Archive of Our Own ^beta

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The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.

• H.P. Lovecraft

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As it were, life continued. And for the first time in a very, very long time, Papyrus was none too pleased about it.

He sat with his head in the palms of his hands, mind wandering into those uncomfortable, dark corners that he spent so much effort pushing away. But after today, he just couldn't quite bring himself to fight back with full force. He was trying, he really was trying his hardest, but maybe sometimes his best just wasn't good enough.

“... Still thinkin' about the funeral, huh.”

Papyrus didn't have to look up to realize that his brother had dropped onto the sofa beside him. He just sighed through his phalanges and ran a hand down his face, hoping the weariness wouldn't show. But Sans always seemed to notice, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

“I just don't understand why it has to be this way...” he murmured, twisting his gloved hands together without looking at his brother. On his opposite side, in utter silence, sat the human, hair hiding their eyes as they remained still as a board.

“The kid already SAVED after... y'know.”

Papyrus did know. He himself had refused to refer to the finer specifics of 'the incident' ever since. Sans had gotten very... weird when he brought up that nice Gaster fellow. But he considered it a blessing that damage had been minimized, at the very least. Three more times he had asked the human to reset. Three and three more times had only brought them to just after the incident. Three people, lost forever. He couldn't help but think of poor Doctor Alphys, always so helpful and inquisitive, gone before her prime. Captain Undyne, the strongest, toughest, bravest woman he had ever encountered. And just like a snap of the fingers, she had been cast into the dark. So many monsters gathered for the eulogy. So many friends and strangers all mourning the Underground's loss. It burned, it ached, it hurt so much, but no matter how tightly he squeezed his eye sockets he could still see that look of shock on her face. Just before-

Papyrus sighed and placed his hand on his brother's shoulder, giving him a tired, wan smile.

“We should be thanking our wishing stones that any of us are even alive,” Papyrus bowed his head a little toward Frisk. “And, human Frisk, I... thank you. For giving us time.”

“Sure,” Frisk murmured without looking at him. They seemed fixated with twirling one hand over the other in a serpentine manner. “It's nothing.”

“It's Wednesday,” Papyrus noted quietly. “That seems like a pretty big deal to me. I just... I just wish I could have-”

“He's gone,” Sans reassured him. “That thing fucked this timeline all to hell.”

“Sans, language!” he blurted, eye sockets widening. “And in front of the human, no less!”

“Oh, you hypocrite,” Frisk snorted from his other side. “So this is it, huh? Is this it? Just a bunch'a assholes, sittin' on the couch. Doing nothing. This is our lives now.”

“They've got a point...” Sans shrugged despite the look Papyrus was giving him. “At least things are quieter now that the weed is gone.”

“People have died, Sans.”

“Just tryin' to be the positive one fer once...” Sans shifted in his jacket just a bit. Papyrus sighed and clasped his shoulder.

“I appreciate the sentiment, brother. It's alright. I... I just wish things could have gone a different way. That things could have been different.”

“Who's to say it can't be different?”

Both Sans and Papyrus blinked and openly stared at the human tucked into the corner of the couch. Sans even leaned forward with his elbows on his knees to see past his brother, giving them a very odd stare.

“... What do you mean?” Papyrus asked quietly, worriedly.

Frisk, who had previously been twiddling their thumbs together as if they were being inspected, pulled their hands into the sleeves of their striped sweater and stared straight ahead, thin red eyes watching something that only they could see.

“You already tried goin' back, right?” Sans asked after a stretch of silence. “Ya can't be thinkin' what I'm thinkin' you're thinkin'.”

“A 'reset', right?” Papyrus asked in a quiet, awkward tone, unsettled by the look on the human's face.

“Flowey couldn't take total control of the timeline as long as I was alive to... interfere,” Frisk informed them, and though Papyrus was still confused Sans only nodded solemnly.

“Because he remembered the reruns?” Papyrus pried, much more interested. “Does that have something to do with it?”

“In a sense...” they mumbled without looking at him. They eventually cleared their throat and shook their head. “He's... unnatural. I think someone had to be in control of the timeline. Someone determined.”

“Timelines jumping left and right...” Papyrus was surprised to hear the seriousness in his brother's tone. “Stopping and starting.”

“But we remember...!” Papyrus ran a hand over his head. “Then... how?”

“Bro, I been askin' myself that same question for a while,” Sans let out a humorless bark. “Best we can do is... try to move on, I guess.”

Papyrus hung his head, despair clawing at his chest. It couldn't just end like this. It couldn't be the right timeline if he had lost people that he loved. He was supposed to save everyone. He was supposed to be the person that everyone needed. He was supposed to change everything.

So how did it all come to this?

It was peaceful, almost. The silence that weighed on them all, however, grew thicker and heavier as they all sat in utter quiet, the only sound in the air was the rhythmic tapping of Papyrus's finger bones against his leg.

“... There is...” Frisk took in a shuddering breath, like they were lifting something heavy. “There is, well. One way.”

“Don't like that look you got about ya, kid...” Sans pulled a ketchup bottle out from his inner jacket and took a swig, earning an utterly repulsed look from Papyrus before replacing it. “What's bouncin' round in that thought chamber o' yours?”

“If-” Frisk chewed over their words carefully, looking back between Sans and Papyrus with a hint of worry. “If you really, really want your friends back, there is... another way. A reset.”

“But you've tried that, several times,” Papyrus pointed out.

“That's not quite what I meant,” Frisk shook their head, eyes never dropping from him. “There's one last trick I have. God, I shouldn't even be telling you about it, but who knows. You might wind up forgetting anyway.”

“What are you talking about?” the taller skeleton stooped slightly, locking eyes with them.

“Not just a regular reset. Nothing normal. It's more like... a total cosmic reboot, if you will. A TRUE reset.”

“And you could do this the whole time?” Papyrus gawked.

“Not with Flowey interfering,” they shook their head again. “But. If. If you want, I... I think I can do it. One big jump backwards. To when Alphys was alive. When Undyne was alive. But if I do...”

“You bring the weed back, too...” Sans mused quietly, and Papyrus flinched. His brother had grown so quiet he'd almost forgotten he was sitting beside him. “And god knows what else. It could all just end here. Y'know? Let sleeping doggos lie.”

“Which begs a rather intriguing question,” Frisk steepled their fingertips together, giving them both an even stare. “What about the in-betweeners?”

“Even more anomalies to worry about. Great,” Sans pinched the bridge of his nostril bone. “From what you two tell me, they ain't nothin' you wanna mess with.”

“Even Flowey seemed afraid of them,” Papyrus admitted. “Who knows what might happen if you tried to go that far back?”

“Do you want your friends back or not?” Frisk asked in irritation, crossing their arms.

Papyrus rubbed his temples and sighed.

“... I don't want to forget.”

“I know, bro...” Sans's phalanges brushed his shoulder gently. “None of us do. Don't mean that we gotta do the big reset. I doubt even you wanna have ta do it either, am I right, kid? We got a decision ahead of us. So. Whaddya say?”

“Can I ask you two something?”

“Of course,” Papyrus nodded.

“What do you want?”

“The same as you; to remember,” he answered without hesitation.

“But why?”

“To... to be myself again.”

“You are what you do,” Frisk shrugged simply. “A man is defined by his actions. Not his memory.”

“And you? You'll do what you always have...” Sans closed his eye sockets and tucked his hands into his pockets with a tired smile. “Whatever the hell you want.”

“From where you're sitting...” Frisk closed their crimson eyes for a long moment before giving a weak smile. “Hm. It must seem like an eighteen carat run of bad luck. Truth is...?”

Papyrus felt the reset just before his entire world collapsed around him with an earth shattering bang.

“The game was rigged from the start.”

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Papyrus awoke to the sound of a klaxon alarm.

He flinched instinctively and curled up in a ball, squeezing his knees to his chest as he struggled to breathe. He had been so worried about something just a moment ago. Something very important. And it bothered him deeply that he couldn't recall exactly what it was. The sudden vertigo hit him and he felt sick to his stomach, so he closed his eye sockets and clamped his hands over his head, still ringing fresh with the wooziness that those resets caused. It felt as though his whole world was spinning at an angle and he couldn't right himself no matter how he tried, so he just struggled to ride the sensation out and let it pass.

Breathing weakly but steadily, he fumbled for the alarm clock and dragged himself out of bed, still in a half daze. He just stood there in his pajamas in front of the calendar, half in disbelief that they had actually made it, they had finally done it, he had gotten through just once.

Tuesday.

“Of course. Of course,” Papyrus ran a hand down his face. He felt more than irritated, he was downright angry. It coursed through his marrow like electricity through a wire, it burned his bones. The very least the human could have done was warn them. And they hadn't even had the decency to do that much! There was still so much he had to do, so much he wanted to say, so many questions to ask. And human Frisk had just rewound back time like it was as simple and easy as throwing a switch. They really were terrifying, sometimes, with the things that they were capable of. It made his bones prickle. But he wasn't going to get anything done by standing around staring at the wall in frustration. So he went about getting dressed as methodically as possible, tired as he was, checked off the date on the calendar with just a bit more vitriol than he intended (leaving an ugly black mark almost puncturing the paper) and he shook his head as he stood in front of the mirror.

“... You can do this,” he flexed his gloved hands and clenched until his knuckles popped. His reflection only stared back at him. “Come on, Papyrus. You can do this. Just one more time. One day. You can do this.” He half anticipated it to respond, but of course he was being ridiculous. He would have to be insane for that to happen. But he had seen plenty of stranger things in previous timelines. Who was to say that oddities wouldn't follow him here?

The thought was an extremely unpleasant and unwelcome one.

He didn't want to repeat this day any longer than he had to.

He didn't want to keep doing the same thing every day. He had to be change if he wanted change, so that was what he set upon doing.

“Sans?” he knocked timidly on his brother's bedroom door. “Brother? Are you awake?”

“'m up, bro, I'm up...” the stocky skeleton pried open his bedroom door just a crack with a yawn. “You know what time it is?”

“Sans. I need to know,” Papyrus clasped his hands on his brother's shoulders, causing him to blink in surprise. “I need to know. Do you... do you remember yesterday? At all?”

“Of course I do,” Sans blinked after a moment. “Ya think I'm gonna forget all the funny looks we got with you haulin' my bony butt through Snowdin shouting like that?”

Papyrus sank against the wall, all of the mustered courage and hope inside him dwindling, smothered by the overwhelming oppression of his failure. Sans reached out to him but it was futile. Papyrus could have sworn that his brother was saying something but he couldn't quite make it out. He shook his head and stood a little straighter, peeling away from the wall and trying his best not to let the intense ache in his chest take over. He wanted to cry.

“What?”

“I said you okay bro?” the worry on Sans's face was apparent enough. “You don't look so good all of a sudden-”

“Everything is fine,” Papyrus insisted, placing a gentle but firm hand on his brother's shoulder. “Just a minor setback is all, everything is fine.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Sans gave him 'the look' again. That look. The one that felt as though he were being inspected under a microscope.

“I'll explain later...” he shook his head, internal clock ticking away. “I promise. I'll explain. I have to do something. And then you and I are going to have a very... odd chat.”

“O...kay?” Sans blinked as he watched his brother practically bounce down the stairs, scarf whipping behind him. Papyrus threw open the front door and only paused when Sans called out to him.

“... Paps?” Sans leaned on the banister at the top of the stairs. “I... I gotta ta know. Before ya take off without breakfast or anythin'. You, uh...” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly before locking sockets with him. “I forgot somethin' again. Didn't I?”

“... Yes,” Papyrus answered sadly, and Sans just sighed and closed his eye sockets, giving a final nod in understanding.

“Go on, then,” Sans nodded once. “Guess I'll be here when ya get back.”

“I won't be gone long.”

“Be... be careful?”

“I will. Love you, brother,”

“Love you too, bro.”

Papyrus watched him silently return to his room. He uncomfortably latched the front door behind him and stood in the cold morning air, wind softly blowing snowflakes through the air. He took just a moment to clasp his hands together and gave himself a little shake. He could handle this. He could do this.

Papyrus bounded down the steps, keeping in mind just how early it was. He pulled his scarf a bit tighter around his neck, the chill nipping at him, the familiar sounds of Snowdin bustling bringing back memories that only served to haunt him. He tugged out his cell phone from his battle body, and, instead of calling Doctor Alphys first, rang up someone else.

“... Papyrus?” crackled the tinny voice from the reciever.

“Undyne,” he heaved a humongous sigh of relief, clasping the phone a bit tighter to his head as the smile on his face grew so much that it started to hurt. “It's... it's good to hear your voice again.”

“Is... somethin' going on?” Undyne replied after a moment. “You sound weird. You never call this early-”

“Everything is fine,” he didn't realize that he had been standing in place. “Everything is okay this time. Everything is going to work out fine, I promise.”

“Paps?” he could hear rustling from the other end. “You sure-?”

“I'll call you back later,” he sputtered quickly before he said something he wound up regretting. “Stay safe, see you later, nyeh. Um. Goodbye!”

He felt sick and clammy, but simultaneously eager and excited. Frisk had been right about something, at least. It was just as though everything had been set back, the clock had been turned and he had been given another chance. And this time, he was going to make sure that things went right. The sand in the hourglass was trickling once more.

“Good morning Barry!” he waved hurriedly to the distracted bear monster hanging around outside the library, sipping at a paper cup full of coffee. Barry grunted and barely spared him a momentary glance from his paper, but that was fine with him. Papyrus could manage. He had other things on his mind. His stomach rumbled and he couldn't help but want to burst into the general store. Bunni the shopkeeper was always a welcome sight to him, the scent of warm cinnamon and baking goods drawing him closer-

His soul skipped a beat as he stepped right over a gleaming yellow shine hiding in the snow.

Papyrus felt sick with sudden fear, a shuddering tension and illness wrenching up his insides. He clasped his hand over his mouth, eye sockets wide as he struggled to think, to move, it took him far too long to remember that he wasn't even breathing. He let out a shuddering puff and knelt in the snow, uneasy, worried, trembling but firm in his curiosity. It felt familiar, in a way, and strange and alien simultaneously. No matter what, he just couldn't seem to leave things as they were.

THE SIGHT OF SUCH A FRIENDLY TOWN FILLS YOU WITH

He blinked, woozily at first, his vision... stuttering .

DETERMINATION.

DETERMINATION.

DETERMINATION.

ERROR.

The floating words vanished the moment he released the glimmering light. He felt... strange . A flare of strength coursed through him as he stood, somewhat dizzily. He could have sworn that he heard crackling like electricity or static from a television coming from not just somewhere, but everywhere , little flickers of black dancing across his vision. It all vanished moments later though, leaving him stunned and wondering if he had simply hallucinated the entire event altogether.

And he couldn't shake the feeling of being...

Observed.

Papyrus shivered and pulled away. He very much wanted to just duck into Bunni's shop, even if only for a little while. He wanted to stay and chat with her, he wanted to bask in the warmth and comfort of the place, enjoy her company and maybe learn a little bit more about her. But he was pressed for time as it was, he could feel the clock ticking away. He needed to hurry. A slight ringing in the left side of his head kept distracting him and he rubbed it in irritation, more black flickers wisping across the borders of his sight before vanishing. Something wasn't quite right, and it bothered him that he didn't know exactly what it was. Perhaps that 'true reset' had left him a little more jarred than he was comfortable admitting. But then again, it was technically Tuesday all over again, so maybe that was why he was so tired and sore. He hadn't gotten a full night's sleep, all he wanted was to curl up in bed and let someone else take care of the problem for once. But that wasn't how he operated. He had to be the one, he needed to be the one to deal with everything. Papyrus shook his head and set off at a brisk pace, marching out of Snowdin in silence with his arms swinging at his sides.

He pondered a great many things on his walk to the sentry station.

Papyrus had finally managed to scrounge up the courage to open up to his brother about the resets. Things were moving forward at last. And now here he was, stuck back at square one. It felt so unfair. Like he was being punished for something and he didn't know what he had done wrong. But that was a selfish way to look at it, wasn't it? In return, he got his friends back. And if given the choice he would probably do so again. Wouldn't he? He cared about them so much. There was no way that he could ever forgive himself if he made it through to the next day without Undyne, Alphys, Sans, Frisk, everyone . He needed to be there for them, he needed to support them, he needed to be stronger . For them.

But he didn't feel strong.

He just felt... tired.

Papyrus sighed as he approached his brother's sentry station at the edge of a cliffside-

- her face twisted in shock as she plummeted to her death-

He jolted , and hard. Papyrus shook his head, feeling clammy. He didn't need to go thinking of that right now. It haunted him enough as it was. It was morbid, downright horrifying, he could practically still feel the dust on his palms and it made him ill. It took him a few seconds to realize that he had been standing stock still and trembling, and he struggled to remember Undyne's breathing exercise lessons. Try to remain calm, don't panic. Everything was going to be fine this time. He would make it so.

“... I know you're there. Get out here. We need to talk.”

“Golly!” Flowey popped up between his feet, causing him to jerk backwards a step. “Is that any way to talk to your bestest friend, Papyrus?”

Papyrus only sighed heavily.

“Cut the crap, Flowey. You know why I'm here.”

“Wow. You sound grumpy,” he tittered in that rehearsed tone of his, the little flower monster giving him a wide, empty smile. “Somebody miss their bedtime story?”

“You. You remember, don't you? And don't lie to me,” he warned him, fists clenching tightly, that horrid boiling in his chest riling up again. “I know you do.”

“Remember what, Papyrus?” Flowey smiled a little wider. “So. I've got a question for you. What did it feel like? Was it great or what?”

“What?”

“You know. When you murdered me.”

Papyrus felt a sick wrenching in his ephemeral stomach.

“... How-how long have you-?”

“Do you even need to ask?” Flowey replied playfully, bending this way and that, never once breaking eye contact with him despite how he twisted and turned on his stem. “Come now, Papyrus. You're a big boy. Put it together, will you not?”

“I'm not here to play games,” he couldn't quite keep the vitriol out of his voice. “I want answers, and I want them now.”

“Ooh, all business, are we?” the flower monster rolled his eyes. His smile might as well have been stitched on. “Where's the fun in that?”

“Is this all just some... some sick game to you?”

“In a sense,” Flowey flicked away something from his petal with a protruding vine. “I get bored, Papyrus. I need to find some way to entertain myself, you know? It gets awfully dull down here. Doing the same thing, over and over and over. But I suppose you've garnered that much, hmm?”

“You need to answer for what you've done-”

“And what, precisely, is that?” his fangs looked just a bit sharper somehow. “Papyrus, honestly. I haven't done anything to anyone. Yet.”

He was at a loss for words for a moment, a frown set deeply into his face.

“Papyrus, listen. It's me. Remember? Flowey. Your best friend,” he fluttered his leaves innocently. “I am not the one who went around breaking rules. Do you recall that much? Hm? You're the one that kept pushing things until they broke. Is it my fault that you can't refrain from toying with things you shouldn't?”

“I – that's not – listen,” Papyrus shifted uncomfortably. “I... I'm sorry that things... turned out the way that they did-”

“Oh, I'm sure you are,” Flowey tsked and shook his head. “And you know what? I absolutely forgive you, Papyrus. I really do. Creatures like us shouldn't fight amongst ourselves, you know. We should be on the same side, should we not? After all...” his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “You are still learning what it's like. You'll know full well. Soon enough.”

“I don't enjoy where this is going.”

“Then you're really not going to like what's coming next,” he giggled. “By the by, how is that human doing? I didn't really get much chance to ask. I've been awfully busy. You know. Being dead.”

“I haven't seen them today.”

“Is that so?” Flowey tilted left and right. “They're normally here by now, hm? They certainly are taking their sweet time today. Wonder if they'll just kill you right away.”

“They won't,” he answered with conviction. And oddly enough, this only caused Flowey to titter again.

“... What?”
“Nothing, nothing...” Flowey waved him off with a little vine. “It's just. You sound so sure of yourself. You haven't even seen them yet, but you just know that they won't betray you? Just like always. You're too trusting, Papyrus.”

“I trusted you,” he crossed his arms firmly. “And look where that got me.”

“Oh, but of course you can confide in me, Papyrus!” Flowey feigned a look of hurt for a moment. “After all. What would the Great Papyrus be without his favorite flower friend? I can answer that one for you. Not much.”

“Are you the one causing this day to loop over and over again?”

“Wait, what?” Flowey blinked at him, then stared for a long moment. Then a few more. Then a few more. “Are... are you serious?”

“Yes, I am serious Flowey.”

“Of course I'm not,” he replied with a scoff. “Have you honestly not figured it out yet?”

“Figured what out?” Papyrus threw out his arms in frustration. “This stupid day keeps repeating! Again, and again, and again! If it's not you, and it's not the human, then who is it?”

“Why would you think that it's not the human causing all of this?” Flowey asked.

“Because they told me so!”

“And you believed them?”

Papyrus opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he repeated the process a couple of times.

Flowey just tsk ed and shook his little head.

“Papyrus, Papyrus, Papyrus. What did I tell you? You're too trusting. You can't trust anyone, haven't you learned that yet?”

“They-they would't-”

“Lie to your face time and again?” Flowey asked sweetly. “Who's to say they haven't been lying this entire time? That human is just like all humans. They will use you to get what they want. And when they're done with you, they'll crumple you up and throw you away like garbage. Same old, same old. Humans. You can't rely on any of them,” he said with clear disdain.

“Frisk is different...” he stood his ground. “They-they're not a bad human-”

“Is that why they're in the Ruins now?” Flowey interrupted. “Murdering everything in their path?”

He didn't have an answer for that.

“That human has something in common with you and me, you see,” Flowey leaned forward, lowering his voice just a bit so that Papyrus had to lower himself as well to hear. “They get bored. And when they get bored, well... you know what happens next, don't you, Papyrus?”

He felt a slick cold shiver run up his spine and quivered.

“In the meantime,” the little monster piped up, causing him to jolt a bit. “Perhaps you should talk to Doctor Alphys a little bit more, hm? Who knows. Maybe she's got the key to your happiness. See you soon.”

And with that, he just vanished into the powder snow, gone as if he had never been there at all.

Papyrus stood fully and ran a hand over his head, not realizing just how badly he was trembling. He let out a shaky half laugh devoid of any joy. This day was most certainly not going how he had anticipated it to. He hadn't even thought to get breakfast he had been in such a hurry, and blamed his slight wooziness on that. Little tremors in the corners of his vision kept blurring his sight and he rubbed his eye sockets. Today, he had to admit, was not going... great . But he would keep his chin up regardless. He needed to.

Papyrus didn't have to wait for very long.

It only took a little while for the door to the Ruins to snap shut, the deep rumbling echoing through the snow capped trees. He braced himself and stood at the edge of the bridge, the useless wooden gate perfectly framing the dark figure swinging a familiar pocketknife in one hand as they sauntered toward him.

A sickening sense of deja vu swept over him as they silently approached, snow drifting down in silent cascade around him as he braced himself.

He could already tell that today was going to be a very long day indeed.

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The human prowled toward him like a wild beast stalking prey. And try as he might, he couldn't quite suppress an uneasy shiver. Like a long since forgotten nightmare that crawled from the back of his subconscious, whispering terrible truths that should have never been uttered.

“Hello, hello!” Papyrus cleared his throat and waved to the human as they passed silently over the rickety wooden bridge connecting the two cliffsides. “Nyeh heh, come along now! No time for lollygagging, eh? Human? Human Frisk?”

The human did not raise their head, eyes locked firmly on the ground before them as they took even strides through the snow. They finally stalled at last right in front of him, as if they had only just noticed that he was there at all. Frisk blinked and glowered up at him with those sharp red orbs of theirs, hanging dark rings under their eyes, face devoid of emotion. They just sort of... stood there, staring up at him as if they were anticipating something. If they were expecting anything in particular he couldn't quite grasp what it was, though he wracked his mind for it fruitlessly.

“... Welcome back,” Papyrus stated a bit quieter. “Nyerm. I kind of missed you, human Frisk. I expect that you have been on your best behavior?”

They only stared at him with an unnerving intensity. Longer and longer still, never saying a single word, not so much as blinking a single time. Snowflakes fell around them both, but Frisk did not show any sign of being bothered by it at all. They didn't move, they didn't speak, they barely even seemed to be breathing. It was extremely unnerving.

“... Are you alright?” he asked after an uncomfortably long stretch of silence.

“Let me ask you a question.”

“Shoot,” Papyrus felt a slight hint of relief at the sound of their voice. Although something about it just seemed a little... off. It was creeping him out.

“Have you ever weighed dust?”

“... I'm-I'm sorry, what,” he chuckled nervously, but it petered out almost instantly.

“It's interesting...” they toyed with the pocketknife absentmindedly. “They say that you cannot calculate the weight of a soul. Really, though, that's not true. It's what's left over that you should concentrate on. A soul's value is only that of what you designate it.”

“Are you feeling alright?” Papyrus tried very hard not to look at the grisly dust on their hands, on their clothes. Good god, how did he not notice it right away? It was horrifying the longer that he thought about it, and that nice old woman Toriel came drifting back to mind. The poor unstable old woman he had met so many timelines ago. The very idea of her face twisting in pain as body met knife – he wouldn't think about it. Don't think about it, don't think about it.

“Never better,” Frisk replied in that same off-kilter tone. They didn't sound quite right. Almost like they were trying to impersonate someone, but that someone was themselves and they hadn't completely grasped the ability to do so. It was supremely off-putting. They twirled the pocketknife in their hand, grazing the tip of their finger with the blade, staring at him the entire while. “I presume you are satisfied with the outcome of your decisions, Papyrus.”

“My decision?” he blurted instantly, that ugly wanton anger roiling in his chest again. “MY decision? I barely got a word in edgewise before you reset!”

“Oh, is that what I did?” Frisk tilted their head to the side, hair falling away to reveal their crimson eyes. “That's not how I remember it. Face the facts. You simply desire to absolve yourself of responsibility. Accept it.”

“I'm not the one with the crazy time twisting powers!” he huffed in anger, crossing his arms and stuffing his hands into tight fists.

“And yet your desires, your actions, have led to this particular outcome. Am I incorrect?”

“Human Frisk, you sound... are you sure you're alright?” he felt more and more uneasy with every passing moment. Like there was something that he had forgotten, something important, that he was in danger. But of course, since when had that ever stopped him? It still crept up his spine like an invisible spider. Something about all of this was... wrong, and not just because of the layer of dust coating the human. He couldn't quite put his finger on what, and that only bothered him further.

“We need to have a talk-”

“That time is long past. Now is the time for action,” Frisk gripped the pocketknife a bit tighter, their empty smile not wavering as they tilted their head up at him. “And you, I am afraid, are out of time.”

They lunged at him without warning, and Papyrus barely managed to escape being stabbed through the chest as he darted to the side. They looked at him in mild surprise before bolting toward him with a wide horizontal swing and he had no choice but to fight back, his smile melting into an angry determined frown. Magical summoned bones surrounded Frisk and they yelped aloud as they were stung by the blue bones encircling them entirely. They stared at him in surprise, red eyes wide. They seemed to not even have noticed their soul being pulled out of their body and into an encounter.

“You're blue now. That's my attack,” he claimed proudly. “Nyeh heh heh.”

“Let me out of this,” Frisk seethed, trying to break past the cerulean barrier and only serving to sting themselves again, their face twitching. “Right now, bone bag!”

“Not until you've calmed down,” he warned them with an outstretched hand, firmly keeping the wavering bones in place. “You seem a little out of sorts this morning, and, well, clearly you aren't in your right mind right now. Have you had breakfast? I always find that I'm a little cranky without breakfast, too.”

Frisk responded by shattering through the blue barrier he had constructed, magical bones tearing at flesh as they lurched toward him like a deadly marionette. Papyrus swore loudly and backpedaled to avoid being shivved, their awkward twitchy movements only further serving to display just how desperately they were attempting to skewer him. He was panting as he threw up a hastily summoned shield of white bone, and they clambered right over it in a clumsy fashion and practically hurtled themselves at him, arm outstretched. Papyrus doused their soul in blue magic just as they lunged in a desperate attack and he hurtled them into the dirt and snow. Frisk shouted and bellowed, struggling to stand, but were swiftly knocked off their feet by a rapid swing of his bone club to their knees. They were left battered and bruised, the look of seething anger almost radiating off of them. Papyrus tried to catch his breath and keep them pinned with blue magic, sweat beading on his forehead.

“I – would advise,” he said through his teeth. “That you kindly calm the hell down for a second.”

“You're a dead man walking,” Frisk wiped a sliver of blood from their lip. “You don't even realize it yet. But you're dead.”

“What in the heck has gotten into you lately?” Papyrus folded his arms crossly. “Things were going great – things were finally okay for a little bit! And you're just going to throw all that away? And for what?”

“You – are getting – in my way,” Frisk spat up a globule of blood and wiped their lip. “You seem to forget my track record with people that do that. Papyrus.”

Even speaking his name sounded like an open threat. Papyrus's fist clenched tightly and he doubled down on the blue magic, gravity increasing on the human as they strained just to move.

“I don't know what the hell your problem is today,” he began slowly. “But this nonsense stops right now.”

“Or what?” Frisk scoffed. “You'll beat me some more and lock me in your shed again? Because that turned out so well last time.”

Papyrus answered by summoning a long, heavy magical bone club in one hand. He didn't have to speak. His actions did the speaking for him.

“... Oh my god that's what you're planning, isn't it,” Frisk gawked at him. “You're serious.”

“I am not going to just stand by and let you hurt innocent people...” Papyrus twirled the club around in his grip. “Something is clearly wrong with you today. And, as your friend, I feel it is my duty to keep you on the straight and narrow. So let's just put down the knife, and let's talk. Nobody has to get hurt. Okay?”

“Okay?” they coughed up a half laugh. “Okay? Things haven't been 'okay' for a long, long ass time. And you're lying to yourself if you think otherwise.”

“But you'd know all about lying to yourself, wouldn'tcha Slim?” Papyrus cringed when he heard his own voice echo from behind him. A voice that wasn't there. There was nothing to be seen. Nobody was there, nothing to be seen, and yet he still felt the urge to turn around to face his invisible doppelganger. There was still that inkling, though; that dangerous curiosity, that if he turned for even a moment he would wind up getting cut down.

“... You're coming with me,” Papyrus said at last, dissipating the weapon and holding out his hand. “Give me the knife.”

“Pry it from my fucking corpse-”

Frisk didn't get the chance to say much else, as Papyrus took his opportunity and immediately reversed the gravitational pull on their soul, flipping them up into the air with a yelp. He sent them crashing back down onto the snow, leaving an imprint, and in the same swift motion kicked the knife away and off into the bushes. Frisk screamed and swore, scrambling upward and flailing at him with their bare hands, face blotchy and furious but he promptly pinned them in a bear hug and picked them up, hauling them over his shoulder despite the vicious kicks and scratches.

“Put me down you insufferable fuck!” they nearly screamed themselves hoarse. “I'll kill you, I swear to god I'll piss in your fucking dust-!”

“We're going home,” he did his best to remain calm despite the internal shrieking. “I'm making you breakfast, and then you and I are going to have a nice long chat about behaving yourself-”

Papyrus was rudely interrupted when he felt a violent blow to the back of the head. He sputtered and stumbled, but that was all the time that they needed. His head was spinning, he tasted dust in his mouth. Frisk darted away and took off at a truly unexpected speed, outright kicking some poor teen bird monster that happened to get in the way. He crumpled to dust in a single blow and Papyrus's shout was far, far too late to be heeded. He was dust by the time he hit the ground. He growled under his breath and bolted after the runaway human, feet kicking up powder and snow, but they'd already gotten too much of a head start. That wouldn't stop him, though. They were likely going right to Snowdin, if he could take a shortcut and head them off at the pass-

He nearly tripped when he discovered a thin, thorny vine wrapped around the ankle of his boot. Papyrus yanked away and glowered at the tiny yellow flower that drilled up through the snow, giving him a wide smile.

“Howdy!” Flowey chirruped. “Golly. Looks like someone's a little hasty.”
“Flowey I do not have the time!” Papyrus snapped, all of his patience spent. “Let go already! We can talk later, I am in a hurry here!”

“What's the rush?” he felt a vine slither around his shin and pin him in place. And all the while, Flowey just smiled at him. “Don't you have time to talk to your bestie, buddy?”

“People are going to die!” Papyrus couldn't hold back the shout.

“So?” Flowey shrugged his petals. “People die all the time, Papyrus. Calm down.”

“Calm down!?” he shrieked. “CALM DOWN? You have the sheer nerve-!”

“Pa~pyrus,” Flowey said in a singsong tone, the winding vine wrapping around his forearm. “You really should listen to what I have to say, old buddy. You're wasting your time chasing after that mask.”

“What are you talking about?” Papyrus shifted uncomfortably when Flowey's smile twisted.

“That 'human' that you're so intent on catching?” he began slowly. “They're not who you think they are at all, Papyrus.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Papyrus. Surely you've noticed it by now,” Flowey tilted left and right. “They aren't acting like themselves at all, are they?”

“Because something is wrong-”

“Bingo,” Flowey perked up a little. “And have you bothered to ask why that is? Hmm?”

Papyrus did not have a ready answer.

“You really thought that you could cheat time itself and not suffer any consequences, huh?” Flowey asked playfully, releasing him. “Well, hell has gone empty. And the devils are here.”

“What-what is that supposed to mean?”

“It's you or them, Papyrus...” his constant smile widened. “It's kill or be killed now. All those people that you thought you could count on? Worthless. Who is it, again, that's been beside you all this time?”

“I-”

“Why it's me, of course,” Flowey pressed a vine to his stem importantly. “You almost got away with it, too. You very nearly cheated the universe. But timelines have a way of self correcting, did you know that?”

“I... I don't understand.”

“I didn't expect you to,” he shrugged with a couple of vines that quickly shot back into the earth. “But you'll know soon enough. You made a deal with the devil, Papyrus. Sooner or later you've got to pay the piper. But I think you'll figure it out. Even if nobody else believes in you, I do, Papyrus.”

“Are you finished?” Papyrus crossed his arms. “I'm kind of in the middle of something right now and every second I spend here is more time that human Frisk is out there hurting people.”

“Frisk?” Flowey outright laughed. “Silly Papyrus. Why on earth would you just assume that's who you're chasing?”

Papyrus opened his mouth to question him further but Flowey was already long gone. He was left standing alone in the midst of a gentle snow, flakes falling in silence around him in a windy dance.

“... I don't like this,” murmured phantom from beside him, causing him to jump.

“No crap,” he shook his head and started jogging toward Snowdin. Instead of walking with him, however, the mirror Papyrus simply appeared and drifted alongside him. “You think any of this is good?”

“Too many unresolved variables...” the other Papyrus shifted to his other side, always in the corner of his vision. “Too many questions, not enough answers. Something about this stinks, Slim. I don't like any of this one bit.”

“That makes two of us,” Papyrus grumbled as he ran, legs hiking up through the snow. He slid cautiously but quickly down a large snowbank, taking the roundabout path to get to Snowdin before the human could. What bothered him more, though, were Flowey's parting words. What exactly had he meant? Why was it always a riddle with him? If he could remember the resets, why would he go out of his way to give cryptic messages instead of actually helping him? But then again, the last time that Flowey had 'helped' it hadn't done much good for anyone. He was still hesitant to check his soul even after that debacle. But the world had reset. Did that mean...?

He didn't have time to think about it.

Papyrus was quick to approach the borders of Snowdin.

He was met with a cold, bitter wind.

And not much else.

0-0-0-0-0

Silent whispers of unfulfilled promises dashed through the air.

Papyrus found himself still and wordless, hardly daring to breathe. There was nobody hanging around the Giftmas tree in the center of town. No one chatting outside Grillby's. A quick poke into the general store told him plenty more, and he didn't want to know any of it.

Just...

Dust.

No matter what he did, he was always too late. Not fast enough. Not smart enough. Not strong enough.

Papyrus fought down a wretch and stumbled forward, toward that gleaming yellow light in the snow. He didn't want to go near it, he didn't even want to think about it, but he found himself staring into that shining light nonetheless.

THE SIGHT OF SUCH A

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“What in the devil...?” he murmured curiously as he stood and brushed the snow from his knees. He could have sworn that he saw flickers of numbers mingling with the wriggling black tendrils creeping across his vision. It dissipated after a few moments, leaving him wondering if he had simply imagined the entire thing. He nervously checked about, unable to shake the feeling of being watched, but saw no one. So he shrugged, knelt down in the snow again, and gave the glister a little squeeze.

ERROR.

ERROR.

ERROR.

YOU ARE A DEAD MAN WALKING.

Papyrus felt a sharp sting behind his eye socket and yelped, releasing the glowing object immediately. The pain radiated and spread through his head, and he clapped a hand over his tear streaked eye socket. He hadn't even realized when he started crying, but good lord did that hurt. He wiped his face and struggled to his feet, staggering when the ground seemed to tilt beneath him. He caught his breath as best he could, still reeling.

“Alright,” he muttered more to himself than anything. “Alright. That was... weird.”

“You have no idea,” Frisk uttered from behind him. He felt a violent blow to the back of his head before he could turn-

0-0-0-0-0

And awoke to the sound of a klaxon alarm.

Papyrus lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He interlocked his fingers, slowly took in a deep, heavy breath, and blew it all out his nostril bone.

“... I'm going to slap that brat.”

0-0-0-0-0

Chapter Text

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus threw himself out of bed, slammed his fist down on the alarm clock and cracked the thing in half, the constant beeping dwindling into a drained, pained bleep of despair. Scowling, he patted the back of his head but felt nothing but a drifting memory, the phantom pain already fading away. It was almost like he hadn't even been killed at all. It certainly felt like it though. He was tired, he was sore, he was fed up with everything and he didn't even know he could hate Tuesdays this much. He checked off the date on the calendar more out of habit than anything, he knew full well what day it was, and he was not happy about it. He hastily threw on his clothes and almost tripped over himself getting out the bedroom door, stomping over to his brother's. The day hadn't even started and he was just done with everything. Things were going to be different. He was going to make sure of it.

“Sans?” he pounded one fist on the sturdy wood. “Sans! Sans, wake up! Get up, brother! We need to talk; please, Sans, this is really important, I need your help!”

He was met with silence. He tensed, knuckles tightening. He rapped against the door again, then twice more, and was not answered.

“Brother?” Papyrus knocked in trepidation, a bit more forcefully this time. Something felt wrong about this situation. “Brother? Sans? Please, Sans! Wake up! I need to talk to you, right now brother!”

But nobody came.

“I'm-I'm coming in,” he warned him loudly before jiggling the handle. The door swung open, and he flicked on the switch. The room was bathed in fluorescent light and he blinked, brow bones furrowing, a prickle crawling up his spine.

Sans was nowhere to be found.

“... Crap,” Papyrus muttered under his breath, looking around the room. Clothes were strewn about here and there, books had been tossed carelessly to the floor, the unused exercise machine had been decorated with junk and the self sustaining magical little trash tornado in the corner continued to twirl and swirl endlessly. But no Sans. Where in the world was he? Papyrus shifted uneasily and shut off the light, closing the door behind him and pulled out his phone from his battle body, flicking through the saved numbers and quickly finding the one he needed. It rang and rang, on and on and on.

“Come on...” he said to himself as he descended the steps two at a time. “Please, brother...”

No one picked up the phone. No one answered. He finally gave up trying to get Sans to answer the phone, his unease and worry only growing when he tried calling Doctor Alphys next. She did not answer, either. Undyne did not pick up the phone. Nobody was answering calls, and he eventually swallowed hard when he put his phone away and stepped outside, the brisk early morning air greeting him. This was already not a good start to the day. Everything was wrong, he could feel it.

He breathed in the chill breeze through his nostril bone and almost immediately regretted it.

It was crisp, cold. But beneath it, there was an underlying, oozing layer. An almost undetected scent.

Dust.

Papyrus shuddered and looked about left and right, seeing absolutely no one, and bit his tongue. He stepped with discomfort down from the front porch and his boot sank into the snow like the earth was trying to swallow him. He called out to someone, anyone , but he received no reply. There was only the cold, unwelcoming emptiness of a hollow town.

He felt as though he were drifting through a terrible dream. Breathlessly he walked through the empty town of Snowdin, arms limp at his side as he took uneven strides, unable to even blink through the living nightmare. Clumps of dust were scattered here and there, people caught unawares without even the chance to defend themselves. It was still far too early in the morning for the human to have caused such carnage on such a widespread scale. There was no way that Flowey could have caused such a catastrophic event such as wiping out everyone simultaneously. His only guess was that those horrible creatures from beyond the veil, those 'in-betweeners', must have been behind this. But how ? Papyrus thought that they only showed themselves when he and Frisk both interfered with a save point at the same time; but clearly that wasn't the case, as everyone was dead this timeline. Everyone... except for him. And why ?

Why was he always left behind?

Papyrus frowned as he entered Grillby's pub, glum and gloomy. Dust was piled and scattered across stools and tables and he grimaced in equal parts disgust and dark fascination. It was no wonder nobody would pick up their phones. It was kind of hard when they were in their current conditions. Maybe tomorrow would be better. It was a weak hope, but it was better than nothing. He sighed and helped himself to an amber bottle from behind the counter, absentmindedly digging in his battle body and dropping some coins on the counter top before popping the cork. He didn't technically have to pay, considering, but it only felt right. He chugged hard from the golden brew and choked, the burning sensation spreading throughout his entire body like a wildfire. Good lord, how did anyone stomach this garbage? But he drank it down regardless, and it got a little easier with patience. He tried to steady his breathing and shivered, emptying nearly half the bottle and setting it on the bar with a clink .

He ran a shaky hand over his head and pulled out his phone a little drunkenly, the effects of the magically infused alcohol already potent enough to make him unsteady. He shook his head and tried calling again and again, to no avail. It was a desperate, vain effort, and he knew it, but he couldn't resist. It made his stomach churn in knots with every chiming tune. His brother simply would not answer. And at first, he thought had a pretty good idea why. But out of everyone's dust that he had come across, his brother's was not one of them. Yet another oddity. So, he sighed, put the phone away and polished off the bottle. More than a little woozily he stood and silently said goodbye to the long gone patrons of the bar, staring forlornly at the people that never stood a chance. He left without a word and pulled his scarf a little tighter, wrapping it around his neck. He could have sworn that those little flecks and slivers of black tendrils at the corners of his vision were growing thicker the closer that he got to that save point, and this time he did not even attempt to resist as he fell to his knees before it.

(ROOM 68: ROOM_TUNDRA_TOWN)

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DETERMINATION.

Papyrus blinked again and again, uncertain of just how long he had been grasping at the gleaming yellow light. Or of how long that other gloved hand had been clasped over his own. He stared over at the unblinking reflection kneeling in the snow next to him, the stalwart doppelganger mirroring his alert gaze.

“... Somethin' just changed, Slim,” other Papyrus stated as they both stood simultaneously. Papyrus brushed the snow from his knees and shook his head uncertainly, glancing about.

“How... how long...?”

“Dunno,” the mirror image shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I got a real bad feeling, Slim.”

Papyrus crossed his arms and looked around, unable to shake off the sensation of being observed. His mirror image dissipated in an instant but he did not move from his spot, phalanges drumming across his forearm as he thought. He eventually drew away from the save point after a while of thinking and pulled into the general store, flinching when he saw the shopkeep's dust. He sighed quietly and left some gold for the goods he would need, bagging up some supplies and heading out. He left in utter silence and walked at an even pace, the scent of warm cinnamon still clinging to him as he walked.

But no matter how far he went, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, he still couldn't quite shake the thick, cloying smell of dust that haunted his every step.

0-0-0-0-0

The human was late.

Papyrus wasn't altogether too bothered by it. At least, that was what he kept telling himself.

He wasn't feeling hungry in the slightest, his appetite demolished by the grisly sight of Snowdin, so he saved the cinnamon treats for Frisk when they would inevitably arrive. But they were certainly taking their time today, and Papyrus, slightly drunkenly, found himself wishing that they could keep a decent schedule for once instead of their hectic rampages. It would make things so much easier, if not simpler. He sighed and ran a gloved hand over his head, leaning forward on the stool behind the sentry station and propping his chin up on his forearm. Even though he still felt a little dizzy from the hard cider he had imbibed from Grillby's, he felt the urge to get up and pace and had to resist the urge to do so. He had nearly fallen over once and regretted it, and decided to simply ride out the sensation until it had passed and he was in a somewhat functioning state once again. But another part of him desperately wanted to drop everything, go right back to Grillby's, cradle that bottle and curl up in a corner and cry until tomorrow.

He sighed and put his head in his hands, closing his eye sockets shut.

“It won't make the memories go away.”

Papyrus flinched at the sound of Flowey's voice. He groaned internally and straightened up, rubbing his damp eye sockets and cleared his throat.

“Good m-morning, Flowey,” Papyrus wiped his face with the back of his glove. “Nyeh. You've – nyeh-hem. You've caught me at an awkward time. I wasn't crying.”

“Of course you weren't,” Flowey answered smarmily, bouncing up and down on his stem beside him, just barely protruding from the snow. His little petals curled up and cupped his wide smile, his thin eyes narrowing. “Golly. You look to be in a right state, Papyrus. Is something the matter?”

“You know damn well what's wrong,” he crossed his arms and refused to look at him, that ugly roiling anger taking root in his chest no matter how he tried to push it down. “Why? Why does this keep happening?”

“Would you believe me if I said that it's the human's fault?” Flowey asked innocently.

“I would have to give you a very hard maybe.”

“Surely you must know it's their fault, right?” he pried, leaning forward. Papyrus could only stare at him, looking back and forth between him and the long, narrow path down the empty bridge, a pentagram of awaiting anguish. “You could end all of this, Papyrus. You remember what we've discussed. Do you not?”

“I'm not killing them,” Papyrus huffed.

“Is that right?” Flowey smiled a bit wider. “You'd rather let something else do the killing for you, isn't that right?”

Papyrus did not have a ready answer.

“But of course, I hold no grudges,” Flowey tittered, pressing a little vine to his bottom petal for a moment before peering up at him with a wide grin. “You were just doing what you thought you had to, I'm sure.”

“Flowey. Let me ask you a question.”

“Of course, bestie.”

“Why do you remember the resets?”

“Do you want the fun answer? Or the honest answer?” his grin twisted slightly. “You only get one. Or I'll pick for you. Choose wisely.”

“Why can't it be both?”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Flowey tutted and shook his head. “Wrong, wrong, wrong. You can't have your pie and eat it too. I remember for the same reason you do, Papyrus.”

“So which answer is that supposed to be?” Papyrus's brow bone furrowed in befuddlement.

“Well, it's no fun if I just tell you, now is it?” Flowey winked at him playfully. Seeing the frown on his face Flowey only snickered and shook his little head. “Oh, come now. Don't give me that look, old buddy. I'm only having a bit of fun, where's the harm in that?”

“Flowey, everyone is dead.”

“Not everyone...” he said pointedly. “After all, we're still here. We've got to make our own fun, do we not? Why not play a little game with me, hmm?”

“I'm not up for it right now,” Papyrus shrugged.

“Aww. Someone's a little moody, huh,” Flowey prodded at his shin with a vine. “You know what? I know just the thing to cheer you up! Let's play the secrets game!”

“I really don't want to play any games, Flowey...” he tried to turn away but Flowey burrowed underground and popped up on his other side, smiling wider.

“Oh, come now, Papyrus. It'll be fun! It's easy. You tell me a secret, and I'll tell you a secret. It'll be our special little game. Just to pass the time until the human gets here, huh? What do you say?”

“Considering that you have tried to kill both me and Frisk, it's a little hard to trust you with secrets, Flowey,” Papyrus noted.

“Aww, come on, buddy. Just a lil' hint for your old pal?”

“... Sometimes I see things that aren't there,” he admitted at last, looking away from the flower. “Just... little things. Flickers. Images. Things that... that aren't real. I know that they aren't real, but... but it feels real. I think I really am going crazy, Flowey.”

“M-hmm. Interesting, interesting...” Flowey nodded a couple of times thoughtfully.

“... Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Aren't you going to tell me a secret now?”

“Oh, is that what we're doing?” Flowey bobbed up and down in a playful fashion. “I thought we were just discussing your obvious mental decline. Tee hee.”

Papyrus did not laugh.

“Well, if you must know...” Flowey said in a hushed tone, clearly delighting in causing Papyrus to lean in to hear him. “I know a word. A very special word. A very special word that will work wonders on that human that's about to come through here in just a minute, a word that can stop that human right in their tracks. Would you like to know what that word is?”

Papyrus only nodded once.

Flowey spoke it, only a single time, but for some reason Papyrus felt as though he had heard it a hundred thousand times. And yet, the more he tried to think of it, the harder it became to remember. He forced himself to recall it, however, burned it into his memory, seared it into his mind until it was stapled onto his consciousness and it felt as though he had known it all along. He swallowed dryly and nodded again, and Flowey just gave him a single, solitary, knowing nod with a firm smile.

He left without a word, and Papyrus sat in utter quiet, the silence beckoning him like the static of an old television ringing in an empty house. It felt unfamiliar and discomforting, calling to him in forgotten tongues that should have stayed unremembered.

He stood and waited in the snow, arms folded firmly as he stared down the path, watching, waiting. It really didn't take much longer. The human marched steadily down the snowy road toward him, over the bridge and through the woods. He held his poise until they finally stalled a few feet in front of him. Although they were devoid of an coatings of dust this time around, they did carry that awful knife. Just seeing it was enough to make his bones prickle with unease. They stared up at him, expectantly, like they were awaiting something that he was supposed to know. He barely spoke the word, it hardly passed his teeth, but it was enough.

“Chara.”

And then they began violently vomiting blood.

0-0-0-0-0

Chapter Text

0-0-0-0-0

Crimson spattered the snow, a terrible abstract painting of things that should not have been remembered.

Papyrus swore loudly as the human simply collapsed onto the ground, bleeding profusely from one nostril, blood leaking in rivets from their mouth. His chest tightened in panic as he swooped down beside them on one knee, mentally kicking himself over and over again. What had he done? He had fallen right into the trap Flowey laid for him, and looking back it was so obvious that it had been a trap he could have rabbit punched himself for his idiocy. What was he thinking? He couldn't trust Flowey. Flowey had even said it himself. Quite explicitly.

You can't trust anyone.

“Oh god, oh god, oh lord human Frisk please wake up!” he clasped them by the shoulders and shook them as gently as he dared, unable to look away from the nightmarish display. They were shuddering and convulsing in complete silence, eyes completely rolled to the back of their head, unable to respond. And the blood. Oh stars, the blood. It was everywhere. What was that horrid word that Flowey had taught him? Some kind of spell? A curse? A kill command, more like, knowing Flowey. He silently cursed both the flower and himself, loathing just how repentantly trusting he had been of his previous 'friend'. There was no way that he could ever bring himself to hate him, true. But it certainly felt as though he was making some progress on that route today.

“You're going to be okay,” Papyrus wasn't sure who he was talking to as he scooped the limp form of Frisk up into his arms, their limbs dangling slack and lifeless as he stood. “You're gonna be fine,” he reiterated again and again. “Oh god, oh jeez, oh crap just hang on, little one! You'll be alright, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-!”

Papyrus bolted through the snow as swiftly as his legs would carry him. He shouted for help, he screamed it again and again.

“Somebody!” he panted and struggled not to drop the limp human. “Someone! Anyone! Assistance! I need help!”

But nobody came.

He pumped his legs as fast as he could, bounding over snowbanks and past piles of dust that should never have been that way. He should have known better. He should have done something. He should have saved them. He was the Great Papyrus. He was supposed to save everyone. But at every single turn, he seemed to be proven wrong on that point. Nothing he did helped anyone. Maybe he couldn't save everyone. Maybe he couldn't save anyone at all.

That horrible doubt plagued him, infested his mind like scratching rats over his thoughts, biting and gnawing at his conscience. But he did not slow his strides, no matter how tiring it was.

He was on the verge of tears as he barreled into Snowdin, stomping right over the save point and grab it grab it GRAB IT past the general store, tripping over himself as he was sweating cold bullets. He skipped up the flight of steps on the porch and threw open the front door, the silence of Snowdin smothering him like a dreadful blanket. The human was deathly pale at this point, shivering and convulsing, mouth forming a myriad of senseless words without any noise coming out. They didn't even seem to be breathing, the shaking was getting worse. Worriedly, he placed them down on the couch and sucked in a much needed breath, panic overriding common sense at this point.

“Sans! Sans! Please, brother – somebody!”

No one answered his call.

“Just... just hold still,” he peeled off one glove and pressed a hand to their chest, drawing in as much strength as he could. It was a shot in the dark at this point. “This might... sting a little...!”

Power and energy coiled at his fingertips, phalanges crackling with green healing magic. He practically blasted Frisk with it and they stopped shuddering immediately, falling completely still. He wasn't sure if they were moving anymore, those awful black squiggles were back in the corners of his vision, it was hard to focus, hard to concentrate, hard to think, the magical drain had taken a lot out of him. He strained for breath, his knees buckling a little as he leaned on the corner of the couch for support, never taking his sockets off the still frame of the human. They had finally closed their eyes just a little, half lidded, and after a while of observation it became clear that their chest was rising and falling. They were breathing. They were alive . At least that was some small consolation. But they looked...

“Like death is on their doorstep,” mirror Papyrus murmured from behind him and he flinched.

“Oh god, not you. What do you want?” he asked in exasperation, not bothering to turn around. He was too tired. This day had already drained far too much from him.

“Take it easy, Slim...” other Papyrus simply was at the edge of the sofa, staring down at the bloodied form of the human in apparent slumber on the couch. He watched as he crossed his arms, staring down his nostril bone. “Shouldn't have trusted fertilizer muncher. That was a mistake.”

“Oh you think?” Papyrus snapped, causing his mirror image to simply raise a brow bone.

“Wasn't my decision. Don't go taking it out on me, Slim. This wasn't anticipated today. What are we gonna do?”

“They'll live...” he muttered as he stood fully, heading to the kitchen. Yet again, his doppelganger simply appeared, sitting at the kitchen table with his feet kicked up and crossed over one another, boots on the hardwood. Just... watching him. It was creepy. “I think. I'm going to help get something to clean up the... the blood at least. I'm pretty sure humans are supposed to keep all of that stuff inside of them. Good lord, it-it all just happened so fast.”

“What d'ya think caused this particular reaction?” other Papyrus asked lazily, drawing out a phantom cigarette and lighting it, a haze of smoke wafting over his head. “All we said was one little word and this happens?”

“I don't know,” he answered honestly, gathering cloths and a pot of warm water, as well as some pain medicine from one of the kitchen drawers. They only had a couple left. Oh well. There would be more tomorrow. “God help me, I don't know. I don't know! Okay!? I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have trusted him after what he's done. But I keep... I keep thinking, I keep hoping, you know. Maybe...”

Papyrus twisted one of the cloths in his hands guiltily, head hanging.

“Maybe it's my fault.”

“That's exactly what he wants you to think,” duplicate Papyrus polished off his cigarette and flicked it away into nothing. “He's trying to... I dunno. Elicit some kinda reaction.”

“Why? For what purpose?”

“Why does that lil' creep do anything?” he shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, Slim. I...” he paused, looking away. “Ugh. I need time to think.”

And with that, he was just gone , leaving Papyrus alone in the kitchen.

Or perhaps he had been alone the entire time. Maybe he really was insane. It made him want to scream and laugh and cry all at once.

He shook his head furiously and carried the necessities into the other room, setting them down on the floor next to the human. He didn't have time to ponder exactly what all that had been about. It took some work, but he managed to dryly mop up most of the blood on their face, washing them up with a warm cloth and rinsing it in the water again and again. They groaned miserably as he did so and he quietly murmured to them over and over to no avail, apologizing profusely. By the time he was done he practically had a pail of blood next to him. In revulsion he doused it out and washed it in the kitchen sink, trying to ignore the crimson stains. He finally returned, and found the human breathing unsteadily, but they did have one eye partially cracked open to stare at him.

“... You,” they rasped through dry lips. Their voice was low and crackling, like a fire on a cold night. But devoid of light, empty of warmth, completely and utterly icy.

“Oh. Good, you're finally awake,” Papyrus let out a breath that he didn't realize he had been holding, laughing without humor. “Good. Good, good. I did not want to be responsible for killing you.”

“Not a big deal,” Frisk stated in a croak. “Been dead before. I'll be dead again. It's an endless cycle.”

“Are... are you feeling alright?”

“Never. Better,” they said through their teeth. They wiped their face and struggled to raise themselves but fell back onto the sofa; Papyrus saw them having trouble and attempted to help them sit properly but they only smacked weakly at his hand and growled at him like some kind of animal. He drew his hand away, slightly hurt, but said nothing. They finally managed to straighten up, gasping a couple of times and clasping their chest. He gnawed his tongue and furrowed his brow bones, just watching them.

“... You have some explaining to do,” Frisk hacked and clenched their fists. Papyrus only shook his head and held out his hands, and they gave him an ugly look. “... What.”

“Medicine,” he explained, passing to them a glass of water as well. “Take it. You'll feel better.”

“Or you could be trying to drug me and kill me in my sleep.”

“If I wanted you dead you'd be dead,” he threw up his eye lights in exasperation. He was so fed up with everything today. They gave him a very uncomfortable stare for several long moments before finally shrugging and taking the pain pills from him. They popped them down and chugged the entire glass of water, tossing the empty cup to the side and leaning back against the couch. Papyrus sighed and ran a hand over the back of his head, pacing back and forth in silent contemplation.

“Still... waiting on that explanation,” Frisk spoke a bit more clearly now.

“I didn't know that would happen...” Papyrus answered honestly, clutching his hands together in front of him and pausing before them. “I... I truly am sorry. Do... do you know anything about C- about that word? What was that? How did that happen? Some kind of curse? What's going on? Why?”

Frisk did not answer. At least, not immediately. They did not look at him, simply staring sadly downward before crossing their arms and drawing their knees up to their chin. They closed their eyes and sighed heavily, a long, tortured breath, like they were letting out steam.

“... It's a name.”

“Whose?”

“A true name,” Frisk opened their eyes, and when they did they did not glare at him in hate or anger this time. They just looked... tired. So very tired. Papyrus could relate. He felt it, too. “Names have power, Papyrus. And when you speak something's name, its true name; well. You did something that you very much should not have. It's... it's a part of you now, too. There is no escaping it now.”

“Escaping... what, exactly?” he asked uneasily.

“You'll find out. You have old knowledge,” they twitched and smacked at something that wasn't there before turning back to him. “Older than you or me, certainly. You should never have even heard it. Now, I think it's high time that you explain yourself and tell me where in the hell you heard something like that.”

“Flowey.”

“Of course,” Frisk pinched the bridge of their nose and let out an irritated grunt. “Of fucking course he would be involved in this. “Should have killed that little bastard when I had the chance. Where... nobody here, either?”

“Everyone is gone,” Papyrus informed them bluntly. They seemed to take it well, merely nodding a couple of times, looking contemplative for once, staring off at something in the darkness of the corner. They finally sighed and curled up a little tighter, wrapping their arms around their legs.

“... In-betweeners?” Frisk asked in a quiet voice.

“Don't know,” he shrugged, collapsing onto the sofa beside them, causing them to jolt. “Possibly. The likelihood is pretty up there. But I thought that those things only came out when we both touched a save point-”

“What have I told you about those?” they scolded him immediately, making him flinch in regret. “I warned you! Do – not – interfere! They aren't for you!”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Frisk grew very still, and very, very quiet.

They did not move for a while after that, refusing to look at him. Papyrus only sighed and dragged his palm over the top of his skull, musing.

“... Is it my fault?”

“It probably is,” Frisk glowered at him. “I don't know why in the fuck this keeps happening, but it's throwing off my groove. Things are supposed to be a certain, specific way, and if they aren't, bad shit happens.”

“I don't... I don't quite follow.”

“Something is fucking with the time stream,” Frisk ignored him when he quietly chastised them for swearing so much. “Something powerful. I don't know who, or what, exactly, could be screwing with this run so much that everything is on the verge of breaking, but if I had to guess I'd say it's Flowey. I'd put money on it.”

“I talked to Flowey,” Papyrus informed them, and Frisk groaned into their hands.

“What have I told you,” they pulled their hand down their face, glowering at him directly. “What have I told you about him?”

“He's... he's really not-” he paused as he caught himself automatically trying to defend his friend. Or, at least, someone who he thought was his friend. But apparently he couldn't trust Flowey for that much. Perhaps he couldn't trust him for anything. Papyrus let out an uneasy breath and closed his eye sockets, pinching the bridge of his nostril bone. “I don't know why I keep sticking up for him, honestly. Maybe it's a bad habit at this point.”

“Well, learn to fucking break it before he breaks us...” Frisk rubbed their arms. “Fuck. Is it cold in here to you? God it's cold.”

He did not answer immediately, but finally stood, tired and weary, leaving for several long moments. He was genuinely surprised to see Frisk still on the couch after he came back. After their behavior, he would have assumed that they'd try to take off as soon as he was out of line of sight. But they took the blanket nonetheless, even giving him a somewhat thankful little nod, wrapping it tightly around their frame and shivering.

Papyrus didn't sit down again, instead opting to steadily pace back and forth from one side of the room to the other, arms folded neatly over one another. Frisk just watched him for a while, observing in silence.

“... So,” they uttered after a long while of silence. “What now?”

“I don't know!” he snapped and they jerked backwards into the sofa, eyes wide. He stilled himself and shook his head, mournful and apologetic. “I-I'm sorry. I don't know. I don't know WHAT to do,” he threw out his arms, letting them fall slack by his sides. “What are our options in a situation like this? Everyone I ever cared about is gone.”

“Don't be such a drama queen,” Frisk stared at him, narrowing their crimson eyes. “Just calm down. They'll all be back tomorrow.”

“But what if they're not?” he paused his walking right in front of them, looking to them desperately for something, anything. “What if tomorrow is just like today? What if nobody shows up? What if we're all alone, for... forever?”

“It'll be fine,” they insisted, and even though their words had no conviction he still couldn't help but find it ever so slightly consoling. “Everything will be normal tomorrow. No need to panic. If you panic, all your plans go right out your head and then the world will bend you over and flay your ass. Stay calm,” he wasn't entirely certain which of the two they were trying to reassure with that. “So don't worry. It'll be fine. Just throw on something stupid on television and let's ride out the day, yeah?”

Papyrus didn't move. Not right away, at least.

“... Uh, hello? Earth to dumbass, calling dumbass, anyone home?”

“We have to try,” he pounded his fist into his palm, earning an odd look from them.

“Try what?”

“Looking for survivors.”

“Oh, fuck that!” Frisk rolled their eyes. “I'm tired, I'm hurt, I'm confused as all hell why this shit keeps happening to me, I do not give a damn whether or not anyone else is alive today.”

“Maybe that's all fine and dandy for you...” he felt the determination swelling in his soul. “But if there's even the slightest chance that anyone else survived, I'm going to do my absolute best to keep them safe.”

“... Goddammit all,” they harrumphed at last, prying themselves up and standing. “I just wanted a nap.”

“Nyeh, tell me about it.”

0-0-0-0-0

“... You know, you didn't have to come with me.”

Papyrus marched through mud and water, the human up on his shoulders to avoid filling their shoes with muck. He didn't mind the weight nor the company. In fact, it made his trek through Waterfall a little less unnerving. Not by much. But a little.

“If I let you run off on your own you're gonna get yourself killed,” Frisk grumbled and slapped the top of his head, earning a yelp from him.

“Cut that out! My bones are sensitive, I've still got a headache from healing you so much.”

“Well, whose fault is that?” they scoffed. Papyrus tightened himself and leaped over a particularly muddy patch, landing safely on damp rocks and continuing along, the darkness of the caverns creeping in, only the quiet sound of trickling water accompanying them. “You're the one that fucked up. Besides, you had medicine, why didn't you just take that?”

“Because I gave it all to you,” he admitted, and they fell silent. He felt a gentle brushing at the top of his head and paused for a moment, clasping their legs to keep them from falling as he steadied himself for another long jump. He took off at a steady pace and bounded right over the waterways, bypassing several small clumps of dust along the path. People caught unawares, just going about their lives. All with hopes, wishes, ideas, dreams.

All gone.

He sighed tiredly and his feet felt heavier with every passing step.

“You're thinking about it again.”

“It's kind of hard not to,” he informed them, muck and swampland giving way to stone passages that he passed down in a bit more of a hurry than he meant to. He was supposed to be looking for survivors, but the longer that he stayed in those dark places the longer that it got more difficult to see clearly after leaving it, those nasty squiggles at the corners of his vision almost tearing into him like leeches. “I mean, it's kind of on my mind at the moment. Gee. Wonder why.”

“Sarcasm is unbefitting of you.”

“Sorry...” he paused at a small pond, staring down into the water and sighing again. “It's... it's been a day.”

He peered down into the reflection of himself and Frisk atop his shoulders. It must have been the weeds in the still waters that caused their reflection's shirt to look so green, because it certainly wasn't a while ago. And the longer that he stared, the more he realized that his reflection was looking somewhere else.

He cringed and pulled away, Frisk tottering atop him. Too many people lost. Too many lives he didn't save. It was awakening something very dark, slowly from within him, and he wasn't too sure that he liked it.

“... You know you can put me down now, right?”

“What?” he sputtered. “Oh. Right. Of course,” he helped them down distractedly, that sight in the dark waters still unnerving. Papyrus nodded and they followed him as he made his way toward the familiarly shaped house. A sense of dread washed over him in that instant, and he repressed it as best he could.

“You... you already know what you're going to find,” Frisk took a moment to grasp his forearm, giving him pause.

“I... I know. I know, little one,” he answered wearily. “But I have to try.”

Papyrus took a long, unsteady breath to brace himself, and entered Undyne's house.

He found the dust not long after.

It always felt so cozy in her little home, but the sight of such a thing sent a sick shudder down his spine. The strongest woman he had ever known. He looked up to her, only wished her the best, and this was the result. It wasn't even the first time he saw her dust, but it still felt like it all over again. It was horrible, stinging his eye sockets, but he couldn't look away. He clamped a hand over his mouth, trying not to be ill.

“... We need to go,” he spun on the spot and left without another word. Frisk only shook their head like they were disappointed, but followed anyway. It was a long, quiet walk back to Snowdin, neither of them daring to break the silence.

They were watched the entire time.

0-0-0-0-0

Chapter Text

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus spent a lot of time thinking that night.

It was very, very quiet in the house. The cold Snowdin wind rattled the windows and he glanced toward the human, curled up in a little bundle on the sofa next to him. At least some of Mettaton's recordings that he had saved managed to fill the uncomfortable silence swathing them both, but even he had to admit, that for as many times as he had seen this movie it was getting pretty old. He sighed and turned the bottle between his knees, taking another long swig of the amber liquid, the burning sensation washing away the wretched sick that had shaken him so deeply. He really was developing some nasty habits. His poor brother would be mortified.

Undyne.

Alphys.

Bunni.

Toriel.

Sans.

He hadn't saved a single one of them.

Papyrus cradled his head in his hands, letting out a long, unsteady breath. If he kept going at this rate he was going to wind up screaming, and he didn't want to wake the human. He had too many questions, and no answers to go around. Things weren't like they normally were. And he couldn't help but laugh to himself at just how absurd a thought that was, that his life during the reruns he would consider 'normal'. What had happened to his life?

Then he glanced down at Frisk slumbering beside him.

Oh. Right.

Eventually, he couldn't handle just sitting around inside any longer. Just waiting and waiting for the long night to end, so that he would wake up and this horrible dream would be over. He never was good at killing time. He was half tempted to just drop into bed himself, but without his brother in the house anymore it just felt... unsafe. Perhaps he was being silly, or considering his position, perhaps realistic, and it bothered him that he honestly could not discern which was which anymore. Trembling, he stood at last and slipped out the front door, quietly latching it behind him. He pulled a cigarette from his inner clothing and lit it, taking a long, heavy drag and letting out a relieved sigh.

“Those things are going to kill you, you know.”

Papyrus only cocked a brow bone, not entirely surprised to see his doppelganger sitting on the porch step. He shook his head, chuckled darkly and sat down beside the phantom, who arguably didn't look to be in much better a state than he did. Granted, perhaps that was the alcohol painting on those lines under his eye sockets.

“Honestly, death by cigarette is the least of my worries right now,” Papyrus admitted quietly, offering one to him but unsurprisingly he already had one in his teeth.

“I wasn't talking about the cigarettes, Slim...” he eyed him carefully. “That human. They know more than they're letting on.”

“So? What else is new?” Papyrus shrugged, watching his mirror image blow out a smoke ring through his nostril bone. He tried it himself and only hacked and coughed, hurting his chest in the process. “Not like we didn't know that for a while.”

“Not quite what I meant,” other Papyrus shook his head slowly, never dropping his icy gaze. “I've been doing some thinking.”

“Let's hear it then.”

“Kind of surprised you'd care to listen...” the other Papyrus mirrored his motions perfectly, drawing the cancer stick to his teeth and taking a drag. “With as often as you're eager to get rid of me.”

“Think of it as the devil I know versus the one I don't,” he shrugged again. “I mean, you must be good for something.”

“Gee. You think so highly of me, Slim.”

“I still don't know if I'm even sane anymore...!” he clasped a desperate hand to his forehead for a long moment before sighing. “God. I'm a little drunk right now and I'm... I'm. I am not in a good place, mentally.”

“I know,” other Papyrus nodded solemnly. “Believe me. I know.”

It was quiet for a while after that. Papyrus only stared out at the gently tumbling snow in the air, his soul aching.

“... I'm not entirely certain what's causing irregularities in the timeline,” the other Papyrus began slowly, and Papyrus fumbled with his finished cigarette, eventually just flicking the thing away. “As far as we know, the only ones that consistently know about the reruns are us, the human, and-”

“Flowey,” Papyrus finished for him with a bit more vitriol than he intended. He polished off the bottle of liquor, hopefully drowning the bitterness taking root within him.

“He has to be responsible, right?” his mirror image rubbed the back of his head. “At least, that's what I thought. At first.”

“At first?”

“There is... one other person who knows about the timelines. Remember?” Papyrus blinked in sudden understanding. The strange man from that bizarre dream. If it even had been a dream. Which was slowly being cast in doubt the longer that he thought about it.

“I don't think it was,” other Papyrus interrupted his thoughts. “One other person who might know about all of this insanity. Doctor Gaster.”

“But we – I mean I – don't even know if he's a real person or not,” Papyrus folded his gloved hands over his knees, thinking deeply. “Or where he is, or when he is, or how to contact him at all. If it's even possible. We're way in over our heads, here. We need professional help, our necks are on the block here.”

He rubbed his throat uncomfortably, a rather grim memory resurfacing, but he buried it almost immediately.

“We have to act,” his doppelganger insisted.

“Agreed. So what do you suggest?”

“Doctor Gaster is the predecessor to Doctor Alphys. Remember?” he tapped the side of his skull with a finger bone. “We've heard it before. From one of those weird disappearing fellas. If there's anything to be found, I'm guessing that she would be a direct conduit to that kind of information.”

“... I think you're right,” Papyrus snapped his gloved fingers again and again. “I need to pay her another visit-”

Just like Flowey suggested.

He froze in unease, and his mirror image just nodded once.

“We cannot, under any circumstances, trust him again, Slim. Not after what he's done. Not ever.”

“I... I know,” he whispered rather sadly.

“It stings. I get it. I do. But you've got to learn to take the blows as they come and roll with the punches. We have somewhere to start, right?” he pulled out another cigarette and didn't light it, it simply was already. “We got to get in touch with her, and keep an eye out for Flowey along the way. Whatever the reason, I think he predicted us coming to this conclusion sooner or later.”

“Flowey isn't exactly a grand planner,” Papyrus scoffed sarcastically.

“Do not underestimate him...” other Papyrus warned him in a careful tone. “He's dangerous when he wants to be. Remember what happened the last time that you thought he could be trusted.”

Papyrus looked away somewhat guiltily, the deaths of the people he cared about hanging on his conscience. He sighed and closed his eye sockets for several long moments, musing. When he reopened them and turned to his doppelganger to speak, however, he found that he was sitting all alone on the front porch step. Maybe he really was going crazy. If he wasn't there already. Silently he picked up the now empty liquor bottle, the dizziness hitting him hard when he stood. Papyrus leaned against the front door for support, steadying his breathing and eventually stilling himself. He couldn't quite shake off the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. He entered quietly and latched the door behind him, leaning against it tiredly and letting out another weary sigh. He was too tired for this.

He noticed that the human must have been rolling in their sleep, because the blanket was half on the floor and they were twisted up in a shivering little pretzel shape. He bit his tongue and carefully picked it up and draped it over them once more, turning off the television and ascending the stairs as gently as he dared.

“... Thanks.”

Papyrus blinked in surprise, glancing through the darkness but saw nothing. His soul was twinging painfully for some reason. It didn't stop a tiny smile crawling onto his face though. He shook his head and slipped into his bedroom, not even bothering to take off his battle body. He simply didn't have the energy anymore. He just dropped. He started fumbling in the dark for his alarm clock before slapping some broken pieces. Regretfully he curled up and faced the wall, hoping and praying that he would be hearing it again soon.

Sleep did not come easily.

He squeezed his eye sockets shut tight, trying to remember the breathing exercises that Undyne had taught him-

The sight of her face, twisted in shock and pain as she plummeted to her inevitable death. He didn't remember her screaming quite so loudly, but perhaps it was all in his head. He wasn't good enough to save her. All in his head. All in his head. All-

Papyrus whimpered and curled up in the smallest ball that he could manage, desperately missing his brother. He wanted his family back. He wanted his friends back. He wanted his life back. He just wanted things to go smoothly for once, was that really so much to ask? Perhaps he was being selfish. He wasn't thinking enough about the people around him. The guilt crept stealthily over him as he tumbled in and out of consciousness, a wretched sickness twisting in his chest. He tossed and turned, his bones feeling too cold and too warm all at once.

Alphys's lab demolished, her dust scattered on the floor. The wreckage of her home still burned into his mind even when he tried to close his eye sockets, his failure on display for all the world to see. The angry message carved into her walls over and over again, with the same hateful lettering that he did not want to acknowledge. He wasn't good enough to save her.

Human Frisk bleeding profusely on the ground before him. Except this time they did not move when he picked them up, did not breathe.

And did not ever again.

It was his fault.

All his fault.

He wasn't good enough to save them.

Thorny vines penetrating his side, stinging and biting and piercing his armor like a knife through tissue. He couldn't even scream as he was smashed into the ground, tasting earth and dust as that awful, cold, high pitched laughter ricocheted around and around, coming from everywhere, everywhere, everywhere-

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus gasped for breath and sat bolt upright, the ringing of a klaxon alarm blaring next to his head.

Eye lights rolling wildly he slapped in panic at the alarm clock, bungling and knocking the thing right off the bedside table. He swung his lanky legs out of bed, feeling sweaty and achy and tired, his head reeling. He simply bathed in the sound of silence for a while, blinking himself awake. At least, until it all came rushing back.

He clutched at his stinging chest and ever so carefully drew out his soul with a small surge of magic.

Black as pitch.

He shuddered and let go, watching his soul drift back into his bones. He shook his head, thinking heavily. Of all the things that had to have carried over from reruns, why was it that that stuck? What was wrong with him? But he didn't have time to ruminate on it any longer. He had a mission to accomplish and a world to save. Standing somewhat weakly he dressed as swiftly as he could, stumbling a little with the sheer giddiness steadily overwhelming him. Tuesday. It was Tuesday again. Right back at the start. He had another run. Another chance .

“Please, please, please...” he whispered, praying to someone, anyone that would listen. He rapped his knuckles against his brother's bedroom door, dancing impatiently from foot to foot, his boots feeling far too heavy for this time of morning. He had to be here. They all had to be, they just had to. He couldn't handle another day like the last. He was still jittery from it all.

And, against his disbelief that it would happen at all, the door actually swung open.

“SANS!” Papyrus blurted and scooped him off his feet, swinging him in a circle, earning a surprised yelp from the smaller skeleton. Sans bellowed when he was nearly twirled all the way over the banister, laughing and slapping at his head.

“Put me down, ya big jamook!” Sans chuckled loudly and grinned up at him. “Somebody's in a good mood. Eh?”

“Good morning brother!” he wanted to cry with relief. “Oh good morning!”

“If it were a good mornin' I'd still be asleep,” Sans quipped a little grumpily, but his smile only widened when he saw the pure joy with which Papyrus was staring at him. “Somethin' goin' on, bro?”

“Nyeh. Yes – I mean, no – I mean yes,” he flustered and put him down, clasping his hands on his brother's shoulders. “It's morning – oh thank god it's morning, I didn't think it would ever come but today is here, and I am going to make today count!”

“You... ya feelin' alright, Paps...?” Sans watched him with intensity, giving him one of those looks. “You, uh... you actin' a little weird, bro.”

“I'll explain later,” he vowed somewhat manically. “I have to go-!”

Papyrus attempted to take off but was caught by a tightness around his throat-

-the squeezing vines crushing the life out of him even as he struggled to scream or even breathe-

“... Paps?” Sans let go of the back of his scarf that he had caught in his fist, letting his arm twist back into his pocket as he stared at him in concern. “Shit, did-did I hurt'cha? You-you-you okay bro?”

Papyrus hadn't even realized just how badly he was crying.

He wiped his eye sockets with the palms of his gloved hands, straining every fiber of his being to recall his exercises. Undyne would scold him otherwise. Remember his training, don't panic. Don't show weakness. He dried his terribly itching eye sockets and forced a weak shaky smile on his face, thoroughly upset even with how hard he was trying to bury it as deeply as he could.

“Fine,” he answered after a few awkward moments, his voice coming out scratchy and hoarse. He cleared his throat a couple of times and stood a bit taller, letting out a humorless laugh. “Nyeh – fine. Fine! Everything is fine, ” he held up his hands to placate his brother, though it didn't seem to help in the slightest. “Everything is going to work out fine , just stay calm. ”

“I'm perfectly calm,” Sans stated and even then it sounded like an outright lie with how hard he was staring. “You... you don't look so good all of a sudden, bro, you sure-”

“I am positive,” he clapped him firmly on the shoulder. “Get some breakfast, brother. Moses help me, even if it's Grillby's.”

“Okay now I know somethin's up...” Sans's eye sockets narrowed dangerously.

“We'll talk after I get back. I promise,” he insisted, readjusting his scarf as carefully as he could. “I have to go... collect some things. Some people to talk to, errands to run. And after that, then we can talk.”

“... If you say so, bro,” he eventually closed his eye sockets, looking about as tired as Papyrus felt. “I... I trust ya.”

“I'll be back as soon as I can,” Papyrus made another promise that he wasn't sure if he would be able to keep. He hugged him again, tightly, and felt his brother's hands clasp gently back. He pulled away and strained to keep the smile on, hoping he looked as confident as he wanted to. “Love you, brother.”

“Heh. Love you too, bro.”

Papyrus was almost out the door before he heard him.

“... Please stay safe.”

When he turned around, Sans was nowhere to be found.

And then that awful, nasty little thought wriggled into his head, leaving him wondering if he had actually been all alone the entire time.

Papyrus swiftly left before he had any more time to think about it.

0-0-0-0-0

It was quiet, but bustling in the town of Snowdin.

Papyrus breathed in deeply of the clean air. No silence. No dust. Finally, a normal, average day in Snowdin. Sweet Moses how he'd missed it.

“Good morning, Barry!” Papyrus waved enthusiastically to the bear monster hanging around outside the library, sipping from a paper coffee cup and staring at a newspaper. The monster blinked once and glanced up at him, uttering something quite rude. Sure, it stung. But not nearly enough to bother him. He momentarily entertained the vague fantasy of rolling up that newspaper and cramming it somewhere equally unpleasant.

Alright, maybe it bothered him a little.

It was there, right there where it always was. Bristling in the snow, hiding from everyone else. That little glimmering light that nobody else could see.

“Good morning, Bunni!” Papyrus mentally kicked himself when the poor shopkeeper jolted at the sound of his voice, her ears curling down until she saw him enter, the ringing of the bell above signaling his presence.

“Oh,” she held a hand to her chest, eyes widening as she finally smiled. “Don't scare me like that, fella! Come on in outta the cold, darlin'. What can I get for ya today?”

He was suddenly overwhelmed with an almost crippling sense of deja vu. His jaw seized up and clamped tightly, his hands trembling slightly. He still recalled her dust being scattered across the floor a mere day ago, the sight of it alone haunting his waking moments.

“... Y'alright there, fella?”

“Fine,” he lied quietly, finally loosing his teeth and letting out a quivering little chortle. “Fine, f-fine and dandy. Ny-heh heh, erm, e-excuse me. Just. Ju-ju-just n-needed a second,” why was it so hard to breathe all of a sudden? “Ju-just some c-cinnamon bun-bunnies.”

Her eyes widened slightly as she looked at the stack of coins he gave her for the small paper bag.

“Uh, ya overpaid-”

“I have to go!” Papyrus blurted and bolted out of the door, slamming it behind him and leaning against it for support. He struggled to breathe properly, his chest and head aching terribly. He was trembling and quaking, good lord what was wrong with him today?

Get it together. Get. It. Together.

He pushed off without another word, ignoring the strange looks that he was getting from a couple passersby. Papyrus hiked his legs up and ran at a steady, though somewhat shaky pace, keeping himself going until he could maintain an even rhythm. He shook his head and tried to keep a clear mind, focusing entirely on the sound of his heavy breathing, finally slowing to a jog when he came upon the sentry station. He glanced about here and there, but there was no one to be found. He didn't know what he was even expecting. He let out a sigh and dropped the bag on the sentry station, dropping into the seat and drumming his phalanges across the wood before him. He was still trembling, though not nearly as badly as before.

Before he had time to think about it for too long he dug in the bag and pulled out one of the cinnamon treats, absolutely tearing into it. He devoured the entire thing in seconds and shook himself again, elbow resting on his bouncing knee. The human wouldn't be here for a little while longer. He had some time. As much as he disliked wasting time, he hated being late even more. Much better to be early to anticipate anything that might pop up. On that note, he pulled out his phone and sent a carefully worded but quickly typed text to Doctor Alphys. He put his phone away before she even had a chance to respond, unable to keep his leg from bouncing so irritatingly freuqently.

“Get it together!” he gave himself a firm shake and stood up straight before sitting back down, forcing his body to still. “Get it together already.”

“Howdy.”

Papyrus shrieked in a shrill, piercing yelp that escaped his teeth despite his best efforts, jerking wildly to stare at the little flower next to him. He cleared his throat and crossed his arms, brow bones furrowing.

“Someone's a little jumpy today. Hmm?” Flowey asked in a taunting manner, tilting ever so slightly left and right on his stem. “Anything you wanna talk about, buddy?”

“No,” Papyrus snapped, earning an odd look from the flower. “No, Flowey. There is absolutely nothing that I want to talk to you about.”

“Ooh. Do I detect a bit of venom in that bite of yours?” he smirked up at him, and Papyrus felt that awful wriggling boil start to broth in his chest again. “Just asking a simple question. Papyrus.”

All he did was say his name, but it still sounded threatening.

“What do you want, Flowey...” Papyrus tried not to let it show just how utterly fed up with him he was. “I'm really not in the mood. You really got my friend hurt, you know.”

“Aww. The poor thing,” Flowey tittered lightly, not a trace of humor found in his voice whatsoever. “I get the feeling you're really getting into the swing of hurting people anyway. Doesn't it feel great to just cut loose, sometimes?”

“I'm about to cut loose on someone,” he warned him, but it sounded as hollow as he felt. And Flowey only seemed amused by it, anyway, tilting his stem to the side and leering up at him.

“Oh. Oh, really now,” Flowey smiled a bit too widely. “Do tell. I have got to hear this.”

“That word you told me could have gotten someone killed!” Papyrus clenched his fists tightly, that roiling fury in his chest frothing all the more. “Do you even care about the consequences of your actions at all?”

“Oh, what a silly question!” he giggled in response. “I always consider the consequences of my actions. Unlike some people. Papyrus.”

“Don't try to bait me...” he fumed quietly, turning away from him, but he felt the stare anyway. It was making his head feel a little too hot. “I'm not falling for anything else. We have nothing else to discuss today.”

“And after I come all this way, to give you valuable information!” Flowey released a somewhat staged sounding gasp. “I simply cannot believe this, Papyrus. I thought we were best friends.”

“Do best friends try to get each other killed?”

“It's more likely than you think...” he answered lowly, and Papyrus caught just a hint of something unpleasant and dark on the flower's face, but it was gone the next moment. “Tee hee. I only came to tell you about that gross human coming through, anyway. Looks like you're going to have your hands full today.”

Papyrus sighed and rubbed his temples, turning back to Flowey impatiently.

“Do you just spy on everyone you can?”

“Espionage? Me?” Flowey pressed a vine to his stem, eyes wide an innocent. “Never.”

And he honestly didn't know why his first instinct was to trust that. He'd already proven to him an important lesson, one that he could not afford to forget. Not again. Not ever.

But long he still found himself doubting.

Wondering.

“Think you've got the gusto to take them down?” Flowey asked jovially.

“I really don't think we should be talking about it.”

“Just making conversation,” he replied simply. “Everyone else down here is so dull, Papyrus. I get bored so very dreadfully often, you see,” Flowey explained in a quieter voice. “I don't have anyone else that's nearly as interesting as you to talk to. It gets old,” he shrugged his petals. “There's no malice in anything that I say or do, Papyrus. Really.”

“I'm sure there isn't,” he turned away from him again, sighing heavily and running a hand over his head. “I'm sure, Flowey.”

“You sound doubtful of me.”

“Doubtful? Me?” he couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his tone. “Never.”

“You know, caustic witticism is generally an eventual natural response to traumatic experiences.”

“Don't analyze me!” Papyrus seethed quietly, earning yet another long stare from the little monster, who just stared and stared. “You really know so much about what I'm going through?”

“Take it easy, big guy...” Flowey tittered again in that crinkling little laugh of his. “Gosh. It's too easy to push your buttons sometimes. You're normally a bit more together in the head, Papyrus.”

“Since when is any of this normal?!” he threw out his arms. “In case you hadn't noticed, we are trapped in a freaking time loop without any way out!”

Flowey only hmm 'd and nodded a couple of times.

“I see, I see. You sound worried.”

“Of course I'm worried,” Papyrus wiped his face tiredly, his phalanges twitching this way and that. “I can't help it. I don't understand why you aren't.”

“No feelings. Remember?” Flowey's face scrunched up. “I'm empty inside. It takes the edge off. Makes it a little easier to get through the day.”

“I... I'm sorry,” he rubbed his forearms and looked away. “Forgot. Forget sometimes.”

“And I absolutely forgive you,” he crooned, twisting up on his stem so that he was eye socket level with Papyrus, surprising him. “You know you can vent to me anytime you want, right Papyrus? I'm always great for that. Even if I don't have the ears for it,” Flowey grinned, pointing to his petals. Papyrus only rolled his eye lights and pushed him away, watching as the flower dwindled back into the ground.

“I shouldn't be talking to you at all,” he shook his head in disbelief at his own stupidity. “You might decide to try to teach me more dangerous curses.”

“Aww, come on. It wasn't a curse, it was just a silly name! Were you even listening to the human?”

Papyrus's marrow ran cold .

He had seen that?
And just how much, exactly, has he been watching?

“You know, I can practically see you thinking...” Flowey giggled, his smile widening too far, much too far. “Don't let those gears grind too much up there. We wouldn't want anyone to have. Any. Accidents.”

“... Leave me alone,” Papyrus curled inward, thoroughly disturbed. “Just... just go.”

“A time is coming in the future where everything you care about will change,” Flowey's smile cracked and split as his voice contorted, twisting as he retreated ever so slowly into the ground. “Until then, I'll be watching you.”

Papyrus was left utterly alone, stunned into silence.

All of a sudden, he felt much, much more alone and afraid than he had before, and he had a pretty good idea why.

0-0-0-0-0

Chapter Text

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus counted every single dreadfully slow minute until the human finally arrived.

He tipped over the unplugged lamp that his brother had left beside his sentry station for... some reason. Even he didn't know. Perhaps for convenience sake, he couldn't fathom why. The seconds trickled by, one after another, like watching ice melt in the snow, painfully ticking past until he finally began to lose count. He tried to pass the time by closing his eye sockets and focusing entirely on his thoughts, at last entering a semi meditative state. It wasn't altogether distracting, but it helped keep his mind from wandering back to those terrible memories that he wished would simply go away. But of course, things never did seem to work out quite that way for him. His thoughts were constantly interrupted by his numerous failings, the soul wrenching pain of the losses he hadn't prevented, the people he hadn't saved.

But he had another chance. He had to keep that in mind. It brought him just a sliver of hope, that today was a brand new (sort of) day, and he had to try his absolute hardest if he was going to get through it. And he was determined to do so. He could feel it swelling in his chest so much that it made his chest ache. Or perhaps that was from how fast he was breathing. He gripped the edge of the sentry station desk and squeezed his eye sockets shut, fighting to clear his mind. He had to stay in the moment. Stay focused or he would lose all of his bravado and the constantly crushing terror that seemed to creep into his mind at every inopportune moment would strike again. He could not afford that. No, he refused to allow it to happen. He had to stay strong. For them. For everyone.

And he couldn't quite shake the urge, the itch to go back to one of those 'save' points. That gleaming light hiding on the ground. He shook his head. Even when he was nowhere near the things it still felt, almost, like they were somehow... calling to him, as absolutely bonkers as that sounded. And even repeating in his head it sounded silly. But he still found himself pacing back and forth in front of the sentry station, waiting, wondering. The human still hadn't shown up. They were usually here by now. Unless they were otherwise... preoccupied.

So, really, where was the harm...?

Papyrus chewed his tongue in silent contemplation, looking left and right. He stared long and hard down the path toward the impassible Ruins door, but there was still no sight of the human. So, against his better judgment and the quiet screaming in the back of his head that he found was getting easier to ignore with time and practice, he steadily made his way back in the opposite direction. His boots crunched in the snow and he found it not long after. Where it always was. That glimmering, shining light, drawing him in with an almost hypnotic intensity. And this time, he did not resist.

He found himself kneeling before the thing, curiously inspecting it, hand tentatively, slowly reaching out and grazing his knuckle against it. Just a little touch. It couldn't hurt.

(ROOM 46: ROOM_TUNDRA3)

ERROR

ERROR

ERROR

CANNOT SAVE

FILE CORRUPTED

The strange message that appeared before him even with just a small brush was confusing enough. What on earth did the messages mean? Why were they there? Why could only he see them? What was the point? How was such a thing even possible? It was almost like a strange form of communication, though with whom, or what, was beyond his current comprehension. So, he did the next thing that he could think of, despite the human's extensive warnings.

Papyrus infused his gloved hand with a small portion of power that he gathered from deeply within himself, phalanges crackling as he grasped the save point-

He was immediately wracked with a violent, blasting agony that completely shattered his previous intense focus. His eye sockets felt like they had been filled with fire, his head was splitting angrily with a swarm of buzzing incomprehensible thoughts bouncing this way and that, he wasn't even sure if he was alive anymore. Papyrus stared up at the falling snow, finally releasing a weak, half choked wheeze of pain. He sat up and rubbed his face, uncertain if the numbers and letters flashing before his eye sockets were even real.

45 52 41 53 45 20 48 49 4d

✋ ✌💣 🕈✌❄👍☟✋☠☝

Papyrus heaved and sat up fully, furiously drying his leaking eye sockets.

When he pulled his hands away, he found dust sprinkled across his gloves.

In horror and disgust he attempted to wipe it off in the snow, to little result. Revolted and, quite frankly, disturbed, he stumbled weakly to the nearby river and doused his gloves in the water. It seemed to be quite a bit more effective, and he scrubbed at his gloves, still mildly in panic. It took forever just to get the dust off, but even when it was washed away he still had the feeling that his hands were tainted and no amount of washing was going to help at all.

“... What are you doing?”

Papyrus yelped and bolted ramrod stiff, finally standing upright. He spotted the human standing not too far away from him, that damned knife dangling betwixt their fingers. But instead of rushing him as he half expected, they just stood there and... stared. Thin red eyes locked onto him the entire time.

“... Nothing,” he lied, feeling like scum for how many fibs he was telling lately. “G-good morning, by the way. So... how are you?”

“Clearly better than you,” they flicked some dust away from their striped jumper, like it was no more than a mere irritation. It deeply frustrated him for some reason. “Found the snacks you brought. Ate them all. Pretty good.”

“That-that's good...” he clasped his damp hands together awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. “I... see you have been. Nyem. Busy.”

“I can't make up my mind about you, you know,” Frisk admitted as they approached him, and he had to fight the urge to back up toward the wet bank of the freezing river. “I can't decide whether you should live or die.”

“Do I get a say in the matter?” Papyrus met their unwavering stare. “Because that whole breathing thing I've been doing? Yeah, I've really gotten attached to it.”

Frisk only let out a single snort and shook their head.

And to his utmost surprise, they rolled their shoulders and tilted their head back down the road.

“Shall we?”

Papyrus, dumbstruck, only swallowed dryly and nodded once.

It wasn't often that the human bothered showing mercy to him, especially if it was a morning where they came out of the Ruins coated in dusty powder. This whole day was not going as he had planned.

“... Well?” Frisk asked impatiently, tapping their foot into the snow. “What's with that crazy look?”

“Crazy? Who said anything about being crazy?” he joined them at their side swiftly, taking their outstretched hand at last. “I'm not crazy!”

Frisk said nothing.

“... I am not crazy!”

“Sure,” they shrugged noncommittally. “Me neither.”

“Now, that's up for debate.”

“Fuck you. How's that for debate.”

“Glad to see you haven't changed in the slightest,” he grumbled as they walked, and even as he spotted the save point he just had to reach out and grab it grab it GRAB IT GRAB IT-

Papyrus blinked when he realized that he had been pulled, quite roughly, by the wrist. Frisk was watching him with a serious glower, and he chuckled guiltily. He rubbed the back of his neck and turned his back on the awful thing. Those mysterious whispers just out of his range of hearing must have been all in his head. Like a radio was constantly switching channels and if he listened just a little harder he could make it out. But of course, that was insane. He shook his head furiously and kept up pace with Frisk, his mind a buzzing cacophony of quizzical ideas.

“... You normally aren't this quiet,” Frisk noted at long last as they bypassed several unfortunately ignored puzzles.

“What? Yes. I mean, no,” he corrected himself. “Or yes. I-I'm sorry, what was the question?”

“Seriously, what is up with you today?” they gave him a side eyed glare. “You're acting weird. Well. Weirder than usual.”

“Just... lamenting my steadily dwindling sanity,” he sighed truthfully. “I really wish you wouldn't go on those... those sprees of yours in the Ruins.”

“So what if a few people die?” they shrugged coldly without looking at him. “People die all the time. Natural causes or no, it happens to everyone eventually. Some people just get an express ticket to the other side. Besides. They shouldn't have gotten in my way.”

“You seem to have a real problem about that,” he pointed out as they passed the invisible electricity maze, the whispering wind between the trees singing a tuneless song. “People getting in your way, I mean. Any... particular reason for that?”

“I've got better things to do than pretend to be nice to a bunch of pricks...” Frisk grumbled darkly. “Besides, if they attack first it's technically self defense. Totally fine.”

Papyrus slowed for a few seconds, and Frisk looked up to see him both upset and contemplative.

“... What?”

“Nothing,” he murmured after a little while, shaking his head. “Just... that justification seems flimsy considering your previous statements. It-it really is easier to not kill, you know.”

“Easy for you to say,” Frisk rolled their eyes. “Somebody comes at me and my first instinct is to fight, not act a certain way until they get bored of fighting. Besides, the more you kill, the easier it gets...”

“That's... disturbing,” Papyrus admitted.

“Oh, that's not disturbing. This is disturbing. 'Oh! My child,'” Frisk intoned in a very familiar imitation. “'At my most vulnerable moment,' heh. That's what she sounded like just before she died.”

“... I'm afraid of you.”

“Good. That means you're smart enough to know danger when you see it. Speaking of which,” Frisk paused as they crossed an ice field, slipping slightly. “Why do you keep bothering with this shit? Honestly, I'm surprised as all hell you haven't just straight up killed me by now.”

“I've thought about it.”

Frisk promptly released his hand, watching him uncertainly. Papyrus mentally kicked himself, biting his tongue.

“... What,” he snapped angrily. Where was all of this frustration coming from all of a sudden? It was getting harder and harder to ignore. But he could bury it. Push it all away, down, deep, deep down, that way it wouldn't be a problem anymore. Sure. That was definitely the healthy thing to do. “You're a murderous psychopath, you know that? Can you blame me if I genuinely think that you're a danger to everyone around you?”

Frisk shifted their gaze away and rubbed their forearms before tucking their hands into their pockets. They wouldn't look at him even as he sighed and held his hand out again for them, but they still wouldn't take it. Eventually he just let it drop by his side and shook his head, regret and too many other emotions that he didn't want to process gnawing at his mind.

“... Let's just keep moving,” Frisk mumbled after a while, taking off at a brisk pace. He caught up with them easily, and from their hunched shoulders it was clear that they didn't want to talk anymore. That was fine with him. Maybe he had somehow, finally managed to get just an inkling of a point across to them. Heck, they almost looked ashamed of themselves. At least, he could only hope so, if it wasn't the cold painting those red circles on their cheeks. But if he could teach them a valuable life lesson, then perhaps all of his efforts hadn't been in vain. It almost made a small spark of pride rise in his chest that he could do that. Granted, not nearly soon enough for it to do as much good as he hoped, but he wanted it to stick. Obviously this human needed guidance, and he was more than happy to be a good role model.

If you're even capable of that.

It was a long, quiet walk to Snowdin after that.

A couple of bypassing monsters insisted on stopping him when they saw the human in tow, but they were quickly brushed aside by the ample lies of 'royal guard business'. He felt like filth for it, but it had worked before, and it worked again. He wasn't even in the royal guard. Perhaps his battle body helped him look a bit more intimidating. Or perhaps the bored teens that interjected at random intervals during their travels just didn't care. At this point, it was getting harder and harder for him to care, too. And that realization was deeply unnerving.

Papyrus shook himself as he finally arrived at the welcome sign to Snowdin, letting out a heavy sigh of relief. A small smile graced his face as he bypassed the general store wafting gentle aromas of baking cinnamon and right next to a glister in the snow grab it GRAB IT GRAB IT NOW -

“-rus. Papyrus! Hey! Dumbass!”

“What?” he blinked, finally recognizing the human tugging at his wrist. His other hand was half extended to the save point, and he jerked back away from it in sudden fright, his chest tightening painfully at what he had almost done.

“Christ, what is wrong with you today?” Frisk grumbled loudly. “Gotta put a leash on you for fuck's sake. What have I told you about messing with those?”

“Sorry,” he mumbled more to himself than anything, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “I-I... I honestly don't know.”

“Just shut up for a minute and let me work, alright?” they released his hand and he watched as they grasped at the save point.

For just a short, split second, he could have sworn that he saw static at the corners of his vision, flickers of black wriggles swarming over his sight, and most upsettingly, he was struck with the rather violent impulse to reach out and snag the glistering light at the same time that the human was and damn the consequences.

Then he recalled exactly what the consequences of that would be and he wondered what in the fresh flaming fruity fuck was wrong with him.

“... You done?” he asked after a moment, watching them stand and dust their knees off.

“Useless,” Frisk closed their eyes and sighed. “Just like all the others. God. It's a pain in the ass.”

“You know you really ought to watch the swearing,” he folded his arms tightly.

“Or what, you'll give me a talking to?” Frisk scoffed in obvious disdain. “Oh please. If I wanted a pretentious bullshit sermon I'd go to church. If I wouldn't burst into flames upon entering, anyway.”

“You know, I honestly can't tell whether or not you're joking about that sometimes.”

“Sometimes? Me neither. Ha ha,” they laughed humorlessly before giving him a straight deadpan. “Kill me.”

“Only if I have to,” he muttered under his breath before shaking his head again. Where did that come from? He didn't want to think about it. At all. Ever again. So he buried that as deeply as he could with all of the other problems he didn't want to face.

“So where we goin'?” Frisk interjected as they walked beside him, keeping pace much easier now that he had slowed his lanky strides. “Your house again?”

“Not quite...” he informed them as they took a turn up the snowy road toward the riverbank. “We've got something else to take care of today.”

“So... what?”

“I've been talking to Doctor Alphys,” he pulled out his phone and saw that he had quite a few text messages littered with emoticons and a single long ASCII art of a cat girl. “It's important that we get in contact with her today.”

“Ugh, her?” Frisk whined, dragging their feet as they approached the River Person waiting on their boat. “Why? What's the point?”

“Do you want to get out of this day or not?” he snipped in irritation. “At least I've been putting in effort trying to fix this weirdness, and I have to admit, human Frisk, it is beginning to take an ever so slight toll on my mental health. If we don't get out of this, I legitimately do not know how much more I can take. So we're going to Hotland, we're going to have a nice, stabbing free conversation with the good doctor,” he eyed them particularly hard at this, though they didn't seem bothered. “And we're going to get some answers. Got it?”

“Whatever,” Frisk wouldn't look at him. “Just... let's just get this over with.”

Papyrus informed the River Person of where they needed to go, and they simply nodded once to him in silence and the boat took off at a surprising speed. He sighed and sat down on the moist bench, letting his tired back and legs rest for a much needed reprieve. Frisk sat at his side with their arms crossed, giving the boat keeper an absolutely withering stare the entire time, all of them in dead silence aside from the gently splashing and running water.

“Tra la la,” the River Person said in a whispery, sing song tone after a while of awkward silence. “Beware of the man that came from the other world.”

“I'm... I'm sorry, what?” Papyrus blinked out of his reverie as they slowed to a complete stop at the Hotland riverbank.

“Tra la la. Be careful. Somewhere, it's Tuesday.”

“O...kay then,” he shifted uncomfortably from their shady stare. If they even were staring. But that faceless hood kept watching him nonetheless. He quietly thanked them for the ride and they nodded once, helping Frisk off the boat but they slapped his hand away and hopped off themselves, nearly falling in the river in the process before righting themselves. They seemed mildly proud of it, in fact. He only shook his head and held out his hand for them, and again, surprisingly enough, they actually took it.

He ascended the steps leading up to the main road of Hotland and dared a glance back just in time to see the River Person just watching him. He couldn't repress a shiver as he turned and kept walking. Yet another save point was nearby and he instinctively started walking toward it before catching himself, forcing himself to stand still. It felt like his whole body was rejecting the very idea, it was making his head throb painfully. But after a few moments he managed to shake it off, not wanting to delay their business any more than already.

“Okay,” he readjusted his scarf as he stood before the large metal sliding door to the laboratory just down the path. “You are going to be on your best behavior. Understood?”

Frisk did not respond, simply clutching something tightly in their pocket. Papyrus clapped a hand on their shoulder and lowered his head slightly, a darkness underlying his sockets.

“Understood?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it...” Frisk grumbled, looking away. Their cheeks were still awfully red. He didn't remember them blushing so frequently, and it certainly didn't seem cold enough to incite that kind of physiological reaction in humans. Weird. He shook his head and knocked a couple of times at the door, hearing no response. An uneasiness began to slither its way up his spine and into his head no matter how he tried to suppress it. Doctor Alphys definitely was taking her time to get to the door.

“... Doctor?” he rapped at the door again, a bit louder this time. “It's me. I'm... I'm coming in.”

The electric door wooshed open at closer motion and Frisk followed closely behind. It was dark in the laboratory-

-her scattered dust spread across the ground, wreckage and demolished lab equipment whipped around the room like a whirlwind had destroyed the place. Hateful scrawls all over the walls, watching him, mocking him, yet another person he couldn't save-

Papyrus clutched tightly as his chest, his eye sockets wide as he struggled for breath. He wheezed and coughed loudly as the lights clicked on automatically, almost blinding him. But the lab looked like it normally did, and just the sight of the short reptilian scientist wandering around the corner with a mug of something in her hands was enough to nearly make him break down there and then.

“O-oh my god!” Alphys blurted, jolting upright and spilling a splash of dark brown liquid right onto her already dirty lab coat. “Oh my g-god – I m-mean, hi! Hello, Papyrus! You-you-you're early-!”

“I brought that friend I mentioned,” he motioned with no small amount of relief to Frisk, who had been hiding behind his legs. They walked cooly around to his side and gave her a small nod. Alphys's eyes widened and she took off her little glasses with one hand, wiping them on the hem of her coat and replacing them with a couple of claws.

“R-right,” she nodded profusely. “I-I got your messages. I ju-just didn't t-think you would be here so fast, the lab is a m-mess, I'm barely dressed,” she tapped from foot to foot. “Oh my god, I am so sorry-”

“Take it easy, Doctor,” Papyrus held up his hands peacefully. “I haven't told you the whole story yet. We're trapped in a time loop and we're trying to find a way to break it.”

“... I'm sorry what.”

“You have a single clean dress in your closet that you never wear, you thought you misplaced your favorite spanner wrench not too long ago but it was right where you left it, and sometimes King Asgore sends you teacups because he knows you like cute collectibles.”

“I-” Alphys sputtered, eyes wide behind her spectacles. “That-that's not- how-”

“Time travel,” he explained quickly. “We've been through all this before.”

He conveniently left out the part where she had been brutally murdered right in front of him. That would have been creepy.

“I have... questions,” she took a deep breath and stared at him, carefully setting down her mug with little marshmallows on her desk already crowded with bowls and papers.

“So do we,” he motioned toward his compatriot. “By the way, this is Frisk. Frisk, Doctor Alphys. Great, introductions are out of the way,” he clapped his hands together. “Now we can get to work. I need all the information you have on the previous scientist before you.”

“S-sorry, what?” Alphys stammered a couple of times, giving him a weird look. “Um. Pa-Papyrus?”

“Yes, Doctor, what is it?”

“There was no previous Royal Scientist before me...” she explained slowly, and he felt a sinking in his chest. “You... you k-know that, right?”

“Okay then,” he folded his arms one over the other. “Can you tell me anything about a person named Doctor Gaster?”

Alphys froze for several long moments. Her face went completely blank, her eyes thin and searching. She glanced back and forth between the human and him, confusion slowly growing on her features.

“I... I'm not s-sure...” she rubbed the scales on her neck. “That-that sounds... huh. Why does that sound familiar...?” she seemed to be more muttering to herself than anything. Eventually, however, she shook her head. “So-sorry. I'm afraid I don't know w-what you're talking about.”

“I need you to find out,” he stepped toward her somewhat threateningly. Alphys timidly stepped backward and stared up at him, tapping her claws together, sweat beading on her face. “Do it. Find. Out. I need whatever information you can give me on the last Royal Scientist.”

“B-b-but I told you-”

“FORGET WHAT YOU TOLD ME!”

Alphys shrank backwards and held up her arms in front of her face and Papyrus stalled in regret and guilt for shouting at her. Good lord, what was wrong with him lately?

“I-I'm sorry,” he cleared his throat in discomfort, knowing full well that he was getting stares from everyone in the room. “I... this is important, Doctor. More important than you can imagine. I need whatever information you can dig up. And fast. Understand?”

“Y-ye-yes, yes, sure, of course...” Alphys wouldn't look him in the sockets anymore. “Jeez. I'll... I'll help howe-however I can.”

“Thank you,” he clapped a hand on her shoulder and she flinched. “I'm... I apologize. I'm really not feeling myself today.”

“Funny,” he barely heard Frisk from behind him. “Me neither.”

“We're in a bit of a strange situation right now, and I don't think I'm handling it too well anymore,” he struggled to explain, but Alphys still wouldn't look directly at him. “Human Frisk and I would be immensely grateful if you could help us out with this.”

“I don't understand w-what any old scientists have to do with a h-human being here.”

“Honestly?” Papyrus sighed. “It could be a little. Could be a lot. Could be nothing. But you are the only person that I can trust with this. And I need you to get to work right away. Okay?”

“O... okay,” she nodded firmly a couple of times, finally meeting his gaze. “I'll d-d-do my best.”
“I appreciate it, Doctor,” he said with no small amount of relief. “Give me a call as soon as you find anything, no matter how small. Frisk?” he turned to them to find them staring up at the large console next to the desk. They blinked and stared at him in response. “It's time to go.”

They only shrugged once and tucked their hands back into their pockets.

“Keep in touch,” he gave a half salute to Doctor Alphys as they left, the sliding door clicking shut behind them. Papyrus let out a weary sigh and his shoulders sagged.

“... That was what you dragged our asses all the way out here for?” Frisk scoffed. “That was a completely pointless detour, you know. We are so fucking far off the path today, shit is going to go so wrong I can just feel it.”

“It was important,” he explained as he skipped the steps down to the riverbank two at a time.

“Feels more like bullshit to me, but, whatever helps you sleep at night, man.”

“I haven't had proper sleep in a long time,” he laughed humorlessly and shook his head. The River Person was still at the same spot, and he thankfully hopped aboard. Frisk seemed tentative to get back aboard. Perhaps something about the water made them uneasy. He'd have to ask them about it later. But he was in relatively high spirits as they made their way back to Snowdin, the trip mostly quiet. Papyrus could live with that. It gave him more time to think.

If anyone could find out anything about this Doctor Gaster fellow, it would be her. She must have had the resources, surely, being Asgore's royal scientist and all. He was putting hope in her. But the discomfort still managed to wriggle its way into his mind no matter how he tried to push it away. Flowey had wanted him to talk to Doctor Alphys for some reason. He explicitly stated that it was a good idea to speak to her. And if anything, that was off putting enough. Flowey could not be trusted, he'd proven that time and again. Heck, he was probably spying on them right now through some nefarious method or another. Just the thought made him uneasy. But it was bringing down his mood and he didn't want to go home sour, so he forced a smile on his face and closed his eye sockets, just enjoying the peaceful ride all the way back.

The chill of the Snowdin air met him as they rolled up the riverbank, and he thanked the River Person again. They simply gave him another one of those mysterious watchful nods, and he held out his hand for the human. They did not accept the gesture, just smacking his hand away crankily. But at least they followed closely, keeping a careful stare out for monsters that they passed by. At long last, Papyrus finally reached his home. He didn't remember leaving the door unlocked. Oh well. Probably just Sans being lazy again. He sighed in relief as he ushered the human inside, who stopped stock still a few feet ahead.

“Brother?” Papyrus called out, but Sans did not respond. “I'm finally back! And I brought a friend!”

“Oh. Good,” Captain Undyne stepped from around the corner in the kitchen, his marrow running cold as he saw a brightly glowing sharp spear grasped tightly in one hand. “Because you've got some fucking explaining to do.”

0-0-0-0-0

Chapter Text

0-0-0-0-0

Armor gleaming in the lighting, she emerged from the shadows in full plate armor like a towering ghost, only Undyne's furious face exposed as she stared him down, weapon drawn. Papyrus felt all of his resolve immediately begin to crumble, the panic and nervousness he had been so desperately struggling to bury all bubbling up to the surface no matter how hard he tried to push it down. His bones were beginning to rattle even with his best efforts to keep still, Undyne looked ready to do something extremely unpleasant.

This hadn't happened before. Nothing was going as planned. Everything was going wrong and quickly.

“Start talking,” Undyne glowered at him as the human clutched tightly at Papyrus's leg from behind.

“Okay, so, we can do that by putting our weapons down first...” he started before he was promptly cut off by Undyne jabbing the spear in his direction, mere inches from his face.

“You're harboring a goddamn human, Papyrus!” she said through clenched teeth. Papyrus's fists tightened as he struggled to remain calm, keeping his movements slow and deliberate. He carefully tilted the sharp spear end away from his face with two fingers, keeping eye contact with her.

“Alright, yes, that is true,” he cleared his throat, which felt much too tight. “But I can explain.”

“Oh, do tell,” Undyne seethed. “What could have possibly convinced you that that was a good idea?”

“Well, first of all, they're my friend, and we would both very much appreciate it if you stopped pointing a spear at us.”

Undyne paused for several long moments, eventually but finally drawing her weapon back, but not dissipating it. Instead she kept it tightly at her side, looking ready to strike at a moment's notice.

“That human has the last soul that we need to break the barrier, once and for all!” Undyne glowered at him. “You want to tell me why you've been keeping it a secret that you're hiding away a public enemy?”

“Frisk here is not our enemy, Undyne-”

“Oh god, you serious?” she spat in disgust. “That thing needs to die-”

“Over my fucking dust.”

Undyne blanched immediately, her eye widening. She clamped her mouth shut and stared him down, searching his face. She did not speak for several agonizingly long moments, the silence hanging like a deathly gallows over them. Her face was cast in shadow, only the glimmer of her watchful eye visible on her face for a few seconds.

“... Papyrus,” Undyne began slowly, eye flickering back and forth between his face and the human peeking out from behind him. “I don't think you understand-”

“I understand a lot more than people give me credit for,” he stood his ground despite the tremor in his bones. “You are in my house. Now do me a favor,” he felt that awful, bubbly, vicious anger clawing at his chest the harder he tried to repress it. “And put down. The god. Damned. Weapon.”

She only stared at him in utter disbelief, like she physically could not comprehend that he would stand in her way. Papyrus held his ground, keeping his arms lax but ready to twitch into combat should it be necessary. He had had plenty of sparring matches with her before. Surely he could grant the human enough time to make a run for it if that's what it came to. But he had seen enough death and destruction. He didn't want to see any more. Not ever again. Even if he had to fight for that ideal.

“You... you sound...” Undyne shifted her weight, her armor creaking. “... Different, Papyrus.”

“It has been a long, long day,” he explained wearily. “We can still salvage this. We can talk about this, like rational, reasonable adults. Unless you try swinging that thing around again,” he eyed her glimmering blue spear with no small amount of trepidation. “So let's get some things straight. Alright? You are a guest in my house, and it would be quite rude to go murdering anyone under those circumstances. And if you try it, well...”

His knuckles cracked as his fists tightened into balls.

“I assure you, you will regret it.”

Undyne balked, finally drawing away just a half step.

“... Did you just threaten me?”

“You're the one with a drawn weapon,” he noted pointedly. “So do us all a favor. And put. It. Away.”

Undyne did not respond. She did not move, merely watching him with a burning intensity, almost like she could see through him. And of all the things he wanted, that was definitely not at the top of the list. Eventually, however, at long last, Undyne sighed and snapped her gauntlet, the magical spear flickering away into nothing. Papyrus let out a shaky breath of relief, but didn't dare drop his gaze.

“See?” he held out his arms peacefully. “Was that so hard? Now we can talk.”

“Explain,” she jabbed a finger at Frisk, who was still peering out from behind Papyrus's leg.

“Found them outside of Snowdin,” he stated. It wasn't entirely untrue, but it still felt like dirt on his soul. “They're just a child, Undyne-”

“Kid or not, that is an enemy of the people-”

“And you would consider it the honorable thing to destroy them?”

Undyne's mouth clenched shut, her sharp teeth revealed after a few moments. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She eventually shook her head, staring him down.

“You don't comprehend what you've gotten yourself into...” Undyne's eye narrowed, her gaze sharp and piercing. “Humans are the real enemy. And you've, what, made friends with one?”

“Pretty much,” he shrugged. “I think you two would get along great if you just sat down and talked this out.”

“Papyrus,” Undyne began carefully. “All you have to do is just let me take the human with me. You've done your job. Now let me do mine.”

“That won't be necessary,” he held up his hands to placate the approaching warrior, giving her pause. “There's really no need to go causing a fuss over this. Just... can't we just talk about this? Please? That's all I'm asking, Undyne. Is that really so hard?”

She watched him for a long while before finally closing her eye and rubbing the side of her face.

“... I'll be back later,” she vowed quietly as he stepped aside, pulling the human with him. “Don't go anywhere.”

“Alright, neat. See you for cooking lessons later.”

Undyne started to reply before snapping her mouth shut, letting out a snort and a small smile, shaking her head.

“... Yeah. See you soon, Papyrus.”

She stomped out the front door and slammed it behind her, rattling the windows. Papyrus let out a heavy breath through his nostril bone, planting his hands on his hips and swiveling to the human.

“... I think that went rather well!”

“I'm going to get skwered and barbecued before the day is over,” Frisk deadpanned.

“Oh, relax. You've got the Great Papyrus to protect you! Nyeh heh heh,” he clasped a hand to his chest before clapping them on the shoulder. “But, hey! You've been on pretty good behavior so far. Excluding. Um. Well. Previously,” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, unwilling to think about the poor lost souls in the Ruins. “Want some hot chocolate?”

“Sure. Why not,” they threw up their hands. “Might as well have a last meal.”

Papyrus didn't even realize just how badly his hands were trembling as he retrieved the last two packets of old instant hot cocoa from the back of the cabinets. The run in with Undyne had been extremely jarring, and raised a myriad of questions that he simply did not have the answers to. This had never occurred before. She had been staying right here, in his house, and waiting for him to return. Almost like she knew. No, that wasn't right. Not 'almost'. She definitely knew that he had human Frisk in tow with him all day. Which raised yet another question; how in Asgore's name did she find out? Granted, he hadn't necessarily been secretive about their presence, even using the 'royal guard' excuse on a couple of interested monsters that had stopped them. But it had all worked out fine before, and Undyne herself had never shown up.

So why was this time different...?

The banged up ancient microwave beeped and drew him out of his reverie, and he blinked. A carefully delivered mug of hot chocolate was given to Frisk, who simply stared at him the entire while. He took an experimental sip of his own. It wasn't too bad. Not great. But not bad, either.

“... So are we just going to pretend that that bitch didn't almost kill us?”

“Firstly, you are never,” he drew in a deep breath. “... EVER! To call her that again,” he felt just the tiniest bit of guilt for making Frisk jump at his shout. But if that's what it took to get the point across, then so be it. “Captain Undyne is a very good friend of mine. And I really believe that if you two set aside your differences for a little while you could both be great friends, too!”

“But is it worth it?” Frisk asked dryly, taking a long swig of their cocoa.

“Friends are always worth it. Take that to heart. And secondly, whoo boy do I have some questions,” he ran a hand over the top of his head, not realizing just how badly he had been sweating. The situation with Undyne had really left him rattled. A bit more cocoa helped with that. And, oddly enough, he found himself wishing ever so slightly for a bit more of that hard cider from Grillby's. Which was bizarre, because that stuff was gross and made his head all stupid. He needed to keep his mind sharp as a tack if he wanted to handle everyone's problems. If he could even handle his own.

“I warned you,” Frisk glowered up at him with those thin crimson eyes of theirs. “You go off the path, and bad things happen. Weird shit isn't my thing, man.”

“Since when?” Papyrus blurted, open mouthed before clicking it shut. “Frisk. Little one. Listen. No offense, but you are the most unusual, anomalous little weirdo I have ever met.”

“Golly gee, thanks. You sure know how to give a great morale boost.”

“Call it my fantastic charm,” he deadpanned. “I was rolled with a natural eighteen charisma. Now for one other thing...”

Papyrus drew in a deep breath and tilted his head up toward the ceiling.

“SANS!” he bellowed, and Frisk flinched again. “Brother! Get down here already!”

He was met with an unnerving silence.

“... I'll be right back,” he placed his mug on the table. “Don't go anywhere.”

“No promises.”

Papyrus ascended the stairs three at a time, finally coming to a stop at his brother's door. He pounded on the door with his fist over and over again. But apparently, to no avail.

“Sans!” he shouted. “Wake up already, lazybones! You'd better not have dozed off already!”

Yet more silence.

“... Sans?” he asked nervously, quieter this time. He pushed open the bedroom door to find that his brother was nowhere to be found. He wondered briefly exactly where in the heck he had gotten off to this time before his thoughts were jarred right out of that.

And, somewhat more disconcertingly, the scrawled messages covering literally every inch of his brother's room; the floor, the walls, the ceiling. It made his bones prickle with a steadily dawning fear, eye sockets wide. All identical. All the with the same etched lettering.

HE COMES.

0-0-0-0-0

“... Saaaaans?” Papyrus asked timidly, the darkness of the room seeming to seep in from the corners. The door creaked ominously as he pushed against it. He felt an uncomfortable prickle along the back of his neck, like he was being watched. But, of course, nobody responded. Nervously fumbling for his cellphone in his breast pocket of his battle body, he whipped it out and shakily stabbed in the numbers.

“Come on. Come on...” he murmured more to himself than anything. But the phone only rang and rang. Nobody answered. Nobody picked up. Nobody came. Sans was beyond his current reach. Uncertainly, he put it away and tried to keep his breathing steady, folding his hands one over another.

“Okay,” he drummed his phalanges across his forearm. “Okay. Alright. I can cope. Just some craziness, I can handle that, I can deal,” Papyrus left the room in darkness and closed the door tightly, just the sight of the numerous etched messages creeping him out. He felt the impulse to turn around as he left, like he could feel someone staring at the back of his head, but when he glanced over his shoulder there was no one there. Of course there wasn't. He was being silly. Paranoid.

But is it really paranoia if you're actually in danger...?

That unpleasant thought didn't seem too eager to leave his head.

“Alright!” he announced as he descended the stairs. “New plan. Human, I hope you're ready, because we need to go find-”

The human was no longer in the kitchen. Just an empty mug.

He hadn't even heard the front door at all.

Papyrus swore foully under his breath, silently berating himself for his bad language.

“Of course,” he dragged his hand down his face in exasperation. “Of course.”

Couldn't that brat stay still for five minutes? It was downright infuriating sometimes. He let out a tired breath, readjusted his scarf and set off out into the snow, locking the door behind him. There were too many tracks in the snow to accurately follow which one might have possibly belonged to the human, and more snow was coming. He had to think fast. The human could be one track minded sometimes. He had to figure out how to predict that. If anything, they were probably already on their way through Snowdin's exit through Waterfall, and if they ran into Undyne along the way...

No. He could not afford to allow that to happen. He needed to keep them nearby, had to keep them safe .

Then again, they were a murderous little thing. If anyone needed protecting, it was any monster unfortunate enough to... 'get in their way'. Panic was clawing at his chest the longer that he stood there thinking, but he had an idea. He had no time to waste. If fate wanted to screw with him this much, he might as well start fighting back against it.

Instead of heading toward Waterfall, he took off at a brisk pace back towards the other end of Snowdin. Past the library where Barry was still hanging around outside, looking quite a bit more chipper with just that newspaper in his hands. A couple of monsters he almost bumped into outside of Grillby's, and he apologized profusely walking backwards before righting himself and continuing his stride. And, sure enough, just like he had anticipated, he found the human right where he expected.

Kneeling down in the snow, utterly oblivious to his approach. He saw that gleaming light dancing through their fingers, that shining mystery that nobody else but them could see. And against his better judgment, against any and all logical reason, he just couldn't seem to stop the overwhelming impulse to reach out and grab it grab IT GRAB IT GRAB IT NOW DO IT GRAB IT GRAB IT NOW -

Papyrus cleared his throat loudly just behind them and they jumped several inches into the air, eyes wide as they spun on the spot. Their apparent fear was quickly washed away by blatant fury, brows furrowed tightly as they glowered at him, almost hatefully.

“Fucking what?”

“Language, firstly,” he ticked off on his phalanges. “Secondly, can you please not just run off like that? I was worried.”

“Well, don't be...” Frisk kicked at a bit of snow distractedly. “Can't get this goddamn thing to work either. And don't tell me where I can and can't go,” they jabbed a finger at him angrily. “I go where I want, when I want! You're not my dad, Christ!”

“Can you calm the hell down for a few seconds?!”

Frisk winced and started to draw up their arms before letting them drop by their sides, looking away from him. Their cheeks were cherry red, eyes closed, breathing uneven.

“... Sorry,” he half mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just... let's just get out of the open already. Prying ears.”

He didn't have to say Flowey's name, but they both reached a mutual understanding that that was precisely who he meant. Frisk finally sighed, stuffing their hands into their pockets. He half wondered if they were playing with that knife of theirs again. It made him uneasy. He held out his hand to them, hopefully, but they only brushed it away with their shoulder and stalked away back down the road. Papyrus sighed heavily, wondering where he was going wrong with them. How was he supposed to do what was best if he didn't even know where to begin? What was the right thing to do? What was the smart thing to do? Half the time he didn't even know the answer. All he could do was his absolute best and hope that it was enough. But that was a somewhat crushing thought. What if his best was never going to be good enough?

THE SIGHT OF SUCH A FRIENDLY TOWN FILLS YOU WITH

ERROR

ERROR

ERROR

DETERMINATION.

Flashes of checkered gold and red that he had never seen. Bright light filtering in through stained glass windows, a terrible slicing pain in his chest, his hands spattered with dust and blood-

Papyrus blinked and jerked away from the save point, uncertain of exactly when he had reached down for the thing. He hadn't even realized that he was kneeling in the snow, down on one knee. He brushed himself off quickly and shook his aching head, random numbers and lettering flickering past his eye sockets too fast to catch. It was all an illusion or something, perhaps some kind of mental incapacity to recognize things that he was struggling to grasp. Even Frisk had warned him not to mess with those things. That didn't stop the constant, niggling urge to go back and try again, however. He glanced behind him and caught just a flicker , a brief flash of something blue and yellow and his soul and body seized up in terror. One of those invisible creatures, an 'in-betweener', just looking for a meal, surely it had to be waiting for him to turn just so that it could rip him helplessly limb from screaming limb. But there was nothing there. Of course there was nothing there, just his mind playing tricks, he wasn't crazy . It took physical effort to propel himself at swift speed down the road after Frisk, catching up to them just at the library. He was half out of breath from his sprint and quickly patted himself down, those weird wriggles at the corners of his vision taking far too long to fade. Probably just a side effect of messing with one of those save points. Nothing to get worked up about. He hoped.

“... 'the hell is wrong with you?” Frisk stared up at him.

“Nothing,” he blurted quickly as he fumbled for his keys and unlocked the front door for them. “After you. We have a problem.”

“You mean aside from Undyne coming back to turn me into a pincushion?” Frisk asked sarcastically without even so much as dragging their snow coated shoes on the mat. They really were starting to get on his last nerves. “Because boy oh boy, I sure am looking forward to that.”

“Nobody is going to die,” he stated firmly. “And we have more pressing issues. Sans is gone.”

“So?” they shrugged carelessly, watching as he dusted the dirt from his boots. “What do you care? What are you, your brother's keeper?”

“He was supposed to be here when we got back,” Papyrus informed them nervously, glancing about the room. Why couldn't he shake off the creeping sensation of being watched? “I checked his room.”

“And?”

“More crazy writings...” Papyrus readjusted his scarf, eventually letting the long end just dangle loosely. “All over the place, with the same message.”

Frisk rolled their hand through the air for him to continue.

“It only said 'he comes', over and over again. That message mean anything particular to you?”

“Not a thing,” Frisk shrugged. “That supposed to mean something?”

“Those messages normally come across as some kind of warning,” Papyrus paced back and forth in the living room, watching as Frisk clambered up onto the couch at an awkward angle. After a moment they reached in between the cushions and pocketed a few loose coins, but he said nothing about it. “At least, I think so.”

“Or maybe somebody is trying to fuck with us. Flowey?”

“God I hope not...” Papyrus wiped a hand over the top of his skull. “But this one doesn't really seem like his style. Plus, no evidence of wreckage. I mean, aside from how trashed by brother's room usually is. And no dust, either.”

“So what are you worried about?” Frisk watched him as he walked in circles from wall to wall. “He's probably just at Grillby's or something.”

“But he usually answers the phone if he is,” he pointed out. “I'm... I'm worried.”

“Just let him do his own thing,” they waved him off carelessly, and that nasty brothing anger that seemed to crop up at the most inopportune times came crawling back up through his chest. “Believe me, he can take care of himself.”

“I doubt that...” Papyrus snorted and shook his head. “Honestly, without me looking after him he wouldn't last a day.”

“You're an idiot.”

“You know, you keep telling me that.”

“So start believing it.”

Papyrus paused and pinched the bridge of his nostril bone, trying to keep his rampant frustration in check.

“You know, I could just throw you outside to let you fend for yourself,” he informed them coldly. “I bring you into my home, I keep you fed, and I try my darndest to keep you safe and healthy. The very least you could do is cut back on the snippiness and show a little appreciation once in a while!”

“You aren't going to do that...” Frisk watched him closely, but seemed just a little unsure. “I mean, Flowey is still out there.”

“Flowey isn't-” he cut himself off, biting his tongue.

“You keep trying to defend that shitstain, don't you?” they asked quietly. “Listen. Understand. That flower is out there. It can't be reasoned with, it can't be bargained with. It doesn't feel pity or remorse or fear... and he absolutely will not stop. Ever. Until you are dead.”

Papyrus felt a cold, bitter chill crawl its way up from the base of his spine to his neck. He crossed his arms and stared off at the door, half expecting his brother to come stumbling in from Grillby's, that goofy grin of his plastered on. But of course, no such thing happened. It didn't stop him from staring at the door like a needy puppy.

“... He's not dead,” Frisk claimed quietly after a while of silence.

“How would you know?” he sniped, equal parts fearful and frustrated.

“Have... have I ever told you,” Frisk began, ever so slowly. “About what happens... after I kill you?”

Papyrus froze in place, his mind reeling. A deeply disturbing discomfort slithered up through his soul, his throat tightening.

“... No,” he whispered.

“There's always someone bigger and badder, you know,” they informed him lowly, inspecting their fingernails all of a sudden. “Sooner or later, you're going to run into someone that way outclasses you, no matter how hard you fight. And even if you try to show mercy, you'll be cut down. I told you. Sooner or later, everyone betrays you. Everyone.”

Papyrus slowly, cautiously sidled down onto the sofa beside them, placing a hand on their shoulder as gently as he dared.

“... Has anyone ever told you that you have trust issues?”

“Golly fucking gee. Wonder why,” Frisk deadpanned up at him. “Every day I wake up in hell with everyone I meet trying to murder me.”

“Maybe we just need to change opinions of you!” he clapped his hands together in determination. “Then people won't be so afraid of you and there will be no need to fight and everyone can be friends. Nyeh heh.”
“Do you even listen to yourself sometimes?” they pushed his hand off in disgust. “God, you're ignorant. You can't just expect people to be honest or trustable. That's how you get stabbed in the back.”

“Have you ever tried – you know. Not killing everyone that gets in your way?” he asked hopefully.

“Have I – for fuck's sake, of course I have!” Frisk threw up their arms, face reddening. “You know how far that gets you? It isn't human nature. It isn't even real,” they spat in disgust. “You just act how people think you should until you get out of stabbing distance. That doesn't make you friends with people.”

“Are we friends?”

Frisk opened their mouth, then closed it. Then they repeated the process a few times, finally dragging a long, slow hand down their face, giving him a look that was just... tired.

“... Come on, man,” they pleaded. “Don't do this to me right now.”

“Answer the question,” he nodded toward them once. “Honestly. I – please?”

Frisk did not answer.

They did not even move. They just stared down at the floor, drawing their knees up to their chest and closing their eyes for a long, long time. They stayed silent for what felt like ages, brows furrowed. Papyrus felt his soul gradually begin to sink, his chest aching terribly.

“... I've killed you so many times,” Frisk murmured at last, opening their eyes but not looking at him. “God. I... you must hate me so much.”

“Listen,” he clasped their shoulder carefully, and this time they did not shrug him off. “I do not hate you. I know we've had our... rough patches,” he cleared his throat, unwilling to recall his numerous and, quite frankly, painful deaths. “But that doesn't mean I care about you any less. I mean, sure, you get on my nerves to no freaking end,” Papyrus let out a weak chortle. “But even then, that doesn't mean I hate you. I still consider you a friend, you know.”

Frisk stared up at him, eyes wide and searching. Eventually they looked away and sighed through their nose, just a tiny sliver of a smile on their lips.

“You really are an idiot.”

“And you're a rude little pain in the ass.”

Frisk only laughed at that.

Papyrus, even though he tried not to, wound up laughing a little as well.

0-0-0-0-0

They shared a bowl of popcorn after that, placed firmly between them on the sofa.

It wasn't long before Frisk was fast asleep, head on the arm of the couch and shivering slightly. Mettaton's movies were great for putting people to sleep, it would seem. Even he had to admit that he was getting downright sick of watching the same thing over and over again. Every day the program would show the exact same thing, and he was running out of old tapes to rewatch. Carefully he extracted himself from the couch, leaving and returning a short while later with a fluffy red blanket. He draped it carefully over the human so as not to wake them, and they grasped at the corners of it in their sleep, mumbling something about a necklace and a knife. He shook his head and retreated to the door, prying it open and slipping outside, taking a much needed breath of cold, fresh air.

Undyne still had not returned, and a part of him desperately wished that she wouldn't today. This was obviously not a great start to introduce two friends to each other. And they both seemed to be in the perpetual mood of, for lack of a better term, 'murdery'. It was a conundrum to be sure. Sans still had not answered any of his calls or numerous texts, and he hadn't heard a single thing back from Doctor Alphys. He regretted his actions from earlier. He really needed to keep that anger in check. He didn't even know he had any anger inside of him, but it seemed to be frothing out more and more often, upsettingly enough. He sat down on the front porch step and looked about, hoping and wishing to see any sign of his brother, but alas, he was nowhere to be found. A small part of him wanted to leave the human to rest and set off on a quest to find his missing brother, but perhaps the human was right. He was being downright clingy. Sans wasn't a babybones. Even with his numerous health issues, he could still handle getting around better than most folks with those weird 'shortcuts' of his that he never wanted to explain. If Sans had somewhere to be, he was sure that it was for a good reason that he hadn't told him. It must have been something terribly important though, or at least he hoped it was. He was going to give him a real dressing down for not picking up his phone.

If he's even alive.

He promptly pushed that nasty thought right out the window of his train of thought, trembling fingers fumbling for a cigarette. He lit it and took a desperate drag, hacking and coughing for a few seconds before acclimatizing to it, the smoky poison seeping into his bones and soothing his rattled nerves. He let out a sigh and closed his weary eye sockets, hoping that his mind wouldn't wander back to places he'd rather not revisit.

“Howdy!”

Papyrus yelped and dropped the cigarette in the snow with a sizzle, eye sockets wide as he lurched back up a step from the little flower in the snow. Just... watching him. His soul was racing, his head was pounding, and it was difficult to breathe for several long moments before he managed to get a handle on himself. Stay calm, stay in control, don't panic. He couldn't afford to panic.

“Flowey,” Papyrus tried to sound calm despite how badly he was shaken. “What.”

“Is that all you have to say to your bestie?” Flowey tittered, leaning back and forth on his stem. “Golly. Playing house with a serial killer now, are you? You sure have your priorities skewed.”

“What. Do. You want,” he crossed his arms tightly, hoping that he sounded as cross as he wanted to and not shaken down to his boots.

“Tsk tsk. You don't even sound happy to see me anymore...” Flowey pouted. “Don't you even care about me at all, Papyrus...?”

“I-” he started before he cut himself off. He frowned and stared down the flower.

“It's been a long time,” Flowey inspected the tip of a vine protruding from the earth in front of him. “How have you been?”

“It hasn't been long enough,” Papyrus said flatly. “You said-”

“Okay, look,” Flowey interrupted him. “We both said a lot of things that you're going to regret. But I think we can put our differences behind us. For science. After all, you seem to have a vested interest in getting little old Doctor Alphys to dig up ancient scraps for you, do you not?”

Papyrus froze in place, uncertain of what to say. He wanted to move away, but found his ankles bound by thin thorny vines keeping him seated in place.

“I will say, though...” Flowey looked up at him smugly, tall thin eyes never once dropping. “That since you went to all the trouble of waking me up, you must really, really love to test.”

Papyrus tried to stand but found yet another thorny vine snapping around his waist and shoulder, pulling him back down.

“I love it too,” he explained casually. “There's just one, small thing we have to take care of, first. I've been doing some thinking.”

“Careful not to hurt yourself,” Papyrus quipped quietly, and Flowey only smiled and tilted on his stem.

“Speaking of hurting me,” Flowey's face began to contort ever so slowly. “I've been reliving you killing me. You know, if you'd done that to somebody else,” Papyrus tried not to let the raging fear show on his face. “They might devote their existence to exacting revenge. Luckily,” he chuckled in a carefree tone. “I'm a bigger person than that. I'm happy to put all this behind us and get back to work. After that, who knows. Maybe I'll take up a hobby. Reanimating the dead, maybe.”

“In case you hadn't noticed...” Papyrus interjected quietly, pointing with his free hand at the vines. “I'm a little tied up at the moment.”

“What's the matter, Papyrus?” Flowey crooned quietly, lowering his voice so that Papyrus had to lean in to hear him. “Say. Did you know that people with guilty consciences are more easily startled by loud-”

Flowey shrieked and Papyrus tried to jerk back, but his head was pinned in place. His eye lights searched wildly over Flowey's face, but the little monster just tittered at him.

“You're too easy, sometimes,” he snickered. “Ah. But really, I forgive you for all that nastiness. Can't you find it in your soul to forgive me? Hmm? Old buddy?”

“Considering that my options are slim and you are currently keeping me hostage in front of my own house, let's just say that I do.”

“Now, was that so hard?” Flowey beamed at him, releasing him at last from the numerous constricting vines. Papyrus breathed a little easier, clasping a hand to his chest. He started to stand before Flowey shook his head, motioning with a little protruding vine to lean in close.

“That human isn't going to stop, you know...” Flowey warned him in a low, dangerous tone. “They are going to stab and slice and murder everyone and everything in their path. Haven't you figured that out by now?”

“They... they really aren't that bad,” he shook his head. “Come on, Flowey. Can't...” he pleaded desperately. “Can't we just... go back to the way things used to be?”

“Oh, Papyrus...” Flowey tutted and shook his head. “There's only so far that someone can go back, you know. That thing in there is going to slaughter everyone you have ever loved. Doesn't that make you angry, Papyrus?”

“A lot of things make me angry,” Papyrus admitted. “That doesn't make it right to-”

“Enact righteous justice?” he retorted smugly. “Some people would beg to differ. But then again, you aren't most people, are you? No. You always were different,” Flowey peered up at him with an odd look in his eyes. “You're a lot more different than before. You're changing Papyrus. I wonder if you've even begun to notice it yet.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked quietly, unnerved.

“Who's to say those voices you've been hearing aren't real?” Flowey tilted back on his stem, watching him. “Or maybe you really are going off your rocker. Who can tell at this point,” he tittered again. “I'm still proud of you. Always fighting against the current even when it's a clear detriment to your health. Always denying fate at every turn. Either way. You really need to stop sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong...” he dwindled back into the snow until only his face was poking out. “You might see something you'll regret. See you soon.”

Papyrus was left all alone on the porch step, equal parts thoroughly confused and shaken. He stayed there for a long while after that, trembling as he clasped the wooden banister, making sure to keep his feet away from the snowy earth. He swallowed and shook his head, his mind reeling. Too many questions, not enough answers. But wasn't that how it usually went? Even so, that didn't mean he had to like it. He closed his eye sockets and steadied his breathing as best he could, trying to stay calm in the face of adversity. That was what Undyne would have wanted him to do.

And, speak of the devil, she soon returned, looking none to happy to be there. Stomping down the road in her boots, armor abandoned in favor of jeans and a tank top, fists clenched tightly with her eye trained on him as she stalked out of Waterfall all the way toward him. She seemed distracted by something. Papyrus could relate.

So, preparing for what could very well wind up being one hell of a fight, Papyrus shakily drew out a cigarette and lit it. He could have sworn that he felt a familiar gloved hand on his shoulder the entire time.

0-0-0-0-0

Chapter Text

0-0-0-0-0

Undyne stopped right in front of him, watching as the skeleton stood with his arms folded one over the other. She just stared up at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. If anything, she looked more perturbed than anything. The evening air was cool and refreshing on his bones, but not nearly enough to be helpful. And he was tired. So very, very tired. Every centimeter of is body ached. All he wanted was to lie down and rest for a while, even if deep down he knew that it wouldn't help at all.

“... Papyrus,” Undyne began carefully, sticking her hands into her pockets. “Since when the hell do you smoke?”

“Calms my nerves,” he flicked the stub away distractedly, blowing out one last breath of smog through his nostril bone. “Get inside. We need to talk.”

“I do not take orders-” she started but quickly shut down when she saw the absolutely withering glare that he gave her. Her eye narrowed, but she just shrugged it off and pushed her way into the house, a lot louder than he would have appreciated, and he followed close behind.

Frisk sat up abruptly at the banging noise, half tangled in blankets as they blearily rubbed their eyes awake. They started questioning before they spotted Undyne, mouth forming a thin, tight pale line, growing stiff and still as a board in the process. Papyrus carefully tried to readjust the door back into proper position from how hard Undyne had thrown it open, nearly knocking the thing off its hinges. The woman was danged strong, he'd give her that much. Which unfortunately resulted in a surprisingly growing number of property damages, but he eventually managed to finagle it into place and sighed. Undyne glanced back and forth between him and the human, her eye sharp and searching.

“... And where the hell is Sans?” Undyne grumbled as Papyrus dusted off his boots, readjusting his scarf.

“Out,” Papyrus explained simply. He didn't necessarily need to go dragging her into that particular mess at the moment. That was a nightmare all on its own. Wherever Sans was he would probably show up when he found it most convenient. He hoped. He didn't need to go letting her know just how worried he was.

“He wasn't at any of his sentry stations,” Undyne never took her glower off of the human, who had curled up into a little ball on the couch under the blanket. Papyrus tried not to let his concern show. “Even if I know he takes naps whenever he can at them, at least he shows up. Except for today; wasn't anywhere, and I looked.”

“He'll be back when he gets back!” Papyrus snapped, earning a shocked look from the piscine woman.

“Papyrus, what in the shit is going on?” she turned to him fully and crossed her arms. “Sans is a slacker, sure, but he never just takes off like this. And what in the hell has gotten into you lately?” she ticked off on her fingers. “You don't smoke, you don't swear, and you sure as hell shouldn't be trying to make friends with a filthy human!” Undyne jabbed a finger at Frisk, who only stared at her.

“... Undyne,” Papyrus began in a low, surprisingly venomous tone. “Behave.”

Undyne did not speak. At least, not immediately. Her lips pursed and she stared him down, searchingly, looking for something that was beyond him. Eventually, however, she sighed and rubbed her temples with one hand, giving him a blank, dead stare. It was unnerving to say the least.

“I want an explanation, Papyrus. Now.”

“Undyne, if I told you the truth, you wouldn't even believe me,” Papyrus said sadly.

“Try me.”

“Time travel.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Told you,” he snorted and shook his head. She was giving him a weird look from the edge of her eye, constantly flickering back and forth between him and the human sitting stock still on the couch. She backed away into the corner of the room, keeping her arms folded tightly in front of her, boot tapping in some kind of tune as she looked back and forth between the two of them.

“Papyrus. You're my friend...” Undyne began after a long while of tense silence. “So I'm doing you this favor, just once. You get one opportunity to explain why I shouldn't take this human straight to King Asgore myself.”

“Do I not get a say in the matter at all?” Frisk piped up quietly.

“No,” she spat, causing Frisk to flinch and curl up under their blanket.

“Frisk isn't a bad person, Undyne...” Papyrus wrung his hands desperately, taking a step toward her. “I'm sure that if you just gave them a chance, you could see that-”

He could still see the dust pouring from her mouth, dancing up in rivets as she plummeted to her death in a silent wide eyed shock-

Papyrus heaved hard and shook himself. He struggled, physically ill with the memory still fresh in his mind. He fought to breathe for several long, aching, crawling seconds before finally managing to get a handle on himself. Undyne was giving him a strange look and he shook his head, forcing on a weak smile.

“Sorry,” he barely sounded apologetic at all. “Really... really haven't been feeling myself lately.”

“Uh, yeah, dude. I can freaking tell,” she gestured to the human, who was now standing with their hands in their pockets, scrutinizing gaze shifting up and down him. “You're acting crazy here, Papyrus-”

“I am not crazy!” he stamped his foot against the floor, heat boiling in his head. He took an unsteady breath and tried to shove it all down. Keep it from his mind, don't think about it. Deal with it later. “I'm not – I'm not crazy, Undyne...” Papyrus wiped a hand down his face. “Just... let me get everyone some tea or something. And I'll explain. Everything. I promise.”

“This had better be good...” Undyne followed him to the kitchen, watching as he busied himself filling up the banged up iron kettle. “But I'm willing to listen if you'll at least tell me what in the hell is going on with you lately.”

“God, Undyne...” Papyrus stared down at the kettle as the water came to a boil. “Everything is so wrong today. I don't even know where to begin.”

“What do you mean, Paps? Come on, man, talk to me. Something weird is going on with you.”

“It all started with-”

Papyrus didn't get to finish, dropping the hot kettle in horror. Undyne herself looked equally shocked, the knife pulled from her back dusty and dripping. She gripped the doorway in agony, her face twisted in pain as she sank to the ground, revealing the human standing firmly behind her with the most infuriating, smuggest look of accomplishment on their face, even as Undyne faded away into nothing right in front of him. All over in mere seconds.

“Christ, didn't think she'd ever shut up,” Frisk stated casually, wiping the dust from their pocketknife on their shirt. “I mean, I know she's a blowhard, but-”

The hot kettle banged across the front of the human's head, Papyrus's enraged scream mingled in with their cry of shock and pain. They stumbled and backed away with an excruciatingly shrill noise, pulling their hand away to reveal blood leaking from bruised and broken flesh.

“What in the fresh flying FUCK is WRONG with you?!” Papyrus stormed toward them, fists crackling with fury. Frisk backed away swiftly right through her dust, knife gripped tightly in both hands as they tripped over themselves trying to escape and wound up backing into the corner. “She was peaceful – we could have talked, we could have talked to her! And you – you murdered her! And for what?!”

“She left an opening!” Frisk shouted back as if that explained it all. “She finally took that stupid fucking armor off, what was I supposed to do?”
“NOT – FUCKING – THIS!” Papyrus punched the wall beside him in time to his enunciation, finally knocking his fist clean through the wood. He pulled splinters and falling dust away, the shaking traversing his whole body, but nowhere nearly as intense as the overwhelming rage. “Do you have. Any idea...” he loomed over them slowly, a darkness enveloping him that he wasn't too certain was natural. “Even. An inkling. Of what. You've. Done.”

“So what?” Frisk's hands were trembling as they held the knife out in front of them, never dropping their gaze. “What are you gonna do about it? Kill me?”

Papyrus quietly, deliberately summoned a long, sturdy bone club in one hand.

Frisk swallowed, trying to back further into the corner, but there was nowhere to run.

“Okay hey now come on look man you would have done the same thing in my position,” Frisk stuttered, the thin line of blood trickling over their nose. “Just-just back up for a minute-”

“Did you give Undyne a minute?” Papyrus asked quietly, smacking the end of the summoned club into his open palm. “Did you spare her even a moment's thought before you murdered her?”

“I can – I can fix this!” they flinched hard when he began to move. “Just-just chill for a sec, alright? She'll be back tomorrow, r-right? So it'll be fine-”

“No. No, it won't...” Papyrus gripped his weapon tightly. Those strange black squiggles at the corners of his vision were making it hard to see, it was difficult to think, his bones were singing with fury. “It won't just make everything better. You. You and me. We'll remember. And I will not. Forget. Frisk.”

Frisk's lips were tight and pursed, their whole body shaking, eyes flickering across his face. Their breathing was unsteady and they nervously readjusted the knife, keeping it at arm's length and him with it.

“... Give me the knife.”

“I can't-”

“Give me. The god. Damned. Knife,” Papyrus seethed openly, his fist clenched so hard that his bones began to pop. Frisk stared and stared for several long moments before finally dropping it into his outstretched hand. Papyrus felt foul just carrying such a death cursed thing, but folded it up with one hand and tucked it into his battle body.

“... So. What now.” Frisk didn't even seem to care that they had just murdered his best friend in front of him, and the realization was only making him angrier.

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus had never been much of one to give in easily.

Even when life threw it's toughest at him, he fought back against it with as much brevity as he could manage. When things got strange, he tried his best to roll with the punches. And when he lost people he cared about, another little piece of him died with them. Papyrus was feeling a lot of the latter. Perhaps it wasn't his best idea to tie up the human and lock them in the shed, but if that was what it took to keep them from harming anyone else, so be it.

He thought that he would never have to see that horrible look of pain on Undyne's face again. Not after last time. And yet, time and time again, the universe seemed hellbent on proving him wrong. Maybe he had been wrong about that human. Maybe he had been wrong about a lot of things. Heck, maybe he had been wrong about everything and was just too dull headed to realize it. It made him want to be sick.

“So was I right, or was I right?”

Papyrus groaned and closed his eye sockets, leaning against the sturdy wooden door to the shed. He didn't have to even glance down to see Flowey, that all knowing, watchful smile of his never fading.

“Flowey,” Papyrus muttered wearily. “Now is really not the time.”

“Aww. What's the matter, good buddy?” Flowey tittered. “Didn't I warn you about that human? So? Come now. Tell me, Papyrus. Who was right?”

Papyrus did not answer.

“Papy~rus...” Flowey wrapped a thin vine around his ankle, snaking its way up his thigh and eventually grasping his forearm, forcing him to look down at him. He felt heated, angry, horrified, too many emotions to deal with. “Answer the question, Papyrus. Aren't I always right?”

“... You saw everything that happened in there, didn't you?” Papyrus asked quietly.

“Naturally,” he tilted back and forth on his stem. “Golly. Even I didn't anticipate Undyne to go down that fast. That human doesn't like to play around, huh? Waits and waits until you least expect them to strike, and then-” he snapped a vine against the ground with a crack, his grin widening. “You can't say I didn't warn you, Papyrus.”

“I know that!” Papyrus wanted to cry. He yanked himself free from Flowey's grasp, but it was clear from how quickly he got away that Flowey had no intention of keeping him in place. “God, I-I know, I know, okay?! I... I messed up,” he swallowed weakly, feeling as though a lump were growing in his throat. “I get it. You don't have to rub it in. I messed up.”

“You can still salvage this, you know...” Flowey inspected the tip of a vine before retracting it into the ground. “We can always go back the hard way. Why, I'd say that you could restart this whole day and get some sweet vengeance all in one swoop.”

“I'm not killing them,” Papyrus stomped away, only for the flower to appear in front of him.

“Right,” Flowey snickered. “Because you'd rather just let them keep killing than do it yourself. I wonder. Just how many deaths are you responsible for, Papyrus?”

Papyrus did not answer.

The silence was loud enough.

0-0-0-0-0

“... I'm sorry,” the deathly still that had fallen over the house felt much too overbearing to handle anymore. But of course, no one answered. Papyrus wept openly as he knelt over her dust, tears streaking down his bony cheeks. He hadn't saved her. He hadn't saved anyone. And just like before, she had died in pain, in confusion.

It wasn't right.

It just wasn't fair.

Why did things have to be like this? What was the purpose? It all felt so crushingly pointless. He weakly dried his eye sockets as he gathered Undyne's dust. All he had to put it in were some empty plastic holders usually containing rations of spaghetti. It certainly wasn't her favorite thing, by a long shot, and even doing his best he still felt as if he were being disrespectful. Undyne would have pitched a fit if she saw how badly he handled this. He hid the container away, still attempting to dry his sockets. He didn't think that he could stand looking at the horrific sight any longer. And just as bad, there were stains all over the place. From where Undyne had died. Blood from just how hard he struck the human. Guilt began smothering him as he dropped onto the sofa, head in his hands.

Everything was just wrong. This whole repeating day was horrible, and nothing he did seemed to help. He sighed into his palms and rubbed the tiredness from his face, but the weary hanging exhaustion stuck to him like glue.

He missed Undyne. He missed Sans. He missed normalcy.

“... Come on,” he gave himself a little slap on the legs. “Come on, Papyrus. Get it together. Okay. Okay,” Papyrus stood and stretched, unable to stay still any longer. “Papyrus can do this. Papyrus can get through today.”

Papyrus is talking to himself in third person again.

“Papyrus knows that too,” he muttered as he slipped out the front door. He didn't see any signs of Flowey since he'd left, and Papyrus was just fine with that. It was getting harder and harder to put up with his 'friend' with each passing day. Perhaps he didn't have the best judgment in who his friends should even be. But he'd made friends with the human, too, hadn't he? Wasn't being friends with everyone supposed to be easy for him? He was the Great Papyrus, it should be a simple matter. But everything just felt so unnecessarily complicated. He wished that he could go back to when things were predictable. Quiet. Peaceful.

Papyrus was absolutely none of these things when he pulled open the shed door to find nothing but a tattered scrap of rope on the floor, the human long since gone.

0-0-0-0-0

Chapter Text

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus swore under his breath, closing his itching eye sockets for several long, dragging moments before finally letting out a tired sigh. He was far too exhausted for this.

“This is... not good,” he observed quietly, stepping inside the shed and letting the door swing shut behind him. A quick inspection raised several questions. Where had the human gone? And when? It couldn't have been too long. How in the world did they manage to break through the ropes so swiftly? He picked up the remains with one hand, brow bones furrowed. He definitely took the knife, he still had it tucked into his battle body. Did human Frisk somehow manage to get hold of another knife when he wasn't looking? It was unlikely that they managed to break through with brute strength alone, and there was nothing in the shed with sharp enough edges to file through it, but something else was off as well. The cut itself seemed strange.

The frayed old rope wasn't just torn, however; upon closer scrutiny it appeared as if the ropes had simply been snapped right in half, an even, deliberate cut. Too neat. Too clean. But they hadn't managed that before, and his knots were next to perfect... so how in the world did they manage to escape?

And who are they killing now?

Papyrus left in a hurry, almost bouncing through the snow. His first instinct was to check near the general store, he desperately hoped that it paid off.

“Barry – hey! Hey, Barry!” Papyrus stomped up next to the large furry monster reading a newspaper. He distractedly glanced upward and took a slow sip of his coffee, eyeing him hard.

“Do I know you?”

“Have you seen a human around here? Recently?” he danced from foot to foot. “Anywhere? I need to know, right now-”

“Like I said to the Guard,” Barry shrugged him off with obnoxious indifference, barely even looking up from his paper. “I think I'd know a human if I saw one, I'd be the first to report in to one of ya. That's just pol-”

“Yes just politics thank you Barry,” Papyrus huffed impatiently and took off at a brisk pace. As he was leaving he heard the slur just loud enough to catch. He didn't turn around, but his fists clenched tightly, his knuckles popping from the tension. He glowered down the road and picked up the pace, entertaining using his fists to share a certain gesture with the monster, but he didn't have the time. Human Frisk was still out here, somewhere. And he needed to find them before they hurt anyone else.

To his disappointment, Papyrus did not discover the human anywhere in Snowdin. It would have made matters significantly easier. He did, however, spot that alluring little glimmer in the snow, effervescent glow drawing him like a moth to a flame. He honestly did not know why it always seemed to call to him on a baser instinct. Almost as though it were somehow conversing with him, but that was silly. Wasn't it? He had certainly heard of stranger things than that, hadn't he?

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THE SIGHT OF SUCH A FRIENDLY TOWN

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THE SIGHT

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☞☹⚐🕈☜☼ 🕈✌❄👍☟✋☠☝ ☞☼⚐💣 ❄☟☜ ❄☼☜☜💧

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☟☜ ✋💧 ☠⚐❄ ✌☹☹ ❄☟✌❄ ☟☜ 💧☜☜💣💧

Papyrus lurched backward and gasped for breath, his whole world spinning at a violent angle. He heaved weakly and struggled to sit up properly, uncertain of even when he had fallen over. His head was splitting, it felt as though someone had stuffed a beehive in his skull and shaken it. Numbers, letters, symbols, all flashing before his sockets even when he squeezed them closed.

He strained to keep from being ill, the cold air suddenly feeling much too oppressive. It was difficult, but he finally managed to focus, bring himself back from the brink of unconsciousness. Pinpointing the pressing pain in his head seemed to help. He shook himself off and brushed the snow away, still feeling much too dizzy but at least the flickers were stopping. He gave a bitter glare at the save point as if it had personally insulted him, and took off before the bizarre impulse to just grab it again and damn the consequences overwhelmed him.

It didn't take long to get to the entrance to Waterfall, and, just like Undyne had said, there was nobody at Sans's sentry station. There was almost no one in the area at all, in fact. Just a small lizardesque yellow monster in a striped shirt. Stubby tail wagging this way and that as he stared down over the edge of a nearby cliff. He bounced up and down when he spotted Papyrus, running right up to him.

“Hey! Hey, mister!” the little creature stood on his tiptoes, hopping from foot to foot. “Hey – guess what – I heard Undyne herself is coming to Snowdin!”

“Is that right...” Papyrus shifted uneasily.

“Yeah!” he gave a toothy smile. “Oh man, she's so cool! Have you seen her yet? Have you, have you?”

“I-” Papyrus felt a sudden, painful lump in his throat. “... No. I haven't.”

“Aw, man...” the child kicked a clawed foot at a rock over the nearby ledge. “Well, I bet I can catch her on the way here! See you later-!” he started to bolt off before immediately face planting into the ground with a squeak. Papyrus automatically reached out to help him up but he had already pulled his face from the ground, running off with an excited noise. Papyrus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nostril bone. He wanted to cry and throw up all at once.

He started to call out to the monster kid before spotting nearby yet another of those glimmering lights. A save point. He briefly recalled Frisk explaining why they called it that; that because of their special ability they could change the literal course of time. It was an astounding and terrifying possibility. It also unnerved him that he didn't see them here, either. Maybe if he kept pressing on he could find some trace of them. Or maybe he could just throw up his hands and say to hell with it all, curl into a ball in bed and cry until the night ended. He could either keep asking around Snowdin, which was unveiling little results, or he could try to find them here. If his assumption was correct, Frisk kept mentioning something about 'staying on the path', he wondered if they were paranoid about it. They certainly seemed to be. But he could use that to his advantage here. He couldn't just cave in. He needed to find them.

It was all too likely that human Frisk was somewhere up ahead. All he had to do was follow the road as fast as he could and he would likely catch up with them before they caused any more damage-

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Papyrus blinked, uncertain of even touching the thing, yet somehow still found himself kneeling before it. Those floating words before his sockets vanished within moments, but curiously, he tried again. Flashing right in front of him, that same sequence appeared and flickered away like it had never been there at all. It was extremely strange.

And raised quite a few questions.

What was it with these bizarrely alluring lights? If Frisk , a little human with a clearly powerful soul, was someone that could manipulate the very stream of time...

What was the harm if he tried, too?

He reached out and squeezed-

-his head reeling with crippling exhaustion, barely able to even keep his arms upright as he dodged another swing, knife nearly cleaving him in half. It was difficult to recall if this was even a memory or a dream anymore, it all felt nightmarish. He could taste dust in his mouth, his eye socket was burning painfully and energy coursed throughout his body as he threw attack after attack at the oncoming human, barely evading their relentless assault-

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DETERMINATION.

Papyrus wheezed and clutched his knees, fighting every impulse to scream . He could have sworn that just a moment ago he had been somewhere else entirely, but it all came rushing in, the memory of Undyne dusting away in front of him, the human he was hunting. Whatever he had done, it felt as though his soul itself had been kicked down a flight of stairs.

But this time, the flickering letters and numbers dancing across his vision did not disappear immediately. It made it difficult to navigate away from the save point, his head throbbing angrily. He rubbed his sockets and pulled further back, down the road toward Waterfall. Perhaps there was a good reason human Frisk wanted him to stay away from those things.

Right.

He had to catch up to them, before something bad happened.

Unfortunately, he also walked right through someone's dust, and, horrified, it was clear from the piles littering the cavern ahead that he had a much, much longer road to walk than he thought.

0-0-0-0-0

“Hello?” Papyrus cupped his mouth and called out yet again, to someone, anyone that would answer.

But there was only the stifling silence, enshrouding and smothering in its presence. He shifted uncomfortably past yet another pile of dust on the damp walkway, thoroughly disturbed. And it wasn't just a couple, either; the further he traversed down the main road through Waterfall, the clearer it became that their... excursion was becoming more frequent.

So many piles of dust.

So many lives, lost.

So many people he hadn't saved.

It was undeniably upsetting, seeing the remains of innocent people paving the walkways. There were marks of battle waged here and there, it looked as though some monsters had fought from the magical remnants of fights scouring the earth. But no sign of the human other than their residual debris of wanton murder. No, that wasn't quite right. The heaps of dust along the path were too commonplace. It was almost as if the human's attacks were growing more methodical as he progressed, more violent and frequent. Almost as if human Frisk had lured people closer only to murder them on the spot. He wondered if any of them even had time to run before being cut down.

And, equally appalling, he could not quite place why he was so intent on staring at the dusty remains of the people who had quite recently been living here. It was a strange fascination that consumed him, almost like being drawn to the save points in a way; but that wasn't quite on the nose, this felt somewhat more vile, obsessive, downright sick. No matter how badly he wanted to, he could not bring himself to look away. His eye sockets were practically glued open as he ran, keeping his pace steady and even so as not to tire himself too quickly.

No matter where he went, no matter how loudly he shouted, no matter how fast he ran, he couldn't escape the dust.

“You gotta stop, Slim.”

Papyrus jerked to the side, plunging a foot knee deep in swamp water. He scowled and pulled himself out and back onto the road, whipping his head up to glare at his doppelganger. The mirror image looked to be in better condition than he felt, certainly. But then again, he usually did. Other Papyrus simply watched him empty out his boot full of water and torn reeds, draining it back into the wetlands.

“Can you give me some warning before you do that?” Papyrus asked huffily as he stuffed back on his now soaking wet boot with a nasty squelch. “Good lord, if I had the organs I'd have a heart attack by now.”

“I take it you're not happy to see me?” the duplicate pulled a cigarette from his battle body, lighting it with a flicker and taking a long drag. He offered it to Papyrus and he instinctively reached for it, but his phalanges phased right through it. Other Papyrus only grinned wider and shook his head. A flash of heat blossomed across his cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck uncertainly.

“Didn't think that would actually get you, Slim,” the phantom chortled. “Must be tired.”

“You have no idea,” Papyrus rubbed his temples and continued his walk, turning away from him and making his way further into Waterfall. Instead of walking with him, the not-a-ghost just appeared a little ahead of him, leaning comfortably against the cavernous stone wall with one leg kicked over the other.

“Oh, I think I do,” mirror Papyrus chuckled again. “We need to talk, Slim. Mind slowing down for a minute?”

“I would very much mind slowing down...” Papyrus clenched his fists and walked right past him. His doppelganger ghosted along beside him, the ethereal image slipping right through anything in his way. “We don't – I don't have time to waste,” he grit his teeth. “Now do you mind leaving me alone for a while?”

“You're lonely,” Other Papyrus stated simply. “I can tell. Just figured I'd keep you company for a little while, is that so wrong?”

“Bullshit.” he glowered at his magical malady from the corner of his eye socket as he strode onward.

“Alright, you got me,” the duplicate snickered and held up his hands, smoke twining around his head like a ghastly serpent. “I mainly just wanted to talk.”
“I figured as much...” Papyrus shook his head. “We can walk and talk. Just tell me what you want and go already.”

Other Papyrus looked relatively frustrated by his statement, his teeth clenched and brow bones furrowed, eye lights locked onto him hard.

“... What,” Papyrus spat, tightening his fists, swinging his arms a little slower.

“It's like you don't even want me around or something,” the phantom frowned at him.

“Oh, golly gosh, I wonder what gave it away.”

“Save your sarcasm for later, Slim. We gotta talk about the human, whether you want to or not.”

“What about the human?” Papyrus shrugged without looking at him. His copy appeared on his other side, arms crossed as he walked in perfect pace alongside him. “What are they to you?”

“They factor into a lot of my current concerns,” he answered quietly.

“Nyeh. Same here. That doesn't answer my question.”

“You need to quit preoccupying yourself over dust,” Other Papyrus stated firmly. “You're obsessing. It's not healthy.”

“I am not obsessing,” he seethed in a low tone, stepping over yet another unfortunate victim as he rounded a corner. “That's not a thing that I do.”

“I mean it, Slim...” his mirror image looked sincerely concerned when he glanced at him. “It's kinda starting to freak me out. And I ain't easy to shake.”

“I'm just bothered by it all,” Papyrus rubbed his temples wearily.

“Good-”

“How is that good?!” he snapped angrily at the doppelganger. “How is any of this 'good', answer me that?”

“If you weren't bothered, I'd be far more concerned,” the phantom shrugged. “I meant that it's good you're upset. If you weren't, their passing would have no impact. It's important to remember who you are, Slim. Who you care about. What you're fighting for.”

“... Sounds like something Undyne would have said,” Papyrus looked away sadly. The duplicate only stared ahead with him, sorrow plain on his face.

“Nyeah. She would be disappointed if you didn't give it your all. That's somethin' else we gotta discuss.”

“Why?” he scowled and pressed onward, trying to outpace his mirror image, but it was useless.

“Slim. You're slipping,” Other Papyrus just appeared before him, holding up a palm to stop him dead in his tracks. “I can't just sit back and watch anymore.”

“What are you even talking about?” Papyrus shifted from foot to foot, glaring at him straight on. “I'm perfectly fine. I am fine.”

“You're lying to both of us and you know it,” his duplicate frowned hard. “You need to get your act together. We can't afford to go down that path. Come on, Slim. Do me a favor here.”

“Speaking of which,” Papyrus tightened his fists. “How about you do me a favor. And fuck off,” he stormed right through the phantom without even breaking stride, feeling no resistance or presence whatsoever.

He half expected the phantom to appear beside him yet again, but when he dared a glance backwards he was indeed completely by himself. All alone with nothing but the dust to keep him company.

After a few minutes of silent walking, he bitterly mused that he was, in fact, just a little bit lonely.

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus noted some while later something he wished he'd noticed before.

The piles of dust he had been bypassing so consistently before seemed more spread out. Small footprints tracked right through a couple, making his soul twist painfully for the poor sod who had gotten in Frisk's way. It appeared as though their attacks had grown more sparse in this location, the rushing water mildly distracting him from his thoughts.

He focused instead on the damage they had done, trying not to be ill. He needed to inspect them all. There was no question about it. If there were answers to be found, he had to discover them. It looked as though the attacks had gotten less and less frequent as he walked, intently focused on where the human might have gotten to. He spotted a few dark flecks on the ground not far away, nearby the flowing water draining down from above and running down the side of a cliff.

After a moment of introspection he pulled off his glove, knelt down and carefully ran his finger across the odd speckles across the floor. Inspecting his phalanges he was disgusted to discover both dust and blood on his bones. Gross. He frowned and doused his hand in the nearby stream, rubbing his fingers together to wash off the nastiness. But even when he checked again, he still felt marred, somehow. Stained.

Papyrus was pulling on his glove when he heard a low, soft sound.

He perked up, stiff and alert, eye sockets wide. He briefly wondered if he had simply imagined the noise, as there was nobody around. He listened more intently just in case, holding his breath.

He heard it again.

More curious than alarmed now, Papyrus tilted his head and swiveled in the direction of the noise. It was almost as if it had come from the water he had been kneeling by. He wondered if any Waterfall dwellers had somehow survived the human's rampage and were hiding nearby. Stealthily, he crept closer to the source of the sound, which, strangely enough, almost seemed like it was coming from the running water. Muffled by something. He danced off of the stepping stone and into the rushing waves, holding a hand over his head just to make sure and inquisitively splitting the water coursing around him.

To his shock, he discovered an actual hidden room right behind the falling water. And somewhat more surprising, he found someone huddled and crying in the far corner.

“... Frisk?” Papyrus asked gently as he could, entering their hiding place. The human's head jerked upward, red eyes leaking tears as they stared in alarm at him. They were holding in one hand what looked to be, quite familiarly, one of his own kitchen knives. So that explained something. Quite a bit more disconcerting were the jagged, shaky lines they had drawn across their forearm with it, blood trickling down their wrist and fingers. Equal parts horrified and concerned, Papyrus held up his hands as they quickly yanked their sleeve back down, their trembling hand jabbing the knife in his direction.

“Go away!” Frisk hiccuped miserably. “Get-get out, go – just-just stay away from me!”

“It's okay,” Papyrus slowly, carefully knelt before them, just a few feet away. “It-it's okay, human Frisk. It's alright, it's only me, j-just stay calm, alright?”

Frisk jittered when he began to inch toward them, their grip on the knife tightening as they wiped their tear streaked face with one sleeve.

“Come now, take it easy...” he tried to speak as composed as he wanted to appear, but his throat was constricting and several conflicting emotions were roiling in his aching chest. It was difficult to keep his unsteady voice level, and Frisk's eyes never once dropped from his gaze. “It's alright,” he desperately hoped that he was soothing them at least a little. “Everything is going to be alright. Just... just please let me have the knife back, small one. That's all you have to do – just lay down the weapon, please, please. I'm begging here,” he tilted back as they twitched.

“Go away,” they reiterated again and again. “You can't help me. I can't be helped. Fucking leave. Don't m-make me hurt you.”

Papyrus chewed his tongue, his soul clenching.

“I'm not the one that's hurt...” Papyrus gestured to their dark, wet sleeve. Frisk flinched and finally glanced away from him, arm pointing the knife slowly dipping away. They did not speak, their face pale and gaunt, eyes and mouth tightened as they shook.

“... Please,” he held out his hand as carefully as he dared. “It's... it's going to be okay. Please, at least... at least let me help you.”

Their grip on the knife slipped, ever so gradually, until their arm dropped to their side. Though whether that was because of their decision or exhaustion he wasn't entirely certain. He made his choice regardless.

Slowly, deliberately, he gathered magic in the palm of his hand. Frisk curled away for a split second as it washed over them, blinking a couple of times as the green glow stitched up their wounds, including the nasty lump on their forehead. He bit his tongue, guilt gnawing on his bones as he watched the bruise lighten and eventually disappear. They clenched their arms tightly to their body, gawking at him the entire while.

“... You didn't kill me,” Frisk stated, eyes widening.

“No,” he answered simply.

“... You really should have killed me,” they tightened their grip on the knife.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Papyrus shook his head, weariness clinging to him from the magical exertion. “Nyeh. I never did have the greatest sense of judgment, did I?”

“Not for as long as I've known you...” Frisk snorted weakly. Papyrus quietly sat down beside them, grunting tiredly. There was only the sound of rushing water passing by outside the hidden room, the human still and shaking beside him.

“... You aren't safe here. You know that, right,” Frisk still would not look at him, just wiping their bloodied hand on their shirt. “You know what I'm capable of.”

“... Yes,” he sighed after a few moments. “I've... I've seen quite enough of that for today.”

“Then do the smart thing for once,” they glared up at him with a dead eyed stare. “And run.”

“I'm not leaving you here,” Papyrus shook his head quietly. “Won't you at least reconsider? You could... you could always come back. With me,” he offered in as careful a tone as he could manage. “Home.”

“What's the point?” Frisk rubbed their eyes furiously, smearing blood and dust across their cheek. “For what purpose? You know me by now, bonehead. We can't be happy together.”

“It seems that you aren't happy by yourself, either,” he noted. “All I'm asking is that you think it over.”

“... Aren't you mad?” they glanced up at him before averting their gaze. “You should be angry right now.”

“Oh, I am most certainly upset,” he admitted. “I'm angry. I'm disturbed. I'm absolutely livid right now. I'm... I truly am sorry for how I reacted. Back there. I... I should have – never mind. There's a lot more I shouldn't have done. Yes, I'm still mad. Quite a lot. But that doesn't mean I'm going to just abandon you when you clearly need someone.”

“You'd be the first,” Frisk scoffed bitingly. Papyrus wearily extended his palm to them, standing as he did so.

“... Sometimes,” he began. “Sometimes, we all... we all fall. Everyone does. Even... even the best of us...” Papyrus sighed in fatigue. “You know, it's... it's okay to need someone to rely on. Right? Everyone should have a friend like that. That's... that's the kind of person, the friend I want to be. Sometimes...” he dared a tiny, weak smile, presenting his palm to the staring human. “Sometimes all you need is a helping hand.”

After a long, aching silence, they finally reached their conclusion.

The knife was left behind as they walked hand in hand through the dark.

0-0-0-0-0

Chapter Text

0-0-0-0-0

That night was not an easy one.

The walk back to Snowdin was a long, dreadful one. Neither of them spoke a single word the entire way. Papyrus kept a close eye socket on Frisk for the duration of their trip, carefully traipsing between piles of dust. And once more, he had to resist the rather upsetting impulse to stop and inspect them. Something about seeing the remnants of people once living was, he quietly admitted, growing into a rather disturbing focus. A small part of him wondered if it was because he was getting so accustomed to seeing the ramifications of destruction. Another piece of him felt horrible. He empathized with the poor lost souls. He had been reduced to dust in quite a few timelines. He remembered the terrible pain that came with it, the searing agony of being cut down, feeling his body fall to pieces no matter how tightly he clung to life.

He wondered if these people even had a chance at all. If any of them had fought to hang on with their last breaths. He then subtly mused that he really was a little too haunted by his gradually growing grim fascination with falling down. His doppelganger certainly had been right about that much, as loathe as he was to admit it. His obsession was unhealthy, and that was a best case scenario. Frisk seemed to notice just how frequently his pace slowed or even stopped at those piles of dust scattered here and there throughout the main road of Waterfall. He dared a look down to Frisk, half curious if they felt the same way that he did. But their face was a blank mask, unreadable, their gaze affixed firmly to the ground between them. Perhaps they felt just an inkling of guilt for what they had done. He hoped that they did. That meant that at least they were feeling their conscience at last kicking in now that their rampage had finally stopped.

Or maybe that was his ignorant optimism kicking in again. That was one more thing he had to work on. Flowey himself had been quite adamant about making sure that Papyrus memorized that much.

You can't trust anyone.

Such a thing went against his very nature. He wanted to trust others. Badly. But sometimes, it was harder than other times. Some days were much more difficult to keep that mental attitude. He had problems. Papyrus could admit that much to himself. But that just meant that he had to work on it, put in effort to be a better person. Be the absolute best that he could be, to ensure that this kind of thing never happened again.

And just a tiny, twisted little part of him almost wished that he would get the chance to inspect more dust, and in utter revulsion he shuddered and pushed that nasty thought away, burying it deep down. Push it all away with the other emotions that he wasn't certain how to deal with. One more problem to stalk his nightmares.

“... Almost there,” Papyrus murmured just loudly enough for Frisk to hear, and they blinked and glanced up at him. They did not speak, just simply nodding a single time, never once releasing his hand. No monsters were in the caverns as they walked, and Papyrus was just fine with that. He hoped that the crushing stillness overwhelming him came off as more of a companionable silence. Human Frisk clearly needed more help than he did; by quite a lot, in fact, but he could tackle that issue, too. He could handle it. He needed to have the strength to do so.

Tiredly, he occasionally tried pulling out his cellphone and calling again and again, but his brother did not answer a single time. At least he hadn't had the unfortunate experience of ever coming across his brother's dust, even if Sans did have that dreadful habit of taking off at the worst possible times. He thought that if he could at least talk to him about this, explain their strange predicament, then things could finally start to go back to normal. But Sans had once again left without so much as a single explanation. Vanished without a trace. He desperately hoped that his brother was at least healthy. Or at least, as healthy as he could be, given his unfortunate condition. Sans had never been a strong monster, he knew that much. He needed as much help as he could get, and Papyrus was only too glad to support him. Even on some of the darker days. But that was getting harder and harder with how frequently he had been disappearing lately.

One more question without an answer.

Papyrus himself could recall the different resets, though as to why was still a mystery. Human Frisk had some bizarre, possibly human related powers that he himself did not fully understand, even though he desperately tried to every rerun. And Flowey was... an oddity all on his own. He had admitted to having full capacity to remember the timelines, even if he hadn't exactly explained how . One more thing he had to figure out. But his brother...

Sans had always been... off . Ever since that incident all those years ago when he gave up working with Asgore's royal scientist. It was like his brother had undergone a massive change in a single day. It was nostalgic, in a way, and more than a little sad. Sans had always been so full of eagerness and excitement, happy to explain his scientific endeavors even though Papyrus didn't understand a word of it. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, he had just dropped everything and started staying at home a lot more often until Papyrus finally convinced him to get a job as a sentry with him, if only to at least get him out of the house a little more often.

Since then, it seemed as though his brother only grew more weary and exhausted by the day. Papyrus could relate. Going through this same day again and again was taking a toll on him, though he hated to admit that to himself as well. He wondered exactly what had happened to Sans to cause him to undergo such a drastic change. He sincerely worried about his brother's health sometimes. But something niggled at the back of his mind. He felt as though he had... forgotten something important. It was infuriating at the best of times. Knowing that after all they had gone through, all of the secrets that Papyrus had revealed to Sans on that fateful day, only to have it all ripped away in an instant...

It felt unfair. It felt cruel .

Surely it had been for the best, right? After all, people had come back to life.

And lost theirs shortly after, true. Yet another thing he needed to sit down with Frisk and have a long, long conversation about. He needed to drill into them the importance of good behavior. He felt as though it was only right. Perhaps they hadn't had the best role models. But that could always be turned around. He gripped their hand a little tighter as they walked, offering a small, kind smile as best he could.

But Frisk only looked away from him, those cherry red cheeks almost glowing in the dark.

Anyone could be a good person, if they just tried. He truly believed that.

Some people just needed a little push in the right direction.

“Hello!” he perked up significantly upon seeing the River Person awaiting at the bottom of the damp stairs, their little boat drifting up and down in the water. Frisk tensed as they drew closer, but he pulled them along regardless. The River Person spared him hardly a moment's glance before swiveling their hooded head toward him, face utterly enshrouded by shadows. Even he had to admit that it was a little creepy. Maybe that was why Frisk always seemed to have difficulty riding along with them.

“Salutations once more...” the River Person nodded to them as they boarded the boat. Papyrus blinked just after sitting down on the slightly wet bench, brow bones furrowing slightly.

“... Again?” he shifted uneasily.

“Nothing, hm hmm. Tra la la. Where to?” they asked in a whispery tone. Frisk finally sat down beside him, fidgeting awkwardly.

“Snowdin, please,” he nodded.

“Then we're off.”

The boat ride itself was quiet enough, aside from the rushing waterways parting alongside the boat as they sped along. It was mercifully silent, and Papyrus allowed himself just a moment to relax, letting out a long, heavy breath. He closed his eye sockets for several long moments, and, to his surprise, felt Frisk ever so gently squeeze his gloved hand. He blinked and looked around, finally realizing that instead of watching where they were going the River Person was staring at him. He repressed a shiver and stared right back, uncertain of many things.

“Have you ever heard the story of the old man and the sea?” their soft, lilting tone dancing over the waves.

“N-no?”

“It is no matter. Tra la la. Here we are,” they gestured as they finally boarded alongside the Snowdin riverbank. Papyrus thanked them quietly and hopped off the boat, extending a hand to Frisk. Once more they took his hand, still not looking him in the face.

“Thank y-” he started before the River Person took off at a truly stunning speed, almost blasting away from the snow coated docks and barreling off down the river.

“... Hmph. Rude,” Papyrus shrugged and nodded forward. “Well then. Let's continue, shall we, little one?”

Frisk still did not answer. That was fine with him. He could handle the silence, even if it was beginning to feel a little unnatural. He had faced plenty of stranger circumstances. Even if it was just a tad unnerving.

They made their way back to the house unbothered, which was an immense relief to him, and he clasped the door behind them both and finally released their hand. He sighed and leaned against the door, fatigue clinging to his bones like a vengeful fungus, growing over his body despite his best efforts to fend it off.

“Sans?” Papyrus called out loudly. “Brother? Are you home?”

He was met with a deafening silence.

“... Make yourself comfortable,” he nodded to Frisk, and they just rubbed their forearms. “I... I need to check something. Alright?”

“Fine,” they shrugged noncommittally, still refusing to look at him. His boot brushed against the battered kettle he had thrown previously and he felt slightly ill, repulsed by his violent outburst. And then he spotted the flecks of blood across the floor, almost leading to that remaining stain of dust left behind by-

Don't think about it.

He took a shuddering breath and forced himself up the stairs before his rampant thoughts could get the best of him. He trailed his hand along the banister, slowing his speed, uncomfortable. He didn't want to open the door to find something horrible. It was perhaps one of his worst possible nightmares. So many times he had dreamed of stumbling across the remains of his poor narcoleptic brother, discovering a horror beyond fathoming. But that had never happened once in his waking life. He just had to keep clinging to hope that it would never occur. So, with heavy soul, he knocked twice on Sans's bedroom door before pushing it open.

Sans was nowhere in the room. Not a single sign of him anywhere.

And that awful lettering scrawled over every inch of the walls and ceiling was still there.

Don't think about it.

Papyrus sighed heavily and left without a word.

Steadily making his way over to his own room, albeit dragging his feet quite a bit, he pried open his bedroom door and closed it behind him, flicking on the light. It looked just the same as it always did. He yanked open his closet door and began digging around for something suitable, until he finally managed to find an old tee shirt that hopefully would fit. It was probably a bit too big for them, but he hoped it would help.

He started to turn before he caught just a glimpse of his reflection on the back of his door. Not exactly a reflection, however. Just the mirror painting a different picture, a rotation in perspective. The room around him looked... skewed , tilted at a stomach churning angle, like if he looked too long he would lose his sense of balance. And his reflection...

Utterly blank eye sockets, gloved hands pressed to the glass, smile far too unnaturally wide.

Just...

Watching.

“Alright, nope, not dealing with that today,” he threw open the bedroom door and slammed it behind him, thoroughly shaken. Probably just another trick of his head, his mind was playing tricks on him. Certainly not anything exceptionally supernatural. He was just going crazier and crazier the more stress that he had to deal with. At least, that was his current theory. It did not bode well for future predicaments.

He returned as swiftly as he could, finding Frisk still standing in the same spot, hands clasped together. Just... staring down at the floor. They didn't move, they didn't speak, they hardly seemed to be breathing at all. Their eyes were closed and their shoulders trembled occasionally in little twitches, those patches of red on their cheeks brighter than ever. He hoped they weren't unwell.

“... Frisk?”

They jolted at the sound of his voice, finally looking up to see him holding the bundle of clothes in his arms.

“... What,” they glowered at him.

“Here,” he offered them the clothing, and they just blinked and stared up at him.

“Uh. Okay...” Frisk shifted after a few moments, taking them. “Thanks, I guess. What are these for?”

“Well, for one, you need a bath,” he pointed to the wooden door under the staircase. “Bathroom is that way. Nyeh, well. You are coated in...” Papyrus bit his tongue for a few moments, trying his hardest not to look at the grisly remains covering their clothes. “Just... just go wash up. I'll have dinner ready in a little while, alright? Don't take too long.”

Frisk rolled their shoulders and looked away, but finally took heed of his instructions and tottered off, clicking the door behind them. A short while later he heard the sound of running water and sighed, rubbing his temples.

This whole day had gone horribly awry. He just wanted one good, normal day. Just once in a while. Was that really so much to ask? Was he being selfish for that? He hoped not. Papyrus shook his head and set about heating up some spaghetti, gathering a couple of plates. Frisk still had not returned after a while, and he began making more phone calls in the meantime. A number of people he most certainly did not want to speak to, mostly for fear of questions arising that he did not have the answers for. And he just knew that another piece of his soul was going to be sullied if he tried lying his way out of the conversations. But he needed to take action.

“I – well, yes. I mean, yes and no,” he paced back and forth in the kitchen, phone clasped tightly to the side of his head. “Are you sure you haven't seen him at all, today, Mister Grillby? Anywhe- I... yes. Yes, I understand. Thank you for your time,” Papyrus sighed tiredly and clicked the phone shut. Nobody he called knew of his brother's whereabouts, it would seem. A little part of him wanted to skip out for a little while, just head down to the general store and talk to that nice Bunni woman for a little while. That slightly jumpy, but always pleasant smile of hers always seemed to brighten his day, even if just a bit. The scent of baking cinnamon in the air, the peace of the cozy little place.

For some reason, it made his soul clench painfully. He shook his head of the thoughts. Maybe tomorrow.

Frisk poked their head around the corner of the kitchen, wet hair still dripping on their shoulders, the over sized shirt practically hanging off them. Yet, Papyrus immediately noticed the thin, vicious, jagged lines along their arms, the first thing his sight was drawn to. Frisk seemed to noticed and held their hands behind their back, only watching him for a while.

“... Made some spaghetti,” he offered them a plate, and they groaned in disgust. “Oh, come now, it's not that bad. I've been practicing lately.”

Frisk took a single, experimental bite, face scrunching up for a second.

“... Wow,” they stated glumly. “It's almost edible.”

Papyrus's soul sank and he sighed yet again, watching as they dropped the plate on the table.

“Any more hot chocolate?”

“All out,” he explained as he dug for something in the refrigerator. “But I did get something. Just in case.”

“... You remembered,” Frisk exclaimed in mild surprise as he handed them a cinnamon treat.

“Nyeah. Thought you might like one today. At least eat something,” he pleaded, and they at last nodded and practically devoured the thing in seconds, licking the tips of their fingers and letting out a small belch. He shook his head and motioned for them to follow. The howling wind outside rattled the windows, snowflakes falling heavier this time of evening. He dropped in exhaustion onto the couch and patted the seat beside him, and after a moment's deliberation Frisk clambered up next to him, drawing their knees up into the too-large shirt. It was quiet for a long time after that. Papyrus sat with his head in his hands, too many unpleasant thoughts all clamoring for attention all at once. It was starting to give him another headache.

“... We need to talk.”

“Can I at least have my knife back first?”

“No,” he insisted, earning a scowl from them. “It's... it's for your own good.”

“People always seem to think that they know better than me...” Frisk muttered after a second. “Those people always seem to wind up dead, too.”

“I... how long have you been... harming yourself?”

Instead of answering, Frisk just pulled their battered arms a little tighter around their knees, no longer looking at him. Their thin red eyes were locked in a thousand yard stare straight ahead, gazing onward to something that only they could see. Papyrus sighed. He carefully placed a hand on their shoulder, and it was immediately slapped away. Fear clawed at him. Had he passed boundaries again? The guilt and regret was distracting. The loneliness only crept in more. He missed his brother. He missed Undyne. He missed normality. Every passing moment felt like his soul was being crushed just a little more. But since when had that ever stopped him?

“Don't touch me.”

“I-I just...” his throat clenched up. “It's clear that you are hurting, human. I just want to help.”

“Some people can't be helped. I have told you that already, have I not?”

“That doesn't mean I'm just going to quit trying. You do know that, right?”

“Hmph. God. I shouldn't be surprised,” they rubbed their crimson eyes and shook their head. “Sometimes I forget that it's you I'm dealing with.”

“Likewise,” he admitted. “Honestly, some days it's like you're a completely different person.”

“You'd be surprised...” Frisk muttered darkly, and then shook their head. “I could say the same for you, bone boy.”

“What-what do you mean?”

“You think I haven't noticed?” they glanced up at him with an odd gleam in their eyes. “Every day it's like you're a little bit different. You're... you really aren't the same person that I thought I knew.”

Papyrus let out a weary breath through his nostril bone, clasping his hands together. He did not answer for a while, wondering just how much would be safe to reveal to them without sounding like a lunatic.

“... Why do you do this?”

“What?” Papyrus blinked himself out of his grim thoughts, tilting his head to the side to listen to them.

“You know what I'm talking about. Don't you?” Frisk stared up at him. “I mean, you have to.”

“Do what, exactly?”

“Why are you like this?” Frisk threw out their arms before huffily folding them together. “I mean, god. I used to think that I could predict anyone. Everyone. And then, all of a fucking sudden, out of all the people it could have been, you're the one that had to change. And then you keep being so god. Damned. Weird.”

“Nyeh, I do get that. Plenty of people think I'm weird.”

“Maybe it's for a good reason,” they side eyed him hard. “You're a weirdo.”

“Nyeh. Heh, heh hehe heh.”

“... What?” they glowered at him.
“This? Coming from you?” he chortled, fist partially hiding his smirk. “Frisk, you are way weirder than I am.”

“That's debatable.”

“I'm just stating facts,” he rolled his eye lights. “I'm not the one that can turn back freakin' time itself.”

“And yet, you remember anyway...” Frisk stared at him with those crimson orbs, a strange gleam in them. “Why? When? How? You aren't powerful. You aren't different. You aren't special.”

“Well golly gee gosh, always great to hear support from your friends.”

“I mean it,” they shifted on their knees, turning to watch him like a bird of prey. “Out of all of the times I've been through this hellhole, you – you have always been the same. At least, until everything went right to shit and my powers started fucking up.”

Papyrus sighed and rubbed his temples.

“I wish that I had a good answer to give you,” his lower back itched and ached for some reason, almost like something was spreading slowly through his bones the harder he tried to ignore it. “But I don't. I don't know why I'm like this. I don't even know how it happened. It all started when you showed up, so... so I guess I've been subconsciously blaming you for... well. For a lot more than I should, I suppose. And... and I'm sorry for that.”

“... Yeah,” Frisk looked away from him, their cheeks glowing. “I'm... I'm sorry, too.”

“So,” he tried to shift the topic away before it grew any more uncomfortable. “So. Tomorrow. Can... can we please just try to have a peaceful, normal day for once?”

“With everyone I meet trying to kill me?” they deadpanned up at him.

“I can protect you.”

“Bullshit.”

“I need to get you a swear jar,” he threatened, but there was no real effort or intent behind it. “But I'm serious. You... you said before that you always restart these repeating days waking up in the Ruins, right?”

“Yeah? I don't see where you're going with this.”

“... I've never actually been far into that place,” he admitted at last. “Not anywhere past that woman Toriel's home. What's... what's it like?”

“Monsters that always attack on sight...” Frisk shifted and looked away again. “Sometimes, you have to fight. Sometimes you have to kill to avoid being killed.”

“You're starting to sound like Flowey. You know that, right?”

“How so?”

“With his 'kill or be killed' mentality. It's extremely unhealthy.”

“So what if he's right?” they bit their bottom lip. “What if that really is the only way to survive?”

“Mercy is always an option...” he placed a hand on their shoulder as gently as he dared. “I know it's... it can be hard, sometimes. But you don't have to kill. I'm certain that if you just talk to people-”

“And act a certain way until they give up then everything will just work out peachy fucking keen, huh?” they spat in disdain. “I've tried that. A lot. And no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, someone always winds up dying. Someone is always going to try to kill you. You can't trust anyone.”

“Do you trust me?”

Frisk fell very, very still. Silent, stalwart and their cold gaze went right back ahead of them, eternally watching something that only they could see.

“... We're running out of time for this tonight,” Frisk noted after a few minutes of uneasy silence.

“Nyeah. I figured as much,” he sighed. “Maybe... maybe everything will be better tomorrow.”

“I doubt it,” they kicked their bare feet glumly. Papyrus tried not to notice just how many scratches and cuts they had on those as well. And somewhat equally upsetting was that he truly did not know whether or not they were from fighting or self inflicted. Both ideas were every bit as upsetting. His soul went out to the poor deluded creature.

“... We can try,” he pleaded, turning to them on the couch, sitting on his knees. “Can't we? We were so, so close before. When we all sat down and just talked for a while. It's really not hard...” Papyrus offered a shaky smile. “And I can be there for you when you need me! Just... please, please be on good behavior tomorrow?”

“Why?” Frisk frowned and stared down at their kneecaps. “What's the point?”

“Maybe there isn't one,” he admitted. “But you never know. If everything seems pointless, maybe you're just looking at the situation from the wrong angle. We can do this, together. We can make this work,” he pounded his fist into his palm, determination swelling in his soul. “Even if that means 'going off the path' -” and they flinched hard at this for some reason, “- we can still try. If you just cave in, if you just... give up, then you've already lost. You're one of the toughest people I've ever met!” Papyrus gave them what he hoped was a winning smile. “So... what do you say, human Frisk? We can do this. We can get through just one day, if we work for it. I just know it!”

“You are...” they pinched the bridge of their nose. “God. The most obnoxious asshole.”
“Nyeh. I get that a lot, too.”

“Hm. You know what?” Frisk glanced up at him, just a hint of a little smile on their pale lips. “... Sure. I... I think that I can manage. I can... I think I can handle that. Trying it your way, I mean. But only just this once,” they glowered at him. “If this backfires and we both wind up dead, don't you think for a fucking second that I won't be blaming you.”

“I can live with that,” he nodded. “I'm willing to try, if you are. We can do it. I just know we can! After all, you have the Great Papyrus to guide you,” he pressed a hand to his chest confidently. “All you need is someone to show you the right way; before you know it you'll be a better and happier person in no time at all! I'll have you know I've read tons of books on motivation. Maybe I could share some with you? You should always share with friends, you know.”

Frisk grew silent again after this, looking away into the dark corner of the room. Almost like they could see something that he couldn't. Their eye sight locked on tightly to the almost shimmering shadow. Weirdly, his focus drifted away from where they were staring, and multiple times. It was... unsettling, in a way. He wondered if there was something wrong with his mind. Like he was trying to concentrate on something he shouldn't be.

“... Hey. Frisk.”

“What is it, bone boy.”

“... I think we need to talk about Chara-”

0-0-0-0-0

The light filtered in gently through the stained glass windows, painting a macabre image of the ripped and torn tiles, rife with deep gashes and the aftermath of powerful bone attacks and weird scorch marks. That same human stalked right toward him down the hall, hardly breaking stride as they flipped the knife in their hand over and over again. They didn't even blink as they approached, and he spotted one of those 'save points' far away down the hall, gleaming and shining in that alluring way that made him want to try reaching out, but it was far too late for that. Too late for a lot of things.

Too late to turn back now-

He knelt slowly in the snow, feeling as though his soul was steadily cracking as he picked up a familiar red scarf from a pile of dust in the middle of the snowy road. He clenched it tightly in his bare hands, hot, angry tears streaking from his eye sockets and down his cheeks-

Unable to feel his limbs, he screamed for help. For a mother, a father, a sibling; someone, anyone at all, to come and save him. To rescue him from this living nightmare. Begging and pleading, weeping for help.

But nobody came.

But nobody came.

But nobody-

Papyrus's eye sockets tore open, the sound of a klaxon alarm ringing loudly beside his head.

He sighed, shakily dragged himself out of bed, and crossed off the Tuesday with a quick mark on his calendar. He was half dressed when he heard a tink at his window. He blinked and ignored it, finishing adorning his battle body, finally boots and gloves, before he heard another pebble bounce off his window, harder this time.

He carefully approached, glancing down and spotting a well-known, smiling little flower just... waiting in the ground below, face protruding from the snow. Flowey simply watched him for a moment, and gone was the normal wide smile on his face. His tall, thin eyes just observed him for several seconds before finally using a single protruding vine, and the gesture to follow seemed obvious enough. Papyrus had quite a few questions, and he was sick of beating around the bush. Time for some real answers.

So, against his better judgment, Papyrus let out a weary breath, yanked up the sill, and immediately hurtled himself out the window to face yet another day of madness with more than just a hint of mania in his smile all the way down.

0-0-0-0-0

Chapter Text

0-0-0-0-0

He could do this.

He needed to.

Papyrus was sick and tired of going in circles. It was time for action.

Granted, he wasn't entirely certain what that entailed, but he'd workshop it on the way.

Flowey vanished almost the moment that he hit the ground, and Papyrus wasn't all that surprised. Keeping the little monster in one place for long was nigh impossible. Kicked up snow dancing in the air behind him as he bolted down the back ways of Snowdin and to the main road, he could feel the determination and anticipation thrumming in his chest. As well as, strangely, something... else. He didn't want to contemplate that at the moment. Papyrus ignored the strange looks he got as he took off at a steady sprint over the road, right past that save point that almost called to him with that alluring golden light – don't pay attention to it, don't cave to the shrieking in his head, focus on the task. If he didn't think about it, then it wouldn't be a problem. He shook himself and pressed on a little harder than necessary, forcing his sockets to stare straight ahead as he sped past a couple of surprised walking monsters that were usually hanging out in front of Grillby's pub. Papyrus could have sworn that he heard some kind of muttering or whispering, but he ignored that, too. People could talk about him behind his back all they wanted. He was used to it.

He would not be stopped.

Not today.

He was panting for air and slightly slowed his frantic sprinting to a steadier pace, his rib cage burning. Half tempted to stop just to catch his breath, he gave himself a mental kick and lengthened his stride again despite his aching bones. He couldn't stop. Not now. There was no time to slow, no time to contemplate, no time to listen to the frenetic shouting in the back of his head that was getting harder and harder to ignore. Those strange black squiggles were slithering across the corners of his vision even as he rubbed his eye sockets with the flat of his gloves, never once missing a single step. He had been this way so many times before, Papyrus could almost make the trip with his sockets closed. It felt simultaneously familiar and uncomfortable at once, the dizzying sensation of deja vu almost overwhelming him. He shook his head and finally stopped at the clearing, breathing heavily through his nostril bone for a few long seconds, brow bones furrowed in concentration.

Papyrus took in a couple more unsteady breaths for good measure, the cool air soothing his aching chest. His phalanges twitched when he impulsively started reaching into his battle body for the banged up pack of cigarettes, and he flinched in reflex. He really was developing some nasty habits, wasn't he? But he didn't have time to linger on that, either.

He was sweating and out of breath by the time he finally arrived, using his scarf to mop his forehead and tried to still the frantic beating in his chest as best he could. It took longer than he would have liked to still his beating soul.

“Come out already,” Papyrus stared out over the serene clearing, folding his arms in impatience. “I don't have time for this, Flowey. I know you're hiding. Knock it off and get out here.”

“Do you just not like games or something?” the little monster popped from the ground a couple of feet in front of him, his petals curled inward as he stuck his tongue out at him playfully. “How droll. That's boring.”

“I do like games,” he shook his head. “But I don't have the time today, I need to know-”

“Nuh-uh-uh,” Flowey tittered and Papyrus noted only a moment before it happened that a vine was snaking its way around his wrist – but when he tried to jerk away from it he discovered that both his ankles had been subtly pinned by emerald appendages slithering silently into the earth, and he steeled himself. “That's not how this game works, silly! What is it with you and pushing all the rules, huh? Golly. Sometimes it's like you don't have a brain in that pretty head of yours.”
“Well technically...” Papyrus stated, deadpan. Flowey only gave him a flat, unamused stare in response before shaking his head, that plastic smile plastered right back on like it had never left.

“Papyrus,” the little monster looked up at him unblinkingly, that empty smile making something unpleasant along his spine itch terribly. “Can't we just talk like friends? Is that too much to ask, good buddy?”

“I'd be more inclined to display tokens of friendship if I weren't currently pinned in place,” Papyrus pointed down to his wrapped shins. And, to the skeleton's mild surprise, he was actually released. Slowly, steadily the vines left – they did not fall, exactly, but rather retreated into the snowy ground like burrowing serpents. It was extremely unnerving. He had mostly expected Flowey to maintain his grip on him regardless of his discomfort, but it appeared that the creature bouncing on his stem had no such intentions.

“Have a seat, Papyrus!” Flowey chirruped, nodding down to Papyrus's feet. Papyrus quietly sighed to himself and closed his eye sockets for a few long moments before making his decision. He really didn't have time for all this pomp and circumstance, he needed answers. It was abundantly clear that Flowey had something in mind, especially if he was willing to go through the trouble of leading him all the way out to the clearing this early in the morning. But he brushed aside some snow anyway, sitting cross legged before his friend. Someone he thought was his friend. Someone that he desperately wanted to still be friends with, anyway, despite the numerous uneasy thoughts bouncing around his head. He shouldn't even be doing this at all. After everything that he had witnessed, it was most certainly not a good idea to put even an inkling of trust in the little flower.

And, yet...

“... Why did you call me out here, Flowey?” Papyrus asked, trying not to sound as irritated as he felt.

“Does there have to be a reason?” he replied sweetly. Sickly sweet. Papyrus felt slightly ill despite himself. That nasty wriggling in his chest kept interrupting his thoughts.

“With you? There's always a reason.”

“Gasp! Papyrus, you wound me,” Flowey pouted, and Papyrus actually felt a strong twinge of guilt even when he tried to push it away to focus - “I don't know why you're in such a rush today, buddy. Maybe I just wanted to spend a little time with my pal! You know, before you ditch me for somebody else.”

“I-I wouldn't do that to you, Flowey...” he shifted awkwardly, feeling oddly smaller before the flower's scrutinizing, unblinking gaze.

“Of course not,” Papyrus was met with a knowing smirk, watching as Flowey shifted left and right on his stem. That familiar, almost expecting stare that he had grown so used to. He unwillingly found himself smiling a bit back at him, a combination of both habit and discomfort. “You always were such a dependable one. Speaking of which, I'm hoping that I can depend on you for something else-”

“Let me stop you right there,” Papyrus held up a gloved hand, earning an ever so slow brow raise from the monster. “Let me guess. You're about to tell me that you want me to kill the human. Again.”

“No, of course not, silly!” he felt a surge of relief. Right up until Flowey looked pensive and gave a little imitation of a shrug. “Well, I mean, I kind of thought that went without saying. You'll have to kill them sooner or later, you know,” that piercing stare wasn't the only thing that was making Papyrus's ethereal stomach churn. “But that's not what I called you out here for at all, good buddy! Golly. I never thought that it would come to this, but, well...” Flowey rolled a vine like a turning wrist. “I suppose you could say that I have this little issue that needs to be resolved.”

“Hence why you lured me all the way out here.”

“Oh, lured is such a... harsh word...” he tittered humorlessly. “Like I said, Papyrus! I just wanted to have a nice little chat before you rush off and do something foolhardy. Like, say, for example...” Flowey inspected the tip of a vine before gradually turning his gaze to the skeleton. “Breaking into the Ruins.”

Papyrus felt a cold shiver creep over his shoulders.

“Has anyone ever told you that it's rude to spy on people, Flowey?”

“Spying?” his smile stretched eerily wide. “Oh, goodness no. I was bluffing. You're just so predictable sometimes,” Flowey giggled. Papyrus's brow bones narrowed, his cheeks warming uncomfortably. Was he really that easy to read? “You know, Papyrus, I can practically hear the gears turning in your head. Careful not to hurt yourself, hmm?”

“If you don't mind,” Papyrus stood and brushed the snow from himself. “I'm on a tight schedule.”

“But-”

“No,” he snapped, swinging his arm in a cutting motion before dropping it to his side, hands curling into fists. “No. You know what, Flowey? No. No. I am not in the mood-” his soul bubbled darkly, “-for any games with you today. I am going to ask you a question. And then, you are going to answer it. Honestly. Understood?”

“... Wow,” Flowey ever so slightly raised a brow, amusement plain on his features. “You seem a little stressed, Papyrus. Still holding everything back, huh? Don't you know how much better you'd feel if you stopped that? Maybe it would even help. You're kinda frustrated.”

His breathed deeply through his nostril bone, fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles popped.

“Understatement, most certainly,” Papyrus replied dryly. “Where did you hear the name 'Chara' in the first place?”

“Oh. Just jumping right into it, huh,” Flowey immediately turned his gaze away, and although a small smile was still on his face, for just a moment it appeared to be slightly strained. “You must be serious.”

When Papyrus offered only silence, standing firmly in the gentle breeze as he stared down at him, Flowey finally gave his petals a little shake and smiled a bit more evenly, returning to his regular watchful expression.

“It's an old name,” he stated as if that explained it all. When Papyrus rolled his hand through the air, Flowey only shook on his stem and tittered. “Old, Papyrus. Very old. But that's the thing...” Flowey stared away into the distance, and for just a second he looked... pensive? “There are some things you were never meant to know. Old words, old names... they carry weight, Papyrus. Some, a little, some... some, a lot. You spoke, and sometimes, when you speak...”

Flowey's eyes narrowed to slits for a brief moment, twisting on his stem to stare right through him.

“Well. Be careful, reaching into the dark. Sometimes, there really is something there.”

“... Why is it that every time we talk, I always walk away with more questions instead of answers?”

“Tee hee, now you're starting to understand!” Flowey outright giggled, bouncing animatedly.

“You know what?” Papyrus threw up his hands in frustration. “Fine. You know what? It's fine. I will do whatever it takes to get some answers, I'll figure it out myself-!”

“There we are!” Flowey's head swiveled multiple times like a corkscrew as he pivoted upward on his stem, coming face to face with a very alarmed Papyrus, but the skeleton did not back away. “That. That's what I've been waiting for, Papyrus! Goodness, it certainly took you a while, huh?”

“What-wha-what are you talking about?” Papyrus shifted his weight from foot to foot, thoroughly unnerved from the animalistic stare.

“You, silly!” his grin almost looked to be tearing his face. “Golly, you can't begin to understand how long I've waited for you to figure it out,” Papyrus's eye sockets narrowed in uncertainty, but Flowey didn't appear to be about to attack, he should stay on his toes. “Just because there are things you aren't meant to know doesn't mean it's impossible. You can't get anywhere in this world just waiting for answers to come to you, you know, Papyrus? If you want answers, you have to find them. If you want something, you have to take it. If you want to live...” Papyrus yelped in alarm, tripping over the vines that had subtly chained his ankles to the ground as Flowey lurched over him, his face a twisted mockery of what it once was. “You have to KILL.”

Papyrus felt his breath catch in his chest, and the frantic, half-summoned magic he was grasping for was apparently for nothing, as within the next moment he was completely freed from the flower's grasp. Flowey dwindled back down to his normal (there is absolutely nothing normal about any of this) self, just sitting there harmlessly. Bouncing up and down on his stem.

Watching.

“F-Flowey-” Papyrus started, his soul beating so loudly in his chest that it felt as though he were ready to pop.

“Noper-oonie-doonie!” he giggled in that rehearsed laugh. “That's all you're getting for today. Why, if you were to linger here any longer, you might not even have time to stop that walking dust buster!”

“Dus- oh my god!” snow was kicked up in the air as he bolted through the pines, needfully snagging branches around him slapping and striking his face and exposed bones. He shouldn't have lost track of time! Something was wrong, something was right, everything was wrong – why was it so hard to focus? Were those tangling knots a result of untrimmed trees, or were those snatching tendrils reaching out from his mind? One whipped across his throat and yanked at his scarf and the all encompassing vines piercing and shredding him over and over-

Papyrus wiped his dripping eye sockets as he stumbled and tumbled right onto the main road, wheezing in pain. Although whether that was due to the sharp stinging on his person or the wretched screaming in his head, he couldn't tell. It felt like he was about to melt, but he dredged up a bit of green magic and sent the wavering conjured bone through his scratches and let it fade away.

Except, it didn't.

Certainly, the physical injuries were taken care of. But there was still the wringing ache in his soul. That awful shrieking in his head that wouldn't go away. All he could think of as he dragged his heavy boots over towards that familiar glimmering light was the constant distracting noise, the noise, the awful noise-

(ROOM 46: ROOM_TUNDRA3)

THE CONVENIENCE

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❄☟☜ 👍☼✌👍😐💧 👌☜☝✋☠ ❄⚐ ☹☜✌😐

The noise stopped. Or perhaps, there never was any noise at all. Did his soul always feel that straining pressure? Were those floating words in his sockets really there? He felt as though he should be more bothered by it. Papyrus released the golden gleam, his mind a blur of flickering images that he couldn't fully grasp, as if they were appearing and vanishing before he could actually recognize anything; and despite it all, he felt an unexpected rush of determination, his soul bolstered by sheer willpower alone. He felt as though he was feeling everything around him in a whirling miasma of colors, sights, sounds and sensations that he had been utterly blind to previously, and strangely enough, simultaneously dulled. The odd feeling of deja vu simply would not leave his spinning head, and it was accompanied by the horrid opinion that he was experiencing it for a reason that he could not comprehend. He didn't even recall going near that save point, nor when he touched it. Maybe he really was losing it completely.

Then he turned, took a couple of steps, and began violently vomiting into the nearest bush. Papyrus started to stand before that dizzying deja vu encompassed him, and he turned on his heel and puked again. His ephemeral insides twisted viciously and he hacked and coughed, grasping his knees for stability. He could feel his eye sockets burning yet again, almost as badly as his throat. It took a moment of uneasy shifting before his whole body wracked again, but all he could manage was a number of painful, twisting dry heaves. He wheezed and stood fully at last, nervous to allow that dangerous relief to creep back in for fear of what might happen should he reach for it, but it appeared that no more head splitting surprises were coming his way. Papyrus desperately hoped so, anyway. He wiped his mouth with the back of his glove and pulled it away to reveal an upsetting amount of dust.

Papyrus recoiled in disgust and horror, teeth clenched tight as he tried in vain to wipe it off in the snow. He gave himself a firm shake and took off at the quickest pace he dared, vowing not to even look at one of those awful hypnotizing lights again. But it was a hollow threat, and somewhere deep in his soul, he was very afraid to admit it. Those... things had some kind of hold on him that he simply could not explain. Perhaps that was why the human – why Frisk so frequently bothered with them. They were always so angry when they discovered he had anything to do with the saves. Maybe their frustration was a result of attempting to spare him from a similar fate? A part of him doubted that, but it was a nice thought. Anyone could be a good person, if they just tried. And there was goodness in them, Papyrus had no doubts about this. But sometimes, in order for a person to draw out the goodness in them, drastic action had to be taken.

Speaking of which, Papyrus indulged with a bit more force than he should have when he blasted a hole in the wall next to the giant door at the edge of Snowdin Forest. Granted, he used a significantly larger amount of magic than was even necessary, and as much as he refused to admit it, such an action was indeed cathartic. He flexed his wrists, satisfied, and clambered through the exploded opening; he froze immediately, however, eye sockets wide, rubble still crumbling away as he stared down an ever familiar caprine woman gawking back at him. Her terrified face carrying so much hurt , the cut across her cheek from what must have been detritus, the dust leaking hole in her side, the human clinging to a knife a bare meter away.

“Toriel-?” Papyrus barely managed to get a single word in before she collapsed to her knees before him. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe for sheer, outright shock stiffening his movements. His feeble attempts at healing went utterly to waste as the weeping woman fell to dusty pieces right before his sockets, his outstretched hand dragged down; and her eyes, it was being forced to look her in the eyes that might have been the hardest.

“I'm sorry!” he choked through his tears, clinging to her despite how useless it was, rocking back and forth on his knees. “Oh god, oh god forgive me I'm sorry, I'm s-so sorry, I just w-wanted to help...!”

“Prove to me,” Toriel wept openly as she disintegrated, every weak, pained gasp ricocheting around the stone hall. He cried in panic as he futilely attempted to hold her together, frantic actions useless while she used her remaining arm to stroke his bony cheek with a fading smile. “P-prove to me, you... are strong enough. Be... good,” she disappeared completely in his arms, the little white soul flickering just in front of him before shattering into countless pieces. Just like that. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how badly he wanted to make things better, it seemed so blatantly obvious that he couldn't save everyone. Maybe he couldn't save anyone at all.

He didn't know just how long he knelt in her dust.

Papyrus cried as the dust drifted through his gloved fingers. No silent tears, no stoic or composed actions in the slightest. Especially not when he felt a small, firm hand on his shoulder. He only cried harder. Loud, wet, ugly hysterical sobbing, and he hated every single moment of it. Papyrus sincerely wished that he had died instead. Maybe it would have been less painful. His soul felt twisted up in knots, he pulled at his socket with one hand before recalling exactly what his glove was coated in and felt the rather prudent urge to be ill again, his body and mind recoiling. It was his fault. Of course it was his fault. And the dust – stars help him, the dust . He was covered in it, he could taste it.

If he had the capacity to throw up again, he definitely would have.

The two of them stayed in that empty stone hall for a long, long time.

Papyrus's mad howls devolved from horrified crying, to dry, wracking sobs, to eventual pained hiccups. And Frisk stayed with him throughout the entire wretched experience, hand on his shoulder firm, but unexpectedly gentle. He wiped what he could from his face with the crook of his elbow, feebly hoping to cleanse some of the dust from himself. Neither of them spoke for the longest while. Papyrus most certainly did not wish to break the quiet, but at the same time that thick silence blanketing them was so smothering that anything else seemed preferable.

“... Hey,” Frisk whispered, a couple of fingertips tapping against his shoulder. “Um. Idi... Papyrus. Are... are you... are you okay?”

Perhaps it was the stress.

Perhaps it was the situation.

Perhaps it was the question itself.

He honestly did not know precisely what it was.

But something he tried to hold on to, something he tried to protect, something buried very, very deep within him just went...

Crack.

His head swiveled without making a single noise, eye sockets utterly devoid of light. Frisk flinched hard and withdrew, pulling their dust covered hand away, the other still clutching that familiar pocket knife. He stood then. Slowly, calmly, deliberately. He towered over Frisk and they automatically backed away a step, eyes wide and lips drawn into a tight line, gaze flicking back and forth across his features as if trying to read him.

This whole situation felt like he was watching a horror movie through his own eye sockets. It couldn't have been real, none of it was real, he was simply trapped in a nightmare. That was the most obvious explanation. This couldn't be happening because it wasn't happening, the Great Papyrus would never do something like this. It wasn't murder, it was an accident , he wasn't responsible for this. There was too much screaming in his head, his very soul rejecting his wretched sinful body. But that shouldn't be right, he wouldn't do this, he could never harm someone like this, not even on accident. He couldn't have been. But her dust was still there, spattered across his battle body, all over his gloves. He could feel it all, far too clearly, far too real . But he knew deep down that it wasn't, it wasn't true, none of it was, because Papyrus wasn't the kind of person to get innocent people hurt. Papyrus wasn't the kind of person who made mistakes like this. Papyrus was a good person .

… Right?

Crack.

“... It was an accident,” Papyrus stated in a tone much gentler, much calmer than either of them anticipated.

“But-”

“It was an accident,” he repeated blankly. “Just. An. Accident.”

“... Yeah,” Frisk turned their crimson eyes away from him, staring blankly down into the dust. “An accident. People have accidents all the time.”

“I-” Papyrus's throat felt too tight for him to breathe. “I'm sorry. Oh god. This-this wasn't supposed to happen,” his eye sockets stung and burned, but he didn't know if he could even shed a single tear anymore. He could still feel the dust on his cheek, on his arms, on his gloves. Like it had stained him and there was no washing it off. “I'm so sorry. I... I just wanted to help,” the sheer desperation in his cracking voice echoed down the corridor, and Frisk just stood before him, staring upward with a strange expression. “I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I-I just... I only wanted to make things better, not make it worse. Oh C-Christ I can never make this right.”

“... Maybe you can fix this,” Frisk murmured just loudly enough for him to hear. Papyrus blinked through his wavering sight, not even bothering to wipe his sockets this time. His thoughts were so disjointed and strange, that staticky crackle wafting through his head only momentarily dulled by the slow realization that Frisk was not pulling his hand away from the grisly sight. Instead, they slowly, carefully positioned his hand around their throat.

“... If I die... everything resets,” Frisk explained in a quiet, even tone, not even once dropping their firm gaze from his shocked one. He felt his phalanges tighten incrementally, bit by bit, around the neck of the creature that had been making his life an inescapable agonizing living hell for months. Seemingly endless torture that never seemed to end. The serial killer that had walked through his dust and slaughtered people he had sworn to protect. And this time, they weren't even fighting at all. “We can fix this. Just... just make it quick.”

Papyrus said absolutely nothing at all as he met their determined stare, his sockets gradually closing. Frisk did not attempt to move out of his grip. His fingers tensed and tightened, he didn't even hear the human breathing anymore. He knew on every level imaginable that this was wrong. He knew that it was a terrible idea. Papyrus knew that if he even considered such a wicked, deliberate action, then no rerun possible could ever truly wash away his sins. A part of him fully understood that things would never really be the same, like his soul would completely break. A part of him so desperately wanted to change fate itself. A part of him just wanted things to be okay.

And another, louder, angrier part of him really didn't care anymore.

… CRACK.

0-0-0-0-0

Things were very much not okay.

Papyrus felt numb as he busied himself in the kitchen. He tried a few times to hum a old tune that he heard a couple of times in Waterfall, but he couldn't quite grasp exactly what it was no matter how hard he tried, and eventually gave up altogether on the prospect. The golden flower tea was hot and the scent wafted through the room, but he didn't really care much for it. The steaming cups he carefully carried over to the table were placed without a word. He was so, so tired. All he wanted was a bit of rest, but he knew for a fact that it wouldn't help. Maybe at this point, he was beyond help.

At long last, he pulled out a chair and sat down at the corner, right next to the guest at the head of the table.

“... I do not fucking get you,” Frisk stated calmly as they sipped at their steaming tea. Papyrus tried very hard not to look at the bruise like a collar wrapped around their neck.

“Nyeah. Me neither.”

“You should have killed me, you know.”

“So you've told me. At least six times now.”

“Do you honestly think you would be shown mercy,” Frisk asked as they swirled their fingertip around the edge of the teacup. “You know. Were the positions reversed?”

“I can hope,” Papyrus didn't bother with his own tea. He had infused it with a significant amount of his own magic, and seeing their bruise slowly begin to fade only served to make him feel worse. One more horrible thing he had done to add to his steadily growing list.

“... You're staring again.”

“Sorry,” he shifted his gaze down to his drink, the murky reflection glaring judgmentally back at him.

“Look man. I already told you, it's fine.”

“Okay.”

“So stop feeling bad about it.”

“Okay.”

“And stop saying 'okay' already!”

“Okay-”

“Listen here you bony fuck,” Papyrus jolted out of his reverie when he felt his scarf being dragged down to their level, face to face. “I did as you asked – I was on good behavior today. Yeah, sure, I get that you fucked up. People do that, it happens. But you're the one who didn't want to fix your mistakes, when I offered you the goddamn solution to your problem. So,” Frisk clasped his cheekbones with their palms. “Stop dwelling on it, quit your bitching, and don't roll over just because you messed up; does that sound like something 'the Great Papyrus' would do? Does it?”

“I-”

“You're goddamn right it's not!” Frisk yanked him by the collar, actually fluffing it up a little and forcing his chin up. “You are an obstinate, obnoxious pain in the anus! You don't give up for anything, even when it's a clear detriment to your health – you either get kicked and stay down to get kicked some more, or you get your shit together and start kicking back! So what's it gonna be-?”

Frisk might have been saying something else, but Papyrus couldn't really tell.

He pulled them into a shaky but tight hug, tears streaking down his cheeks as he held them close. Frisk pushed their face out of his chest but did not pull away, and against anything he would have ever expected, actually wrapped their arms around and hugged him back.

“... Thank you, Frisk,” Papyrus tried very hard to maintain even the slightest form of composure, in spite of all the dreadful thoughts crawling up his back, a weak but determined smile growing. “Just... thank you.”

Frisk only sighed through their nostrils and shook their head, eventually placing their forehead against his shoulder and giving him a squeeze.

“... Anytime, idiot.”

0-0-0-0-0

Chapter Text

0-0-0-0-0

Being in someone else's building always left Papyrus feeling awkward.

That feeling, however, was nothing compared to being in the home of the woman whose life he had just ended.

The entire house felt different. Certainly, nothing that he was comfortable with. The light aroma of cinnamon and something sweet intermingling, wafting through the air only ghosted over the awful scent of dust that clung to his clothes like prickling barbs. He tried very hard not to think about it. It wasn't doing any good. No matter how long he washed himself in the kitchen sink, it didn't seem to help in the slightest. He peeled his sopping wet gloves off and doused his hands again and again, watching his sins circling the drain. Papyrus's eye sockets felt glued open. He wanted to let out the infernal shrieking in his head that wouldn't seem to go away, but at this point it felt more like a constant that he had been ignoring. He certainly wished that he could ignore it harder. It didn't seem to be going away anytime soon.

Papyrus could not even bring himself to cry anymore. He'd been doing plenty of that as it was. Perhaps he was completely cried out by now. He wanted to believe so, anyway. His head was still pounding furiously, and there was a terrible itch behind one eye socket that wouldn't go away no matter how he scratched and rubbed at it. Attempting to distract himself from the living horror that he was apparently stuck with today, he half hummed a tune he'd heard somewhere, something he could have sworn he heard a long time ago. And yet, no matter how he tried, he could not quite manage to put his finger on exactly where it came from. It was eerily familiar though. He found it odd; focusing on it only served to make his headache worse.

Sighing wearily, he put on his newly washed gloves after bathing himself at the sink. It had taken quite a bit longer than he had anticipated and a lot of effort, but he at last managed to scrub away the majority of the dust from himself. Slipping his gloves back on, he still couldn't help but feel thoroughly tainted. It was an accident, after all. Just like the human – just like Frisk said – people made mistakes, everyone had accidents. But that didn't make him feel any better in the slightest. If anything, he only felt worse. Sure, nobody was perfect, but he was supposed to be – he needed to be better. How was anyone supposed to look up to a screw up like him after everything he had gotten wrong?

How was he supposed to tell anyone about what a failure he was? If that was even possible, anyway, which he was mostly certain it was not. He couldn't tell Undyne about this no matter how badly he wanted to run right to her to ask for advice. He couldn't bring it up with Frisk, they were not necessarily a great reference for morality, all things considered. They had experience with the whole... killing thing, and as thoroughly upsetting as that was, he did not want to burden them with the weight he was carrying. They had enough on their plate as it was. But who else was he even supposed to turn to in such a dreadful situation?

There wasn't a snowdecahedron's chance in hell that he could ask his brother for help. Stars and stones, there was no way that he could ever let Sans discover what a wretched excuse for a sibling he was. He wanted to change this horrible day for the better, fix his mistakes, make things right.

But perhaps some things were just too pricey for his taste. He shook his head, leaning on the doorway with an umpteenth sigh. Papyrus's phalanges shook over the button on his cell phone. All it would take was one call, and if Sans actually bothered to pick up this time maybe... but no. He pushed away his loneliness and misery, tucking the device away. His thoughts were a confusing jumble. Maybe there was another option that he just wasn't seeing. He thumped his head against the door frame, over and over, letting out a miserable groan. Toriel was gone.

She was gone, it was all his fault.

And he didn't even have the strength to bring her back. Granted, the position he had been in at the time wasn't necessarily one in which he had been mentally 'all there'. But really, when was the last time that he had felt even just a little bit normal, even slightly in control?

Frisk had offered it to him.

A chance to change fate.

And he rejected it.

He closed his eye sockets and sank a little bit at the time, turning against the wall until he was completely slumped on the ground, arms slack. He could have fixed everything and started from scratch, finally made the perfect day happen. After all, he had already killed one innocent person. So, really, if he ended the life of just one more...

Papyrus shook his head fiercely, disgusted at even thinking such an awful thing. No, he quietly deliberated. There was no way that he would ever do that. He didn't want to ever contemplate going down such a treacherous path. What kind of absolutely terrible person was he becoming, even momentarily considering such cruelty, that level of wickedness? He didn't have that kind of evil inside of him. Hopefully.

And yet, the thick bruise wrapped around Frisk's neck displayed otherwise. He wanted to wretch and scream and cry all at once, and weirdly enough, outright laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all. Undyne was so much stronger than he was. She probably could have done it without a second thought.

Rethinking that yet again, maybe that wasn't exactly a good thing, either. She certainly seemed to have something against humans, though as to why she was so vehemently against them, Papyrus had never received an answer. He had tried plenty of times, it took him a little too long to realize that it was obviously a sore point and still felt guilty about it. But Undyne was a complicated person, if she was going to discuss it with him, she would do it in her own time.

Unfortunately, time was something that he simultaneously had too much and too little of. He chortled humorlessly despite himself. There was absolutely nothing funny about any of this. Not even a little. He felt bad for laughing. And worse, he felt bad that he clearly didn't feel bad enough. Maybe he really was losing it altogether.

He gave himself a firm shake and pushed up from the floor, standing on trembling legs. Maybe things would be better tomorrow, as unpleasant as that sounded, Frisk did make a good point. Tomorrow, all that they had done wouldn't even matter. If things didn't stick this way, that is. The clock would be rewound, the next rerun might be better. He had to hang onto that hope, despite how much it hurt.

He had to stay determined.

Those strange black squiggles in the corners of his sockets were clinging to his vision again and he tried over and over again to rub them away, to little avail. There was a strange noise in his mind that he couldn't quite identify, nor focus on. It was entirely possible that he was losing his mind. He didn't dismiss the thought immediately, anyway. In fact, it would explain quite a bit more than he was comfortable with. Sometimes he wished that he was simply mad. But that was no reason to just give up. So long as there was even the slightest chance, then he would keep going, keep trying. Even that was not enough. He needed to try harder.

Poking his head into the dark room, his gaze settled on the slowly rising and falling lump on the bed.

Frisk was curled up in a little ball on the bed, and Papyrus let out a weary breath through his nostril bone. Standing over them and observing more closely, careful not to make a sound, several things occurred to him. They were so very small in comparison to everyone else, roughly the same size as Sans. Practically tiny. How could anyone so little cause so much carnage? It boggled the mind. His poor narcoleptic brother reminded him of the little human, in a weird way, and vice versa. Sans had so many nightmares, and with his condition Papyrus couldn't help but worry. Even Frisk seemed to be having an unpleasant dream. They shivered with their arms tucked inward, trembling periodically. An unfamiliar tenderness settled in his soul, seeing that they were safe and somewhat sleeping. At least that awful bruise seemed to have healed up a bit, even if not by much. Just one more regret. One more mistake.

It won't be over until the human lies dead at your feet.

Papyrus's stomach churned violently.

He didn't want anyone else to fall down today. Not even them, no matter what he might accomplish from it. Going in their sleep, though, would probably not be a bad way to go. It was likely that they wouldn't even realize what had happened. They had killed him, plenty of times, and he had forgiven them for that. Even if their actions sometimes made his marrow boil.

Maybe he was still just a teensy bit bitter.

One quick motion, a fast blast of magic. Heck, he didn't even really need to use magic for that. Papyrus could easily end this rerun right here, just a calculated, powerful snap and it would be done. He didn't want to hate himself this much. He could fix everything. He could make things normal again.

He could make things right .

Papyrus slowly, cautiously drew up the crumpled blanket and carefully covered them as gently as he dared, careful not to wake them. He tucked them in and left without another word, not even looking back as he slipped out the door. And yet, those awful, unthinkable thoughts followed him regardless. He meandered down the hallway in a direction he had not yet been, passing a wooden stand with a potted plant sitting atop it. He frowned at the innocent yellow flower, as if just glowering at it would alleviate his stress, but no such thing happened. A little drawer caught his attention, and he curiously pried it open to discover a few broken crayons and, significantly more upsetting, a number of crude, childlike drawings. His soul sank in his chest and he felt the urge to be ill again, quickly closing the drawer. He didn't want to think about it. If he refused to think about it, then it wouldn't be a problem. He doubted that anything could be gained from mulling that particular discovery over, and if there was, he was fairly sure that he would be unhappy with the knowledge. But still, he was curious. He couldn't just let it go. He was Papyrus; he always needed the answer to the puzzle. The silence in Toriel's home hung on him like a boulder, his shoulders slumping; the quiet was so thick and heavy that he could have cut it with a knife. Sighing once more, he dragged his heavy feet further on, unwilling to discover anything else. Traipsing about the home of a dead woman, definitely not one of his better ideas. Another door not far away seemed to be locked and the other actually opened to what must have been her room. None of this felt even remotely real.

He entered without a word, taciturnly latching the door behind him. Not entirely sure why he was even doing what he was doing, he drifted like a ghost over the floor to a desk neatly tucked against a wall. Papyrus ran his phalanges against an open book and was surprised to see that the diary entry was today's date. Some of her last thoughts, recorded right before him. He felt as though he were living in a dream, experiencing something that simply could not be. It certainly felt vivid, though. And wrong, to boot. Was it an invasion of privacy, doing something like this, if she was already... gone? His thoughts meandered to the page against his urging to simply leave, and he found his regret blossoming even further.

Why did the skeleton want a friend?

Because she was feeling BONELY.

Papyrus outright snorted, covering his small smile despite himself, but it faded quickly. It was an awful, cheesy pun. The woman seemed to have a liking for those. Sans would have liked her. His soul twisted in painful knots and he closed the book, chest aching. A large bed in the corner beckoned him, he so desperately wanted to just curl up and go to sleep and let this awful day be over so that he could do things the right way. But he knew for a fact that no amount of sleep would help. Maybe it never would. He was so, so tired . He eventually turned and left, feeling more and more like an intruder the longer he stayed in that room, and was glad to close the door behind him. Pacing up and down the hall definitely wasn't helping either his mood or the situation in the slightest.

A long mirror decorated the end of the hall, and Papyrus could barely manage to look himself in the sockets. He half expected his reflection to twist or morph in some unsettling manner. It had done so several times previously. But nothing happened. Nobody came. Seeing his reflection just standing there as he was, staring, was... somehow more upsetting. His shoulders were slumped, he stood slouched, arms slack at his sides. He didn't even have the strength to put on a front anymore. After all, what was the point? Nobody could possibly look up to him as he was now. He had done something terrible. He'd considered some truly diabolical things. Was he even really the Papyrus he thought he was? Every single rerun, every passing day, he felt as though he were losing little pieces of his mind at a time. He felt as though he were losing himself. His mind was a confusing labyrinth of frustration and fear and crumbling hope and anxiety. How was he supposed to be the best possible 'him' that he could, if he was losing his very grasp on who he was?

Papyrus drew out his soul, cautiously as he could; that upside down heart, devoid of white light, drenched in that oily substance. He frowned at the thing, disgusted as it inevitably wafted back into his sternum. Such a foul looking thing. He hadn't always been this way. He wasn't insane. He wasn't losing himself.

Right?

It was only after Flowey had 'helped' him that one cold night, so many reruns ago. But if everything would eventually reset, why hadn't he ? Why was his soul like this? Flowey stated otherwise, but Papyrus definitely believed that there was something very, very wrong with his soul. Why did he remember things almost nobody else could? Everything even remotely related to Flowey seemed to be buried in mystery. The little monster's words bounced around in his head, that 'awakening' he had mentioned. He didn't really feel any more awake than every other day. Just extra tired. The terms and phrases Flowey threw around only left him more befuddled. He wondered if there was anything Frisk might know. Maybe they could even be able to help return things to normal. That is, if he even knew what normal entailed anymore. How many months had it been altogether? Papyrus had legitimately started to lose count. Several, at the very least. He really should be keeping a proper record, there was a possibility that it could help. He leaned his forehead against the mirror, letting out a weary sigh. He needed to fix this, repair this broken world, end the constant repeating day so that everyone could get through to tomorrow.

Frisk knew quite a bit more about it than he did, he was certain. So did Flowey.

Then again, there was a time when the world finally managed to move forward a single day.

A timeline where everything was wrong.

A timeline where loved ones were gone.

A timeline without Flowey .

He frowned and turned away, rubbing his eye sockets. He had washed his gloves and hands so many times, but he couldn't help but feel as though he were still tainted with dust. It took physical effort to resist the urge to rush back to the kitchen sink and scrub himself again, he knew for a fact that it wouldn't do any good. He hadn't heard Frisk rise from their slumber, nor did he want to wake them at all. If they needed a nap, he wasn't going to force them onward. Papyrus didn't really want to continue with this messed up day, either.

He slipped out the front door and stood in the yard, staring about at a large bare tree, branches scraping upward. All of the crispy red leaves over the ground seemed to have come from that tree, but that yellow gleam-

Papyrus jolted away from the save point, deeply unnerved that he had begun reaching for it without any thought whatsoever. Frisk had explicitly warned him of the possibility of the rerun 'saving' what had happened. As if his actions would be locked in place should he even attempt such a thing, and he most certainly did not want that at all. He wanted Toriel to come back. He wanted this awful dust off of him. He just wanted things to be right again.

“... What are you waiting for?”

Papyrus shrieked and yanked one leg in the air, backing away several steps before finally recognizing the tiny smiling flower poking out from some of the leaves.

“... A little jumpy today, huh, Papyrus? Hello? Anybody there? Snap back to reality, Papyrus.”

“Flowey,” Papyrus said in a tone much calmer than he actually felt, crossing his arms to hide his trembling hands.

“Golly. You know,” Flowey tilted left and right on his stem, gaze locked firmly onto him. “I have to admit, Papyrus. Every time I think I've got you all figured out, you just keep on pulling out one surprise after another. It's always something new with you. It's interesting, I do have to admit.”

Papyrus did not answer. He shifted his footing and clenched his arms just a bit tighter, feeling an uncomfortable chill settle over his back.

“You certainly don't seem to be very talkative, huh, Papyrus?” Flowey smiled up at him sweetly. “Come on, good buddy. You look like you're bothered by something. You know that you can always talk to your good pal Flowey, right?”

“Maybe I don't want to discuss it...” he stated in a quiet tone. “Besides. I think we're both sure that you already know what happened.”

“Goodness me, learning quickly!” that cold, emotionless titter sounded like tinkling glass in the air. “I see quite a bit, Papyrus. Can I help it that you're an entertaining individual?”

“Entertainment,” Papyrus repeated numbly. “A woman just died. Because of me. And you call that entertainment.”

“You make it sound as if I should be bothered or something...” Flowey outright smirked. “Besides. I think we're both sure that I'm not.”

“Is this all some sick game to you?” a scowl etched itself onto his face.

“More than you could possibly fathom, good buddy.”

“I-” Papyrus wanted to be sick again, but he doubted he even had the capacity. That horrid itch behind his eye socket flared up again and he rubbed at it with his palm. He half expected Flowey to take off the moment he looked away, but against his expectation the little monster stayed where he was, watching his every move.

“You could have resolved the issue easily, you know...” Flowey said calmly, looking the exhausted skeleton up and down. “You have a really unhealthy relationship with that human, Papyrus.”

“Oh, what would you know?” he snapped, his bones burning furiously, the heat creeping into his face with uncomfortable speed. Flowey did not immediately respond, but one thin eye did begin to twitch, just ever so slightly. “You think you know everything, Flowey?”

“Pretty much,” he actually sounded honest.

“And you lied to me!” Papyrus stamped a foot against the ground, crisp red leaves stamped into the dirt. “I listened to you, I offered you a token of my trust, and you lied to me!”

“Oh?” Flowey's face... twisted darkly, his smile ripping across his face, wide and eerie. “Now, now. We're best friend's, Papyrus. And best friends don't lie to each other. Perhaps you could provide an example?”

“About the hum- about Frisk,” he corrected himself automatically. “Earlier! You said they were on another one of their sprees!”

“Did I now...?” Flowey's petals curled backward and his head tilted ever so slightly to the side. “Because that's not how I remember it at all. Are you certain that there isn't something terribly wrong with your memory, Papyrus?”

“My memory is fine!” his face only burned brighter, the overwhelming frustration and anger flooding his hectic thoughts. “You said that they were dusting people...!”

“I did no such thing,” that unsettling face morphed back into a cheerful smile. “Your mind is playing tricks on you again, Papyrus.”

“I-I, it's not – you implied-”

“By what, exactly?” Flowey giggled and leaned back and forth on his stem a few times. “Talking about that killing machine hiding in Toriel's house? Come now, Papyrus. You and I are both fully aware of what that thing is capable of. It is no fault of mine if you misunderstood. Golly, I could hardly get a word in edgewise before you took off like a crazy person.”

“I am not crazy!” Papyrus blurted, his eye sockets stinging. Didn't he know? Didn't he realize at all? “I'm not – I am not crazy, I am fine, I am normal, I am perfectly rational!”

Flowey just responded with that blank, painted on smile. For some reason, it only served to infuriate him further. Papyrus clasped the sides of his head and squeezed, trying hard to force down that horrible noise that wasn't even there, his breath catching in his chest.

“I...” he hiccuped miserably. “I'm... I'm not. I'm not crazy, Flowey.”

“I believe you,” Flowey nodded in a peaceful fashion. His scrutinizing gaze lingered for just a moment longer before he blinked and smiled widely. “Perhaps you are entirely within your right mind.”

“It's a good thing-”

“So what you're telling me is that you were fully aware of what you did...?” his thin eyes widened. “You murdered her, knowing full well that she would be where you expected, huh Papyrus?”

“Wh- no!” Papyrus blurted in horror. “I-”

“And then,” he continued gleefully. “You had the opportunity to change fate itself, to save the life of a single person. And you turned it down,” he giggled. “Because you didn't want to harm anyone else? Or, perhaps...” Flowey's expression grew serious. “You like the outcome. You have grown attached to that human. It's pretty obvious. But Toriel?” his smile stretched unnaturally wide. “Practically a stranger to you. Why should it really matter whether she lives or dies? After all, you don't have to face the consequences of your actions. You can break the rules. And get away with it. You're not like the others, Papyrus. You're different. You're special. You're awake.”

Papyrus did not really know how to respond to such a statement. He could only stand, stunned, arms slack at his side as his mind reeled.

“... When will you realize?”

“I could ask you the same question, Papyrus,” Flowey cocked a thin eyebrow at him.

“This... this isn't right.”

“And yet, it is the future that you chose. You, you are the one who actively decided to allow this run to continue in this manner,” he stated firmly. “You are the one who ignored my advice. But it's not really your fault, huh, Papyrus? It's them. That human. Why, if it weren't for them, nobody would have had to die. That creature is a freakish, unrelenting killer. What is it? Why are you looking at me that way? I'm right. Just because they didn't kill anybody this time doesn't mean that they won't in the future. An accident, on purpose, same result. Out of fear, or desperation, or frustration. Sooner or later, you have to get it; in this world, it's kill or be killed.”

“And you're wrong.”

“Pardon?” he blinked.

“You're wrong,” Papyrus stared him down with a hollow gaze. “You are wrong. You still don't realize...” his fists clenched tighter and tighter. “The world isn't like that. I'm not-”

“Not what, Papyrus~?” Flowey contorted and coiled upward on his stem until he was eye level with Papyrus. “Not a killer?” he giggled, following too closely as Papyrus instinctively withdrew a single step. “But you are, hm? Even if you didn't mean to – you aren't the same anymore. Pieces are falling into place for you. Just because you don't like the picture it paints, you think that you can just ignore it? Because, you should know better; that doesn't make things better, good buddy. How long are you going to cower in denial? Anyone can be a killer, Papyrus. Literally. Anyone. Even you. And now...?”

Flowey's high pitched laughter echoed around the stone cavern, an audible drill forcing its way into Papyrus's head. He dwindled back into the ground, staring up at the skeleton with that same eager stare.

“Now you know what it feels like. You got the ball rolling, and once it starts, there is no stopping it. But it doesn't have to be that way, Papyrus. What will you do, I wonder...?” Flowey's face dripped as though it were melting, his fanged expression morphing into a disturbing caricature of Toriel's face. “Can you prove that you are strong enough to survive?”

“What in the fu-”

“Or will you give up entirely on this world?” Flowey returned to normal almost immediately, his smile wide. “Don't you worry your pretty little head, Papyrus. I have no intention whatsoever to divert your... journey. Quite the opposite, in fact. This is so much more interesting.”

Papyrus was left completely and utterly alone. It was as if Flowey had never even been there at all. He just stood there in the leaves, his mind a careening train wreck of unpleasant things he didn't ever want to consider at all. He eventually shook his head, rubbed his temple with two fingers and drew out a familiar crumpled pack from his battle body. He lit the cigarette and took a heavy drag, blowing out a long, unsteady stream of smoke. He didn't want this to be the new 'normal', everything was so very wrong on every level imaginable. He wanted to be the hero that people needed. He wanted things to go back to the way they were. He wanted to make things right .

He wanted to be the person he wished he could be, instead of the person that he really was.

Papyrus closed his weary eye sockets, knelt down before the gleaming yellow light, and felt just a little bit more of his sanity leak away.

0-0-0-0-0

Chapter Text

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus was not necessarily certain of where or when or even how he was anymore.

He drifted quietly through the abyss, the eternal emptiness casting him adrift. And some strange, small part of him was actually okay with that. It was quiet, at least, a little part of him was able to consciously register. That was nice. How long had it been since things had slowed down enough for him to really enjoy anything? Sometimes, one just needed to take a step back and appreciate things, even if that was technically nothing at all. But it had to be something, right? If there were nothing around him, how could he spot those strange letters blipping in and out of the corners of his eye sockets? Surely he was imagining them. Maybe it was all imaginary. Either way, it was peaceful.

A piece of his mind that was still rational – albeit thoroughly dampened at the moment – could easily recognize that this was not normal in the slightest, and that he should probably be panicking. And yet, he found some solace in the silence, the endless dark, a soothing, welcoming embrace that until now he hadn't even realized that he wanted or needed. In a strange, alien sense, he felt almost shielded from something, though he did not know what. Like if he looked just a bit harder into the dark, he could almost see something.

Something strange.

Something familiar.

Something wrong.

Throughout the ceaseless seas of black he floated, gravity and direction utterly irrelevant. He was fine with that, too. Were his eye sockets closed? He couldn't see anything either way, so perhaps it didn't matter. Papyrus could not really remember what it was that had him so very bothered. After all, he couldn't do anything about it, so what was the point anyway?

And yet...

Something vibrant burned in his soul. Something fiery and determined, a force broiling within him that refused to die, constant and insistent that he press onward. Papyrus found himself unconsciously reaching out, his waning thoughts unheard. That flame in his chest scorched his bones, drawing him, if not dragging him toward a future he could not see, a puzzle, a code he had not yet deciphered. The uneasy sensation continued to grow and mutate against his wishes. He just wanted to rest for a little while, but something was off and now that he knew it he couldn't go back. Something he couldn't put his finger on, something was wrong, why couldn't he focus? He twisted and struggled against invisible wires, reaching up and up to break the surface, fighting every moment against the peaceful tuneless elegy calling him back down. Had he fallen? It certainly felt like it, the thrumming wind in the dark, the sound of-

It sounds like it came from over here... oh!

You've fallen down, haven't you...

Are you okay?

Here, get up.

Chara, huh?

That's a nice name.

M y n a m e i s –

0-0-0-0-0

“Idiot! That's what you are, you goddamned idiot!”

“Oh. Oh joy,” Papyrus muttered wearily, the throbbing headache returned in full force.

“You fucking braindead,” Frisk slammed him by the shoulders into the ground, crumbling red leaves crackling beneath him, only serving to compound the painful thumping in his head. “Incompetent, moronic, selfish, ignorant insufferable oaf!”

“Good morning,” he wheezed, wondering why his chest felt so heavy. Perhaps it had something to do with the human kneeling on his rib cage. Frisk balked at him, meeting his dazed, deadpan stare. “You look frustrated by something.”

“I thought you were dying you fucking imbecile!”

“Can you please stop shouting?” Papyrus flinched, rubbing his aching temples while Frisk quickly sidled away to stand from his chest and brushed themself off. “I have got a serious migraine right now.”

“I'm not shouting!” Frisk shouted. “What did you do?” they glowered at him as he struggled to sit properly, propping himself up on his elbows and glancing around as if seeing again for the first time as he stood. “I know you did something stupid again – how many times do I have to tell you?”

“Seven.”

Frisk responded by kicking him hard in the shin, and he yelped and hopped on one leg before stamping the ground.

“Was that really necessary?” Papyrus scowled.

“Likewise!” Frisk openly seethed, throwing an open hand toward the gleaming yellow light. He had to force his gaze away, like just staring at the thing was physically drawing him closer. Papyrus rubbed the back of his neck for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. “Yeah. That's what I thought. Do – not – mess with those again, dumbass!”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“But why though?”

“Why are you like this?!” they pulled at their hair, seemingly ready to rip it out from sheer frustration. “Christ on a cupcake, I knew you were thick, but are you actually that goddamn stupid?”

“You are making a heavy donation to the swear jar.”

“I think you're focusing on the wrong part of what I'm saying...” Frisk pinched the bridge of their nose, letting out a long, irritated breath. They finally clapped their hands together, giving him a firm, even stare. “Those aren't for you, understand? For all we know, you interfering could be what's fucking up the entire timeline; and I swear to god, if I find out that somehow, you're behind all of this shit you've put me through?” their crimson eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, fist clenching in their pocket around what was assuredly the handle of that awful pocket knife. “There is absolutely nothing in this or any reset that will ever fix what I do to you.”

“Ooh. Ominous,” Papyrus stated numbly, hope standing firm that they didn't see just how badly his hands were trembling as he tucked them over his chest. The scary part is that they were probably telling the truth. “So, if we're all done trashing the Great Papyrus, can we get moving already?”

Frisk only stared at him for several long, uncomfortable moments.

“Kind of expected you to wanna stay put,” Frisk admitted.

“Oh. Sure. That sounds delightful,” his eye socket twitched hard. “Let's just stay a while in the home of a woman I just accidentally murdered.”

“Eh...” they shrugged, heading inside the house before he did but tilting their head to glance back at him. “Is it really murder if it's an accident?”

“That's not something I want to ever discuss,” Papyrus's ephemeral stomach churned violently. “Literally ever. Also, let's just say that I have a feeling we're being... observed.”

“By wh- oh.” Frisk's expression blanked, and they seemed to curl in on themself. Their eyes darted back and forth, observing with a careful look around the house. Papyrus latched the door and let out an uneasy breath, wishing to simply curl up in a ball and cry until everything stopped, but he resisted the urge and gave himself a firm shake. Flowey was a devious creature, it was likely that he could easily eavesdrop from within this house without being detected anyway, but the compulsion to stay on the move remained. Was that why Frisk was so insistent upon constantly moving from place to place? It occurred to him that he had never actually asked. Perhaps it had something to do with Flowey, from what he had garnered from Frisk. Maybe it was a personal thing.

Maybe they're running from their sins.

Sounds familiar.

Papyrus gave one last pained gaze toward the old plush chair beside the fireplace now sprinkled with dust. Sorrow clung to him like a cloak, and this time he did not attempt to brush it aside. It hanged from his back and weighed on him. He could only shake his head, whisper one last mournful, apologetic goodbye, and followed in complete silence down the stairs. Frisk did not seem bothered at all by the drafty stone tunnel under Toriel's home, but Papyrus found himself shivering slightly. That awful numbness in his soul remained, however. He knew intimately what hurt felt like. But this? It felt as though a part of him had been injured. Not missing, necessarily – instead it was more like a piece of his very soul had simply gone bad , a foul, rotting piece of himself still tightly affixed to his being, and no sharp remorse could possibly cut it loose. All that he could do was keep walking, keep moving forward. He tucked his arms close together, hands clasping at himself, and gave them a firm squeeze.

“... Frisk.”

“Hm.”

“We need to talk.”

“Mhmm.”

“I-I know that now isn't, possibly, the best time for it, but...”

“Hm?”

“How do you know about the name 'Chara' anyway?”

Frisk stopped dead in their tracks, and he almost bumped into them. Their head dipped slightly, hands clenching and unclenching before eventually falling slack at their sides. Slowly, gradually, they spun on their heels, pivoting towards him and staring up at him with a blank, unreadable stare. He'd seen that look before. Right now was not when he wanted to see it.

“... Nice to know you aren't going to throw up blood or anything this time.”

“The connection is already established,” Frisk murmured, almost completely unheard. “You're happier not knowing.”

Frisk started to turn away but paused when they found Papyrus's firm hand on their shoulder.

“... I need to know.”

“Why?” they attempted to shrug him off, but he grasped them by both shoulders and met their uneasy gaze. “It does not concern you. We should stay on the move.”

“I know that it's a name. An old name. And I want the truth.”

“... Later,” Frisk murmured just loudly enough for him to hear, thin eyes darting back and forth. Papyrus got the message. He swallowed dryly and nodded once, sticking close by their side as the pair exited the Ruins. Papyrus felt an awful twist in his nonexistent stomach as he turned to face the horrid mark he'd blasted. He tried very hard not to think about the consequences of his actions. And yet, he found himself doing so anyway, his mind a muddled mess as they walked through silent snowfall.

Papyrus had come through this way before. In fact, he was almost positive that he had blown a hole in the stone wall in the same place as he had on previous reruns. So, why, exactly, was Toriel in the danger zone this time of all places? He glanced at Frisk, who stalked through the powder packed ground, hands in their pockets as they marched wordlessly forward. He gave himself a shake, but Flowey's words came back to mind anyway. He shouldn't be thinking like that. He couldn't just blame someone else for his misgivings. It was his fault, his miscalculation, his mistake.

His eye sockets stung as he cast one last forlorn look back, the chill wind whipping across him. He fought back a fresh tide and squeezed his sockets closed, hardly aware that he had stopped breathing. To his surprise, Frisk had not gone ahead into the snow without him; instead, they were standing close by with an unanticipated, unusually soft expression, head tilted slightly to the side. It was gone in a moment though, leaving him wondering if he had imagined it completely. Frisk gave him a simple nod and motioned toward the long paved snowy road from the Ruins. Papyrus swallowed the lump in his throat and walked alongside them, arms tucked close to his chest.

“... So... how about that weather, huh?” Frisk asked after a long stretch of silence. When Papyrus did not immediately respond, they rubbed their wrists in each hand and cast a couple of awkward glances up at him while they walked, eventually falling slightly behind him. “I mean, entire functioning ecosystems, underground. Pretty wild, right?”

“What are you doing.”

“Just making friendly conversation,” they responded casually. They looked to be pulling a face, but Papyrus couldn't tell. His gaze was locked firmly on the path before them. “If you want we can talk about something else. I mean, did you see the look on her face-”

Frisk grunted when they bumped into Papyrus, rubbing their nose and marching around to glower at him. Their expression swiftly fell when they saw the raw, hollow scowl he was giving them. With an uneasy backstep, Frisk shrugged and eventually meandered over to the sentry station not far away. Papyrus just stood in the light snowfall. He tried his best to steady his breathing, but it was getting more and more difficult. He didn't want to think about it. If he didn't think about it, he wouldn't have any problems.

Papyrus found himself with a lot of problems.

Clattering and grumbles bounced from around the side of the sentry station, where Frisk was carelessly tossing things aside. It almost sounded like they were insulting that weirdly shaped lamp for some reason, but Papyrus was focused very hard on trying to not focusing on other things. After some deliberation, his curiosity got the best of him and he dragged his boots through the freshest layer of snow to stand at the sentry station. To his surprise, he found Frisk sitting cross legged in the snow, leftover condiment bottles askew. They brushed themself off and stood, turning their crimson gaze to him instead.

“... No treats,” Frisk stated grumpily.

“Well... well, no,” Papyrus blinked, caught off guard. “I am very sorry, little one. I was kind of in a big hurry this morning, I left without picking anything up for you. I hope that you can forgive me,” he twisted the end of his scarf in his hands. “I promise that we'll get you some nice hot breakfast as soon as possible. I know you don't enjoy spaghetti very much, so perhaps we can find something that you'll like today.”

Frisk opened their mouth and closed it a couple of times, cheeks reddening before they shrugged and turned at the hip.

“I mean. It's... it's whatever. Let's just get out of the open already.”

Papyrus picked up the mess that the human had left behind, shaking his head and tutting in disappointment. Such a litterbug sometimes. But it hadn't taken long, and he dusted his hands with a small level of satisfaction. At least, until he realized that Frisk had left without him.

Soul pounding violently in his chest, he bolted off down the snow packed path, worriedly whipping his head back and forth searching for any sign of them. He clenched his teeth and skidded to a halt when he finally caught sight of them fighting.

Or, rather, dodging.

“Ugh. Fine! I'll ignore you too!” the capped ice monster threw up his little arms in aggravation. This, too, Frisk utterly ignored, bored expression practically painted on. They made sure that the teen monster had sufficiently stomped away (as much as his little feet could manage, anyway) and Papyrus clasped a hand to his sternum, letting out a long, uneasy wheeze.

“Are you alright?” Papyrus stopped before them. Frisk raised an eyebrow slightly in response. “I mean, I didn't see you around anywhere, I thought you might be hurt or something-”

“Excuse me?” Frisk balked at him. “Are you serious?”

“... Yes?” he blinked, uncertain. “You could have been injured or-”

“Okay, let me stop you right there,” they rubbed their temples with one hand before glaring at him. “First of all, why are you worried about me? You should be worried about anyone that gets in my way, instead. Secondly, you don't have to watch me all the time, you fucking weirdo, I can handle myself. And C, or third, depending on whether or not you were paying attention, have you forgotten what I'm capable of?”

Papyrus stood frozen in place during their tirade, the silence around them thick in the cold air. Eventually, he let out a weary breath, knelt on one knee, and slowly, carefully placed his hand on their shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” he said in a low tone. “You... you're right. I know that you aren't some ordinary child, little one. I know that you are competent, and capable of great things. I can sense these things, you know! You can accomplish incredible feats if you put your mind to it – I know you can do it. But... that doesn't mean I'm going to stop worrying altogether. Whether or not, I still care. I believe in you.”

Frisk finally met his hopeful eye lights, their own gaze firm and immovable; a strange sensation tickled in the base of his soul, almost as though he were being checked somehow in a way he had never known.

And, to his thorough surprise, they darted forward and wrapped their arms around his chest as best they could. Momentarily stunned, Papyrus closed his eye sockets and gave them a careful hug, warmth radiating inward and outward at the same time. He found a wry smile growing on his face despite himself, and gradually gave in altogether.

“Huh... you know,” Papyrus heard Frisk murmur. They were so quiet that he almost didn't catch it at all, the gentle breeze wrapping around them both. “I don't think that I will ever fucking get you.”

He only gave a single nod, accepting the outstretched hand to help him stand.

“Likewise.”

“Likewise your likewise.”

“I'll see your likewise, and raise you a likewise.”

“I have a pair of likewise and a full likewise.”

“Royal likewise.”

“Fuck you and your likewise.”

“... Likewise.”

0-0-0-0-0

Chapter Text

0-0-0-0-0

Something about today was very, very wrong.

“What is taking you so long, idiot?”

Papyrus sighed through his nostril bone, his pent up frustration snaking upward in a steam cloud in the air over his head. He squeezed his sockets closed, clenched his fists, and tensed himself, struggling to recall his breathing exercises that Undyne had taught him. As hard as he tried, he couldn't help but find his thoughts wandering back to that shocked, pained expression painted onto that poor woman's face back there in the Ruins. He had worked so, so hard to build up the rubble into a nigh impassible blockade after exiting the place, much to the disdain of Frisk, but he didn't want anyone stumbling across his misdeeds. It felt nasty and foul on his soul that he would even consider such an action, covering up such an atrocity. But he had done such a wretched thing before, hadn't he? When the human – when Frisk had cut down Doctor Alphys all those repeating days ago, and he had hidden the truth from the world. And now, here he was, deliberately repeating history.

What was that saying again?

Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it?

“What's so funny?”

“Nothing,” Papyrus laughed humorlessly, the dry, empty chuckle rasping past his teeth, utterly devoid of joy and dropping like a weight into the wind. “Absolutely nothing. Are you finished with the puzzle?”

“Yeah. Thought I could scrape a little more gold out of it,” Frisk kicked at the little flagpole sticking out of the ice. “Couldn't get a damn thing. Fuckin' figures. You, uh...” they rubbed their forearms and shifted on their feet, looking uneasily left and right before lowering their voice and leaning in. “You... okay? Man? I mean... I mean, man, I... I get it. I do. I really, really do, man. If... if you wanna, y'know... talk about it-”

“No.”

It was curt, clipped. Cold.

Frisk flinched as if struck, and did not press further.

Papyrus shook his head, arms dropping meekly by his side.

“... I am sorry,” he sighed at last. “I... this is not... I don't think I can – it's just-just – not now, okay?” Papyrus pleaded breathlessly, and Frisk nodded once. Relieved, he patted them on the head and tried to gather himself as best he could. They walked in silence for a while, bypassing the majority of the puzzles. Frisk paused at one of the spike traps, and stared up at Papyrus. He blinked when he realized that they were awaiting something from him.

“Oh,” he explained quickly. “These are quite simple,” Papyrus gestured toward the colored switches protruding from the snow. “Just step on the tiles to change the shape, and then we can proceed.”

“... Why would anyone bother with the stupid things anyway?” Frisk stated crossly.

“It's not stupid!” he shot back. “It's important!”

“It's a waste of time.”

“It's tradition.”

“And your tradition is stupid.”

“For the love of – fine!” Frisk yelped in surprise when he yanked them off their feet by grabbing them by the waist, earning quite a profanity laden tirade, and bounding easily over the spike trap in its entirety. He landed firmly and set the human down as carefully as he dared, but they glowered at him as if he had just insulted their very mother.

“... What?” Papyrus blinked after several long, awkward moments of tense silence.

“Fucking warn me next time, asshole!” Frisk brushed invisible dust off themself. “You can't just carry people around like that!”

“Why not?”

“What do you mean, why not?” they balked at him, clearly offended. “Do you carry anyone else around like that?”

“Well, of course,” he nodded firmly. “I carry my brother Sans around all the time.”

“I-” Frisk paused, clearly caught off guard. “... Really. Really?” their eyebrow rose ever so slowly. “And... and he just... y'know. Lets you?”

“... Yes?” it was Papyrus's confusion that was growing now. “Doesn't all family do that?”

“Not really,” they kicked at something in the snow. Frisk knelt and started fumbling with something else that he couldn't see, and he felt a sudden impulse to grab it grab it GRAB IT NOW blinking the snow out of his eye sockets, it took several moments to realize that he was standing several feet away...

Staring, neck craned, upward into the ceiling of the cavern.

“... Papyrus?”

“What?”

He twisted at an uncomfortable angle, all of his bones aching terribly, like he had twisted in awful knots. He coughed and coughed, hacking and wheezing, his chest burning so badly that he had to clasp at his knees to keep from collapsing completely. At some level, he knew that Frisk was at his side, holding onto his arm; either they were pulling him to the ground to keep him from floating away, or keeping him from falling down completely, he wasn't entirely certain which, and both were concerning in their own rights. What was that bizarre ringing in his head? Had it always been there? Surely it hadn't been there before. Or maybe it had been there all of the time. It was hard to tell. Those strange black squiggles slithering across his vision were so vivid, clearer than they had ever been. Like a fire had been lit inside of him.

Oh, it was all so clear.

Everything would be clearer when he managed to look harder, he just knew it.

But if he did, would he ever be able to go back?

Would it even matter?

Did it ever matter?

He felt as if he were half asleep, losing his grip on a watery dream.

And part of him was okay with that, not knowing whether the comfort of memory would follow.

They were speaking to him.

He could hear them, yes.

What were they saying?

Frisk.

Was that their name?

Saying something.

Speaking.

Speaking to him.

If he listening, just a bit harder...

The voices in the static.

0-0-0-0-0

“... better not leave me out here after this shit for god's sake if you die on me after this I'll fucking kill you myself -!”

Papyrus wheezed and exhaled a hard lump of what tasted like a coppery chunk of dust and dear lord he did not want to think about that; unaware of precisely when he wound up on his side, he struggled to sit up and shook the snow from himself, wiping his face down with his glove and coughing a couple of times. Frisk backed up a step before eyeing him hard, hands held up placidly as they observed him like he was going to dust apart if they looked at him too hard.

“... Chara.”

“... I beg your pardon.”

“Chara,” Papyrus repeated, in a tone far, far quieter than even he had often uttered. “I... I heard it. Their name.” he tapped a forefinger to his temple a couple of times, ever so slowly. “Up here. I heard it. You heard it. We both heard it,” Frisk's thin eyes opened significantly wider, crimson locking onto him. “I know you heard it, too. You reacted at the same time, when I thought I was the only one. We both heard it. We heard it, we aren't just going to act like it didn't happen. Explain.”

“Not-not here,” Frisk sputtered, frantically waving their hands, head jerking back and forth. They bit their bottom lip, nervous eyes darting hither and thither in search of something that he could not see. “Just... J-Jesus Christ, man – not here! Fuck, one crisis at a time, man!”

“I need – hnng!” he clutched at his side as he tried to stand, a piercing pain in his side ripping through his battle body as the thorns tore through his rib cage, vertebral column shattered under the sheer pressure of the immense power of numerous vines-

Papyrus blinked tears out of his sockets, rocking back and forth, taking several long, aching moments before he finally realized that he wasn't actually breathing. He just had to focus. Needed to focus. Undyne would be disappointed in his lack of discipline, surely. He struggled with it, of course he did, stupid rookie. Yet another reason he wasn't in the Royal Guard yet, that had to be it. He fought to regain control, finally managing to suck in a weak breath, then a half, then another, and another.

“... You good?”

“Let-let's g-get moving,” he nodded, at last on his feet with a hand from Frisk, which he took gratefully. There really was too much for him to deal with today. He never should have taken off on a whim first thing in the morning, he was regretting it immensely. Struggling to get answers from Flowey, interacting with those weird 'save' things, and the whole fiasco with poor, poor Toriel...

Papyrus didn't want to think about it.

It was very, very difficult not to think about it.

But Papyrus needed to think about it.

Papyrus couldn't just not have the answers. Papyrus had to have the answers. Of course he did.

He was Papyrus.

Papyrus would forever be Papyrus.

They walked in silence for an uncomfortable length of time.

For the most part, fortunately, they were left alone.

Papyrus was absolutely fine with that. It meant that he was left alone with his thoughts. Unfortunately, it also meant that he was left alone with his thoughts. He did not want to be left alone with his thoughts.

Flowey was a tangled mess of a problem in and of itself. Half the time, Papyrus didn't know if he was a friend or a foe, and he didn't know which was more concerning. Frisk seemed to be absolutely certain that he could not be trusted under any circumstances, and even Other Papyrus was of a similar idea. Wherever and whenever Flowey appeared, trouble always, always seemed to follow. Why would that be the case, were he not the one causing it? But then again, Flowey did always seem to know things that were going to happen. He knew just about everything about everyone, all of their thoughts and hopes and dreams and secretest secrets, sometimes even before they did. He could predict the strangest and most outlandish things, sometimes long, long before they ever even could occur. Right down to the human landing in the Underground.

Recently Frisk attributed this to Flowey sharing in this bizarre power sharing in the 'reruns' that they seemed to be trapped in. That alone was a whole other can of worms to open. Papyrus could remember the reruns – or resets, as Frisk called them, or whatever they were. The repeating nonsense, the awful loops, this wretched weekday, this terrible Tuesday; no matter what he decided to call it, he could settle on one thing.

It sucked.

If he wanted to get answers out of Flowey, he was obviously going to have to try another approach, because, clearly, being nice was not working. And thinking of Other Papyrus, he hadn't seen or heard from him in a while now. It was making him slightly uneasy. He tried to shake off the discomfort and not think about it. He wasn't real, anyway, it was all in his head. Just an illusion, a manifestation of his psyche crumbling. Obviously his mind was not in a good state if he was talking to himself in the first place, he shouldn't miss talking to himself anyway.

The little human walking along side him kicking at the snow with a distracted expression on their face, constantly looking over their shoulder. He worriedly glanced behind him as well, but found no one following. But just because he was feeling paranoid didn't mean he shouldn't be. Still.

Frisk was one more reason to worry.

That little human really had turned his life completely upside down.

Ever since they had fallen down here, everything had changed, and he still wasn't sure if it was for the better. But with that kind of attitude, it never would be. He gave himself a firm shake, and tried to remind himself of just what he was fighting for. Frisk was a... troubled child, for lack of a better word.

And, boy, did they have some troubles.

Truth be told, he wanted to help them, he really did. But he wasn't nearly as great as he wanted to be at it, he wasn't sure he was helping in the slightest, he didn't even know where to begin. Where was he even supposed to start? Was he supposed to know? That was such a loaded gun he did not want to pick up. But he had offered to welcome them into their little family, hadn't he? And he still did want to help them, he wholeheartedly wanted to show them that there was a better way than to walk that dangerous path they were so intent to travel down. That awful, dusty road...

That same highway to hell you've started walking down...?

He shook his head, frowning.

“Who's there?”

Papyrus froze in place, firmly placing himself in front of Frisk. He relaxed slightly when he spotted only Doggo standing at his position in his sentry station, alert and sniffing at the air. Papyrus let out an uneasy breath, making sure to shift up and down on his knees after remembering the monster's strange condition. Odd that someone could only see moving things.

“It's just me, Doggo,” Papyrus gave a little wave, smiling widely. He kept a tight grip on Frisk's hand, who hid behind his legs, not moving a single muscle. “Just me here, only me, all by my lonesome, haven't seen any humans at all, just... walking home. All alone. Walking. By myself. Alone.”

“Oh,” Doggo snorted after a moment. “Didn't see you, uh... Tall Skeleton.”

Papyrus had been starting on his way before something in him, very deep down in his chest, began to boil .

“... Excuse me?” Papyrus's smile grew ever so strained as he paused in place.

“Come on, quit playing tricks on me,” Doggo grumbled. “I don't have time for games, Tall Skeleton. Us actual Guardsmen have work to do.”

“Actual Guardsmen. Actu-actual Guardsmen,” Papyrus laughed – not a joyful laugh, but a cold, high, raucus laugh; a rapid, hysterical laugh. The laugh of a man who had long, long since forgotten what actual laughter really sounded like.

“Papyrus,” Frisk hissed worriedly from behind him, “Papyrus, please you're hurting me...!”

He released Frisk's hand and cut off his hyena like utterances simultaneously, a blank, stony expression falling promptly over his face as he stumbled jerkily over towards the sentry station. He stopped only inches before Doggo, shifting and unsteady on his feet, almost drunkenly, pilot light filled sockets locked onto the monster before him. Doggo backed up as far as he could in the sentry station, thoroughly unnerved, eyes wide and hackles raised, lips raised and tail tucked. And all the while, something in Papyrus boiled, it bubbled, it burned .

“You listen and you listen good, you good for nothing 'Guardsman',” Papyrus spat in disdain. “You can't catch a human because you don't try. You don't even bother with puzzles, have you ever even attempted? You didn't get into the Royal Guard because of effort, you didn't get in because of what you know, it's because of who you know, and we both know it. I have lived with you for years, I know the names of every single one of the Royal Guard and not because it's my job, either! Do you even know my name? Hm? Doggo? Did you ever bother to learn my name?”

“... Tall... Sans....?” Doggo whimpered.

“... I'm leaving now,” Papyrus turned on the spot, knuckles clenching so tightly that they popped. “Maybe tomorrow you'll actually do your job. But let's be honest with ourselves,” he tilted his head slightly to glare at him from the corner of his eye socket. “We both know you won't.”

Papyrus walked away from the sentry station without looking back to see Frisk staring absolutely slack jawed at him, crimson eyes wide. A thin stream of smoke plumed up from Doggo's station, Papyrus could smell the dog biscuits in the air. Sans liked those same brand, even though he knew Papyrus hated them. Frisk clamped their mouth shut and followed him, jogging to keep up with the skeleton's brisk stride.

They were silent for a long while.

Light snowfall danced in the gentle breeze. Papyrus didn't bother to readjust his scarf, instead letting the ruffled cloth hang from around his neck. His arms were still stiff at his side as he walked, tense, almost as if he were ready to punch something. He realized it and tried to relax, but it was difficult.

“... Goddamn, dude.”

“What?” Papyrus flinched, almost having forgotten that they were with him at all.

“What is with you?” Frisk tore in front of him, stopping his pace altogether. He let out a slightly gruff noise of aggravation.

“... What?” he reiterated, throwing out his arms in blatant frustration, that nasty bubbling in his chest coming right back up no matter how hard he tried to push it back down. “What, what? What, Frisk? What do you want? What do you want from me, what?”

“Wh- hey, whoa, need you to do something for me real quick.”

“Yes. Yes, sure. Sure, okay, yeah. Sure, whatever, what is it now,” he stated, completely done with today.

“Here,” Frisk motioned for him to mimic their actions, kneeling down. He did so, and they cupped his hands. “I need you to pick up some snow...”

“Uh huh.”

“Now hold it to your chest.”

“Uh huh.”

“And cool your tits already, I mean Jesus, man, fuck.”

Papyrus couldn't help himself.

He dropped the snow all over himself.

Fell to his knees.

And just giggled.

“... Not gonna yell at me for swearing this time?”

“Oh my stars I don't know where to begin,” he tittered, wiping his eye socket, snickering. But Frisk seemed to be smiling, too, so there was that. He clapped his hands to his knees, clearing his throat a couple of times and standing. “... We are still implementing that swear jar.”

“Come on, man. Just let me have this one.”

“This one.”

Frisk kicked at a chunk of built up snow, motioning for him to follow. They were in the home stretch now. All he wanted was a nice hot cup of tea. One way or another, he was getting some answers today. Maybe not the answers he wanted, maybe not the answers he needed, but still. Answers.

He sighed tiredly, kicking at a lump of snow. Then another. And another. Oh! Another. That one jangled. It had 30 G inside. So that was something nice. Maybe all of today wouldn't be absolutely awful after all.

He was, though, ever so slightly disheartened by the shouting echoing over the bridge, and the thick, billowing plumes of smoke accompanied by a chorus of terrified screams.

0-0-0-0-0

Chapter Text

0-0-0-0-0

“Stay here!” Papyrus commanded, throwing back his scarf in worry. “No matter what you hear, just stay!”

Frisk looked up to him, uncertain and wide eyed, but eventually gave him a single slow, solitary nod. He took off with a lightning fast bolt, forcing magic into his legs and pumping himself forward as fast as he could. The chill air was awash with the shouting and screams of townsfolk panicking, and it did not take long to discover precisely why.

Papyrus had never exactly been a magical powerhouse like Undyne. He couldn't do half the things that she could. But he had finesse. He could mold magic when he managed to focus it properly, and right now, he needed focus badly. So that was precisely what he did. He poured all of his focus into speed, pummeling the ground and tearing up dirt to get to where he needed to be.

Papyrus had always been so happy, so comforted to see the warm, welcoming sights of Snowdin. It was a cold, but cozy place. A familiar spot, a place where people could gather for festivities of all kinds of cheer, it was a place that felt like you could belong.

It wasn't much, but it was home.

It was Snowdin.

It was aflame.

“Evacuate!” Grillby barked orders, the bartender whipped his arms over the heads of several shorter monsters in striped shirts. “Get the children out of here – dammit Barnaby I said leave the books, I said now!”

People were darting this way and that, running for the metaphorical hills, scrambling for their lives. Heat and smoke and ash and dust, walls of fire and despair washing the town in the glow of death. An eyeball monster caught in an explosion of wood and glass managed a half choked scream before she burst to dust; the familiar librarian being yelled at by the elemental amidst the carnage of the town scooped up one of the smaller monsters and took off at a high speed through an opening where they could. Aghast, Papyrus could only look on as his loved ones' livelihoods crumbled to pieces, everything falling apart around his nonexistent ears. Even the Christmas tree in the middle of town, the one so lovingly adorned with bobbles and trinkets by everyone in town (even with a little lazy sock from his own brother) was burning to bits. It was all burning. Burning. Everything he knew and loved was coming down, ashes and dust before his very sockets.

And he hadn't been here to protect them.

“Mister Grillby!” Papyrus skidded to a breathless halt, horrified at the sight of so many houses caught ablaze. “What in the world is happening?”

“I don't know!” the bedraggled bartender yelled over the sputtering flames, a nearby collapsing rooftop crumbling so loudly that the snapping wood sounded uncannily like a cave in. “Help me! Help me get everyone out!”

“What? Where's the Guard?!”

“Obviously not HERE!” Grillby screamed – Papyrus had not had many interactions with Mister Grillby, but Papyrus had never, ever heard him raise his voice. Not once. He felt himself shrink in stature before the elemental, but strained to compose himself as quickly as he could. Papyrus helped to usher as many of the more motion-challenged monsters toward Waterfall as quickly and efficiently as he could, rushing back to Snowdin as fast as he dared. He carried those that could not move very fast, but some, some might not have been able to get out of their houses, the ones that Grillby deliberately directed him away from. Grillby directed many, and carried plenty of wounded and injured himself. Papyrus ran as swiftly as he could, shuffling the elderly and the weak, the young and the feeble, carrying a crying monster kid in a striped shirt kicking and trying for some reason to get back into the fires but Papyrus didn't have time to listen; he left him at the edge of Waterfall and belted an order for the elders to watch the children and practically dove back into the flames.

He had to get back in there, there were people still in the fires that needed help.

Though by that time, even more of the place was ablaze than when he had left it. But he couldn't give up hope. He had to stay determined. He couldn't give up. It was taking far, far too long. It was too hard to move, too hard to breathe. Too hard to think. His chest was clogged with dust and ash. He was injured and he knew it, but pressed onward regardless, through the pain. His whole body felt thick and heavy with it. He couldn't just quit, not here, not now; he couldn't lose hope, he had to stay determined. He pushed harder, crumbling debris falling into the way was thrust aside, even though it burned through his battle body and scorched his bones he forced it aside with a hearty grunt. Half of his battle body was simply gone at this point. It seared him painfully and he grunted but kept pushing onward, kicking down the door even though he knew for a fact it was a lost cause; but by the time he got through the fire and the flames, it was painfully clear that there was no one in the shop left to save.

“... I'm sorry,” Papyrus stood in the collapsing building, even as chunks and cinders rained down upon him.

I guess we're not having that date after all, Miss Bunni.

The pub was already ruined, much like the general store and the inn beside it. The houses alongside those had also been caught in the blaze, the snow along the road had all but melted into a gross slush that he trudged through. So, so many houses, so many homes. So many people. There remained one last house that was far worse than any of the others. One appeared to have been the ground zero for all of this destruction.

One that was, when compared to the others, an utter disaster would be an understatement.

One which absolutely no one could have survived.

Papyrus closed his sockets, took a shallow breath, and walked through the doorway into his house.

His front door was long since burned away, merely an entrance now. Even that it alone was standing was a miracle. Perhaps that reinforced steel after Undyne had broken down his door one too many times had been a wise investment. Perhaps his home had been the first to go. That would make sense, after all. It seemed to be the one in the worst condition. Compared to the other houses in Snowdin, it was practically a skeleton. Maybe his brother would have laughed at that one. A skeleton house.

Heh. And to think, just this morning he was hoping to come home to a cup of tea. A skeleton key.

He'd have to share that one.

“... You hear that, Sans?” Papyrus sobbed, tears streaking down his ash dusted cheeks. A piece of lumber tumbled from the upper floor, then another, nearly crushing him and breaking through what remained of the floor, but he didn't budge for even a second. Everything was falling apart around him and he didn't even care. His whole world was up in blazes. It didn't matter any more. Perhaps it never mattered. “A skeleton. Nyeh heh. Skeleton. We'll have to get a... skeleton key.”

The entire upper floor came down.

0-0-0-0-0

A pair of thick, burly arms wrapped around Papyrus, gripping his midsection.

“... Sans?”

“Fly, you fool!”

Papyrus was yanked backwards out through the doorway, tumbling in a crumpled heap. The entirety of the house loudly imploded in a destructive, hungry roar, bellowing flames and smoke and ash billowing into the caverns above. He blinked through his tears and wiped his sockets, blearily looking up to his savior from his spot on the ground, to stare sheepishly into the fiery, spectacled gaze of the familiar barkeep, who only glared back down at him. Papyrus couldn't do much but lay on his aching back, his whole being just one big bundle of bones. And hurt. Dying hope. But mostly bones.

“... Hullo, Mister Grillby,” Papyrus croaked lamely.

Grillby said nothing. After a while, he finally extended a firm, unexpectedly gentle hand to Papyrus. And after a few more uncomfortable, awkward moments, he took it. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to stand, and it definitely hurt to move. But right then, it hurt just to be alive. Was he alive? Maybe he wasn't. That would be better. It felt as though he were watching a film. Just a limp coat rack of a skeleton, standing in the wreckage, like some deranged artist's set piece.

He said nothing.

Grillby said absolutely nothing at all.

If anything, it only made the uneasy silence between them somewhat worse. Papyrus tried to clear the ash and smog from his throat, coughing and hacking. He felt a strong pat on his back, nearly knocking him off his feet in the process, the fiery arm from the elemental wrapping around him and under his shoulder, helping him to stand. Papyrus didn't particularly want the help at the moment, but begrudgingly appreciated it. He mumbled an embarrassed and somewhat ashamed thanks to the bartender, unable to meet his gaze, and only saw him nod from the corner of his socket. His leg was shot, maybe Grillby noticed that right away. Maybe that was because of the limp. Or maybe that was because of the burn. Or maybe the dust on him. Could have been anything. Papyrus didn't want to think about it. So he didn't. It was easier that way.

They made their way out of Snowdin, over the land bridge past the river toward Waterfall. People were already beginning to put out the fires to the best of their abilities with buckets and pails of water, using ice magic where they could from the few that were able to manage it, even a couple of recruits that had been gathered from Waterfall, but it was too little too late – Snowdin, as they knew it, was gone.

Papyrus wheezed through his teeth as Grillby sidled him down against a cool rock wall. He motioned to one of the other monsters – Papyrus recognized the dizzy looking bunny monster as a regular at the pub on the occasions when he had ventured in there – and she assisted Grillby in a quickly administered burst of green magic. His left arm was in bad condition, but healed fairly well without much time; it was his leg that had taken the hit from the fallen burning lumber earlier. It surprised even him that he managed to keep going after that with the clear fracture oozing dust running right down his fibula. The bone was healing with the magic, at least. It stung like the dickens, but it did its work. Monster food was one thing, but it was slower to work. Green magic, especially healing magic, was a tricky thing for monsters. To ensure that it was done properly, it was best left to professionals, as healing required a significant amount of magic and focus in order to heal someone without causing potentially permanent damage. Perhaps that was why Grillby had insisted on requesting someone else to assist him in his endeavor to heal Papyrus.

Papyrus wasn't entirely certain why he was thinking so heavily on it right then.

Or why he was staring so very, very intently at the admittedly quite cute bunny monster with her very, very warm hand on his very, very bare leg.

“... Hello,” Papyrus said in a tone that belied the skeletal maelstrom he was currently piloting. “I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting your acquaintance. My name is Papyrus. Might I ask your name, Miss?”

“G-Giddy,” the bunny monster blinked as if seeing him for the first time, cheeks reddening slightly as she quickly removed her hands, the green glow fading fast. “B-but everybody just c-calls me Ditz! So, so. Y'know. You can... you can call me that. Too. If. If you want.”

“My pleasure,” he nodded calmly before turning to Grillby. “Mister Grillby-”

“Not finished,” Grillby murmured, his fiery palms remaining on his leg. “Still healing.”

“I'll be fine...” Papyrus insisted, trying to stand but firmly pushed back down by the bartender. “Mister Grillby. Tibia honest, you're getting on my nerves.”

Grillby paused, if only for a moment, to turn his head, and give him a heated stare.

“... I couldn't help myself,” Papyrus gave him a weak, pained smile. “There are still fires in Snowdin. We need to put them out. You've helped me enough. Now, I don't mean to be ungrateful or anything, Mister Grillby, but people need help. And I'm going out there to put out fires, whether I'm fit for it or not.”

“I...” Ditz stuttered for a brief moment, holding up a fuzzy finger, interrupting the two. She pulled out a crumpled, paper wrapped belonging, and a painfully familiar pang shot through Papyrus's chest. “I do have, um. This. I... I was saving it, but... I think that you need it more. I mean, since... well, you're, well. Just take it.”

Papyrus wordlessly took the Cinnamon Bunny in both hands, his eye sockets stinging. He cradled it carefully, like it would fall apart at the slightest touch. He beamed at Ditz as though she had just given him the world's greatest treasure, his smile genuine and wide.

“... Thank you,” he choked, tears flowing fresh and hot, unbidden.

“Aw, geez,” she awkwardly shuffled on her feet. “I-I'm not great at this kinda thing, s-so... yeah.”

She left at that, and Papyrus was on his own with Grillby. Papyrus could only sit there with the barkeep, holding the cinnamon treat, head against the cool stone. It felt unreal. Perhaps that was because it was unreal. This entire day was just a dream. It was all in his head. That was why he felt so awfully numb. None of this was real. It almost made him giddy. If he could feel like that. That would be nice. Feeling nice would be nice. It would make for a pleasant change of pace. How long had it been since he had a pleasant change of pace?

“Are... you going to actually eat that?” Grillby asked after half a minute. “Or are you going to actually let me heal you?”

“I can do this,” Papyrus said through a tearful mouthful of pastry. “I can do it! People still need help!”

He scarfed it down in seconds, and was on his feet in more. Drying his sockets, he shook himself down. He was still painfully sore, but at least his health wasn't in critical condition. There were plenty of other people still being tended to by others more magically inclined, thankfully some of the elders in Snowdin knew some level of healing magic. Granted, not many, but a few. Unfortunately, not as many as he would have liked seemed to have made it to safety. And with that, they were off, Grillby leading the way.

“How... how many...?” Papyrus asked in a low tone as they walked the path back to Snowdin.

“Some did not-” Grillby adjusted and readjusted his unrolled sleeves. “... Some did not make it.”

“... How many.”

He did not answer.

“Mister Grillby.”

Still he did not answer.

“... Mister Grillby.”

“Many.”

His soul sank like a stone dropped in a lake, cold ripples sending shivers throughout his body. If he had done something differently, if he had been better prepared, he could have saved them. He could have anticipated this, if he had been better. If he had known what to be on the lookout for. But he hadn't. He had been selfish. He had been stupid, and took off without so much as a second thought for anyone else, and this was what it got him. He hadn't saved everyone. Looking back over the group that they had left behind to Waterfall, it was perhaps evident now that the ones that had been evacuated had been fortunate. Papyrus closed his eye sockets as they walked, his arms going slack. Somehow, he just knew, that all of this was his fault. His head hurt, his bones ached, his soul hurt. Everything was wrong. This whole day was wrong. Everything about this was wrong.

“Wait – wait!”

Papyrus slowed his stride ever so slightly, perking up to swivel and spot a small yellow monster running top speed toward him; he face planted right in front of him in the dirt before picking himself up, frantically stopping before Papyrus. He looked pleadingly up at him, the striped shirt kid looking back and forth between the two taller monsters as if for answers. Papyrus glanced to Grillby, worriedly, but the bartender's face was an emotionless mask. Even more so than usual, anyway.

“My-my parents,” he spouted, holding back tears, clawed feet pulling at wet dirt. “Yo – you, you, you gotta – you gotta find 'em, you're gonna! You're gonna find 'em, right? R-right...?”

Grillby did not say anything at all.

Papyrus felt a little bit of his soul start to break, seeing the small monster's tears streaking down his cheeks.

“... Listen,” Papyrus knelt on one knee, putting his forearm on it for support and looking him in the eye. “Hey. Come on. Please. Don't cry. It's... it is going to be alright, little one. Do you know why?” he tilted his chin up with his phalanges. “Because by this time tomorrow? I guarantee, that you are going to be with your parents, and everything is going to be alright, I promise.”

“Y-yo – yo, really?” the kid hopped up and down elatedly. “O-oh, oh, ohmygosh, you're really gonna find 'em! You will! I told 'em, I told them you'd find them!”

He ran off with a hoot and immediately fell face first into the ground before pulling himself off, running back off into Waterfall, assuredly to tell his friends. Papyrus sincerely hoped that the child felt at least a little bit better. He stood with a self satisfied, small smile on his face. However, it was swiftly wiped away when he saw the absolutely withering glare that he was given from Grillby.

“... What?” Papyrus blinked.

“What in the nine hells has gotten into you?” Grillby crackled.

“What?” he balked. “Am I just supposed to give him no hope whatsoever?”

“As opposed to telling him the truth?” he crossed his arms.

“Can we talk about this later?” Papyrus pleaded. “Look – I get that it's kind of a morally gray area, and today, I am ah-ha-haaaall over that hot mess, but right now, we have a literal town fire to take care of. Chew me out, kick my ass, I don't care, but do. It. Later.”

Papyrus started to march away before he felt a firm, tight hand on his shoulder, where part of his battle body had been burned away. Like a hot iron clamp, keeping him pinned in place. He was spun on the spot, and surprised, he was forced to look the elemental in the eyes. Those flaming, whorling hypnotic orbs hidden within his wisping head almost drew him in, for a few moments Papyrus almost forgot where he was. It almost felt like – no, Papyrus knew that feeling intimately. He'd learned from the best, after all.

He was being checked.

For a monster, to check someone was more than to just identify them in general. It was to sense their intentions. It was vital in a battle with an opponent, almost necessary. If someone was checking another monster, then it was almost always for a very good reason. Usually because they were in a FIGHT, or, just as concerning, because one was just about to break out. But that was not always the only reason. Sometimes, it was necessary to discover more about someone that one could not normally discover otherwise. Most monsters could get a broad awareness of someone from a check, and that was enough for them. Most monsters could go a little deeper, but that took years and years of effort and work and magic and concentration, and they could sense just a bit more than that.

Papyrus was not most monsters.

Papyrus had learned, long ago, that sometimes, you could learn very specific things about a person from a simple check.

Something he had learned from his brother.

GRILLBY

HP: ???

AT: 50

DF: 50

HE IS AFRAID.

Papyrus blinked.

He slowly, carefully, cautiously held up his hands. Placidly, calmly, sparingly.

“Mister Grillby,” Papyrus said as peacefully as he could. “Please. Let's just... let's just get this chaos taken care of. We'll take care of everything else, later. Okay?”

Grillby stared him down, the lights in his eyes flickering for several painfully long seconds before he finally, at long last, removed his spectacles and gradually polished them on the hem of his shirt. He was taking a painstakingly long time to do so, seconds ticking away, stretching on and on, the silence thick and heavy in the air. Papyrus was unwilling to break it, remaining still as he could.

“... Fine,” he said after a while. “We should best be moving, then,” he nodded and Papyrus followed suit.

0-0-0-0-0

He should have guessed that Frisk would not have stayed where he asked them to. But frankly, he was kind of glad that they didn't, in a way.

They meandered into town a little while after the fires had died down, during the clean up. The grisly affairs had not been easy to deal with for anyone, not any of the survivors had been particularly talkative about it. However, unfortunately, for once Frisk was particularly talkative.

“How did they all break out at the same time?”

“Don't know.”

“Is this all that's left?”

“Don't know.”

“Has this kind of thing ever happened before?”

“Don't know.”

“You think anybody even cares that I'm just walking around here?”

“Don't know.”

“So who exactly started all the fires in the first place?” Frisk asked as Papyrus hauled yet another large chunk of still smoldering lumber out of the way for one of the dog monsters to throw pails of water onto one of the burning piles. So much work had been done, but it felt like so little. The fires had mostly been put out, sure. But the damage had long since been done.

“We're still not sure,” Papyrus said tiredly after a few moments, trying to collect himself.

“Well. How come nobody called the fire department?”

“What's a fire department?”

“Well that answers that question,” Frisk shrugged, following him around like a puppy.

Papyrus helped a very distressed Dogamy dig through the rubble of his home, still clinging to a heart shaped necklace in one paw. Frisk stopped at this, looking thoroughly despairing for a few moments before shaking their head and following him much more closely. Papyrus wanted to stop what he was doing and comfort the poor monster like he had been doing for others, but there was only so much that he could do for the grieving. Some were simply beyond help by now. Most of the fires had been doused at this point of the day, thanks to help from their neighbors in Snowdin forest and friends from Waterfall. Nobody really questioned the human tailing Papyrus, and anybody that started to bring them up was quickly waved away by him (or Grillby, weirdly enough) and that was the end of that. It was pretty clear to Papyrus that Grillby – of all people to perceive Frisk for exactly what they were, he probably would – knew exactly what Frisk was. But if the bartender was going to be on his side on this one, he wasn't going to look the gift horse in the mouth. He could unravel that particular mystery when he had the energy for it. Right now, he did not. All he wanted was a dang cup of tea.

“So... you guys just call the Royal Guard for everything that happens here?”

“Pretty much,” Papyrus nodded, weariness clinging to his every fiber. He waved off the yapping Lesser Dog, who, from what he could surmise from his upset barking, was attempting to locate Greater Dog, though for whatever reason Papyrus had not actually seen all morning.

“But Undyne is in the Royal Guard. Right?”

“Undyne does lead the Royal Guard, yes.”

“So how come she isn't here?”

“I don't know, actually,” he shifted, trying hard not to look at the wreckage of his house as they passed it. He was so, so tired. “No one has been able to locate her, no one has been able to contact her, she's just been utterly under the radar so to speak for the entire day. It's not like her. She hasn't been answering her phone at all, either. I've already contacted Doctor Alphys about it, and she's on the case,” Papyrus informed them, “And she's... well. Freaking out, to put it bluntly.”

“Ooh. Alphy got a crush-y.”

“Golly gee whiz I'm so glad someone is getting something out of today,” Papyrus stated dryly.

Frisk stared up at the obliterated wreckage of what used to be his home. Not even the guest house remained. It was just one big clump of ash and combusting lumps. It was all a mess. Just like today. His soul ached.

After a while, Frisk spoke up, in a voice quieter and softer than he anticipated.

“... Where's Sans?”

“I...” he choked. “... I don't know.”

Frisk did not speak.

“... Papyrus.”

“Yes, Frisk.”

“I don't wanna be here anymore.”

“... Me neither.”

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus walked in a slow, deliberate manner down the snowy road toward Waterfall.

His shoulders stooped, his forehead bowed with the weight of all those he hadn't gotten to in time ringing inside his head. The cold air whipped across scorched battle body and exposed bone, but he still smelled the smoke, still felt the blazing fire, the warmth, the heat. No matter how many reruns he went through, he didn't think that he was ever, ever going to forget the intermingling, thick scent of ash and dust and scarring flame. All he wanted was to keep walking on, put everything behind him. He wanted more than anything to just move on, keep pressing forward, to forget. He honestly wanted to. But it was too late for that. Too late for a lot of things.

He heard them as he passed the crowds, watching him go by with Frisk in tow. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but he cowed his head in shame. It was nothing good, assuredly. Uttered whispers, broken mutters and rustles as entire groups simply parted to make way for them. He wondered if they got word from Grillby to give the human some space. That was nice of them. Although they seemed to be giving him some awfully wide berth as well, oddly enough. Almost respectfully. He didn't know how to handle it.

Everyone was just... staring.

And after a few moments, he realized, not at human Frisk.

They were staring at him.

He quickly ushered Frisk along, quickening his pace. Frisk made sure to keep step alongside him, eyeing the monsters watching them. They looked back and forth between them, getting quite a few strange glances from a number of them. The pair ventured into Waterfall, bypassing a number of the residents there, and Papyrus pointedly tried not to think about the empty sentry station there.

Papyrus was grateful for the quiet between them.

For a while.

That only meant that he was once more left with the thoughts in his head, and those he could most certainly do without right then.

You could have done better.

You could have prevented this.

You could have saved them.

Papyrus shook his head, arms crossed over his chest as he walked. He was so tired, aching in every sense of the word. His ragged boots dragged through the marshland, Frisk just ahead of him. He wasn't certain when they had sped up. Or perhaps he had slowed down. He wasn't entirely sure, nor did he really care at that point. He didn't particularly know where he was leading them. Or, rather, where Frisk was leading him. He wasn't sure which was which.

He could almost laugh.

Papyrus could hardly tell up from down, black from white, right from wrong.

This whole day had gone topsy turvy.

The only thing he did was drag himself ever onward after Frisk in their incessant marching, it was all he could do to just keep himself from falling down on the spot. Papyrus let out a heavy sigh of relief as they neared a familiar sight, the stony entrance a well-known spot. He cleared his throat after Frisk toyed with yet another one of those gleaming 'save' things nearby, catching their attention.

“Do... do you mind waiting up for a few minutes?” Papyrus rasped throatily, gesturing to the carved opening in the cavern. Frisk glanced back and forth for a second or two before shrugging.

“Yeah. Sure, whatever. Just don't take too long, okay? I get bored easily, remember? And remember what happens when I get bored.”

“Do try to amuse yourself without being troublesome then,” he mumbled loudly enough for them to hear. He tried to have faith in them, he really did. But it was difficult. Then again, everything today seemed to be difficult, why would anything else be different?

Papyrus stumbled into the entryway, almost dragging himself down the enclosure. Damp, cool moisture greeted his bones, a welcome change to the warm wetness of the rest of most of Waterfall. Places like this were rare here. From here, he could see one of those ancient glyphs from when monsters were first imprisoned, an important lesson in all of their history lessons. The symbol of the kingdom of monsters.

It was quiet here. So quiet that he could hear the gentle drip of water from the stalactites above, like rain here and there. He sat at a rickety wooden stool placed by the carved stone counter set into the wall, noting the nearly untouched burlap bags of crab apples nearby. He wasn't really hungry, but for some reason found himself wanting one anyway. Papyrus picked it up, took a careless bite and tucked one into one of his remaining pockets and carelessly dropped fair change in the bag.

“Honest man.”

Papyrus jolted and immediately regretted it, his injured bones creaking painfully. He winced and swiveled on the creaky wooden stool, unaware of even when the wizened old tortoise monster had even arrived there. Or perhaps he had been there all along. Was he really that stealthy? Or was Papyrus that oblivious?

“Hello Mister Gerson...” Papyrus shifted awkwardly under his scrutinous, appraising gaze. The old monster's narrowed eyes relaxed after a moment though, twinkling as he laughed and shook his head.

“Wha-ha!” he leaned on the opposite side of the stone counter. “Comin' in here lookin' ta be in a right state, and still got manners. Now that takes somethin'! What brings ya 'round these parts, Papyrus?”

“It's... it's been...” he cupped his face in his palms, breathing through his fingers. He didn't even realize how or when parts of his gloves had been scorched away. “It's been Tuesday. Oh my god. I just,” he hiccupped miserably, unable to disguise it any longer. “I just want tea. That's all I want. That is the only thing I want, I want it more than anything I have ever wanted in my entire life, I j-just, I just want a cup of tea, Mister Gerson. Please.”

Gerson blinked, eyeing the teary skeleton up and down before wordlessly leaving. Papyrus almost collapsed in a puddle where he sat. He tried his best to compose himself before Gerson got back, giving his cheekbones a couple of firm slaps. He still had ash and dust all over himself that he had never washed off. He hadn't realized it at all, but he really was, as Gerson put it, 'in a state'. Much of his battle body had been torn or burned away. He only had one leg of his armor remaining. At least he had his boots, though part of one had been scorched off from the blaze in Snowdin, and they were caked with mud and filth. His armor on one side had been ripped off entirely, part of his rib cage shown, and he suddenly felt much too exposed, as if he were walking around being too revealing, but at the same time he was just too danged tired to care anymore.

At the very least his tattered scarf had remained mostly intact. It was a little worn and torn, sure; singed and mangled all to heck, but in one general piece. He wouldn't part with it for anything. It was practically a part of him, after all. It was a gift from-

A piece of his soul twisted in pain, and he had to fight back a fresh tide in his eye sockets. His forehead met the stone counter top, his hands over the back of his head. He tried, he tried so, so hard not to think about it. Sans was fast, when he wanted to be. He was a lazybones, sure. But he was quick on his feet when necessary. Maybe he wasn't answering his phone because he was busy. Right. Busy. Somewhere... else. Doing something very essential that was extremely distracting that was high import.

You left him.

You didn't save him.

You didn't try.

You didn't say goodbye.

You didn't even bother.

“... Got that tea for ya, sonny.”

Papyrus pried himself up, weary and utterly exhausted. He didn't bother to dry his dripping eye sockets, looking up to the withered tortoise leaning on the counter before him. Gerson slowly pushed the steaming old ceramic mug toward him with his claws. Papyrus carefully picked up what was probably an artifact with trembling hands, and quietly thanked him. He only nodded in response. Papyrus took a tired sip, choking it down. Not the tea he had been anticipating today, but tea was tea. Sea tea. A little mushroom-y. It zinged in his soul. He blinked the tears out of his sockets, sipping a bit more, eventually giving himself a shake. He still couldn't bring himself to look Gerson in the eyes. Or, rather, eye that wasn't glued shut with age. He simply sat in silence, sipping wordlessly a minute at a time.

It was a long, long while before anyone broke the quiet.

“... Thank you,” Papyrus finally managed to speak after what felt like ages. “Mister Gerson. Just... thank you. So much. Thank you. For everything.”

“Ain't nothin',” Gerson nodded once, a kind smile on his thin shrunken lips. “Just a cuppa, sonny.”

“It... I mean, you have no idea how much this means to me,” he ran a shaking hand over the top of his head, phalanges poking out through the holes in his gloves and scraping his skull. “Today has been... it has not been a normal Tuesday, I mean.”

“Wha-ha? You might not, but I got ears, ya know!” Gerson cackled slightly. “Word travels pretty quick – you think I'm jus' gonna turn away a local hero?”

“Undyne is here?” Papyrus blinked, sitting up, suddenly much more alert.

“I ain't talkin' about Undyne,” he glowered at him.

“... Mister Gerson,” he put down the mug firmly, grasping at the bottom of the cup before looking him in the eye. “Please. I'm... I'm not a hero. I... I let a lot of people down. People... good people got hurt because of me. So, please. Please, don't... don't call me that. Because I... I don't deserve it,” he finished quietly. He couldn't bring himself to meet his watchful gaze.

“There's someone out there...” Papyrus felt a large reptilian hand on his shoulder. “Someone who'll never give up, trying to do the right thing, no matter what. Sounds like a hero to me, sonny.”

Papyrus could not bring himself to speak.

After a moment, Gerson withdrew. Papyrus pulled away, standing, and somehow both more together and a little more at odds with himself at once. He managed a weak, but genuine smile, and nodded once to Gerson.

“... Thank you,” he said warmly. “I... I really hope that I get to see you again tomorrow, Mister Gerson.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gerson snorted in a faux annoyed tone, waving him off, but the grin on his face was large. “Quit getting all mushy on me, young 'un! There's still plenty o' work to do! And I need ya to do somethin' real important for me...” he was suddenly all business, a serious pallor falling over him. “If ya see Undyne... make sure she's okay.”

“I... I will, Mister Gerson.”

“And if she is... give 'er a good kick in the pants!” he harrumphed. “That girl was supposed ta be on duty, what the heck!”

“I will Mister Gerson,” Papyrus nodded again, making his way quickly out of the shop. He shook his head, the worry and fear and dread all clumping back together in his chest again. For just a moment there, he had almost forgotten that it was there. But it all weighed on him like a boulder, as if he were dragging it along behind him.

Papyrus let out a sigh, making his way down the rocky enclosure and into the opening into Waterfall. He let out a heavy breath and met the warmth of the caverns, the glistering mushrooms and light whispers of echo flowers dancing over the air.

He started to dig in his battle body for a very much wanted cigarette before realizing that that particular part of his attire had been destroyed. Mildly annoyed, he shrugged and shook his head. He patted himself down, head to knee. He could have sworn that he was forgetting something terribly important.

It wasn't until he turned to the nigh pristine looking duplicate of himself, leaning comfortably against the cavern wall, just watching him with a lit cigarette in his teeth that he actually remembered.

“The human is gone.”

0-0-0-0-0

Chapter Text

0-0-0-0-0

“No,” Papyrus pleaded under his breath. Dealing with Flowey, the the catastrophe with Toriel, the burning of Snowdin, and now this – it was all too much, there was no way he could deal with any more this rerun, he could almost feel a physical pressure weighing on his mind, like he was splintering under the sheer ludicrousness of it all. “No, no! For the love of god, not you! God! Why can't you just get out of my head? Why can't you just leave me alone?!”

“Take it easy, Slim...” the mimicry intoned quietly, smiling that too-wide smile at him, leaning comfortably with his legs kicked out and crossed over one another. “Just wanna talk is all.”

“No! For god's sake, no more crazy today! Papyrus is done! Enough – I have had enough!” Papyrus snapped, one eye socket twitching furiously as he took off like an arrow loosed from a bow, down the long cavern. But no matter where he went, no matter how fast he ran, he was simply there. Sitting on a large luminescent mushroom protruding from the water. Appearing like a phantom from around a corner.

Running as fast as he could, on and on, turning his head catch a glance of him right behind. Following. Smiling. Even when he was exhausted and sweating, out of breath and on the verge of frantic tears, clasping his knees and squeezing his itchy, burning eye sockets closed only to reopen them and look up into the nonexistent duplicate standing there before him, patient and calm as ever.

Just waiting.

“... You done?”

Papyrus collapsed to his knees in the dirt. His trembling shoulders slumped, defeated. He wanted to pass out, he wanted to throw up, he wanted to cry. But he couldn't do any of those. All he could do was kneel in the empty cavern, surrounded by the gentle whispers of echo flowers all around the marsh. It was almost peaceful, in a way. If it hadn't been for literally everything else, he might have found it a little comforting to be in a place like this. It had certainly been a while. How long had it been since he had just managed to break away from the daily, sometimes quite literal, insanity? Papyrus didn't want to be bothered with the craziness that he had to deal with on such a regular basis. Sometimes, all he wanted was a bit of peace and quiet. Was that really so wrong? Was it selfish?

But then again, he had already seen what happened when he was selfish.

Rash.

Impulsive.

“You can't blame that all on yourself, Slim.”

“God sometimes I wish you wouldn't do that...” Papyrus sniffled miserably, wiping his nostril bone.

“Not much choice in that matter, pal,” Other Papyrus murmured. “Just as much a part of you as, well... you, you know? Now come on. Right now is not the time to be feeling sorry for yourself.”

Papyrus was slightly surprised to see the mirror image extending a hand to him, as if to help him stand. He furrowed his brows at the mirage, equal parts annoyed and insulted. The duplicate only cocked a brow bone at him.

“What?” that too-wide smile stretched a bit further.

“Are you mocking me?”

“Whatever happened to 'it's the thought that counts', huh?”

“You already know what I'm thinking, and we both know it's nothing polite.”

Other Papyrus only laughed and shook his head.

“Come on, Slim. Pick yourself up. We've got work to do.”

As loathe as he was to admit it, he did have a point. It didn't really matter, what he wanted. And he wanted quite a lot. Papyrus closed his eye sockets, slowly taking in a ragged breath to steady himself. He let out a long, heavy, weary sigh, and eventually pushed himself up from the ground and unsteadily rose, arms hanging slack and tired at his side.

“... Fine,” Papyrus shrugged at last, raising his head. “I never was one to do anything half way. If... if today is going to be crazy, I might as well go full tilt into it.”

“That's the spirit, Slim!” the mirror Papyrus clapped him on the shoulder, and even though he heard it he felt no contact at all. “Never half-ass anything. I know you don't want to, but, pally. We gotta talk.”

“Is... is now really the time?” he gave him a bleary stare. “You know what, don't answer that. We – I need to find the human. Frisk, I need to find Frisk,” he corrected himself. Papyrus started off in more or less what he hoped was the right direction. Although, he was going onward blind. There were only so many ways they could have gone, after all; it was just as likely that they could have left back toward Snowdin. But even if they did, he did not think that he could bring himself to go back there. Not now. Not today. So he walked forward. It was slightly unnerving that nobody else seemed to be around at this time of day.

He started walking faster.

0-0-0-0-0

“We need to contact Doctor Alphys again,” Other Papyrus continuously insisted as he walked alongside him, and it took Papyrus a moment to realize that although he himself was quickly powerwalking down a narrow stone bridge through a river way, trying not to limp, his duplicate was simply striding atop the water. He was getting warmer, he knew it. Hotland wasn't too far away. He wished his stupid aching leg would stop slowing his pace. And all the while, that mimicry stalked alongside him. Sometimes easily seen, sometimes just out of the corner of his vision. But he knew he was being watched. He tried his best not to be resentful about it, things like that left a bad taste in his mouth, so to speak. But that shadow of himself was not always pleasant to be around. And if he wasn't able to get rid of the blight on his sanity, he certainly was not going to make him feel welcome. He was just so tired. This was possibly one of the worst, and definitely longest days of his life.

“She's busy. I can do this without her.”

“We need her. I mean it. This kind of thing has never happened in any of our other reruns. This definitely classifies as 'not normal'. She knows more about temporal anomalies than you. She might be able to provide some kind of valuable insight as to why this particular timeline has been... well,” he gestured, rolling his gloved hand through the air. “An utterly unmitigated disaster, to put it lightly.”

“How is that putting it lightly?” Papyrus gave him a side glance.

“I was going to say a total cosmic buttfuck.”

“Okay wow yeah let's go with the first one,” he pulled away from the mirror image slightly, surprised.

“I can't help but notice that you still aren't calling her,” the not-a-ghost intoned, as if agitated. It was a little strange to see that constant, stretched smile twist in that manner, almost as though he was torn between two diametrical expressions and simultaneously able to project them both. It was creepy.

“No. No, I'm not,” he shook his head, ignoring the look he was getting. “It can wait. I told you, Frisk is at the top of my priority list right now.”

“Even though you know that they can't have gone far?”

“That's not the point and you know it...” Papyrus crossed his arms, a darkness falling over his face.

Papyrus had spent an admittedly large amount of time in Gerson's shop. He'd lost track of time, got lost in his thoughts again. It was a bad habit and he knew it. But it was one that he just couldn't quite seem to break easily. He needed to stay in the moment. Frisk could have wandered off or gotten hurt.

Or gotten someone else hurt.

There was enough dust on his hands as it was.

And blood.

God help him, the blood.

“So that's what this is about...” Other Papyrus murmured, appearing a few meters before him, leaning against a rocky outcropping.

“What now?” he growled.

“How much of it this is for the right reason, hm?” the phantom tilted his head slightly, tombstone teeth seeming a little sharper. “Is it because you are worried about the safety of others? Or... is it because you don't want to deal with the aftermath? The consequences? The guilt?”

“Fri~sk?” Papyrus shouted, poking his head down yet another empty stone hall, his tone steadily rising in pitch with worry. “Really need you to quit playing around! Please?”

“You can't ignore me forever.”

“Hello?” he got louder, cupping his mouth with his hands, a wave of uneasiness beginning to wash over him. “... Is anybody around here at all? Someone? Hello??”

… But nobody came.

“Slim.”

It was about that time that Papyrus began looking much, much harder for dust. Granted, he hadn't seen any on his trek through Waterfall thus far, but that didn't exactly make him feel any better about it. Tense, thick silence hung over him like a blanket; it was almost smothering, his soul was racing in his chest, he couldn't run, couldn't move, couldn't think-

Breathe.

He sucked in a weak gasp through his teeth and forced a shaky step, pressing onward. If he kept moving, he wouldn't have to think about it. If he didn't think about it, he wouldn't panic. If he didn't panic, he wouldn't have any problems like that. It was so simple anybody could do it, practically easy. Practically anybody.

He was an anybody, right?

He was a somebody.

He was Papyrus, Papyrus was a somebody, a somebody that could do lots of things, so it was no big deal for someone like him and he still couldn't breathe -

“Slim?”

Papyrus's chest ached, it burned, it felt like being stabbed all over again and he wretched and dropped to his knees as his shaking leg gave out beneath him, clutching at his exposed ribs. Too much, too much weight, too much pressure he could feel his soul straining against his chest, almost bursting from it, like he was cracking apart. He had to brace one hand on the ground just to keep from falling face first onto it. The dust spilling from between his teeth scattered across the top of his hand, his phalanges grasping uselessly at soil, ground and despair crumbling in his hand. His racing thoughts were running rampant, from the fires to the vibrant crimson blood he'd seen spilled to the scent of cloying dust on him to the horrible way Toriel looked just before she-

“Slim!”

Hot, bitter, hopeless stinging tears poured from his sockets down his cheeks, he barely realized before just how badly he wanted to scream – how could Gerson have possibly looked at him the way he did, say those awful things? There was no greatness in anything he did, no honor in his acts, no valiance in him that he so desperately craved. He found no glory in that heroism because there was no glory, there was no heroism, because he simply was no hero. And he never was. He couldn't save Toriel, he couldn't save Frisk, he couldn't Snowdin, he couldn't save his own beloved brother Sans, he couldn't even save himself. The cracking crumbling earth beneath him was rushing up to swallow him, he wanted so, so much to scream, and no matter what, he couldn't because he still couldn't breathe he was dying and he knew it he was dying all because of him such a failure it was all his fault there was no point everyone was going to die he was going to lose his only brother all over again and nothing was going to ever be any different-

0-0-0-0-0

Waterfall was a peculiar kind of place.

The rivers that twisted through the marsh ran in winding, sometimes perplexing ways. The paths and walkways all over the wetlands were not always monster made; some were formed from the constantly rushing water, whether it be the branching streams or diverging rivers. Some of the it went to the CORE, carrying ice to the gigantic geothermal reactor under the mountain. Some stayed in pools or small lakes, still crystal surface rarely broken.

But some simply vanished.

There were places in the Underground that not even the most adventurous of monsters dared tread. Some, like the places where the water flowed freely, down into the dark, dark places that stretched on and on forever and ever. Rivers that poured in ceaseless rolling waves, gradually decimating rock and earth, pulling a little bit more of it away at a time and dragging it all down.

Papyrus had gazed into that darkness more times than he was comfortable with.

Sometimes, he wondered what would happen if someone were to take so much as a single step in that direction. What terrible fate might await the poor unwary soul unfortunate enough to venture into that abyss. Where it could possibly lead.

What might be concealed, skulking and hidden, there, in the places forever untouched by the piercing thorn of light.

It crept at the edges of his consciousness, lurking just ever so slightly out of his cognitive periphery. The flickering embers of the edge of his mind gnawed upon by the encroaching, long dark, whispering promises of unspeakable, unknowable things. He was felt isolated, trapped, suffocating, lost. And somehow, felt almost as if he were not entirely alone. He could not cave in, despite the repercussions. He needed to know. Something still burned within him, though whether part of his mind or soul he did not know, it sang to him in wordless chorus from within and without. A weak, but still glowing ember of hope, a determination urging him on despite his fear, his urge to stay within scope of the dim light. Tentatively, Papyrus reached, ever so slowly, out and out, into that endless, dark emptiness calling him forth. Every light fades, and all dark is not so forever. He would see them both.

Something, someone, was watching him.

0-0-0-0-0

“Honestly. You insufferable, incompetent bumbling oaf. I swear to god you'd be dead without me.”

It was the weight of everything that seemed to sink back in on him first, oddly enough.

Papyrus's sockets were closed, but he felt no urgency to open them this time. He simply continued his slow, steady breathing, trying to remain as still as possible. He wasn't certain when or how he had gotten on his back, and his head was resting atop something softer than ground at least. He didn't want to move, didn't want to be awake, didn't want to have to face the awful ache in his entire body that reached into him and was punching his soul. He hurt, he was tired, he just wanted to rest for once. And assessing the situation he was in, it only served to raise more questions.

“I mean Christ, I can't leave you alone for five minutes,” Frisk grumbled, running their fingertips over the top of his head in small, deliberate circles. “It's always 'go go go', with you, and then you just run headfirst into every single wall in the way. Every day is a long day with you. And it doesn't even deter you, because of fucking course it doesn't,” they were practically dripping poison, but the hand cradling his head on their lap spoke otherwise. “Every time I leave you to your own devices, you just have to go and muck it all up. I didn't ask to be in this hellhole, I didn't ask to be stuck like this, I didn't ask to be trapped with the biggest goddamn idiot under the face of the planet. God. I could have just killed you.”

Papyrus tried very, very hard not to give any indication of being conscious as one of their hands began twining around his throat. A small, strange part of him, one that he did not want to ever acknowledge at all, however... was almost welcoming of the end. He was fully aware of what they were capable of. And still he remained, still and silent as the stone around them.

“Should have killed your sorry ass,” Frisk muttered bitterly, the tension decreasing ever so slightly. He heard them sigh, half weariness and exasperation. “Dammit. God. Dammit,” he heard them seethe. “I was alone. I didn't care, and I was okay with that. I was okay, with the resets. I was okay, with dying. I was okay with just being alone. But you just have to... ugh. But it's you. It just had to be you. God. Fuck, why did it have to be you.”

“... Do you need a hug-?”

“JESUS MOTHERCUNTING FUCK!” Frisk scrambled to their feet, dropping his head from their lap onto the hard ground. Papyrus only gave a weak grin, eye lights drifting up to the upside down human gasping for breath, one hand clutched to their chest, crimson eyes wide as saucers. He groaned in discomfort as he struggled to sit up and face them properly, kneeling in the dirt and offering them a small smile.

“... How long have you been awake?” they blurted, fear rapidly dissolving into frustration.

“Long enough to know that you definitely need a hug.”

“You shut – you shut your fuck, you shut your fuck up,” Frisk grumbled heatedly, cherry coated cheeks blossoming. “Explain, idiot.”

“Well, which is it?” Papyrus stared wearily. “Do you want me to shut up, or...?”

“I will cause you bodily harm!” Frisk yanked him by the collar, glaring into his sockets. “This isn't even the first time – this isn't even the first time today you looked like you were about to keel over and die, what is wrong with you? Stop it,” they shook him when he tried to answer. “Knock it off! Stop almost dying!”

“If I didn't know any better...” Papyrus couldn't help the mildly antagonistic grin growing on his face. “I might almost begin to suspect you actually cared or something.”

“I've killed for less you know,” Frisk reminded him in a flat deadpan. “Stop pissing me off and answer the goddamn question. This isn't normal for you, explain.”

“I-” he started, almost exposing more than he probably should have.

That nasty habit seemed to keep popping up. He wanted to talk about all of this to someone, anyone at all. And he all too frequently forgot that this particular confidant also happened to be the person who had killed him on numerous occasions. They had killed quite a bit more than him. He had been cut down so many times that some days he expected it to happen at some point or another. It was not something that he was comfortable with.

Papyrus let out an exhausted sigh through his teeth, closed his sockets and bowed his head, pinching the bridge of his nostril bone.

“... It has something to do with Chara, doesn't it?”

Frisk paused, their grip on his scarf loosening considerably. They did not speak, but the look on their face said plenty. They looked so upset, so hurt. They almost looked ready to cry. He could relate.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Frisk answered in a low, uncertain tone.

“But you do, don't you...?” try as he might, they would not meet his gaze, looking literally anywhere but at him. He placed a hand on their shoulder, earning a flinch. “I'm... I'm hearing things, little one. I might have even just brushed it off as being crazy,” Papyrus admitted. “But I'm not the only one. Am I?”

“You're digging your own grave, bone boy...” Frisk murmured in a warning tone.

“How do I make it stop?”

Frisk's expression softened, slowly, their sad stare locked onto him.

“... You don't,” they whispered miserably. “You just, kind of...” shrugging, they turned away, staring down into the dirt. “You just kind of learn to live with it.”

Papyrus strained to stand, those strange black wisps drifting across his vision as he rose, wafting away into nothing. He shook his head, once, then again, then extended a hand to them.

“No point in standing around all day,” he forced a grin on despite himself. Frisk seemed a bit surprised by this, only standing tentatively, looking back and forth from his face to his outstretched palm.

“Did you not hear me?”

“I can hear just fine!” Papyrus withdrew his hand, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I have got a ton of questions. So let's stop running our mouths and go get some answers, nyeh?”

“Why are you like this?” Frisk grunted in disgust. “You can't just go from that to mister happy-go-lucky bullshit!”

“Of course I can!” he puffed his chest up proudly. “Now, seriously, Frisk, we need to get moving if we're going to save everyone-”

“Are you listening to yourself?” they shouted at him, slapping the sides of their head with their palms. “I mean for Chrissake! Who do you even think you're saving, everybody's gone!”

Something in Papyrus strained, like heavy metal gears grinding to a slow, screeching halt.

“But everyone isn't,” he gave a struggling half laugh. “There are still people in the Underground – and as long as everyone isn't gone, there's still a chance! I just need to go find Doctor Alphys, we can get some answers, and then we can find my brother and everything will be fine-”

“Goddammit you delusional fuck!” Frisk swung hard, and he barely managed to dodge out of the way of their slicing hand. That awful bubbling in his chest just wouldn't go away, “Do you not get it? I told you – I warned you what happens when you go off the path! We might as well just kill ourselves and start over from scratch, I told you about this shit! And you did it anyway, if it weren't for you then maybe nobody would be dead-!”

“I FUCKING KNOW THAT!”

Frisk backstepped immediately, eyes wide, lips pursed.

The scream echoed off the walls of the stone halls, ricocheting like a bullet through the cavern. Stinging tears welled in his sockets and he clamped his palms to his face, trying to force them back in. He struggled to think, to breathe, but nothing he did would make things right. Nothing would bring anyone back. Nothing he could do would fix today. There wasn't a thing that he could say or do that would save his brother. His friends. Fix his mistakes.

“... I-I'm sorry,” he choked, bitterness lodged in his throat. Frisk stood on the defensive, wary and uncertain, wide eyes flickering across his face. “I-I didn't – I didn't mean-”

“Yeah. Yeah, you did,” Frisk's head dipped slightly, hair covering their eyes. They swiveled slowly on their heel, glancing back to him. They were quiet, much quieter than even before. “I'm... just go.”

“Frisk, I'm s-”

“Shut the fuck up, Papyrus.”

They strode away, back down the long stone halls of Waterfall, leaving him torn and all alone with the echo flowers, murmuring their last message over and over in an endless whisper cascade of his regrets.

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus did not continue on his trek to Hotland.

He did not chase after Frisk this time, either.

Sitting cross legged before a quiet lake, he only stared deep into his battered reflection. He was so burned out, so miserable, so tired. All he wanted was a bit of rest, and no matter how hard he tried, he felt as though he were never going to find it. He sighed and tossed out a small lily, watching it blossom on the pond and slowly, steadily drift away, far out of his reach until it was washed away by the dark.

He closed his sockets and tried not to think. It didn't work very well. His mind felt like a collapsing tower of ideas, all crumbling and smashing into each other on the way down. There was no order or sometimes even substance to them at all, just a constant barrage of chaos that wouldn't let his tired mind rejuvenate itself. Aching and exhausted, he reached out without looking to pick up another lily to toss into the water.

“Howdy.”

Papyrus yelped in surprise and jerked away from the small smiling flower that he had inadvertently grabbed, sitting up straighter. He caught his breath and looked the monster up and down for answers, but he was only met with a blank, empty smile.

“Flowey,” Papyrus began nervously. He numbly entertained the thought of making a run for it. But Flowey did not move from his spot, just watching him with that unreadable expression.

“You look a little out of sorts, good buddy!” Flowey chirruped. Papyrus did not respond, his worn out stare latched onto him. “I kind of wondered where you got off to. Things have been kinda weird today, huh, Papyrus?”

“You already know what happened, don't you...?” Papyrus's voice came out scratchy.

“Of course I do, silly,” he tittered in that humorless way of his. An uneasiness crept up his spine the longer that he watched him. “That whole morning with Toriel must have really done a number on you, huh?”

“What happened to Snowdin?” he dropped all pretense, his limbs stiff. “You know about it, I'd bet on it.”

“No idea!” Flowey bounced up and down on his stem with that same hollow smile. “Probably just some child playing with fire. You'd be amazed what you can accomplish with a simple matchbook, you know,” he gave him a knowledgeable nod. “But enough about that silly nonsense! Let's talk you, good buddy!”

“You can drop the act,” Papyrus gritted his teeth. “You know why Undyne didn't show up when we needed her, too, don't you?”

“Well of course I do...!” Flowey giggled. “But come on, old buddy, let's-”

“You're going to tell me,” he stood fully, tattered scarf hanging limply behind him. “Now. It's been a long day, don't test me. Answer the question.”

Flowey did not move from his spot, but his thin eyebrow did begin to rise ever so slowly.

“All business now, huh?” his head gradually tilted to the side, like he was being inspected. “Of course I know where she is. I'm Flowey. I know everything.”

“Then answer the question.”

“Didn't you know?” Flowey's vacuous, painted on smile widened. “She rushed off to the king. Some nefarious soul must have slipped something into his drink. Apparently he was poisoned,” he continued as if he were discussing the weather, Papyrus's shock went either unnoticed or ignored.

“P-poisoned?” he felt ill. “Someone tried to kill the king?”

Well, that would certainly explain why nobody could reach her.

“Oh, yeah, but I wouldn't bother to really call it attempted regicide,” Flowey waved a small vine like a hand gesture, tucking it back underground. “It's not even the first time. You'd be surprised at the kind of reaction one bad ingredient can have. Totally unrelated by the way, do you have any allergies?”

“That's the most – I'm sorry, what?” Papyrus balked. “Why? Why do you need to know?”

“No reason. So, shellfish? Garlic? Some people are allergic to buttercups, did you know that?” he continued conversationally, but there was some underlying darkness that he couldn't put his finger on, something that made his bones crawl. “Can you imagine? The pain it causes? Death by flowers.”

Papyrus shook himself, head bouncing with more questions than ever before.

“The king – what happened to the king?”

“Oh. Yeah, he's fine,” Flowey rolled his eyes. “Pretty much the whole Underground is in a tizzy. And now it doesn't even matter. How droll,” he gazed away.

“How can you just say that?” Papyrus's fists clenched.

“Because it's all about to go up in smoke,” Flowey explained casually. “But you'd know all about that, hm, good buddy?”

“What-what are you talking about?”

“Oh, in about four, three, two-”

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus awoke to the sound of a klaxon alarm.

He stared at the blinking colored numbers on the clock, flashing and dancing to the tuneless beat. He wordlessly stared but didn't bother to turn the alarm off, wrapped up under the blankets, curled into the tightest little ball that he could, and silently cried his eyes out.

0-0-0-0-0

Chapter Text

FILE CORRUPTED.

Chapter Text

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus considered himself a relatively tough person.

He trained and sparred regularly. He exercised frequently to stay in the best shape that he could manage. On several occasions he had even gone cliff climbing with Undyne, even though she always managed to power up the rocks much faster and more agilely than he could, he didn't give up. He honestly didn't know how she managed to make everything seem so effortless, it was genuinely impressive. And he wanted to be that good, too, even though he knew it wouldn't be easy. When life presented him with a challenge, he met it head on, and kept going until he managed to break through.

This morning, the mere idea of dragging himself out of bed seemed like such a monumental obstruction that he didn't even know how he was going to last five minutes.

After he had sufficiently bored a hole into the wall with his stare, he dried his sockets with his palms and gradually dragged himself into a slumped sitting position. That dreadful ringing just wouldn't stop. He tried wearily slapping at the alarm clock to shut it off. He couldn't just stay in bed, no matter how much he wanted to. That wretched beeping every morning was horrible. He wanted to be frustrated with it, to some extent. But oddly, he just couldn't seem to muster the strength. Maybe he just didn't have it in him anymore. So instead, he sat in bed with his knees pulled up to his chest, staring blankly at the wall before him. That hanging calendar, always on the wrong day, silently mocked him from across the room. He stared at it for what felt like several weeks before wordlessly hauling his cement filled legs over the side and sat in contemplative silence on the edge of the bed. He did not immediately get up, either.

A few moments later, he put his head in his hands and sighed, a long, low, miserably guttural noise that even he hadn't heard himself make before. That ringing was still echoing through his mind. There were so many things going through his head at once, all bouncing off of each other – and although that was normally something that quite irritated him, he really didn't mind so much this morning. It left him distracted enough not to think about anything for too long, because if he did that he was probably going to spend too much time thinking on it, he just knew it. He was so drained, so weary, and the day hadn't even started. Even finally standing up felt strange, as if he were experiencing the steady vertical transition through someone else. His mind was so full of fog that it was difficult to focus. How very odd, he thought it. But he didn't particularly want to think of that, either. He just wanted to stay in that uncomfortable yet familiar daze. He shook his head but it did nothing to alleviate the feeling.

Oh well.

He checked off the mark on the calendar more out of habit than anything. He really just could not find it within himself to care much about what day it was. It was painfully obvious. He knew what day it was going to be. The same one that it had been for a while. There really was no purpose, such a pointless exercise. But he didn't want to think about that, either.

So he didn't.

The flickering light of the old beaten up desktop computer booting up filled the room. He sidled wordlessly into the chair and ticked away at the keys, eye sockets tired and aching with the itch to rub them, but he stared endlessly into the screen, and after several long minutes of waiting for loading he finally allowed himself a single weary blink as he searched and searched the undernet's online forums in a desperate bid for something. Anything.

In-betweeners – 0 search results.

Flowey – 0 search results.

Anomalies – 2 search results.

Abnormal Abdominal Anomalies – What to Expect When You're Not Expecting Expecting

Anomalies In Aromatics – A Step By Step Guide to the Perfect Garden

can I just get a straight answer for once – 0 search results

LJLijadflkjdfaoirjeaoigjkadj – 0 search results.

CHARA – 0 search results.

GASTER –

The computer screen fizzed out .

He sighed and gave it a couple of slaps. This happened every now and then. The old thing probably just couldn't keep going any longer. At least by tomorrow it would probably be working again. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to even get up at all. He was fine with just staring into that black screen, his shaded reflection staring back. It didn't bother him. It didn't bother him. He wasn't bothered.

He looked away.

It took an arduously long time to dress himself, his digits feeling numb and heavy as he donned his battle body in complete silence. Even his gloves felt like they didn't belong on his hands. It was such a strange, dissonant feeling, he found it, being fully dressed in his battle body again. Like a bit more of himself was there, but not really there. Not so long ago he had been walking in what were essentially tatters. He ran his phalanges across the fabric of his favorite scarf, almost half asleep, expecting to feel the rips and tears and burns. But there were no scorch marks on his armor, his body was undamaged, there was no dust. None at all.

And yet, still, he smelled the ash.

Papyrus shook himself and pointedly avoided glancing in the mirror on his way out. He couldn't even handle looking at himself right then. All of his thoughts bounced off of one another, none taking precedent. Even the constant screaming in his chest was slightly dulled as he drifted down the hallway, hand on the balcony railing, still fearful and afraid of what – or lack thereof – he might find. He stood before his brother's door for far too long, flat of his fist pressed against the wood.

“... Sans?” he knocked tentatively at the door. “Brother? Please. I... I need to talk to you. Please, just be there. Please be... please. Just... please.”

“I think your knock knock jokes are getting even worse,” the bedroom door creaked open and Sans poked his grinning head out. However, his smile slowly began to dissipate the longer he looked up at the distraught skeleton, worry overtaking his features. “... Paps?”

His legs almost gave out then and there. He carefully wrapped his arms around the shorter monster, pulling him into a warm, tight embrace, as if afraid that if he let go he would disappear forever. He squeezed him as firmly and gently as he could, eventually clinging to him so fiercely that his arms ached as much as his chest.

“... Bro?” Sans murmured after a while. “You, uh... you okay?”

No.

No I'm not.

I am not okay.

I lost you yesterday.

I've done something horrible.

I'm losing my mind.

I was too late.

My soul is going dark.

Everything is wrong.

Nothing is wrong.

Nothing Is Wrong.

NOTHING IS WRONG.

“Nothing is wrong,” Papyrus sighed, releasing him at last, albeit reluctantly. It felt horrible lying like that, but what else was he supposed to do? He couldn't drag his brother into this mess all at once. He needed structure, organization, order; and everything felt so chaotic that he was just being swept along daily with the tide. The only thing at the top of his priorities was making sure that his brother was okay. He had to take care of this one problem at a time. He could do it, he knew he could. He just had to figure out how. He sniffled miserably and shook himself, forcing on a somewhat weak smile, fighting back an exhausted sigh. However, his hopes of alleviating his brother's concern didn't make much apparent difference. If anything, Sans only looked more worried.

“... You look like you been cryin',” Sans stated simply. Not a question, merely a fact.

“It's just – I have this – there's been-” he struggled, all of the uncertainty and fear and worry and dread piling up on him at once. He could feel it, almost like a physical weight on his shoulders, clawing through his back to his chest, dragging him through to the center of the earth. And for just a brief moment, he dimly wondered if he would be less lonely if he dragged someone down that pit with him.

I can't put him through this. Not him. Not ever.

“... So,” he shrugged after several long, achingly silent and awkward moments. “I, um. I have a date.”

“What?” Sans suddenly blurted in a half surprised laugh, looking at him with a tilt, his grin growing. “Oh, hell, bro – no wonder you've been so outta sorts lately. With who? When? What's goin' on with my favorite little bro, what'd I miss? Seriously?”

Papyrus slinked down the stairs first, motioning for his brother to follow, but he didn't have to hear him behind to know that he would anyway. He set about making coffee, setting up a pot of brew. That awful numbness in his chest just wouldn't subside. He tried his best to ignore it.

“So... you know the shopkeeper, here in town?” Papyrus said conversationally as he poured himself a steaming mug and one for his brother, who took it with a strange glance.

“Yeah? Bunni, actually. Cmon, bro. I know everybody. You got a date with her or somethin'?”

“Tomorrow, actually...” he fidgeted, leaning against the counter top with his back to the wall, facing him. “I've been... I've been doing a whole lot of thinking lately is all.”

That part wasn't technically untrue. It didn't help him feel any less horrid.

“Eh. But that's tomorrow,” Sans shrugged, taking a sip of his java, never once dropping his gaze. “But somethin' else has got you all worked up,” and Papyrus tried very hard to ignore the discomfort of being inspected in a strange way – not quite a check, but it was that look that Sans sometimes gave him. The one that implied things that he did not want to think about. The look that said it all. Like somehow, against all odds, he just... knew. “It's all over your face. You look like ya haven't slept. Not even your usual four hours. You ain't standin' up straight anymore. Yer all outta sorts. Hell, ya even put your gloves on backwards,” and a quick inspection (and correction) proved that he was indeed correct. “And for god's sake, Paps, you don't even like coffee.”

Papyrus quietly put down the mug on the counter top, his head buzzing like a swarm of insects gnawing at him. He took in a long, unsteady breath and stilled himself.

“Brother. I... I-I think...” his tone lowered. “I think... there's something wrong with me.”

“Whaddya mean, bro?” Sans did not drop the investigative stare; if anything, it only grew more intense. “You feelin' okay? C'mon, Paps. You can talk to me.”

“Do-do you-” Papyrus fidgeted, uncertain and distressed. He finally sighed, running a hand over the top of his skull. “Do you ever feel like you're, oh, I don't know... doing the same thing, over and over again?”

“Well that depends,” Sans replied calmly. “I mean, I'm a scientist.”

“Was a scientist.”

“Am a scientist,” he corrected him calmly, dropping lax onto the creaky wooden chair at the table before pulling out a bottle of ketchup from his jacket and taking a disgustingly large swig. “The definition of insanity is doing the exact same thing, over and over again. But, if you tweak it slightly each time, you're a scientist. Repetition will drive ya crazy if you aren't noticing the variables. It takes active participation, and I'm too broke to pay attention ta most things anyway.”

“So... what you're saying is I'm not being proactive enough,” Papyrus mused, crossing his arms and gazing out towards the door, almost as if he could see through it if he tried hard enough. Perhaps that was his problem after all. The last time he had drastically altered the timeline it most certainly hadn't been on purpose. But he was pretty much lacking in that department. How long had it been since he had done anything on purpose? It gave him plenty more to think about. Maybe he hadn't been thinking about things enough. Not nearly enough at all. Just trying to get through the day, sometimes just staying alive was a struggle. Human Frisk seemed so adamant about 'staying on the path', and after a while it became apparent that they did not mean so literally.

He had seen firsthand what damage lack of critical thinking combined with rash action could do. Stars help him, the dust – don't think about it. But what if he applied what he knew to actually improve the repeating day, instead of just doing the same thing? He couldn't lose knowledge. He could keep knowledge. He could change the future. He knew some of what lay in store, after all. He didn't have a lot of power on his side, but he had knowledge. Knowledge that he could use.

And, he mused darkly, if he was going to use it appropriately...

He was going to need more.

A lot more.

“... Bro?”

“What? Yes? I mean, no?” Papyrus blinked, standing up straight. “Sorry, what was the question?”

“I said you're goin' weird on me,” Sans gave him a look of serious concern. He swiveled on his seat and faced him fully, staring him up and down. He had that look about him, the one Papyrus really didn't like. Like he was being inspected under a microscope, all of his fears and flaws laid bare. “You've got that three hundred foot stare on ya. It's like you didn't even hear what I asked about tomorrow.”

“To-tomorrow?” he shifted in foot to foot.

“About your date?” Sans cocked a brow bone. “Didja forget already? Hey, memory's the first thing to go, followed by memory,” he chuckled rather grimly, and unexpectedly for him. But just like that he was back to all smiles. “So, tell me about this girl. What does she like?”

“Nyo, oh. Oh...” Papyrus cleared his throat and tapped his phalanges together. “W-well, um. You know, things people like. Spaghetti, puzzles... and...” he trailed off lamely. Sans only chortled and shook his head.

“... Never even asked, did ya?” he leaned with his elbow on the table, cheek in hand. Papyrus felt a hot wash of embarrassment flow over him. “You can ask question after question, all day long, bro. But you gotta learn to really listen. Granted, we don't got ears for it, but I'm sure you can find a spare in that box o' junk ya got packed in your closet.”

“For the record, I did not know dressing up in a rabbit costume as a joke would insult that many people,” Papyrus shook his head, bony cheeks flush.

“Yeah, but we know now what some folks find offensive. Still don't think Ditz ever forgave me for that mess I made.”

“You met Miss Giddy?”

“She's a real – wait, you know 'er?” Sans sat up straight, seeming quite a bit surprised this time. “Oh. Well, yeah. I, uh, get around. I didn't know you talked to her. You never mentioned her.”

“A regular at Grillby's,” Papyrus rubbed the back of his neck. “We talked a little bit, that's all. I don't really know anything about her.”

“She's real feisty,” Sans warned him with a growing grin. “She's got some real hare-raising ex stories y'know. Don't ask her about her bunnymoon.”

“I think she's-” he started before cutting himself off. Sans just sat back and smirked that wide grin of his, waiting. Papyrus only stared in silence.

“What?” his brother tilted his head. “That one didn't get ya hoppin' mad? Not even not even a raised eye burrow? Seriously...? C'mon, bro. What's with that look?”

“At this point?” Papyrus deadpanned. “I don't even carrot all.”

Sans sat in complete and utter silence.

He just stared and stared and stared.

“... Something's wrong,” Sans put on an air of total seriousness. “Something is definitely wrong. Papyrus made a pun. The world is ending.”

“If it does, I'll tack it onto the list of other things to deal with...” he replied dryly.

“I mean it!” Papyrus honestly couldn't tell if he was making a joke this time or not. “Disaster of biblical proportions! Human sacrifice, cats and dogs living together – mass HYSTERIA.”

“I feel like you're making a joke and I'm not sure whether or not you are, and frankly I do not have the time or patience for it,” Papyrus glared at him flatly.

“There's the Paps I know an' love,” Sans chortled again. “Had me real concerned for a second there.”

“I'm heading out,” he put his cup in the sink without bothering to wash it. That dreadful numbness just wouldn't seem to leave him be. “At least show up to some of your posts – do not just sleep all day!” Papyrus jabbed a fingerbone in his direction. Sans raised a brow bone, but gave a single nod. “I mean it brother; please, just-just don't, nyem... don't fall asleep when you need to be awake or something. Okay? I...” he fidgeted at the doorway, rubbing his wrist. “I... I really worry about you.”

“You ain't gotta worry about me, bro,” Sans shrugged nonchalantly, but that look was back again. “I'm a little more worried about what's really eatin' ya up. But I know for a fact I ain't gonna get anywhere naggin' ya, been on the receiving end of that plenty of times. Just...” Sans stood before him, craning his neck a little. “Just know that when you're ready to talk, I'm here for ya. Okay, bro?”

Papyrus choked, his throat feeling uncomfortably tight.

“... Thank you, brother,” he embraced him tightly before swiftly releasing him and standing tall. He spun on the spot and almost bolted to the door before he accidentally said something that he should probably keep to himself. “Love you brother. I'm off!”

“... Love you too, bro.” that low whisper just barely reached him as he pulled open the door, the chill wintery air dousing him in waves.

Papyrus turned to glance back at him-

But there was nobody there.

A sense of newfound and thoroughly unwanted unease crawling over him, he wordlessly tossed back his scarf and threw himself out into what would assuredly be much more than he was willing to handle.

0-0-0-0-0

On some level, Papyrus felt the cold.

As a skeleton, it wasn't much of a problem. Most of the residents of Snowdin didn't really have any issues with the weather; in fact, most were pretty comfortable with the biting chill. But the drifting wind sending dancing snowflakes to ballet around him didn't seem quite right. He didn't feel quite right. Nothing felt quite right. He tried to brush off the sensation as best he could. People were back, after all. Things could be right today. He could fix everything. He shouldn't be so fretful. He did his best to clear his mind.

And still, he heard the whispers.

He tried to shake his head, those little black wisps at the corners of his vision blurring as he walked. It seemed to be more and more of a constant, so much so that sometimes he forgot that it very much was not normal at all. His thoughts drifted in and out like echoes in a cavern, Papyrus barely felt his boots crunching in the snow. He felt as though he were watching his actions take place from just behind his eye sockets, observing silently as he held out an open palm and watched a snowflake dwindle down into his palm and melt away into nothing. Such a fragile little thing, existing for only a few bare moments only to either be swallowed by the earth or washed away. He didn't know why he felt bad for it. That was just what snow did, after all. Nothing was permanent. Nothing lasted forever.

Nobody did.

“Good morning Barry,” Papyrus intoned robotically and quietly as he stood before the surly bear monster just beginning to wake up. His own voice sounded hollow and unfamiliar, but somehow he just couldn't seem to muster the energy to care about it. Barry hardly glanced up from his newspaper, peering over the edge and swirling his steaming brew in a paper cup. Just like always.

“Do I know you?” he asked after an uncomfortably long stretch of silence. Barry shifted slightly when Papyrus did not move, did not speak, didn't so much as blink. “... 'the hell is your problem, weirdo?”

BARRY

HP: 130

AT: 3

DF: 8

NEEDS AN ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT.

Papyrus's eye socket twitched and his fist clenched instinctively; he had to stop, physically stop himself from doing something that he probably would have regretted. At some level, it unnerved him. At some level, he knew something was off.

And at some deeper level, he just did not care.

“The word you're looking for is groundhog,” Papyrus stated tiredly. He squeezed and loosened his fist, trying to stay focused despite the distracting buzzing pulling him constantly into that hazy fugue.

“I – oh. Hey, wait, how did-?”

“I need you to do something for me...” he interjected, the confused bear monster's brow furrowing. “Have you noticed anything strange or out of the ordinary around town lately?”

“Like I said to the Guard,” Barry grunted and turned his gaze back to his paper, clearly trying to ignore him. “If I see anything, I'll let 'em know. That's-”

“That's just politics yes I know thank you very much Barry. Just do something useful today and pay attention if anything strange happens, it's important.” Papyrus twitched again and set off. There was an odd crick in his neck that he couldn't quite get rid of. Going against his better judgment, he pressed against the oaken door to Grillby's pub and was instantly hit with a wave of dust and ash and you were too late why didn't you save them it's all your fault charcoal and cooking food, the light simmer of alcohol tainting the air. If he had a nose, he probably would have been pinching it. A couple of heads poked up upon his entry, some unfamiliar.

He glanced about before making up his mind and letting the door close behind him, shutting out the wintery air. He readjusted his scarf and waved to the staring bunny monster who had previously been losing herself in her drink at the table. She blinked a couple of times as if uncertain, the color in her face rising. Papyrus quietly leaned at the bar, murmuring to Grillby asking for two more of whatever she was having. Grillby gave him a long, strange look but eventually poured him the drinks, and Papyrus dropped an uncounted amount on the counter and had to stop himself from running. Keep calm. Play it smooth.

“Good morning, Ditz,” Papyrus paused by the table, earning a slightly uncomfortable stare from her.

“H-have we met?”

“Oh, only once,” he responded tiredly, placing the drinks on the table, one for her and one before him, though he had absolutely no intention of imbibing. “It was quite a while ago.”

He really was getting too comfortable with lying. It made something twist and squirm in him that he very much did not like. The rabbit monster was halfway into her first drink at this point, her cheeks flush and gaze just a bit unfocused. If Papyrus's experiences were anything to go on, she was likely to be more talkative if he played his cards right.

“So,” he made himself comfortable at the other seat opposite her, despite the odd look he was getting. “I just, nyem. Wanted to stop by, check up on how you're doing.”

“Um, listen, honey,” Ditz shifted back in her seat, pulling her drink back with her with one hand away from him. “I don't even know your name, I'm pretty sure we've never met...? I-I mean-?”

“Oh, where are my manners,” Papyrus forced a laugh and aligned his scarf again. “I guess I never did give you my name, you did have plenty of drinks in you the other day,” he played off of what he hoped was a decent bluff, gauging from what he had to go on and her observed habits. “Call me Calibri. Actually,” he snapped his gloved fingers, as if he had just thought of something. “I've been talking to that nice shopkeeper right next to the inn for quite a while now – Bunni, I believe is her name, nnnyes?”

Ditz blinked and nodded slowly, never taking her sight off of him, her drink now forgotten. She seemed more interested in inspecting him instead.

“Yeah? We're related, actually...”

“Ahh, I can see the resemblance now...” he nodded after a moment of thought. “I should have noticed right away. She's very cute as well.”

“I – that's – o-oh, well, um...” Ditz cleared her throat, looking back and forth between Papyrus and her glass before glancing downward for a long moment. Then she downed the entire drink in one admittedly impressive go, the tankard now completely empty. She fluffed her ears and leaned forward, grinning a little more comfortably now. “So... I must have b-been pretty plastered if I forgot all about you, Mister Calibri. Didja come back just to flirt with little old me?”

“I'm actually just here on business,” Papyrus shifted back, his bones burning in discomfort. This was backfiring tremendously. She didn't seem too put off by his statement, however. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice, leaning in on his elbows and steepling his phalanges together. “I really need to know a couple of things. Have you, nyerm... have you noticed anything strange or out of place around town, recently?”

“Whaddya mean, hon?”

“Oh, I'm just being hyperbolic here, but... dangerous things, like, say, for example, something that could start a town-wide fire just laying about...?” she tilted her head in confusion, and that answered that. “Any bizarre occurrences lately at all? What's the word around Snowdin?”

“Sorry, hon. Nothin' weird that I can think of.”

“Anything? Anything out of the ordinary at all?”

Ditz shook herself a little bit, seemingly a bit disappointed, but eventually blinked and sat up a bit straighter.

“Well... now that you mention it...” her tone lowered in a hush, and Papyrus leaned in to listen. “I did hear somethin' weird, just the other day. Sounded kinda like someone talking about 'doors between doors' or something like that. Didn't make any sense. But, here's the thing...” she played with her glass, turning it around by the hinge. “When I went over to check it out? Turns out it was just an echo flower. Weird, right?”

“Right...” Papyrus rubbed his chin and started to stand. “Well, thanks for your time. I've got to run.”

“H-hey, already? L-let's hang out some more some time...?” she offered. It might have even been somewhat hopefully. It made that emptiness hanging in his chest tingle in a strange way.

“I'll try to stop by tomorrow. Okay?” he answered tiredly. “I'll see you later, Miss Giddy.”

“Didn't even know echo flowers came in that color...” he heard her mutter to herself as he left. “Wait, how did-?”

The cold air of Snowdin hit him as he left the pub, and for some reason, just before he closed the door, he caught a glimpse of the owner's fiery eyes on him. Like Grillby had been secretly watching him the entire time. Their eyes met for just a brief moment before the door closed and he felt horridly exposed, bare before that intense gaze, like he had just been caught with his hand in the cookie tin. But that was ridiculous, of course. Grillby probably didn't even know his name. He had been quiet enough at the table, prying for questions, he supposed. The elemental likely hadn't heard him asking such suspicious questions. And yet...

He couldn't shake that sensation.

The feeling he got when Sans gave him 'the look'.

That somehow, against all odds, he just knew .

He tried to shake it off as he walked, making his way over to the inn. He waved halfheartedly to a couple of monsters standing about chatting to each other, but they hardly even registered his existence. It was like the world was all but blind to him sometimes.

That thought, somehow, made something very, very unpleasant begin to stir in him.

He tried to shake that off, as well.

Papyrus was met with less than stellar results.

He marched past the inn without a second thought. No, his sights were dead set on the glowing gold hidden in the snow. That glimmering light that nobody else seemed to notice. He knelt before it and reached out, instinctively, and felt an immediate relief. Tension and pain in his bones that he had barely even noticed was there just seemed to melt away, and he felt... refreshed? It was as though he had gone an entire month without rest and just now realized how alleviating such a feeling was. Not so much a healing as it was a lack of symptoms.

It began to dawn on Papyrus, in that moment, as he knelt on one knee with his palm over that shimmering glow, that perhaps that was why Frisk so frequently sought out those shining lights.

Maybe they, too, were in more pain than they were ever going to admit.

THE SIGHT OF SUCH A FRIENDLY TOWN FILLS YOU WITH

ERROR.

CANNOT SAVE.

ERROR.

FILE CORRUPTED.

ERROR.

ERROR.

ERROR.

THEY ARE WATCHING.

Papyrus stood and brushed himself, uncertainty gnawing at him. The words and letters floating before him drifted away into nothingness, leaving him standing in confusion. It didn't make any sense, but then again, those little messages (on what occasions he could even call them that) rarely did. Did Frisk see any of those things when they touched the 'save points' as well? He was curious about that as well. He had plenty of questions for them about that. Then again, he had quite a few questions that didn't seem to have any ready answers.

He braced himself and pushed open the door to the general store, the tinkling bell above signaling another customer. The shopkeep's large ears perked up upon his entry, and he smiled widely and tried to look as lax and non-threatening as possible, recalling her jumpiness.

“Oh! Come on in outta the cold, darlin'. What can I get for ya?”

“Good morning, Miss B- I mean, yes, good morning,” he caught himself, clearing his throat. “Sorry, the innkeeper next door sent me for goods, but she never told me the owner was such a looker.”

“O-oh!” Bunni blinked, her cheeks flaring in a purple hue. “Well, ain't you the flirt. You lookin' for anythin' in particular, darlin'?”

“Well, I've got a bit of a trip ahead of me,” Papyrus said conversationally. “What might that delightful smell be?”

“Cinnamon bunnies?” she motioned to a display tray wafting steam. “If'n you wanna try a couple, I make 'em myself-”

“In that case, I'll buy all of them.”

Bunni's eyebrows rose.

“Mister high roller, huh?”

“Well, if you made them yourself,” he leaned on the counter with a grin. “Then they must be pretty good. I'm guessing they're your favorite?”

“Actually it's apple cobbler,” Bunni smiled and shook her head. “But ain't too easy to come by fresh apples in Snowdin without making one heck of a trek, if'n you know what I'm saying.”

“Thanks, Miss Bunni. I'll remember that for tomorrow's yesterday. Here's the cash, I've really got to hurry I'm running late. Can't wait to see you later earlier!” he bolted for the door and flew like a loosed arrow.

“Wait, hon you overpaid -” she began before the door clinked shut, and she was left in silence, wondering about the numerous oddities that were just presented before her.

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus was quick as he could manage. One arm with the bag bundled under his arm, the other swinging loosely at his side, he ran at a quick jog down the paths through the Snowdin fields. He passed by Greater Dog's sentry post (if it could be called that, it was more like a dog house) and kept going. He glanced over his shoulder a couple of times, but couldn't quite shake the uncomfortable feeling. Like he was being observed. But no matter how quickly he turned his head, or where he looked, he saw no one.

He passed by a couple of monsters playing in the snow on the way, a birdlike monster trying repeatedly to make a joke to another wholly uninterested in anything but showing off his frozen cap. He shook his head and kept going, hopping over the puzzles. If Sans would actually put in as much effort as Papyrus had, perhaps the Snowdin field puzzles would actually be a bit more intimidating. Granted, they hadn't necessarily stopped the human in their tracks before, but it was worth the effort. Besides, it was tradition.

He was close.

He was so, so very close, to almost, very nearly, finally having a somewhat normal day.

And then he heard the screaming.

Papyrus froze in place, eye sockets widening as he pinpointed the source of the noise. Shrill, high pitched, cut short. He dropped everything and took off at a bolt, cinnamon treats tumbling into the snow. Panic and magic coursing through him, he instinctively summoned a half formed magic club, jagged at the edge from lack of focus. He cut a swathe through vegetation and threw himself onward toward the source of the scuffle, soul pounding in his chest so furiously he couldn't think of anything but the slamming in his head, the fear of being too late, the horrible dread overwhelming him, he couldn't breathe. Feet pounding into the snow, he surged into the bushes and through underbrush and branches, shoving them aside and barreling outward.

“Frisk! Run!”

The figure on the ground was bleeding badly, clinging with one arm and scrabbling backwards on the ground away from the assailant armed with a large dagger. Doggo barely even registered Papyrus's bellowing cry as he rocketed toward him, knocking him clean off his feet. They landed in a scuffling pile, one tumbling over the other, Papyrus's summoned half-club dropped when he was kicked roughly in the pelvis so hard that he heard a crack, but he didn't stop. He was kicked again when he tried to get up, dropping and rolling to get away but Doggo was fast, faster than he remembered. Papyrus only barely managed to avoid being stabbed, that large knife plunging mere centimeters from his face into the snow before drawing back up high. He got a cut to the shoulder, shallow but long, and he hissed in pain. Another stab coming, he couldn't get out of the way. He grappled the monster's wrist just in time, even as he was pinned to the ground, straining to breath through his teeth, the stone dagger drawing closer and closer to his face.

“D-Doggo!” Papyrus wheezed, bruised ribs weakening under the monster's weight. “Doggo, it-it's me! It's me! Papyrus! Tall skeleton! Papyrus!”

“... Papyrus...?” Doggo slowed, if only for a moment, and Papyrus finally got to take in just how frighteningly vicious he looked. Teeth bared, lips drawn back in a too-wide snarl. His eyes were bloodshot, and one looked like he had been pulling or tearing at it or something horribly similar. Patches of fur had been clawed off of his neck and face, from the looks of it by himself. Bits of foamy drool leaked from one corner of his open mouth through his teeth, his hot and heavy panting breaths coming fast and hard. He looked downright rabid, nothing like the irritable guardsman that Papyrus knew.

“Papyrus!” Doggo barked, knife just barely held off. “What are you doing? You should be helping me kill them!”

“Over my fucking dust!”

With an intense surge of strength and infused magic to his legs, Papyrus kicked off from the ground while keeping the guardsman's knife pinned, jamming it into the ground beside him. He kept his grip on Doggo's wrist as well, the flailing monster bellowing and hitting him with repeated punches to the head. His vision blurred immediately after the first, and he almost blacked out after the third, but he couldn't let go; his grip on Doggo's wrist tightened again and again, until he heard the sickening crack. Doggo screamed in pain and Papyrus wheezed for breath, tasting dust in his mouth, desperately hoping that the monster would come to his senses. No such thing happened. The injured guardsman took another dive for the knife, bellowing profanities one after another when he realized that Papyrus, on the ground, had stopped moving. For a brief second Papyrus thought that he had gained the upper hand. At least, until he realized that he was indeed bleeding dust from several cuts and injuries. And then the fear began to bubble right back up.

Doggo lowered his head. His shoulders lowered.

His arms began to swing gently back and forth, like he was tasting the space around him.

Papyrus slowly, cautiously, very carefully, began to reach for the knife.

“Come out, Papyrus...!” spat out the broken canine, spitting out a broken canine. Spittle and dust drifted from the side of his mouth, his eyes darted back and forth, and Papyrus could only shift lower and lower to the ground, desperately reaching for the large dagger. The moment Doggo caught a whiff of dust that was not his own, he let loose a horrid, deep, guttural growl that Papyrus had never heard before, a bone shuddering rumbling that made his ethereal stomach churn.

“The child has to die, Papyrus...” Doggo stalked closer and closer to the weapon, Papyrus inching as fast as he dared, never taking his sockets off of the monster. “Just like the others! It isn't what it seems! They're bringing them through the in-between!”

And then it was over.

That was it.

It was just... over.

Papyrus stood there, over the dust, dumbstruck at what he had just done.

His mind reeling, knees feeling as though they were going to buckle, he could only stare at the human bleeding from their arm and shoulder, backed into the sentry station and watching him in shock. Papyrus looked away from them then. Down to the dust on the ground. To the sharpened stone dagger in his hand, covered in sin. On the toes of his boots. The dust coating his gloves. On his battle body. Cast to the wind.

And still, he heard the whispers.

“... Dude. What the fuck.”

0-0-0-0-0

Chapter Text

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PAPYRUS'S LOVE HAS INCREASED.

And still, he heard the whispers.

Only now...

Now, they felt more pronounced. More nightmarish and somehow, more real than they had ever been. The black wisps at the corners of his vision were all but gone, leaving him with a crystal clear view of his sinful deed. He could only stare in utter horror down at his hands, caked in the dust of his fallen comrade. Disgust coated his whole body. So thoroughly shaken, yet still standing. He was lucky he was doing that much. It felt like his every fiber was about to crumble. Just like Doggo. His phalanges trembled and clenched over and over. A fellow that he had once called his friend. The guardsman that he had known for so long. The guy who liked to smoke and drink on his time off with his friends, and what would he even tell them now? The somewhat irritable but loyal monster who was always there for his friends. Doggo.

And now he was gone.

Because of him.

“... Are you okay?”

That slight intonation wasn't quite enough to snap Papyrus out of it completely, but it did manage to draw his attention. He felt as though he were trapped in a dream; surely that was what this was, after all. Doggo would never go off like that on someone. He looked so manic and unlike himself, throwing his very body around like a feral beast. Papyrus turned ever so gradually on his heels to face the quivering human, clutching at their arm close to their chest, and it was after noticing the slow but steady dribble of crimson dripping from their arm. That awful carmine hue that he hoped he would never see again drew his sight immediately.

“Am I alright?” he breathed weakly, the beating his body had taken piling in on him at once. He tried his best to ignore it and knelt with a groan on one knee, ushering them forward. Frisk tentatively inched closer, red eyes glancing about left and right on high alert. He couldn't blame them. “Am I alright, they say... good lord. He... he got you good, didn't he? Here. St-stop moving, let me see, little one.”

“Fuckin' hell, don't poke it, Christ!” Frisk seethed openly when he prodded their arm, hissing in pain. He winced empathically.

“Sorry! Sorry,” he murmured. “Just be still for a moment, alright? I'm not great at this, but it should stabilize the wound-” Papyrus explained as he funneled what little green magic he could into his less battered arm and away from his own injuries, watching the sparks sizzle into the human's flesh. Frisk watched wide eyed and tight lipped as the opening sealed ever so slowly, like a zipper, scarred tissue washing over the once torn skin. It drained him almost immediately, and Papyrus let out what breath he had been holding, collapsing onto both knees, barely able to keep himself upright. He shouldn't have pushed that hard, and he knew it. Exhaustion set in hard and fast. It was difficult enough just to keep his eye sockets open, but he feared that if he closed them now he might not open them again.

Would that really be such a bad thing...?

To his surprise, he found Frisk keeping him from falling, their hands on his shoulder. He cringed at the pain from where he had been stabbed but grit his teeth, and Frisk tried to help him stand.

“... I...” Papyrus didn't even realize that in one hand, he was still clutching that dagger, the stone knife that Doggo always carried. Coated in his misdeeds. He dropped it in disgust and revulsion, the dawning horror creeping up on him as he struggled to his feet. “I... I didn't... I-I mean, I-I never-”

“Self-defense,” Frisk stated simply. Papyrus could only stare at them. Slack jawed, it took him several moments before he could actually click his mouth shut and shudder. “Self. Defense. Totally justified.”
“Justified,” he repeated weakly. It sounded so weak and hollow.

“Sure,” Frisk shrugged nonchalantly, like this was just another normal Tuesday. “Besides. He was crazy. You heard him. He would have killed us both, probably. So it's good that he's dead.”

“It's-it's not good!” Papyrus's voice cracked, unable to fathom that they were already turning on the spot, seemingly to start walking off again. He was on the verge of screaming and crying at the same time. “How can you say something like that? What is wrong with you?!”

“What's wrong with ME?” Frisk stopped dead in their tracks, offended. “I'm not the one that went ballistic! People die, Papyrus! All the god – damn – time. And I can guarantee that – that whatever the fuck that was” they jabbed a finger at the pile of dust “– that shit's never happened before. And you wanna know my guess?” they marched right up to him, jamming a finger in his direction, causing him to fidget with his scarf nervously. “It's probably because someone has been tampering with something they shouldn't have. Again.”

“But I-”

“Now is not the right time!” Frisk snapped, pulling their torn jumper a bit closer around themself. They glanced left and right, eyes flickering. “Seriously. Not safe to talk out here. You and me both know it. Look,” they pinched the bridge of their nose after looking him up and down, noting just how distressed he was. They took another moment to sigh and collect themself. “Look. I know shit's weird right now. Okay? But if we stay here, we're just asking for trouble. So let's hightail it. Yeah?”

Papyrus couldn't argue with their logic. He wanted to drop himself into the snow and bury himself where he was. He wanted to scream . He wanted to throw up. He wanted to finally wake up from this horrible nightmare that never seemed to end. But none of that seemed to be happening today. So he finally ran a hand over his head; or tried to, the knife wound in his shoulder caused him to wince in pain. Frisk noticed and their eyes narrowed.

“... Shit he almost killed you.”

It was more of a statement than anything. It was definitely true, but he didn't want to admit it in the slightest.

“He... he wasn't thinking clearly-” he struggled to come up with some reason, some excuse as to why Doggo would have gone so beserk like that, his strange words bouncing around his head. Frisk only pulled something out of their pocket and held out their hand to him. He took the little wrapped ball from them in confusion and peeled it, surprised.

“Monster candy,” Frisk explained as he popped it into his mouth. The healing magic in the food didn't do much, but it did alleviate some of the pain, at least. Non licorice flavored. “I was, um. Saving it.”

“I-”

“Shut up and walk, bone boy.”

“... Thanks. Frisk.”

“... You're welcome,” he just barely heard them mutter.

It was silent for a while, the cold wind blowing. Papyrus tried to wipe the dust off himself, but it didn't do much good. His gloves were coated in it. He tried not to retch just thinking about it. And it was very, very difficult not to think about it. It was several moments later that he heard a quick crunching in the snow, Frisk quickly jogging up to him to yank at his wrist. He blinked, one knee halfway into the brush. He turned to them in confusion, staring.

“... What?” he asked bluntly.

“The fuck are you doing?” Frisk balked at him.

“It's shorter this way,” he said pointedly, nodding through the woods where he had burst through upon first hearing them shout. Their confusion was quickly melting into something quite different. “Besides, I left some things. We need to go get them-”

“And go off the path?” they looked distraught. “But what if-?”

“What?” Papyrus threw up his arms, dislodging them. “What, what? Things might get 'weird'? What is it about this 'path' stuff that has you so-so... obsessed? Why won't you just tell me about it already? Things aren't going downhill, it's already pretty bad! Like things could get worse?”

Frisk bit their lip and crossed their arm, shivering in the cold. Papyrus closed his sockets and sighed, remorseful. He held out his hand after a second and looked at them tiredly. “Come on. It's just a quick shortcut. We'll grab the groceries, and stay away from anyone that even looks at us. Okay?”

“... Fine.”

Frisk reluctantly took his hand, and he managed to slip through the underbrush, betwixt trees and branches, through those that had been either cut or barreled through previously. It didn't take long to get through the thickets, but somehow, it felt as though it took even longer to get through than it should have. He felt the woods creeping in on him, crawling over his back, long wooden fingers scraping at his nape choking the life out of him no escape from the vines and he resisted the urge to shudder. But at last they emerged, stepping out into a snowbank. Papyrus was up to the tip tops of his boots in snow and ice, and Frisk made a disgusted noise to find their shoes filled, kicking the snow out of them. Papyrus shook his head and made his way over to the dropped bag of goods right where he had left them-

Or rather, what was left in its place.

Instead of finding a scattered pile of cinnamon bunnies all over the ground, he found only the bag neatly bundled up in a tidy little form. Unease and discomfort swiftly gave way to outright terror. The fear of being watched. Snow had been carefully scraped around the bag as if in a mound, like it was set up on a makeshift altar. And there, just before it, carved into the ice, was a simple, innocent arrangement. Such a plain, small thing.

= )

Very, very quietly, he heard what must have been Frisk let out a soft, almost unheard noise. He would have missed it if it hadn't been so utterly silent. But he knew it for what it was. He was beginning to recognize that sound. That gentle, ever so creeping manic laugh. The laugh of someone who just wasn't quite right anymore.

It sent a very cold, crawling shiver up his spine.

And still, he heard the whispers.

0-0-0-0-0

Just staying mobile was a difficulty all on its own.

Papyrus's shoulder injury blazed furiously, the forward motion only serving to cause it to sear up in pain. He grit his teeth and marched on, head still reeling from the beating it had taken. If he ignored the limp, he could keep going at a somewhat even pace. Frankly, he was surprised that Doggo hadn't cracked him wide open. That sheer amount of fury in the monster had caught him off guard. It had nearly gotten him killed because he didn't want to fight. Because he thought that he could reason with him. But something was clearly very, very wrong. Doggo normally would have listened. At the very least, he would have stopped to hear him out. Doggo wasn't like that.

Right?

Could he even afford to take that chance?

He had just tried that.

And it had almost cost the lives of him and his little friend he had (perhaps with biased judgment) invited into his family. He glanced down to the human trudging through the snow beside him, arms clamped tightly to their sides, shivering in the cold. Their eyes were locked firmly to the ground before them, they barely even looked up from were going, seemingly following him based solely on proximity. He had so many questions.

“Snowdin,” Papyrus murmured, his dust coated gloves hanging limply at his sides. Frisk paused next to him, finally looking up to him. They seemed to notice that he was dragging his leg somewhat, slightly biting their lower lip, but looked away. They both slowly but steadily made their way into town unbothered, and Papyrus caught sight of that familiar gleam grab it grab IT GRAB IT NOW DO IT and Frisk reached out for it. For just a brief second he could have sworn that he heard a crackling at the very periphery of his hearing, like television static. But just like that it was gone. He was reaching over them before he knew it, and Frisk yelped and punched his hand away, and he reeled back in pain.