Sometimes Frisk wondered if expecting something bad to happen was worse than the bad thing actually happening. Today that question had reared its ugly head, when every thought of what might go wrong played through his mind at once. And, in one case, what would go wrong.

Desperate to do something to ease the tension, he wandered through the laboratory, hands nervously fidgeting behind his back. The building was fairly large — larger than he would have assumed it to be from the outside, so it left him with plenty of space to wander. Most of what he saw were empty corridors, with doors leading to various testing rooms full of equipment he didn't recognize or understand, but occasionally he would find what appeared to be some kind of unoccupied dormitory. It was clear that this laboratory was meant to house quite a large number of scientists on a permanent basis, but Frisk couldn't imagine why the Agency would build it like that with only two permanent staff.

That was a question for later, as eventually Frisk found himself coming back to one of the same corridors he'd passed several times already. However, something different this time had caught his curiosity. A door left just a crack open, fluorescent light pouring out from the small crevasse between it and the door frame. Carefully, Frisk pried the door open and took a peek. It was a small laboratory room filled with computer equipment that he didn't recognize, but that was of less interest to Frisk than who was standing inside.

There, Toriel stood, speaking to Asgore in a quiet tone. She said something to Asgore that Frisk couldn't quite hear, and as he carefully pried the door open, he managed to catch a small part of their conversation.

"I'm sorry Toriel, but I think she is likely dead by now."

Toriel gave a sigh. "I was afraid of that."

"It's been over one thousand years. I would not expect Letka to still be alive in even the best of circumstances."

A pained look briefly flashed across Toriel's muzzle. "…I know. But even still, if she were alive, how would we even begin to explain our absence? It has been over one thousand years, as you said."

"I understand, and I do not mean to downplay your concern. But in light of everything that's happened, I believe it's best we accept that she's gone."

Toriel frowned deeply. "We made her a promise, Asgore."

"And how would you propose we have kept it? To return to her in her lifetime, the Barrier need have to have been broken long before either of us considered it an option."

"That is exactly what I am saying!" Toriel bemoaned. "We grew complacent in our underground lives, lost the drive to escape, and abandoned a child we'd taken in as our own! Are you suggesting we could not have done better? Not even for her sake?"

Asgore raised a hand, holding his palm outwards. "I am saying that it is far too late to change what has happened. Even if we could somehow turn back time and set things right, think about what we would lose to do so. Think about who would have never entered our lives in the first place."

Toriel breathed in sharply. She crossed her arms, holding them steady as she stared Asgore straight in the eye. "You are saying that, had we returned for Letka, Asriel would have never been born."

Asgore's lips pursed uncomfortably. "That is far blunter than I would have said it. But yes, I am."

Toriel paused, then waited. Her fingers tapped uncomfortably against her arms as she held them crossed. The stubbornness in her eyes faltered, and when she spoke, the usual formal stiffness in her voice had withered completely. "I… truth be told, I'd considered that. I loved our son dearly, I really did. But would I have ever agreed to have a child, if I'd known his life would only end in tragedy?"

Asgore's mouth fell open. It did not remain closed before he began to speak. "I-I beg your pardon? Tori, just what are you saying?"

"Don't you 'Tori' me!" Toriel snapped. Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes as she stepped forward, jabbing a finger at Asgore's chest. "How can you not understand, just by looking around you!? I want you to look at everything that's happened here in our absence! I want you to look me in the eyes, and tell me you're okay with everything we sacrificed by hiding in that damned hole! Our people have been pushed to the brink of annihilation on this damned Island, and we were nowhere to be found when they needed us!"

For several seconds, Asgore stood in place. He blinked rapidly as stared straight at Toriel, unmoving. Finally, his eyes narrowed, and he muttered something under his breath.

"And you would know a thing or two about hiding…"

"What was that!?"

"Nothing! Nothing! I just…" Asgore exhaled deeply, then pressed his fingers to his temples. "…Look, there's no point in this. What exactly do you hope to gain from this conversation? The knowledge that you could have made a better choice? If we'd attempted to escape the Barrier as soon as possible, we'd have to have killed the first human that fell into the Underground. Are you saying you would have been willing to trade Chara's life—"

"No, you don't! You of all people don't get to take the moral high ground about 'trading lives!' Especially not for a child that I loved as much all the others!"

"I'm not trying to! I'm just saying—"

"Then don't you even THINK about dragging that name into this!"

"Will you just listen to me for one second!?"

"STOP! STOP FIGHTING! PLEASE!"

Frisk had barely even been aware of his own cry when he burst into the room. He had stood there, transfixed by the scene that had seemed to come straight from his worst imaginings, until he could no longer bear to remain a passive witness. He ran as fast as his legs could propel him, and placed himself squarely between Asgore and Toriel, forming a barricade with his outstretched arms.

"Frisk!?"

"Oh dear…"

"I… I'm sorry," Frisk sniffled. "It's j-just, I… I was in the hallway, and I heard voices from this room, a-and then I came in here and… and…" He rubbed his face, wiping away the tears and mucus that had begun to collect under his eyes.

As he stood there, looking up at the two monsters staring down at him, he was surprised at how he felt. After the outburst, the intense anguish and dread that had briefly pounded within his chest was gone. Everything felt numb now. He was tired.

Frisk felt a soft, gentle hand place itself on his shoulder. "My child, I am so sorry. You should never have had to see any of this."

Frisk looked up, into Toriel's eyes, then his eyes turned back to the ground. "Somehow I knew you'd say that," he admitted. "You always try to hide how you feel about everything, because you think it will protect me."

"Frisk…"

"Mom. It's okay. I understand. I don't expect you and Dad to like each other, but at least try to stop fighting, okay? I just want you both to be happy. Is that so wrong?"

Another pause. This time, Asgore stared down at Frisk, his eyes looking like Gyftrot had been caught in a pair of car headlights.

"Did… did you just call me 'Dad?'"

A now that he thought about it, Frisk did call Asgore 'Dad.' He wasn't even aware he had done so.

"Oh, um. I guess? I didn't really think it'd be weird, but I guess most dads wouldn't have tried to kill me, so, uh…" Frisk's eyes went wide the moment his mind caught up with what he just said. "Er, u-um, sorry. Was that too soon? What I meant to say was, uh… don't worry about it!"

Asgore didn't say a word. His eyes drifted to the ground, as if pulled downward by a great weight. Meanwhile, Toriel's grip on Frisk's shoulder tightened, and she began to pull him close.

Frisk tugged at Toriel's sleeve. "Mom, stop. I don't want you fighting with him over this."

"My child, I am only trying to—"

"No!" Frisk grabbed Toriel's hand and forcibly pulled it off his shoulder. "I said I don't want you fighting over what he tried to do to me! Just let go of it all already! Stop trying to drag me back into the past, because I don't want any part in it!"

All the other sounds in the room disappeared. Frisk wasn't sure if it had gone quiet, or if he's simply stopped listening. His heart pounded in his ears as the images of the past – and of pasts that had never technically happened – all played out in his mind.

There had been so much blood. So much dust.

And the worst part was, Frisk knew he hadn't seen the last of it all.

Frisk's shoulders sagged. There was no point to this anymore. He turned away, and began to walk back towards the door. "I'm sorry Mom, I didn't mean to bother you. I'll just… go hang out somewhere else."

"Frisk, wait."

"It's fine. I'll be fine. Just try to get along with Da— with Asgore. Okay?"

Frisk didn't stick around long enough to hear Toriel's answer.

Knock knock knock.

The gentle tap at the door awoke Quote from his sleep. With a weary, almost automatic motion, he climbed down from his simple cot and rose to his feet. He hadn't even bothered changing out of his day clothes when he went to bed – owing mostly he didn't have own any other clothing. In fact his entire dorm room was almost completely bare, save for the bed and a desk with a single computer on top, already collecting dust from having never been touched.

Knock knock knock, went someone beyond the door, for a second time. Quote rubbed his eyes, a motion that came naturally despite not having any of the squishy bits of human eye anatomy.

"Quote? Can I come in?"

Slowly, the lingering drowsiness hanging over Quote's mind began to clear. "Yeah. Sure."

The door creaked open gently, and Curly Brace entered. "Um… hey."

"Hi." A slight flicker of some sensation passed through Quote's chest, but passed just as quickly. "You, uh… wanted to talk to me?"

"Yeah. I did," said Curly. "It's just, you only just got back after disappearing for months at a time doing who-knows what and… um, well…"

Quote raised an eyebrow. "And?"

Curly gave a sigh. "…and I'm worried about you, okay? And I guess I do know what it is you're doing, it's just… I don't know. It feels wrong, somehow."

Another slight twinge passed through Quote's chest. While the last one was pleasant, this one was less so.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I don't like the idea of you going out and looking for a fight!" Curly retorted. "It's been a year since we defeated the Doctor and Ballos, and everything's been peaceful. I don't get why you have to keep going out and leaving me to take care of everything in the village!"

Quote hesitated. He struggled to get out the words to reply, even though the answer was as simple as he could imagine.

"…I fight things. That's what I do."

"Yes, I know that!" said Curly. "But what I'm saying is you don't have to. You understand that, right? You don't have to fight. Not when there's so much else you can do here!"

Curly's answer rolled around in Quote's mind for a moment. What she was getting at seemed so simple, so obvious. But there was something missing, something that he just couldn't grasp. A hole in her premises, a hole that ate away at it, ate away at him, leaving nothing but a creeping numbness within.

If any of this was apparent from the outside, Curly picked up on it almost immediately. She approached Quote with tender eyes, and gently picked up his hands, placing them against his. They were far softer than most would expect from a robot. Like his, they were made of a soft but durable shape-memory alloy, laid over layers of silicone and silicone rubber that coated her robotic interior.

It was just like holding hands with any other person. It was in moments like this, that Quote could almost forget that he was staring in the eyes of another war machine.

"Please," said Curly. "Just promise you'll stay here with me for a while, okay? I just want to spend some nice, quiet time with you. Can you do that for me?"

The answer came without hesitation. He nodded silently, and felt Curly's warmth against him as she fell into his arms.

As the day hours passed to night, Frisk awoke from a fitful sleep. As he straightened himself out and headed out of his room, Sans informed him that most of the others were gathering the main laboratory room, where the teleporter was stored. He quickly made his way there, and found everyone from the surface gathered around, alongside Quote, Curly, Balrog, and that Jack fellow who called himself the leader. Quote notably looked profoundly bored, idly leaning against the wall and twiddling his thumbs. Sue, meanwhile, was struggling to maintain eye contact with Professor booster, and there was a tension in her body that far exceeded the already-pensive atmosphere. Kazuma's sky dragon stood near Sue, trying to get her attention to no avail.

"…So, we've decided that the best course of action for now is to wait for the SAA to send a rescue helicopter," said Booster. "Given the uncertain reliability of our teleporter, we can't afford to risk another accident with it. Especially considering that it was likely sabotaged."

Undyne harrumphed. "So what? We're just going to bail while you let this threat run loose on the Island? Doesn't sound like a good plan to me."

Jack glared at Undyne, his narrowing eyes made more apparent by his thick glasses. "I disagree. You lot have overstayed your welcome. And quite frankly, I don't see how you won't make things worse if you stick around."

"Excuse me!?"

"I'm just saying. For all we know, this 'enemy' could be after you, not us. If you brought this problem here, it's best that you take it back to the Surface with you."

"That, ah, won't be necessary," Itoh chimed in. "Based on our current communications, it could take from days to weeks to send a helicopter via official channels. Before that happens, we'll be sending Quote and Curly out to investigate what we believe is the origin of this… antagonistic force. With any luck, they'll be able to eliminate it before we make our escape."

"Really now?" said Jack. "I don't recall you being in charge here. And just what is this 'antagonist force' anyway?"

"That's classified information," Booster quickly responded. Jack opened his mouth to speak again, but was immediately cut off. "But we believe it most likely originated on this Island, and is currently limited to it. If it wished to make its presence known on the surface, it would have done so already."

"And you want us to take it out," said Quote. There was a glint in his eye that Frisk had only seen one before. Seeing it send a shudder down his spine. "Good. I was hoping for some action for once."

"Action?" said Curly. "Quote, this is serious!"

"I know. So am I."

Curly frowned. "That's not what I… ah, nevermind. So I take it you'll be briefing us both in private later?"

"That's correct," said Booster. "I can't say much now, but aside from your combat capabilities, Itoh and I have further reason to believe that you two are the most suited to dealing with this threat."

This seemed to spark Quote's interest. His back straightened as he stood up from his leaning posture, giving Professor Booster. "Wait, why? Is it someone we've dealt with before?"

The Professor shifted slightly, and gave a muted cough. "Ah. Well. That's, ah. Well, let me put it this way…"

It was then that a voice called out, seemingly from all around. The moment Frisk heard it, it sent an electric sensation down the entire length of his spine, carrying all the way down to his toes. It was a voice that projected raw power and oozed absolute contempt.

"Allow me to save you the trouble of explaining, old man. I've come to finish what your pathetic new friends have started."

Quote's antennae flared with light, and within an instant, his Spur appeared in his hands. "Misery! Show yourse—"

His sentence was immediately cut off by a deafening crack, followed by a flash of blinding light. When Frisks's vision returned, he was left wide-eyes and aghast, a feeling shared by everyone else in the room. With a single bolt of lightning, Quote was left lying unconscious in a crumpled, smoking heap.

"Sorry, roboboy, you don't get a fair shot at me this time. You've never seen even a fraction of what I'm truly capable of."

The first to come to her senses was Sue. Her fists tensed, and her face contorted into a visage of pure rage. While the others did not appear to notice, Frisk saw a flickering ember briefly flash between the fingers of her right hand.

"What the hell?! What are you doing here!? Didn't you say you wanted to be left alone!?"

"I did indeed, little girl. But things changed when I learned of just WHO you had brought here. Isn't that right, Mr. and Mrs. Dreemurr?"

Asgore and Toriel, already in a state of shock, looked now as though they both had been slapped across the face. Toriel's face slowly shifted between emotions, from shock, to anger, to a brief but powerful emotion in the eyes Frisk couldn't quite place. Finally, she settled on the stern face of a mother who was very disappointed in her child.

"…I do not rightly know what you desire with us, but I would ask that you do not call me Mrs. Dreemurr."

Misery's laugh echoed wordlessly through the chamber. It was a bitter and forced cackle, devoid of both joy and schadenfreude, one that grated against Frisks's eardrums with every passing moment.

"Oh, I'm TERRIBLY sorry," Misery's voice spat venomously. "I wasn't at ALL aware that you'd gotten a divorce! My bad for not keeping up with your MARRIAGE, when I had SO much time to myself! After all…"

There was another flash of light, followed by a sudden crack of light that left Frisk blinded once more. Even before his vision returned, he could feel the static electricity building within his shirt, and could taste something akin to chewing on tinfoil. All around him was the sensation of raw power; power that had been completely unrestrained.

And there, in the center of it all, was Misery. Frisk did not know what to expect of her, but it was not what he saw. The blue-haired witch looked as though she had been dragged through Hell and back. Her hair was a disheveled mane of split ends and wild tangles, and her eyes were bloodshot, with veins that could be seen from a mile away. Her staff was gripped so tightly in her right hand that it had begun to crack slightly in the center, and blood trickled down her left wrist as her nails dug into the center of her closed palm. She hovered in the air, hunched over and oozing malice, glaring at Asgore and Toriel with a deadly intent the likes of which Frisk had never seen.

The estranged Dreemurs stared back, mouths agape in what could only be described as the purest distillation of disbelief.

"…you've BOTH been keeping me waiting for a VERY. LONG. TIME."

* Letka Dreemurr

* AT: 80,000

* DF: 80,000

* The lost daughter of the ancient keeper.