Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You had always been the ideal trooper. Ever since the shaky peace between monsters and humans had finally broke, your country’s government had crumbled. As a human, you went with your fellow species, as any sane person would. You’d lost a lot of weight since the battles started. Personally, you hadn’t fought in one. Yet. Not with monsters, at least. Not in a battle that people would care about.

It was your duty to be fit. And so you were. When things had been peaceful, you’d never been in the healthiest shape, persay. Now, your life depended on those abs you used to joke about. Your life depended on the skills you had learned. Firing a gun, blowing shit up, avoiding fire--all the good stuff.

You were a quick learner, because it was vital. One of the best in your area. Though you’d never been in war with anyone outside of those who fought in the streets, you were coveted. That’s why you were headed straight to the front lines, and straight to one of the top troops. They called your side the “Humans.”

Real creative name. Not that the other side was any better. Widely, they were called “Monsters,” though here, they were called “Scum.”

That was so the Humans could include the fellow homosapiens that had joined the troops of the Monsters as ‘part’ of the Monsters. They were fucking disgraceful, after all.

In summary, you were a pretty good shot, clever enough, didn’t ask questions, fit, ate little, drank only as much as you had to, and didn’t complain.

The ideal trooper.

Did you mention you were also a liar?

The Humans were so full of shit . You knew perfectly well that the Monsters were only fighting because they would be dead if they didn’t. History was all the proof you needed.

This was not the first war monsters had been forced into by humans. (Surprise, surprise, humans never mentioned in history classes that it was them who stuck the monsters underground, or for that matter, that monsters even existed.)

On top of that, your disdain for the Humans involved their dehumanization of monsters. Monsters weren’t too different from humans. They looked weird and could use magic. End of story. End of differences. They were so similar that humans and monsters could have children together.

Sure, monsters could be dangerous. Not any more dangerous than a human with a gun though, and you could bet your petty ass that those were everywhere.

The fact that humans were so unaccepting of non-humans was ridiculous to you. Sometimes, sure, you got why people were unaccepting of seeing all life forms as their equal. That mosquito was not your equal, but how could you compare monsters to bugs? Monsters had the exact same mental capacity as humans did and could feel anything a human could feel.

Of course, you’d seen this situation before, but it was just as foolish then. That person’s skin color didn’t make them lesser or better than you. Or their gender, or whatever. The mind inside was what you found to be most valuable. It made you yourself, whether you’d be good or bad, introverted or extroverted, all of it. Outside forces also had impact upon how your brain functioned, but the mind was what made one truly oneself .

You found yourself falling down the train of thought, and began to think about how you were supposed to think, according to the Humans.

If anyone asked you, you thought that the Scum were gonna get the hell beaten out of them and this time, they’d be going extinct.

You did have a cover to keep.

Currently, you and about forty other traitors were acting as spies for Monster troops. Some had already been ratted out and killed, but they were loyal to their cause. None of your names had been leaked yet. Thankfully.

For the most part, you didn’t care about many people. The war had killed most of the people you'd once known, and you were separated from the rest.

In fact, the only person you had was Felicity Maycombe, a petite, blonde girl who was ‘Scum’ hidden in Human ranks just like you.

Young Maycombe had long, extremely curly hair that she kept wound up so tightly in two little buns that her face seemed stretched out, making her watery gray eyes open alarmingly wide. The right side of her face had scars peppered all along it, but especially below her eye from a bad fall she’d had when her face had been ground into the pavement. The girl was your age, but acted younger the majority of the time. She wasn’t very brawny or really brainy, but she was agile and somewhat ominously fantastic at shooting. On occasion, you wondered if she had some sort of super-powered contacts that gave her vision like an extraterrestrial being.

Unlike yourself, Felicity had been in the higher division for a while, and had been in four or five battles. When you first met her, you were surprised. Felicity was the kind of person who was so paranoid of hurting other's feelings, she took every single option into consideration before acting on anything. She had a twinkling sort of dialect, like the type elves spoke in in movies. It was a very cheery, smooth way of speaking. The idea that such a kindly girl had been in war already seemed unreal to you in every sense of the word. At times, you would find yourself wondering about the battles Felicity had participated in, since the fairy-like woman never talked about them.

In order to maintain your cover, you tried not to ask questions. A long time ago, you used to ask questions all the time, and still were tempted to at times even now, but war had whittled away your interest in the world almost entirely, more specifically your interest in other people. The few questions that came to you were ignored and eventually forgotten, similarly to the fallen civilians. You figured that the only person whose more intimate or personal questions you would answer would be Felicity, but she didn’t ask you those questions. A part of you imagined that Felicity felt similarly. However, even if you didn’t have an act to hold up of never being inquisitive, you would not have dreamed of asking Felicity something she would not openly tell you.

The two of you went to meetings of traitors together. Felicity had introduced you to them, being a long-time undercover agent. You had joined the Human’s side for your own reasons, but you joined Felicity in her betrayal without nearly any hesitation. The meetings were always held in secret and late at night, usually when others were patrolling or when traitors were able to patrol together. The rare few times you didn’t meet up in small sections, there was some sort of massive issue being discussed. One of the traitors had managed to get themselves into the role of a general, and would summon your mini fleet to discuss your options.

The most important meeting you had been to was when everyone first began to discuss ways to rescue the Ambassador. They had been captured during battle, and were being held hostage. Some communication with the Monster troops revealed that they wouldn’t be currently able to rescue the Ambassador themselves.

The first plan was a relatively simple one: Get the Ambassador in secret and quickly, and then get out.

The plan didn't work.

Many aspects of the plan were flawed, but the biggest uh-oh of it was the fact that no one was allowed near the Ambassador unless they had special clearance. You couldn’t even manage to get into the same building as the Ambassador without completely crippling your entire operation and putting all the traitors at extreme risk. The general among you wasn’t able to clear anyone else and wasn’t able to get the Ambassador out alone.

Plan #2 consisted of a small group of people distracting those inside, blowing the building they were held in to kingdom come, getting the hero of the Monsters, and getting right back out.

This raised many levels of complexity that would be detrimental to you all. Firstly, despite knowing what room the Ambassador was being held in, not a single one of you had a lick of an idea how to know that they would not be simultaneously exploded when you destroyed the building. The second question, one that Felicity had asked, was what kind of distraction would hinder every single guard useless at once? If you were going to use force to distract them, it would be better to just use force in general. If not force, then what would work to distract them?

This discussion was what brought about the final plan, and why the honors of executing it were given to Maycombe.

You’d have to find some way to incapacitate the majority of the Human troops before any other funny business. There was few of you, yet many reinforcements of them.

Some of the cleverer people in your group were able to create a strategy that would have a high success rate, and for a while, Felicity Maycombe was a prodigy for the plan.

Kinks and flaws had been weeded out of the plan to the best of everyone’s capabilities, and at the end of it, it was nearly impeccable.

The barracks would be blown to hell while the majority of troopers were inside. The goal wouldn’t be to kill them--it was to trap them. The general would place nearly all traitors as patrollers, and then the rest was the part where Maycombe came into action.

About a month had passed since the scheme formed, and the ideal time finally arrived. This was gonna be it. The traitors (or at least a significant majority of them) were going to out themselves. For everyone, this was a massive step. Even traitors in other camps. Secret messages that had once been able to go to Monster forces and fellow traitors would no longer be anything but grueling.

The Human army would be absolutely floored.

Especially since all the people that were in this division were supposed to be screened and proven to not be traitors. It was a very small sample of people that were with you, in all honesty, but you were some of the best soldiers out there.

You held the small metal device in your coat pocket, rubbing your thumb gently over its button. Felicity was anxiously fiddling with her rifle, but you knew she was ready to get her detonator when the signal was fired.

All the traitors had formed lines as they were supposed to outside camp, and were waiting among the unsuspecting Humans. On your left, Felicity acted very jumpy. Normal for her, luckily enough. Felicity seemed to be riddled with fear everywhere she went when faced with the duty to potentially kill someone, and she was always about to cry. On your right, a tall man stood. Easily, he towered over you. You knew he wasn’t part of the traitors.

You’d have to take care of him first, or he’d be able to get the upper hand.

It was a rule that you showed no fear to anyone, because that gave them power, power that would not be able to be revoked. The rule applied to everyone, but you were the only one that you knew of aware of it completely.

For instance, on the outside, you kept a cold, emotionless face, with the occasional grimace. On the inside, your heart was drumming quickly, and you were breaking out in a mild sweat.

This mission was going to be a miracle if more than four people survived. Not only were the Human forces preparing to go into battle, but this was going to be a massacre. Both sides. The plan had always been well aware that most of you were not going to make it out.

You were most likely going to be one of them. And though you hadn’t fulfilled the reason you joined the war, you at least could help others in possibly doing it for you.

A surly man with a scraggly beard stomped over to you as he patrolled the lines. “Maycombe! The hell you think you’re doing?!” What was his name? Rodney, perhaps. You didn’t care enough to ask the general if he was indeed Rodney.

“Nothing, sir!” Felicity said, instantly holding herself steady.

He crossed his arms. “No, not a thing besides us.”

For a second, you forgot the plan.

You just stared into the fellow traitor’s eyes, confused by his dialogue. His words weren’t only phrased incorrectly, but even if they had been mashed together in a less queer way, they would still make no sense. You started working out what he meant as fast as you could.

And then, you remembered, the adrenaline spiking.

Felicity was faster than you, as was everyone else, it appeared. Their buttons had been pressed, and you could hear the base be blown to bits from behind you. Hot air gusted behind you as you finally clicked your button.

As you looked over to him, you noticed the man beside you was handsome. His hair was very short, but dark. It was easy to tell it used to be very glossy, which complimented his olive skin and emerald eyes. Creases in his skin outlined the smile that he must have worn a few years ago.

The series of shots masked the sound of your own shot hitting him squarely between the eyes.

He crumpled to the ground, and you kept moving.

Some would have been hurt, terrified, drop their gun, cry. Others would think of his friends and pets and lost life. Your duty was none of those things. It was your duty to keep going. And you did.

You ran, firing shots at the people you knew that were allied against you. In the chaos, you could hear people screaming, trying to form ranks. Felicity fired into the crowd, hitting one of the men through the jaw and out the skull. Cracks and explosions of gunfire rang in your ears, and a bit of smoke began to impair your vision.

Carnage had broken out, and all around, there were dead people. Some were not those allied with Humans. As best you could, you maintained a straight face and fired into the crowd, killing two more people. You thought about how it had not even been two minutes.

You thought about your mission and forgot the bodies strewn about.

The “Perhaps-But-Not-Absolutely-Certainly-Rodney” man who had signaled for you to begin the attack started yelling for Felicity to carry on like she was supposed to.

All you could hear was the gunshots and the buzz in your ears after that, seeing Felicity hightail it for the building the Ambassador had been held in.

You were supposed to look away, but it was hard. You didn’t want it to be the last time you saw Felicity. You were worried. Even though she could take care of herself easily, she was still very petite and innocent in many ways.

The man who had been designated as her cover started running beside her, blasting his gun away. As you shot into the dusk, hiding behind a bit of wall as cover, you saw the little blonde bob out of sight behind a building. Pangs hit you hard for a moment, but you managed to bite back your fear, watching the area she had fled from. You were here to kill as many Human soldiers as you could while she left. Your hand began to reach for your knife.

Joseph, the man who was to protect her and the Ambassador, was hit in the neck by a bullet, leaving your friend without cover. You did not think about the unnatural way blood sprayed from his neck. You did not think about how Joseph’s kids would not ever see their father again. You did not think about Joseph’s husband, who would never be the same.

The plan was all that was of importance, and with Joseph gone this early, the plan was compromised.

You wouldn’t be able to do your less important part in the plan while this crucial role needed to be filled. You stopped reaching for your knife and made your choice.

Running towards your friend and leaping over Joseph’s dead body, you seized the woman by the collar of her shirt pushed her to go faster.

“Where’s Jo?!” she shouted, running a little ahead of you.

The screams were filling up your head.

The sour tang of metallic ammonia invaded your nose.

The smoke from the explosions was making your eyes scream, water, and burn.

The people running behind you with intent to kill the two of you made your heart sicken with terror.

“Dead! MOVE!”

You weren’t supposed to ask questions. Time to grieve came later. Put it off as long as you can. The two of you kept running, you turning to fire shots multiple times with Felicity.

The building holding the Ambassador was near. A small, shitty building, but still dangerous. You threw the one grenade you had at the wall when you knew it would be close enough.

There was no time to waste.

Another explosion, and now a large hole in the side of the building. Felicity ran harder and faster.

Again, you turned to fire some shots, seeing from your peripheral vision the little backup you had beginning to snipe those stalking you. There wasn’t many left of the Humans now. Ten people were shooting at you.

The man in the front fell dying as your bullet pierced his heart. You were turning back to look ahead of yourself and join Felicity inside the building when that shot hit you.

It would have killed you had you still been looking the other way.

Your cheek felt like it was melting from the heat of the shot and the blood coming from the nick of the wound. This was something that would definitely not be fatal (unless it became infected), but would likely scar.

Tears burned at your eyes, but you pushed them back and kept going. You would not give in to pain.

The rest of the men and women running towards you were not going to catch up with you, you knew. With the backup that had just shown up and started firing, each of them were as good as dead. Had they been in battle before? Many if not all of them were great shots, so why had they missed you?

Were they so scared and shocked that it rattled their senses?

Or were they focusing on those behind them, the ones who were more imminent threats?

No. No questions. Keep running.

People in the hallways--interrogators, mainly-- began to shoot at you. Their bullets missed the two of you mercifully, yet hit a man who had been coming up behind you.

The only reason you knew it was a man was from how he screamed. Whether he was on your side or not, he wasn’t getting back up.

Felicity raised her gun and hit two of the men in the head swiftly, and turned the corner to where the Ambassador was kept. You shot at the third person, wasting two bullets before you finally caught the spindly woman in the leg.

You suddenly felt sick. She didn’t have a gun. She’d just been following the others.

You stared at her for a moment as she stayed down, crying out. You found yourself lowering your gun, and saying to her, “I’m sorry,” in a slightly shaky voice.

You turned and shot another man who was aiming at you, ignoring the woman’s shouts and pushed forwards. You couldn’t kill her. You couldn’t.

When you turned around, the sight you were met with was five traitors running behind you, watching your back.

Surely that was all that was left now. Seven out of forty.

You started shooting at the few men following Felicity’s path to aid your comrades, but one of the traitors caught you and dragged you back to continue following the pixy.

“You an’ me, we’re watchin’ her back! Move it, lady!”

You followed his order in silence, sprinting down the hall towards an open room at the end of it.

The two of you burst into the room and the man slammed the door shut, locking it tightly and barricading it. His dark skin was beaded with sweat.

You ran to Felicity, who was standing before who you could only assume was the Ambassador Frisk Dreemurr.

The kid had shaggy, chestnut hair, olive skin, and half-lidded dark umber eyes. They were wearing a shabby violet and teal striped jacket, and had one of their hands stuffed in the pockets. They looked extremely thin and gaunt, but their face was stony. Their face seemed it was just changing from baby-ish to mature.

The Ambassador seemed to be about fourteen or fifteen. You were shocked, since you had always expected them to be older, in their twenties or something. Before the war broke out, they didn’t show their face much if at all. All of their speeches were read by other people, but they still seemed mature.

You had never realized that they were just a kid, nor had the thought ever occurred to you that they could be a kid.

They held themselves like an adult, though, so perhaps that aided your assumption.

“There’s no other way out here,” Frisk said simply. “Do any of you guys have something to blow up a wall or something? That’s our only shot.”

The calmness of the kid startled you as well, but you took it.

The man grabbed a small device from his hip. “Won’t make a big hole, but this’ll get you about a foot all around to get out in.”

Felicity snatched it and attached it to the wall that led to the outside world. She jumped back as soon as she pressed the button, covering her head.

The explosion was small, and made a hole that was about as big as promised. Felicity only looked a little silly for covering her head when the rubble barely reached her feet.

As you began to crowd around the hole, a new sound made itself known. Pounding at the door.

The people screaming were not with you, just based off how they screamed, “ SCUM! GET ANYONE WE’VE STILL GOT ALIVE, WE NEED BACKUP! NOW!”

The first one out was Felicity, then the kid, then yourself, and then the man.

You went to hand the Ambassador your pistol (you had other weapons that you could use), but they just shook their head. “I’m left-handed,” they told you coolly. “I can’t shoot well with my right.” They continued to move. At first, their comment didn’t register as to why it was relevant-- but then the kid with the shaggy brown hair showed their bandaged hand as they ran in front of you.

The little finger and ring finger were gone.

You expected torture, so it made sense as to why it happened.

But they were a kid.

It reminded you so much of--

Stop before you get ahead, ____.

The sounds of the door being blown up registered to you, and it motivated you to keep running. “Where’s the camp, kid?” the man demanded, bolting down the ruins of the city that worked as your base and home for half a year.

They said nothing, but Frisk began to run harder and faster, and you all followed. Everything about your body ached, and you would have killed for a glass of water to sooth your lungs, but you pushed yourself harder, until you could taste blood.

Your cheek hurt like fucking hell, as did one of your legs.

You had no idea what the fuck happened to your left leg in-fucking-particular, but it was evidently giving up on you in some way.

The man noticed your odd run, and grabbed you, pulling you forwards. His hand was drenched in sweat and blood.

You didn’t know who the blood belonged to, but you didn’t ask.

It wasn’t your place to ask questions, after all.

Ambassador Frisk led you through a maze of rubble. The shouts behind you went silent, and you were finally slowing down a bit.

You found the smallest amount of humor from how much shorter Felicity was than Frisk, but mainly you were on edge, scared, and grumpy.

Fuck, your cheek hurt. You held it tightly, and even though the bleeding had now stopped, it was now still cheerily alerting you that it was in pain. Felicity had bandaged it as best as she could, but the band-aid did little to lessen the pain.

Thanks, cheek and nerve cells and pain receptors, you fucking douche-shits.

Speaking of pain, your leg was still hurting. Though you were not 100% sure, you felt like you might have pulled a muscle.

Needless to say, your mood dramatically worsened.

Back at the base, with all the smoke, you were sure you would not have been able to see, but you were at a distance far enough away that stars glimmered in the sky above.

It reminded you of when you used to go stargazing with your family, as they did every night you saw the beautiful spectacles.

It reminded you of your mother, your father, your little sister, and your little brother. Your brother had never been any sort of company that you desired, but the other three were some of your favorite people when you’d been around them. Especially your sister. You loved your younger sister more than you loved anyone else. It’d been a while since you’d been with her. Being away from her hurt you deeply.

Thinking of them reminded you of your closest friend. You wondered what happened to her.

She’d always been a huge monster advocate, and it made you feel just a bit less stony when you imagined her helping the Monsters, all of her sarcasm full force. Your mind traveled to your little sister again, who was just like a best friend. A twinge hit your heart, and you shut your eyes tightly.

You forced yourself back into the real world, marching at a quick pace beside Felicity, Frisk, and the man.

Somewhere, from an area further away, you could hear backup rushing to aid the carnage you had wrought. But that sound died off quickly, and after about ten minutes, you couldn’t hear anything at all.

It was silent as you fled for a good two or three hours, only stopping occasionally to drink.

Felicity and the man (who had rather irritatedly introduced himself as Konner Preston after giving into Felicity’s pestering) had fallen asleep. You wondered how many miles away from Maven (that was the name of the base, rather uncreative) you were. All of this terrain was new to your eyes.

The Ambassador was not sleeping, and was instead inspecting their hand.

They turned to you and said, “So you’re ____.” They must've heard Felicity talking earlier.

“Yes. And you’re the Ambassador.”

“I never thought we’d meet.”

You turned to them and scrunched your face up, not wanting to take in any bullshit today. “I’m an ordinary soldier, and not one of those war heroes. If you’re thinking of a ____ that's worthy of meeting, you’re thinking of someone else.”

“No, it’s about you . From the letters.”

“I never used my real name in my letters. Like I said, you’re thinking of someone else.”

“What was your codename?” The kid was examining their hand, turning it all around.

“Codename was ‘Camper.’ I addressed all my messages like I was talking to a grandfather.”

“Oh.” A small tint rose on their cheeks, and they rubbed their neck with their good hand. “I never saw yours, then.”

You were slightly incredulous. You gave the kid a scathing look, judging them. “You thought we used our real names . In codes.”

The kid looked at you indignantly. “ No! I just exchanged a lot of letters with a ____, and they acted all cranky and bitchy in their letters like you do. I drew two and two together.”

You ignored their insult, and instead pointed to their hand. They were more important matters than arguing. “When’s the last time your bandages were changed.”

Questions were acceptable when talking about things like injuries. One of the few. Health was above your rules, even though you had a hard time phrasing questions as questions anymore.

Frisk frowned at you, jarred by the change of topics, but answered, “Yesterday. Or somewhere near it. There was no sunlight in that box.”

“And when were they amputated.”

“Right after I got there.”

“Alright,” you said, tensing a little. “You’re probably fine until we get to your camp.” You had no idea if that was true or not. Your time on the streets hadn’t done much to teach you of infections; it only made you aware that if you weren’t dead a month or more after a bad injury, you were most likely not going to be.

“Yeah, I guess.” They cracked their knuckles, and looked down sadly. “I never wanted there to be a fight, you know? I never wanted anyone to get hurt.”

“Sometimes people get hurt anyways,” you replied, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

You felt cold inside, and to distract yourself, put the pack of cigarettes back into one of your pockets after getting one out. One of the things you liked best about your leather coat was the amount of pockets. They were handy for ammo and for holding lots of little things. Felicity claimed that the jacket was ugly, but you told her that you had more things to worry about than fashion. She then retorted that if that was the case, you should’ve chosen a more flexible jacket than leather. You told her that the pockets evened out the drawbacks.

Felicity heartily disagreed with you, but she dropped it.

You lit the cigarette, and began to smoke it. The Ambassador turned back to you, nose wrinkled. “You smoke?”

“Sometimes,” you answered. “It lets off some stress.”

“They kill you,” Frisk told you flatly, pointing at the cigarette.

“Shucks. I’ve never heard that before,” you drawled. The smoke faded as it trailed higher in the sky. You watched it idly, twirling your cigarette between your fingers.

“They do though. Is lung cancer worth it?”

“Listen. I’m not a super-commander-spokesperson like you are, Ambassador Frisk.” You stressed ‘Ambassador’ as you took another hit from your cigarette. “I’m most likely gonna die out there. And if I get captured, there isn’t gonna be a rescue team like there is for you . So I’d rather live less stressed now than die like a pulsing ulcer.”

“But what if you don’t die?”

“They don’t kill you if you don’t smoke a lot of them,” you said as sternly as possible, trying to emphasize that you were done with the subject and, more importantly, that you didn't really care if you lived or died. You brought the cigarette away from your lips and blew some smoke. The wisps circled around themself, entwining and traversing between each other. They faded away into the darkness.

Young Frisk seemed to understand, and then reverted back to their softly closed eyes instead of their narrowed ones. They leaned back, letting out a soft grumble of disagreement.

“You should get some sleep, Ambassador. You’re our lead, after all.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Then let’s keep it that way. Go to sleep.”

They grumbled louder, and laid down, using their hands as a headrest, curling up into a little ball.

Before they fell asleep, they asked you one last thing. “What’s your last name, ____?”

A little surprised, you answered, “Harris.”

They nodded a little, then shut their eyes and began to try to sleep.

Maybe, in another life, you would have ruffled their hair.

But this was not that life.

Chapter Text

Konner traded off with you during the night, but you didn’t sleep.

In all honesty, though you’d never admit it to anyone, you were terrified. Not only had you just killed quite a few people that you’d spent a good long time with, you had just committed treason. Huge treason. Your head was going to be on a pike. Your face was going to be plastered everywhere. And everyone would know about you.

Everyone...

And more backup was there by now for sure. You hadn’t run across any, but it only seemed to be a matter of time. Your ears twitched at every noise, fearing you’d hear a signal or the sounds of footsteps marching or cars or worst of all, the sputtering sound of a chopper. There was only so much you could do. Sure, hiding in a covered area with people keeping watch limited risks, and the fact that a lot of the more elite soldiers were dead was lucky for you, but there was nothing you could do to totally eliminate the potential annihilation.

The paranoia was eating at you, corroding all your senses to high levels. Each sound was the sound of someone coming to slice your throats like butter, each smell was the smell of toxic gas to make your insides curdle and fall out of you like maggots, each touch was the touch of the barrel of a gun, prepared to blast your brains all around you, each taste was the taste of poison that had been snuck into your palette somehow, each shadow was that of a hidden trooper.

Needless to say, you kept a tight grip on your gun, ensuring that it had plenty of ammo.

Time seemed like it loved to play around with people. It would go so painstakingly slow at any bad moment, yet speed right the hell up whenever something good happened. You wished you could turn it back, turn it back to way before there was ever a war. Nothing good had come from it. The most it had done was fuck everything up and ruin everything around you. You’d take back the debt and the bills and the busy streets with asshole drivers if it meant that this war never happened.

But you couldn’t take it back.

A loud shuffle from behind you made you shoot up, aiming your gun directly at the sound, wide-eyed and and breathing heavily through your nose. Konner looked alert, and had whipped his gun back out at you. He let out a soft laugh when he made eye contact with you.

You did not return the favor.

“Ya scared me,” he told you sheepishly. “I guess I stood up a little too fast.”

You said nothing, glaring at him as you put down your gun. You bitterly put on your jacket. “We should get moving again. Better to move before daybreak.”

Konner nodded silently. “You’re right.” He shifted to his left, nudging the Ambassador with the toe of his boot. Frisk groaned, grumbling into their arm. They sat up, giving Konner a look of pure venom.

You knelt down and shook Felicity by the shoulder gently. When she didn’t wake, you squeezed her shoulder with less tenderness. Similarly to Frisk, she whined as she got up. Typically, Maycombe wasn’t much of a deep sleeper, but she had her bad days.

“Keep walking, kiddo,” Konner said, patting Frisk on the shoulder. “How far away’re we?”

“About five, six days walking, I think. Not sure. They probably tried to move closer, but if they didn’t, it might take a few weeks.”

“We’ll find out, won’t we?” Felicity joked groggily.

You said nothing. Though the stars still twinkled above you, your exhausted body decided to alert you that not only did your cheek and leg hurt, but that you were close to shutting down.

Pretending that you weren’t extremely lethargic, you marched on behind the rest of the group diligently, watching your back as you all moved.

A few times, you heard cars drive around and took cover. Felicity’s wide eyes would widen each time, making her look like a blonde beetle. Konner, on the other hand, would narrow his eyes so thinly that it looked like they were squeezed shut. Both you and Frisk would not change in expression. They would sit there, waiting blankly, eyes cold and without fear. It was easy to mimic the tone, but you could feel stress and fear build up internally as each dull roar of an engine passed you by. Rubble of buildings was a decent cover, but it wasn’t exactly the greatest. If the smoke wouldn’t have given you away, you would’ve smoked all of your cigarettes in order to lessen the overwhelming thoughts.

It was around dusk when you all stopped for your second food break and fifth water break. Konner kept a diligent eye out with you as the two of you scanned the area. You would notice his gaze sweep back to you on occasion. Each time his eyes landed on you, you felt a little more aggravated. It was such a judgemental look, like he was trying to figure out what the fuck was wrong with you.

It was a welcome break when Felicity announced that all of you could continue forwards. However, as you began to trail after Frisk again, Konner grabbed your shoulder roughly. It hurt, but you didn’t display that to him. Instead he was given a cold, dour look.

“What’s your deal, huh?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” you said flatly, turning away and marching behind Felicity and the kid.

“Why’re ya so grumpy all the time?”

“I’m not. I don’t celebrate while in constant danger.”

“No, you’re always bitter. Even when we were back at the camp. I’ve never seen you smile, not even ‘round her.” He jerked his thumb in Felicity’s direction. “Why’s that?”

You changed the subject. “You’re no different.”

“Don’t have any friends. You have friends.”

“Friend.”

“Whateva’. Point still stands.”

You stayed quiet.

“Are ya going to answer me or what?”

“I don’t fake smiles.”

He was quiet again.

The night passed by slowly. You were planning to take a shift, but you decided against it after you practically passed out immediately after sitting down.

Felicity took over for you, running her fingers through your hair as you rested in her lap. It made you feel small, like a child.

This damaged your image somewhat, so you crossed your arms and furrowed your eyebrows a little in a miserable attempt to not look like a puny puppy.

Most instances, you wanted to be seen as a protector (even if you were an asshole of a protector). You wanted people to be able to rely on you for anything. The feeling of being protected, while not unwelcome, was merely odd. Your sister was not supposed to hold you, you were supposed to hold her--

Wait.

Felicity was not supposed to hold you. That’s what you meant.

You cringed at yourself.

You drifted off much quicker than usual, but the time you were asleep lasted eons. There were no dreams, but only blackness. All encompassing, all surrounding blackness. And you were in the middle of it. No body, no feeling, no hurt, no taste or touch, just awareness.

You woke up to your hair being ruffled. Groggily, you peered up at Felicity, whose watery eyes were looking down at you warmly. Her rosy lips broke into a grin. “We’re gonna start walking again,” she hummed.

It took you a moment, but you eventually registered her words and groaned as you shifted to a sitting position.

“Nnkay,” you responded drowsily, getting up. The sky was still dark, but it was no longer black. The sky was a dark blend of hues in the purple and pink category. The stars were dull on the canvas.

As you started trudging behind Frisk, Konner, and Felicity, gun at hand, you bitterly reflected on how long today was going to be, too.

The amount of hiding increased thoroughly, and you were starting to get angry. It couldn’t be later than ten o’clock, and there had been seven vehicles that passed, searching for you.

After the last one passed, while everyone else was taking a quick water break, you felt like you deserved a cigarette. The anxiety of likely impending doom was getting to your head, and you were not going to have a panic attack in front of “Health Expert” Ambassador Frisk. You puffed the smoke vehemently, trying to get all that you possibly could out of the small stick.

“You know we don’t allow those back at camp,” Frisk blurted as their eyes met yours.

You shot them a look of shock. Your mouth hung open slightly. Blinking in astonishment, you narrowed your eyes.

“Yeah. That’s right. They’re not good for you, or anyone around you. We don’t tolerate them.”

Felicity looked between the two of you nervously. “___,” she said softly, placing a hand on your shoulder.

Instead of starting to yell to release the fury that had bubbled inside you, you shot the Ambassador a livid glare and began puffing on the cigarette more harshly-- you had to get your apparent last few inhales in quickly before the right was stripped from you.

“Why not?” Konner asked. He looked offended, too, to your smug pleasure. It was nice to not be alone in your utter disdain.

“Because they’re BAD for you. And for people around you. And they make many monsters feel really sick. The smell is really repulsive to most of them, since their senses can be more sensitive. We can’t have people hacking up their souls.”

Angrily, you wondered how much of the monster population carried the trait “little bitch,” because if you could not stand the smell of smoke, that was exactly what you were. In your eyes, at least. If there was a health risk like asthma, you understood. But just the smell? No. It wasn’t like you usually even smoked that much, or around a hundred other people. And sure it was bad for you. But why the hell would you care about that?

You tapped the cigarette with your fingers, watching the ash fall. You were pulling it back to your lips again, when the sound of a motor invaded your ears.

Instantly, you threw your cigarette to the ground, stomped it out, and began listening intently for another sound where the first had come from. A car. Another one.

Everyone else had also stopped moving, and were all barely breathing. Voices came from the vehicle.

“If they’re moving at the pace they have been, they should be ‘round here somewhere. Found a campsite a bit back. Had been covered up.”

You gave Felicity an alert look, crouching down so that you wouldn’t be able to be spotted. Frisk looked confused and fearful, squatting low with squinted eyes.

Cautiously, you crept out to peer through the crumbling buildings to see how many soldiers you were going to be going against. A woman almost completely covered in heavy, camo clothes was walking around, facing away from you, with four people around her. Each trooper was human.

The one other woman stood out in the troop. She was wearing a loose vest with a black shirt underneath it. Her dark hair was tied up tightly in a bun. She was shorter, too. She had mellow, brown eyes, and an overall calm look about her. The dark brown hair and eyes complimented her tawny skin, which was glistening in the sun.

You shook away your thoughts, pulling back so they couldn’t see you. You held up five fingers to symbolize how many people that there were.

“We can take ‘em,” Konner mouthed.

“Should we?” Felicity mouthed back.

You all turned to Frisk, who slowly nodded. They grabbed Konner’s second pistol and held it with their good hand, getting ready.

You could feel your heart pounds throughout your entire body. You held your breath and reminded yourself that it would be okay if you died as long as it meant Felicity-- and the ambassador, you supposed-- were safe. It was okay. You left your mission back at Maven. You were meant to die then anyways. You being here now was nothing more than dumb luck. If Jo hadn’t gone down, you would have stayed back, and you’d have died. You were ready then.

You were ready now.

Footsteps drew closer, and you went to shoot your gun.

A figure stepped into the doorframe, and you raised your pistol, firing off a shot. You only missed because Frisk had redirected your gun at the last second. You looked at them in surprise, seeing a great beam come over their cheeks. “UNDYNE!” they cried out gratefully.

The woman who had been almost completely covered up was visible to you now. She had yellow, fishlike eyes, and aqua scales around them. She yanked down her scarf covering her mouth, and showed a fanged, toothy grin. The two hugged. “Good to see ya, kid.”

Chapter Text

The ride back was an uncomfortable one. The oddly dressed lady introduced herself as a nurse. “Hey, my name’s Eden,” she said as she reached for Frisk’s hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Ambassador. Wish it was on better terms, though. Any wounds besides the hand?”

“No,” Frisk said. “It’s good to see you too, by the way. Even though we don’t know each other yet.”

She chuckled. “That’s good to know. Give me your hand, please.”

Frisk followed her request and set their hand in Eden’s.

He face grew solemn. “This doesn’t look great, now does it? These bandages been changed recently?”

“Right before we escaped. Few days ago.”

Eden’s brows furrowed. “Mmm. You’re gonna need to cut some more of this off. It’s pretty badly infected and wasn’t... amputated right...Ooh boy. When we get back to camp, we’re going to treat this right away. So here’s the scoop: either we’re gonna cut them off at this bottom joint, or cut them off at the knuckle. I hope we can get it at the joint, but if the infection is already there, we’re gonna have to get rid of them entirely.”

“Why not just cut them off to be safe?”

“That adds more potential hazards. So we’ll see. For now, I’m gonna treat this as best I can.”

The Ambassador let out a tiny grunt as Eden did her work.

Eden rewrapped Frisk’s hand with fresh gauze. They thanked her.

“It’s no problem, Ambassador. I’m just here in case there was a big problem. Thankfully, you seem unscathed.” She nodded at Felicity. When she met Konner, she asked, “That your blood?”

“No,” he answered. “I don’t think so.”

He had a large, purple bruise on his chest, but that was all. His vest had done well to protect him from the bullets.

When Eden was done checking him, she began to speak to Frisk again. “These fingers aren’t great, but amputating them in a moving vehicle is not something I’m comfortable with. Plus, since we’re going to be back soon, we might as well wait. The assistance at camp is better.” She turned to you. “You’ve got a little injury there, too, I see. Can I just check your cheek? I need to make sure nothing’s infected.” You obliged, leaning in so she could examine your wound. She peeled off the bandaid. “Has this been hurting?”

“Not much,” you answered blandly. You didn’t mention your leg because you were pretty sure why it was hurting already. The pain was lessening anyways.

Felicity peered over Eden’s shoulder. “What happened there?” she asked, pointing to Eden’s neck. There was some gauze on the left side of her neck, towards the bottom.

“I got clipped by a gun a little while back.”

“You were attacked at camp?” Frisk piped up, looking befuddled and a little alarmed.

Eden snorted. “I work out in the field, too. I’m not a grade-A nurse, or a grade-A trooper, but I balance them both out by helping people out on the field. Don’t worry about it though, my friend Laurel got me all stitched up, and I’m ready to go again.” She grinned at Felicity, then turned back to you. “Anyways… this looks okay overall. And no, before you ask, you won’t need stitches; it’s already stopped bleeding. I’m still gonna hand you over to Laurel, though. Second opinions are always good. Plus, uh, this isn’t the best place to treat anything.”

“Who’re you gonna hand the Ambassador over to?” Konner asked.

“A monster and a human. Monsters who can use healing magic are the best with infections, but amputations are best done by a human. I think it scares the hell out of monsters to separate… well, y’know.” Eden looked back at you, scanning your eyes. “You aren’t much of a talker, are you?” she asked, staring.

You returned the stare, unblinking. “I guess not.”

Felicity gave you a very mother-like glare, to which you scoffed. The blonde fairy turned to Eden, apologetic. “She thinks she’s scary,” she explained. You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t like talking,” you said with a grimace. Felicity wrinkled her nose.

Eden turned back to you, hands up in surrender, silencing Felicity from retorting. “That’s not so bad. All these dudes think they’re scary, too.” She smirked. “The scariest one’s probably Booger.”

The men who had been silent the entire ride began chuckling (excluding the one on the far right). “You tell people you’re the Boogeyman when you’re hammered ONE TIME and you’re called Booger the rest of your life!” He was very thin and pale, his yellowed, hazel eyes looking around scathingly.

You looked on, blankly. The conversation didn’t interest you; you no longer found banter with strangers funny or engaging.

“That’s a real unfortunate event, buddy. Guess you shouldn’t go around telling people you’re the Boogerman anymore,” you heard Undyne pipe up from the driver’s seat.

She hadn’t been talking a whole bunch, but she claimed it was due to the fact she was staying concentrated and avoiding all potential threats.

The man moped and whined more.

That was the first day.

There was one stop for bathroom breaks, which was fine by you, but you could tell that one of the soldiers was staring to get antsy later on in the drive. Much to his displeasure in particular, you all were told it was to be another few hours until you actually reached the camp. You were looking forward to it for a different reason than he was. Your legs were cramping, and the one leg was starting to make you seriously consider amputating it. As the car bumped and kept going towards the camp, the silence grew. Felicity was one of those people that didn’t appreciate silences, so she was trying to engage people, but only accomplished some small talk as Eden made sure that she and Konner were all good.

You were not like Felicity. You liked the quiet.

Leaning back, you shut your eyes, relaxing.

And then you woke up, extremely tense. The world had come to an abrupt start.

You slowly became aware that your rude awakening was due entirely to the pixy.

Felicity looked at you excitedly. “We’re here!” she said, shaking your arm roughly. You grumbled. “___! C’mon!”

“‘M coming,” you snapped, lifting yourself up. “Sorry,” you added quickly, feeling slight guilt over your tone.

“That’s okay!” She was pulling your arm, grinning ear-to-ear.

All the other Monster soldiers and the Ambassador had left the car. Konner was standing near the door. As the two of you left, he walked with you.

“Did they make ya wait?” Felicity asked him.

Quietly, Konner spoke, “I just wanted to go with you guys. I’m gonna show you where the medics are real quick. The woman already introduced herself to me and showed me where it was.”

The two of you followed (though you followed with quite a bit more… grumpily, shall we say), and Konner pointed you over to a tent containing woman with short, blonde hair. It was darker than Felicity’s hair; gleaming a glorious gold. It seemed like it was being kept out of her face with a red scarf.

She was facing away from you, tending to a monster.

“There, just don’t use some magic for a while-- except when healing-- and stay off that leg, and I think you’ll make a full recovery.”

“Laurel!”

The woman turned around, smiling. She looked very friendly, and was smiling widely. You noticed she was very clean, unlike some of the other soldiers you’d seen (‘Booger’ in particular). The woman took the scarf out of her hair, and some bangs came down. She smiled wider, kindly. She looked at you. “Heya. I’m Laurel, who’re you? Wait, no, don't tell me. You’re the one that saved the Ambassador, right?”

“I helped,” you told her mildly grudgingly, walking over as the monster limped past you.

Her light blue eyes sparkled. “You know, that was so brave of you. Everyone was kind of a wreck when they were in captivity. Scared, all that.”

“Monsters seem to be a lot more put-together than humans in general. That must’ve been worrying,” Felicity said, kindly taking up the plate so you wouldn’t have to answer.

“Well, my boyfriend certainly isn’t. He’s a big goofball, but I love him anyways.” She furrowed her brows, laughing a little. “Well, I take that back. He’s very serious about his work. He’s actually one of the people currently taking care of Frisk.”

“That’s cool!” Maycombe smiled at Laurel. “He sounds like a neat guy.”

A soft smile grew on Laurel’s face as she stole a glance at Felicity. “Did you guys see him when Frisk stepped out of the car? I think Undyne almost killed him because of how ecstatic he was.”

Again, Felicity spoke up. “Yes, I did, I think. Is he the tall one?”

“Yeah, yeah. He's a giant. Did you see him?” Laurel looked at you.

“No.” Short and simple. You were uncomfortable.

“She was asleep,” Felicity said, looking over at you, mildly irritated. You felt guilty for disappointing her with your curt answer, but not too much.

“I’m surprised you stayed that way,” Laurel commented, still smiling softly. She didn’t really seem to mind that you weren’t talking much. Her white t-shirt had some blood and dust stains on it that you hadn’t noticed before. Laurel reached for your face and peeled off the bandage. The smile faded. “Hmm. Gunshot?”

“Yes.”

“It clipped her while we were getting the Ambassador,” Felicity elaborated.

“Uh… huh. Well, have you disinfected it at all?”

“No.”

“That wasn’t very smart. It’s better to clean these wounds as soon as you get them. It limits complications in the future.”

Felicity grabbed your shoulder roughly, looking panicked. “Is Harris okay? She’s not seriously messed up now because we didn’t do that?” Her nails began to dig into your shoulder.

“Calm down,” you said quietly. “I’ll be fine.”

Laurel chuckled, removing Felicity’s hands. “Oh, it’s not too bad. It’s only a little infected. Nothing some of our help can’t fix, though. Do you want me to help you or a monster?”

“I don’t care.”

Laurel smiled. “Well, you’ll just have to settle for me then. I’ll get Eden over here, too.” She turned away from you. “EDEN!” she bellowed, one thousand decibels louder than before. Felicity latched onto Konner’s arm, clearly startled.

You saw the dark-haired woman jog over. “What’s up, L?”

“She’s infected here on the cheek. Mind lending a hand real quick?”

“Infected? What?”

“Nothing terrible. Look here, see the red? I bet it’s tender, huh?”

You shrugged.

Eden peered at you, drawing her face uncomfortably close to yours. “Oh yeah. Damn. The lighting in the car is the worst, I blame that.”

“You’re the worst, I blame that ,” Laurel quipped.

Eden laughed, rolling her eyes.

Laurel grabbed a towel. She dabbed some disinfectant onto it, then turned to you again. “This may sting some.”

“I’ll be fine,” you replied.

“She’s a tough chick,” Eden said with a wink, handing a petite bottle to Laurel. There was a label on it, but you couldn’t make out what it said.

Laurel snorted. “Oh yeah? Like Maxwell?”

“Booger doesn’t have shit on her from what I’ve heard.”

Laurel raised an eyebrow, but kept her eyes on your wound, pressing the disinfectant against your cheek. ‘Sting some’ appeared to be a horrendous lie. It burned like an inferno. You held a straight face, inwardly cursing everything you’d ever known. Why the fuck. What the fuck. Fuck this. Jesus fucking christ.

Laurel took the bottle from Eden, dabbed one drop of a green liquid onto the cloth with the disinfectant, and added it to your cheek.

Immediately, the pain disappeared, and a warm, healing sensation spread throughout your cheek. She added some more disinfectant onto the wound (back to slight burning, okay, great), and then Laurel slapped a bandage back on your cheek.

“That’s just so it won’t get infected again. You’ll be able to take it off in a few days. You’re lucky that it was so easy to take care of.” Laurel seemed like she was prepared to address the conversation beforehand again. “Now. What stories have you heard?”

Eden laughed. “Felicity here tells me that she didn’t even notice when she got shot. And that she fell off the roof of one of the Humans’ bases, and didn’t even break a bone. Or sprain anything.”

“That true?” Laurel was now focused on Eden, handing back medical supplies. Eden packed them up, placing the little green bottle in a section labeled “MAGIC.”

Well, that explained the quick recovery.

“No. I noticed. And it wasn’t a very high roof.”

Felicity punched your arm. “How high do you think isn’t very? Because that had to have been a thirty foot building.”

You shook your head. “Don’t lie,” you mumbled.

She was referring to a time you’d been pushed accidentally and went flying off the roof. It wasn’t short, for sure, but you would’ve only broken an arm, most likely, had you not been able to shorten your fall by grabbing onto a windowsill.

The other two didn’t care. Eden’s eyes widened, and she looked like she was going to say something, but instead she just whistled. “Wow.”

Before Felicity could respond and spread more over-exaggerations (an action she was notorious for), Laurel startled her by springing away from her work. The medic jogged over to a tall monster wearing fashionable camouflage. He turned around and picked her up, hugging her tightly. “HELLO, LAUREL,” the tall skeleton laughed.

Konner was quietly snickering behind you, and you couldn’t blame him. Laurel wasn’t the tallest, but the monster (her boyfriend, you found it safe to assume) was very tall. You guessed he was 6’5”. You amused yourself slightly by thinking, Felicity would say he’s 10’8”.

He nuzzled his skull into her cheek affectionately, and in return, she kissed him on the cheek and was set back down. “How’d it go?” she asked, walking back to you and another woman who had just come in, holding a very bloated and red arm.

“VERY WELL. I THINK THEY’RE GOING TO BE A-OKAY! I CAME OVER HERE JUST TO UPDATE YOU, SO I’M GOING TO GO BACK JUST TO MAKE SURE THE MAGIC WAS EFFECTIVE. I’LL SEE YOU LATER, LAUREL.”

“Okay, seeya baby. Thanks for letting me know.”

The tall skeleton walked away.

“Okay, that’s good.” Laurel walked back, washing her hands at a small sink. She looked up, and her face fell. “Oh, no, Ari…” The other girl who had just entered had light brown hair, cut very short. She had greenish-blue eyes, an eyebrow piercing, and small gauges.

“I’m having some issues,” Ari told Laurel, gesturing to her arm. “Do you think it’s gonna need powerful magic treatment?”

Laurel grimaced, wiping her hands on a towel. “Yes, this has been ongoing for too long… I’m sure Papyrus can get ya, he’s not flooded right now.”

“Isn’t he with the Ambassador right now? I heard the people who rescued them were found.”

Laurel pointed back to you, Konner, and Felicity, and Ari’s eyebrows quirked up. “Paps is just checking up on them right now. You’ll probably be fine going on over there.”

Ari nodded, then scanned the three of you, and shrugged. “Hey, was it hard?” she asked you three.

“We’re most likely the only ones that survived, so I’d say decently difficult,” Konner said.

Ari tilted her head in a half nod, still holding her arm. “Fair. What’re your names?”

“Konner Preston.”

“I’m Felicity Maycombe, and that’s ____ Harris.”

Ari looked back to you. “What? She can’t introduce herself or something?”

You frowned slightly, irked. “She did it before I had a chance.”

Ari laughed then groaned, gripping her arm. “Whatever. Well, I’m gonna head off to Papyrus before my whole fucking arm falls off. I’ll see if Rey’s up to help me if Pap is still busy.”

“Okay. Tell me if it stops.”

“Yeah, I will.”

She left. You watched her carry her arm as she ambled out of the tent, calling for Papyrus. (“Skeleman! Yo, skeledude! Skeletor! OI! PAPYRUS!”)

Laurel turned to you. “You can go, by the way. We’re gonna move camp tomorrow, but food’s over there.” She gestured towards the left. “You walk far enough and you’ll find it. Actually-- Eden, can you show them where it is?”

“I’ve gotcha,” Eden said, walking off where Laurel had been pointing.

Felicity immediately headed off behind Eden, and you followed her lead. Konner didn’t move until you turned around, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m coming. Got some questions first.”

You nodded, then flipped back over to follow Felicity. She was talking up a storm with Eden, asking if she could help out with food. “We’re all good right now. Every station’s already being manned. Don’t worry.”

“Who’s serving?”

“Some of the generals and lead medics, a few sergeants and corporals. It’s celebration for the Ambassador’s arrival. You realize that you three are probably going to be idolized?”

“I kinda assumed. But I didn’t know for sure.” Felicity laughed a little.

“Oh, yeah,” Konner said. He looked a little uncomfortable.

You wrinkled your nose. You didn’t want to be idolized and talk to more people than you had to. You hated attention vehemently and hated people being snoopy even more.

Felicity noticed your bitter facial expression and punched your arm really fucking hard. It didn’t hurt much. Felicity wasn’t exactly buff. “It’s fine, don’t get all huffy,” she chided.

“You did most of the work,” you mumbled.

“It was not just me, drama queen. You helped! You and Konner helped! It wouldn’t have worked without you two!”

Konner looked away. “Yeah, she’s right.”

“___, c’mon, live a little!”

You pursed your lips and crossed your arms.

“Alright, it’s right over there,” Eden interjected, clearly bored by the new conversation. She pointed to a woman with long, caramel hair, a (blue?) leather jacket, and plastic gloves. She was giving out food to a line of men and women (both monster and human). “I suggest going to Elaina over there. She’s the nicest corporal. I would suggest the queen, but her line is super long…”

“Are you gonna get food?”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna go over to Undyne. Need to give an update on ____’s status. If I don’t, she’ll get all pissy.”

“Should she come with you?” Felicity asked, looking back at you worriedly.

Your cheek felt heavy from the cloth and how close it was to your eye. You ignored it, glancing to Eden. “Nah, you guys can stay here.” That was fine by you, and you took a spot in line. “I’m sure if you asked, Corporal Jean’ll give you some extra food for what you’ve done for the Ambassador.”

“Okay. Thanks!”

“Seeya. Seeya, ___.”

You gave a small wave, taking your place in line. Felicity stood beside you, jabbering on excitedly about extra food, when a man behind you spoke.

“Kid? What the hell are you doing here?”

You turned around to the man, as did Felicity. It was a monster with a large overbite and a scraggly beard, staring down at Felicity.

She sighed. Someone as short as Felicity (4’9”) was commonly mistaken for a child. It didn’t help that she was very bouncy and had a tendency to act younger. However, her face was definitely that of a woman; the youngest she could be mistaken for when seeing her in the front would be nineteen.

That was why Felicity didn’t need to say anything for the monster to realize his mistake. He didn’t seem to care too much though; his eyes just widened. You felt like he was a guy you could relate to.

While you wanted to snort at his comment, you knew that it infuriated Felicity whenever someone called her a kid. You could see by the way her eyes were flickering that she was trying to decide whether he was worth a comeback or not.

She deemed it unworthy of her time and turned around.

“I’m so short,” she grumbled.

“Yeah,” you said back.

She punched you in the side, snorting. “At least I’m not mean!”

You nodded, amused. “Only when someone brings up how short you are.” You liked to talk to and tease Felicity. Each conversation made you feel maybe a little less like a bitch. Or a little more, just in a friendly way.

“I can’t help it! I didn’t go out one day and choose the shrimpy gene.” Felicity grinned at you a little, letting the further mockery pass by.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. Felicity grabbed your arm and clung onto it, still smiling ear to ear. “This is why everyone thinks you’re a kid.”

“Then I’ll kick them in the dick,” she said flatly.

“It’s everyone. Women, men, aliens, grass…”

“I’ll kick them in the metaphorical dick,” she settled.

“Bold uptaking.”

“I’ll win.”

“Sure,” you said sarcastically, moving forwards in the line.

Felicity openly complained about her height some more, before yabbering on about something else. You ended up dozing off a bit as she was speaking, thinking about your sister.

You wanted to see her again so badly. Every moment that passed, you missed her. Her stupid, dorky smile with the big gap between her otherwise straight teeth. Her freckles. Her eyes. You missed it all, eager for the day you two would be reunited.

“Harris! Are you listening to me?”

“Oh. Something about your best friend. Cameron.”

“ Camille . She was really tall. She used to carry me on her shoulders at recess and we’d attack everyone. It was a lot of fun when we were in elementary school.”

“Sounds like it,” you responded.

“Do you wanna talk right now?”

“No.”

Felicity deeply sighed. “ Fine, I’ll stop talking for a while.”

You looked on, moving forwards in line. Time passed quickly whenever you were quiet, which you liked. The faster time moved, the faster you’d be done.

Felicity had started talking to the man in front of her, and the two were laughing quite a bit. The monster had white, slightly sparkly fur and two antlers. His claws were dull and short. The translucent quality to them was interesting.

He had big, happy eyes that were a sparkling blue.

You observed him, then went back to staring off into space.

“This is Harris,” Felicity said. “____ Harris.”

You turned your head. The monster smiled at you. “Harris. Nice to meet you. I’m Rey.” He held out his hand.

You shook it. “You too,” you said flatly, looking away again.

“She’s cranky right now. Don’t worry. It’s nothing against you,” you heard Felicity reassure him.

He laughed. “No worries, we all have those days. So, are you from one of the closer camps that came to see the Ambassador? They were just rescued. They’re going to make a toast tonight.”

Felicity smiled nervously, and you felt yourself prepare for the attention you were about to receive. Your lips thinned as Felicity said, “We came with the Ambassador.”

Rey’s eyes lightened. “Wait. You mean-- You’re the spies? Who saved the Ambassador?”

Eyes turned to you, and you crossed your arms tightly, grinding your teeth together. “I wouldn’t say spy, ” she said timidly.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Rey effused. “What was it like? Was it hard being there? How hard was it to go through with? Who were you in the plan? Did anyone else do it with you? Did she do it with you?”

Felicity opened and shut her mouth numerous times, trying to answer everything, but decided to only answer the last question. “Yes, Harris did, and so did another man. Konner Preston.”

Everyone was grouping around you, bombarding you with questions and excitement. You awkwardly tried to shuffle out of line, but Felicity held firmly onto your jacket.

“ HEY!” boomed a woman’s voice. “IF YOU DON’T GO RIGHT BACK WHERE YOU ALL JUST WERE, I’M NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOU GETTING STUCK AT THE BACK OF THE LINE!” The voice didn’t match her words well. The voice was lighthearted and reminded you of honey; lots of bounce to it, but the words were spoken harshly and threateningly.

The men and women around you took her words to heart and instantly shuffled back to their spots, leering at you and your friend.

You felt extremely uncomfortable and irritated. You sent Felicity an anguished and mildly bitter glance, and she rolled her eyes.

“Better get used to the attention, Harris. We’re branded.”

“NEXT!”

You stepped forward in the line, then stopped. “I hate attention.”

“Like I said, get used to it.”

“No.”

“Don’t be so stubborn, Harris. Maybe it’ll end up being a good thing!”

“Unlikely.”

The woman’s voice rang out again. “NEXT!”

Felicity continued to explain to you that you didn’t really have a choice in the matter, while the man who’d earlier mistaken Maycombe for a child pestered her with endless questions. The line moved at a snail’s pace, and you found yourself growing more and more uncomfortable by the growing stares.

Rey kept asking questions, and now the monster behind you had joined suit. You allowed Felicity to answer everything since she was the one who let the cat out of the bag. The men both also kept asking you questions, but you had finally decided to completely shut down and ignore them. This clearly aggravated both of them and Maycombe, but you didn’t care. You were uncomfortable and wanted to go back to being ignored by everyone.

“NEXT!” the woman said again, beckoning Rey forwards. He got some food, excitedly whispered and pointed back to you guys, and then smiled widely.

“I know!” she said, laughing. “Everyone and their mother’s told me what they look like. Calm down.” She looked back up as Rey left (he was still staring). “Why don’t both of you come up here?”

Felicity practically dragged you over. “I’m Felicity Maycombe. This is ____ Harris. I don’t know where Konner is, but he’s the last one of us, um, traitors, I guess?”

“More like saviors. Frisk’s return is a huge help. They do a lot more than just help out with battle plans and such, y’know.” She smiled. “Where are my manners? My name’s Jean. Corporal Elaina Jean. Though some people call me ‘Jean Queen’ because of Toriel.”

“Are you close?”

“Practically her daughter,” Elaina chuckled. “Though, most people are. Whatever. I’m one of the few corporals in close combat that’s human. I specialize in knives and all that fun stuff.”

Felicity punched you in the arm, and said, “Hey, that’s what Harris did back in Maven. Knife stuff. Close combat.”

“Oh? That so? Well maybe I’ll be seeing more of you, Harris.” Her eyes fell to your pocket, and you frowned, following them.

She was looking at your cigarettes.

You shoved them further in your pocket, and she quirked a brow. “Actually, how about you come and talk to me after dinner, Harris? I’ll be easy to find. If you don’t come to me, I’ll come get you.”

Fuck. I’ve been here for less than a day and I’m already getting myself into trouble. Fuck this. If no one paid attention to me, this wouldn’t have happened.

“Okay,” you said plainly, significantly more irritated with your situation.

“I haven’t heard anything from you yet. Anything you have to add?”

“No.”

Corporal Jean smirked. “You’re the quiet kind, huh?” She looked at Felicity, then back to you. “You two make one helluva pair.”

And then she handed you two both platters of food, and called, “NEXT!

You took yours as Felicity took hers, and looked around for a table to sit at. You felt like you were back in middle school.

People began to point and stare. You tried to keep Felicity in front of you so people wouldn’t look at you as much, but you were much taller than her, so it was really all for naught.

Felicity finally spotted an open table that didn’t have people ogling. You were thankful that she chose as such. You knew she only did it because you were with her.

She sat down next to a tall, buff man who was sitting opposite a laughing woman with choppy, short brown hair. You quietly sat next to Felicity.

“Um, hello? New faces?” the man said. “Wow, you’re fucking smal--”

The woman kicked the man. “Dale! Jesus!” She shook her head. “He’s an idiot. Don’t listen to him.”

“Hey!” Dale responded bitterly. “I’m not an idiot.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Sure, okay. Did you think to introduce yourself?”

Dale turned to you two, and you immediately noticed that he had a very baby-like face. It was like seeing Felicity’s opposite. “I’m Dale Shaw. And I’m so polite I’ll even introduce Elli Barnes.” He pointed the woman, who smiled and waved.

“Eleanor, actually, but I guess Elli’s fine.”

“I’m Felicity Maycombe,” your friend said. You weren’t paying much attention, so you didn’t realize she hadn’t introduced you again. She then elbowed you harshly in the ribs.

“___ Harris,” you said.

“Jeez, I’m not going to introduce you every single time we meet someone new,” she huffed.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Were you going to do it yourself?”

“Only if someone asked.”

“___, that’s rude!”

“Okay.”

“No! Not ‘okay!’”

Dale decided it was his time to interject. “ See? I’m not the only one who doesn’t do introductions.” He blew a raspberry at Elli.

“I’m not marrying her. I don’t need to worry about her.”

“Whatever,” Dale sighed.

Felicity looked astonished. You were too, but you didn’t say anything. “There sure are a lot of couples here. Like, together.”

Elli smiled. “Yeah, it’s a common thing around here. Monsters’ magic comes from their souls, and those grow stronger with love and all that mushy stuff. So it’s kinda like weight lifting.”

Felicity was intrigued. “What about when they break up? Or if one of them gets hurt?”

Dale leaned over his food. “They have to be chill about it. And if someone gets hurt or dies, it’s horrible. But it can sometimes lead to stronger powers. Relationships aren’t really pushed for people who go in the field. It’s mainly encouraged for medics.”

“So you two are medics?”

“Nah, we aren’t. We got engaged before the war and just got lucky being close together. We’re a rare case.”

“It wasn’t luck. I asked the queen personally if we could be closer together as long as I worked hard enough to get into the same division as you,” Dale corrected.

“And we’re lucky she said ‘yes,’” Elli reminded.

“Okay, I see how it is. Don’t defend your fiancé’s honor, or anything like that. It’s cool. My feelings aren’t damaged beyond repair.”

“Shut up, drama mama.”

“Hi,” Konner said, sitting down. You nearly jumped at his sudden appearance, but Felicity startled much more than you did, so you doubted anyone noticed. “Who are we sitting with?”

“Elli Barnes. Dale Shaw.” Barnes jabbed her fork at herself and then at Shaw. She raised her eyebrows. “Are you three friends?”

Konner awkwardly shook his head. “Not really. We just came here together.” He shrugged. “I don’t know anyone else.”

Elli knitted her eyebrows together. “Where did you guys come from anyways? I haven’t seen garb like that among our troops--”

“Attention, soldiers!”

Elli shut her mouth and turned to the voice. You recognized Undyne, who was standing at a grand table with the king and queen of monsters. You could see Frisk in the lap of Toriel Dreemurr. They seemed bitter, but not rowdy.

“As I am sure you have heard, as word travels fast around here, the Ambassador has been rescued!” General Undyne bellowed, gesturing to the child behind her.

“ What?!” Dale whisper-shouted to his fiance. He wasn’t the only one. It seemed that though many people were aware, at least one fifth of the soldiers around you were not, and there was a sudden joyous whooping and cheering. You sat stiffly and awkwardly, clapping four times and then resting with your arms tightly held against your sides again.

“SILENCE! Hold on! Yes, it is a great victory for us! However, there is more to say. Frisk did not escape on their own. A mass attack was carried out against a large Human military base full of elite soldiers by spies and allies we had within their ranks. A great many lives were lost. Today, through spies in other areas of the Human fleet, we learned that none of these allies survived besides the few who came with the Ambassador. Those who were still alive at the Maven base after the rescue of the Ambassador were found and shot by Human troops. The brave three who lived, the reason we currently have the Ambassador with us right now, are with us currently. We owe them a great debt. If they will please stand now so we can congratulate them for their valor and dignity!”

Felicity shyly stood, as did Konner, and extremely reluctantly, you rose, crossing your arms. This was not what you wanted in the slightest.

“Name yourselves, soldiers!”

“I am Felicity Maycombe, ma’am!”

“____ Harris, ma’am,” you said hoarsely.

“Konner Preston, General Undyne.”

Applause sounded around you. A few men cheered. You just wanted to sit down and escape it all.

And so you did as Undyne continued her speech, Konner following your lead. Felicity followed your image. You quickly lost interest in what she was talking about, poking around your food awkwardly as people occasionally cheered. Frisk, too, stood and trailed off into a lengthy speech, but you didn't listen.

You could feel the stares seeping through your skin by everyone, including the people you were sitting with. Felicity was answering questions, but you weren’t listening to them. Felicity poked you roughly in the side a few times when you had been directly addressed, but you didn’t talk at all other than those moments.

Felicity yanked you up when she finished eating to discuss where you’d be sleeping before everyone hauled off the next morning. Konner came along too.

“Where you three off to?” a voice rang. Laurel smiled, walking over.

“Looking for someone who can tell us where we’re supposed to be sleeping,” Felicity replied. “Do you know who we should go to?”

Laurel put her hands on her hips. You noticed her boyfriend walking up to her. “Hm. Well, I’d think the queen might be a good person to go to. It’ll be a little weird now anyways, considering the fact we’re leaving soon.”

“HELLO, DEAREST.”

“Hello, Papy,” Laurel said, turning to face her boyfriend. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going off to find your brother.”

“I WAS, BUT JEAN WAS TRYING TO FIND ____ HARRIS. THEY NEED TO TALK OR SOMETHING. I HOPE IT'S NOT TOO MUCH TROUBLE IF I ASK YOU TO COME WITH ME, ____.”

You grudgingly nodded.

Felicity swatted your arm. “Hey, I’ll go find out what’s up, alright?” She grabbed Konner’s coat. “C’mon. Laurel, you know where Queen Toriel hangs out?”

“I’ll take you to her,” Laurel replied, leading the others away.

Papyrus likewise began walking away and you followed him.

“DO YOU KNOW WHY CORPORAL JEAN WANTS TO SPEAK WITH YOU?”

You shook your head.

“HM. WELL, IT SEEMED IMPORTANT.”

You shrugged.

“YOU ARE VERY HARD TO MAINTAIN A CONVERSATION WITH,” Papyrus stated a tad sourly. “DO YOU EVER TALK?”

“Sometimes.”

Papyrus huffed. “I SEE.”

The two of you walked for a few more minutes, you uncomfortably avoiding the stares of soldiers. He took a turn into a dilapidated building, and as you walked in, you saw Elaina again.

She smiled at you. “Thanks, Papyrus. I’ll take her from here.”

“NO PROBLEM, ELAINA,” he chirped, then turned and walked away.

She put her hands on her hips. “I thought I told you to find me?”

“I forgot,” you said.

She sighed. “Well, whatever. I had a question for you. You’re a smoker, right?”

There it was. No point in hiding it. “Yeah. Ambassador Frisk already told me about the prohibition.”

“Did they?” She closed her eyes and stretched. “I’m a smoker, too. I wanted to tell you that I know a guy who can get you your cigarettes and whatever. He doesn’t take money or anything, either. What he charges varies. Mainly, he wants food.” She winked at you as you looked on, surprised. “Our secret, though, right Harris?”

You nodded and she slapped you on the back.

“Awesome. Let’s introduce you two.”

Chapter Text

You had been walking with her for a long time.

“He’s been hanging out by the outskirts. At our normal camp, he hangs out there too. He patrols and he smokes. It’s nice. He’s really good at keeping it secret. He’s pretty much never been caught.”

“That’s good.”

Elaina laughed. “Sure is. By the way, didn’t your pal say you did a lot of close combat? You were part of that special division up in Maven, yeah?”

“I’m good with knives,” you said offhandedly.

“Where’d you fight?”

“I didn’t.” You looked over at her, seeing her querying look, and continued. “I was part of a unit that went into the streets and fought off violent gangs there. Small militias, more or less.”

Elaina raised her eyebrows. “Oh. Never were part of the major battles?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Wasn’t assigned to them, I guess,” you said.

Elaina chuckled softly. “Fair enough. Why’d you join the war? Did you start out as a spy or were you one of the ones that converted?”

You were quiet, unsure of what to say. “I was picked up and didn’t protest,” you carefully replied.

“‘Picked up?’ What’s that mean?”

“I was homeless. They recruited me.”

Elaina seemed a little uncomfortable, or maybe embarrassed. “Ah. Gotcha. I take it you were closer to the city, then. In the days before.”

You nodded stiffly, shoving your hands into your pockets. In one hand, you played with your lighter. In the other, you gently brushed your thumb over a photo that you’d taken from home.

Elaina nodded and clicked her tongue awkwardly. “Ah! There he is. See ‘im?”

You looked in the direction she was pointing. You could see a man in the distance with a little cloud of smoke around him. You nodded again.

“His name’s Sans. He’s kind of an asshole, but… whatever, y’know? He’s funny. And he has what we want, without much of a price, so. Eh.” She cupped her mouth and shouted, “YO! BONES!”

The figure turned and you squinted, trying to make this ‘Sans’ character out. And then there was a smiling skeleton right in front of you as if he had materialized out of nowhere. You shouted in surprise and instinctively raised your fist. Your knuckles were a bright white from how tightly you were clenching your fist.

The skeleton looked at you wide-eyed, taking a quick drag from his cigarette. “yikes. jumpy, huh?” He turned to Elaina. “jean queen. is this who i think it is?”

“She’s probably who you think she is, but we’re not here for that. She smokes,” Corporal Jean stated, slapping you on the back. You lowered your fist and looked at the man distastefully. You stuffed your hands into your pockets and pursed your lips.

The skeleton’s grin widened. He looked fascinated by your mere existence,making you incredibly uncomfortable. This was exactly what you’d wanted to avoid in the first place, after all. He said, “yeah. ____ harris. one of the ambassador’s saviors. a hero.”

He didn’t even bother to comment on why you were there. Only who you were and what brief deed you did made you relevant to him. And you were now something to these people that you suspected Felicity might have been when she rescued Ambassador Frisk; a new toy to dissect and a new chess piece to use as propaganda. Not a person but a hero.

And you were reminded that had Joseph not met his end all too quickly, you would not be standing where you were, and you would not have to worry about being a figure, and you would not have to be called a hero when you were selfish and cared for neither side of the war, and you would not have to be reminded that you failed your original purpose for joining this pathetic and worthless war in the first place.

It made you uncomfortable and it made you angry. You were not a hero. You were not a chess piece. All you amounted to be was a failure. You rubbed your thumb over the picture again and ignored his pointed gaze, trying your best to evade the topic of yourself.

It seemed to work alright, as the next thing he said was, “i’m sans.” He offered you his hand in a handshake, taking it out of one of his camo pockets.

You looked at his hand, staring at something on it. There was what looked like an vermilion bag on his palm, held onto it via a black strap. You frowned and looked back at him.

Sans gestured towards you. “yo, you don’t know how to greet people or somethin’? you can shake hands, right dude?”

Frowning, you grunted. You pointed to the contraption.

He groaned, slumping. “buzzkill.”

Elaina laughed loudly and nodded approvingly at you. “Haven’t seen that before. She’s too smart for your pranks, Bones.”

“guess so,” Sans said, taking off the thing. “woulda been super funny. always is. when it works, i mean.” He poked it and a loud fart noise came out. You wrinkled your nose. “whoopie cushion in the hand trick.” He offered his hand to you again and you reluctantly shook it. “did queenie explain my schtick to ya when it comes to smokin’?”

“Kinda,” Elaina replied for you, which you were grateful for. “Told her what you charge varies depending on the person.”

“makes me sound sorta slutty, doesn’t it?”

“Who cares, dude? Just tell her what the price is for a smoke.”

“do you actually smoke?” Sans asked you.

Though you found the question odd, you nodded. You took out your half-empty pack as showed him as proof before putting it back into your pockets.

Sans looked at you strangely. “do you even talk? can you talk?”

“Yes,” you said back.

He feigned shock. “wow. an actual entire word.”

Elaina scoffed and shoved him a little. “Don’t be a dick. Tell her what the price is,” she repeated.

He brushed her off. “i’m thinking. are you always this quiet?”

You shrugged.

Elaina spoke up for you again. “She’s not a chatty Cathy.”

Sans nodded. “what’s your opinion on puns?”

Elaina groaned. “Sans! You’re being an ass. We don’t have all day.”

He ignored her. “harris?”

“I’m indifferent.”

“what’s your story?”

“You already know it,” Elaina said sourly.

“i didn’t ask you.”

“It’s the same story you already know,” you said.

“sure, but i meant before that happened?”

You closed your mouth tightly. You disliked how prying he was.

“okay, too far, i get that. wh--”

Elaina’s patience had run thin, and she snapped, “Dickhole! Stop being nosy, jesus fuck! Why are you acting like this?”

Sans rolled his white dots that served as eyes. “sorry. normally my ‘clients’ are kind of boring. she seems interesting. i want to know what her deal is.” He blinked as if he realized you could hear him. He glanced at you. “what your deal is.”

You frowned. “I’m done,” you stated plainly, turning around.

Sans was suddenly in front of you again. You startled slightly but quickly regained your composure. “sheesh. i’m sorry. here. an apology.” He tossed you a cigarette. “you have a lighter?”

You took out yours and lit the little stick breezily, blowing out some smoke. It was like second nature to you by now. About three years ago, you’d picked up the habit to cope with her. It made for a great distraction, although not a pleasant one at times. You could focus on the wisps of gray around you while you were smoking, and while you weren’t, you could focus on wanting to smoke. A constant thought at the back of your head to replace the others.

Sans eyed you for a moment, then shrugged. “let’s not decide on a trade now, huh? come back to me when we’re back at the normal camp. we’ll figure out somethin’ then.”

Elaina rolled her eyes. “You fucking weirdo. Let’s go, Harris. I’ll make sure he’s less of a prick next time.”

“harsh.”

“Accurate, though.”

The already wide grin on his face grew wider and he chuckled. “got me there. later, queenie. unless you want your own now?”

“I don’t have grub for ya on me. Sorry. ‘Sides. I can’t smell like smoke tonight. You know the Dreemurrs’ll get angry.”

“damn. next time?”

“Sure. Later, Bones.”

Sans waved at you. “i’ll see you again, harris.” He winked, and then he was gone.

You looked on in silence, trying to pinpoint if he had returned to the far-off place he was before. When you spotted a silhouetted figure once again forming a cloud of smoke around itself, you turned and began to walk. “Ambassador said smoke makes monsters sick.”

Elaina looked at you in surprise. “Oh yeah?” She nodded slightly, the same way someone did when the person you were fighting with made a decent point. “Eh, well, it does for most. In fact, the only one I’ve ever seen actually smoke without getting all weak and cough-y and shaky is Sans. He’s an oddball for sure. It’s weird that it makes them so sick when you think about it.”

You looked at her, waiting for an explanation.

She sighed. “Uh. ‘Cause like, some of their magic has smoke? There’s smoke in battles, too. That doesn’t affect them. Just cigarettes and things of the like.” She closed her eyes as the two of you marched back. “I think the sickness it causes must be because of the tobacco. Or some thing. I’m no scientist. I don’t know shit about anything, if I’m being frank with ya.”

“Hm.” You looked onwards, thinking to yourself as you again held the picture in your pocket. It had been a long time since you’d looked at it, surprisingly. You just hadn’t found the time. With all the planning you’d been involved with and constant pressure of betraying the army you fought with for a year and the abandonment of your true purpose, it had faded from your mind.

And that frightened you immensely.

You chewed your lip as the two of you walked back.

Elaina suddenly stopped. “Oh! You need a place to sleep for tonight! God, I should have talked to Queen Toriel about that.”

“Maycombe went.”

“Oh, did she? So you know?”

“No. While she got her, I came with you.”

“Well, yikes. We should get back a little faster, then. Doesn’t look good when they can’t find me. You might want to finish your smoke fast.”

You heeded her warning, puffing on it more. “Probably should throw out my pack too,” you said offhandedly.

“Ambassador know you smoke?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t throw out your pack or lighter, then. They’ll think you hid it somewhere. Better to let it be confiscated. Kind of a waste, sure, but. It’s better that way. Trust me. Know this one chick, part of my little squad. Awful smoking habit. One of those people that smokes a pack a day. Used to be a marine before this whole war. Hard time for her to shift to this whole… thing. Snuck in a pack, got caught. She hid it before they could confiscate. Of course, they knew she had it, so then they had to search her whole room in the barracks. They found it, she got in trouble. Not the worst, but not something you’d want, either. Extra duties and work and shit. If she’d just coughed it up, probably wouldn’t have been as bad.”

“Hm,” you said.

“That girl’s all about recklessness. She’s kind of impulsive. And dumb. I figure she’s been that way her whole life. Got hurt recently ‘cause of it. I have to work on it with her.”

You just nodded uncomfortably.

“So, why d’ya smoke?” Elaina asked, cracking her knuckles.

You chewed your lip. “Just started doing it.”

“Didn’t smoke before the war?”

“No,” you replied.

“Why not?” she pushed.

You paused, contemplating your answer. My sister didn’t like it, you thought, so you said, “Never felt the urge.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I get that. I’ve always had a bit of a habit. Ever since I was twenty. Mostly healthy besides it. I hated it when I was in high school, but, life’s funny. You do shit you never would’ve before. I’m sure you get that.”

“Yeah.”

“When it gets hard, you gotta find another way. And sometimes, you just do shit. Y’know? You just do.”

“Yeah.”

She looked at you out of the corner of her eye. “You really are quiet. Like, not to be like that stupid pile of bones, but it is a little hard to keep a conversation going with you.”

You looked away, uncomfortable. “Sorry,” you said after a moment.

“Well, whatever,” Elaina shrugged. “Not my place to judge.”

Thankfully, she stopped talking. You relished in the silence, your sister consuming your thoughts. You ran your fingers over the picture in your pocket nervously, walking faster so that hopefully you could look at it.

It was getting chilly.

“So, you have any other clothes?”

“No,” you said, slightly irritably.

“You covered up your Human garb with that jacket,” she said nonchalantly.

“Sure.”

“You ashamed?”

“No,” you said.

“So why cover it up?”

“I like the jacket.”

She whistled awkwardly. “Well, it looks comfortable, I guess.”

“Mhm.”

“So, how’d you and your friend meet?” Elaina asked, as you gratefully entered back into camp with the majority of other soldiers.

“Both were in Maven,” you said.

“Yeah, but I mean, when’d she start talking to you?”

You thought about your answer. In reality, you had confronted Felicity and struck up conversation with her. When you saw her, you couldn’t help but see your sister, too. Small, those striking gray eyes, chirpy, sweet. Happiness where maybe there shouldn’t be any. She wasn’t Abby in every way, though. No one could be. The fact that she was as similar to your sister as she was was lucky.

“Hello?”

You blinked once, looking back at Corporal Elaina. “Oh. When we were eating.”

“You sat alone?”

“Mm.”

“She feel bad for you?”

You shrugged.

“That’s okay, too. Seems like you two really click.”

“Sure,” you said. “We do.”

“It’s an interesting dynamic, I suppose,” she said. You were getting slightly irritated. Everyone was slightly hypocritical from time to time. But this was beyond annoying. You were done talking. You had no interest in bonding or learning about her or her learning about you.

Being done talking, you stopped talking entirely. You would acknowledge her with an “mm” every once in a while, and after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Elaina again apologized for pushing you to be chatty and walked on without a peep.

It was cold now. You weren’t bothered by it, to be completely honest. After all, when the government had crumbled, electricity and heat were hard to come by. That meant that while you had a house, it was kept warm by fire. Not great. At some point you got a generator, but soon after that you had left the house. You refused to go back to it. You couldn’t go back to it. You couldn’t go back to the stains inside and the mound surrounded by stones outside. Even now, years after it had happened, years after you had left the house behind, you would not be able to drag yourself back there.

Smoke twisted around you, furling in winds and coils that were reminiscent of a vine that had been allowed to grow for decades without someone to tame it.

You liked the way it looked.

Pretty and wholly new. But dangerous and not worth more shit from Frisk.

Your fingers grew numb with the chilly night air as you threw your cigarette down and stomped on it.

It was always cold the year you lived on the streets. It snowed often that year and without much for pairs of clothes and snow boots, you had just learned how to live with it. It was far too dangerous to live statically while in a dilapidated city full of gangs with guns, so creating a home with a generator was unrealistic.

You’d learned to fight there. It was all you could learn.

And then, after about a year, you had found yourself saving the life of a Human general and were offered a position among their ranks. Warm, with a family, and food, and a bed, and training.

All you cared about was the army and the training.

It was how you could do what you had to do.

Not anymore, though.

Not anymore.

Elaina spoke again. “Oh great, I see the queen. Come with me, Harris. She’ll show you where to go.”

You looked up to see your small friend beside Konner Preston and an elegant woman in a purple dress with embellished runes on the front.

And you followed Elaina as you greeted them, the memories invading your world.

Chapter Text

The queen was a tall woman with shining white fur. Her eyes were a warm burgundy that were always crinkled with a soft smile. Two little fangs protruded from her mouth like a vampire’s would, paired with two, gleaming ivory cone-shaped horns atop her head. You had seen her before on television, newspapers, and online before the war broke out, but you had no idea she was quite as tall as she was. At least 6’2”, she towered over you, Elaina, Konner, and especially Felicity. You had been told she was a goat monster, though she had long ears akin to a beagle’s, unlike the kind of goats you were familiar with.

Her voice was a gentle hum as she spoke about where you three “heroes” ( traitors ) would be resing.

“Of course, we were expecting you,” she twinkled, “so we had rooms prepared. We expected more of you, to be entirely honest, so there is a tad excess at the moment. Tomorrow morning, we will set off for our home base, cleverly named Home Base by my creative husband.” She huffed a little. “I expect you will be interviewed on the way to Home Base. If not, it will be when we return.”

“Interviewed?” Konner Preston asked, turning pale.

“Yes, all monsters and monster allies will want to know of who you are and what you’ve done,” Queen Toriel explained. “After all, Frisk is such a symbol of hope. The fact that they were held in captivity as they were was great a stress upon our troops and allies. They negotiate so much of the peace that we need and act as a bridge between peoples. The people who rescued them will be remembered. Your stories, your journeys, your sacrifices… Truly, this is somewhat of a turning point for us. And it is thanks to you and the bravery of the others who did not make it here. We will all be eternally grateful to your memories.” You were going to one of the least dilapidated buildings by the lead of the queen. A temporary place for a brief sleep.

Felicity smiled at the who towered near two feet over her kindly. “It’s our duty, Queen Toriel. We swore to assist your troops from the inside. We all were willing to do what was needed.”

You tensed a little. You did not do this for the monsters.

The troops, the war, the ambassador; you did not do any of it for them.

You did it because Felicity did.

And now you had no purpose.

You left it behind.

Had you died, as planned, this would be no issue.

As it was, you were now being given a false wreath of laurels to wear upon your head.

Liar.

Traitor.

Queen Toriel had been speaking and you missed it. Vaguely, you heard her talking more about heroes. You glanced over to Preston and caught his eye. He seemed just as apprehensive as you felt and the two of you shared an uncommon moment of consolidation. Felicity, you knew, did not bask in the glory presented to her, and would never, but she could sit within the place before it and accept that it was earned and that she was a hero. You, and it seemed, Preston, did not want to be within a spotlight that had no dignity for the selfish.

You broke eye contact with him and assessed him silently as you looked onward. Preston smoked much like you did, and you wondered if Elaina would have introduced him to Sans as well (that skeleton-- did he have a last name? You realized you had no idea). If you strained your memory, you could vaguely recall his face outside with the other crew of smokers from Maven. He must not have gone there often, however, because you knew all the faces of the regulars well. He struck you as the kind of man who would only rarely smoke and would do it expressly to let off steam. In a way, he reminded you of yourself with his silence and awkwardness. You wondered what his family life was like. Why did he join the war? Why was he a spy? Did he switch sides or had he been like Felicity? Had he picked the Humans for convenience such as you, or had he joined them because he agreed with their message?

It would remain a mystery. You weren’t about to go prying into his life and you had the distinct impression he wasn’t about to expel his life story.

The building was close now. There were soldiers outside of it, standing shoulder to shoulder. There was the Monster emblem-- the Delta Rune-- on their uniforms.

They stopped you all excluding the queen.

One of them, a man taller than Preston but shorter than the queen outstretched his hand. “Weapons,” he stated dryly.

The monsters on either side of him carefully watched you all. Felicity obliged, unclipping her pistol and handing it over and handing the gun that you liked to joke was taller than her to him as well. Preston did the same, though he included the bombs he had on his personnel as well. You handed your pistol and handed your MI6.

Felicity’s eyes bore into your head, and thin-lipped, you unsheathed your knife and handed it to the expectant man. He raised a brow.

“No hard feelings. It’s a security measure.”

“Of course,” said Felicity.

Preston grunted and you remained silent. The guns were easy to part with. You didn’t care for them much anyways, due to your past. The knife, however, was your security. It was what you were most comfortable with. You enjoyed the cool grip of the handle in your palm and the way it sliced through anything with the smoothness and fluidity of a flowing river. It made you fast, made you aware, made you safe.

And, you supposed, made you dangerous.

There was a brief search for further weapons by the guards. They found your lighter and cigarettes, raising their brows.

“I’m sorry, ____, but we don’t allow smoking here. Maybe Frisk told you?”

“Yeah.” You handed them over sullenly and watched them be taken away.

Your other pocket was searched and suddenly your heart was tight and you were terrified and you wanted the man’s hand out because it was yours. It was yours. That picture was all you had. Please.

He left it and moved on to your other pockets.

They took your extra ammo, and that was all. You felt your muscles shrink.

You walked in the building. You could tell the building was one that was inhabited frequently. You doubted it was by the Monsters, but you could tell that it was them who cleaned it out. The homeless who lived there were likely hiding, dead, or waiting for the Monsters to leave their shelter. There were shelters, but not here. This was too close to battle. Only on either end of the country could you find shelters, and there, they weren’t needed. Fights occurred over the middle ground because it was there to be claimed. Both had lost territory, both had gained; both had set up their governments, both had to change them to fit the desire of the people in hopes of gaining soldiers; both had saved lives, both had taken lives. Those who were far from the heart of the fighting lived a changed life, but not a broken one. That was reserved for you, for the ones who were forced into the middle of it all.

God fucking dammit you hated this war and everyone who started it.

Even the queen?

You watched her as she laughed with one of the guards, showing Preston his room.

She didn’t start it.

You looked away, little angry and hurt bubbles popping. It was painful. You wanted to be able to blame more people without guilt. You wanted to point to someone and tell them that everything that had happened-- it was because of them.

At least you could always blame that piece of trash.

Your “brother.”

Repulsive.

Hate.

you

hated

him

it’s

his

fault

that

she

“____?” the queen asked. You looked at her, alert.

She laughed softly and smiled. “This room, is it to your liking?”

You peered in. There was a vanity, bed, and chair inside. Homey.

“Yeah. Thanks,” you said softly. “Your Highness,” you added clumsily, stepping into the doorframe.

“Oh, please, my dear, you don’t need to bother with such formalities,” Queen Toriel laughed. “I don’t care about that. For many years, I didn’t act as such. It feels unfair to my people to expect such a thing when I left my duties.”

“Queen Toriel,” a monster soldier sighed, “you know we understand. We do not blame you. You’re still our queen.”

“Well, thank you, Jax. Just know I don’t expect that from you.”

Awkwardly you shuffled in the room. “Okay,” you said. “I, uh. Appreciate your, er, uh. Ah. Kindness.” Fuck. How the hell did you talk to people formally? Whatever. Here you were. Fuck it.

Felicity smiled and rolled her eyes at you. She gave you a thumbs-up and mouthed, “Good effort.”

In return, you pursed your lips, though your the corners of them turned up slightly. They all bid you farewell and you closed the door.

She reminded you of her.

Felicity.

Abby.

You sat down at the chair in front of the vanity and sighed heavily, running a hand through your hair.

Sometimes Abby used to play with it. She liked it when it was long because her hair never was. Always choppy with bangs over her eyes. She liked it like that. It was cute. You liked it too. And you liked keeping your hair long so that she could play with it when you visited. Of course, back then, you’d liked it that way anyways. Now, more often than not, it was a nuisance. But you couldn’t get rid of it.

It was a part of her.

Shaking.

You were shaking when you pulled out the picture.

You took a deep breath and looked down.

This picture was one Aunt Rebecca had in her house. It was your favorite one.

You remembered when it was taken. A sunny day. It was just before the war broke out, and your mother suggested a photo for Aunt Becky of her two favorite nieces. Richard got his own picture, but that didn’t matter.

You were behind Abby, smiling widely and looking years younger. Your cheeks were full instead of sullen, your skin was bright and glowy, you wore makeup, your hair was clean and glistened with a color just a few shades lighter than Abby’s. You looked pretty. You guessed. But that didn’t matter.

Abby.

She was twelve. Her hair was cut at her shoulder and her bangs were parted to the right. Gray eyes gleamed and her face was spotted by her freckles. A little gap between her front teeth that she hated but you loved. She was happy. She was vibrant. Her shirt was pretty basic. Abby loved simplicity. She was never one for fancy clothes and lady-like tendencies and you

were crying.

She looked alive.

And you stared into those living eyes caught in a moment and you could not stop your mind from bringing back the memory of those eyes fading away.

She was shot.

Shot in your own home.

You held her and you remembered her screams and they made you want to scream and somewhere deep down you remembered screaming for days after she was gone.

Bloodstains and fear.

She had told you that she was scared.

And then?

S h e  w a s d e a d .

Richard killed her and ran like a coward.

And you hated him.

You wanted his blood to run in the streets. You wanted to tear his arms apart and his legs and make sure he was suffering. It would never be enough for what he did. She was dead, and it was because Richard was a coward and a filthy blood traitor who wanted to join the Human army more than he wanted to care for his younger sister and he killed her in cold blood without a reason or a word otherwise and you could feel the seething fury that seeped from the cracks between your teeth and pulled your muscles taut.

He killed an unarmed twelve year-old girl. A coward. She was harmless. She t r u s t e d him.

You joined the Human army two years after the death of your little sister to rise through the ranks. You did it to build more strength than you already had. You did it to get close. You did it so one day you could kill him. You spent a year there, waiting for the day you could avenge her. That renowned Human general. If you died afterwards, that was fine. The only reason you stayed on the world as long as you did was because you needed to

k i l l

h i m

.

You failed.

You hadn’t killed him.

And now, you were just as lost as you had been three years ago when your sister died in your arms, pleading for you to save her.

And so you cried in your arms, remembering all the aches and stings of failure to save the only person you loved more than all the worlds and suns and stars and moons and animals and people and flowers and stories and causes.

She was all you had,

and so you had nothing.

Chapter Text

You didn’t sleep. It was too hard.

Sometimes there were nights like that; you’d lie awake with the thoughts tumbling in and clouding your vision with a thick murk and screams echoing in your head endlessly. When you first committed to sacrificing yourself, those sleepless nights happened all the time.

It was because you knew you weren’t avenging her. You owed that much to her at least. You knew that had she been alive, she would have supported you fighting for the Monster’s cause, but you never wanted any part in the war. Richard had always wanted to join the fight for the Humans. Abby had always supported the Monsters. Your parents never talked about politics.

You, though, just wanted to make things safe for Abby. Especially after your parents never came back. The only thing that could have happened to them didn’t bear thinking about, but for your little sister’s sake, you did it. You thought about how to tell her that they were probably dead because it wasn’t fair to give the girl false hope. And you found a way. It was hard, but you did it, and he, well, he did nothing.

Had he ever?

Nothing good.

Piece of shit.

Scum.

S c  u m.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your tears had dried hours ago. The puffiness was gone. The girl looking back at you was back to her blank slate. There wasn’t any hint of a dead sister in her eyes. There was no family behind her face. She was a soldier, she was a weapon, and that was it.

Strength first.

Everything else, anything else, later.

You stared at her. She was older than you remembered. Where her twenties should have rested on her face, centuries festered. The face itself looked its age, more or less, but it was the flatness, the slump, the tired eyes… You wondered if Abby would recognize her. She didn’t look like you. You weren’t even sure if there was a “you” anymore. It had been so long since you’d given much consideration to yourself.

The last time you had was when you finally mustered up the courage to talk to Felicity. She was always peppy, but usually she sat alone when it was time to eat, doing her own thing. You just sat across from her, without a word, and that was it. She adopted you. The two of you were together whenever you could be. It wasn’t like a best friend. Nor a sister; not like Abby, at least. It was its own thing.

There was rapping at your door.

“Harris?” Felicity called softly. You glanced out the window and saw darkness. A vague hint of sun was in the sky, but it was still far too early to be awake. The quiet rapping echoed in the room. Closing your eyes and sighing softly, you opened the door.

“What?” you asked. It came out more blunt than you intended, but you couldn’t undo it. Felicity looked like she understood, though.

“I can’t… I can’t sleep.”

You nodded.

“I feel all wrong inside.”

You nodded again, then let her inside your room and sat on your bed next to her.

“You can’t sleep, either,” she said softly, looking at the unperturbed bedding.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

Silence, and then Felicity had a hand spread over her glossy, gray eyes and began to weep.

She did that from time to time. It scared you when she did; your anxiety peaked in distressing spikes and your heart thundered in your ears and throbbed in your chest cavity. So you did what you always did when she scared you like that, and held her to your chest, resting your head atop her own. Her small hands curled in your shirt and she whimpered.

“It’s so much harder than I thought. Seeing the monsters. Hearing them call me a hero.”

“I know.”

She cried, then. No words. She let the pain come out without words, and that was okay. You understood the guilt. You knew that she had been in the battles. You knew the sacrifices she made and the ones she killed to be there.

“You’re okay,” you said softly, holding her tighter and brushing a few flyaway curls from her face.

She didn’t respond, but that was expected. She would cry, and then she would, after about ten or fifteen minutes, return to her room. It was how it always went-- you knew the routine.

You didn’t say anything else, partially because you didn’t know how, partially because you saw no point. Felicity didn’t seek your company for your vocabulary, anyways. After knowing you for nearly a year, maybe more, potentially, she had come to accept that you were far more comfortable with your brief statements and listening than engagement, like most. She pushed you out of that shell slightly, and still liked teasing you, but she truly understood that it was unlikely to ever actually change. You found that your words didn’t matter, and if they didn’t matter, then you didn’t really have any desire to share them. Besides, conversation was a drag. Mostly one-dimensional. A lie. You disliked the policy of lying on principle. That’s why you didn’t tell her “It’s okay,” because what she had done probably wasn’t. She understood what you meant. And she understood that you were genuine. To her, at least. You never lied to her (only neglected to mention certain things). That was why she came to you. And it wasn’t just an assumption on your end, either; she had told you herself that was the reason.

She sniffed, her crying very gradually slowing down. You knew it was awful, but you couldn’t help but think of Abby while you held her and the sadness you already felt began to prickle once more.Felicity was too small to feel the same way your sister had when you held her, but she was close enough that you could feel Abby’s ghost whispering down your neck.

It was quiet for about five minutes as Felicity finally calmed herself. She hesitantly pulled herself away, holding her head. She offered a smile, then quietly thanked you, and turned back, leaving.

And you were alone on your bed.

In the dark.

Despite yourself, you put your head in your hands, and hated yourself as the warm tears fell down your cheeks again.

You fell asleep eventually, though you doubted you slept for more than an hour. You woke up to rapping on your door. Groggily, you opened it, only to instantly have clothes shoved in your face. You furrowed your brows and looked up, trying your best to not look as irritated upon meeting the kind gaze of the queen.

“Good morning, ____. I’ve brought you a new uniform to change into. We’re leaving in twenty minutes for home base, and I thought it might be better if you weren’t in your Human apparel. Your leather jacket shields it fairly well, but we don’t want anyone to make a mistake. Just a precaution! I’m terribly sorry for the early wake-up call, but you know how it is.”

“Yeah,” you said. “Thanks for the clothes.”

“Of course!” She smiled and happily loomed in the door.

You stared up awkwardly. You didn’t know how to tell her to leave. “Yes,” you enunciated a bit robotically, stepping inside your room. “Your majesty.” You remembered she told you not to do that, but you already had, so you just retreated further into your room as she chuckled and closed the door.

You didn’t really change much. You weren’t about to discard your armor, but the dirty shirt underneath could go. Your clothes still looked more Human than Monster, but it was better than before. To hide the fact, you zipped your leather jacket up and stuffed your hands in the pockets. It was fine this way. You would never fully blend in.

You stared at the girl in the mirror again.

She was something, maybe.

And you left the room, brushing your hand against the picture in your pocket.

Leaving was chaotic.

People left and right, stressing out, moving in near silence, trucks and tanks and large monsters swarming around those who were walking.

You, Konner, and Felicity were to be in the back of a military caravan with Queen Toriel and Ambassador Frisk. You disliked it immensely, but it wasn’t really like you had a choice.

There was loud rumbling and bustling outside. Felicity peeked out of the fabric shielding her view of the world, saw a massive walking spider with a smaller spider girl riding it, and let it fall back, nervously scooting closer to you. She didn’t like spiders much. You didn’t have the most positive feelings towards them either, but you’d stopped being scared of them years ago.

Konner Preston stayed silent, rubbing his hands together nervously. “What route are we taking to the base?” he blurted out stiffly about two hours into the ride. It was the first time he’d said a complete sentence the entire ride, even though Toriel and Frisk had been attempting to start conversations.

The queen seemed startled, but she smiled warmly. “You’re concerned?”

“It’s just a big group. Big, noticeable group. That’s all.”

Frisk uncrossed their arms and leaned forwards. “Some of our monsters have magic that can impair visuals. They can make it look like we’re invisible from most angles.”

“And the sound?” Konner asked. “I don’t mean to doubt you. But I think that all perimeters of all bases are going to be heavily guarded. And I’ve been watching where we’ve been going, and we’re cutting it awfully close. In my opinion.”

“Sound is a tad more complicated, but I wouldn’t worry too much, dear,” Toriel stated. “Of course, I understand your concern. But we have several monsters who are using strong magics to protect us. The visuals are not our only line of defense. Several chunks of the Monster troops who traveled have barrier magic around them. It’s not anything like the Barrier we had underground, because it’s only monster magic and only being cast by five or so monsters, but it will protect us long enough, should something happen.”

“Okay,” Konner said, clearly unconvinced. “Angelwood’s just a risky city.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You hadn’t been taking into account where you were, exactly. Angelwood wasn’t really a city-- it was too small. Instead, it was a large town. You understood Konner’s anxiety, however. You suddenly shared it. Not only was Angelwood very close to a Human base, it had one of the more bloodthirsty street populations.

You had lived there, briefly, the year after Abby died. At that point, you’d already grown skilled with your knife and knew how to use a gun to save your life, but that place was still dangerous. Most of the cities had homeless people in them to even out the gangs. But not Angelwood. It was quiet certain times. Times when the gangs or militias were preparing for the next fight.

You’d gone there for the food. That was why it was so fought over, after all. The only way to get food and to get decent supplies was to join one of the sides. But you hated that shit, so you tried your hand at getting what you wanted without bowing down. Didn’t go great. Wasn’t too productive. You actually made a few enemies there.

Oh well. You probably wouldn’t die. Though you found it unlikely that Angelwood’s people wouldn’t attack. It was in their nature. It was how they lived now.

“Angelwood isn’t very big, if I recall,” Felicity projected. “We won’t be here long. I’m sure it’s going to be fine.”

Konner nodded a little, but he clearly still had no faith in anything being said to him.

“Really. Don’t you agree, ____?”

You disliked that she brought you into it. Awkwardly, you looked at her from the corners of you eyes. You crossed your arms against your chest and shrugged a little.

“ What? Are you serious?” Your friend was aghast.

You shrugged again, scooting away from her critical gaze. Felicity snorted a little, then turned back to Preston and insisted that everything would be fine and that you were just an incredibly dramatic person.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” the queen reassured you as Maycombe spoke, patting your knee.

“Yeah, Mom’s right,” Frisk yawned. “Besides, there’s lots of protection for this car alone. We’re golden.”

You nodded, and then two fell silent, looking off nowhere in particular.

You looked at them, gauging them in silence. They were completely unlike Abby, but that wasn’t exactly relevant. What you were mainly thinking about what how in the fuck they were captured in the first place. You had been told it was on the battlefield-- but now that you knew they were fourteen, maybe fifteen at most, too young to drive a car, you couldn’t believe they’d been permitted there. Ambassadors had no need to be directly involved in warfare, and children never should be put anywhere near such brutality. You doubted the queen would put someone she considered her child on the field, and based on your knowledge of King Asgore, you doubted he would, either. Which led you to think that they sought it out. They ventured there themselves and on purpose. And now they had paid the price. Two fingers amputated and who the hell knows what other kinds of torture.

They caught your gaze, startling you slightly. You didn’t look away, though. It had less to do with not wanting to and more to do with your uncertainty of how to act in any situation that was mildly uncomfortable.

Frisk looked down finally, and Queen Toriel took their hand. She looked pained as her eyes traveled over the mutilated hand. Grief wrung her features and she kissed the top of her child’s hand delicately, holding it close.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured. You barely heard it because of Felicity’s yammering, but you were sure that was what she said.

You felt jealous she could say that. You forced yourself to turn your attention to what was happening outside of the caravan.

The giant spider had lumbered beyond and was out of sight. More vehicles and walking soldiers had replaced it. One of the soldiers walking you recognized. It was that skeleton, Sans. He was walking with a certain carelessness that you figured was typical of him. Almost instinctively, you felt your face scrunch up. You disliked his attitude and his smug aura. Of course the only guy you knew you could get your cigarettes from had to be a douche. You wished someone that you liked better dealt them, but it wasn’t really like you knew that many people anyways. Laurel and Eden had seemed fine, but then again, chatty. Same for Elaina. You frowned, realizing you hadn’t seen many men yet. Strange, especially for war. It must have been on purpose. Maybe women were less suspicious when traveling. Or maybe, because they were more talkative, they had just stood out more.

The skeleton suddenly looked up and smirked, catching your eyes. He waved. You did not.

Felicity was trying to get your attention anyways, so you turned your attention back to what was happening inside the vehicle.

“Finally. Are you deaf?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I was trying to talk to them about you.”

“Oh,” you said.

“Your talent?” she persisted.

“Knives,” you finished, shrinking into yourself.

“Knives?” Frisk repeated, startled. They were suddenly pale and their hands tightly gripped their pants in nervousness.

You nodded. Maybe they had a thing with knives after their fingers. You didn’t know, of course, but there wasn’t any real part of you that was interested in understanding it. They were a kid, and they were in way over their head. Stuck in a world meant for adults and for what reason, exactly? Oh, that’s right, because they had the misfortune to take a great tumble into a chasm and discover the species everyone else had longed to forget.

Felicity jabbed your shoulder. “What about knives?” She raised her eyebrows. “C’mon, Harris. A little talking never hurt anyone.”

You disagreed with that, but you didn’t feel like being pestered, so you said, “I’m good in close combat. I’m good at being… nimble.” And you figured she would be satisfied with that.

You noticed Konner shift in position as if he was trying to get a better view of you. You knew that he, being quiet, was about to be Maycombe’s next target, so you weren’t too bothered by his staring. Felicity’s discomfort regarding silence was strange to you, mainly due to the fact that she had decided to stay with the taciturn person you were. Then again, you recalled your interaction earlier in the morning, and her connection to you was less baffling.

It was quiet again. No one seemed to have anything to add, which was what you preferred in any given situation. A conversation that was unnecessary should end bluntly. Small talk was awkward for everyone. Of course, no one else in the fucking world liked that though, and the only person in the caravan who you thought might share your view decided to try to push a dead conversation.

“Knives, you said,” Konner piped up. You nodded. He continued, “I thought that was ya. You’re the one who went on all those excursions, right? The ones out to places like here. Angelwood. I’ve seen ya before.”

“I didn’t go to Angelwood on an excursion,” you said.

“But places like it,” he insisted. “I think we’ve been onna few together.”

“Excursions?” Queen Toriel cut in. “What kind of excursions?”

Konner seemed pleased that he’d been able to provide something of interest. “Not excursions, technically, I guess. We’d go out and get some supplies, but our main goal was to take down some of tha militias going ‘round the cities. Dangerous. Harmful to a lotta the homeless people who can’t or won’t find another place to go.”

The queen leaned back, impressed. “Interesting. And so they used those who were skilled in close combat there frequently, like you?”

“Easier to limit innocent casualties,” you told her.

Konner added, “It’s hard to get in that kinda thing though. Gotta be fast. Think quickly. When they have guns and you don’t, it’s a lot harder.”

“Did you also do close combat?” Frisk asked.

“Rarely,” Konner said. “I don’t really like being that up close. It’s not like it was the only option.”

“Of course,” Queen Toriel replied. She seemed eager to speak to Konner, now that he had opened himself up slightly. You didn’t care to do the same.

The others involved themselves in conversation. Felicity was engaging lightly, trying to push you into it, but you felt like you had spoken plenty for the time. She gave up quickly, but still didn’t commit fully to the others. You guessed that she didn’t have too much to really add.

You leaned back and felt boredom itch at you. All you wanted was some quiet, really. A few hours of it alone in a room after turning traitor and killing people once considered comrades didn’t seem like enough to you. You wondered to yourself if it’d be frowned upon to sleep. Not only would it effectively pass the time, but you were feeling exceptionally groggy from practically no sleep for several days.

The debate about sleep went on for a few minutes more, until you decided you couldn’t be bothered to give a shit and that you wanted to fucking sleep.

Your eyes drifted shut, and the dark the lids gave you acted as a warm sheet to lull you beyond. It was welcome. It felt right to be like this, and to be secluded. The chatter outside faded in and out as you allowed sleep to take you under its wing.

You dreamt of her.

It was about a time when you were both younger, when you were a junior and Abby was a first grader. Something fairly basic about a sister lunch. The two of you were at your favorite fast food restaurant and you were answering her questions about what thinking for college was like. She was curious about physics and your physics classes and how everything worked, and you did your best to explain to her what you knew. With eyes brimming full of dedication and passion, she insisted that she would be the best scientist the world ever saw. You agreed with her and she smiled at you, and you felt happy. She began to ramble excitedly about everything she could discover and the possibility of winning the Nobel Prize. Abby loved to do that-- any chance she got to express her dreams, she would, without fail.

Then the conversation faded the numbness, and you were suddenly alone and covered in blood in a bathroom where she was lying in front of you, if you looked up, you’d see, you’d see the source of the stains all over your hoodie, you’d see, you’d see--

A loud, gruff voice woke you up. Your hands were trembling and your breath was unsteady. No one took note, however, because General Undyne was getting in the caravan. She spoke again, her voice clear and firm. “Queen Toriel, what course should we take?”

Everyone was tense as Toriel answered, “How sure are we of their presence?”

“They’re waiting not too far off. Muffet saw them.”

“We will take the longer route, then. Send word to change course immediately.”

Undyne bowed, and left the caravan.

Felicity leaned over to you and whispered, “The Humans are waiting for us.”

Chapter Text

You sat up straight. Everyone else was motionless and wide-eyed. The queen held Frisk in her arms, and you were reminded again that they were just a kid. They didn’t belong here.

You looked around Felicity to see Konner. He was still, staring at the floor. No one did anything.

And it was in those moments of silence, you wondered if anyone else doubted that those lying in wait for you were the Humans at all. You felt in your gut that it was worse than them. Like Preston had said before, Anglewood was dangerous. And you had no reason to doubt that they might have been hired to kill Monster troops in exchange for immunity or supplies.

You didn’t know what to do. If it was Angelwood’s people, they wouldn’t be waiting where they were long. The Humans didn’t know the ins and outs of the city, so you had faith if they were the attackers, escape was possible-- but the residents were not so easily thwarted.

“I want to see,” you said.

“You what now?” Felicity asked. Everyone was staring.

“I want to see the troops.”

“Are you crazy? We already know they’re there,” Felicity said.

“It’s not them,” you said firmly.

A pause, and then Frisk an incredulous “ What? ” from Frisk.

“It’s not the Humans.”

“You don’t know that,” Felicity replied.

“I’m going to see,” you stated plainly, and without another word or thought, you left the caravan. When you hit the ground, you stumbled slightly, but you only stumbled for a moment and then, despite the surprised sounds from the monsters who had seen you, you marched onwards. You were moving faster than the other walking troops because your weapons hadn’t been returned, and therefore lacked the extra weight.

“Harris!” Felicity hissed from the open window flap. “Come back here!”

But you kept walking. You were fairly certain you knew who Muffet was, after all, there was a rhyme.

Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet, eating her curds and whey. Along came a spider who sat down beside her and frightened Miss Muffet away.

Spider.

The one you’d see before was tall enough to see over buildings, and had the opportunity to witness troops from far away. It was lumbering on far in the front, and you marched towards it.

People gave you odd looks as you pushed through, moving quickly. You could hear that Konner Preston was following you because he was calling out for you in that same hiss. Felicity may have been with him, but her voice was small and if she was, you couldn’t hear her.

Preston grabbed your shoulder roughly. “I need to see them,” you found yourself saying in response to him.

“Queen Toriel wants us back--”

“Get off,” you snarled, hitting his hand away. “I need to see who it is.”

And before his hands could grab you again, more roughly, you picked up the pace, your target in sight. You had to know-- you already knew, but you didn’t want it to be true-- you had to see.

And Preston was breaking through the crowd, and the troopers were being drawn to you, and you had to change course.

Undyne. The general was your best bet now. Her bright red ponytail was gleaming closeby, and you moved quicker. She was talking to someone, most likely telling them of the change of plans.

“General Undyne!” you called out, your heart racing. God, you hated attention. You hated talking. Fuck. Motherfucker. You hated Preston just a little bit for following you in the first place, but you didn’t expect him not to.

The fish woman turned around, looking at you with a raised brow. Her one yellow eye pierced into you. “You’re supposed to be with Toriel and Frisk,” her voice rasped.

“I need to see them,” you said, trying your best to ignore the lump in your throat as you walked beside her. Your voice was quiet and scratchy.

Understanding washed over her face and she scoffed, looking away. “You do, huh? Why’s that?” She looked irritated. Oh fucking well. You were already there, and you needed to know.

“They aren’t who you think they are,” you insisted.

“They were wearing their garb,” she replied, moving her gaze from you.

“Let me see them,” you repeated.

“Let’s go,” Konner said, grabbing your arm and tugging on you.

“No. It’s the people who live here,” you said. “It’s the militia that lives here--” It was hard to speak. You were scared. The anxiety was gnawing at you and you wanted to throw up. Why was this so hard? Why was it so hard for you to force out the words? Why was your voice being caught up in your throat? This had been easy once, why wasn’t it now?

But Undyne turned to you then, looking more serious, and your worry faded slightly. “The militia that lives here?”

And you were relieved that Konner took over. He no longer was tugging you away. Instead, he had tensed and you could see that he saw what you saw.

The Humans never came near Angelwood with weapons. It would be a declaration against their people. The militias didn’t care about the sides, they cared about the support.

“There’s some pretty violent militias here in Angelwood. They’ve been known to kill whatever they can for supplies,” Konner said.

“They were in Human uniforms, though,” Undyne pointed out.

Konner chanced a sideways glance at you. “Harris thinks that the Humans and one of the militias here made an agreement.”

“Okay, so let’s say it is this militia. How does that change anything?”

“They know the city. They’ll swarm you.” Preston looked at you. “That’s what you were thinking, isn’t it?”

You nodded uncomfortably.

Undyne took you and Preston then without another word and gestured over to a monster with large, billowing pink wings that resembled the fluffy look of cotton candy. “Hey, Lucentio!”

The monster turned nervously, revealing a fuzzy face with a large scar above his left eye. Smooth, ivory antlers protruded from the dirty blonde fur. He resembled a deer that had somehow acquired angel status.

“Yes, General Undyne?” he asked softly. He avoided eye contact, you noticed.

“I need you to take us up,” she demanded.

The monster looked scared. “There’s three of you,” he stammered, looking at all of you (though really, it was like he was looking at your feet to count how many of you were there). “I-I’ve never-- My wings aren’t big enough!”

Undyne sighed heavily. “Can you carry two?”

He bit his lip. “Maybe you and the girl, but I think you and the guy would be too much for me, my wings are still so small, they can’t manage that-- I don’t even know if I can manage the two of you, oh god.”

“I know you, Luce. You’re strong enough. I get that you’re anxious and all because of your family, but your soul is strong. Your magic is stronger. I need you.”

You didn’t know how much you trusted Undyne’s judgement. The wings were big, sure, but if the person flying had no confidence, then you weren’t exactly excited about being flown to a height that could result in death. You were eyeing him cautiously, gauging his stature.

“I don’t know, General. Why can’t I just carry you?”

“I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

“Their formation,” you said dryly.

Undyne turned to you, her eye boring into your skull. You stared back at her, unfaltering.

“Their formation and how clean they are.”

“Clean?”

“They’re homeless,” Konner stated. “As for their formation, it’d look weird. Shoddy. ‘Cos they’re not soldiers. They don’t know what they’re doin’ in that same sense. The fact that you saw ‘em points to ‘em not being Humans.”

Undyne nodded firmly, then gestured to Lucentio. Before he moved, she said, “I’ll look into it. You two get back to where you should be. I’ll take care of it.” His wings flapped, taking him a few feet above the ground, and Undyne gripped onto his ankle. With no other words, the two were up in the air, going higher and higher.

You marched among the other soldiers silently beside Konner. You hadn’t stopped walking while talking with Undyne, but there hadn’t been blatant stares then, as there were now. People who were questioning what exactly you were doing with their eyes, and you could see in your peripheral vision monsters and humans looking up where the general and Lucentio took off, then turning to you and Preston.

“Let’s go,” he said under his breath to you. Reluctantly, you turned back, staring at the blurbs in the sky. The caravan would take the gazes off of you at the very least. You’d told her what you predicted was truly going on. And now you could leave.

As you were walking, there were sudden shouts and a complete halt of all the soldiers. You bumped into a few of them, but they made no sound. All sound had gone out.

You had only gotten about twenty feet from where Undyne had been when it happened, and when you went to Konner in confusion, he looked just as bewildered as you. It seemed as though something up ahead had happened. You narrowed your eyes, trying to see, keeping your silence just as the others. Clearly, something was wrong. You heard more shouts, and then your head turned and saw. There was a building, not too far away, with people coming out. They were calling out.

It was exactly who you’d expected. They had heard. When you looked to see Undyne, she was still high in the air with Lucentio. She couldn’t help you right now.

You hesitated, considering your options.

You now could see monster-esque figures being held in the arms of those coming from the building. And you understood. They’d nabbed the ones scouting a path somehow-- and they had sent the message to cease movement.

There was only one way out of this now, and you had no weapons. Yet you were right in the middle of a spot were you needed them. Words failed you. The people were so far away, far enough that you could barely see them at all. But their words and their power carried, and you understood that you were about to be in a battle.

A group of about fifteen monsters began to almost silently walk out of the line, out of where you presumed the magic granting a shield and invisibility was. They did this without words, brushing past you. You stared as they cocked their guns and took position beside a building.

And then you heard the gunshots. Among the absolute silence of those around you, the sound was strange and deafening. You weren’t used to nothing after the sound of bullets. It seemed wrong.

The militia up ahead continued yelling, and you saw a cloud of dust.

Telltale sign of a monster fatality. You noticed soldiers were hiding themselves in buildings all over, guns at the ready.

And then you heard, all the way from her height above the buildings, Undyne scream, “ATTACK!”

It was smooth, graceful actions. The monsters ran forwards without a hitch, as if they were used to this sort of thing. You didn’t like the grace about you; it was something you generally only associated with those in your melee combat arena. Being surrounded like this with nothing to use yourself was unfriendly and cramped.

They ran past you and Konner, and you knew that it was too late to go back. You could only go forward, you could only fight. Fight without weapons, or fight with the ones you salvaged.

The militia’s mass was revealed at her words, and you saw them running out.

And the gunshots rang in your ears.

But you ran.

There was nothing else, now. You had to fight.

And you were going to.

Despite a vague sense that Konner had called for you, you knew that you were a soldier first. Besides, going back and being trampled in an attempt to find a caravan seemed foolish. You moved away from the mass of Monster soldiers swarming you to a building with people inside, shooting carefully. They didn’t notice you, or turn to you. Blinded by battle. By duty. By war.

There was a dead human man lying on the ground, apparently shot in the head. His gun had flown out of his arms, but the strap was still over him. As soon as you saw it, you knew it was no longer his. He had no use for it anymore, and you needed a weapon. There was an echo of your parents speaking of respect for the dead and a minimal piece of yourself that called to you to remember that this man had only been alive a few moments ago and most likely wouldn’t have wanted to be raided, but what was louder than that was the threat of being unarmed in a bloody battle and the call. The beating drums, the loud pops of bullets, the shouts, the guttural commands, the cries, the distinct crackle of bullets ricocheting off buildings and a magic barrier; these came together to create the call of war to you, and you had to answer it.

You looked out of the hole he’d been shooting from. You stepped over the dead body, carefully peering around and gathering what you could about where you were. There were people in a building a ways off, shooting your direction. You did what a soldier had to and you returned their fire. You looked through your scope and could just barely see the form of people, and you shot at them. A monster exploded into dust beside you, but you kept shooting. A ways off, one of the men you shot recoiled with a burst of blood. You took aim again.

There was a large blast of energy that caught you off your feet and threw you against the wall. You grunted, cracking your head against the wall painfully. You stood from the ground after a moment, coughing. There was a small bump of pain forming on the back of your skull, but you weren’t too bothered by it. A monster on the floor you were looked up palely and said, “They got through the protection.” It was all he said and it was all you needed to hear to understand that staying stationary was of no further benefit to you. It was time to catch up to the others and run. You knew already you’d been here for far too long. Battles seemed to move in a time separate from the norm, being both fast and slow, parted from the universe most of you knew.

The barrier created had been weaker than you thought. You could tell from your little slot of vision that already, the deaths of those in Angelwood far outnumbered those of Monsters, but you didn’t know how that might change. This wasn’t a good place for you. You couldn’t kill them like this. The dead man had a knife on his leg, and you took it. He was dead. He couldn’t be angry with you. You needed it more than he did. It was you, it was what you knew, it was cleaner and easier than any gun, and there was a sense of calm that hit you when you first took the hilt.

You ran out of the building and saw that the Monsters had already cleared quite the path through, shouting out. They were calling out to each other in the lingo that they had created and you were ignorant to it. It wasn’t yours. These weren’t your people. None of these people were like you.

You pumped your legs, moving along with them. Preston was lost to you. There were blasts from guns, both Human-made and Monster-made. You could see large spears flying through the air up ahead, crackling so loudly you could vaguely hear them not only through the call of war but from the distance you were. Of course, you knew who it was. Undyne. She was known for them by Humans. She was one of the monsters, one of the few, that was stronger using her magic in its raw form than channeling it with a gun. There were always stories about the sheer strength she demonstrated, and how no matter how many bullets seemed to hit her she kept moving (it was no different than most monsters, though, due to their magic, a single bullet wasn’t always fatal, even if it was to the head. Few had vital organs and a decent amount could be hit twice to the head without falling).

People were running. Dying.

And the world faded to a blur as you joined.

You shot at people. You weren’t close enough to use your skills as you wanted to, but you could shoot now. People were moving through. The faster pace surely meant you’d be out of this hell soon--

Someone fell beside you.

You ran.

More fell. Some to dust. Some allies. Some enemies.

All you could do was run.

The bullets rang. They were yours. They were the enemy’s. They were the ally’s.

You kept running.

And you saw a group of them that was overtaking a building.

You did was you did best.

And you ran inside, knife in hand.

You went through with a less focused mind than you were used to. People were already shooting back and forth inside, retreating up the stairs. The militia was making their way up, likely wanting the roof for the advantage it gave them. They didn’t notice you at first, but heads turned when your blade found its way through the back of the first man’s throat. It was a familiar sensation to you, but it never stopped to fascinate you in a sense; the blade went in smoothly, but was held together stiffly by the tissues and muscles under the skin. That man was your shield. You used him, running into another man and hitting his gun away. He shouted at you at first, calling to one of the four other men still standing, but you had already gone. You slashed through them. The first man you went to, you stabbed in his side. It was a better bet there since the Human armor focused greatly on the abdomen. He recoiled, and instantly you turned, grabbing the hair of a woman coming for you and pulling her head to your blade. It went in less smoothly than you wanted, but you were still efficient at your job. Continuing to work against the people inside, your adrenaline thrived. The blood of the Angelwood people fell on your body. Their skins opened with ease. It was odd to have them be shot and fall about you without your doing as Monsters fought their way back down-- three of them, to be exact.

And you all fought back. You were here, you were in your element, the only thing you could do-- and you stabbed. And screamed. And killed.

And pushed through.

You heard the screams.

You stepped out of the building, and started running again. They were dead. The Monster soldiers inside ran out as well, and they kept fighting. You hesitated just for a moment, ears ringing from the bullets and the screams.

This was all different than the plan back at Maven. This was all different from what it had been when you found with the Humans against those in the streets. You saw mercy when it was possible, and for some reason, you found your lip curling with each person that chose knocking someone out to taking care of the problem for good.

That moment was when you were grabbed. You shouted, and nearly stabbed Konner instinctually. He dragged you back, not allowing you to run. You wanted to keep fighting, but you recognized that this would be a lost cause. For a moment, you thought you could rejoin the fight after he got you back to the caravan, but you knew once you had been dragged back inside where you were never supposed to leave by Konner, you were not going to be allowed to leave. Felicity was furious, but the others were silent. There was a new monster inside, using his magic. You suspected he was one of the ones who cast protection, but there was no point to asking. Felicity was stressed anyways. “We can’t lose you now, ____!” she shouted. “This is more than it was before! Like it or not, you aren’t just a piece of meat anymore! DAMMIT! ”

The guns and screams were too loud to be distracted by her. Her words weren’t unfamiliar. She hated it when you took risks and she heard about it. You knew it was because she felt responsible for you, but that didn’t matter, and sooner rather than later, she would need to grow past that.

The screams lasted a long time.

Even after you were out, even after the battle had ended and the Monsters won and carried on quickly without hesitation, you sensed the death radiating around you. It didn’t feel like a win. It was foreign and

The battle had been too quick. Unfairly quick. The militia had given up, apparently not ready for such a drastic force.

You had wanted to join.

But this was not the time.

And they carried on with the screams left in the past.

Chapter Text

You made the caravan smell like blood.

You weren’t particularly fond of the smell, though time around the sticky ooze had worn you down. There was no real reason to recoil. People smelled blood all the time. The thick smell of rusty meat was only natural, and it was in the meat they ate. Human blood smelled hardly any different than the blood of other animals and it was utterly pointless to try to distinguish the two. Blood was blood.

This wasn’t even very much blood, really. You weren’t a very messy killer, after all. There was only some staining your hands and a small amount that had spurted its way onto your jacket and on your face. You’d had enough courtesy to wipe away the speckles on your face (without any prompting at all) and the splatters on your hands, but you didn’t see anything large enough or appropriate to wipe the rest of the gore away. You couldn’t exactly wipe your shirt off on your pants like you had with your hands.

It was easy to tell that Frisk and Toriel, despite their engagement in the war, hadn’t frequently been this close to battle. Surely, they’d been around it and within it before, but you saw no real reason they would be confronted upfront with the reality. Both were far too significant to be risked in a battle. Their home was the control panel back at home base, where it was safe. They were more bothered than the rest by your apparel and stains. The scent made them flinch; they were disgusted by the burgundy smears on your uniform. Blatantly, the knife and gun you’d left lying on the seat beside you incurred their judgement. They said nothing, but it was all too difficult to hide such disgust.

You found a way to ignore it and focus on something more easily digestible. Specifically, on the dull rattle of movement outside. It was the sound of marching without words and scarcely any sign of life. Each little crackle was almost deadly in its volume. People had lost their joviality and pep, and now adopted the silence they always should have had. This silence was all encompassing. It was their reminder. Here and now, you had no time for celebration. A distraction was a weakness.

They were unprepared. And because of that, they were hurt. It was common for those so vaguely connected to reality, and despite yourself, you thought down upon the soldiers surrounding you, noting them to be weak and foolish.

No one was ready for war until they were drowning in it. The strongest warriors were the ones who had been forced to fight. They were strong because they understood. There was more than justice and rights at stake. More than a country or common-folk to live with. More than homes. More than the people you loved.

You, when you first left the house, that damned house, and went to live in the barren landscape of skyscrapers not far away, were not at all ready for the war. You’d only just been awakened to it. No, you only understood it when your life was at stake for the first time and the only option to swim above the tides of the bullets was to push others under the waves. You learned quickly that peace was only as effective as its surroundings. It was an option if you were willing to die. And you hadn’t been. Not then. You had to save Abby. You had to avenge her. So you had to live and learn how to kill.

Survival meant survival. There was no space for living if you were too busy surviving. The most brutal gangs in the most brutal cities, like that of Angelwood, had no time for luxury or even family. That was what made them stronger. The people who never lived through it would never understand it. People never cared to see.

It was so easy to tell who was part of the war. They were the ones who knew the smell of blood. And you bemused yourself flatly in that the people meant to lead you didn’t breathe the same experiences that the people fighting for them did. Of course they didn’t.

The rustle outside grew quieter and the sky dimmed from blue to purple to black. You peered outside to try to deduce where you’d stopped, but there was nothing in particular to pinpoint an area. Part of you wanted to go outside to see better, but you figured that it was probably for the best that you stay put. The tension was already high and you didn’t particularly desire more animosity spewing from Felicity’s lips. There was a muted anger wafting off of her even now, hours after escape from Angelwood. You’d experienced it before, when she’d heard of other dangerous, impulsive decisions you’d made. Your answer to her fury was always the same; you were a soldier, and you were here to fight in the war.

Of course, then, you’d had so much more reason to follow orders. There was reason to rise in ranks quickly and efficiently. That was then, however, and you were still hesitantly realizing that you couldn’t truly fulfill what you’d promised you would to Abby. That ingrained feeling of loss and confusion was still hushed over your body. All meaning was left behind. You had no reason to be a soldier anymore. You supposed you were too far gone to be anything but now. You cared less about your ranking and thought, slowly, that you might as well put down your life in a battle now. There wasn’t much else to do.

Everything had stopped. The uncomfortable air still hung in the caravan, but now there was a way out, and most of the people took it. Toriel and Frisk left to see their people, and after a moment’s hesitation, Konner and the monster followed.

You stayed, making no motions. You were patient. She would say her piece when she found the right words in the right tone.

“Why didn’t you come back?” Felicity said lowly. It’d been hours since the last time she spoke, and so you weren’t too startled by the murmur as she slowly stood.

“I did,” you replied.

“Why didn’t you come back immediately?”

“I’ve told you a hundred times.”

“No. This was different.”

“No.”

“ Yes it was. You don’t know their people, how they fight. You didn’t do it because it’s your duty, you did it because you could.”

You didn’t reply instantly. For a minute, you were actually somewhat appalled. You were sure it showed at least a bit on your face, because Felicity was evidently surprised. It was a little hard for you to process what she said for a moment. The implication of what she said sparked hot flares from your brain that drained into your blood, but at the same time, you were hurt. A sad twinge of pain flickered through your torso and a familiar, heated well began to build its way behind your eyes. As soon as you felt the threatening presence, though, you stiffened, allowing the much smaller part of you comparatively to win out, and you wrinkled your nose in disgust. Just as quick as the sadness had come for you, the anger filled in. Just below the surface, you began to boil, and you stood up as well. Your form and your irascibility loomed over the girl.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she spat, her buggish eyes brimming with regret. “But you know what I mean. You did not do it because you’re a soldier, and I’m so tired of that excuse. We have a new life here and now. You can’t just make these impulsive decisions. They’re going to bite you in the ass and we’re going to lose what we’ve got.”

“This isn’t what I signed up for,” you reminded her coarsely, allowing yourself to wallow further in rage. “I would have stayed there.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t need to come. You didn’t need to join.”

“It was you or them, and I chose you,” you snapped.

Felicity’s face contorted and she adopted a look of bitter grief, and for a moment, you found icy chills seemingly water-like find winding pathways down your spine. Her face in her hand, a deep and exhausted sigh sank from the girl. Silently, she took her hair down, shaking the wild curls out from their tight forms. A yellow cloud puffed out from her head and shielded her face.

“Listen. You just can’t be stupid, okay? I’m all you’ve got, and you’re all I’ve got. We’re here now. We’re here together. You and me, we’re always gonna stick together, like glue. I know you’d follow me to the end, and damn man, I’d do the same for you. But you can’t be stupid. You can’t just do. You’re like my family, you get me?” As she spoke, her twinkling voice was enveloped and overcome by a less familiar but more real one. It was the one she spoke with when she was upset or serious. A gravelly murmur with hints of an accent that you couldn’t quite pick apart. You didn’t wholly know if it was her real voice, but you did know that it only came out when she felt defeated or lamentful.

The anger inside of you insisted that you continue, but her words struck too deeply, and the tension you held released in a breeze. You looked down at her, fondly, and you saw the little girl you loved so much, so much that your heart swelled to your ribs and wedged itself in between, so much that you had spent every night of every day for three years aching to tell her such and remind her how sorry you were. Abby’s gap-toothed grin barbing you as her gray eyes filled with tears. And then it cracked away and you saw a different person with a different life and a different face miserably peering up to you. Your heart pitted itself harder against the cage it was held in, and you inhaled cautiously, tenderly placing a hand on the fairy’s shoulder. “Yeah,” you said, and that was enough for her to know what you meant.

She mimicked your gesture and a wry grin ghosted on her cheeks for a precious few seconds before she turned away from you and walked to the exit of the caravan. “We’ll be okay,” she whispered, so quietly that you were hardly sure she had said it, and then she left you alone, next to a gun and a knife that weren’t yours.

Her words faded as soon as she was gone. Of course, she thought that. It was because it was what she wanted. Neither of you were going to be okay. It was a nice enough dream, but there was no undoing what the two of you had been through. Longing for something just so unattainable would only make it all worse.

All worse.

You were still calculating what exactly you would do. More and more, deserting seemed like the most appealing option to you. It wouldn’t be extremely difficult, seeing as the Monsters were so unattentive to the world around them. If you kept your cool, as you always did, you would be able to simply amble away from them and never be seen again. The streets were familiar to you, and it wouldn’t take too long to adapt to them again. Maybe you’d also be able to find a way back to the Humans and make your way up again. Of course, you’d have to change your appearance and probably mutilate your face some, but it had potential. The thought of cutting your hair short make you (stupidly) feel nauseous, but you knew it was stupid to keep such little things only for the sake of a little dead girl who couldn’t see you anymore anyways. You’d find a way to get past the small and pitifully foolish aspects that still bogged you down if you chose to go down that route.

It was Felicity that put new shackles on your feet. You closed your eyes and sighed heavily, rubbing your forehead. She wouldn’t forgive you. And how was it fair for you to leave her now, when she told you that you were all she had? This was the danger in allowing yourself to love. You were bound to them. To hurt them was only to hurt yourself and incur their spite. There was only so many times you could fail to protect someone, only so many times you could break promises. At some point, you begin to crack. The pieces of your lies become shards that can only make it worse.

Felicity.

Abby.

Abby.

But god fucking dammit, your tendons were being yanked towards what you knew you had to do, that you had to kill him. It didn’t matter who it was for. All that mattered was that it would be you, and he would be gone. It would free you. It would put her at peace. And then you could join them again. The latter part of that all was just wishful thinking, really. You felt a flatness when you thought of a beyond now, and you sensed deep down that for all of your cruelty, selfishness, lies, and putridness, that nothing favorable was destined for you. You were a bad, selfish, evil person, and that was okay. It was Richard’s fault.

It was only duty that you should aim for his death. You’d sworn it to your sister, and you could never give up. Nothing was more important than her.

You would wait, plot, and find a new way.

No one should have expected anything more, especially yourself. Irrational and irate, constantly shifting by the tides of a sweltering sea until you would inevitably sink beneath the crashing bounds of water. You would drown in it, or you would struggle with only your lips above water, choking out as salt filled your nose and burned your tongue. Maybe one day you would find a raft, but it was always the same game. You were born to be washed away. And you were also born to take the unworthy down below with you.

Egotistical, maybe. But you wouldn’t give up. You wouldn’t give up until he was taken care of. You had to do this. It was only right. Only fair. It would only help her.

Well. Would have helped her.

Part of you despairingly tried to remind yourself that it was only a dream now. You were just as foolish as the others who tried to chase the fictional, who put energy into fruitless ideas. It would take away from your strength if you became too confident or if you became as delusional as them. And you couldn’t afford that. But why couldn’t you afford that, again?

You knew why. How could you compare your dream to Felicity’s? They were so far apart from each other that it was hardly fair to even try. Hers was wishful thinking, an impossibility no matter the outcomes. Yours was close, just out of your reach. It was only stalled by your ineptness. Soon, you could clasp it again. You’d failed, but just for a bit. You could do it; one day you wouldn’t fail. It was right there, gleaming before you, only shifted a bit. You always found a way.

You could rise above the tides and find the resolution you needed to finish what he had started.

Still, for the moment, you had failed her. Abby may have been pleased with your action to assist the Monsters, but her death remained unavenged. How many times could you repeatedly let down the girl who you were supposed to love more than all else? You murmured out an apology to her, gazing upwards just slightly as if she were hovering a few mere feet away. Scoffing, you shook your head and looked down, reminding yourself that she was gone. This was for her memory, not for her. Only you knew the pain she had felt that night now. It was your duty to make sure that he would feel it just the same, and that the constant ache would finally be put to rest.

It was with that thought that you sighed heavily and stuck your hand into your pocket, seeking the comfort of your sister. Perhaps it was folly, but you wanted to look into her eyes and reassure yourself that you were following the right path. The one she deserved for all her woes.

Your heart violently constricted the instant your fingers brushed across nothing but leather and old bits of string. It was instant. Your right hand shot into the other pocket, only to feel the same sickening nothingness. A little scream hoarsely tumbled from your lips as you hurriedly checked all your other pockets, dread seeping deeper and deeper into your bloodied skin.

“Fuck,” you rasped. “Fuck, fuck. Fuck.”

The world began to spin. It was warping around you, your head teetering from the whiplash. Every breath felt like a choked gasp. Your hands were dead and clammy and harsh brushes of ice spiked through your veins. Moving felt impossible. You were stony and flat and you wanted to scream but all the air in your lungs had been crushed out.

Your head shot about the caravan, pleading in desperation for it not to be true. You couldn’t have lost it. You couldn’t have. You would never, ever be so careless with something so irreplaceable, you couldn’t even if you tried, right? There was no way you could have lost it, there was no way you wouldn’t have seen it fall from your pocket while running, no way, no way. You couldn’t forget her. What if you forgot her face? What if she started to fade? You’d already lost so much of her voice. There were only snippets of it vaguely lingering within your mind because you had no phone with videos to remember her by, no voicemails, no recordings of any kind. What if she faded away? You couldn’t let her fade away. You couldn’t forget her. You needed her so much. You couldn’t lose her like this. You’d already lost her, already failed her, already ruined it all.

Tears threatened to spill, and you forced yourself to walk around the caravan stiffly, scanning for the picture intensely.

And then you turned back to where you had been sitting, and let out a strangled gag of relief, hugging the photo to your chest roughly. You were careful to an extent, making absolutely sure that you didn’t crumple the image and possibly taint the pristine image of her face (you were so grateful that you’d wiped your hands of the blood they had earlier). The rapid pulse of your heart made you dizzy and the sweat trickling down the nape of your neck sent intermittent chills through you. It was blurry and your mind was fogged, but you had it. You had it still. Still had that little piece of her.

It must have fallen out when you stood earlier. Clearly, the pocket that had been its home for so long was no longer a viable place for such a treasure. You undid the clasp to the pocket above your left breast and firmly put the image inside, ensuring that it was closed properly afterwards so that you wouldn’t be put through such an unnecessary frenzy ever again.

After the surge of adrenaline drained, you collapsed to your knees, a little shard of pain stabbing into your leg. You’d forgotten that you’d even hurt it before by pulling the muscle. It had been so easy to ignore before, when you were able to keep the stone wall between your exterior and interior. You took in slow, deep breaths, holding your head and counting slowly. You had to rebuild that wall before you showed the others how fragmented and weak you were. The moment had passed and nothing had happened to Abby. It was okay. It was okay. You had her. You hadn’t lost her yet.

Of course you’d already lost her, what were you talking about? This was only a fragment of the past. This was only here so you wouldn’t forget. Don’t fail because you can’t focus on your mission. We can’t afford to lose any more than we have already.

Life was for the living. You wanted to run away, but there was no place to hide. Water was transparent, and you could only keep your head above the deep for just long enough. Distractions. Your mind was drenched by them. You needed something to clear it, to see the fog taper away into the air.

You opened the flap of the caravan and peered to the outside camp already set up. People were glancing your way with a fake impassiveness, idly watching your every move. The sky had blended into a murky plum with faded specs of faltering stars. There was the thick smell of fire from the stacks of burning wood dispersed around the area. Everyone was moving, still tense, but much less so than Angelwood. A few faces engaged in flat conversations were familiar to you. You saw the woman Laurel tending to a man with a bloodied leg, her hair tied tightly by the red scarf. Nearby, the tall skeleton, Papyrus, was speaking with a few different soldiers of a higher rank. Inwardly, you chided yourself for not knowing their respective titles, but you didn’t care too much. This was only another distraction.

Maintain. Push through. Solve the problem.

With that ideology burning inside you, you took note that there weren’t too many of Monster soldiers around you. It was nothing compared to what they had seemed like. Really, this was just a small legion here for a child. They needed few. It was good for you. Surely, finding the man with the cigarettes would be simple enough. You were sharp, and he stood out like a sore thumb against the rest. After all, you’d already spotted one skeleton in seconds.

You stepped outside with your steeliness and went hunting for the boney comic.

Chapter Text

You were walking around entirely blind. People were talking and the dull murmurs meant you couldn’t catch the words they expelled. Who knew what kinds of things they were saying, what they were sneering about you, what they were guessing about you. it could be anything. It was anything.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on that, you reminded yourself fervently. The most important topic at hand was that skeleton. The anxiety clung onto your skin damply, though not as bad as before. You didn’t even really need the smoke anymore, but you refused to give up after you started. It was about the principle at this point.

This skeleton, Sans, was a lot harder to find than you cared to admit. You were entirely opposed to asking for a pointer to him (How many questions would that raise? Too many, far too many), and the only other person you knew was acquainted with him was nowhere to be found. Elaina was most likely preoccupied with other soldiers. She’d been helping give out food before, so it wasn’t out of the question to guess she was doing it again. What was she, a corporal? Surely there was much to do around the camp right now, even if she didn’t have food duties.

You wondered if it would be racist to deduce Sans’s location from the easier-to-spot Papyrus. You hadn’t seen any other skeletons besides the two, but they were fairly different in appearance, so assuming they were related was probably in poor taste. You were running low on options, however, and you were starting to feel that familiar burn of determination gnaw at you. You were forced to remind yourself that if you wanted to go back to Papyrus, you’d be forced to turn around and look like an idiot. You were entirely opposed to that, so you scratched that option out.

People were already staring. They were questioning you, questioning just what the bloody Human traitor was doing, wandering aimlessly about their camp only partially dressed in their uniform. They suspected you to be false. They were staring into your soul. Couldn’t monsters do that-- see into your soul? See what you were made of? You’d heard that everyone there was forced to have their soul engraved into their dog tags, human and monster alike. Humans, though, they couldn’t see souls without monsters, so you had to wonder just how they did that. You’d never seen your soul. Before the war started, there were some monsters that would show you your soul for some money, but you had no interest in it. You couldn’t keep track of what colors mean what thing and were fairly confident that you knew exactly who you were. The thought, however, of some stranger seeing into your deepest traits, made you incredibly uncomfortable.

You remained firm. If they could, you had to make your strength all the more impenetrable. There was nothing else to do. They would know your strength.

You gazed loosely about the camp, and your heart clenched as you saw it. A brief flash of an ivory head shuffled through a huddled group of rabbit monsters about a flame.

You marched his way, keen to keep him in your sights. You only just found the bastard, and you had no idea when the dick would decide to blip away. Closer and closer. He was slow and you were not. The gap shrank.

He was wandering off and you were confident that it was him. He was short with broad shoulders and a lazy swagger. Even if there were more than two skeletons, there was no way they was another one as distinctly small and slouchy as Sans. You wondered suddenly if he knew you were on his trail. He walked towards the trees nearby. Isolated. It occurred to you that it looked pretty terrible to angrily stalk after a monster when you were not established yet as trustworthy. But you had already started walking. Oh god, what the shit were you supposed to say to him? Well.

You changed course slightly, instead aiming for the woods. There were humans here and there speckled across the trees, using the cover to relieve themselves without embarrassment. It was  typical. You saw it everywhere since the war. If you mimicked the way they acted, you could track him without suspicion.

You suddenly had the terrible idea he might be one of those people walking to relieve themselves and that you might be unfortunate enough to catch him. You had to remind yourself that he was a fucking skeleton and clearly he wasn’t going off for a piss. The chronic need for you to make yourself anxious was ridiculous. You needed to chill.

It made you uncomfortable to know that you’d need to start a conversation with him. You had a strong feeling he wouldn’t just know you wanted a smoke and let you off the hook with no further dialogue. No, based off the small interaction you’d already had, this one would be a tedious kind of guy to work with.

The trees folded over Sans and he was gone. You did the same, letting the trees hide you. As soon as you were covered, you made a beeline through the trees to where you’d seen Sans walking. It didn’t feel too strange to do it. It was just for a smoke, after all. And if people wondered, then they could wonder. It was stupid for you to care about it. Just a little fragment of anxiety from your former life that hadn’t been picked out of you yet. All you wanted was that smoke. That you could get it.

Branches softly brushed against your skin, twigs and leaves passing your cheeks with a warm tenderness. The talk of the soldiers was muffled out, and you allowed yourself to bask in the crisp smell of forest leaves. You hated cities, suburbs. They were nothing now, only battlegrounds. Danger. Rubble. Bad memories. But places like this, where the trees were thick and the light was next to none-- no one wanted to fight their battles there. Why would they?

You wanted to stay here. Lie down, look up at the stars you loved your whole life, let the brush grow over you and let the roots bind you to the dirt floor. It was simple. Pretty. Quiet.

A person was walking behind you. You could hear their plodding footsteps crunching, but you didn’t look behind you. You, quite frankly, didn’t care. You suspected you knew who it was already.

His voice rumbled behind you. “what’s up, stalker? look pretty anxious.”

You faced him and ignored you pumping anxiety. “I want to smoke.”

“oh, really? what, your addiction that bad? you’re going to have a hard time here if you can’t go more than a day without smoking.” Sans had his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. He was rocking back and forth on his heels, looking smug and amused.

You pursed your lips slightly. “It’s not a habit.”

He rolled those white pupils and took out a pack, shaking a single cigarette out. “yeah. that’s what they all say. whatever.” He handed the little stick to you, but as you grabbed it, his grip tightened on it. “remember, i don’t do this for free,” he smirked.

You felt irked. This asshole was just the pits. Smug and a total jerk. Clearly, he enjoyed the sense of having control. It gave him some sort of sick satisfaction. You thought, I hate you.

You grumbled, “Okay.” Waiting for him to make the next move, you remained stony. The cigarette was firmly in your fingers.

His expression was just as permanent as yours, apparently. He was unfazed by your silence, the smirk and delight hanging on his face strongly. “see, i haven’t thought of a really good one for you yet. maybe this’ll change, but i think for now,” he mused, scratching his chin, “an acceptable price is something about yourself.”

You blinked at him. “Uh.” There was no acceptable reply to that. You already were bad enough at everything regarding socialization. But that prickbag wasn’t aware of that, and he raised his brows judgmentally.

“what, you need me to prompt you? yeesh, okay. let’s see… where were you born?”

Is this guy for real?

You told him flatly, and his grip mercifully loosened, allowing you to snatch the cigarette as your own. He gave you the lighter without any further qualms. “cool. thanks. be seeing you, harris. i’ll figure something more interesting for next time, alright?” He winked.

There was no reply to give him. You already felt weird and uncomfortable. You brought the cigarette to your lips and walked off into the trees, embracing the taste of tobacco in your mouth. There was a little sound, and when you glanced over your shoulder, the skeleton was gone.

Dick.

You wandered fairly aimlessly, basking in your solitude. Gray vines slipped past your lips and faded in the expanse of the trees you strode through. Even though you may not have truly needed it, you did have to admit to yourself that it was a nice little help. Abby, of course, hated smoking. Hated the smell. Hated the look. Hated the consequences. You’d never been a fan yourself, back then. A few friends here and there enjoyed it, but it wasn’t your thing. You had no reason to and every reason not to.

She’d be so upset if she saw you now, smoking when the thought of her was too much. It made you feel a little guilty, but it wasn’t like it mattered. She physically couldn’t be mad at you. That was the way it was.

And now you had reason to do it, anyways.

The little spirals that curled out from your mouth were beautiful, artwork. They faded against a natural background full of brown and yellow and green and never once took away from it. It was nice. And new.

Behind some clouds, faint twinkling of early stars. The moon was hiding, hardly peeking out from the clouds expanding over it..

You leaned against a tree and closed your eyes. You felt so exhausted. It was nice to be alone. It soothed you. The picture was still safe in your breast pocket, safe and sound. You looked at it, and a little fuzz of warmth coddled against you. Always the same, but so reassuring. Now that you were alone and had time to calm yourself, the picture felt better. There would always be that sting when you saw her face that made you flinch, but it didn’t need to be that way. Right now, you just heard her laugh. It was nice. You knew a little smoke would make it all better. Always did.

You stopped yourself before a smile broke over your face. You had to. Each time you had her like this, you held yourself back. Just because you were alone, didn’t mean you could let all your hard work break down.

It took time to build up walls. They climbed up slowly, brick by brick. Each had to be placed nicely beside and on top of each other and needed time to glue themselves together. If a wall was truly built to be strong, then more layers would need to be incorporated. Perhaps the structure required change, if you were too far gone in the process. It was slow. Sometimes it would be painful. And all that hard work could be completely undone if the foundation crumbled or if a strong enough ball and chain crashed into it.

That was why you never broke.

You breathed in your surroundings until your cigarette had burned to a small nub, and then took it upon yourself to return the the camp. The picture was tucked safely back in your breast pocket.

It was dark now. You had a feeling Felicity was going to be displeased with your disappearance, but you could talk her out of it. More like mumble her out of it, but no matter. She would be forgiving.

The campfires lit up the grounds; there was an orange glow shimmering on faces, skin and fur alike. You walked through them, doing your best to remember the path you took so you could find your way to Maycombe.

You didn’t need to. “____!” Felicity called. She ran up to you and snatched your sleeve. “I was looking everywhere for you, you loser,” she laughed. You were surprised at how amiable she was. “You didn’t leave because you were mad, did you?”

Ah. She felt bad.

“No,” you said. “Just wanted to look around.”

“Oh good,” she sighed. “Listen, you’re hungry, right? They already ate a while ago, but I saved you some food. It’s this weird soup stuff. It’s okay, but it does not look like how it tastes. Trust me. You shoulda been there so you could’ve seen Konnor-- he choked and he cried. And then I cried. Because I was laughing at him.” She was perky and had adopted her mom strength.

Felicity had never been a mother, but you wouldn’t know that necessarily from the way she acted. She usually just had the personality, but here and there, she also got the aura of one. She could drag you all the way down the land against the Nile river with one hand when she got her mom strength. You had no idea why she got it in random spurts, because unlike with moms, it didn’t happen during moments of danger. It just did, and she would drag you by the wrist wherever she wanted ferociously.

“You might’ve even laughed.”

“Unlikely,” you replied, pulled out of your brief train of thought.

“I’ve seen you almost laugh before, I’m sure it could’ve,” Felicity insisted.

“I doubt it.”

Felicity huffed, rolling her eyes. “It would’ve amused you, at the least. You would look less grouchy, at least. You know,” she said, her voice trailing off into what was about to be a long ramble, “you’ve got the worst case of resting bitch face I’ve ever seen. It’s like it was carved that way. It’s completely stuck. I’m like the opposite. I always look friendly, don’t I? Don’t answer. Enough people have told me. I already know. They say I look cute and approachable. I think a lot of it has to do with how small I am, but I don’t know, because if you were my size, I’m sure they’d still think you were all sulky and unfriendly. Not to say you’re sulky and unfriendly. You just look that way. I know you, you’re fine, you’re my closest friend, and I love you, but you look so angry. And sulky. I wish I could be that way sometimes…”

Her voice was trailing away again. You let yourself wander in your thoughts. Again, anxiety, anxiety at what you were supposed to do now. But you couldn’t focus on that. There wasn’t anything to do. You just had to remind yourself. So you thought about something else.

The way the tears of the sky burst on your cheeks, for example. The rain started sparse, but quickly amplified. Big drops were crashing down. People were moving for shelter, whether under tents or trucks, trees or magic. Most of the fires burned on, as if unaffected by the rain-- you’d heard the magic fire of certain monsters was impervious to rain.

“I hate the rain,” Felicity grouched. “It’s so cold and miserable.”

“I like it,” you said softly.

She stopped pulling you, looking back at you for a second. You regretted talking; she hadn’t needed to know that.

Her wide, gray eyes softened and closed slightly, at first, you thought, in some strange kind of pity. The massive scar on her face seemed to fade away as her lips spread into a smile. She looked up, rain cascading down her cheeks and pushing her bangs flat to her face. Felicity sighed gently, then returned her gaze to you.

“Well, I guess it really isn’t that bad, huh?”

Without another word, she pulled you onwards, and you had to remind yourself that you’d spent too long building your wall to let it crash to rubble now.

She said the rain was cold, but you felt so warm.

Chapter Text

The base-- Home Base-- was absolutely huge. You’d thought Maven was a decent size, but it was no main base of operations as this was. Maven was meant for the strongest fighters, the best soldiers. This was meant for more than just soldiers. Everyone was here.

You saw scientists, medics, and even television announcers and personalities amongst the soldiers. They were all together, all mutually incorporated.

On both sides of the war, there was news footage. Back with the Humans, you’d had to watch it often. They mainly only discussed great successes and the way certain battles were going. There was never anything revealing. You knew it was the same for the Monsters by some of the traitors at Maven commenting on it. However, you never saw it, because just like the Humans, the Monsters had their network secret and on a network unaccessible anywhere outside of their territory. It was mainly unimportant to you, because you had no reason to show interest in any news outside of the potential of hearing about him, but you did recognize the spokespeople because of the emphasis Humans made on it. The most popular person was a former television celebrity and a huge icon for monsters in modern culture; Mettaton.

He had been among the ones who had insisted on first greeting Ambassador Frisk and Queen Toriel. Of course, he’d also started to shove his nose up the asses of Felicity, Konner, and yourself, much to your chagrin. You were spared from his obnoxiously deafening personality by the king, ecstatic to greet his wife and child. Before that, unfortunately, he was able to "interview" you, though it was more him talking about shit you thought was boring and occasionally asking for an opinion. You didn't say one word, you were pretty sure. Actually, you were fairly certain the only other person who'd said anything at all was Felicity.

King Asgore was utterly massive. The biggest person you’d seen your entire life, only beaten by the spider monster who was as tall as a building. You figured he must have been about eight feet tall with shoulders at least two and a half feet wide. His horns climbed high to the sky, the looming presence of his gold armor and gleaming crown only aiding in his sheer massiveness.

You didn’t like it. He was a kind man and seemed very pleasant, but you just couldn’t move past the looming threat he posed. Maybe he would be able to tell you had little care for the cause he was sending soldiers to die for. Maybe he suspected you as a danger. It was awful, but you couldn’t stop the thoughts. Your discomfort was only restrained by the reminder that you couldn’t be like him. You couldn’t think the way he might.

You had no choice but to deal with his presence, anyways. He had insisted on leading the three of you “newcomers” (his words, not yours) about the new base before you. People stared. Some of them cheered at you. You kept your head down, following the King’s footsteps. He led you past the extensive barracks, differentiating the men’s side from the women’s.

There was a mass of building that appeared to be crumbling, but as you grew nearer, you realized that they were in fact just built to appear decrepit. There was a massive rectangle (or maybe it was a square, it was quite frankly too huge for you to be able to easily tell) that was beneath the building facade. The king explained that about a quarter of the building was for food and an eating area and that the other three quarters were meant for training and storage. You were baffled by the sheer hugeness of it. What Maven had been in its entirety was only slightly smaller than this one area.

The king gestured far off. “Do you see that large clump of building with blue graffiti?” he asked. You tuned in to the conversation finally, staring off at what the king described. The buildings were absolutely coated in giant blue symbols. You didn’t recognize the text very well, but you assumed it was some sort of monster propaganda.

“That’s our lab. There we make guns for our monsters, humans, our explosives, some other things as well. Medicines, raw magic, you know. It’s very extensive.”

Your blood ran cold as you continued to stare at the building. Of course you got stuck by a giant fucking science pit. Why wouldn’t you? What a lovely thing to look at every day and be reminded of shit you never wanted to think of again. It made you angry. You hated the thought of it. The principle. The blue symbols gave off a raw energy of hatred now. You crossed your arms tighter, gritting your teeth.

“You make your guns?”

Asgore looked down at Felicity and bent on one knee to reach eye-level with the three of you. “Yes, for monsters, primarily. You see, we make our guns compatible with our magic. Some of us, such as myself and General Undyne, who I know you’ve met, use our magic in its raw form because we are more powerful. Most monsters, however, need a way to increase their raw power into a single, better controlled stream. They connect their guns to an easy port of magic, commonly, their souls, and they become much more powerful. It’s why blasts from Monster guns are severe.”

Felicity seemed a little tense, but she smiled and nodded nonetheless. “What makes you and General Undyne so much more powerful?”

“Understand it isn’t just us, but we are simply more honed to our skills and more in-tune with our souls. It’s very important for monsters. Some are powerful, as powerful as us, and still use guns because they feel they could hurt themselves by using too much magic.”

“Why not use magic and the magic guns together?”

King Asgore shook his head ferociously, standing again. He looked off into the distance, eyes glassy. “No, we’ve found that’s very dangerous. You see, the magic for guns is automatically funnelled to them while connected. To try to externalize it at the same moment puts immense strain upon the soul, and causes it to crack, even shatter. Since our physical beings are tied to the existence of our souls, such a thing would kill us. Little magic may be alright, but anything as strong as you’re thinking would be deadly. No, it is better to just choose one.”

“How do they detach the guns?” Konner asked quietly, staring at the building. “Can humans use them as well? Have you tried?”

“Why, it’s no different than unplugging a cord from an outlet. You simply take it off. And as for humans, yes, we have tried it. It… is incredibly painful for your kind. Some magic can rest in human souls, but not nearly enough. There is little power in the gun and overwhelming agony. It was not worth it.”

There was a tense silence. You were enjoying it, looking the opposite direction of all the others. The decimated cityscape hiding this massive base made you chilled. You knew there were powerful magics hung over the place you were that shielded you from view, but this place would have been nearly invisible even without them. Humans kept their doings out in the open. They had no fear.

And maybe you respected that. Maybe you respected that they had a strength and a commitment that the Monsters just utterly lacked. And maybe you knew you were acting in a disgusting manner. That you were thinking things that she’d find repulsive.

But you disliked cowardice.

You kept your arms crossed tightly.

“Let’s keep going,” Konner coughed, apparently embarrassed.

You couldn’t really be interested in the rest of the base. The king was friendly and talkative and grateful, but you were already off in your own world. When you looked off to the distance, you could see the border of the city the base was settled in and regrowing wildlife. There was flat ground for a bit, and then the scene changed to trees and a forest. You were fascinated by it. You’d never seen a cityscape so close to a forest before. It was incredible, and it made you question how it even happened.

To be fair, you’d never been to this area before. It was an entirely new state with new people. Perhaps it had always been like this. But as you gazed at the hills rolling with trees, you suspected monsters and their magic may have had something to do with it. You had no idea why they’d do it, since it seemed to point out their position by its sheer queerness. Still, it made you feel comfortable. There was a strange nostalgia to it that you couldn’t place in your mind.

One tree stood lonesome on a hill, leaves orange and yellow and bark a bare gray.

Wind bristled past you and blew your hair in your face.

You closed your eyes and sighed quietly, then turned away and kept following the king.

More and more people were staring at you. It was starting to grow into irrelevance. At some point, you supposed you would need to accept it. The only ways to avoid this new infamy would be death, desertion, or disappearance, all options not particularly compelling to you, especially with Felicity thrown into the mix.

You shoved your hands into your pockets, woeful at the lack of your lighter there. You were confident your picture was safe in your breast pocket, and began to relax a bit.

That is, until you saw the giant crowd and realized you were standing beside the king with the other two traitors on some sort of podium.

Your main concern was how distracted you’d been; if you didn’t realize where you were at all until the last moment, that didn’t exactly bear well. The next was clearly the massive pressure of the crowd.

Your breathing went funny and the liveliness and casual warmth in your face drained to an icy chill. Felicity was looking at you through the corner of her eye, and you felt yourself stiffen and harden your gaze. You were not to look weak. The scowl that naturally rested on your face scrambled back to your cheeks.

“These heroes,” the king’s voiced boomed, “have brought us all a new hope!”

There was a screaming cheer back.

“More good news,” Asgore continued, “we have more troops who have turned to us! Some of our heroic soldiers have come along at the same time. Their positions were compromised, so they came here!” He gestured to the other side, and you saw a startling small number of people come to the stage. There was only about twenty there, mainly men, although there was a few women as well.

An oddly familiar man was leading the stage. His frame was built to be slight, but he had put on enough muscle to fit the status of a soldier. His eyes were so bright for a moment, as he looked upon the three of you, and then you saw them sink instantly.

It hit you automatically who he was. This was Joseph’s husband. Finnick Thompson, the man Jo always referred to as “Finn.”

And he thought he’d see his husband there.

Only to be met with the stark reality that his husband had not come with. That he hadn’t made it out.

You had to look away before the guilt destroyed you. But now new thoughts had already began to swarm in your head. Thoughts about how you were not supposed to be standing here. Thoughts about how you were the replacement, the backup.

Jesus christ, maybe you should have just stayed behind anyways. It seemed like there was another hole you’d been dug into every few seconds.

You stared off into space, highly on edge. You were feeling antsy and were letting your mind wander the best it could. Smoke glazed your thoughts and feelings. It was only about her, and now you had wandered away due to a false image of her.

The king’s speech was long, and you were tired by the end of it. He offered to lead the new people to the cafeteria, so you were still following his lead when Laurel grabbed you.

“Hey there, Harris,” she said with a grin.

You acknowledged her with a small nod.

“I want to check out your wound,” she stated. “Your Majesty, may I pull her aside?”

“Yes, feel free, Laurel. Do make sure she’s not away for too long so she still gets food.”

Felicity looked at you, gauging how okay you were with being off by yourself. She seemed to think you’d be okay, and offered you a little wave as Laurel led you away from the king.

“You seemed really uncomfortable on that stage,” she said offhandedly.

“Hm.”

“What’d you think about what he said?”

You shrugged, stuffing your hands in your pockets.

She moved away from the small talk. “So, how’s your cheek been feeling? Any better, any worse? Burning, soreness?”

“It’s fine,” you told her. In all honesty, you’d forgotten about your injury until she brought it up. The heaviness of the gauze on your cheek was adapted to quickly.

She poked your cheek hard, which surprised you slightly, and you blinked.

“No pain?”

“No,” you replied, deeply questioning her methods. Jabbing your hand into a wound seemed like a poor idea in every situation you could imagine, even if the person said they were feeling fine. You were mildly annoyed.

“You don’t have to act tough. You sure?”

“Yes.”

Laurel pulled you aside to a small building and unlocked the door. “This is our little clinic. We don’t really use it, but I wanted to avoid the big one because there’s probably going to be lots of people. That’s pretty tedious. Hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.”

“Great,” she said. “Come on in.”

You stepped in and looked around the room. It was decently small, but it wasn’t as little as the tent you first met Laurel in. You could tell it was mainly being used for storage by the boxes organized on top of each other. You could see vials and vials and vials of liquids and powders with names you didn’t recognize and rows of jars with some sort of strange magic. Some of the magic was liquid, some powder that sparked, and some sort of pure energy flowing about their spaces. You thought fondly for a moment about how fascinated your sister would have been by it, then deflated and felt the familiar twinge in your heart.

She sat you down and peeled away the bandage, smiling a bit to herself. “Good news is that you’re alright. Looks completely healed to me. You have a scar, though, as forewarning.” Laurel gestured across her cheek to show you how long it was. From how she drew it, the scar would have started one inch-ish away from your mouth and traveled upwards, stopping at your cheekbone. “Do you want a mirror to see it?”

You shrugged, and so Laurel got up and picked up some sort of square, clean handheld mirror.

You looked into it at yourself and hid your surprise. The scar was very long--just a tad bit longer than she had pointed out to you. It was a mix of pink and red and stood out against your skin in stark contrast. It was slightly jagged as it inched up your cheek. You thought carefully about how your head must have been for it to hit you the way it did. Apparently your head had been upturned slightly, judging the angle.

If you were to put your hair just right, it would hide the scar, but you felt no need. This was you. It was an ugly, stretching scar and it fit the changes you had gone through over the past three years. It looked more like you than any other photo you’d seen your entire life. This scar represented everything you’d ever been. It was just as nasty as who you were on the inside. There was already little hiding the nastiness on your face, but you could still see some attractiveness there if you looked hard enough. Not that you were a model then, but you didn’t think you were that bad. Now, though, there was this distinct scar on your cheek, and it took all of your attention immediately. It was twin to the scowl you drew on yourself. You couldn’t help but feel consoled by the new attribute. You didn’t have to hide as your old self anymore. No, you weren’t ____ anymore, and you hadn’t been for a long time. Now, now you could truly commit yourself to who you had become. You were Harris. ____ Harris, if someone felt they needed to be formal. But there was no more ____. You were a soldier. Harris. This girl looking at you in the mirror had a face to match her name, and so she was finally completely formed.

“What do you think?” Laurel asked. “Gnarly, huh?”

“Sure,” you replied, allowing the mirror to fall to your lap as you looked at her.

“Well,” she said after waiting a moment, “why don’t we go get you some food? I’ll show you the best stuff.”

You left, feeling more whole than you had in a long, long time.

Chapter Text

They’d only allowed you to share a bunk with Felicity after nearly a month of her pleading and your unchangeable stoicity. You were farther than the other women you were told to train with now than you’d desired, but you were fine with it. Had it been immediate and you had no opportunity to learn from Corporal Elaina where Sans hung out, you would have been distinctly more upset, but this was different.

She was up most nights and so it was easy to get the okay from her to go out. The second night you were there, she took you out of the barracks under the pretense of showing you more of the base.

It was a somewhat long walk-- maybe one and a half hours-- through the city of rubble. You realized about halfway through the walk that the forest you’d found so intriguing before was where she was leading you. She made basic small talk as you made your way to the thickness of the trees in the distance, mainly discussing what kind of training you would need to through to see where you’d be put. She mentioned that you’d only be doing basic training for your first month or two at the base, just to get settled in. “We won’t even change your tags yet,” she’d said.

“They don’t need to be,” you responded flatly.

“Of course they do,” Corporal Elaina laughed. “They’re Human tags. You can’t have Human tags as part of the Monster troops. Besides, your tags don’t even have your soul type on ‘em, which is a big thing around here.”

You’d frozen at that, looking at her with big eyes. Your heart had sank tremendously and there was a familiar splinter of concern within you. You wanted to opt out. There was no way you wanted to see what you were like deep down on the inside, let alone everyone else around you.

“You know, it’s actually pretty interesting to see your soul and to learn what it means. For instance, my soul’s yellow. Yellow souls are deeply rooted in justice.” She laughed. “Guess it makes sense why I’m a soldier, right? Used to be a police officer before this.”

You were too tense to actively engage by that point.

She spoke on, unbothered, already clearly used to your general unfriendliness. And she led you there.

It was a lonesome tree, tall and made of sturdy oak, with leaves that fanned out in beautiful greens that grew gray in the dim, dark night. It rested on a small hill with splatters of grass leading up to its small peak. The base of the tree was dusted by pale brown dirt. You felt warm by the way the tree reached towards the sky with fingers made of branches, twisting and fanning out to the stars as welcomingly as a mother’s arms after a long day. The only accent you found tainting the stunning scene was the shadowy silhouette of a skeleton leaning against the bark of the tree laxly.

And you realized that he had finally decided he would endlessly pester you for the rest of the time you were forced to interact with him. If you wanted to smoke, he had to know something new about you and you had to verbally respond to him.

His rules. Stupid fucking rules.

You didn’t go too often, only about twice a week, even if you started getting irritable without any cigarettes. Besides, Elaina had to be the one on watch if you wanted to leave without questions, and she was set for only a few days a week. You tolerated him, and he annoyed you.

Excluding the skeleton and your gripes with his person, your transition to the Monsters was somewhat smooth. You avoiding Joseph’s husband like the plague, pretending to not witness him whenever the two of you were nearby. It made you too uncomfortable to even acknowledge him. It was so rare for you to see the end to something like this before-- usually if you saw something, your mind would start winding, but you could always end it because it didn’t matter. And over time, you would forget and you would move past it.

But clearly you couldn’t just forget this time. Each time you looked at the man, you were reminded that it wasn’t supposed to be you. You weren’t supposed to run out with Maycombe.

You were tired already. All you wanted was time to think about what to do.

You felt like the time you’d spent had dragged you down for years, but it had been hardly any at all. You had all the time in the world to reflect on it all. There were only a few days that stood out to you between the time Corporal Jean had told you about the soul necessities and when you actually found out about your soul.

The first interesting night only made you more tense.

Your hand had found the knob to the shower and turned the icy water off, stepping away like the rest of the women as another found the stall and took it. You wrapped your towel around yourself unaffected, grabbing your clothes. You dried yourself off and your thoughts began to slow down. You quickly dressed yourself and walked away, avoiding the other women. It was dark out, but you felt restless. The skeleton was an easy option to go when you were like that generally, just because your cigarettes were wonderfully distracting. That night, however, you had no interest in speaking to the ass.

You were annoyed.

Time to yourself was so sparse. Constantly you were around others. Often, when you’d walk to the skeleton, you’d run into others wanting a smoke too. Felicity was always around you when  you were at the barracks, and of course, training, eating, and most other things were swarmed by other soldiers.

In the dullness, you found yourself wandering. The coldness of the wind against your damp hair made you feel better. The chills were welcome, cooling your anger and freezing your stress. You tied your hair away from your face so the wet tendrils would whip about your face less. There were some other soldiers, standing while laughing with each other, others looking on to the distance. You knew some were on watch, but as long as you had a place to go, no one would bother you.

You regretted taking a shower, but all you could think to do was to work out. It was fine. You always had time to strengthen yourself. If you kept working, your mind would set itself back on track.

More often than not, you found yourself annoyed you weren’t strong enough.

When you walked inside the gym, you saw a few other stragglers doing bench press, running on treadmills, and lifting weights, among other things. You went for the pull-up bar. It was free, and you felt compelled to work on your arms. As you made your way there, a woman suddenly stepped in front of the bar with her arms crossed.

You vaguely recognized her as Ari, only because of her eyebrow piercing and gauges. Her hair had gotten shorter and choppier than it had before, fanning out every which way stick-straight. You knew she’d been training with you for the time you’d spent in Home Base, since she was part of Corporal Elaina’s crew, but you had to be entirely honest in that you hardly paid any attention to the other women training with you unless they specifically drew it.

Ari’s lip was jutted out and her brows were narrowed a tad. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” she said blankly.

“Okay,” you replied.

“I’m figuring you out,” she explained. “I’ve been doing it since that first day.”

“Okay,” you repeated, pushing past her to get to the bar.

She huffed as you started doing your pull-ups, your muscles tight and straining as you brought yourself up and down.

“Yeah, I think you’re just like me. No different.”

You pulled yourself up.

“You’re hiding something.”

You fell back to the ground, irked. You crossed your arms and looked at Ari with your lips tightly pursed.

“Let’s talk outside,” she insisted.

“No,” you said stoically, marching away to find something else to do.

“Well, then I’ll just talk to you here in the open. I figured you’d want privacy, but this is fine. I don’t trust your intentions, ____ Harris. I don’t believe for a second you joined the Monsters because you want to help them. And I know that just by looking at you. I think everyone knows that. You’re here because of the other girl. The little one. Maycombe. Aren’t you? You follow her everywhere, and you just followed her here.”

You refused to reply, going to the bench press.

“She remind you of someone you used to know, Harris? She been your friend since you were kids? Trust me, I’ll figure it out. I’m going to figure you out. Who you are on the inside. I think I already know. I’ve seen people just like you before, and I know I’ll see them again.”

You closed your eyes then, doing your best to quell your irritation with the situation. Then you opened them, and began to work out again, pretending Ari didn’t exist.

“You can hide behind that as much as you like. But I know you, Harris. I know what you’re like inside.” Your heart tightened for a moment, and then you heard Ari walking away with a scoff.

And she didn’t come back for you that night.

From that point onwards, she became a point of priority for you to spot. You had no interest in getting caught by her again or cornered so she could figure you out or relate to you or intimidate you or do whatever she was trying to do. You kept your distance, and dreaded other things.

You’d never been so afraid of your soul in your life. There was a legitimate fear that was carved deep down in the blank spots of your mind that maybe you didn’t have one. And as a date was set for you to undergo the “simulation,” as Elaina called it, your heart increasingly sickened before you fell asleep.

It wasn’t your first experience with your soul, however. A week after Ari had confronted you, you were set down on a table with a monster doctor next to you. He’d assured you that it was completely painless and fine for when your soul was pulled out. They had tried to pull your soul out normally, and imagine your horror hidden deep down when they couldn’t. They tried to reassure you that it was somewhat normal, that that’s why some people needed the simulation. They said you were just too tough of a shell for the soul to come out without more coaxing.

Felicity’s had come out as a lime-green heart, glowing faintly. She stared at it with awe when she saw it, and held it in her hands gently. Konner was like you, with nothing. It was a bit of a relief to see at the very least; you weren’t the only one.

Part of you was glad that day, when your soul wouldn’t come out. Because you saw Ari looking at you, monitoring you, gauging you. She was testing to see if she was right about what she thought. Doing her absolute best.

The day was growing closer and closer. And that inner dread, cold and dark and strong, continued to grow. Elaina, too, had undergone what she dubbed “the simulation,” and did her best to soothe the horror she could perceive.

She only briefly described the process.

She claimed that it was like a dream, but personal to you, almost a test to yourself. A way for your soul to emerge from the barriers set by you. She said her vision had been full of color, and then she woke up to see her soul floating above her.

It still made you tense. There was no going around it alll.

Smoking, too, grew less stress-relieving.

Not only did you now have to avoid being caught by Ari, but you also had to tolerate the jabs of the skeleton, more intense than ever before.

The night before you were to find out your soul, the corporal went with you to go smoke. She encouraged it, seeing as it was somewhat of a big deal and an event like that could really pile on stress. You kept your typical manner plastered on thick, but by now she was entirely used to it and mainly talked to herself on the way there. When you’d get there, she’d mainly talk to Sans.

It was no different that night. You saw him slumped against the tree with a steady trail of smoke fizzing out from his teeth and skull. He was humming gently under his breath, letting his cigarette dance to the tune between his phalanges. It jumped from finger to finger, twirling and spinning with an uncanny grace. A life of its own was fully realized in his hand. The tune was somber in a sense, but you actually enjoyed it. It was soft under his deep voice, and it brought something inside of you to the surface just a bit.

“Bones,” Elaina called.

“hey, jean queen. and scarface.”

“Scarface?” Corporal Jean echoed, raising her brow as she tossed a pack of crackers at Sans. It hit his chest hard, and he sat up a bit, though his back was still slouchy.

“aw, sweet. and yeah,” he continued, eating a cracker as he threw a cigarette and lighter Elaina’s way, “i’m playing around with nicknames. i haven’t found one i like yet, and she’s no help. we’ve already gone through stony, grumble, hot-head, vrataski, quiet, pouty, and grumpy. i’m really reaching here.”

“Well, who says she’s got to have a nickname?” Elaina asked.

“me.”

“I just call her Harris. I think that’s good enough.”

“it’s no fun, though. i need something with a kick. speaking of. you. scarface.”

You rolled your eyes hard, and looked at him with furrowed brows.

“yeesh, that’s one dirty look. sensitive about that, huh?”

“No,” you answered honestly. And then, you added, “You’re irritating.”

He gasped, placing a hand on his chest with his mouth agape. “i can’t believe you’d say something so nice. you want your smokes or not?”

“Obviously, I want them,” you grumbled.

“Whoa, four entire words? That’s like the most I hear in two days,” Elaina teased.

You ignored her.

“See, that’s how it usually goes,” she laughed, lighting her cigarette and tossing you the lighter. She shook her hair out and walked off a bit, looking at the trees. You envied her in that moment. She stood tall and planted her feet firmly into the ground she stood on. A strength that was undeniable and blatant. Not just physical, though-- Elaina was planted into reality just as tightly as the roots of the trees she stared at were.

“okay, then. so, let me see. what’s a good new question? i already know where you grew up, your favorite drink, your elementary school…”

“You sound like such a creeper,” Elaina said, turning back around. “Is this seriously what you’re sticking with?”

“uh, yeah. clearly. listen, i can’t just charge people with food, and you humans hardly ever have gold. i’m going to get fat and greedy if i keep charging people the same things. look at my figure, jean queen. i can’t get chunky.”
“You’re literally just bones, Bones.”

“exactly, and i mean to keep it that way. anyways, where was i before i was so rudely interrupted… let’s see… how about… how many siblings do you have?”

You tensed up. How many did you have? Were you supposed to count Rich? What about Abby, was she allowed even though she wasn’t alive anymore? She would always be your sister, but how were you supposed to avoid further questioning the best? You were thinking too long now, you had to make a choice, and make one fast--

“One,” you said simply, extending your hand for a cigarette.

“brother or sister?”

You frowned, gesturing for your smokes again.

“fine, fine. but if you want more, you need to answer. here.” You snatched it from his hand, lighting it and putting it to your lips. The smoke twisted from your lips as you exhaled softly.

“I’d better head back,” the corporal sighed.

“this early?”

“Yeah, takes like an hour to get back, and I should really be there for my shift of watch, you know.”

“laaame,” Sans said.

Elaina shrugged, walking your way. “You coming with?”

You shook your head. You were sure you’d want to smoke more, and leaving wouldn’t provide you that.

“Whatever. Be sure you’re back by the time we start training.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you said, sitting down and leaning against the hill.

“Good luck with this idiot,” she laughed.

Sans snickered in response, and with a quick wave, she turned on her heels and strolled away, a trail of smoke following her silhouette in the night air.

He left you in blissful silence for a long time, long enough that you finished your first cigarette and got a second.

You hated him, but you did respect that he understood you wanted quiet sometimes. It was nice, and it made you feel less tense when you slipped your fingers over your picture of Abby.

“so, harris, since scarface clearly isn’t going to stick, how’re you feeling?” Sans drawled.

You looked up at the stars, drawing your cigarette to your lips again. Then you shrugged, tilting your head a bit.

“really? not nervous for the soul stuff at all? not worried about your inner being?”

“Nope,” you lied, closing your eyes.

“you’re a bad liar. you talk way more when you get nervous.”

“Sure,” you replied sarcastically.

“i’m telling you.”

You knew he had no way of knowing that, and you were tired, so you closed your eyes and pretended to be alone again.

“oh-kay,” he sighed after a few minutes. “another dead-end conversation. knock-knock.”

You turned to him and frowned, to which he grinned.

“you’re supposed to say ‘who’s there,’ you know.”

You rolled your eyes and turned away again.

“knock-knock. ‘who’s there, sans?’” He was talking to himself in a falsetto, clearly miming you. he’d done this before a few other times. “tank. ‘tank who?’ you’re welcome. i know you know these cigarettes come at a cost to my sanity.”

You rolled your eyes harder, rubbing your forehead.

“seriously, though. back to the soul sim? it’s not that bad. it’s just you inside your own head.”

You couldn’t help yourself. “You have no way of knowing that,” you replied flatly. “You’re a monster.”

“what, you think there are no cases of monsters having a hard time seeing their souls? sure, it’s rare, but speaking from personal experience, it’s entirely possible. listen. it’s weird, having it all stuffed down like that to the point even you don’t know who you are, but it’s not that bad. the sim puts a few situations from your life down, and sees how you react. then, next thing you know, you’re up, and it’s all fine. souls don’t even say that much anyways.”

You looked at him skeptically.

“no, i’m serious. souls aren’t your mind. they’re your character. they represent your strongest trait out of all the rest. for instance, jean queen has a yellow soul. she’s most concerned with justice. my soul’s white, but it’s got a glow that represents my strongest trait.”

You stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

“you’re gonna have to ask me what it is if you want to know.”

You turned away.

He laughed. “i’m trying to lighten the mood. i swear to god, one of these days, you’ll let that shield you’re holding in front of yourself down. i’m not a bad dude.”

“I don’t care,” you said. Then you paused as your cigarette fizzled out. “And I have a sister.”

You took the fresh cigarette from his hands, lighting it, and then you began to walk away.

“it’ll be fine, harris. you may be a stone-cold bitch, but i’m telling you. you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

You turned back, unsure whether you should feel angry or consoled. He was staring at you.

“see you tomorrow,” he said, and to that, you pressed your lips together tightly and left.

He may have been an asshole, but there were worse things in the world.

And just like that, it was time to see your soul.

Chapter Text

You hadn’t slept well the night before. You didn’t have much time for one thing, since you’d wanted those cigarettes so badly, but you were too full of adrenaline to shut your eyes and keep them that way. A few times, you’d dozed into terrible fever dreams of what the near future held.

You pretended you were asleep when Felicity woke up, though, because you didn’t want her to worry. She “woke” you gently, smiling widely.

“Hey, ____. The others have all left. You ready?”

“Yes.” No.

“It’s going to be just fine, they said it won’t take very long. I should be able to meet you at lunch, actually. You’ll be perfectly fine until then. Okay?” Her smile grew more gentle and she patted your shoulder. “I know you have a thing where you kinda worry but pretend you don’t, and I’m here to tell you that you don’t need to. You’ll feel just fine when you see me, and I’ll be your dumb little baby friend. But don’t tell anyone that I called myself little or I’ll have to kill you.”

It did help a bit, and you felt the true warmth in her words. Your frown relaxed and you found yourself nodding gently, wordless. Felicity understood your silence better than anyone else, and you knew this would be no different. She knew you’d still be scared, but she also knew that some of your fears had been put to ease by her kindness.

Apparently, green souls, such as hers, were kindness. Made of kindness, consisted of kindness, portrayed the person’s most integral trait was kindness, whatever it was. You’d never seen a better representation than Felicity. It made you relax when you thought of it. You wondered if Abby, too, would’ve had a green soul, because you did remember her to be genuinely caring. You suspected she wouldn’t have, because she had many more traits beyond that which were much stronger.

You were missing her again.

You walked into a room with several gurneys in it. Elaina had led you there after you’d gone through your typical training with her. She’d made it briefer than usual, chattering on and on about how you needed to be “ready” for anything that may happen.

“It can be jarring,” she warned.

But you saw no reason to further prepare yourself. You were always alert. You wouldn’t allow yourself to be shaken by such foolishness. A test to find your soul was pointless. Disregarding the thought you may not even have one, you still saw no point to defining your soul. This process all took place in your head. Even if these people were able to see your soul, what could they really discern about you when they had no idea and never would about the inner workings of your mind?

Nothing.

They made you take off your jacket and give it to a monster nurse with a polygonal face. Konner was among one of the other people in the room with you (apparently some of the other traitor arrivals had similar experiences to the two of you), and they were all likewise forced to take off their shoes, jackets… basically everything besides their socks, pants, and shirts.

A few nurses stepped into the room, one per person, and stood by you. You were instructed to lie down, and so you did, taking out your ponytail so you wouldn’t have an uncomfortable bump on the back of your skull. You were staring at the ceiling, and there was a thick feeling of murk somewhere in your throat. The rhythmic pounding of your heart was betraying you, betraying your lack of fear, your body was betraying you, it would all betray you. You felt so hot. You could feel the crippling heat of the room around you invade your skin, pulling it taught and apart. You knew again, it was your body, nothing more-- but you desperately wanted to drown yourself in ice water to relieve the licking flames against your flesh.

The room was so blank, you realized, as you laid in your pool of sweat. The lights hanging above you didn’t have that yellow tinge that made a house warm, or even a cool blue one that made a hospital feel so sterile. It was pure white and blank, just as the walls were, and the tiles on the floor were. You suddenly felt like you stuck out completely in the room, that every single one of you did not belong. This was entirely unlike what you were imagining.

The nurse by your side leaned over you, strapping your arms down. Instantly alarmed, you sat up, glaring at her.

The sheep-like monster stared back at you blankly. “Ma’ aa m , ” she bleated, “this is part of the deal. We ca aa n’t ha aa ve you la aa sh out. It’s for your sa aa fety, a aa nd ours.”

You hated it. And suddenly you wanted to leave more than anything. You didn’t want to know about your stupid soul. You didn’t care about this. You weren’t meant to be a soldier here. You never wanted to be here. You weren’t supposed to stay in this hell. You weren’t supposed to just give up on your mission. Why had you given up? For Maycombe? Really? Why would you have done something so stupid-- to sacrifice the dignity of her for a mere shadow of what she was?

And yet, you could see not just Maycombe’s eyes staring at you in disappointment and betrayal if you left now, left all this war behind to fulfill what you wanted. Of course, her gray eyes weren’t really hers. They were someone else’s, and she wore them in the same fashion. You couldn’t bear to see your sister look at you and know you were still just a failure. This, just like everything else in this fucked world, would be dictated by the eyes of the dead on you like judgement.

So you swallowed your tongue even though it burned your throat and allowed the straps on your arms and legs to tie you down. She was holding a syringe, full to the brim with a deep blue, sparking magic. It was fluid, and it wasn’t moving the way water might when you shake a bottle. No, it was stagnant, mainly, but the appearance itself seemed to be changing at any moment. Where you saw an azure dot in one spot, a second later, it would be a bright white spiral of popping magic.

You were wretched. This was hell. You were falling, falling, and what would they do to you when they didn’t see the soul you had, because there wasn’t one left? When you were younger, the concept of a soulless girl was more of a joke than a reality, but you couldn’t begin to comprehend the out of body feeling you had now, now when you were about to find out that your jokes weren’t so funny when they became real.

This, you thought, is a familiar feeling.

The woman swabbed your arm with a little cotton ball, and you turned away, back to the ceiling.

It’s the most familiar feeling I know.

She squirted a bit of the fluid from the needle.

C’mon, Harris…

She put the needle into your skin and pushed down the plunger.

… you know fear.

You closed your eyes, and you waited, waited for the terrible event before you that would shape your character to these people you didn’t care to know.

And soon, you found yourself growing more, more, more… bored. All there was to offer to you thus far was blackness. The natural darkness of your lids and the uncomfortable feeling as if you were pretending to be asleep.

You waited for what felt like forever, wanting to be sure you weren’t the first to wake. So it had been true. There was nothing inside of you. You wanted to wait, to avoid the disgust waiting for you when they found out what you were, but it was hard to just sit still for so long.

So you opened your eyes.

There are seven, and you don’t remember how you got here.

“Seven,” a voice says. “Seven paths for you.”

They are colorful in the solid white backdrop they stand against. You dislike the white on principle, and you can’t say why. It makes you angry. It makes you want to hurt something. Sends boiling water dripping down your neck and makes you feel feral.

So you divert your attention. You don’t have much care for the voice. In fact, you don’t have any at all. It’s only vaguely familiar to you. Like a stranger that you’ve met in passing several times, but never said more than a brief greeting to.

The colors in front of you make you feel strange. They follow the ones of the rainbow, and it makes you muse your elementary school days and learning Roy G. Biv so you could remember a trivial thing like the order of a rainbow.

Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet.

And in an instant there aren’t any colors at all. In fact, it’s only black suddenly.

But there is someone standing in front of you. And it sends chills down your spine.

Richard is there, and he’s just as you remember. A foolish, boyish face. He never grew out of it. Even with the stubble he developed during the worst months you’d spent together, he still looked like a kid wanting to be a man. Only now, he’s coated in red. He’s so drenched in blood his hair is sticking to his face.

“____?” he whispers.

You lunge, a knife in your hand, though you don’t recall grabbing it, and you swipe at him. He avoids it somehow, which is lucky, because you would have gutted him.

He’s standing far away, and you start stalking towards him hatefully. You couldn’t help it. He made you see red. The red blood he was coated in… it had to be hers. He was the one who did it, after all. It only made sense.

But then you look a little farther and you’re suddenly so scared that you can’t breathe. You see the big gray eyes and freckled face and choppy hair just a shade darker than your own and the smile with a gap between the front two teeth. It’s her, oh god. She’s there too.

And she’s just how she was in those moments. Her abdomen is coated in blood, although she’s wearing an orange shirt instead of the purple one that she had actually worn. She’s writhing around, her mouth opening and closing in agony, clutching the void in her stomach. You physically cannot move, and the two of them remain only four feet in front of you. Abby’s body stills, and then you feel the chains on your legs lift as the horror rips your bones to shards.

She’s by a grave. But the hole is empty and there are orange flowers growing by it. The message is clear-- put her in her grave. Put her to rest. Look at her eyes. You’ll have to. LOOK AT HER EYES.

This is the memory of the first time you felt real fear. It’s raw and it still is ripping out your innards in gory chunks. Your heart has been burst by the tightening of your ribcage, constraining you. You’re spinning and spinning and the world is crumbling down upon you. Gravity can’t seem to decide if it wants to let you float in a horrible void where you can’t move or crush you to the dirt and smother you there.

You look up through your tears and screams and trembling lip and you see Richard is running away.

So, it’s a choice. To face what scares you most or to chase what made it happen.

It’s a hard choice, for a moment. But putting Abby into a grave again, when he’s right there and you’re not scared of him and it’ll serve her justice all the same, you know what you’re going to do. You wish you could face her again, but you just can’t cope to see the blank grays. She would understand, you hope, and be grateful that it was still all for her.

You chase the red blood that drips from him as he runs. You hate him so much. The pain is so fresh and violent and flaming and you want to rip out his intestines. Choke him with them. MAKE HIM SUFFER, MAKE HIM HURT THE WAY YOU HURT, THE WAY SHE HURT.

He runs like the coward he is. Until he stops.

There’s an elderly woman with a basket of yellow flowers in front of him, and she looks at you miserably and fearfully. She points to another man, and he’s being held by men in yellow suits. Richard stands off to the side.

“Please,” the woman croaks. “Please, I need your help.”

You don’t know what to say.

“This man,” she says, gesturing to the man being held, “killed my entire family. My children and my grandchildren and their children. He has to pay.”

“He killed my sister,” you say, pointing to Richard.

“He saved my life,” says the woman. “And he captured this man. I’m very sorry, but he’s saved our community. We can’t continue without him. This man, please-- not Richard-- please kill this man! It will end the war, it will stop it all! You must recognize him!”

Suddenly you do. He’s the leader of the Humans. You’ve seen him on television and once when he came to visit Maven.

“He’s killed so many, this war is because of him.”

She thinks he’s the only reason for this war?

“If you kill him, you’ll save millions. Our entire community, the monsters, everyone! Richard betrayed him, at his own risk. Please, kill him,” she pleads with greater volume.

Oh, so simple. “No,” you say. “I don’t care about your community or monsters or any of your lives. Someone else will take care of this man. In fact, if my brother is so godly, why didn’t he? No, I will not kill this man, and I don’t care if more people die because I don’t. He didn’t kill my sister. I don’t care about him. I don’t care for your war; and even if I did, it is so disgusting that you wouldn’t blame people like my brother for allowing it to thrive. This man is nothing. And my brother’s death will be everything.”

She pleads for you in desperate screams, falling to her knees, but you pay her no mind, for she’s merely a distraction.

Richard is running again, and if you don’t catch him, nothing will matter. His death is the only thing. You’re so close. You must. You must do it. You’re so close now that nothing could deter you. This woman's family was not yours. And you don’t care about her.

You hear a second voice and it startles you for a moment. You whirl around, searching, and then you spot it. It’s a little girl with bright green eyes, and she’s screaming. She’s hanging off a tall onyx structure, holding on for dear life. But she’s in the opposite direction of Richard.

She falls and you hear a crunch. An ensemble of broken bones, surely. She calls out for help, for comfort. She needs someone. She’s just a child, and if she’s left alone here, she’ll surely die.

You look back towards Richard, and you see he’s running away. If you go the other way, you’ll lose him. You know somewhere deeper than your heart and your gut that you won’t find him again.

You know he’s the only thing that matters, but you’re fearful the little girl will pass away scared like Abby. You could sacrifice what matters and cradle the girl so she’ll have peace, at least. Give her a semblance of charity.

Oh, but the cost is so high, and it’s for a girl you don’t know. Maybe if the cost wasn’t so high. Maybe for the others ones too, if the cost hadn’t been what it was. But the reality was the cost was everything. And that was too high.

Revenge was too high of a cost to forget for a little girl in a green dress with green eyes. You would not lose it.

So you let the screams fade and you leave her big, green eyes behind. You won’t lose Richard. It’s for Abby. She was a little girl, too. But she was more than that, because she was everything. This couldn’t be sacrificed. So you run, feeling yourself start to close the distance between you and the creature before you.

And then you come to a stop, again. There he is, standing there so smugly. He’s on the other side of the river that has come between you. It’s a brilliant bright blue-- turquoise, and it’s rushing violently. There’s a man on your side of the seemingly endless raging river, in a worker’s outfit. He matches the river in color, though that’s not important. He’s building a bridge across the massive expanse of water.

“Hullo,” he says, with a thick English accent, “what’re you doing here?”

“I’m here to kill my brother,” you say simply. “He’s on the other side of the river. How long will it take to build this bridge?”

You see Richard running again. It sends a flare of panic stabbing through you.

“Eh, an hour.”

“That’s too long.”

“Wait with me,” he says. “You could do with a rest.”

“No,” you say. “I need to go now.”

And so even though the river is violent and it will hurt you and tear your skin and exhaust you, you leap into the water and struggle against the water. It will be faster, and you’re right, it’s horribly painful and your muscles ache when you drag yourself to the other side, but at least you can still catch him.

You pick yourself up and continue.

You find another obstacle. You expect it however. You aren’t surprised. This is what must happen.

And this time, it’s a little boy in a dark blue suit. He says one thing, as he blocks your path; “Was it your fault?”

And you are so scared.

He has stopped you and he has stopped Richard. He stares up at you with the same dark blue eyes. “Tell me,” he demands. “Tell me and he will get what he deserves.”

You have no words. You’re really, really frozen. You’re solidly shut down.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you breathe.

“Tell me,” he asks. “Was it your fault too? Can you even tell me, ____ Harris? Could you have done better? Made it better?”

Your mouth hung open and tears dripped from your cheeks.

“We’ll start easier, then,” he says. “What do you believe in?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” You don’t know how to speak now. The words are hasty and raspy gasps.

“What are your morals, Harris?”

“I… I… don’t know.”

“No?”

“I don’t believe in… senseless killing. Hurting people who don’t deserve to be hurt. I believe… I…”

“You believed in those things once. Once, you believed in protecting people. But do you still?”

And you were on your knees, brows furrowed darkly. Your lips tightened and your essence found itself grounded again.

“No,” you say. “No, I don’t. I’ll do anything to kill Richard.”

“And,” the boy says contemplatively, “ was it your fault?”

“No,” you say.

“Do you think it was?”

You can’t handle him.

So you push him down to get to Richard.

He’s red and bloody.

Ah, you were so ready.

He stood there, looking scared.

Your knife.

In your hand.

You bring it down again and again and again and again and you stab and you slash and you scream and you laugh and you keep stabbing him, you keep stabbing him, you let the red burst over you, you let it all explode, you let the past die, all the hate you feel is shooting out from you in this beautiful moment.

And suddenly, you’re surrounded by soldiers pointing guns to your head. You’ll die if you stay where you are.

A man wearing purple is holding out his hand in the midst as you stand over your brother’s corpse. “Come with me,” he pleads. “Come with me and you can live. I can save you.”

You look at him dully, then back down to your brother.

It’s done, really. You never planned past this point. There was never any need to. Why would you bother to do such a pointless thing?

“No,” you say, and the bullets instantly pepper you with their fire, wrenching holes through your body.

You see

RED.

You woke up bolting so viciously against your restraints that you could feel you’d probably pulled a muscle. You were still partially in the other world, and the sudden shift from black to white hurt your eyes. You roared, confused as fuck.

And then, as your head fell back against the bed, you saw it.

It was the shape of a typical heart, though unlike Felicity’s, it lacked the gloss and shine you’d come to associate with souls. It was as if it was made of stone.

A slight bit of a dark tinge to it, but you could see the color clear as day. It was blatantly obvious; even to you.

The soul you weren’t meant to have was red, blood red. The soul wasn’t glowing as the others you’d seen had, but you knew that was fitting.

The nurse was speaking as she wrote on a clipboard. “LV at 10, HP at 34/56, EXP at…” You looked away, ignoring her, struggling against the restraints.

You turned to glare at her, waiting expectantly for your restraints to be removed from your arms and legs.

“You’ve certainly been involved in quite a bit of violence, haven’t you? You’ve got rather high stats, all things considered. Humans don’t give as much EXP as monsters do, though, so maybe not...”

You ignored her and continued to stare. You could practically hear your fury start to build. It was none of her business who you killed, how many. You didn’t even really understand anything she was saying; all you thought they recorded was what kind of soul you had.

You also bitterly thought that you’d never killed a monster, but it was only a small piece to your fury.

She took a glance at your soul. “And let’s see… Determination? Strong, too. Interesting,” the nurse said. Then, as an afterthought, she sweetly added, “How are you feeling, Ms. Harris?”

“Take these off me,” you said darkly, pulling against the restraints again.

They had played all these games with your brain. All these games that made you live and relive worlds that had torn you apart.

All to find out you were interesting .

She loosened the straps, and offered you her arm. “You’ll feel a bit woozy, here, let me help you. I know it’s very disorienting.”

You grabbed the heart carelessly and instantly regretted it. It hurt a lot to squeeze it so tightly in your fist, but you pretended nothing at all was wrong, and you shoved it into your chest, back where it belonged. In the dark. You were glad that your soul had returned to your body the way you’d expected. Now everything looked intentional, and you didn’t look like a fool. You thought that was how people did it, although you did note in the future some care with such a thing might do you wonders.

“I don’t need your help,” you growled, standing. You were dizzy, it was true.

But you didn’t need anyone’s help anymore.

“You have what you need,” you snapped. You walked up to the door and pounded on it. You noticed you were the last one awake. There was no one but you and your nurse left.

The door opened and you grabbed your things roughly from the same polygonal nurse who’d taken them. And then you marched out, wishing you had just fucked off when you had the chance to. Your anger was stingingly raw and you felt like a lab rat.

On your way out, you bumped into Corporal Elaina and took a step backwards.

“How was it?” she asked. “They don’t really let us watch what’s going on. You took a little while, you good?”

“Fine,” you replied, wanting nothing more than to get some food.”

“So? What color?”

You took a quick step around her, answered, “Red,” then started walking again.

“Hey, I know you might’ve seen some rough shit. You’ll get past it in a few hours, okay? It wears off!” Elaina called after you.

You felt strangely small as you sulked away, heading straight towards the cafeteria with full intent to eat your heart out.

You felt small even when you told Felicity everything went “fine.” You felt so small sitting next to her.

It had been easy for her; it was entirely painless. And you envied that about her in that instant.

You may have seen the red heart, but you felt it changed nothing, really. You were just as soulless as you’d ever been, after all.

Chapter Text

It was hell dealing with Ari every day after that. She kept pestering you, insisting the two of you were the same. “We’re both determined, Harris. We have to stick together. There’s something special about us.”

You didn’t understand the big deal about your soul, but even Elaina commented on it. When you sat to eat with Felicity and Konner, some other people you only vaguely knew would ask you about it as well. Among them were Laurel, the couple you met the first day there (awkwardly, you forgot their names), Eden, Rey… It made you so uncomfortable. More people began to sit with the three of you when they came across you, and you hated that it was because of something you couldn’t control. So what if your soul was red? Why did it even matter?

At first, you just ignored them, but you were quickly realizing that you couldn’t. In fact, you couldn’t very well ignore anyone anymore. They all seemed to be enamoured with your red soul. People would ask you all the time when they saw you if it was true. At first, you’d just nod your head, but that only led to more attempts at conversation, so you started to pretend they didn’t exist. However, they started to swarm you and overwhelm you with questions. Some insisted they were writing stories of the war and they wanted to know the stories of the Ambassador’s Heroes and that included why your soul was such a startling color. It stressed you to your core when they swamped you, reminding you of celebrities being harassed by paparazzi.

The more attention that was drawn to you had other drawbacks as well. You started seeing Joseph’s husband everywhere, staring at you blankly from a distance. There was an odd blankness to his face that you knew well enough, and it didn’t mean anything good. Finnick Thompson was walking a tightrope that was starting to fray.

It stressed you so much that you started going out to smoke every night. You’d wear your leather jacket and stuff your tags into one of the pockets, then disappear into the shadows. It was something you’d learned in your year on the streets. You stepped light, only on the balls of your feet. It took longer to walk so carefully, but that was fine. When it rained, it was better. You loved the pattering of droplets on your cheeks. In a way, it helped shed layers of the day from your skin. It was refreshing, and it meant you didn’t have to be as cautious.

The skeleton, however, was relentless. He had moved on from trying to give you nicknames, apparently convinced the whole thing was helpless, and had decided he would chip away at your spirit instead.

“hey, harris.”

This was a rainy night. You were hunched under the tree for shelter, watching a rather large puddle of mud grow larger and muddier. Your cigarette was dangling loosely from your fingertips.

You didn’t feel like gracing the skeleton with your presence. You were tired and stressed. All you really wanted to do was relax and forget the attention held on you. You didn’t even want to think about the color red, and because of that, you were not going to give the skeleton a chance to remind you.

Sans had waited for you to reply for about two minutes before he said, “okay, i see how it is.”

You waited in silence. All you wanted to do was wind down.

“don’t rain on my parade.”

And then you sighed.

Of course he had moved onto puns. It was terrible and consistently annoying. Not only did you have to talk to him to get a smoke, but you also had to listen to him so that you could get more than one in a night.

“aw, c’mon. that one was decent.”

You ignored him, closing your eyes and allowing the spatters of rain falling past the leaves to stream down your cheeks. The taste of tobacco was pungent on your tongue, reminding yourself of how much you used to dislike smoking. It amused you, mildly, that even now you didn’t love the taste. The smell of the smoke was absent, however. All you could really smell was mud and the familiar musk of raindrops. You loved the change.

He waited, longer this time, and then chuckled, “here. here’s another. what do you call a wet bear?”

You pursed your lips and shook yourself out of your comfort. Glaring towards the distance petulantly, you said, “No.”

“no, that’s not it. what do you call a wet bear?”

“No,” you repeated, sterner. Your brows had creased tightly in annoyance.

“i already said it wasn’t ‘no,’ harris. what do you call a wet bear?”

You didn’t reply, wondering if the skeleton would ever shut up.

“i’m going to keep asking until yo--”

“It’s a drizzly bear,” you rushed, not wanting to be caught in an irritating loop.

“i didn’t think you’d know that one,” Sans said in surprise.

You grunted and closed your eyes again. You’d shifted away from the skeleton, now away from the canopy of the leaves and directly under the downpour. Rain crept down your neck, making your jacket clammy and somewhat sticky. It wasn’t a bad feeling, really. Just a tad uncomfortable, but you at least weren’t stuck by that skeleton.

He gifted you with silence when you scooted, not talking at all.

You laid back, your head sinking into the grass, nestled cozily. You used to lie in the grass like that all the time, before the war. It didn’t matter to you that your hair would likely be dirty and gross because of it. People could just wonder why you were muddy.

“so. not to beat a dead horse, but i heard about your soul.”

“Jesus christ,” you griped, getting to your feet and preparing to leave. One cigarette would just have to do.

“yo, wait, i wasn’t going to pester you about it.”

You turned around and glared at him skeptically. You could feel your stone mask crack, and all the stress and anger finally had started to seep out in a thick gunk through it. “ Sure ,” you sneered, at your wits end. “You were just going to harass me about it and ask me a hundred times if it’s really red, and when I’d say yes, you’d start losing your shit about it for no reason and I’d lose my fucking mind. Holy shit, I don’t give a fuck about my soul or your jokes or what you people think about me and I’m going to fucking break something if you pricks don’t fuck off already. You’re all so full of it, and it’s pissing me the fuck off.” Your throat was starting to hurt, but you were angry, and you had already started. Heat was flushing your head and you could feel you veins starting to pulse in rage. “Then you’ll probably make shitty puns about it and say my name is Red or something else that’s fucking stupid and ask me all sorts of prying questions just so you can understand why my soul is red. Fuck off about my fucking soul already. None of you, none of you have the right to pry into me. None of you deserve shit.”

Sans stared at you. “that was a lot of words.”

Oh.

You hadn’t even noticed that.

That was probably the most you’d said in one go in a year.

Fuck, he had started breaking you down. The thought made you angrier, and you turned away, doing your best to try to reprise your former stony state.

“that’s not important. uh. sorry if you felt that way? i wasn’t asking to harris you.”

You couldn’t believe him.

“that was a pun of your name and harass. because you said--”

“I got it,” you replied flatly.

“oh good. anyways, puns aside, i wasn’t going to try to figure out your soul. or why it’s red. i was more interested in the other thing i heard about your soul because, to be honest, i don’t care if your soul’s the same color as the ambassador’s.”

Was that why people cared so goddamn much?

You waited for him to continue.

“i’m talking about your stats. your EXP and LOVE levels. i heard about that.”

You repeated, critically, “My EXP and my LOVE.”

“yeah, they’re acronyms. for execution points and level of violence.”

You blinked. Nobody had said anything about that to you . Seemed like it might have been something kind of important to mention.

“i mean,” Sans started, sighing, “most people have pretty high stats. and yours aren’t exactly low.”

“Okay.” Your throat was starting to hurt. You’d spoken way too much-- you were out of practice and now your throat was practically bleeding for it.

“i’ll come outright and say it. your stats are really, really low for a human soldier.”

Well, that wasn’t what you had expected. Your eyes narrowed as you remembered that day and waking up. You said, coolly, “The nurse said they were high.”

“yeah, high for a monster soldier,” Sans conceded, “but not for a human one. and i don’t mean species-- i mean the two sides.” He paused, smoke fizzing out through the cracks of his teeth. “you know how high your two friends were? preston and maycombe?”

“ You shouldn’t have any idea,” you said.

“my brother was worried about it. papyrus. sometimes he talks more than he should,” Sans shrugged, but you furiously thought about the tall, awkward, flailing man, and cursed him for betraying your only friend’s personal information. “your friends were LV 19.”

“Okay,” you said, thinking carefully about what you could do to make sure Papyrus didn’t go around sharing the rest of Maycombe’s information.

Sans crossed his arms and looked off to the side. “i don’t think you’ve ever killed a monster before, is what i’m saying.” He looked at you, his eyes poring into your skull as you thought deeply about it. “which is weird for someone on the other side, even if they were a traitor.”

You hadn’t expected him to dub you as such. The way you labeled yourself. Traitor. And as you considered the skeleton, you knew that you’d never killed a monster in your life. But you also knew that was purely because you hadn’t had an opportunity in your section of Maven. Had you been asked to, you would have done it without thinking.

“I guess not. It doesn’t matter.”

He raised a brow. “what did you do when you were part of their army?” The was an awkward pause between you two.

“Melee tasks,” you decided to say, not knowing how to label yourself, really.

“who’d you fight?” he persisted.

“Anyone I was told to,” you replied, feeling angry again. “I don’t see why this matters.”

Sans nodded to himself and then shook his head. He was quiet for a long time, clearly thinking about how to answer. “i guess most of it doesn’t. just keep an eye on the other two, because if their LV gets public, people might… well.”

“That’s behind them,” you said.

“no, harris, it’s behind you. clearly, you don’t give a shit. but maycombe? you can see it in her eyes. she’s not over what happened. you’re not living among hundreds of people you killed without a second thought.”

“You don’t know that,” you spat, jolting towards him in fury. Your shoulders were hunched high, and you felt much bigger than you had only a few seconds before.

“oh, i don’t? are you saying you haven’t noticed how she’s acting? are you telling me it’s normal?”

And you realized, in a small moment, that you hadn’t paid much attention at all to Maycombe. You’d been so preoccupied with yourself and you own issues that you could hardly remember the last time you’d really spoken with her. It hadn’t been on purpose, but suddenly, you were scared. You were scared that you had failed her and hadn’t even had the head to notice it, too preoccupied with yourself and your own meager dilemmas. If you couldn’t help Felicity, if you couldn’t be selfless enough to put her first, then what did that tell you about your sister? The hollow part of your heart suddenly turned to rock, heavy but brittle behind your ribs. Your hand ghosted Abby’s picture in your breast pocket and you realized it had been weeks since you last looked at it.

You were losing it. The reason this all mattered. The reason you had to join. The reason for revenge. The reason you hadn’t let yourself be pulled under the world, no matter how hard the chains tried to drag you down.

The skeleton had no idea what he had just done to your head. You didn’t know whether to be angry or thankful for the reminder, and the discomfort of it all confused you. 

“I know her better than you,” you settled, holding the place the picture was tightly. “You don’t know anything.” He raised a brow at you, and it infuriated you. You were done. There was only so much you could tolerate of the smug sack of bones.

You stalked off as you had many times before, stomping through the rain.

Imagine your surprise when you were met face-to-face with the skeleton not more than fifteen steps away from the tree. You startled, but the anger increased tenfold. “Get. Out. Of. My. Way,” you growled.

“i’m not saying this to threaten you,” Sans said, calmly. “you treat her like a baby, but you’re not paying any attention to her. she clearly doesn’t have anyone. and neither do you.”

You stared at him, coldly. “I told you to fucking move outta my way,” you snarled, and pushed past him roughly. You resolved to yourself that if he pulled the same teleporty shit a second time, you were going to slug him as hard as you could, right in the ribcage. Luckily for him, he stayed back, making no further moves for you.

The rain cascaded down, but it no longer could wash away your anxieties. In fact, now it was like it was all raining down upon you. You didn’t dare take out the photo while the weather was like this, but you craved to see your sister again, to not forget her. She was fading again. Fading from sight. Fading from mind. You could picture all of her features and make a portrait of her in your mind, but it wasn’t quite right. It was like a blurry picture of her. Distinguishable as her, but not blatant. You wished more than ever you had some way to remember her voice, but your phone was long gone and you didn’t know where else to find recordings of her.

There was a voice in your head, but it wasn’t the one you wanted to remember. It wasn’t soft or gentle. It was rough and shrill and desperate. “HE SHOT ME!”

You could hear yourself screaming now.

“I’M SCARED!”

Wails were in your head. You didn’t know where you were. You were small, small and scared and soaked with the weight of every sin you had ever committed.

You were lost somewhere in the city, away from where you wanted to be.

She was screaming for you. It was her voice and she was scared and she knew she was going to die. She was pleading for you to just save her. You were her older sister, you were there instead of your mother and father because they were gone, you were there instead of your aunt because she had disappeared, you were there instead of your brother because he had just left. You were her big sister. Big sisters are supposed to protect their little sisters, but you hadn’t. You had taken second shift and fallen asleep like an idiot, even though you knew. You knew he wanted to leave. You knew he was going to leave.

All the things you knew, but you didn’t know he’d shoot her.

Big brothers are supposed to protect their little sisters too, after all.

But that’s not what happened, was it?

She was screaming and crying.

You looked up to the sky and felt your heart pound. You were failing her again. She was dying all over again and it was your fault all over again.

A scream below you, crystal clear.

NOnononono

Your head was slowly dragged down by an unseen force to your arms

nononononono

Your hands were slowly rising and you could see it through your fingers

nonononononONONO

Thick, sticky blood on your hands, thick and fresh and strongly metallic in smell

NONONONONO

Peeking in between your fingers, lying on the concrete in a misshapen mess, you saw the bloodied body of your sister. Brick red splatters all over her hands and a deep hole in her gut that seemed so small but did so much. Her gray eyes were rolled back, looking off just past you. They were looking at nothing. Her skin was gray, too. It was all limp and wrong and she looked uncomfortable but she couldn’t be uncomfortable. She was dead, dead, dead, and you weren’t in a city at all. You were back in your Aunt Rebecca’s bathroom, on your knees, cradling the dead body of your sister who you had failed to save, and you were screaming in the night air.

You screamed like she had, wishing it had been you more than anything, seeing her eyes everywhere you looked. Dead and cold and not looking at anything at all. You raised you head and dug your bloody claws into your skull and shrieked, rising to your feet only to collapse each time you thought you’d found solid ground.

Tears spilled from your eyes, but you didn’t wail. You only screamed, opening your void inside to the rest of the space around you, pulling in every emotion that anyone had ever known and letting it all be consumed by the blackness.

You choked and sputtered, catching your breath as you coughed out gagging cries. When you blinked, your hands weren’t bloody anymore.

You looked around, confused and scared and small and weak.

You were in a city, and you were all alone.

The rain hailed angrily on your face.

You stumbled to your feet and you walked back to your barrack, terrified to look down and see it all again.

Elaina caught you as you walked in the rain, shuddering. You hadn’t really even noticed you were back at your barracks. You weren’t in the world anymore. There was one foot in a world where you were the traitor Harris, a dour woman who smoked, and one foot in another world where you were ____ Harris, a big sister who loved her little sister and who smiled all the time.

“Yeesh, you’re drenched. Little guy didn’t give you a drop-off? Rude of him.”

You didn’t respond.

“You good, Harris? You look kind of out of it. And your, uh, smoke is… no good.”

You were still to scared to look down. Instead, you raised your hand so it was eye-level with you. She was right. You never had thrown out your cigarette, and it had fizzled out, sad and soaked. You dropped it unthinkingly, and said, in a voice more steady than you felt, “I’d like to meet other people giving out smokes, Corporal.”

“Oh,” she replied. “What? Sick of Sans?”

“Yes,” you responded flatly.

“Well, some bad news. None of them are any better,” she said, offering a sympathetic smile. “Most of them are worse, actually.”

“Not possible,” you said sourly.

“You think Sans is chatty? Booger never shuts up. Kind of a seedy guy. You met him when you were first brought here, I’m sure. Was part of that little division that came for the Ambassador.”

You recalled yellowing eyes, a dirty, lanky frame, and a mousy face.

“Yes,” you said. “Anyone’s better.”

“I guess I can introduce you two later, but I think it’s better that you stick with Bones,” Elaina said. “Whatever. Off you go, Harris. Remember, no training tomorrow. King’s got an announcement. You’ll be interested, I’m sure.”

You were positive you wouldn’t be interested, but you were too exhausted to say another word, so you merely marched past her and back to where you were supposed to be all along.

Felicity slept on the top bunk, something you’d teased her about due to her small stature. You looked at it in the pitch-black room. There was a lump of blankets, unmoving, breathing in and out quietly.

You peeled off your jacket and kicked off your boots to the side, putting them where they were meant to be. You were cold for the first time in a while. Everything felt uncomfortably wet and dank. It was how you imagined how a dog felt after a bath-- small and ashamed.

Your eyes caught gaze of your jacket dripping in the darkness and thought about the picture and your sister.

Your heart strangled your throat and you turned towards the wall, hoping for a dreamless sleep.

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t dreamless at all. It was full of dreams of the worst kind, full of the kind of dreams that stabbed you with sewing needles and attached you to your worst fears.

You were all alone in all of them. You were standing in a blackness so expansive that you couldn’t see anything, not even your own body. You wandered around helplessly, looking for anything at all, but there was always nothing, no matter what you did. You grew angrier and angrier as you found nothing, deep-seeded anxieties flaring alarmingly. Slowly, the black was replaced with blood. It consumed you, consumed everything and everywhere. You couldn’t breathe in it. You were drowning in blood, blood that you somehow knew was your own. It was going to kill you. Too thick to swim through, too thick to move around in.

And you could hear them all laughing at you. Your family. Chief among them?

Your brother’s mocking laughter rang in your ears.

You woke up in a cold sweat, struggling to breathe. Your chest felt heavy and stiff, as if it was still submerged in the tons of gore from the dream. You took a deep breath in through your nose (as deep as you could, at least) and let another out through your mouth. You continued to take deep, lumbering breaths until the tension released and your body slumped forward with ease. You closed your eyes, now relaxed, and took a final deep breath. You looked around the room, finding the other women still asleep. You’d have to wake up soon anyways, judging by the sunlight, so you stood and began to change into fresh clothes. As you laced your boots, you felt a small hand rest on your shoulder.

Felicity was looking at you sleepily, deep bags under her eyes. You stared back at her, analyzing every detail. Sometimes it was hard to read Felicity, namely when she wasn’t being especially expressive. A quirk of an eyebrow could offer a great amount of emotion, but Felicity’s scarred half of her face limited any movement there. You kept looking at her, and you saw it. What Sans had mentioned, the damn bastard. Her eyes were murky and only half-there, and her smile was more akin to a grimace. She was wearing the mask of a smile, but there was no face at all behind it.

“Early start?” she asked quietly, stepping past you to get changed herself.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Same for you.”

“I felt the bed moving,” Felicity said absently, pulling on her boots.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. Woulda have to have gotten ready soon anyways.”

You put on your jacket, fingertips grazing over the pocket holding the picture again. “We have an announcement to go to today.”

“Ah, I forgot about that,” she replied.

“We need to talk before then,” you said firmly. She blinked at you, startled.

“Wh-- You mean, right now?”

“Yes, Felicity.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Your throat sounds scratchy.”

“That’s okay. We need to talk.”

Felicity seemed hesitant. She stared at you with uncertainty, and you felt everything had been confirmed. There was something wrong with her that you’d simply been ignoring. Whether it had been on purpose or not, you had failed your only friend in the world.

“Okay, ____,” she replied after a long pause. She crossed her arms uncomfortably and nodded for you to take the lead.

It pained you to know that it had really been you that hadn't known anything.

Chapter Text

“You’re not well,” you said the moment you were out of the building. The two of you were standing out on the sidewalk, mainly isolated.

“Wh- What?”

“I didn’t realize before,” you continued, “but you’re not. You feel awful.”

Maycombe took a step back and looked at you in offense. Her eyes were big and watery, as usual. Her hair, however, was down in twines, spiralling out from her head insanely. It matched how discombobulated she looked. You were certain that this was new. Felicity really had been hiding all her woes behind a thin mask. 

For a long bit, there was no sound between the two of you. Only the chirrups of the morning birds and bugs permeated the air, along with distant voices and footsteps clomping about the base. Felicity just looked at you, breathless and hurt, as if you stabbed her. It was unpleasant to see her life that, but you knew that you had to talk to her.

“Harris!” Felicity replied angrily, finally. “I’m fine! You’re the one who isn’t well!”

You shrugged. She wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t matter. You never were well, exactly. “You’re miserable,” you stated again, simple as could be.

“No!”

“You’re sad.”

“I’m not sad! Things have never been better. The war is turning in our favor and we’re finally free from the Humans and their dirty work! I’m learning more about myself and the intricacies of magic and monsters and I’m thriving for the first time since this all started!”

“You’re sad,” you insisted, crossing your arms tightly.

She sputtered again, upset. “Did you really bring me out here just for this?”

“I hadn’t noticed, before,” you rasped, now realizing your throat was, in fact, actually bleeding a bit (apparently not using your voice much makes it miserable to talk, who knew), “but I can tell, Maycombe.”

She was quiet, shrinking. Her shoulders hunched up high and her head sank to the ground. Everything about her was small and scared and you remembered your sister and you felt pangs in your heart like never before.

“It always passes. Besides,” she said, “you deal with it fine.”

“No.”

“No? You’re saying you don’t deal with it?”

“I’m not sad.”

“If I’m sad, you’re definitely sad,” Maycombe said, puffing out again. She looked defiant. “You can’t help me unless I help you, too.”

“I’m not sad. I’m angry.”

“You’re both, probably,” she said. “I’m both.”

You were quiet. “I’m worried about you,” you finally were able to put together.

“Don’t be. It’s fine.”

“No.”

“____, come on. Really? I’m not a baby, you know. What, have you forgotten I’m older than you? I might look and act like a kid, but I’m not one. I can do terrible things. I have done terrible things. I’ve done things that other people would scream over.”

It clicked. “You feel guilty.”

“What?”

“You. Feel guilty,” you repeated. “For killing them.”

“No--”

“For killing the monsters.”

She stared at you, baffled. “Do you ever talk in a way where you don’t come off as a blunt asshole?” She shook her head immediately. “Don’t answer that. I know you. Listen. So what? Maybe I do. We all feel guilty for something. If you can’t push past that on your own means, you can’t be a soldier. You can’t help other people if you’re too focused on yourself. I thought you felt that way, too? You know what it takes.”

You were quiet. You did know what it took to lose your humanity. But this wasn’t the same. Felicity had time you didn’t have and hope you didn’t have. “Talk to me.”

Felicity sighed heavily. She closed her eyes tightly. “You’re seriously not gonna drop this? Don’t answer that.” She looked at you with a sad little smile. “I know you.”

You stared at her quietly.

“Yeah, Harris, I guess you could say I feel guilty. I know we didn’t talk about what I did in Maven. That’s because I don’t want to. I’m not a violent person at heart. I don’t like hurting people. But I’m no good at medical shit and I…” She turned away, holding her arms tightly. “I was scared at the beginning of the war. I didn’t want to be homeless. It’s just like what they did with you. They saw me on the streets, saw what I could do, and they gave me a place to live. I didn’t want to kill people, but when I was by myself, I had to protect myself. You know how it was. And when I realized what I was fighting for, who I was killing, I changed. I killed people who just wanted to be free. Because I wanted a home. How was that fair?” Felicity pursed her lips. “I became a spy within their ranks because I wanted to make myself feel better for what I’d done. It was selfish. And I just see that now. I feel terrible. I’m not a hero. I’m not like you or Konner. I did this for me. Neither one of you did it for yourselves. You did it for someone else.”

“Maycombe,” you said, “I’m more selfish than you are.”

“How?” she laughed. “In what way?”

“I killed people and I didn’t care as long as I got what I wanted,” you replied darkly. “You’re the only reason I changed.”

Felicity’s face softened, though not with warmth. She looked sad. “Aren’t we a pair?”

“Maycombe. You’re not what you were.”

“Harris?”

“You’re someone new. And you can do so much.”

“I don’t understand.”

You remembered who you used to be. A fairly typical girl. You wouldn’t have stood out in a crowd, really. There was nothing wrong with that. You were happy enough and you were pretty healthy. There was nothing exactly extraordinary about you. And who were you now? The scar on your cheek said plenty about that. It described what you became in three agonizing years.

You stared at Felicity stonily. “Start over,” you said. “It’s okay.”

She still looked like it didn’t process fully, but she smiled halfheartedly at you. “Have you started over?”

You didn’t think you could anymore. But she didn’t need to know that. “Yeah.”

She took your hand and squeezed it, looking a little better than she had moments ago. You let her, but your hand fell away as soon as she stopped holding it tightly. Maycombe rocked back on her heels, staring off in the distance. “But you don’t try.”

“Wrong.”

“No, it’s not. You don’t put effort into anything. You refuse to do anything if you don’t think it will directly benefit you.”

“Which is smart,” you replied.

“It is not,” Felicity stated harshly. “Making unnecessary enemies isn’t smart, Harris. I mean, you made friends with me. Why can’t you try with other people?”

“It’s different,” you said stiffly. Truth be told, if she hadn’t had those eyes, you’d never have spoken to her in the first place.

Felicity sighed. “It doesn’t have to be, though. Just try, okay? If you want me to try to start over, you need to try to do the same.”

You gazed at her quietly. “Fine.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise,” you echoed flatly.

“I promise, too. Listen, okay? Don’t worry about me, Harris,” she said. “It’ll be alright in the end.”

You didn’t believe her.

When you didn’t reply to your friend, she awkwardly coughed and said, “Let’s go. We shouldn’t be late to King Asgore’s speech.”

You followed her as she walked off in the distance, the morning glow highlighting her like a ghost.

He said a great many things that didn’t matter at all to you. The king spoke about honor and how the Monsters were finally starting to look up in the war. He mentioned where you would go (this you listened to a bit, but once you knew Richard would be nowhere near you, you fell back to disinterest) and gave a vague inspirational call to arms. You were sure it would end up in a history book one day. It was the kind of speech that would be quoted when people remembered the second battle for monster freedom. 

He said you were going to battle to capture more territory for the Monsters.

You would set off tomorrow, he said. But you didn’t think you were included. You had your tags now (regrettably, considering all the attention on you) but you hadn’t been involved in anything beyond basic fitness to stay in shape. You’d hardly worked together with others at all. You doubted the King would send in any of the three of you. You, Preston, and Maycombe had a great deal of influence at the moment, like it or not. Surely he wouldn’t just toss it away. Or maybe he would use you all a symbol of their strength. People roared over that kind of shit. It rallied them if they were on your side, gave them hope. If they were on the other side, it would infuriate them and scramble their trust. However, it also gave them a target. It also gave them a symbol to fight against. You didn’t think the king would believe it was worth the risk.

You quickly learned you were wrong. At least, partially wrong. This was all told to you later, by Corporal Elaina, but you were expected to come along and observe. See the other side of it all or some shit. Not to fight. Just to see. To prepare yourself for the “shift” in battle. You disliked how heavily she emphasized it; as if one of the three of you would “accidentally” kill a soldier on their own side just because they used to be on the other side. You were all competent. At least, you and Maycombe were-- you couldn’t say much for Preston, but you assumed he knew what he was doing. She moved past it all quickly, explaining you’d be with a few other soldiers far off from the battlefield. Apparently, you were going to stop at a city nearby the one the king planned to storm so his top general, Undyne, could give some strong speech. After that, you would remain behind with other key soldiers, presumably doing jack shit.

Needless to say, you weren’t exactly pleased. She hadn’t told you what to do about your smoking problem either which just piled onto your displeasure. You were quickly realizing that you didn’t want to do anything at all most of the time. You were tired of forcing effort into things you had no desire to do. You mainly wanted to go away. But Maycombe was here, not there, so you had to stay by her side.

Elaina had only sat with you personally. Felicity had her information delivered by her commanding officer and you saw Preston sitting beside Laurel and Papyrus, so you inferred they told him (for some reason, perhaps he was moving towards medicine?).

You dragged yourself to lunch after forcing yourself to work out. You didn’t care if Elaina suggested you learn more about the plan. It was grating on you.

You sat by Maycombe, feeling especially dreary with the day. Preston was on the other side of your friend. Neither of them were discussing the whole “situation” at hand. Maycombe was mainly chittering to herself, peppily talking to anyone who might cross her path. Preston was engaging with her a little, but he mainly kept to himself, not doing much at all. You actually felt a bit uncomfortable by him. He kept staring at you.

You were fine with it more or less as it gave you ample time to think poorly of the king and his strategies. You weren’t sulking necessarily, but there was a definite sourness to your demeanor. You didn’t want to do much else.

A meek yellow lizard cautiously walked towards your table. You noticed her white lab coat and a sudden rush of ice drowned your senses. Oh christ. Why would one of them, of all people, be headed straight your way? You stared down at your food and tried your best to pretend the woman was going to merely pass you by. Thorns began to swell in your throat. You felt scared. You couldn’t see what she would have been. The aura of Abby’s dead future came thickly by the side of this unknown woman, and you felt horrible.

“H-Hello? C-Can I talk to y-you three?”

Fuck. You continued to stare at your plate, avoiding the woman’s existence. That is, you did until Maycombe roughly elbowed you in the ribs. Reluctantly, you drew your eyes upwards.

“Of course!” Felicity chirped.

Konner questioned, “Why?”

The woman had thick, round glasses and large buckteeth. “Ah… My name is Dr. Alphys, I, uh, had some materials t-to show you for the upcoming plans.”

“Materials?” Maycombe repeated, looking at “Dr. Alphys” sideways. You continued to stare at the scientist blankly, somehow beginning to feel a dark hatred for her.

Your withering gaze was noted by Alphys and she turned her head away from you, staring at her feet. “There’s a f-few magic-infused instruments we’d like to show you. They’re i-important to use and besides, uh, y-you know. Sometimes we c-can modify weapons depending… er…”

“When do you want us to see?” Felicity asked kindly.

“Maybe M-Monday? A c-couple days from now. It’s not super urgent, s-so…” She tossed a glance back to you. “I h-heard you and Sans a-are friends,” she offered.

You narrowed your eyes, baffled. “Not really,”  you said flatly.

“Oh,” she responded, sinking.

“Who’s Sans?” Maycombe asked.

“H-He’s a friend of m-mine from the Underground. Papyrus is his younger b-brother, if you know him.”

Konner jumped in. “He’s tha tall guy,” he said. “The one dating tha tiny doctor.”

“L-Laurel,” Alphys affirmed.

“Of course,” Felicity said, smiling. “I remember now. I didn’t know you were talking to people, Harris.”

“I’m not.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “Whatever. Um, where should we meet you, Dr. Alphys?”

“Y-You know the lab?”

The other two traitors nodded. “Yeah.”

“Go to the m-main lobby; we’ll meet you th-there.”

“Sounds great!” your friend smiled. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Ah… y-you too.” Alphys smiled nervously, then whipped around and scuttled away, casting one anxious look back your way before she left.

Felicity punched you in the side. You turned to her, aghast and upset. “Harris!” she said angrily. “Come on now. That was ridiculously rude.”

“She’s always rude,” Konner said. You were startled. The two of you had minimal interaction, primarily staying out of each other’s way. His little comment annoyed you. It was like he was following Maycombe’s lead simply because he could.

Felicity giggled in reply to his comment. She was still looking at you with mild apprehension.

“I don’t care.”

“Wh--! What did she do to you?”

“Nothing,” you admitted.

“So then why act that way?”

You shrugged, turning back to your food significantly more sulky than before.

“I wanna talk ta ya,” Konner said suddenly. You looked his way, certain he was speaking to Maycombe, only to be blindsided again and see him make direct eye contact with you. You maintained it, raising your brows high and judgmentally.

“She’s not exactly chatty. I think you’d just be talking to yourself.”

“That’s alright, Maycombe,” Konner said, crossing his arms.

You waited for him to talk to you.

“I wanna talk alone,” he clarified. You pursed your lips and looked off, eating your food idly. There was nothing Konner had to offer you, so you had no interest in interacting with him. “C’mon, Harris.”

Felicity pushed you. “Harris. Remember what we talked about earlier?”

You frowned, annoyed with yourself. Then, with a heavy sigh, you got to your feet.

“Be right back,” Konner said. Maycombe merely shrugged, eating her food.

“I’m not antisocial. Take your time, I’ll go talk to someone.”

You didn’t like that much, but you couldn’t do much about it. You supposed you would have to hide behind her like an awkward child beside their mother when you found her again. It wasn’t the worst part of the day.

You and Konner walked away, him leading you outside and a decent bit away from the building. The two of you were decently secluded when he turned to you, roughly snatching your shoulder. You grabbed the hand and wrenched it off, eyes cold and angry.

“Where the hell have ya been finding them?”

You stared at him like he was crazy.

“Ya still smoke. I smell it on your jacket and you’re not having any withdrawal symptoms. I’m losing my fucking mind. Where the hell have you gotten them?”

“Sans,” you said, holding no loyalty to the skeleton. If Konner ratted him out, he ratted him out. Shouldn’t have been so snoopy.

“Introduce me, Harris. I just want to smoke. I used ta smoke two packs a day and I’m on the edge.”

“I don’t know where he is.”

“He’s probably eating, right? We can look for him. Please.”

You were not inclined.

“Shit dude, I’m desperate. What do you want from me?”

You didn’t know.

“We can work out a deal. Just a little trade. What do you want?”

You thought about the harassment regarding your soul and had an idea spark. “Stop others from talking to me.”

“Done deal. Let’s look for this guy.”

God, you forgot how much you hated that damn skeleton.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t hard to find the guy. He was beside his absolute tree of a brother, chuckling as he gorged his food down his face. You grimaced in revulsion. “It’s the short one,” you told Konner, crossing your arms. Konner looked over at Sans, who was still apparently enthralled by both food and the sound of his own voice. The man looked just as apprehensive as you.

“What do I say ta’ him?”

You shrugged. You had been introduced to him by Elaina-- you didn’t ask him up front for anything. As far as you were concerned, there was no real conceivable way to make a conversation with Sans pleasant or even coherent.

“C’mon. Ya want me ta’ make everyone shut up or not?” Konner gestured towards Sans, nudging you his way. “Help a guy out.”

Very begrudgingly, you began to shuffle towards Sans. You didn’t know how you were going to start a conversation with him, especially when he was already blabbering in one with his extremely raucous brother. It wasn’t like you had any conversation skills to begin with anyways, so you were fairly lost.

It was so lucky that Sans happened to look up and make direct eye contact with you at that instant. You froze, as did he. The smirking moron looked delighted to pester you. You reminded yourself strictly that soon, you would get cigarettes elsewhere and you would never have to see the shitbag again. Even better, you’d have a barrier that would actively discourage conversation between you and others. You just had to get through this one little discussion and you were set. You could probably even pawn a couple cigarettes of Konner if you needed to.

“look who it is,” Sans declared, rising from his seat. “to what do i owe the pleasure, harris?”

Papyrus turned around and looked at you strangely, as did his girlfriend. Oh god. Think about after this. Think about how peaceful your life will be. Think about how temporary this is. You breathed out slowly, trying to allow your stress to seep away.

“Preston wants to talk to you,” you replied flatly. You nodded your head back towards Konner.

“‘bout what?”

“How do you know Sans, Harris?” Laurel suddenly interjected, turning to you. “And how have you been? It’s been a while!”

“I’m fine,” you said awkwardly. You didn’t know what to say about Sans, so you ignored the rest of her reply.

“WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO TALK TO MY BROTHER OVER ME?” Papyrus boomed in your face. “I KNOW FAR MORE THAN HE DOES ABOUT ANY GIVEN SUBJECT!”

“It’s about him,” you said, taking a step back and frowning. Heads were starting to turn. The already crowded space of tables and people was shrinking around you. Your head was racing. You really hated talking in places like this. You wished you went unnoticed by everyone and were beginning to sweat a little. As if you needed a reminder of why you hated people.

“oh, really? ‘bout stuff?”

You assumed he knew what you were talking about and you nodded, starting to walk away from the entire situation and leave Konner to fend for himself. As far as you were concerned, your work was done and you didn’t have to tolerate anymore bullshit.

“nah, come with. we’ll go somewhere else. follow me,” the skeleton insisted. You turned around unhappily, glancing at Konner.

This is the last time you have to see this boney bitch. Power through it.

Sans led the two of you out of the bustling cafeteria and around the side of the building. You felt tense, certain he was going to spout out personal things at you any instant. It wasn’t like this asshole had any concept of boundaries.

“so,” Sans began, “whaddya want?”

“To smoke,” Konner replied.

Looked pretty open and shut to you. You started to leave.

“uh-uh, wait. this’ll take two seconds.”

“No,” you replied strictly.

“yes, if you want more cigarettes.”

You turned back to face him, expressionless. “No,” you repeated, then walked away. You were done with this shithead and all his antics. The kind of person he was simply didn’t connect with who you were or who you had ever been. It was best to let it die earlier rather than later. And it didn’t matter if he had pointed you towards Felicity when she needed help; he was too much for you to handle.

“what’s with you?” Sans asked, playful lilt still thick in his voice. “am i really that ugly?”

You kept walking.

“Uh, Harris? Should I be worried?” Preston called after you, half-jokingly. You didn’t feel bad for concerning him. You wished you had the gift of knowing how awful he was. Elaina hadn’t told you the half of it. Whatever. He wasn’t as much of an asshole to her, you guessed.

Still.

You didn’t reply--just shrugged and kept going. 

“is this goodbye?”

Yeah. And good fucking riddance.

“well, you know where to find me when you change your mind,” Sans mocked.

He was just trying to get to you. Trying to annoy you more because he knew he lost whatever game he’d been trying to play with you since the moment he met you.

Neither followed you. And that was for the best.

After all, Maycombe might’ve died if you hadn’t made the choices after that moment.

In the days leading up to the battle, Elaina finally found the time to connect you with Booger. His real name was Jace Maxwell as you came to learn, but his nickname couldn’t be replaced in your head. Everytime you looked at him, it was like “Booger” was plastered across his nose and cheeks. He really was a pretty seedy dude. More often than not, he talked to no end, delighting in the sound of his own voice. Unlike Sans, however, this was rarely directed at you. Though you would see people here and there coming up to get cigarettes, none stayed for longer than ten minutes with Sans. For Booger, these people tended to stay and make conversation with him. He was definitely more whiny and clingy than Sans, judging how he was always asking people to stay, but he never pushed it towards you, so it didn’t matter. Paying a stupid amount of money to this shithead was way better than having to stay with Sans and talk for a millenia.

You’d only had one shitty experience. It was your second night there, and you were smoking away, trying to ease yourself into apathy, when you heard raucous laughter behind you.

“No way, man.”

“Yes way.”

“Don’t do it,” Booger warned.

“Do it,” another man insisted.

You were alert. It was pretty hard to ignore the stench of fuckery. There was also the clomping of footsteps actively nearing you.

“Hey you! Harris! What’s up?” the first voice piped cheerfully. You turned around to gift him with a glare. “What’s with the frowns? C’mon, we’re cool!” He smelled strongly of booze. You wondered where he got it-- maybe it was another business Booger was running. “Frowny frowner! Let’s turn that frown… upside down!”

The man was an average height and average build for a soldier. Clearly, however, he had the brains of a millipede. The shithead lunged towards you, furling and unfurling his fingers as he darted forwards. You’d be damned if someone first of all, touched you, and second of all, tickled you. You caught his left hand around the palm and began to squeeze it as hard as you could. Not to brag, but you had a pretty strong grip.

His face contorted and he let out a shout, tearing his hand away and looking at you in fury.

“Fuck you,” was all you said.

They didn’t really acknowledge you much past that point. Sometimes, they’d mock you, but it was never much of a fruitful topic and was always dropped quickly. They bitched and made snide comments, but that was all fine. If it had been Sans, you would have been forced to talk to him and twist your way around his comments. You didn’t care about the nasty words when you didn’t have to be a part of the conversation. Let them mock you. Didn’t change anything.

Speaking of benefits over the previous arrangement, you could just leave when you were done, something you realized after your little scuffle. There was no need to stick around for eons just to get a second smoke-- sometimes Booger would just hand you two or three sticks and you were on your way. You even got a pretty decent lighter from him for an admittedly ridiculous price. Hey, at least it was nice.

Most nights, you would just stuff whatever you had in one of your several pockets and walk away to be alone. It wasn’t nice, really, but it wasn’t bad either. If you had to describe it, you’d have to say it just was. Feeling nothing at all most nights, you could let thoughts trickle about the desert in your mind. It was something you hadn’t realized you missed. It gave you time to think you usually wouldn’t have; you could pore over the picture of Abby and miss her without needing to hide it, for example. The solitude was biting and cold. The only other presence was the wind, ruffling your hair and whispering the forgotten words of the past.

Before you joined the Humans, you were alone for a long time. There was no way you could return to the home Abby died in, so you just didn’t. Much better to live in poverty and danger than to live in regret, you reasoned. That solitude swallowed you then. The other people you saw stopped being people. To you, they were just animals, like a bird or a squirrel. There was no point feeling much of anything for them, and certainly no point bonding with them. You talked to only one person, and only when even the wind couldn’t brush past and catch your words. Abby was never there, but you pretended you could see her and pretended her words came from the world and not from your mind, and the two of you would talk about everything that you had to do to make it right. To make your mistake right.

When you joined the Humans, you still did it, but quieter. Sometimes the conversations dragged on in your head, leaving a trail of words in the scatterings of your psyche. It was natural to you by then. People were animals and nothing more, and no one deserved your voice but her.

It was something that changed only when you met Felicity. You thought then it might’ve been a sign of hope, a sign you were getting better. You thought that when you were able to trade your revenge for Felicity’s safety and the good of a community. You thought that you were moving on, maybe, that you were growing again rather than wilting. Despite your personality, you’d felt happier then. Maybe that’s a bad word-- happy wasn’t really a strong emotion most times-- perhaps you were just less angry, less hurt. More contented with the way you’d grown.

All of that was thrown away, left in the dust miles away. The new trail you’d been building for yourself with development and acceptance was beginning to grow slick with the same streams of words from a time more lonely. You hated to admit it, but you talked to her again, talked to her when even the wind couldn’t hear your voice. You’d talk in slow, soft murmurs, usually about nothing at all now. Your revenge was shattered. Your promise in tatters. Most times, you’d talk to the picture, but you knew things were different. She was disappointed. Abby never whispered back to you because you had abandoned her. But even if she wouldn’t talk to you, you still spoke to her. Your hate grew murky as it blended with your love. It became thick and powerful, stronger than you remembered. It didn’t do wonders to love. The only way people ever accomplished anything was through hate, and you scorned yourself for forgetting that just as sourly as your little sister did.

The cigarettes helped you not swallow the apathy. Realizing everything didn’t make you sad or happy or even angry, after all; they just made you into the nothingness you’d been built upon. Billows of smoke served as the pedestal for you to rest in and to lie content in, only to float you above giving up. It would never be a choice as long as there was one little physical thing tying you to the world, and whether it was a photograph or a “cancer stick,” it was welcome. Besides, you still enjoyed the night sky and the way the gray clouds blended into it. Smoke trails climbed with ease past your lips alongside any words for Abby, twining together in the chilled air, and dissipating in the sky.

It was one of those nights when you finally did it. You accepted what you were. The scar on your face didn’t feel strange at all anymore. It had been there your whole life as far as you were concerned. It showed what you were like below what the others could see, like a little piece of your shell that chipped. If it kept chipping, people would begin to understand how disgusting you were. And then it would all be easy to keep them far away. They’d peek in through the cracks just to catch glimpses of a void filled with smoke.

Not everything was so satisfying or conclusive for you, however. After all, you only had a few nights a week to speak to Abby and let your mind crumble.

The days were bothersome, but not impossible. Ari continued to annoy you about your soul, getting more snide each time, but other people stopped asking about it. Whether it was because Konner was doing a good job or because they were finally bored of you, it was appreciated. All you wanted was for the world to fuck off, after all. It was sort of your whole schtick. You threw all your progress away to stay true to it, didn’t you?

You learned how to be unbothered again thanks to your talks. People would converse with you and the tension you once had eased away. You still had no interest in replying to them, of course, because you had Abby and Felicity for those kinds of things, but there wasn’t the rush of anxiety alongside it. It wasn’t like you felt happy or comfortable necessarily, either. You still felt constantly annoyed by their intrusiveness.

Felicity liked how you talked to her and would constantly praise you for being less openly cranky. She talked about her new world as a hero to monsters and invited you to live in it. You abstained, but you’d let her venture within it without shutting her down, and that seemed to be enough for her.

Maycombe seemed perkier in general, though, not just about you. It was probably for a number of reasons. Chiefly, Konner had started to really open up around her, and the two were forming an actual friendship. He’d talk to her about some stupid show on T.V. he used to watch before the war, and she’d ecstatically join in. The dude was still awkward more often than not, but you could tell Felicity appreciated the extra companionship. You still weren’t exactly a barrel of fun. And though you hated to credit him for anything, talking to Maycombe like Sans suggested also seemed to brighten her spirits. She really needed someone to care, and though you hated him, you were willing to admit (only to yourself) that the advice he gave was appreciated.

Konner asked you about smoking with him once or twice. Said that Sans really wasn’t all that bad of a guy, blah blah blah, how he was sure he could clear up whatever he’d done to piss you off, that the guy was always talking about how interested he was in who you were. You passed each time. You’d see Sans around sometimes and catch the smug grin on the guy’s face just screaming ‘ i’m gonna win’ and felt so disgusted you could hardly stop yourself from retching. Sure, he wasn’t necessarily a bad dude. But you weren’t a lab rat. You weren’t his experiment to make observations about. He didn’t need you. You didn’t want anything to do with him.

You saw the little bastard once while you were getting cigarettes from Booger. He was standing there as part of the gaggle surrounding the scrawny guy, looking as haughty as ever. You just knew it when you saw him. You knew he did it to get under your skin.

“harris,” he greeted you. You ignored him. There was no way in hell you’d give him the satisfaction.

“Two,” you told Booger, holding out your hand.

He stopped in the middle of his story, looking at you. “Got the money on hand?”

“Put it on my tab,” you muttered, closing your fingers around the cigarettes he placed in your hand.

“Hey, before you go, I wanna ask you ‘bout some stuff,” Booger said.

You groaned, casting a shadowy glare at Sans. He shrugged at you.

“What’s with the hostility?”

“past customer. she’s kinda cranky. don’t worry; you’ll learn,” Sans yawned.

“It’s not everyday someone crosses over,” Booger smirked.

“ah, well, guess i was just that terrible.”

“I’m leaving,” you said flatly.

“Nah, nah, stay. You can just hang around ‘til I kick these guys out. I’m not going to be like this guy.”

“nobody can be like this guy,” Sans chuckled, jabbing a thumb towards himself. “one in a million.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up, Bonehead. Don’t chase her away, okay? Yeesh.”

“don’t nab my customers,” the skeleton joked back. You felt annoyed, walking off. You kept your distance. Unlike your new norm, you didn’t walk away, off to talk to Abby. You waited, as Booger requested, hoping to get some sort of deal on your smokes for the coming battle. It wasn’t too far away, after all.

There was talk about who was coming with you to observe that battle, and this guy, greaseball or not, was one of the lucky few. At first, you wondered if Ambassador Frisk would come along too, but all you had to do was remember their fingers (or lack thereof) and think of their mother fretting over them to dispel the thought entirely. You were sure there’d be some sort of speech. You humored yourself imagining their nose crumple up in disgust at the scent of heavy smoke seeped deep into your clothes. Probably would get lectured about how “this is why you don’t do nasty things like that-- you stink forever” or some other pretentious bullshit.

You were still lost in thought when you sensed him behind you.

That skeleton.

“hey. been a while.”

“Intentional,” you said flatly, stomping out your cigarette. The thing was starting to taste foul anyways. Besides, it emphasized your attitude.

“i overstepped.”

You ignored him.

“uh. sorry.”

You ignored him some more.

“i don’t expect you to come back or anything. just know i’m open for business if this guy ever runs you dry.”

“Hm,” you grunted.

“shake on it?”

Finally, you turned, seeing the hand sticking straight out.

“that day you introduced preston, i was gonna apologize,” Sans explained, “but i could tell that it didn’t matter. just wanted to clear things up. not a fan of being an ass. at least not all of the time.” He shook his hand out again, urging you to take it.

You grabbed his arm and turned it so you could see his palm. Surprisingly, no whoopie cushion. You were almost impressed, almost tempted to return to your old pattern and see if this guy was serious about not being a douche. Almost.

You took his hand and shook it once, feeling very final about your choice. This guy still wanted conversations. You wouldn’t cope with that anymore. You had your sister again, and you didn’t care if it meant all your progress was down the drain.

“well. later, harris. always thought you were a character.”

“I’m aware,” you said coolly.

He shrugged. “just someone new. it was interesting. sorry if i overstepped.”

You looked on in silence.

“man, did i really make you hate me that much?”

“Yes.”

Sans shuffled awkwardly. He clearly hadn’t expected a real response. “uh, yikes? you ribbing me?”

“No.”

“not even a sigh? for the last pun you’ll probably hear in your life?”

“No.”

He shrugged. “ah well. uh.” Sans looked behind him. “you never had much of a funny bone. didn’t think i was humerus.”

With that, he blipped off, leaving only the wisps of smoke from his cigarette behind.

There was a new figure a bit off from where Sans had been. You saw a flick of orange flame from a lighter, and then new streams of smoke coming from the figure’s lips.

“So,” Booger said, ambling up to you, his gangly body grotesque in the darkness, “what do ya think about your old Human buddies?”

You felt uncomfortable. “Not much.”

“Seriously?” he asked, eyes glinting in the darkness. “Something tells me you didn’t really wanna leave.”

Suddenly you felt cold and stony. “Tread carefully,” you said harshly, glaring at him.

“Hey, I’m not judging. You think I wanted to part of this army? Not really. More neutral, myself.”

“Okay,” you replied. You didn’t see what this was all about.

“Hey,” the man uttered, voice so quiet now you could hardly hear him, “look, we all know it’s the monsters’ fault this war happened.”

You looked at him in silence. You didn’t like where the conversation was going.

“Dragged us normal people into it. Killed our families, left the streets to rot, make it look like they have the high road. Don’t get me wrong. Better than the Humans.” He shifted, looking away, and you narrowed your eyes. There was something about how his seedy eyes kept glinting that made you uncomfortable. “I’m not a racist. I don’t want them to go back to the Underground. I’m just saying, this war is their fault. Don’t you agree?”

You didn’t care if you agreed a little with his words. You didn’t care if the world was brought down on you. You hated the war, but you hated both sides.

“Give me a pack,” you said.

“What?” Booger responded, surprised.

“I’m buying a pack,” you repeated. “Give it to me.”

“Know how much that’s gonna cost?”

“Don’t care,” you said, taking the pack from his hands. At least Sans never tried politics with you. The guy handed it over and you took it, concealing it in one of your many pockets before turning away.

You didn’t see him again for a long while, surviving off the one measy pack you had until you were off for battle. You were horribly suspicious of the man. Not that you’d say anything to anyone. You just wanted to keep an eye on him.

Considering he was part of your crew, it was a good thing you did.

You might’ve lost Maycombe.

Chapter Text

You found yourself dreading the battle.

It didn’t matter you weren’t in it directly. You were close enough. There was enough risk. There was enough that you didn’t want to do.

You avoided certain things you knew you shouldn’t have, but you didn’t care. So what if you missed this or that-- you could just ask Maycombe later and find out about everything.

Some days you were so anxious you actually threw up in the morning, hauling ass to do it outside and as far out of sight as possible. The feeling of something sinister on the horizon amazingly did not really do great things for one’s emotional well-being. Who would have guessed?

The days leading up to it were the worst of it. There were people scurrying around, bidding each other goodbye and ensuring everything was ready for the trek ahead. You felt especially sick. You’d completely run out of cigarettes and weren’t inclined to visit Booger again. As long as you didn’t know anything concrete, you wouldn’t have to tell anyone about him. Besides, keeping watch over him as you traveled would be adequate.

Maycombe was acting a little more irrational than usual. She wasn’t handling everything with a whole lot of grace. You had no idea when the last time she slept was, but the way she looked made it pretty evident she was running on fumes. You didn’t really understand it, because your stress had to do with your own petulance and anxiety of being stuck with suspicious people, but you wondered if it had to do with her guilt. You doubted she would admit to it, but you had caught her looking off at monsters forlornly more than once, her lower lip quivering.

You kept talking to Abby.

It was all you had to console yourself.

Frisk had been curt with you when they saw you off. As you expected, they looked at you with revolution when they caught the smell of your jacket. It was fairly pungent, you supposed, but it wasn’t something you ever particularly noticed. After all, it was just how it smelled.

The ambassador didn’t care, evidently. They had made a big speech beside their adoptive father earlier in the day, where they were perfectly cheery and confident in the troops. Then, reality kicked in when they approached the crew with the traitors. Their face fell emotionless and flat, looking on at you with distaste. Every word that came from their mouth you had heard before, and they knew it.

“Just don’t fuck it up,” they ended their tirade with, eyeing you in particular.

You rolled your eyes. You didn’t see how you could do jack shit, to be entirely honest. It already made you sour enough to not be involved in the battle; it was the only thing you felt you were really good at.

The ride was bumpy and cramped. Maycombe was sitting beside you, chatting amiably with Konner during the hours you were stuck in the truck. You didn’t really feel like talking. Besides, you were focused on Booger.

He was acting strangely. You knew that you might have been acting a bit paranoid, seeing as you’d been suspicious since the last time you spoke, so you couldn’t be sure if what you were seeing was true or not. Shifting from side to side, he was behaving like someone was after him. Constantly restless in all sorts of ways. Constantly observing everyone as if they were on the verge of cutting his throat.

His words just kept running through your head. “This war is their fault. Don’t you agree?”

Maybe it was their fault. But it was the way he said it. The sourness. The thinly veiled anger that peeked out. The fact he said it to you of all people. It was possible he just thought you would be the safest person to vent his inner thoughts to, given your past and your, well, lack of people to talk about it with.

What if he was a traitor, just like you, and you didn’t say anything?

Well, it wasn’t any of your business, anyway. It wasn’t even your problem. Maybe this was your karma about to bite you in the ass.

There was plenty of time to gauge him anyways. After all, it was a three day drive.

You hated every minute of it. The familiar feeling of a cramped, stinking car was not a welcome one. You honestly wanted, at the very least, to have a better toilet than a bush on the side of the road, but there was a fat chance of that, so you sulked. You hated being stuck in there.

Felicity was paying you no mind. She was fiddling with some gun you didn’t recognize.

“Harris, do you remember which button I press to shoot the lazer thing?” she asked.

“No clue.”

“Dr. Alphys didn’t tell you?”

“I didn’t go,” you said flatly.

“Harris!” she gasped. “Are you kidding me?”

“No.”

“Harris, am I given to understand you did not attend mandatory training?” Undyne asked coolly.

“Yes ma’am,” you replied. “Dr. Alphys indicated it was optional.”

“I find that unlikely. You see, I think she would have mentioned it, considering we’ve been dating for almost five years.”

You maintained your posture. “She did not tell me it was mandatory, ma’am.”

Undyne scowled. “Christ. You cocky fuckers are all the same, aren’t you? Realize this behavior will not be tolerated just because you have a little taste of being hero. When we return, you are to make up what you missed. Until then, you will have to have the most basic training we can administer.” She turned away from you, a deep frown embedded in her face. “Maycombe, you press the green button alongside the orange one, then pump the trigger twice. It’s activated after that.”

There was a looming awkward silence among the rest of the soldiers in the car. You felt annoyed that you had to go to Alphys (couldn’t you go literally anywhere else? You didn’t want anything to do with someone who represented what she did), but you were more aggravated that you looked small in comparison to Undyne. Sure, you were physically much shorter than her (she easily hovered over six feet), but you didn’t appreciate looking weaker than her, even if that too, might be true.

You didn’t even see the big deal. It wasn’t like your specialty was guns. You were adequate, but nothing more than that. You didn’t have Maycombe’s eyes or accuracy, and you were positive Preston used guns far more frequently than you did. Did everyone forget your thing was close combat, or something? You didn’t need a gun to kill people quickly.

All you needed was a moment of quiet and a knife, and that would be plenty. It was on the streets, and it was with the Humans.

Still, they all seemed annoyed. Whatever. You didn’t particularly care that you had missed some bullshit “mandatory” training-- there was no fucking way you were going to be buddy-buddy with a scientist with everything that had happened to you, and you were fine using a typical gun. Magic wasn’t of any interest to you, nor were stronger guns.

You continued circling in your mind, ruminating on how annoying it was that you were expected to use some fancy-schmancy gun when a normal one was perfectly fine. People around you had began to chatter again, clearly uninterested in the situation in general. You sat in the corner, feeling sour.

You listened absently to their conversations, not really comprehending anything they actually were saying. More than anything, you were following your train of thought, starting with your annoyance and ending with the conclusion that the Monster troops were incredibly unorganized and ill-prepared for the war that had been sprung upon them. That wasn’t exactly something that came as a surprise to you, though. They’d been losing the war for the first several years, suffering heavy casualties and huge blows to their character. In fact, the stunt at Maven was the first major victory they’d had in a long time. Maybe the war was finally changing tides, bolstering Monsters to victory and justice, but maybe it was just a temporary shift in direction.

After all, if these people couldn’t keep track of you, someone they claimed was “important” (which you very much doubted), then how could you expect them to keep track of anyone to any competency?

It was around the afternoon the following day when you began to fully tune back into reality. Once the car had stopped at night, you spent an ungodly amount of dreary hours learning about a gun. You didn’t see how it mattered. Nor did you see why it had to be so complicated. You were not going to learn nine thousand complex patterns just so you could blast some bastard away when you already had the capabilities. Sure, it was more efficient otherwise, and powerful, and whatever else. That was true.

You just didn’t want to do it.

You could hear Abby reprimanding you for being so immature. You were supposed to be her older sister, yet you were acting bitter over having to learn? How old were you, anyways? Had you really sank that low?

Time passed in a drag. Felicity talked to you cheerily here and there, excitedly showing off her double-jointed fingers to Konner (you had been shown them many times before), but even she was much quieter than usual the longer you were on the road.

You noticed something, though.

You noticed Booger was dead silent.

There hadn’t been a word from his lips the entire time you’d been on the road, it seemed. The only person who had been nearly as quiet in the car besides him was you, and the realization there was someone even more stoic than you made you uncomfortable. There was something deeply off. This didn’t even fit the guy you kind of knew. Not at all.

Something’s wrong.

You kept saying it. You kept thinking it.

You didn’t do a thing.

Undyne was not a fan of you. She made it clear you were to be within arms reach of her at all times. You still really didn’t understand why you even were brought along in the first place, but you were looking forward to getting out of that fucking car and being able to sleep lying down.

You really wanted to talk to your sister. You hadn’t realized how much you were relying on her again, but who could blame you? Probably an ample amount of people, actually, but that was fine. You’d already made it pretty clear you were a bitch who didn’t give a shit.

Maybe that wasn’t such a great thing. Maybe you were fucking up pretty badly.

But all you wanted was to talk to Abby. And that didn’t seem so appalling to you, really. There was nothing bad about that, was there? Seeing her, talking to her, being with her even if she wasn’t entirely real?

You didn’t think so.

The night before you reached your destination, you had a dream. It was sickening. There was nothing around you besides your own self and the knowledge that something horrible was going to happen. It was your fault, whatever it was, and it made you so anxious you thought you might die. The worst part of it were the endless whispers just quiet and numerous enough that you couldn’t decipher a word of it.

The day came.

Sure enough, as Undyne demanded, you were by her side at all times, whether you liked it or not. You were still a little surprised she wasn’t going to fight with the rest, but you assumed she had her reasons. Maybe she had a different role to play? Who knew.

“Listen. Where we’re heading is a decent ways off from the battle. We’ll have sights, but a lot of it will have to do with tech we’ve got. We needed a safer place to scope out the battle than directly in the middle of the fighting, obviously.” Undyne flexed her biceps, looking out on the rest of you with her one yellow eye. “You’ll have some work to do, I hope you know. We won’t just be sitting back and relaxing.”

“Where exactly are we going, General?” Preston asked solemnly.

“They’re abandoned apartment buildings,” Undyne replied. “I don’t know too much about them because I quite frankly don’t care.”

He nodded, then gazed off into the distance. He seemed to be lost to his own thoughts. You understood. There was a mindset you went into right before a battle. It happened to you too, even if you weren’t in one, just like now. It was that knowing. That sickly knowing.

“General, I’d like a word,” Booger suddenly piped up.

“Yes?”

“In private.”

“We don’t have time for fucking around,” she said firmly. “Make it quick.”

The nausea inside you flared violently as you saw a wry smirk cross him. You only saw it for a fleeting moment, enough that you could’ve actually just imagined it. The two walked off a distance while the rest of you stayed back in silence.

You watched them talking and noted the look Undyne cast backwards to you. They seemed to be deep in discussion, steadily making you more and more uneasy. You turned away from them, looking at Maycombe.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Something’s off,” you replied. “I don’t trust him, Maycombe.”

“Who? Konner?”

“No, that one. Jace Maxwell.”

She stared back at you dumbly.

“Booger.”

Her eyes lit up and you saw them travel past you to the man in question. “Why not, Harris?”

“He gives me a bad feeling.” You paused, then lowered your voice so that no one else could hear. “He sells cigarettes to soldiers, and when I was buying some one time-- don’t get pissed-- he kept pushing me about who I was loyal to.” Your face crumpled into a scowl. “Kept trying to convince me this war was the Monsters’ fault.”

Her eyes narrowed, scathingly tracing over Booger. “Look, I’ll keep an eye on him, okay? And I’ll find a chance to let General Undyne know.” You looked at her pleadingly. “I’ll leave out the part about smoking,” she reassured you, and you relaxed.

“Thanks, Maycombe.”

She smiled. “Of course, loser.”

“ALL RIGHT!” Undyne bellowed, breaking the conversation apart. “It’s time to go. Harris, you stay by me. Rest of you-- follow behind.”

Motherfucker.

She clearly trusted you even less than she had before. Every time you made any sort of turn, she’d scowl down upon you, clearly attempting to intimidate you with her massive size. You weren’t going to lie, it worked more than you expected it to. It made you anxious to see her leer down at you with such fury, but you really didn’t want her to know that. All it took to break a picture was one crack, and you did not think you could risk a crack, not even one thinner than a hair.

So instead, you stayed emotionless to the best of your abilities. You could feel yourself sweating, but there wasn’t much you could do about that.

The city didn’t help your mood. It brought back memories of yourself on the streets, memories of sitting alone in abandoned rooms while it rained talking to someone you knew wasn’t really there. Memories of wandering lost, aimlessly, helplessly through the streets while just trying to stay out of trouble and stay alive. Memories of killing people. Memories of the first time you held a knife, the first time you stabbed it into another person.

You looked over the place, catching sight of the apartments Undyne had mentioned. There were fire escapes on the side, most of them somewhat dented and dilapidated. The buildings themselves were built of rusty bricks that had began to crumble, particularly in certain areas where you could tell they had been decimated by blasts of guns.

Your feet felt heavy carrying you up the stairs to the rooftop of the least worn apartment building. You were regretting not saying anything earlier about your suspicions. You didn’t want any part of this at all. This mess wasn’t yours. God, why had you done any of the things you’d done? Why’d you leave your purpose behind?

You turned, sparing a glace to those behind you. Your eyes instantly fell to Maycombe, who smiled at you warmly. Her gray eyes gleamed cheerily, masking any signs the war had made upon her. Somehow, even her large scar seemed to fade away. You gave her a small nod, then turned back.

Of course. How could you keep forgetting?

Standing at the top of the building felt wrong. One of the monsters that came with had mild masking magic, only enough to hide about half of the rooftop. His magic was supposed to be reassuring, but instead you felt sick. There was something bad. Something bad was about to happen.

You were sitting on the edge of the roof, legs dangling off. Maycombe sat beside you, and Preston beside her. Just behind you, the piercing glare of Undyne bore through your skull. It was impossible to relax. You hated this part. The waiting. The knowing. It didn’t help that Maxwell (well, Booger if you were Felicity) had been slinking around the three of you almost nonstop, giving you no opportunity to express your worries.

“Won’t be long now,” Maycombe said softly. She turned back to Undyne. “Right, General?”

“Shouldn’t be,” the woman grumbled. “You can see them marching in if you know what you’re looking for.”

“What exactly is that?” Konner asked, staring hard at the cityscape a couple miles away.

“Wavers,” was all she said.

You thought you knew what she was talking about. Here and there, there’d be a slight blur like a mirage in the air. It wasn’t easy to see, and if she hadn’t brought it up, you likely wouldn’t have noticed it.

“Harris, it’s time for you to learn about your gun. Like you already should have,” Undyne finally said coolly. You stood up, feeling as uncomfortable and irritated as ever. She led you to the west corner of the building, where the sun was slowly making its way to the evening. Maycombe stayed behind, though she stood and shut her eyes softly. Preston, on the other hand, followed the two of you.

“I don’t recall asking for company, Preston,” Undyne growled.

“You didn’t, General,” he replied, face unchanged. It impressed you how well he kept his composure, actually. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“It can wait.”

“All due respect, but no General, it can’t.”

“Speak quickly, then.”

“Jace Maxwell is acting strange,” he said without hesitation, much to your surprise. “General, we were talking at the end of the line walking to this building. He implied I ought to retreat and that we were, and I quote, ‘on the same side.’”

“You are on the same side, aren’t you?” The sourness in her voice could’ve made your lips pucker and your nose crumple. “He’s been pretty cautious about the three of you, as a matter of fact. Particularly you. ” Her eyes burned you to the ground. “You smoke, huh?”

You looked at her in mild surprise. Was she fucking kidding you? Whatever. “Yes, General.”

“And you told him that this war was our fault.” She smirked. “Should’ve known better than to put any faith in you. Out of the three of you, you were one of the more… infamous. Wasn’t it you that was recruited for your undying loyalty?”

“That is untrue, General,” you replied, doing your best to control your rage. “ He was the one that said this fucking war was your fault. I don’t give a shit who started this war. And yes, that was how they phrased it. I saved a general’s life. They recruited me. Nothing ties me to them beyond that.”

“I can smell liars,” she hissed. For a brief moment, her gaze softened, but it quickly turned back into a sneer. “I don’t believe you’re a double-agent, Harris. But don’t think for a second that I don’t know you would turn this all in if it benefitted you. You’d let all of us die. You’re selfish. That makes you a threat. So I’m going to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

“General, Maxwell’s behavior is still--”

“Can it, Preston.” The yellow eye glowed with danger. “I trust these people with my life. I instructed them to test your loyalties. You can leave.”

Preston’s face contorted with anger, his dark eyes scathingly tracing over the General, but regardless, he saluted her and walked off towards a small group of other soldiers.

Again, her attention was turned to you. “Now,” she said, “let’s start.”

Her explanation had barely enough time to gain traction.

You shouldn’t have left Maycombe all alone with that fucker.

There was a shrill scream.

“Nobody do shit,” you heard Booger bellow from behind you. You turned away from the edge of the building quickly and nearly vomited. “Don’t look so surprised, General. What, you think just because I had a nice little cover there was nothing going on?” He laughed loudly.

He was standing on the ledge with a gun pointed to a small woman’s head.

Only, it wasn’t who you thought it was at first. Not Maycombe.

He had the gun to Abby’s temple, holding her captive.

Your breath caught in a briar patch in your throat.

“Did you really think you were the only ones with traitors in their midst? Heh. Already sent a message out to the rest-- they’re gonna blow you fuckers away. They’re already prepared for your little surprise. And if you don’t want to die, or lose your special little hero, you’re going to listen to every demand I have.”

You didn’t hear him though. All you saw were the gray eyes. Scared gray eyes that were pleading with you to do something. Anything.

You took off in a full sprint towards the man as he was mid-sentence, your feet flying underneath you as you pushed yourself harder than you ever had in your life.

“ABBY!” you screamed, grabbing her by the shoulder. You threw her with all the force you could muster, watching her rocket backwards away from the gun and the edge of the building. You heard a shot and felt it tear through your left arm, but it wasn’t your main concern.

You’d hit the man too hard. He was flying backwards, seemingly in slow motion, off the side of the building. And you, you were going the same way. There was no time to grab onto a ledge and stop your fall. This wasn’t so bad a death, anyways. At least you’d saved Abby. Abby.

But when you looked back, it wasn’t Abby at all.

It was a very small woman with wild, curly blond hair and a large scar on her face.

Maycombe.

And that was the last thing you saw before she was out of sight and gravity began to propel your towards the ground.

Your hands just barely caught hold of the rails.

Unfortunately, so did his.

Chapter Text

Your arms ached and screamed from the sudden force. The grip you had on the rails would have slipped had you not landed with your right arm slung over it. Blood was pumping in your ears and the sound of your breaths deafened you. The world was stopping. You felt like you’d turned into something new.

Doing your best not to heave, you pulled yourself up and over the railing, falling into the little safe haven of a grate. You laid there for a moment, hoping your nausea would fade. You saw people peering over the building, and what honed you back into the world was their shouts for you. You blinked, then shakily rose to your feet. Leaning against the railing, sure you were about to hurl, you looked down.

You saw that bastard.

Something flipped in your brain again. The nausea, while still pungent and heavy, was no longer a primary concern. He had also pulled himself to safety, apparently just barely able to grab the rails of the fire escape below you.

The two of you made eye contact. He stared at you dumbly. Then, without thinking, you flew down the stairs, rushing towards him with all intents of destroying him. He took off upon seeing you, stumbling down the stairs hurriedly. In that rush, his foot caught on a step and he tumbled down the stairs. It was your lucky day. You were on him in seconds, you nails ripping into his skin and peeling bits of it away. The traitor screamed out, turning over and kicking you in the gut.

It hurt and made you fall back, but you couldn’t let it stop you. You unsheathed your knife, flying towards him.

There was something about a blade that put you at ease. You knew a blade. You knew your way around it and how to use it. It guided you to where you were meant to be, to what you had to do, to what was needed by the world you lived in. His eyes widened as he saw you lunging towards him. You saw him start to roll to the side to get out of your way.

You expected it to an extent. It was human nature to move from danger. Part of you had expected him to try to deflect your blow, but you supposed he wasn’t prepared enough for that. You tried your best to accommodate the change in direction, springing off your left leg to the right and towards the bastard. The blade whisked past his face, just barely slicing the bridge of his nose. 

You recovered quickly, hearing but not caring about Undyne shouting, “DON’T KILL HIM!” He rose to his feet, diving towards you. Your blade slipped from your hands, but you caught the fist he’d thrown your way. You took his wrist into your grip tightly, then rammed your forearm into the back of his elbow. The arm popped loudly and there was a stark snap that rang out in the air. It was a little trick you’d learned out on the streets. Hitting someone’s arm just like that was pretty crippling-- it broke the elbow, and out there, not being able to use your arms was basically a death sentence.

Booger screamed in pain and stumbled away, curling against the wall as his face contorted in agony. You felt adrenaline begin to surge. You’d missed this, in a way. Being able to be ruthless. Being able to tear someone limb from limb for trying to hurt her. Getting the revenge you deserved more than anything.

Your knife was back in your hands and you were upon him in moments. You came down on him with a brutal stab to his hand as it flew towards you. He screamed out in pain and began to try to worm away from you. With both of his arms rendered useless, there wasn’t much he could do. The bloodied fist came back for you, leading you to slice into his bicep. You felt the blade rip through the muscle. Clearly, so did he. The arm fell back as he gasped out in pain. You slashed his chest. It wasn’t deep. It wasn’t meant to kill. It was meant to hurt.

He screamed louder.

You might’ve killed him, in fact, you probably would have if not for the sudden loud clang above you. Flinching, you tore your gaze upwards, coming eye-to-eye with Undyne. Her one yellow eye was burning.

She jumped down to your level, firmly pushed you aside, then picked up the traitor by the scruff of his collar. The general tore away his gun and handed it to you, her face grim.

“I said to keep him alive,” she said coolly. “That’s an order, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you were able to formulate, your teeth gritted together harshly. Never in your life had you wanted to do something less.

“Good instincts, though,” Undyne added. “Had me fooled.”

You were a little startled.

“Don’t get too cocky. We’ve gotta get outta here, and fast. Are you hurt?”

“Not badly,” you responded, sheathing your knife once more and looking her head on. It was a huge fucking lie. With the adrenaline draining, the pain was starting to burn. Your arms felt like they’d been ripped apart, and your chest was definitely bruised pretty badly. Being kicked in the ribs by military boots didn’t fucking tickle. Maybe you’d even cracked a rib. It hurt to breathe and shift around. However, you reminded yourself, it could’ve been worse. You’d been through worse and been alright.

Undyne nodded stiffly, looking up towards the rest of the group, all looking down in surprise. “Fall back to the car. I’m going out to help the others.”

Undyne had knocked Maxwell out and was carrying him unceremoniously over her shoulder. A monster had to seal up his wounds a bit, courtesy of you, but he was definitely not in tip-top shape. The general wouldn’t allow that. She looked strong and angry. She’d searched his pockets earlier, too, and found a little phone-kike device. In a fury, she smashed it to pieces and left the dust behind in the city.

You had to be supported by Konner to make the whole jog back to the truck. It turns out, falling off a building hurts you more than you might expect, and even if you try to pretend like it’s okay, it’s not okay. You ran the best you could, mainly limping while Konner dragged you alongside him. He wouldn’t have been your first choice, but no matter how much you loved Maycombe, there was no way in hell she could support you with her fairy-like stature.

You couldn’t stop yourself from hearing the distant gunfire and the impending sounds of vehicles oncoming. The car was nearby, all things considered, and you were heading towards it at a much quicker pace than when you’d left it, but you felt like you were slogging through a desert made of sludge. 

You saw people scurrying away and hiding. Not many. Homeless people, better known as street people. They’d run to places that they were sure would be safe, but knew really weren’t. You remembered those feelings. No home really feels safe when you’re out in the middle of a war like this. There’s nothing to stop them from coming to get you. You’ll just be another body among the rubble. Nameless. A statistic. Forgotten in instants when you carried so much story with you.

By the time you reached the truck, you were gasping and wheezing in agony, clutching your ribs tightly. It was your right side that was killing you. You sat inside and tried to will the pain out of you. 

Felicity sat beside you as a monster tried to help heal your wounds. It helped to an extent, but you were still definitely not in tip-top shape. The general looked on at you flatly as the car shot down the streets. Konner was silent. The rest were discussing plans.

Maycombe looked at you in pain. You hid your gaze. You couldn’t stand it. You were absolutely humiliated. Not only had you done what you did, but you had said the wrong name. You called her the wrong name. She wasn’t your sister.

You didn’t have a sister anymore.

“Harris, stand up,” Undyne commanded.

You did so, rising to your feet and ignoring the discomfort in your chest.

“Hit me.”

You blinked, a little surprised.

“You heard me, soldier. Hit me. Hard.”

Whatever. What else was there to lose now? The little fragment of your dignity you had left?

You pulled your fist back, then threw all your weight forward, your hand sinking into her gut. It was like hitting a brick wall of muscle. You were hurting again.

“That’s what I thought,” Undyne sighed. “You need to stay here. You’re not at your best.”

“General, I’m fine,” you said firmly, instantly stiffening.

“No, you’re not. You three are staying here with the driver. That’s an order.”

“But General, I’m not injured,” Konner protested.

“You’re staying to make sure she does,” Undyne clarified. “Besides, it’s better this way considering the way our plans have gone. You’ll watch over this shithead.” She leaned over to the driver, a monster who looked like a bodybuilder rabbit. “You too. Keep an eye on everything.”

He nodded stiffly, still powering through the streets. The gunfire was only getting louder and louder. You felt upset.

If you killed Maxwell, you were gonna be in big fucking trouble, and you didn’t exactly have a great track record controlling your temper. He’d been handcuffed and tied up, but he wasn’t gagged, and you knew if he said just the wrong thing, you might lose your shit.

Orders, however, were orders here. You had already done enough to make you appear unreliable. Besides, it’d be nice to sit and not aggravate the pain in your ribs.

You hated the sounds of the gunfire. The shouting, the crumbling buildings, and the sounds of rushed feet were nothing. But with every pop of a gun, you began to grow more uncomfortable. You really didn’t like guns. You could use them, but god, you didn’t like them. It’d been too long since you’d been around them like this.

When they left the car, you had no idea. Your head was floating in the clouds, foggily fazing through vague thoughts and realizations. Probably should be dead was the most prevalent one. You’d almost died without a second thought over someone who wasn’t even real anymore. Not that you wouldn’t have done the same for Felicity, but the fact that you hadn’t even known… that bothered you. You hated not being in control. Anytime you weren’t in control of yourself, you were weak, and that always led to problems.

Felicity abruptly broke into your bubble.

“Why’d you do it?” she shouted.

You startled and looked over to her, realizing the three of you were the only ones left in the back on the truck (besides Maxwell, but fuck him). You blinked at her once.

“HARRIS!” she repeated, angrier, stomping her foot and rising to her feet. She suddenly seemed awfully tall and threatening. You maintained your composure.

“It was instinct,” you replied slowly, answering as honestly as you could. Really, it was true. There weren’t any seconds thoughts running through your mind when you’d done it. It was just what your body said to do.

Konner was awkwardly sitting away from the two of you and carefully examining the amount of grime under his nails.

“Yeah? Instinct? You have a lot more than that to explain.”

You raised your brows.

“Don’t give me that look. You know what I’m talking about.”

You wished you didn’t.

“Who did you think I was?”

You shrugged. Your heart was pounding. A cold sweat was starting up and trickling down your back and forehead. The air felt thin. Something high pitched was starting to ring in your ears.

“Abby. That’s what you said.”

“Okay,” you said, tensing up.

“Who is that?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “I wasn’t really thinking.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“I don’t know anyone named Abby,” you said, your heart twisting tightly with the feeling of betrayal. “I don’t really remember anything I did.”

“That’s a lie. That’s a damn lie. But clearly you’re not gonna say shit about it, so I guess I’ll fucking drop it.”

“I don’t understand why you’re pissed,” you replied coolly, little stings of anger starting up inside of you.

“Because you almost fucking died, maybe? For no fucking reason?”

“You’re alive because of what I did,” you said angrily.

“Have you ever thought that I don’t want you to sacrifice yourself for me? What if you had died? Then that’s on my shoulders. That’s my burden to carry. Always knowing that I could’ve done just one thing differently and I wouldn’t have lost you. I don’t want that kind of pressure. I don’t need any more of that shit. Of course I’m glad I’m not dead, and thanks for that, but jesus. I can’t handle more of that.”

You were quiet. There wasn’t a real way to reply to that. You weren’t sorry, and you definitely weren’t going to put your life before hers. But you knew exactly what she was talking about. There was always one thing, and that one thing would never stop haunting you once you’d thought of it. Why didn’t I take first watch? or Why didn’t I let him leave? or Why’d I have to give her that damned kit that day? They’re all little things that would’ve just been one choice that would’ve changed everything. They follow you with every step you take. They remind you of what could’ve been, and worse, they remind you of what is.

Luckily for you, Maxwell stirred right about then.

He opened his eyes slowly and bearily, groaning loudly and crying out when he moved just too much and aggravated his broken elbow.

You sprang to your feet, but Konner and Felicity both pulled you back down before you could do anything.

He stared at you hatefully. 

Everyone else was silent.

After all, the three of you were really looking at yourselves in a way. You were looking at would’ve been you if you’d failed. This was just the other side of the coin. To you, he was the villain, the madman, the bastard. But to him, you three were the same thing.

It was humbling.

No one spoke after that.

You were lucky. Despite Maxwell’s betrayal, the battle was still won. There was enough time to alert the Monster troops to let them change the plan and only be partially ambushed. The casualties were greater than anyone had been expecting, but at the end of the day, the territory was won over, and the Monsters had every reason to celebrate. The part of the city you’d been in originally, the part where you were meant to spectate, had been blown to hell. Undyne celebrated that you’d been able to escape. You couldn’t stop thinking about the people you’d seen in it before.

Every war has innocents, you reminded yourself. It doesn’t care who dies as long as there’s a winner.

The days afterwards were horrible for you. People kept asking you about Maxwell, kept asking if it was true, kept asking if you knew before. You didn’t talk to any of them. Felicity, thankfully, got over her anger somewhat quickly, and she’d usually take over for you. When she didn’t, the silence they were met with was what it was. Konner had grown quieter again. You knew it was because of the realization about how similar he was to Maxwell because you had the same problem.

God, you were stressed.

You needed to smoke.

You didn’t want to go to him. You really didn’t. You didn’t want that shame or embarrassment. But the humiliation was less compelling than the desire for some cigarettes.

You dragged yourself out there. Every step you took there was a spike of anxiety. You really didn’t want this. Oh god. Goddammit.

He came into view. Sans was looking off to the distance. There was a cigarette dangling loosely from his fingers as he stared towards the stars. He looked eerily calm. You almost didn’t recognize the guy. You hadn’t said anything to him since he had apologized to you.

Maybe he wasn’t so bad. Maybe you’d been too much of a bitch. Not a lot of people said sorry. Undyne hadn’t for misjudging you, for doubting you. Maycombe hadn’t for yelling at you. You hadn’t for anything . The people who started this war hadn’t for that. Maybe you didn’t really hate him.

But still. This was an embarrassment.

His head turned as you approached the smoking spot. There was distinct surprise on his face.

“hey. what’s up?”

“I need to smoke,” you said.

“what? other guy didn’t cut it?” He smirked, throwing you a whole pack to your surprise. You had to stifle a smirk.

“You heard about it, then.”

“hate to break it to ya, knowing how you feel about attention and everything, but i think everyone knows.”

“Probably,” you admitted.

“kudos, though. guy deserved it.”

You nodded.

“seriously. and the way you went for maycombe without thinking. pretty stand-up in my opinion.”

You shrugged, lighting a cigarette and delighting in the taste as the smoke filled your mouth.

“it’s those older sibling instincts,” he said.

You tensed up a little, the smoke hissing out through your teeth.

“i’m a big brother, ya know. i get it. you feel like you gotta protect someone. like if something happens to them, it feels like it’s your fault. doesn’t matter how true that is. it’s just how it feels. you want to make sure that no one you care about… well. you know.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, “I do.”

“i don’t know what your life is like behind all this shit,” Sans sighed, “and you know, i really don’t need to.” He paused before continuing. “back in the underground, before we were set free, and way before the kid ever fell down, pap and i were on our own, ya know. we were homeless and we barely scraped by on what we had. pap would go to school everyday and i’d go for maybe half the day. then i’d try to scrounge up some money somehow so we could eat later. it was awful. some shitty kids liked to bully paps because he only had really tattered, old clothes that were too small for him because all we could afford to do was give him my old clothes for a long time. i felt like i was the worst brother. felt like it was my fault. pap never complained. he’s a big optimist, and even having one friend at school was enough for him to smile away. but i could still tell it really hurt him. he looked up to the popular kids and saw how happy they were with all their friends and gold and he wanted that so badly. but i could never give that to him.”

You listened in silence. It made you feel bad. It reminded you of Abby. “It’s not your fault, either,” you told him. “You were just as much of a victim.” 

He shrugged. “sure. but that’s not how it felt then. i mean, i was the big brother. it was my job to protect him if no one else would. and no one else did. so when he got hurt, it was always my fault.”

“No,” you said, looking off to the stars and thinking about your sister. “You got him here, at least.”

“things picked up when i was seventeen-ish. we were able to nab a house, pap hit his growth spurt real hard so people stopped picking on him, and he made a best friend pretty soon after. still, it changed him. it affects him even today.”

“But he’s here.”

“yeah, he is. and i’m glad that he didn’t go out to be a soldier. it’s what he used to want to do, probably for the honor and all that. i was able to convince him to be a healer instead. he’s got great skill with it and it’s a lot safer. i don’t know what’d i do if he went out there.”

“You’d protect him,” you replied absently, looking at your feet. Then you wrinkled your nose a bit and looked at him. “Why are you telling me this?”

Oh fuck. You hadn’t meant to let that slip.

Sans laughed, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “it’s stupid.”

“No, tell me.” Might as well commit.

He shrugged, leaning against the tree and stuffing his free hand into his pocket. “i feel a weird kind of connection with you, i guess. i know you hate me and all, but i dunno. i’ve felt it since we first met. i think we’re similar people. or something. like i said, it’s stupid.”

“I…” You didn’t know how to reply. You sat down and looked off. “I guess I see it.”

“big sibling instincts, i guess,” Sans joked.

“Guess so,” you said. Something inside you felt warm suddenly. Him talking about his brother reminded you of your sister. It reminded you of the better times, like her excitedly talking about getting braces so she could fix the gap between her front teeth or her trying to make a model volcano and accidentally creating a giant foam explosion in the kitchen. Most of all, it reminded you of the days you used to stargaze together, making up your own constellations. It hurt a little bit, but more than that, it made you feel fuzzy. Something you hadn’t felt in a long time. “Lots of guessing,” you said after a moment, trying to do a little joke.

“oh yeah.”

You felt a little proud of yourself for the sound of bemusement in his voice, fighting off the urge to smile.

Then he said it.

The bastard.

“no bones about it.”

He got you at just the right time. You couldn’t help it. It’d all been thrown at you too fast.

You burst out into raucous laughter, genuine, bellowing, happy laughter for the first time in years.

He broke you down. And he did it with a shitty pun.

Chapter Text

Sans looked at you in shock. You looked back at him with the same shock, laughter still bubbling out of you. You couldn’t stop little guffaws from bursting out of you. They had died down, certainly, but now the remnants were sizzling out.

“oh my god,” he said.

“Don’t,” you warned through the giggles, doing your best to sound serious.

“i did it. and i did it with a pun. wow.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you warned.

He mimed zipping his lips and you had to stop a smirk from worming onto your mouth. “shutting the fuck up.”

“Thanks,” you said, finally composing yourself with deep breaths. You couldn’t believe yourself. Years of a stoic exterior. Years of work. All undone by a pun that wasn’t even that good by a guy you had just decided to give a chance.

“by the way,” Sans tossed in casually, acting as if you hadn’t laughed at all, “how’s maycombe?”

“She’s fine,” you responded, running your hands through your hair. “Actually, uh...”

Sans listened intently, observing you closely. You couldn’t believe what you were doing in a sense. But at the same time, you’d already lost that first barrier. You were so tired.

“I don’t really know,” you said. “We don’t talk about that.”

“i heard she was mad for a bit. from preston. said you two had a spat while the battle was going on, that she was freaked out she’d have your life on her shoulders.”

“Yeah. She’s still mad.”

“still?”

“Yeah.” You looked at your cigarette idly, twirling it loosely in your fingers.

“it’ll pass. it’s not really anger from what i hear. sounds more like fear. she didn’t want to lose you.”

“I didn’t want to lose her.”

“fair.”

“Big sibling instincts,” you added, drawing a snort from Sans.

“big sibling instincts,” he agreed.

You started smoking a lot more. Something was different about Sans. Sure, he was still a little annoying-- pushy, obnoxious, know-it-all-- but he was much better about it. He didn’t harass you (or ‘Harris’ you, as he so intelligently put it) as relentlessly, and most of your conversations ended up being about stupid things he and his brother did as kids.

The day after he’d made you laugh, you knew things would be different. You left the tree without acting sour; you actually bid him goodbye verbally and walked off rather than stomping off. He was amiable, saying something like “see ya later” but doing nothing more. It was greatly appreciated. You went back to bed and woke up at a horribly early hour that felt more painful than it usually would have. You did conditioning, running back and forth, doing this and that, going through mandatory gun training (at least the scientist wasn’t there, you couldn’t take that), and doing a whole lot of other boring shit. You relished in the free time you had later on, lying on the ground and being very grateful that the pavement was cold, cooling your burning body.

Then, of course, came lunch.

You were eating with Konner and Felicity as you typically did, picking at your food much to the pixy’s chagrin, when Sans came up behind you. You knew he was there before either of you said anything. It was a feeling. Whatever magic he had, it was starting to have a distinct feel about it. Something like a cold blanket covering you from a colder wind; a feeling like it was your duty to stay true to what you believed. Also, Sans smelled strongly of condiments, particularly ketchup.

He poked you in the back of the head, grinning widely when you turned around with a disappointed glare. “hey ____. mind if we sit with ya?”

“You wanna what?” Konner asked, bewildered. “Did I miss somethin’? I thought you two hated each other?”

“Who’s we? ” Maycombe added on, looking equally as startled. “Also, you know Harris? And you want to be around her?”

“someone’s gotta annoy her. it’s hard work, but i know i’m just the guy. takes a whole lotta backbone, though.”

Maycombe stared in disbelief.

“Harris, you made a friend all on your own?” she finally burst out.

“I’m not a kid,” you replied in annoyance. “And that’s not the word I’d use.”

“What would you use?”

“Acquaintances.”

“agreed. no bones about it,” Sans said, winking at you. You narrowed your eyes a bit, but you didn’t curl your lip. You were trying to make it look less nasty and more… acknowledging? But you were definitely having a hard time. “anyways. _____. can we sit at your cool kid lunch table?”

“Again, who’s we?”

Sans jabbed a thumb behind him, looking absolutely delighted with himself. A lazy grin and a sly look was draped over his whole demeanor.

There, walking through the crowd like a blue whale amongst ants, was Papyrus, happily bouncing alongside his (suddenly very noticeably) small girlfriend.

“we,” the asshole grinned.

“I don’t care,” you replied, and when he spoke again, you already knew what was going to come out of his mouth.

“aw, great. knew you’d be excited about it.”

He just started doing that. Of course, you still weren’t exactly talkative. Most conversations between everyone at the table took place without you needing to do any work. It was more than it used to be, considering the joint effort of Maycombe (“You have to engage, Harris!”), Papyrus (“WE ARE FRIENDS NOW! TELL ME ABOUT YOURSELF!”), Laurel (“Are you shy? Come on, talk with us!), and, as expected, Sans (“don’t you feel bonely moping in silence all the time?”). For the first time, you actually found yourself enjoying the company of a crowd. It wasn’t to the point you were having a “Fated Day Episode” (as Sans dubbed it) or you were smiling all the time, but you weren’t frowning or looking down at your feet, so you considered it good enough.

Felicity was thriving with the new company, particularly with Laurel. The two bonded over their small heights, and even though Laurel was much taller than your little pixy comparatively, she certainly wasn’t huge by any standard. Sometimes Sans would jump in on the conversation here and there, seeing as he was taller than Maycombe but smaller than Laurel, but mostly he would just toss in all the witty comments that could possibly be spoken at every opportunity.

You saw what Sans meant about his brother. The way Papyrus yelled at him for his puns, the way he teased the guy and the way Papyrus lost his mind over it, the way he cheerfully commented on how cool his brother was… yeah, it hurt. But it also felt nice. It felt nice to know you had something in common with someone, you supposed. And having another new person as a reminder of who Abby was didn’t feel horrible. Pap wasn’t Abby like Felicity was. But he was something close.

There were suddenly so many people so engaged in your life. Preston still kept to himself more than the rest of the group, much like yourself, and somehow, the two of you became somewhat close in the shared silence you lived in.

Smoking was more pleasant. Often, Konner would come out to smoke, and the three of you would all smoke together. He was a trusted confidant about the “Fated Day Episode” and he became invested as all hell in becoming the next person to get you to crack a grin. The first thing he said when he learned about it was “The cold hearted bitch can smile? Who knew?”

Honestly, he almost got you right then. There was some sort of affection in the insult. Besides, Sans decided to toss in a “it’s heart to make her laugh” and the timing of it all felt like something you shared with your friends and family a long time ago. It wasn’t good enough though.

You told the two they had to earn the laugh. You weren’t going to give them out for free.

It was thing now, you supposed. Sans and Konner fighting against each other for the ego boost that you laughed at something stupid they said was, to an extent, amusing to you, mainly because both of them were equally horrible at it. They’d repeat old jokes again and again, convinced they would find the fabric that suited you perfectly somewhere in their workshop. 

Sometimes it irritated you and you’d leave, to which the next time you went smoking they would avoid pushing you. It was one of the reasons you didn’t seal yourself off from them more and more and instead maintained a steady barrier. There was a certain amount of respect for your limits.

You were thinking of that smoking spot while you tasted your blood in your teeth. You thought of it while you were picking yourself up from the ash and the rubble and the dusty rain of concrete.

Maycombe wouldn’t always let you go. Sometimes it wasn’t on purpose. She’d be lying there in her bed, sleeping so deeply that you knew she was gone. You could slap her, you were sure, and she would remain unperturbed. You didn’t know why you were so scared to leave those nights, but you couldn’t bear to leave. The nights after, you’d see Abby and talk to her the whole way to the spot. Her eyes weren’t there, not really, but you could see the gleam that Maycombe had and the gray in the pavement and the icy air and you felt that she was there and worse, that she was… wrong. All wrong. But those were just the times when she stopped you accidentally. More often, she’d stand in front of the door, her arms crossed and her eyes stern. “You need to sleep,” she’d insist. “You’ve been tossing all over the place and your eyes have sunken into your head. You’re tired. You have to rest.” And you would. You didn’t want her to be angry. Besides, often you were tired. It wasn’t an unwelcome sensation for someone to care for you. Felicity’s small hand pushing you backwards with a strength she didn’t know she had over you, hitting you both with a stab of ice and a blister of lava. You knew what it was, what the feeling was. You’d felt so much of it for your little sister. It’s why you’d never let go. It bound you, it tore you, it saved you.

That, too, swarmed your mind as you found your footing and your strength and your scowl. Your knife was part of your hand. The man before you was just a mannequin that couldn’t stop you.

You were determined. You had to win. This losing battle was just another brief setback. You could never lose. It wasn’t an option.

It started with the surprise. An attack in retaliation against a base well-known to be populated with civilians protected by monsters. A significant portion of territory that had become a necessity with the loss of all the land the Humans suffered.

It was your time.

The car ride was the worst part. The anticipation felt gross. The severity felt worse.

You weren’t going to have an out this time. You hadn’t even seen Jace Maxwell since his betrayal. You didn’t have a tie to the battle.

You didn’t want the tie to battle suddenly.

So it began. Everything that had changed all so suddenly and it all began with a tha- thud. Tha- thud.

Fighting with your knife was less like breathing and more like the tha- thud, tha- thud, tha- thud of your heart as you left the truck. It just was-- something that you could not control but perhaps influence. You could hold your breath, but your heart would continue to beat until the end. 

Tha- thud. Tha- thud.

Your armor was heavy. Heavy breathing under your helmet made you sweat. Your fingers were clammy beneath the fabric of the gloves. Your chest rose and fell but the hard material guarding your torso stopped it from expanding too much.

Tha- thud. Tha- thud.

The truck was driving away. Dropping more people off elsewhere. Elaina, Ari, and others were with you. The names of the others escaped you, but you vaguely recognized one as someone who’d come with the day you saved the ambassador.

Ari’s sais were strapped tightly to her sides and she lifted a bandana to cover her mouth. Her helmet gave a certain stiffness to her, but there was still a hint of her personality in that neon green streak of spray paint. You felt her smugness, that entitlement like she knew you more than you wanted her to and it made you instantly angier.

Elaina was already prepared, but she had worlds of difference in her appearance. She had some dark blue stripes on her helmet, and unlike the rest of you, there was a Delta Rune on her uniform, right in the center. She had one small axe in her right hand. Her knife was still strapped to her leg.

The hilt of the blade was clenched in your hand.

Tha- thud. Tha- thud.

You were all moving. 

“The goal is that no one notices us. Stealth. Either be quiet or be fast as hell, because if they’re alive long enough to hear you, you’re dead. We’re here to take out as many of those soldiers coming up behind our troops as we can. We’re not fighting to the death. Get in, get out, join back here with me and keep shooting. Don’t take anything that will be too heavy. You have your pistols, some ammo. The rest of the guns can stay here. It’ll be hidden with the concealing spell cast by our driver, but you’ll have the GPS. Stay calm. You’ve all proven your worth. You’ve been here before.”

It was a lot of pressure to have upon you all at once.

But you had to, because if you didn’t, it was Maycombe’s head on the chopping block. You were doing this so she’d have cover, so they’d all have cover, so it wouldn’t be so terrible.

You’d found, the third day in, the building the worst of them were hiding in. The place where the commands were coming from.

You couldn’t sneak enough troops past the chaos to ambush it. Here you came in, finally doing what you were meant to do.

Tha- thud. Tha- thud. 

Your hands felt clammy. It reminded you of when you had to root through old garbage for any food. Sickly. Wrong.

Why was it hard?

Shut yourself off.

You have to be strong.

If you aren’t, you’ll lose it all.

Lose her.

You can’t let go.

Your mind followed your feet. Slinking was nothing new for you. The battle had been at a standstill for a while now, your small squad trapped. You’d kill for your cigarettes. Literally.

You were snakes. Parasites infesting the anthill. All of you knew you didn’t belong.

Your heart was in your lungs and your lungs were in your knees. Everything was wrong. Sliding from shadow to shadow in the coming dusk felt so much weaker than you were used to.

I’m not the prey.

I’m the predator.

You tried to make yourself feel stronger, but there was only so much you could do. So you ignored the rest of your fear and followed Elaina’s gestures into the building, Ari zipping past you like a fox into its den. The man at the door only was turned for a second, but it was enough for the two of them. Elaina’s hands covered his mouth and Ari’s sai flew through his throat in a moment. There wasn’t time for his last scream to come out.

Apathy.

Apathy.

Tha- thud. Tha- thud. 

It was your turn. His buddy had just turned around, his eyes and mouth widening as he saw his comrade slip away. A small, short sound burst from him before you were upon him, one fist clenched around his head while your other plunged the blade through his ear. A dying squawk was all he could manage before he too met the end of all ends.

You knew it was your time all over again.

Chapter Text

You loved and hated the thrill of battle.

To kill another human being was horrible. Grotesque and traumatic and frightening. But to live through the battle, to come out as the strongest one, there was something to that. Like you could keep going. The lives lost never left you. Their faces might blend over time, but they linger, longer sourly as they observe you living the life you stole from them.

But this was war. It was your life or theirs. And you weren’t about to give up your life for someone who you didn’t know, someone you didn’t care about.

You never knew how to feel when you saw people like the man at the end of your blade. That shocked, distant look, that slack-jawed gape… the way they’d slip off your knife and fall into a puddle of meat, it was sickening. But you were used to it.

You could only ignore it and hope you’d know what to feel later. Your feet flew under you and guided you behind Elaina. Some comrades behind you shot the other few men and women in the room, silencers hiding the killing noise. They flocked in, securing the room as the rest of you began your ascent.

You watched as the blood flew in the air. One man had the misfortune to be hit in the neck, and spent his final moments on the ground, gurgling out chunks of his own flesh. His eyes were big and scared, and then they were cold.

You knew it all too well.

Four of you had to help pry the elevator doors open while the other six gathered inside. Elaina opened the hatch on the ceiling, climbing up first and then pulling the rest of you up after her. She offered a small ascender to each of you. Then the climb began.

It started with the Commander. She began to zip up the line as if it were water, her movements fluid and calm. A few others went before you, Ari being the last. Before she started climbing, she smirked at you and mimed blowing her head off. “Let’s hope not, yeah?” she murmured. It was hard to see through the dark visor of her helmet, but the smell of her ire was pungent enough that you could tell. “We don’t quit,” she said, her voice suddenly remiss of mirth before she again began to scamper up the line like a woodland animal. She bore surprising resemblance to a squirrel. Annoyed, you noted to yourself the shared traits the two had, the first being both were irritating as hell, the second being both were relentless. Fucking squirrel.

You could not believe how uncomfortable climbing up would be. The goal was to reach the third floor for you. Elaina, meanwhile, was heading to the fourth. The last few behind all of you were going to the second. You’d work your way up, little by little. And it would hopefully work.

Ari, Elaina, and another rather surly woman were the ones with the crowbars. They’d pull back the doors, and then the ones who were thin but still strong enough would rush in.

You weren’t thin per say, but in comparison to the absolute bulk on several of the other soldiers there, you certainly looked lankier. You made it a personal goal that, should you survive, you were bulking up. Being small was never a good thing. You were sure of it. You had to be. It didn’t matter that you weren’t the smallest. What mattered was that you could be considered small at all.

You had hardly noticed when you shot through the thin gap in the doors. Again, your body left your control and something else, no, someone else forced you into the room. You were followed, you felt the others following you in the explosion from the elevator. You used their legs to run.

You remembered how to breathe as you flew. You remembered what it felt like, what it felt like to be anyone but yourself, to be Harris and not ____, to be a monster and not a human. You weren't you anymore. That fear you lived by was put on the backburner. It was like you locked yourself behind a giant steel door instead of thin prison bars, like the woman inside you was pushed away, pushed so far back you'd be gone again.

This is just what it was like before. After Abby. When you were stuck in the streets. It was an animal inside of you that was finally completely free. The rabid anger inside of you. The feral rage. The craving for blood.

Your knife flew into the neck of the man immediately adjacent to the door, and then on instinct you used his large frame to block any further attack from his comrades. His body was pelted by gunfire, but between his vest and your own, you were able to remain unharmed. You ran, rocketing yourself off your left foot, then your right, then your left again, throwing yourself to the left to throw off their expectations and skewering the man before you through the eye. He crumpled to the floor, and feeling a man grab you from behind, you grabbed him on instinct and threw him to the ground in front of you, hearing his arm snap as you did so. The next instant, you were behind him, knife pressed as hard on his neck as was possible without maiming him. With his one broken arm and the uncomfortable stand-off, silence resonated in the room.

Your eyes glided across the crowd, noticing a small puddle of bodies you were not responsible for.

Right, right. You weren’t alone.

The other two soldiers had similarly caught a Human each and were in the same stand-off as you.

Guns were pointed at you three.

There was something about it.

Always being in three.

You saw soldiers speaking into their comms, looking disgusted. “What do you want?” one woman said, staring at you. You’d been expecting more malice, but you supposed a blank face, like yours hidden behind a mask was much harder to hate. Her eyes were still angry and cold, but there wasn’t that same venom on someone like, say, Booger.

“Put down your weapons,” the man to your left barked.

“Fuck no!” she yelled. “Crazy fuckers! We’ve got you outnumbered!”

Ari popped through the doors in that moment, standing casually, her sais in hand. They’d been pried apart fully now, revealing the multitude of people concealed within.

“I don’t think you do, though,” she answered, startling the man as she flooded him, tearing him apart piece by piece. Her hurt arm, you noticed, she kept trying to cover, flying forwards with her better one. “But it’s an easy mistake to make.”

Then the rest flooded in. They’d all been so focused on you they hardly noticed.

It’s the arrogance that kills them. The split second when you don’t think, when you don’t consider beyond what you should have, that’s what gets you killed. The few soldiers who had gone to the elevator hadn’t had enough support.

And that’s why they were so easily broken apart.

From there, they fell, fell one by one like the dominos they were. They fell until the only ones left were on their knees, the slain bodies of their comrades strewn across the room, hopelessly dead. They were silent as they were being cuffed. A cross between shame and anger on their bloodied faces, the blood spatters reminders of what they could not do.

Few of yours were killed. One man was shot in the chest, but his vest had protected him well enough. A few cracked ribs put him out of commission, though, so he and another woman went downstairs, prisoners in tow. More followed, you watching them idly as the other soldiers brought down the ones who had fell without dying. Ari sat by the three fallen mournfully, shutting their surprised eyes. Her fingers, you noticed, were smeared with the blood from the holes in their heads. She didn’t appear to care much, gesturing to a couple of people to help carry the bodies down.

You heard someone big had died on one of the upper floors. You wondered if you’d have recognized them, if maybe it was Elaina.

Unimportant.

There was still that thundering drum in your heart and soul, reminding you it wasn’t over, reminding you there was still more to do.

You continued. Regrouping up at the fourth floor, you saw Elaina crouched by a small group of dirty and thin people. Her helmet was off, and she appeared unusually stern and cold. You realized, coming closer, these were a select few of the prisoners she had mentioned earlier.

You were ready to continue up. The blade was still your arm. It dripped with the blood of the others. 

“Head out,” Elaina commanded, helping the people rise to their feet. Her eyes lost their usual glimmer. Now they were hollow and dangerous. She rose to her full height, seeming so much larger than you remembered. “We’re leaving.”

You recoiled slightly, surprised. There were still enemies, still comrades, still battles. This place was under attack, the news of the surprise already out.

Were you really expected to leave before it was over?

“It’s not to the death,” she reminded you all, as if reading your mind. “We’ve done our part. We need to get out. I’m sure help’s on the way for these bastards. We’ve already barricaded off the top floor. It won’t hold much longer.”

Yes. Not to the death, of course. You knew that going in. You knew you weren’t going to topple it. You knew you couldn’t save everyone. Of course.

But why was it so damn hard to accept that? Why were you so determined to finish this?

The people holding off the door were struggling. There’d be so many more lost if you didn’t leave, but... 

But what, Harris? What’s your fucking issue? Remember your damned place.

“Commander, we’ve gotten this far,” Ari suddenly piped up. “We can take them. We can take it all know. We can save good men and women from a horrible prison. We can’t quit now.”

“Watch it, Lee,” Elaina replied icily. “We can’t save everyone. If we lose more than we gain, we don’t win. We LOSE. Now, evacuate. That’s an order, kid.”

Ari gritted her teeth. She removed her helmet and scowled. “It’s not right, Commander. It’s not right to let those men and women down.”

“That’s not your place to decide. Now get downstairs and get the fuck out of here before we have another issue. You’ve got a good heart, Lee. Don’t make me have to write you up for it.”

Ari Lee scowled, standing tense and clearly deep in thought. Eventually, with a hiss, she turned tail, returning her helmet and stomping back, followed by the others. She ripped the stairwell door open and dutifully, albeit reluctantly, left as she was commanded.

Elaina shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose wearily. She waved the others on, heading towards those holding the door. She handed something to them, which they plastered on the door before jumping away from it. And then they were just like the rest. They scurried down. You didn’t see much of it. You’d already been enveloped by the rest of the soldiers around you and your sight was hidden by the much taller people nearby you.

You hated it. You hated the feeling of running away. The gunfire outside and the shouts were suddenly your focus again. You’d have to do it, have to kill again, have to hide that the person behind the blade ever mattered again, have to hide that someone was gone because you were there.

Soldiers feel things. All sorts of beautiful, wonderful things, like pride and love, like delight and relief, like tenderness and passion. They feel it all. They feel horrible things too. They feel things people tremble over.

It’s why, you realized, you weren’t a soldier.

There were about twenty of you, Commander Elaina included, who were still on the way down when the door was finally done for. You didn’t know what they did to keep it shut. Maybe some magic, maybe something else. Maybe they did jack shit.

Whatever they did, it held no longer and a hoard of soldiers spilled from it. People had already been flooding down the stairs, but it was nothing like how they were rushing down them after that.

You heard gunshots, saw the commander yelling into her comm for everyone to go, go, go, that you’d catch up, that they had to go now, felt the bruising pain of a bullet grazing the armor on your arm, smelled the blood and powder and burning, and tasted your own fear.

You couldn’t die here. Couldn’t die like this.

Someone behind you was shot. You heard the loud squelch of flesh and felt blood spritz the back of your neck, and as you were turning, you saw the man gripping at his throat for a moment, still mid-sprint.

And then he fell, and fell hard.

You screamed as he crashed into you with a bruising force, making your body tumble down the stairs like debris in a tornado. One moment, you were going head over heels, the next, hip to hip, the next, some combination of the two. You could feel yourself blasting the other soldiers with your weight as you fell. You were only barely able to catch yourself on a rail in the stairwell. You a shuddering gasp, you found your footing and held it as people ran past you. Elaina was next to you in an instant, throwing your arm over your shoulder and practically flying down the steps. You were dragged along, your ribs aching and your head spinning. You moved your hand away from hers once you’d gained enough balance and ran.

Though she could go faster, the commander kept pace with you, occasionally turning around to fire off a shot or two. You realized why once a man up ahead opened one of the doors and she threw you through it. A few select others followed, maybe five, and then the commander herself burst in, turning and hitting the door hard with some sort of device.

You saw what it did this time. A burst surrounded the door, blue crackles sparking off the metal surface. A thin veil of shimmering light covered it as it was met with a loud clambering from the other side and several gunshots.

Some sort of… forcefield, maybe? You couldn’t say exactly.

Not that it mattered.

Elaina was already at the window, kicking it out and peering outside. You suddenly recognized she’d never put her mask back on. Her hair was a tangled mess and her eyes were cold. There was something about it that made you utterly sick.

“That thing didn’t work for shit last time!” one man shouted. “Commander, what should we do?”

She turned around, face unreadable.

“Jump,” she replied plainly, and with that, she leapt out the window.

People followed suit, breaking through one at a time and leaping for the next building over. You heard some crunches and screams. It made you nauseous. Dammit, you thought as you peered out the window. You didn’t particularly want to dive to your death again.

Then there it was. The sound of the door being blasted off. You didn’t think. Maybe that’s why you made the choice you did.

You turned tail and slid into one of the office cubicles in the room, skidding hard on your hip and ending up under a desk with a clatter.

Get your knife, Harris. What are you going to do here? Hide? Like a coward?

You gritted your teeth as you heard the men advance in and a couple gunshots fire off. There were a few screams, and you heard the sound of yet another person fall like an egg out of the window and splatter.

A voice came over your comm.

“ Is there anyone left? Over,” a man asked.

You peeked out behind the desk, saw no one, and pressed the button to your temple. “____ Harris. Second or third floor of the building. Over,” you hissed.

Commander Elaina’s voice broke through. “ God dammit. What about Henning, Peronard, and Fredrickson? Are they still in there with you? Over.”

“Just me, over.”

“Can you get out? Over.”

You peered out again, seeing a soldier a few cubicles down start scanning the area and cursed yourself. It was too risky to reply.

What the hell were you going to do?

You’re not going to cower in the fucking corner, Harris, your brain snarled. You’re not going out like a fucking pussy.

You straightened your back and narrowed your eyes. If this was how it all ended, you were at least going to make it count. You weren’t going down alone.

“____? Are you still there, sold--”

You peeled off your helmet and took out your earpiece. There was no way you weren’t going to use your ears for this. There was no way you could without them.

And then it happened.

You and the soldier made eye contact.

There was no time to grab some shitty mask. You burst out from the desk as fast as you could, blade in hand. He hardly had time to point his gun towards you before it sank deep into his left eye and rendered him incapacitated. The two of you slammed into the wall, and by instinct, you grabbed his body to take the brunt of the incoming shots for you. He did so nicely, and the next thing you knew your knife was leading you forwards to the first soldier you could see. You fell to your side and slid between his legs, slashing his achilles tendon with all the force you could muster. As he crumbled, you sprang forwards like a runner and plunged your blade into the stomach of the soldier directly behind him.

They were yelling around you.

But you didn’t understand.

You didn’t get it.

Why aren’t they shooting me?

It didn’t matter. Fight. Fight. Fight like they were him. Fight now, because this is the last.

The man who’d just lost his footing collapsed beside you, and without stopping, you felt the blade rip across his throat as you jumped backwards from the incoming soldiers. You roared at them as you catapulted yourself forwards, the knife pulling you into the jaw of a woman. It hit her hard and she screamed the best she could through her gurgles, but the knife didn’t care. It kept going. You slashed violently behind you, catching the arm of another soldier. He stumbled backwards as you dove for him, intending to open his throat nice and wide like the pretty little smile it was meant to have.

A soldier hit you hard in the back, causing you to gasp in pain and temporarily crumple from your assault. Her gun was out, and she blasted it at you. You were shocked by how horrible her aim was. Had she really missed you so badly that she nearly hit your hand of all things?

Damn you, you snarled inwardly, and then threw your knife as hard as you could towards her. She hadn’t been expecting it, and the thing hit her directly in the forehead, causing her to crumple.

You still were on your ass though, and that wasn’t ideal, especially considering you’d just lost your only defense.

Seeing the mass of soldiers all about to be upon you like zombies, you rolled as hard as you could away from the rest. Glass nicked your neck and the back of your head as you did so, making you grunt in pain. 

You were at the other side of the room, and you knew it was the end.

How many had you killed? Shouldn’t you have been counting? Goddamn corner, you thought bitterly, baring your teeth at the men and women before you.

Your eyes widened a bit, looking at all of the people before you. Of course. How could you fucking forget, you damned idiot? Your gun was at your hip. It wasn’t like you’d been using it much, but were you seriously not going to even try?

You whipped it out and pointed it to the crowd in front of you, and then you paused.

Why are they not shooting?

“____ Harris, was it?” one man asked, walking calmly to the front of his soldiers. You glared at him. A general? What is this?

You were breathing heavily and your hair was clinging in long strands to your sweaty face. Saying nothing, you threateningly loaded the gun.

“There’s no need for that,” he chuckled. “Shoot and we’ll be forced to blast your arms and legs to shreds. We don’t want that, do we?”

“I’m not afraid to die,” you hissed, narrowing your eyes into thin slits.

“No?” The smug grin on his face remained. “Well, that doesn’t mean you want to die, certainly. In fact, I don’t think you do. Why else would you have gone on such a rampage?”

“Don’t test me,” you snarled.

“Ha, test you? If I wanted to, you’d be dead right this instant. Yet… you’re still standing. Why? Well, I’m going to make you this one-time only offer, traitor.” He opened his arms gladly and grinned. “You must be so, so proud of yourself! You’re such a clever little roach.”

You remained still, your eyes trained on him. The hell is this?

“Are your other little roach friends not with you? Maycombe and Preston leave you for dead?”

Oh fuck. Are you fucking serious? Is this really what’s going to happen?

“I take your silence as a yes, then? What a shame. It seems those who betray others are hardly trustworthy. I’d imagine you’d expect such, but it appears not.”

“Make your fucking offer before I shoot you,” you replied, voice dangerously low.

“Ah, alright. We take you in, traitor. We take you in and you tell us everything you know about your little rat operation. You tell us everything we want to know. You weed out all the others who helped with your plan. In return, we might not kill you when we’re done. We may even give you what you want.”

“You don’t know what I want.”

“Why don’t you share, then?”

You tensed. This could be it. They-- this could be the way. The way to make it all matter. You could still do it. Maybe this was meant to be. After all, it wasn’t like Maycombe was all on her own-- she would do fine without you. She could hate you if you could do it.

“I’ll join you,” you finally said slowly, “if you let me rip General Richard Harris’s head off his shoulders.” You lowered your gun slightly and spat out a bit of blood, squinting harshly at the man before you. “I kill him however I want, and I give you anything you ask for, no difficulties.”

Once a traitor, always a traitor.

I don’t need any fake loyalties.

The general smiled at you widely.

Chapter Text

His eyes were glinting. Nothing but vague interest crossed them. You were a little treasure he’d just found the key to.  “I take it the rumors are true, then. Very interesting. Tell me, ___, why kill your own brother?”

It’d been so long since it’d been put like that. So long since someone had known about him. A lie here and there about your past no one had any way of verifying had floated along so beautifully. You’d almost grown to believe it yourself. There were no other people in your family, spare your grandparents. That was what you claimed. It’s what they believed. You had no other surviving members. There was no Richard Harris. Richie, the little boy you’d spent damn near your entire life with, was a ghost. Rich, the petulant teenager you couldn’t get away from, was six feet under.

But no matter how you wanted to look at it now, Richard Harris, the murderer, still stood all the same. Everyone knew it now. They knew he was just as much of a bastard as he’d always been, and they knew about your deep sickliness that was parasitic.

How freeing it was to show what a real monster looked like.

Unforgiving. Heartless. Cold.

It ran in the blood both of you were full of.

This is what I am.

“Tell me whether or not we have a deal.” You didn’t move, letting your face reflect none of the anger you felt inside. Relaxing slightly, you took on the blank mask once more, the one you planned to wear when the time came. When the man still didn’t respond, you barked, “I mean now.”

He burst into laughter, a couple other soldiers joining in quietly. “Well, I’ll be damned! You’re the older one too, I assume, if we’re to believe you didn’t lie about everything on your profile. Tut, tut. We suspected, but General Harris always denied it. Not that we believed him. You two are practically carbon copies of each other.” He was sick with his own delight. “We quite frankly suspected him to be a part of your little charade. Given your reaction, however, I think we ought to reevaluate.” A colder look replaced his happy one. “Of course, he may have just outlived his usefulness.”

“I don’t give a shit about what you think,” you spat. “I don’t give a shit whose side I’m on. I give a shit who’s gonna give me what I came here for.”

“Oh? Truly?”

You were getting tired. Taking a step forwards, you placed your finger on the trigger. Instantly, all weapons in the room were trained on you, but you didn’t care. The gun wasn’t pointed at him anymore. It was tipped just beneath your chin. “I’m not willing to negotiate.”

Everyone went silent. The general’s face had become suddenly stern and the caution in his eyes made you bitterly satisfied. This was your upper hand. If they were killing to kill you, they would have as soon as you started taking down their men. That’s not what they were there for.

They wanted you alive, and you relished in that power.

It was getting harder and harder to control your anger. You were so close. You were within inches of clawing your revenge out of that bastard’s throat. If only the idiot in front of you would stop playing games. You scowled. “I kill him and I tell you everything. Any of your men try to take me, I’m long gone. It’s your choice.”

“Why don’t you share why you want to kill him so bad, hm? I’m sure you understand we cannot just execute one of our own generals without good reason.”

“He deserves it,” you snapped, surprising even yourself. “And I deserve to be the one who does it.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Oh really?”

You glowered at him. Your adrenaline was pulsing through you so quickly that you could hardly stop your hands from flying all over the place. Surely, your trembling hands made you appear weak, but you did your best to ignore that sickening thought.

“I assume the other two traitors are alive,” he hummed. “Preston and Maycombe?”

You stared.

“Reveal their location and perhaps we’ll have a deal.”

You froze. Something was weeding into your heart. A chance? It was music to your ears. But it wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t good enough to throw those gray eyes aside for.

“I don’t deal in ‘maybe’s,’” you told.

“That’s all you’ll get, I’m afraid.”

Silver pierced into your soul. A small figure was standing in front of you, shadowy and still. It had not one, but two voices. They rang together in your ears. “Am I worth that?” You regarded them as your chest pounded. Sweat was beading down your forehead. All this time and you still struggled.

Was this all for her?

Or had it been for you all along?

Are you a sister or an assassin?

“No.” Your aim steadied and you relaxed. “I won’t do anything unless I can rip him to shreds.”

“Pity.” He flicked his hand, and there was a collective clicking as the soldiers readied to fire. You gritted your teeth tightly, frowning. Fuck. I guess I’ll have to keep pretending. It made you feel sick. You were a damn liar. “Any better reasons we should take you seriously, scum?”

Damn traitor. Damn general. Damn life.

Damn it all.

You glanced at the pistol. It was one of the stupid, janky ones you’d been forced to use and learn to shoot. What buttons did you have to push for that one thing, again? It would only take a moment. You only needed that moment. Then you could keep living that lie just a little longer.

Her lie instead of yours.

The chorus of voices mocked you. “ I thought you weren’t scared to die,” they echoed. They hissed with venomous delight, clawing to start peeling away your layers. You could see her in front of you vaguely, watching you as she always did. The ghost that lived in your mind.

You couldn’t be stopped now.

I’m not afraid. I’m just too damn stubborn to quit.

“Unfortunately, that isn’t quite compelling enough to let you do such a thing. I’m afraid we’ll just have to beat the information out of you if you don’t cooperate when we take you back. And I’m afraid we’ll also have to promise something.” He grinned nastily at you. “We’ll make you hurt in ways you didn’t even think were possible, bitch. Tell me, how attached are you to your fingernails? Or better yet, your fingers themselves?”

Boom, asshole. Should’ve given me what I wanted.

Your fingers clamped upon five buttons clumsily all at once, and in an instant, the room was suddenly engulfed in smoke. This was really supposed to be used with a mask, but you could do it. You had this. The element of surprise or some shit. At least you knew your eyes were going to be set on fire. These assholes were gonna get hit with a shitstorm.

You ran forward to the woman you’d hit through the forehead, scurrying past the startled soldiers and thanking the world the bullets you heard fire went were you weren’t. You knew where she was, you were pretty sure, you’d been focusing on her, all you needed was that damn blade and you knew it would lead you out.

Her body became clear in the fading smoke, and like it was butter, you slid the knife straight out of her cranium and ran for the window at the end of the room. The knife was strapped to your side before you even noticed you’d done it, and you scooped up your helmet with your free hand, throwing it on clumsily. Your eyes burned. It was hard as hell to see through the tears and the aching need to clench them closed so tightly they’d never open again. But as the blurred mix of agony and water mixed, you kept looking forwards. It was all you could do.

You had to follow your duty no matter what. It’s why you were the ideal soldier, wasn’t it? Because you chased that duty no matter the cost. And your sight was a penny among the billions of dollars you were willing to give for that.

It was a struggle to not trip over shit covered in the murky fog, and you were in somewhat of a rush (what a surprise). When your leg hit one of the bodies you’d left earlier, you almost went tumbling, struggling to stay upright. It ate at your speed and your surprised shout gave away your position. That was all it took. Your hand enclosed around it for just a moment. It was your little key. A little assurance. You could--

Something hit you in the waist, hard. It hurt like hell; if you hadn’t been crying before, you certainly would be now. You choked out a strangled sob, but you didn’t stop running. A bullet hurts like hell, but having a little armor always makes it just that more manageable. The window was just there. Just there. Only a few more steps. It didn’t matter that they’d stolen your speed, your elegance. It didn’t matter that you felt like your hip was about to shatter.

You were so damn close.

You were reaching out. It was so tantalizing. So alluring. The beauty of the destruction outside. All of it so pointless and worthless. You wanted to delve your arms into the thickness of it, let it eat them alive, let them absorb your being into itself. It was your place. These streets were so many places, and they all called to you. The song of violence. You sprawled out your fingers. I’m nearly there.

Another well-aimed shred of metal came out to eat at you. It shredded through the skin of your arm, and you knew immediately your ulna had just been broken. The crack made you scream. The pain hadn’t even hit yet, but the crunch and sudden worthlessness of your arm was terrible. You were so close. All you could see was the glass. You wanted that glass.

You’d get through that glass. It was your world outside, and that stupid little pane had no right to stand before you. They could tear you apart and eat you whole. They could rip fingernails from their nailbeds and replace them with a plethora of needles. They could peel your skin in thin strips from your face. They could run their fingers into your eyes and rip them away. But they couldn’t stop you from the world.

The shots were getting louder. But they couldn’t stop you. You body jerked once more, your right shoulder suddenly pushing forwards without your consent.

They were too late. You wanted to look out of the pane to see what your world might offer you, but you knew better. There was no time for such a silly thing.

No time at all.

None--!

You dove through the glass, spare broken bits of it carving any bit of body it could touch. The force was enormous. You, for just a moment, felt like you were flying. No, maybe not. It was more like you were swimming. Swimming through the clouds, leaving curling puffs of smoke behind you. Flying through the gray murk you infected your lungs with just to pass the time. You could glide through it the way all the angels in all the stories did, effortlessly climbing high and swooping past any obstacle. But your wings were made of wax, and you hadn’t listened to your bounds.

You were falling. The ground looked so favorable. It was made with the dust you ground between your teeth. Stained with the murk of your blade.

What a beautiful sight, but so unacceptable.

I’m too damn stubborn.

The soldier was so convenient. Though he had caused you all this trouble in the first place, his bullet-riddled body was an acceptable reparation. You had no idea how you carried the bastard. The pain would only get worse as you kept going, you knew, but what a lovely drug adrenaline could be. You held him close, preparing yourself for impact. You were already preparing to land on him with your shoulder.

His body hit the ground with a crackle and squishy sound, but he served his purpose. The softening blow sent you flying to your side, but you’d managed to roll in time, skittering across the pavement like a kicked can. You only came to a stop when you slammed into a brick wall of a nearby building.

You groaned and whimpered from the sudden onslaught of pain, temporarily immobilized. A thick haze in the head and ears, your eyes drifted to the building you’d just tossed yourself out of. The window was easy to locate, given the heads poking out of it and the flood of smoke. What is that? you wondered. Forty feet, maybe?

You weren’t even all that comfortable with heights. Thank god you weren’t Maycombe, always high in air, perched precariously on the edge of a rooftop. Small favors blessed you in ironic ways. You hadn’t known of any buildings she’d fallen off of or out of, and here you were, the one always firmly planted to the ground, constantly spilling to the ground.

You coughed up a bit of blood and rolled onto your stomach, cradling your left arm to your chest lovingly. You felt so damn dizzy. This was absolutely fucking stupid. You had no way to contact anybody without your earpiece, and you were pretty sure scooting along the streets like a worm would only get you so far. Groaning, you tried to bring yourself to a kneeling position. You quickly faltered as your hip began to riot in agony at the movement and hissed through your teeth. And you thought it hurt when a bullet grazed your cheek? All that brute force actually hitting you as intended, protection on or not, was pretty damn crippling.

I’m too damn stubborn for this.

You tried to push yourself up again, sure that you could do it if you just pushed through hard enough. You ground your teeth together as you screamed in agony. The pain made you see stars. Besides that, you were dizzy. The world was fading in and out. Spots invaded your vision.

You collapsed in a heap. I can do this alone. I’ve always done this alone. But no matter how hard you pushed yourself to move, you just couldn’t. Your body was betraying you, curling up in a pitiful ball as you tried to block out all the burning hurt. Wearily, your eyes slid down to your arm. Blood pooled out of the wound at a rate that surprised you. You didn’t realize it could happen that fast. It was building up and popping down your skin. It hurt. Your arm was starting to feel numb and cold. It was hard to move your fingers.

Blurry figures were running towards you. You furrowed your brows and cringed in shame. All of that for nothing. All of that only to still be captured.

“HARRIS!”

You blinked, but you couldn’t turn your head all the way. Elaina’s voice seared the air. She kept yelling, but you were just so tired. Everything seemed fuzzy.

Abby?

A little girl was crouched next to you. Her hand reached out to yours, and though her face was a blank void, you could see the gray eyes all the same. She was just hazy, was all. Her small palm fell onto the wound that would be the sad, sad death of you. She was wearing those damn blood-stained clothes. A purple shirt with a little cat. Light green pants. Both marred with brown and red liquid. It dripped down her abdomen.

Your eyes were half-lidded. You could feel your heartbeat slowing. It was such a calm feeling. “Ab… by…” you breathed. Something about this felt different. Something about this wasn’t like all those other times. Those eyes didn’t look so dead. They instead bored through your heart, through your soul, straight to your hurt.

Abby stood. “Not yet,” she said. And then she was gone.

“It’s her ulnar artery--”

“Come… b...ack…” you pleaded, head whirring. Something pressed into your arm. It burned. It screamed to die. Death would surely be less agonizing than this pain. You didn’t want it. You’d been so close to her. That had surely been her, the real her, surely it was, surely this was the end and she was there. You wanted to go with her. Maybe you weren’t strong. Maybe you didn’t want to keep going on an endlessly pointless journey for revenge. All you wanted was to hold her in your arms. You screamed in a drawn out wail as the burning feeling turned to a breaking one. It seared. It branded you. Your vision was spotty and you pleaded to die in your head, unable to formulate words, only living the agony.

You fell unconscious.

Abby?

Abby?

Come back to me.

Take me with you.

I’ll make him pay.

I’m so sorry.

I can’t give up.

It’s too hard to go on.

.

.

.

You didn’t know such a strong concentration of magic was the worst pain to ever exist. When you finally awoke in the healing chamber, you instantly wished you hadn’t. The hands with the green magic were adept, but they could only do so much. It was rather horrifying to watch your skin neatly thread itself back together, and feeling the bones splinter into one when they’d been split was horrible. Your arm was by far the worst of it, though the feeling of your shoulderblade being hardened into one solid plank was quite unpleasant as well. You screamed until your throat was raw.

You sulked for days in the hospital bed. Though your arm was hewn back together, its artery safely intact and closed once again, your hip was still too badly bruised to allow you back on the field like you wanted. Add that to the pulled muscles on your shoulders and you felt pretty damn useless. The amount of magic it took to actually heal something completely floored you. You’d really just assumed everything would be peachy right away with enough of it. That assumption came to slap you directly in the face.

Maycombe came to visit once a day for the two weeks you were trapped. She came to help when, after a few days, you were permitted to walk again. Though it hurt, you could do it mostly fine, limping only a little. It didn’t feel great, but anything was better than lying on that stupid bed. She liked to lecture you when she’d hold your arm and carefully step beside you. “You idiot. Did you really have to jump out another window? Did you get cocky from last time?”

“It was my only option,” you grumbled.

“No! It wasn’t! You didn’t think to try a duct, or to go through one of the windows you knew people had made it to? Look at all these cuts on your neck. These were all completely pointless! If you’d just put a minute’s time to thinking about it, you could have saved yourself so much pain. Why do you always have to go for the dramatic option? You’re so cocky that you couldn’t surrender? I’m sure they would have just taken you hostage if you put your weapons down. You’re strong; you could have just escaped later!”

It was hard to talk to her.

She didn’t know.

She didn’t know about what you would do.

What you would have done.

You were going to toss her aside. And seeing her right beside you as motherly as ever made you want to vomit. She had absolutely no idea that you’d bargained her off like a cheap toy to try to further your own interests. All the love she swarmed you with was undeserved.

Konner’s attempts to make you laugh likewise hurt more than they helped. He was already so closed-off himself, and when he opened to you, you were willing to cast him aside. His life had meant so little to you in those moments. He was nothing. He was less than dirt. You hadn’t even considered him as a person. Only Felicity gave you pause, and of course, though it didn’t matter, the fact he didn’t even matter to you then was poignant. It made you want to cry.

But you couldn’t.

It was your last day in the stupid bed. Every medic who came to help you and talk to you received no reply. They, too, after all, had been pawns in your chess game that you willingly threw to the rooks. Here they were, saving your life, when you had nearly thrown down theirs.

Am I wrong to keep wanting this?

That was the worst of it. That you didn’t fully regret it. That you were sour you hadn’t gotten the chance you ached for.

You didn’t know what to do.

This is why you never wanted to be soft. It took away your heart. It took away your strength. Any hesitation one way or the other was hesitation nonetheless. If only you cared for nothing but revenge like you used to. If only you cared for your comrades alone and the freedom of an oppressed people you knew deserved better. But you didn’t care one way or the other; you cared both ways.

Your lip trembled. It was late at night. You just wanted to leave.

I am scum.

You practically threw yourself out of the damn bed when the stark white smile popped into reality beside you. If your right arm hadn’t still been so tense, you would have absolutely creamed Sans with an upper hook. You very sourly, through your distressed pants, decided you hated him once more.

“You asshole,” you hissed, whacking him with your left hand. “That was a shitty thing to do.”

Sans shrugged and nodded, leaning on the medical table beside him casually. “yeah, sorry. didn’t really think they’d want me here at this time, and i’m not keen on getting caught.”

“You’re stupid,” you growled. “You can visit during the day. It didn’t have to be in the dead of night.”

Sans tutted and flicked your forehead, causing you to harshly hit his hand away. “obviously i had a reason for coming now.” He jammed him hand into his jacket pocket thoughtfully, then, after rooting through some trash, grinned. Sans pulled out a single cigarette and lighter, putting them on your stomach. “thought you probably were missing these.”

You stared at it blankly, then turned back to him. “I can’t.” It felt wrong. You didn’t deserve it. You were going to--

“i may look it, but i’m not a complete moron, ___,” he hummed, closing his eyes. “i suspected when all the stories about how you’d been stuck in there for a while started circulating, but once pap, laurel, and konner started talking about how you’d been acting, i was pretty sure.” His eyes opened, and you were taken aback, frozen to your bed. It was a very chilly stare. None of his usual mirth was caked into his smile. “but it was when maycombe said you were ignoring her a lot that i actually knew. you were negotiating in there with them. you haven't been talking to her because you're ashamed. tell me if i'm wrong.”

Your blood went cold. The breath had been sucked out of your body.

“you may be strong, but no way in hell could you take down an entire brigade all by yourself. and no way could you get out of there alive unless they let you get outta there alive. you being a spy and all, it makes sense why they’d want you.” Sans leaned closer. His lazy expression betrayed the severity in his white pupils. “everyone knows that they wanted you. that much is obvious. of course they’d want someone they think is in on it all. they’d be foolish not to. but what everybody else isn’t thinkin’ about it what you want.” You could only watch him in silence as he stretched, taking a good long pause to keep you waiting. “you know, i’m actually fairly well acquainted with ari. that surprise you?”

Nothing.

“didn’t think so. let me tell you, as impulsive as she is, as much as she thinks with her dick instead of her brain, ari is pretty damn perceptive. she knows people. she’s good at reading them. and i’m not that bad, either. i originally ignored how i felt, because i had it in my heart you were conflicted. i was fairly sure i knew ya, that i’d met your type before. but when ari came to me for a smoke and she told me how she knew you didn’t join for us, i had to accept it.” He crossed his arms. “but here’s what she didn’t realize, where she was wrong; you didn’t join for maycombe, either. it’s what you tell yourself, i’m sure, but it isn’t the reason.”

Your hands were trembling, with anger or fear you weren’t sure.

“you joined because of your hate. you’re an opportunist, harris. you do what’s convenient for you in the here and now, what brings you closer to what you’re actually in it for. which is revenge, right?”

“I--” You closed your mouth. All you could do now was glare, glare and hate, glare and regret it all over again.

“yeah, you’re selfish. you wanna know how i can tell you joined because of that and not somethin’ else?”

You were considering throwing the lighter at his skull. Anger and terror both had contributed to your earlier shaking, you decided. The nausea you felt paired with the boiling feeling of hatred in your chest was undeniable. You’d hate him forever. This bastard, he’d only broken you down to toy with you, to make you look like a fool, to hurt you--

“that’s why i joined, too. i joined because i wanted to kill. i joined because i wanted to look like it was noble. did it matter that i felt like my reason was a good one? who knows. i’m selfish as hell.” He grinned widely. You were pretty sure your heart had stopped and you died. You had no idea what to do besides stare. “remember a long time ago when we were talkin’ about souls and i mentioned mine had a glow?”

“Yes.”

“what’d i say it was?”

“You didn’t.” You pursed your lips. That was the day he’d learned about you having a sibling. “I didn’t ask.”

“right. well. for old times sake… let’s go back to that conversation.” He looked at you lazily. “tell me, harris. is it a brother or sister you came all this way for?”

Your heart cracked a little. You didn’t know how to talk. It hurt everywhere but in such a different way than physical. Your character was in his hands, and he was wringing it out dry. “I…”

“i came for my brother. i’m a killer because i love him. i’m here to kill because of my brother, even though he’d never want that. i’m here because i’m selfish, because i want to kill anyone who tries to hurt my brother.”

“My sister,” you blurted. “My sister. I’m here because of my sister.”

“why?”

It snapped something inside of you. “Because she ISN’T AROUND ANYMORE!” you screamed. “THAT’S WHY I’M HERE! BECAUSE I’M HERE AND SHE’S NOT! THAT’S WHY I’M FUCKING HERE!” You sat up in the bed and threw the lighter as hard as you could against the wall. “SHE’S DEAD! SHE’S DEAD! I’M HERE BECAUSE THE MAN WHO KILLED HER ISN’T DEAD, I’M HERE BECAUSE I’M GOING TO RIP HIS THROAT OUT WITH MY GODDAMN TEETH!” You jumped out of the bed, pulling at your hair, hardly noticing the pain that sparked in your hip. “I’M HERE BECAUSE IT ISN’T FUCKING FAIR! I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING TO BE HERE, TO DESERVE THIS WAR! SHE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING! ALL WE DID WAS LIVE, ALL WE DID WAS LIVE IN THE WRONG AREA AT THE WRONG TIME AND TRUST THE WRONG PEOPLE IN A WAR THAT HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH US AT ALL! AND YET SHE STILL GOT ADDED TO THE COUNT OF DEATHS! SHE STILL WAS FUCKED OVER, JUST BECAUSE SHE WAS IN THE WRONG PLACE! IT DIDN’T MATTER HOW UNINVOLVED SHE WAS. IT DIDN’T MATTER WHICH SIDE SHE AGREED WITH OR IF SHE WAS A GOOD PERSON!” You kicked the wall as hard as you could, continuing to rage. “SHE JUST GOT FUCKED OVER! FUCKED OVER BECAUSE OF SOMEONE ELSE’S SHITTY WAR! SHE WAS INNOCENT, YET SHE STILL ENDED UP WITH A DAMN BULLET IN HER GUT BECAUSE HE DIDN’T CARE ABOUT ANY OF THAT! I’M HERE TO MAKE IT RIGHT! AND THAT’S WHY I’M FUCKING HERE!”

You could hear footsteps down the hall. It didn’t matter. Tears were threatening to spill from your eyes, and you absolutely could not have that. You sucked in a deep breath and forced your grief back into the bottle it belonged in. A bony hand grabbed your arm, and suddenly you were warping in and out of reality.

You were lying in the grass, feeling pretty nauseous. When you looked up, you saw your smoking spot, the tree standing tall beside you quite peacefully. Sans was leaning against it. “don’t worry. i’ll take the piss for that. ‘s my fault, after all.” You stared at him, unsure of what to do next.

He looked off to the distance and sighed, crouching beside you. He placed his hand on yours. “my soul glows blue. indigo, technically. it’s s’posed to mean you’ve got integrity. most people think that makes ya all high and mighty, following the laws and the typical idea of being good and whatnot. but that’s not what it is at all. means i stick to what i believe. means i do it no matter what.” His hand squeezed yours gently. “here’s what i believe. i believe that we’re awfully similar. i believe that we’re justified. i believe that we shouldn’t be here for the greater good.” He looked at his feet and exhaled. “greater good? what greater good? greater good for who? if all you’re fightin’ for is the ‘greater good,’ you’re a dumbass. everyone’s fighting for their own reasons. for their own personal gain one way or another.”

You didn’t know what compelled you to do it.

You placed your other hand atop his.

“you think i’m a bad guy?”

“No,” you said softly.

“and i don’t think you are either.” His thumb traced along your skin gently. “i think you’re a big sibling. and i think that you’re a good big sibling. and that’s all i care about.”

You didn’t know what to do.

You laughed, covering your eyes with your hands.

It burst out of you endlessly.

You felt good.

It felt good.

And he began to laugh too, slowly at first, but rising in volume with you until both of you were near tears.

You weren’t the only one anymore.

Chapter Text

You couldn’t believe yourself either when you actually did it. But you did it nonetheless, and you did it of your own free will.

“Harris! Hi!” Laurel chirped from the table.

“GLAD TO SEE YOU’RE STILL DOING WELL,” Papyrus commented. “YOU’RE WALKING MUCH BETTER. YOU’LL BE TRAINING AGAIN BEFORE THE END OF THE WEEK.”

“What took you so long? Food that interesting?” Konner chewed on his spoon. You could tell you’d just interrupted another conversation between the four of them-- Preston and Maycombe seemed to have become genuinely close friends with the couple.

“Why are you just standing there?” Felicity asked, tugging on your sleeve. “Are you sick or something?”

Sans turned around in his seat expectantly, raising a brow at you.

This was hard as hell. You had no idea how the fuck people did things ever. Your heart was thundering in your chest and you were fairly sure you were sweating all 60% of the water your body held. For several moments, you awkwardly stood beside Sans, resisting the urge to use him as both a literal and figurative crutch. No matter how much you wanted to duck down and hide yourself behind his presence (as you’d done with Maycombe many times before) you knew you couldn’t. The two of them are too damn short to hide me that well anyways, you thought somberly to yourself.

No getting around it. Had to do it quick. Not so much like ripping off a bandaid as it was like crashing into the ground and scraping the skin off your knee, but it was better to go fast than let the agony endure.

“Hi,” you said, and smiled as best as you could. You sat down quickly and ignored the stunned silence of the group. It had been more of a smirk than anything, but it as enough to get your cheeks flushed and your heart pounding.

Maycombe’s eyes were boring straight through your skull. Embarrassed, you held your face in your hand and sighed heavily, as if it could ease some of the pressure you felt. The quiet amongst your tablemates seemed to last many, many tortuous decades.

Maybe by habit from being around you so long, Felicity was the one to break the mute nature that had been roused. She grabbed your arm and pulled it away, forcing you to look her way with her free hand. “ What did you just do? ” she whispered. You were doing your absolute best to maintain the small grin, but you had to avert your eyes from hers to keep it up.

“That’s so unfair! You give everybody a freebie but you don’t give my hilarious jokes anythin’?” Konner shouted. “What the hell! What happened ta ‘earning it,’ asshole?!”

“Your smile is so cute,” Laurel laughed. Your blush deepened and you wrinkled your nose. Damn. Finally broke.

“GREAT. LOOK WHAT YOU DID.” Papyrus sighed, moving his arm from his girlfriend. “SHE’S GONE BACK TO THE USUAL FACE.”

“ladies and gentlemen, you saw it here live; ____ harris can, in fact, smile.” Sans pinched your cheek for good measure and added, “it may make her scar look extra weird, but she can do it.”

You huffed and whacked his hand away, shielding the marred part of your face with your hand. Sans happily patted you on the back and sat beside you with a smug grin. “Yeah, whatever,” you mumbled. “Hope you remember it because you’re not seeing it again anytime soon.”

Konner was not at all done with you. He leaned across the table, pouting like a puppy denied a grilled hotdog. “You little fucker. How close was I to breaking you?”

You shrugged.

“Konner, has she smiled before?”

He looked back at Felicity and smiled a little, his cheeks turning pink as the two made eye contact. “Not at me, she hasn’t. For tha lil’ fucker right there, she has.”

“How did you do it?” Maycombe marveled, poking at your face like a child. “Sans, color me impressed.”

“aw, please. you did all the hard work, fel,” Sans chuckled. “without your presence, she probably would’ve strangled me the moment i tried.”

“What did you do, though?” Felicity poked at your sides, causing you to jolt away and scowl at her. She, being used to it, was unperturbed by your souring glare.

“not much. told her a pun and she laughed.”

“Sans!” you spat, pushing him out of his seat.

“UGH, OF COURSE YOU DID.”

“You made her laugh too?! ”

You sank in your chair and put your head in your hands miserably.

“You’re just like a little kid!” Felicity cooed, hugging you tightly. “Why are you so embarrassed anyways? You have a pretty smile! There’s no need to feel insecure.”

“I’m not insecure,” you grumbled.

“FRIENDS, WE ALL HAVE A CIVIC DUTY NOW.”

Attention was immediately drawn towards Pap. “What’s that, Papy?” Laurel asked after Papyrus was quiet for just a bit too long. Clearly, he was enjoying the attention he was receiving.

“WE HAVE TO MAKE HER LAUGH AT A SUITABLE JOKE, OBVIOUSLY.”

“Good luck,” you said flatly, beginning to eat your food.

“HEY! I get a head start because I knew first!” Konner shouted. “Nobody say shit ‘til I bounce off a couple a good ones!”

No, your soul pleaded. Don’t let Konner go first. I’m going to break. It’s so much harder when a lot of other people laugh too.

The world was not on your side. Konner clasped his hands together and cleared his throat, saying “hem hem” a couple of times for good measure. Like he was the world’s shittiest boss here to give you the world’s shittiest job in the world’s shittiest interview, his eyes remained locked on yours. “____.” You hated the thick formal tone he took on. You liked his affect, and hearing him actively attempt to speak clearer and more professionally made your fight or flight instinct kick in a little.

You had to hold onto your tray for dear life to stop yourself from evacuating the scene. “No, Preston.”

“Yes, Preston. We need to have a talk.”

“No.”

“You are, and, forgive my phrasing, a little goddamn bitch.”

Your lips twisted up and down as you fought off the grin. “That’s not fair,” you complained as the rest of the table “ oooh ”-ed at your reaction. “I’m compromised.”

“Good! Fuck you!” He slammed his hands on the table, his usual voice leaking back through. “I thought this was a fun little special game! ‘Haha, make Harris smile! Haha, make Harris stop acting like she’s fucking Dwayne Johnson or some shit!’ I thought we were friends! ”

You didn’t know how to reply, merely watching him. In all honesty, you were a little surprised.

“You have no room to talk,” Felicity chided, teasingly waggling a finger at him while she gently pulled his ear. Konner flushed deeply but laughed a little, shyly looking away from her. Releasing him, the sudden presence of the darkest expression you’d seen in your life was directed your way. It was absolutely withering, and you could not believe you were retreating back to Sans’s side from this little pixie’s face. The scarred portion of her face contorted grotesquely and her lips drew into a thin snarl. “I thought we were friends!” You looked at her in horror as she burst into loud laughter. The terrifying expression was gone, replaced by her chipper one, the one where the scarred half of her face made her one eye squint a bit. The cheerful, buggy eyes were gleaming at you. Beautiful grays. They made you freeze. “Better late than never, right? Mark my words, I’ll catch you off guard one of these days.” She winked.

“It’s just a smile,” you protested. “You’re all so dramatic.”

“ No, it’s you who’s dramatic,” Laurel laughed a little. You were a little surprised by her tone as well. Sure, she had always been friendly, but you’d never heard her be this familiar with you before. It seemed reserved for Maycombe and Preston and Papyrus and the rest of the people she loved. You had to bite back the strange burst of excitement in your heart when you realized why she was sharing that with you now as well. Teasingly, Laurel crossed her arms and scowled deeply, her brows knitted together tightly. The red scarf wrapped around her hair let a couple of strands slip through, giving her a bit of a ruffled appearance. She hoarsely glared, “‘My name is ____ Harris and I don’t like to have fun. I make scary faces and act like I never grew out of my emo phase from high school. I growl at you like a dog and follow Felicity like she’s my owner and I’m on a teeny weeny leash because I will surely die without her constant presence.’”

You covered your mouth in amusement and bit down the smile even harder.

“that’s cheating,” Sans scolded and he moved your hand away. Clearly, you were struggling to maintain your firm exterior.

“Like hell it is!”

“NO COVERING YOUR SMILE!” Papyrus bellowed. You blinked at him. “IT IS ABSOLUTELY CHEATING!”

“It isn’t a contest, really,” Felicity laughed, patting you on the back gently.

Good old Felicity. You offered her a grateful gaze you knew only she would completely understand and she gave you her knowing one back. I promise Felicity--

I promise I won’t give any of you up again for my own gain.

Because this is good too.

Because I have to enjoy this before I lose it.

Because after I kill Richard, I won’t be coming back.

Because I need to see Abby again, but I can’t see her with the blood of all of you stained on my hands. She wouldn’t want that. All of these people… they’d all be her friends too. She would love each and every one of you.

Another hand ruffled your hair, forcing you to awkwardly bat away at it. Sans grinned, tousling your hair regardless of the ire he knew he was in for later.

“alright, alright, let’s give this poor loser a break. i think that’s fair, pap.”

Papyrus deflated but agreed. “FINE; BUT I WILL MAKE YOU SMILE, FRIEND.” He grinned at you widely.

“that’s my bro,” Sans chuckled.

Your heart swelled.

No… it’s more than just that. It’s more than just Felicity.

Abby--

I promise that I won’t get these people killed. I promise that I’m going to make you proud, that I’m going to avenge you but that I’ll do it without spilling the blood of these people. These are the people you would have died for. We’ve seen injustice before, and I’m sorry I was so callous about it all. I knew it was wrong, I knew it was disgusting, and I knew the Monsters had every right to fight for their lives up here. I’m sorry for not thinking about anything beyond myself.

I’ll make it right, Abby.

I’ll gut him like a fish; I’ll make him pay, but don’t worry, I won’t spill the blood of these people to do it. I’ll offer my own blood and nothing more, because I owe these people that much.

Because I’m not the only person here who has someone like you, Abby.

Because I can’t take Papyrus away from Sans the way Richard took you away from me.

Abby, once I kill Richard, once I kill our bastard brother, I’ll see you again. I know I will. I know I will.

I’ll make sure he pays. He never loved you; no ‘brother’ could do what he did.

I’ll make him suffer. I’ll make sure it’s slow, Abby.

You may not know it.

But it’s what he deserves.

And it’s what I’m here for.

Nothing has changed.

I’m here to kill.

And I will do it, goddammit.

But I’ll do it right.

Your hip had finally healed enough to allow you to start training again. Your muscles ached like a bitch and you woefully struggled to not pant and gasp while you ran laps, but you were grateful to at least be doing something again. The medical staff hadn’t exactly been delighted to let you go.

Sans taking the blame for the night you lost your cool and started screaming helped a lot. He admitted to egging you on and claimed his mockery over your injuries had just gone a bit too far. It was lucky, ironically, that your screaming had been so erratic and apparently, practically indecipherable. You had a very brief mental check-up before you were released in which you pulled through by avoiding the subject of your sister entirely and explained instead (and quite briefly at that) your concern for Felicity and your anger at your weakness.

You were deemed mentally fit, in short.

Sometimes you stared at your arm and the new scar on it. It was an ugly, angry pink, and sank deep into your skin, creating a neat pocket in the flesh. Taking up the majority of your arm, you idly thought about how different you were.

Even your damn smile was different. The only person who knew what your first smile looked like now was Richard. No one else had ever seen it, and they never would. The scar on your cheek really did change the way your skin pulled away, giving you a slightly more crooked grin than you’d had before. It became a little pouchy and harsh along the long line when you showed your teeth. This wasn’t a grin that your family would have known.

You weren’t ____.

Scar after scar piled on as you came to realize it during the passing day. They would continue coming and there was no avoiding it. You were now involved in more violent and dangerous close-range battles. Before, when you were left to fight mere gangs in the cities, sure, you’d gotten hurt, but it wasn’t much of a threat. You never really had a bad injury.

These scars were Harris. That’s who wore them, not ____.

But sometimes, when you had to fight back a chuckle or when you remembered how you’d laughed with Sans, you didn’t sound that much different at all. It was the same bright laughter with the embarrassing chirpiness you’d had since you were a child. It still lilted in all the same ways and rang out just as loudly.

Maybe that was still ____, then.

You were torn. With people realizing you could, in fact, act positive (after all, it’s not like the people sitting at your table were the only ones who saw your grin), they’d been acting much more friendly. They didn’t ignore you as much as they had when you were just the quiet and cranky girl who sulked around like a petulant child. Of course, that made Ari’s persistence in talking about your soul skyrocket in frequency. Her constant mentions of it, much to your displeasure, once again aided in attention being turned your way. One of the “heroes” had a rare soul color and had a huge change in attitude. Why wouldn’t you be a talking point?

You were uncomfortable with it. You, for the most part, acted no differently around others, despite their changes towards you. The attention was just as detestable as it had been before, and you were tiring of it quickly. Worse, you were beginning to grow a little paranoid.

Brief whispers sometimes caught your ear, questioning your other soul stats. It sent cool shivers down your spine whenever you happened to hear anything about it-- you knew your stats had been relatively “low” or whatever, but you still had no idea what “normal” was considered to be. One person seemed to talk about it more than the rest. It was Jo’s husband, Finnick, who you avoided as often as you could. His cold stare reminded you too much of how you were his husband’s replacement and how he knew it. It was a stare you recognized. Angry and hurt, sad and vengeful. It didn’t matter to him he didn’t know the whole story. You life had taken the place of his loved one’s.

Those situations made it much easier to be Harris.

Yet when you were out for a smoke, sitting with your legs crossed under a solitary tree on a hill, you felt at ease. Your sister would be in your pocket, nearby and safe. You could look at her if you wanted to and Sans would respect your secrecy, ambling off for a bit to allow you your time together. It made you feel warm. Besides that, the solitude and quiet, occasional chatter was somewhat soothing. Konner came out much less frequently than you, so most nights you would bide your time with Sans. He’d talk away whether you were replying or not, carrying the conversation without complaint. When other soldiers would awkwardly stop by for a smoke, he’d respond to them cheerfully for a bit and then send them on their way. The night air was peaceful and quiet once they’d leave, and you’d feel calm. Sometimes, when Sans would laugh at one of his own jokes or Konner’s (if he was present), you’d almost feel a rush. He had a very nice laugh, really. It was low and quiet, starting as a little rumble before building up towards loud belly-laughs. The funnier Sans found something, the wider his grin would grow and the closer his eyesockets would squint. Once or twice, he laughed so hard that a little blue puff would rise on his cheekbones. It made you want to smile, though you didn’t. He had to work for that harder than anyone else. If he wanted to see a grin, he was going to have to keep breaking through. Not that either of you were dissatisfied with that.

That was when it felt easier to be ____.

You couldn’t tuck away the little sparks of happiness that flared inside you when you spent time together with Sans. You still had a bit of trepidation around the rest of your… friends, you supposed, though the word still sounded odd rolling off your tongue. It was still uncharted territory. Who knew how they’d react to whatever stupid thing you might do. But Sans was predictable for the most part. If you made a quick sarcastic quip, he’d laugh and slap you on the back. If you were looking especially annoyed or angry, he’d flick an extra smoke your way, few questions asked. If you found something he said amusing and he saw it in your eyes, he’d relentlessly continue and try to squeeze a grin or chuckle out of you. If after that your face fell flat once more, he’d sigh and say something like “guess you think i’m a numbskull again, don’t you?” and you’d reply with a “Yes” to which he would reply with a “fuck.”

It was comfortable.

You felt oddly happy. Though it wasn’t necessarily often, any little bits of happiness were a whole lot more than your previous eternal solemnness. You couldn’t recall the last time you closed your eyes in the cold night air and felt tingles of warmth spread throughout your body like a steady stream of water.

It was strange.

But it wasn’t bad.

Papyrus, Laurel, and even to your surprise, the monster Lucentio from long ago, back when you first were introduced to Home Base, began to grow on you.

Certain other vague familiar faces, like Rey or Eden, were more polite to you than before and seemed to try to edge towards you, but you had no interest in them, really. The couple you met the first night you arrived were also guilty of trying to push your friendship.

It was something about the way they acted that put you off. You were wary of them; they still pestered you about your soul, your story, your actions, and it was very much not appreciated. Though they didn’t push you with the same aggression or snideness someone like Ari did, they pried nonetheless, and unlike with Sans’s prying, it didn’t seem to be borne of recognition.

Lucentio was more so an accidental acquaintance than anything else. Sans thought it would be hilarious to introduce the two of you-- not realizing you’d met quite briefly once already-- so maybe he could, in Sans’s words, “help you work on your flying form.”

You didn’t think it was funny, and neither did Lucentio, who nervously began to prattle about how he wasn’t all that good at flying anyways and that Sans should stop joking about that because apparently he was starting to get a lot of lesson requests that he had absolutely no idea how to deal with. He, despite being a medic (apparently one of the ones that helped fix your arm, though you hadn’t exactly been in the most coherent state when that happend) did not ever ask you any questions about your health.

He and Felicity got along.

So his presence became acceptable in your eyes.

Papyrus could be annoying as fuck, and sometimes you’d have to violently rub your temples to stop yourself from snapping at him for screaming in your ear. The obnoxious joy and energy was certainly not something you’d missed about being around. Despite his many irritating quirks, Papyrus had a good heart and he made you feel welcome in his presence even if you didn’t want to be. You saw why Sans was so protective of him; not to be mean, but Abby had always been far more… let’s call it tactful than Papyrus. You were sure without his brother’s aid the tall skeleton would be awkwardly floundering around the streets, if he even made it there alive. He was too different, too old, mature in some ways, immature in others, to remind you of Abby the way Felicity did. He was nothing like her, really. The only trait you could really connect between the two of them was their cheerful curiosity, and Abby had always presented her intrigue more through constant studying and experimenting as opposed to Papyrus’s nosiness. Regardless, you respected him. You weren’t entirely comfortable labeling him a friend aloud, but in your head he was one of the few who you deemed acceptable.

Laurel was just herself. She hadn’t changed much at all in any way whatsoever, which was nice. She was genuine, but here and there, if you’d snip at Papyrus or even Sans she would sharply address you and give you a warning look. It wasn’t scary or intimidating, but it worked primarily because it reminded you of your mother. It was that disappointed sort of gaze that made you feel both guilty and grouchier. For the most part, you two got along just fine. She was respectful, patient, but still more than happy to push your limits gently.

Even between the three of you traitors, you had noticed a clear shift.

You absolutely detested sitting in between Felicity and Konner because they could not stop from using you as their awkward divider when their gazes lingered just a bit too long. Felicity laughed at almost everything Konner said, and much to your annoyance, hardly ever lectured him the way she lectured you. Meanwhile, Konner was a bumbling idiot who got flustered at almost every sweet comment the buggy-eyed girl made, which, unfortunately, was frequent. He’d even given her a nickname, one which you cringed at but Felicity adored: “Blissful Fliss.”

You had no idea when Felicity got Kon to fall for her so hard, but you were exasperated by the obliviousness she bore to it. Even when you’d push, she’d insist that Konner was great and was this and that but that he certainly wasn’t interested; he was just flirty.

(“He doesn’t flirt with me.” “That’s because you’re cranky and you’d punch him in the dick if he did.” You rolled your eyes and moved on.)

There were a few nice things about Konner’s crush. For one, it made you feel more justified in your overprotective nature over your dear friend. At least you wouldn’t look like an insane, jealous psychopath to the rest anymore. After all, Felicity was very petite and looked awfully innocent and delicate. Anyone would be protective over her. For another, you now had ample ammo to use against Kon whenever he began to tease you. There was nothing quite as delightful as watching his jaw drop and his cigarette being spat out after you mocked him.

It was one of those nights where Konner had joined the party and you were entertaining yourself with your new favorite pastime.

“We’re friends, Harris!” 

“No you’re not.”

“I swear! You wouldn’t know anyways, have ya ever experienced any sort o’ human emotion before?”

Sans playfully kicked Preston’s leg, raising a brow. “ hey .” 

“Sorry, Sans.” Konner smiled sheepishly. “You know what I meant. Good ole Harris could neva fall in love. If you think what Fliss and I’ve got goin’ on is romantic, then I’m inclined ta believe you’ve neva been in love.”

“Your accent’s thick again, asshole. I can’t understand half the shit you say.”

“Yer the asshole.”

You didn’t reply. Yeah, you were.

Thoughts swirled in your head. It had been a long time, that much was true. But you still felt confident you’d be able to tell if you loved someone. You loved Felicity, after all. And if you were interested in someone, you’d know that too. You were in tune with your emotions.

“you’re both the assholes. hell, we’re all the assholes. and none of us are exactly romantic. have either of you ever been in a committed relationship?”

You shrugged.

“that’s a no, then.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed down your amusement at his quick assessment.

“Sure I ‘ave, it’s just been a while is all,” Konner said defensively. “What about you? Got a hot skeleton babe at home?”

Your ears perked up at this and you watched Sans carefully. Surely he didn’t. It would have come up in conversation at least once, wouldn’t it?

“hah! that’s a good one.”

You relaxed. That’s what I thought. Fucking nerdy loser.

“Look, okay, fine, maybe I think Fliss is kinda cute, but she just is, alright?”

“have you noticed that when felicity’s in the picture, your accent kinda fades? your voice gets all soft.”

“It does not!”

“It does,” you added. Konner shot you a glare as you took a drag from your smoke.

“What about you, then? Huh? Someone catch yer eye?”

You rolled your eyes, glancing over to Sans and feeling content at his relaxed, lazy energy. You looked back to Kon and blew the smoke in his direction. “Keep up with jokes like that and you might actually get me to laugh.”

“Yeah, yeah, maybe I shouldn’t’ve asked the robot that,” Konner grumbled. “What about you, Sans?”

“whaddya mean?” Sans inquired.

“You know what I mean.”

“sure, there’s plenty of cute people ‘round here. lots of nice faces or whatever.” You took an especially long drag on your cigarette and concentrated on the swirling spools of smoke, brushing your thumb over the pocket shielding Abby’s picture. As you felt its comforting crease still there, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. There it was again. That vague hurt.

You thought about your sister idly, not paying the conversation as much attention as you had before. The gray smoke billowed into gray irises as you watched it fade into the black sky.

Konner groaned. “No. Someone specific.”

Sans chuckled. “you’re just trying to not feel like the only one, konner. look, you and fliss would be cute. don’t you think, harris?”

You furrowed your brows and wrinkled your nose a little, trying to decide how to respond to that.

“Hey, fuck you!” Konner said.

You raised a brow.

Yep, mind made up.

“Over my dead body.”

“Jesus christ, you guys suck. I feel like I’m bein’ bullied by the high school mean girls all over again.”

“whoa, whoa whoa. ‘ again? ’”

“We don’t need to talk about it.”

“yes we do.”

“Hell no, Sans.”

“out with it. did they put gum in your hair? make fun of your new outfit? i need to know.”

You rolled your eyes again, standing and stretching your legs some.

“I’m going,” you said dully.

“before the story?”

“Don’t care about it,” you responded.

Konner looked grateful. “I take it back. ____, you might be a real ass sometimes, but you’re no bad guy.”

“Good luck with Maycombe,” you said.

“Fuck you. I take it back. You’re a bitch.”

“Hm.” You began to walk away.

“night, ___!”

“Later, Harris.”

You raised your hand and acknowledged them, not turning back.

You sucked in a deep breath of the cool air as their voices faded on the hill.

And you reminded yourself.

I’m still here for you, Abs. I won’t get too distracted, I promise.

You breathed in the air of the night sky. Here you were, here you stood, and here you would stay. Defecting wasn’t a choice anymore. Leaving the war wasn’t a choice anymore. And you didn’t want it to be. You’d made yourself here. The war bred you within its endless pack of rabid wolves, and you weren’t one to be domesticated now.

Your feet led the way. You didn’t especially want to go there, but something inside of you was trying to make you do it, push you to do it.

I can do it.

Your feet padded beneath you in the grass and later thudded on the sidewalk. Your feet were dragging you. Your feet were almost as powerful as your knife was. They were showing you.

But your heart was pounding. With each step you took moving away from your barracks, your heart would flounder in terror even more. Every step that wasn’t towards your bed was dangerous. It felt wrong. Your throat swelled shut and your breaths grew raspy. You were trembling. Your fingers kept lacing themselves with stray threads from the hem of your shirt.

You could only see gray. Cold gray. Cold and dead and empty gray. You stopped to breathe, trying to calm yourself.

You tore the picture of you and Abby out of your pocket and held it tightly to your chest, slumping against a building as you looked ahead of you. You felt so scared. It was the same tight fear you felt when you saw her snap out of existence.

It was ringing in your ears.

“i don’t wanna die”--

“you’re not gonna, i’m right here with you, i’m going to make it okay

you’re gonna win a nobel prize and i’m gonna be in the crowd and watch and

you’re gonna be okay, okay?”--

Gore.

False promises.  

“he killed me”

Is blood really thicker than water?

Why did you have to make her last moments so false?

“you’ll be okay

please don’t leave me

don’t

i love you

please please”--

“i’m scared.”

Dry sobs shook through you. You held the picture as close as possible, willing it to be your sister.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t. It was foolish to think you could. This was too hard. Facing your own lies was too hard. It felt like a betrayal. You couldn’t stop yourself from weeping, hiding your face in your legs as you curled up.

You covered your mouth as you hiccupped. Your eyes felt raw and tired. You rubbed them roughly and whimpered. God, this was so pathetic. Having an entire panic attack over a goddamn building, over a goddamn memory from years ago. It was stupid. You should have been stronger then and you should be stronger now. But it was so hard and you felt so weak and the tears kept spilling.

You have to move, Harris, something inside you chimed. They’ll see you if you cry for too long. Go back. Don’t do it. You’ll never be able to.

You breathed in an out as steadily as you could, tucking yourself out of sight in fear someone patrolling might see you like you really were. As you stumbled into the nearest alley, you retched and heaved.

If you saw what could have been, you’d break.

Fuck the damn science pit, off in the near distance. Fuck it. Fuck looking into it. Abby could have been there one day if you had been just a little bit smarter, a little bit faster, a little bit better. And fuck it. Fuck Dr. Alphys. Fuck all of that. 

You neatly placed the picture back in your breast pocket, hands trembling. You wiped away your tears and began to breathe again, turning away from the blue graffiti on the buildings that had just eaten you alive.

You straightened yourself and, after about thirty minutes of hiding and doing your best to regain your composure, you walked back to your lodgings.

When you stepped inside the room, you saw Felicity, sleeping peacefully on the top bunk. Her mouth hung ajar and a thin stand of drool hung out from it. Her normally buggy eyes were relaxed and her face was no longer pulled taut by her hair ties. Her blonde, mangled mess of hair was free, giving her delicate, heart-shaped face extra padding. In the darkness, her scar was barely visible. The ripples and divots that disfigured her otherwise unworldly beauty were nothing more than shadows now. And behind her gently closed lids, you knew there were very bright, very alive gray eyes. You stared and sucked in a breath, shrugging away your jacket.

You fell on the lower bunk and stared up. I can’t get distracted. This is for Abby. This isn’t for me. It’s for her. She’s just right there, right above you-- at least, a trace of her is-- and you need to stop acting like this is for you. Fuck all of that.

Be strong, Harris. Don’t forgot what brought you here.

You blinked tiredly, running your hands through your hair. A sudden shift pulled your attention to a very groggy blonde’s head peering at you.

Felicity’s half-lidded eyes regarded you carefully, taking in your condition.

“You okay?” she croaked, so quietly you could hardly hear her.

“‘Course,” you replied just as softly. “Go back to sleep, Maycombe.”

She squinted. “You’re tired, ___. You’re staying here tomorrow night.”

“Alright.”

She offered you a delightful grin, one that still made her eyes glimmer despite her exhaustion. “Besides, you wake me up when you shake the bed like that.”

Timidly, you considered her words, then gave her the smallest smile.

Her eyes didn’t widen in shock. They remained soft and motherly, comforting. “Night, Harris.”

“Goodnight, Felicity,” you whispered, then turned on your side and slept.

Goodnight, Abby.

You sighed, your heart slowly beginning to wind down.

Before you knew it, you were long gone.

You had to protect her. That’s why you were here. Protect her. Kill the threat. Give her justice. And make sure it never happens again.

Keep her safe because she always keeps you steady on your feet.

Abby.

Felicity.

It’s all the same.

Your family.

It was almost like you instinctively knew what was coming the next week.

You’d had good reason to be torn.

And you’d been wrong.

Finnick Thompson had not only blamed you.

And Papyrus’s little slip-up from long ago, so long ago you’d practically forgotten about it, came back to bite you all in the ass.

And the man wanted to share his burden of hurt just as much as Kon wanted to share his burden of joy.

Chapter Text

The day started out weird.

Within hours of your typical early morning, the looks started. They were sparse, but throughout the day it felt like more and more people were starting to look your way. Having been months since you’d officially joined the Monsters by this point, it genuinely confused you to see everyone suddenly acting so suspicious. Worry gnawed at you.

Maybe word had gotten around how you didn’t care. Maybe they were all convinced you’d betrayed them. Maybe they knew you considered it, maybe they knew you would have if the Humans had just given you what you wanted. After all, you were going to sacrifice the potential livelihood of millions for your own petty revenge. hell, you’d hate you too, that is, if that was all this was about.

Perhaps the whispers about your soul weren’t so quiet after all. It felt like it had all been so long ago, but maybe the fact your soul was red was a popular topic once again. These stares, though, felt more hateful than ones in the past had felt. Maybe it was something else.

You were scared. You’d never admit it aloud, but the looks were crippling you and making you increasingly nervous. You hated being the center of attention at the best of times, and this was far from the best. Rather than admit your fear to anyone, you found yourself acting very irritably and extra cold to people you didn’t care for. 

You ate even less than usual, uncomfortably picking at your food and giving anyone who dared cross you a scowl. It was also lonely; Sans was never, ever around for breakfast, so the fact he was absent was a given, but Papyrus and Laurel had also vanished into thin air. And you could only talk to Lucentio and Konner through someone else starting conversation because the three of you were entirely socially inept. Which would have been okay if Felicity wasn’t also quiet, clearly just as perturbed as you by the stares.

They started off as just a few, but by the minute you were sure more and more people were turning your way, judging you. Tempted to start a fight with the next person who decided to look at you funny, you started cracking your knuckles. Anything at all to distract yourself. 

Fuck OFF, would you?!

You wondered where Sans was and sulked. He always had a way of drawing attention to himself. Same went for Pap-- no one paid you any mind at all when the brothers were around. And at least you enjoyed Sans’s company most of the time. You were actually considering taking him up on his offer how to sleep with your eyes open because of how much time you’d spent together. You rarely got a full night’s rest anymore, and you were worried that you might fall asleep while you were smoking or something, which you knew you’d never live off. If you could just pretend to be listening while your brain was recharging during conditioning, you wouldn’t have to smoke less and you wouldn’t have to cut your visits to Sans short.

The stares only made you miss Sans more. If you could put his dumb, fat skull beside you, no one would be gaping at you like a fish out of water. Most of them were coming from one table and one table alone. It sort of felt like the popular girls from high school were about to dump their lunch trays on your head or something. You had no idea what to do except pretend like they weren’t there and find new things to distract yourself with.

How can Sans be fat if he’s a skeleton and in the army? Your mind trailed off. Cracking your knuckles repeatedly had lost its flavor (mainly because you couldn’t crack them much more unless you planned on snapping them in half). How can he be fat if he keeps skipping meals like breakfast? Does working out not burn calories for him? Does he have his own food stash, too? Maybe I could ask if-- no, that’s stupid, I wouldn’t eat it anyways-- but then again, he does sort of smell like fast food. Maybe he teleports to burger joints or something across the country? Maybe there’s an abandoned one he frequents? Maybe he just has fry perfume or some shit, that wouldn’t really be much of a surprise… Whatever, he’s Sans, he’s dumb. I wonder if he’s always been like this. What’s he like in combat, I wonder? I can’t tell if he’d be a great shot or a terrible one. Maybe he’s--

“So,” Konner began quietly, momentarily pausing from picking at his food, “who d’ya think shat in their coffee, huh?”

You sighed quietly. You weren’t sure if you were grateful for the effort or annoyed at the interruption of your thoughts. You leaned on your palm and blinked lazily, remembering how much the real world sucked in comparison to your mental one.

Felicity laughed, but she was clearly still quite nervous. “Oh, Kon. What are you talking about?”

You raised an eyebrow at her, then glanced behind her. When you made eye contact with a soldier, he flipped right back around, frosty wings ruffled with embarrassment. You gave her a look again.

Felicity rolled her eyes. “It’s fine, Harris. I was joking. Trying to lighten the mood, y’know?”

“Harris isn’t one for ‘lightening the mood,’” Konner teased, nudging you. “Cranky old hag. Who shat in your coffee?”

“Who knows,” Maycombe sighed.

“Sans?” Konner ventured.

You crossed your arms and scoffed, looking off to the side. “Don’t make me laugh. He’s never at breakfast.”

Konner flicked a scrap of food at you, which bounced off your shoulder unimpressively. When you frowned and looked his way, he’d adorned a cocky smirk. He tapped on the table and raised a brow. “Bet you wish he was, though. Missin’ the guy, hm?”

“No,” you said bluntly.

“Riiight,” Kon laughed. “Sure.”

You narrowed your eyes and clasped your hands together neatly, looking him dead in the eye. “You’re just boring as hell. And besides,” you said, “it’s not like I’m the one who’s a bumbling idiot, head over heels for someone.”

Kon’s cheeks lit up and he stammered like a schoolboy. You felt pleased with yourself. Just as he had before, you flicked a crumb at him. It rebounded off his forehead and he remained stunned.

“Oh my,” Lucentio sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. “It’s too early for this.”

Maycombe, on the other hand, had suddenly become very interested in the topic at hand. “Oooh, Kon, you like someone?”

“Nah,” he assured Felicity.

“Liar.” Konner gave you a dirty look for that one, but you still felt fairly smug.

“Who?”

“Harris thinks issa crush ‘cause she doesn’t understand human emotion,” Preston began defensively. “I doubt she knows what romance is like. There’s no way in hell.”

Felicity laughed softly, patting your shoulder. “Maybe if she was a little more approachable?”

“I don’t want to be approachable.”

“I know, tough stuff.” Maycombe rolled her eyes and messed with her curly bun absently. “I’m basically your PR person by now.”

“Hmph.”

“Cranky hag is even crankier today,” Konner noted at your scowl.

“Well,” Lucentio began softly, “can you blame her? Why’s everyone looking like that? I feel like there’s something on my face...”

As Felicity began to assure the winged monster he had nothing on his face, you turned your head and caught the hateful eyes of one Finnick Thompson. You glared back at him, daring him to fuck with you. You didn’t care if he didn’t like you, but you were getting sick of all the attention on you fast, and you had a feeling based off that mildly smug expression that he was part of the reason it was there.

“Who knows,” Maycombe sighed as you turned back around, scowling. “I have to go anyways. Kon, want to walk me to the training fields?”

“Sho.” He crammed a giant spoonful of food in his mouth. You made a face at him, disgusted by the bits dribbling from the corners of his mouth. Konner was completely unphased (probably Sans’s fault, he was always sloppy-looking) and in turn grinned wider, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Shuddup cranky hag,” he said.

Felicity hadn’t noticed his grossness and had in turn started neatly arranging your hair from it’s natural, unkempt appearance. “Harris, eat a little more, would you?” she fretted, knitting her eyebrows together. She brushed her thumb along the length of your cheek, all the way from the top of your scar to the bottom. You grumbled and tried to bat her hand away, but Felicity sighed and just patted your cheek. “Your face is so thin. You look sickly.”

“I’m fine,” you said stubbornly. “I’m not losing weight.”

“Yes, but you’re not gaining any, either.”

You slouched and looked away. “I don’t need to.”

“____ Harris, you are going to finish your breakfast or I am going to finish you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever, mom. ”

Your heart twinged for a second.

There she was; Abby sitting at the kitchen table, watching cartoons. She was probably about eight at the time, since it was right before you were moving out for college.

“Abs, you shouldn’t be eating cookie dough for breakfast. That’s not good for you.”

“Whatever, mom. Richie says it’s okay cuz it’s a special treat. You want some, too? I saved you chocolate chips. Only some, though. I don’t love you that much.” She turned back to look at you, grinning widely. She was missing her two front teeth. It was cute, and it made you smile, even if it was annoying.

Felicity sighed, whipping you back to the present. Though you could tell she was a little amused, it was obvious the girl wasn’t going to put up with your antics today. She pinched your cheek, making you scowl, then tugged on Konner’s sleeve. “C’mon, Kon. We don’t need this.”

“Seeya, grouchy,” Preston said, patting your shoulder awkwardly.

You wished that you had someone walk with you when it was time for your training. Lucentio was nice enough or whatever, but you weren’t exactly “Felicity” or “Sans” close yet. Besides, you could tell the stares were starting to give the poor monster a mental breakdown. You wished you could fly away just like he could, but alas, humans did not get wings in the genetic lottery. When he did eventually flap off, bidding you a quick farewell, you watched him and hoped to be left alone. You knew in your heart however that you were rarely left alone anymore.

And whatever started this animosity was too pungent for people to just shrug it off.

In your heart, you knew it. They were all looking at you. They were all judging you. For what? For every misstep, for your selfishness? For your callousness? For what? Maybe if you knew, it wouldn’t be so bad.

At least the stares seemed to let up after you were alone. You were fairly confident it was because of your tendency to blend into the background and were incredibly grateful to yourself that you knew how to shrink away. It was a skill that allowed you to live comfortably at the very least, even when no one else wanted you to.

Less fortunately, Ari once again was harassing you. The girl really pissed you off. She was a bitch, annoying, and too cocky for her own good. Of course she had to know Sans, too. You doubted Sans told her about how you were in reality, he seemed to be genuine enough. However, he had said Ari was “perceptive,” and you weren’t confident you were okay with it. She seemed to be getting closer and closer to something new.

It only made you feel worse when she started going on about how “people like us tend to kill more than the rest, you know, because they can’t stop us” and “we don’t question killing people if we deem it necessary, do we?” and “your stats are stupid, anyways.” Never in your life had you wanted to destroy her more.

“So, Harris,” she hummed, putting her hand on her hip, “why did you join the war anyways? Come out with it already. You told Sans, didn’t you?”

You were starting to get a headache. After nearly one entire hour of her nagging you nonstop, your patience was running extremely thin. On top of that, she was starting to find the source of your anxiety. Sans already saw through you, and now this chick too? Did you really wear your heart on your sleeve that much? It truly disturbed you how people kept noticing it and commenting on it. This girl wasn’t like Sans, though, and she wasn’t going to get bubbly laughter from you from her discovery. Sans was one thing. He understood it because he was it. This girl was not. You were here for Abby.

You clenched your jaw as your sister graced your thoughts. “Fuck off.”

“Ooh, looks like I hit a nerve.” She crossed her arms. “One day you’ll have to accept that you can’t hide yourself from me. I know what you’re like under that veil. And I know that you’re scared I’m right about every single thing about you.”

You sucked in a breath. It’s okay. Don’t kill her. It would feel so nice to just punch her in the eye, but you’re above this. You can pull through this. She’s nothing more than a nuisance.

Ari pushed you a little. “I’m sick of your bullshit, ____ Harris. You think you’re all that, that you’re the only one who’s suffered, but news flash: you're not. You think I didn’t notice that day? You think I didn’t notice that you didn’t care about the fallen? While the rest of us mourned the fallen, you just sat there. Like a fucking shell of a person. Yeah… like your shit stinks worse than everyone else’s.” She advanced, narrowing her eyes. “You forget I know what you’re like at the core. We’ve both got those red souls. And though I was unsure before, I know you didn’t join the Monsters for your friend either. No… she was your excuse. ”

Your fist was shaking. You were doing your best to stay calm, but it was getting harder and harder.

Ari looked at you chillily. “Yeah, you didn’t join this war because of justice, you didn’t join because of kindness. You didn’t join because you felt like what was happening was wrong or because you were brave or any of that shit. Nah…” She cocked her head to her side, face vindictive and threatening. “We joined because we got somethin’ to prove. That’s why people like you and me are here. And if I had to wager, based off how little you care for everyone around you, I’d say you wanna prove that you’re heartless.”

That was it. You grabbed the slightly shorter woman by the collar of her shirt and gritted your teeth. She looked unsurprised, and even smirked a little bit, which only made you even angrier. “I told you to fuck off, bitch,” you hissed. “You’re like a fucking duckling following me around everywhere. Find some other bastard to pester you before I make sure you can’t anymore. I can fucking break you. I will fucking break you. Eat shit.”

Uninterested, Ari readjusted her nose ring. “You’re a coward.”

You drew your fist back. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

“Hey!”

You whipped your head around to see Corporal Elaina marching over to the two of you. She was scowling and tense. “Break it up! Are you two fucking five?!” She tore you apart. “What’s going on here? I better hear a damn good explanation for this shit right now!”

“Just having a little chat, corporal.”

Elaina pinched the bridge of her nose and growled. “So fucking unnecessarily difficult, both of you. Ari Lee, ____ Harris, you two--”

“Oh my, what is going on? Is everyone quite alright?”

Your blood went cold at the warm voice. Ari and Elaina both froze as well, all of you awkwardly set in stone as the woman who shouted began to approach you.

Are you fucking kidding me? As if things weren’t already shit. This day just keeps getting better and better. Hope you’ve got a hefty pack of smokes ready for me tonight Sans, because I’m going to need every last fucking one of them.

Of course it had to be Queen Toriel. Sure, she was nice, but why’d she have to crawl out of her hole now? This was only going to make shit worse. She drew attention wherever she went, and the fact she had decided to drop in on you was not appreciated. 

Hasn’t this day been annoying enough already?

“Elaina Jeanie, what’s wrong?”

Elaina’s ears turned bright red, like a child who just got caught being an asshole. You fought the urge to roll your eyes and crossed your arms as she squeaked, “Queen Toriel!”

It had been quite a while since you’d last seen the queen in person this close. Months, surely. You didn’t feel particularly excited that she’d appeared once again. Maybe the attention was her fault? If it was, you hoped she’d do whatever she needed quickly.

“Oh, please, not the formalities again… Hello all.”

“Hello!” boomed back about fifteen other voices.

The queen smiled, then looked back to the three of you. “What’s the problem?”

Elaina’s ears were still cherry red, and she began to scratch the back of her neck. “Nothing, um. Just breaking up a little spat, is all.”

“Oh, not between these two?”

“Yes, between these two.”

Toriel leaned over the two of you, her motherly aura sending primal fear straight to your brain. You kept yourself calm though, after all, what was she going to do, really? She’d barely done anything to you in the past when you disobeyed orders. She was unlikely to start now because you yelled at some asshole. Then she grabbed both of you by the ears.

“Ow!” Ari spat.

“Jesus!” you shouted.

“I expect better from the two of you,” she started, looking disappointed. “Such capable young ladies fighting one another, and for what? Let us all set our personal differences aside, yes? We are all adults here. There is no need to be so violent with one another.” She started coughing a bit. “Oh, dear me, I’m sorry…”

She set you down and your hand immediately went to your head to doublecheck you still had a right ear. It burned enough that you weren’t confident you even had that half of your skull anymore. Motherfucking fucker fucking fucker bitch, fuck you and fuck your family and fuck your fucking hairy paws, and fuck you, you thought venemously. Rip off my goddamn ear, don’t I look fucked up enough already? Missing half my goddamn face, I don’t need to be missing any more of it--

Toriel shook herself a bit, clearing her throat and inhaling deeply before losing her composure again. “Oh, what is that smell?” She coughed harder.

At first, you were just thinking about how much you did not want to catch the flu from a giant goat lady. She was hacking more and more and had to back away a bit to catch her breath. When you sighed, you caught the strong scent of tobacco and froze.

God. Fucking. Dammit.

Elaina seemed to realize just as you had. “Harris used to be a smoker, Toriel. That’s an old jacket of hers; the smell seeps in.” Your corporal turned to you as she patted the queen on the back. “Some days the reactions are more intense than other days.”

Not all of us have fifteen different jackets to wear, you thought as you stared at her. It’s fucking cold, what was I supposed to do? Wear a fucking quilt of grass or some shit? You can say whatever the hell you want, but don’t you dare look at me like I’m a child because you have a different jacket that reeks like smoke. Asshole.

You realized it was very quiet now.

“... Sorry, highness,” you said awkwardly after receiving about ten million stares.

This is the worst day of my fucking life.

You fucking hated when people couldn’t stop staring. Get your fucking ugly eyes off of me, you damn bastards. Stop looking at me. Look at someone else, would you? Don’t fucking look at me. God, please don’t look at me…

“No need for apologies!” the queen shushed. “If you are going to apologize, apologize to one another for me, would you?”

I hate everything.

As if all of that wasn’t embarrassing enough, the queen also started explaining to you (all too kindly) about the effect cigarettes had upon the vast majority of monsters and a cheery offer to get you a new jacket. You mainly just stood and listened awkwardly, mentally begging her to leave so you could get away from all the attention.

“... I know things are uncertain right now, and you may be feeling on edge, but I promise you we will figure this all out. Asgore and I plan on addressing everything soon.”

Figure what out, lady? Maybe you shouldn’t have let your mind wander while the woman was rambling.

“After you finish training today, we would greatly appreciate your presence, Ms. Harris. We will be waiting for you in the, well, ‘palace’-- just that building over there, the rather window-y one, Asgore insisted-- once you are done.”

“Yes ma’am,” you droned.

“Lovely! We shall see you then.”

Never in your life had you been so grateful Corporal Elaina still had training to do for you. Words could not describe how much you did not want to go with the queen.

Of course the damn palace had to be right next to the fucking science pit, of all places. You’d been perfectly fine not having to ever go over there. Sure, you knew vaguely that it was the “palace” for the King and Queen Dreemurr, but you’d never needed to go there, so you hadn’t paid it much mind.

You couldn’t do it.

How were you supposed to make it over there?

You ran laps even after Elaina had told everyone they were done for the day, hoping the burn in your legs would distract you from all the piercing eyes. Each lap was harder than the last, and by the end of it, you were practically dead. When you looked at the scar on your arm and touched the one on your cheek, you sorrowfully wondered why they couldn’t have killed you so you wouldn’t be half-dead right now. Everything felt dead. Why couldn’t it just fucking die if it was going to act like this.

Fucking smoking habit, you cursed as some rather unpleasant coughs racked your body. Fucking shit… I need to cut back. You put your hands on your knees, wheezing, having just run full speed for as long as you were possible able to. Your coughing kept getting worse and worse, and your eyes began to water.

It was time for you to find something better to do.

After you could breathe again, that was.

You’d definitely pushed yourself too hard this time. Sometimes you’d feel the familiar choking when you’d done a particularly hard day of conditioning, but this was not that at all. You were wheezing, inhaling in and out sharply. You felt like someone was blending your heart and brain.

Then it hit you that this wasn’t just the smokes after all.

Fuckfuckfuck. Not here. Really? What is this one over?!

You knew somewhere that it was all those fucking stares and Ari fucking Lee. 

It’d been so long since people had scorned you, judged you; you’d gotten soft. You felt weak and stupid. Though not all of them got to see your vulnerability, plenty had been able to tell the change in your attitude, however slight it might have been. Now they knew all too much for your comfort.

And Abby. Shitshitshit. All of that pain was seeping in. The grief was a weed that drank up ever last ounce of tenderness it could get, and now it only hurt more. You felt so guilty. How was it fair for you to expect any comfort at all when her death was your fault, when you made her last moments so horrible? Maybe she would have forgiven you, maybe not, but was it fair to forgive yourself?

You just wanted to see Maycombe.

You held your heart and grimaced. You still mostly had yourself under control, you could hold out for a while. Seeing a friendly face was probably the best thing you could do. Being alone took too much time.

You spat up some gunk, wiped your mouth, and tried to steady your breathing as you went off to find Abby.

Maycombe.

It wasn’t good when you finally found out where she was.

You’d searched. There were plenty of places she would hang out from time to time, just like any other person, she found little places she enjoyed to congregate in. You had hoped she would be elsewhere, but the more and more you looked, your fear slowly fading, the more uneasy you felt. You really didn’t want to see Toriel.

Eventually, you just accepted defeat. Maybe later you’d find out where she was or something.

You found her while you were on your way, though you hadn’t realized it at first. At first, you’d shrank because of the sudden rather large group ahead of you. Angry people. They’d think you were weak.

You gritted your teeth and started to push through them, only to be stunned into silence.

She was by one of her typical hangout spots with Konner, but she’d escaped your view because of the little crowd forming around her. Felicity was silent, looking on emotionlessly as the monsters and man before her tore he apart. They were shouting, some crying, and all horribly upset.

Something about love.

Well, no, not love in the traditional sense--

Something about “LOVE.”

-In a way, when you thought about it, you understood why he did it. Finnick Thompson, that is.

After all, Maycombe did not join the war to fight for the equality of monsters, much like you. Neither of you were initially comrades to the Monster cause. You two weren’t “good.”

No one had known that before Finnick, husband to Joseph Thompson, had let her little secret slip. His Jo had never killed a monster. 

From the start, Joseph had been an ally. He’d never been a fighter for the Humans; he was a of  Monster spy. Much like you, he didn’t go into battle with Monster troops so much as he did the violent militias rampaging the cities. It was no one’s fault that he had died. None of you three survivors had actively contributed to his death.

You couldn’t fully blame Thompson for feeling that way, though. After all, you were no different. It wasn’t about being fair or anything like that. You didn’t care if the random Human soldiers hadn’t harmed you; they symbolized what had, and that was enough for you to not so much as blink when you killed them. You still remembered the first Human soldier you’d killed that fateful day you rescued Ambassador Frisk. He was attractive, you recalled, and he had pretty olive skin that complimented his green eyes nicely. He looked like the type to smile often. That man didn’t hurt you and he only did what he thought was right. He fought for what he believed was just, or, at least, more just. But you felt no true remorse for killing him. Just as your brother had done to you, you’d taken countless brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, husbands, and wives from people just because you were on the other side. You’d stepped over Joseph’s body easily when you ran away. You left him where he was because you had no connection to him, but he was everything to someone else. A father, a husband, a friend. And as sick as it was, you still felt no real guilt for the fact he was dead. Plain and simple, the guy got unlucky. The most regret you’d feel was knowing someone like him, who had everything in the world to live for, didn’t get to just because that was your world. Somehow, you, the woman with nothing but hate, were able to outlive him because the world doesn’t always reward kindness.

You had no idea why Richard had shot your sister that one day. Hell, maybe he’d tried to shoot someone behind her or some dumb shit and missed as far as you knew, but that didn’t matter. His intentions didn’t matter. The fact that he got to keep walking while she was rotting in her Aunt Rebecca’s garden, several feet under the dirt, was enough for you to hate him. The fact that he left her for dead was enough.

The situations weren’t identical.

But you could understand the pain.

Abby was a lovely person. Richard was measly at best.

Joseph was a lovely person, you were sure. And yet, the ones who lived were the ones who were like you .-

The story came out of her when you pushed through the shouting crowd to shield her. And it came from her, no less. Everyone had a breaking point. Yours had been a breaking point to lighten up, but hers was so much more cruel. Her guilt for everything spilled out of her.

And it all poured out of her.

-Felicity Maycombe hadn’t really ever had much of a home. She was always on her own, not because she was abandoned, but because she liked it that way. This was something you were aware of, more or less. After all, though Maycombe had been your only friend for a long time, you were her only friend for just as long. Felicity was perfectly fine not being in huge groups and felt perfectly capable of caring for herself. At first, when she was homeless at the start of the hellish struggle, she hadn’t even had much trouble. In fact, most of her trouble came from others. She only joined a group because she had to. Because they found her and offered her something. Because she didn’t care what it meant she would become.-

Her words came across shrill and tearful. She apologized, she wept, she pleaded. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” she said as you tried to pull her away, “so I won’t ask for it.”

-You got to know more of it later. More details, at least. Like how she was kind enough. But kindness was all in perspective, and Felicity used to live a very different life. She’d seen too many people get hurt during scuffles with monsters in ways they’d never fully recover to completely understand them. 

She thought the entire situation was unfair. And the way she saw it, the best way to resolve the conflict then was to simply go back to how things were. So yes, she believed monsterkind should have gone back to the Underground. When she was three years younger at the start of the war, it seemed like it was the most reasonable option. After all, humans would eventually die without vitamin D and there were far too many of them to actually fit in the Underground anyways. Monsters, on the other hand, had been living there for centuries with space and longing being their biggest problems. Well, in her opinion, at least then, humans had the exact same problems on the surface anyways.

It wasn’t something she was proud of. Those thoughts and feelings made her sick looking back on them. But she thought them everyday. She often wondered how many lives had been ruined (just because she was getting on alright being homeless didn’t mean everyone else was) and wanted to stop their pain.

She didn’t like violence. She wanted everyone to be content. She didn’t like the idea of a war at all, but she felt like participating could lead to a greater good. So when the Humans recruited her, she happily joined their cause. For the others, she told herself.

But when she killed her first monster, something inside of her changed.

Suddenly, the greater good didn’t feel all that greater or all that good.

But she couldn’t go back by then.-

“Yes, it’s true about my Level of Violence, and I wish it wasn’t. But I have killed many of your people before coming here. And I can’t take that away. I can only tell you how sorry I am. I can only try to right my wrongs.”

-Felicity Maycombe killed monsters even when she no longer believed in the Human cause. She shot them because she was too scared to desert what she had committed to. She fought for a war she didn’t believe in because she was frightened. She took away family because she didn’t know what to do with her own fear. And it disgusted her, and she knew she was horrible.-

The people weren’t violent, but several were crying, angry. They felt like they’d been lied to. Konner was quiet, clearly ashamed as well, but you knew it wasn’t the same.

To gain LOVE, you had to gain EXP.

And to gain EXP, you had to have a certain level of cruelty.

Felicity wouldn’t let you shield her. And even when you saw in the distance a familiar trio walk towards you, you couldn’t do a thing.

“My LV is 19, it’s true. And I am so sorry.”

-Maycombe used to kill them one by one, picking off soldiers as a sniper. It was her job,l and though she didn’t like it, she did it anyways. Somewhere deep down there was still a greater good, surely. She couldn’t be terrible. She didn’t want to be. And she began to hate the world, her situation, her life, her opponents.-

“Your judgment is deserved. But I just beg of you--”

-When she picked them off, there was a time she felt no remorse for them. Only anger. And pity for herself. She killed them and did it without caring.-

“--please don’t bring Harris into it, she didn’t know. She’s never killed a monster in her life. And Preston only did it because of his cover. Please, don’t scorn them for what I’ve done.”

-Maycombe didn’t feel much of anything on the inside for a long while. She would openly express happiness and comfort, but her true self was empty and callous. Maycombe was used to living her life solo. She would live with her pain solo as well. She was independent, and it didn’t matter much if she only felt hurt. That was alright. She was disgusting, after all. No one else would ever want to be around someone like her. No one would ever willingly look at her true self and reach out for her hand in partnership. Never.-

When the Dreemurrs finally reached the group, they were quick to try to defuse the situation. Frisk, however, watched idly. They had an unreadable expression as Felicity told the king and queen she deserved every bit of what she had coming.

-She sat alone most days. That was fine. She was perfectly alright doing that. Here and there she’d engage, but she never felt like she had to. She never felt like actively seeking it out. She was disgusting at heart. Cruel and soulless.

Until one day, a woman Felicity had only seen in passing sat beside her intentionally. Her hair hung over her eyes.

“Hello?” she’d said.

The woman turned and looked her in the eye, and Maycombe saw the girl soften. Something inside her hitched. “I’m ____,” the woman--you-- said. You’d puffed on your cigarette and shyly averted your eyes. “____ Harris.”

Maycombe blinked. “Oh? Um… hi, ____. Can I help you?”

“I want to be your friend,” you had said softly. “I want to know you.”

And you came over every meal after, even though Maycombe still felt disgusting.

It’s when she decided she had to change herself. Maybe Felicity Maycombe didn’t have to be disgusting anymore, she told herself. Maybe she could do better. Because if that girl could look her in the eyes like that, if that girl could make her feel comfortable with her motherly gaze, if that girl knew she was a killer and treated her all the same, Felicity knew there was still something good left.-

When the king and queen led the three of you away, your mouth was just a bit ajar. You were still processing it all. It was hard to see. Felicity was in tears. Konner was unreadable. And the royal family was grim.

They led you to the palace. You didn’t even bother to look around. You felt too sick.

Maycombe trembled.

Your heart broke.

It was so unlike your sister. Abby never took in the way other people felt about her. It wasn’t something that she ever felt was important. But here was the girl with the same eyes and same heart, crying for the sins she’d committed. Not because it made her terrible. Not even because it made other people think she was terrible.

Because she had done so many terrible things, because she’d hurt them.

You placed an uncertain hand on Felicity’s back and looked her in the eye. The girl was crying, hiccuping while you all walked someplace a bit more private.

Beautiful gray eyes.

You could see Abby in them.

But Maycombe. These were her eyes.

“I’m here,” you said.

She smiled. “I know,” she whispered, wiping a tear away.

Imagine your surprise when, after the king and queen gestured for the three of you to enter a room, you saw Papyrus and Sans already in there. Frisk quickly walked in and sat between the two on the ground, rubbing their hands over the nubs that were once fingers mindlessly.

Papyrus looked very nervous.

“We will sort this all out,” the king sighed. “We’d been looking around for the lot of you when Papyrus here first told us. It is my fault things escalated. I felt we did not need to put extra pressure on the issue.”

“Clearly,” Toriel sighed, rubbing her forehead, “that was incorrect.”

“Papyrus, would you mind explaining to these three what you told us this morning?”

You looked at the tall skeleton judgingly. Instinctively, you pushed Preston and Maycombe just a little behind you and raised a brow.

Everyone was silent. Papyrus trembled. The ambassador looked sad. Sans, meanwhile, was wearing a dark expression. Pained, more accurately.

“IT IS ALL MY FAULT,” Papyrus said. A tear slipped from the corner of his eyesocket and he covered his mouth. “I HAD BEEN TALKING ABOUT IT WITH MY LAUREL. AND WHEN THE MAN CAME OVER, IT JUST SLIPPED OUT. HE ASKED ABOUT THE SOULS, AND I DID SOMETHING AWFUL. I… I THOUGHT HE WANTED TO HELP SOMEHOW.”

You looked at Sans. He looked back at you tiredly. Clearly, he’d been trying to comfort his brother for quite some time. You thought about the cigarettes he owed you and wondered if you should give the guy a break. There was only so much ranting one person could handle in a day.

Then it hit you.

A memory. 

“i’ll come outright and say it. your stats are really, really low for a human soldier.”

“The nurse said they were high.”

“yeah, high for a monster soldier, but not for a human one. and i don’t mean species-- i mean the two sides. you know how high your two friends were? preston and maycombe?”

“ You shouldn’t have any idea.”

“my brother was worried about it. papyrus. sometimes he talks more than he should.”

You were fuming. Words were failing you. Part of you wanted to rip Papyrus’s head off. Of course he did. Of course. How could anyone trust the absolute fucking dunderhead? The other part of you was doing your best to not kill him. He didn’t mean to. He meant the best and it was an accident. It wasn’t malicious.

Konner gently laid a hand on your shoulder and brought you back. He looked at you kindly and you blinked in surprise. “We’ve got this, Harris. Don’t you worry ‘bout Maycombe an’ me.”

“Rumors spread fast, unfortunately,” the queen sighed. “Listen… we’d like to be as clear with the three of you as possible.”

“This is my fault,” Frisk interjected sadly, looking at the three of you. For once, the teen reminded you of a child again. “I thought if we painted you as heroes, it would give everyone more hope. I thought it would boost morale to see we had people.”

“Hush, honey,” Toriel cooed.

“I’m sure you remember the interview you had with Mr. Mettaton quite some time ago now,” Asgore continued while his wife comforted their child. “Of course, part of the interview was for propaganda. We made it as flattering as possible without considering what the consequences may have been. I do not know if you knew this, my dear, but you’ve become quite a symbol of hope for our people,” Asgore told Felicity. He took her small hand in his huge one. “You were the one who led the mission to save our child. Your kindness and dedication was inspiring. For monsters, you represented the best of humanity, the greatest ally we could ask for. You risked your life for ours. For humans, you showed strength and resolve. You stood your ground, no matter what. No matter what it meant you lost.”

“But I--”

He raised a hand, silencing Maycombe. “Just a moment. As for you two, it was much the same. You three became a symbol of our strength. You were the turning point of the war. When we had been losing for so long, when we were sure we lost Frisk, people thought it meant the war too. They dreaded a repeat of hundreds of years ago; banishment, or worse, eradication. Yet when all hope seemed lost, right at the nick of time, the young ambassador-- our child, Frisk-- came back stronger than ever. Still determined for peace, for an end to the war, even after the horrors they saw. And they heard of the assault on Maven, of how devastating it had been. The war turned in our favor, quite literally, overnight. People were hopeful. You three were the markers of that hope. You were seen as the cause. You saved us all.”

Toriel sighed softly, petting Frisk’s head soothingly. Your heart ached when you looked at the sight. It reminded you very much of your sister and mother. The thought was quickly cast aside as soon as the queen opened her mouth. “It is unfair to expect you to all be angels. We didn’t think about how it would affect you.”

“tori, if i could?”

It was stupid, but you wrinkled your nose. Tori? You weren’t sure you liked that Sans had given her a nickname. You shook your head a bit, reminding yourself how completely unimportant that was.

“Go ahead, Sans.”

“basically you were all painted to be sinless. and now they’re hurt. they feel lied to.”

You were talking before you were fully aware of it. “You all should have left them out of it. They never should have been part of your game. Their damn soul stats don’t mean a thing, not a thing, both of these two are far better people than I’ve ever been, yet they’re treated like shit. It doesn’t matter if they’ve killed monsters, and I don’t give a damn otherwise. They’ve killed humans too. And the only reason I didn’t was because they didn’t tell me to. I don’t care about a single damn one of you. I don’t care about you, Ambassador, or either of you, your highnesses, or any of that. I don’t care. I care about,” you took a breath, trying to contain yourself from shouting, “making it right.”

“Ms. Harris--”

“Tell them there was a mistake,” you said plainly. “I don’t care what they see me as. Your mistake is costly, but we can recover it. They’ll believe Maycombe covered my ass because she’s selfless; she’s a softie. You make it clear that she is a person , not your little trophy. But you clear it up, you let me take the blame. Saving the ambassador was her plan anyways.”

“Harris, you can’t!” Felicity gasped.

“I’m more than willin’ to take all the blame too,” Konner said. “What do we need ta do ta fix this mess?”

“Neither one of you are doing any of that!” Felicity burst angrily. “Nothing those people said was wrong! Their judgment is deserved, and I’m not going to cower away from it anymore! I’ve changed and I need to keep changing! Don’t you dare take the fall for me when I never asked you to!”

“It’s not fair!” you shouted back at Maycombe. “You were a solider! You killed! That’s what soldiers do! ”

“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be held accountable, Harris! This is exactly what should happen!”

“Hell no! If these people are stupid enough t--”

“Silence,” the king boomed.

Everyone did so. He could be scary when he had to. You and Maycombe were both panting a bit from your little screaming match, and you were starting to feel humiliated again. You looked like such a damn moron. But then you thought about Felicity getting hurt again and the embarrassment was overshadowed by fear.

“I killed several humans,” Asgore said after a moment. “While we were trapped in the Underground, I mean.” Toriel bristled and you gawked at him.

What the fuck is happening right now?

“Some of them were young. I am not proud. I even… I was even willing to kill Frisk.”

You looked at the child in awe. You’d never heard any of that before. It wasn’t something publicized. Sure, humans had died for the barrier to break, you knew that-- but kids? Frisk almost being killed hadn’t even been mentioned; had you known the king killed children before, you weren’t sure that you wouldn’t have attacked him. Frisk was silent, watching you back. You suddenly had to fight the urge to knab them and hide them behind you, safely from the king’s reach. You had to suck in a deep breath and clench your fist.

He didn’t kill them. He’s their father. And he’s the king. It’s not my job to kill the bastard. Child murderer. It’s not my place. But oh, if it was...

“I told myself it was for the greater good,” Asgore said gently. “I understand being wrong. I understand… becoming a demon to grant people a heaven. I don’t say it was right. I won’t say it was selfless. A very long time ago, we had two children, Toriel and I. One, our son, Asriel, the other, our adoptive child, Chara. Chara was human. One day, they fell ill and died. On the same daya, Asriel crossed the barrier and was maimed by humans. I was furious. I declared war that very day. I swore to kill all humans for what they did to our children.” He glanced at Toriel. “Understandably, my wife, the queen, did not agree with this. She left. And for centuries more, we remained Underground with nothing but my hate, all the way until young Frisk fell.”

“Dad…” they said, embarrassed. “Stop it. You--”

“--did horrible things. I take responsibility for them, young one. The only reason we escaped was because you showed me hate was not the only way.” He looked down. The queen sat beside him stiffly. “When the barrier fell, I expected to be met with the disgust of humankind. And we were. But we were also met with millions, no, billions of people like Frisk. People who knew of our horrible deeds and gave us another chance.”

You pursed your lips, unsure of how to feel. You wondered just how many children the king had killed because of the people who killed his own. How many of those kids were just like your sister. But weren’t his children like her too?

You gritted your teeth. What a fucking mess of a situation.

“I only returned to Asgore because Frisk showed me how a second chance can change everything,” Toriel said gently. “No one is perfect. Many do horrible things. And those are not to be forgiven or forgotten. But you can always work to make them better, to undo the horrible things. I think Papyrus put it well…”

“EH?”

“Go on, what you said to Sans earlier.”

The tall skeleton hesitated, rubbing his arm awkwardly. He looked away, then declared, “...YOU CAN DO A LITTLE BETTER. EVEN IF YOU DON’T THINK SO.”

Sans tensed as did Frisk. You instantly turned to look at the short man, and you could practically feel his fury. You wondered if someone Sans knew had said the same thing-- a parent, maybe? Who was to say. You brushed it off and turned away, though you could have cut the tension in the room with a blunt blade.

“There will always be people who believe in you,” the queen said gently. “We plan to address all of this. We will show this principle. Because Papyrus is right. You can do a little better. We all can. And that chance is worth it.”

Frisk opened their mouth and murmured, “Not every bad choice can be undone. But you shouldn’t stop trying to be better. I once… nearly made a terrible mistake.”

Sans looked at them pointedly, and again you wondered what the fuck was going on. You recognized the look Sans was giving Frisk. Maybe Papyrus had said something similar to the both of them? Maybe a soldier who died? A friend?

But then what was with that angry look?

You frowned at Sans.

Frisk continued on with ease. “And now, it’s my job to make sure no one else makes that mistake. It’s my job to be better. No matter how hard it can be or how guilty I may feel. It isn’t a bad thing to be expected to become better.” They looked at the three of you. “We’re all imperfect. We can help.”

Felicity smiled, and you couldn’t believe your eyes when she hummed, “I’ll fix this, Ambassador. You’re absolutely right. I’m so grateful this happened, that these people are holding me accountable.”

You had a damn headache.

You sat beside Sans at your smoking spot, hair tangled in your hands. “I need to cut back,” you told him as you took a drag from your cigarette.

“uh?”

“Nearly barfed up a lung after training today,” you muttered. “Felt like I was about to die.”

“harris, no. well, i mean, sure, cut back on smoking, but is this really what we’re talking about?” He leaned over and looked at you thoughtfully. “something tells me when you said you wanted to talk, it wasn’t about smoking. and not to be that guy, but you wanting to talk about something is sort of unusual. maycombe?”

“I don’t understand it,” you groaned. “She was just doing her job. People need to fuck off.”

“i think most people get that, you know. there really weren’t that many people ganging up on her from what i understand.”

“It was enough. They all need to fuck off. She’s been through plenty.” You crossed your arms and scowled. Twirling your cigarette around between your fingertips, you grumbled, “Fuckin’ idiots. The ambassador was only saved because of her idea. They have no idea how much she risked.”

“i think they do. they just don’t think it justifies it. hell, no matter how you paint it, you said she told you herself that it used to make her feel good? people’re allowed to feel pissed about that.”

“It wasn’t personal, though. And it was always quick. She never tortured anyone. We’ve all killed people, good, bad, innocent, guilty, what-the-fuck-ever. Should hold every single one of us to that same standard. We’re all bastards.”

“she’s just in the light. seein’ a hero do stuff that’s not wholly ‘good’ really fucks with some people. they feel lied to. and you can’t deny that they were deceived. not that its right or anything.”

“All this hero bullshit… I fucking hate it. I fucking hate so much.”

“like?”

“Ari fucking Lee. Goddamn bitch is fucking making me lose it. The king for killing those kids. The people ganging up on Maycombe because of her job. This fucking war. The fact I can’t do shit. I can’t even make things right.” Your wrinkled your nose, thinking about your brother’s boyish face with rancor. “Can’t do one fucking thing.”

“sounds like you’re stressed. sensory overload?”

“Sans, of course I’m fucking stressed. Today’s been long as hell. Even with all that inspiring bullshit or whatever, people will still hate Felicity. They’ll look at her that way forever and that’s not fair. Hell, I don’t know what the fuck happened between you two, but you’re no different; you look at Frisk that way. And Toriel looks at Asgore that way. I…” You grimaced, thinking about Richard. “I can’t stand those damn looks.”

“it’s not up to you what they should or shouldn’t forgive. we all got our own morals. you have to respect that.”

“They shouldn’t be on her. But they will be. Like Finnick Thompson. He’ll never fuckin’ forgive her.”

“can’t change everything. no matter what, nothing will ever be perfect. but harris, she’s relieved. this felt good for her.”

You looked at him in disbelief.

“you can’t deny it, she said it herself. having someone who doesn’t think you’re perfect is good. it feels good sometimes.” He looked up. “it was a weight off her chest. she doesn’t have to pretend she’s this little goddess anymore. it’s a lot for anyone to keep up. and i think she’ll be able to deal with those looks just fine.”

“But--”

“you’re there, aren’t ya? preston too. hell, me, my brother, lucentio, laurel, half the fucking people who’ve met her have her back. she knows she’s loved. but now she doesn’t have this pretty picture to keep up.”

“I…”

“you like to take on all the negativity. but now, you’ve got a little shiny star. hardly any lv is impressive. before, she took all the positivity. she was the angel, you were her devil. it’s freeing. you’re both better off for this.”

“I might kill you.”

“nah, you know i’m right. you’ve just got those big sibling instincts that make ya all protective. hey, i get it. i was ready to kill you if you went for pap.”

“I considered it,” you admitted.

“thanks, captain obvious.”

You sank, holding your head on your hands once again. “She just needs to be okay.”

Sans put a hand on your back. You looked at him and your heart stopped.

He was looking you in the eye, gentle, kind, understanding.

“she’s going to be. and so are you. you both can take care of yourselves and each other, yeah?”

“You...”

Oh god no. I’m not feeling what I think I’m feeling right now.

No.

No no.

I’m not a necrophiliac, and this is serious, and I’m not thinking about this.

No, he’s dumb. This is just because I’m stressed.

“... are so stupid it hurts.”

“aw, is that how you say thanks?”

“I never say thanks.”

“your insults speak plenty, harris. i know how eternally grateful you are to my killer advice and presence. no-- pre sans.”

You rolled your eyes. Though you didn’t necessarily like everything he said, it did strangely make you feel just a little more relaxed. “I’m gonna lose my mind if I stick around you.”

“bold of you to assume you haven’t lost it already.”

“Fuck off, bonebag.”

But you couldn’t help but think about how much you never wanted Sans to leave your life, how you wanted to be around him forever, because no one else made you calm down faster.

Felicity was no longer an angel.

But you knew he’d protect her too.

This guy...

Fucker made me soft.

Chapter Text

“it’s to help you cut down too.”

You scowled at Sans, curling your lip. No matter how much he tried to convince you, you weren’t going to be happy about it. “I don’t like it.”

“you’re the one who decided to have healthier lungs and all that shit. i’m just bein’ a supportive friend.”

“You don’t need to come out less. You just need to not give me some certain nights. You can do that instead.”

“nah, i should probably cut back too. besides, i’m getting more tired than usual. three or four nights a week of extra sleep’ll be good for me.”

“I’ll have no idea when you’ll be out there.”

“what’s wrong, you gonna miss me?”

You pursed your lips and grumbled out, “It’s not like that, I get bored. And last time I found someone new, they tried to butcher Maycombe.”

“booger boy?”

You raised a brow, unamused. “Obviously.”

“probably was a one off thing. what about preston? you two can hang out and then you won’t be bored. sounds good, don’t you think?”

You crossed your arms and sulked. “No.”

“why not?”

You were quiet.

“aw, is it actually because you’re gonna miss me? i’m touched.”

“Eat shit shithead, I already said no. I just don’t want it to be Konner,” you said, throwing the lighter in your hand at the skeleton. He caught it with ease and grinned widely, cheeks almost seeming blue. “He’s annoying.”

“uh huh… right. know i’m flattered that you’re gonna miss your time with me. ”

“ You’re the one who’s always missing me ,” you muttered.

Sans blinked, cocking his head to the side. His smile slipped ever so slightly. “uhhh, excuse? where’d you get that idea?”

“Preston’s told me all about it,” you said smugly, spinning your unlit cigarette around between your fingers. “Don’t bother pretending, because unlike that shit about me, it’s true.”

Sans averted his gaze, but not before you could confirm the bright blue tinge spreading over his face. He shrugged casually and leaned back. The blush faded. “i dunno if i’d say always, but sure, i miss ya sometimes. what, is that supposed to embarrass me or something?”

“You are embarrassed,” you pointed out, taking back your lighter and lighting it. You did this a few times, watching the flame spark in and out of existence.

The skeleton chuckled. “maybe a little. you caught me off guard. but i’m not embarrassed to admit that i miss you here and there. we’re buddies, yeah?”

“No.” Sans raised a brow as you lit your cigarette and brought it to your lips. As he stared at you (probably directly into your bloody soul), he relaxed. The mirth in your eyes reassured him. “Let’s not get off topic. That aside, I can’t cut down from almost every day to ‘whenever Sans isn’t napping’ right off the bat.”

“what if i gave you one pack?”

“That’s not--”

“nah, nah, nah, i’ve got a plan for it. when i do come out, i’ll take a look at it and make sure you haven’t smoked too much. only up to two cigarettes can be gone during a weekly checkup, or i’ll take it back.”

You didn’t know how to tell Sans you’d mostly said the whole previous bit because you wanted him to come out more often. Of course it’d be embarrassing and then he’d probably go off on a teasing tangent you weren’t interested in.

The more you thought about it though, the better his plan sounded. After all, Maycombe was starting to get worried you’d get caught and was bugging you to at least slow down. Now that there was a lot more attention and rumors going on about her, you were more in the spotlight as well. The last thing you needed was a new controversy or “fun” fact people could exploit about you.

“The rest of your clients won’t be too happy.”

“the rest of my ‘clients’ don’t come out as much as you do, hare-bear.”

You wrinkled your nose and fought the urge to gag.

He blinked innocently, a sly grin on his cheeks. “no?”

You shook your head and puffed on your cigarette, using your free hand to pinch the bridge of your nose. “If you ever call me that again, I’ll use your bones as firewood. I preferred Scarface over that simpery shit.”

“noted. question, though; are bones flammable?”

“I’ll make them flammable,” you replied grimly.

“ominous. kinda sounds like you’re saying i’m hot though. or maybe it just sounds kinky?”

“Maybe if you’re a masochist.”

“hmm… couldn’t say. are you a masochist?”

You scoffed and looked at him with a face that said “ Really?”

“yeah, stupid question. probably more of a sadist. i can see that way better. that’s totally your style. aggressive and like, majorly painful. am i right or what?”

“You’re very interested in my kinks.” You raised a brow at him and crossed your arms. You felt a little embarrassed and uncomfortable-- you didn’t know how to talk to him of all people about what you liked in bed. Besides… it wasn’t like he actually cared. He was just mocking you. So you’d mock him back. “You sound like a horny teenager. It’s gross.”

Once again, Sans flushed, though he didn’t look away this time. He merely chuckled and shook his head. “i’ll stop, promise. my bad; i overstepped.”

You shrugged and stood, dusting off your pants. You went to lean against the single tree of your smoking spot and shut your eyes. “Whatever.”

You liked the quiet between the two of you. It was always very comfortable and natural. In a way, you took it as a sign of his respect for you. Though Sans was certainly extroverted, you were not, and he allowed you your time to recharge emotionally. He pushed your limits still, yes, but he made an effort to be less of a douchebag about it. There were some sore spots that he wouldn’t ever go for, no matter what. It was something you genuinely liked about him, and the peaceful silence only reminded you of it.

You toyed with your cigarette idly, watching the swirling smoke as it climbed to the stars. You missed your family so much. Not just your sister, but your parents too. And maybe a little bit more. You missed when you could go stargazing together. You’d let them all down. You were the eldest of your siblings-- well, not that Richard even fucking counted as that anymore-- and it was your job to protect them, Abby in particular. Ten years your junior, there was so much she didn’t know about the world, so much that could hurt her. She was always too curious for her own good and was always getting in sticky situations because of it. Abbigail Harris had to know everything there was to know. She’d settle for nothing less. And for years and years, you stood beside her, him on her other side, and the two of you would guide her away from it all. Protecting Abby was the closest thing you had to common ground with him, because it was both of your jobs to keep her safe. You growled to yourself and a bad taste circulated in your mouth. At least, that’s what we were supposed to do. Why’d you do it? Why the hell did you do it? Was she in your way? Was it to prove you could let go? Why the hell did you do it? Why did you leave? Why did you take everything? 

Why did you make me go through it alone?

“heads up, butterface. we’ve got another customer approaching,” Sans said, nudging you.

You rolled your eyes at the nickname and ignored the tiny pang in your heart at being called ugly. He was joking, you knew that. Letting out a quick hum, you looked at him and froze. Sans looked very cranky. Gently, you nudged him back, getting his attention. “It’s my job to look like a bitch, not yours.”

Sans chuckled a little, his face momentarily lighting up. He turned his head up to you, eyes glimmering for a moment. Your breath caught in your throat and you once again chided yourself. He’s not cute. He’s not cute. I am NOT a necrophiliac, I am not. This is just stupid. Christ, Harris! This is a fucking skeleton that tells puns! You are not feeling these things. Pull yourself together, moron.

Sans sighed and looked back at the figure coming towards the two of you. You paused, suddenly frozen in place. “That’s a monster,” you said plainly, staring at the figure. Bristling, you took a step back and frowned, looking to Sans in concern. You really didn’t want to get caught. Going to no smokes would kill you. And when would you ever get to see Sans if he got found out? You weren’t having it.

“yeah, i know,” he replied. “she’s, uh… an old... ‘client.’”

You raised your eyebrows questioningly. Sans in turn patted the scar on your cheek affectionately. You flicked his hand away, waiting for an answer. When, after a few seconds, you didn’t get one, you glowered at him. The woman (a rabbit monster, seemingly) was coming slowly and looked drunk, but you weren’t patient. 

“Jesus, you’re gross. I get it. You two are fucking,” you stated smoothly. On the inside, you were a little angry and disgusted, tying in ‘client’ as an innuendo. It was unreasonable how pissed the idea made you. It grossed you out. You knew he could do better. And you took him for more than just a fuckboy.

“what?! no! nonono! jesus, harris. chill, alright?” Sans ran a hand over his skull as you relaxed slightly, somewhat embarrassed. Your cheeks flushed a bit.

“Oh.” You scratched your neck. “Sounded like that’s what you were saying.”

He shook his head. “not my type. i guess you’d call us acquaintances? she used to live in snowdin with me and was a regular at the bar i went to. the girl’s fine mostly, she’s just a handful and i’m tired. it’s been a really long time since she last came out here so i wasn’t expecting to see her. i had no time to conserve my energy in preparation. i’m gonna feel so drained after she comes over here...” He groaned and stuffed his hands into his pockets, sullen.

“I’ll tell her to fuck off,” you offered.

“you’re such a hothead,” Sans chuckled, glancing at you fondly. When the two of you made eye contact, he looked away and scratched at his cheekbone, where the faint proof of his embarrassment began to show. 

Jesus, this guy is such a softie. When Kon and Felicity act sweet to him, I wonder how much he blushes. Or Laurel and Pap? Who knew he’d have a shy side around friends? A little thought suddenly popped into your head. Wait, but is he shy around the rest? You shook your head a little. Harris… come on now. Are you really doing this? No. You’re not. This is gross fart joke bone dude we’re talking about here. He’s definitely like this with everyone. While you thought,  Sans continued on.

“i like the sentiment, but don’t do it. buncrazy’s harmless. she’s probably just feelin’ lonely, ya know? nothing wrong with that, shouldn’t punish her for it… though, to be fair, you, uh… can move if you wanna. smoke gets to her and i have a feeling you won’t be especially fond of her.”

You put out your cigarette in the dirt and crossed your arms as you leaned against the tree. “‘Buncrazy’ isn’t taking away from my relaxing time out here. Besides, I should be done for tonight.”

“that’s her real name, kiddo,” Sans chuckled. “shitty parents? but if you’re leaving, then i guess i’ll say b--”

“No.”

“uhhh?”

“I’m not leaving, dumbass. I’m fucking staying. This chick sounds annoying. You don’t wanna be stuck alone with her.”

Sans laughed. “okay, can’t deny that. you don’t have to if you don’t wanna. don’t feel obligated, alright? it’s really fine if you go.”

“You’ll miss me too much. I’m your ‘buddy.’”

“that’s true. your company is pleasant. by the way, want your pack now?” You held out your hand and Sans rolled his eyes playfully, slapping a pack in your palm. “ope, here she comes.”

“Saaaaaannnnnsssssy~ Hiya~~~”

The woman was pretty, you couldn’t deny it. She had the “ideal” body shape, only accentuated by her time as a soldier to be more toned. Despite being clearly drunk and somewhat disheveled, her face was also quite fair. She had long, fluttery eyelashes, and her buckteeth were all very white and straight. On top of that, her eyes were a pretty brown.

You were not a fan so far. She may have been hot, yes. But she also may have had the most annoying voice you’d ever heard in your life. She was one of those people that ended all her sentences as if they were questions, and the drunk slurring mixed with the popular-girl voice was not good at all.

“buncrazy, how ya been?” Sans asked as he leaned on the tree beside you. His former reluctance was completely hidden away, and he now wore his cheery normal expression.

“Mmm, I’ve been missing you~” the woman crooned, making you gag just a little. This caught her attention. She blinked, looking at you. Then, fluttering her eyelashes at you, she stumbled over your way. “You’re a new face, ahahahah~”

“this is harris,” Sans quickly answered, stepping in front of you protectively. Thank god. Bless your soul, bonebag. Taking the hit like a real champ.

“Ooh, Harris~ What a cyooot-eeeeeeeeeee! I love the rugged look~ You should give me some pointers~”

“I can give you a matching scar if that’s what you’re after,” you replied flatly.

Sans had to stifle his snort, turning back to look at you and shake his head slightly. “so, bun, what brings ya out here?”

“You~” she simpered.

Excuse me while I fucking throw up my breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

“the other grillby’s regulars weren’t available, huh?”

She shrugged. “I guess not… I just wanted to, ahm, catch up~”

I hate your voice so much. I have never heard someone as annoying as you. I hope you fall and eat shit and chip one of your perfect teeth.

“you could start by telling me just where you got the booze,” Sans chuckled. “been wanting a drink myself for a little while.”

“Hm~ I could take you there, if you’d like~”

Sans, say no.

“sure. anyone else? dogamy and dogaressa’d probably like to go out too.”

Sans, that wasn’t ‘no.’

You cringed as she put a finger to her chin in fake contemplation. “I was thinking just us, as old friends~ Is that alright?~”

Okay, he’ll say no to that for sure.

“sure… i guess. as old friends.”

You looked at Sans in disbelief. He did realize this girl was flirting with him, right? There was no way he could be so perceptive and oblivious at the same time. Right? Was he stupid? Of course he’s stupid, he’s Sans. Can’t have Sans without stupid. Sweet, smiling, stupid. That’s Sans. You had to fight a teeny smirk as you thought about it, though when the woman opened her mouth again the smile died on arrival.

“What about you, honnnn?~ We could have fun~”

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, no? Fuck you, you’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met?

Sans seemed to pick up on the potential new situation and tensed a little. He softly pushed you further behind him. “careful, buncrazy. what kinda ‘fun’ are you talking ‘bout there?”

“Oh, nothing like that!~”

The two of you both relaxed. “Good, because the answer was ‘no.’” Sans covered his mouth a bit to hide the way his smile grew in amusement, and it made you feel proud.

“Hehe, I understand~ I was thinking we could have a girls night and meet lots of c-c-c-c-CUTE boys!!! Hehe, I mean, there’s so many already here~ Right here, in this very base~ Right now~”

As Marlin once put it, ‘good feelings gone.’ “No.” Sans nudged you again, but you refused to continue. You pursed your lips when you got a sharp jab to the side and begrudgingly added, “You seem to have someone particular in mind.” You tried to make yourself seem bigger, rolling your shoulders in warning.

She winked at you and you hoped you’d suddenly gain magic powers so you could melt her with your eyes. “Ah~ Don’t we all, honey?~”

You thought about the big, toothy grin that made you feel tender and warm. You thought about the faint blue wisps across his cheeks. How smooth and mellow his voice was. That wonderful laugh, the one that started so deep and came booming out so cutely. The understanding, respectful nature. The comforting presence, the way you felt safe, secure, cozy. Bright white pupils that seemed to get bigger when he looked at you. How you wished for his touch to linger just a second more when he gave you a cigarette. A little bit of heat rose to your cheeks. He’s also stupid and annoying though. He can be really obnoxious and kind of an asshole. He smells like fucking ketchup. Sometimes I wanna rip his head off. And, most importantly, he is a skeleton and just a friend who I hold dear. I’m just confused is all.

This is not going to escalate.

“‘We’ do not,” you replied coolly.

“Then that’s why you should come out with me for guyssss~”

You narrowed your eyes into thin slits and growled, “No.”

“maybe you could come with the two of us, harris,” Sans offered. You wanted to smack him upside the head. He looked minorly dejected, probably because of Buncrazy being annoying. Somehow he genuinely was that oblivious. Maybe this was his way of trying to save himself. “we can get drinks together. or i could take you there after some other time?”

Your cheeks went a little pink. Did you just…? Sans, you didn’t. Sans the skeleton, you did not just do what I think you did. Comic Sans Seriff, are you serious? Because I’ve got some bad news. “I don’t drink.”

“what? no way. yes you do.”

You shook your head. The reason was humiliating, but you genuinely didn’t drink. You weren’t about to explain yourself though. Sans would never ever let you live the silly thing down.

“that’s a surprise. but that’s alright, we all got our preferences. offer’s still open if you ever change your mind.” He looked back at Buncrazy. “when and where do you wanna meet up, bun? to catch up as friends.”

You didn’t like that either, bristling. But his choices were his own, and who knew, maybe he’d actually realize it was a date at some point and-- *vomits profusely*-- like it. You wanted him to be happy. Who were you to dictate who Sans could and could not hang out with?

“Alrighty, hehe~ Saturday, at seven~ I’ll meet you at your barracks, bonebaby~~~”

You gritted your teeth.

Sans definitely picked up on that one considering his discomfort, but he laughed and acted like she’d said nothing at all. “psh, alright. i’ll clear out some time on my very busy schedule for ya. it’ll be nice to catch up with an old pal.”

“Heeeeheee~”

“need help getting back to your barracks, bun?”

“Hmmnnn~ It is a little hard to walk~”

You stared at her flatly, then looked to Sans in a mixture of astonishment and disgust. You were really strongly holding back the urge to punch her right in her annoying face. It was a genuine struggle of will. If this had been old Harris, as in the Harris that hated Sans and only ever talked to Felicity, you probably would have maimed this woman. The was a cool sting of pain and jealousy in your heart as you stared at her stupid pretty face. She probably couldn’t fight very well, and even if she was a teeny bit taller than you, you could easily take her down because you were strong and also, she was wasted.

“alright, you go wait at the bottom of the hill, i’ll take care of harris first.”

Cheerily, the rabbit stumbled down the grassy incline. Meanwhile, you were grinding your teeth to dust. “Have fun on your date,” you tried to say genuinely, though it came out a bit chillier than you meant it to.

“she does that with everyone,” Sans sighed. “i told ya, it’s annoying. i promise you it’s not genuine interest. she’s just like that. hell, she used to flirt with all of the regulars at our bar. and one of them was basically mike wazowski. only instead of one giant eye, he’s got a humongous mouth full of jaggedy and crooked teeth and no eyes.”

You relaxed a little bit and let out one breathy chuckle. “Right, well… You owe me an extra night this week.”

“since when?”

“You’re leaving early. You. Owe. Me.”

Sans elbowed you. “don’t miss me, huh?”

You softened as you stared at him, your head tilting to the side just slightly. Your hair was down, falling over your shoulder as the wind lightly tousled it. “I have an image to uphold, you know.”

He knew what you meant, and the bright grin that popped on his face made it very hard to quell the pounding of your heart.

That didn’t stop you from cursing bloody murder when he teleported you about halfway into the city. You were suddenly motion sick, disorientated, and angry, so when he slyly remarked, “it’d take too much energy to get ya the whole way,” you swung a fist at him. He laughed in sinister delight, then blipped away before you could get at him.

“YOU ASSHOLE!” you shouted into the night sky, sourly hoping that he somehow knew exactly all the ways you planned on maiming him next time you saw him.

Chapter Text

You fiddled with your fingers. Walking around aimlessly (doing your best to follow Felicity’s demand that you calm down), you suffered. Not that it was a surprise, necessarily. There was always something to ruin your mood, right? The fact you weren’t on edge constantly anymore had made you vulnerable to things flipping your moods.

Some days were better than others. Most were better than the current one.

Earlier, the combination of Sans being gone alongside withering glares sent Felicity’s way had set you in a bad mood. The few gazes that now lingered on her were so much more intense than the hoard of stares from before, at least, to you. And when you caught a woman you recognized-- Elli, or something, from months and months and months ago-- scowling and muttering under her breath, pointing at Maycombe, it took every ounce of self restraint you had to not attack her on the spot.

Honestly, the woman was lucky that Maycombe saw how angry you were and ushered you to go get some “alone time”-- you knew you wouldn’t feel very bad about punching that smug bitch squarely between the eyes. Eventually her partner stripped her away as well, but you were still willing to smack some sense into the woman’s cranium.

Konner seemed to be in the same boat as you. He was constantly trying to defend Felicity from the cloying eyes of others. He would generally try to conceal her, hide her away by putting himself in between her and the rest. His anger was much more subtle than yours-- he always looked decently calm, though you could tell from how hard he clenched his jaw that he was at the end of his rope.

Part of it, you supposed, was that he also missed Sans. Even though it hadn’t been that long since the last time either of you had seen him, it was the principle. The idea. The fact that maybe it had been the last time you’d seen him.

… A week was too painful. There was too much that could happen.

And you wouldn’t know until it was all long over.

I’ve never been able to protect anyone, even when I try.

You weren’t sure what to do with yourself.

People became more passionate about criticizing the image they’d been presented with of you three “heroes.” Few people would come and bother the three of you face-to-face, but those looks. The words you’d catch in the air. The fact that they were saying Maycombe’s name, Preston’s name, with so much more hatred than yours. You knew they were far better people than you had ever been. They had fought for others, while you only fought for you. You would have killed whoever it took. And you didn’t think the same could be said for them. Because in their hearts, they weren’t evil.

Especially not her. It wasn’t her fault they’d made her into an angel when she never asked for it. It wasn’t her fault that she was used as a symbol of hope. She was a soldier. Every single one of you had killed because you were soldiers. Was it really so surprising she had killed people on both sides? Even if she had been a spy the entire time, she would have had to kill some of them. Was it really that hard to look over? Not for all. But for some, for many, it was. The truth was ugly enough that they could never forgive her.

Part of you understood that hatred. But you couldn’t stand that it was all for her.

The anger and discomfort were actually potent enough that you, Kon, and Felicity weren’t even sent out to battle with everyone else. It was deemed to be better to stay back at base, to not add more drama if something went wrong. None of you got to go out to reclaim more territory (or at least shrink the Humans’).

You just loved that. While most people were out fighting, you were stuck in the goddamn base with a bunch of people that made you angry. What wasn’t to like?! You were thriving. Thriving! Of course, Maycombe tried to calm you down, but when people started glaring again, her efforts were rendered useless. Then she had both you and Konner to calm down. And you two tried to, tried for her, but it was hard.

Like when that bitch had hissed “murderer” just as Maycombe walked by her. God, you wanted that woman’s head on a pike.

Scowling at the memory, you gnawed on your lips. You felt ill. Maybe you’d been more on edge for another reason, too. Your rock just wasn’t there for you.

Sans had been sent to battle with the other soldiers. When he mentioned he was leaving, he’d been so casual about it. So casual that you didn’t realize the asshole was being serious until you saw him actually leaving. Whew boy, that was a fun discovery.

It’d been a total of four days since they were sent out and it made you nervous. You hadn’t even waved the asshole off-- and you hadn’t gotten to see him that many times because of his new, dumb idea. You were feeling very deprived. And scared. And hurt. It had been so hard to allow yourself to care for someone that wasn’t Abby or Maycombe. You couldn’t bear having to learn how to do it all over again without him beside you.

He would be gone for about a week at the least. It was torture. You wanted to weep, but you wouldn’t let yourself. You were scared if you cried it would make the hurting real. Scared to lose your grasp on the tether you’d finally managed to snag. Scared of your grief.

I won’t know what happened to him. He could die, and if he did, where would that bring me?

Back to her.

...

It all leads back to her.

At the very least you knew that the “date” thing he went on was a complete mess. Not that you wanted him to be upset, of course you didn’t. It was just because of the girl herself. Sure, you weren’t a fan, but more importantly, Sans didn’t seem to be either. It was probably stupid for you to have felt worried about the whole situation at all.