For the people who are still alive

[sansational]

The nightmares come the night after the funeral.

He escorts S-4 and Sans-Serif back to the castle. Makes a couple of attempts to apologize to his other self that don't make it past his mouth. Tucks them both in, reads them both a story, returns to his own room just next door.

Barely an hour later, Sans wakes up blind with panic and crying out in terror. It leaves him huddled in the far corner of the room, his hands over his head, nails digging into his skull, teeth chattering and tears pouring from his eyes thick and fast enough to blind and choke him. Nightmares of what was and what could have been. Dreams of melting smiles and sharp teeth reaching and clawing for him, dragging him down and under and into and come and join the fun.

He resolves not to sleep again, after that. Eating also comes to seem...less important. He's not hungry. What good does food do him, anyway? It doesn't restore his HP. He's always at his best. It's just that his best isn't nearly enough.

One murderous human is dead. Another might arrive. He has to be ready. He has to protect everyone. He can't let those nightmares of dust (or maybe they're visions of timelines yet to be) come true.

Sans immerses himself in his lab. He buries himself in his work, and when he exhausts his old avenues of search, he makes up new ones. Anything to keep moving. Anything to not think of the past, here and elsewhere. When he emerges, it's usually to be found in the library, or outside, armed with his telescope and a notebook. And a pair of boots - the echo of bloody squishes from his old ones had led to Sans tossing them under his bed in disgust, along with his hoodie Otherwise, he gathers seemingly random ingredients from the gardens with an expression of fierce concentration on his face. There's probably no way to get this doseage exactly right.

But he can get close. Perhaps he can even do better.


It's like walking in on the wreckage of his own life. It's like waking from another nightmare all over again.

His brother, exhausted (that was never supposed to be the plan). His other self, lost (and Sans was supposed to show him better). His friends, worried or in some cases so far past worried that they had hit anger (he never asked them to care but of course that's the point).

So much is a mess, he knows he's done wrong and needs to fix it, but sleep isn't coming any easier and he doesn't know where to start. The raging uncertainty and the press of problems leaves him tempted to just curl up in a ball on his bed again and just...tune it all out.

But for others' sake, if nothing else, Sans is good at carrying on. It's just a matter of...shifting focus from what it had been before.

What Sans does know is that, for the first time in days, he's hungry. His soul feels hollow for the need of some proper food. And he's opened his eyes enough to properly see that S-4 and Sans-Serif are both looking a little more spindly again. Lucas' stew had done him some good the first time around. He'd even remembered to take some hasty notes on the recipe.

Maybe he can do it justice, if only for his family's sake.

So anyone who ventures down into the kitchens a day or so after Frisk returns will find a corner of it something of a mess. A pot of hot water is simmering on the stove, Some rather messily chopped vegetables are cooking away inside, along with an admittedly pleasant array of seasonings. A mess on the table testifies to Sans' attempts to continue adding ingredients...

...but, more than likely, visitors will find him dozing right there at the table, half a carrot or potato still waiting on the cutting board.

Anyone worried about his welfare can at least take some comfort in the fact that both the slippers and the hoodie have returned to their rightful place.


((ooc: Replies are likely to be slow as other threads progress. Just consider this Sans putting down a tether to the admittedly busy timeline around here. Either way, just note if you're tagging him before Frisk's return or after.))

Comments

[sansational]

yes, he wants to say, to scream. yes, because there's no reason i should be alive when all of them died. i have to be worth the lives i let go. i'm a coward and i'm pathetic and no matter what, I won't make those mistakes again.

The sound of the door closing makes him flinch. Sans' gaze darts about, like a trapped animal, because that's what he feels like all in a rush, all of a sudden. He doesn't like the way she's standing. He doesn't like the look in her eyes.

His head hurts, like a vice tightening around his skull until he's sure it's going to crack like his brother's skull under their heel.

He's tired. She reminded him that he's tired. How dare she remind him that he's tired?

"y'know, there's a pretty easy fix for that." Sans' smile is sickly-sweet, before he jabs a forefinger at the door. "you could just, uh, y'know. not see me. radical thought, i know, but i thought i made it pretty easy for you." She's going to come into his lab and tell him that she doesn't like what's going on? He isn't sure what's more galling, in that moment - the irrationality or the arrogance.

[lightofthestars]

"Cum od aisg tarlanc!" she lets out in a rush as her anger grows. This stubborn pile of bones...! "I should knock you on the head and be done! At least then you will sleep!"

If he is feeling trapped now, he will feel no better as she stalks toward him, stiff-legged. "I count you as my friend, Sans. I would be a poor friend indeed were I to leave you to fade into--into dust."

[sansational]

He does feel no better as she stalks towards him, to the point that Sans actually finds himself hastening to get out of his chair as she closes the distance between them. He almost winds up in an ungainly heap of bones on the floor in making the attempt. At the least, she's a little less terrifying if he can keep his chair between them. But even then, Sans' stance is wary, bordering on hostile.

"so, uh, hey. since you count me as a friend, you should probably know that 'knocking me on the head and being done'? will literally kill me. which, hey." He shrugs expansively. "i guess is a sort of sleep, but probably not what you had in mind."

[lightofthestars]

She stops where she is. Her mouth drops open slightly.

"Are you truly so frail?"

[sansational]

Sans visibly relaxes when his ploy proves successful and she stops her advance. Though in the next second, his mouth sets into a grim and bitter line at her question. He is not nearly present enough to offer a proper explanation on HP. He tries anyway, just to see if it makes a difference.

"monsters have this...thing. this metric. it's called 'hp'. stands for how much damage we can take, from someone who wants to hurt us." Sans spreads his arms wide. "you are looking at the one and only monster in the entire underground to have just one hp. a kid in the village where i used to live had ten. so, uh, yeah. much as you want to manhandle me? it's gonna do the opposite of help."

[lightofthestars]

She stares at him as her heart clenches tight. He had told her before how weak monsters are. Now he is saying that he is the weakest of all.

She could have let two dear friends die, not one. If he does not rest, she could still lose him.

"If you are so weak," she says, slowly at first but with growing strength, "then it is still more vital that you take care of yourself. If you are for ever one step from death, you cannot be careless with your health. What if you make a mistake?"

[sansational]

"when did i say that i'm 'forever one step from death'? all i said is 'please don't hit me in the head'." Assuming she was able to hit him in the head, of course. But given who and what Tauriel is, Sans is marginally less certain of his ability to dodge her than he is a fellow human or a monster. So, best to just avoid the issue altogether if she's amenable, right?

Still. Sans' soul is very fragile in a great many ways, and so he can only make it so unmoveable. It aches at the look in her eyes, and her, for lack of a better word, supremely grandiose fussing. Papyrus would fuss over him like that, when he'd first come home after the accident. He sometimes still had later on.

But still, Sans holds firm. There are too many things she doesn't understand and he's too tired to explain.

"i kinda think the fact that i've lived most of my life like this would show that i know what mistakes not to make." And ever since actually dying, he knows one more mistake not to make. That mistake being sleeping whenever there's a chance that particular human is in the vicinity.

[lightofthestars]

"Most of his life"? What had happened to make him so?

"What if you do not? What if you die?" She steps forward without being aware. "What would I tell your family?"

[sansational]

"look at you, talking about monsters like you're an expert all of a sudden." That is a mean and petty thing to say if anything is. Sans is not unaware of this fact. It might be one of the single most basically nasty things he's ever said to anyone in this castle, let alone her, and a chill goes up his spine to realize it.

But he's running out of tricks, and the way she's looking at him is still more uncomfortable.

Sans opens his mouth...and then closes it again hard enough to make his teeth click. He makes to bury his hands in his pocket, remembers he's not wearing his coat, and just stares at the wall. "...tell 'em whatever you want. not like i'd be around to weigh in anymore, would i?"

Tell them I did my best to keep them safe. Tell them I love them and I'm trying and I'm scared.

"they're better off with you, anyway."

[lightofthestars]

"No."

Suddenly, she is moving again, reaching out with the intent to take his shoulders in her hands. "I will not let you die too!"

It is getting hard to speak past the pain in her throat. She presses on. "I have only just met Esfor and Sans-Serif, but you are their brother! You cannot truly believe this!"

[sansational]

She isn't coming at him with hostile intentions. This is, in a way, something so much worse.

So Sans dodges. One second, he's within easy arm's reach. The next, without seeming to move a step, he's a solid foot to the right of her. Safely out of danger, like he almost always is. Why isn't she seeing that?

"i'm who sans-serif might have been. otherwise?" His tone is flat and empty. "i'm a temporal dead-end that they'll probably just forget the second they wind up back home." Like even Gaster probably did. Otherwise he would have found a way to come back.

"i'm not asking you to let me do anything. i didn't ask you to come here at all."

[lightofthestars]

He has moved faster than she can see. He did it once before, when she thought he had killed Frisk. That he turns aside from her care as he did her blows--hurts.

Yet his words hurt more.

"That is not true." Her voice is as strong and full of passion as his is lacking. "They look up to you, respect you, and love you. They have known such little love in their lives--they could not possibly forget one who has shown them so much."

He will not let her near, but still she tries to close the distance between them. "You may not have asked me to come, but here I am, Sans! You did not ask for my friendship or my care, but you have them both. You are not so easily forgotten as you believe, mellonenin."

She holds her open hands before him. "I am asking only that you eat a few bites and sleep a few hours. That is all. For the sake of those of us who care for you, will you not do this?"

[sansational]

"i'm not asking you to reassure me." He snaps at her, a sudden surge of energy seeming to take hold of him. Sans seems to bristle where he stands - anger can make all the difference in the world, when you're on your last legs. "i'm telling you, as a guy who's lived through it more times than i can count, that when they get reset back to their own times, they're probably not gonna have a choice. sans-serif isn't even strong enough to remember other times yet. not like i can. i've lived through this, tauriel. hopes and dreams don't make a difference. time doesn't care."

The words echo with a cold finality in the tower room, harsh on his ears. Sans blinks through the threat of tears and tries to breathe around the taste of dust in his mouth and finally, rather than look at her any longer, he brings up a hand to rub his eyesockets clear.

If S-4 and Sans-Serif actually look up to and respect him, then they both have bigger problems.

He could dig the knife deeper and point out that this means they'll probably forget her, too, and that might even be kinder. But even now, Sans can't be that cruel.

"'m not hungry." When he speaks, it's once again a mumble. "if i tried eating anything, it's probably just go right through me anyway." The fact that he can't even take any joy in one of his favorite puns is not a good sign. Sans moves as though to pull his hood up, and sighs as he remembers himself. "and you yelling at me isn't gonna make me magically able to sleep."

The next time he loses his grip on reality, there's every chance that he'll be something worse than a weepy, grieving mess. He's not going to inflict that on any of the people who care for him.

[lightofthestars]

The anger in his voice makes her stand up straight indeed, yet still she does not move. "Time does not care, but they do! What does it matter that they may not remember? That is all the more reason to show them love and kindness while we can."

She lets out a breath. "Maybe you will not be able to eat or sleep. All I am asking is that you try."

[sansational]

Yet still, she does not move.

Sans feels enough like he's trying to pull apart a mountain every day since Frisk died, and here she is adding stones. He sighs, long and tired, slumping so much that it might almost look like he is about to collapse for a moment. But he keeps his feet, even if he doesn't look all that happy to do so. His gaze falls to the floor once more.

"...if i 'try', will you leave me alone?" Sans doesn't sound remotely confident. In fact, he mostly sounds suspicious.

[lightofthestars]

As she is not sure he is telling the truth, but rather saying what he believes she wishes to hear so that she will leave.

Still, she will give him this chance.

"If you swear to me that you will, then yes. I will go," she replies.

[sansational]

Sans doesn't quite succeed in not rolling his eyes. Doesn't quite bite back a long sigh of frustration. Wasn't that what she wanted to hear? She's obviously not going to believe him no matter what he says, what difference is saying that he swears going to make? What difference should it make to her.

She doesn't understand. She doesn't understand what he's trying to do, how important this work is, that he just wants to keep them safe, that he can't sleep.

...but then again, how much does he himself understand about...any of this?

It's a sobering thought, and one Sans shoves to the side rather than answer even to himself. But at last, he looks up at Tauriel, meets her gaze steadily, and says without flinching: "i swear to you that i will."

He thinks he might even mean it. All experiments could stand to be repeated after a break, right?

[lightofthestars]

She does not smile, but for the first time since stepping into this room, her features relax.

"Thank you," she says. "Be well."

Unless he calls her back, with that, she will turn and she will leave.

[sansational]

Sans does not call her back. He simply stands where he's been left, backed almost against one wall. He stares after her, but sees nothing but ghosts and the promises of worse to come.

It's not until the door has almost closed behind her that he rouses himself to speak once more.

"welcome. you, too."

He does try to eat. The next time he's out in the garden digging for materials, Sans makes himself stop and grab a few random pieces of fruit off the branches. One time, he grabs a lemon without thinking about it. He stares at it for a long moment, torn between throwing it away as hard as he can and simply bursting into tears again.

In the end, he does neither, and ruthlessly devours that, too.

The fruit isn't much, but it's all he can make himself go looking for and it does, ultimately, prove much better than nothing.

He does try to sleep, but it's a mercy if he makes it more than an hour before waking up a whimpering, shivering mess again. Maybe it would be easier if he slept in his room where S-4 could find and reassure him. Sans still doesn't want to inflict that on his brother again.

Either way, if Tauriel tries to find Sans in that tower lab again after that encounter, she'll discover that absolutely everything in it has been spirited away with barely a trace.

[systematicsupport]

Out in the hallway, a few feet away, futilely trying to hide in the shadows of a suit of armour, is another familiar skeleton. S-4 hadn't meant to invade anything. He had only meant to check on his brother. He had been just about to walk in when he heard the voices. His brother's, as expected, and Tauriel. Shouting at each other. About Sans. About his family. About what they'd do if he was... gone.

...S-4 quickly decides that he doesn't want to go inside.

He knows all too well that eavesdropping is bad. He's gotten in enough trouble with the scientists in the past. And... he knows his brother likes to keep secrets. Even though they talked about some of them, it seems he's only gathered more of them since Frisk's death. It stings S-4's soul, in a way that he dearly hopes his brother doesn't pick up on, but he doesn't trust himself and he needs to hide and that's why he's here, cowering in the darkness, pressing his hands to his eyes and pleading with himself to stop crying.

[lightofthestars]

Though she leaves Sans' room more burdened than when she had entered, she still has her senses. Esfor is not hidden from her sight, and the sound of his weeping does not escape her ears.

At once, she rushes to him, kneels down, wraps her arms about him. "Ai, Esfor, pen vuin, what is it? What has scared you?"

Yet even as she asks, she thinks she knows.