Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It started here.

That's what Error knew. That it had started here and it would end here. No matter how much his soul mourned at the thought of a finale, the show would come to a close. The curtains would fall like last hopes; what little he had left of this said 'hope' was completely gone.

It started here.

Pure white, taunting, screaming, laughing, pure silence... everything and nothing all at once. The sound echoed off what could have been walls and curled in his mind like chains... but there was no sound. It was all in his head.

It would end here, too. The endless room would be the last place he would rest. How he knew it would be him to give up the ghost was almost beyond him. Almost. Tucked deep down, in his yellowed soul, he knew. He knew why it would be him to fall, rather than his enemy on the battlefield.

Error knew.

And it almost hurt. It hurt like red finger tips that should have been white digging into blackened bone, tearing down a matching skull or already ruined arms. It hurt like strings digging into the inverted heart that he had to call his very being....

No...

It hurt far worse than that, he realized.

Now, he knew that he should've known long ago, from the moment that he felt himself fall for his complete opposite. He was not blind to his feelings (of the lonely 'nights', of the tired sobs, and the longing cries for someone to hold him, even though he flinched at the thought of contact). He knew what the pang was, knew what surge of warmth every time he saw him meant.

But, now, it would not matter.

For there was an end to this tale... and it'd be his own. This fact was decided the moment he realized he loved Ink. But Ink... Ink did not love him. The Creator had to be merciless when it came to the Destroyer, the one person who had the ability to break apart everything he worked so hard to make.

Even so, to love something like Error, one would have to be crazy. He did not regret the killing he has brought forth, the suffering and torture that was created by his hand... one would be insane to love a creature as such.

But now? Now... he did regret.

He didn't want to be alone anymore. So there he was, playing this game over and over again. It was the only time he ever got someone to look at him without fear, without the need to run away. It was the only time someone spoke to him...

But that was then. Now? Now, it's time for the end.

The finish line is wrapped back to the beginning and he knows now, too, that, from the start, it was already ending.

This was just the final chapter of the book.

Chapter Text

Ink stood before him, tall and proud. His chin was angled upward, as if smug, as he glared across the voidness. He could see him falter from time to time and wondered if it was because his instinct to give mercy or the exhausted look Error had.

He decided it was his morals. No one cared enough for Error to be worried.

Ink took one step forward... Error took two back.

That was the first warning Ink got. Something was wrong with the glitch before him and he wanted to know what it was.

Another three steps forward.

Five back.

"Error," Ink whispered, his voice gentle and sweet. It was sickening... How could anyone speak to him with that voice? It had to be fake; which only made him feel even more ill. But his soul betrayed him: he secretly hoped that his enemy meant the kind tone.

"Ink," Error whispered back, voice spazzing and weakening. It faded in and out at random intervals, stutters and echoes rang and resounded... this was the worse his voice had ever glitched. He hated how much it can reveal about the emotions he feels.

Ink hesitated before bending down, offering his hand (the pristine white was almost mocking, what with the black paint staining it. Almost like telling him what he used to be. God, he feels so sick.), "please, stop. I just want to talk."

"Unfortunately, I don't."

Silence pursued the two. On one hand, the creator stared at the destroyer as if the burning gaze could get him to open up the box of secrets he always seemed to have. On the other, the destroyer's gaze was on the 'ground', eyes almost completely closed.

Error fiddled with his jacket.

"why don't you just kill me already? We both know I'll be the one to die here," he whispered, finally breaking the quiet that had settled upon them. He found that Ink trying to get him to talk was a lot nicer than the emptiness in which any other sound was drowned out in.

He realized that, if he were to ever try again, if he were to have a second chance, he would never be able to stand silence because, in this moment, he finally understood why he was always talking aloud.

He was scared.

He was scared because there was no white noise. There was nothing; just the proof of how alone he truly was.

Error decided that it'd be best if he died here, rather than be given a second chance. He would never be the same; the conclusion of how afraid he was made him realize that he really didn't want to be alone anymore... He'd be broken, if he wasn't already. He'd be a burden to whatever poor soul was to watch him.

"Error, I'm not going to kill you," Ink breathed, a horrified expression on his face as his fingers curled tighter around the paintbrush ,"you might not be mine, but you're someone's creation. By default, I've got to protect you, too."

"Quite the twisted logic," Error remarked, gripping his discolored hands together, as if the pressure would snap him out of this moment and bring him back to a reality that made sense.

"Twisted it may be, but you know I'm not wrong."

...

"No, Ink. This... this is our last meeting. One of us must die here."

"I don't think so, Error."

"Ink, please... just... just kill me please," he begged weakly, "let this cycle end...!"

Ink shook his head, a confident expression gracing the bone as he leaned forward,"I'm not going to kill you."

 His soul left as if it skipped a beat.

"I didn't want to but... but I'll finish the job, then."

Ink froze, his sockets widening. Error stared into the desperate gaze, magic gathering, pouring past the brim, solidifying...

And going up, towards his weakened body.

Chapter Text

The bones shot up, up, and through, all while Ink watched in horror. He felt sick, watching the glitched things impale Error. He could see the rips and tears in the other's clothes, could catch peeks of broken bone where the magic broke through. He heard the gagging and cries of pain from his so called enemy.

He felt the world shift, the time slow as he watched the dust collect and float. The imagery made him want to scream but he was cut silent, as Error was doing enough of that for the both of them.

Ink couldn't bring back the dead. That's not within his capabilities, despite being looked upon as a god. He could only create and watch what would happen... But he couldn't let this happen. If he can't bring back the dead, then he'll stop the other from dying. How much time he had was unknown to him as he ran to the other's side, summoning magic, without really thinking about what type, and slamming his hand onto Error's chest.

More wails of pure agony filled the void, somehow empty and mute while echoing eerily at the same time. The already bright place caused temporary blindness to Ink was brilliant light exploded from his hand and Error's body.

When the screaming stopped and the light filtered away, Ink was left to stare dumbfounded at what he'd done to the other. His hand hovered where it had rested on the other's chest and all that seemingly remained was clothes that Error once adorned. 

Had it failed?

Ink lowered his hand, placing it against the fabric and shivered. Sucking in a breath, he forced himself not to cry.

He'd never taken a life before, not even indirectly. And this life... meant far more than he'd ever reveal. 

A quiet cough caught his attention and Ink's eyes (when did he close them?) flew open, changing shape and color before settling. 

...A little head poked through the hole of the shirt, a wide-eyed stare settling on him. Innocence radiated off the familiar looking being.

"...Error?" Ink breathed, scooting a little closer. 

The other blinked, cocking his head, "what's... 'error'?"

...Fuck.

Ink groaned as the headache-inducing questions assaulted his mind. The creator of such a pain was coming from in front of him... Underswap Sans.

"Blue, please. I didn't come here to answer questions; I need help!" He muttered, letting his head fall back. In his arms, a sleeping, child-version of Error lie, wrapped in the red shirt and sweater. Blue took one look at him before nodding.

"Hold on, I think Papyrus kept some of our old kiddy clothes! I'll go see!" 

With that, Blue bolted off.

Whilst his enthusiastic companion was away, Ink took a moment to really take a look at what he had done to his opposite. Shifting the small thing in his arms, peeling back the much too big clothe, his mismatched eyes scanned the little body. The dark, morbid colors Error's adult self bore were now muted slightly, white peeking through. There were very few glitches flying around, even though the devastating cracks littered about could be taken for them.

He was so small... Even the weakest Sans could crush him in their grip... At least, that's what it felt like to Ink, whose power was akin to a god. All he had to do was hold a little tighter... And dust would stain his clothes.

But he didn't.

Blue returned, gripping a bag of clothes with a big smile. His brother followed him, without his usual cigarette in his mouth. They were chatting but stopped once they were in hearing range.

"why did you guys even keep the clothes?" Ink questioned, squirming in his spot. 

Blue shrugged, "we meant to get rid of them but kept forgetting so..."

"we kept 'em," Papyrus finished, tapping his pointer finger on the honey bottle in his grasp.

"I'm glad you did."

The three went quiet for a long moment before the creator moved to dress Error.

All the while, he realized how cruel it was it be called that. Error. Like a mistake. Like someone who shouldn't exist.

He didn't want to call the toddler that... But, of course, that brought up a moral dilemma; if he couldn't call a child Error, why would he call the adult version that?

He found that he had no good answer.

Chapter Text

Ink's gaze swept over the audience of Sanses, phalanges tapping against the wood stand in front of him. While no papers occupied the slot, as they usually did, he found himself glancing down to figure out his words. Every skeleton was silent, which wasn't much considering how busy certain universes could get.

"we have a... small problem," Ink began, fumbling over his words in hopes of getting the others to somehow understand without him saying more, "uh... It's about... Error."

The crowd groaned in response, many faces twisting into distaste or fear. Usually, these speeches meant that his opposite had destroyed another universe, or caused mayhem. Not this time, though.

"what'd he do now?" The original Sans called, lazily, but his eye gleamed blue.

"actually, it's more of... What I did, mostly?" The creator supplied uselessly, scratching at his head. Hums of confusion poured in as a response and, panicked, he began to mull over how to present this situation.

Only, he was distracted by the sudden silence, followed by terribly mimed airplane noises. His attention snapped to the source, watching with horror as Error made his way down the aisle towards him, gripping a paper airplane. Blue followed after, slightly sheepish as he tried to rein in the child, who wore the bright blue, fuzzy kitty PJs the older skeleton had once adored.

"I'm outtie five thousand," Fresh deadpanned, disappearing, which was followed by Horror, Dust, and a handful of others not fit for caring or seeing a kid.

"Ink, what the fu- fresh emotional baggage is this?" Sans squinted as he spoke, unsure of how to feel about watching the glitch, small and innocent, wandering down.

eventually, Error made it up to Ink, lifting his arms up with a good sized grin. Ink realized that he had a blanket tied around his shoulders, likely to help with picking up the small thing, as his fear of touch remained.

"uppie!"

Unsure, he scooped up the child, looking to the others with a low sigh.

"magic mishap? I don't know what exactly happened but, until we can reverse this, I'm going to need help. I can't take care of a kid on my own and Blue won't always be available so... Anyone here want to be potential babysitters?"

With this stated, more people instantly ported away, unwilling to deal with the strange happenings. Sans, Strawberry, Blue, and Pomegranate, or Pommy, as the other Sanses began to call Swapfell Sans, stayed. As well as Lust, strangely. Though, one disgusted look from Pommy had his face contorting to hurt before he, too, disappeared.

Ink shook his head, clambering down from he stood on the elevated, not quite a stage, surface, "thank the stars some of you want to help."

"well, as awful as he is as an adult," Sans began, only to be hit by Blue," I... Yknow what I meant. There's a chance we can change him?"

"That kiddo is gettin' ta ya, ain't they?" Strawberry's southern-esc voice tumbled into the air right after, a soft look on his face. His voice always startled Ink, who'd grown used to the simple drawl that the others, minus a few, seemed to carry.

"shut up, Berry."

This managed to get a rise out of Strawberry and Blue, whilst Pommy just rolled his eyes.

"we don't have all day!" The mismatched skeleton groaned out, causing all of them to snap back into the reality of the situation.

"right," breathed The Creator," for the most part, he'll be with Blue, since I can't bring him everywhere I go. But-"

"the resets," interjected the original.

"exactly. We can't have him there for certain runs. He's just a kid."

"so yer gonna need us ta help out, right?" The Fell questioned, just for the sake of confirmation.

Ink nodded firmly, "of course, Blue and Sans' universes are the safest, so he'll be going to those places first. If... If we can't have him there, he'll be with you or Pommy."

"so we've got to make a safe place in our homes," finished Pommy, "it won't be too hard, right? Just make a playpen and food and he'll be fine."

Ink switched Error to his other arm, causing the child to let out a soft protest. He considered what to say next, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"probably? He still doesn't like bone to bone contact... And won't even hold your hand with gloves on... So I think there might be some kind of trauma? I can't tell, though."

"Just 'cuz a kid don't like bein' touched doesn't mean there's trauma."

"sure. But it's likely."

"Let's not bring that up for right now. Our concerns should be making sure he's safe right now," Blue suggest, placing a hand on the other's shoulder gently.

"right, sorry," Ink murmured, sighing again.

"let's just get this started. If he has to go to another universe, make sure you have some place for him to sleep, okay?"

With that, the rest disappeared. Ink stood alone, for just a moment, before he ported away with the child, praying that everything will be okay.

Chapter Text

All in all, Ink had been doing well... Mostly. There was... Trouble. After all, Cross, Nightmare, Fresh, etc, etc, existed and, with a small child on his back, it was quite the adventure to fight. But he noticed Error was growing tired of this; he could hear him whimper when Ink was attacked or hear him sob when he moved wrong and, eventually, he decided to stop bringing Error everywhere with him.

he couldn't check if the child had been injured, since the poor thing would only let him touch him if he was dead asleep, which was hardly ever. 

So, he gave up. Brought him to Blue, only to find out that the Swap verse was going through a rather tough no mercy run. Before he could see the dust, Ink made his way to the original timeline. 

His appearance did not surprise either brother as he claimed a spot in the kitchen, where Sans sat on the tall counter tops and watched Papyrus cook. Ink noted, by the smell, that it was a different recipe. Of course, a smile willed upon his face. 

"Heya-"

"OH. HELLO, INKY NOT BROTHER!"

his grin widened with the greetings, a soft chuckle escaping him as he adjusted the small child in his arms, who was lightly dozing to escape saying hi.

"hello, Papyrus, Sans. Please, just call me Ink," he said, tilting his head simply because he didn't have a hand to gesture with. Every time he came here, Papyrus would insist on calling him something other than Ink, even going as far as calling him by his formal title. And, each time, Ink would insist otherwise.

"RIGHT, YES... ANYWAY, WHAT EVER COULD WE DO FOR YOU?" The tall skeleton asked, even as his gaze landed in Error.

"bro, I think we're baby sittin'," Sans paused, tapping the tip of his fingers against the counter, "so's this isn't no kiddin' matter."

Instead of gracing that pun with anything, Papyrus ignored him in favor of examining the baby bones and asking various questions, to which Ink responded to, much to the taller's disappointment.

"sorry, Papyrus, he's not all that fond of talking," Ink finally muttered, lowering the child down. As soon as he was able to move, Error was gone in a heartbeat to explore. He fought down his anxiety about it.

"ITS QUITE ALRIGHT! I HEARD MANY INTERESTING THINGS ABOUT HIM!"

As much as he wanted to freak, he forced himself to remain calm. What exactly has Sans said about Error, child or otherwise? Was this even in the least bit a good idea?

as if sensing his hesitation, Sans slid from the counter, placing a hand on his shoulder," hey, chill, Ink. Ain't nothing going to happen. Just go do your job, Kay?"

The creator gave a small nod, anxiously wringing his hands, "alright... Promise me he'll be okay?"

"I promise you," the brothers echoed.

 After Ink said his good bye to Error, the two skeletons went about finishing lunch. By that, I mean Sans lazily watching Error from the dining table while Papyrus cooked, muttering to himself about Ink's visit. The plan was to eat, then bring the small child out to buy some toys of his choice. It was mostly Papyrus' idea; in his mind, it was a great way to get Error to open up, even just a little, while gaining some trust.

and Sans agreed, as it was really a fantastic idea. He just hoped it wouldn't backfire in the least. I mean, right now, Error was just a little boy but... Well, if his gut feeling was right, something was horribly wrong with him.

...

heh, what was he thinking? He doesn't even have gut.

Error, who had slowly begun to abandon his coloring stuff, met Sans' gaze and something about it made the older skeleton feel cold. However, he shook it off, watching the kid move into the kitchen. The steps were wobbly, despite having obviously been older than the first steps age, but he was determined. For what, the adult couldn't figure out.

he managed to climb onto the counter, pointing to the pot in which the noodles boiled.

"wha's tha'?" Error asked, tilting his skull to the side. 

Papyrus tilted his head,"...THIS IS A POT? AND, INSIDE THE POT, IS SPAGHETTI NOODLES??"

The child's mouth formed an 'o', as if in understanding before scooting closer to the pot, to which both brothers watched in mute worry, and squinting at the boiling water. This reminded Sans that Error needed glasses... Right?

"wha's spag-he'ini?"

"Spaghetti," Sans corrected with amusement, "and it's a meal. You'll like it."

Error tilted his head, a grin, so small, so wrong for a child, crossed his face, giving a tiny, trusting nod. Stars, he didn't realize how much pressure that brought upon him until now.

He didn't have much time to think about that as Error was whisked away by Papyrus's magic, to the table, and the clinking of silverware and plates rattled into the air. Without too much of a delay, he began helping his brother set the table and serving the pile of noodles and meat.

for a moment, he was worried the kid would suffer at the hands of Papyrus's less-than-desirable cooking. That is, until Error started downing it as if it was the best thing he's had ever, or the first meal he's had in a long time.

The knot in his 'stomach' returned. And, with one look at Papyrus, he knew that he felt the same. 

Chapter Text

The snow fell peacefully, further piling up against the structures of Snowdin. For Error and Sans, it was a tad too TALL to walk in, so Error was curled up in a sled held by Papyrus, and Sans sat on his brother's shoulders, nearly falling asleep with the slow bob of Papyrus's gait.

The three were quiet. The child behind them barely seemed to notice what was happening, as if it was just another picture flashed before his eyes instead of an experience. Small, gloved hands pressed against his small chest, the hat's pom pom lolled, and his scarf tugged with the wind's lonesome call. And, still, he did not react.

For Sans, his silence was feigned ignorance.

For Papyrus, his silence was for fear of speaking.

Then the store was coming into view, and Sans threw out some tired pun, and Error let out a weak laugh, and Papyrus huffed. And everything was relaxed.

Once at the door, the tallest skeleton deposited on the cleared path and helped Error from the sled. The kid stumbled into the snow, but was saved by Papyrus' magic. 

Sans pushed through the entry, a bell chiming above his head. He was flooded with the smell of cinnabuns, cookies, and vanilla. The sweet mixture helped create Error's childish wonder expression, along with the gentle swell of classical music and the bunny monster leaning against the checkout counter.

"afternoon, darlin's," the clerk called, a smile curling upon her face cheerfully, "been slow today! Glad to see yer cute faces around~!"

as usual, before the brothers could respond, she was speaking again.

"oh! What a cutie! Who is this? Oh, stars, look at those adorable lil eyes!"

Error's sockets widened and he shrunk back until he was hidden partially by Papyrus' leg, to which the owner let out a soft, adoring coo.

Sans stuffed his hands into his pockets, "we found him outside not long ago. Can't find any parents... He looked bone-tired."

"Oh my stars, how awful," she whispered, her eyes wide with surprise.

Despite the lie, it somehow felt true.

How terrible...

After some small talk, the three skeletons made their way through the store. The child was basically vibrating in excitement, running ahead before backing up like a puppy who couldn't contain itself. He'd point to things, loudly ask what it was, but leave right before the brothers could answer.

Neither minded.

How could they? Error's feverish smile was so bright, so big with curiosity. It fit on the child's face nicely, as anything so deliriously happy should on a face of a babybones.

Papyrus eventually wandered off to find some of the more important things for a young boy, like clothes that fit better, a new blanket, and some groceries. Sans, as per agreement, lazily followed Error.

"hey, lil' bones, found anything you like?" He called, watching as the grayish head bobbed around before peeking up and fixing fuzzy, mismatched eyelights on him. 

Confusion played into the mix of delight on his face,"...lil' bones...?"

"yeah," Sans neared the kid, his gaze moving to the shelves," lil' bones. That's you, kiddo... I mean, if you want."

Error repeated the nickname to himself before nodding firmly, as if adoring the sound of it. He liked it better than Error, which rung so strangely to him, like something was off. Severely so, anyway. But the child couldn't place emotions like that, especially with such limited amount of understanding of the world so he just shrugged it off. 

"anyway, did you find some toys you like?"

There was another pause before the little body took off, far too fast for the tired adult to keep track of. Which, in the end, it didn't matter, as the newly dubbed Little Bones came sprinting back, gripping a small mound of items. He plopped onto the shiny, tiled floor, dumping it all into his lap. Sans watched as muted yellow and red fingers picked out each item, presenting it to him, before placing them onto the floor neatly. With each one, Sans commented on why each one was absolutely perfect, to which the child looked all the more happier about.

The chosen toys, while older and picked up from the dump, or just handmade by the owner, were well cared for. There was a teddy bear, which had one of the button eyes replaced with an intricately craved metal one, and patches on the belly and arm. Three toy soldiers, the plastic slightly bent and discolored, a plastic airplane, colored blue with cracked wings, a bag of chipped building blocks, and a wooden, painted doll, which had peeling paint and dirty clothes, but managed to somehow be endearingly cute followed after the teddy. Due to all of the issues with them, they were marked down below usual prices for toys and, while money hadn't been on Sans' mind at the time, he certainly found himself liking how little these were going to dent his wallet.

"Alright, kiddo, let's go find Paps. Then, we'll go home and play with these bad boys, kay?" Sans grinned, herding Little Bones off to the check-out. Not-so-surprisingly, Papyrus was already there, gripping recyclable bags in each hand. Two of them were over-flowing with clothes, while the rest was filled with the brim with food. Sans could see a package of cinnabuns peeking out from one of them, and he had to resist the urge to laugh. Papyrus always did have a soft spot for children...

After paying for the toys, and the clerk giving Little Bones a free lollipop, they were on their way back. Little Bones was in the sled again, with the bags, the teddy bear in his lap and the airplane extended in the air. Muffled by his sweet treat, his mimicked airplane sounds were nearly lost upon them. Sans was piggyback riding again, keeping an eye out for the babybones in the back, while Papyrus just focused on walking. The snow was still falling, but it had picked up speed, likely an early warning for a snowstorm approaching their little town. 

Most footsteps from the other townsfolk had disappeared with the new layer of powdery white. Smoke from fireplaces rose and twirled towards the ceiling, warm orange pouring from windows, casting pillow-y glows upon the snow and icicles. Artificial night was beginning to fall, gently engulfing the area. As they passed Grillby's, the sweet sound of laughter, hearty drinking, and badly-sang music spilled past the glass door, faint yet utterly perfect to tie into a good night.

He was tempted to ask Papyrus if they could bring Little Bones there, but decided that the next visit would be better. Right now, they needed to help him get settled.

Mirroring what he did at the entrance to the shop, Papyrus placed both smaller skeletons onto the porch and handed them the groceries. After making sure everything was there, and Little Bones was doing alright, he ran off with the sled. Sans led the child back inside into the warmth, shedding their coats after putting the bags in the kitchen. Error's stuff was put into the little play-area they set up, which included a small bed made from spare pillows and blankets, as well as a cardboard box, while Sans' was half-hazardously tossed to the couch. He could hear his brother kicking snow from his boots as he put away food, leaving out whatever Papyrus needed for tonight's dinner. 

Soon, they were all relaxed, with the kid watching movies on the TV, Sans keeping his eye on him again, and Papyrus making dinner. 

Today was a good day, he thought, his gaze flicking from Little Bones to the TV with a soft smile. Sure, he was tired, and he was still worried, but today was good. And that's all he could really ask for.

Let's hope the night goes on without a hitch.

Chapter Text

Darkness bathed the room, turning objects to shadows that, if he were a child, would become cruel creatures.

Somehow, even in his age, they almost feel like they were coming to eat him.

Sans wasn’t sure what woke him up. For a moment, everything was silent, nothing breaking the constant of night’s hum. Then, there was a soft sobbing, muffled by the closed door and the distance. He peeled himself from his lumpy mattress, pushing aside of the ball of blankets and sheets. The garbage tornado had slowed, the trash gently clashing and tumbling. But he ignored the familiarity, opening the door.

Naturally, the sobs were louder now. His soul twisted.

Papyrus was in the hall, having been awakened by the cries, as well. The brothers shared concerned looks before the taller one made his move down the steps. Sans remained, now looking down from the balcony.

Papyrus settled by the makeshift bed, the TV’s faint rumble accompanying its clutter. The sniffles and whimpers swam over the hum. He could see the small, trembling body, which now lie bare from his blankets.

“Error?” Papyrus whispered.

In response, he got a scream.

He glanced up to Sans with a panicked look, but only got a nervous thumbs up in return.

“Little Bones,” he tried again, "you’re okay. Shhh…. It was just a dream… It can’t hurt you…”

Little Bones hiccupped, squirming, but no longer screaming. Papyrus scooted closer cautiously, grabbing the teddy from its resting spot.

“Little Bones, Mr. Teddy wants a hug. He doesn’t like seeing you cry…”

The body slowly turned to face him, a hand, shaking, like an earthquake braced against the tiny surface, reaching for the bear. Seeing the tears shining morbidly in the dim lighting, Papyrus found himself feeling sick.

The child snatched the toy, holding it close to his chest, "Mr. Pah.”

Papyrus gave a small smile, triumph in this small victory, "yes, sorry. We haven’t formally met. Will he tell me something about himself?”

“Mr. Pah doesn’t talk much. He says the doctor doesn’t like it,” the child murmured tiredly.

“The doctor?”

“The doctor likes pointy things and the bad bed. Can’t move on the bad bed. Hurts.”

There was a soft gasp, a shudder before another sob ripped from his mouth.

Papyrus realized what it felt like to be stabbed in the soul.

“Well,” he said meekly, "the doctor isn’t here. Just you, me, and Mr. Pah.”

After his statement, Little Bones’ sniffling bubbled into uneasy breathes, then into wheezy, slow puffs.

With the child asleep, Papyrus checked over the play area, in case of Little Bones’ fear caused magic attacks to appear.

He pretended the scorch marks weren’t as bad as they seemed.

The morning hit Sans like a ton of bricks. Or, to be more accurate, a pile of bones.

One moment he was fast asleep. The next, his eyes were on Ink, who had collapsed on top of him. Paint ran down his bones and onto the bed.

“I’m not cleaning that up,” Ink said.

Sans pushed him onto the floor with a grunt, "rude.”

The two snickered softly.

After a few lazy sighs, trips, and struggled groans, both Sanses were finally downstairs. The sweet smell of pancakes filled the air like water filling a container. The change made Sans nearly freeze, but the pleasant surprise pulled him into the kitchen with a small smile.

“Morning, bro,” Sans said with a pleased hum. Before him, Papyrus had Error on the counter. The taller skeleton was in his apron, as per usual, and he had, with grand gestures, explaining to the quiet, yet excited, child on how to make pancakes.

He turned on the balls of his feet upon hearing Sans, "Good morning, brother! Good morning, Inky-Not-Brother!”

Sans watched Error’s face light up before climbing off the counter and rushing to Ink with a happy cry. Ink was smiling so wide, Sans thought his face would split in half.

“Hey buddy,” The creator exclaimed before addressing the other two, "he wasn’t any trouble, was he?”

“No, not at all! Little Bones was an utter delight!”

Ink’s sockets widened, eyelights changing shape before settling on something vaguely fuzzy with a warm glow. He clasped his hands together, "thank you. It looks like he had fun.”

Before much less could be said or done between the adults, Little Bones was determinedly marching away, gesturing wildly for the creator to follow him. And, really, with a smile like that, Ink just couldn’t bring himself to refuse the order.

While the excited child showed off his toys and new clothes, Sans and Papyrus stayed in the kitchen.

Sans watched the cheerfulness melt from his brother’s face, watched as fear and worry revealed themselves. The bitter sweetness of this very concept stabbed into Sans’ chest and soul, sinking into his misery’s newest flame. This look would be one that he’d never forget, no matter how many resets occurred.

“Little Bones worries me,” Papyrus murmured, pulling the pan from the burner. The smell of pancakes still wafted after it, but it did little to improve the sudden sullen mood.

“What did he say?” Sans asked. He thought back to last night; the soft sobs and whimpers really the only thing he could hear. He saw the transaction, too, but nothing else had reached his ‘ears’ and his watchful gaze from the balcony.

Papyrus sighed lowly, "something about a doctor? He started crying when I asked??”

That feeling returned in his nonexistent stomach, curling sickeningly inside his bones.

“That’s…” He trailed off, choking on a very-much-not-there lump in his throat, "that’s definitely a, uh, thing…?”

The noise of their conversation died as Papyrus gathered plates. The brothers shared a wary look.

Bitterly, without a word, they both wondered what they’d learn about the skeleton that created despair. Bitterly, they wondered who would hurt a child to create such a monstrosity.

.

.

.

.

Magic throbbed and arched dangerously across the surface. The earth shuddered and groaned, cracking under the pressure of the pale, magical energy. Monsters and humans alike cried out in terror, some swallowed whole by the ground’s opening maw, some disappearing into flames from collapsing houses, others running to escape the fate their would had seemingly planned for them.

But you can’t stop the inevitable, can you?

More magic poured like lava from the cracks. Within mere minutes, the burning flow finished off the rest of the creatures. Not long after, the entirety of the world was pure white.

With a flash, it disappeared.

A ripple echoed emptily into the multiverse.

Chapter Text

Ink was with Blue when he felt a sharp, throbbing pain clawing into his ribcage. The sudden searing agony brought him to his knees, a broken gasp of what might have been a scream if the feeling hadn’t stolen away his breath, which the remainder burst from his teeth with ragged, irregular puffs.

He could see the blurry figure of Blue stagger, could hear Little Bones’ feeble wail. Magic filled the air, static filling skulls, magic that didn’t belong to any one skeleton within the house-turned-cage’s walls. The white noise swelled in a crescendo, a chorus of wrong seeping into the song before… nothing. The walls had melted away into white, and the cries of his friends and charge had disappeared.

Nothingness didn’t feel right to describe where he stood now.

Blue. There was blue. Blue strings, tethered to a non-existent ceiling. Error’s strings. He could see the dolls now, swinging lazily, along with different souls, all varying colors that stood out against the whiteness of the Anti-Void.

Or, at least, they should have.

Everything was so… dull. The strings usually seemed to glow but, now, they seemed dead, pulsating miserably. He followed the mess of tangled thread, weaving and ducking to narrowly avoid itself, the cluster of lonely dolls, mimicking real life, and souls hanging heavily every few steps. The smiles sewn into fabric had gone, leaving tearful frowns. Many were strung up by their necks, rather than their arms.

And he came upon something that held the wrongness . The heart of this web of morbid, broken dreams; a soul of dark blue, glitched and cracked. Error’s soul.

And then he was back in Blue’s living room, and Blue was leaning against a wall, gagging. Little Bones was weeping on the couch, which was covered in the child’s sick, and Stretch was up against the railing upstairs, skull tilted to the side as he groaned.

Ink used himself up with a grunt, rubbing his sternum through his clothes. Slowly, he made his way to Little Bones, lifting the kid up, who continued to weep.

“What happened?” Blue wheezed out, finally righting himself. He caught sight of the couch but choose to simply ignore it for the time being. The room spun still.

“I don’t know,” The Creator admitted lowly, "but I need to find out.”

No more words were exchanged. Little Bones was deposited into Blue’s arms, and Ink was gone, soon replaced by his brother.

Stretch's face contorted to a frown,” I have a bad feeling about this.”

“As do I, Papy,” Blue said, "as do I.”

Once everything was cleaned up, and Little Bones was calmed down, they him on the couch for a nap. Blue was fixing breakfast, some oatmeal with peaches, and Stretch was texting Alphys about their recent charge, dodging questions like he was in battle.

The silence was awkward, stretching out and consuming the usually loud house. The only thing that broke it was the quiet clicks of utensils and bones on hard plastic.

Slowly, Papyrus entered the kitchen, tossing the cell onto the counter. He watches his brother pour the meal into bowls.

“Alphys wants us to come in still, doesn’t she?” Blue asked, grabbing spoons in a fluid movement.

“Ya guessed it, bro,” Papyrus replied, "she says that she’ll let us go early, though. She also wants you to talk to the queen.”

Blue smiled lowly, "what’s her excuse now?”

“‘Dyne’s sick.”

The two laughed quietly. Alphys never liked to give progress reports, always said they were too slow-going and often times useless.

They took a moment to revel in this sweet peacefulness of domestic life; the gentleness of the quiet, the breath of breakfast, the buzz of contented magic…
The snoring of the child in the other room made it all the more perfect.

“I’ll take Little Bones,” Blue murmured, still marveling about how easy it was to fall into the use of the name.

“Ya sure?” Papyrus asked, "a kiddo might complicate things.”

Blue smiled, "she’d adore him.”

Papyrus’ expression shifted into understand as his little brother disappeared into the living room.

Blue woke Little Bones as gently as he could, using Mr. Pah, having learned the name from a text from Papyrus, to help his endeavor. Still, despite the gentleness of his actions, the child had jumped awake as if stung. But, before he could feel the bubbling worry flood him, Little Bones had his small, thin arms around his teddy and a bright look in his eyes.

“Good morning, starshine!” Blue cooed, "food’s ready!”

“Wha’ is i’?”

After a moment Blue took to understand what the child had said (what is it?), he spoke again, "oatmeal and peaches!”

Even though the curious, confused look grew concern, he couldn’t help but be amused by it. Or, at the very least, happy that he and the others would teach these little things about life to him

“Don’t worry, Little Bones. You’ll like it.”

He didn’t bother grabbing the kid’s hand, just stood and led him to the kitchen. He could hear the soft pitter patter of bare-boned feet behind him, unsteady but determined.

This child was much too cute for Blue’s soul.

Papyrus was in his chair now, phone tucked into his pocket, which released a chime as Blue helped Little Bones into his seat.

After reteaching the child to use a spoon, the three began to eat. Little Bones ate quickly, making a general mess, which no one really cared about, if they were being honest.

Once things were cleaned (again), the adults wished each other a good day with a fleeting touch. Ever since the adult Error had taken Blue, which both remembered with sickening sadness, they made sure to tell each other how much he loved him and to be safe. And, really, the ritual never hurt.

Blue walked through the snow slowly, adjusting his rarely used winter coat. He could feel little Bones gripping it as they pushed forward. People chatted around them, some calling out to Blue but, aside from a quick ‘hello’ and ‘how are you’, he didn’t engage in further conversation. He was on a mission and the monsters in the little village knew well that he was focused in on that, though they never knew what his mission was.

He approached the Riverperson’s boat with tunnel vision. Even the crunching of snow beneath his feel disappeared in favor of trudging ever closer to the rocking, wooden object that had become his goal.

Blue’s laser focus shattered by a confused, murky question aimed at him. He snapped his head to the speaker. Upon recognizing Muffet, a smile crawled onto his face.

The water splashed against the bank.

“Hello, Muffet!” He exclaimed, "I didn’t hear your question, sorry. Could you repeat that?”

Now that he really noticed her, Blue found himself lost. Her typical suit was gone, replaced with a stylish black dress that ended above her knees. Her hair had been pulled in a bun and a purse hung down from her shoulder, dark purple glimmering beside the short but lovely coat. Was she going on a date?

“I just asked what brings you to the Riverperson. You usually walk to Alphys’.”

Blue blinked slowly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Then, he moved so his little charge was revealed, despite the child’s obvious displeasure at the very idea of having to face someone. He could feel little Bones’ grasp on his coat tighten with nervousness.

Muffet’s mouth formed an ‘o’, all five of her eyes widening.

“It’s a… child,” she murmured.

Blue chuckled lowly, "yeah. We, um, found him. In the woods. I decided to take him with me to the palace.”

“Oh. You’re going to Queen Toriel, aren’t you?”

"yep," Blue said, popping the 'p', "Ally is taking car of 'Dyne 'cuz she's sick."

"uh-huh..." the woman responded, drawing out the sound with a hint of understanding.

...

"So why didn't you leave the child with Papyrus?"

"Little Bones would get bored. Plus, Ms. Queen Toriel likes children, right?" He couldn't help but widen his smile at the mention of the queen. Of the, admittedly, few friends he had in this universe, she was one of the closest. He didn't mind telling her things he couldn't even admit to Alphys.

Both adults snapped out of their conversation, which had dived into contemplative silence, as the Riverperson began to sing. Blue looked to the boat, spotting the very kid he was to watch now inside the water-bound vehicle. He was nestled between the back and the last bench, swimming in his coat and scarf. The low, sweet voice of the Riverperson danced elegantly in the small clearing, a melody of something vaguely sad, vaguely lonely, but only just a pinch of these familiar emotions swirled within the otherwise peaceful notes.

A lullaby. It was a lullaby. A song Blue once knew. 

Muffet and Blue moved to the boat, dropping three coins for the fee into the bucket attached to the front seat. They both settled into the back, just in front of Little Bones.

The boat began slowly, as to not jostle the child, presumably.

"so, Muffet," Blue began after a moment of silence, "you're dressed up nicely. Do you have a date?"

He watched the usually stoic bartender flush and cough into one of her hands. Naturally, this caused him to grin coyly.

She was nearly inaudible, "perhaps I do."

"Oh! My! Stars!" He exclaimed, visibly alight with excitement," Who is it? Where are you going? Are they nice?"
"Oh, um," her shy smile made itself known, "it's a blind date so I don't know. We... We have reservations at NTT's restaurant."

He beamed, "sounds like you're in for a treat, then! Have fun, Muffet."

The conversation died out again, this time less jarring and more relaxed. Blue and Little Bones for off in Hotlands to pick up the paperwork, which revealed that Undyne was actually sick, so Alphys simply stuffed the documents into his hands without looking and disappeared into the lab again.

one more boat trip and an easy trek through the least crowded roads later, the two skeletons were safely in the grand hall before the throne room. The child behind him seemed to have vanished, though, when checking behind him, he still found him there. Little Bones did not breath, blink, or move. 

He snapped out of it when, a moment later, the doors swung open with help from two guards. Blue led Little Bones to the queen, feeling more confident, even as the child grew shier.

Toriel was settled among the flowers, a wooden stool serving as little table. Her fingers curled around a ceramic cup, steam twisting in the air to signal the warmth of her tea. Her cloak fell around her, the heavy silk concealing the majority of her body. 

An image of something peaceful; an image that Blue marveled in and found his soul calm with.

Her eyes fluttered open and a smile met her lips," Ah, Sans. What a pleasant surprise."

Blue chuckled softly, knowing that she had prepared for his arrival. In fact, his favorite cup sat opposite of her, already filled.

"Good morning, Ms. Toriel." He murmured, moving to settle at the stool. Little Bones followed shlyly, movements ａｖｏｉｄｉｎｇ careful of the flowers.

"Oh," Toriel whispered," who is this?"

"...m' name's Lil' Bones."

Blue felt pride swell in his soul at the child's soft voice. Honestly, even if Little Bones hadn't tried to speak to Toriel, Blue would have been proud anyway. Little Bones felt like his child. Maybe not his alone, but still his.

His little boy...

Toriel smiled sweetly at the child, warm, honeyed brown eyes sparkling in delight," Well, Little Bones, it is a pleasure to meet you!"

She held out her hand for him to shake, but Little Bones simply stared at the fluffy paw.

Toriel took it in stride, pulling back and placing both hands in her lap.

"Shall we begin?"

Chapter Text

The meeting didn’t start right away, despite what the queen had said. The two spent time nervously chattering, just trying to get into a comfortable atmosphere. The presence of Little Bones made discussion of the matters of the kingdom seem way too… dark for adults. Not to mention, the child refused to move away from Blue once he had settled, staring at the yellow flowers as though their stems and roots would crawl up and swallow him whole. However, this brought to attention that there wasn’t much to really talk about between Blue and Toriel; every day was the same, a pattern that always held true.

Well, not quite. But resets don’t really count, huh?

Eventually, though, they gave up on small talk. The throne room felt suffocating, despite its massive size. So, with some difficulty, they moved into the cabin-esc portion of the castle, finding their place in the living room. Blue forced himself to pretend he didn’t notice Little Bones’ attempt to avoid the flowers again.

The living room was homey, the fireplace alight with a gentle flame. The tea had been moved to the scuffed up coffee table, now joined by snacks for the three. The rocking chair was moved closer to the table and couch for a proper meeting. The room was attached to a quaint kitchen and a hallway to person rooms, in which Toriel had disappeared into to gather toys for Blue’s charge.

Blue wasn’t dumb. He played the part to a tee. Acting as though naivety was his only feature, that he was clueless to the world’s faults, that not all the toys in which the queen gave to Little Bones had belonged to the royal children. The toys ranged from dress-up clothes and dolls to action figures and cars. Many of which had not interested Frisk and MK. Oh, no.

Blue had to guard those souls before. His own had ached by the very thought of those poor humans…

But, faced with extinction, population rapidly dwindling, and sickness running rampant, the lonesome queen had very few choices and, though not quite an excuse, her kingdom must come first.

At the very least, those children felt love before passing.

The adults settled into place, Toriel sitting delicately in her recliner, robe removed and Blue stretched out on the couch, though he barely took up one cushion.

Without her signature robe, Blue could see she was dressed up as well. A dress shirt, made of silk, tucked into slacks, coal black. The shirt had ruffles at the neck and careful stitching along the left hand side to create flowers blooming up her torso in chaotic beauty. A silver chain poked from the collar, a pendent which sparkled with a single stone made itself known and, now that he was paying attention, he noticed her fur had been neatly brushed into waves of soft white and her claws had been painted black.

Blue grinned, "blind date?”

“Oh! How’d you know?” Toriel asked, her head tilting to the side, a faint blush on her cheeks.

“I think I met your date on the way here,” the skeleton replied, "I think you’ll like her.”

The two shared a look, Toriel’s baffled and Blue’s almost mischievous and smug.

Blue glanced to his charge, watching him for a moment before getting back to business. He skimmed the documents one last time and cleared his throat.

“According to this, there’s not much to report. Nothing about humans coming from the ruins or nothing… But there have been reports of tremors, especially in Hotland and Waterfall. Magic spikes from the CORE, too. Undyne believes there might be a connection. There hasn’t been any damage dealt to these areas, but they seem to be getting stronger.”

She took in the news slowly, nodding as each made a connection in her mind.

“I will have to speak to Undyne and Alphys on these matters. I am thinking we will need to make new pathways and fortify what we can, especially around the river,” she murmured.

Blue nodded almost, almost absently. His gaze once more wandered to Little Bones. Despite being trained on him, it took the queen’s worried hum to notice that the child was not playing. Rather, staring blankly at the toys. Mr. Pah was collapsed against the wall with a purple and yellow themed action figure spread against the bear’s tummy and legs. A pile of monkeys stood near the bear, their barrel on its side with a slightly broken doctor Barbie doll discarded near it. And the kid was just staring, mismatched eyes glazed over, arms limp by his side, jaw slack.

Blue blinked, and then Little Bones was staring at him.

The child did not speak, did not move. He looked like he was on trial.

Blue felt like he was the jury, about to condemn an innocent man to life in hell.

He pulled himself from the couch, stretching, "I think Little Bones is getting kind of tired. I am very sorry, Tori. There’s more in the report; I’ll leave it for you.”

“Oh,” Toriel replied, monotone, "...I would like to speak to you real fast in the kitchen.”

The small skeleton blinked owlishly before nodding, muttering to his charge to pick up the toys and return them, as well as pack up his own. Then, he moved with his friend to the kitchen. He had no chance to speak, as Toriel was turning with an expression that made Blue feel as though he were made of stone.

“That child,” She began, "he is not… normal, is he?”

“Pardon-?”

He was cut off swiftly, "-he’s not… a normal skeleton, I mean. I do not know much about your species, other than your similarity to humans and your strange stats. What has happened to his bones? Why does he stare at people as though they will destroy him with a simple look? Where on earth did you find him?”

Blue felt overwhelmed with the amount of questions, his head spinning in an attempt to give an answer, spitting out the first that came to mind, "I haven’t the slightest clue.”

She looked at him with a prompt for more.

“...We found him in the woods. By Papyrus’ station. We don’t know what happened to him. We don’t know why his bones are gray. We… we don’t know much of anything.”

Toriel nodded slowly, "...he reminds me of Frisk, somewhat. They had that same stare.”

Their gazes met, a mournful taste in the air, as they pondered in the names of children who lost, of children who looked at everyone as though they would be killed with a glance

They stopped to get burgers at the NTT emporium before returning to the house with no incidents. Unlocking the door, Blue called out to his brother, finding the place empty and silence as his response.

“Alright, Little Bones!” Blue started, putting his hands on his hips, "go put Papy’s dinner in the fridge and we’ll color, okay?”

The child took in the words slowly, taking the time to remember what and where the fridge was before grinning and taking off to the kitchen. Blue watched him fondly for a few seconds and then began gathering what was needed for their artistic endeavors.

He heard the fridge door open and close and Little Bones bound into the room. He took one look at the crayons and pencils and immediately grew excited; so much so that, within a blink of an eye, he was at the coffee table, grabbing a piece of paper while Blue was just about to gesture him over.

In this moment, he recalled Error’s ability to teleport and resisted a groan. Being one of the few Sanses who did not have this power was annoying and the idea of having a child who could move faster than he could run made it much worse. Nonetheless, he slid down and got his own paper, picking up a pencil and began to draw.

Now, Blue knew he wasn’t all that great at art. His skills were sub-par, but he enjoyed it very much. There was something calming about putting graphite to paper and creating something.

He wondered if Error had ever felt the same sentiment. He remembered the glitch’s disdain for creation- often times, Blue’s very existence had disgusted him. Few things escaped his scrutiny and hatred, not even Error himself. In fact, if there was someone Error hated more than anything else, it was himself.

Why did Error feel so strongly about that?

Did Little Bones feel the same?

Blue paused, realizing his thoughts had consumed him, leaving his hand to lazily darken a circle. He adjusted his pencil and peeking over Little Bones’ shoulder.

Children didn’t have the best artwork, generally. The idea of ‘fine detail’ was lost upon the excitement to just draw . Similarly, Little Bones’ work was unsteady and wild, weird shapes and awkward lines with either enough weight to nearly tear the paper or with too little to see.

The kid himself had zoned out, gazing at the front door with that strange intensity that children should not bear. The crayon was poised neatly above the paper, hovering above the end of a line.

Despite the heavy implications of a child lost and a drawing with distated lines, the work itself was very cheerful. He recognized Mr. Pah’s patches and ears, though the bear was much bigger, towering above two figures and bathed in orange. The other two figures were purple and blue respectively. The blue was short and fat with a neck ornament of some kind, while the purple, much smaller than the blue, had two triangles.

It wasn’t too hard to figure out the figures, the short and fat one being Blue, and the purple one Little Bones.

Blue tapped the table, causing Little Bones to turn to the sound.

“What’s on your head?” Blue asked, smiling. The child eyed him for a little but before grinning, as well. He rushed off to his things. He pulled out a sweater and came back, presenting it proudly. One hand came up, pressing mismatched fingers into the cat ears on the hood.

“It’s m’ favorite…” Little Bones declared with a conviction only children and lovers could have.

“Yeah, I liked that one, too.” Blue chuckled, warmth twirling into his soul.

He closed his eyes and, for a minute, wondered at the strangeness of this .

Blue never knew he could harbor so much love for someone.

And, really, how cruel is that?

Chapter Text

Little Bones was fast asleep when Ink returned.

The room was quiet, the only noise being produced by the child, who found a single couch cushion to be suitable for his sleeping domain. 

Ink took a moment to watch Little Bones. His chest rose and fell steadily, his mouth opened just enough for a small amount of drool to dribble out, his sockets closed and face relaxed. The cushion he rested upon was built upon with several blankets, creating a nest that the child had buried himself in, using a sheet to cover the rest of his body. Pillows propped up his head, one gripped in his arms along with Mr. Pah. The rest of his toys were lying on the floor under him, neatly arranged to rest them on another pillow and tucked under hand towels. Even his plane was put to sleep. The creator chuckled fondly at the scene.

He scoured the area for the owners of said house.

Stretch stood at the doorway to the kitchen. He had a blank look about him, poised there stiffly like a doll. And he stared, and stared, and stared, and screamed, and S C R E A M E D-

lIttLE bOnes WAs FASt aslEEp wHEn F-f̵̟̎-̴̩̰̙̠̪̖̭̒͑̈̎̆̈́̎͠F̶̛̘̼͉͎̹͛͗̓͆͆̂  Failure

                                                                        when Ink returned.

tHE rOOm waS

L̵̫͉͕̞̩͔͎̤̰̯̮͍̗̊Ỏ̷̢̡̺̞͉̣̪̥̞͖̗͖̻͍̰͍͓̜̗̃͐̉́͊̆̿̀̃̂͊̅͊͑̍͂̾̐͊̂̿̈́̆͘͘̕̚͘͜͜͝͝͠U̷̻̖̪̽̿̿̍̒̄̾̌̌̽̊̓̒̀̑̌̎͌́͒͘Ḑ̸̧̞̬̮̜̘̞̜̭͕̮͓̩̯̱̼̖̳̟̬̹͈̼̠̮̭̳̲̼̟̂̈́͊̎̽̐̄͆̕͠ͅͅ 

quiet, the only noise being produced by

SCrEaMS

w̷̡̤̒͆̑̕̚Ḧ̴̞̩͈́̅Y̷͉̜̙͈͎̝̼̺͠ ̵̢̧̮̪͙̘͎͑̓̎̌̈́̉̒̚͠D̵̨̛̠̭̠̥̈́̿̕Ḭ̵̤̈́͂̓́̃͗̽̅͘d̵̛̖͊̍͋̂̈́̅̈̈́̄͝n̷̳̟̥̼͈͑͐̔̾̋̈́́̚͘͠͠ͅ'̴̨͈̜̦̘̝̪̯̄͋T̸̡̡̢̙̠͓͔̼͎̪̭͝ͅ ̸͎̦͙͙͉̤͉͎̀̈̿̇̍̾͌̐͐̉͠͝Y̶͓͚͖̘̬̬̅͑̈́̎̏͐͜͠Ơ̴̢̺̙̹̱̖͉̞̹͎͔͒͂̂͜͠ṵ̵͔̩̜̩̻̰̙̰̺̠͑̅̊̅͆̌͌́̂̒͜͠ ̶͈̥̟̰͇̖͕̝̞̙̉̊̅̓͗͌̄̈́̓̕͘k̸͇̾̽̒̓͑̽̃̚͠͝͠i̸̢̢̨̨̪͉̲͓̞͔͚̒̐̅̀͠ͅL̶̢̨̰͙̰͇̖̗̞̥̆͆͜͜l̷̨̫͍̣̂̄͐̏̈́̓̏̒̌̓ ̶͓͓̱̺̓̉̈m̸̨̡̼̜̟̣̮̣̪̘̏͛̚e̷̖̼̲̲͓̯̻̻͊̉́͜?̷̲͓̣̚͜

Error. Error. Error.

PLEASE RESTART THE SYSTEM

Little Bones was dead when Ink returned. The room was quiet, the only sound produced by Error, heaving as his hands brought down a bone attack where his younger self had once stood. Sobs broke up breathing, drowned by the harsh impact of the magic, glitching and flickering miserably as their wielder killed memories too harsh to think about.

Blue and Stretch's dust played dress up with the mold, wearing skins that the particles didn't own.

Ink screamed.

Chapter Text

Papyrus came home late at night, cold following him in like a cloak. Little Bones tucked under his blankets, tiny body barely taking up one cushion. Blue was on the other cushion, staring blankly at the TV, the picture fading into static with every howl of the wind.  He did not seem to notice, with his hands in his lap and eyelights fuzzy.

The door closed and Blue finally looked up, his eyes focusing once more.

"I was worried." Blue whispered.

"I know," Stretch murmured, "I promise you, it was important."

The two stared at one another.

"Should I wake him?" Blue asked, nodding to their charge.

Papyrus began gathering the child's things, "let's wait until everything's packed. I called up Strawberry; he'll take him for the night."

The smaller skeleton nodded slowly, pulling himself up from the couch and helping his older brother, "were they really attacking?"

"they came out of the ruins with that face, but I didn't see if they hurt anyone. I just want to be safe."

Blue nodded again, turning back to his work. He focused on the toys, while his brother gathered clothes, stuffing them into a drawstring bag and a backpack, respectively. The silence made Blue choke, so thick that air struggled to do its job.

"Papyrus... is it really the human who does this? No one can switch between being... a friend and being a killer that fast, can they?"

"...I don't know anymore."

Blue knelt by the couch, "Little Bones, its time to wake up. We've got to go..."

The child blinked open his eyes slowly, a soft, broken whine emitting from him. Those tired orbs gazed at them, Stretch in particular, mumbling about a doctor that died away as he began to recall where he was. Upon doing so, he sat up and tilted his skull, face obscured with confusion.

"Don't worry. You'll be able to sleep more," Papyrus assured.

"We've got to take you somewhere," Blue said.

"You'll be safe," Stretch continued, "I promise."

"Strawberry is very nice."

"it's okay."

"you'll be okay."

"Everything's okay."

Little Bones didn't believe them.

The teleportion device beeped as they landed within the Fell House. As per usual, the home felt decrepit , nightmare memories haunting every nook and cranny. Boarded up windows, a door with four locks, furniture worn, not from use but age. The house wasn't a home, just a hiding spot.

Little Bones scooted closer to Blue. 

Before either brother could call out for the edgier Sans, Strawberry came down the stairs, each step deliberate and quiet. The jumpy skeleton looked more faded than his prison house, sockets half-lidded and movements shaky. He didn't bother trying to smile until was before them and, with exhaustion weighing down each limb down, a slow wave the pained grin.

"Mornin', ya'll," Strawberry murmured, voice raspy and soft, as though he hadn't used it in weeks.

Or as though he had been screaming for hours

Blue pouted, "its 2 AM. You both better be sleeping once we're gone."

Little Bones glanced up at him,"...gone? Where...?"

The expression on his face hurt Blue beyond belief.

"Don't worry, Little Bones-" Blue began.

"-it's only for a little bit." Stretch finished.

Little Bones stared at them before nodding, slowly. The child's things were passed to their companion before he was ushered to look around.

"...Strawberry," Blue said, reaching a hand out to his friend and, with sadness, watched him flinch," are you okay? You look..."

"Like the devil threw you into a pit and shat on you." Stretch cut him off, crossing his arms and gazing down at Strawberry.

"...'m okay, guys. Jus' tired. Y'know how this place is."

Blue eyed him, "are you hurt?"

"wha- no, no! Again, jus' tired. Ya'll should get goin'."

...

"okay, just... just take it easy."

Then, with goodbyes bade, they left.

The moment they disappeared, Strawberry slumped, sighing heavily.

"Let's hope this goes well." He muttered to no one in particular. The words were hollow and tired.

But what did Little Bones know about that?

Strawberry herded Little Bones up the stairs into his room.

As per Sans behavior, the room was a mess. However, what made up the mess was significantly less. Strawberry had a bed and, really, that was it. Unless a laundry hamper counted as furniture, there wasn't much else to be spoken of.

The blankets on his bed were worn and faded, falling apart at the seems. He had two flat pillows, supported by clothes long since out-grown or destroyed to be of use else where. Little Bones took in the single shirt, a large turtleneck, on the floor, lying among glass shards from the window, which was boarded up with old wood and covered poorly by moth-bitten, torn curtains. This set up caused an awkward patch-work of light that scattered around the room, providing very little comfort.

He glanced up to his current host, who stared at the mess sheepishly.

"Well, it ain't the worst," Strawberry murmured, placing the drawstring bag in a corner and setting the backpack next to the sunken in mattress, "c'mere, kiddo. It's softer than it looks, I promise."

Little Bones walked slowly before climbing onto the bed, Mr. Pah falling onto the mattress and his blanket briefly catching on the corner. He settled down as the bear was placed closer to him, and his sleepiness made itself known once more. He was lulled into a dreamless whisper of sleep, lost to the world of dust bunnies and mournful cries for the time being.

Little Bones woke up to Strawberry putting a small bowl onto the floor, only for it be scooped up and deposited in his lap once he had moved into a sitting position.

The bed dipped as Strawberry sat on the end, fiddling with his sleeve. Little Bones watched as fingers, bitten nad scratched, dug into fabric, pulled strings, and dipped into the openings. His own fingers twitched.

"Is gonna be okay, kiddo. But I need ya ta stay quiet, kay? Not right now, but tomorrow fer sure."

Huh, so he is staying longer than a night.

"I'll give ya a choice ta stay here or ta come wit me ta work tomorrow. Ya can't go between, though."

"..."

"Don't worry none 'bout food-"

"Hiding." Little Bones stated firmly.

"Wha-"

"'m hiding from someone, right? Or... or do you just want me to be quiet?"

Strawberry eyed the child. Little Bones thought he looked scared but, of what, he didn't know. Not yet, anyway.

Strawberry sighed, "don't worry none 'bout tha', either. Jus' be quiet tomorrow an' it'll be okay."

The older skeleton lifted his hand to pet Little Bones, only to pause and press the teddy closer, instead. Then, with sluggish movements, he disappeared, the door closing with the barest of sounds.

Little Bones stared after him for a moment, fingers running through the rough fur of his old teddy. Slowly, he looked down.

"He reminds me of you, Mr. Pah." He whispered and, for a moment, he swore the bear's eyes gleamed with a warm, sad orange.

Strawberry only entered the room a few times during the day, which was only to bring food or collect the laundry from the hamper. Little Bones didn't really pay much attention at this point, as he felt as though he was trapped. The bare room room felt like a cell (the doctor called it his waiting room. It was tiny and dirty and he hated his waiting room), the periodic check-ins were all too familiar, and he knew this game well.

Don't speak, don't stare, just look away.

don't complain, don't ask, don't "give me that face-"

"Don't remind me that you're just a child-"

And that's how it went. Most of the time, Little Bones sat in the bed, playing hopscotch with children, whose faces were long since degraded, on the walls, which flickered from rotting wood to gray concrete with dirt, dust, and blood in the cracks. He would play with his toys when the room around him was normal.

That pattern was ruined only when night fell again. Strawberry trudged into the room and, before he could lay down on the floor, Little Bones moved so he could fit onto the bed, too. The elder stared before giving in without a fight, climbing onto the bed. Both positioned themselves as to avoid touching one another and drifted off to sleep in a bitter silence, frequented by nightmares from nightmares long since forgotten, only to be lost once more each time they awoke with that disgusting heaviness in their throats and cotton in their chests.

There were times when they blinked open their sockets at the same time when that happened. Little Bones would offer Mr. Pah to Strawberry, who whispered words with no meanings but sounded vaguely comforting. Then, together they'd disappear once more.

Due to this, Little Bones found himself waking after his host with a dull ache in his skull and phantom pricks of needles that likely didn't exist anymore.

He blinked slowly, rolling onto his side and peered at the door, shut tight but unable to hide the rumble of an angry man, muffled but there. The sound made his body hurt more and made the room spin and a tall monster, poised over his prone figure, to smile devilishly, cackling as he hovered over him with those stupid tools and-

Little Bones gagged.

Strawberry came into a bowl again, ambling forward as though pained. He offered whatever mush was inside the old disk, only for Little Bones to respond by puking.

Strawverry decided the child would be safer inside the room, rather than out and about.

Little Bones woke once more by the sound of doors being forced open roughly and items being thrown.

The child felt an intensely calm fear settle upon him, the god awful feeling heavy enough to weigh him down. He wondered if he should hide but his limbs were lead. So, instead, he buried his face into the belly of Mr. Pah, willing his friend to save him from whatever was tearing things apart.

The old wood of the door threatened to shatter as it slammed against the wall. There was dead silence then stomping. Little Bones was lifted into the air by the back of his shirt. The collar caught and he choked briefly until he moved his head slightly. His vision flashed between a smiling, cackling monster and the bellowing, angry skeleton holding him up.

The world spun. Little Bones fought down sobs, tears bubbling into frighteningly painful life.

The skeleton sneered at him, sockets sparking with angry red magic. There was a sickening pause before Little Bones' body slammed into the ground, the impact causing the child to let out a blood-curdling cry. Now, his body obeyed with his fear, so he pushed up, trembling, shaking, stepping back as his breath, previously obscenely relaxed, came out in erratic and strained huffs. The skeleton towered above him and Little Bones could only wonder what'll it be this time- must be bad if the doctor didn't bring any tools. He hoped it wasn't that bright, bright, painful room.

He was cornered now. The room seemed to fade away, the only thing existing was this man, so much alike the doctor that he couldn't tell the difference anymore.

Then running. Running so fast that the steps sounded like thunder and the body looked like lightening. The tiny storm hurdled itself into the man, though it only stunned him. Strawberry ripped away, poising himself in front of Little Bones. The child heaved out the barest whimper.

"You fucking disgrace! The fuck do you think you're doing, protecting a rodent? This-" The man was interrupted, which brought a surprised fury to his face.

"He ain't a rodent! He's a fuckin' kid, an' 'm takin' care of him!" Strawberry said, his voice slowly dying away in his fear.

The skeleton's face twisted into disgust, "disobedient mutt. First, we'll take care of your punishment, then you will kill this pest."

Strawberry flinched, and then froze as those hands that had threatened Little Bones moved, so fast, intent obvious. 

Strawberry felt them make impact, griping his fragile arms in a vice tight enough to break him. As his bones began to creak, Little Bones screamed.

He screamed, and screamed, and there was something louder, the room growing hot and his fingers prickled and tears were acid and-

Arms wrapped around him and his cries died in his throat, leaving a weeping child in the abused arms, holding a teddy bear whose name was a reminder.

A reminder of what he still couldn't remember.

He felt himself being lifted, cradled in Strawberry's arm while the other gathered his things. Through his tears, he could see massive holes dotting the room, letting snow in, which melted if they fell too close the singed edges. The scary skeleton was on the floor, unconscious.

He didn't think about it, though. Little Bones didn't want to think about it, focusing on the magic that enveloped him as he, along with Strawberry, disappeared from this universe.

Chapter Text

The house was quiet with the morning's gentle touch. Soft bouts of light fluttered through the blinds in the window, bathing everything in its reach. Birds sang softly of the day's distant joys, the sound dancing throughout the warm air and dipping among blooming flowers and lush grass. This sweetness touched those who even were at rest, but, in this case, Sci was wide awake and could take this in fully, not unusual with how he threw himself into his work constantly. But it was hard not to when this was what greeted him when he committed to science papers and reports.

His coffee mug sat at the table, poised just far enough that the scientist wouldn't bump it, the steam twisting in the air like ribbons in the wind. His papers littered the table, as well, red pens marking up some with jumbled words and others with hastily written equations that sometimes felt like code that only he could unravel. Sci had dressed in a pale brown turtleneck and slacks this morning (one of his more fashionable choices, if you were to ask someone), his glasses carefully taped to his skull as he worked. Nothing would ruin this flow. Nothing could, as little Rus was fast asleep still and his boss had given him today off. Nothing could possibly go wrong. He could stay contented with the ridiculous mathematical toil he now was faced with.

Of course, Murphy's Law dictates otherwise. Bitter as it may be, anything that can go wrong, will.

Sci's warning was only the weak rapping against his white, wooden door. Despite its soft nature, it seemed to have silenced the wind's tender murmurs and the birds' music. Hushed whispers reached him, the twinge of pain enough for him to move despite his annoyance with the interruption. He gripped the door handle, taking a deep breath, and throwing up the door.

Once open, the breath he had just taken was stolen away.

Sci knew Strawberry to always looked disheveled, as though he couldn't be bothered to present himself more than a homeless bum, but this took it to another level. Ruby eyelights had died into pale, flickering magic, the color seemingly stolen by the magical residue on his clothes, which manifested in burns, many of which still hot with embers. His very body shuddered with the very effort of standing, and supporting a child.

And that's really what got him the most. A baby bones, equally as shaken as the adult. Their clothes were wrinkled, and it looked like they had sustained minor injuries.

"I... I know 'm a piddlin' sight, Sci... an' ya don't like me much... but I didn't know where ta go." Strawberry rasped out, voice so, so quiet. Sci could see tears prickling at his sockets, only held back by sheer will to support the baby bones.

He stepped back and watched his alternate inside, each step agonizingly slow. Nonetheless, Sci did not rush him. Rather, he closed the door and moved ahead, moving some of the pillows on his couch to make a comfortable spot to lie down the kid.

"...what happened?" Sci asked as Strawberry let the child onto the cushions. The edgier skeleton draped a blanket over them afterward, placing a teddy right beside them. They instantly latched onto the toy.

Strawberry glanced at him, briefly making eye contact before ducking his head, "B-Boss came home and he wasn't too happy ta find a youngin in the house. The swaps wanted me ta take care o' him, but I failed... Boss ain't...."

"you live with your boss?"

"...tha's wha' he wants me ta call him..."

Sci shook his head, deciding best not to untangle that mass of words right now. He leaned over the child, attempting to press his hand to his skull, only for him to whimper and bury himself into the blanket. Sci's frown deepened.

"Strawberry, what did you do?" There was an accusing tone in his voice that he just couldn't reign in for some reason.

"I didn't...!" Strawberry seemed to choke, "the kid's been through a lot an' it's not very nice ta put tha' all on me 'cuz ya hate me! I don't know wha' exactly made him... scared an' all tha', but Boss probably did somethin' before I got there."

The scientist adjusted his glasses, but did not respond.

"Look, I know ya don't believe me, but I didn't hurt 'im. I wouldn't do somethin' like tha'," Strawberry gestured to the child," Lil' Bones here is jus' tha' way. Comes wit' the territory."

Sci shook his head again, sighing, "what's his name?"

"Lil' Bones. I jus' said it."

"...right, okay."

Sci patted Strawberry's shoulder (promptly ignoring the violent flinch he received in response), and moved to the kitchen. Rus would be up soon, and he had more mouths to feed. He'd rather not make pancakes, but he had promised his brother the sweet food. And he doesn't break promises.

"Does he need medical attention?" Sci called from the kitchen, grabbing a pan and butter.

He heard shuffling before, "nah, jus' some scraps. He'll be okay."

"Strawby is hurt!" came a tiny voice, rough with extreme use.

...

Little Bones was good with nicknames, Sci thought. Strawby is... cute.

He poked his head from the doorway, sizing up the flustered skeleton.

"'m not hurt badly. I jus'... naturally limp...?"

"...I'll patch you up once breakfast is done. For now, Little Bones should rest."

Not long after the golden cakes had finished, Rus came downstairs, pulling on his scarf as he moved. Sci watched as he poured himself and Strawberry coffee, a fond smile on his face.

"morning, bro."

"Good morning, brother! I see we have company!" Rus animatedly pointed to Strawberry and then the lump on the couch that was Little Bones. Sci chuckled softly at the behavior his brother had always displayed. Grandness really was his forte.

"they came for a little visit. Strawberry's taking care of a kid named Little Bones; that's the couch monster right now."

Little Bones grunted from his spot, popping his head out from the blanket, "'m no blanket monster! You are!"

Sci snorted loudly, glancing away and covering his mouth. In response, he got three blank, confused stares, but he did not explain. Instead, he finally plated the pancakes and set them on the table, now cleared from clutter. He put butter and syrup in the center, then followed up with orange juice for the boys. Rus was quick to sit down, but Strawberry had to coax Little Bones to the table and, the entire time, he gripped his plush like a lifeline.

Once everyone was seated, Rus and Sci began eating. Little Bones and Strawberry glanced between one another and the meal and, slowly, they began to eat, as well. Unhurried movements in a fast moving life. Afraid.

While Rus and Sci brought life to the dining room with conversation, their guests made no attempt to respond or join in. Even when Little Bones had been asked questions, he had fallen silent and gave vague gestures instead of any substantial answer. Rus had taken this in stride, despite his older brother's obvious frustration with this behavior the other child had presented. 

When it was over, Strawberry did up the dishes while Sci went over the day's plan with Little Bones and Rus. The idea had been to take Rus swimming, but the guests' sudden arrival had made that difficult, so Sci was suggesting Rus take Little Bones to the park or stay home and hang out in his room. Sci would be too busy to hang out, but he'll check in every once in a while. 

Once they understood, they were sent away to decide their plan of action. Sci then went back to Strawberry, leaning against the wall while his counterpart dried his hands.

"So, you're hurt? I know your leg is injured, but where else?"

"Lil Bones told ya a tall tale, Sci."

Sci moved closer, grabbing the edgy version by the shoulders. Fear and confusion flashed across the cracked skull.

"If you're not going to tell me, then I'm going to find out on my own. You're not being stupid in my house."

Strawberry choked, grasping onto Sci's wrists, "please don't say things like tha'..."

"Then tell me," Sci demanded, shaking one hand loose and grabbing the left sleeve of Strawberry's jacket, "I'm not going to-"

"p-please stop," Strawberry whispered, voice heavy with something only he knew. Sci backed down when he realized Strawberry was crying this time, the tears dripping slowly down his cheeks.

The scientist herded the Fell onto the couch before plopping down on the coffee table, "Strawberry, I didn't mean to make you cry. I just... want to know where you're hurt."

Strawberry's head fell and his shoulders slumped, "I think Boss might've cracked my arms. I know my leg is... in purty bad condition, upper an' lower. An' my chest hurts."

"Can I see?"

Shaky breathes puffed out as the sweater was shed, followed by the shirt. Strawberry's body looked like an old building, cracks and dents and graffiti craved into a structure that should be cleaner and stronger yet isn't. His sternum bore the latest of cracks, a spiderweb injury that branched out, with the center have a small hole punched out. The newest injuries on his arms looked like an attempt to crush the bone. Then, Strawberry pulled up the bottoms of his shorts; his fibula had an oblique fracture higher up so it hid under the shorts, while his femur had a long gash along the front, which had, at one point, bled but hadn't been cleaned or bandaged.

Sci felt sick at the sight before him, "wh-"

"don't ask, please. I don't wanna talk 'bout it."

The request was met with silence, and then he disappeared to get his first aid kit.

Chapter Text

Ink stood before his friend with tired eyes. His very being oozed with confusion and exhaustion, his energy having been drained by a search for answers that brought him no closer to them. Dream felt pity for him, knowing that this investigation was going to take more from than a good night's rest.

"Have you figured anything out?" Dream asked, moving closer to Ink, putting his arm around him.

Ink let out a mournful sigh, "just the universe that went down. Pommy was supposed to help with Little Bones."

Dream nodded, beginning to lead his friend to lie down in the grass. He recalls this being an unfinished AU, one that never got to be populated, and thus has been made into a place for Ink to relax. And, god, did he need to relax now.

"well," Dream began, "we... we could hold a funeral soon."

"Yeah, I guess."

The usually cheerful monster glanced to him, putting his hand on top of the other's.

"We'll figure this out, Ink."

"how?!" Ink cried out, "We can't figure out who did it, Dream! It's so close to Cross's work, but it isn't! It could be Error's but we all know that he's not, you know, being himself right now! How could an entire universe just implode like that?! There's not even a trace of it left!"

The Creator hunched over, shaking with either grief of a friend lost or with the anger produced by knowing you can't protect those you want.

Dream looked away, closing his eyes, "We'll find out, Ink. We'll fix this. I know we will."

"you're too optimistic."

"Someone has to be."

Rus and Little Bones sat on the floor of Rus' room. It was clean, uncomfortably so for a child. The bed was neatly made with a nightstand with books and a lamp in place. He had shelves of action figures, and a bean bag full of stuffed animals. His wallpaper was superheroes flying around, overlooking a city with towering buildings. His dresser had stickers littering every part of it, as did a small book shelf, which housed books and handheld gaming consoles, and propped up a backpack, and his closet door. The back of his door had hooks where scarves and sweaters hung, all bright oranges and reds. The carpet was soft, colored an extremely faded red.

Little Bones liked this room; it was nice and cozy.

"So! What do you like to play, Little Bones?"

"I... I don't know," replied the smaller baby bones, "I don't... 'play' a lot."

"Well, sure you do! You're a kid, too, right? You're small like me and wear a striped shirt!" Rus pointed to the shirt, which poked out from behind the sweater.

"I usually just... I don't know... Re... Re-n'act stuff?"

"...re-enacting stuff? Like what?"

Little Bones stared at the ground, "I don't wanna talk 'bout it."

Rus took this in stride, as he did with the vague answers before, "that's okay! I'll teach you some games, alright?"

The mismatched skeleton nodded slowly with this. It didn't seem like a bad idea. In fact... learning how to behave like a normal child would be fun, right? Then all the adults would stop looking at him as if he's... broken.

...was he broken?

He didn't want to think about that.

"Alright! But... where should we play?"

"Does it matter?"

"...well, not always! Outside, you play games where you run a lot and stuff. Indoors, you play with toys or video games or color!"

"Why can't you play that stuff outside, though?"

Rus blinked slowly, "well... that's a fair point, actually! Coloring might be hard outside, though... You'd lose all your crayons!"

"...can we try the vid'o games?"

"Video games? Oh, yeah, sure! Do... do you want to play that outside?"

Little Bones glanced at the window above the other child's bed before nodding.

"Okay, but promise not to lose my games!" Rus held out his hand, his pinkie extended.

Little Bones stared at this gesture in confusion, "what are you doing..?"

"It's a pinkie promise! You're supposed to the same thing and then we- yeah, yeah like that!"

Little Bones found himself even more confused as he held up his own hand, mirroring Rus' gesture. Then Rus intertwined their pinkies. Little Bones felt his body... spaz...?

Rus jerked back, his eyes wide, "what happened?!"

"...I... I don't know. Please don't do that again. I don't like it."

Rus agreed, though he eyed the other child as he fetched the handhelds. Then, the two made their way downstairs. They stopped in the living room, where the adults were quietly speaking among themselves. Rus cleared his 'throat', successfully gaining his brother's attention.

"We're gonna go to the park!" He exclaimed proudly.

"Alright, be home in time for lunch," replied Sci, looking over to them fondly.

Strawberry grunted as he began to move, " Lil' Bones, ya need yer shoes..."

He was pushed down by Sci, who got up from the couch and rummaged through the child's things before walking over to him. He placed them before the child, watching him slowly slid them on before nodding firm and returning to his seat.

"be safe, boys," he called, "and don't leave the park!"

They chorused they wouldn't before rushing outside. 

By outside, I mean truly outside. The Surface yawned out before them, the sun shining brilliantly, with a soft breeze brushing over plant life that thrived. The yard before them wasn't super big, but large enough to have a stone path leading to fencing and a sidewalk. Flowers of all shades bloomed along side this path. Rus didn't allow Little Bones to admire this new environment, as he was already opening the gate and waiting for him. Little Bones walked quickly to him, but found he needed to keep a light jog going to keep up with the other. By the time they had crossed the street in front of Sci's house, he was out of breath.

"...are you okay?" Rus asked, tilting his head, "I've never seen some get tired by that..."

"Uh, I dunno how to explain it? I don't usually have to... do whatever I just did?"

"...you were jogging??"

"what is that?"

"...never mind. Come on, the park's just over there!" Rus gestured to a playground area on the same plot of land they stood on. It was simple, with a few different types a slides, swings, benches... Nothing fancy, but nonetheless suitable for kids who just wanted to run around. 

The metal, painted incredibly vibrant hues, blinded the smaller kid for a moment before he was, once more, following Rus.

"Let's play in the shade, okay?"

He responded with a nod and two sat down beneath a big tree. Little Bones stared up at the leaves for a while before a device was placed in his arms. Rus held up his own, giving instructions on how to use it. Shortly after, he produced two games and taught that to the other, as well. Not long after, they began playing together, and Little Bones found himself enchanted by the screen's display of little creatures that fit into balls and fought beside the player.

Ink felt the same searing pain in his chest again, though significantly less... vision-causing. Through a blurry gaze, he watched Dream sway, doubling over from the agony brought up him, just as Ink himself fell back, grasping the clothe above his ribs.

It was torture, how four minutes could feel like eternity, dragging itself on, dipping claws into the earth of time and moving as slowly as possible, just so they could feel what true anguish felt like. When it ceased, it never truly left, with a dull throbbing flowing through their magic veins and causing their souls to freeze from time to time. But it ended, and Ink was relieved for that.

Except...

"Another one is gone," Ink breathed out.

Dream shook, "oh, stars, this is bad."

"I," he shuddered, "I need to find out... which one..."

"I'll come with," insisted his friend.

Ink couldn't fight him on this, not now. He grabbed the other's hand and disappeared from the one place that had been spared suffering until now.

...

it wasn't hard to find. Outertale was visited by everyone, so they would know who went down. And, god, it was true. They had appeared in front of Star, who stared up at them blankly. In his arms... Lust. Lust was sobbing, his frame trembling violently, breathing hitching, heaving up words that made no sense. All while Star held him as if trying to keep something fragile from breaking apart. And, god, he was trying so hard, but you can't stop someone from crumbing into pieces of grief and fear and loneliness-

"They're gone," Star whispered, and Ink knew. He knew who had fallen.

And he knew that Lust was the last from his universe.

Chapter Text

With lunch fast approaching, the two kids made their way back to the house. Rus spent his time animatedly talking about Pokemon, which Little Bones listened to with some form of enthusiasm. After all, it was so cool and the creatures were cute or tough but they were all strong. And this was what kids usually did? Well, it was fantastic and he wanted to do it more. 

After all, the echos of pained screams and mournful moans could not touch his memory when pixels built games to play, when they twisted into sweet animals that chirped and buzzed and loved him. He didn't have to have memories when he had this little pocket world. The only exception was that same dizzying pain that he got before Ink left. He had paid it no mind, preferring the normal life of a boy than that of a kid who felt things he shouldn't. 

But, right now, he wasn't playing. No, he was listening to the boy next to him. Speaking of this universe that they could not touch outside of controls on a device. And he loved it.  He loved every part of this situation, right in this moment. The breeze, the smell of flowers, the trees swaying with a song he can't hear, the grass... All of this noise, so foreign, so new, yet so right. It feels like this is exactly what he'd been yearning for, s̸̡͔̥̱̉͒I̴̟̳̠͋̃N̷̻͉̮͆̈̚̕C̶̳̘̩̃e̸̤̘͕͕͊ ̶̢̻̝̅͐̿̌Ḧ̶͔̞͓́̎͗̕E̷̤̓̾͠ ̵̛̘͗̓͊Ľ̶̟̙̍̇́ẽ̶͚̩̬̌͝f̴̨͐͆̽̕T̴̲̣̬̺̉̒ ̷̢̛̗̟͛H̴̩̰͗̓̈́͝I̷̫̖̲̼͂s̷͔̹̤͚̓̿̓ ̸̬̭̖̟̎̔̚͝S̶͍͖̓t̷͈̫̽̚͜R̷̨̠͉̪̅̂͐͝Ǐ̸̳̬̝̳͑p̵̨͍̗̳̒̀̿͝e̸̙̳̊S̴̬̕ ̴͙͓̑̆͛̕b̶͓̔ẻ̶̠H̵̳͙̭̑͐ḯ̷̩̖̈̽N̸̮͇̿͒̌d̶̡̳͉͐͋͐͜ ̷̮̀̃a̴͇͕̼͍͆̇l̵̼̍̆͆͘l̴̺̈́ ̷̤̹̠͔͗̈́̇t̷͖͎̃ͅh̷̝̻̭͎̍͠o̵̧̝͕͈͆̋̑̕S̸͕͎͈̍́͘ę̷̨̚͝ ̶̦̤̗͜y̸̡͗̎E̵͇͐̾̋A̵̦̱͚͐̄͘͠ṛ̶͕͙̾͌ͅs̷̨̛̪͓ ̴̳͉̪̍̀̇̌͜A̷̰̦͝ḡ̴̜̭̞̈́̌̚Ọ̶̱̑̓̾.

Unfortunately, it can't last. The atmosphere changed to heavy and cold when the door to the house opened. Rus had stopped talking the moment it had, as though the feeling had turned into its own blistering cold wind that pulled them both back by their clothes, ripping at their bones and luring them away from whatever this was. The thing was, they couldn't move. At least, Little Bones couldn't. The wind had frozen him.

It couldn't last forever, so the boys walked inside.

Sci was gripping his phone, poised in front of the kitchen doorway. Strawberry was sitting on the couch, looking sheepish and... well, a little frightened.

"Sci, it ain't tha' bad-"

"I'm not letting him into my house."

"Inky says is important!"

Rus stepped forward, catching the attention of the two adults, "what's going on?"

"Well," Strawberry began, "is jus' tha' someone... questionable is comin' over soon. But he ain't tha' bad!"

That last part was directed towards Sci, who glowered at the floor.

"Rus, Little Bones, you both should stay up in Rus' room." He said, putting his hands on his hips.

Little bones tilted his skull, "Inky is coming over, isn't he? He's going to have someone with him. Something happened."

Strawberry's expression morphed into a knowing sadness, whilst Sci only looked startled. Little Bones blinked slowly, shaking his head.

"Come on, Rus. let's get lunch and go upstairs. You can show me those cards you were talking about!" 

Strawberry watched them the entire time, until the boys had disappeared upstairs. Sci moved beside him.

"the hell was that?" Sci hissed out.

"I think it has something ta do wit' who he is, Sci." The Fell gripped his hands together, closing his sockets.

"...what do y-"

"Sci, he's Error."

...

"...no. That's not..."
"Somethin' went wrong wit' Ink and his last fight an' now he's just a kid. A kid wit' lotta problems."

"That doesn't make sense!"
"Ta hell wit' yer 'sense'. It ain't gonna change nothin' right now."

Sci fell quiet. Neither spoke more.

Ink knocked on the wooden door firmly. Behind him, he could hear Star and Lust, holding one another like a couple might, though this was only the burden of grief, caressing the face with fingers of tears, rather than the sweet throes of love. Dream stood beside him, a silent, watchful guardian to an unspoken vigil among the four.

The door opened slowly, and the scarred face of Strawberry greeting them with a friendly smile. He invited them in, and Star and Lust released each other as they all stepped onto the polished hardwood floors.

Sci was seated neatly in a dining room chair, his displeasure clear as he eyed Lust.

"You folks need some tea. Lemme go make some." Strawberry said, ushering everyone into seats and disappearing into the kitchen. The silence that followed was deafening.

Sci opened his mouth, but Lust held up his hand.

"Save it. I know you hate me, you hate what I do, what I wear... Just fucking shove it up your ass."

"Lust, you wo-" 

"SHUT UP! Stop calling me that! I'm not a fucking desire! I'm a living being!" He stood up, hands balled into fists, " Stop reducing me to this shit! For fuck's sake! I've said it over and over, I'm Candy! And... and..."

He fell back, curling up into Star as he wept.

"please, stop... stop doing this. Not now."

Sci glanced away.

Strawberry returned, moving mugs from a platter to everyone. His expression was blank, but, as he moved to Candy, it changed. He moved, grabbing his hand.

"I... I came to say that... Lust... I mean, Candy... has... has no where to go. His universe is gone. All of it. He's the only one left." Ink murmured.

"...fuck, I need to control my mouth." Sci whispered, which managed to prompt Candy into a fit of humorless giggles.

Candy looked at him, a wet smile on his face, "don't we all?"

...

"We need a place for Candy to stay." Ink said, rubbing his skull.

Sci glanced to the Fell, now sat beside Candy and Star, "and for Strawberry. I can take in one of them, but not both."

Ink gave the two a weird look, "did Strawberry's universe go down, too?"

"No," the scientist began, "his is just fucked."

"don't I have a say in goin' back ta my birth place?" Strawberry asked, raising a brow.

"Not when you come into my house with those injuries," replied the other coolly. Candy turned to Strawberry, sockets wide.

"You got into a fight?" He exclaimed, confusion tumbling from his words.

The fell sunk into the couch further, "ta protect Lil' Bones... Can we not talk 'bout this? Candy needs a place more than I do, since he don't got no where ta go now."

"I would let him stay with me," Star piped up, "but the house is a little crammed as is. Though, I think my Grillby wouldn't mind some company and a potential worker. He has a spare bedroom."

Sci leaned back into his chair, taking a sip of his tea, "I'm sure the Swaps have room, too. They've got that shed thing, and Blue has been telling me he wants to make it more comfortable. I think the originals wouldn't mind, either."

"Sans doesn't like me. Like, at all. He wouldn't want me near his brother even if I was dusting, love." Candy sighed quietly, closing his sockets.

"Then," Ink began, "your best best is with the swaps or Star's Grillby. We'll have to talk to them."

They all fell quiet again, the silence bringing contemplation upon the group with a cool, swift hush. This situation was far from normal, and it had likely been one that none of them had considered happening. Ink marveled this strange twist, what with Error as a child that couldn't harm a universe, yet them disappearing as though their very core had been rotten.

Or, maybe, Ink thought, it was them who were rotten, and not their onlooker homes.

Rus knew this was bad. He knew that he shouldn't be listening in, but his new friend had insisted. And, the more they listened, the more he had regretted giving in. An entire universe... gone...

And the look on Little Bones' face... Sockets nearly closed, staring at discolored fingers as though he were parasites, as though he was seeing something in the extremely faint yellow and red and black, his mouth parted and...

Much like he had seen in Pokemon, Little Bones' face glitched. His breathing echoed and sputtered. Rus thought he could see tears, but the errors made it hard to tell. He could only stare at the other child, this strange fur seizing up his body, preventing him from moving, speaking, attempting to understand. Little Bones lifted his head, and he seemed darker, the dull, weird colors saturated against black, shown only in brief sputters of reality breaks.

"This is my fault," Little Bones breathed, the voice heavier, deeper. Older.

"How?" Rus asked, shivering.

Little Bones was silent, his body seemingly tearing in two before he finally responded.

"I don't know."

 "Then how...?"

Little Bones gripped his skull, heaving up broken breathes, some of them vaguely sounding like laughter. He turned to Rus, and, for a moment, the taller child felt as though he were gazing into the eyes of a murderer with nothing left to lose and only one more target.

"b̶͙͖͓̎̄̅͐é̵̳̻͝c̶̹̤̙͑a̶͙̬͕̒u̵̳͉̿̔̿s̵̛͙͎̋ͅe̵̢̱̥̹͐̓͛͛ ̸̙͔̭̖̐̎̑t̶̠̭̠̅̃̇̈́h̴̢̒ẻ̸͇͖͚̐͜͠ẏ̴͍͖̤̃̉ ̵̼̙̱̉ț̶͗o̵̧͔͓̽͒̇ľ̸͓̅͘͝d̵͖̼͂ ̸̛̮͈̈̆͘m̸̹̈̄̈́e̸͇͒̃̏͠ ̶͚̉̊̽͝ͅs̵̲̍o̸͓͈̤̊̏̋̈́."

Chapter Text

The store was large, as it should be for a town this big. For Sci and Rus, it was just normal. Normal blinding lights and confusing signs and bustling souls, trying to prepare for dinner or for the week. This was not new, and it would never change. But, for Strawberry and Little Bones, the noise drowned out words of comfort or distraction. And, for Candy, it was just another worthless place for worthless events to take place whilst he mourned.

Nonetheless, groceries are incredibly necessary for day to day modern living, and Sci was... well, kind of scared to leave the three alone, what with Strawberry's 'clumsy' nature, Little Bones' instability and the survivor's guilt that Candy had to face. So here they were, combating the anxiety that two of them faced. Strawberry was holding Sci's hand, and helping push the cart since it was not a one-handed job, while Little Bones was in the cart with Rus, the two playing Pokemon again, Mr. Pah tucked into Little Bones' lap. It was a good thing Sci wouldn't need the whole damn cart, or else this would be a pain. Candy followed after them, wearing baggy, comfortable clothes with his hoodie drawn, staring at his phone as if, at any moment, it'd beep and reveal that this entire thing was some stupid prank. Though Sci was relieved the male wasn't dressed skimpily as before, there was something off putting by the fact that almost every bone on him was covered by cloth.

They were mostly quiet during the beginning. Sci had gathered lettuce, broccoli (much to his baby brother's disgust and Little Bones' curiosity), carrots, and a bunch of vegetables he didn't care to list before Strawberry piped up.

"Sci, is it okay if... if maybe..." his voice faded with shyness, "if I got some things?"

Sci raised a 'brow', "what for?"

"I... I wanna bake some cookies fer the kiddos..."

"...can you even bake?"

"Sci, if I didn't know how ta bake, I wouldn't be askin'." Strawberry countered, though it held no malice of any kind.

"I don't know..." Sci muttered.

Rus piped up," Candy, do you want cookies?"

"...I don't know." Candy replied, monotone and tired. Rus bade this no mind for the time being.

"...what's a cookie?" Little Bones asked, glancing up from his game and tilting his head.

Strawberry and Rus gave furious looks.

"WE'RE MAKING COOKIES!" Rus yelled, gesturing to Little Bones. A few people in the store gave them looks, many of which were dirty.

"...fine, we're making cookies."

Rus cheered, which prompted Little Bones to, as well, though the smaller child looked so confused. Even Sci knew that, as sad as that was, it was quite... amusing and endearing. Nonetheless, this disruption had put him into an uneasy state, knowing well that his "parenting" would be called into question if this kept up. If no one knew the guardian, then no one could yell at him for incompetency. Plus, it wouldn't hurt to talk to Strawberry... About small things. Nothing sad or depressing, nothing that made Sci feel like his soul would collapse and ponder why Strawberry's hadn't done the same yet. 

And it could help improve his third guest's mood.

"Little Bones, Rus, give me your games. If you promise to behave, I'll let you guys go find something you like." Sci said, digging out money from his wallet, briefly letting go of Strawberry's hand, much to the edgy skeleton's discomfort. The two kids perked up and placed the game consoles into the folding basic, carefully, as to not crush the shopping list and make it annoying to get the folded reusable bags already in place. With some help from the adults, Little Bones and Rus got out from the cart (Little Bones struggling much more than his new friend, having an unlucky combination of being shorter, incredibly weak, and hardly flexible). Then, once each kid was placed and steadied on the floor, Sci gave them five dollars each.

"Don't lose the money and stick together, please." Sci stressed, putting his hands on his hip.

"Uh, ya'll could probably meet us by the the self check-outs, okay?" Strawberry supplied, to which Sci nodded in agreement.

Rus eagerly nodded his head, which, again, prompted Little Bones to do the same. Knowing Rus would behave, and that Little Bones was easily swayed by Rus' behavior, he ushered them away. Luckily, they didn't take off, but rather walked, Rus pointing out the things they could get along the way. Then, with that, Strawberry ushered Candy into the basket, much to the other two's confusion.

"Is so we don't lose 'im! Wit' 'im mopin' 'bout behind us, he's gonna fall behind!" Strawberry declared firmly, grinning that charming, stupid grin. Candy produced a small, quiet chuckle at this behavior, and Sci didn't have the heart to argue with the Fell. Instead, he grabbed his hand and the handle again.

"oh, what an adorable family! Young love is such a beautiful thing." crowed a voice from behind them. It trembled and quaked, yet held confidence that the entire group could not equal when combined.

Sci turned to look at the owner, an elder lady who came to stop beside them. She lifted a shaky hand to cover her smile, though it was much too big, it felt like, as even her eyes twinkled with it. Sci tilted his head.

"Yes, young man, I'm talking to you! Look at you, having everything figured out! Let's see, I see... oh, a husband, eh? So brave! And two little boys that are much too excitable. How adorable, really. Imagine having that your entire life. And you even have an adorable teenager! Goodness, he looks lazy, but perhaps he's just an artist?" the woman chortled cheerfully, digging out three candies from her bag and passing them to Sci, saying that they were meant for their kids.

Strawberry was blushing so fiercely that not even hiding his face in his turtleneck could disguise it. Candy was dumbstruck, mouth agape and eyes wide, and Sci could only thank her for her words and sweets before she was off again, going about the store, without a clue of what her words had caused and the ruin it seemed to have made. Of course, that's a dramatic way of putting it, but it's fine.

Sci handed the treat to Candy, who just kind of glared but ate it anyway.

"Well, that was certainly... something!" Sci exclaimed dumbly, pushing the cart once more, with the help of his 'husband', who was once again emerged from his clothing.

"How do I look younger than you two?" Candy grumbled miserably. 

Sci chuckled, "hormones."

Candy's response was chucking the wrapper into Sci's eye socket, hitting dead on. Sci's eyelights sputter out in horror and disgust, whilst the other two Sanses snickered. 

"I'm going to have that stuck in my eye socket this entire trip...! You're all lucky I love you."

Strawberry chuckled, "we love ya, too, Sci."

 Little Bones found himself relieved that Rus was by his side. He didn't understand a thing that was around him (though, he managed to conclude some items and their uses). He had his hand and money buried into the pocket of his favorite sweater, the kitten ears bobbing along with his movements. In his other, he held Mr. Pah's arm. Rus, on the other hand, held his in a fist by his side, rushing about excitedly to and from all the products in which they could potentially buy. 

"What do you wanna buy, Little Bones?" Rus asked as they moved closer to an aisle of packaged goods. 

Little Bones shrugged, "I don't think I know anything I'm looking at."

Rus hummed in response, his brows furrowing. His step slowed, as though he only realized that there was something wrong with the statement, or similar statements, his friend had said. He turned to him, sad eyes now boring into him; orange.

Little Bones shuddered, looking away, unable to view the other, "try not to think about it, okay? Um, I think I'll hold onto mine, if Sci let's me."

"That's... fair," the taller muttered," I'll get candy for both of us, okay?"

"...sure. You can, like, figure out what I might like, right?"

Rus nodded enthusiastically, "yeah! I'll get some of the more popular ones. It's a safe bet, and I usually like them, too!"

Little Bones smiled, suddenly feeling more energetic, "I can't wait! This... this is all so new, and cool!"

"It's cool even when you're used to it!" supplied Rus proudly. Those words brought about excitement to the younger skeleton; the idea of this being normal and good was something that he'd cherish among the nightmares that clouded his mind. He can learn here, to be a good child, not a tool. He could be happy here, as a person, and not an object. If he hurt someone, it'd be an accident, and not because he was some sort of weapon.

He wasn't a weapon.

right?

When everything was purchased, the group loaded up into Sci's van; Sci driving, Candy in the seat beside of him, and Strawberry seated between the boys in the back. It was an awkward fit, what with machines and tools in the very back. Though they were secured, they rattled and clanked and, in general, brought about anxiety to a few members. Nonetheless, Candy, Strawberry, and Little Bones found themselves intrigued by it. In fact, Little Bones clicked on and off the lock and rolled the window up and down, while the adults quietly pondered about this.

After a while, Sci sighed through his nose, "I can't wait to get back. Candy, you will help me get the wrapper out of my socket."

"Maybe." Candy replied with a snicker, once more looking up from his phone. In return, he got a quick jab to his side, and he couldn't help a shocked giggle.

"...oh my god, yer ticklish!" Strawberry whispered excitedly.

"I wouldn't suggest tickling me, bud." Candy replied, shooting him a look. Nonetheless, they found themselves amused.

The conversation was cut short by Little Bones jumping in his seat, tapping the window, "there! What's that? I wanna see! It says store but it looks different!"

Sci glanced to the object of the child's curiosity, "that's a thrift store. People bring in used goods for people who can't afford them. Or for people who just like thrifting."

Candy tilted his head, "so, it's sorta like a normal shop Underground?"

"Yeah, but it's donated, not thrown away. I guess we could stop there..."

He veered onto another road, eventually turning into the parking lot. He pulled to a stop shortly after sliding into a parking space. Everyone climbed from their seats, Little Bones much more animated than everyone else. Once that was done, Sci locked up the van and led everyone inside.

The building was small, decorated with signs inviting people in or prompting them to donate. The windows had items on display to make quaint scenes with toys and fake plants. The door had a big green sign hung on it, informing visitors that its doors were unrestricted. Sci took the liberty of pushing the glass open, allowing them to be greeted by a blast of cold air and the sight of goods on sale. In the center of the main room was a large table, filled with jewelry and other such accessories and the white paint peeling. Not too far, up against the right wall and nearest to the door was a huge glass counter, more valuable items stored underneath its fragile material. A worker stood behind it, poised by a cash register and papers, twirling their pencil lazily. To the right of the accessories was several doors. Opposite of them was an entryway, covered poorly by a massive beaded curtain, lines and lines of clothes on hangers lined up peeked through.

The worker lifted their head and Sci found himself surprised, for whatever reason, that a monster was there. They had yarn for hair, a dark purple, though it looked like the right side had been shaven. They had dark, muted brown fabric for 'skin', though their ears were a pale flesh-y color, sewn on poorly, and they had a patch over a 'collar bone' that was purple. They add a pale purple-blue colored button for a single, while the left one was reduced to a curly black thread, mirroring the thread that was stitched along the sides of their mouth. They wore a patched up hoodie and a black t-shirt.

"New faces," They stated, their voice nearly strained, though they were smiling, "welcome!"

"thank you." Sci said with his own grin, though he felt uncomfortable.

"Need help, yell." They said with a meek chuckle, nodding their way. Then, they went back to twisting about their pencil. Sci herded their group to the accessory table.

"Alright, there's some hand-held baskets over there for shopping. Everyone grab one and get what you want. We'll meet back here to count out the price. We won't get everything, okay?" Sci stated firmly.

Everyone went about with their agreement before grabbing the shopping baskets and split up. Sci wasn't too worried about the entire group being separated, what with how small this place was. Besides, he'd go and check up on them all.

__

Little Bones had decided in just wondering. He still struggled to understand what he wanted. He'd gotten lucky with what he had now. Maybe he wouldn't get anything and just enjoy seeing new stuff. His undetermined path led him into the entryway and past, where he found not only clothes, but a small cornered off area for toys. He tilted his head and headed to the section, letting himself touch and hold each toy with either consideration or good will. After all, he wanted each and every single plush or action figure or doll to find a home, just like he had. Each held toy, he mumbled of how they weren't unwanted, not really. That someone would come in and love them better than anyone.

Once that was done, he stepped back and smiled at the collection. He'd take all of them home, but he couldn't. But... he could take some home...

He went through again, finding a bunny plush on the bottom shelves the second time. It had long, floppy ears and excessively soft fur, patterned with blacks and browns. Its eyes were a dark, dark brown, though it bore sparkles within the color. It laid with its legs stretched out behind and in front of it, its tail following this position. Little Bones noted the white on the bottom of the paws and the tail with fondness. A  fake dandelion flower crown sat on its head and a rainbow ribbon was tied into the back, the center of the bow held in place with a pin; a name engraved on it with red hearts: Sam. 

Little Bones found he liked Sam, so Sam was tucked neatly tucked into his basket, where Mr. Pah was waiting. He smiled at them, "we'll give you more friends, Mr. Pah!"

Another run through and Little Bones picked up a fabric blue blob with wide, excited eyes and a tiny pink bow on its left side, a black kitten with a big pointy hat and a broom and pretty orange eyes, and a sheep and wolf that wore costumes of the other. Each was placed carefully inside his basket before he waved goodbye to the other toys and left. He walked around again until he ended up where there was really, really big dresses, most of them white. He petted down the shirts, surprised by its silky feeling. 

He found himself somewhat jealous, as his own bones had become gray for reasons he didn't know. Nonetheless, he decided it'd be okay to play here for a little, right?

__

Strawberry hadn't really planed on getting himself something. Really, he was shopping for Little Bones, as far as clothes go. Candy had a similar thought, just across him, going from the women's clothes and the men's clothes. 

"Wha're ya lookin' fer, Candy?"

"Things that'll make me feel good about myself, I guess. Cute things. Are you looking for clothes for Little Bones?" Candy responded, looking up from a turtleneck he was looking at.

Strawberry nodded, analyzing a baggy blue t-shirt with white stripes, "He needs a lil' more, yknow?"

"What about you? You don't have any clothes right now, right?"

"...it ain't too bad. I can jus' go back-"

"I heard more of what happened. If I can't stop you from going back there, then Sci will."

Strawberry ducked his head, flushed.

"Well, I... I s'pose I can... uh, look fer myself." He mumbled, though he dropped a couple of things into his basket for Little Bones, anyway.

"I can help." Candy said with a smile, gesturing him over. Once Strawberry was next to him, Candy began going through outfits.

"Tell me what you like to wear?"

"...I dunno. I ain't ever had a choice."

"Oh, well... Feel these fabrics and tell me which one you like." Candy said, surprising the Fell by the patience. He held up several clothes, and Strawberry touched each one.

"...tha' one's real soft, Candy. An' I like how tha' one feels... flow-y?"

The Lust chuckled softly, "yeah, it's nice. What colors do you like? Red?"

"um, no... I actually," Strawberry paused, blushing darkly, "I actually really like... pink, real light, though. Red's nice but..."

Candy patted his shoulder," it's okay to like something, 'Berry. Let's get you some pink stuff, alright? Let's pair it up with white, brown, or red. We'll start there."

He was herded around until they had a few things. There was a mirror by the shoes, so they moved over there. Strawberry shyly removed his coat and put it on a bench there, while Candy placed the outfits aside, grabbing a shirt. He had Strawberry still as he held it up.

Strawberry peered into the reflection he created with a curiousness he hadn't felt for a while. The shirt was a long sleeve that seemed to rest off the shoulders and was decorated with lace along the collar, the hem, and the sleeves. He imagined what he'd look like wearing it, but found himself despising what he saw.

"Aww, you'd look so cute in this, Strawberry. Maybe we can get some white shorts or jeans and tape a little flower on your skull?" Candy praised, tilting his head with a smile.

"I dunno..."

"Come on, Strawberry. Don't let the way you think about yourself stop you from at least feeling good. Don't rely on self-worth to determine how you should feel." 

Strawberry glanced to him before smiling, "ya got me there, Candy. Can I see the others?"

Candy put down the shirt and scooped up another with a flourish ," of course, love!"

...

Five minutes later and they had begun a miniature fashion show for just the two of them. Candy was admittedly glad he let Strawberry go first; the smile on his face was so bright, so wide, Candy wondered if this was the same Strawberry. Plus, though his counterpart denied himself the pleasure of self confidence, Candy knew that he looked absolutely stunning in the outfits.

Really, Strawberry would say the same when Candy would strut out like a model, posing dramatically to elicit giggles from the both of them. 

__

Rus opted for the main room. He had enough toys and games and he really didn't feel like getting any more. No, he wanted something new.

So now, here he was, looking at pretty necklaces and rings and bracelets. He even admired the earrings, despite knowing he couldn't wear them. He tilted his head and reached up, grabbing a pearl necklace and pulling it closer to himself. After a moment of admiring the glossy gemstone before sliding it on, followed shortly by bracelets. He was reaching for another one when the worker approached, a bright grin on their face. 

"let help?" they asked, nodding to the accessories.

Rus considered this before speaking, "sure! You can put on some, too! We can be pretty!"

"yes," they chuckled, "pretty!"

They lifted Rus onto the table, placing him carefully onto the surface and successfully avoiding the items. Then, they began picking out more accessories. They slid a pendant on a ribbon around his neck, seeming to brighten as they worked. Rus admitted to making this just as excited.

"We didn't get your name!" Rus pointed out as a ring was slid on his finger.

"name Patch." They responded, then nodded to him.

He puffed out his chest proudly, "I'm Rus!"

"pleasure," Patch grinned, putting a brooch onto his sweater.

Rus grabbed a simple chain necklace and placed it around Patch's neck, "not to be rude, but why do you talk like that?"

They paused, holding up their hands, "can sign?"

"...yeah! I can."

They looked relieved, pausing their work to move their hands,"(I can't speak right because I don't have a good voice box.)"

"Oh! That's okay, Mx. Patch!"

After that, they slowly accumulated more accessories, until, finally, they topped it off with hats from behind the counter. Patch fetched a small digital camera with long straps covered in pins, in which they spent time modeling and showing off each jewelry piece as though it were designer. Patch had even allowed Rus to take over the picture taking.

"(You're a good photographer)," they had signed with a proud smile. Rus felt a little bit bigger with the compliment.

Eventually, though, both of them had to put away the items, much to Rus' disappointment.

Once every thing was put up, Patch bent down to Rus, clipping one of the brooches (a simple one with a pearl bead at the center of feathered wings, small in size and lacking as much detail as several of the other ones).  Then, he passed it to the child with a large grin.

"(Here, you keep it. I never used it until now, anyway. Take lots of photos for me, okay?)"

Rus, with watery eyes, nodded quickly, thanking the worker to no end.

__

After retreating to the public bathroom and getting the wrapper out of his skull, Sci had noticed the fashion show and jewelry boutique and knew that Candy, Strawberry, and Rus were having fun. So, he spent more time attempting to find Little Bones, which proved to not be too difficult. In the wedding section, Little Bones had scooted up against one and was now wearing one of the headdresses, moving about the toys in his lap quietly, though he mouthed words as he played out a story for his own enjoyment.

Sci sat down in front of him, startling the young boy into looking up.

"Nice headdress, Little Bones." Sci commented lowly with a grin. 

Little Bones grinned, "it's pretty!"

The scientist chuckled as the boy pushed up and then plopped it on top of his head.

"See? You look pretty with it on!"

"..."

"...oh, yeah, you can't see yourself."

Sci laughed, shaking his head. He stood up, placing the headdress down in its place before gathering Little Bones and his toys up.

"Almost everyone's ready, so go on. I'm going to grab a book or two."

Little Bones did as he was told.

Sci couldn't help but feel fondness swell in his bones. Really, he had never liked children; they annoyed him with everything they didn't understand and useless questions. He hadn't had time for that. He could only tolerate his brother, who was always quick to learn and to grow, quick to take in the world around him and come to his own conclusions. He was smart and independent, but chose purposely to rely Sci in some aspects anyway, so he could learn more.

And then there was this new child, one of which he himself could not define within the neat categories he put kids in. One moment, Little Bones gazed at him as though he, too, were an adult, an adult with far too much knowledge about the methods in which the world collapsed in on itself, and the way its spindly talons ripped people into shreds. The next, he breathed in bad and breathed out innocence in the most sweet sense. His eyes would widen and his hands would touch whatever caught his attention, and he'd love it. He'd love the texture and the look and every little detail of it, even if it hurt or if it was an assault on the eyes.

Not to mention, he was a puzzle. Sure, he know had a fair portion of the pieces (supplied by his alternates), but Little Bones wasn't solved yet.

He shook his head and fetched his books.

Before the group could count up the price, Candy slid some cash to Sci, who shuddered at the implications it brought, but accepted nonetheless. With this extra amount of money, they were able to afford most of everything they wanted. Everyone held bags, what with how much there was. Before they left, Sci left his phone number with Patch, mumbling about how he'd make a great babysitter, and then they were on their way.

At home, everyone's things were sorted from the pile and put away neatly. 

"...is it cookie time?" Candy asked, grinning.

Sci smirked, "hell yeah it is."

Chapter Text

The morning began with breaths of light, filtered through glass and blinds, dancing little blots across surfaces and people who couldn't take in the beauty of such simple pleasures. It dazzled over ceramic bowls full of cereal and milk, coffee mugs steaming with the warm liquid, and glasses with the remnants of orange juice. Its brilliance was monetarily ignored, in favor of automatic motions of a daily routine, somehow settled despite the only recent addition of three of them. They didn't speak, which really only lulled some of them back to sleep (poor Strawberry had a face covered in milk and off-brand Fruit Loops but couldn't clean himself off until Sci got a picture). 

For the most part, it was spent in utter silence. The exception's were Strawberry's incident... and his wheezy coughs. They just weak little gasps, so no one paid them any mind.

When breakfast was finished, Rus and Little Bones went upstairs to get dressed and Strawberry went about cleaning up after the group. Candy sat at the table still, sipping his coffee as Sci got a refill. 

"So, any plans for today?" Candy asked, swishing his mug some. He could recall his brother making him some, each and every morning, with a piece of something sweet. Sure, his gimmick had been ketchup, just like the Classic Sans, but he always had a sweet tooth... 

Heh, of course he did. His name's Candy. It's only natural.

Sci glanced up," I don't know for you guys. I have work today, s-"

They both froze up when there was a crash sound from the kitchen, followed by coughing and gagging. Sci was up before Candy, who followed quickly after. Strawberry had fallen, breaking a few plates from falling and knocking things over in the process. He was shaking, and swayed when he was helped up. 

"Candy... He's running a pretty bad fever. It's magic based, too..." Sci muttered, wrapping his arm around the Fell's waist and moving Strawberry's arm around his own neck.

Candy frowned darkly," Strawberry, were you going to tell us you weren't feeling well?"

Strawberry recoiled some," I broke yer dishes..."

"...God, your voice is scratchier than usually. Come on, dear, let's get you in bed." Sci replied, slowly moving with Strawberry; past the dining room and living room and into the guest bedroom he'd been staying. Candy could hear Sci's gentle scoldings, so much alike Papyrus' that he had to stand still for a moment and imagine his brother right there beside him. He used to try to hide the fact he was sick all the time, and Papyrus always figured it out and insisted on caring for him, much like the scientist.

He missed him. So, so much.

He shook his head and focused instead on cleaning up. The pet names in Sci's rants were new... though, he wouldn't be surprised if the two had ended up hooking up at some point or another. Or... Or they just went on a date? Or maybe they talked about it? Or maybe Sci had yet to actually confess, or Strawberry for that matter, but couldn't keep his feelings from seeping out via barely concealed words of endearment.

That seemed more likely.

He tossed the shards into the waste bin, moving back to his coffee. Sci returned after fifteen minutes.

"I'm taking the day off to help Strawberry. I can't believe he was more worried about my dishes..."

"...Sci, he doesn't even consider himself equal to a pile of mud. What else did you expect?" mused Candy with a small grin.

The scientist groaned as he fished out his phone," you're not allowed to be correct all the damn time in my house hold."

"...I have two wrappers on me right now. Wanna go?"

He only received a glare as the other began talking.

It was 1:36 when Sci answered the door, gripping a bowl of soup from a pot that he and Candy made. Candy was on the couch, in full view of guests, and Rus was peeking his head out from the dining room, a glass of apple juice near his mouth. Candy watched Sci's expression go from tired to confused to almost horrified, so he moved slightly to gaze at who was at the door. 

The tall, slim figure was unforgettable, despite the timelines' insistence on making him disappear. He stood tall, shoulders square, wearing a turtle neck and slacks and a stupid, stupid grin on his face. Beside him was Alphys, holding documents and folders, her clothes wrinkled and her glasses askew.

"Sans, I came to-"

"Gaster, not Sans right now." Sci muttered, his grasp on his bowl tightening.

"o-oh, y-you've got o-other you's a-around again, don't you?" Alphys asked, her voice high in excitement. It seems as Gaster shared the same sentiment, as he pushed past his employee with the lizard monster hot on his heels. 

And, suddenly, Candy was no longer on the couch, but being held up from his armpits. He made a strangled sound.

"Sa- Sci, this one's pink and purple! And smells like cinnamon. My, he's already more charming than you are."

"...first of all, ouch," Sci grumbled, closing the door," second of all, put Candy down and avoid touching him in general-"

"-hey! Jerk!" 

"third of all, he isn't charming. And, forth, what are you doing here?"

"That was a long list." Gaster commented, setting Candy back down on the couch.

Sci stared at him in annoyance.

"Oh, right!" Gaster grabbed some of the papers from Alphys and passed it to Sci," I know you wanted the day off, but I though I would drop off some results in our recent experiments. Some of them are actually quite... Interesting."

Sci took the papers, but discarded them to the coffee table," great, you ca-"

"Sci?" Strawberry's voice whispered hoarsely. Turning, the scientist found himself looking at the Fell, who was still somewhat shaky. 

"Strawberry, you're supposed to be resting." Sci stated firmly. But, before he could help him back to the bed again, Gaster was right next to them, studying the sequentially startled, sick skeleton.

"...Sci, this one looks so sad. Why are you sad, Sans?"

Strawberry choked," please don't say tha' name."

"Gaster, step back. Strawberry, go, back to bed. I have your soup."

.

.

.

Gaster and Alphys had returned to Candy as Sci tended to the Fell. Candy had moved himself from a lying position, allowing Alphys to settle into the couch easier, all while Gaster took over Sci's chair.

"Just so you know, you really shouldn't get into people's faces," Candy muttered, playing with the hem of his shirt. It was a new one. Light and pretty, but also modest. Both of best words, in this case," especially to people that look like Strawberry. You could've made him cry."

"...I didn't realize."

"You Gasters really need to learn socialize better."

"I-Is your G-Gaster like th-that?"

Candy went deadpan," my Gaster's dead. Just like everyone else. I'm the last one alive."

...

The room fell silent.

And, of course, Rus finally emerged from the dining room, rushing over and flinging himself onto Gaster," Uncle Gaster!"

"Hey, kiddo," Gaster chuckled, patting the child's head awkwardly. Rus got off his lap and grabbed his hand.

"You have to meet my new friend! He's so cool!"

Candy's nonexistent gut twisted.

"You made a new friend? Well, I can trust your judgement, so show me."

Gaster stood up, and the two turned to the stairs. Candy moves to watch, feeling dizzy with a storm of thunderous thoughts screaming something about something was wrong.

There, at the bottom of the stairs, was Little Bones, gripping the banister and Mr. Pah and staring blankly towards them group.

"Little Bones, meet Uncle Gaster, m-"

Little Began stepping back as much as he could, though three steps ended in him cornered. Gaster moved forward, and Little Bones began glitching, gazing at him with so much fucking fear that Candy felt as sick as Strawberry when he viewed it. He could tell Gaster was confused, lost, unable to move, forced to bare witness this show of the terrified. The star scientist twitched his hand up an inch, and Little Bones was screaming.

"NO! NO, GO AWAY! YOU CAN'T HURT ME ANYMORE!" He cried out, sobs echoing after. Sci and Strawberry appeared again, one pulling his employer away and the other moving to get the child. Alphys began talking, but her words dyed within the noise, only the tone carrying out to the poor kid. Magic began to build, swishing into the air, filling all the emptiness within the room. Strawberry picked up his pace, but found he met nothing, not even the precious teddy bear the child adored.

Little Bones had teleported. The resulting silence breathed true panic into the remaining occupants.

Little Bones was gone, and no one knew where he was.

Chapter Text

The room was stiflingly silent, words left in throats, choking those who had tried to speak, to say something, anything that could help this situation but the truth of the matter is; there was nothing that could help. Little Bones had disappeared, who knows where, and god, the fear on his face-

It was nothing like Sci had ever seen before. Its very existence stained into his thoughts and he had to fall onto the couch before he ended up collapsing on the floor. He trembled with the very thought of those terrified words brought about by a mere child. 

"I should've figured it out. All the signs were there." Sci rasped out, finally breaking free of the blockade.

Candy breathed," I think we all didn't want to think about that possibility, Sci."

"Did your Gaster also... experiment on you?" 

Sci watched the other run a hand over his skull and chuckle meekly," no. My Gaster invented the CORE by accident; there's no way in hell he had the ability to hurt a kid."

The two turned to Strawberry, who sluggishly shrunk down.

"did yours?" Candy asked.

"uh," Strawberry glanced away," kinda...?"

Gaster, who had been listening with such horror on his face that Sci wouldn't be surprised if it had strained his expression into looking like that for a week after, stared at Strawberry," what do you mean by 'kinda'?!"

"Did he or did he not, Strawberry?" Sci prompted.

"At this point, if something bad could happen to someone, assume it has happened to him." Candy remarked lowly. Strawberry grew flustered, unable to keep up with everything. Really, after conversation began to crescendo with possible miseries the Fell had experienced, he gathered enough magic to create a week, choppy looking bone and throw it into the center of the room, successfully catching everyone's attention again.

"Fer fuck sake's, ya'll! I'm right here, an' ya didn't even let me explain myself!" He cried out hoarsely, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. It was unclear if it was because he felt the need for comfort, or if he had made himself dizzy with the use of his magic whilst so ill.

But everyone was quiet, waiting.

"I said kinda cuz it ain't like Little Bones. My Gaster had to do this. Our place don't got enough resources to sustain a kingdom like the originals, or the swaps. We needed ta get out," Strawberry explained, his voice getting softer as he went about," when he figured out tha' I was... alive, he stopped fer a bit. I didn't understand much, but he insisted on explainin' ta me wha' was goin' on. After tha', even though resources were tight, an' it was hard ta convince the king, he made sure to make everything as painless as possible. He gave up on makin' me a weapon, an' focused all o' my trainin' on breakin' down the barrier."

"...alright, that's fair. But that doesn't explain how  your magic reserves seem so low." Sci pointed out.

"...I guess 'm sharin' my backstory. After Gaster fell, I didn't have anywhere ta go, so I ended up on the streets. I found Boss, an' I started usin' my magic all the time ta protect us. It's damaged me a quite a bit, I'll admit... I really should've told ya, Sci, but jus' a small monster cold could kill me at this point."

Sci inhaled, feeling more stress on his shoulders from that statement alone.

"Combine that with the fact that, like all Sanses, he has one HP, that's pretty bad." Candy said, likely not thinking.

"YOU HAVE ONE HP?!" Gaster screeched to Sci, who buried himself further into the couch.

"Sci, why didn't ya tell yer boss 'bout tha'?! Tha's sorta important!" Strawberry scolded.

"oh my god, we're getting off topic," Candy said, slamming his fist onto the coffee table," SHUT UP!"

...

"Thank you. Little Bones is missing, and that's what we need to be taking care of right now. Alphys, if you're anything like mine was, you have medical knowledge-" 

The lizard, who had just been the back, shaking, nodded some.

"-good, take Strawberry back into the guest room and focus your attention on him. Make sure he rests. Gaster, take Rus upstairs and I want you to make the sturdiest phone you can with a strong tracking device. Rus, help him make it kid friendly."

The four split off, numbly obeying at this point. 

"Finally, Sci, call Ink and tell him what happened."

"...he's gonna scream at me."

"Of course he is. But, if I call him, he might think that I'm projecting on Little Bones, or you guys took him out somewhere and I wasn't informed." Candy shrugged, shoving his hands into his jean pockets.

"Alright, but he's gonna get here pretty pissed."

"That's why I'm going to make tea for everyone. It's important to stay calm right now, anyway, and we all need to think rationally."

Sci squinted at him, adjusting his glasses," you're thinking fairly rationally right now."

"I'm good at controlling a crisis-worthy situation, Sci. I've had customers with issues before." Candy shrugged before strolling to the kitchen," just call him."

...

Sci closed his sockets, took a breather, then grabbed his phone from his pocket. He dialed the artist and held it up to his skull. It rang three times, the sound long and drawn out, tedious and painful, before an annoyed, panting voice rang out.

"Sci, this better be important." Ink hissed out. Sci could hear screaming in the background, and something slapping wetly against dry ground.

Sci went deadpan," Little Bones is missing."

...

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S MISSING!" Ink shrieked," NIGHTMARE, IF YOU GET ANY CLOSER, I'M RIPPING YOUR HEAD OFF AND MOUNTING IT ON MY FUCKING WALL."

Oh.

"Alright, he's missing? What the fuck happened?" 

"Well, uh, Gaster came over to drop off some files and Little Bones panicked and just... disappeared. Teleportation, right? Or did Error have portals?"

"Doesn't matter what he used- NIGHTMARE, PUT YOUR BROTHER DOWN OR IM STICKING MY BRUSH RIGHT UP-"

"Ink, can you just get here so we can fix this?" 

"Oh, right. Come on, Dream. And don't you dare continue this, Nightmare. Because I will not hesitate to erase you."

____

When Ink arrived, Candy was already waiting by the door with a mug of steaming tea, which The Creator took gratefully and settled onto the couch next to Sci, who was staring into his mug. Dream came through shortly after, looking disheveled but equally as pleased by the drink. Once everyone was settled on the couch, aside from Candy, who sat on the coffee table.

"Any plans?" Ink asked the group.

"only for future prevention," replied Candy.

Ink groaned," is Mr. Pah here?"

The lesser Sanses shared a look before Sci spoke up," I think he ended up taking it with him. Why?"

"I could have used him to track Little Bones. He loves his bear so much that there's bound to be enough magic residue to track his magic signature." Ink explained, though disheartened.

"I can try to find him via emotions," Dream piped up," but I can't promise any results."

"We're going to have to find him the old fashioned way," the artist muttered," start calling everyone to help. We'll find him."

The first thing he felt as he came to was cold, cold concrete. The second was dull, throbbing pain on his arms and legs from a likely rough landing. The third, luckily, was the his beloved Mr. Pah, sandwiched between him and the floor he had fallen onto. 

He slowly pried himself up, a quiet, high-pitched whine being produced. Now on his knees, he took his time to look around.

With each slow pan over the area, dread festered further into his very being. Concrete floors, concrete walls, concrete ceiling, beams over the exit, a single bench... 

Two skeletons, dressed in hospital gowns and plates on their hands, staring at him with the same fear he felt.

Little Bones felt tears bubble forth as he pushed himself into the furthest wall from the other two, gripping his bear tightly. This couldn't be happening. This shouldn't be happening. He had to get out, get away, he can't look at this again, he can't go through this again. No more tests. No more needles and scalpels and hurt and he couldn't take this; this wasn't fair. God, this wasn't fair. 

He buried his face into the belly of Mr. Pah. He felt his body do that thing again, back when he and Rus had been ease dropping; the tearing of his body, only to flicker back in place. Not painful, but unpleasant. He heard a sharp gasp when it began, and it only made him cry harder. 

This wasn't fair.

Chapter Text

Sobbing into Mr. Pah's stomach, he ignored the rustling sound. Really, Little Bones didn't want to think about any of this right now. After all, he was finally... normal, for the most part. He had a friend and he was loved and he wasn't a weapon. He wasn't ever going to be a weapon.

...

But he was here again.

He was here again and he couldn't leave.

The rustling got louder, closer. He peeked up from his toy's belly (vaguely recalling Strawberry's mean doctor-look-alike) and stared at the other two.

The smaller one didn't trust him. Little Bones couldn't blame him; this was a strange situation under unfortunate circumstances.

He would've left the same.

But the taller was curious. He crowded Little Bones into a corner grabbing his arm and examining it, despite his protests. Fear raked up Little Bones' spine during this transaction, having not grown any less fearful of physical contact. But, with him stuck between the taller and the wall, he didn't have much of a choice without snapping. At least, that's what he felt at the moment.

"Who are you?" asked the taller.

"Where did you come from?" inquired the smaller.

"I-" Little Bones' voice trembled and cracked," I'm Little Bones. I come from 'home'."

"Home?"

"safety. It's safe and warm and there's no hurt. Ever." Little Bones said, finally pulling his arm away as he grew more self conscious. He was notably different in appearance than the two he now sat with, even in the dim lighting of the magic beams. These differences couldn't be easily explained, and these boys were curious. 

...

He wanted to leave.

The smaller trembled, gasping," can you take us there?"

"I don't know how," Little Bones admitted.The disappointment on the other two boys' faces left a sharp pain in his soul, clawing through to the rest of his body with the bitter guilt now residing upon his 'tongue'.

He looked away, none of them speaking for a long while.

"You're going to be here for a while, aren't you? Well, the doctor calls me 2-p. We'll get you out, I promise!" The taller exclaimed. Little Bones appreciated this sentiment, though he felt as though it could never bear fruit.

"I'm 1-S. Don't do anything... stupid." the smaller hissed out. 

Little Bones simply nodded. He could be good. He could play a role. He's done it before. It's not hard to slip into an old skin once more. This is what he thought about as 2-P scolded his brother.

"Brother, we all should rest. He will not be happy tomorrow."

"Right..." 1-S moved to the bench with 2-P, the two curling around each other, finding comfort in tangled up limbs. 2-P nearly invited Little Bones into the mass, but 1-S was disapproving.

Little Bones didn't mind; touch felt like acid, searing through his bones, dizzying, fast, a choking sensation that froze him in place. Sure, the ground brought upon cold, but he preferred that over the chemical burns. Besides, he had Mr. Pah- whilst it wouldn't bring him much warmth, especially in his t-shirt, but it was comfort that he easily could indulge in. That was more important. 

So, for an hour, he lied on cement, seeking non-existent heat in his little toy (though, Mr. Pah felt warmer and his button eye shined a dully orange. At least, that's what he thought) and stewing in fear before he finally welcomed the embrace of sleep.

Ink woke up to partially filled nothingness. The white hurdled itself at anything colored, which the items had dulled further from his last, incredibly brief, visit. 

He stood up, strolling among the strings and dolls that stared with empty looks, gazes that begged for freedom from the nooses around their necks and hollow smiles on their faces. The strings pulsed meekly, looking more gray than blue and bearing none of their signature glows. Coupled with their hanging charges, the scene would fit perfectly within a horror movie, mock, inanimate creatures pleading death to escape what held them here, all while their ropes struggling to show any form of health.

Was this how he could tell the state in which his rival was in? Through strings once powerful, now barely holding stuffed toys?

He pushed on until the mass led to the soul at the center once more.

Below the inverted heart was a not-quite-bed, with concrete sides and chains attached to the floor. A worn, disgusting blanket cascaded down Error's back, who sat in the morbid copy of a bed. He was chained, as well, by his neck, his body hunched to ensure he wouldn't choke. Dream was beside the prison (He couldn't think about that, couldn't think about what it meant) bed, sitting as though a loved one secretly weeping in the confines of a hospital room with someone withering away right in front of him.

And, god, it was a scarily accurate description, supported by the dull smile Error supported.

"How nice of you to join us, Ink." Error mumbled, sincerely, sweetly, as though he really was happy to see the Creator. He lifted a hand and Ink noticed the pajamas, fit for a child, fitted snugly on him with the signature sweater neatly in place on top of the warm fabric. He came closer, bending down and taking the glitch's hand.

Error glitched, sobbed, screamed, his fingers shakily intertwined with Ink's.

"I'm so happy to see you," Error breathed," so, so happy..."

"Error..." Ink murmured, shock clawing through his body. He shared a look with Dream.

"I'm sorry I just," Error bowed his head," I've been remembering a lot lately. Been thinking a lot, too. All alone..."

The other two moved to speak, but Error removed his hand from Ink's, waving them to silence. He took a moment to straighten himself out.

"I didn't call you here to cry. Listen, I know universes have been going down recently."

The statement choked Ink, but he spoke, pained," how do you know that? Have you been awake this entire time?"

"Yes and no. I get to pick up on some things, but not a lot." Error explained, slumping forward. Ink wondered if he was tired...

"oh."

"Anyway, I can also feel code in general. And that brings me into how to stop it," the Destroyer glanced between Ink and Dream," I hate to say this but... You need someone killing off universes."

Ink narrowed his sockets," wait, are you, one, trying to get an excuse to kill and or, two, trying to force Little Bones to do your 'work'?"

"Hell no to both. I'm tired, Ink, and I've leaned some stuff about myself. I don't wanna hurt anyone anymore. And I'd never wish that job on anyone."

"Explain then." Dream almost demanded. Impatience had touched the other's soul, and Ink couldn't blame him for that. He'd behave the same if he wasn't reeling from this whole experience.

"As the Destroyer, I could sense and read code. Subconsciously, I was destroying AUs with broken or infected code. I mean, not all of them were damaged, because I'm a no-good, terrible fuck up, but most of my... targets had been, in some way, damaged. Basically, our little 'verse isn't infinite, and it's sensed that too many AUs exist and, since no one is destroying broken ones, its getting crowded. Thus, I must exist. In turn, the creator makes better, stronger, and new AUs."

"So... someone has to kill...?" Ink asked, horror filling his soul to the brim.

"Yeah," Error replied, ducking his head completely," they do. That's why I want to propose a little deal?"

Dream and Ink shared a look again before prompting the other to continue.

Error took a deep breath, gaze now boring into his rival's, intense and harsh.

"If you can separate Little Bones and I, I will continue being the Destroyer and you can have Little Bones. You all seem to like him a lot more than me, anyway... In exchange..."

"...You will never speak to me again. None of you."

There was a moment of stillness so sickening that Ink almost doubled over. The slew of shock poured over his body, heavy, instilling panic that not even Nightmare could create. Ink's gaze moved to Dream, whose distress was palpable.

"Error, what the hell?" Ink gasped out.

"I can't... I can't keep hurting people and have friends. And... and I don't even deserve that, anyway."

He watched the glitch's face morph into an expression of pure self-hate. And Ink realized that he'd never really bothered to understand his rival, which he now regretted.

"That's not true..." Dream insisted, speak nearly broken in nature.

"No, you don't understand! You two didn't laugh when you ripped up souls, didn't find joy in destruction! You didn't because he didn't make you! He  didn't envision that for you!" Error cried out, strikingly loud within the silence of his own personal hell. But, after the announcement, he settled.

"You two should go. Little Bones is gonna wake up at any moment and he's... scared."

"Do you know-"

"Where we are? I know its really cold, and hard. I think... a lab? A cell? I don't know... That's all I got."

The other two got up, Dream grabbing his arm.

"We'll talk about this deal, later, Error." the Creator stated.

"We can talk, Ink, but," the Destroyer shrugged," you won't change my mind."

And then Dream and Ink were gone.

Chapter Text

When Ink woke up, he realized he didn't remember going to bed. In fact, he'd been rushing through a Snowdin forest to get to a Toriel, in hopes she'd seen his son charge. 

His head was pounding and he tasted bone marrow in his mouth. Slowly, he turned in the snow, scowling at the sheepish skeleton lying beside him.

"Really?" Ink asked," you really knocked me out?"

"It was urgent and you definitely wouldn't sleep!" Dream defended, chucking weakly.

"Touche. Come on, we still a kid to find."

Ink stood up, stretching out his achy bones, snow falling off his figure in an avalanche. Dream followed dutifully, brushing the powder off of himself.

"Let's not lose hope, friend. We'll find him." Dream said, as if knowing Ink's deepest fear in this situation.

He did. But Ink didn't want to think about it. So he simply nodded, then the two parted ways, a breath of determination following in trembling excitement.

Strawberry was on his side when he started coughing this morning. The curtains hadn't been closed, so brilliant light illuminated his shaking form, drawing attention to him from the shadows, who, as much as they couldn't, wanted nothing more than to pour themselves into faux lungs and drink in this sickness. They could try, but, luckily, the light offered protection in exchange for its revealing nature to be supported.

The pained hacking ended and the fell was left recovering, his hand hovering over his mouth and his other arm wrapped around his stomach, gripping his sweat-stained t-shirt.

Slowly, oh-so-slowly, he allowed himself to look into his hand. His soul filled with fear as his sockets filled with tears.

"Alphys!" he cried out, voice scratchy.

He heard banging and then heavy footfalls. The door swung open, and the woman ran to his side. He vaguely made out Gaster and Rus' forms as mere wavering silhouettes, but his focus was sent into thrusting his palm to her, marrow running down his bones.

Strawberry sobbed," I coughed it up. Al, Al... 'm so scared. So scared." 

Alphys was barely containing her own fear, but she moved to clear the marrow off with her jacket. Strawberry couldn't believe his relief that it wasn't her lab coat.

He imagined the red smeared across white, a morbid painting of his blood on someone else's bones. Strawberry almost threw up.

Alphys ran her hand over his skull soothingly," i-it's okay, Strawberry, you'll b-be okay..."

"I don' wanna die, Alphys. I've been good. I've been such a good boy." wept the fell, growing quieter as he spoke.

"You have. You've been so good. And you won't die. We won't let you," She whispered," please, calm down. We'll figure it out."

She was lying. He could tell. She didn't know what to do.

How could she? This situation wasn't one you went through often. 

But he slowed his breathing for her. When he did, she patted his arm, an encouraging smile that didn't quite reach her watery eyes on her stiff, mask-like face. Then, with robotic movements, she left, purposely slow in a good, almost real-life, mockery of calmness. He almost found himself amused by this show, but couldn't bring himself feel anything but despair.

He rolled onto his other side and watched as light receded, clouds consuming his only protector.

Strawberry closed his eyes, already tasting the heavy flavor of the shadows as they thrummed in excitement.

Whispering roused Little Bones from his sleep. The child didn't have time to think about it because he was being moved and shifted, crowded behind the text subjects sharing the same cell. His eyes opened to them obscuring his view.

"What's happening?" murmured Little Bones, his soul throbbing with a sense of knowing.

"He's coming." mumbled 1-S. 

Little Bones didn't need to ask more questions. He just needed to prepare.

The beams turned off and a tall scientist steppe din. His eyes flicked to the children, a thin frown set in place.

Just like Little Bones remembered him; unhappy, twin cracks mirroring each other, and terrifying.

The doctor eyed the bundle before sighing, one spare hand bring a tray of food and leaving it on the bench. Then, he disappeared, the beams flickering on again.

All three relaxed some.

1-S pushed himself up, moving to where the opening stretched wide and viewed the bench. Little Bones could feel his magic spike, signaling the scientist was still there. The other glanced out for a moment, then he grabbed the tray and walked back, an expression so sour he could taste it on his face. 

1-S plopped back down, placing the tray on the ground. Two portions of... something. He couldn't tell right now. Was his mind blurring together the weird slob he ate or was it simply the same? 

"Don't speak. He'll know it's not us." he whispered. 2-P nodded, confirming a fact Little Bones already suspected.

The two shared a look, taking a little bit of both their meals and scraping it aside, moving the tray to present to their guest.  

Though the lab's stale air had already satisfied his hunger, leaving him feeling sick, he ate, knowing he needed to maintain his energy and magic to even hope to escape.

A moment later, the beams flicked off. Judging by 1-S's shock, it was early. Little Bones hadn't even heard the doctor's footsteps. 

He walked in, spotting him and his expressions became a movie screen of emotions, most of which Little Bones couldn't even identify with his own fear clouding his thoughts.

"who... how...?" He began before stalking forward," never mind. You shouldn't be here!"

1-S stepped in front of Little Bones, rattling quietly. As the doctor came closer 2-P did, as well.

"Back off!" 1-S shrieked, the sound akin to screams in a war.

And, really, this was a war, right?

Their souls were grabbed by magic, parting the poor barrier. Little Bones' head spun as the panicked gasping came from the brothers, accompanied by begging and words that he would never catch, nor remember, in the intense atmosphere.

Little Bones met the angry gaze.

"you didn't bring tools today," he remarked lowly. This nonsense phrase, which came about by terror-saturated memories, did nothing to falter the doctor. Did he even hear him? Did it even matter?

A swift blow to his head and the child crumpled, hearing screams from look-alikes as black met his vision in a waltz, in which eluded the dark, consuming sight.

Bone marrow gathered. Bitter. Familiar.

It would haunt his forced dreams.

Gaster was shivering by the time it was over. The subjects were back in their cell, the new child was thrown (temporarily) in the pet carrier. This was what he had to do. He had to protect the project. So Asgore didn't have to hurt anymore. So they could leave.

People needed him to be this way.

He knew this. But, god, why was it starting to hurt more and more?

Chapter Text

The empty hallways echoed his steps, attempting to create a masterpiece of mindless thuds. The sound clawed into his skull, scraping memory-filled fingernails inside his head. Vaguely, the touch of war cluttered these call-backs (the thumps of his heels becoming steady war cries, the echos screams of those caught up in it, the hum of machines bouncing between pleads and the thrum of magic). But the child's face, words, body... everything translated to something worse, and his walking only made him imagine his hand colliding with the kid's head. Over and over again.

Until there was nothing but dust, choking him, mocking him.

He didn't want to think about it.

The doors pushed open easily, yet it felt heavy. The lackluster feeling of stress contributed to this weakness.

"D-Doctor Gaster?"

Gaster turned, started, but forced himself at the appearance of Alphys," oh... It's just you. I thought you had gone home?"

"N-no, I was working on a... personal project."

His interest piqued," oh?"

Alphys was so bright and talented. He had known her father at one point (another scientist, really), but hadn't thought to actual become close to them. After all, he really only cared for a select few now, and more would just weight him down. Nonetheless, Alphys was...

Well, she had been an exception to his withdrawn nature.

"Oh, um," she flushed," it's n-not ready for review. It's j-just, uh, a theory r-right now?"

Oh... Disappointing but... fine.

"What are you still doing h-here?"

Gaster sighed," I am... simply admiring the labs, Alphys. Marvelous, isn't it? The way we built with nothing and still have machines the humans couldn't ever dream of?"

She fumbled, glancing around the building. She had been so young when they had been trapped; just a child, wailing for a mother who would never return.

"...goodnight, Alphys. Do rest up." Gaster mumbled, taking his leave.

Outside, he walked to the dock, ignoring the simulated night time's low buzz and the darkness, which took its cue to rush in as the curtains of mostly false sunlight parted its grim reminders sewn into distant curtains pulled by mechanical drill and a dream of the real deal in the near future.

That is why he did the things he did. That is why 1-S and 2-P existed. That is why that child must go.

For he longed to see a day in which his old friend's soul no longer wept with a one-sided war and, instead, bathed in swathes of light as the wind kissed his features with good health and a joy born of returning to an old home.

The Riverperson tapped their pail and Gaster boarded. He need not speak; they knew where he wanted to go.

They did not start for a moment, before the boat shook and rumbled, taking off slower than usual.

"oh?" Gaster questioned softly," are you-"

"You are going down a bad path, friend." Replied the Riverperson, shifting so they could peer from beneath the shadows.

Gaster scowled," I am not your friend-"

"you wound me, WingDings-"

"-and I haven't the patience for your nonsense!"

"oh, bother, I even dropped my riddles so you'd listen for once in your goddamn life!" River snapped coldly.

"I don't have to listen to you!"

"you do when your skeletons aren't in a closet but in a lab!" hissed out the monster, their cloak almost thrashing with palpable rage.

Gaster felt himself freeze, the icy statement curling up his spine, drinking his horror like coffee and his shame as sweetener. Though he could not move, he watched. River's demeanor diminished to a soft sadness; they gazed at him through the veil of shadows, and still managed to bring about this painful weight.

"Dings, I do care deeply about you. Though you, understandably, dislike me, I consider you an old friend. its hard not find comradery within those you fought beside. I do not wish to watch you fall with the wrong mindset and dust on your hands." they spoke, voice pitched higher with desperation so bitter that could Gaster could taste.

"I need not explain to you, River." his mouth hissed out on its own.

"Please, just this once. You know your walking down the wrong road!"

The boat pulled to the shore. Its master bowed their hooded head.

"Keep out of my business, River. And we will have issues if your knowledge is shared." Gaster chided, clipped and harsh. River's name was lava on his tongue, burning through his dialect and they flinched, drawing from him as though poison dripped from his very being.

And, truly, it did, didn't it? This sickly disease peeled off him in deadly shells, hitting the ground and people alike in bitter realization. He dripped poison because he was poison.

Gaster did not bid the Riverperson goodnight, nor did he give them a goodbye, finding unworthiness clawing down his spine too strong to care of someone who had almost died for him (and, God, they would risk themselves again for him. He didn't understand.)

He ignored this feeling, instead wading through the snow. He hesitated once he got to town, glancing to the cozy bar, still open at this hour and brimming with joyful music and chatter and all those little things the scientist had missed. Gaster pondered going in, but the warm, honeyed glow reminded him of late nights and frantic touches and scared heaves of tomorrow, when death may, once more, rake his scythe over the crops of soldiers.

He went home. Home not really being home, as emptiness danced her lonely waltz across his floor and the winter air spilled in from everywhere. 

Home, he thought, was just another one of his lies.

Gaster made for the kitchen, finding comfort in alcohol's deceitful lure, only stopping when his bed called to him and memories of three skeletons tucked away faded into bad dreams he'd forget in the morning.

Except, he won't.

Little Bones woke up in a cage, small and colder than concrete. his head ached and his magic buzzed in residue of fear-fueled anger. He could see 1-S at the beams, gazing at him almost longingly. Little Bones swallowed and looked elsewhere.

Mr. pah was on the desk, left nearly lovingly upon the surface, beside notes and more notes. Little Bones lurched upon noticing the stuffing coming out of the patched paw.

The pain surged and he fell again, sobbing.

"oh, I wish we could help you." He heard 2-P whisper.

He sighed quietly," it's fine. I'm fine... I just..."

"You just got hurt,"1-S said," he didn't really bandage you up quite right, too. If only I could get over. If we could get over there and heal you..."

"I can handle this. I've had worse."

The lapped into silence. The only noise was the low drone of machinery and lights on standby.

"Goodnight, Little Bones." The two chorused.

Little Bones responded in kind, though he would not sleep tonight.

Tonight, he wept tears from years he should not have. Tonight, he mourned the lost.

Tonight, he armed himself for a war, once again, bathed in shadows of his enemies.

Chapter Text

The night battled with the mixture of artificial and natural light pouring in from the windows. The glass allowed onlookers to pause and bask in the warmth, which was strong enough to break past the thick barrier. They stood there, amazed in the comparison that could be drawn, but their admiring must end, for there was much at stake.

Their old friend's life, for example. And this world's (and others like it, really), and more people than even they could comprehend, could lose so much if they did not play it recklessly, just this once.

And, to do so, they would have to break a deal. Oh, how they loathed such an ideal, but they must, at the very least, bend it just a tad.

Yes. The monsters, most of them, anyway, didn't know their true identity. So it would not draw attention that the Riverperson knew Grillby. They did not know of their relationship.

They nodded to themself, pulling the hood from their head, the spell dissipating for now. They unhooked the cloak, casting it aside, and grinned at their reflection. Hollowed eyes with planets contained within them, skin with random patches of cascading colors and stars, a miniature meteor belt at the head, like a halo... 

A solar system, fused into one being. Alive. And well.

They nodded to themself again before moving into the bar. The door dinged with their arrival.

The darling bartender glanced up, those flames crackling with shock. The patrons bade them no mind in their drunken howling.

"Hello, old friend," River cooed lowly.

".......what are you doing here?"

"Relax, fire boy," they tutted," I'm here to plead with you."

Grillby tilted his head.

"I need your help." 

Chapter Text

1, 2, 3, 4...

Open up the hospital doors.

5, 6, 7, 8...

Try to keep your vision straight.

Repeat.

1, 2, 3-

"Strawberry, please, open your eyes." her voice cracked, barely above the soft beating of monitors and nearly joining the lull of nurses and doctors outside the room.

He obeyed, tiredly smiling at her," sorry, Al. 'm jus' a lil' tired."

"I know," Alphys mumbled," I know..."

Her clawed hand hovered over his. Meekly, he took it, shaky, scarred fingers barely holding on. In turn, her grasp tightened.

"Is Sci here?" Strawberry croaked.

"No. He's not picking up."

Strawberry felt a swell of disappointment and hurt fill him, even as he told himself that he'd be there soon, that Little Bones came first.

But it'd been ten days. No word came from the scientist, for the most part.

Alphys squeezed his hand again," I'm s-sorry... He'll come b-back, soon, I promise."

"okay."

A heartbeat of silence. A choking sensation crawling up and up. The thought of turning to dust with no love to hold him-

"How many tests have they done?"

"Eight. Nine if ya count the fucked up one." Strawberry glanced past her shoulder.

"There's a few more left, I think. They'll figure out what's wrong."

They had, somewhat. But they hadn't told him. There were new tests. They changed four tests ago, five if you count the fucked up one. 

"okay."

"you'll be alright."

"okay."

"we're here for you."

"okay."

Still gazing past her shoulder, he watched a doctor approach. It was nice, having a smaller doctor who was less... Gaster-like.

She was a tiny bunny, with stubby ears, black spots on her fur, and pretty pink eyes. She held his hand during the tests. She was nice.

She cleared her throat and Alphys looked up.

"Doctor Hoppington," greeted the lizard monster.

"Doctor Wyvern. May I speak to Mr.Gaster-" Strawberry cringed,"-alone?"

Alphys nodded, briskly walking out. Visiting hours had ended a while ago, he noted. She should go home and rest. He was fine. 

He coughed as Doctor Hoppington came closer, the sound no less painful than before. The monitor attached to his soul grew faster then slower and then faster-

"Mister-"

"Jus' call me Strawberry, please."

"Right. Strawberry, we need to ask a few questions."

"...shoot."

"Do you remember drinking or eating something that tasted wrong before this all happened?"

The question had already been posed, but now the breakfast Little Bones disappeared flashed in his head.

"Fruity." he stated, wheezing.

"Pardon?" she asked.

"Water tasted fruity." he said, coughs fighting to be released.

Doctor Hoppington nodded, noting that down as a fir overtook him. She remained by his bedside, silent but regal guardian at his weakest.

She spoke softer," do you take any medications?"

Strawberry shook his head.

Doctor Hoppington inhaled," Strawberry, I am going to call the police. I firmly believe you have been poisoned."

Strawberry's soul stopped.

Little Bones wasn't hurt like the two brothers. But he watched, bidding his time in a tiny cage by staring, staring, staring...

Judging.

He was pulled out once, forced into doing tests, forced to fight P-2... But he rag dolled and the doc gave up.

Little Bones knew the Doctor thought he was creepy. That's good. That horrible, horrible scientist deserved to know what it felt like to be monitored like you were some deranged, crooked creature. He deserved to know what it felt like to be eyed like you're being judged for things outside your reach, that, no matter how much you claw and scream, no one would give a damn, even if you managed to curl your bloodied fingers around whatever it was you previously couldn't control. He hoped the Doctor felt the blood dripping onto the floor and the broken shaking of a worn out body.

And he hoped his haunting gaze followed the Doctor home.

That is what kept him awake, in this cramped cage (he realized it was big enough for pet. He found fur, once. He felt sick.), listening to the fading mumbles of 1-S and 2-P, sleeping overtaking them in ways never to graced upon the lone child. Their murmurs died into the song of standby machines. Did anything ever truly rest where guilt goes to play? Did anyone ever leave this place? Did they feel the heavy, damp air of secrecy soak through and hang on the ceiling? Did they feel and not care about three little bones, along, scared? 

Did these thoughts matter?

Maybe. Maybe not. He found these rhetorics useless now, here where the only light dragged in filth and sickness and the soul broke apart.

...

there was a breath of a new sound. Little Bones froze, listening to the swish, swish, swish of fabric and a set of two footfalls. Two. The Doctor came down here alone so...

Two figures entered, oh-so-quiet. A flush of bright light, a shutter of cloaks.

He tenses as they furthered their advance into the room. The bright one (which he recalled, now, Sans calling Grillby. Would he be nice?) paused at Mr. Pah, still lovingly seated in front of the papers. A hand brushed over the worn, faux fur.  The other had already moved on, eyeing equipment and the like.

Grillby looked up and met Little Bones' gaze. The flame was still, Little Bones did not breathe.

And then he was rushing to the cage. Little Bones tried to scramble back, crying out in fear. He trembled as cold bolts of electricity pulsed within his magic, not able to comprehend the dimming of fire and the quiet scrambling coming from the cell.

"River," croaked the flame, voice said and heavy, "look at them. Oh, gods above, they're so little..."

River bobbed their head, but was preoccupied with 1-S and 2-P. Little Bones' attention went from the brother monster to the cell, observing the other cloaked figure stopped at the scanner.

"Don't hurt them," he mumbled, the coarseness of his tone startling and the dialect of common foreign to his speech. The fire crackled mournfully.

"Oh, child," he whispered, melting the lock, "we're not going to hurt any of you."

Grillby pulled back, allowing the child to get out. Though Little Bones had been permitted to move some, he found himself swaying with the disuse of his legs, feeling as though they were molded from jelly.

He heard the beams turn off and turned to see River gripping a broken scanner. 1-S clung to his brother tightly, glaring at the cloaked figure.

Little Bones pushed away from Grillby, stumbling, before righting himself again.

"It's okay. They're nice," Little Bones managed out, saddened by how easy it was to slip into the cipher.

2-P nodded slowly, naturally taking the first step from the opened confines, followed by 1-S. River hovered over them, though it was unclear if they were studying the skeletons.

"We need to go," Grillby muttered. His companion simply moved away, whisking to some other room in the hidden labs.

The flame hesitated, watching the three boys with a palpable concern. It was so obvious that it seemed to change the color of his fire.

"We can walk," little Bones piped up. Less than satisfied, Grillby turned his head. The boy wondered what was going through his mind right now.

Ruver reappeared, holding a blanket. They bend down and draped it over the brothers' shoulders. Then, they gestured for everyone to follow. The children pushed together, and Grillby took the rear.

It was silent on the way out. The atmosphere was the same with disgusting shadows and secrets in the clean air, forcing its way down breathe and flame, eyes and mouths, for nor reason other than to poison a man, or a child. 

1-S and 2-P must have been curious. He had spotted them glancing around, almost feverishly, and 2-P even opened his mouth to ask but the air must have choked him. Other than that, they didn't falter in the walk across the tiles.

Soon, they were out in the open, brushed with smoldering heat.

"Where are we talking them?" inquired the bartender, his voice pitched higher to be heard of the popping boils of lava.

"The ruins. I want them as far from here as possible," replied River.

"How?" Grillby asked. "The ruin's have been sealed for years now!"

"I know a way. Now, quickly, to my boat."

Again, conversation ceased and, with a new, possibly useless, urgency, the grip rushed to wherever the boat lie. 

It was during this vifilant walk that the strangeness of this event faded and Little Bones realized how tired he was, as though his bones each weighed more than his fathers caretakers combined and his soul doubled that, pulsing weakly with no more energy to give, the well having dried up through sleepless nights.

But a slightly more pressing matter settled upon his shoulders: Mr. Pah. Had they left him behind? Had he forgotten his friend? His family? Had he forsaken the ally who had presented that warm, honey-eyed glow from his sockets and offered and whenever PWS-4-020 Little Bones had almost met dust with dust?

...

What did he mean by that? mr. Pah was a bear. A cute plush bear.

He went to say his issue, but there wasn't enough magic to produce speech anymore. At this point, he was barely walking.

When they finally reached the boat, Little Bones collapsed into it, curling up inside the wood frame and closing his eyes. 1-S let out a startled sound and 2-P rushed to the third child's side, yanking the blanket so the shorter brother followed. The two adults got in calmly, but Grillby's hands were shaking. River's transport took off.

"do CHECK them, Grillby." 

The bartender shifted, running his hands through his fire before CHECKing them over, both via soul and physically.

???

* 1/1 HP

*Wants the doctor to suffer.

__

???

*58/61

*Scared. So, so scared...

__

???

* 1̶͙̳͌/̸̦͎͊̆1̶̡̈̊ ̸͉̀H̶̗͙̽͐P̴̳̝̏͒

*Just wants to go home.

Grillby seemed to wither, "it doesn't look to bad but..."

"You're worried about them," finished his mysterious comrade. He made a miserable, confirming sound.

"Don't worry too much. They will be fine."

But that would be hard, right? Two of them had stats so bad, he was surprised they had survived, one of which was running incredibly low on magic. The other was injured, scared... And these kids had been living in a lab, for fuck's sake!

...

Why had Gaster done it?

Grillby glanced to the kids, and one had his gaze with a fire in black eyelights. A thirst, a hatred, all for his old friend.

What did Gaster do?

He almost didn't want to know.

Chapter Text

The great door loomed overhead, a massive, immovable object in which heaven existed for three little boys just beyond its impressive surface.

"The door hasn't been open for a long time," Grillby cautioned once more.

Once again, River bade Grillby no mind, watching the door intensely.

"We could rest in my house," suggested Grillby.

No response.

He was about to speak again when the door groaned and pushed forward, gliding over and through the snow. A tall figure slid through, cloaked just as they were, and visibly shocked by their presence.

"I do hope you don't mind a reunion," River murmured, voice warm despite the cold they passed through and fogged, "there's some folks I'd like you to meet."

The monster jolted as they looked to the boys, large paws coming together in a sad nervousness.

"Come in, then." Soft, broken, but the same voice he'd known for so long. He could never for its honeyed strength, the fuel to a soldier's fire.

She slipped past the door, River seemingly floating after her, leaving him to herd the children in. The boy with gray bones nearly fell, the other two crying out frantically. Grillby hushed them evenly with a gentle hand, swooping up the child into his arms, even as the boy whimpered and twitched in struggle.

The other two watched, tense, but pushing forward, nonetheless. Grillby eyed them as they closed.

"I want an explanation. Walk and talk, River," Toriel chirped, her hood falling as her fingers hooked on the edges. She sounded stern, but her eyes were filled with concern.

As she finished speaking, her feet took her away.

"poor Wingdings has gotten himself in a bad spot, I'm afraid," River moaned, their being saturated with this melancholy sound.

"That's not an explanation," Toriel tutted, sharp as a knife and equally dangerous.

"Coupled with hospital gowns and hurt children, it is," replied River, as though easily sidestepping an attack.

They lapsed into silence. Up some stairs and into a parlor. Grillby realized how logical Toriel being in the ruins was. How could he not have figured it out?

 "Let me take the children. It is late and they must be drained," Toriel's eyes fell onto the boy in Grillby's arms when she spoke. As though sensing her burning stare, the child squirmed and whined.

"no, let us accompany you," River replied curtly. Sensing a losing battle, Toriel sighed and walked them to a little room, the area only lit by the hallway light, which swarmed against the shadows, twirling meekly against dusty furniture and clinging drawings on the wall. The toy box at the end of the bed was open, toys of all kinds spilling in a tidal wave of long-gone memories and recently tasted regret and sorrow.

The angry boy grunted out something, which prompted the one his arms to respond. The sound was strange to Grillby, a warbled, hushed voice of many, just out of reach from Common.

The tall one said something, then they all fell into silence.

"There's one bed," said the boy in Grillby's arms. He wondered if they had names.

Toriel tilted her head, seemingly shocked the kid speak Common, "Yes, is that a problem?"
The child's gaze flicked to his empty, shaking hands. There was a long, cumbersome silence that swirled with something wistful, as though the kid had been met with a death of someone he loved.

"No, I suppose not," he choked. The vocalization shook like rattling prison bars, gripped by cracked hands and broken fair. He squirmed free of the bartender's grasp, falling in a pile on the floor before running into the room (though, it was more of a crawl in the beginning) and curled into the corner furthest from the bed. 

River whispered, "we should leave him be soon... He will be okay."

It was not reassuring.

Getting the other two in bed proved to be difficult, but, once they were tucked in, they were out like a light. River stopped by the first boy, but Grillby couldn't tell what they did or said. He did, however, hear the kid give a soft, sniffling, wheezing sob.

Like the room was plagued, the adults disappeared, stealing away to the living room. Toriel did not invite them to sit, so they all stood.

Toriel opened her mouth, but River held up their hand, "neither Grillby nor I know much of these children and I cannot tell what I do know. But..."

They slid a hand into their cloak and produced a notebook, falling apart at the spiral, the pages yellowed and damaged. Their gloved fingers ran over the cover, just as warped and barely holding onto its pages. Grillby could see a name written in faded marker, but could not make out the letters.

But he didn't need to.

"Where'd you get that?' Grillby asked, almost feeling he knew the answer.

"The lab. I knew where to look," replied River smoothly.

"Are those notes?" Toriel inquired.

"His old ones. he probably moved to computers. I... I hope the start of this experiment is in it."

Grillby hoped so, too.

"Bonesy?" 1-S called from the bed, curled up against 2-P neatly. Little Bones could tell it was perfect and he easily saved off his tired, disease-riddled jealousy. He had that- no brothers but that hadn't mattered. He had a family, and he could let 1-S and 2-P find peace in their only bond.

He would be fine.

"yeah?" he croaked, resting his head on the wall. His back ached from being shoved into the corner, but he didn't move.

He could feel the hesitation swirl in the other.

2-P piped up, "are you okay? Did they upset you?"

Little Bones paused, "no. No, I upset myself. I'm okay now. Are you guys okay?"

"..."

"I don't know," they chorused. 

Little Bones closed his eyes. How could they know?

"Goodnight," he said, just a husk of works and sincerity, just another shell of nothingness and bland, shuttering meanings.

If they responded, it was lost on him.

He wanted to go home.

"The window was open," Strawberry mumbled, "it was windy n' I remembered think' the boys needed scarves n' jackets if they wanted ta play outside. I was... real tired..."

He could hear the pencil writing feverishly against the notepad. It sounded like a ticking time bomb and he wasn't sure why."

"So's I start makin' coffee an' juice an' all tha' good stuff. Durin' it all, I was gettin' thirsty an' I realized tha' some water would help me wake up. I go ta the sink, pour my glass but I heard folks wakin' up so I forgot it an' brought 'em their food. I grabbed the glass before I sat down an' downed it before eatin'."

"Doctor Hoppington said you tasted fruit, correct?" the officer prodded.

"Mhm. Like, um, someone put one o' them fancy flavorin's in it, but not quiet 'nough so it was kinda gross," Strawberry stopped to cough. The officer looked ready to call the doctor but, after a moment, Strawberry's ailment subsided.

"How many people live in your household?"

"Five, but only temporary."

"Would any of them have a motive to-"

Strawberry's expression hardened, "hell nah. They ain't scum, yknow."

"I wasn't implying that," they seemed didn't seem bothered, "would anyone want to hurt them?"

"I... I don't think so..."

The officer went for another question, but some nurses and Doctor Hoppington came in.

"Sorry to put a halt to this, but we have to run some more tests."

Everything blurred together and, in this fuzzy world, Strawberry marveled at the colors and timeless places.

"Any leads?"

Oh, that question. How Sci hated that damned question and other any other wretched variation that dared to twist around his mind as if it were a stage to stomp around and break.

All because his answer was he didn't have any fucking leads.

Sci's silence told Ink everything heeded to know. Ink's expression mirrored the silence.

"we'll find find him," Sci insisted, hollowed treasure chest with no treasure inside his false promise words' twin.

"Before Blue dusts himself?" Ink quipped, "Before Stretch goes insane and Candy spends all his days crying and Rus goes back to lonesome walks on the wrong side-"

Sci gripped Ink's shoulders suddenly, "we'll find him."

Sci realized that the heaviness was determination born of necessity and it was a gift, not only to to the Creator, but also himself.

They had to find Little Bones

"You look better," Stretch observed, maybe just to remind Blue he had wasted time.

"Toriel says she misses you. You should go visit," his brother continued. But Blue didn't want to see his friend right now. 

"How can you suggest that?"

"by suggesting it," Stretch jeered," listen, I know you're worried but you'll drive yourself to dust at this rate."

His brother shrugged meekly. Blue wondered if this nonchalance was a charade of false disinterest or another show of his brother's melancholy nothingness, a beast of tired ddepression.

That's why Blue couldn't be depressed. He wasn't like that.

The heaviness of the void emotions settled in his just, just like most days. That wasn't him .

He wasn't depressed.

"I will not. You know I have yet to even scratch at my limits!"

"Your base HP is down again." Finally, emotion, though just a twinge of sickening concern.

Blue twitched, "You said you'd stop checking."

Stretch rubbed his arm, reverting his gaze, "you're scaring me..."

And Blue remembered those horrible days and how much he pushed himself, how his HP had only recently recovered from the strain and how he almost fell down. He remembered his big brother, usually smiling and laughing, sobbing out pleas as shuttering healing magi leaped over his form but you can't just heal those kinds of wounds.

"This isn't the same."

"It feels like it."

Blue quieted at that.

"Look," Stretch inhaled shakily, "if you won't do it for me, do it for Little Bones. He'd be so hurt if you dusted or wound up bed bound. Don't do that to him."

The smaller skeleton bowed his head, "just don't take it as Little Bones meaning more to me than you."

He felt arms snake around him and he was held to his brother's chest, as though Stretch was trying to keep together broken pieces.

"I won't. I'm worried about him, too," he muttered as Blue slumped against him, "we'll talk about it later, okay?"

"mmm..."

Blue fell asleep again, this time peaceful, a small gift in these hard times.

Gaster tried to ignore Rus' unenthusiastic playing. The boy refused to even look at the video games him and his friend enjoyed, and only managed to hold a few action figures and lazily toss them around.

Hearing another choked sniff, Gaster twisted in the dining room chair, gazing at Rus slumped on the living room carpet. His hands had gone lax, a pony and army men falling from his palms. The plush bunny Little Bones had gotten sat neatly, its fluff and mass easily surpassing the smaller toys.

"Rus," Gaster began slowly, "would you like to talk about it?"

He was met with nothing. Then, so softly, it was almost a ghost's voice, Rus spoke.

"this is all my fault, isn't it?"

"Why would it be?"

"I didn't tell you he was jumpy or that he needed space. I didn't comfort him or anything. I could have-"

Gaster patted his lap, which caught the boy off guard. After a moment, Rus got up and crawled into the scientist's lap. Then, Gaster shifted so he could go back to building (or, really, rebuilding) the phone.

"Rus, you're incredibly nature and intelligent, which is why I have no shame in reminding you that you're just a boy. You forgot that, there, but it's no less true. In a situation where us adults had little control, you had none. You couldn't have been prepared for it."

"But I knew-"

"You maybe knew that the boy was abused. You may have known he couldn't handle the way I 'comfort' others. Buy you couldn't have known that this would happen."

Gaster's hands trembled. What a hypocrite he was.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Little Bones unfurled from his ball, his bones popping. He pushed from the ground, looking everywhere slowly, taking in the room before his gaze settled on his hands, gripping his plushie River had returned to him the night before. "Keep him safe," they had said, "keep him close."

Little Bones gripped Mr. Pah close, choosing to ignore that torn seam for now. In his foggy memory, he recalled River stooping to his level and uttering those words, somehow so important it stuck with him and made him forget the 'injury' his friend had endured through his horrid misadventure.

Right now, though, he couldn't seem to bring meaning to it, so he supposed it didn't matter.

He moved quickly and quietly, shuffling along until he'd escaped the room without waking the brothers.

The hallway, as he expected, was foreign to him, bathed in yellows and browns rather than the crisp baby blue of Sci's hallways or the dark brown railing from Sans and Blue's house.

Distantly, he heard fire crackling.

His grasp on Mr. Pah tightned as he inched forward, each step a snail's pace of years' caution.

Soon, he was met with a small, homely living room. The fireplace was lit, popping and snapping, and Little Bones found himself somewhat disappointed that Grillby wasn't there.

But Toriel was. She was rocking back and forth in her great chair, her large paws engulfing a little notebook that barely held itself together. Her lap was covered by a book, open, its spine holding a notepad and pens.

His foot touched a floorboard with poor temperament, causing it to groan angrily. Her eyes snapped up.

"Oh, one of you is awake," she whispered with a smile warmer than the room, "I thought you all would sleep longer."

"I wasn't that tired," Little Bones replied, shrugging.

She stared. Little Bones shifted.

She peeled herself from her chair, careful of her things, and loomed over him, her expression gentle. Little Bones wondered if that's the only expression she had.

"Can you help me?" Toriel asked.

"um," Little Bones looked down, "maybe?"

"I need to understand what has happened to you and the other two. And I need to translate this notebook? Are you able to assist?"

He knew that last part translated to 'could he read' and 'can you read this in particular'. Little Bones nodded slowly. "I think I can do one of those things."

"Excellent," she paused, "I am Toriel, by the way."

"I'm Little Bones and, uh, my friends are 1-S and P-2. Oh! And this is Mr. Pah!" He held up the plush, gingerly, with an awkward grin.

He watched her freeze, her mouth working before he just... gave up. It was the ID names, he knew. She moved back to her chair, moving things back into place. She patted her knee, prompting him to climb up but, instead, he settled on the floor.

And, so, work began, an onslaught of imperfect silence consuming them whole and spitting them out with stiff bodies and tired souls.

Toriel wasn't sure what to make of... whatever this entire thing was. Two old friends, two soldiers, met her outside her door, with no true way of knowing she had lived just past it and would step out for groceries, holding three strange skeleton children plagued with fear and exhaustion, citing another soldier old friend as the cause to their sickness.

And one of them, Little Bones, said that Gaster was a cruel and disgusting man. How could that be? Her Gaster? Sure, he was aloof and sometimes rude, but would he really hurt children? For what? Why? What could he have to gain?

As much as she didn't want to, she had to face the facts. She had to care for them now. According to Little Bones, 1-S and 2-P (god, those weren't names!) didn't know Common. And he did because he wasn't part of the initial experiment. He wasn't supposed to be here.  

And she didn't quite know what that meant, but now wasn't the time to ponder.

"Have you figured it out?" She inquired, having given up and went to make breakfast.

"They're notes," Little Bones stated, " but I know you know that. I think its about 1-S and 2-P."

So, River was right.

"Do you understand it?"

"No. But the Doctor crossed out some stuff and I get some of those."

She tilted her head, stepping closer. The child pointed (how could a skeleton have red and yellow fingers??) to a phrase.

"They're fonts. Skeletons have font names when they're not talking to their doubles, yknow."

The... Fun fact was ignored for now. She couldn't even guess what that meant.

"What fonts?"

"Sans and Papyrus, of course," he shrugged, as though it were obvious, "its only natural that's their names. Or what could have been their names."

"I quite like that more than 1-S and P-2."

"Yeah," Little Bones murmured, "identification numbers are evil."

Toriel choked.

1-S and 2-P. Identification numbers. Of course.

"Yes, yes, well," Toriel turned, "it's time for a break. How would you like something to drink?"

Shoving himself up, the child balanced, still holding the bear. He'd yet to let go, as though it were a lifeline. She hadn't seen it last night but, really, that meant nothing with all the strange happenings.

as she led him into the kitchen, her phone buzzed. River.

She read it over, glancing to the boy, who was carefully pouring a glass of milk out, his tongue poking out as his gaze zeroed in on the motion. They found his parents?

Good. At least there was some light.

Somehow, though, she couldn't see it.

He stood before the lab, his fingers curled into fists, tight, as though glued to his palms, brushing against the ridges of the holes.

Really, he shouldn't be so surprised. Asgore used to say River would break one day due to their inactivity. Perhaps they did. Perhaps it was because children child-like subjects were involved. Who knows?

Either way, Gaster was left in his empty lab, his gaze flickering indecisively from the pet carrier's melted lock and the broken scanner, more mock anger clutching together around his soul with each movement from his eyelights.

With a shuddering scream, his hands made earthquakes and tornadoes and rubble from tattooed paper houses and lead-cored trees, swirling and flying, hitting against anything and everything like attacks on the barrier; useless and meaningless and hope sapping. As his natural disasters brewed and laid waste to his faux town, a thunder storm raged in his head, the raindrops escaping out his eyelights and down his cheeks while the wind puffed violently from his mouth. Or maybe not. Who knows?

The rainstorm, he found, created the most causalities of dreams. The count went too high, and the rain washed away the evidence.

Or, possibly, solidified it. Who knows, who knows?

When papers and whatever else had met their fate on tiles, Gaster slammed his fists onto his desk, the force sending shock waves to his skull.

River had done this. River had ruined his work. Everything he worked so fucking hard on. Everything he worked so fucking hard on. Everything he did for his dear friends! Gone!

And River ruthlessly destroyed it. Did they even care?

Who knows? Well, it always did feel like they cared for nothing and no one.

His fists connected to metal again, another twisted, admittedly wet cry escaping him. Gaster wanted to kill River!

He slid to the ground, his  heard tipping until it hit the side of his desk, his sockets closing and a new tiredness settling on him like an endless comforter that he couldn't escape from under, the heat too much but lingering nonetheless.

He couldn't hurt River. When it came down it it, River had been a great ally during those awful war-festered days. They only wanted the bust for everyone.

But, despite this, Gaster couldn't help feel betrayed. If he said something, though, would that be true? This feeling?

...who knows...

Gaster heaved himself up. No doubt Asgore would be informed soon. He realized that the idea of punishment for the God awful crimes he's committed did not bother him.

But Asgore's reaction did. That reaction would hold his very future and he could only wonder if there was light somewhere to follow.

Who knows?

Gaster certainly didn't.

Candy was alone in the house when he woke up. The night before had been spent weeping, pleading to whatever deity that may have excited that everything would be okay. His begging broke his voice and scrapped up his throat but he hadn't stopped uttering for Little Bones' safe return and Strawberry's recovery and his friends to go back to getting happier and for all of this to be a bad dream or an unusual hiccup because one of them deserved this set back so please-!

...

Candy played pretend a lot. He pretended that ketchup was fine wine and that the creaky floorboard near the front of Sci's house only groaned out the news and not a nonsensical sound on something's inanimate object. He pretended he didn't hate himself or that he wasn't a disgusting, sex-craved beast.

He pretended he was okay. Sometimes it felt like he was; the adorable, awkward snorts from Strawberry careening to the low, barely suppressed laughs from Sci as Rus chuckled, almost as though confused and how it all seemed higher with that sweet grin of Little Bones'. It brought him joy.

But he didn't belong here.

So he pretended he did. To do so, he acted out a character for Rus and Gaster. he portrayed a worried companion, but one confident of a good ending. He portrayed someone helpful.

Not someone who lost his voice crying in a room he didn't own to something he didn't believe in.

For now, the fictional character didn't paint his face as he trudged from Sci's room. He was alone and he didn't need to panic because Rus wrote a note saying the two had gone out for the day and Gaster's phone number was scrawled down hastily at the bottom.

Candy attempted an endeared chuckle, but it came out choked. He folded the note up and stuck it in his pocket. His feet carried him into the kitchen, where a plate of burnt toast greeted him.

He made tea. The toast remained untouched.

Candy wondered if he should get dressed. Usually, he put forth the effort, but he was so tired.

What would be the point?

He spent a good thirty minutes absentmindedly sipping the tea, his thoughts beyond muddled but still lingering for no good reason. He ignored the pained slide the drink made down his throat and the way it soothed it immediately after and the smell of burnt food and the knocking-

Wait, knocking?

Hazily, he stumbled to the door and opened it. He blinked several times.

"you look like someone kicked ya outta heaven, Angel," Star mumbled, his gaze soft. Candy felt a twinge of safety rest upon him.

He smiled meekly, "God couldn't handle me, Starshine."

His voice was rough and he winced as he spole, but he felt lighter.

Concern flickered across Star's features but it died quickly as he was permitted in.

"God missing out then. You're a sweet treat," replied the other skeleton.

"Oh, flirting will get you no where," Candy countered, "anyway, what brings you?"

"I'm visitin'."

"Isn't it usually the other way around?"

Star shrugged, "changing it up isn't so bad, is it?"

"I suppose not," Candy agreed. He moved back into his chair before freezing up, an embarrassed sound emitting from him. 

"Tea?" he croaked, flushed. How rude of him!

"No, thank you, Angel," Star smiled as he sat down, "by the way, you really do look divine when you blush. You're stunning, yknow that, right?"

Candy ducked his head, his hands over his face instantly.

It always baffled him that Star thought so highly of him, despite his gross nature, among his god awful personality. Even more so when his PJs weren't exactly flattering! But that was Star, surprising him no matter what, no matter how much he learned about him. 

"Must you?" Candy groaned.

"Oh, I must," Star replied, shrugging again, a small smile on his face.

The two quieted in a gentle companionship as Candy sipped his tea.

"Candy?" Star finally spoke up and any humor slipped away. Candy shuddered.

Instead of vocalizing, he nodded for the other to continue.

There was a shuddering pause, then, "Candy, are you okay?"

Candy startled, his mouth parting but no words coming out. Star started panicking.

"I mean, everyone's talking about Ink and Little Bones and Strawberry! They talk about everyone else and I've been so worried. You're one of my closest friends and-"

He stopped, gripping his hands together.

Candy played with his mug, "Star, its okay."

"I just-"

"I know, Star. My god, you're too kind to me. I'm sorry I've left you out of the loop."

"You're not required to keep me in the loop."

"Yes, but its better I do."

Candy placed a hand over Star's a meaningful expression on his face. He watched Star's gaze flick between their phalanges and his face.

"Thank you, Star. Is it okay if I talk about everything? I've been," Candy choked, "struggling a lot."

"Sugarskull, I could be on fire and still want to listen to you."

So Candy spilled, in the way only Star could prompt, the other skeleton contented to listen in a way Candy could only hope for and, despite everything, there was a weightlessness to it. The form of peace so gentle, so caring, caressing over Candy's skull and down his spine, over each humerus, ulna, and radius, washing over ribs and over femurs, tibia, and fibula, poling at his tarsals and carpels and every joint of his phalanges. This sweet love fulled the emptiness left by all of his worries slipping away. That's how Star always made him feel; safe, loved and not alone. Star constantly bore Candy's burdens on his shoulders when Candy fell from its weight. And all he ever asked for was companionship, to have some to laugh with, to cry with, and to hold every once in a while.

Candy hoped he lived up to that. He truly hoped his presence brought the other as much joy as Star's brought him.

Once everything as said and done, Candy more more tea, this time some for Star, as well.

"So, Grillbz is asking when you'll move in," Star mentioned, taking the mug with a gentle smile.

With everything happening, Candy completely forgot that he was to move in with Star's Grillby now.

"once everything's sorted out," Candy shrugged as he settled again, "I want to help out as much as I can."

Star leaned back, "You've been doing great. Honestly, I would've fallen apart."

"I have."

"Nonsense. You're stitching yourself as ya go, Angel. You haven't torn yet."

Candy raised a bone brow before sipping his tea, "You could be a motivational speaker."

"Nah, I can't even motivate myself."

Having no words to add to that somewhat disheartening joke to make it better, Star turned away.

"Star?"

"yeah?"

"Can you remind me," Candy inhaled softly, "can you remind me why I said no?"

Star drew back some, his fingers tapping against the wood nervously. His mouth worked, open and close, his teeth clinking together.

"You said you weren't ready."

Candy nodded, closing his sockets.

_.⁘•~★~•⁘._

The sky flush against the earth, the universe endless and twinkling and unknown. The light breaking up the black stutter and his friend of three years, named after those dazzling lights, fell into the grass as Candy dragged him down, the laughter fulling his skull pleasantly. 

They wrestled around, Candy enjoying the careless rough play, as though Star wasn't scared or disgusted by the potential outcome. As though Star saw a normal monster.

That's what Star always saw. He never judged. His only friend never judged! What a treat!

They fell back from one another with low huffs, smiles so wide they'd break their skulls touching their features.

"God, I love you," Star laughed out. 

_.⁘•~★~•⁘._

"was I not ready for a relationship, a commitment? Was I scared?" Candy pondered out loud. He felt star's gaze on him.

"I can't understand something I was never told," Star supplied.

"I know," Candy murmured, "I know."

_.⁘•~★~•⁘._

Candy felt a burst of strange emotions against his chest, cutting off his giggling with a choking sensation.

"What?"

"I mean it, Candy," Star said, rolling onto his side to look at him, "I love you. Romantically. I want to date you."

Was he numb? Or out of touch? Why couldn't he speak?

"..."

"oh, no," wheezed Star, "I just fucked up, didn't I?"
"No, no," Candy breathed, "I just..."

Candy put his hands on his face. God, he wanted to love Star, too! Wholesomely and perfect, but he'd fuck it all up! He would taint it! He'd ruin Star!

"I don't think I'm ready."

He shuddered. Star shifted.

"It's okay. When... if   you'll ever be ready and you like me like that, I will be here. I don't want to force anything on you."

"We can stay friends?"

Star's voice never wavered, "of course. I can love a friend."

_.⁘•~★~•⁘._

"What I said was true, Candy," Star tilted his head, "if you're not ready, you're not ready."

"I suppose. I just don't know," replied Candy, sighing.

"And that's okay, too."

"You're too good for me."

"And, yet, you deserve so much more."

To this, Candy finished his drink, the warmth nothing compared to the head at his cheeks.

He stared at his friend, and he felt true peace.

How lucky he was to have the other. How truly lucky.

Chapter Text

Over the next few days, Little Bones assisted Toriel in teaching 1-S and 2-P Common and their new names, Sans and Papyrus. Little Bones found the experience interesting, mostly because he'd never taught anyone anything.

Today, Toriel had gone out further into the Ruins, allowing the boys a day of quiet exploration. Little Bones knew it had something to do with them usually holing up in that bedroom, despite Little Bones clear despising the floor.

(Though, he made a nest, and that's been wonderful, curling in a mass of spare blankets and fluffy pillows and drifting off in a cloud of his own control that no one could touch. It was the peace he'd been missing for a long time now.)

However, the boys were still in the room. Sans had picked up reading remarkably fast and was lying on his stomach on the bed, a book before him and his phalanges circling lazily at the corner, ready to turn the page. Papyrus had a puzzle on the floor next to the bed, his own sharp mind whirling and working as he fitted pieces together.

And Little Bones was staring at the ceiling, lost in thoughts he didn't want.

...

"Hey, Boneman," Sans spoke up, even his quiet voice ringing in the silence. Little Bones looked over. Sans was still staring at the text, but he could tell the other wasn't absorbing it. 

He reflected over the nickname, briefly, marveling at its strangeness (Boneman? Really? They're both skeletons??). But... well, it's better than Error. That one reminded him of loneliness and anger and so much fear but he didn't know why but it still filled him to the brim with such a startling wrongness.

"Hm?" he responded lowly.

"Uh, so... We don't know a lot about you, yknow?"

Papyrus poked his head up, "That is true!"

"We've only known each other for a short while," Little Bones pointed out, raising a brow.

"Sure, but you still know a lot about us," Sans said, "so, um, can we ask you questions?"

Both brothers were facing him now, their gazes boring down upon him. Their combined curiosity slamming into him.

He took a deep breath and nodded, meek but answer enough.

Sans gestured to his brother, who began his puzzle again as he spoke.

"I get the impression that you're not... not really from here?? I don't understand it so... Could you explain? Is it true?"

Well, he could at least handle that one. As for the answer...

"Well... uh," Little Bones paused, "there's these... universes. I think that's what he calls 'em. They're... I don't know but it means I'm from another place a lot lie here but... different."

"Different?" Papyrus inquired.

"Well, like... I don't know. I don't understand it very well. But I do know that these universes as variants of everyone. Like Ms. Toriel. I know her in another universe where she lives in the castle and she's really sad."

Little Bones tapped his finger against his next, "I think I was supposed to be a Sans."

"Then... where's your Papyrus?" Sans' face contorted, trying to process everything. Little Bones knew, if someone explained it better, he'd get it easily. He was just that smart.

For him, he was met with painful static and a vague sense of death when he thought about the universes.

Little Bones turned his head, his gaze flicking to Mr. Pah, resting neatly in his lap.

"He's gone..."

He could feel those burning looks on them again. But he didn't move. He felt their question and...

...and it broke him.

"There were so many of us," he whispered, his words breathing out a flood of a deep, soul-residing pain, "we had cages and benches. The doctors knew about us, in there, but didn't do anything to help us. Pah... Papyrus wasn't like us. He was allowed outside and he wore different clothes. He wanted to run away. I was the last one, I mean. He was caught and..."

"I told you to stay out  of this room "

The room seemed to spin, faster, faster, faster, darker, alive, choking. PWS-4-020 could see his friendbrOTherfri-???  Him through the bars, being lifted up by the Doctor, the grip on his neck. He was staring straight into the creature-turned-scientist's eyes, glaring, fire flaring and dipping. He was angry and PWS-4-020 wondered if it was his own fault. 

"huh?! What do you have to say?!" screeched the beast and He crumpled like hospital gowns and dust. He just seethed.

The beast trembled, its mouth twitching into crazed smiles. He did not speak. It lashed out. PWS-4-020 screamed and watched oh god no no nononononNONONONONONO-

His hold on Mr. Pah tightened.

"I never say him again."

The heaviness gripped them all. It felt like no one could breathe. Like they were drowning.

And, really, they were, weren't they?

"I'm sorry," Papyrus murmured. Sans had turned away at some point.

"It's okay. I, um, I don't think about it a lot anymore."

"Can you tell us... some happy stories? About you, I mean," Sans requested.

Little Bones nodded, relief touching his soul. Soon, he began telling vibrant stories about his home.

About his family.

And, my, did he paint a lovely picture.

The next day, Toriel took the boys to see the Ruins. She'd been delighted to see Papyrus' enthusiasm for the puzzles and Sans' curiosity for everything (even as it ended with Sans stuck in a tree.)

Little Bones liked watching them. It was a small, cute family. He was happy for them.

But he didn't belong to this family. He didn't belong here. His soul ached.

He wanted to go home.

 Three days later, early in the morning, Ink appeared in a heap of bones in the living room.

Little Bones just came from the room, his tired mind barely trudging along. Toriel was in the kitchen.

The commotion drew both of them.

Toriel had come in, flames blazing in her palms, her glare sharp and defense high.

All while Little Bones gaped.

Ink shifted and heaved, each movement seemingly more fuel for Toriel as he finally took in everything. Ink let out a shrill cry, jolting to Little Bones.

"Oh my god, Little Bones!" Ink yelled, stopping short of touch the boy.

Little Bones shook, "Ink! You found me...!"

His hands moved to grab the Creator's, the best he could do right now. Tears spilled down his cheeks.

"Ahem."

The two froze and turned. Ink stood slowly, never once letting go of Little Bones' hand.

"Sorry, I... I got excited. Ah, um, I'm Ink, one of Little Bones' guardians."

She eyed him, frowning. However, whatever displeasure she harbored dissolved as Little Bones never once pulled away from him.

"I see..." She rubbed her neck, "I suppose we should talk..."

"Yes. Little Bones, go p-"

"pack my things, yeah. Don't talk too long! I wanna see everyone..."

Once the child pelted off, and the two guardians watched, fondly, a heart beat of admiration, for a pinprick moment for love to flutter, free of chains of responsibilities and mask-born formalities, Toriel was leading Ink into the kitchen in a tart silence.

She went back to cocking and Ink only hovered, just barely out of the "annoying" range.

"Can I start by asking how you got in here?"

The question felt icy, especially as fire magic blazed to life. Eggs and bacon. Classic.

Ink scratched the back of his head, "I do owe you an explanation for a lot of things, so that is a good starting place."

The Creator leaned against the frame, marveling at the openness of the kitchen before folding his arms over his chest.

"I know skeletons can't usually teleport but, uh, that's how I got here."

"From where? It took River bizarrely long to get a hold of you. Were you even looking for Little Bones?"

"Of course I was," snapped Ink, "that's my next thing. See, Little Bones and I aren't from here. And I'm not talking about the ruins. We're from another universe entirely. Usually, the rule is that a universe needs to have made it to the surface and fixed a certain machine before we're 'allowed' to visit or let them know. It's cleaner that way and doesn't risk too much damage to the universe itself. But this is a special case."

Toriel narrowed her eggs at him as she cracked an egg over a bowl, "sounds fake."

"Yea, I know. But it doesn't matter. Believe what you want, Toriel."

The drop of her name made her falter, but neither decided to mention it.

"So," Ink twitched, "what happened?"

"From what I have gathered, Gaster had him, Sans, and Pap-"

"Oh, God," Ink breathed, "Oh, God, no, no..."

His arms fell, fists shaking by his side, trembling in anger or fear or a sadness he'd never known before he had first seen Little Bones' tiny smile and bright sockets and, God, his poor baby boy-~

He choked on these feelings, weak, so very weak...

"He's okay now. He's safe," Toriel assured, her words miles away, in the outskirts of a storm brewing. He could only nod.

His sweet baby boy... His poor baby...

He'll never let this happen again.

 Ink ate with them. He talked to the brothers, answered their questions and figured he should get Sans and Papyrus more AU-friendly phones instead of Toriel's original plan. She relented, only when she realized that they'd want to see Little Bones again.

When they were done, Ink and Little Bones disappeared. The goodbyes had been brief, as there was a promise of hello's soon.

As soon as Sci's living room came into view, Little Bones felt so much lighter. He looked around; Blue and Stretch, Sci, Rus, Sans, Papyrus... everyone!

Except Strawberry.

"wh-," Little bones was cut off as Blue surged forward. He didn't hug him, but it was clear he wanted to.

"I missed you so much," Blue's voice cracked, "we call did."

Little Bones smiled, wet, crying once more, "O missed all of you, too."

He was finally home.

Chapter Text

There was something about being in front of older Sans' house. Likely, it had something to do with being able to separate torturous memories from his person, being so far from broken-dream laboratories and scientists too lost to make out fog-breathe creatures that crumbled at the slightest hazy-gazed touch.

So, yes, Little Bones was happy to be here.

The plan, as he was told, was he'd spend about a week with each of his guardians, so everyone got a chance to spend time with him, though Ink would be the last to do so. No one would answer him about Strawberry and, as fearful as he was, he forced himself to ignore it.

For now.

"kiddo," Sans began, careful, as though his words were feet dancing across glass and one word that was a little too heavy would shatter it into ruins too hard to fix so it'd be left in its spider-webbed, death-kissed beauty. The caution made Little Bones feel like he was the glass, so frail, so breakable. Crafted too thin and too unstable.

Was he glass? Were they all dancing? Would he break into shards and hurt them? 

Would they leave him?

He didn't know.

He was scared that he didn't know.

"we wanted to, uh, give you something," Sans finished, easy and soft. He jolted as Little Bones took his hand. Sans glanced to Papyrus, who just nodded, his own demeanor more gentle, fluid, none of those loud colors and louder voices and the brilliant excitement was contained in controlled oozing of hyper-tinged joy. There wasn't anything different about the other; it was more like someone turned down the volume on a TV and he got quieter.

"It's alright, brother! Don't be so nervous," Papyrus said, his strides taking him past the two, shiny red boots thudding against the old wood of the porch, the sound nor color dulled by the ice and snow. He retrieved his key and opened the door, fluttering in and aiming for the kitchen. Sans pulled (God, so gentle. Why???) inside, as well.

"uh, you can sit down. i've got to go get it," Sans muttered as he shut the door. Little Bones released his hand and kicked off his shoes and coat before lowering himself onto the couch. He watched as Sans disappeared upstairs. Papyrus took his place, holding a bowl.

"Here, it's cold outside, so I figured soup might be nice. Granted, I did not make it, so it might not be mind-bogglingly good! But!! Grillby is a chef no matter how much I protest grease, so it is acceptable!"

Little Bones relaxed at this, grinning. It was now he realized that he hadn't spent much time with Papyrus. Well, with any of the Papyruses, minus Rus. Sure, Papyrus had a lot of energy and it may tire him but...

He liked the taller brother, too.

"Thank you," Little Bones muttered, accepting the bowl. The warmth seeped into his cold hands, his smile widening.

"Little Bones?"

The child glanced back to Papyrus, who had a softened expression on. He knelt down, placing a hand near, but not on, Little Bones (which he appreciated. Even holding hands sent jolts of fear and he barely understood the respect they gave him, let alone the gifts and love, but he couldn't deny adoring all of it).

"I'm so, so happy you're okay," Papyrus whispered, truly whispered, quiet yet so filled with so much sincerity that Little Bones almost felt tears in the other's voice and in his own eyes.

"I was so worried. We all were," Papyrus continued, "it's like you have solidified your place in a family we didn't know existed. Thank you for allowing us to care. And thank you for staying strong."

Little Bones was left unsure how to respond, shock gracing him. Papyrus didn't seem to mind, just smiling fondly at him. 

This moment concluded as Sans came back down. he held a boring paper bag in his arms, which he deposited onto the cushion beside Little Bones. The soup bowl was taken from him for the time being.

Papyrus prompted Little Bones to grab the bag. The child did, pulling it into his lap and peeling one side away from the other, towards himself, as his other hand delved into the bag. Sans was jittery, tapping his foot as he did this.

The first thing his fingers met with was fabric. It was soft and thick enough to be notable. He pulled it out and found himself looking at a white bandanna with careful stitching, though some were messy and awkward, done in what should have been elegant lines, curved, swirled, straight, connected... all sorts of lines, all in these brilliant colors.

"the stitches are, uh, all of our favorite colors," Sans mentioned and, suddenly, the gift felt even more important; despite how minuscule, how unimportant, favorite colors were, they did remind him of them. He could see it: the red, the pink, purple, blues, the oranges and yellow... It was just thread but it felt like them. His family. Like there was a little piece of them in each fiber of those little threads. 

"Can you help me?" Little Bones asked, lifting the bandanna to his neck. Papyrus swooped in and tied it. As he did, Little Bones felt soothed, as though the fabric itself could ease the worst of his fears.

"There's more," Papyrus gestured. Little Bones' eyes widened.

He dug up, next, a hefty book. The cover was worn and Little Bones spied some water damage to the pages. he flipped it open and realized it was a photo album. The first couple of pages had pictures of each of his guardians, some individual, others in groups of various sizes and poses. There was even some pictures of them when they were younger, with little captions written in pen. On the last page with something on it, he discovered a single photo of all of them, from little Rus to the ever so shy Strawberry, smiling at the camera. Next to it, in light blue ink, 'say cheese, Little Bones!' was written.

Confused, he looked up as a bright light filled the room.

His picture was taken and the brothers looked so excited. The camera was even displayed to the child, his confused but clearly happy face shown off on its screen.

"there we go," Sans stated. The camera was back in his hands, "did you like them? the gifts, i mean."

"I love them," Little Bones breathed, this time allowed tears to stream down his cheeks.

He didn't understand why they had done this but, as he was handed his food again, he found he didn't have to.

He was loved and that's all he needed to know.

Sci ripped through the cold hallways, the sharp prickle of sterile air brushing against his bones like tiny razors cutting over and over, in a back and forth motion, over and over. 

But that couldn't compare to the knife that slicked through his soul once he got into the hospital room.

Strawberry's sockets opened, the eyelights fuzzy and flickering. Sci shook.

He moved closer, slow, before launching himself into the bed, his arms wrapping around the other. Strawberry grunted softly.

"i'm so sorry," Sci uttered, "i'm so, so sorry..."

"yer here," Strawberry wheezed, smiling, as though unbothered, uncaring, about the time Sci hadn't been there.

Somehow, that hurt more, the forgiveness.

"Yeah, i am. i'm sorry i didn't come earlier."

"did ya'll find 'im?"

"we did, strawby. we did."

The fell let out a wheezy, wet laugh that broken into something akin to a sob. Sci's fingers danced over the other's skull, the touch far warmer than it should be.

"'m so happy he's safe 'gain," Strawberry heaved out. He moved his arms, so slowly, so weak, but there and, God, he was trying so hard despite everything and Sci didn't know why. He would have given  up, if he were stuck withering away in a foreign bed, lost to the outside, and easily pushed aside for other things.

He wouldn't have been so forgiving about being forgotten, either. Somehow, he didn't think the shrugging off of his disappearance was because Strawberry was too tired to fester into fire.

Sci realized that Strawberry, even in this broken, surreal state, with shuddering breaths and hazy eyelights and fumbling, shaking limbs, was a pillar of strength, unwavering as the weight of swamp-water everythings crashed against his already cracked shields and his legs trembled like trees fighting off winds wanting to rip them from the ground. Strawberry held a sword when people thought surrender was the best option. He fired the gun he sometimes held to his head because, despite the delirious fear and destroyed body and drunken nothingness that flooded against and spilled over crumbling walls he'd built, Strawberry wanted to live and, by god, he would, even if life took that as the need to drag him, kicking and screaming, through the dirt and filth of this world. Strawberry would do it because he'd already done it before and survived. He'd do it to prove Life sucked at bringing him down. He'd do it because, it came down to it, living meant just the tiniest chance of happiness and Strawberry was all about that risk and, really, he already had done the impossible and built up his odds with rotting planks and bent nails. But he did it. And he'll keep doing it, since meek limbs didn't mean shit when it came to Strawberry's power.

He was a soldier in bellowing smoke. And that would never change.

Sci had underestimated him, he realized with a pang of something that hurt.

"I'm so sorry," Sci gasped, pulling the near limp body closer. Strawberry chuckled, pressing some of his face into Sci's shoulder.

"is s'okay, scifi. 'm jus' happy yer here."

And this forgiveness should not be given.

And, once again, Strawberry showed he didn't care about that sort of thing. 

Strawberry was just happy he was here.

A complex, puzzle-drenched monster who had such simple desires. An enigma in itself.

But that was Strawberry.

And Sci didn't mind being there, if it meant seeing the other, simple, so vanilla, yet so utterly fascinating, like a question he couldn't answer.

He loved it.

He loved him.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Little Bones got up feeling secure. Well, after a moment of panic, but still! He was safe. Safe and happy.

To prove this, he got dressed, his favorite sweater (the soft one Blue gave him in the beginning. The one with kitten ears and fuzz balls) and his bandanna. When he was wrestling it on, he took some time to admire the article of clothing. Some of the stitching was crude and awkward but there. He could see that the red on  had paint stains, faint, and perfect. Some had weird,, loose threads sticking out or little holes where mistakes had seized the hand holding the itty bitty needle.

And it was, in all its wrongness, the most perfect, sweet reminder he'd ever seen.

He loved it. He loved them!

Little Bones grabbed Mr. Pah and sat on the couch, turning on the TV as the day began. He could, over the low murmur of MTTTv's rerun of Deadly Game Show, Papyrus attempting to wake Sans both trying to be loud enough to do so but quiet enough to not wake Little Bones if he were asleep. There was a grumble, so muffled it was obscene, but he knew Sans had likely said something like 'five more minutes' or 'I'm up, I swear' or 'noooo'. It almost made him want to curl up in his makeshift bed again.

Papyrus came downstairs, his signature grin lighting up the room better than anything else.

"Good morning, dear Little Bones!" he greeted cheerfully.

Little Bones beamed up at him, "mornin'!"

The routine began.

Breakfast was finished once Sans had shambled into the room. Papyrus herded him to the table and placed, with a flourish, coffee and a bowl of oatmeal in front of him, then fluttered back to his own seat. Sans tiredly smiled, his gaze flicking to Little Bones before he set in on his own food.

"didya-?"

"Yes, brother, your disgusting ketchup is already in your mug!"

"mmm sounds like a lie, baby bro," Sans commented lowly, swirling his mug.

Papyrus' sockets narrowed, "Unlike you, bonehead, I am an honest monster!"

Sans cocked a brow and took a swig. The disgusting bitterness of mustard assaulted his mouth.

"Well, maybe not that honest," the taller mused.

"you wound me," Sans hissed out before downing the rest of the tainted drink. He made a face as he finished.

Though clearly disgusted, Papyrus looked smug.

"ugh, now i gotta fix this," Sans moaned, forcing himself up. He stumbled into the kitchen, washing out his mug before pouring another helping.

"Yknow," Little Bones piped up," I haven't actually tried ketchup yet."

Sans froze. He forgot Little Bones wasn't typically fed a wide variety of foods that typically paired with the red condiment. If he had been, he probably never asked for ketchup, anyway.

Sans added some to his mug and turned around, the tomato pasta bottle in one hand, his dingy, science themed mug in the other.

"we need to change that," Sans declared.

Papyrus jolted, "Brother, no! Do not taint him!"

"i gotta," he breathed, "a sans without a condiment ain't a sans. and ketchup is the holiest of choices."

Little Bones raised a brow as the bottle, opened, was plopped before him.

"feast, but with paste. pap looks ready to explode."

Indeed, Papyrus was trembling, horror freezing him to his place.

The child gave a sweet, brilliant laugh that reminded sans of better times and better souls, the sound liquid god and pearl necklaces laced around music notes of a promise. A promise of a brighter future.

A sound Sans wanted to protect. A sound worth getting up for.

Little Bones grabbed the bottle, paused, as though unsure it was okay, before squirting the past into his mouth. Several emotions passed over his skull before his eyelights twinkled and his mouth was set into a grin.

"It's sweet!" he exclaimed. Papyrus slumped over, a mournful sigh leaving him.

"mm, welcome to greatness, kiddo," Sans purred.

Papyrus huffed. standing up and knocking his chair back, "No! There is still hope!"

"give it up, bro!"

"Never!" screeched the taller skeleton. He bolted into the kitchen and threw open a cupboard. Sans' eyes widened.

"no, that's cheating!"

"All is fair in love and war, brother of mine," replied Papyrus as he grabbed a package. Sans glanced to their charge, happy to see him amused by their antics.

A bar of chocolate was now in the child's hands. Sans lunged with a cock screech, but was pushed away easily as Little Bones tasted the treat.

Sans broke character as the child beamed, brilliant and pure. He could tell Papyrus loved it, too.

"It is unhealthy, but I'll be sure to get more for you," Papyrus mumbled warmly.

"Thank you! Thank you so much," Little Bones gasped, nibbling on the chocolate.

 With this, breakfast continued normally.

"So, lil bones," Sans began, "we have a plan for your time here, but you can opt out if you want. your comfort comes first."

"Indeed, dear Little Bones! We value your enjoyment before this idea," continued the younger brother, 'we wish to take you on a trip! Around the Underground! To meet our friends and to possibly make some of your own!"

Little Bones paused, having now moved from his treat to his oatmeal. That sounded... Well, tiring, but fun.

"But, um, what if, part way through, I want to stop?"

"then we stop and go home," Sans chuckled, "you have time to think. Pap has work today. And, uh, undyne thinks i'm still too sick to work."

Papyrus laughed nervously, "I didn't know how long to give you."

"its okay, paps," Sans replied with a shrug.

"So what's our plan for today, then?" Little Bones inquired.

"well, i thought we'd relax, go to grillby's for lunch, maybe go for a walk..."

"Uneventful yet... oddly active of you, Sans," Papyrus said approvingly.

Sans shrugged in response.

After breakfast, Papyrus left home for work, bidding them a good day and affectionately gesturing to the sock (which, by gesturing, I mean he was almost punting his brother to the dirty article of clothing).

They lazed about the house for a while before sans held out a hand (somehow gloved despite being bare not too long ago) and the two moved outside, wading through the snowfall.

The walk was brisk, short despite the constant cheerful hello's from neighbors. Despite Little Bones having been there before, the Snowdin residents seemed shocked he even existed but they were too polite to speak of it.

There was a word thrown around sometimes. Reset. Was that the culprit?

He didn't ask.

The restaurant/bar hit them with a shocking heat and Little Bones found himself glad he hadn't worn his coat, remaining in his sweater.

"Booth or stool?" Sans asked, ignoring even more greetings and questions.

Sans must have been popular with people, he realized.

"Stools! They'll make me feel tall," Little Bones stated firmly.

Sans only covered his mouth, undoubtedly smiling. 

They were watched as they walked to the bar stools. Little Bones had to scale the seat and, though it was a struggle, Sans seemed oddly fond of his movement, so he decided it was worth it.

"Hey, Grillbs," Sans nodded to the bartender, "usual for me. what about you, bud?"

Little Bones glanced at him, "You pick."

Unbothered, his guardian ordered the same thing for the child.

Grillby, for a moment, did not move. The flame just stood there, as though frozen and unable to melt. Then, slowly, his body began to work again and he went to work.

"mm, you'd think everyone would be used to seeing a skeleton by now."

"I'm not a normal skeleton," Little Bones murmured, burying half his face in the bandanna, forcing himself not to look at his muted bones, "and I don't really belong here. They're curious, right?"

"probably about you bein' the first babybones they've seen. they wanna know where ya came from."

Little Bones scowled, "I'm no babybones! I'm... I'm..."

And suddenly he realized that he didn't know his own age, that it was a number lost in obscurity in his memory. Had it ever been told? Written? Was he just a toddler or was he near the end of his stripes period? He wouldn't know. Hell, he didn't even know the stripes thing existed until being taken in by Ink. Did they care how old he was? Or was it a little detail they could overlook if they so wished?

Sans was staring at him. Little Bones closed his eyes, shaking his head.

"Never mind. Sorry..."

There was a heavy quiet between them. While the clatter behind them roared, never stopping even as customers glanced to Little Bones, their eyes beady little queries and their mouths gaping, curious hinges, the questions burning on their tongues but never gracing the air, they were in a different world that muffled the useless noise.

Sans broke it, this little somber world of theirs.

"it doesn't matter. there's a lot about you, kiddo, that we don't know or understand, but that's not gonna stop us from loving you. you're a gift, kid, so we'll live in the present, kay?"

The joke nearly went over his head, but Little Bones appreciated it, anyway.

Little Bones found himself in front of that massive door again, this time standing strong, this time not cloaked in misery and devouring fear.

Sans knocked, twice, and his voiced this action as he did. There was a soft, melodic reply.

"Who is there?"

"wind dish?"

"Wind wish who?"

"wind dish door open?"

Laughter, a heartbeat second of confusion.

"I told you I prefer it this way."

"i know," Sans breathed, his words fog, a mere whisper and Little Bones wondered if he could even hear himself, "i just... i just want you to really meet someone."

"I don't know..."

"sorry. i just... well, you're really important to me and i wanted you to, i don't know, be in their life somewhat. two people that make me getting to know each other, yknow?"

She was silent.

"i think you'd like them..."

"...okay..."

Sands didn't express it, but Little Bones knew he was surprised.

Little Bones marveled how different the door's movement felt now, like it was a gateway to a friend, not the last broken home safe enough for three kids who'd seen more, been through more, with wary eyes and a knack for understanding cruelty but never those sweet kindnesses, and from a toy box where they were the toys, forced into playing a part and denied a breathe of life instead of playing with figurines and cars themselves.

"Oh, it is quite cold. Do come in," the woman murmured, still placed in the shadows. Sans stepped in first, his body shielding Little Bones from view as he followed.

Toriel here looked more tired, resigned to loneliness, but she appeared even more friendly and receptive to company.

"I did not expect you to look like that," Toriel admitted shyly, "it is not bad, though!"

"i get that a lot," Sans shrugged, his grin so wide, "you look as pretty as i thought. maybe even more, i goat to admit."

Toriel gave one of those hearty laughs, no doubt flattered.

Sans cleared his 'throat' and stepped to the side, "uh, this is little bones. he's..."

He glanced at Little Bones with something in his eyes that Little Bones couldn't identify, but his face was lit up like fairy lights among pristine snow.

"he's my son."

And there was this pause, where Little Bones didn't register what those words meant, truly, but, when that fuzzy moment vanished, Little Bones glanced up to Sans, who had turned to his friend again, Toriel looking delighted. The child forced himself to remain stone faced, even as he grabbed Sans' hand, but he was sure he was glowing. 

Toriel led them to her living room, but they lagged behind some. She didn't seem to mind, taking this opportunity to set up.

"Did you mean it? About me being your son?" Little Bones asked, trying to push down his excitement. Just in case it was a falsehood for convenience or a trick he played on himself in delusional candy-dripped dreams.

Sans looked down at him, lightly squeezing his gloved hand, "kiddo, i couldn't mean it more if you were biologically mine. pretty sure everyone in our little family feels the same."

The burst of joy sent him into Sans, his tiny arms holding onto him tightly, just for a flickering second before he had to let go. Judging by his guardians dad's face, Sans had treasured that second with all his soul.

And this made Little Bones all the more happy.

Toriel had ensured Sans and Little Bones was comfortable. The coffee table had snacks and drawing supplies, which Little Bones began utilizing as soon as he settled. Sans had fluttered onto the couch, coffee and pie, still warm, being bestowed upon.

Once she settled in her chair, her own slice of pie on a delicate plate dwarfed by her great paws, she smiled pleasantly. It was different from the other Toriel, who's smile was drenched in loneliness and sadness and looked at him as though he were a shattered stain-glass window, with jagged edges that hurt him more than her or anyone else.

It was nice.

Conversation pulled on, the two adults volleying puns like they were gentle, wind-kissed attacks. Sometimes, Little Bones would chime in with his own and Sans would look at him with so much love and pride that the child could ignore, just this once, how much he hated his hollow, disgusting laugh and how different it sounded from the warm trickles of joyful noises that came from either of them because his dad's bright, stunning delight that he created bathed the shadowy hatred. 

Then it stopped. And Little Bones felt himself crash, his gaze still trained on the papers before him. Why had they stopped? Was he no longer good entertainment?

The air went cold, colder than Snowdin's brisk, sharp wind, this storm much greater. He felt the couch move and Sans hovering above him, the flare of protective magic brushing against him. Little Bones noted that Toriel didn't even seem to notice.

"Ah, my child! I did not expect you to wake so fast."

Little Bones looked up. He froze, his soul skipping a beat and his chest shuttering to a stop, breathing on pause as his sockets widened a twinge. He stared.

A human child stared back.

Chapter Text

Little Bones had to force himself to blink, to ward off memories of harsh commands and strategies, of that warbled voice-of-voices whispering to him that he should do what he was created for, he should hurl attacks one and after, that he needed to let the blood flow, rapidly, sticking to him forever and ever and he couldn't breath, couldn't speak, he was choking, choking, shaking, trying to reteach himself how to function on the fly right in front of the very being that sent spiraling.

And then he felt Sans' hand on his shoulder. He jolted, but air flooded him.

The other child's expression was blank, but, thanks to a lifetime of learning how to read subtle differences, Little Bones could tell they were surprised and confused. 

"My child, would you like some pie? I do believe I have some left," Toriel said, sweetly, missing the way the human had become a bullet that shot between the two skeletons, leaving gaping wounds that bled with memories too much to handle. The human nodded slowly, and received a light pat on their head as she moved passed.

"Do get to know them. They have been a delight," she added as she left. Little Bones couldn't tell who that was aimed at.

"(this is new)," the human signed. Little Bones frowned, not knowing much of sign language outside of certain commands. It seemed Sans knew it, though.

"what, you staying in tori's a week longer than before or me visiting?"

"(both)," They tilted their head before nodding to Little Bones, "(also the little skeleton. Who is he?)"

"little bones is what we call him. he's my son," there was a possessive bite to the older skeleton's tone. The kid looked ready to question it, but Little Bones cut them off.

"I didn't catch your name," he said quickly, feeling just a bit of the tension drain from the air.

"Their name is Frisk, buddy," Sans piped up and, while Frisk seemed a tad bit annoyed that they hadn't been able to introduce themselves, Little Bones was glad to be able to actually hear the name than try to puzzle together it from quick moving hands.

They weren't able to further this conversation, as Toriel returned with a slice of pie for Frisk. The kid took it gratefully. 

"You know, Sans, you have come at a good time. I had made a deal with Frisk, you see, that I would allow them to leave once a week had passed, or if I found a way to protect them," the boss monster said, easing into her chair again. Frisk moved to sit at the coffee table, opposite of Little Bones, who drew his drawings closer in an attempt to be less in the way and to hide his work. He did not miss the way Sans had shifted again.

She continued, oblivious, "Would you take them through the Underground, Sans? Please? I know I had asked a lot of you with the promise, but..."

"tori," Sans completely sat up now, fidgeting with his pockets, one of which had slightly come undone at the furthermost seam, "i'd love to, but that would be dangerous... if we were caught, i could be jailed and... and what about lil bones? something could happen... not to mention, our trip through the underground was supposed to be focused on lil bones meeting our friends..."

"I understand," her voice was clipped, sad.

"...We can take them," Little Bones muttered, despite the feeling of dread, "you wanted me to make friends, right? I could make friends with them?"

"..."

Sans sighed, sagging, "fine, but i want you all to know that, if something happens, lil bones does come first. something tells me the kid can handle themself, anyway."

Little Bones supposed that was a harsh thing to say, but Toriel seemed to just take what she could get at the moment.

__

Before they left, Toriel repaired Mr. Pah's tear. It had been incredibly silent. Little Bones had gathered up his drawings (though he left one or two he did of Toriel for her), and Sans had taken the dirty dishes to the sink and washed them, anxiety demanding he did something and Frisk had taken a spot on the couch until they could all leave.

They took a shortcut once they were out of the ruins, which landed them just outside of the skeleton brothers' house. Frisk couldn't believe how different this run was going, but they wouldn't complain. It was interesting, at least, and maybe the change could help them achieve their goal?

They followed the other two skeletons in and faltered at seeing the makeshift bed and play area near the couch. How long had Little Bones been here?

"papyrus is gonna be home soon to make dinner," Sans muttered, taking Little Bones' drawings as the other kid took off his shoes and sat Mr. Pah (weird name for a teddy bear...) into his bed, "i need to prepare for the trip tomorrow, so i'll leave you two down here. yell if ya need something."

The last bit was aimed at both of them, but Frisk knew he meant Little Bones. They didn't blame him for his lack of trust in them, not after the hell they'd been hitting him with. They watched as he disappeared up the stairs, so slow they almost didn't notice him moving. Then they looked to their other companion, who had tucked everything away in place (minus a couple of toys) and climbed onto the couch. Reluctantly, they followed suit, though they sat furthermost away from the other child.

"There's not going to be anything interesting," Little Bones said, "on TV, I mean. I think I have a deck of cards around here... Or we can color. Or nap. Napping's nice."

They held up their hands to sign, but recalled the puzzled look they had received earlier, "We can talk, too."

Little Bones didn't seem to really startle at their ability to speak, nor the shaky, gravely sound their voice was melded from. He shrugged before worming his way off the old, lumpy couch again and grabbing a sketchbook that was in far too good of condition to have belonged Underground. He snapped up two pencils and big book by his bed. Then, he hopped back up, setting the book down next to them and then ripping out a piece of paper. He handed them a pencil afterward. So Frisk supposed they were going to draw.

"We can talk, but I kinda get the feeling you don't like to," Little Bones mumbled, shifting the sketchbook on his lap. They spotted him turning to a clean page and realized he'd likely drawn in it a lot. Earlier, Little Bones had been using crayons and loose leaf papers. Was he a dedicated artist or a kid that had nothing better to do?

"No, it's fine right now," they said, clearing their throat, "We can get to know each other. Answering questions doesn't take much, right?"

His eyes flicked to them, a swift, stuttering movement before his gaze was on his paper again, committing lead to the rough white, "Okay."

"We'll take turns."

"Okay. You take the first question then."

Frisk nodded, pulling the book onto their own lap and beginning to draw, too, "What do you do for fun?"

"I usually watch TV or draw. I'm trying to read more, too, but the books can make my head hurt," Little Bones answered smoothly, completely trained on what he was doing. 

"That's not very exciting," Frisk uttered, not in the least bothered by that. Just seemed a little... dull compared to what they had seen here before.

"I prefer it over tests," Little Bones shrugged and Frisk didn't know what that meant, "anyway, I get to answer a question now, right? Um... Oh, I don't actually know what to ask, so... I guess, what do you do for fun?"

They pondered if he was around other kids a lot, "I like to run around, usually. Also! Cooking, snail racing, and... and, well, I guess I just do a lot."

 "Oh, that's cool."

"I guess so."

"..."

Frisk began to regret leaving Toriel's care.

When Papyrus came home, Frisk and Little Bones had fallen silent. The only reason Frisk kept drawing was to fight off the awkwardness wrought by their curious nature and a puzzle of a monster they didn't know and couldn't understand. New someone else they longed to unlock and help.

Plus, they didn't really want to intrude on the work the other boy was slaving over.

The door opening broke the silence, but if felt like a tiny hiccup, as Papyrus didn't say much as he eyed Frisk. They realized Sans must've informed him via text message that they were there. Slowly, he shut the door and walked inside, one of his arms lightly swinging as a cloth bag was pushed by the movement to follow suit.

"Hello, Little Bones. Hello, human," he said. His voice was softer. Frisk noticed Little Bones had closed the sketchbook. The small child gave a light hum, which Papyrus seemed to take as a usual greeting. He passed them and went into the kitchen.

Seemingly sensing his brother's return, Sans came down the stairs. He paused, considering the ground and pondering what secrets its ancient archives held.

At least, that's what if felt like.

"hey, bonesy, can you go help paps in the kitchen?"

Little Bones seemed to understand, without much context to aid. He shimmied down, leaving his book on the couch.

"One day," Little Bones stated, "You'll have one of these talks, and you'll ask me to leave, but I won't. One day, you'll have to let me understand."

Then he was gone and Sans' face was pinched with guilt and something else that didn't have a name but, rather an impression of a feeling all to familiar and rarely addressed. He shambled to the couch, but didn't hop up. Instead, he sat on the coffee table, careful of all the things on the usually empty surface.  

"kid," he began slowly, not looking at them, "i need you to promise me something, kay? i... just... don't do any resets or reloads or anything."

Frisk couldn't help the hurt expression.

"no, i don't mean... oh, jeez, i just meant i dont know what'll happen to lil bones."

"(explain.)"

Sans ran deft fingers over his skull, "you remember the third time we got to the surface? we stayed three years, remember?"

Frisk felt guilt swell in their soul, but they nodded.

"good. do you remember what i began researching?"

Though the time didn't exist anymore, it felt so long ago. They thought back, searching through memories they really shouldn't have.

"(Multiverse...?)"

"bingo," Sans gave a strained grin, "lil bones is not from this universe, kiddo."

That certainly was news, but it made sense.

"so something bad could happen if you reset or reload. don't worry, i'll help ya... uh, not die."

Frisk thought they should have felt a twinge of hurt, but they didn't.

"(I'll be careful)," they signed slowly.

"thanks, bud. trust me, this comforts a whole lotta people outside of me and paps," Sans ruffled their hair. The touch of relief did his figure wonders, as jagged edges melted into smooth, undisturbed planes of bone.

Frisk wondered about the influence the boy had on others and just how many others were praying, hoping, he'd come to them safely, how many longed only for his happiness and determined to protect his smile.

Well, they supposed it didn't matter how many because someone out there loved Little Bones, and they could easily see that Sans fit that role perfectly. It wasn't hard to reach that conclusion.

Frisk was glad Sans seemed happier with Little Bones around.

Dinner was served not long after. They had been just a touch surprised that Papyrus hadn't made spaghetti but didn't voice it as a bowl of soup was placed in front of them. A spoon slid into the broth via Sans as Papyrus put another bowl in front of Little Bones, the process being repeated until all four of them had dinner.

During this time, Sans and Papyrus filled the room with pointless, amusing banter. Frisk had to admit, the way the brothers lit up, as though the stars themselves lent their light to create such expressions, whenever Little Bones succumbed to bursts of airy laughter that sometimes seemed like the action, the sound, was new to him, was one of the cutest things they had ever seen.

They had enjoyed themself, too. It didn't seem like their presence dampened the mood now that Frisk had given their word not to do any time shenanigans any time soon.

They had even joined in on the banter.

Then dinner passed and the couch was set up for their bed. They had settled, Papyrus tucked them in, and Sans did the same to Little Bones.

Then the brothers went up to their rooms, though Sans only committed to his own once Papyrus had his bedtime story.

It was quiet.

Late into the night, Frisk stole away to the porch, one of their borrowed blankets draped over their small frame. They sat on one of the steps after clearing a spot of snow and stared out into the peaceful night-time scene Snowdin became in a painting turned reality.

"Is this okay?" a voice rolled into the silence.

"(I was just going to ask you that.)"

"It's not going to change the outcome, I don't think. We planned to end this remember?" Another voice asked.

"It just gives you more determination for a better ending," the first said.

"(...but will you get the 'goodbyes' you want, Chara?)"

"No," Chara admitted softly, sitting down next to Frisk, "but it doesn't really matter."

"(what about you, Flowey? Is this okay for you?)"

"It doesn't really matter if I'm okay with this or not," Flowey hissed, but his voice lacked any malicious, "Frisk, you promised to let this end this run, remember?"

"(Yeah, I know. I just...)"

Frisk sighed, shaking their head.

"(I wish I could've given you guys the run you had wanted. Or saved you.)"

"You can't save everyone, especially if they don't want you to," Chara piped up.

And that's the one phrase Frisk always hated. Maybe because it was right, because it was a bitter tasting fact that threatened to tear them apart.

They hated it.

But, looking to Chara, a willing 'victim', and Flowey, an unwilling convict, they knew they had to face facts.

They couldn't save everyone, no matter how much they wanted to.

They couldn't save everyone.

Chapter Text

Frisk went inside as morning's early, weak grip took hold. They had stepped back into the warm house as quietly as they could, treating the closing of the door with the same caution.

And, yet, with the click of the lock, there was a sharp, painful intake of breath.

They turned, finding Little Bones buried in his blankets, the little bits of his face that they could see gleaming with rapid-shot tears. One of his fingers grasped the edge of the box, shaking with the intensity of branches trying to cling onto trunks in tornado-infested lands. His eyelights were fuzzy, unfocused, but trained on them.

"(Are you okay?)"

The violent flinch made them freeze, pulling their hands to their chest slowly. They moved closer until they were on the edge of the designated play area. Here, they could see wisps of magic (blue flicking brokenly into yellow, dulled, but a fear-fueled fire nonetheless) blowing from one of the boy's sockets, the other hollow (except that wasn't true. They ignored what looked like glitches and built up, liquid blue magic in that socket).

Frisk spotted Mr. Pah on the floor. They swept up the bear, gently, then carefully dropped it into the bundle of fabric and skeleton.

"I'll get Sans," they croaked, wincing at their voice again. They had no response to their statement as they rushed up the stairs, entirely ignoring the railing in their desire to ease the other child's panic.

Getting the older skeleton wasn't hard (he'd been up, they mused, as the bags under his sockets and dried magic on his cheeks tattled on the misery dipped insomnia plague that apparently infected the three of them in different ways with different methods of contraction; still, it was the same symptoms of horrid wakefulness that teased of blessed escape in the form of inky black dreamscapes of nothingness). At first, his groggy state spoke of annoyance, especially without the energy to up up his usual mask.

Little Bones' current how of how perfectly messy that a kid could unravel in the wake of someone's thirst for delirious tragedy (and. God, Frisk wanted to know who would do that, would hurt a child so greedily, because they knew of this brand of agonizing horror, had mirrored it in their own life, but this felt so different, so beyond them, and they wanted to help) urged Sans into life once more.

This newfound need to understand filled them with determination.

So they filled Sans in completely, and he melted into that fatherly love and concern that was so new and they didn't think he understood how much Little Bones was changing him. Sans then rushed to get Papyrus, grabbing a little book before joining his brother down by the oddball bed/ Frisk had returned to the couch, just watching the interaction with quiet awe.

Little Bones gave these strange, warbled words, his expression conveying that, right now, Sans and Papyrus weren't Sans and Papyrus, not really. His world was changed into something painful. Every time he spoke, one or both of the brothers would reply in that same language they vaguely recalled hearing but couldn't place. Like molasses, Little Bones became coherent, his speech returning to Common again and his eyelights, dulled, had gone back to solid shapes.

When exhaustion lulled him into silence, Sans began to read from the book (Peek-a-Boo with Fluffy Bunny... A classic) while Papyrus held Little Bones' hand, loosely, until sleep took the boy into its arms. The brothers took that has their cue, checking in with Frisk before turning to their respective rooms.

They fell asleep long after the skeletons had.

Day One

Papyrus fussed over the kids as Sans finished filling the bag of snacks, which would soon be stuffed into his inventory. He glanced over to see Papyrus stressed as Frisk signed that, yes, this was really their only set of clothes (aside from the accessories they had found before this and while they were shopping with the skeleton family earlier). Little Bones had his phone, trained on the device intently, focused on a conversation lost upon everyone else. 

Sans felt relief touch him at the child's calmed expression.

"is everyone packed?" he called.

Papyrus sighed dramatically," AS MUCH AS WE COULD BE, I SUPPOSE!"

"don't worry 'bout it, paps. there's no-"

"IF YOU SAY 'SHORT-AGE OF SHOPS', AS IN FRISK'S SHORTS, I WILL THROW YOU INTO THE TRASH WHERE YOU AND YOUR GARBAGE HUMOR BELONG!"

"don't be so clothes-minded, bro."

Papyrus just glowered.

With the giggles from the children gained, they finished their and left.

Sans forgot about something vital about monsters; they, outside of safe zones like towns, liked to greet strangers in battle.

(it's notable that the reason he forgot was he had never been allowed to battle like normal monster children and it had carried over into adulthood).

They had been lucky not to encounter someone before now but, now, Sans' irritation flared as Snowdrake intercepted the group, dragging Frisk straight into a battle.

And then that was dashed by worry as Little Bones fell right into it, too.

He could see the babybone's eyes widen, fear pouring into those mismatched eyelights, liquid fire that burned through any reserves of calmness the poor boy had built up this morning. Sans was sure that the remnants of last night's frenzy still clung to him, too, with tired side effects that filled his skull with cotton-turned-sludge.

Really, Sans had experienced something similar, but the fervor that scorched through vague ribbons of magic was so entirely new, so strange, that it evaded Sans' almost extensive knowledge and understanding.

He hated it with every piece of himself. He despised that Little Bones, that a fucked child, could make such an expression.

"hey, bonesy, its okay!" he yelled, "you can get out after frisk's turn; you just have to flee!"

"F-Flee?" Little Bones asked, his pinprick eyelights darting from his opponent to Sans. The boy was shaking so much that Sans almost thought that his bones would shatter by how hard they clattered against each other, like an alarm screaming, demanding action from inaction and bitter terror.

Then his gaze landed on his options, the battle menu's formal information speaking silently and unassumingly. Curiosity crawled onto his features.

"mercy...?" he breathed, his grayed skull tilting to the side, "...these are new..."

New...?

Sans felt Papyrus tense with the implications, shooting brilliant red warning-sign arrows through his soul, fueling the determination fire found there.

Frisk seemed to be better composed, offering their hand, "if you're willing, I'll teach the battle system like this to you. You can flee whenever you feel like it."

Little Bones eyed the hand before hooking a phalanx onto one of their fingers, a symbol of hesitant trust but trust nonetheless. 

Through attacks and flavor text, Frisk talked about the three buttons Little Bones hadn't a clue about: Act, Mercy, and Flee. Each new morsel of data elicited an odd, curious light in the boy's sockets.

Sans wondered why Little Bones didn't know about these things. But, really, this occurrence wasn't fresh- before, Little Bones hadn't even known about most foods.

But it broke his soul anyway.

 After several fights (which Little Bones was getting used to and, through some grossly morbid thought process, Sans was proud to see him excelling in getting through it) and racing snails, the group found themselves in front of a house in the shape of a fish head.

"Why is this house angry?" Little Bones inquired, his phone aimed to take a picture. Frisk's snicker rose from behind him.

"she's an angry lady, i guess," Sans shrugged.

"SHE'S NOT ANGRY! JUST EXTREMELY PASSIONATE ABOUT RAGE!" Papyrus supplied.

Little Bones giggled, "I dunno, Papy... She sounds pretty fishy!"

Cue the laughter from sans and Frisk. Papyrus, though smiling, gave a low, almost sad, sigh.

"I AM LOSING YOU EVERY DAY, LITTLE BONES."

After a moment to recover, the taller skeleton gave three firm knocks, nearly musical with their perfection and stood back. Frisk had pressed themself into Sans' back a d Little Bones had his still gloved fingers wrapped around Sans' hand, both no doubt nervous.

Neither brother reacted as the door was slammed open, its hinges just barely gripping onto it.

"Papyrus!" Undyne greeted, "you don't have training today...? Wait, sans is here? I thought..."

"WE WEREN'T COMPLETELY HONEST WITH YOU, UNDYNE!" Papyrus admitted, fidgeting with his gloves.

Sans gestured inside, "how's 'bout you let us in so we can talk over drinks or something."

It took a moment to convince her to obey, but but, as they were let in, Little Bones was brought into view of the guardswoman. She was left gaping as she made beverages (tea, courtesy of her dad-not-dad, King Fluffybuns).

And then Frisk was revealed. Undyne nearly toppled over.

"WHAT THE FU-"

"not in front of the kiddos, fishface."

And, thus, talk was pushed onto questions, alternating between Little Bones ("how'd you find him? Why doesn't he have a font name? Why, why, why-?" and Frisk ("there were no reports- How'd you-? Why didn't you call me? What if, what if, what if-) all while the subjects of their Q and A sipped tea on either side of the older bone brother.

"I have to take them to Asgore," Undyne muttered, her piercing gaze on the human.

"no," Sans said.

"What do you mean, 'no'?! Sans, we can't ignore our duties to the kingdom!"
"i mean it. they're just a kid, undyne," Sans insisted, "we an figure something else out."

"Sans-!"

"they're just a kid!"

"Rick coming from you, bone boy!"

The air felt thick. Sans twitched, moving his hands to grip the table. his eyelights had gone out.

Little Bones was trembling.

"Undyne," Papyrus whispered, "That wasn't nice..."

The way Sans and Undyne were poised, with tense expressions and tense limbs and tense thoughts, was akin to two sinners trying to get the other, and only the other, hanged for a crime they had both committed, now silent because they didn't have a lick of evidence nor convincing lie on their tongues anymore. They had spoken all their words- their vocabulary had dried up as though hit by a drought.

"i had been just a kid then, too," Sans finally gasped out, barely noticeable even in the silence.

Neither spoke for a long while.

"we're going that way," Sans muttered, vexed, "you'll have your stupid duties fulfilled. just not the way you want."

It took too long for everyone to just be calm enough for Little Bones to look up or Frisk to lift their hands.

 Putting behind what happened at Undyne's though the lunch they had there helped a lot, they moved on. The walk was beginning to wear on them, specifically Little Bones.

Battles were getting harder, Sans noticed. The fantastic dodge work done by the baby bones turning into sloppy  tired jerks. just barely avoiding attacks. Yet Little Bones insisted on continuing, like he had something to prove, like he was fighting for a life, whether it was his own or his companion's, which remained unknown as as far as if Little Bones even saw Frisk in the mounting heat of a fight, was still obscured.

But he still escaped harm so Sans allowed it.

Then... He didn't dodge.

His tennis shoes, which had been put on at Undyne's, as his boots were far too warm for the humidity of Waterfalls, skidded over the bluish dirt just a little too late and a bullet slammed into him, the hit toppling over the tiny child. Luckily, no other attack fell upon him.

Something hammered into monsterlings was that the turn system was optional, really. It could be foregone with enough intent, but rarely have monsters met with this need within themselves.

Frisk hadn't even picked their option against Aaron. The only warning Sans got was the shock, the electricity, budding, sparking within the air, swirling and flicking like dangerous rivers, beckoning to life a grayed, withering blaster, clearly no less powerful despite its meek, broken appearance. Its massive body glitched and sputtered, not unlike Little Bones' own current physique.

He was crying.

The blaster's quivering maw parted, pure magic gathering behind its impossibly sharp fangs. It seemed liquefied some, great blobs dripping off like drool and sizzling as it hit the ground, leaving burnt, blue-gray patches in the dirt.

Everything seemed slow.

Sans' own magic rushed forth, bubbling to life and, before his mind could even catch up to what was happening, he was shattering the second accommodation in the battling system: waiting for the fight to end before interfering. 

He turned Little Bones' soul blue.

And the resulting scream was, in its entirety, crippling, the utter fear so palpable Sans could feel it pouring over him. Whilst he was frozen, Papyrus ushered Aaron off, quickly, and, gathering Frisk into his arms, he made his way back to his smaller brother, lightly shaking him and retreating slowly. As Papyrus disappeared, Sans finally released his hold on his boy.

Little Bones collapsed, his body curling in on itself. The blaster was gone, leaving only the shriveled grass.

A quick check of his phone confirmed hi theory on Papyrus' actions; he was giving a safe, cornered off spot. The benefits of having Undyne as a friend, really.

He moved over to Little Bones. In his stupor, it seems the boy managed to calm a bit. Sans gestures, walking to one of the slow-moving rivers and removing his slippers and socks. He dipped his feet into the cool water as Little Bones followed suit, albeit more sluggishly in nature.

"Sorry," Little Bones said.

"do you wanna talk about it?" Sans asked.

For a moment, Little Bones didn't respond, his fingers dancing over the dirtied fur of Mr. Pah, which he had likely dug out of the oddly large pockets of his sweater as he had joined Sans, almost as though tracing an unknown pattern, unseen but a memory still clinging onto him.

"There were twenty of us," he whispered softly, "I was the last one."

He paused, rubbing one of his rubs, shuddering, "We were... okay, at first. The tests didn't always hurt. We started learning to fight. Um, the older ones, I mean. Everyone up to 11 did battles. But then 01 died and things... changed."

"The doctor told fighters to make each other, um, 'go away' and us younger test subjects had to fight. I-I just..."

Little Bones sobbed, burying his eyes into his forearm. Sans just sat there, throwing himself between bitter rage towards that damned scientist and overwhelming sadness and protectiveness over the crying child.

"It's okay, buddy. You didn't do anything wrong," Sans murmured, "is it okay if I pick you up?"

Little Bones hesitated as he dried his face, clearly trying to repair the dam, the stopper on his emotions before it burst into a shower of concrete chunks and rapid fire currents that threatened to resort not only him to bloody piles of almost dust, but also everyone else unfortunate enough to be around.

Slowly, Little Bones nodded, but he held out his hand. Sans waited patiently as the child dug out his spare blanket, a bigger sweater, and a cleaner pair of gloves, securing each item on like a soldier gearing up for a war he shouldn't be fighting. He also took the time to put on his socks and shoes again.

It hurt, knowing the child wouldn't (couldn't) let him touch him during a time like this. But this wasn't about Sans, nor was it personal, so Sans let it be.

Even now, Sans had no ownership of the boy. And he'd stick by that.

He collected Little Bones, allowing the boy to situate himself anyway he wanted. His face was pressed into Sans' shoulder.

"'m sorry."

"don't be. you haven't done anything wrong. you're okay," Sans whispered into Little Bones' skull, "you're okay."

He used his magic to snag his slippers and sockets, "can you tell me about one of the other kids?" Sans asked softly.

"Like what?" Little Bones croaked out.

"anything you want. tell me about someone. were they nice?"

"Anyone?"

"mhm."

Little Bones didn't say anything and, for a moment, Sans thought he wouldn't share.

Then, quietly, "02 was really nice. They would whisper to us until we stopped crying and they helped 01 come up with games for us to play..."

So Little Bones chattered on as Sans searched for Papyrus and a place to sleep for the night.

Chapter Text

Sans met up with Papyrus and Frisk at a small inn tucked back in Waterfall's depths. Though it was fairly early, Little Bones was out like a light, pressed into Sans' chest and Sans was utterly baffled by how tiny he really was. It wasn't a new revelation (after all, he'd given Little Bones his name), but it was one often escaped by the eldest skeleton in favor of the boy's strange presence.

In the morning, the group found a somewhat dry place to eat breakfast, which consisted of plastic bowls of instant oatmeal and sausage patties. Sans poured everyone orange juice and, for a little while, they ate in silence.

"Sans?" Little Bones poked up his head as he spoke. Sans was glad to see that the young child wasn't dragged down by yesterday's exhaustion.

"What's up, bud?"

Little Bones' mouth worked for a moment, as though suddenly muted by his insecurities and fears, then, softly, "Can I call you dad?"

The was killed near instantly in the slew of excitement.

"Little Bones, can I hug you?"

The moment the boy's head moved into a nod sent Sans forward, wrapping Little Bones up into his arms.

"You can call me dad, if you really want to," he breathed, wetness in his sockets as his son, his sweet little boy, beamed up at him.

"OH!!! CAN I PARTAKE IN THE HUG, TOO??"

"You can," Little Bones paused, a moment for him to think," Uncle...? Uncle Papy."

"YES! I AM UNCLE!!!! THE COOLEST UNCLE!!!" Papyrus shouted, his expression alight with joy and pride and tears of absolute certainty in his words and the child cradled in his brother's arms. He stood in his excitement, sweeping up the two and pulling them close to his chest, as if trying to reveal the brilliant, happy sparks in his soul to them.

The sight of the happy family filled Frisk with the determination to see this through. Though the phantom of what had once been did not reveal themself further, Frisk knew Chara felt the same.

It was time to ease the suffering the two of them had caused. 

"We can't forget Frisk," Little Bones exclaimed, freeing one of his arms to gesture to them.

"OF COURSE NOT!!! COME HERE, TINY HUMAN!"

And then they were gathered into his arms, too, squished between Papyrus' ribcage and Little Bones' shoulder. Though the bones dug into them uncomfortably, it didn't lessen their smile.

"welcome to the hug sess, kiddo," Sans grinned at them, "hope your armed with some affection."

"SANS! YOU RUINED IT!"

"nah."

And this was it felt like to fly, Frisk decided, tucked into the cheery of care.

"Like this?" Little Bones asked, his hands jerking awkwardly in an attempt to sign. Frisk mirrored his movements, as a reference for themself more than anything, before nodding.

"Yeah, mostly! You just need to practice," They grinned. The praise made the other boy glow with a barely muted pride.

"Teach me another one," he requested and, really, Frisk couldn't deny such a good student.

"little bones, buddy, what are you doing?"

Little Bones looked up from his place in the river, squinting and cursing the dim light of Waterfall for making it hard to see (unless he just had horrible eyesight? He had a vague sense that he should have glasses).

"Water," Little Bones stated firmly, like the master of explanation he clearly was.

"uh," Sans gave a confused smile, "...yeah."

"He tripped," Frisk supplied.

"then what about you, kid?"

"I tripped, too, because I didn't want him to feel lonely."

"right..."

"Look, I found a cool rock!"

"bonesy, that's a bottle cap."

"...Still cool."

Little Bones and Frisk ended up with several pretty rocks (and a few bottle caps). They had to change clothes, but the stop really wasn't a bother. They had plenty of time.

Now Little Bones was on Papyrus' shoulders, singing along horrible with the tall skeleton and the human, who held onto one of his gloved hands. Their words were drowned out in their most foul notes.

Yet, bathed in these atrocious sounds, Sans thought it had to have been the greatest performance he'd ever seen.

"...and they sent me this picture," Little Bones finished his story, showing off his phone. On the little screen was two skeletons, undeniably Sans and Papryus but much younger. This Sans was draped Asgore's shoulders while the Papyrus was hanging from one of his massive horns. Toriel was to the side, a large smirk upon her face.

"BROTHER, HOW ODD!"

"what, bro?"

"HE DOESN'T HAVE BRACES LIKE YOU DID BACK THEN!"

Frisk jerked to look at Sans, "you had braces?"

"HE ALSO HAD GLASSES!! HE WAS A NERD!!"

"bro, you had to get braces, too. and, 'sides, you have glasses now, too."

"BUT IT WASN'T AT THE SAME TIME! PLUS!!! YOU DID NERD THINGS! YOU STILL DO!!!!"

"you have glasses??" Frisk whispered, as though their world was rapidly crumbing.

"...what in the heck are braces?" Little Bones (finally) inquired.

And here we go.

"That turtle monster was weird," Little Bones stated, gripping the sea tea. His expression was subtly scrunched up at the flavor, but he kept drinking from the juice box container. Sans couldn't tell if they boy liked the drink or just kept drinking it to be polite. Oddly, Frisk was in the same position.

"yeah but ole gerson's a good monster," Sans chuckled.

Papyrus nodded firmly, "YES, HE'S RATHER KIND AND HELPFUL... USUALLY. HE LIKES TO PICK ON ME IN PARTICULAR, THOUGH."

"it's his way of saying he cares," Sans shrugged, "anyway, you two should go take a walk for a bit. he wants to talk to us and he can..."

"TALK YOUR EAR OFF!! EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE EARS!"

"heh, yeah. just dont go too far. we'll call you when we're freed."

Having a taste of Gerson's extensive stories, Little Bones hooked fingers with Frisk and rushed off.

Once out of range, he released Frisk's phalanx, he released Frisk from his phalanx prison and turned to them.

"Which way should we go?"

Frisk shrugged. They paused before closing their eyes (??) and spinning exactly three times. Little Bones didn't miss the jerk towards the end, as if they had been pulled to face that direction.

"Guess we're going this way!" Frisk chirped, walking forward confidently. Seeing no point in disagreeing (or mentioning the odd movement), Little Bones fell into place next to them.

They walked in peaceful silence. Little Bones continued to sip at his tea, his free hand stuffed into his pocket (Mr. Pah had, at some point, been storied into his backpack, his head and arms sticking out, yet secured inside the fabric's depths).

"Frisk?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you tell me what a Reset is?"

Frisk looked at him, surprised, their steps stuttering, "Sans hasn't told you?"

"No one tells me anything," Little Bones said, though his words were bland, nearly unbothered.

They gave a light, understanding nod, "Well, uh... A Reset is when someone with a lot of determination-"

The skeleton shuddered.

"-resets back to a fixed point in time. For me, I got back to when I feel into the Underground. Everything I did is wiped clean."

"So...you're messing with time?"

"Yeah! I can also Save, which gives me another point in time that I can reload to."

"Sounds like a video game."

"It kinda feels like one."

"...Thanks for telling me. I think I understand it."

Had he experienced one?

"Can I play, too?" asked the other child, their grin bright. It was Monster Kid, Frisk told themself.

"Sure!" Little Bones pushed out. He seemed pretty relaxed and contented right now, honestly.

At some point, Frisk had pulled out a stick, pretending it was an impressive sword. Little Bones had fashioned a makeshift cloak out of his blanket. They were a traveling duo, a mage and a knight, looking to protect a kingdom from corrupted rulers.

(Chara played, too. They were a barbarian that didn't listen to anyone.)

"What're you gonna be?" Frisk asked.

"Uh... A prince! A prince turned rogue, betraying their father to work with the cool heroes!"

So they pushed on, sweeping through as powerful heroes.

During their travels, the ragtag group was halted by a graying door. It was out of place, the chipping, polished wood shoehorned onto the wall of rough rocks.

It was here that the game they were playing ended.

"Frisk," Little Bones whispered, "I don't like this..."

"I've gotta agree," MK mumbled, the smile gone from their face.

"I know this door," Frisk said, "It's okay. I was hoping to see it."

"I run through here a lot and I've never seen it..."

Frisk ignored MK, stepping forward and grasping the cold knob.

"...I'm not feeling good. I'm... I'm gonna go. See you two around..."

Frisk just watched MK retreat, somehow not even tripping on their way out. Then, Frisk opened the door.

A strange chill washed over them as they moved onward. They heard a whimper from Little Bones but knew he had followed.

The room was as they remembered; small, lifeless and frozen. The blobby figure still put them at unease, but they didn't react this time. They needed to understand. This was the last mystery they couldn't quite reach.

It turned, its face still contorted into a set grin, the two cracks interrupting an otherwise smooth, white face.

Little Bones had gripped onto them. His grasp was almost painful.

It then looked surprised, but it didn't flee like before. Instead, the language they'd heard the skeletons used recently warbled out.

Frisk felt Little Bones flinch, violently, but his own voice rose up in response.

This made the figure melt, its tall stature easing a few inches as a gentle grin surged forth. A set of hands appeared as it spoke, translating its words into signs.

"(Forgive me, I hadn't expected to see either of you.)"

Little Bones shaking.

"(Please, don't be scared. I am not going to hurt you.)"

"Y-you're..."

"(Yes. Yes, I am. but, please, I would never hurt my family. Especially not my new grandson.)" With this, it made itself smaller, offering a softer, meek expression.

"Grandson?" Frisk questioned, glancing between the two.

"(Yes. Sans and Papyrus are my sons. So Little Bones is my grandson)," There was a fondness to its movements now, so undeniably there. Frisk wasn't sure how to take this information.

"I d-don't-" Little Bones tried to choke out something more but it died quickly.

"(Trust me? I know. That rotten man I share a name with was so cruel to you. I wouldn't expect you to believe me after all this. But, please, ask your father. I mean no harm. I just want to see you all happy.)"

...

They left a few minutes later, the words clearly echoing in Little Bones skull as he stumbled after Frisk.

 "aaanndd now we're in hotlands." 

"Does that mean we can finally rest? My legs hurt," Little Bones complained, seemingly unaware about the sudden increase in temperature, as his sweater and bandanna were still on. In fact, all three skeletons didn't seem to care. Frisk blamed it on the lack of nerves as they rolled up their sleeves, cursing, yet again, their habit of wearing thick turtlenecks.

"yep. we're stayin' with my pal, alphys. don't worry, buddy, she's not too far now."

True to Sans' word, the Labs came into view. And, as if she knew (which she likely did), the door opened and the group herded inside. Frisk allowed themself a soft sigh of relief.

Alphys greeted them with her usual stutter-y voice and awkward smile, her gaze switching between the skeleton brothers and the two tired children. Little Bones had noticeably moved closer to Sans and, while he didn't actually do so, he clearly wanted to grab his dad's hand.

"al, this is my son, little bones, and this is frisk, little bones' friend."

They wondered how this would play out.

Chapter Text

The entire time Alphys was making cup noodles and setting up the air mattress, she was avoiding looking at Frisk. They knew it'd be harder for her to do, now that she didn't really have a cover to hide behind and due to not having as much time to prepare herself. They really didn't hold it against her; their existence combined with the third skeleton was something that would certainly turn her world upside down.

They realized that she barely looked at Little Bones, either, and, when she did, her gaze lingered, tracing over grays and pale reds and yellows, committing those tired, faintly colored eyelights to memory, just to haunt her, to remind her that no amount of striped sweaters and baby faced smiles could cover up when a child was teased by pasts darker than covered up corridors, that a kid could feel the flames of mistakes and pain and regret just as brilliantly as she could.

Frisk wondered if Little Bones knew what he did to people with something to hide.

...

Frisk wondered if Little Bones was the defendant or the judge. Often times, the grim expression was seen both in the accused and the appraiser, as though withered by both crimes they did commit and those they hadn't.

If that's the case, how could anyone truly tell who is guilty?

If that's the case, what was Little Bones' crime, perceived or otherwise?

Alphys presented the cup noodles like a grand meal. Despite Papyrus' clear discomfort with the unhealthy food, he graciously accepted. Everyone else, thanks to their nature as either children or a slob, had no complaints about it.

After an uneventful dinner, Papyrus and Sans took one airbed, wrapping themselves around each other like lock and key, snugly fitted together in mutual understanding that they were made to slid into place like this, perfectly tailored puzzle pieces. Despite Frisk never really seeing this form from the brothers, it appeared to them that they had practiced falling into place like that.

It brought the littlest bit of joy at seeing their bones ease into unwinding comfort.

The second air mattress was a bit big for the two small-framed children, but it worked out in the end, what with Little Bones' phobia rearing its ugly head again.

While nothing happened whilst everyone settled and lulled off to sleep, Frisk proved, once more, to be a restless creature, stirring to life in the darkness and, as quietly as one could with an air mattress, pushing themself up so their sock-covered feet hit the tiles. The images of the True Labs flashed forth in their mind, reminding them that they had to go now. Luckily, she'd left the door open (or, perhaps, it hadn't been her at all).

So they did.

The next morning, after bidding Alphys farewell for the time being (with a promise to come back before they completely left to watch some anime), the four meandered into some shopping, specifically for Frisk (their clothes were getting far too hot and there would, naturally, be more stops this run, thanks to it being a tour for Little Bones). Now donning an oversized, stripped t-shirt and sandals, they continued past some shops. Some of them were stands, but, for the most part, they walked past in-door ones.

"Hey, Papa?" Little Bones spoke up suddenly, tugging on the rolled up sleeve of Sans' sweater. The older skeleton glanced down before following the child's gaze, "what's that?"

"oh, bud, that's some jewelry."

"I... I kinda know that but I meant the little ones that that monster is putting in their ear."

True to his word, a cow-like monster with four arms was paying the owner of said stand with one hand while two others were putting in studs and hoops into their ear. Sans chuckled.

"those are earrings, kiddo. fleshy folk wear them."

"Oh..." Little Bones looked sad at this. Frisk found themself somewhat surprised with this reaction, though they couldn't really tell why.

"You can still wear other types of jewelry" they provided, giving a light grin.

"How about we go take a look?" Papyrus offered, gesturing as he slid past the three. His boots hit the dry earth with heavy thunks, nearly drowned out by the popping of magma and machine hum drum. Shortly after, Little Bones trailed behind him, followed closely by Frisk and Sans.

The cow monster was gone, leaving the bird/rabbit hybrid that ran the stand. They had fluffy, human-like hands, which braided thin strips of fabric, occasionally stopping to add a cute charm. Their stand had several large, velvet boxes and displays, littered with various types of jewelry, some made of fabrics and threads whilst others were crafted from metal and chain. Papyrus greeted the vendor with his usual over-the-top but endearing voice as Little Bones was already taking to examining the works of art for sale.

"These ones... they connect?" Little Bones mumbled, his expression tipping into confusion. His eyelights went to Frisk, who was beside him, tearing their own gaze away from the rings to look where he was gesturing.

"Those are friendship necklaces," Frisk explained with a large smile, "you keep one and give the other to your friend. It shows how much you like them!"

Little Bones' sockets widened with excitement, "Oh! That's so cool! We should get one!"

"...You like me?"

"Uh, yeah! You're really cool."

Frisk felt the joy they usually garnered from such things. They, perhaps, hadn't expected it, since the two kids hadn't known one another long.

Sans chuckled, giving both a pat on the head, "well, you two should pick a set out, huh?"

The babybones went to nod excitedly, only for a frown to grace his features, "...What about my other friends? I don't want them to feel hurt..."

Frisk paused before nodding. That made sense! Why would you want to hurt your friend's feelings? And these kinds of things only came in pairs...

Sans raised a brow as he moved to inspect the wares again. They knew Sans didn't want Little Bones to guilt himself out of such a fantastic sign of growth and sociability but could he really find a solution?

"How many friends, bud?"

"Rus, other Sans and Papyrus, Frisk, and me... Oh! And MK! I like them."

At this, Sans seemed to melt, as though he hadn't realized the boy had made those friends, but experienced with fluttering pride. He went back to his scouring, letting a few tense moments stretch on.

"What about these? They have similarly themed pendants," Papyrus said, halting his brother's search as he gestured to the hanging necklaces. True to his word, there was a series of them with trinkets shaped like pieces of the delta rune (Frisk could pick out the triangles, the wing, and the circle) with a second charm attached neatly. The wing pendants were textured with feathers, though the most medial corner had, instead, ornate carvings that matched the circles and triangles. They all had variants with the secondary charm, which all seemed to have tiny chain wrapped around it that drooped down and shuddered with every movement, to pick from: a pillar carved to have ivy growing upward, a snowflake, an echo flower, a beaker that had bubbling liquid, a very small castle, and a soul that looked like it was tangled up in ribbon along with the chain. 

"...That'll work," Little Bones breathed in awe.

"alright, bud, you and Frisk pick them out."

The verdict had been that they'd stick to getting only the soul charms with their necklace set. Little Bones and Rus would take the wings, Frisk would take the circle, the other Sans and Papyrus would get the triangles pointing upright (and proper nicknames once Little Bones was able to go see them), and MK would take the last triangle. 

"Would you like me to color the souls?" The vendor chirped as they grabbed the indicated necklaces.

"You can do that?" Little Bones asked, his eyes wide.

"Yep!" They winked at the child, "It's my special trick!"

"Then, uh, yes please!"

With that, colors were puzzled out. Frisk wanted red and Little Bones liked purple and their current guardians chimed with Sans and Papyrus would want cyan and orange. Sensing the trend, the children decided to finish out what they started and had MK on yellow and Rus with blue. The stand owner nodded and, with a flashy show of fluttering magic that flowed and dipped between obstacles, used it to dye the silvery charms before passing them to Sans, who, in return, gave them a hefty amount of G.

(Frisk pretended they didn't see him sweating as he did so.)

"Oh! You can take this charm, too. It broke off earlier and it was already dyed. Wouldn't want to leave you without the full set, huh?" They passed Little Bones a green soul charm. True to their word, the charm's decorative chain broke and it was clear the charm had been scuffed up. 

...

After a bit, the vendor had given Little Bones a small chain, by request, free of charge, which slid onto Mr. Pah. 

The green seemed to glow.

They briefly went back to make good on their promise before heading further into the world of the Underground. The trip through the CORE was one Little Bones had blurred out, whether entirely by accident or a purposeful force to shake the horrid memories that clung to his bones. They spent the next couple of nights in New Home to enjoy everything the place had to offer as a bustling, populated city.

Then, they entered the castle. Little Bones had been glad he already experienced the immense, beautiful loneliness of the empty, elegant halls and the vague sense that they should have (or have been) toppled over in grand marble chunks, the ruin of majesty and strength, brought upon too far gone in powers they thought they could control.

 Sans, at one point, had stopped the group and moved to the end of this liquid-gold-drowned hall, standing at ease and reciting a speech that left Little Bones' head spinning with some strange knowing, as though his mouth would open and echo back the words, spoken from experience and nothing else. But he forced that out.

The four staggered on until the maw of the throne room came into view.

"Frisk, kid, can you stay here for a moment?"

Frisk nodded slowly, walking over to a wall and sliding downward. Sans led Papyrus and Little Bones inside.

Before them, the king was poised over his garden, a watering can's handle looped over two large fingers, tipping over the container. Warm, sad brown eyes flicked up to look at them, a meek grin on his face.

"Undyne said you'd be here by now."

"she told you, huh? i'm not surprised," Sans replied, though there lacked any aggression in his words.

"I am afraid so."

"We'll let you do your duty soon, Your Majesty," Papyrus muttered softly, "Just not in front of Little Bones."

Asgore gave a soft puff of air, a soft, unspoken agreement.

"won't you entertain me for a bit, old friend?" Sans inquired, equally as gentle. He lightly pulled Little Bones closer to him, "we don't talk like we used to, right? don't you want to catch up just a bit?"

"I..." Asgore closed his eyes, a gesture that signaled to Little Bones that this was an unfair request at such a time, "I suppose we can do that."

And so they did.

(The skeleton family ignored the king's shy, sad looks to the doorway. For right now.)

Chapter Text

Frisk didn't watch as Asgore fell to his knees, nor when his hopeful speech began. They knew what would happen, well enough that it felt like it had been engraved into their very skin. At some point, before this battle, they had retrieved Chara's locket, which hung heavy on their neck, clinking against their new necklace.

Omega Flowey and the God of Hyperdeath came next; these fights pushed on, pulling at Frisk's tired body. But they've played this game before, so they knew better than to stop.

The moved through wistful souls, calling forth identities and comforts to blurred faces. Anything to beckon them back to who they were.

Every was normal for this situation. Until Little Bones' Lost Soul came into their view.

The babybones was holding Mr. Pah, gripping the bear so tightly, like he had to or else he'd fall back into a nightmare, unending and agonizing. He stood like invisible walls were closing in, so he wanted to be smaller, so much smaller. Mr. Pah's mismatched, button eyes seemed to take on an orange glimmer.

But that's not what froze Frisk to the core.

There stood two figures; Little Bones' and an adult skeleton's, which was fairly faint, with black bones and blue tear racks on their cheeks. They wore PJs a little kid might don.

The shaky harmony of hurt came up from the silence, melded together that it was impossible to tell who said what:

"Is anyone there?"

"Please don't leave me..."

Frisk pushed ACT. They missed the whisper of a white form flicker behind their friend.

"heh, you really did it, kiddo, " Sans praised. Frisk knew it was for show, but it still sent a rush of happiness to hear something akin to pride swell in his voice.

Little Bones, who kept rubbing a this chest, smiled (though there was wince somewhere in that) at them, "I know I can't remember much, but you were incredible. I just know it!"

"Thanks, Bonesy," Frisk breathed, their smile so wide it would surely split their face.

"YOU'VE REALLY PROVEN YOURSELF! I AM PROUD OF YOU, HUMAN!"

"now what do we do?" Little Bones asked.

"well, we go back and pack up. if the king says so, anyway."

As though summoned, Asgore approached, a worn grin on his face.

"We'll hold off bringing everyone out until we've scouted for a safe place to camp," he muttered, shooting the three skeletons apologetic looks, "but come back in an hour or two and we can all watch the sunset."

"sounds good, king fluffbuns," Sans chuckled.

Asgore nodded to himself before looking to Frisk, "and... thank you, dear child."

"i'm just glad I could help," Frisk replied.

Shortly after, Asgore got dragged into a berating from Toriel, which dragged Undyne in to defend him. Naturally, this left Alphys standing tensely on the side lines, unsure of what to do with herself.

Sans sighed softly, tilting his head forward towards the conflict, "why don't you take the kiddos, paps? i'll handle this mess."

"OF COURSE, BROTHER! AT LEAST YOU'RE ACTUALLY WORKING."

"heh, i suppose so."

Watching the three back off from the throne room, Sans lost himself, briefly, to thoughts rooted in the past. But now wasn't the time to recall silly, hopeful scientists nor young, smiling children.

He shuffled to the mass of rising tensions, his hands slipping into his pockets in a show of ease.

"hey, kids," he began, his voice mellow and soft, but demanding attention. He let one foot kick against the tiled floor, "tile's not the time for fighting."

For extra effect, or just out of habit, he winked. Toriel didn't laugh, her scowl seemingly carve din her face. Undyne opened her mouth, but something flickered upon her features, her fins drooping and the fire in her eye dimming with something he couldn't quite put a name to.

Sans only responded with this silence and a sleepy stare and grin, a certain unnerving nonchalance to him that he knew was throwing Toriel off, even if her own fiery gaze blistered forth, trained now on him.

"seriously, though, that was right in front of the kids," Sans shrugged, "and lil' bones ain't fond of conflict. plus, you wouldn't want to set a bad example for frisk, either."

She froze and Sans marveled how ice could lick up flames, "are you-"

"relax, tori. you're a capable parent. i'm not doubt that."

When she had nothing to say, Sans gave a light nod, "so how about we work on this now, before they come back? we'll just talk and ease the tension some, right?"

"I'd rather not talk to him."

"Really? Was that going through your head when you were insulting him for actually doing his job?" Undyne snapped.

"Undyne..." Asgore tried, only for the captain to gesture wildly, halting his words.

"She abandoned us when we were at our lowest!"

"Well, pardon me for not wanting to murder children," hissed Toriel. Sans glanced away, signaling Alphys to leave, which seemed to free her from being stuck in time, thus allowing her to escape while she still could.

"Because letting your kingdom rot is so much better, right?"

Before Toriel could retort, Sans stretched out his limbs, shaking his head, "it's such a nice day, don't you three think?"

"Stop changing the topic," Undyne cried indignantly.

"i'm trying to distract you before you keep up this senseless blame game before you rip each other apart."

"He deserves it," Toriel choked out, "this entire thing is his fault!"

"is it?"

"Yes!"

"that's almost funny, tori."

"That was not a joke."

"might as well been. look, you can hate him all you want. you can hate undyne all you want. no one is gonna stop you. but what you're doing? it's not healthy. and it's not fair. especially because this entire mess is on everyone's shoulders."

Sans held up his hand as Undyne opened her mouth, giving her a weary smile, "nothing you say will change her mind. just like nothing will change yours. you two need to reign it in."

"Sans, I am sure this was unnecessary," Asgore whispered.

"it wasn't."

A moment passed in silence.

"well, uh, y'know what the old royal scientist used to say: if the machine won't run, it ain't ready," Sans chuckled out, "i'm going to go pick up some stuff for the sunset watching, kay? undyne, why don't you go check up on your new girlfriend? asgore, toriel, it'd be nice to have some tea and pie. we'll make it a celebration."

Before any objections could arise, Sans was walking off, as though he had only been a ghost, never once having actually spoke to them.

"For someone with a lower rank than me, he sure likes to give commands," Undyne grumbled.

"Well, he... he's not technically below you, Undyne," Asgore muttered sheepishly, "He's the Royal Judge... I thought we told you?"

"Never mind that," Toriel stated, "What does he mean by 'old royal scientist'? Who was that?"

Asgore looked startled as he turned to his ex wife, "You know, I haven't the slightest clue."

"THE RIVERPERSON WAS FASTER THAN USUAL," Papyrus remarked as he adjusted Frisk's leg on his chest to ensure the piggy back ride was safe and comfortable. He grabbed Little Bones' hand afterward and began the march through the snow, pushing forward with his usual grin on his face. 

"I'M ASSUMING YOU WANT TO GO TO THE RUINS FIRST, FRISK?" Papyrus asked as he moved, undeterred by the white powder, unlike Little Bones, who was just letting himself get somewhat dragged at this point.

"How'd you know?"

"Sans, of course. I don't remember these things like he does."

So they took off to the Ruins in companionable quiet, even as Frisk migrated into one of Papyrus's arms and Little Bones into the other.

In the ruins, Frisk instructed Papyrus through to where they needed to go, though they stopped to gaze upon Home, in all its once bustling beauty.

As they neared where Frisk fell, Frisk resorted to walking while Little Bones remaining tucked in his uncle's arms, watching the passing walls with this vague sense of knowing.

Then they arrived at the flowerbed. 

Asriel was facing them, nestled in the yellow blooms. His paws held his locket, which, naturally, caught the light just as its twin did, which still rested heavily against Frisk's chest. Upon seeing the group, he smiled, as though unsurprised by the two extra misfits within the cave's dwindling honeyed light.

Frisk took a few slow steps forward before their strides turned into a jog until they were by the prince's side, dropping to sit beside him.

"You did it," Asriel stated in a hushed tone, "but we all knew you would, huh?"

Frisk had nothing to say to that. The fallen prince turned to address Papyrus.

"You don't really look surprised."

"I'VE HAD MY SUSPICIONS, PRINCE ASRIEL!"

"...you remember, don't you?"

Papyrus seemed to soften, a look of sadness painting his features, "not as much as Sans. I know who you are and some of what you've done."

"...aren't you mad? Scared?"

"Scared? Admittedly, sometimes I felt fear but, like my dad used to say, what is fear if not another word for bravery? I know you are better and can do better, so I will put my faith in you, just as I have done with Frisk."

Asriel's smile returned full force, "You really are great, Papyrus."

"NATURALLY!"

Frisk chuckled, "Never change."

"I HAVE NO INTENTIONS TO," Papyrus exclaimed, "NOW, YOU WANT TO TALK RIGHT?"

He placed Little Bones on the ground, lightly pushing the babybones closer to the other two children before disappearing back into the next room.

Little Bones hesitated but moved closer when frisk gestured him over. He didn't sit in the flowers, but he settled just before them, giving a weary glance to the clumps.

"You're Little Bones, right? I'm Asriel."

"...nice to meet you..."

"I wish we could be friends," the prince said mournfully, "But I can't stay for long."

"We can be distant friends/ Those are okay, right?"

Asriel giggled, "I suppose so."

The three spent some time talking, telling stories of distant pasts and beautiful tales of hopeful futures.

Just as children should.

Papyrus met sans in the throne room with Frisk and Little Bones in tow.

"They're waiting for us out there," Sans supplied as he led them out the gaping maw that the barrier had once held shut like a muzzle. True to his word, Undyne, Alphys, Toriel, and Asgore stood on the ledge, shifting blankets, pillows, and containers about. Asgore spotted them first, giving them a warm smile.

"Welcome back. Come, sit!"

They obeyed, though the skeletons sat at the edge, Little Bones between his dad and uncle, instead of one of the blankets while Frisk made their way to Toriel.

Undyne intercepted them first.

"Uh, hey, punk," She started, near nervous in her state, "I'm sorry. I just-"

"It's okay. You were just trying to help him," Frisk said, jerking a thumb to Asgore. Without providing any other sentiments, they got to their adoptive mother.

Here, tensions melted away, pie and tea taking their place. The sun dipped slowly into its bed beyond the horizon, settling for its rest as those viewing should do, as well, but those watchers remained, poised with held breathes as its light gave away into inky blackness, dotted with tiny diamonds twinkling in distant worlds yet to be explored.

It was quiet, here, but not the kind that settled in the pit of your stomach like acid. This was peaceful and sweet, filled with a soft near silence and whispers to loved ones: look, there's Orion's Belt, I always loved the fresh air up here, there's a whole world to explore, there's so much to do...

Look, there's a shooting star. Make a wish, won't you?

And none could deny the suggestion, so they wished. 

And, finally, it was something new that stirred in their souls that they so hoped would come true.

Chapter Text

The next two days were spent at the castle. The kids had taken residency in the late royal children's room while the rest had snagged spare rooms. There still rested a hostility among Undyne and Toriel (as well as Asgore but, really, that was rather one-sided).

Undyne and Papyrus were charged with scouting out the surrounding area while Alphys and Sans tested carious places to ensure no nasty side affects would arise with the barrier now gone after all these years. During this, Toriel, now reassured of her guardianship over the human, taught Frisk and, by default, Little Bones how to handle being an ambassader and some hurdles they would have to jump.

Naturally, this left the king with easing the restless kingdom whilst handling results from his field teams.

By the second day, a large clearing had been found that would hold a nice chunk of the monster population.

This led to the decision to section the population off into a few groups with someone of authority at its head. Papyrus' team set to work on creating the base of the first camp while Undyne's continued to search for nearby clearings.

At the end of the day, the skeleton brothers sneaked off, delivered Little Bones to Underswap, and bade him goodbye.

Stretch rubbed his sockets, glaring at his clock as though it was the reason for him being up at five in the morning, this was his own damn fault that he was forcing down his desire to sleep.

Groaning, he rolled off his mattress, lying prone for a solid minute on before finally dragging himself up from the disaster that was his floor.

Quietly, despite his brother being dead asleep, Stretch made his way down the stairs, slipping into the living room. Catching sight of his target, he grinned and crept closer, snagging Sam as he did. he used the plush bunny to tickle the boy's neck, which achieved the desired effect of the boy rousing with a soft giggle and squirm.

"Hey, kiddo," Stretch whispered, "I know it's early but do you want to help me with something?"

Little Bones yawned, squinting up at him before nodding slowly.

"Cool, cool. Follow me."

Stretch lingered as Little Bones climbed from the couch, freeing himself from his blankets, leaving Mr. Pah and Sam behind. he led him to the kitchen, flicking on the light as they entered.

"Okay, buddy, we're gonna make something special for Blue," Stretch explained as he moved a step stool to the counter.

"What're we gonna make?" Little Bones asked, pressing himself against a counter to avoid Stretch's long strides for ingredients.

He placed a bowl down, "pancakes with blueberries. But from scratch."

"is there something important today?"

"Yeah, but Blue will tell ya, okay?"

"okay."

Stretch nodded firmly, smiling at his charge. He moved a large frying pan to the stove, turning on the burner and adding butter to the pan.

"Alright, so, in this bowl, we'll add all the dry stuff..."

Stretch glanced at the counter, then to his hands, then finally to Little Bones. The pancakes were done, already stalked high on three different plates, topped and surrounded by fruit with cans of whipped cream set aside. He wasn't known to be messy when he cooked, but there was batter coating their work space, himself, and the little kid currently beaming up at him with the cutest, most excited smile he'd seen.

"Well, kiddo, we did it," he remarked, unable to stop the rush of joy that slammed against him, "good job. We'll be a cook in no time."

This made Little Bones positively glow. 

"We should probably clean you up, though, huh?" Stretch said, pleased with himsel for the forethought of putting an apron on the child, though far too large. He quickly untied the clothe and led Little Bones to the bathroom, where he set up the bath and threw the apron into the hamper. Afterward, he grabbed some of Little Bones' clothes and placed them on the sink counter.

"Think ya can handle this?"

"Mhm! I can do it."

Reassured, Stretch turned off the facet once the tub was full enough and left to scrub away at the kitchen. By the time everything was clean and he'd changed,  Blue was not up yet. Him and Little Bones put the pancakes on the dining table, followed by silver ware, the whipped cream canes, and glasses of milk (or coffee, in Stretch's case). Once Little Bones was seated, Stretch whisked away into his brother's room.

He sat on Blue's bed, putting a hand on Blue's shoulder and lightly shaking him.

"Bro, it's time to wake up," He mumbled, which earned him a soft groan. He chuckled softly; his brother, despite getting up at ungodly hours, still wasn't much of a morning person.

"C'mon, the lil' guy and I made you something."

This got the smaller skeleton to roll over and look up at him with tired eyes. The combination of vague horror and intrigue, on top of the scowl of having to move, made Stretch go into a full blown laugh, which only ended with Blue elbowing him in the side and him falling over, still wheezing out laughter.

"...ugh, Papy, you jerk... Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good. That was the first rib-tickler to pack a punch."

"Papy, there wasn't even a joke and... I elbowed you, not punched."

"...Touche."

With this, Blue peeled himself away from the bed, stretching out his arms and yawning loudly. He took a look at his dresser, scowled, then moved to the door. Stretch just shook his head, amused, and followed after.

Ink stepped into the hospital room, his body tensed beyond belief. His skull felt like it was stuffed with cotton and whatever surreal entity was the one pushing in more clumps. He really never thought he'd be visiting someone in the hospital. But, then again, he never thought he'd be getting attached to others like this, even with the distance he's been putting forth. Maybe it was the concept that they were all raising a child together? Or it could be that, even when he didn't bother getting physically close, there was no stopping the communication between everyone, which has grown from just discussions to general chatter and jokes. 

Nonetheless, he was dreading being here. But it's hard not to grow fond of the southern-drawled fell skeleton that kept sending him recipes and cute pictures of animals whenever he got the chance. 

His gaze focused in on Strawberry, the eyelights flickering through several shapes before he forced down the mixed emotions slamming against him. Even though Strawberry was still fighting everything off, he was sitting at the edge of the bed, his legs dangling over and nearly touching the polished tile. He seemed completely zoned out, staring at the counters, his eyelights appearing fuzzy. He was connected to an IV bag, naturally, and a blanket was draped over his shoulders like an afterthought.

"Strawberry...?"

The fell jolted, jerking to look at the creator, everything seemingly coming into focus. He put a hand over where his soul was, sucking in air with an amused, choked chuckle.

"Ya scared me, Inky."

"Sorry. Um... How's everything? Are you... Are you getting better?"

The frown on the other's skull deepened and he glanced to the floor, brows cinched together. Ink felt a frenzy of worry.

"Mm, I guess 'm gettin' better... But..."

"...but?"

"But the doc's worried I won't be able ta walk. This shit's been messin' wit' my magic bad, Inky. They had ta strip me o' some an' I ain't been able ta move my legs fer a few days now."

"oh," Ink breathed, drowning in things he couldn't identify.

Strawberry sighed, shaking his head as he shifted, grabbing his legs and maneuvering them, with a lot of difficulty, onto the bed.

"But I ain't givin' in jes' yet. 'm purty resilient fer a fool, ain't I?"

And, just like that, Ink relaxed. Somehow, as though that scratchy testament of will of a falling monster was a declaration from that of a god putting in good faith, all that worry and swirling fear slipped away. He managed a smile at his bed-ridden companion.

"You'll never cease to amaze me, Strawberry."

"If you folk keep sayin' all tha' nonsense, I'll get too big fer my britches."

They continued conversation for a while before Ink decided it best for him to leave. Before he disappeared, though, he hovered at the door.

"For the record,  Strawberry, you're no fool."

And then he was gone.

Chapter Text

When they had arrived, Error hadn't seemed to notice. His head was turned, his eyes zeroed in on absolute nothingness. His face was set into a hard kind of scowl more saturated with muted fear and tired, long lost wishes than the annoyance usually in abundance with those sort of expressions.

He looked worse than he did last time, like he was fading away.

"Error," Ink whispered, wincing as his softened voice still rang out startling clear and, with a quick look to Dream, the positivity guardian confirmed to the creator that he'd felt the same displeasure.

The glitch recoiled, shifting to haze upon them with near crazed eyes, mouth working uselessly to produce noise. He eased as recognition painted his face.

"You're back."

"I guess I am. Ready to talk?" Ink asked, stepping closer. Error met his gaze with a steady resolution and Ink truly hoped that it was brought on by a need to compromise because the thought of casting off a tired soul to be alone was killing him.

(Why didn't it effect him before?)

"There's nothing you can say to change my mind, Ink."

"Blue-"

"Do NOT bring him into this!" Error snarled, lurching forward, grabbing hold of the so called bed's edge. The chain caught, forcing him back, gagging, his hands gasping at his collared throat now. Tears prickled at his sockets but Ink was hesitant to get closer, even grabbing Dream before he enacted on his own desire to help.

"That's unfair," Error rasped.

"He still wants to be your friend, Error. It's killing him," Ink whispered, "It's killing me, too."

Error flinched and his tears became less from physical pain but from emotional agony. He hunched over in himself, as though a collapsing roof, no longer able to handle the weight of the rain and rapidly leaking whatever he had insisted wasn't hitting him but the marks were there, bared to the world.

Ink noticed Dream shuddering in the corner of his eye,

"Please, I can't," Error managed out, the pleading, broken tone destroying Ink from the inside, even if he refused to visibly show it.

"Ink, I need to talk to him," Dream murmured, "It'll only be a moment, then I'll bring you back."

"Wait-"

And, like that, Dream had sent him off from this consciousness. He turned to Error, who looked a bit perplexed.

"You really love Ink, huh?" the guardian mumbled, allowing his legs to take him to sit beside Error's prison within a prison. The destroyer's frown deepened and he opened his mouth, only for Dream to hold a hand up.

"You can't hide that from me, Error. It's sort of my job to feel positive emotions."

Error withered, leaning forward and using one hand to rub over his sockets. No doubt all of this draining for the poor soul before him now.

"It's one of the reasons why you're trying to distance yourself, isn't it?"

"...Yeah. I just... he hates when I destroy his creations. I don't... I don't want to see his pain when I do it. I don't want to face anyone."

"You'll drive yourself mad all over again."

"It's better than having to look at them, at Ink, and see pain and disappointment. Besides, people need a villain."

Dream forced himself not to cringe away at that, choking on memories of a brother he no longer truly had. Yes, people needed a villain, no matter the cost.

No matter the cost.

"Will you at least come to a compromise? This is equally as damaging to them, Error."

The guilt and conflict on Error's face was honestly soul crushing.

"...okay," Error whispered.

But he wouldn't look at Dream anymore.

 Sci slammed the door when he stepped inside his home, a scowl set on his face and exhaustion burning at his bones. His eyelights flicked to the couch where he spotted Star sitting upside down, a controller in his hands. Rus was right next to him on the floor and, next to him, back on the couch, was Sans, both of them also holding controllers. But the three had clearly stopped playing and was staring at him, his brother sporting a startled look while the other two had smoothed their expressions into haunting nothingness.

It pissed him off.

But he didn't linger. He couldn't let himself snap at his brother. The others in the house could take a little bite anyway.

...Right?

Sci made his way to the kitchen. It was a little early for a drink, but it was just one of those days.

He felt like he was having a lot of those kinds of days now.

His annoyance grew when he saw Candy in the kitchen. He fought down a low growl.

Couldn't they just... disappear? Just for a little while?

Candy turned and paused as Sci entered his field of view. Even his face remained blank.

(But it wasn't really. If Sci paid more attention, he would see the tear stains and the deep, dark grooves under his sockets and Candy was so, so tired.)

"You're home early," Candy mumbled, tilting his head just slightly. A hand remained near his current project, which Sci realized was cookies. Somehow, this made him more upset.

Sci shrugged before maneuvering to the cupboard harboring what he desired.

He achieved a bottle and went to grab a cup from the cupboard, only to end up dropping the glass when Candy suddenly reared back with a pained yelp, which turned into a loud, shrill cry as the two tumbled to the floor, glass and wine crashing against them and the tiles. He heard some noise from the living room but didn't get to see Star rushing in as he pushed himself into a sitting position. 

He glared at Candy, unaware of how his gaze to spark a blaze. The other just gave him an apologetic look, scooting closer and putting out his hand.

"Are you okay?" Candy asked, his hand making contact with his shoulder and Sci knew it was supposed to just be comfort but it wrenched from him a renewed anger that had him jerking away, shoving himself up until he was standing. His lost drink (or, rather, drinks) dripped from his clothes and bones.

"Don't fucking touch me," Sci hissed, even as Star went to come closer. He glowered at him, too, which seemed effective in making the other freeze.

"Sci, I'm sorry-"

"Shut up! Fuck, you're so fucking annoying," his voice pitched louder, "You're just a disgusting slut, aren't you, Lust? Can't do anything right."

Candy flinched, looking up at with as hurt flickered over his features.

"Hey, that was uncalled for," Star piped up, only for Sci to scoff and stomp past him. He was uncaring of the fire he had set, burning up Candy's very being, left only for ashes and dying cinders.

When Sci finally reemerged about an hour and a half after that, he'd been weighed down by a gross guilt for about an hour as everything finally settled inside of him. He had been able to wash about an hour ago, but he still felt dirty.

His words still left a bitter sting in his mouth. 

He made quickly for the guest room. It was really Strawberry's room, but Candy often buried himself into the blankets, as though this was his way of getting close to Strawberry now that the southern sweetheart was trapped inside a hospital room. He wondered if Candy had been to visit yet, but dashed the thought. He was usually here, taking care of Rus and other household things Sci found himself forgetting.

It only made what he said worse.

He knocked on the door, taking the loud gasp as a go-ahead to enter. The other was, indeed, cocooned into the blankets with a worn book in front of him, which was partially closed. There was active stream of tears racing down his face. Candy would not look at him.

"Hey," Sci murmured.

Candy just grunted.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"No, it's f-"

"like hell it is. I hurt you and... Shit, Candy, you're my friend. I shouldn't have taken that out on you, even if I've been stressed out."

Candy sniffled, using a sleeve in an attempt to dry his face. He couldn't seem to produce anything. Sci closed the door and climbed onto the bed, lightly tapping on the book.

"What's this?"

"...it's a photo album. I... I had it to show Star before..."

He didn't need to finish. Sci knew where that was going.

"Can I look, too?"

"...Yeah, that's okay."

Candy flipped it back open, glossy pictures of him and his brother beaming up at the two of them. The Lust monster gave a wet smile.

"These were before the population crisis..."

His fingers brushed over one photo, a quiet laugh escaping him as he did. 

"Look at Papyrus... He was so young! God, he used to try to flatter me until I have him candy and... and it always worked. He used to say you're as sweet as... as..."

Candy hiccuped, a sob wringing free from his mouth. Sci snapped his gaze up to him, not even pausing as he pulled him into his arms.

This was his friend, Sci thought. He was his friend and he would hold him when he felt like he was shattering and he would be there to paint smiles on his face when it was chipping. He would be there.

And he would not hurt Candy. Not like this. Not again.

Sci ran his hand down the other's back, letting him cry into his shoulder.

"H-he said I w-was as sw-sweet as candy," Candy wailed, muffled by Sci's shirt, "and th-that's why I picked t-this name because I w-wanted to remember a better time and... and... I m-miss him!"

The scientist, briefly, pondered what it would be like without his own brother and he found it too unbearable. He wished with all of his soul that Candy could have his brother back.

"...He was right," Sci mumbled, beginning to rock back and forth, "about you being sweet, I mean."

Slowly, Candy lifted his head, blinking up at him, "You think so?"

"I know so," he admitted, giving him a smile, "so, let's remember your brother together, alright?"

"I'd like that."

Chapter Text

Blue watched with barely concealed amusement as a packet of NTT Brand™ ground beef slammed into the table, which groaned in absolute protest of the action, a consistent with these lessons. 

Beside him, Little Bones eyed the scaly monster, as well as the pitiful table and abused meat.

"You punks ready for some good cookin'?!" Alphys exclaimed, her hands now on her hips, as though striking a heroic pose.

"I have a feeling that cooking isn't the right word for what we're gonna be doing," Little Bones mumbled dryly, much to Blue's (secret) delight.

"What was that, little dude?"

"Oh, nothing."

Blue covered his mouth, trying to muffle a snort. It wasn't all that successful but Alphys only shot him a vaguely bewildered look before she shrugged it off.

She turned around, once more taking measures to be Extra™ as she put each ingredient on the table, slamming a block of cheese, a tub of sour cream, an onion, a head of lettuce onto the miserable surface. Wanting to preserve the tomato and not repeat what happened last time with the spices and herbs, said ingredients were placed down almost lovingly.

Blue took this as his cue to gather their bowls and pans,a s well as produce the shells from his bag, as per usual.

He was still unsure about this. Little Bones was certainly the type of kid that liked to avoid loud, passionate situations and Alphys was a loud, passionate situation. But his friends were starting to worry about his absences in both work and social settings, which have gone drastically up, even when the small skeleton didn't have Little Bones to watch.

He had to make due. If Little Bones wanted to leave, they'd leave.

"Alright, punks, get your asses over here!" Alphys exclaimed, though unneeded. Little Bones was already close enough and Blue had already been walking closer.

"Watch you language, Al," Blue tutted, taking his place by her side. "We've got a child present."

"I've been around Strawberry when he's run out of sugar. I don't think she can get worse than that," the babybones mumbled, rolling his eyelights. Blue shook his head, fondly, ignoring Alphys' confused expression.

"Anyway, let's start," Blue stated as he ripped the clear plastic wrap from the meat. Alphys took half and slapped it into the pan behind them before turning on the stove.

"Don't you think that's too high?" Little Bones questioned.

"In my humble opinion, it's not high enough."

Little Bones' response was just staring at her with an almost stressed expression.

"Oh, lighten up, little dude!" Alphys laughed as Blue passed her a spatula. She slapped it against her hand. It seemingly passed her test and she gestured to the child to come to the stove. She hooked a (usually discarded and in-the-way) stool and kicked it into place.

Once he was on the stool, she handed him the spatula. Blue got closer, just hovering. 

As Alphys instructed his charge, Blue let himself melt. So far, everything was okay. He'd convinced Alphys to use the spatula and, though this was still dangerous, he felt a little better with that. He had no problem with himself using his hands to pulverize the beef, but he wasn't risking Little Bones burning his own.

He watched with a smile as Alphys spurred the child on to violently stab the chunks into smaller ones. Little Bones, the poor thing, kept reverting back to careful, calculated jabs. Alphys eventually took over; as a demonstration, she claimed. She brought down the poor kitchen utensil with a vengeance, as though exacting out a personal vendetta against the burning meat and the pan that housed it.

"Is that safe?" Little Bones inquired. The child's face cued Blue in on his thoughts; the sweet, naive concern of breaking the pan and, perhaps, the stove.

"FUCK NO!" Alphys roared, teetering into a near crazed laugh. "YOU GOTTA LIVE A LITTLE, PUNK!"

"I'm trying?" replied Little Bones, gesturing to the quickly charring food and its imposing creator. "I'd rather not dust?"

"Survival of the fittest, kid, and you! ARE! THE!! FITTEST!!!"

Little Bones turned to Blue, his body language screaming 'why are you torturing me?'. Blue chuckled, crossing his arms and nudging the child back into the mess his dear friend was and made.

Stretch grinned at the three clueless kids before him. The babybones Little Bones had befriended. now known as Papy and Sansy, and, of course, Little Bones himself. Gazing so innocently at him, unaware of the brutal suffering he was about to introduce to them. The hopeful longing for fun bright in their sockets only made this better.

This would be delightful.

"Okay, kiddos," Stretch began, almost grandly. "You ready?"

He got eager nods in return. He bit back a sinister laugh as he opened the box in his hands, sliding out the destroyer of relationships of all kinds...

Uno.

Stretch began shuffling the deck, explaining over the rules he'd learned growing up. He had looked up the official rules not that long ago but, honestly, it's no fun if someone doesn't get stuck on their turn, continuously drawing cards until they can play, the life slowly draining from their face... It was so satisfying.

Sadly, he never managed to bring that expression out from Blue. His brother knew how to craft the perfect poker face and poise himself just right to appear like he was calm. It made playing any game rather interesting, honestly. 

He pulled out their starting card, flipping it over in one smooth motion. Then the game began.

It started off slow, as Stretch had to reexplain some things has they arose and Papy in particular didn't always understand the rules. Nonetheless, after about thirty minutes, it was in full swing, complete with Sansy mumbling insults (poor thing was on the bad end of Stretch and Papy's force and he was wracking up a hardy amount of cards), distressed cries from all of them whenever they had to draw, and quietly brewing strategies. 

Stretch took Sansy to be his biggest threat. Hell, Papy's eagerness to use specialty cards could even be a problem to Stretch, despite the fact that they had Sansy between them. Within the hour it took to complete the game, Stretch didn't see Little Bones take the lead with an iron fist...

So, when he laid down his last card and beamed up at him, Stretch was left staring blankly at the card pile they had built with dull surprise and, well, devastation. 

"Good game, kiddos," he breathed, dramatically falling back, putting an arm over his sockets. 

"THAT WAS FUN!" Papy exclaimed with a loud laugh. Sansy nodded, his grin more relaxed and amusement glinting in his features with the adult skeleton's false despair over his loss. 

"We should play again!" Little Bones replied eagerly.

And Stretch just couldn't say no. How could he? Not when his opponents pushed away the dark sullenness from the hell life put them through, painting themselves with something brighter than Stretch could possibly understand. No, he wasn't so cruel to destroy these simple pleasures for those that deserved every damn thing in the Multiverse.

They were owed this.

Stretch sat up, grabbed the cards, and began shuffling again, his own smile taking hold in the midst of excited cheers.

Strawberry rarely got a good look on the monster they called in to help. Today, though, he was awake, watching the other fiddle with the machinery and make quiet remarks to himself as he marked up papers on his clipboard. He was a skeleton, yes, but he wasn't a Sans as far as Strawberry could tell, even with the wide sockets and shorter height. He didn't talk much, just gathered the data and passed it along to the other doctors. This meant he was usually present when a test was taking place, so Strawberry usually was out like a light.

The other's usual scowl was gone in this moment, too. But Strawberry couldn't bring himself to ask why. He was just so tired, so worn. It felt like something was trying to suck the very life from his soul into the mattress and he was holding on by the tattered threads of his will.

He wanted to give up. But he didn't. He wouldn't dare.

Strawberry couldn't remember the other man's name. It didn't really matter to him anymore, however, so he didn't ask for it, either. He watched the other move, ducking down so their gazes met. Two dots of purple met graying red and he smiled. Small and sincere.

"You're going to be okay," the skeleton murmured, his voice rough with what Strawberry assumed was age. He could hear the hitch and bumble, the catching and tears that were thrown his way in the almost melancholic hum of vocalization. He could hear history, something he marveled at.

If you look close enough, you'll see history in their bodies. You will hear it in their footsteps, in their breath. You will feel it in their touch, their skin or bone. It will swirl around them in great paintings and adventures. Strawberry rather liked that, he realized.

"figure somethin' out, doc?" He replied, as steady as he could in this state. "if ya did, i'll be fixin' ta invite you an' doctor hoppington ta grab a root."

The other didn't seem to even care to understand what Strawberry had said, just patting the blanket with a low chuckle. "I have figured it out, yes. We're going to have to do some magic work on you and then I have a medication that will help balance the effects of your, uh, poison. You'll get better in no time."

"tha' dog won't hunt wit' my hp so low," the fell muttered, his face screwing up with his concern.

"I've taken that into account, as well," the doctor began, a tint of excitement there, "don't you worry, Strawberry. Doctor Hoppington and I will get you back on your feet."

Their gazes met again and Strawberry couldn't deny the determination present on the other's face. He also couldn't deny the hope it gave him.

"I promise," the doctor swore.

Chapter Text

There was a dark hall. 

He'd seen it a million times. Black as pitch, machines humming, breathing brokenly in a wasteland. They screeched and sang and purred, invisible in the never ending hallway. He believed that those machines ate monsters because, sometimes, they'd leave and never come back.

(He was not unaware of what the dust piles meant. He did not forget the crimes in which he witnessed. He just couldn't handle it.)

Sometimes, those that left came back. But they weren't the same. 

("It burns. It burns it burns it burnsitburnsITBURNSITBU-")

And he went down that hallway. He came back. But he wasn't the same. 

He was cold. 

It was like every ounce of heat was sapped away from him, from the world. It was like ice clawed up his bones and scratched at his soul and it would never let up, it would never go away, he was stuck it and it stuck with him.

Cold became synonymous with his existence, with his ID, with his hidden name. 

Blistering cold.

That is why he hated that hallway. How dare it take him somewhere where he'd freeze. How dare it light up three others and watched on as they burned? How dare it scatter ash and words? How dare it stand idly by as people in clean white lab coats dragged him, defeated and surrendered, away?

How dare it bear witness cruelty and speak not a word of it?

He pleaded with the walls, non verbally, as his bare feat dragged across the miserable tile. Bone flashed in the corner of his eye, the sound of clicking, polished shoes echoing until that's there was. Click, click, click, click.

Closer to the test.

Click, click.

Closer to his grave.

Click, click.

They turned a corner.

Click, click, click, click.

The door loomed like a great maw, all sharp teeth and hideous grins. 

Click, click, clickclick...

The machine sang, already on. There was laughter and sobbing and he was the one sobbing because he already felt the pain twist like snakes over his trembling form. The doctor laughed. 

Because he found this funny.

Clickclickclick-

Closer and closer. He begged for it to stop.

Clickclickclickclick-

"Stop your crying. No one's going to hear you."

CLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICK-

it was cold so cold please stopstopstopithurts go d it' s soo cOld YOU'rE HUrTinG ME-

CLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICK-

They stopped. The doctor let out a delighted giggle, his hands pressing to the sides of the keyboard.

"We will win this war."

But he didn't know what that meant. 

He was just so very cold.

Little Bones woke up shivering. 

Blue didn't understand it; the boy slept under a quilt in the warmth of their living room. The chill hadn't come from the snow twisting about outside. It had been a sudden onslaught, coming from absolute nothingness. Little Bones said that a dream triggered it, but he didn't remember the dream.

So he shivered, as though the air had frozen with terrors only Little Bones could see but couldn't decipher. 

 He tried taking Little Bones to a doctor, but the babybones refused to go in and, despite the tremors along the little body, nothing else seemed wrong. So Blue bundled him up and made soup.

Nothing helped.

Later, it only grew worse as that dizzying sickness returned, a signal of destruction of someone else's home. Then, Little Bones screamed and screamed and sobbed, no amount of warmth easing the poor child. The sound wrenched out the deepest recesses of misery from Blue's soul, bumbling into the air with broken convictions. 

Blue had felt helpless many of times. He was no stranger to the feeling of that force of nature, the feeling of being beaten down into just watching, never knowing what to do. He'd gotten pretty good and throwing it to the side, to coming up with something, anything to change what was before him, even just marginally, for the better. But, standing in the archway of the kitchen, watching Stretch pull Little Bones even closer under mountains of blankets, Blue...

Blue didn't know what to do.

For the rest of his stay, Little Bones slept in the same bed as either brother and, though his bones felt like ice, both Stretch and Blue agreed it was his whimpers and their worry that kept them up all night.

The final night, Little Bones had taken his place at the foot of the bed (though Blue had often told him that it was okay to take the head, or even cuddle up to Blue more than he did), something strange in his pinched expression. He pulled his mass of blankets around him, his eyes closing for a second, before they fluttered open.

"Sometimes, I get just a little bit warm and it reminds me of someone," he admitted, one hand leading a finger over the top blanket, tracing patterns of nothing meanings into the fabric as he spoke, soft, but so loud in the quiet of Blue's room. Blue didn't speak up, just watched, waiting for a continuation. 

"They were nice... and very warm. I... I think... I used to cuddle with them. They didn't like how warm they were, I don't think.... My head feels weird thinking about it."

He groaned softly, finally laying his head properly into the pillows. Blue could barely see the little thing.

"Some rest will help," Blue assured, stretching himself so he could put a kiss to the boy's forehead before easing himself into his own place. Little Bones nodded meekly, the two closing their eyes nearly at the same time.

The road to sleep would be a long one, just as every other night.

Chapter Text

Little Bones had fallen back asleep when Blue and Stretch had packed up his things. Truly, he'd only been awake long enough to get dressed and eat.

On good days, Blue would gently wake him and playfully chastise the descent into the Big Brother brand Laziness™ and urge the boy to help. Perhaps he'd even bribe him with a little bit of chocolate. Then Little Bones would get up with a soft groan and put things into his little travel pack dramatically to elicit laughs from his guardians or he'd run around them as they worked, offering ideas on what the next group charged with his care would be doing with him to ponder and Stretch would make a dumb, little joke that somehow made Blue's already wide smile get bigger. Blue would always make sure the chocolate was eaten before taking the boy off, just so he could see how it happy it made him. Good days became fuel for Blue's motivational fire.

But today was not a good day.

The cold assault and something new had curled its nasty little claws around Little Bones and led him deeper into his nightmares. What had once been blurry figures now had defined features. Faces now had names attached to them. Locations had become identifiable. And events began sticking to the boy's bones like glue. Sleep was coming later and later for him.
And Little Bones had, lately, been less than willing to discuss any of it in detail. Just a quick run down and then he'd wash it all away with something different. Not even Little Bones' drawings (at least, the ones Blue was permitted to see) offered any kind of help.

So Blue let him sleep, taking comfort in the soft rise and fall of the small rib cage. Slow and steady, up and down, a lulling murmur that washed over Blue as he worked in silence with his brother. He tore his gaze from the boy, letting it fall on Stretch, taking in everything. The darkened swathes around his sockets like bruises, the worsened slump, the slight tremble in his long arms as if each item weighed five more pounds than what he could handle. Blue knew he himself looked no better, with his heavy skull that tilted this way and that and the ashen hue his bones have taken. 

"I feel awful," Blue muttered, lowering to the ground. Little Bones' backpack zippers clicked into the floor as he did. He had time to get everything, they were almost done. He felt like his limbs were crumbling.

Sensing a break was in order, Stretch shuffled to a wall, leaning against it and letting a drawstring bag fall to the ground. Tired eyes studied Blue with a soft sympathy.

"We'll catch up on sleep once the lil' guy is with Sci an' 'em," Stretch replied, offering a tired grin.

"But what about him?"

"Hm?"

"...when will Little Bones get to catch up on his sleep, brother?"

Sadness touched Stretch's expression, the two turning to watch the sleeping child.

"Soon," he said, but there was no solace there. "Soon."

Blue was starting to get sick of hoping and believing.

As soon as Little Bones got to Sci's, Rus was chattering about going to the park. And, despite how tired he was, Little Bones found himself absolutely excited about going; him, one of his best friends, playing Pokemon under the shade of the biggest oak tree there until they decided to go play on the swings and the jungle gym. It sounded wonderful, something that could let him forget everything currently holding him down. He could be a normal kid.

That's all he wanted anymore.

Before they left, Little Bones let Rus take Sam, since Little Bones got to have a buddy. The other had gripped the rabbit plush to his chest with a smile, careful of the camera he now always wore. Then, they took off, having taken a total of thirty minutes to do so.

Upon arriving, they secured their spot, fishing out their devices with twin excited grins. The grass poked at Little Bones' legs, almost uncomfortably, but he found this to be part of the charm. 

It was during the start-up of the game that something unexpected happened.

A rabbit monster, somewhat short with floppy ears, had walked over. He walked funny, unable to keep to a straight line, even with the aid of his cane. He wore a ribbon that was tied to look like a bow tie, a pretty red in color. His fur was brown, not unlike the gentle eyes he had. he looked thin and withered.

"Excuse me," he muttered, his gaze flicking to Little Bones, then Rus, then the little plush bunny at Rus' side. "I... I wanted to, uh..."

The rabbit frowned, his brows stitching together. "Sorry, it's just... how's that plush treatin' you?"

"What?" the boys chorused.

"It's just, uh, it used to be mine. Sam. Isn't it cute? It was sewn to look like my husbun."

"Its a good cuddle buddy," Little Bones said, confused. Rus shot him a look, only a little stressed by the stranger. At least, outwardly.

"Good, good... He liked cuddling." 

The stranger dipped his head, clearly saddened by this situation. After a moment, he pulled open his large coat and pulled out a similiar rabbit plush, though bearing his appearance, complete with the bow. Little Bones could see the tag, hanging low. It read 'Bentley'.

"Here, take this. The full set... So he doesn't get lonely."

Little Bones, still lost, took the toy with a soft 'thank you'. The rabbit monster provided a smile, nodding his farewell before he hobbled off. For some reason, Little Bones felt like he was watching a man march to his own grave.

(That man was very sick, physically. Very, very sick.)

"That was weird," Rus mumbled.

"Yeah, it was," Little Bones replied, setting Bentley down next to Sam. That... felt right. It looked right. Something about the two toys seemed much happier, side by side.

How strange.

Chapter Text

Little Bones was alone at the moment. 

Rus had two other friends he'd promised to hang out with and Little Bones really didn't feel like meeting anyone new, especially not during a sleep over. Candy had gone with Star for the night, something about wanting to spend some time together before Candy's move and subsequent throw into work. Sci went to pick up a late dinner, having come back from his own little labs later than usual.

He was surprisingly okay with the quiet, he found. He was sitting on the couch, his blanket around his shoulders, taking a small break from Pokemon (he'd been playing all day) to just hold Mr. Pah. 

See, he'd suddenly been hit with a sudden wave of sadness and intense longing when he spotted the bear resting where he'd placed him earlier; on the other cushion, tucked against the back and arm rest, the worn face gazing up at him. So he paused his game and gathered the toy into his arms, cradling like he remembered someone else once had. His breathing shuddered softly, sockets fluttering closed.

"I don't understand," he murmured to the bear. He was not graced with a response. The minutes ticked on. Little Bones' body shook slightly.

"I miss you." he whispered. Only silence followed.

Sci had picked up some burgers from fast food place. Little Bones didn't really care to pay attention to the packaging, instead focusing on the food, his legs idly swaying beneath him as he freed the meal from its papery confines. Sci followed suit, slower, his gaze focused mostly on his phone during this process.

It was quiet without Rus there to chatter away. That was fine; sometimes the quiet was just as valuable as the noise.

...No, he didn't think that. He preferred some sound. Where did that idea come from? He shook his head and bit into the burger.

Sci hummed softly, putting his phone onto the table and turning it off. Twin pips peered at the child behind their clear, glass barriers.

"Little Bones?"

"Hm?"

"...How scared are you of labs?"

The movement of his legs halted. The boy swallowed his bite, brows furrowing. "Why do you ask?"

"There's... there's a few very important things we need to look at. To help you. And to help Ink with something."

"So you want to do experiments?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of tests, Little Bones."

Little Bones shivered, looking at the table. So soon after meeting Sansy and Papy? Fear already crawled down his spine and he wasn't even in a lab, doing tests. His breathing hitched. 

Sci placed a hand on the table, drawing Little Bones' attention back to him.

"I understand if you want to say no. I'll be honest, I wish you would let me do a check up on you. I'm extremely worried about your health... but I'm not going to force you to do something you don't want to do."

"What kind of tests?" Little Bones asked softly.

"The first one is for your eyesight. I won't even need to touch you for that one," Sci said, watching the boy nod slowly. "There's a couple of them to examine how you're body is functioning and the last one... it's for your soul."

Little Bones tensed, his grip on the burger tightening enough to squish the food down where his fingers met it. A soft, sharp inhale echoed throughout the room. Sci hated doing this to Little Bones but... They all needed to know if Little Bones was actually healthy or not. They needed to understand his soul better. 

They needed to start the next step of caring for him.

"The first two are okay," Little Bones whispered.

Sci wanted to push for the last test, too. But he knew he couldn't. He took in a breath before nodding slowly. "That's okay, buddy. We'll work up to it."

Little Bones didn't respond. They ate in silence.

Error knew they were coming. As they passed through the dying veins of strings, he met each of their gazes, held it for a few seconds, before turning away. He gave a soft, glitchy hum, as though the sound could give them a key as to what he was thinking.

Ink couldn’t even begin to guess. No, his mind kept catching on how tired the glitch looked.

"Welcome back," he said, near emotionless. He stretched out his arms over the rims of his strange bed, body hunched and head low. His eyelights flicked back to Ink and Dream.

"How're you holding up?" Dream asked. He always looked so uncomfortable here, but this time around seemed worse. He seemed to be shivering... Ink realized he was, too. It felt much colder now.

"Mm, that's a hard question to answer, huh?"

"I guess so."

The two moved closer to the chained monster, sitting down next to him. Error appeared to contemplative now, the silence enveloping them as he worked through thoughts and ideas not yet worthy of sharing with his audience. Then he sighed.

"I'm worried about Little Bones," he admitted. Ink made a motion to elaborate. Dream seemed to completely still, like Error wouldn't speak if he moved.

"He's remembering things he shouldn't. And his body is responding to it," Error paused, thinking again. "This cold... It happens later. Way later. And I've noticed that I've... taken control, in a sense, every once in a while. Through glitching or reacting to a situation... I don't mean to and I didn't think much of it until this happened."

"...What caused the cold?" Ink inquired quietly.

"Don't worry about that," Error snapped, though the bite in his words were more like dying embers than a blaze at this point. "If this keeps up... Well, I don't know what will happen but it probably won't be good."

Dream's brows pulled together. "What do you think we should do, then?"

"I don't know... You might need to start figuring out how to separate us."

The guardians nodded. They were at a loss of what to do. Ink glanced to Dream, who shared a look with him. They'd have to double down on figuring this out. It might mean Little Bones wouldn't get to spend a week with Ink after all...

Well, he'd figure it out.

"You guys should get a heating pad," Error straightened himself, though his fingers still curled over the edge of the bed. "I had a friend when this happened who was basically a space heater."

"Blue mentioned that Little Bones said something about that," Ink remarked absently.

"Mhm. 12. They were a sweet kid. 09, 19, 12, and I all got along better than most." Error's mouth curled up into a smile, studying Ink. "Y'know, 19 was a lot like you. Always drawing, messing around... Maybe that's why you pissed me off so much."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ink frowned, his eyelights changing shapes. Error didn't respond, just chuckled and shaking his head.

"So there really were twenty of you...?" Dream murmured. "What happened to all of you? What happened to this universe?"

"They're all dead. That universe is gone. The code was so fucked up, it couldn't even be copied. It was already partially destroyed by the time I got to work."

"oh."

"It's a little late for the survivor's guilt, isn't it?" The destroy said, humorlessly. "I should let you two leave now. Take care of your kid, alright, Ink?"

"He's not my kid."

Error raised a brow. "Coulda fooled me."

Ink and Dream both got up, with The Creator waving his hand, like he was brushing off Error's comment. "We'll see you soon."

"Yeah. Good luck."

Ink nodded stiffly. Then the two disappeared, leaving the glitch, once more, alone.

Error stared where they had been, his body feeling a weight equal to his victims' weight in dust, laced with iron and gravity. He rubbed his face, closing his eyes.

How long could he take this?

Chapter Text

It was early in the morning when Candy came home. Though he'd spent most of his time with the skeleton, Star ended up following him back to Sci's, keeping close to him as Candy unlocked the door and stepped inside. Once the door was closed and locked again, the two surveyed the area, spotting Sci at the dining table, once again studying papers upon papers with coffee in front of him. Candy could imagine that the other hadn't even looked up when they came in.

"Did you even sleep last night?" he asked in place of a greeting, sitting down beside the scientist. He peered over at the other's work, catching sight of very little, though he managed to read something about a missing universe? That seemed wrong... Well, regardless, Sci covered up the pages with his arms.

"I, in fact, did."

"Two hours don't count," Star supplied as he sat down as well.

"Oh, that's hypocritical. How much sleep you get, Star?"

"Two and a half," the other said with a dumb grin.

"He's kidding. I got him to bed at ten last night," Candy said with a roll of his eyelights.

"To be fair, I went to bed around eleven," replied Sci with a shrug. The three snickered softly. Sci began to tidy up his work, leaning back in his chair with a soft hum.

"One of the other scientists has been working on something interesting. She's not very open to sharing her work unless she needs to but she asked if I could review some of her work. I was just taking a look before I started on breakfast."

"You must be pretty excited if you put off your own work," The lust observed. Candy's gaze remained the papers, clearly curious but he made no attempts to read it again. He had aspired to be a scientist when he was young but, even after managing to graduate, he ended up leaving it behind, too much on his mind with his affliction and his brother. Despite everything, he didn't want to pick it up again.

"Well, you're not wrong, but I also do not want to think of what I've got to do next," Sci said, his tone turning to bitter worry. "Gaster wants me to focus on Little Bones and that means I'll have to bring him for tests... He isn't very thrilled about that."

"I would imagine," Star murmured, his smile falling into a concerned frown. "What's the plan there?"

"Well, he's definitely okay with the eye exam. As for the actual checkup, he's willing to try but his soul..." Sci's shoulders dropped, his hands coming up to rub at his face tiredly. "Stars, you should've seen his face. He was terrified at just the thought..."

Candy's own soul ached for the boy... It wasn't fair to him that all of his had to happen.

"And to make things worse, Ink texted me last night that he needed to talk to me and I'm worried it's about the exams."

"You won't have to figure this out alone," Star said, putting a hand on Sci's shoulders. "Just say the word and any of us will be there to help you and him."

"It's okay if you can't handle doing all the tests, either. A lot of us are qualified to be in a lab, especially when the soul is involved," Candy added with a slight comforting smile.

"I just... I don't think I can handle seeing him scared in the lab and..." Sci let out a low sigh. "I don't want to see him looking at me and being afraid."

"I know," Candy whispered, rubbing circles into his back. "We can be there for you and him. We're all one big family and we're not just going to make you do this with him alone."

"...Okay," Sci managed out. After a few seconds of him just thinking, working himself back up into a functioning creature that wasn't scared of the future, what he'd find, he rolled his shoulders back, signalling the two to let go of him. "Anyone ever told you that you'd make a good counselor, Candy?"

"No, not particularly. People don't normally go to me for that kind of stress relief," Candy said with a laugh. Sci shook his head, though he looked a bit amused.

"Anyway, I think I'm just going to give Little Bones cereal. I'm suddenly tired as hell."

"Mm, you've got one of those cereals with marshmallows, don't you?" Star asked with a hum.

"...yes?"

"Good."

Sci shot the outer a confused look, which resulted with Star just waving him off with a lazy grin.

Candy leaned in, whispering to Sci. "Cereal marshmallows are his favorite."

"What's the difference between normal marshmallows and cereal marshmallows?" Sci inquired, feeling lost. He learned that Star hated marshmallows a while back. He might not be all that invested in spending time with his alternates, but he did go camping with Star, Blue, and Dream one time some time ago and Blue had, in the nicest way possible, teased Star's avoidance of the treat, even going as far as sitting next to the starry skeleton, sandwiching him between him and Dream, who copied the swap when he began shoveling marshmallows into his face. Star, despite his obvious disgust, had remained playful, returning the favor to Blue, who, as it turns out, hates chocolate.

Instead of receiving a proper response, Star winked at him, complete with a finger gun.

"I will never understand you."

"Good."

Candy chuckled at his friends fondly. Stars, he felt... amazing now. He had friends...! And wonderful ones at that.

"I'll go make everyone a bowl," Star got up, stretching out his arms as he did. 

"Don't eat all the 'mallows!" Candy said, Sci backing him up a quick glare. Star waved them both off with a laugh, disappearing into the kitchen. A minute of silence followed after.

Candy turned back to Sci. "What's the plan for today?"

"Well, I was going to see if Little Bones was fine with doing one of the tests today and then I was thinking of taking him out for nice cream as a treat. Rus wanted to spend a little more time with his other friends so he's not coming home today." Sci paused, tapping the table thoughtfully. "I might see if Sansy and Papy want to make the trip over and let them run around in the bigger park near the labs."

"Oh, that's a good idea." Candy nodded. "They need to check-ups, too, right? I remember hearing from Sans that Ink mentioned it but they don't get talked about as much as Bonesy."

"I could ask Toriel. I have her number so she can ask questions about raising babybones."

"They might be more comfortable doing it together."

"Do you think one of us doing it with them will help, too?"

Candy pondered this for a second. It would make sense; having someone who would remain calm throughout the entire thing could be a fantastic grounding point for all three of them.

"...that could work. We can ask Little Bones if he wants that..." and the other two, but that was implied, especially since there wasn't a confirmation yet.

"We'll think more about it once we have a more concrete plan." Sci slipped out his phone, beginning to type away as Star returned, balancing bowls with his magic and hands. Two were placed in front of Sci and Candy, another two placed at empty seats. He sat down again.

Right on time, Little Bones came down the stairs, holding his bear, as always. He was still weighed down by sleep, rubbing at his sockets and mumbling a good morning as he made is way to his seat. He automatically began eating, putting Mr. Pah next to his bowl. 

Everyone ate in companionable and comfortable quiet.

The group moved into the living room. Star started up a game for him and Little Bones to play, the two seated on the ground with Mr. Pah in between them. Candy and Sci took up the couch, the scientist against the arm rest, his phone in hand and his papers tucked into a manila folder safely under his arm. Candy was laying down, positioned so he could watch the first two, one leg bent and the other crossed over it. His arms were behind his head and, at one point, he dug a sucker from his pocket and stuck it into his mouth. 

They were playing a colorful brawling game together but Candy didn't care to keep up with the names of the characters or the game itself. Tiny giggles and snorts emitted from the two players as they battled it via the screen and that was good enough for the 'lust.

He turned his head to Sci. "Any news?"

"Tor' says they haven't had the check up yet and she wouldn't mind bring 'em here to have one."

"who?" Little Bones asked, still trained on the TV.

"Sansy and Papy. We were thinking getting them looked at with you," Sci replied, looking to the boy. "Is that okay?"

"Are they okay with it?" Little Bones inquired, sparing a glance to Sci. 

"Seems so."

"...yeah, that's okay," the babybones muttered. "Are you doing the tests?"

The implied question sent a shiver down the other three's spines. 

"I asked Alphys to come help but I'll be the one doing the most of it."

"Okay."

And, that, for now, was it.

For about two hours, Little Bones and Star continued playing. Candy joined in after a bit... Star was normally the victor, much to Candy's (faux) disappointment. They played one more round before Star left to go pick up the boys (Toriel decided not to come along, needing to go shopping anyway) and Candy ushered Little Bones to go get dressed for the deal. While waiting on all that, he got Sci another cup of coffee and attempted to rub away more tension from the scientist's back as it built in unwanted preparation for the day's activities.

Once everyone was ready, the group loaded up into Sci's van. It was a bit of a tight fit but Papy was okay with Sansy sitting in his lap. The drive was quiet, mostly allowing those new to this to watch their passing surroundings with awe, feeling along every surface they could reach. Upon arrival, the van was vacated, locked, and the group went inside.

Sci was moving them along so fast that no one really had the time to take in their surroundings before they were herded into a room. There was a cluttered desk pushed to one side, though not neatly, its matching chair up against one of its sides instead of behind it. A small couch and two padded seats were up against the opposite side, also unorganized. They were next to the only clean thing in the room; a bookshelf, packed with as many books and binders as its physical boundaries would allow and then some. 

In place of where Little Bones assumed was the desk's original area was a massive table, what looks to be a bed sheet pulled over its cold, metal surface, and a cart with some tools. Little Bones, Sansy and Papy made a point to ignore the cart.

"Do you boys need help getting up there?" Candy asked, looking down at them. The table did look a little high...

"...I WOULD LIKE SOME HELP, PLEASE!" Papy said. He probably could get up there without much help but Little Bones figured that the gesture would help ease some of his nerves. If his fear wasn't clawing at his body right now, he figured he'd also want some help, too... Sansy looked in the same boat.

Candy bent down, gathering Papy into his arms before depositing him onto the table with a little poke above Papy's nasal cavity. "There ya go, buddy."

"THANK YOU!" Papy replied with a grin, though it was just slightly dampened by their circumstances. Candy looked down at the other two, though they didn't respond, just scrambling up to take their seats.

"Alphys will be here in a second," Sci mentioned, wondering over to the cart. Here, he just hovered, gaze sweeping over the items at his disposal.

"Do you guys want one of us to get a check-up with you?" Candy inquired. 

Little Bones looked at the other two beside him. The table was big enough for an adult to hop on... and it'd help him... 

"...I'm okay with it," Sansy murmured, supported by a nod from Papy. 

"Me too," supplied Little Bones.

Candy glanced to Star, who got the message. Candy wasn't comfortable with most doctors thanks to his condition and there was no point in involving that when there were children there. 

Star strolled over, popping onto the table at the very end. He flashed a grin to his check-up-friends, crossing one leg over the other as he leaned back. He really never had an issue with going to the doctor. He'd always been remarkably calm, even as a kid, so he probably was the best candidate, anyway.

A second later, Alphys came rushing in, closing the door behind her. She stopped before them, a slight pant to her breathing as he adjusted her lab coat.

"S-sorry... Sorry! Wyvern needed help with her device and we ended up getting really into it."

Beside him, Little Bones stiffened. The two boys noticed, shooting him a confused and worried look. If Star hadn't always placed a mask of ease over his actual emotions, he might have looked the same but instead simply eyed the child. 

No one else had seemed to notice.

Star just made a mental note, eyes flicking to watch Alphys as she pulled on her gloves, mumbling to herself while Sci elected to snag a clipboard and pen from the cart, clicking it exactly three times before doing a test scribble on the page already nestled under the clip. There was a tense air to the room, the kind that curls like a tattered cloth around his neck and pulls. The dull walls flickered and he tasted dust. Beside him, Sansy tapped against the thinly clothed metal, a rhythmic click, click, clicking that had Papy grinding his teeth together.

"Jeez, kids, it ain't a funeral," Star remarked lowly.

"He's right. They're harmless tests, I promise," Sci added. He clicked the pen another three times; out, in, out in quick succession. Candy smiled at them, sweet as his name, assuring,

"We'll be right here with you, okay?"

The boys nodded, but the cloth pulled harder on Little Bones.  

But he says nothing because choking is better. Than what, he wasn't even sure anymore.

Sci was quiet after the tests, urging Star and Candy out with the boys. Alphys tried to talk to him but she couldn't get a word in before he shooed her away. In silence, he pushed everything back into place in his office and sat down at the desk, staring at the papers with his breath caught in his throat.

His gaze caught on the scribbled notes. Of course, all three boys' health wasn't... ideal. But definitely something that could be fixed for the most part. Sansy's fragility would have been a concern had it not been the sheer amount of Sanses who'd be willing to provide aid in that department and Little Bones definitely needed glasses.

Things had gone so well that Star managed to coax the boys into a soul check up.

There were a lot of things that were difficult to handle, specifically about Little Bones's soul. It had looked like there was a soul-shaped tumor growing out of it. Or more like being absorbed. In some weird way, it had made sense to Sci. It still threw him off but he could digest it. In fact, the sight wasn't necessarily that uncommon; Soulings can absorb other soulings and it would have such an appearance for the first few years of the child's life.

It was something else that had him shaking.

Little Bones had LV. Little Bones had a lot of LV. 

This should've made sense, too, but it didn't. Sci couldn't fathom it.

He just coudn't.

Chapter Text

Star had read the results before they left. 

It was a simple shock, seeing everything these boys had been through in a clinical, medical form. Reduced to cold, calculated words and that was it, like there wasn't any faces behind them, any actual stories to be told outside of those terms.

Just letters attached to clipboards.

Of course, there was a lot to take in about Little Bones even without that dilemma shoved in his face. Little Bones's LV was...

Well, it was Error's, alright. Exactly the LV you'd expect from someone who killed people for a living.

Then there was the glitching.

See, the numbers had stayed fairly consistent, enough that they could read them before glitching. They'd skyrocket and then plummet, even reaching negative digits, and even sometimes touching upon symbols or going to static. They couldn't get an exact read on Little Bones's LV, and even some of his other stats, but they could tell it was high based on how it'd sputter on some numbers... the issue lies in the fact it also stalled on zero.

Which meant that they'd made the wrong assumption about why the numbers would still on certain ones or they were looking at Little Bones's and Error's stats. Combined.

It was hard to think about... but it occupied his mind, anyway. Error hadn't seemed present in Little Bones at all aside from the occasional glitching and the more recent issue of being cold (excessively so), as well as Dream and Ink's visits to see him. Why was it that they were seeing both set of stats, if that was, indeed, what it was? Should it be a cause for concern? How could they even tell if it was if, chances are, they wouldn't be able to check Little Bones's soul again thanks to the reluctance to do so.

What about the other soul?

Yeah, it was fairly common to see that but... was that Error's? If so, what was it doing? How did this impact everything else?

Star couldn't say for sure. 

These thoughts swirled in his head, making it hard to focus on anything else even as the boys ran to the park's playground.

-

Little Bones knew there was something wrong when they left. He didn't want to ask just yet, but Star's expression was haunting him. 

He knew Papy and Sansy could tell, too. 

Sansy slid onto a swing, letting himself rock back and forth lazily as Papy stood to the side, expression contemplative. Little Bones chose to lean against the swing set's leg, arms crossed with a light frown. Star absently wandered to a bench some distance away, lost in his thoughts. 

"How're you feeling?" Papy asked him, keeping his voice low. He knew that the two had noticed that the demeanor of their caretakers changed when they checked him, not his friends, so he knew this was going to happen.

"I," Little Bones swallowed, "I don't know."

"do you even have an idea of why they acted like that?" Sansy inquired, pumping his legs a little bit. Little Bones shrugged before just... gesturing to himself.

"I already knew I wasn't... right, I guess? I just... didn't think it was bad enough for that change," Little Bones admitted. "They don't tell me a lot of things, though. It's frustrating; don't I have a right to know what's wrong with me?"

The brothers gave him a nod, and of course they'd agree with them. They probably were in a similar position; adults not wanting to tell them anything because 'they've been through so much already' or 'they're just children'. They weren't dumb. They weren't naïve. 

"I saw the lump on your soul. Do you know what that's about?" Sansy said, moving an arm to point to his chest. The gray skeleton rubbed over where his soul was tucked away behind his ribs, shrugging.

"I don't know. It's just there."

He guessed that explained a lot about him. It was just... there. He was just there. That was it.

A mystery wrapped up in an unanswerable question, a quest without a map or a clear objective.

"Maybe it has something to do with it?" Papy suggested, almost meek in tone.

"Maybe," Little Bones replied, "I'd know if they told me. I want to know about everything, but..."

"They think it's for the best, as stupid as it sounds," Sans shrugged, letting his legs finally stop moving, the swing's already small arch growing smaller already.

Papy offered no scolding remark to his brother, likely, at least a little, feeling the same way. 

"Well, one day, they're not gonna be able to keep me in the dark anymore," Little Bones stated firmly, pulling himself from the pole. He shook his head, letting out a low little sigh. His friends nodded, firmly.

One day, they'll get to know everything, whether or not their caregivers told them.