weapons, and looked at Ink’s mask.

“You’re injured. Will you let me try to heal you?”

Dream could heal. Ink knew that, but the reminder was still startling. He took an anxious step back, acutely aware that although the outside portions of his injury were still there, the inside was mostly healed. Dream would be able to tell if he helped. He would know Ink had healed himself. He would do something with that knowledge.

Dream was not manipulative but Ink had been ignorant to Nightmare’s manipulations and secrets. How could he trust himself enough to know if anyone was telling him the truth? How would he know he was not being guided along and used simply for their own benefit while they hurt and killed when his back was turned?

Ink could not stop a desperate sound from escaping his throat. Tears dripped from behind the bottom of his mask and trickled down his neck. Dream was watching him. Blue wasn’t attacking him. Ink had no idea what to do. Blue had been so adamant about attacking him when he first appeared as Arc. Yesterday, Ink would have been overjoyed to see them considering mercy. Today, he could not trust it was real and not a new manipulation tactic.

Nightmare had to be observing. He knew what Ink was feeling. His desperation, his terror, his anguish. He knew Ink could not escape on his own. He was going to be captured by the Gang’s enemies, enemies which included the brother that Nightmare insisted was manipulative and dangerous (even more lies) and Scientists that Cross and Killer warned would torture him for information. Yet Nightmare did nothing.

The stress became too much. Ink could not handle it.

He screamed.

“GO AWAY!”

Blue and Dream were there.

Then they were gone.

Ink stared at the place they had been. For a soul stopping moment, he thought they were dust. Then he registered the codes in the air.

GUARDIAN OF POSITIVITY DREAM BLOCKED FROM ENTRY TO UNDERTOP

UNDERSWAP STAR SANS BLUE BLOCKED FROM ENTRY TO UNDERTOP

CORE FRISK BLOCKED FROM ENTRY TO UNDERTOP

The codes shimmered briefly in his sight before they joined seamlessly into Undertop’s world code. If Core Frisk did not know that Arc could use codes before, they certainly knew now.

Ink fell to his knees and shoved his mask off his face before he vomited. Black bile splattered onto the snow and he coughed weakly, dry heaving as he tried and failed to catch his breath. Snow crunched at his left and he flinched, yanking his mask back down and scrambling backwards until his back hit a tree.

Top had returned. He stared at Ink with wide eye sockets. He had seen what happened. Did he know what Ink had done?

Ink only realized he had finished healing his leg when he saw a distinctive green glow through the torn fabric of his pants. If Nightmare was coming for him because of his fear, he would have by now. Numbness replaced that terror and he lifted his mask, revealing dull green eye lights. It didn’t matter anymore anyway. Undertop Gaster had seen everything. His healing magic, his codes, and his face.

“Please don’t let anyone know that you saw what I can do.” Ink pleaded with the Gaster that could very well be his captor or killer. “I don’t want you to die. I don’t want anyone else to die. I tried to stop Nightmare. I tried.”

Top halted right in front of Ink. He knelt, slowly, and carefully pulled him into a hug. Like his coat had been, it was warm. Ink exhaled shakily and closed his eye sockets as he forced his body to relax. Was Ink hoping that bone attacks would not tear through him and shatter his soul or was he hoping that they would?

“I know you did your best, young one.” Top said, and he must be lying because no one sounded that nice without an ulterior motive. “It’s alright. I have you. It’s alright…”

Top must have pricked Ink with a sedative or something because everything seemed to drift away as his body and mind went numb. The last voice he heard was not Top’s. It was too harsh and cold.

“Good. You captured him.”

It was then that Ink finally remembered the bone attack Cross had given him to call him in an emergency. It was still in his sleeve. It was too late to use it. It was too late to resist. Ink felt his consciousness fade. It did not matter if he ended up dead or captured. Nightmare certainly did not care if he was.

Ink was as good as worthless.

The world blinked back into view and Blue landed on top of his kitchen table. He recognized it because it had a nice blue pattern tablecloth on it that he had recently gotten from Asgore. Dream landed on top of him a moment later, forcing the air from Blue’s chest as his full weight fell onto him. It proved how much force had been exerted that Dream’s rather pitiful weight affected him at all.

Unwashed dishes rattled in the sink as the two Star Sanses made a crash landing but there were no sounds of shattering glass. Stretch froze mid-step, blinking at his brother in mute bewilderment until he registered that he was there. He shoved the mug he was carrying into the sink and hurried to the table.

“Are you two alright?” Stretch demanded as he checked them for injuries.

Dream winced and moved off of Blue, apologizing softly.

Blue pushed himself up, holding his head, and managed to smile at his brother. “We’re okay, Paps! We just had an… unexpected… trip…”

Blue’s halting reassurances faded into a stunned silence once more as he and Dream stared at each other.

When Core Frisk summoned them to Undertop with reports that Arc had appeared there alone, Blue had been hopeful. Hopeful that Dream was right about Arc not being malicious. Hopeful that he could talk to the one that had saved Horror’s life. Hopeful that he could remedy his mistakes from last time.

Someone in Undertop had been determined not to go for the peaceful solution. Blue was pretty sure he knew who it was and had to wince at the idea that Edge and Red had yet another outing interrupted.

But that was beside the point. Even when he was impaled through the leg with bone attacks, Arc still did not react violently. That let Blue hope that maybe Arc could be spoken to. With that hope came a terrible dread as he realized why Nightmare wanted Arc on his team.

Stretch looked between them, brow furrowed in concern. “What happened?”

“Arc can use codes.” Core Frisk appeared frazzled as they manifested beside the kitchen table that the Star Sanses were still sitting on. They leaned against a counter and stared at their hands, then looked up at Stretch with wide, hollow eyes. “He blocked me from re-entering Undertop. I can’t see or get in.”

“We scared him.” Dream’s voice was low with dismay. “We outnumbered and chased him while he was vulnerable. We should have let Top try to calm him down first.”

Blue hated seeing him so despondent. “Maybe we still have a chance. Undertop’s Alphys has a Multiverse phone, right? Arc could still be there.”

Dream met his gaze and his expression slowly shifted. The nearly constant despair drew back from his worn features as a glimmer of resolve took its place.

“We have to try.” he insisted. “We can talk to him.”

Dream’s voice was stronger than Blue had heard in a long time and his eye lights burned. Blue had never seen Dream show such conviction before. It bolstered his own spirit and he nodded firmly.

Arc might not trust them, but he needed help. It was the Star Sanses’ duty to come to his aid.

Nightmare felt Ink’s terror fade and repressed an aggravated sigh. He should have expected Ink to run into trouble, but he was still unprepared for just how much trouble he managed to get himself in in such a short amount of time. Still, Nightmare was content to stay in the Castle and observe Ink’s struggles from a distance, knowing the necessary lesson that was required.

Ink’s attempt to force the Gang to spare their enemies was pathetic. His sympathy towards Dream and Blue was unacceptable. He needed to learn that such mercy would only bring him pain. While his expulsion of the Star Sanses and Core from the AU was impressive, his continued hesitance cost him yet again.

Nightmare considered sending Cross to retrieve Ink but decided against it. He was still in that AU, not the Omega Timeline. If Ink failed to free himself, he could be rescued later. It was time for Ink to personally see how merciless the Omega Timeline’s allies could be.

Nightmare sensed a familiar jolt of anger from Cross and stepped into the shadows, reappearing beside his recruit in the entrance hall of his Castle. “Where do you think you’re going, “Guard”?”

Dust froze and Killer backed towards the far corner but Cross stood his ground and glowered at Nightmare, aura frothing with rage and righteous intensity. The Delta Rune on his Guard chestplate gleamed and he held his knight helmet under one armored arm. His grip was so tight that the metal creaked. 

“I’m going to find Ink.” Cross declared fearlessly. “He’s not answering our calls.”

“I know his location.” Nightmare dismissed. “You will not retrieve him.”

“I’m not letting him stay out there alone.” Cross snarled.

Nightmare’s tentacles flicked dangerously and his gaze sharpened. “You will. He shall return on his own.”

A door to his left creaked open. Horror strode past Nightmare with a bag in his hand. He continued to ignore his boss as he blatantly began to sort through items that Cross would need on a trip. His silent, open rebellion made Nightmare’s slowly dwindling patience become a much rapider depletion.

“Your emotions are blinding you. Guard is unaffiliated with Arc.” Nightmare said coldly. “If you head out as you are, your identities will be compromised.”

“I. Don’t. Care.” Cross spat at him. “I’m not risking Ink’s life for some fucked up lesson of yours.”

“You’re out of line.” Nightmare said, tone as cold as ice.

Cross turned on him. Only Dust’s panicked grab prevented Cross from jabbing his finger against Nightmare’s chest. Dust held him back but he struggled, screaming in Nightmare’s face. “No, you’re out of line! Who gave you the right to break Ink’s trust like that? Who gave you the right to go behind his back and manipulate him and Horror?!”

“Horror agreed to my terms.” Nightmare’s eye light slid towards his silent subordinate. “Not that he’s managed to do anything useful with it yet.”

Horror’s jaw clenched visibly.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, you fucking bastard!” Cross bellowed. Nightmare’s annoyance increased at his inappropriately loud volume. “YOU USED YOUR AURA ON HIM!”

Nightmare could not repress a scoff. “What delusion have you fooled yourself with?”

A burst of panic came from Horror. He looked at Cross and frantically shook his head. He might as well not have reacted. Cross only had eyes for Nightmare.

“I’m not the delusional one!” Cross screamed, his fury and hurt clouding his emotional aura like a dark cloud. “You went to Horror in the kitchen and ‘convinced’ him to change his mind with your aura!”

Nightmare felt his patience fade just a little more as he observed his recruit’s temper tantrum. If Cross was going to throw a fit, he should at least have the dignity of not coming up with tall tales to try to make Nightmare look like the bad guy. He could not keep his patronized annoyance from dripping into his tone. “How strange. I remember Horror approaching me in my office. If I went to the kitchen to speak with him, I think I would recall such a thing.”

Cross’s anger peaked like a violent explosion from a once dormant volcano.

“Of course you don’t believe me.” Cross sneered at him. “Of course you’re blind. You’re Corrupted!”

Dust’s terror spiked and Horror slowly backed away until his back hit the wall behind him. Only Killer was surprised. His shock reflected Nightmare’s own. It faded all too quickly. Dust, Cross, and Horror all thought Nightmare was Corrupted? They dared to call him Corrupted?

Fury tore through Nightmare at the accusation and he imagined the vicious satisfaction he would feel as he plunged his tentacles through Cross’s chest—

Nightmare froze.

He remembered remaining in his office.

Yet he also remembered going to the kitchen.

Nightmare brushed past Ink in the hallway outside of the kitchen. His worry prodded at Nightmare’s senses but it was ignored in favor of the tempest of conflicting emotions that came from Horror.

A dark part of him stirred as Ink passed. It wanted to lash out at Ink. It wanted to grab him and lift him up by his throat, silencing him as he was icily corrected on his naïve misconceptions about the power he held in Nightmare's Gang. Ink would be dealt with later. His insubordination would not go unpunished. Nightmare was the King. His word was law.

Smoothly hiding his rage, Nightmare gave Ink a cordial nod as he passed. The only reason Nightmare did not pull Ink to his office to correct him was because of Horror. Deep down, Horror knew what he truly wanted. He knew what needed to be done. He just needed a little encouragement.

Nightmare did not announce his appearance. There was no point. He was not here to talk. He was here to correct.

All it took was a subtle, brief flare of his aura. It closed around Horror like the deceptively gentle embrace of a constrictor. Horror stiffened as all of the memories of how he, Paprika, and Ink suffered at Undyne’s hands flashed through his mind and hit him all at once. He leaned heavily against the kitchen counter, breathing sharp and frightened as memories burned into his skull. Some were his own. Others were echoes of the torment endured by the ones he cared for the most.

Horror saw every broken bone and cut that Paprika endured thanks to Undyne’s “training”, culminating in a breakdown where he screamed that he could not take it anymore and gave up on his dream to be in the Royal Guard (a dream which had been ruined beyond repair thanks to the cruel Queen). He saw Ink with his throat slashed and a spear through his chest, reaching out to feebly try to assist Killer, who was shuddering on the throne room floor as more and more Determination Suppressant was forced into him. He saw Undyne tear his eye out of its socket and leave him to die, saying that his life was worth the price for their salvation.

Horror’s conflicted feelings turned purely to a desire for a way to stop Undyne. Permanently.

Nightmare silently returned to his office.

(Nightmare believed he never left his office).

A few minutes later, Horror appeared before him. His eye lights were distant, like he was trapped in a fog, but they glowed with rage.

“You’re right.” Horror’s tone was oddly flat. “She needs to die.”

Nightmare smiled.

Nightmare recoiled. His tentacles jerked backwards, arcing behind him as they strained to put as much distance between them and his subordinates as possible. He even stepped back, putting more space between them.

Yet some part of him wanted to go forward. It wanted to lunge and remove the ungrateful pawn that had overstepped his bounds. Cross owed Nightmare, just like Ink and the others did. The Gang was all indebted to Nightmare. Nightmare owned them.

When did Nightmare start thinking of the Gang as possessions?

No. No. That wasn’t right. He did not think that. His recruits were not things to control and manipulate for his own benefit. Nightmare was not Corrupted. Nothing was wrong with him. It was the Multiverse that was wrong. The Multiverse was out of balance. That was why there was not enough Negativity…

Except the negative AUs outnumbered the positive. Except monsters died constantly, causing more fear, grief, and despair in the survivors. Except everyone knew the Multiverse was dangerous and its residents suffered. Except Dream struggled to fight Nightmare instead of overpowering him like he would in a Multiverse where Positivity was greater than Negativity.

There was not too little Negativity. There was too much. Nightmare was not keeping the balance. He was destroying it. Just like Corruption.

As Nightmare stood there, frozen, his Gang gathered their courage– Because what was better for facing overwhelming fear than bravery?

“When Ink was sick, his recovery wasn’t slowed down because of the Negativity.” Cross said, paradoxically finding his calm as Nightmare lost his own. His voice was gentle but held an undercurrent of unyielding steel. “He was trying to heal you, Boss.”

Ink was a Healer. He was a Healer and a vessel for a Protector. (Or was he? Could he be a Protector himself? Was Nightmare even more wrong about him like everything else?) Ink could repair codes and he could touch Nightmare. He was a gentle pacifist who was capable of doing the impossible.

Ink was not a gift for Nightmare. He was not proof that Nightmare was right. He was proof that Nightmare was wrong because Ink was supposed to (heal him) stop him.

Nightmare felt something twist in his chest. It did not hurt, but it startled him enough that he flinched.

And despite the threat Nightmare posed, despite the manipulation and orders and mistakes, despite what Nightmare had done to Ink and Horror, despite everything… The Gang remained. They did not flee. They did not cower. It was not accurate to simply claim they feared him. They feared for him.

Along with his anger, Cross’s aura held worry for himself and the others, Nightmare included. Dust’s terror was tempered by his fragile optimism that things might still be okay. Killer’s alarm over what he had just learned came with a persistent trust in their boss. And Horror stepped forward with a hand outstretched (ready to provide comfort) and his aura stinging Nightmare with his determination to help and support. Like Ink would have.

Like Dream had tried?

“Boss—”

"Brother—"

"—Let me help you."

Nightmare turned on his heel and fled through a portal.

He did not appear in Dreamtale like he intended. Instead he slammed into something in the darkness and remained there, floating in the Abyss. Nightmare railed against the barrier around him, desperate to get out, to run, only for his efforts to do absolutely nothing.

Nightmare’s anguish became confusion and he inspected his situation more closely. This was no accident. He was being kept here. He could eventually break out, but for the moment he was trapped. Someone had locked him in between worlds. Core Frisk could not contain him. Ink was ignorant to that kind of coding ability and would never trap someone in emptiness. Then who?

(The codes keeping Nightmare trapped flashed with red and blue glitches.)

It did not matter. This in-between space would not hold Nightmare for long. He would get back outside.

Outside, Ink was alone in his despair, captured due to Nightmare’s conscious decision not to interfere.

Outside, Nightmare’s Gang feared Nightmare’s return, their terror so great it pierced through the barriers between worlds even it was a bit muffled and he could not tell the exact cause.

Outside, Nightmare hurt and hurt and hurt while insisting he was doing the right thing. But he wasn’t doing the right thing. He never did. He only made things worse.

Should he get out?

Why not stay?

Why not stay?

W̶̢͝h̶̬̿y̴̞͐ ̵̪̾n̴͕͝ȍ̸̭t̷̨̛ ̵̩̔s̵̨̀t̷̜͋a̵͙͂ÿ̶̳?̷͉̾

Cross repressed a flinch as Dust smothered a scream by covering his mouth with his scarf. His muffled sobs became laughter as tears streamed down his cheeks.

“Holy shit, we’re dead.”

“We are not.” Horror snapped.

“The Boss knows he’s Corrupted!” Dust shouted hysterically, still laughing. “He knows and he knows we knew. Who knows what he’ll be like when he comes back. He could be himself or he could be so pissed that he Corrupts completely, storms back in, and murders us. You all saw him. He almost lost control. He almost stabbed Cross with his tentacles—”

Horror grabbed Dust’s shoulders, grounding him, and spoke firmly. “Dust, we need to go. Get supplies.”

Dust took a gasping breath and vanished through a shortcut.

Killer stared at the spot he had disappeared from with a vacant expression. He rocked slowly from side to side, almost like he was swaying to music only he could hear. “Shouldn’t we try to help the Boss?”

“We will.” Cross said before Horror could, because as furious as he was with Nightmare, he knew (or at least, dared to hope) everything Nightmare did was not entirely up to him. “But he might not be himself when he gets back here.”

And we can’t help him if his Corrupted form kills us, Cross refused to say.

“Oh.” Killer muttered, dissonantly serene. “Huh. Am I… Corrupted too? Is that why… I c-can’t…?”

“Hey.” Cross stepped close to him and put his hands on Killer’s cheeks, making him look at him. “You’re alright. We have you. Don’t freak out now, okay?”

“Liiiiittle late.” Killer said distantly as he made a vague wobbling motion with his hand.

Dust reappeared and handed out supplies with shaking hands. Cross already had a satchel from when he'd intended to get Ink. He carefully placed some more supplies by Ink's Shield outfit and securely closed his bag as Dust rambled.

“I got some stuff but we didn’t prepare for this… Fine, fine. You’re right, Paps. We should have prepared for this. Too late now.” He desperately looked to Cross for guidance. “Where are we going to go until the Boss cools off? Will he cool off?”

“Horrortale.” Cross said tightly. He caught Horror’s alarmed look and forced himself to keep speaking. “Look, it’s our best chance and we might need to... to defend it anyway. I hate to say it but coders like Core can block people. Ink should be able to do the same. So we’ll find Ink and get him to keep Nightmare out, just in case. Then we’ll figure out what’s happening with the Boss and see if Ink can… help… him.”

Cross trailed off as he felt a chill behind him.

Horror’s eye lights vanished and his sockets went wide.

Killer started to giggle desperately, like he was trying not to scream.

Dust began hyperventilating again.

Cross slowly turned around to see an unnatural white tear in the wall. Through that tear was a single, glowing yellow eye light and a bit of a bloody, broken black skull. For a moment, that eye light scanned the room, fading slightly as though disappointed by what he was seeing (or wasn’t seeing).

The eye light locked onto Cross and glitched, shrinking into a furious slit-like shape, but it returned to its rounder, calmer form after a blink, like its owner had taken a steadying breath to stop himself from tearing everything in sight to shreds. Before Cross could even try to process what he was seeing, a smile stretched wide, almost filling the rip in space, and the Destroyer spoke.

“Found… y̶̢̑-̶͉̔you… Thief.”

Pain lanced through Cross’s skull as Error talked, like his voice had driven metal stakes into his skull. He was not the only one to cry out in pain, with Killer wavering like he was about to collapse. Cross had thought the Destroyer was incapable of translatable speech. Yet here he was, speaking understandably if a little slowly (and with an unhinged tone that constantly changed pitch and emotion like a glitched audio file).

Cross had other things to worry about than Error’s fragile ability to communicate. He calmly tried to slice open a portal off-world. It fizzled out and collapsed with a dull pop before it could even form. They were trapped in the Castle’s AU and Nightmare was not there to hold Error off this time. Error knew that. He had been watching and purposely waited for Nightmare to leave. Keeping his sights on Error, Cross serenely summoned a purple knife.

“Run.”

None of the Gang moved. They were all frozen in shock as they gaped at the Destroyer.

Smiling madly, Error gripped the edges of his portal and tore it wide.

“RUN!” Cross screamed and threw the knife at Error.

It skidded off of Error like it was nothing more than a foam toy but it made him pause just long enough. Dust grabbed onto Horror and Killer and Killer grabbed onto Cross. Gasping from the effort, Dust pulled them all through a shortcut with him.

It wasn’t enough. They escaped the entrance hall, but they could not escape the world. Or the Destroyer. Error’s laughter echoed through the halls of Nightmare’s Castle, growing louder and more gleeful as he stepped into Nightmare’s Castle.

Cross knew Error had stepped inside because every window in the Castle shattered at once. Glass sprayed across the hallway in front of them, forcing them to shield their faces as it pelted down around them like icy rain. However, the stone remained unharmed, though it did tremble and release bits of gravel. It was like the air itself was vibrating, just barely avoiding the frequency that would crush the stones to dust.

It was a far cry from Error’s usual unstoppable destruction but then again, he sometimes liked to target and hunt down certain Sanses first before ripping apart a world. This was one of those times. Error’s laughter came from all around the Gang, heavy and all-encompassing like he was the air itself. Slowly, that laughter transformed as Error hummed softly and menacingly, the sound echoing through the halls around them as it gave them no indication of his actual location.

The humming was soon accompanied by another untraceable sound. Cross heard footsteps. Their volumes and placement were impossible, rising and falling at random like glitching audio and giving them no actual indication of whether Error was coming closer. The steps were slow and methodical, as though Error knew they could not get away. They could not get away.

“Cross?” Killer said testily. “You can portal any time now. Send us to Horrortale. Or Possession. Or Stars-damned Candytale. I’m not going to be picky.”

“I can’t.” Cross hissed. “I think he’s stopping me from leaving.” Is he also stopping the Boss from coming back?

Killer’s face fell. “You have got to be kidding—”

There was a low thud from the other side of the wall.

Dust only managed to grab Killer this time. Cross had the briefest microsecond to feel relief before the wall was torn open with an unnatural screech that sounded closer to electronics failing than the sound of breaking stone. In the distance, Cross heard Dust scream in pain.

Horror shoved Cross away from the collapsing stone and dragged him along as they ran down the corridor towards the dining hall. There was another shortcut there. For now. The one Dust had just used was gone. Had Error destroyed it?

They did not make it far. The stone beneath them shattered outward, throwing them off their feet. Cross heard a low thud of something hitting the stone and Horror’s grunt of pain became a dazed groan. He shoved himself up, frantically searching for Horror, and was relieved to see there was no blood beneath his skull where he lay. Cross knelt beside him, only to throw himself back as blue strings snapped at him like writhing vipers.

Error ignored Horror completely. He walked right past him, wobbling unsteadily as he advanced towards Cross. Error even staggered, almost tipping sideways until his shoulder smacked into the wall, but he still kept advancing. He almost seemed drunk. Or ill.

Cross pushed himself up to his feet and stood his ground. Despite knowing he stood no chance, he could not leave Horror behind. He frantically tried to think of some way to slow Error down as the Destroyer halted several feet from him.

Error's unblinking, glitching eye lights never strayed from Cross’s face. He appeared to study him as though he found himself faced with a particularly difficult puzzle. Without warning, Error’s expression shifted and he gave Cross look of utter contempt. Just as rapidly, his mood swung again as his eye sockets bled and his grin stretched impossibly wide, revealing sharp, bloodstained teeth.

“He’ll ṛ̶̍-̸͇̌rescue you.”

Blue strings tore through the stone below Cross’s feet. He tried to dodge but they snapped closed around his legs, unbalancing him. Cross’s chin smacked the stone floor, sending a jolt of pain up into his jaw, and his vision swam.

Something latched onto Cross’s hand and he opened his eye sockets to see Horror’s terrified ones. One hand was wrapped around Cross’s. The other had stabbed a bone deep into the stone in a desperate attempt to hold them both in place. Cross belatedly realized his legs were off the ground, having been lifted by Error’s strings. Strings that led to a white portal.

“I can’t– cut them.” Horror panted.

Sweat beaded on his brow and his body trembled from strain but he refused to release Cross. Error watched them struggle with a serene smile, knowing that unlike the last time, no one was going to rush in to interfere.

However, Error’s fragile patience would not last long. He was after Cross. He would get him. He did not care about Horror. Considering their attacker was the Destroyer himself, all it would take was a single hit for Horror to dust.

“I’m sorry.” Cross whispered.

He summoned a purple knife and stabbed Horror in the hand with it, putting the least amount of damage output that he could manage. It was enough.

Horror’s scream was one of pain and despair as he flinched, fingers spasming so he accidentally released Cross. He jerked forward with another anguished cry as he tried to grab Cross again, but it was already too late.

Cross was dragged backwards. He had no time to struggle before he was pulled off the ground, letting him experience a brief moment of nauseating weightlessness until he was thrown into the Anti-Void. He hung in the empty expanse of white, strings snaking up to wrap around his arms and neck as he was displayed like a puppet for Horror to see.

Error backed through the portal and smiled serenely at Horror, eye lights blown wide and centers shriveled to furious pinpricks.

“Give m̴̼͑-̷̟͒me my Protector of Creation.”

He slammed the portal shut.

Chapter Text

The white portal slammed shut and Horror felt his soul break. Not literally, thank the Stars, but the pain that lanced through his rib cage was so intense that he thought he might have been stabbed again. His hand had been stabbed. By Cross, in a final, desperate, stupidly self-sacrificing bid to stop Horror from helping him.

Horror always knew that Cross would pull something like this eventually. He just wished it wasn’t with the Destroyer himself.

“Give m̴̼͑-̷̟͒me my Protector of Creation.”

Error was here for Ink.

He thinks Ink is a Protector.

Is Ink a Protector?

Was Prism a Protector?

Nightmare knew.

Horror’s realizations all came in rapid succession when it was too late to do anything productive with them. He did not waste time cursing his inability to put together a few vital pieces of scattered information before the Destroyer came knocking at their door.

Horror staggered to his feet and held his bleeding hand to his chest. He remembered Ink’s lesson and his body went on autopilot. Quickly, Horror wrapped the wound as best he could with his good hand using the supplies Dust had grabbed. He had some magic food but it was only enough for one person. He did not know if the kitchen was still standing. And he’d heard Dust scream.

Horror felt for the red bracelet on his wrist and spoke softly. “Dust? Killer? Status?”

There was a lengthy pause. As it stretched on, fear curled in Horror’s soul. Nightmare still did not appear despite Error being long gone. He had not appeared despite the Gang’s terror as they were hunted through the halls of the Castle. Was he being kept out like Cross had been kept in? Or was there another reason for his continued absence?

Horror pushed his anger and fear down. “Dust? Killer? Answer me.”

“We're alive.” Killer’s voice was a flat monotone as he replied at last. “We’re in the dining room. Dust is hurt.”

The shortcuts were unreliable so Horror ran, stumbling over crumbled stone and around rubble with his injured hand held to his chest. A few walls had been torn apart in Error’s chase, leaving them broken and collapsing, but the area near the kitchens and dining hall was mostly stable. Dust was on the floor of the dining room, eye lights pale and shrunken to pained pinpricks as he gasped quietly. His bloodstained hoodie had been cut off and thrown to the side, revealing his arms.

Dust’s right ulna was snapped in half. His radius was visibly cracked. The break was jagged, leaking blood and marrow from the shattered ends of the thinner bone. Killer knelt beside Dust but he wasn’t moving, as though he was too afraid to touch the injury. He remained still and silent, staring blankly at the break even as crimson soaked into his shorts.

Horror immediately reactivated his communicator with a pulse of his magic. “Arc, can you hear me?”

There was no hum to indicate a successful link. According to Dust that meant they were either cut off from making contact with the outside, or Ink’s bracelet was not on him in order to use his magic to connect. Or he was unconscious.

“Shit.” Horror croaked. He could not worry about Ink’s safety now. “What happened to Dust?”

“The shortcut collapsed as we were getting out. He shielded his face and hit something with his arm instead.” Killer tried to appear nonchalant but Horror could hear his bones rattling as he trembled. “I don’t know if it was sliced or the impact broke it. Are codes sharp? Can they be sharp? Or… Did Error do something with… I d-don’t…” His breathing grew faster as he whipped his head around, searching for enemy and ally alike. “Where’s Cross?”

A slice was usually a cleaner split. An impact meant there could be fragments of bone in the break. Ink had taught the Gang how to look for signs of medical shock. He also taught them how to deal with broken bones but not a break as bad as this. This wasn’t a simple fracture. It was open and compound. Horror had seen some gnarly injuries in his time but he felt sick just looking at it.

Killer was panicking. His breathing remained ragged and his movements were erratic as he still searched frantically for enemies that were no longer there. He could be on the verge of another Stage. Scratch that, he was on the verge of another Stage. But Horror needed him. Dust needed him, because Horror could not bend the fingers of his hand right now. There was no time to be kind about what he had to say. 

“Error dragged Cross to the Anti-Void.” Horror kept a calm tone as he held up a bloody and bandaged hand. His fingers moved a little but wouldn’t curl all the way. "Cross stabbed me in the hand to make me let go. Killer, I need you to help Dust."

Killer stopped shaking as the life seemed to drain from his face. “I can’t.”

“Yes you can.” Horror said firmly.

“No, I can’t!” Killer’s voice raised in pitch, betraying his fear. “I don’t help things! I don’t remember what Ink said to do.”

His shaking returned and more black liquid dripped down his face, too toxic and oily to resemble tears. Horror moved with slow, telegraphed movements to put his good hand on Killer's shoulder. Gently, gently. Just enough for him to give Killer something to feel and focus on. Horror was here, right in front of him, touching him, no weapons in sight. He was in front of Killer, not at his back, because there were no enemies to guard against or attack.

“Killer, breathe.” Horror said firmly. “In… two… three… four… Out… two… three… four…”

Horror counted up and down with his fingers, tapping each one on Killer’s shoulder. Killer’s hand latched onto his own and his breathing slowed (as did the flow of toxic Determination). Horror did not pull away despite the urgency of Dust's situation because he needed Killer stable, not throwing knives.

“I have you.” Horror said, keeping his voice calm. “You can do this. I’ll direct you. Find something to keep his arm stable.”

Killer's cheeks were stained black. “…Okay.”

He numbly went through the bag of supplies while Horror knelt beside Dust and touched his cheek. Dust’s eye lights focused on him, shrunken and dull, and his breathing was rapid.

“Hurts– worse than I remember.” Dust tried to look at the injury but Horror kept him from turning towards it. “At l-least it’s still attached. Otherwise I’d n-need a hand…”

“That is the most basic joke in the book and I’m disappointed in you.” Horror said with forced humor.

“’m not at my b-best.” Dust’s breathing hitched and sweat beaded on his brow. “Paps isn’t even mad. Are you mad?”

“Not at you.” Horror assured him.

Killer rushed back over with a splint and several other items. Many of them could not help Dust now but Horror did not tell him he’d brought too much. Despite his earlier fear, Killer acted on his own and began to carefully tend to Dust’s arm, doing his best to stabilize it. Dust’s features contorted in pain but he did not scream or pass out. His eye lights focused on Horror.

“You should be mad.” Dust gasped. “Error knew– didn’t he? That’s why he came here. Ink’s the vessel for the Protector.”

Horror had been prepared to reassure him that he wasn’t mad that Dust had only managed to get himself and Killer through a shortcut. Instead he was forced to choke on those words as the topic derailed from what he anticipated, leaving them trapped in his throat.

Killer kept his attention on Dust’s arm but his jaw was clenched.

“Nightmare– told me– not to tell any of you.” Dust panted. His body shook lightly and his teeth clenched. “S-Sorry.”

“You’re an idiot.” Killer said thickly. He wrapped Dust’s arm to at least try to keep the contaminants out but Horror knew that it would not be long until Dust went into medical shock. “He needs a Healer. Or a doctor.”

“The Healer’s missing in action.” Dust choked as tears trickled down his temples. “The Knight got himself captured. ‘Cause the King used all his pawns.”

Dust laughed but it was high-pitched and pained so it sounded more like crying. Horror desperately wanted to ease his pain but Ink’s steady voice whispered in his mind, clinical and firm as it reminded him that healing food would not help Dust. In fact, it would likely make things worse by either healing his arm wrong or healing the bone around the shards that were likely in the break. It would then take invasive surgery to remove those healed-over fragments before they caused an infection inside the arm.

Horror tried Ink again and got no answer. Desperate, he pulled the gray Echo Flower out of his bag. “Paps?”

The petals on the Flower shifted a little. Then it connected.

“Sans? What has happened?”

Horror almost cried from relief. “Is Tori there? What does she know about treating a severed, broken bone?”

Paprika did not waste time. He must be at Horrortale’s Castle since Horror heard him shouting for Queen Toriel, and didn’t that cause another squeeze of guilt in his soul? Toriel would have been reinstated either way, but Undyne’s dust wouldn’t have marred the ceremony.

“Who is hurt?” Toriel must have realized something had happened to Ink but her voice was all business as she spoke.

“Dust’s ulna is broken right through and his radius is cracked.” Horror said, sounding much calmer than he felt. It was a good thing that Toriel could not see the Echo Flower shaking in his hand. “We suspect he's got bone shards stuck inside. If we give him the usual magic food it might mess it up even more. We have him splinted so we can move him but we can’t help him here.”

Toriel did not waste time asking more questions. “Get to Horrortale. We don’t have any Healers left but we have a medical Doctor. I’ll have the infirmary ready.”

“We can’t.” Horror forced himself to say. Calm calm calm. “Ink and Cross are missing and Nightmare’s not here.”

Toriel went silent. Horror hated that he could clearly picture her standing frozen in place as she worried that the next time she heard about Cross or Ink, it’d be a notice of their deaths. And she did not even know that Error had Cross yet.

Focus on here and now. “I’m open to any ideas.”

“I…” Toriel stammered, and Horror knew she was losing herself in the past. “I am unsure…”

“What about those little tokens you talked about?” Paprika asked hastily, careful to catch Toriel before she fell. “The transport tokens. Does Nightmare have any in his office?”

Horror exchanged a shocked look with Killer, who took off running. He returned with a pile of familiar Delta Rune tokens, shoving something into his bag as he ran. Horror caught a brief glimpse of light reflecting off of metal before it vanished out of sight.

“The west wing might collapse. I grabbed the medical files, too.” Killer said rapidly. He held out the tokens to Horror. “I don’t remember if these are preset or not.”

“They’re not.” Horror recalled. He grabbed a token with his injured hand, letting a bit of blood and magic sink into the emblem, and hesitated. “Using this could put Dust into shock.”

“He’s going to go into shock anyway if we keep sitting here.” Killer snapped. He shuddered and clenched his jaw tight. “It might not even work if whatever kept Cross from opening a portal is still there…”

Horror knew he was right but they had to try. He handed the token to Killer and checked Dust’s eye lights. They were too wide, giving him a dazed and almost drunken look. Horror gritted his teeth and held Dust’s good hand, grabbing Killer’s arm with the other.

“First we help Dust. Then we find Ink and Cross… and the Boss.”

Killer did not hesitate again. He nodded sharply, whispered a prayer to ‘the assholes that made their lives hell because they owed him one for once’ and activated the token.

Ink expected three scenarios when he woke up. He expected to wake up in a cell, he expected to wake up in a lab, or he expected to not wake up at all. The second scenario proved to be correct.

The lab was not a white, sterile space like Ink had seen described and pictured in books. It was less futuristic, with painted walls and wood paneling along the base. Ink knew it was a lab, though. The tools laid out on a table by the wall were evidence enough for that. Things like pliers, saws, and a container that suspiciously resembled the ones used to hold human souls were set in neat rows on the tabletop and hooks on the wall.

Ink shut his eye sockets before they could fully open. It took no excessive movement for him to know he was restrained. The straps on his wrists and ankles felt like leather-wrapped metal but he knew they were enhanced with magic dampening aids. And maybe more because even the codes were blurry, fading like they had been covered by a dense fog.

Of course Undertop Gaster had such tools at his disposal. He may not be able to manipulate codes like Ink, but he had been stuck in them long enough to study them. It had been his entire mission to understand them until he was pushed into the Void, and it continued to be his mission while he was trapped.

Did Top want to study Ink? He hadn't been handed over to the Omega Timeline for a reason. Was it because of Ink's coding abilities? Because he was a Healer? Or was it something else?

Ink kept his body limp, feigning unconsciousness as he tried to keep himself calm. Rescue would not come. He got himself into this mess. He'd have to get him out. He tried to remember the advice Killer gave about escaping restraints but Cross’s warnings about Gasters’ love for experimentation kept coming back instead.

Ink could handle this. He had to figure out what Top wanted and adapt. He just had to get away long enough to make a portal. And grab his gear so nothing could be used against the Gang. His gear was still on except for his mask, belt, holster, and satchel (the last of which had his Echo Flower communicator bracelet). Cross’s emergency bone attack was still in his sleeve but Ink could not send a pulse of magic to trigger the alert. Ink was confused how his owl mask had been removed before he remembered that he did it himself before he passed out. It was yet another mistake.

“You’re awake. Good.”

It was hard to remain calm when Underfell's very own Edge Papyrus was beside him. Fell monsters were a gamble. Some acted edgy but it was mostly bluster. Others fully believed in kill or be killed. Ink knew this particular Edge was Red's brother the moment he spoke. Considering the fact that half the Gang relished in attacking the original Underfell and especially Red, Ink had little hope for mercy. Ink gave up on trying to feign unconsciousness and slowly met Edge's gaze.

Edge’s eye lights glowed a violent red. “All I wanted was to go to the circus with my brother. But you Gang members are so very determined to strip every piece of joy from our lives, aren’t you?”

Ink kept silent.

"Nothing to say?" Edge asked. "And here I thought that Nightmare's fiends always had a quip for every gruesome situation. What is the matter? Do you not like being on the receiving end?"

Ink remained silent. He tested the restraints and noted his movements were sluggish and his bones ached. He could not tell if it was due to being out in a blizzard or because he had been drugged.

"I know you can take damage. Unfortunately for you, I am very skilled at controlling the power of my attacks. I can get you right to 0.1 HP without fail." Edge summoned a bone attack like the one that had gone through Ink’s leg. "Your kind hurt my brother relentlessly. It's only fair that I return the favor."

Ink did not make a sound. He could do this. He just had to be coherent enough to try to break out of the restraints. He shut his eye sockets and waited. The heat of a bone attack against his leg sent a jolt of fear through him but he reminded himself that he could endure.

“I know you can talk.” Edge said icily. “Pretending otherwise will only make this worse for you.”

Ink could not stop himself from laughing. It forced itself out of his throat like it was made of shards of glass, painful and sharp. He opened his eye sockets and stared through Edge, smiling emptily.

“Why should I talk? You’re going to hurt me no matter what I say, right? You’ll just do what you want.” He laughed again, breathless and tired. “Because that’s how the Multiverse works.”

Edge’s cold expression did not move. It was like he’d become stone.

Ink did not say anything further. He shut his eye sockets again. He wanted to go back to sleep. He didn’t want to be awake anymore. He did not want to see what Edge had in store for him. Could Ink bash his head on the table hard enough to knock himself out?

A new voice sounded before he could try.

“Edge, I told you to watch him, not restrain him.”

And now Top was there. How convenient.

The bone attack was pulled away from Ink’s leg. It took effort for him to force his eye sockets open. He should probably be panicking by now. Instead he just felt tired.

Top appeared calm and polite as he (loomed over) stopped beside Ink. Ink could not stop a flinch at his close proximity and the hands that had been reaching for the restraints (for him) immediately retreated as Top took a conscious step back. But he was a ringleader (a Scientist) with a dark past. Of course he was used to appearing charming and cordial, his smile supposedly apologetic.

"I apologize for the restraints." Top's smile fell an inch. "That was not agreed upon. It is not my intention to harm you."

"Because putting me in your lab is a great way to assure me that you don't mean any harm." Ink said quietly.

Top appeared sorrowful (emphasis on appeared, because Ink could not trust himself to know the difference between acting and true feelings anymore). “You are in my workshop. I am not going to hurt you.”

“Sure.” Ink agreed flatly.

“I’m also not going to hand you over to the Omega Timeline.”

“Sounds good.”

“And I’m not going to experiment on you.”

“Okay.”

Top looked impossibly sad. Ink reminded himself to put the emphasis on impossibly. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

Ink shrugged and let his head loll to the side, almost resting on his shoulder. “You’re doing a great impression of a 'good guard, bad guard' routine. Almost like it was planned.” He did not mean for his voice to crack. “I didn’t come here to hurt anyone. I got here by accident.”

“It was not plan—”

“As if we’ll believe that.” Edge snarled aggressively, interrupting Top. “Nightmare is preparing to attack this AU right now.”

He sounded so sure that Ink had to laugh again. “He won’t come for me. This is my punishment.”

Ink used to fear that any wrong move would cause Nightmare to punish him or hurt him. He once feared that any disobeyed order or misspoken word might be the one that made Nightmare follow through with an unspoken threat. But Ink had gotten comfortable. Too comfortable.

By trying to overrule Nightmare and prevent Horrortale Undyne’s execution, Ink had finally pushed too far. His fear and desperation in Undertop had screamed through the Multiverse but Nightmare did not help him. He left Ink to deal with the consequences of his actions alone. He was now captured by enemies that hated the Gang and he would not be able to get himself out before they tried to get what they wanted out of him.

Ink’s fragile sense of denial abandoned him. The realization that he was trapped in enemy hands was too much for him to bear. Ink’s façade of calm shattered and he began hyperventilating. It was like he was back in Aftertale Neutral, alone and surrounded by far too much as the world closed in around him.

The good thing about hardly being to breathe was that he did not have enough air to speak. He’d stay quiet, just like Killer ordered what felt like so long ago now. He could handle this. He had to. He couldn’t let the Gang be hurt because of him.

Through the ringing high pitch in his hearing, Ink thought he heard a voice.

“Release him for Stars’ sake!”