Chapter Text
It was indescribable.
How does one even begin to express the sensation of being torn from your own body? Of feeling every possible pain imaginable, yet none at all? Of being trapped in someone else’s nightmare? Of being disconnected from your head, your body, your arms, your legs, your skin, your ears, your face?
A hum. “I should have done this earlier, huh!”
This reminded them of dying.
They had died before. Many times, in fact. They had felt their soul shatter, they had felt the loss of their limbs. Back then, however, it would always take only a brief moment. Flowey would hum a sweet tune, give them words of encouragement and sometimes even tips to defeat certain monsters. — They never questioned how he knew those things back then, they knew that they should have. — Dying was like falling asleep on the couch and being carried to your room by your parents. And in a few seconds they were back at their savepoint.
Even now, they waited for Flowey to hum that tune, encourage them, and bring them back to the savepoint.
Of course, he didn’t do that.
“We had a plan. A simple one. Go. To. ASGORE. But I guess you were too stupid to follow directions.”
His voice usually was high pitched and soft. It felt distant now, empty, like trying to speak through white noise. It echoed through their ears, coming from everywhere around them, suffocating them.
“Honestly, I don’t know why I thought this would end any differently. You’ve always been so predictable, Clover. Oh? What do I mean? Well, buddy, let me show you!”
The darkness that surrounded Clover was interrupted by a shortsighted light, barely piercing through the nothingness. They could feel their limbs again, but they were numb, like waking up from anesthesia, or being in a constant state of sleep paralysis. It was lying down and imobile, but they could barely sense grass and flowers serving as a bed for them, caressing their skin. It wasn’t their real body, they knew it wasn’t. But it was better than being crushed by the void like before. If they focused really hard, they could pretend they were lying on a real bed back at home, their real home, where there were no monsters or talking flowers. Or maybe pretend they were inside Martlet’s home, if they just didn’t…
“You see, I’ve been watching you for a while.”
Of course, they couldn’t pretend forever.
“Gosh, what run is it? Gotta be in the hundreds. I’ve almost lost count! Haha…”
They had to get out. They had to move. Get out of here. Get home.
Trying with the best of their torpid strength, their arms sent pressure against the dirt and weakly lifted their torso. Then their legs did the same, until they were clumsily standing on two feet.
They can stand. They can breathe. In and out. In and out. They are alive.
They opened their eyes. It’s the Ruins. A very dim and blurred version of the Ruins, but it's the Ruins. A strange and unfamiliar silhouette stands a bit further from them, red shiny eyes piercing through the darkness.
“Ah! Hello!” They recognise the voice. “Are you alright?” They’ve seen this monster before. Her worried gaze, her gentle touch, her soft, motherly and kind words, they remember her. “You must be wondering what’s going on…” She is TORIEL, the caretaker of the Ruins. “I am Toriel, the caretaker of the Ru̵͓͔̒͗͝i̵̢̫̻̓̊͂̈́͑̑͠n̵̛̦͖̝͖̽́̽̌̔̕͜ŝ̷̥͙͇̰̠̭͑̌͂̆̈̚—”
Environment change.
“I let you carry on your merry way so many times.”
She was still here, still looking at them from a short distance, a smile on her face. “Go on, press the switch on the left.” Oh right, The Ruins. She asked them to press a switch and then they fell and never saw her again.
Clover walked up to the switch and lightly pressed it. A creaking sound was made, but no hole was broken under them.
Environment change.
There was a rock and a button. They pushed the rock and a creaking sound was made.
“You are learning so much, my child!”
Environment change.
“I watched the same childish behavior play out over…”
Environment change.
“And over…”
Environment change.
“And over.”
Toriel’s hand wasn’t like Dalv’s or Martlet’s . Dalv’s hand was cold and shaky, his skin carrying static that would pull Clover’s arm hair up. Martlet was full of light blue feathers, sometimes a few would even fall from her plumage, and it felt way less human-like. The thing that all of their touches had in common, however, is that they always made Clover feel safe.
“Sure, small decisions here and there would vary but…”
The sound of the fireplace was calming. The sweater they wore was comfy. Toriel’s voice, narrating a story that Clover couldn’t quite pay attention to, was sweet and full of kindness.
“The journey would always end with you ignorantly living with Toriel.”
“I had to interfere.”
Environment change.
“At first, my efforts seemed to work. Tensions rose and you left the Ruins. But then, other issues crept up…”
Environment change. It’s Snowdin. Toriel is not here. Martlet is not– Martlet is dead.
They had to run.
As if on call, a sharp and piercing sound was made behind them. Someone’s trying to attack them.
Without looking back, Clover dashed away from the noise. The snow under their feet slowed down their movements for just a few seconds before their feet hit the ice. It’s slippery. Their boots slide quickly and they can’t control the direction. They’re gonna fall. They’re gonna hit a tree. Don’t stop running. Don’t fall–
CRASH!
Long icy spikes break at the impact of Clover’s forehead, causing them to trip and fall backwards. The blow causes cracks on the ice below them and the pain drums inside their head. Their hair gets wet from the melting of the ide as well as the blood dripping from the injury. It’s so cold. It’s so painful. They feel their soul shatter. They want to cry. Can they please cry?
Environment change.
Damage undone. It’s somewhere they don’t recognise. Much warmer, but not piping hot. Mud below their boots instead of snow.
It doesn’t matter. Just run.
Spears are sent in their direction. Why would someone throw spears at them? They’re just a child! What did they do? It’s not fair. It’s not fair…
SNAP!
They let out a wail from the pain of having their stomach pierced. They fall to their knees and have only one second to process their death before being suddenly brought back.
Environment change. Before they can begin running, they notice a huge abyss looming ahead. Just turn around. Find another path.
It’s quiet for only a few seconds before several lasers turn on and burn them, slash them, set their soul on fire. Make it stop.
“You always died”
They always died.
“I had to steer you off the path of failure as early as possible. So I tampered with a little switch and, well, the rest is history!”
They want to cry. They want to cry so much. They want to run to the arms of a big caring mother. They want someone to tuck them into bed and reassure them that this is all just a bad dream. They want to hear a lullaby as they’re caressed into their slumber. They want to listen to Dalv play the organ. They want to help Mo with his business. They want to dance with El Bailador. They want to have a cowboy duel with Star. They want to help Axis deal with his emotions. They want to learn more about Ceroba, and why she hides so much from everyone. They want Martlet to bring them home.
They just want to go home.
“Oh come on! You’re still here?”
It’s not fair…
“I thought at least my story might bore you so much that you’d give in!”
How could he say that? Bored? How could they get bored after learning that they are completely doomed and have always been doomed to fail? How could they be bored after learning that no matter how much they try, no matter how many friends they make, no matter how innocent and kind they are, they will always die? How is ‘bored’ a valid description of their feelings? They could describe those as sorrow, anger, sadness, fear, hatred, betrayal, fury, dread, sickness, misery. But bored? Is that all Flowey can come up with? Boredom?
“You really want to do this the hard way?”
They just don’t want to die.
“Haha, alright then! Let’s have a little fun before I absorb your soul for good!”
They have no physical form, and yet they can feel it all. They can hear, see, and touch it all. Thorns piercing through their skin, acid falling and melting their flesh, bullets getting shot at them, their sins crawling on their back, someone else’s sins crawling on their back. They fight like their life depends on it. And for the first time since they entered the underground, it actually does. Because Flowey’s not gonna bring them back to a save point this time. For the first time, they are actually alone.
Nobody’s going to save them.
Not Flowey, not Dalv, not Starlo, not Ceroba, not Axis. Not Martlet. Not anymore.
It hurts. It hurts so much and it's not fair.
They beg. They weep. They hide. They frown. They weaken. They scream. They decay. They whisper. They stress. They forget. They suffocate. They shout. They wail. They plead.
But nobody came.
Why did they even climb that mountain again?
They know the answer to that question, of course. They rehearsed it many times in their room when they decided on their plan to run away from home. It was a simple plan, really. First they’d prepare themselves for their mission; with their toy gun, their cool bandana and most importantly, their cowboy hat. The second everyone fell asleep, they’d make their escape to Mount Ebott. They’d arrive at the underground, find the five missing humans and defeat whoever was holding them hostage. Finally, they’d get back home and be revered by all as humankind’s hero, just like they saw happen to the real sheriffs in the movies, and then let the world know of their goal: To serve justice.
Why Clover climbed the mountain? Why, because they were a naive fool of course. An idiot child who threw away a comfortable and normal life so that they could play superhero. Who thought the world was merciful to the innocent, a place where everyone had potential to be their best selves, where children like them have the luxury to grow up.
And now they find themselves trapped in an endless cycle of pain and loneliness, running in circles through a maze of places that they recognise and some places that they think they should recognise even though they don’t. A lonely corn plantation that has no owner and feeds no one. Desert, arid dunes of a town that has no sheriff. A broken factory abandoned by scientists who left their creations to fester and rot. A humid and muddy forest. A cavern full of lava. A pale and lifeless city. And a dark dusty lab.
Even then they keep running. Running is the only thing they have left to do. Running away from a world that is unjust and filled with pain, from monsters that want to trick them and steal their soul, from talking omniscient and omnipotent flowers. Even when their legs are sore and they’re near death from exhaustion.
“Clover?”
“Where did you go, buddy?”
“Get
back
h e r e…”
Is he gone?
There aren’t any vines trying to kill them anymore.
Did they make it?
Probably not, they can still smell the flowers.
But it’s so quiet, and their knees hurt so much, can they stop running?
Either way, the darkness engulfs them, Clover can’t see or hear a thing. The only indicator that they are not dead is the sensation of their numb feet touching a solid surface. The clash between the overstimulation of being attacked by Flowey compared to the sudden nothingness takes Clover’s breath away. Not like it felt too different from actually trying to breathe in this state they are in.
Eventually the exhaustion is too much, and Clover’s speed lowers instinctively. If they keep up they’ll certainly collapse. And if they collapse and let their guard down for just one second, they are dead. So slowing the pace for a while is probably for the best. They don’t actually stop though, because from the corner of their mind, they hear a weird, barely audible voice.
“h-hello?”
“where am i?”
“mom? dad?”
“anybody!”
“help me…”
“please… help me…”
At first, they think it's their own voice, but the longer it goes on, the less it sounds like them. The more it sounds like someone else. It sounds completely unfamiliar, and yet they have a feeling they’ve heard it before. Who is this? Is there another child trapped here? Did these cruel monsters trap another child in this hell?
Is it…
them?
The other children?
The ones who fell before them?
They need to help them!
They need to save them!
They need to bring them home!
They need to bring them justice!
They need… They need to…
…
They need to get out of here.
The flower smell is much stronger now, and it suffocates them. Nonetheless, Clover’s sore, numb feet keep moving forward. And as they walk, they notice that to their left, a figure starts to form in the darkness. A figure that Clover can barely make out as a pile of corpses.
A pile of children’s corpses. Innocent children. Massacred children. Children like Clover. Children that died over and over. Thousands of deaths. Endlessly gruesome. Endlessly painful. They should do something. It’s not fair. They need to do something!
But all they can do is keep walking.
They arrive at the ominous realization that they’re being watched. They can feel the gaze in their soul. Is it the children? Are they here with them? Clover’s steps get faster at the thought of not being alone anymore. They can see it. It’s a child. Another child like them. Someone like them–
“what have I done…?”
It’s not a child.
It’s not a child It’s not a child It’s not a child It’s not a child It’s not a child It’s not a child IT’S NOT A CHILD IT’S NOT–
CRASH!
Falling asleep on snowy ground is like an invitation to frostbite and hypothermia, especially if you’re a human child with no proper winter attire. Yes, Clover certainly should get up if they don’t want to freeze.
The forest was cold, so very cold, possibly even colder than it was before. Why are they here? That’s all the way back from where they were before. Did they run this much from Flowey? From the way their legs hurt the moment they stood, it wasn’t completely unlikely.
It was so quiet, they seemed completely lost from any sign of civilization. Was this another trick that… thing was trying to pull on them?
“…Hello?” Clover wasn’t usually much of a talker. Back where they came from, children talking was usually reprimanded harshly by adults telling them to shut up. So most kids like them weren’t very talkative. “A-anyone?”
They were scared. Their legs hurt a lot, and if that wasn’t enough to slow them down, the ground seemed to be covered with at least 15 inches of snow, making it extremely hard and exhausting to walk. However, they couldn’t help but notice that they had fully regained their senses. This had to mean that they were back to their body, right? That they had gotten away? But walking through the dense snow forest, they couldn’t find anyone . Only more snow and trees. There was no sign of a proper pathway that could get them to Snowdin either, it was as if they had found themself in the middle of a nowhere forest.
Then again, what would happen if they did find someone? Would that person try to fight them too? Try to kill them? What if they succeeded in it? What if Clover just died here, in the middle of nowhere, with nobody to protect them and bring them back to the warm light of a save point? Would Flowey just manage to find them and bring them back to that awful hell? Would their body simply be left to rot away hidden in the forest? Would the king manage to find a way to torture Clover even through their soul, like Flowey did? Would they be put through unbearable decades of torture?
They didn’t want to think about that. They didn’t want to think about pain for even a second more.
Maybe it wouldn’t be someone mean. No. Maybe it could be a nice monster. If Clover was lucky, they could find the entrance to the ruins. If they knocked on that door, Dalv surely would let them stay. His home didn’t have a couch that they could sleep on, but that was fine. Clover wasn’t a spoiled, bad little kid, they could sleep wherever. The floor was good enough. As long as they had somewhere to call home. Yes, and they could keep Dalv company. Nobody goes to the ruins anyway, the royal guard wouldn’t look for them there.
It didn’t even have to be Dalv. Mo would probably help them, right? He lived in Snowdin didn’t he? Yes. Mo had some shady methods to him, but he was a nice man. He could help them out. It could be the bunny lady from the Honeydew Resort, too. Or the Shufflers. Or just some random Snowdin resident. Whatever. They aren’t picky.
Turns out, they wouldn’t have to stay with Dalv, Mo, or any of those other options. Because only a few feet away from them, they found a very familiar bird monster that made their heart skip a beat.
“...Martlet?”
The monster turned around with a start. “…Clover?”
Clover’s legs shook and their eyes went wide. They want to say something, but it seems their voice left them.
“Clover!” Martlet gives them a happy, kind smile, and dashes towards them. “It is you! I can’t believe it! Come here!”
In a matter of seconds, soft wings took Clover’s small body into a tight embrace. The shock was so grand, they couldn’t even reciprocate the hug. Their eyes got filled with tears and their knees gave out. And they allowed themself bury their face in her warm feathered chest. They hadn’t been hugged by a comforting adult figure in what they previously thought to have been days, but could have been years for as far as they knew.
“I was so scared!” Martlet let go of the hug, and Clover almost reached for her to come back. They didn’t want to let go of her ever again. They wanted to be picked up and carried to their room by Martlet. “This place… It’s Snowdin right? Sure looks like it. I haven’t the slightest clue what’s going on here. The last thing I remember was us talking on that rooftop…”
They thought Martlet was gone. They thought Flowey had killed her. They could have sworn they saw her limp body get lifted from the ground and turned to dust. And yet she was here. How was that possible? Was her death just another lie projected by Flowey? Just a hallucination meant to break them down?
“Oh yeah! We were going to my house! I don’t quite know where it is from here but we’ll search together!” It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. Martlet is here, and she’s going to bring them home.
“I’m so happy I found you!”
They’re gonna go home.
“So happy I found you.”
They’re gonna go home.
“I found you.”
They’re gonna…
…
“I F O U N D Y O U. . .”
Flowey’s monster tried to reach for them, and Clover, under the weight of their despair and shaky limbs, couldn’t even bring themself to run.
Something broke inside of them at that moment. They weren’t sure what exactly it was. But having their only hope of a better life getting torn away from them, witnessing Martlet’s skin melt and decay with their own eyes, being the cause of her death once again, and getting the truth of their reality stabbed into their core, it was all too much. It broke something inside of them, opened a wound far too deep to be sealed shut. Something got seriously damaged, something that could not ever be replaced.
So they stared at Martlet’s corpse for a while.
And stared some more.
They kept staring.
Staring.
And staring.
Then they walked away.
Upon taking only a few steps, it seemed as if the forest had curiously ended, leaving a seemingly infinite body of water left behind.
* There is a boat here.
* Get on?
💛 Yes No
So they got on.
Despite there not being any wind, the boat sailed on into the unknown. But who am I kidding? It wasn’t actually unknown. Clover knew exactly where they were being taken, who was taking them. And why attempt to delay something that is clearly inevitable? They had no choice in this matter. A puppet meant to play by the rules of someone who could control Clover’s destiny to his whim. The darkness and the sudden disappearance of their boat was proof of it.
A storm was coming. One that planned to destroy anything that was on his way.
“H O W D Y .”
…
“Have fun with your friend back there? Hahahahaha!!! Thought you slipped away for a second didn't ya?”
…
“You are quite a vigilant one… Bet you could've outlasted ASGORE if you bothered to reach him. Even though your choices in this timeline are useless to me now…”
“I didn't outright HATE our time together. Not all of it.”
Hate.
“Two lost souls deciding on who lives or dies…”
They hate him so much.
“Most of the time you were insufferable but when you gave in…”
Everything about him. Every word he says. Every smile. Every look. Every. They hate it.
“...Gave in to your true violent urges. That was the best part.”
They want him gone.
“That's when I knew you had it in you to fight the King. But that was so long ago, haha. Just look at you now!”
They want to kill him.
“Barely recognizable!”
They want to tear him to shreds. To shoot him down with their gun. To ruin him until he is an unrecognizable pile of organic matter.
“You know, some say yellow is the color of justice. Close, but that's not the word I would choose…”
They want him dead.
“Yellow is the color of judgement.”
He deserves it!
“Consequence…”
He deserves all of it. He deserves to suffer for all the pain he put them through.
“You would know, wouldn't you?”
For the pain they put Clover through.
“Ahhh, you're right.”
For the pain that all of Monsterkind put Clover and the other children through!
“Who cares about all that?”
Why does he get to live?
“Life's all about the thrill! How fun your experiences are!”
Why do monsters get to live happy, normal lives, while Clover and the ones who came before them have to suffer endlessly?
“Our time here has been way better than any interaction out there!”
They just want to live.
“And I'm not looking for it to end any time soon!”
They just don’t want to die.
“Of course, it can't last forever.”
They just want to go home.
“After I overtake your SOUL, I'll kill ASGORE.”
They just want to escape this nightmare once and for all.
“I'll absorb all those poor children you couldn't save!”
It’s not fair.
“Then and only then, I will become GOD.”
It’s not fair!
“But for now... this is only the beginning.”
If it wasn’t for these horrible monsters, they’d be at home! It’s all their fault!
“So please, resist.”
All their goddamn fault!
“Let's entertain each other a while longer.”
They need to get out! They need to get home at all costs!
“After all, in this world…”
THEY CAN’T DIE LIKE THIS
“IT'S KILL OR BE KILLED”
His laughter is unbearable.
His smile, the way he looks at Clover, it's all insufferable, enraging. It terrifies them. They hate this. They hate knowing how he thrives on their terror. They hate how he makes sure to heal them mid battle just so that he can keep hurting them again and again. It makes them sick. He makes them sick.
Why would he do this?
Cruel, irredeemable creature.
I don’t understand. Why does he hate me so much?
Vile being. He who can only take pleasure from the pain of others.
What did I ever do to them?
“Hey.”
Determined to keep torturing innocent youth… Innocent youth that can’t defend themselves.
Please get me out of here.
“Hey!”
Just keep dodging.
I can’t keep dodging forever.
“Just give up!”
Getting out of this nightmare seems impossible. It feels like this is just delaying the inevitable. Resisting sounds pointless at this point.
Maybe if I just died it would be better.
But that’s not fair.
But I don’t wanna die…
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”
The yell startles Clover out of their adrenaline ridden trance. He sounds mad. Oh god he’s mad. He’s going to kill me again. It’s gonna hurt even more. Wait, he’s mad? Good. Be mad. Be furious. I wish nothing but pain upon this monster. Wait, why is he not attacking anymore?
“Y o u. . .”
He’s not attacking anymore.
He’s just staring. Is he trying to think of a new way of torturing them? Is he questioning his own actions? Is he even capable of recognising his wrongdoings? Clover wants to stop him. They want to tear him to shreads. They want to get back their dignity from him. But they can’t do anything . They aren’t strong enough to fight back, to get back their honor, do make things right. They’re just a stupid little kid. And all they can do is watch.
His gaze drops and he stops smiling. “…ha ha ha…” He laughs, but not a sadistic, malicious laugh like before. No, this one sounds almost pathetic. “Useless… Even now… All of it…”
What is happening? His form went back to normal. And his expression… He almost looks… bored?
“Heh, I can’t believe I thought this run might be it. It's no wonder we make a good team. You're a lot like me in a way. Too stubborn to lie down and accept your situation.”
Maybe they should, huh? Maybe they should just lie down and give up. Flowey was very clear, after all: In every possible outcome, Clover is going to die no matter what. There won’t be anyone to save them. So why are they even trying at this point?
“Too... determined.”
“You're so annoying.”
To think they once saw this monster as their friend, their best friend, their only friend.
“I thought this would be fun, and I suppose it was… For a moment. But I'm over it now.”
Why does he act like this is all a game to him? Why does he treat them like some toy that can be just thrown away whenever he wants?
“I don't think either of us feel like fighting for all eternity so… I'll cut you a deal.”
Clover feels something rise inside them.
“I'm going to reset. Back to when you first arrived. Of course, you probably won't remember this. We can be "pals" all over again. Reunited. If we end up in the same spot, I may try this again.”
“But… If you can remember anything from right now…”
“Try to make different decisions next time.”
“There's a better timeline out there for both of us.”
“Not that I care about you, this outcome just sucks. It was all in my mind! No one could see it, it wasn't threatening lives… Doesn't come close to what I'm TRULY aiming for. When I reach that goal, you'll be there to witness it. A spectacle like the world's never seen! So... When we meet again in that dingy room… You're gonna help me get what I want.”
“Like it or not, I decide your fate now.”
“Haha! If only I could see your reaction to all this! Oh, who am I kidding? Your face would only look like it always did!”
And then he made some… poor attempt at replicating their face…
“Hahahahaha!!!”
Then he laughed… Of course he did…
“Alright, alright, I’ll let you go. I do need a little time to practice my intro monologue, though. Feel free to pace yourself before the big fall!”
“See ya later, Clover”
Everything went white.
When Clover came to their senses, they could feel their limbs again. They were lying on a very familiar flower bed.
It was The Ruins. Back at the beginning, where everything started. Everything was incredibly silent with the exception of a few birds chirping around them. Sunlight shone from above them from the cave’s opening. The only place in the Underground where you could get a direct view of the sun.
The sun, something that they threw away. Something that they were robbed of. Something that they would never have in their life again.
They weakly sat up, hugged their knees and sobbed. They sobbed a lot. And at some point they were no longer actually sobbing but crying. Until they were just straight up wailing uncontrollably. Usually when a child cries, a big and strong adult is supposed to come for them, comfort them, and assure that everything is going to be okay. But this isn’t a fair world. And nobody came for Clover.
“You probably won’t remember this.” But they remembered. They remembered it very well. How could they not remember it? The most traumatizing and terrifying experience of their life? They didn’t want to remember. They wanted to forget everything. They wanted to believe this was their first time on this flower bed, they wanted oh so dearly to believe that they had a way to go back to the surface alive.
They lifted their head up slightly. Their puffy, bloodshot eyes caught the sight of a small golden flower, with a warm light glistening at its petals, standing right in front of them.
They grit their teeth.
Their body shook.
Their fists clenched.
“…AAAARRRRRGH!!”
They yanked the flower off the ground and tore it apart in between their fingers.
“…AAAAAAAAARRRRRGH!!”
Then they clawed at the grass tore it off the dirt. They stepped around and crushed every piece of plant life around them. They grabbed the rocks on the ground and threw them against the wall. And when there was nothing else around them to destroy, they fell on their knees, yanked at their own hair and dug their nails into their scalp until they were bloodied and bruised.
Eventually they let go of their head, and their arms weakly fell beside them. A hot stream of tears running down their eyes.
They felt a bit better.
“But… If you can remember anything from right now… Try to make different decisions next time.”
They raised their head.
“There's a better timeline out there for both of us.”
They stood up and wiped the tears off their face. Brushed a few hints of blood on their pants.
“You know, some say yellow is the color of justice. Close, but that's not the word I would choose…”
“Yellow is the color of judgement.”
“Consequence…”
They took a deep breath, turned around, and walked towards the entrance to the Underground.
“It’s KILL or BE KILLED!”
Their hand reached for their holster, pulling out their toy gun and gripping it tightly.
“Like it or not, I decide your fate now.”
No, Flowey. You don’t.