Work Text:
"Next!"
Kris sat in the hospital's waiting room, not wanting to move. It had been a stressful couple of days, and they were not looking forward to this appointment. The roaring had come and gone; they had betrayed so much. How could they ever get better, physically or mentally?
They reached up with their left arm to try to feel their face.
Oh
Right
That hand was gone.
They had lost it during the roaring, well, maybe lost was the wrong word for it being sliced and cast into an abyss of inky darkness, never to be seen again.
Its phantom presence still lingered within their mind as they brought their wrist far closer to their face than usual. It felt weird, like their hand should be intersecting with their mouth at the moment, but no touch was registering.
"I Said NEXT!"
Despite Kris still not wanting to get up, the presence (which had inexplicably survived and remained within them) forced them up and into the surgery room.
The doctor (a small mouse wearing an only slightly oversized medical coat) greeted them. "Ah, Kris Dreemurr, here for, let's see, a prosthetic hand installed."
Kris shyly nodded.
"You're lucky to have gotten one, hands of this calibre are often acquired hand over fist!" (the mouse chuckled confidently at their own joke) "anyway lets have a look at that amputation."
Kris sat down in the provided chair and (very nervously) extended their arm, still covered in bandages.
"Let's see here", the doctor continued, and, slowly, they peeled off the layers of protection "Hum, a very clean cut. went right through the bone! I'm sure I can have this installed in no time"
Kris did not want to be further reminded of how their hand had "come off"
The doctor produced the prosthetic that would replace Kris's former hand from behind their counter. It was a sleek thing, modelled out of light metal; it had individual joints and circuitry for each finger and bend. It currently resided in a light grip, each finger curving inward slightly.
Before the procedure started, the doctor explained how it would work.
"Alright, so these metal prongs will attach it to the rest of your arm; it is precisely built to your specifications, so it should fit on smoothly; it has full motor control, and this compartment on the back side of the hand where you insert batteries, though it should be big enough to fit a small snack"
Urgg batteries? Since when do hands require maintenance? There wasn't a battery store in town, and Kris wasn't looking forward to being driven out monthly just to replace dying batteries in their already-dead hand.
"Technically, the compartment contains all sorts of connectors and transformers, so you could plug in any power source (if you got it to fit in there), you could even fit a microprocessor in there and get your hand to move on its own!"
No thanks, the last thing Kris needed in their life was less agency; it was bad enough needing to be near the SOUL at all times, lest they become "indistinct" or something without a source of determination. They definitely didn't need their new hand to play little jingles or move according to some pre-written program.
"That should be everything, hand going in now!"
Kris flinched, but the insertion process was surprisingly painless (likely due to the lack of pain sensors remaining in that part of the arm), and just like that, they had a brand new hand.
They reached up their arm and studded it, the transition was nearly seamless (if you didn't count the complete change of materiel from flesh to metal), something within the workings of the hand had managed to integrate itself within their biology already, as (with some surprise) they managed to flex the fingers one by one.
It even felt like flexing their own fingers. How long had this been worked on just for them?
The fact that this had been in production before they took the first steps that Thursday morning was a worrying thought about Carol's level of planning.
As much as they wanted to admire this engineering marvel more, their legs had other plans. They rose from their seat and walked out with barely a chance to thank the doctor for their help.
Back in their room and on their bed, Kris fiddled with this new hand.
They thought about going out and showing it off to Susie, but she was probably busy at the moment.
The compartment was odd; it took a few tries to open it (likely for the best, don't want it spilling out at inconvenient moments), and once they were inside, it felt odd to stick their right hand's fingers within.
It was kind of like moving their hand through where their left hand should have been, but this time they actually had a left hand to be moving through, rather than a phantom memory.
The hole was somewhat spacious; the doctor wasn't kidding when they said some snacks could be hidden inside it.
Their legs began to move, oh were going again, great.
As Kris moved into the centre of their room, an idea occurred to them. Carol had said they couldn't keep the soul in a backpack because it was "too porous" or something, and they needed to remain connected to it. What if they moved the soul to a different container that was still connected to their body?
As not to give the possessor any time to react, Kris plunged their right hand straight into their chest, extracting the SOUL (How exactly it passed through their flesh was still a mystery, but they did not want to try it with their new metal appendage any time soon)
Ow that hurt, the dulling of pain from the anaesthetics they had taken did nothing against soul removal, but hopefully this would be the last time this was required.
As the pulsating red heart squirmed in their grasp, radiating heat and power, they shoved it into the compartment of their left hand, quickly sealing the hatch to keep it from escaping.
Some light banging came from within, but the hatch stayed sealed.
Kris let out a breath they did not realise they had been holding, sensation was returning to their body. This wasn't like being soulless; power was still coming in!
Tentatively, they did a kick. They could move their legs again! Kris smiled and jumped for joy. This was the happiest they had felt since... well, forever, probably!
Moving towards the door, eager to bask in this new freedom of movement (they no longer had to walk up to every person in town!), they reached for the doorknob with their left hand.
However much they tried, the new hand, which had been amazingly responsive, did not grip the doorknob, no matter how hard Kris tried.
Dang, Kris thought, I should have known better than to trust technology to work for longer than 20 minutes without maintenance, perhaps shoving the SOUL in there jogged the batteries out of place or something?
A finger on the hand moved.
Ok, this was definitely NOT Kris moving that finger.
Another finger moved, then another, and a gripping motion was achieved.
Huh, perhaps it's some sort of delayed response?
The Doorknob turned, Kris went to pull at it, and then the knob turned back.
What?
Kris tried to pull back from the door (I'll just use the other hand), but the grip had gotten tighter as the hand kept spinning the wrist backwards and forwards, constantly closing and opening the mechanism within the door.
Gosh, I thought this hand would take some getting used to, but this is ridiculous.
After some tugging (and help from their other hand), the door finally slammed open with a crash.
"KRIS!" Toriel shouted from downstairs, "I do hope you are not breaking things with that new hand of yours. Carol said it was awfully expensive!"
"I'm fine!" Kris shouted back; their voice was hoarse from low use. Kris usually kept quiet unless the situation demanded their input.
Their hand finally let go of the doorknob, leaving them utterly exhausted.
"What's gotten into you, hand?" Kris whispered into their hand, held up to their face.
Oh
Right
"It's you"
As soon as they had said that, fingers started rapidly moving up and down in something approximating a nodding motion.
"Oh, finally willing to listen to me now that I no longer bend to your every whim?" Kris thought this statement a touch dramatic, but they couldn't resist adding a little flair now that they had gotten one over on their tormentor.
The hand signalled for a pen by moving its thumb and forefinger together and wiggling them around a bit.
Kris considered ignoring it and going out, but, knowing the sorts of things they used to have done to them, Kris figured that it would likely not stop wiggling its fingers until they gave it a chance to write something.
So they moved back into their room, sat down at the desk, pulled out some paper and gave a pen to their hand-mate.
There was some initial difficulty. It appeared to be able to freely control movement up until the wrist, but the rest of the left arm was still, mostly, under Kris's control. This led the hand to try, somewhat awkwardly, to drag itself across the desk until Kris loosened up and allowed a bit more freedom of motion in their elbow.
Words had been written, the handwriting was messy and big, but the words were definitely there. Kris wasn't sure before now whether the SOUL could even write; it clearly knew some basic things before coming to them, like what words meant and how to move, but the extent of its education and skills remained, for the most part, a mystery.
Kris read the page
Can I go back in?
Of course, that jerk would want back in.
"NO", Kris stated clearly
The pen continued
:( Can I at least have weekends?
Kris stared at the frowny face on the page; the SOUL clearly had a sense of humour.
"Maybe an hour on Saturday, IF you are good."
Negotiating with this thing? What had Kris come to? Still, it did help save the world and all.
Back on the page:
Sweet :) Can you bring a notebook with you when you go out? I want to ask your friends some questions.
Kris was struck by the realisation that, yes, despite harbouring near-complete control over their waking actions for a week, they had never had the chance to ask any of their own questions, communicating only through binary choices or selections. It had been necessary for the plan to work, but perhaps they could be a bit more lax now that there wasn't a world-ending threat at their doorstep.
Choosing to trust their companion not to draw anything vulgar in it, Kris picked up their notebook and left the room.
Kris met up with Susie and Noelle at the diner
"Dude, you made it!" Susie cheered at them before they had even sat down, "and you've got a robot hand! What's it do? shoot lasers?"
Kris had an idea.
"No, but it is possessed by an ancestral spirit."
Kris brought out the notebook and pen and placed them on the table near their hand.
After a short pause, their left hand picked up the pen and wrote:
It's true :)
"No way", Susie retorted gruffly ", what sort of ancestral spirit possesses just a hand? This has got to be a prank!"
I'll prove it, Kris, close your eyes.
"ok" Kris said with a chuckle and put their right hand over their eyes
Hold up some fingers, Susie
"Uhh, sure", Susie said, holding up two fingers
2
Susie started shifting their hand nervously
1
now 3
0
back to 2
4
"OK, that's it, you've got to be peaking"
"Nope!", Kris replied, turning their head around and chuckling at what was going down (they couldn't see anything, but from Susie and Noelle's confused grunts, they figured something funny was happening)
The writing continued:
Now you're pointing at the window
pointing at the door
Now you're giving Kris the finger
After writing this, the hand dropped the pen and gave Susie the finger.
"Fa ha ha, ok that's enough Susie, I think Kris has proved their point by now", Noelle interceded.
"I think my hand might have a few questions for you", Kris said, uncovering their eyes and chuckling at what was written down.
And so the hand began to write...
Hours later...
Kris and their friends had moved to Noelle's house after the diner staff had kicked them out. Currently, they were all lying on the couch in various uncomfortable-looking positions.
Susie was the only one somewhat upright. Noelle was sprawled across her lap with her head on top of Kris. Kris was fully upside down, their feet resting on Susie's shoulders, their head near the living room table, and their left hand resting upon the notebook placed on the table.
Susie and the hand had bartered for hours, each providing many more questions than answers, both having a wonderful time. Sheets and sheets of notebook paper had been filled with ramblings, observations, and queries for all three of them. At this rate, Kris would need three new notebooks by the end of the week.
A lull in the convocation had occurred, and the hand was currently making a crude sketch of a piano. Kris was still unsure of what their friends thought about this hand situation. They were pretty sure Susie had brought it, while Noelle had remained quite a bit more sceptical throughout. Normally, a sceptical approach would be correct here, as Kris was known for pulling a variety of pranks. Kris chuckled, knowing that (barring some of the minor details) the tale of "someone else living in the prosthetic hand" was 100% true!
Noelle looked down at the notebook still open on the table. "Oh, Kris, did you want to play some piano with your new hand? Our piano is always open to you."
"Yeah, Kris!" Susie encouraged, "You should try playing again, you promised you would... if you want to, of course"
Kris smiled and slowly began the process of untangling themself from the mess they were currently in.
"Oops, sorry, Kris", Noelle said as she got off.
Kris moved over to the dining room. Nobody apart from the three of them was in the house. Everyone else was up to something important (tense negotiations, press statements, something like that)
Kris sat down at the piano and moved their left arm towards their pocket to put the notebook in. Communicating these sorts of things was going to be hard, Kris thought as they shook their arm a bit, waiting for their hand to let go.
"So, do you know any piano?" Kris asked quietly so as not to disturb the others.
To this, their hand gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
"Right, so just start with something in the baseline, and I'll try to match it with a melody"
Slowly at first, the two hands began to play, and a new tune emerged.
It was fully improvised, of course, neither hand knew what would come next, but despite all their misunderstandings, there was one thing both hands had in common.
They both listened to the same music.