Epilogue

Snowy

Years passed, decades. A century. Longer. Sans was old. Older than he ever thought he would be. It was amazing, but it didn't even feel like it. Or, rather, some days it didn't feel much like it at all. Some days, it felt like he should be up, getting ready for another day at work. Twenty-four years old and eager to make a difference. On other days, however . . . on most days . . . days like today, the years all seemed to catch up to him, crashing down on him all at once.

On those days, he preferred to be alone, just wandering the forest to clear his mind. He needed the quiet to sort out his own thoughts and to contemplate where he was headed. He thought a lot back to those days and to everyone he'd known before. So much had happened, but at the same time, since that day, nothing had changed at all. The Underground carried on, everyone lived, loved, learned and laughed.

Their memories faded. They all forgot.

But not Sans. He remembered them all. Every single one of them. He could see their faces so clearly and he could hear their voices as if they were walking right beside him.

Ava,

Kit,

Gaine,

Maltez,

Ruddard,

Baelin,

. . . Gaster . . .

In his memory, he kept them alive. And it seemed to be the only place they would be.

It was around that time that Sans adopted a new policy: he would never become too attached to anyone ever again. Even if he was no longer bound by the curse of the humans who trapped him down here, he still saw himself as a cursed man. There was no way around it, everyone he'd ever cared for- everyone he'd ever loved- had died or they had been killed. And they'd all been forgotten . . . Every one of them.

So, to protect them, and to protect himself from suffering that same pain, he resigned to keep them all at arm's length, refusing to let anyone get too close for fear of losing them just like he'd lost every single other person he'd ever cared for.

The only exceptions were Papyrus and Alphys . . .

Though, Alphys had no idea who he was anymore. The one linking them together had been Gaster and if Alphys didn't remember Gaster . . . then there was no way she would remember him. The two became strangers ever since that day he left the lab behind.

So that left Papyrus. And even with him, there were strict boundaries.

Still, he'd made a resolution. Where he'd failed to protect the others, he would protect Papyrus with his life. He wouldn't fail again. He couldn't afford to let anything like what happened before ever happen again . . . not to Papyrus.

Papyrus would live . . . Papyrus would never be forgotten . . .

Like all the others had been . . .

Sans still resented the other monsters a bit. How could they all forget about the team of scientists who had been working so hard for them? Who had been trying to find a way to break the barrier for them?

Since then, the king had interviewed around for a new Royal Scientist . . . and still, a part of Sans had to wonder if the king had even bothered to look for the old one? Did he even remember he had one before or all of the progress he'd made?

When Alphys was hired, however, Sans was able to breathe a small sigh of relief. Alphys would be great . . . really, she was the only one Sans would have been okay with taking the position. The king made a good choice.

And that left Sans to take care of Papyrus. He'd made a promise after all . . . not that he wouldn't have done it anyway.

Papyrus . . .

He didn't seem to remember anything about that time either. Anything having to do with the doctor or his life in the lab had been completely erased. His earliest memories started as they were making their way to Snowdin. Anything before that time . . . it was just gone.

That discovery had its own list of pros and cons. On one hand, even Papyrus had forgotten about them, about everyone and everything that had happened. He'd forgotten about the doctor . . . about living together in the lab and about the others. Aside from Sans and Alphys, Papyrus had been the closest to all of that.

He didn't even seem to remember being able to speak wingdings. There was an instance when Papyrus had caught Sans trying his hand at the strange language. Granted, Sans didn't have the best pronunciation and his accent was all off, but Papyrus had always been there before to correct him and to aid him. These days, Papyrus would only hum and comment about how he couldn't see how Sans could get anything done with all of his "nonsensical gibberish" and his "odd symbols".

So Sans studied alone.

That was one for the "cons" list.

But, on the other hand, in the "pros" category, because Papyrus couldn't remember those times, he had the opportunity to start over. He had no memory of what he was or the experiments that created him. He no longer had the burden or the stigma of the circumstances of his existence. He no longer carried the guilt or shame of what happened to Kit.

For all he knew, for all anyone knew, he was just another monster. Another Skeleton. His brother.

He was free to live his life as he wanted.

As for Sans' experiments. In the beginning, he'd had absolutely no direction and had no idea where to begin, but after a helpful nudge in the right direction, one he liked to think might have been the doctor, he had found the foundation of his theory. In Gaster's notes, he'd posed a question around which his entire theory had been based: Is it possible to go back and fix a single mistake?

Perhaps the doctor had been speaking from a place of guilt. Maybe it was something having to do with his son or his wife, but Gaster had been studying lines of time and the progression of cause to effect. He'd been flirting with the idea of being able to create a separate bridge to a specific point in one's timeline in order to fix past mistakes.

He had even drawn up blueprints for a machine that could, in theory, read the timelines of an individual. Sans' plan had been to build this time machine and modify it once he completely understood how it worked. The idea had been to read each person's timeline, perhaps using the items that he'd collected from the Lab as a starting point or perhaps an anchor to the present. His ultimate goal was to re-purpose the machine to not only read through each of the separate timelines, but to actually open them . . . perhaps pull something from them . . . or someone. He was so convinced that this machine was the key to saving them! He wouldn't go back so far as to mess anything up they had already accomplished, but snatch them from the point right before they fell. Save them from the CORE and bring them back. If he could get this machine up and running, it could be possible! He could make it happen! With Gaster's notes along with his own input . . . . He could do it!

That had been decades ago when he'd first started the trials and experiments. When he'd built the machine following Gaster's blueprints and he'd tried to pinpoint spots in his own timeline where he could have saved the doctor and the others . . .

But so far, every single one of his experiments ended in failure or in no response.

There had been once or twice where he'd nearly destroyed everything attempting to open a portal to enter someone's timeline. There had been a few accidents where the machine malfunctioned and had nearly blown the entire room up and him along with it. Luckily, he had been able to avert those catastrophes by sealing the portals and shutting off the machine, but not without a few extremely close calls.

Then, later along the road, with the frustration and irritation of not getting any usable results to help him improve the machine further, Sans had come to the brink of destroying all of it himself- smashing the machine and tearing down his lab.

"I've already come to terms with this," said a familiar voice pulling at the corners of Sans' memories, "I need you to as well. For me. Can you do that for me, Sans?"

With his hand outstretched and his blaster ready to fire, Sans hesitated and his hand began to tremble.

Gaster had already said his goodbyes . . . He'd already resigned himself to his fate. He'd known he'd been dying for quite a while and he was ready for the end.

If Sans brought him back now . . .

He'd lowered his hand, and clenched it to his side, the hot tears flowing from his sockets once again. In his frustration, he released a resounding cry as a thought came to him.

Maybe . . . there really was no going back to those times. As often as he tried, (and on his eager days, he still kept trying) he wrestled with the thought that perhaps he was only wasting his time. Maybe nothing would ever come of it. And that even if he had succeeded, nothing would have changed. If he continued beyond that point, he would only be doing it for selfish reasons. It wouldn't have been for them anymore.

So, on that particularly bad day, instead of destroying everything, Sans covered up the broken machine and stowed all of the evidence away in drawers. The blueprints written in Gaster's handwriting, the photos they'd taken so long ago . . . the only thing he had left of them. Papyrus' old drawing of his "family" His old name badge from the lab . . . he shut them all away and locked the door. Maybe, there was no point in trying to go back. They were gone. That life was behind him. He just had to focus on that and keep moving. After so long, he would finally have to lay the whole project and all of his colleagues to rest. He would try to pick up the pieces and continue to live his own life.

That's what Gaster had wanted. That had been his final request.

And after so long of defying him, the least Sans could do was try.

The snow fell silently as Sans blinked himself back into the present. He hadn't been able to focus all day and he was starting to feel drowsy.

It was another one of those days . . . the days when the last hundred or so years seemed to crash over him all at once. He was feeling suffocated and anxious. He needed to clear his head. He needed to get away. He needed a distraction, somewhere to calm down.

He supposed he could go there. No one ever went that way and he'd be free to unwind.

He looked down again at the counter of his station and drummed his fingers in contemplation.

Eh, no one would miss him if he slipped away for just a little bit. He'd be back . . . eventually.

Papyrus was busy being very diligent indeed. Undyne had entrusted him in keeping patrol in Snowdin. After all, there was just no telling when another human would fall and if that ever did happen, it was his solemn duty to capture said human and report them to Undyne immediately. It was an important job and if he was successful in his task, then perhaps Undyne would let him join the Royal Guard for real!

Papyrus was also in charge of keeping a close eye on Sans. Sans was his patrol partner and manned the sentry station near the edge of the forest, but where Papyrus had the aspiration of making it into the Royal Guard and becoming the Underground's most popular Skeleton, it seemed Sans had no aspiration whatsoever. On several separate occasions, Papyrus made his rounds only to find that Sans was snoozing on the job or he wasn't at his station at all! There was a part of Papyrus that wanted to believe that maybe Sans had finally taken a page out of his book and was intently patrolling the surrounding area. Perhaps he was scoping the forest in case a human had fallen and gotten lost . . . Knowing Sans, however, it was unlikely.

Ugh . . . may as well go check on the loaf.

As Papyrus left past the edge of town, he came to a long bridge. This bridge was very high up and liked to swing if one were to move too quickly across it. Papyrus knew that someone who might not be as quick or as keen as he, could likely fall if they were not careful while crossing the bridge, and from this height, it was not likely to be a very pleasant fall at that, nor a very pleasant landing.

So why was there someone standing so close to the edge of that bridge? Perhaps they had come to take in the, admittedly breathtaking, view. But the way this figure was looking over the edge . . . something did not quite sit right with Papyrus.

The figure wore a long cloak with a hood and at first glance, Papyrus thought that it might have been the Riverperson taking a break from work. The figure stood, looking out over the sheer drop and they were just standing still . . . like a statue.

Papyrus was cautious in his approach and walked up to the figure carefully.

"Excuse me, strange monster person!" He called.

As he suspected, the monster was startled, but they did not fall. Instead, they gasped and turned to see the one who called out to them.

"I must ask you to please step away from there." Papyrus instructed, "Are you a citizen of Snowdin? If so, I suggest you head back before you fall and your friends never see you again. I'm sure if that were to happen, they would be absolutely heartbroken."

But the figure remained silent as they stared at Papyrus. They didn't move at all except for a shaking hand. Were they okay? Were they cold? How could they be with their cloak on?

Good, they took a step forward and away from the cliff. But even their footsteps were shaky.

Papyrus took a few steps forward himself. Perhaps the person was feeling faint. If need be, he could catch them if they fell and carry them home. It would be great training and he could ensure they got home safely.

As they approached each other, Papyrus noticed the figure drop something at their feet. Some kind of glowing blue flower. Ah! The Echo Flowers of Waterfall! As the petals hit the ground, the flower burst into song. A humming voice, soft and reassuring.

Even though the person had dropped their flower, they didn't seem to care as they stepped slowly toward Papyrus. They raised their hands, reaching out to him.

"No." They said in a stunned breathless whisper, "It can't be . . . could it?"

Papyrus hesitated for a moment, not knowing quite how to respond. "I suppose it could be . . . whatever 'it' is, that is." He stopped, sensing something strange from the other . . . but as strange as the other figure was, it was still . . . familiar to him. Almost – no- actually very welcoming.

Maybe too welcoming.

Too familiar.

The figure reached out in an attempt to touch his face and Papyrus instinctively took a half step backward.

"Oh . . . of course," the figure- a woman by the sound of it- sighed. She had a soft voice and a slight accent in her speech, "That's right . . . there's no way you could be. It's impossible."

"But nothing is impossible!" Papyrus assured, "Perhaps just unexpected. Look at us! Surely, when you woke up this morning, you did not expect to meet The Great Papyrus, future esteemed member of the Royal Guard."

"I certainly did not." The woman answered with a bit of a giggle.

"Yet here we are. The possibilities are endless!"

The woman continued to laugh, "Of course they are!" Feeling more comfortable and less shaken, the woman lowered the hood to her cloak to reveal a smiling Skeleton with kind eyes and a wide, but sad smile, "My apologies, Papyrus, it's just that . . . you look so much like my . . . like someone I knew a long time ago that for a second, I thought that maybe . . ."

"Well, it seems as if it was merely a case of mistaken identity."

"It seems so." The woman agreed, "Either way, I must thank you for coming by. You see, I stop by here this time every year to visit my son."

"Your son, you say?" Papyrus hummed, "Perhaps he is running late. Allow me to accompany you until he arrives!"

"Oh! Well, thank you all the same, but no. You see, my son . . . he died many years ago, when he was still a child. I spread his dust all through the Underground and this was one of the last spots I visited. So, every year, on the anniversary of the day he . . . of when he died, I come by to see it and remember him."

Papyrus' face fell at the story, "That's terrible." He said quietly, looking back at the Skeleton before him. She wore a gentle smile and the look nearly shattered Papyrus as he imagined her with her little boy. This smile was surely just a ghost of the one she would wear when her son was alive. "No mother should have to be without her son."

"Really now, Papyrus. It's alright. It was so long ago. I've since learned to—"

"Nonsense!" Papyrus pushed, "If a son is what you need, then I, the Great Papyrus, shall gladly and humbly offer my assistance! From now on, please consider me to be your second son."

The woman chuckled, "Well, that is very sweet of you. However, I'm sure your own parents would miss you dearly."

"Ah! But that's what makes this such a perfect fit! I have no parents! Just a lazy excuse for a brother who spends all his time napping and neglecting his sentry duties. But we have no mom and no dad! And if you have no son, then it's perfect!"

"Papyrus . . . " The woman sighed, finally walking the last few steps forward and reaching out to take Papyrus' face gently in her hands. "Sweetheart, I'm afraid that's not how these things work. Though I am genuinely sorry to hear about your parents. I cannot be a substitute for them . . . nor can you be a substitute for my son. Listen, you still have your brother, right?"

Papyrus nodded from within the woman's hands.

"You should cherish him. You should love him with all the time you have. If you do that, then I'm sure your parents would be very proud of you!"

"But what about you?"

"I have done well for this long. I can carry on. Please don't worry yourself over me. And if ever I find myself in need of a son, I will be sure to seek out the Great Papyrus!"

At the suggestion, Papyrus seemed to light up. For some reason, just hearing her use his name and his self-proclaimed title was wonderfully assuring! If she believed . . . if this complete stranger believed in him, then he would surely continue to be the greatest Papyrus he could be!

"Magnificent!" He cheered, "You do that! Now, if you will excuse me, I must be off to find my brother and get him to stop lazing about before he loses his job and I lose my credibility. It was I who recommended him for the position, after all. If he performs poorly, my flawless reputation will suffer as well!"

Again, the woman giggled, "Alright then." She grinned, tilting Papyrus' head as she stood on her toes to touch their skulls together. When she spoke again, her voice was a low hum.

"Thank you, Papyrus. I'm feeling much better now."

"Oh. Well, you are very welcome, Miss . . ."

"Nyala . . . Just call me Nyala." The woman answered pulling away and lifting her hood once again. "Take care, Papyrus. Perhaps I will see you again."

"Of course you will!" Papyrus grinned.

After a final turn toward the sheer drop of the cliff, the woman muttered something before she left to cross the bridge.

It was after she had disappeared into the forest that Papyrus noticed that she never picked her flower back up. As to what to do with the flower, Papyrus was torn. He could try to replant it . . . but in this weather, it would die in no time. Or he could return it to the Skeleton woman . . . but he had no idea where she'd gone, where she was headed, or how he would find her again.

He picked it up, contemplating his conundrum.

"He really does look just like him." The flower whispered in the woman's voice.

Papyrus stared down at the flower for a long moment. He was not expecting the other voice at all. It was a small voice that chased him and startled him out of his thoughts.

"Howdy!"

Sans shuffled along through the snow toward his own little corner. No one would think to bother him over there. It was secluded, and quiet.

It was perfect.

And on top of that, there was the most incredibly huge door he'd ever seen. He'd been here several times before, even before it was closed off . . . but ever since he and Papyrus first found that little blue soul, he hadn't been through the door. Not that he really wanted to.

But still, at least it was still good for something.

Sans knocked on the door. Who he was trying to alert, he had no idea. Maybe just the door. Yeah, the door was quite the audience. Just like Papyrus had been before he woke up. In those days, he would always be there to listen to Sans' stories and his jokes and Sans knew he could always rely on him.

Lately, however, his brother was becoming less and less receptive to his bad joke telling. In fact, Sans' puns seemed to annoy him more than entertain him and he would even get a bit upset with him, though the reason behind it remained a mystery. Papyrus used to love Sans' jokes . . . well, if not, at least he seemed to receive them better back then.

But now, Sans had lost his best audience. Though he would still pal around with the people over at Grillby's and he was thinking about signing up for Comedy Night over at the restaurant over in Hotland (if only for the extra money), somehow, it just wasn't the same.

Sans sighed as he looked back to the door leading to the RUINS. It was close to the only thing that could ever relax him and save him from his own crushing thoughts long enough to actually make him feel somewhat better.

"knock, knock." He asked no one in particular.

Of course, no one answered. No one ever did.

'who's there?" He asked himself.

"cold."

"cold who?"

"cold you at least open up the door and let me in. it's freezin' out here."

He let out a dry laugh, but there was no amusement behind it. It was all just part of the script. Part of the sequence.

"knock knock."

Sans sighed, " . . . who's there?"

"stu."

"stu who?"

"'stu late now. i'm already frozen solid."

Sans didn't even bother pretending to laugh. There was no point.

He continued. May as well. There was nothing better to do. He knew he was supposed to be at his station looking for humans . . . but hey, if any human did fall down, there was no way they would get past him. Not when they HAD to go through this door in order to get to the rest of the Underground.

Two birds, one stone.

"knock knock." He called again.

"Who is there?" Said a different voice. A woman's soft voice called back to him through the door.

"HOLY SH—!"

Sans started, a jolt running through him at the unexpected voice. No one EVER answered him! No one was ever INSIDE the RUINS! What the heck!?

What was he supposed to do now? Yeah, he had another joke on-hand, but . . .

The woman on the other side of the door was waiting for his response. Should he apologize for bothering her and be on his way? Or should lie and just say that he was only trying out a few random jokes and working on his delivery? Should he even answer at all?

He was hesitant in his approach. Honestly, he had no idea what to expect from this mystery woman, was she even one for jokes? Would she respond like the people down at Grillby's . . . or would she respond more like Papyrus . . . . maybe he should test the waters first.

Well, at the very least, she did respond to his setup . . . so . . .

What the hell? May as well give it a shot.

"dishes." He answered.

Without missing a beat or wasting any time at all, the voice responded, "Dishes who?"

Well, she was playing along. That's a good thing, at least. With only a half-hearted smirk, Sans delivered the punch, "dishes a very bad joke."

It wasn't a lie or even remotely funny . . . at least to him, but it was the starter that he had on-hand.

At first, there was a hesitant silence and Sans let out a breath.

Of course . . .

Sans shoved his hands in his pockets once again, ready to mutter a quick apology before heading back to his post. So much for that. And so much for this place. He'd have to find another secluded spot to get away and unwind.

Then, after a moment's pause, the one on the other side of the door let out a roar of laughter, unbridled, unapologetic, and full, as if it was the best joke she'd heard in a hundred years. There was no way a laugh like that could be forced, no way it could be a cheap play to try and make him feel better. The sound was unexpected and infectious to say the least. Just hearing her laugh, knowing that she'd found genuine joy in his lame half-assed attempt at comedy, it was enough to ease Sans out of his troubled funk and to get him to relax a bit more. He leaned his back against the door as his genuine laugh joined hers.

It was his first real smile since before he left the lab all those years ago.

THE END

AN: Well, here we are! We've come to the end of the road. Again! I want to take this opportunity to say THANK YOU to each and every one of you! EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU! You guys kept me going through all of this and motivated me to finish this story! I probably would never have done it otherwise! Especially considering my track record . . . eh-heh-heh . . . *ahem*

I do have another idea coming soon. It will be its own story, however it will tie into this story in quite a few ways! Stay tuned for what I'm about 87% sure will be called "Ever Hear of a Talking Flower?"

In the meantime, if you're looking for more to read, be sure to give my original novel, Surpassing Origins, a look! It's available on Amazon in paperback and e-reader!

Now, this final thing I'm doing is DEFINITELY a vanity project. I'm not going to lie or sugarcoat it. Put plainly, this is the very first fanfiction I've ever completed and I'm IMMENSELY proud of it! So, after I edit the CRAP out of the errors here, I'm going to preserve it!

I will be publishing this fic and making it into a book! Again, I'm doing this for my own selfish pride, however, if there are any of you who would like a copy of your own, I will be making it available for purchase! If you are interested, please send me a PM so I can keep you updated on it! Perks of getting a copy of your own will include several "Behind the Scenes" bonus features such as a special message to the reader, a look into the things that inspired the story, alternate/deleted scenes, illustrations and a new cover!

For now, however, I will say my farewells with the hope of seeing you again for the next fic! Thank you again for everything and take care!

Love, Jes

=^w^=