Chapter Text
Chapter 3
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Sans held tightly onto Asriel’s hand as they strolled through the Waterfall marsh, the soil beneath their shoes were soft, the grass dark and river glowing electric blue. Sans’s eyes took everything they could in, the Echo flowers, the water sausages, the quiet rushing of water—
They hadn’t seen anything like it before—
Unable to help it, Sans let go of Asriel’s—they’d been friends for a week already! Sans couldn’t believe it!—fluffy hand and knelt at the edge of the riverbank, staring into the slow rushing water.
Asriel muffled his giggles behind his hands and Sans quickly twisted their head to stare wide-eyed, a blue flush creeping onto their cheeks, and whispered in a hushed tone: “it’s so beautiful.”
(“it’s so beautiful,” the Echo flower repeated.)
Asriel—couldn’t put into words Sans’s awe at everything new they saw, and it broke his soul at the thought they hadn’t been able to see this before. He could come and go as he pleased—as long as he was responsible about it—and so knowing Sans hasn’t had this chance to see the Underground in such a way before…
It warms his insides at the fact he gets to experience Sans reactions to all these sights—that he’s the one to show them it all.
He wants to hoard the rush he gets at the look on Sans’ face, at the pure joy and awe, all to himself, selfish and guiltless about it—because he was Sans friend, and as his friend, Asriel would do his duty to show Sans everything they hadn’t been able to experience.
Asriel crouched beside Sans to stare into the seeming bottomless river with them.
It’s their breathing, the rustling of grass, the rush of water—the only sounds in the marsh.
It’s silent between the two children for a long time, a peaceful moment and Sans feels their sockets begin to burn and their sight blur the longer they stared.
(“I want to go with a blue theme,” a quiet murmur, “Himalayan blue poppies. They remind me of the Echo Flowers in Undertale.”
Kris giggled, arms tightening, “Blue and white? What about some yellow to?” She wiggled her brows and there was more giggling from both this time.
“That’d make my daisy.”)
Sans sucks in a breath, browbones furrow in confusion—what did that mean?
(And was that a pun?)
They blink and the strange gathering of magic in their sockets fall.
“…Sans?” Asriel hesitant voice turns their head. More of the magic falls. “You’re crying…”
Crying?
…they were…crying?
They blink and raise a hand, touching the magic that was falling, catching some of the glowing blue.
…had they ever cried before when they weren’t in pain?
They couldn’t remember…
(Their eyes met as Kris walks down the isle of pews , a giddy grin stretches across their face.)
Sans’ hadn’t cried with this strange feeling before. They’re firm in that thought but—
They know they’ve cried like this before.
…why did they know that.
“…i am,” they finally whisper in astonishment, “i…don't know why. should people cry when they’re happy? when they…feel…i…i…don’t know.”
Asriel giggled sympathetically, “Sometimes when someone’s really happy, they can’t help but cry. Mum says it’s because feelings can get overwhelming. She said she cried when she found out she was pregnant with me!” He grinned.
“overwhelmed?” Sans looks ahead again as they let the word sink in… overwhelmed to the point it makes someone cry? Was that possible? Is this what was happening to them?
It felt…surprising good, relieving in some strange way—like a weight was being lifted from their shoulders.
They sniffled before giggling, “thank you for showing me this.”
Asriel beamed, “I thought you would love it!” Then his smile turned sheepish, “But this isn’t what I had wanted to show you, this was just the way to it.”
Sans’ eyes widened, “o-oh.. sorry.”
“uh-huh, don’t apologize!” Asriel shook his head, “I want to show you everything the Underground has! I’m glad you find it all so amazing!”
Still, Sans flushed, unable to help the feeling of embarrassment for getting distracted, a sheepishly laugh escaped, “Mweh-haha.”
Asriel’s eyes twinkled at the sound, biting back a squeal, so cute! His cheeks warm from his attempts to withhold his noises. He cleared his throat and stood, holding his hand out, “I wanna show you what I brought you here for in the first place!”
Sans’ pupils shifted into stars and they grinned, taking his hand, where Asriel pulled them to their feet and began to lead them.
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Asriel led them to a…statue.
Confused, Sans turned to Asriel, ready to question why he had brought them here when before they could, their friend let go and rushed off towards a pot of…
…were those umbrellas?
…Sans wasn’t sure how they knew what an umbrella was…
Still, Asriel picked a red one and darted back, a wide and excited grin on his face. He offered the umbrella, “Put it in the statues’ hand.”
Hesitantly, Sans took the umbrella. They stared at it for a moment, then swirled their eyelights to the statue which they realized was being rained upon, water spilling through cracks in the cavern roof. Sans approached the strange statue—it looked almost goat-like. Large horns, big paws like the King had. Its eyes were closed, a soft look had been carved onto its face and there was no erosion despite it having been under the drip, drip, drip of water for who knew how long.
Sans eyed the large paw, it was curled into a way that looked like something was meant to be there—Sans’s eyes darted to the umbrella handle in realization, so that was what Asriel meant!
They slipped the handle in and the water hit the umbrella with soft pattering and—
Sans froze.
A chime began playing softly from within the statue…
…what was this sound?
(“I always adored the soft music box theme Toby Fox gave Asriel, it was really fitting,” they commented.
Kris made a noise in agreement as a soft hum escaped them and—)
(How do they know Asriel’s name? Was it like how they knew their name? But they had called them a him, they weren’t a him.)
Sans found themself echoing both the voice and strange chime.
Absently, Sans heard Asriel suck in a breath but—they couldn’t bring themselves to focus on him at that moment however, their entire attention tied to the chiming from the statue and humming from the person. They realized it got to a point where it repeated, where it shifted and—soon, they were humming along with no mistakes.
(Kris laughed, “It will never not amaze me at your ability to understand music so quickly. It’s beautiful, you’re beautiful.”)
Sans didn’t often understand a lot of what they heard from the Voices, but they think this time, they do. Kris’s voice echoed within their non-existent ears, light and affectionate—loving and longing. They rattle when a deep ache makes itself at home in their soul at the thought of Kris.
Sans’ didn’t like to give them much thought—it always resulted in deep aching and longing for more from the Voices. All of the Voices would result in strange emotions that Sans could hardly ever understand.
But this time, it leaves a soft feeling beside that aching. It feels like the emotions Sans get when they think of papa, but—they’re different, the same but different. Sans doesn’t understand why they are so dissimilar.
They trail off when enthusiastic clapping snaps them back to the present. Blue erupted on their skull in embarrassment—they hadn’t meant to get carried away! They don’t even know what they had been doing! They’d never done anything like it before!
“You’re really talented, Sans!” Asriel praised and the blue darkened—or would brightened be the appropriate term? the goat pondered not for the first time—and Sans squeaked like a mouse.
“i’ve never done that before,” they admit shyly, “it…” Sans trailed off in confusion, “it just felt right…?”
Asriel tilted his head, his own confusion visible—that happened a lot, he realized, Sans seemingly knowing something however had never actually done it before, or so they claimed (Asriel didn’t doubt, their shock was proof enough) but…this was a real talent! He hadn’t meet anyone they could memorizes and repeat music like that before. Other monsters, himself included, spent lots of time learning and studying to do what Sans had done in a matter of a minute.
…it gave Asriel, ideas.
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Sans couldn’t get the music box song from their head no matter what, even hours later after returning home, they still subconsciously hummed the lullaby. When they joined papa for dinner, they supposed he could help answer some questions that was floating around their head.
They’d kept quiet for a while, but after everything as of late, the Voices, the strange attack they’d had when papa had told them Asgore’s name…
At first, Sans had believed everyone heard Voices, but—now, Sans wonders if that’s true. Their papa didn’t suffer these attacks, didn’t mention a peep of anything to do with hearing voices.
“papa,” Sans starts but paused when they realize they have no idea where to actually start.
Gaster hummed in acknowledgement and patiently waited for his child to gather their thoughts. It happened a lot, his child not being able to find the right words or how they wanted to go about a conversation.
It by no means made them slow, in fact, Gaster found an intelligence there that pleasantly surprised him. Sans was surprising mature for their age, despite their naivety about the world—the latter mostly his own fault, but Sans still didn’t see any fault in his actions despite there being plenty Gaster could name. None bothered Sans, even when he voiced some of them the other week.
Sans had clearly gone along with his suggestion, at first anyway, because he was more curious about where it would land them then actually meeting and befriending Asriel. Of course, now Sans had actually met Asriel, finally gained a friend, Sans had shown a happiness Gaster hadn’t seen from them before.
It makes the guilt feel worse, knowing he had deprived them of this happiness for a long time.
Sans opened their mouth, then closed it, hesitated before finally gathering the courage. “sometimes I can hear voices.”
Gaster blinked.
Sans blinked.
“…What?” Was his unfortunate oh-so intelligent response and it caused Sans sank into their seat, pulling their scarf up to cover the lower part of their face in an attempt to hide the scared look.
It takes a moment for Gaster to really understand what Sans had said—like most would. He takes a breath and crouches in front of them. “Sans.” He keeps his voice soft, especially when he sees the tears start to gather. “Tell me about it.”
Sans pussyfoot, his fear crystal clear, “sometimes when i do something, they speak—not, not to me, its like i’m just overhearing the conversation.” They fiddled with the scarf, “sometimes i get sensations, but…and information! like, like king asgore’s name! they said his name before, and i don’t know why but they knew about him and miss toriel and me and asriel they spoke like—like—i don’t know how, it shouldn’t be possible?!”
“Sans, Sans,” Gaster took their hands in his and rumbled softly to gather their attention. They stilled and stared, pupils large, leaving only a tiny ring of eyelight. “Easy, easy.”
Sans wilted and scrambled into his arms, he grunted at the sudden movement but quickly lifted them and sat in the chair, setting Sans in his lap so they could cuddle close.
“Is this related to this Kris?” he questions.
Sans nods, “she’s one of the most common voices, she always there talking with them—with the person—I don’t know, it’s just—”
Gaster hushes them, cradles them close as he lets the information sink in—but really, hearing voices wasn’t good, however, Gaster knows in this context, it’s not related to LV because Sans doesn’t have any.
So that only leaves a few other options, none of them something Gaster thinks could possibly ever happen, not logically despite there being magic. It simply wasn’t—
—But it could.
But really, it shouldn’t be. Every bit of the scientist in him screamed it wasn’t—but Sans.
Gaster stared down at Sans, and they stared back—it shouldn’t be.
But—Gaster is more inclined to believe what he hears and sees, and experiences then just believing it isn’t possible.
Because if what he’s hearing is correct—
—Sans quite possibly has memories of a past life crammed into their head and there is so much more to just that and—
—Gaster doesn’t know what to do about it.
—Doesn’t know where to start.
—Doesn’t think he can wrap his thoughts around just what Sans might be experiencing and seeing and—them, those voices and memories knew about Sans, about Asgore, about Toriel, about Asriel as if it might simply be—
(Gaster can’t bring himself to finish that thought.)