Dancing among the tombstones
Sans continued his intimidation tactic as he watched Franky begin to crack in front of him. If he could just get the mobster to drop his guard, step away even a little, then he could take him down and get Frisk out of his hold and out of harm’s way. However, the other two mobsters, who currently had their guns trained on Sans, would still pose a problem and Sans wasn’t really sure how he was going to deal with them before they riddled him full of bullet holes. He supposed that he was just going to have to take a chance and put his magic to the test, see if he could draw faster than they could fire. It wasn’t a good plan, but at this point Sans was too desperate to really think up anything else.
“I’m warning you monster!” Franky spat, his eyes darting between the looming skeleton and the panicking Bobby with the dagger like bone at his throat. “Just let him go!”
Sans ignored Franky’s protests and was about to take another step closer, his manic grin still spread across his face, but then suddenly Franky winced before starting to scream.
Sans blinked in surprise, unsure as to what was going on for a moment, until he flicked his pinpricks downward where he saw that Frisk was biting hard into the mobster’s knife wielding hand, while also digging her fingers into Franky’s open wound on his side.
The mobster fumbled in his pain dropping his knife as he tried to shake Frisk off of himself, but she clung to him with her teeth and fingers like a vice.
“Get off of me you crazy bitch!” Franky continued to shout trying to get himself away from her much to everyone else’s surprise.
When Frisk refused to release her hold, Franky raised a fist, preparing to bring it down hard on the girl digging into his side. Sans sockets widened as he tried to call forth his magic in time to stop the blow, but before he could Frisk released the mobster just as he started his downward swing and dodged. Her face was expressionless as she then used the mobsters own momentum against him, switching her position as she took a hold of his attacking arm before heaving him over her shoulder and throwing him hard to the ground.
Silence resonated through the graveyard as everyone stared at the small girl in disbelief, trying to process how she had managed to toss a full grown man almost twice her size as if he were nothing but a rag-doll. Frisk, however, didn’t lose a moment as she then lunged for the knife that Frankey had so carelessly let slip through his fingers. The mobsters holding Sans in their line of fire quickly switched their target to the girl instead. They glimpsed her red eyes only for an instant, which was enough to send a shock wave of terror through their beings as they realized that she had her blood red stare fixed on them like she was sizing up prey.
They reacted without really thinking, their instinct taking control as they began to open fire at her. Sans felt the cold sharp sting of panic wrap around his soul and squeeze tightly. His bones were numb as he watched on helplessly. He was sure that he was going to see Frisk get blown away right before his eyes, but Frisk was quick, unbelievably quick. She ducked and rolled behind a tombstone for cover and continued to dart between them like she was a ghost in the graveyard. Her attackers only registered glimpses of her as they continued to fire off rounds.
It took Sans a moment to realize that this was his chance to disarm the trigger happy gunmen. He shook off his shock and conjured up a few small blunt Metacarpal bones, before rapidly sending them at the mobsters. They collided with the mobster's wrists, effectively knocking their guns out of their hands. Before they could react or reach out for their weapons again, Sans was already advancing at them with a large bat like humorous bone clutched tightly in a white knuckled grip . He struck them hard over the head knocking them both unconscious, not giving them the option to fight back.
Bobby watched as all three of his comrades where taken out of commission with fear stricken eyes. That was it, he was the last one standing. He flicked his gaze to the smoker at his feet. It was his last chance, his last hope to get out of this alive. The bone at his throat had stopped its advance with the skeleton monster distracted. If he was quick enough …no, not if, there were no more ifs, he had to be quick enough. He lunged for the smoker. Sans gaze shifted at his movement.
“Don’t!” He shouted, but Bobby was to desperate to register the warning as he clung to the little device ready to activate it.
Sans grit his teeth in a grimace before he sent the hovering sharpened tibia bone straight at its marker, right through Bobby’s throat. The mobster then collapsed and convulsed for a moment, the smoker clung harshly in his frantic grip before he went entirely limp. His blood leached out a brilliant red, which harshly contrasted against the white, blacks, and muted grey tones of the snowy cemetery surrounding him.
It was quiet for only a second as Sans stood in The center of the previous scene of chaos when another flash of movement caught his frazzled gaze.
Frisk had reappeared, and was now sitting overtop of one of the unconscious mobsters. Her red eyes gazing down unfeelingly as she raised the knife above her head.
Sans sockets widened in alarm as he realized that she was about to strike. He threw out his left hand, his cyan eye burning wildly as he captured her knife wielding hand in his extended hold right before she could bring her weapon down.
Frisk paused when she realized that something was blocking her attack, and then she turned her red gaze over to Sans. He flinched at her cold stare, but retained his grip on her none the less. She stood up, distracted away from the sprawled out mobster beneath her and took a step toward him.
“K- Kiddo? You feeling alright there?” Sans forced himself to speak as he held her steady red eyes with his cyan iris. She didn’t answer him, just continued to watch him as if waiting for an opportunity to attack.
“Common, why don’t we just calm down yeah?” He tried again, but Frisk only took another step closer.
“Frisk? Sweetheart? You …you still in there pal? Common buddy do you …remember me?” He asked nervously. Frisk gave no response.
“Ok, let’s just take a second here.” Sans continued desperately as he took another step backwards, feeling very threatened by her silent advance. “Let’s just put the knife down, and we can go back to how things were before and forget all this”.
Frisk’s red eyes then sharpened and Sans knew that she wasn’t going to come back to her senses anytime soon. She was about to strike and he had to think of something quick. He threw one hand out defensively and extended his hold on her so that his magic was completely surrounding her entirely, and then he intensified it.
The sudden weight of Sans’ magic seemed to take Frisk off guard as she stumbled, and then reluctantly fell to her knees from under the pressure. Sans sighed a little in relief, glad that he had managed to buy himself some time. That relief, however, was shortly soon after snuffed out as Frisk raised her angry red gaze to him, and in that moment all Sans could think of was ‘if looks could kill.’
Then Frisk started to struggle from under his hold. Sans grew nervous as he was afraid that she was going to hurt herself if she continued to strain like how she was, but to his terrified surprise she began to stand up. Sans was stunned as he watched her with wide sockets. Currently he was exerting enough magic to keep someone down hard that was roughly three times her size, but Frisk rose against him regardless of how he kept increasing the pressure.
Sans realized then that he had to do something to immobilize her so that he could try to figure out what was going on, and so far his magical restraints were having a poor effect. He would have to figure out a different tactic. Sans then placed his other hand behind his back and out of Frisk’s sight and summoned up a short club like femur bone. He was beginning to sweat form the amount of magic that he was exerting trying to keep Frisk in place, but she continued moving toward him, absolutely determined it seemed, with the same murderous stare completely fixated on him.
Sans winced as he took a steadying breath trying one more time to reach through to her.
“Frisk, you have to snap out of this ok? This isn’t you kid.” He tried to call to her, but she just continued on like she didn’t even hear him. Sans sighed disappointed as the feeling of regret was already building in his soul, however he really didn’t have any other idea as to what to do.
“I’m real sorry about this sweetheart.” He continued under his breath as he readied himself and completely focused his eye on her. He would only get one shot at this, and well if he missed he already knew that Frisk wouldn’t.
With one final deep breath Sans released his hold on her. Frisk shot forward as soon as she was freed from under his restraints. She came at him so fast that Sans barely had time to react. His instincts took over as he pulled the blunt bone from behind his back, whacking Frisk across the head at the last moment before she could slash at him with her knife. He sent her flying backwards. She tumbled to the ground and rolled in the snow, then lay completely still on her side, her body limp among the tombstones.
Sans stood rigid for only a moment before he ran to her, falling to his knees at her side.
“Frisk?!” He called out desperately leaning over her form before turning her over in his arms.
She was bleeding. He had hit her harder than he had meant to in his panic, resulting in an ugly gash on the side of her head.
“Shit. Shit!” Sans cursed as he tried to rouse her, but she only moaned in his hold and otherwise remained completely unconscious.
Sans then gathered her up into his arms, fighting back his flaring panicked magic as he settled on a shortcut that would bring them home. He jumped through it, holding Frisk closely to his ribcage, leaving the other dead and unconscious mobsters behind him in the cemetery.
When he emerged on the other end he was at the top of the stairs above Grillby’s bar. He could hear the chatter and laughter going on below him. He briefly registered someone even playing something cheery on the piano, but ultimately paid it no mind as he rushed forward to Frisk’s bedroom. He kicked open her door since he had his hands full, before moving to place Frisk’s body gently over her bed. He then turned her head carefully toward him, now taking the time to survey her wound to see if it was as serious as he dreaded that it was.
It didn’t look like the cut was too deep, much to Sans’ relief, but there was still a lot of blood which made him nervous. He rushed over to get the medical kit form the bathroom, as well as a cloth and water to clean away the excess blood blocking his view of the damage that he had done. When he had her face wiped clean, he was thankful to see that it didn’t look nearly as bad as what he had first thought, though he still felt unbelievably worried when she remained unconscious.
Sans then bandaged her head before he took a seat by her bedside, hands anxiously clasped together as he continued to watch over her. He briefly wondered if she would need stiches. He knew that he needed to call Alphys who would have a better idea of her condition, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave her side just yet. He also had to admit that he was feeling a little bit of shock as he remained pinned by his growing fears. He began to process what had happened in the graveyard, and as he continued to replay the events in his mind an icy realization started to trickle into his soul. Those red eyes, he hadn’t imagined them and he recognized them from somewhere.
The sound of covers shifting from next to him as well as a dull moaning snapped him back to reality as Frisk began to rouse, and suddenly Sans felt his magic flare in panic again. He realized then that she might still not be herself. He crushed it down however, when he saw her pained soft brown eyes flutter open. She growned and tried to sit up, but san urgently moved to keep her still.
“Whoa there easy now.” He said, placing a hand on her shoulder as his pinpricks raced over her form surveying her intently.
“Ow….” Frisk moaned as she placed a hand to her head, feeling the bandage under her fingers.
“What…what happened?” She then said confused.
“You …don’t remember?” Sans asked cautiously. Frisk gingerly shook her head no.
“I remember being in the graveyard and then those thugs….” Frisks gaze then snapped to Sans before looking around disconcertedly at the rest of her familiar surroundings.
“How’d we get away?” She continued.
Sans paused for a moment before pulling on a casual grin.
“It’s uh a little bit of a long story, but that doesn’t matter right now. How’s your head feel?” He then asked before reaching forward and stroking Frisk's cheek affectionately.
“Sore.” Frisk answered, her cheeks flushing a bit at Sans’ tenderness. “But I’m fine.”
Sans let out a thankful breath at Frisk’s answer, but ultimately his respite didn’t last as he now realized he had a lot of questions that he needed answers for.
“Did I get hit or something?” Frisk then asked still puzzled, as she couldn’t recall ever being struck by the mobster who had been holding her hostage. Sans stiffened a little at her question.
“Something like that.” He then replied before he stood up. Frisk tried to follow suit, but Sans gently pushed her back down again, his firm hand returning to her shoulder.
“Not so fast bucko, you need to rest a little more ok?” He said. Frisk wanted to protest, but knew that she shouldn’t. She nodded in agreement before settling back into her covers.
“Here, I’ll get you some tea with some healing powder.” Sans continued, lingering for just a moment more before retracting his hand and turning away.
A small tug on the back of his shirt brought him to a halt however. Sans turned his head over his shoulder where Frisk was grabbing him lightly. Her eyes where downcast, her brows furrowed in what Sans recognized as guilt, while she chewed at her bottom lip. He waited for her to speak up.
“I’m … I’m sorry Sans.” Frisk then said, not able to bring herself to look at him fully. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen. I shouldn’t have made you take me there.” She continued, her voice growing wobbly, and Sans sighed before he retook his seat, pulling her in for a hug.
“It’s ok.” He said simply. “We’re ok, we’re fine, everything’s fine.” He continued, recognizing soon after that he might be trying to convince himself of that more so then Frisk. She sniffled into his shirt a little and Sans just held her close as he continuing to comfort her as best he could. He also couldn’t deny that holding her was helping him to calm down as well.
When she quieted, he let her go before placing small kiss to her forehead.
“I’ll be right back ok?” He then said, and Frisk nodded, still not able to look at him directly. Sans rubbed her arm reassuringly for a moment more before getting up to go to the kitchen to get Frisk her tea.
As he made the beverage it was all he could do to keep his mind on the task at hand. So many questions were bouncing around in his skull that he found himself often just standing there in the kitchen trying to sort through them all. When he had finally finished making Frisk’s beverage he headed back over to her room only to find that she was passed out again.
He slumped tiredly, letting his concocted grin fall away, before placing the tea on her end table and retaking his position seated on her bed right next to her. He reached a shaking hand over to her and stroked her hair a few times before he finally rested it on her shoulder. The slight contact helped him to ground himself, helped him to remember what was important. First he needed to watch over her until Papyrus was home, then when he was sure that Frisk was in the best care possible, he could go looking for those answers that his rattled mind was demanding he find.
Sans kept his warry sockets hovering over Frisk, watching her as she breathed deeply in her sleep. He was still half afraid that the demon that he had seen in the graveyard would suddenly make another appearance. He was terrified that when she opened her eyes again they wouldn’t be the soft warm brown orbs full of kindness that he knew so well, but the unfamiliar blood red irises scorching with hatred.
Time passed slowly, but soon Sans heard his brother’s upbeat footsteps ascending the stairs. He quickly collected himself before he leaned forward and placed one final chaste kiss to frisks temple while she continued to sleep. He then got up to ease Papyrus into yet another harrowing situation.
He felt the guilt sink heavy in his bones when he reached the doorway. Again he would need his little brother’s help because again he had messed up and allowed danger to get to close to the ones that he loved.
He buried the dismal thoughts away for now as he knew there would be plenty of time for self-deprecation latter. Now he had to get Frisk healed and then he had to figure out what had happened.
Sans stepped into the hall right as Papyrus was about to unlock the main apartment door.
“SANS?” Papyrus questioned turning confused to see his brother stepping out of Frisk’s bedroom with a glum looking smile on his face.
“Hey bro.” Sans replied in turn, scratching sheepishly at the side of his skull. “I uh, need your help with something.” He continued.
“WHAT’S WRONG?” Papyrus immediately questioned, noticing Sans’ less than ideal state. Sans paused for a moment unsure of how to explain himself when he realized there was no point in trying to put it gently.
“We ran into some trouble. The kid got hurt.” He then said plainly and Papyrus was already halfway down the hall before he even finished his sentence.
“HOW IS SHE? HOW BAD IS IT?” He asked sternly as he continued forward to her bedroom with sans on his heels.
“It’s not too bad, a bit of a bump on the noggin.” Sans answered. “She’s sleeping now. I got her bandaged.”
Papyrus let out what Sans assumed, was a relived breath before he opened the door to Frisk’s room. He didn’t even hesitate after looking over her still form in the bed before he prepared his healing magic. Sans stayed close to his side.
Papyrus immediately extended his dazzling orange magic outward before letting it seep into Frisk’s wounds. She subconsciously welcomed the familiar soothing sensation, humming contently as Papyrus gently surveyed the damage. He was relived to find that the injury indeed wasn’t serious, but he was still concerned none the less. Papyrus then focused his energy on numbing her pain and stopping her bleeding before he retracted his magic again satisfied at least for now that she would be comfortable while she dozed, though he knew that Alphys should also be called to help properly stitch the wound closed.
Papyrus took in a deep breath as he felt a dizzy spell sweep over him. Sans noticed his brother swaying and was right at his side offering a stabilizing arm and shoulder to lean on.
“THANK YOU BROTHER.” Papyrus managed as he regained his bearings again.
“How is she?” Sans then asked nervously once he was sure that Papyrus was stable enough to stand on his own.
“SHE IS ALRIGHT FOR NOW, SHE IS ONLY RESTING.” Papyrus replied and Sans felt at least a little better at that, but then Papyrus turned his tired worried sockets toward him and Sans felt instantly a hundred times worse again.
“SANS, WHAT ON EARTH HAPPENED?” He urged. Sans slumped forward. He didn’t want to worry Papyrus, but he knew that he couldn’t lie to him either. There was no point.
“We ran into some Gambino foot soldiers.” Sans then began duly. “They figured out that Joey and Frisk were connected in the past and staked out his grave. They knew that she would want to say goodbye to him.” He continued. Papyrus’ tired sockets then quickly narrowed in absolute disgust.
“WHAT A HORRID, COWARDLY, DIRTY WAY TO FIGHT! TAKING ADVANTAGE OF SOMEONES GRIEF? THAT IS ABSOLUTELY INTOLERABLE!” He declared adamantly.
“Heh Yeah…” Sans agreed before his half-baked grin completely fell away from his face “…But I shoulda saw it coming ….No, I did see it coming, but I let her go anyway.” He then replied dismally.
Papyrus snapped concerned sockets over to his older brother who now looked absolutely retched before him. His sockets were hollow and tired as he stood like he was carrying a one ton weight on his shoulder blades. Papyrus blinked in surprise. He didn’t think he had ever seen Sans look quite so sullen before.
“BROTHER?” He asked carefully extending an arm out to rest on Sans’ shoulder. Sans didn’t meet his gaze his brow bones pinched as he instead looked at the floor while shoving his fists further into his pockets.
“PLEASE SANS YOU DO NOT BLAME YOURSELF FOR THIS DO YOU?” Papyrus tried again gently. Sans winced at his words.
“I was supposed to be looking out for her.” Sans then answered quietly and Papyrus straightened up.
“SANS YOU KNOW PERFECTLY WELL THAT YOU DID ALL THAT YOU COULD.” Papyrus began to protest, but Sans just adamantly shook his head in disagreement.
“No, I shouldn’t have let her go. I knew it was dangerous, but I gave in… god dammit It seems like I’m the bad guy whether I let her have her way or not. Whatever I do it's always the wrong choice.” He said.
“BROTHER, THEN I AM AS MUCH TO BLAME AS YOU ARE.” Papyrus interjected. “I ALSO COULD NOT TELL HER NO. I ALSO KNEW THAT THERE WERE RISKS, BUT COULDN’T BRING MYSELF TO DENY HER WHAT SHE WANTED. AND I ALSO KNOW THAT EVEN IF WE BOTH DID STAND OUR GROUND THEN FRISK WOULD HAVE MOST LIKELY GONE OUT ON HER OWN ANYWAY AND THEN SHE WOULD HAVE BEEN IN REAL TROUBLE.” Sans was silent as he was not able to argue his brothers point, but still remained tethered by his guilt. Papyrus sighed as Sans continued to avoid his gaze.
“SANS IF YOU WERE NOT WITH HER THEN IT WOULD HAVE BEEN MUCH WORSE. YOU DID THE RIGHT THING.” Papyrus continued.
“It doesn’t feel right.” Sans mumbled quietly and Papyrus slumped, his sockets furrowed with concern as he tightened his grip on Sans’ shoulder.
“FRISK IS SAFE AT HOME SANS. YOU’RE SAFE AT HOME. I DON’T THINK THAT WE CAN ASK FOR A BETTER OUTCOME.” Papyrus tried again. Sans remained rigid in his grief for a few moments more before he let out a heavy breath and looked back to his younger brother.
“Ok Paps.” He finally said, and Papyrus smiled lightly back to him in relief.
“OK.” He repeated before releasing his hold on his brother.
Sans then turned his gaze back over to Frisk. He still didn’t really feel all that right about this whole situation, but he knew that he couldn’t continue to dwell on it either. He would make amends for his carelessness later, however, right now with Papyrus watching over Frisk he knew that there were other matters that needed his attention.
“Uh Paps, do you mind watching over the kid for a bit?” Sans then asked delicately. “I uh may have exerted myself a little with my magic earlier and I’m a little worn out.” Papyrus instantly looked over his brother worriedly.
“DO YOU NEED A HEALING SESSION AS WELL?” He asked and Sans shook his head.
“No no, I just need to take a little nap if uh, that’s ok with you.” He clarified and Papyrus nodded in understanding.
“YES, ALRIGHT YOU GO AND REST BROTHER, AND DON’T WORRY I’LL MAKE SURE FRISK IS WELL TAKEN CARE OF.” He said reassuringly, sensing that Sans was still somewhat distressed. Sans threw on a thankful smile in response.
“Thanks bro, you’re the best.” He said before he left the room.
When Sans made it behind the concealment of his own closed bedroom door his small smile quickly fell away. He stood there in the middle of his room for a moment, his sockets hollow. It was true that he had over excreted himself with his magic, but he wasn’t really going to be taking a nap like how he had told his brother, he had other more important things that needed looking into even though he knew he really didn’t want to.
Sans then made his way forward toward his desk. He hesitated for moment before he pulled open the locked drawer where he kept W.D. Gaster’s journal. He looked down at the sinister little black book and grimaced. He strummed his fingers over his desk top trying to buy himself more time. He didn’t want to open it, he didn’t want to look, but the memory of Frisk’s red eyes flashed through his mind and he knew that he had recognized them from somewhere. Sans took a deep breath before he reached for the journal and opened its cover. He half scanned over Gaster’s scrawl briefly as he flipped through the pages, looking for those two descriptive words that matched Frisk’s own change in appetence at the cemetery. It wasn’t until he was nearly at the end when an entry caught his eye.
December 16th 1917
Subject number four did not make it through the night. They have consequently passed away at 3:28 am this morning.
Sans felt himself wince at the cold tone of the words spread over the page, especially since he knew that subject number four was not some simple lab rat but a human child.
Though I am not pleased with this outcome there seems to be at least some good news to report on. Subject one is developing nicely. He has seemingly taken well to the injections, and the tests are showing to be effective. When induced his strength and speed increase exponentially, though the question now is how to maintain control over him when in this state, as his behavior is erratic and unpredictable as well as extremely aggressive. Another odd side effect that I have noted is the change of color of the subject’s eyes. At first the irises would shift form there natural pigment to a bright crimson. The color would subsequently revert back to its original state once the subject came out of there induced trance, however, subject one's eyes have now it seems, made a permanent switch. The red irises have not faded over the past two days. I believe that this could be a good sign. It might be an indication that his soul has accepted the amounts of determination and is stabilizing.
The words practically leapt off the page as Sans read over the passage. Red eyes. The test subjects had red eyes! Sans instantly doubled back, rereading the same paragraph over and over again, not wanting to believe the words splayed out in front of him. It couldn’t be. It had to be a coincidence, but there just wasn’t any chance in hell. There wasn’t any other explanation, at least not that he could see. Sans slammed the book closed before he began to pace around his room. Maybe he was reading too much into this. A few sentences in a journal wasn’t necessarily proof. There had to be a better way to figure this out, to know for sure.
Sans then immediately headed to exit his room. He was too close to this situation, he needed a second opinion. He needed someone on the outside to look over this and tell him if he was making sporadic connections.
Sans barreled down the stairs, not stopping to talk to anyone in the bar, or even to tell Papyrus where he was going. He would just have to be quick enough so that his brother wouldn’t even know that he was gone, but waiting wasn’t an option. Sans soul was thrumming erratically within his bones, his magic buzzing with his growing anxiety. He hopped through a tare taking him back to the cemetery where the Buick still sat outside of the rod iron gates. It was closer then jumping all the way over to Alphys’ apartment complex, and was less of a strain on him. Sans also knew that he couldn’t just leave his car right outside of a murder scene. The coppers would have him in cuffs faster then what he could compensate for, and not to mention he would probably end up with a pretty big parking ticket if he did leave it there overnight. When sans finally got himself settled into the driver’s seat he immediately turned the engine and floored the gas pedal causing his tires to skid out slightly as he hurriedly made his way to the monster residential areas of the city.
When Sans finally brought the Buick to a stop by the curb he had managed to somewhat calm himself down, though he found as he exited the car and began stalking toward the worn down building that he still couldn’t quite get his hands to stop shaking. He opted to shove them in his pockets for now and just deal with it later.
He took the stairs two at a time up to Alphys’ floor. The place was just as decrepit as he remembered it being from his last visit, but this time he didn’t really pay it much mind as he had far too much whirling around inside his skull already to be wondering about termites or peeling paint. When he came to Alphys’ door he knocked harshly, before fidgeting were he stood while he waited for her to answer him. It was quite for a moment and then he heard shuffling behind the door before it cracked open.
“H-Hello?” Alphy’s stuttered as she peeked through the small opening.
“Alphys, it’s me.” Sans said stepping into her line of vision. “Look pal I gotta talk to you about something.” Alphys seemed to stiffen in the doorway, not making a move to undo the latch chain to allow him to enter.
“Um, oh Sans, i-isn’t it a little bit late? Why don’t you come back tomorrow and we can go over whatever you need in the morning? Maybe?” She then suggested meekly. Sans cocked an eye brow and shook his head.
“Alphys I promise this is important.” He urged. “I really need to speak with you. It’s about the journal.”
Alphys paused, clearly interested once the journal was mentioned. She let out a frustrated huff before she reluctantly nodded.
“Just – just one second.” She said before she closed the door.
Sans waited eagerly for her to unlatch the chain and let him in, but instead he heard what sounded like whispered arguing coming from within the apartment. Sans cocked his head to the side confused as he stepped closer to the door. Did Alphys have someone over, at this time of night? That was unlike her. In all the years that Sans had known her, Alphys had rarely kept company, much preferring to be by herself. Sans was about to knock again to remind Alphys that he was still standing outside, when he suddenly heard a heavy pair of footsteps approaching the door. Sans stepped back, as it seemed that Alphys’ supposed friend was going to be the one to let him in.
When the door roughly swung open however, Sans was surprised to see that Undyne was now standing in the entrance way. Sans blinked as he looked over the underboss who was staring him down with an angry teal blush clad expression on her face. Her red hair was in disarray, and she looked to be in a somewhat state of undress. Sans flicked his pinpricks to Alphys, who was standing only a few feet behind Undyne in the apartment. She was in a pink satin bath robe hiding her also flushed face in her hands. Sans sockets widened when he realized that he had unintentionally interrupted something.
“What do you want Sans?!” Undyne growled at him from behind clenched sharp teeth.
“O-oh.” Sans managed to stammer, before he cleared his throat, giving himself time to suppress his own blue blush and embarrassment. “I uh, just needed to speak to Alphys.”
Undyne narrowed her good eye at him.
“And this can’t wait until morning?” She challenged. Sans huffed to himself at his own rotten luck.
“It will only take a few minutes. It’s important.” He insisted. Undyne sneered and turned away reluctantly allowing Sans to enter.
“Fine.” She grumbled.
Sans then awkwardly made his way forward into the apartment, walking up to Alphy’s who was still hiding mortified behind her hands. Undyne slumped grumpily over the sofa, while still giving Sans the stink eye.
Sans cleared his throat again.
“Uh Alphys, you mind if we talk in private?” Sans then asked delicately.
“What you guys got a secret club or something?” Undyne sneered from the couch and Sans fought hard not to roll his eyes.
“It’s just delicate stuff.” He clarified. Undyne only grunted in disagreement and Sans sent Alphys over a pleading look for her to help him out.
Alphys nervously turned toward the underboss, her face still brilliantly flushed.
“M-Maybe if you don’t mind, just a moment please?” She squeaked, and Undyne seemed to pause, her expression softened somewhat before she sighed, giving in to Alphys’ request.
“Alright.” She said getting up from the sofa. “I’ll just be back in the bedroom. Wake me up when you’re finished.”
Undyne then tossed Alphys a small smile as she passed, before shooting Sans a final glare and then ultimately disappeared behind Alphys’ closed bedroom door. Alphys let out a nervous breath after she had gone, before remembering that Sans was still present in the room. She immediately stiffened again.
“S-So um, what was it exactly that you wanted to discuss?” She then questioned.
Sans flicked his sockets briefly over to the closed bedroom door, making sure that Undye wasn’t going to reappear from behind it. When he was convinced that she was really leaving him and Alphys alone he quietly sauntered over to the couch and took a seat. Alphys watched him curiously as he remained silent for another moment before he finally spoke.
“I uh, found something in the journal.” Sans began carefully. “Of course it may be nothing, but I just thought that I would really appreciate your opinion on the matter.”
Alphys’ eyes widened visibly with interest, before she hurriedly shuffled over to him. Her embarrassment was immediately forgotten about once mention of Gaster’s journal was made.
“Ok then.” She said quickly, her hands bunched together in what Sans knew was an effort to quell her enthusiasm. He sighed heavily to himself.
“The entry was made in a ‘what if’ kind of way so this really may be a dead end.” He then quickly lied, as to keep Alphy’s out of the darkness of the truth that really lay within the journals pages. Alphys only nodded vigorously in response.
“So it was just Doctor Gaster’s speculative musings?” She clarified.
“Yeah…” Sans answered, glad that she was buying his fib.
“One of his …speculations was on how much determination a human soul could actually hold, and how far it could be pushed under different circumstances.” Sans then began to explain vaguely. “He wondered if the effects of determination could change an individual’s physical attributes, like if it could increase their speed or strength.”
Alphys pondered the idea from next to him in silence for a moment, clearly intrigued by the notion.
“Well I’d say that it would make some sense.” She then stated. “Monsters can utilize human determination to achieve great strength after all, so I think that it would be possible for humans to use it for that purpose as well, but monster soul are simply too weak to withstand vast amounts. If anything using a human soul as a vessel, since it is determinations natural container, would be the best bet, though I still don’t think that a human’s soul would be quite strong enough to hold enough raw DT to really result in any drastic changes in someone’s physical abilities. It would probably shatter well before that point, unless there was another factor involved. It is an interesting thought though.” She then concluded before turning back to Sans, who she saw suddenly had a somewhat grim expression on his face.
“O-oh is that not c-correct?” She then asked. Sans only shrugged plainly before fastening his lazy grin back onto his face.
“Nah, your right. I thought the same thing, it’s just not possible really. Just the Docs own wonderings.” He said simply as he tried to smother the shiver running up his spine at how closely Alphys’ own conclusion fit with Gaster’s dark findings.
“Sorry pal, I guess I just jumped the gun, read into it too much. It really is just a dead end after all.” Sans continued while he hoisted himself up from his seat.
“W- Was that all you needed?” Alphys then questioned, her face falling in disappointment.
“Well actually there’s one other thing that I came to see you about.” Sans answered apologetically. “See, the kiddo got herself into a little scrap today.” Alphys stiffened before also standing form her seat.
“Frisk?! Is she alright!?” She practically demanded.
“She’s ok, just got a little bump on the head. Paps already gave her a healing session, but uh, just to be safe would you mind maybe stopping by tomorrow to look her over? Uh, we skeletons aren’t really all that good at judging heh, flesh wounds and all.” Sans replied with a forced chuckle. Alphys slumped, letting out a nervous puff of air.
“Ok, I’ll come over around noonish or so, if that’s all right with you.” She agreed.
“Perfect.” Sans said. “And uh, thanks Al. I’ll let you get back to your evening. Sorry for um, the disturbance.” He added while scratching awkwardly at the side of his skull. Alphys blinked in confusion and then flushed a vivid pink when she was again reminded of her previous humiliation.
“No trouble.” She managed to stammer out as she averted her gaze hard to the floor. Sans threw her one last reassuring smile, before wishing her a goodnight and making his leave.
When Sans got back to the car he sat glumly in his seat for a few moments. He still didn’t want to address what he had found in the journal. He didn’t want to believe that his suspicions were correct, but the more that he sat and stewed in silence, the more the pieces seemed to link together. Frisk had no family, and couldn’t remember her early child hood. Toriel had told him of her odd behavior when she was young, which coincided with the idea that she had been through a past trauma. Her nightmares, the bad man, her red eyes, it all fit.
Sans grunted angrily before he reached forward and started up the engine, forcing the thoughts to the far reaches of his mind. There just had to be another explanation.
When he made it back to Grillby’s he felt absolutely exhausted. He dragged his feet through the now crowded bar. His skull was pounding but even still his magic wouldn’t settle down. He pinched his nasal cavity and cradled his head while he paused at the top of the stairs in order to attempt to get himself sorted. He only managed to wait out a dizzy spell before he forced himself forward.
He then slowly opened Frisk’s bedroom door, wanting to check on her to make sure that she was alright. She was still fast asleep, alone now as Papyrus had also turned in for the night. He sighed to himself as slight relief wormed its way into his frazzled soul.
He sauntered forward, hands in his pockets while he looked down at Frisk wrapped up in her blankets and quilts. He steadied himself for a moment before he reached out and lightly brushed his phalanges through her soft locks, moving them away from her face. He then re took his seat on her bed next to her as he allowed himself to relax a little. He kept his mind empty of all the other questions that had been torturing him all night and instead focused on the sound of Frisk’s gentle breathing. Soon he felt his socket lids start to droop. He knew that he shouldn’t linger any longer by Frisk’s bedside, but he couldn’t really find it in himself to leave just yet.
Sans’ vision started to blur as his pinpricks began to fizzle out of focus. He blinked them back a few times but then ultimately just gave in. He needed sleep. He hadn’t had a good night’s rest in the last few days. In fact, since Frisk had been angry with him she had stopped her habit of sneaking in to his room at night. Sans felt himself smirk drearily when he recognized that he had been spoiled by her antics. He had gotten so used to sleeping next to her that when she wasn’t around at night he found himself tossing and turning immediately missing her presence. He let out a weak dull chuckle when he realized what a sap he had become.
“Jeez kid, if you keep pulling at this old sack a bones’ heart strings so much you’re probably gonna end up breaking something.” He then said sadly mostly to himself as he glanced Frisk’s way one final time, before he leaned back and succumbed to sleep.