Soft Reset

[buttercup_eater]

As everything fades away when they die, coming back to life is like seeing everything fading into existence again.

The first thing they're aware of is light, and that they can see, rather than seeing anything in specific.

The second thing they're aware of is sensation, the weight of their limbs pressing into a smooth, stone surface.

Where are they, exactly?

Chara tries to focus, blinking a few times in the hopes of clearing their vision. An empty stone hallway, rather like the one they last died in, with high windows flooding the area with sunlight.

They take a deep breath and try and push themselves into an upright position, only to be hit with a wave of sudden dizziness and have to flop back onto the floor. Okay, that's not good. What happened?

They can remember their SOUL shattering, and laughing so hard their sides were aching. Sans. Bruises. Blood. Theirs? No, not at first. Chasing the other child down unfamiliar hallways. Messy. No EXP increase, no LV.

No partner.

Chara waits a moment, just in case any input is forthcoming, but even after several minutes they remain alone. Once again, they're going to have to do everything themselves.

They manage to sit up with only a minimal amount of dizziness, then lurch to their feet. Minus the dizziness, it's rather like the last time they died and woke up again.

The knife is nearby, again, and they pick it up, again. Their locket is also still hanging from their neck, and they can still feel it faintly beating. But there's also a strange weight in their pocket, and when they slip a hand inside to check- oh. Right. An... alternative version of their locket, they guess.

Gripping the locket tightly, they set out to find their purpose once again.

[As with Frisk's post, this is set three days after their death.]

Comments

[dustless]

Frisk can't make words happen, no matter how hard they try. Sans will feel their head against his, shaking.

They refuse, grip tightening on his hoodie. "No," they snap. They refuse to accept what could happen, they refuse to let Sans give up. "No, no, n-no, no."

[sansational]

Sans hears that refusal in their voice. And, for just a moment, he's terrified by it. Because for just a moment, he can't possibly imagine reciprocating it.

"i don't know what else to do. i'm tired of being helpless. because i've lived that life, y'know? that life of everyone dying and coming back like nothing ever happened, just because someone else decided they should die. it was awful. and i was still just on the verge of thinking i could live with it when they showed up the first time. and this place is weird and all of us could disappear at any second and i was still happy here and they showed up again."

Twice now that he's started to let himself get comfortable with life. Twice now that Chara has showed up to ruin everything, to kill his friends, to all appearances just because they're there to be killed. Once upon a time, Sans let himself think that he could ever be strong enough to stop them.

He knows better, now.

What can he do but give up, in the face of that boundless, ruthless determination? He's not like Frisk, he's not strong, he's desperately fragile and weak and the best he can ever hope to do is delay and frustrate and plead.

Yet it's that same ruthless determination that keeps Sans clinging tightly to Frisk, keeps him from turning to dust on the spot. Just because he "can" keep going, he knows deep down that he "has to".

"i miss him so much. even if...even if back home he wasn't...i've never had to be without him this long, frisk." He isn't supposed to be without Papyrus for this long. "why does that kid get to show up, when i'm never gonna see my brother again?" He loves S-4, of course he does, but it isn't the same. It's been months since he's even heard Papyrus laugh.

[dustless]

They move their head, looking towards the hallway Chara fled down. Their brain is screaming at them to go, chase them, find them, stop them, but they know how close he is to falling down. Or maybe they're just so afraid of that they can't push past the fear like they usually can.

It takes every ounce of willpower to string words together, and a long pause after Sans stops talking. Frisk doesn't have answers, not enough, but they'll try anyway, even with blood and tears streaming down their face.

"No. No. Don't. Don't give up," they whisper fiercely. "They're stoppable. He might be here someday. You don't know. You can't die. Don't die. Don't go." They want Papyrus too, but Sans is here now and they know he doesn't want to have bad things happen to everyone, and neither do they, and he's a part of everyone and so, so important even though he was so, so stupid.

[sansational]

Don't die. Don't go. He's not alone here, no matter how much it feels that way sometimes. No matter what else he's messed up in life...Sans at least used to be able to be there for people.

...he's messed that up lately, too. But not so badly that he can make himself turn his back on Frisk.

"i messed everything up. i know that. gonna try not to do it again." He can't make any promises, though.

Sans sits back, wiping at his eyesockets, and takes a few deep breaths. They steady out, eventually, and only then does he lifts his head to look at Frisk. "...go on." He nods back down the hall where Chara had fled. "i'll...i'll be here when you're done. or, uh...at least i'll be around." It might be a good idea for him to keep moving, for a little while.

He can barely force himself to contemplate the future from here. But Sans thinks he might at least be able to manage that much. What he can see is that, as distraught as Frisk is, there's only so much they can do for one another like this. They might even make matters worse. But Frisk...Frisk looks like they want to get moving. And Sans wants them to be able to get moving. And maybe that still counts for something.

"...i won't die. i won't." He isn't sure if Frisk really appreciates just what they're asking of him, right now. But they are asking it.

[dustless]

They're only asking what he would ask of them. What he kind of has already.

"I--I--I'll--" They don't want to leave him alone but they can't stay. And they're mad and scared and they realize that they can't think well that way.

Frisk forces themselves to their feet, despite feeling heavy and not entirely in their own body. "Okay. Don't die, don't do stupid anything, be back later, see you," they say unsteadily, staring at him hard as they back away.

Only after they feel they're sure Sans isn't going to fall down when they aren't clinging to them do they turn around, and then they're running full-pelt down the hall. They can't scream, their voice is even more shot than it was, but they hope hope hope Chara didn't get too far.

[sansational]

It's an effort, but Sans manages to lift his head and meet their gaze as they back away. The words don't come, but hopefully the intentions get communicated anyway. He's still here. He's not going to die. He can't make any promises, but at least he can try.

"see ya," Sans says. "take care 'til then."

He watches them as they turn and run. And then Sans almost does fall down as soon as they're out of sight. It's a very near thing. Every inch of him just wants to not move anymore. The soul barely has enough energy to keep burning, let alone keep animating the pile of magic that is really all his body is in the end.

But he got up again after Papyrus died. If he survived that, no matter how awful the actual surviving was, he can survive anything.

Sans grits his teeth, and forces himself up into a crouch. Come on. He gets one foot properly under him. Come on. And then the other, and he's up on his feet, and immediately he sways so bad that he has to brace himself against the wall. It hurts, it hurts so much and he's so tired and it's never going to end...

One step. Another step. Pause, take a deep breath. If he breaks this all down into microscopically small tasks that even he probably can't fail...then he just might make it.

Bit by agonizing, exhausting bit, Sans limps his way back to his room. Frisk should be able to find him there if they want to look. Besides, now that he's here, he has to not die. Because for all that he's messed up these past few days, forcing S-4 and Sans-Serif to find his dust in his bed is a low to which even Sans will not sink.

[dustless]

Frisk stares down at him for a moment, relief and exhaustion and anger all rushing together to drive the words from their head, and they sit on the edge of his bed.

"...Sans. Sans. Gotta...talk...tell you something. 'S important."

[sansational]

Sans is still slumped on one side of the bed, his eyesockets just barely open and staring at nothing very much. Sans-Serif is sitting perched on the other side of the bed, his knees drawn up to his chest, his chin resting on them. When Frisk speaks, he reaches over to roughly shake himself by the shoulder. "wake up."

It's an argument they've been having on and off for a while now. Sans' expression flickers into a sullen sort of glower, but after Sans-Serif shakes his shoulder again, he manages to struggle upright into a sitting position. Even he knows that it's that, or fall asleep in the middle of whatever Frisk has come to say.

He stares at them and tries to feel...much of anything. Relief that they're okay. Worry at whatever they might have come to say. He feels neither. He's so tired. But he manages a reply, even if it's only: "mm?"

[dustless]

Frisk nods their quiet thanks to Serif, so they don't need to touch him, just in case he's having a nightmare or something like that.

They think Sans should be sleeping after all of this, but at least they know he'll hear them. It can wait a few minutes more.

They slump enough they nearly slide off the edge onto the floor. Their voice is ragged, clipped. "Chara's gone. Not dead gone. Locked up. Tauriel. She got them. So. Don't gotta be scared now."

[sansational]

Serif nods his acknowledgement back. He's seen what can happen when Sans has a very bad nightmare. It's safer if Frisk doesn't touch him just yet. And when they slump, he reaches past Sans to try and tug them a little more securely onto the bed, by the back of their shirt.

For Sans, details are slow to filter in through his own exhaustion. He hears names, first, then...

Gone. Locked up. Tauriel got them, Tauriel will keep watch. It's the best possible scenario. Maybe the only possible scenario. She'll keep watch.

Don't have to be scared.

He nods, slowly. "okay." And then, after a beat: "good." And then, at last. "...thanks."

[dustless]

Frisk lets him pull them. Then they just topple backwards to lie down, width-wise on the bed instead of lengthwise. They realize that's a bad plan even as they do it, 'cause they're going to fall asleep right there...

...somehow, that doesn't motivate them to get up.

"Welcome."

[sansational]

Both Sanses look down at Frisk. Both Sanses look at one another.

Then they both quietly give up on the idea of motivating Frisk to get up. Sans starts to get up off the bed. Sans-Serif grabs a hold of him and glares. And, just this once, the unspoken communication that passes between them works.

So, taking care to give Frisk as much space as they can, both skeletons lay down on the bed width-wise, too - Sans on one side, Sans-Serif on the other. Sans is deep asleep within seconds. For Serif, it takes a little longer.

"i'll wake him up," Serif mumbles, in case Frisk is still awake to hear them. "if he has a bad dream again."

[dustless]

They fling an arm up to cover their eyes. Okay. This works.

"Mkay. 'S fine. M...not...gonna...just napping..."

And then they're out cold. And will probably stay that way for around two hours.