Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

0 days since the fall

Suffocating silence follows Clover and the ragtag group of Dunes monsters all throughout their return trip through the Steamworks.

It’s not a concept unfamiliar to the human. In the past, before they began their journey, they may have spoken up with some irrelevant anecdote to slice through the rising friction. They know better than to think that would work now. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that they don’t know how to quell the aching in their heart.

They bounce softly in Starlo’s grasp as the grand exit comes into view, taking note of how he struggles to carry their weight. They sneak glances towards Ceroba, whenever Ed isn’t in the way, and whenever they can be sure she isn’t doing the same. Meeting her gaze provokes such confusing reactions — pain and anger and guilt and righteousness all wrapped up into one — that they’d rather not try to make sense of it now. Not before they can understand what they really are to her.

It’s not like this is their first time being betrayed by a guardian, either. Someone who was supposed to care for them no matter what. But they suppose they forced that role onto her in their mind. How could they have expected such a thing? How could they not have known better than that?

Why does it hurt like it would have before they came here?

They rub at their eyes as the light of the Swelterstone bores into their vision once more. Everyone turns to look at them, concern flooding their gazes, as if expecting to see tears staining their skin. They find they can’t help but become fascinated with the sand below them.

“You sure you’re okay?” Starlo whispers delicately into their ear. They only grip him tighter as the Wild East peeks into view from over the narrow clearing. What could they possibly say that wouldn’t just make his worried expression deepen?

Rustic buildings overflowing with old Western charm come into full view. The town of Clover’s dreams, that they still can’t fully believe is real, even after instinctually pinching the skin of their arm. All they get is a dull sting and the reminder that near everyone here has been fighting because of them. They suppose that isn’t new, either. They just wish, with all their heart and SOUL, that they could feel something unfamiliar for once.

Although, Starlo and Ed did seem rather friendly when they barged into the Steamworks. Did they actually make up, or did they just make a begrudging truce to save their life? Are they wasting their energy on the very kid that tore them apart in the first place?

“Um, actually, could you just tell me…” they watch as he perks up when they begin mumbling. “Are you an’ the posse friends again?”

Starlo’s lips curl up into a soft smile, but even through the shadow of his hat, they can still see pain seep into his expression. “Y’know, Clover,” he muses, “every single question you’ve asked since I’ve met you has been about how someone else is doing.”

“But I wanna make sure-”

They don’t even get to finish their sentence before familiar, heavy footsteps reverberate through their ears. They can’t stop themselves from climbing higher onto the sheriff’s shoulder, despite how much their instincts protest. The blue blur that cries their name out from across the clearing, who frantically motions for Starlo to hand them over to her before she can even get another word out, fills them with the inviting serenity they’ve tried so desperately to forget throughout the entire trip back. They flinch away at first, but the look of hurt and panic in her eyes fills their very being with shame.

“Thank the Angel you’re safe!” Martlet scoops the child into her wings before she desperately scans Starlo’s eyes for answers to her stammering questions. “Are they- did anything-”

“They’re not hurt,” he confirms, his expression betraying nothing.

She nearly collapses from relief, and Clover scrambles to stabilize themselves around her neck. They watch her back away from the group, eyes locking intensely with Ceroba’s for a moment, and feel her fingers curl tightly around their clothes. “I promised you, I promised we’d stick together, but I thought that since I knew her it would be okay, but it turns out I didn’t know her at all, and I was so scared something horrible had happened to you and it would have been all my fault, Clover, I’m so, so sorry-”

“I forgive you.” Their response is quiet, but forceful. The idea of holding any more grudges spurs a violent reaction from the depths of their stomach.

“Is the Guard gonna see them with you if you go back?” Starlo asks, firmness returning to his voice. His hands have moved to his hips since he passed Clover off, and they notice his fingers drumming in an unsteady rhythm against his waist.

“They shouldn’t. My house isn’t too close to any outposts, except mine.” She nibbles at her beak before her voice drops. “Either way… it’s probably the safer option.”

Clover can’t stop themselves from shooting a glance towards Ceroba in response. Starlo and Ed do, too. She squirms beneath the sudden attention, tensing into herself and scuffing her shoes across the ground, where the remnants of glass punctures are still visible on the soles.

“Don’t do that,” Clover says sharply. “You’ll hurt your feet.”

Her only response is to look away, cross her arms and still her legs.

“I’ll have to bring them back tomorrow, though,” Martlet pipes up again, her voice traveling thickly through the desert air. “While I try to figure out what I’m gonna do about work.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be at the old house.” Ceroba doesn’t even wait for a response before turning on her heel and stalking off towards the town’s gates. Starlo scrambles after her, loudly kicking up sand as he takes off suddenly, but she shows no signs of noticing. Clover watches him put a hand on her arm, her swat it away, and listens to the start of a hushed argument with a deepening pit in their stomach.

“I- I should probably follow them,” Ed stammers, stopping just in front of Martlet. “You sure you’re good to handle all this?”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

“If you say so. And, uh… sorry about earlier.”

Martlet nods and begins speaking again, but her words don’t register in Clover’s mind. The unfiltered purpose that drove her voice just then… it allows clarity to take root somewhere deep within them. It allows them to believe, just for a moment, that things could work out. They only wish the feeling could be unfamiliar to them, because the last time they felt it was with Ceroba, as she led them towards some horrible fate.

The trip back to Snowdin is no less silent, and no less tense. At Martlet’s request, Clover keeps their trusty hat pressed against their chest, “just in case”. They reward themselves for remembering the Mail Whale on break in the saloon by craning their head to peek over the bluebird’s wing wrapped around their head, taking in the hazy view of Waterfall below them. The smell of water surrounds them even from their place in the sky, and they can hear the rushing of the currents if they squeeze their eyes shut and concentrate hard enough. They make a mental note to go there one day, when it wouldn’t trouble anyone else, if the occasion ever arises. They’ve always wanted to spend time by the water, without having to waste the day walking to the river on the other side of town.

Their large pink carrier glances down at them quickly, but only shoots them a small smile as they recede back into Martlet’s arms. They hadn’t even realized their heart jumped into their chest until it was already rattling against their ribcage. Though surely, if he cared about their identity, he would have reported them to the King the moment Starlo revealed what they were to a whole crowd of onlookers. They find themselves surprised they haven’t already been dragged away in chains, or whatever else kings use to capture people. For once in their life, they suppose they really are living up to their namesake.

“I’ll come straight away when I hear your chimes,” the Mail Whale chirps as he carefully places the basket on top of the snow. “To signal it’s you, just ring five times! Or just ask for Beluca. But… nothing really rhymes with my name.”

Clover giggles in spite of themselves as Martlet extends a wing to help them up. “That’s a good system,” she says, shaking out her feathers. “Thanks. It… really means a lot.”

Their ally salutes quickly with his wing before taking back off. Despite the Underground’s lack of clouds, he seems to disappear into the abyss of the sky rather quickly.

“It’s nice to know we’ve got buddies on our side, isn’t it?”

Words catch in Clover’s throat before they can give a proper response. They can’t help but wonder just what those monsters are sacrificing, if it was so easy for Ceroba to just…

“I guesso,” they mutter.

Trying to start towards the log cabin in front of them reactivates a searing pressure in their ankle. They collapse to the ground before they can catch themselves, hissing in pain as their hands are submerged in the frigid snow all around them. Martlet is by their side in an instant, frantically attempting to help them up, until they eventually lean heavily against her side.

“Are you okay?!” The sudden spike in her voice’s pitch causes them to wince. “Starlo said you weren’t hurt! Did you-”

“I’m fine. I hurt it a long time ago.”

“Y-you’re sure? Do you want me to carry you inside? Do you want-”

“No thank you.” I’ve had enough of being carried for one day, they neglect to add. Fortunately for them, Martlet notices the sting in their tone and snaps her beak shut before they have to.

Despite their stumbling and hobbling, Martlet leads them to her home with unwavering patience. An immediate wave of coziness hits them the moment they enter the door, as the forest ambiance seems to follow them inside and exude from the wooden walls. They reluctantly climb into a plush chair that Martlet gestures them towards and watch her light a small fireplace, then wrap some ice in a cloth and place it on their foot. They recoil from the cold, but soon find that the sensation dulls the already-waning pain.

“I’m, uh… not sure what I’ve got in terms of food…” she strains her voice over the sounds of rummaging through cabinets. “But I’ll figure something out, alright?”

The uncertainty in Martlet’s voice does little to dissuade them from her assertion, suppressing their immediate instinct to get up and offer her whatever they’ve found on their journey. Her house is even smaller than theirs on the Surface, they note with some shock, and yet they find themselves sinking further into the cushions without even realizing. They could almost fall asleep in the little chair, surrounded by the crackling of the fire and the smell of pine, waiting on a meal they can be sure will come…

“Tell you what, I’m just gonna get us something from Grillby’s.” Martlet’s voice breaks them from their trance, along with the slamming of a drawer with muted force. “How’s a burger and fries sound?”

They barely find themselves lucid enough to mumble an affirmation. “Okay, well, Snowdin Town is just across the river. You okay staying here while I go and grab it?”

“You’ll come back, right?”

The words force their way out of Clover’s mouth before they can stop them. Their voice wavers with a weakness they didn’t even know they were feeling. They watch Martlet’s gaze stiffen with horror, then soften with sorrow, wishing they could sink so far into the chair that it would swallow them whole.

“Of course I’ll come back.” She slips her hand under their hat and ruffles their hair with noticeably stilted movements. “I’m just getting dinner. That’s it. We can have something to eat, and then we don’t have to figure anything else out until tomorrow. Okay?”

They nod, barely moving their head, working desperately to break their muscles free of the humiliation that locks them in pace.

“I’ll see you soon, Clover.” She pulls their hat back down onto their head and walks out the door.

Silence fills the room again. The fire now roars with hostility, the clock on the wall puts their isolation on full display, announcing each second with a resounding click…

If silence has a form, it has been waiting impatiently to turn towards Clover and pounce. It finally finds its opportunity.

The very air around them seems to swallow them whole. They’re gasping and panting, clutching at their chest, as if their lungs refuse the oxygen. They wait for tears to spill out of their eyes, but none surface. Even through their distress, they can’t even feel like they want to, though not for lack of a reason. The sensation bubbling up within them feels too angry to be sad, and yet, too panicked to be truly angry. One that always comes back to them, no matter how many friends they’ve made, no matter how much time they’ve had to relax, because they haven’t solved anything and everyone wants them gone. So horribly, sickeningly familiar. And yet, they can’t bring themselves to cry.

They draw their knees up to their chest and wrap their arms tightly around their legs. They hear the ice on their ankle fall roughly to the floor, but the world is spinning too fast for them to see it. All of this, and they don’t even know where a single missing child is. Whatever their situations, they’re surely worse than this. So they can’t cry, they tell themselves, when nothing is solved. They can’t let themselves suffer when others need them.

It doesn’t make their lack of a solution any easier.

A feeling creeps up on them, stronger than it ever has before, of wanting to go home. But they don’t, not at all. They just want to go back to being invisible to everyone around them, so they can stop pretending like safety will ever be within their reach. But still, they can’t cry, or even want to. Not until something is solved. Not until Martlet comes back.

Suddenly, they can’t even bring themselves to care about Ceroba, or the other kids, or the Underground’s hostility towards them, or even how they’re going to survive the night. They just want Martlet back. They want it so desperately that every muscle in their body screams for it. Their own sputtering coughs ring in their ears, so loud that a passing monster could surely hear them and blow their cover, but it doesn’t matter to them because they just want Martlet. They want her back, they want her here, they want her to hug them and tell them it’s going to be okay, even if they don’t believe it. They got used to that in the Steamworks, and now this is the price they’re paying for it. They shouldn’t have it until they can guarantee it for everyone else. But they don’t know how it could be possible to want anything else. 

Their world jolts from all sides as stinging cold returns to their feet. The ice is back, and something is moving in front of them, and they bury their eyes into their knees to stave off the rush of colours entering their vision. Their sporadic breathing only worsens from within their tiny cocoon, until every sensation becomes unbearable, and they kick away the bag on their ankle with a sound like they've endured a great pain.

Instinctively, they tense, expecting another barrage on their senses. But they're met only with a soft, warm pressure that surrounds their hands. Thin digits wrap around their own until it’s all they can feel. They squeeze, and the tightening of their muscles feels like dropping from a height, but landing safely in the clouds as the world returns to them. They come down, slowly, slowly, feeling their heart rattling in their chest just enough to slow it down, hearing their shallow and broken breathing just enough to steady it, hearing the voice of a friend just enough to register the words.

“It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

They don’t believe it. But they don’t have to.

They uncurl themselves and lean into Martlet’s chest, the steady stream of sounds from their mouth reduced to small, quiet whimpers. It’s her, they register for the first time, though they think they always knew it. They don’t have to want for anything anymore.

“You’re okay. Nothing’s gonna hurt you anymore.”

The smell of fried food wafts suddenly into their nostrils. They turn their head to the side to see two small takeout bags on the kitchen table. They realize then that they can see again. 

“Thank the Angel for Guard training,” she barely whispers, definitely not meant for their ears. Still, they release their iron grip on her hands in favour of wrapping their arms around her neck and taking a slow, full breath.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” She asks, ever so slightly louder. The loud rumbling of their stomach intercepts their racing thoughts from tumbling out. They find themselves too relieved to be disappointed, especially after Martlet lets out a little laugh before leading them to the kitchen. They already have what they want.

After the table is set and the food is served, dinner becomes silent. Though it’s not tense or awkward like the silence they’re used to, on the contrary, they can’t see how anyone could find time to talk with food this good in front of them. Martlet seems to agree, enjoying her own meal happily in between concerned gestures for them to slow down. Try as they may, the insistent groaning of their stomach doesn’t let up until their plate is practically wiped clean and they lean back in their chair with a satisfied sigh.

“Sometimes a good meal fixes everything, huh?” She asks them with a smile. They can’t understand how it could be so true. The fact remains that someone they cared about just admitted to wanting them dead, and they stand in the way of freedom for an entire species, and their friends are going to have to either treat them like the criminal they are or become criminals trying to deny it. But they don’t have to figure anything else out until tomorrow.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to stay?” They can’t help but ask, because too much of today has been too good to be true.

“Positive,” she says with assurance in her voice, turning away only to place the dishes in the sink before placing a hand on their shoulder. “I’m just gonna have to find some extra blankets and pillows so we can set you up on the couch, and then–”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Silence takes over once more, as humiliation grabs hold of their muscles again. “I’m not letting you sleep on the floor, Clover,” Martlet deadpans with a raised eyebrow.

“No, that’s not… I didn’t mean it like… I just… it’s a new place, and… everything that happened today and, well… I-I’ve never really felt like I could… ask anyone… before…”

Martlet continues to stare at them quizzically. Everything within them is screaming at them to give up and just take the offer before she regrets her decision and leaves them out in the snow.

“Every single question you’ve asked since I’ve met you has been about how someone else is doing.” Starlo’s words from earlier ring in their mind. They can’t understand why. But they can’t be sure he’s wrong.

“Can I sleep beside you?”

Clarity seeps into Martlet’s expression just before they can save her the trouble and bolt out the door themselves. They feel the hand on their shoulder tighten, and the preparatory cold seeps out of their muscles as they watch her eyes soften. “Of course,” she says again, with just as much conviction as the last time. Maybe, just maybe, everything can be okay after all.

Save for their times spent getting ready for bed, Martlet didn’t let Clover out of her sight for the rest of the night. Every time their gazes caught, they felt a surge of anxiety rush through their chest, wondering just how much trouble they’re causing her and how much she’s growing to resent them. But then they comment on the cool shapes of her bedposts as they climb in, and she launches into an animated tirade about how she made the whole frame herself and it’s her biggest project yet and she barely even messed up once, and the worry fades into a cozy sort of fatigue that they’ve never quite felt before.

“Anyways, you must be tired,” she says as she slips under the covers herself. “Let’s rest up, then we can figure out how to get you to Asgore so you can go back to–”

“I don’t want to go back.”

They spit the words with such force that they have to convince themselves no one is here to take them away right now. Martlet reels from the sudden intensity, but doesn’t allow the silence to stay for long.

“Oh. O-okay… alright. Well… you don’t have to.” She settles into the mattress and motions for them to do the same. “You don’t have to, alright? You can stay here as long as you want.”

She’s the second monster who’s reassured them of such a thing. The one before her said it with such conviction, urged them to Starlo’s side with such genuine sincerity, even knowing it would rob her of the chance to take their life like she seemed to so desperately want.

“Everything’s so confusing and scary,” they turn and whisper into the pillow.

“Trust me, I understand that.” Martlet chuckles a little, but it’s an empty sound. “The world doesn’t make sense sometimes. But we can figure it out together.”

They don’t know if they believe her. But, just enough to sink into the pillow and allow their eyes to droop, they can.

“Goodnight Clover,” she whispers before switching off a lamp on her bedside table, and the room goes dark.

In their own home, they may have panicked about being plunged into pitch blackness. They may have stayed up staring at the ceiling, fretting over how long they’ll have to stay behind at tutoring or if they’ll have to make dinner the next night. Now, all they have to worry about is getting from place to place without being caught by soldiers, and the fates of the other five children trapped down here. An incomparably larger weight on their shoulders. And yet, somehow, the day ahead doesn’t feel nearly as daunting as it should.

“Thank you,” they whisper back to Martlet, but she’s already sound asleep. “I’m glad you’re my friend,” they finish anyways.

They’ll figure it out. They always do.

They shuffle in close and let drowsiness take them.

Chapter Text

0 days since the fall

“Why won't you just leave me be?”

Ceroba has lost track of how many times she’s asked the question. Neither Starlo nor Ed have been able to provide sufficient answers. And yet, her one chance to scare them off with every ounce of her grief and rage was squandered by the little girl Kanako used to play with bounding up to them at that moment and asking where she’s been. Like with most things in her life, it’s far too late to turn back now.

“That’s not how this works,” the pseudo-cowboy insists as they stop at the gates to her family’s estate.

“I just don’t want to hurt you again. I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you again. Please don’t give me that opportunity.”

“I’m not givin’ up that easily.” He puts a gloved hand on her shoulder. She jerks away and whips around to face him, hand pressing against the sliding door leading inside.

“Not giving up on what?” She bites down on her lip to quiet herself so she doesn’t ruin the days of any other Dunes denizens. “Whoever you think I am is gone, Star, so give it up.”

His words catch in his throat. She scoffs, waiting for him to realize how stupid and naive he’s being and return to his town. She scoffs again when he doesn’t turn away.

“That’s not how this works,” he repeats, a little quieter.

“You just don’t know when to quit.”

“Says you.”

Regret seeps into his expression the moment the words leave his mouth. But they pierce her SOUL anyways. Not that she doesn’t deserve it.

“Maybe we should give ‘er some space,” Ed reasons from behind him. She uses the opportunity to turn back towards her destination, wincing at the extra pressure applied to the sliced-up sole of her boot.

“I don’t trust her with some space,” Starlo mutters back, definitely not meant to be loud enough for her ears. Despite the aching in her feet, she’s glad she turned away from the pair, so they can’t see the anguish that spreads throughout her entire body.

“Listen, Star, I probably woulda said somethin’ real mean if you had come back to apologize too early. Let ‘er go take some breaths or somethin’, then-”

“If you two are just going to argue amongst yourselves, I think we’re done here.” The sound of the extravagant door opening with a creak stops the conversation dead in its tracks. “Goodbye.”

“Wait, don’t-!” Starlo lunges for the door, but it’s slammed in his face before he reaches the porch.

Turning to face the grand entrance of Chujin’s grand creation for her feels akin to a sucker punch to the throat. Seeing the rugs and tapestries practically glow under the light of the Swelterstone through the window, just as she had remembered them, with no signs of being faded by time, is enough to completely steal her breath for many long moments.

“You did a fantastic job with the cleaning,” she finally calls back towards the door, drowned by an incessant banging against its sturdy panels.

“Let us in, Ceroba, I’m serious!” She can barely hear him shout from outside. She can barely even hear herself think as each pound of his fist against the door sends pain surging through her head. The exhaustion of the day sets in at that moment, her legs aching from walking across a facility so big it could practically be its own biome, her SOUL still shattered irreparably with no hope of anything getting better for her. All she can think to do is respond in kind, slamming her own fists against the door so hard they sting, sending waves of force throughout the whole fixture that finally put an end to one of the many hells she’s enduring.

“Star.” Her voice wavers from the mere effort of speaking. “I’m exhausted. My life is ruined. Clover will never trust me again, and neither should any of you. I tried so hard to keep you out of the mess I created, and all I did was hurt you more. Whatever you think you can say, it won’t erase the months of knowing I did something unforgivable and I just ran away from it until I almost made it worse . So please, please, just leave me alone. ”

For the first time since she left the Wild East, there’s pure silence. Again, she feels as if she can’t breathe.

“Okay,” he finally says. “Okay. That’s fine. We’ll…” There’s a pause. “We’ll just be out here. We don’t gotta talk. We just… dunno if you’re ready to sleep here yet, and…” another pause. “We don’t want you walking back to town alone.”

Her shoulders sag in defeat. “You can come in. If you’re going to be waiting around for a miracle, you at least deserve to do it in comfort.”

Upon hearing the click of the lock shifting, Starlo sheepishly cracks open the door just enough to slip inside. He tips his hat towards her in gratitude, then scurries off to the kitchen without saying a word. After a long, loud sigh, she turns to close the door, only to find Ed standing in the entranceway, sliding it shut for her.

“You too?” She asks with a raised eyebrow.

“It just wouldn’t feel right to leave you like this. To leave anyone like this,” he clarifies before she can rebut. She just snaps her jaw shut and lets him pass.

They’re too kind for their own good, she thinks. It’s no wonder the entire Wild East loves them. It’s no wonder they’ve been able to stay friends through everything they’ve endured.

“I’ll be in the bedroom,” she calls just outside the door, a part of her bracing for them to rush in and demand entrance as well.  A long silence disperses her fears, but replaces them with confusion and frustration. Whatever retribution they want from her, she wishes they would just hurry up and take it.

As she closes the door behind her, layers of natural dust invade her nostrils. It seems they deemed the space too private to clean without any permission. Grateful as she is for the gesture, she can’t help but wish they had been just a little less considerate. Seeing the light of the window reflect drearily off untouched surfaces, hearing the closet creak in protest as she requests its function for the first time in months, being met with icy cold from the neat covers of the grand bed when she collapses onto it and loses track of time, it goes against all the time and love that Chujin put into crafting every inch of the room for her. She let her beloved’s dream die with him, just as she has today, by surrendering Clover to monsters who actually care for them.

She feels herself choke out a sob, but no tears leave her eyes. She’s had enough moments that matter for one day.

Why would she give up? She’d do anything just to have him back on the bed with her, talking nonsense about his latest scientific breakthrough while he dangles his legs off the bedside and kicks them in a rhythm. To fall asleep in comfort just once, with his arms wrapped around her back, surrounded by warmth on all sides as she pulls the covers up over them, and make it through one more night with no interruptions. Even just to know that he’s smiling down on her now, that he can be proud of her, knowing that she’s carrying his mission out as if he had never left. Doesn’t she want that for him? Why would she just abandon all that for some kid she barely knows? 

Taking Clover’s SOUL isn’t going to bring him back. It was never going to. Even if she had gotten access to Kanako. Even if she was able to perfect the serum and bring her daughter home. There would still be a hole in both of their hearts that no amount of proactivity can fill. If she’s facing her failures head on, she may as well go all-in.

She turns dramatically onto her stomach and pulls her hair over her face. She feels like she should want to scream, or curse, or face some sort of punishment for her cowardice, but the churning in her stomach sends no disdain coursing through the rest of her body. She grabs loosely at the fabric around her chest, searching for the source of something burning within her SOUL. It seems reminiscent of relief. There must still be some left over, thrashing against the heavy, hollow cage that’s constricted her since she lost her family. She shouldn’t be allowed to feel something so light when so many still suffer because of her. And yet, she can’t help but hope that the Western-clad child has found some security since learning the truth. What else can she do but hope?

Finally, a loud groan leaves her mouth as she rolls onto her back. She isn’t accomplishing anything this way. She’s done nothing but fail since her husband fell ill. It’s about time she paid.

The floorboards beneath her creak in protest with every step she takes. She supposes that would happen after so many months of stillness. She fights against the pang in her SOUL by making a mental note to fix them up sometime. Perhaps she could enlist Martlet’s help, based on Clover’s glowing praises. That is, if the young monster would even speak to her after what she did. But she’s so sick of sitting around waiting for a miracle, she feels as if the shame could kill her if she doesn’t even entertain the possibility.

The bedroom door, too, seems hellbent on announcing her every movement to the whole estate. She had thought for a moment of trying to slip out to the backyard, but it would certainly be noticed by her friends-turned-enemies-turned-guests. Betraying their trust again, in any context, wouldn’t be good for her chances of ever being able to look them in the eyes after this. And she’s wasted enough of their days already.

On her journey to the kitchen, she finds her footing, hugging the walls and walking precariously on her toes to avoid existence for as long as she can. Somehow, she seems to peer into the room unnoticed, observing a hushed but heated debate about future missions between Starlo and Ed. She flicks her ears in amusement, then scans the space with a slow, sweeping gaze. For the first time, a room in the house looks lived-in and loved, as everything from the countertops to the wooden kotatsu seems to sparkle from the posse’s efforts. Streamers of assorted colours line the walls in messy, disjointed patterns, and something resembling a cake sits proudly between where the pair are sitting. Try as she may, she can’t hold back a gasp, and she’s shunted back into the world as the men’s heads both jerk sharply to face her.

“Like it?” Starlo asks with a sad smile, his voice quiet and quivering. “We wanted it to be a surprise.”

“I wish I could.” Her honest answer is just as cold as her tone. “I wish I could deserve it.”

Without any more hesitation, she kneels at the kotatsu, facing the two. They exchange wary glances before Starlo clears his throat.

“I’m sorry for trying to pressure you.” He presses his hands into the wood. “I should’ve-”

“Don’t you dare apologize. For anything.” 

For once, he doesn’t refute her. His gaze just drops to the floor. It would be so much easier if you just hated me so we could call it a day, she wants to say. But she supposes she’s had it too easy for too long.

“Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you.” She works to keep her voice neutral, to keep her expression stagnant. “What you choose to do with the information is up to you. I’ve resigned myself to my fate.”

“Why’d you give Clover back?”

Any imagined composure collapses in that moment. She was ready for any question except that one.

“Y’know… what happened to Kanako… the tapes…” His hands slide down to his knees, and the leather of his gloves curls tightly around his fingers as he grasps his pants. “Yer stronger than both of us. We all know that. You coulda ran. But you didn’t.” His head rises slowly until his gaze pierces through the shadow of his hat to freeze her in place. “Why?”

“I injured my feet while we were traveling. And I don’t think I could have carried a full human child while fighting you off.”

He remains still and silent. She can only manage a thick gulp under his firm but patient glare. Finally, her entire body deflates.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles, the words feeling like needles on her tongue. “Truth be told, I don’t know why I didn’t just take their SOUL the moment we were alone in the Steamworks. I suppose I figured it wouldn’t matter. Chujin said wanting their SOUL would be easy.”

She chuckles, a heavy, bitter sound. Ed silently offers her a slice of mystery cake. She pushes it away.

“I want Kanako back,” she continues, her prior relief finally fading away into the anguish she’s so familiar with. “There isn’t a moment that goes by that I don’t miss her. That I don’t… regret what I… did to her.”

“What did you do?” Starlo asks, voice low.

“You already know, don’t you?” She can’t stop herself from snapping, leaning her elbows on the kotatsu. “Why do you need to hear me say it?”

“Because if it doesn’t come out of your own mouth, how am I ever supposed to trust you again?”

“Why are you so obsessed with trusting me?!”

“Why’d you give Clover back?”

Ceroba digs her head into her hands and screams. Neither Starlo nor Ed reprimand her, or rush to comfort her. They just sit and stare.

“I’ve failed so many times,” she finally continues, clasping her fingers to stare at the wood below her. “So many monsters. All I’ve done is fail. Just for once, I wanted to make up for my mistakes. Do something right by someone. Just one time.”

“Just talk it out,” Starlo insists in the same persistent tone.

“Why?!” She slams her fists down. “Why do you insist on helping me when I’ve never even tried hard enough to realize it? I didn’t even have the decency to tell you what I had done. All those times I brushed you off and told you to stop being so childish… you were just trying to make me feel better. Weren’t you?”

Starlo purses his lips. She sees him fiddle with his glasses. “It does hurt,” he finally admits, “finding out the truth after everything.”

“I know.” She digs her claws deeper into her palms. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

“A-an’ I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not mad.” His voice trembles. “I’m mad that you called me all the names you did when you had this planned the whole time, and I’m mad that you suffered in silence for so long, and I’m mad that you-” he wipes at one of his eyes. Ed puts a hand on his shoulder. “I’m mad that we lost someone important to both of us ‘cuz of you, and we both had to suffer alone.”

“Then why?” She repeats, her own voice breaking. “Why are you here?”

“Because above all…” he breathes in slowly. “I’m sad. The Ceroba I know would never have done something like this, nor should she have. But she wouldn’t’ve thought I’d just give up on her, either. You got so lost that you didn’t even think you could come to me for help. That makes me sad.”

The sharp tone and teary glare of her best friend make shame bubble up within her SOUL. Not because she doesn’t deserve each piercing word, but because it was so, so obvious.

“Maybe the Ceroba I knew really is gone, I’m not blind to that. I- I dunno if that’s ever gonna change.” He takes another deep breath, slowing his voice, clasping his hands together. “But for whatever reason, you came around in the end. That’s not gonna change, either. You talk a lot about never forgiving yourself, but you don’t seem to realize that I’d never be able to forgive myself if I just left you alone here without even trying . You coulda given up on me when I attacked an innocent child out of nothing but rage. But you didn’t. So I won’t, either. End of story.”

Starlo rests his chin on his hands like he’s concluded a grand presentation. Ceroba’s throat closes in on itself each time she tries to utter a word. Maybe he truly doesn’t care about her anymore. Maybe he’s doing this for himself more than anything. But his righteous anger can only provide her comfort, a beam of light slicing through the waves of confusion and guilt she finds herself drowning under.

Each time she tries to fight back, insist his efforts will only be in vain, she can only feel the swelling pain of seeing her best friend in tears on that path. The horror of finally realizing just how much he’s hurting. The relief when he came down just enough to realize that everyone was hurting. The pride of seeing him be vulnerable and still be accepted for who he was deep down, and how if they could just continue slowly like that for a while, everything might soon be okay. 

Why should I be afforded such a luxury? The question rests. But never before has anyone looked into her eyes with such pleading understanding.

“I just couldn’t stand to see you hurting,” she whispers, completely crumbling beneath his gaze. “And- and to know that I missed it for so long… I just… I can’t stand the thought of hurting you again. I can’t.”

“I’ve got folks for that.” He points a thumb over to Ed, who nods stiffly. “We made up while you were gone. I’m not about to give you a whole lecture about not suffering alone just to turn around and do it myself. So I don’t want you to be worryin’ about that.”

“We’ll do the worryin’ for you,” Ed jumps in before Ceroba can get out a counterpoint. “He’s in good hands. Holdin’ all that negativity for nothin’ won’t help anyone. We all learned that today, didn’t we?”

Ceroba can only drop her gaze to the floor and nod.

“Just talk it out,” Starlo repeats, a little softer this time.

“I was only trying to help.” She feels herself sag until her body rests against the low table. “I never should have included her in his projects. I knew that. But she was already so affected by it all, she couldn’t even get through the night without crying out for him, and I thought if I had the chance to fix everything and I was just holding it from her because I was too scared–”

“You made a mistake.” Starlo reaches over to put a gentle hand on her back. “You made a mistake fighting for what you believed in. You don’t have to carry that alone anymore.”

A strangled sound of sorrow escapes her mouth. She’s still too tired to cry. But it doesn’t stop her whole body from shrivelling up until kneeling is too much effort. Starlo’s hands are in hers before she even has to ask, helping her to her feet.

“I hurt her,” she sobs, with the weight of the months-overdue confession. “I hurt her, and I just threw away my last chance to bring her back. It’s all my fault.”

Arms are around her before she even has to ask. She clings to the fabric of his poncho like he could do what she’s been telling him to and disappear.

“We don’t know that yet,” he whispers as he leans his head in beside hers. “You gotten to talk to Feathers much?”

“Only to tell her to trust me with Clover’s life.”

Starlo clears his throat. “Well, um… apparently she told Moray she used to be stationed down at the Lab. Maybe she’d have a way of figuring it out.”

“She-” Ceroba pulls away suddenly. Her jaw nearly drops to the floor. “You’re serious?”

“Yep. Reported to the Royal Scientist and everything. If I’m rememberin’ correctly, at least.” A smile appears on his face, missing the manufactured smugness of his North Star persona, for the first time since she can remember. ”Maybe she can help us figure something out. I want to see Kanako again, too.”

Hope surges through Ceroba’s chest with such severity that she can’t even begin a sentence. It’s unfounded and completely undeserved. But what can she do but hope?

“We’ll talk to her.” Starlo bridges the brief gap between them and puts a hand gingerly on her shoulder. “And if it doesn’t work, we’ll just keep lookin’. Doesn’t it seem a lot easier when we’re a team?”

She can’t bring herself to accept the affirmation out loud. But nothing has ever felt more true.

“How did I even let it get to this point?” She tenses, but leans into the touch. “I can’t even imagine what she’s going through, not to even mention Clover. They trusted me, just like her, and yet I was going to…” she buries her snout in his shoulder. “It doesn’t even matter that I didn’t. They looked like I had torn their whole world to pieces. In a place where everyone’s out to get them, I just made them feel less safe. All I want is to make them feel better, but I can’t. I can’t even tell them how sorry I am, and I- I don’t–”

“Hey.” Starlo whispers again, but it’s still enough to cut her off completely. “They’re with Martlet. They’re alright. We can take them to the Barrier tomorrow, and then–”

“They don’t want to go back to the Surface.”

Silence. Somehow, it’s more tense now than it has been since they entered the house. She sees Ed stand up from behind her, his expression hardening further.

“Oh.” Starlo makes a sound akin to a cough. “Y-you’re sure?”

“They told me themselves. They were miserable up there. And don’t tell me you actually thought they were making it back.”

“I- I guess I just hoped…” he can’t seem to bring himself to finish his sentence.

“The others should know.” Ed is swift to fill the silence. “They’re worried sick as it is. The sooner we start makin’ a plan, the better.”

“Go tell ‘em, please,” Starlo shoots back just as solemnly. “We’ll be fine now. Thanks for the help.”

They tip their hats towards each other in their signature farewell before Ed hurries out the door. More silence follows. It’s absent of the usual crackling of lanterns from within the estate, and pain hits Ceroba’s SOUL again.

“It would be so much easier if they did, I know.” She pulls away finally, drawing her arms up to her chest. “Without having to worry that I’ll slip back into old habits. I don’t blame you.”

Starlo doesn’t rush to correct her. She’s happy he doesn’t. She can at least keep pretending she’s not being lied to.

“We’ll figure it out,” he insists. “I’ll talk to my folks. They seemed to love ‘em. And we have Martlet. We’ll figure something out. We’re not alone in this, either.”

“What can I do to help?” She asks the question so easily, and watches Starlo put a hand on his chin in contemplation, and the tide drowning her recedes to unveil more hope than she’s felt in a long time.

“I think you should stay away from the house for a bit.” The expression on his face is puzzled, but holds no malice. “At least when the kiddo’s gonna be there. There’s plenty of places around town you can hang out if you don’t wanna be around here.”

“I think… I’m going to try to come here more often.” Fear courses through her as she speaks, but the moment the words leave her mouth, relief hits her like a crashing wave. Pride flickers in his eyes for a brief moment before he goes back to thinking.

“We should do another round of cleanin’ in here, too. Pack away anything that’s… related. Y’know.” He looks up to see her nod in affirmation, then gazes around the room. “We should keep the decorations on standby, though. Just in case.”

“This all feels so obvious now.” She grabs her arms. “I feel so stupid for not thinking of it sooner.”

“Sometimes we just need a change of perspective. How long do you think I woulda kept up my bullcrap if Clover hadn’t come along?”

Ceroba chuckles, in spite of herself. The weight tethered to her SOUL doesn’t feel any lighter. And yet, somehow, it feels easier to carry.

“Thank you for bringin’ them back,” he mumbles, tightening his grip.

“Take care of them,” she responds, just as quietly. “Please. I know you will. I just… I want them to have everything I can’t give them. No matter how they think of me.”

“No one with a truly bad SOUL would say what you just did.”

She turns away without responding, and he follows, the two instinctually leading each other back towards the hallway. “You ready to go back?” He asks with a soft smile.

“I think so.” She shields her eyes from the rays of the passing windows, using them as an excuse to not meet his gaze.

“There’s work to do. I think you know that. But I’m not giving it up as long as you don’t.”

“I don’t plan on it.” She hears him huff in satisfaction as she slides the front doors back open and locks them behind her. “I have to make it up to Kanako. To Clover.”

“Make it up to me first, then we can work our way up to that.”

“I’ll do anything.”

He smiles softly. “Good thing all you have to do is try.”

She bites down on her lip, expecting to push back tears of gratitude. But there’s nothing to cry about. She hasn’t made a moment that matters yet.

There’s work to do. But at least she’s no longer waiting for a miracle.

Chapter Text

1 day since the fall

The protestant screeching of Martlet’s alarm clock marks the beginning of any other day.

She slaps the snooze button a couple times, knocks it off the nightstand trying to shut it off for good, scrambles out of her covers before the sound can assault her ears any more, then tosses it onto the bed with a full-body stretch and gaping yawn. As she shakes the fatigue from her body, she notes that she feels surprisingly refreshed this morning. Helped, perhaps, by the fact she ate an actual meal last night instead of just seeing how much longer she could put off groceries.

“What was I even doing in Snowdin Town yesterday?” she grumbles under her breath as she stumbles into the bathroom and snatches her comb from the counter. “Oh yeah, Clover was here and I-“

Clover.

The comb that was once in her hand clatters loudly to the floor as she scans the bedroom behind her. The child is nowhere to be seen, despite the second set of creases in her bed that confirm yesterday’s events to be real. 

“Clover?!” Her feet are moving before she can wait for a response. She throws the door open and rushes down the hallway into the main room. She barely makes it halfway in before seeing them in the kitchen, already dressed in their Western getup, eyes wide and hands tightly clasped around one of her cheap ceramic plates. She skids to a stop so fast that she feels her talons scratch the wooden floor.

“What are you doing?” She grabs her knees with her hands to catch her breath. “How long have you been up?”

They wordlessly shrug and turn back towards the sink. They push themselves onto their toes to reach, noticeably leaning away from their bad foot, but still putting more pressure on it compared to yesterday. Only then does she notice the dinnerware stacked neatly in the drying rack, transferred from the shrinking pile in the sink that marks the days of her neglecting the task.

“Are you… doing dishes?” She walks over and gently snatches the plate from their hand, her brow furrowing as they flinch in shock.

“I forgot to do ‘em last night,” they squeak, barely audible.

“That’s- I didn’t… ask you to, Clover.” She pulls their arm away from the sink, and they stumble back stiffly. 

“Am I in trouble?” They look at her with far too much bewilderment for this early in the morning.

“No???” She pinches the bridge of her beak before sighing. “Look, as far as I’m concerned, you’re a guest. Alright? Guests don’t have to do chores unless I ask for help.”

“Wait, so I don’t have to if I don’t wa-“

Clover is cut off by a second alarm clock, perched on top of the fireplace, screaming its cacophonous tune. They throw their hands over their ears while Martlet rushes over with a panicked inhale. “Crap, okay, that’s my ‘you should be ready to leave or the captain’s gonna burst your eardrums’ alarm,” she shouts over the clanging bells as she silences them. “I need to get changed. Don’t leave until I’m ready. Listen to Starlo and the others. Don’t let Ceroba near you. And no dishes.”

Flustered, the child can only muster an affirmative tip of their hat before she disappears back into the bedroom. It vaguely occurs to her as she throws on her uniform that she’s never uttered that many orders in one sentence before. Perhaps today, she could actually earn the captain’s pride with her hasty explanation for her tardiness. Of course, she would just have to leave out the whole “sheltering a human” part.

“Okay, let’s go!” She calls back into the main room, running her fingers through her hair as best she can. Clover is already obediently stood by the entrance by the time she reaches it, stiff as a board. She grabs their wrist as she throws the door open, takes a couple hurried steps outside, then stops suddenly in her tracks as she surveys her surroundings.

“What’s wrong?” Clover asks, closing the door behind her.

“Where’s the nearest mail station?”

The moment her question clicks in Clover’s mind, their face falls. They shrug slowly and join her in looking around. “I think there’s one near the resort…?” They mumble.

Martlet runs her free hand down her face. She cannot afford to be this late. She can already see the captain in her mind, towering over her with her commanding stature and her muscular form, spear glowing beside her as she doles out rounds of sharp words or laps around the base. It’s enough to make her shudder where she stands.

“I’ll be okay,” The child insists quietly, slipping their wrist from her grasp.

“I’m not leaving you alone again.”

The words slide from her mouth as naturally as the river’s current. Even at her most ferocious, the captain could never be scarier than losing Clover to her negligence. Not after she’s come so close before.

They just lower their head with a gulp, and the two set off. Clover is surprisingly good at keeping up with her in her sprint, until she throws out her arm a few steps in and they stumble against the snow. “Go around that bush,” she commands them as quietly as she can. “There’s a camera in there.”

With a small gasp, they nod and oblige. They go on like this for some time, slowing their journey considerably. The worry festering in Martlet’s mind grows as they approach the forest, but she’d be lying if she said the occasional breaks weren’t a relief for her muscles.

Movement catches Martlet’s eye from between the trees, and only then does she allow herself to fully stop, concealing her gasping and wheezing as best she can. Three round monsters scramble over each other’s shoulders to peek at the pair from a distance. She shoots a worried glance towards Clover, but they just nod. “They’re good,” they say with enough confidence for the two of them. How Clover manages to make friends so easily, she may never understand. But it sure is making her life easier right now.

As they exit the forest, and pass the resort, and re-enter the forest, Martlet realizes just how big Snowdin truly is. It had always felt rather small to her, especially when she could see the whole thing from just a few feet up in the air. But the land drags on and on, with even more concealed by rows of winding trees, and she suddenly finds it hard to feel so confined.

The moment the glimmering of the metal bell catches her eye, she leans against the nearest tree with a dramatic heave of air. Clover finishes the sprint up to the station, only stopping to lean against the wooden post once they were sure to call in the special service of yesterday’s ally. Martlet had found herself taking a mental snapshot of his appearance then, noting the small chip in his tail and shiny metal star pinned to his hat, so she could be sure the same Mail Whale would return today. To her great relief, his characteristics match, and his jaunty smile appears to be genuine as he leads Clover into his carrier basket. They shoot her a thumbs up as they climb in, and she waves back to suppress the urge to return to their side.

“I’ll see you tonight!” She calls as they take off, to reassure herself of the same. Only after the child disappears from view does she allow herself to completely collapse onto the ground, welcoming the piercing cold against the metal cage of her armour.

“If Captain Undyne makes me run laps, I’m dead,” she groans to no one, her voice muffled by the snow bank shoved into her face. Had she been asked earlier that morning, she wouldn’t have even said she’d be able to jog from her house to here without stopping, let alone take the punishment this detour will surely bring. A memory overtakes her mind in this moment, of Chujin smiling softly at her from across a workbench, insisting she’s stronger than she gives herself credit for. But then again, he was also the one who suggested she settle down away from the intrusive bustle of a mail station, so she can’t count much on his judgement now.

If he’s right, I suppose I’ll have to prove it right now. She pushes herself to her feet with a heavy sigh and takes off into the sky. Besides, he’d change his mind immediately if he knew what I’m doing.

She finds herself shivering, from the cold air of Snowdin against her body, but also from the realization of how her decisions would repulse her idol. A sense of dread creeps into her, one instance of countless since Clover’s arrival. Where she can’t help but wonder if she’s doing the right thing, or if she’s singlehandedly contributing to monsterkind’s suffering. Of course I’m doing the right thing, she always decides, Clover hasn’t done anything wrong. They deserve a chance at life just the same as us. She feels like filth for even wondering differently. But how can she not, when practically anyone else would turn them in in a heartbeat?

The approach of her destination does nothing to quell the pit in her stomach. Her comrades seem lively from her place in the sky, much more so than usual. As she descends towards the ground, the jauntiness of their movements appears much more akin to panic, with Captain Undyne making a genuine but hopeless attempt to calm them down. She swallows down the anxiety surging through her chest as she’s spotted, and the exasperation of the group only seems to intensify as she touches down.

“MARTLET!” The captain’s booming voice rings in her ears, and she stumbles a bit as the world goes fuzzy for a moment. “Where were you?! Why weren’t you checking your phone? We thought you were hurt!”

“Huh? Hurt? What?” She grabs her head as armoured forms surround her on all sides.

“Yeah, we thought the human got you!” A dog monster peeks over his armour to exclaim.

Her face plummets with her SOUL before she can stop it.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Undyne snaps, and somehow, the deafening buzz of panicked chatter goes silent in a matter of seconds. “Martlet, we’ll talk later. Everyone, at attention, now.”

She shoves her phone into her face before anyone else can see her horrified expression. Dozens of alerts flood the screen, all from the captain, nearly all containing “human” in the subject line. She didn’t even find time for breakfast this morning, and yet she has to suppress the urge to vomit.

“As you surely know by now,” Undyne continues as everyone finishes scrambling to their places. “A human has been spotted in the area. Since the news reached us, we haven’t been able to confirm their location. But we know they were in Snowdin at some point.”

Glorious Angel above, they are talking about Clover. Martlet scratches at her neck. Perhaps she was foolish for hoping there was somehow another human in the Underground, when she wasn’t even expecting to see one in her lifetime. She should know by now to never expect anything that would make her life easier.

“Has it hurt anyone?” A small dog whines.

“As far as we’re aware, no,” Undyne answers just as Martlet stops herself from piping up herself. “But we cannot let another human go into hiding for as long as they please. The fear left behind by the attack on Snowdin Town… every day before that human’s SOUL was turned in allowed it to burn brighter within every resident. For their sake, and for the rest of monsterkind, we will not allow a human to escape justice ever again.”

Martlet finds herself nibbling on her beak. She wishes she could say she was wrong. Even if she wasn’t there to witness it herself, she’ll never be able to forget the sheer panic of not being able to get ahold of her mom after hearing that monsters had been hurt. She can’t remember the last time her mother hugged her, except for that day, when they just stood in each other’s arms for several moments like it was all that mattered. And Chujin’s harrowing stories, as he clenched his tools until his knuckles turned white, of being right there to witness it… the image of his young daughter mere inches from harm at the hands of a ceaseless killer… she finds her own knuckles paling as her hands ball into fists. How is it fair that someone as sweet and harmless as Clover could cause so much fear over something they had no part in? How is that justice?

“I’m gonna be working with Alphys to get emergency security systems set up,” Undyne continues. “The rest of you will be where you normally are, but in full patrol mode. The moment someone sees something out of the ordinary, let us know, and all of you will be told where to go. So make sure you can always hear your phones. Am I clear?

She makes a sweeping gesture with her spear, pointing towards every member of the Guard, but locking intense gazes with Martlet. “Yes, Captain,” everyone chants in unison, but one voice is far more quiet and sheepish than the others. 

“More instructions will follow. But the Guard will not rest until the Underground is safe and the human SOUL is delivered to the King. Are there any questions?”

Martlet’s wing is in the air before she can stop it. Undyne rubs her temple before motioning for her subordinate to speak.

“This is a hypothetical question,” Martlet wrings her hands together, “and I’m only bringing it up because it wasn’t covered in the guidebook and I want to be extra prepared…”

“Out with it.”

“What happens if a human, like… doesn’t fight back?”

The silence of the clearing suddenly becomes very loud. Undyne, as well as the rest of the guard, stare at her with complete deadpan expressions. “That’s not gonna happen,” Undyne finally says after blinking a few times.

“But what if it does?”

“Clearly someone didn’t pay attention in training,” she spits, turning away so she can pace before the crowd. “Humans are ruthless. They don’t have room for anything in their SOULs besides desire for destruction and power. They won’t stop until every last one of us is dead!”

She slams her spear into the ground, the heavy rise and fall of her chest apparent even through her layers of thick armour. Martlet jumps with a squawk, receding into her own feathers. But she’s not done.

“Besides, what does it matter? I don’t care if it’s never so much as swatted a fly, it’s standing between us and sunlight. It will pay for what its kind did to us, and it will be our release from this prison! Now, are there any more pointless questions? Or are we ready to bring freedom to the Underground?!”

The crowd erupts into indistinguishable cheers. Martlet manages as many “yeah”s and “woohoo”s as she can muster, though uninspired. So much for her attempt at keeping the peace.

“Martlet, with me. Everyone else, to your posts. Be safe, and fight valiantly!”

The rest of the Guard takes off like bullets, scattering in every direction. Martlet turns to watch them go, but also to conceal her face from the captain as she squeezes her eyes shut and sucks an inhale through her nostrils. “I just wanted a bit more time,” she whispers to herself with a shaky voice. “All I wanted was a bit more time.“

Undyne calls for her to hurry up. She should know by now to never expect anything that would make her life easier.

“What were you doing last night?” Her commander sizes her up and down with a glare, seeming to ignore the way she tenses up. 

“I- I had an emergency.” The words tumble from her mouth. “Sort of. Like, it had to do with an old family I knew. And one of ‘em really wasn’t doing good, and she needed my help with something big. So. Yeah.”

Martlet glances up towards Undyne as if anticipating divine judgement. She raises an eyebrow at the bluebird, but sympathy floods her gaze. Martlet’s surprised she didn’t immediately call her out on her lie, like most times she tries. Although, is she really lying if she’s just not telling the full truth?

“Well, can’t change it now.” Undyne turns and begins to pace curtly. “Consider this a warning. But it better not happen again. Every single one of us needs to be at full attention. If anyone gets hurt…”

“That won’t happen,” Martlet reassures her. “I’ll watch extra closely from now on, I promise,” she adds, with a little less suspicious certainty.

“That would explain why you look so exhausted, then. But not why you were later than usual this morning. Not to even mention your fiasco yesterday that you still haven’t explained....” Undyne huffs out a frustrated breath. “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that you’re already on probation. If something else is happening, you’d better tell me now, or it’s really not gonna look good on your monthly assessment.”

All Martlet can do is nibble on the edges of her fingers. Every time she tries to force words from her mouth, her throat closes in on itself so suddenly she feels her breathing hitch. She wonders, in these moments of stuffy silence, what exactly the punishment might be for treason. Would they drag her around with some incriminating signage to show the whole Underground just what a disgrace she is? Would they allow the Guard to use her as a training dummy? Would they lock her up in the castle, wherever they keep the rest of the humans? Or would they just jump straight to eliminating her?

Undyne sighs, long and heavy. “You’re scared, aren’t you?”

Barely allowing her head to move, Martlet nods. Surely she can’t be lying if she just isn’t telling the full truth.

“Look, I can’t blame you. We brought you on for your puzzle work, mostly. You probably weren’t expecting to face a crisis like this any time soon.”

“Against my better judgement,” she says with some contempt, “not really.”

“We need everyone we can get right now. The entire Underground is counting on us. But you’re capable, alright?” A steel gauntlet clangs against Martlet’s shoulder pad. “Why do you think I made the training regimens so hard? Now that something’s actually happening, you’re ready. There’s nothing we can’t do if we work together.”

Every muscle in Martlet’s body aches at the memories of initiation, colliding with the current strain of her pre-work trek halfway across the biome, but she does her best to shake it off and nod a little more convincingly. Undyne slaps her shoulder and backs up, drawing her spear. “I need to go help sound the alarms and organize emergency shelter protocols. You okay to get back to it?”

“Should be.” Martlet stiffens. “Thanks, Captain.”

“Save your thanks for when we’ve got a sixth SOUL on our hands.” With that, she flashes a toothy grin and takes off in the direction of Hotland.

The humid air of Waterfall closes in on Martlet in the newfound silence. All this fuss and fear over Clover? It feels almost criminal to let it happen, knowing they couldn’t even gather up the malice to insult her like they meant it. If only anyone else could know.

She takes off into the sky without another moment’s hesitation. Quickly, as the air starts to get thin from the height, she scans the horizon for her friend. She shouldn’t be disappointed when she doesn’t see anything. They were going in the complete opposite direction of her, anyhow. But she still finds she can’t stop anxiety from creeping up on her.

“Come on, Martlet,” she mutters, lowering herself to a more reasonable altitude and setting course for Snowdin. “You’re great at doing nothing. Now you just have to do it professionally.”

Still, she braces for the beginning of a day like no other.

Chapter Text

1 day since the fall

No matter how furiously Starlo rattles the ringer of the bell standing proudly in the centre of town, it can’t be loud enough.

It can’t be loud enough to drown out the sirens blaring all around, pausing every few seconds to signal a lack of immediate danger, leaving no inch of the Underground uncovered just the same. Near every monster in the Wild East has gathered around the square, shooting concerned glances at one another or scanning the sky knowingly. No one makes a sound, save for the protestant clanging of the bell, yet a sense of dread seems to be shared across every citizen.

“There!” Someone finally cries out, but Starlo’s SOUL lurches into his throat too fast to tell who. “Up there!”

A figure descends slowly, one he’s come to recognize as the Mail Whale that talks trains with him during his breaks. This brings him no comfort until a small figure in a familiar hat peeks up from above his basket and waves enthusiastically. The entire crowd erupts into cheers, and Starlo leans heavily against the bell’s sturdy post to stop his relief from taking him out where he stands.

Clover barely waits for the basket to hit the sand before jumping out and barrelling towards the sheriff. The force of their hug nearly knocks the larger monster over, but he regains his footing just quickly enough to wrap his arms around the child as everyone else gathers around more closely.

“What’s everyone doin’ here?” Clover asks into his poncho.

“Didn’t you hear the alarms?” He drops himself down to one knee. “They’re lookin’ for ya. But yer safe here.”

Clover’s only response is a smile so bright it could rival the Swelterstone itself. A surge of determination, burning like the sun, shoots through every inch of Starlo’s body. Rallying such a sizeable group for a cause so just… any doubts that may have sprouted from yesterday are singed in an instant. Seems like North Star’s still alive and kicking.

“Go say hi to the Four, okay?” He pats Clover on the shoulder before pushing himself back onto his feet. “They missed ya. We got all day to sort out the rest.”

They nod with some spirit and saunter over towards his friends, who greet them with the same enthusiasm. Though, he barely even waits until their back is turned before pushing his way through the crowd of monsters, which almost seems to part instinctively around him. He carries his invigorated momentum all the way towards the Mail Whale on the other side of the square, who’s busy rooting through letters in his satchel.

“North Star!” He chirps with a jaunty wave. “I’ll be gladly extending my stay. My morning route’s changed to come here every day!”

“Drop the act,” Starlo whispers through his teeth. “Either you want somethin’ from me, or you’re already disobeyin’ yer orders by bein’ here. So which is it?”

“Look, I’m a ‘customers first’ kinda guy.” His forcibly cheery demeanour drops with his voice. “My job is to deliver things. Just ‘cuz I work for the crown doesn’t mean I care about the politics of it.”

“I’m serious, this is dangerous. If you get in hot water and both of y’all get in trouble ‘cuz of it…”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve put my tail on the line for a job.” He waves around a disheveled envelope with the Steamworks logo, as if to prove a point. “The contents of the public’s deliveries aren’t privy to anyone but them. That’s in writing. So as long as I’m flying high enough, they can’t prove anything.”

“I knew I saw something in ya, bud.” Starlo delivers a light punch to his side with a smile on his face.

“Clover’s a good kid.” He shrugs, as much as he can with his stubby fins. “The idea of sending a child off to die isn’t super appealing to me. The way we do things here is much more my speed.”

“Keep up that attitude and you’ll be a hero ‘round these parts.” The sheriff shoots a quick salute his way before turning back to the group. “See you at break, Beluca!”

Once again, the crowd makes way for him as he approaches. He takes in the sight of every monster looking up at him expectantly, holding their breaths as if the slightest sound would drown out his next words. Even his posse fixes their eyes onto him, though their gazes quickly disperse to watch the gap close in on itself and form a tight circle that traps him in with Clover. He tugs at his bandana, sucking in a deep breath to summon his courageous persona from within him, but it quickly turns and flees in the face of actual, tangible danger. What is he supposed to say when he can’t guarantee his words will have a perfectly manufactured solution by the end of the day?

Moray cups their fingers around the edges of their mouth, the same gesture of encouragement from their early, stage-fright-riddled days of community theatre. It soothes him just enough to release his vocal chords from their prison.

“We’ve got folks.” He starts with the truth. “Folks from beyond our gates, who are willing to help us. We’ve got a way to get Clover around the Underground. We’ve even got an in with the Guard, as it stands.” He barely even noticed his voice climbing until rumbles of exclamation rise from certain spots in the group, until Ed raises his arm and the sound disappears as quickly as it started.

“For months, we’ve built ourselves around understanding. Understanding what comes from the Surface world. Understanding a way of being that’s different than most prefer to do things. Understanding each other, even when it’s hard.” He shoots a grateful glance towards his friends before continuing. “We’re not goin’ back on that now. Clover’s just the same as any one of us, no matter what their SOUL can do. Freedom stained by blood ain’t anythin’ worth fightin’ for. So we’re gonna fight for what’s right. We’re not gonna let anyone take our deputy away from us! Are we?!”

Indistinguishable cries of protest ring out from the crowd, paired with some fists in the air. A yelp from Clover is mixed in with them as they shrink down and cover their ears, but once the initial shock of the sound wears off, they tug at his poncho. “Star,” they say just loud enough to be heard, “what if someone gets hurt tryin’ to help…?”

“None of y’all will be in danger as long as I have anythin’ to say about it,” he’s quick to add, his words drowning slightly amongst the noise. “Dust ain’t gonna make our freedom feel any better than blood. We’re gonna protect each other! We’re gonna maintain justice!” 

The rowdy townsfolk are barely even listening anymore. By the time he’s finished speaking, they’ve already started chanting the deputy’s name. The child is squeezing his hand, nails softly pushing into his palm through the leather. As his mind scrambles to catch up with the adrenaline coursing through his body, all he can think to do is squeeze back.

“Okay, that’s enough!” He finally shouts, and the air once again becomes thick with silence. “The posse an’ I are due for a meeting in the saloon. Everyone else, go back about your business. We’ll see to it that life around here doesn’t change one bit for y’all.”

Just like that, the tightly-packed collection of bodies breaks form and scatters nonchalantly in every direction. SOUL pounding audibly in his throat, all he can do is watch as every monster assumes some self-appointed role. Each scaled figure and bushy tail add to the perfect cacophony around him, like colours thrown onto a canvas he can’t tear his eyes from. He built this, from nothing but the harsh sands of the Dunes, and the fruits of his labour will never cease to take his breath away.

“Good job, Sheriff! I knew you had it in you!” A familiar voice snaps him from his stupor as a webbed hand lands on his shoulder. Pride swells up within him like an impending supernova, and it takes everything he has not to burst into giddy laughter in front of everyone.

“Now there’s the North Star I remember,” Ed follows up with an affectionate but mildly bruising punch to the arm. 

“Yeah, you were great!” Mooch cheers from beside them. “You sounded like a real lawman!”

In an instant, his entire body freezes over.

He fights every urge to shield his friends from the view of his quivering jaw, only because he promised Ceroba he wouldn’t. Still, it doesn’t stop him from clenching his teeth to still it as his friends’ faces fall in reaction.

“You are,” Mooch scrambles to correct herself, though sincerely comes through. “In every way that matters.”

Perhaps she’s right. It doesn’t really matter. He still wishes he could go just one day without inconveniencing them.

He turns and shoves open the doors to the saloon, trying desperately to avoid meeting Dina’s eyes from behind the counter, silently thanking the Angel when Clover engages her in eager conversation. Still, it doesn’t dispel the gazes of every monster in the building, trained on him like spotlights, eagerly anticipating his every move.

“I’m not sure how I feel about an actual human being here,” he hears one whisper to another from further down the bar.

“Hey, he knows what he’s doing. Have a little faith.”

“I mean, didn’t the entire posse almost bail on him? Whatever happened there… not a good look.”

His rays twitch instinctively as his fingers curl into fists. Can he really dismiss their concerns? He was so wrapped up in his own selfishness that they could have bailed, if not for their generosity. And it took a child to remind him to assure them all of their safety, too, not just Clover’s own. He chomps down on his lower lip to stop himself from letting them know much of a fraud he truly is.

“You wanna get started right away?” Ed asks him regardless.

“No,” he answers regardless. “I gotta have a chat with Clover first.”

They listen to him regardless, dispersing to entertain the various customers. He’d have half a mind to stop them and question why. But he just takes a deep breath, firmly adjusts his hat and slides into the seat beside the child as Dina turns away.

“So I did some talkin’ around.” His voice drops, low enough to encourage an air of privacy, but still gentle and patient. “I’m hearin’ yer not too eager to return to the Surface?”

Their expression stiffens faster than they can catch it. They shake their head, practically lowering their chin into their neck.

“Hey.” He cups their cheek in his gloved hand. “That’s not a problem. We’re gonna make it work, okay? We’ve got a plan.”

They look up at him, not daring to move their head. “A plan…?”

“Yup! A good sheriff’s always got one, don’t he?”

He flashes his signature North Star smile at the child, holding it even as it immediately threatens to slip from his face. Is it not also true that the child was forced to gaze upon this very sight before he put their life in peril? It would serve him right for them to decide they hate him right in that moment and refuse his offer. How is he getting by with so few consequences, while Ceroba’s all but barred from town?

He doesn’t get long to angrily battle with his inner critic before Clover returns the grin. The rapid current of existentialism pulling him under subsides just enough for him to break the waves. “Can I go back to being deputy, then?” They ask, standing up straighter and fiddling with the makeshift badge pinned to their chest.

“You never stopped, kiddo.” He ruffles the top of their hat, and they giggle. It’s almost enough to erase that they barely even have a sheriff to work under.

“I’m happy you’re friends with the others again,” they say before leaning into the side of his head with a hand cupped around their mouth. “I think they missed you.”

“I know they did,” he whispers back. “I’ll make sure it never happens again.”

They hum in satisfaction, and Starlo moves his hand down to offer it to them. He helps them out of their seat when they take it, and the two head straight for the rest of the posse as if the destination was second nature.

“Are we ready?” Ace asks, flipping a coin between his fingers.

“I’ve been ready,” Mooch exclaims as she shifts her weight from foot to foot.

“That’s the kinda enthusiasm we’re lookin’ for.” Starlo dusts his hands off quickly and loudly, as if to be rid of his former worries. “Now, mind fillin’ our friend in on what everyone’s supposed to be doin’?”

“Fixin’ up the town gate to make it sturdier,” Ed says, with a small flex of his dominant arm.

“Working with my parents to rally the support of the East Mines,” Moray exclaims with a spin on their forefoot and a swift salute.

“Finding and dismantling security devices in the vicinity,” Ace says, catching the coin in his hand with a satisfied nod.

“Laying out plans for emergency Guard-catching traps around town!” Mooch rubs her hands together with a devilish grin.

“Fantastic!” Starlo whoops before raising his hands up in front of the group. “Then I declare Mission: Deputy Defence to begin… NOW!”

The four throw their hands forward to meet his in the air, colliding frequently with each other’s in the mess of high fives. From there, they waste no time taking off towards their respective destinations, with Moray and Mooch breaking into immediate sprints, while Ed and Ace stretch their muscles at a slower pace before pushing the doors open.

“What are we doin’?” Clover asks him, eyes sparkling.

“We’re goin’ back to our place,” Starlo says with a thumb pointed towards himself, doing his best to ignore the way their face falls. “We gotta start gettin’ you set up. Plus, Mooch’ll be working in there. We can help her if ya’d like.”

They immediately brighten up and take his hand. He follows them out of the saloon, finally catching Dina’s gaze as they walk. She shoots him a sympathetic smile, as if to say “Good luck.” He just tips his hat towards her before leading the child to the run-down shack on the other end of town.

Upon opening the creaky door, he wastes no time gesturing to boxes lining the floor. “I told my folks I’d be havin’ a guest,” he rushes over to them and tosses the contents onto the bed, “so they gave me some stuff ya can borrow. Mostly old clothes and jammies… hopefully they’ll fit. I wasn’t sure how big you were, so I kinda just took everything.”

He scratches the back of his head with a sheepish grin. Clover walks over slowly and runs their hand along the pile, as if examining the finest of harvests. “You’re sure this is okay?” They ask quietly.

“Never been more sure about anythin’ in my life.”

“You’re not the first to say that.” Their gaze drops to the floor.

“Hey, Star!” The pair snap their heads up in unison as Mooch waves him over to the counter, where papers and drawing utensils are strewn about. “Come check out what I have so far! Clover, you too!”

The child looks to him for wordless reassurance as they open the bedside drawer and gesture to the mound of clothes on the bed, but all it takes is a beckoning motion from him for them to follow. On top of perfectly-measured diagrams of the town that the group had made before, small pieces of cardstock are laid out with bullet point brainstorming and hasty doodles, both of which are barely comprehensible. In the time it takes him to parse her initial ideas of springboards underneath the saloon and ambushers impersonating horses, she’s already doubled her number of concepts. Somewhere within the spinning of his head, he realizes he’s smiling.

“And I call THIS one ‘Jail Within The Jail’,” she continues rambing before he even realized she was speaking. “We tell them we found the human and captured them, then when they enter the cell to take ‘em, we drop a cage from the ceiling to double-trap them! Then we let Clover out through a secret escape hatch and book it!”

“That’s actually really smart.” Clover taps their chin with their finger.

“It is indeed,” Starlo confirms with a small nod, “but only as a last resort. Most of these are worth puttin’ in place, but they’ve got the same issue of bein’ immediately obvious we planned ‘em from the start. Can we focus on havin’ less ‘becomin’ enemies of the crown’?”

“Oooo, sneakier.” Mooch’s fuzzy tail lashes from behind her as she grins. “I can do that.”

“And maybe a little less ‘takin’ their stuff as the final step’,” Clover adds. She just sticks her tongue out at them, but swipes a fresh sheet and a new colour and gets to work. 

As she disappears back into her mind palace of machinations, Clover wastes little time returning to the bed, joined quickly by Starlo as they get their foot stuck in a hole in the floorboards. He makes a frantic mental note to patch that up, as well as identifying every other possible hazard that should receive the same treatment. Much to his dismay, he ends up with several holes, a few drink canisters, a loose support beam, as well as having to consult Ed on where his sleeping arrangements end and the rest of the floor begins. Dread seeps into his SOUL, quickly morphing into shame. Not only does he have to patch up his sorry excuse of a home while looking after a child, he has to do it fast, before his parents’ wishes to meet his guest become insistence. How could he have let himself live like this? Surely no one who should consider himself a leader would make such careless oversights.

“Where are we gonna get a metal detector?” Clover asks from behind him, and he whips around, only to notice that they had moved back over towards Mooch while he was too deep in his own failures to pay attention.

“Found one in the river yesterday,” she answers without even looking up, before slamming her hands on the table and springing off her stool. “Oh, that reminds me! I found something even better! I was saving it for when Clover got here!”

She roots around in a box beside the sink before pulling out a small bag and holding it out proudly. The two huddle around it, leaning over to stick their heads in and get a better look, before they each think to stick their hands in and withdraw the scattered contents. Starlo can’t help the high, drawn-out gasp that escapes his mouth as he clutches a black rectangular box, flipping it slowly over in his hands with a widening smile.

“More tapes?!” He exclaims, laying a few out carefully onto the counter to free his hands as they shake about. “Are they like the others?”

“I think so!” Mooch plops herself back down onto her stool with satisfaction. “What a find, huh? I was starting to think the humans didn’t care about ‘em anymore, hah!”

“Don’t even joke about that.” Despite his playful punch to her arm, he’s still smiling. He snatches one of the tapes and examines it with a low whistle. “Whaddaya think, Clover? Sounds to me like a movie marathon is in order!”

The moment he turns towards the child standing beside him, he feels his eyebrows furrow. They’re standing completely still, barely daring to even breathe, their expression blank and their eyes desolate. His concerned frown deepens as they turn the tape slowly, hand shaking, gingerly tracing a finger across the plastic roller, before crossing an arm over their shoulder as they return it to its original position.

“Is something the matter?” He immediately sets his own tape back onto the table and squats down, shuffling beside Clover. He stares more intently into their eyes in their refusal to respond, which allows him to notice their vacant gaze fixated onto a small strip of paper attached to the thinner side. Letters are handwritten with care onto the sticker, though scratched and worn with time: MZ.

“That mean something to you?” But still, they say nothing. So instead, he just puts a gentle hand on his shoulder, his fingers shielding theirs as they squeeze harder.

“Those are my dad’s initials.” Finally, words leave their mouth, quiet and hoarse. “These are his. Th-these are mine.”

“Huh?!” Starlo rushes to grab hold of the tape with his free hand, but Clover jerks it away. “What’re they doing here?”

“M-my mom…” They chomp down on their lip as their jaw begins to tremble. It can’t stop a strangled sound from forcing its way out, shrill and desperate and shaky. He instinctively reaches out to wipe a tear from their cheek, only to recoil when it comes up dry.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, sliding his hand further down their arm so he can pull them closer to him.

“I did something bad. So she took them. I haven’t seen him since I was a baby, and they were the only thing...” They trail off, sitting with their legs crossed and cradling the tape against their chest. “You said the river collects things people put in it from the Surface…?”

The pair of monsters hear each other’s breathing still, silently pleading for the other to come up with an answer, and yet the room is silent for several seconds.

“Don’t think about it like that,” Starlo insists softly, bending down to scoop Clover into his arms. “So many things coulda happened to get ‘em here. It seems to me like the universe just knew you needed ‘em. Isn’t it nice to see ‘em again?”

They nod, the rim of their hat brushing against his chest from within their fireman’s carry. They strain their reach out towards the counter, so Starlo moves them closer and allows them to take what’s rightfully theirs. He continues his purposeful stride, setting them carefully onto the couch before kneeling beside the VHS player on the floor and messing with the buttons until it sputters to life. 

“You got a favourite?” He calls back to them while he messes with the cables. They don’t give him an answer by the time he’s greeted with the familiar blue glow of the screen, so he sits beside them and helps them root through the options. Eventually, they wordlessly hand him one of the tapes, and he can’t help but smile as his eyes meet a familiar worn label, proudly displaying a valiant cowboy atop his trusty steed.

“I love this one,” he exclaims with rapid claps of his hands, and watches the child’s eyes brighten as they turn towards him. “Good choice. What do we think about that marathon?”

They nod, much more enthusiastically this time. And yet, when he moves to slot the tape into the machine, he’s met with tiny arms wrapping around his own. He turns towards Clover, confusion lining his features, but waits patiently for the cloudy contemplation in their eyes to subside.

“I don’t think I ever want to leave,” they finally say, just loud enough to be heard.

The tension in Starlo’s brows immediately releases itself at the soft sound of their voice. He feels his features melt, and watches theirs do the same when met with his wordless acceptance. He sits back down, setting the remainder of the tapes gently by the foot of the couch and placing theirs back into their hands.

“Good thing you don’t have to,” he whispers, running his knuckles up and down their arm, like his mother used to do for him. “Yer always welcome here. Nothing’s ever gonna change that. Just say the word and I’ll be here to remind you of it. Okay, kiddo?”

They lean their head against his shoulder, and he feels the tension in the air dissipate with their heavy exhale. He smiles again and lightly tugs them towards the TV, only continuing towards it when they stand up with him. The two slide the tape into the player, with a thumb pressing down on each side, and rush back towards the couch with matching enthusiasm before the footage can start.

It’s just as he remembers, though the colours of Clover’s version are a bit less saturated, and a thin strip of static runs through the middle of the screen. It’s easy not to pay those details any mind, though, when he has the whole thing memorized. He focuses instead on Clover’s head in his lap, knees curled up to their chest, fistfuls of his poncho in their hands and tucked under their chin. He glances at movement in the corner of his eye, which Clover doesn’t even seem to notice, and watches Mooch slink towards the door with her drawing utensils tucked under her arms. Upon being noticed, she flashes two thumbs up his way before shutting off the lights and disappearing from view.

He is doing a good job, isn’t he? Looking down at the child on his lap, with hardly a care in the world, despite all the things on their mind… granted, it wasn’t so much his doing as the return of something precious to them. But sheriffs never win without a little help, do they?

He runs his fingers through their hair and sighs just as peacefully as them. The whirlwind of thoughts in his mind stills itself, if only for the length of the movie. He still doesn’t know how to handle the crushing expectations on his shoulders. But he can’t care about that so much when the biggest one of all is coming so naturally to him.

He’ll find a happy ending to this story somehow.

Chapter Text

1 day since the fall

A young monster sits quietly in a corner, tapping his foot along with the rhythm of the music onstage.

He finds himself surprised by how little interaction he’s been able to get away with. He was swiftly greeted on his way through the door, he’s caught some wayward glances drifting his way, but no one truly seems to be paying him any mind. His worries of being bombarded with concern and questions the moment his presence was acknowledged fade further into the background of his mind with each passing minute that he’s left to enjoy the concert in peace.

It vaguely occurs to him that the baggy cloak obscuring his face is likely contributing to the other monsters’ lack of recognition. He tightens his grip on the black fabric, finding that it strains in protest against the thick, fluffy jacket underneath it. He’s more surprised that no one has judged him for how ridiculous he looks, geared up for the winter weather of Snowdin with a thin cloak draped awkwardly overtop. He hastily adds making a bigger cloak to his never-ending list of responsibilities in his mind.

Or, perhaps, he could do without the cloak. That would be nice. But not yet.

Hunger creeps up on him suddenly, his stomach growling defiantly against the tingling of heavy bass spreading throughout his body. He silently praises himself for thinking to bring a snack with him before leaving, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be brave enough to go up to the counter and order anything. He had hoped it wouldn’t be necessary, and that he would have been able to muster up his courage from yesterday. Thank goodness, he remarks under his breath, he didn’t count on such wishful thinking.

Still, he sinks lower into his seat as reaches underneath his jacket to pull a small container from a pocket on the inside. He wouldn’t want to be so crass as to proudly consume his own meal, in an eatery, in front of everyone. 

Between bites of buttered corn, he allows himself to close his eyes, not bothering to return to his original sitting position. He almost has to suppress tears as the band transitions into one of their older songs, and dizzying familiarity hits him all at once. He didn’t realize how much he missed his nights out, doing nothing but sitting in a corner and absorbing the lively ambiance of a world that turns around him. Customer service cowardice be damned, he is brave, more so than he has been for years, and it hasn’t even been a full day since he ventured out his back door. Just because his checklist is running down faster than he expected, doesn’t mean he needs to be in a rush to complete it.

A painful sense of foreboding, leagues more familiar than the sound of soft rock, knocks the breath from his lungs. He cracks open an eye, trying not to appear too urgent in case of a false alarm, only to have his worst fears realized. A familiar gaze meets his, piercing and inquisitive, with a defined snout in front and wisps of fiery red hair behind. He rotates in his chair, but keeps his head facing hers, pleading to whoever will listen that she isn’t looking as closely as she seems.

“Aren’t you-“

He‘s already stood up before she can finish her sentence. He feels several more gazes lock onto him, piercing like stakes to the heart, as he curtly stalks towards the exit. So much for bravery. He should have known that trying was a bad idea.

The moment the cold air of the outside hits him, he veers right and takes off around the corner of the resort. He presses his back against the wooden wall like he could melt into it, heaving shallow breaths that are quickly swallowed by the dry air. Seconds pass, then minutes. Surely, if she had planned on coming after him, he would have seen her by now. Maybe it wasn’t that big a deal. Maybe she didn’t even recognize him at all.

The tension leaves his muscles too quickly, and he collapses, knees colliding with the snow. Leave it up to him to ruin a perfectly good night for himself like that. Why must it be so difficult to function on the same level as others? Why can’t the rest of the world simply exist around him, the way it used to?

He stands slowly, roughly wiping tears from his eyes, and plops himself down beside the fire pit at the entrance. All this, and yet, he still can’t bring himself to return home. Perhaps the only thing scarier than the rest of the world is admitting defeat.

At the very least, the low crackling of the fire brings his mind down from its frenzy and back to the checklists he loves so much. He pulls his cloak tightly over his face, then rests his chin on his palm. He wouldn’t even be making a bad decision if he left now; he has so much to do that this pleasure-seeking detour is putting him behind schedule. He still has things in his house to sort into essentials and packables, then boxes to fill and tape, then acquaintances to say goodbye to, and then, of course, the question of where to go. His old house has practically been reduced to rubble in his absence. As much as he would love to return there someday, he needs a more short-term solution. He supposes there’s no rush to leave his current dwelling, but he can’t help but feel like the longer he puts off the move, the more complacent he’ll become, until his desire for change may well have never been there.

Movement from the path catches his eye, and he jolts up again. Someone is approaching, moving as if controlled by a lazy puppeteer, barely dragging their legs through the snow. He scrambles up and ducks below the log, doing his best to ignore the raised eyebrows he receives from other patrons. He can’t help but feel like they, too, look familiar, someone who will see who he is and expect who he used to be, someone who will remind him yet again of how he’s failed…

He blinks in surprise as the figure comes into view. He’s greeted instead with someone who accepted him, broken as he is. Someone who should be gone by now, but rarely ever does the world make sense

“Clover?” He calls out, barely loud enough to hear.

The Western-clad child perks up and looks around, clearly struggling to identify the source of the sound. He pushes himself up slowly from his hiding place, clasping trembling fingers around the hood of his cloak, though unable to pull it down just yet.

“Clover!” He calls again, watching the human’s eyes lock onto his, and their mouth spread into a genuine grin.

“Dalv!” They exclaim, and as if struck by lightning, they take off towards him with twice the energy of their previous gait. Each step they take sends another surge of confidence through his SOUL, until his hood is down and he’s standing in plain view of the whole world.

Their friend barrels into him, wrapping their arms tightly around his legs. He freezes up, stunned by the intense display of affection. Still, he can’t say he’s complaining. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks them, as they pull away and grin again. “I thought you would have completed your journey through Snowdin by now.”

“Oh, I’m stayin’!” They arch their back. “I live here now.”

Dalv only realizes he had been smiling after he feels it slip from his face. He tucks Clover underneath his cloak as he watches their brows furrow in response, practically dragging them away from the rest of the crowd. “I’m sure you understand how dangerous this is?” He whispers.

“Y-yeah,” they mumble, “I know.”

“And you have someone to stay with?”

“Yeah, Martlet. My friend. She lives just past here.”

“Oh, you made another friend!” He claps his hands together lightly. “That’s wonderful!”

“Yeah! I made…” Their eyes narrow in concentration as they count on their fingers, until all ten are raised and they look down in bewilderment. “…a lot of friends.”

Dalv can’t help but laugh, his vision clouding as puffs of air rise into the cold. “I can’t truly say I’m surprised,” he says before leaning against a sturdy tree behind the resort. “You are quite good at it.”

“I dunno.” Clover shrugs. “I’ve never really had many friends before.”

“Well, you befriended me. That takes something special.” He finds himself chuckling once more, but the sound has no life to it this time. They just shrug again, and silence grips them with a gust of stiff wind. Dalv feels it seize his SOUL further with each passing second, silently urging him to start a conversation like friends do, but his throat rebels and closes up each time he tries. What could he possibly say that wouldn’t bore them to death? Why must keeping a friend be so much harder than making one?

The dizzying battle for control within him only intensifies when Clover starts drumming their fingers on the holster of their weapon, clearly a habit of boredom. What a failure of a friend he is. It was almost easier when he knew he was Clover’s only friend, and there was no pressure to match the charisma of other nameless, faceless monsters they could be with instead. Who would ever choose him when they could have other friends?

Other friends. Like the one they’re staying with.

“Oh my goodness!” He jumps up suddenly, and the child startles. “Is your other friend expecting you? I wouldn’t want to keep her waiting, especially if she thinks you’re in-“

“No, no, I don’t think she’s gonna be back for a while,” Clover rushes to cut him off. “She has work. And stuff.”

“What have you been doing while she works?”

“Staying with more friends.”

“Right.” He scratches the back of his head, trying to keep disdain from his voice. “Of course.”

“Hey, d’you wanna come meet her?” Clover pushes off their own tree and motions towards the path. “I think you’d get along!”

“Oh! Well…” The head-scratching intensifies as he feels cowardice grip him once more. “Actually, I’m quite busy. I have furniture to sort, and boxes to pack, and… more furniture to sort… and more boxes to pack…”

“But Martlet works all day. Can those things only be done at night?”

They tilt their head to the side, expression neutral, and yet, their eyes shine with such anticipation that any weak excuse he could hope to muster shrivels beneath their glow.

“No,” he sighs, his body deflating. “No, I suppose not.”

Clover perks up and nudges their head towards the path. Instinctively, he pulls his coat up over his neck. In hindsight, the fact that he isn’t used to the frigid air of Snowdin anymore and he would prefer not to lose his limbs to hypothermia would have been a better excuse, but it’s too late to back away from his lack of foresight now. Besides, for someone who just got here yesterday, Clover seems to be holding up fine in just a shirt and jeans.

“Aren’t you cold?” He can’t help but ask as they begin walking and he has to jog to catch up to them.

“Not really,” they respond nonchalantly, though they readjust their vest as they speak. He wonders if human fingers are supposed to look as red as theirs, or if the watering of their eyes as the snow hits their face is normal, but such questions feel unnecessarily intrusive to him.

Before he can truly decide, the child stops abruptly in their tracks, and he has to scramble to do the same before he runs into them. “What’s the matter?” He asks instead, receiving only a beckoning motion towards their head as a response. He stares blankly for a few moments, until they cup a hand around their ear, and he finally understands their signals and leans down beside them with some shame.

“There are cameras here,” they whisper. “Martlet told me where they were, but I don’t… remember… all of ‘em.”

“Oh dear,” he answers at the same volume, squinting and glancing around. All he can see are endless rows of trees, each appearing the same as the last. Have there always been cameras in Snowdin? Does someone know where he is right now? The very thought causes him to shudder.

“M-maybe we can just hang out at the resort for a bit,” they mumble, backing up. “I just… don’t want Martlet to worry… when I don’t come home.”

Dalv feels the rustling of fabric against his shoulder as Clover tucks themselves behind their cloak, pulling the end over their face. In that moment, the fog infesting his mind clears as if sliced by a brilliant blade.

Wordlessly, he unties his cloak from around his neck and pulls it off. They look up at him in confusion, shuffling closer into him, until he places it gently into their hands. “Try it on,” he insists after they only stare into his eyes with shock.

“Don’t you need it?” They ask, but they clutch the gift against their chest.

He laughs, much heartier this time. “How do you think I got it to begin with? I can just make another. Although… the hope is… perhaps I won’t have to.”

Clover glances back down, running careful fingers across the top for several moments, before slowly unfolding it and searching for the correct orientation. With some help from Dalv, they pull the hood over their head, then tie the neck straps into a tight knot. Even after pulling them as far in as they’ll go, the garment is still so big that it falls completely over their face, and any features that could distinguish them as human are swallowed by black linen.

“It’s so big, I don’t even need to take off my hat!” They remark with some joy. He watches as they crane their head towards the sky just to see in front of them, then make clumsy circles around him, pulling against the lengthy mass of fabric that drags behind them. Something within him shrivels in despair upon seeing his precious cloak collecting snow and dirt like an oversized rag, but it’s quickly drowned by bubbly laughter coming from the child. Just loud enough to be heard, and yet, resonating through his SOUL like very little else can. 

“No one will think twice about a cloaked figure passing through,” he says as their enthusiasm wears off, “especially not if they’re with a monster.”

“You’re sure?”

“Well, I’ve made it this far.” He earns another smile from them both. “And it’s not all that uncommon, depending on where you are.”

“And I guess if we’re gonna test it…” Clover steps back towards him and takes his hand. “We should do it together. I-if that’s okay.”

“I would be honoured.” His voice is soft, hesitant, but sincere. They don’t relax until he squeezes his fingers around theirs, but the simple gesture is enough for them to start walking. He allows them to drag him along with light tugs at his arm, guiding him through a region of his former home largely unknown to him. It’s much more modernized than he was expecting, with this area of Lower Snowdin said to be largely untouched by monsterkind. And yet, a grand bridge hangs over a gorge with swinging panels for them to dance across, and a beautiful seating area is carved from a steep rock face just across the way. If he hopes hard enough, he can see himself enjoying perfect tranquility on a raised bench, listening to a private symphony of wooden creaks, counting the evergreens that seem to expand infinitely. Perhaps knowing something like this is waiting could make bravery easier.

He almost finds himself disappointed as the two approach a house beside a dock, but he quickly becomes too enraptured by the craftsmanship to care. Any caution in Clover’s demeanour immediately dissipates as they throw off their hood and rush towards the door, having to gather bunches of the cloak into their arms so they don’t trip. Dalv begins to follow, until the door throws itself open in Clover’s face, and the two stumble backwards and grab at their respective neck coverings.

“Martlet!” He hears Clover exclaim, looking up towards a disheveled bluebird monster in pieces of an armour set. “You’re home already!”

“Who is that?” She grabs their arm and stares daggers into Dalv’s head. “What are they doing here?”

“I-I’ll leave if I’m not welcome,” he mumbles just as Clover launches into a clumsy explanation of their own. Her eyes dart between the two before she eventually throws her arms out with a frustrated grunt

“I can’t hear you when you’re both-“ She gives up on her sentence, nudging Clover towards the door and stalking towards him. She outstretches a wing with purpose, and magical white feathers float around her torso. “Who are you?”

“Hey, Martlet, stop!” Clover yells and rushes over. Dalv can only raise his hands into the air, feeling the familiar pounding of his SOUL and constricting of his throat, except this time the danger is real again and the consequences are fatal again. His mind races for a solution, working desperately to push away memories of a time that is not now, with aggression that was much more forward, because he made the wrong decision. But the harder he tries, the more it fights back, until it swallows him whole.

“He’s a friend,” Clover eventually insists, and the air seems to still around all of them. “He helped me get out of the Ruins, before I met you. And he gave me this. So I’d be able to get home without settin’ off the cameras.”

“The-“ She whips back around to face them, her bullets plummeting into the snow and disappearing. Something in her expression shifts as she finally seems to register their change in appearance, and she runs a hand roughly down her face. “Dear Angel. Yeah, those would be a problem on the way back, too. How did I not think of that?”

“It shouldn’t be an issue,” Dalv finally pipes up, his throat hoarse and squeaky. “Th-the cloak should be inconspicuous enough that they look like any other monster.”

Martlet stares back up at him again, still glaring as she reaches down to wrap her wings around Clover, but there’s something more tired and forgiving behind her eyes. Eventually, she completely deflates, her head dropping with a long, loud sigh. Clover reaches up to pat her head with their hand, and she reaches down to take them into her arms.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “really. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just… the last time I let someone else take them somewhere…”

Again, she doesn’t finish her sentence, but she doesn’t have to. They tense up from within her arms, and she tightens her grasp around them.

“You’re concerned for them, I understand.” Dalv slowly lowers his hands into his pockets and nods their way. “The situation they’re in is precarious. But you have my word that I have no malicious intent. I’ll leave you both be if that would make you feel better.”

“No, that’s fine,” she responds, and something selfish within him ignites at the knowledge that he doesn’t have to leave his friend. “I mean, I dunno if I’m in the best state to have company right now, but you’re clearly not gonna hurt them. So I don’t mind you hanging around.”

“Of course. I have matters to attend to, anyhow.” He offers a courteous bow, then pulls a pad of weathered paper from his pocket. As accurately as he can, attempting to recall each pleasant daydream on his journey with Clover, he scribbles a map that leads from her house to his and circles the nearest mail station. “If you ever need any help,” he says as he hands the paper to Clover, “that should be how to find me. It’s only fair to allow you to do the same. Although, I can’t promise that I’ll be there for long. I’m looking to move.”

“Oh, you’re moving?” Martlet looks back up at him, with eyes much brighter and more curious than before. “Makes sense, to be honest. I always thought the Ruins were like, completely empty.”

“Oh, we have our characters!” Dalv laughs, a feeling of warmth washing over him at the sudden influx of warm wishes as he began to pack up his belongings. “But I am looking to expand. I’ll let you know when I find a place. In the meantime, if they need somewhere safe, or if you’d like me to hem their cloak…”

Clover hands his map to Martlet, who puts them back down to examine it. “Thank you,” she eventually says, roughly folding the paper a few times. “You have no idea how much this means to me. It’s just so nice to know there are other monsters on their side.”

“It’s my pleasure. And it seems to me like they’re in good hands.”

Clover beams and hugs Martlet’s arm at this assertion, and for the first time, he sees her smile, too. Diluted by weariness, but a surefire sign that she accepts the trust he’s been desperately offering. That he did the right thing this time.

“I won’t keep you any longer,” he continues, “but it was lovely to meet you. Even if the circumstances were less than favourable.”

He chuckles to hide the shaking in his voice as he curls and uncurls his fist beside him. He only has a few seconds to deploy what he now knows to be the universal sign of friendship before it becomes awkward, and yet, he still can’t bring himself to do it. He wasn’t expecting to need to be this brave today. Were such surprises really this commonplace in his past life?

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” Martlet pipes up in his state of frozen cowardice. “I didn’t even get your name!”

She stares into his eyes for several long moments as his brain struggles to even process what she said. “Y-yes,” he’s eventually able to push out, shaking his head to clear the thick fog. “No, that’s alright. I’m Dalv.”

He forces the momentum of his moving vocal chords to extend his arm outwards. Every muscle in his body screams at him to take it back, run away, hide somewhere and never be seen again, but her gaze shifts to his hand before he can listen. With nothing more than an eyebrow raise of acknowledgment, she reaches her own hand out and clasps it around his, shaking firmly. Just like that, the gesture was accepted. Just like that, he’s made another friend.

Clover shoots him a thumbs up, reading the giddy relief in his expression. They tug on Martlet’s arm and wave goodbye enthusiastically, making sure to talk him up as they walk towards the door. Even as it closes behind them and silence engulfs the clearing once again, he can’t bring himself to move. The shock to his system keeps him rooted in place.

None of this was on his list of things to get done today. He didn’t even consider them possibilities until a few weeks from now. It must be so much easier than he thought to be brave with a friend.

Eventually, he snaps out of his stupor enough to stumble away, back down the path. He makes it all the way to the seating area without stopping, but the allure of the tranquility reels him in. He ascends the wooden stairs and seats himself at the closest bench, closing his eyes and taking in the distant creaking of wooden boards. He goes to pull up his hood, only for his hands to grip nothing, and he can’t stop the smile that spreads across his lips as he leans his hands against the back of his head instead.

Packing can wait. He’s earned this.

Chapter Text

2 days since the fall

Boredom is not something Ceroba deals with well.

In the past, she could find some menial house chore to keep herself busy with, knowing the doting compliments of her exhausted husband would be well worth it. Hell, even the appreciative smiles of Star and his friends seeing some of the clutter cleared from their shared house would spark some joy within her. But now, with nothing to look forward to at the end of the day, the thought of doing anything but staring idly up at the ceiling fills her with dread.

She supposes she could go out, but with how that went yesterday, the idea is swiftly overruled. What message is she supposed to take from Kanako’s old babysitter storming straight out of a building the moment she approached him? Does he know what she did? She can’t imagine how that would break him, with how he took such care to be a good role model for her. The idea of needlessly disappointing yet another, with no way of them helping each other, makes her sick to her stomach.

With a frustrated huff, she gets up and tries to pass the time with one of Chujin’s many books, but she finds the words don’t make it from her eyes to her brain. By the time she’s reached the end of the page, she realizes that she hasn’t actually comprehended anything she’s read. Her mind has instead wandered back to Clover, and the fact that she hasn’t heard anything about how they’re settling in. Surely that can’t be a bad thing, if something happened to them, the news would have reached her one way or another. And yet, their life continues on without her, as it has every right to.

Just as she begins to believe she’ll never be free from this cycle of torture, there’s a rough knock at her door. A sense of relief washes over her as she slams shut whatever space fantasy she had pulled off the shelf. And yet, this doesn’t stop her from slinking down the hallway on her toes, peeking out the window at whatever vantage point she can manage, with her SOUL sitting uncomfortably in her throat. If word of her wrongdoings truly has gotten out, she can only be ready to expect the worst from her surprise visitor. Who else can she expect to pay visit to a house-ridden widow on the outskirts of town, other than someone hostile?

Her hunched shoulders lower slightly at the silhouette of a Mail Whale through the frosted glass. Not the member of the Crown she’d expect to be sent after her, but perhaps that’s what they want her to think. Still, another harsh set of tail slaps against the door indicate that they don’t plan on leaving until they’re acknowledged. So, summoning her staff and inconspicuously leaning against it like a walking stick, she cracks the sliding panel open just slightly.

“Sorry to disturb you on this fine afternoon.” Despite the young whale’s attempt at a jaunty customer service voice, an unmistakable hint of irritation slips through. “Could I speak to the owner of this house, and soon?”

“That would be me,” she responds slowly. “What can I help you with?”

Wordlessly, the Mail Whale gestures towards the ornate mailbox outside with a deep grimace. Even from her place on the porch, Ceroba can see the immeasurable volume of crumpled envelopes sticking from the entrance, which is hopelessly hanging open. Even more of them spill out onto the ground below, forming a small pile of yellowing paper. She doesn’t even realize her jaw has dropped until she goes to speak and finds herself too stunned for several moments.

”Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry.” She finally drops her staff, rushing towards the mess before the Mail Whale can see a blush of humiliation creep onto her face, and begins scooping up the envelopes. “I admit I’m not the most diligent at checking the mail. I didn’t realize it had gotten this bad.”

He just shakes his head. “I believe you’re mistaken, though I scorn your ways. These letters were all sent in the past two days.”

“What?!” Ceroba shoots her head back down towards the pile, then roots through it fervently. It slowly dawns on her that every single envelope is identical, with the same familiar symbol printed onto the top left corner. The realization turns quick and painful as it registers as the Steamworks logo in her mind, and that her late husband is listed as the recipient each time.

“Dear Angel,” she mutters under her breath, her head falling into her hands. She did leave that thread uncut, didn’t she? Just how desperate is Axis to finish what he started?

“Do you know who’s behind this?” The Mail Whale’s voice wavers with desperation. “They’re killing my back. I’ve made so many trips that I’ve lost track. The Steamworks isn’t even somewhere I’m supposed to be. Please, end this madness and set me free!”

“Yeah, I- I think I can take care of it,” Ceroba barely mumbles as she tears one of the envelopes open and pulls out the contents. “Just ignore him from now on. I’ll head over as soon as I can.”

The Mail Whale begins some rehearsed expression of gratitude, but she tunes him out when her eyes land on the letter. It’s hardly decipherable, rambling in punctuation-less capital letters about an urgent breach that needs Chujin’s immediate attention, as well as many other matters including apparent thousands of missed calls to his now-defunct cellphone, and the threat of this letter being printed and mailed indefinitely until he returns to the Steamworks himself. She clutches it until her claws puncture the paper, and tosses it aside to drown in the pile of its clones.

She’s met with silence as she looks up and scans the sky. The Mail Whale is nowhere to be seen, having already taken off, surely to complete whatever backlog Axis left him with. She vacantly wonders what brought him to the Steamworks, if the mail service doesn’t stop there anymore like he suggested. But, she supposes, it’s none of her business. If she can keep her secrets, so can he.

It takes her several trips to haul all the envelopes inside in massive handfuls and dump them in the foyer. They make a small, gaudy mountain beside the beautifully-crafted console table, hoping this will serve as motivation for her to clear them with some haste. For the sake of that poor whale’s job, and perhaps her own conscience, she’d rather not waste any time. Perhaps, for once, it will feel good to finish what she started.

Dusting off her hands and carrying her momentum forward, she opens the sizeable closet and pulls out one of Chujin’s baggy cloaks that he owned. She couldn’t have even begun to imagine why he owned those when she first found them, and now, she has far too many ideas. It’s yet another secret that died with him. Yet another thing she just has to make the best of. But there’s no time for her to dwell on that now. If she hadn’t done so damn much of that in the past, she wouldn’t have to walk through the Wild East of all places with her identity concealed. Such is the life of a visionary with rose-tinted glasses. She supposes some habits of his will never truly die.

She keeps to the fences on her short walk there, to draw as little attention to herself as possible. Knowing the townsfolk so well means she knows exactly where to expect them at any given time, and how to avoid catching their eye. She can’t say she expected to see Ed installing locks onto the gate - and silently thanks the Angel that she didn’t wait any longer to rip this bandaid off - but all it takes is for her to wait until he slips into his typical razor-sharp focus to sneak by undetected. She also can’t say she expected to see Starlo dashing around the square with Clover perched gleefully atop his shoulders, but it isn’t an unwelcome surprise. She has to shove down the urge to scoop them both into a big hug and walk right along, no matter how insistently her SOUL tugs in their direction.

The cool breeze of the Steamworks fans is like a balm for her clouded mind, having had time to freshen up the space after innumerable months of inactivity. She takes a deep breath of artificially-conditioned air and navigates the winding pathways, having to stop herself from defaulting towards every little detour Clover took her on during their journey. It feels like weights off her shoulders, to finally be able to admit she enjoyed their time together. Even if it serves no one but herself. There are more pressing matters at hand. 

Like the distant metallic banging and squeaking of motorized wheels being pushed to their limit. She freezes in her tracks, hoping that her objective will come to her with little more navigation of deadly security traps. For once in her life, as Axis wheels up to her and stops just inches away, something goes right for her.

“YOU AGAIN.” His voice box crackles, and steam pours in high-pitched puffs from the vents in his head. “I HAVE FINALLY FOUND YOU. I WAS BEGINNING TO THINK I HAD ALLOWED YOU TO ESCAPE WHILE I WAITED TO SPRING MY FOOLPROOF-YET-STATIONARY TRAP. BUT I WILL NOT FAIL AGAIN.”

“Hey, Axis, wait,” Ceroba holds out her arms in a gesture of peace. “Can we just talk for a moment?”

“NO.” Axis wraps a hand around her wrist without pausing, yanking hard enough to make her stumble.

“What if I let you apprehend me after we’re done talking? Then would you hear me out?”

He goes completely still for a moment. She can hear his internals whirring as light fades in and out of his empty eyes. Finally: “THAT IS A FAIR ARRANGEMENT. BUT YOU MUST PINKIE SWEAR ON IT.”

With a quiet chuckle, she wraps her digit around his, then sits cross-legged in front of him and pulls out the one envelope she saved from his ceaseless endeavour.

”Are you the one sending these to the estate?” She asks what she already knows.

“HOW DID YOU GET THAT?” His hand jets forward to snatch it from her grasp. “I SPECIFICALLY ADDRESSED THESE TO MY CREATOR.”

“I told you, didn’t I? He’s my husband. We live at the same place. So… I came out to see you on his behalf.”

Axis looks down at the envelope, running his artificial fingers across it, before speaking again. “WHY COULD HE NOT HAVE JUST COME HERE HIMSELF?” His voice wavers, as much as a robot’s can. “WHY HAS HE GONE SILENT, WHEN HE SAID HE WOULD ALWAYS BE THERE FOR ME?”

“That’s what I came here to address.” Ceroba’s chest pushes pressure into her throat, making her voice catch, but she shakes her head and continues anyways. “Chujin… he’s not here anymore, Axis. He passed away some time ago. I’m sure he would love to come see you if he could. But he can’t.”

“PASSED AWAY?” The sound of whirring machinery picks up again as he seems to process the statement. “THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE. HE TOLD ME THAT HE WAS IMMUNE TO NATURAL DETERIORATION AS LONG AS HE HAD OFFSPRING. SO HE-“

He abruptly stops speaking. The room goes silent. Even the idling of his processors seems to freeze.

“DID SOMETHING HAPPEN TO KANAKO?” His voice is quiet, scared, in a way that feels impossible.

Ceroba’s muscles immediately tense. “How do you know my daughter?”

“DID SOMETHING HAPPEN TO KANAKO?”

She squeezes her eyes shut. She doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he has the order of events wrong, or that it’s all her fault. Maybe one day. But not today.

“Yes,” she eventually forces out. She only peeks an eye open when she doesn’t get a response. Axis looks completely deflated, his hands dropping limply to the floor.

“WAS IT A HUMAN?” He asks, still uncannily quiet.

“No,” Ceroba answers immediately. “It was… an accident. Something that I never should have let happen to her, as her mother. But I’m trying to fix it. I’m trying so hard.”

Silence engulfs the room again. “I’m sorry,” she adds, in a broken whisper of her own, when he doesn’t say anything right away. The stillness and quietness of the room persists.

Without permission from the rest of her body, Ceroba’s arms extend outwards, and her fingers beckon Axis closer to her. He looks up with despondence, then wheels himself slowly towards her. She embraces him as fully as she can, flinching as the cold metal of his giant head pushes into her torso, but she holds it there nonetheless.

“I DID NOT EXPECT THIS TO HELP,” he admits after some time, “BUT IT DOES.”

“It’s always the little things that help the most,” she says, backed by the confidence of her own recent experiences.

“DID HE LOVE ME?” He asks, not daring to move otherwise.

“I know he did,” she answers, as softly as she can. “I’m sure if he saw your calls and your letters, he would have come as fast as he could. I’m sorry that he can’t.”

More silence.

“Do you mind if I ask a question, too?” Ceroba’s voice is still quiet, and Axis’ head still rests on her shoulder.

“I DO NOT MIND.”

“How do you know about Kanako?”

“MR. CHUJIN BROUGHT ME OVER TO VISIT HER, A COUPLE OF TIMES.” He leans over to reattach his gloves. “HE TOLD ME MONSTERS LIKE HER ARE WHAT I AM HERE TO PROTECT. AND YET, SHE DID NOT TAKE MY ROLE AS SERIOUSLY AS HIM. SHE REQUESTED I DO FRIVOLOUS THINGS SUCH AS ‘PLAY’ AND ‘DRAW’ INSTEAD.”

Ceroba finds herself stunned silent. The image of her daughter luring a carefree, childish side out of her husband’s most serious invention is a precious treasure of her imagination, one that gives her an unfamiliar wholeness. So then, why did it all happen behind closed doors, without so much as a mention of Axis’ existence? Why was Chujin so determined to hide this part of his life from her, when she would have done anything just to be closer to him?

Eventually, Axis sighs, a sound more akin to crackling. “THINKING ON IT NOW, I SUPPOSE THIS IS WHY SHE NEEDED TO BE PROTECTED,” he says. “LOOK AT WHAT HAPPENED TO HER WHILE I WAS WITHOUT POWER. MY INACTIVITY HAS BURDENED MY CREATOR’S FAMILY.”

“No.” Ceroba’s voice climbs above a whisper for the first time since the conversation shifted, squeezing him tighter. “You were built for very different things than what happened to us. You had a whole world trying to keep you down. None of this was your fault. And he would be so proud of the good you’re doing now.

Maybe if someone had said these things to her, she would have made better choices when she could have. She would have stopped herself from gathering the broken pieces of her life and shattering them further. It doesn’t erase the fact that she should have known better. But she hears something within him rattle to life, and his hands regain their movement, and she hopes that maybe she truly can be the change that matters for someone else.

“WHILE WE ARE EXCHANGING QUESTIONS…” His voice returns to normal, too, though it’s still diluted. “WHAT GOOD DO YOU THINK HE WOULD LIKE ME TO KEEP DOING?”

“The little things,” she responds, just the same as she was told. “You said it yourself, you’re the best the Steamworks has. He loved this place, and he loved how much closer it was able to bring him to you. He would be so happy to know you’re awake and protecting it.”

“YOU’RE SURE?”

“As sure as the documents that told it to me.” Chujin’s insulting progress reports still burn a hole through her SOUL, searing hot with rage. But if she can take something bright from them and use it to bring up the very creation they tried to shoot down, who really won?

“I WILL PROTECT THE STEAMWORKS. AND I WILL PROTECT EVERYTHING MY CREATOR HELD DEAR.” Axis backs up, but only to bow dramatically Ceroba’s way. “PLEASE STAY STILL WHILE I REGISTER YOU IN MY MEMORY. CONSIDER OUR DEAL REGARDING YOUR APPREHENSION TO BE RESCINDED. I HOPE YOU ARE NOT UPSET THAT I WENT BACK ON OUR PROMISE.”

Ceroba laughs as a beam of pink light washes over her. “I think I’ll live. Just, stop sending letters to the house, if you could.”

“YES.” The blinking of Axis’ lights signals the end of his scan, and then he turns to face the wall. “ALLOW ME TO DEACTIVATE THE FUNCTION.”

Beeping sounds ring out from within his head. Ceroba finds herself fiddling with her hands in the silence, unable to keep down one final question that’s been plaguing her since she entered.

“Did he ever talk about me?” She finally asks.

She doesn’t get a response right away as the robotic sounds continue. She lets him finish what he was doing, though not impatiently, having to push down her internal insistence that he’s figuring out how to tell her what he doesn’t want to hear. Finally, he turns back towards her, his bulbs flooding with light again.

“CONSTANTLY.” Just that word is enough to send relief rushing through her. “HE WANTED ME TO KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU. EVERY ACTION OF YOUR DAY. HE SAID HE WANTED ME TO PROTECT YOU MOST OF ALL. BECAUSE KANAKO COULD KNOW OF HIS MISSION WITHOUT SEEING THE DARKNESS OF THE WORLD, WHATEVER THAT MEANT. BUT YOU COULD NOT.”

Ceroba’s throat closes up again, so severely that air seems to escape her.

“WHEN YOU ENTERED THE STEAMWORKS WITHOUT HIS PERMISSION, I THOUGHT I MUST PROTECT IT FROM YOU, BUT ALSO, PROTECT YOU FROM WHATEVER IT WAS HE WAS SO SCARED OF. I DID NOT WANT TO GO BACK ON HIS WORD. I DID NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO TO HELP YOU, AND IN HIS FAILURE TO TELL ME, I THOUGHT HE HAD HURT ME WITH YOUR PRESENCE. NOW, I DO NOT KNOW WHAT TO THINK. BUT I HAVE NO ONE TO REPORT TO NOW, EXCEPT MYSELF.”

A hand finds itself over Ceroba’s mouth before she can stop it. Axis tilts his head to the side as she collapses into herself, falling off her knees and hitting her tailbone. The pain barely registers amidst the aching in her SOUL, the undiluted longing she’d been trying to cast aside, so as not to hurt anyone else. She longs to know what he was protecting her from. She longs to know what else he was fighting for, all for her. She longs so deeply because she knows she cannot have it, no matter what she does to get it back, he’ll never be here to see it. Her disgust towards the horrible things she did in his name fight violently with the knowledge that she could never do enough to repay what he did for her, or died trying to, because she failed to see it.

The feeling of metal jerks her out of her stupor once again. It’s much less cold this time, and accompanied by consistent jets of steam that crawl up her back. Hollow hands wrap around her shoulders, delicately squeezing, and the warm glass of a fluorescent lightbulb presses into her ponytail. Such small actions that have become second nature to her in her own hugs, reflected back upon her by a being she taught to love.

“The little things,” she repeats to herself, breathily.

“DID I SAY SOMETHING WRONG?” Axis asks, tilting his speaker away from her ear first.

“No, no. I just… miss him. There were so many things that I didn’t know about him, and I’m just… upset that I never will.”

“I FEAR THAT I WILL BEGIN TO FEEL THAT WAY, TOO.” He looks around him slowly, at the rusty walls and wheezing machinery. “IT SEEMS THAT EVERYTHING I AM AFFILIATED WITH IS DOOMED TO DECAY.”

“The world really does seem like that sometimes,” Ceroba mutters with a dry chuckle.

“YOU WILL COME BACK,” Axis drops his voice to match hers, “WON’T YOU? NOW THAT I HAVE CANCELLED MY APPREHENSION PROTOCOL?”

“I would love to.” She pats his head, then sits up as a memory returns to her like a jolt of static. “And until then… do you remember my surprise that I tried to show you?”

“I THINK SO. THOUGH, IT IS HARD TO REMEMBER WHAT I WAS NOT PAYING ATTENTION TO.”

Ceroba giggles. “Well, it’s in the control room. Clover and I built it just for you. It’s your very own companion, so you don’t have to be lonely anymore.”

“CLOVER…” Axis puts a hand on his chin. “THAT IS THE HATTED HUMAN YOU ENTERED WITH, YES?”

“That’s them.” Ceroba nods, with a certain serious stiffness. “I doubt they’ll be back here, but they’re not like the humans Chujin ever talked about. They’re kind, and they care for monsters and robots alike. So if they ever do find their way back here, can you promise me not to hurt them?”

“I CANNOT ENSURE A COMPLETE OVERRIDE UNLESS I SEE THEM AGAIN. BUT I WILL KEEP THEIR GESTURE OF GOODWILL IN MIND WHEN I GO TO MEET MY SURPRISE COMPANION.”

“That’s good enough for now.” Ceroba sits up. “Perhaps we’ll have to make another trip back here… when things are better.”

She wishes that were now. She wants so badly to right all her wrongs in one fell swoop, and cultivate the happiness that has eluded her for months. But she has one victory. One action she took that hasn’t gone horribly wrong. That’s more than she can typically say.

“THE CONCEPT OF A SURPRISE HAS FILLED ME WITH ANTICIPATION.” Axis claps his hands together, his voice rising in pitch like that of a gleeful child. “I AM GOING TO FIND IT. I EAGERLY AWAIT YOUR NEXT VISIT.”

“You go do that,” Ceroba says, a warm smile spreading across her face. “See you later, Axis.”

He wheels himself off with no further farewell. The warmth on her face spreads quickly to the rest of her body, taking refuge within a small corner of her SOUL. This is good enough for now.

As if the old, creaky workings of her surroundings have worn off on her, she stands up slowly and dusts off her clothes. She takes her sweet time walking out of the facility, knowing nothing will be coming after her. It really is beautiful, doused in soft pink light, despite the scars that time has left on it. She can only wonder what it looked like in its prime, sparkling and alive, filled with visionaries like Chujin. 

She has to shield herself from the glare of the Swelterstone once she leaves, shocked by how long it takes for her eyes to adjust. By the time she reaches the town, she realizes with some dread that she forgot to put her cloak back on. Thankfully, anyone who might notice is far away enough that they shouldn’t bat an eye.

This pattern of activity only really happens in the evening. Just how long was she in the Steamworks?

Taking advantage of her lacking time management, she slinks towards her friends’ house and drops down below the window. If she flattens her ears and cranes her head at just the right angle, she can catch half of the couch in her view, where the whole posse and Clover are curled up on the cushions or in each others’ laps. They’re reacting with vigour to something on the television, shouting and waving their arms as if it consumes their entire world. Typical, that something so little could make them so happy. And yet, it doesn’t fill her with the same jealousy that it normally would.

She sneaks back towards the fence, hops over it, and whistles a tune from one of Starlo’s westerns throughout her trip back home.

Chapter Text

2 days since the fall

“It’s so peaceful out here,” their father’s sister would say to them on their long walks home, “away from all the excitement of the day. Our nights are for us, sunshine. Nobody else.”

“That isn’t gonna stop my feet from hurting,” they would always complain.

“You’ll understand someday,” she would always respond with a small laugh and a ruffle of their hair.

“Someday” has caught up to them now.

They lean against an unfamiliar windowsill, foot tapping in an unsteady rhythm. How anyone could live across from a police station is beyond them. The noise is awful. They already miss when the sound of sirens was a rarity. It hasn’t even been 24 hours. How long are they going to have to put up with this?

“Hey, Frisk. Dinner’s ready.” A voice, usually unfamiliar to them at this hour, startles them out of their stupor. A teenage girl, usually unfamiliar to them out of her school uniform, rounds the corner into the bedroom with a hand on her hip. “Don’t keep my mom waiting, for your own sake. What are you even looking at, anywa-“

The moment she peers out the window for herself, she bites down on her lip before she can finish her sentence. They see her wince from the corner of their eye, as if the scene before her is unsettling, even for someone who looks out this window every day. This, at least, makes them feel a bit better about the growing pit in their stomach.

Frisk can’t imagine the sight of someone screaming at someone else outside a police station is particularly extraordinary. But it’s louder than they could have even expected . A voice so shrill, with words so profane, would be upsetting coming from anyone. But coming from their aunt, who hasn’t raised her voice a single time since they’ve known her, who lectures every unruly schoolkid that yelling solves nothing… that isn’t her across the street. Their father’s sister has disappeared, just as he did, just as their mother did.

“Do you think she misses Clover?” They can barely bring themselves to ask.

“I think we all miss Clover,” the girl sighs. “I think she’s fighting for them because no one else will.”

They can understand that. She’s always been like that in the classroom, too. Considering the subject of her verbal beatdown, who they know to be Clover’s mom, is responding with such cold stoicism that they can’t even hear what she’s saying, maybe she’s just getting angry enough for the both of them. Still, it doesn’t make it any easier to stomach.

“Do you think she misses me?” They follow themselves up with their head hung low.

Their friend opens her mouth to answer, but another shrill voice reverberates through the house before she can. “KIDS! Downstairs! Now!”

“Sorry,” the girl shouts back. In one swift movement, she turns on her heel and pulls the curtain over Frisk’s face. They wish it was so simple to just pretend it wasn’t happening. Still, it tears them away just enough to follow their friend down the creaky steps and into the kitchen.

“Does your aunt know you’re here?” A woman, unfamiliar to them since years ago, asks as she places a third chair at the small dining table.

My aunt is gone, they want so badly to say. “Yes, Ms. Manila,” they mumble instead.

“Oh, hon, your-“ Ms. Manila motions up towards her cheek, then points at them. “How old is that bandage? Cadence, go get them another.”

Their friend moves to oblige, until their arm snaps up to grab the sleeve of her sweater. “Don’t,” they mutter with insistence surprising even them, and she bites down on her lip again. She recognizes the pastel red stripes across the bandage on Frisk’s face, the same that their aunt would keep stashed on her classroom desk. When can they expect to next feel the warmth of her hands as she smooths it along their skin with care, planting a kiss on the covered wound and promising a swift recovery?

Instinctively, they press their hand against their cheek, covering the whole thing with their palm. The bandage sears underneath, with the imagined heat of her love, as the chance of ever feeling it again slips uncontrollably through their fingers.

“Come now, it’s all grimy. I’m sure you’ll feel better with a new one.” Ms. Manila approaches them with an arm outstretched, but they turn their head away, pressing harder into their cheek.

“Just drop it, Mom,” Cadence snaps as she stalks towards the table. “They’ve had a long day. We both have.”

Ms. Manila raises an eyebrow with a scoff, but to their great relief, sits down without any further protest. They shuffle into their own makeshift seat - a blue chair that’s smaller than all the others - and pick at the lumpia on their plate. They’re sure it’s good, it’s just not what their aunt would make. How are they supposed to muster up the appetite?

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Ms. Manila’s eyes bore into their forehead. 

They look towards Cadence, slide their thumb out from underneath their chin, then motion a cupped hand down their chest.

“They’re not hungry,” she turns to their mother and translates.

“Well then, they can tell me that themselves.”

“They just did.” Cadence furrows her brows.

“They can use their words,” Ms. Manila continues without missing a beat, never looking away from them, despite how much they internally plead for them to. “You know they can.”

“Mom.”

“Don’t you think they can at least try? It’s the least they could do, considering they’re not eating the food we’ve given them.”

“Are you serious?! Is that how you would want someone to talk to me if I was upset? Or what about Coda?”

“Don’t you dare bring your sibling into this-“

Frisk slams their hands down onto the table, so loud that the porcelain dinnerware clatters about. Thick silence engulfs the room again.

“I’m sorry for bringing up Coda,” Cadence eventually mutters, though she spits the words like poison. “Can we just not threaten someone who kinda needs us right now?”

“Your plate will be in the fridge when you want it,” Ms. Manila responds in kind, finally tearing her gaze away from them.

They shove themselves from their chair as if it could bite them, outstretch a hand from their chin in a sharp movement, then shuffle up the stairs as fast as they can.

“They say thank you,” they hear Cadence confirm, “if you care.” They’ve shut the door to her room before they can hear how Ms. Manila responds. 

They find themselves dropping to their stomach, independently of themselves, and rolling under the bed that’s been loaned to them. By the time their conscience catches up with their intentions, they’re engulfed in pleasant nothing, with no lights or sounds or blocks in their throat to bother them. They curl up tightly and breathe in the musty air like it’s a delicacy, their only comfort in a place that hasn’t ever been familiar to them like this. Their aunt always told them it’s the little things in life that matter most. They don’t think she meant for the undersides of beds to be one, but she sure is right.

They don’t realize their hands are over their ears until they hear the door slam shut again, and they come flying off. They peek their head out from under the bed just enough for Cadence to see them, continue her trajectory to her own bed, and throw herself down onto it with her head in her hands. They climb out slowly, leaning their back against the frame as they shift into a sitting position.

“I’m sorry about my mom,” she says, her voice wobbling with an exhaustion that wasn’t there before. “She’s just so stuck-up about not trying hard enough. Even when you are. You can- you can hang around me from now on if you want. Just pretend like she’s not even there.”

Frisk walks over and puts their hand as gently as possible on her knee, but she still startles. She sighs, lying down until her head hits the pillow, but puts her own hand on top of theirs.

“Is the police station closed?” They ask, the sound barely reaching their own ears.

“I don’t think it’s closed,” Cadence turns her head towards the window, “but the people are gone. I’m… sorry you had to see that. I think Clover’s weighing heavily on everyone right now.”

They just tighten their grip on her leg.

“Man, Clover’s family pisses me off,” she continues through gritted teeth. “You’d think they’d be the ones in a panic about their kid being gone. I’d have half a mind to go knock some sense into them. I mean, when Coda went missing, my mom...”

Cadence trails off. The silence that follows is so thick and tense that Frisk can hear their teeth lightly clattering against each other with the quivering of their lips.

“Hey.” Cadence turns around to face them. “Your aunt’s gonna go back to normal soon, alright? I’m sure she’ll be here to pick you up in no time. And I bet they’ll even find Clover while they’re at it.”

They force themselves to nod, wiping at their eyes. Because what else are they supposed to believe?

“I’m gonna get ready for bed.” She sits back up. “You packed sleepover stuff, right? You can use the bathroom.”

They want to point out that the sun has barely begun to set. The wave of exhaustion that crashes over them at the thought of resting makes the words catch in their throat. So they just nod and grab their backpack.

They change into pyjamas that are familiar to them, in a room that is not. They care for their teeth with a toothbrush that is familiar to them, staring through the mirror at a shower curtain that is not. They can’t even be sure they brushed for long enough, in their desperation to leave the room as fast as possible. Perhaps it’s okay to fall short for one night. Especially in the face of something they felt would box them in until the walls crushed them alive.

They re-enter the bedroom to see Cadence’s hair freed from its usual ponytail, in a single layer of sleepwear that’s missing the usual cardigan overtop her clothing. They can barely even bring themselves to recognize her, so unfamiliar in a way they never could have fathomed. They just throw themselves onto the bed that isn’t theirs and stare up at the ceiling, trying to think of anything else. They soon realize that the idle sounds of cars whizzing past the street beside them makes it hard to think about anything at all. They would give anything for the silence of their own bedroom, they come to realize, as the sound rushes through their ears in a nonstop cacophony. They can only hope to go back someday, now that someday has caught up to them.

“Is the noise gonna quiet down soon?” They ask, still just barely loud enough to carry across the room.

“A little,” Cadence responds, removing her narrow glasses and placing them on her nightstand. “You’ll get used to it, promise. Or, I guess, I hope you won’t have to.”

They watch Cadence settle down in her bed as they hear the world move outside. It does quiet down a little bit. But never quite enough for them to feel comfortable. The feeling of a ferocious monster clawing at their heart feeds off the unsettling buzz bouncing off the walls until their entire chest feels torn to shreds, and with it comes words that tumble out of their mouth:  “What do you do when you miss someone?”

Cadence stares at them for several long seconds, thick brown waves falling over her face, expression unreadable. They wonder if maybe they’ve asked one of those questions their aunt would tell them to keep to themselves, until she lets out a heavy sigh and rolls onto her back.

“You try really hard not to do anything.” Her voice drops from its already-low octave. “At least, enough that everyone thinks you’re okay. But you never quite get there.”

They decide not to ask any more questions. They shift to face the wall instead. Try as they may to close their eyes, they can’t help but admire the accolades that adorn every inch of the surface, certificates pinned up with care, trophies shaped like beautiful ballerinas organized proudly on shelves. Only one stands out from the bunch, a wrinkled photograph of Cadence and another child who could be mistaken for a carbon copy of her, arms around each other’s shoulders and grinning ear to ear. A note is crudely taped to a bottom corner, with shaky handwriting:

Waiting for you every day Coda. Love you bunches.

Cady

Maybe someday, they’ll get there.