Chapter Nine: Into the Cold

Nights in the Ruins were always silent. Deep beneath the ground, the hoot of owls, the fluttering of bats and the melody of crickets fell on deaf ears. In fact, the only indication that night had fallen at all was that sunlight had ceased to lance down from the cracks in the cavern ceiling.

Frisk sat outside Home, patting at a pile of dead leaves in front of her. The turned the leaves over in her hands, crinkling through them as she gathered together her determination. Within her was still the reluctant to leave but she had to power through that in order to continue. The voice continued its silence, only providing small glimmers of emotion Frisk struggled to distinguish from her own. The voice made her feel like she was missing something which Frisk assumed was the monsters' lives.

With shaking hands, Frisk finished tying a ribbon in her hair (the voice protested, saying that it was too prissy to wear). Eventually, Frisk got to her feet, finally brewing enough strength in her soul to continue. Heading back inside, she gently closed the door behind her, quiet enough as to assure she would not wake Toriel. Murky darkness lay thick in the house but Frisk's eyes were well adjusted to it. She made her way down the hall, as if on instinct.

She found herself staring in Toriel's room again, gazing down at her sleeping form. Her body rose and fell with her breaths, her soft snores echoing throughout the room. Frisk's heart tightened in her chest. She had never done this before, leaving while Toriel was asleep that is. She was unable to stop her from her realm of slumber, something that made Frisk feel extremely guilty. Toriel would be horrified when she awoke and found that she was missing.

So she wrote her a note, trying her best to spell and write the letters correctly. She placed the note on Toriel's desk before heading back over to her bedside. Gingerly, she placed a chaste kiss on her forehead, uttering an apology. Tears pricked her eyes once more but she blinked them back. She was about to save Toriel – spare, Toriel. She had to do this.

She left the room, giving one final glance towards Toriel before closing the door behind her. Frisk made towards the stairs, only to find that her body had other ideas. Instead, she headed back into her own room, grabbing a backpack from the very bottom of the toy chest.

[Easier than stuffing everything in your pockets] The voice explained.

Frisk's anxiety was only worsened by the voice's control of her body, dragging her away from her room and forcing her into the kitchen. Standing on a stool and a number of thick snail books, Frisk found herself reaching up to the very top of the cupboards, dust coating her hand as she felt for something. With a grimace, she nicked herself on something sharp. Yet she did not pull away, instead grasping the sharp object and drawing it down.

It's blade glittered keenly in her eyes, despite the lack of light. It was as if it was excited to see her, overjoyed to see its friend once more. Frisk's hands began to shake off her own accord as she slid the knife into her backpack. She told the voice that she had no need for such a thing but it ignored her, staying silent until she had finished controlling her. The backpack rested on Frisk's back now, the presence of the knife sending chills down her spine.

[Just in case you change your mind. You know, you could head back to mom's room now. Kill her and make my job easier later, what do you say? Come on, I know you want to and if not, I can make you want to.]

Frisk did not answer, wrapped her arms around her as she shook her head. The voice chuckled just as a feeling of dull bloodlust began to build at the back of her mind. An image of Toriel's deceased and bloody corpse flickered in her mind, prompting bile to rise up Frisk's throat along with another surge of bloodlust. Fighting against it all, she pushed herself towards the basement stairs.

Her footsteps echoed hollowly throughout the walls as she headed into the dark tunnels of the basement, finding that the darkness was so thick there that even she had trouble seeing what was in front of her. She was half-expecting Toriel to come running downstairs and scold her but no such thing happened – she made it to the looming doors of the Ruins without hustle.

She pressed her hands against the purple delta rune engraved in the stone, sighed, and took a glance behind her. She could have sworn she saw something flicker within the shadows, churn. Fear welled within her core as the feeling that something was watching her came over her.

[Go.] The voice urged onwards in a clipped tone, taking brief control of Frisk's body as she pushed against the door with all her might. A deafening creak echoed throughout the air, followed by the shift of loose rocks and dust. The debris was raining down on Frisk as she slid her way through the gap, heart thudding tentatively in her chest.

Beyond stretched a long corridor, a gradient of light shining from a single split in the wall far ahead. Gulping back a ball of spit, Frisk wiped her brow with the back of her hand as she made her way towards the light. She knew what was waiting for her at the end of this seemingly innocent corridor now – a certain flower.

He grinned wickedly as he spotted her, standing rigid as she came to a steady halt before him.

"Great, you didn't take forever and a day to get here this time," he chuckled. "There's not anything special that I need to say to you so I'll leave you with this…" The white bud of his face was stained black as his eyes and mouth began to glow a crimson red. "Just go straight to me, right to the barrier. How you choose to get there, well, maybe it isn't your choice how you get there – just don't waste time. I'll be following as always, maybe we can get nicecream?" His words dripped with sarcasm as another giggle rolled from his lips.

He had begun to withdraw into the ground when he seemed to remember something. His face returned to its normal plainness as he folded his leaves over one another, lowering his eyebrows in a glare. "Oh, and don't go places you shouldn't, either. The last time you did that…" he seemed lost for words, "…you know, never mind, just heed the warning." He brightened up and shuffled his petals. Then he unceremoniously popped back into the ground, displacing the dirt slightly in his wake.

Frisk stepped over the dirt, silently praying that the flower would not give her more trouble than usual. But, from the way he was speaking to her before, she had a feeling that he would make his presence known again too soon. As she paced towards the final gate of the Ruins, a cold gust of air picked at her clothes and hair, messing them up a little. In doing so, the corners of her mind began to singe dully. Frisk tried her hardest to ignore it as she stepped before the looming gates.

She felt like there was a wild animal struggling inside her mind for release as she readied her hands on the icy surface, taking a deep breath. She did not look back this time, partially in fear she may see moving shadows or Flowey again. Shunting all of her weight against the gates, she managed to open it enough to allow her small form to push through. As soon as the doors had been opened, freezing wind lashed at her flesh as if trying to push her back into the Ruins. She fought back, breaking through gates and into the realm beyond.

Hot pain flashed through her cells as she was nearly brought to her knees. She wrapped her arms around her chest as she squeezed her eyes shut. That caged beast in her mind was free now, letting loose a stream of images and memories in the process. They were scattered here, there and everywhere, showing her pictures of a pair of skeletons and some dogs and rabbits – all dying or dead. She bit her lip hard as tears came to her eyes from both the pain and the sting of the wind.

"Hey kiddo…back again, right?" said a gruff voice that snapped her out of her pained daze long enough to look around her. Through the sleet and hail she managed to spot a figure leaning against the wall beside the gates, hands stuffed into the pockets of a blue jacket. Frisk noticed him move slightly, a flash of pale blue light bringing her gaze to the figure's face.

She identified him as one of the skeletons from the images that were still streaming through her mind. She could imagine him grinning fixedly through the storm. "Ya know, you don't look so crash hot…is all those resets finally slowing you down? About time." The memories in her mind ceased in their rolling as the Voice swore vehemently.

"Hello, comedian," muttered Frisk in the words of the Voice, completely against her will. She noticed the skeleton tense, the blue light glowing brighter in the process. Frisk, realising what she had said, slapped her hands over her mouth in shock for a few moments before replying. "Uh…sorry! That wasn't me…I-!" She was cut off by a gloved hand covering her mouth. The skeleton was standing right before her now, the pinpricks of light in his sockets blazing with an intense glare.

"Cut the crap. We've been doing this song and dance for forty somethin' resets now. No matter what tricks you pull, I know it's you in there and not her," he told her. "I can't afford to stand by and let you do as you wish any longer." His voice was strained as he tried to keep his calm. Cerulean flames licked at his eye sockets now, striking fear into Frisk's heart. She knew she had known this skeleton, aware of the fact she had probably killed him, but this did not mean his actions had not scared her.

He raised his other hand, encasing it in a burst of flames that matched the ones in his eye. "How about we end it here, huh? I've decided I'm not letting you go any further in this timeline," he told her. "I've watched my broth…er…" He found himself trailing off right in the middle of his speech.

Tears now streamed from Frisk's eyes, some of being stolen away by the blistering winds. Sans reluctantly let go of her, still poised to attack. Frisk mumbled incoherent nonsense, mixed with a flurry of apologies as she backed away from the skeleton. He seemed the slightest bit surprised at her actions. He then brought his gaze to the red ribbon in her hair and the sheer look of fear and guilt etched into her face.

He realised that it was Frisk he was talking to.

He sighed heavily, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. "Geez...I'm sorry kid. That, uh, was a lot to take in, huh? Maybe a tad harsh." He took a few steps towards her as the blue light ceased. Frisk did not fully remember him as of yet, being only able to recall fractured memories of who he was and their time together. She was aware of the fact that he was important to her and many others, aware of the fact she had killed him for fun. She was hit with an onslaught of sudden guilt and horror that was almost unjustified due to her lack of memory. She fell to her hands and knees, her bare flesh stinging at the contact with the snow.

Sans took another careful step forward. "Uh…forget about it." Frisk barely heard him speak over the sound of her sobbing and the howling of the wind. Sans reminded himself that his actions were completely justified, that after everything she's done, there was no way he would be able to treat her like they had just met, that she was innocent. But right now, he saw a flicker of the girl she used to be and he was going to embrace it.

"Look, I'll explain things to you once we get to some shelter, kay?" he said as softly as he could. "There'll be ketchup for us to drink while we, heh, ketch-up." Frisk found herself smiling through her tears at the joke, now dealing with the uprise of a surge of nostalgia. A few moments later, she made the effort to pick herself up and face the skeleton.

[God, is crying all you can do?…And that pun was woeful, even for him.]

Frisk could tell that the skeleton was still ready to attack at any given moment as they walked side by side through the blizzard towards a small, wooden shelter built on the side of the path. It seemed pretty well built, most likely crafted from the timber from the woods behind it. Once inside, Frisk noticed the bottles and jars of relish and various condiments lying in abandon here and there, the place smelling of aged pine, musk and sauce.

Now safely nestled under the counter, both human and skeleton were sheltered from the vicious lashings of the storm. It had never occurred to Frisk to drink ketchup before but at that moment, she was gratefully accepting a bottle from Sans and taking a few wary sips. She wrinkled her nose up at the taste but kept drinking anyway, prompting Sans to chuckle slightly as he drank from his own bottle.

"You've never humoured me like that before, heh," he noted. He kept as much distance as he could manage away from her, knowing full well that at any given moment, she would retake her body and lash out at him.

For once, Sans was at a loss for what to say. He wasn't kidding about the kid having gone through a collective forty resets that involved her murdering all of monster-kind in various ways. He was surprised that Frisk was able to regain her control, if only temporarily. Memories of his own tingled at the back of his mind, yet he could not withdraw them. He knew that within those memories were answers to this dilemma but, for the time being he decided to ask the human for their retelling of the incidents.

He coughed falsely, drawing the girl's attention. "So it's you…Frisk, this time?" The human nodded as she took another contemplative sip from her ketchup. The Voice was oddly silent at the moment, though a low mumble could be heard, as if it were whispering to herself.

"Um…can I…ask you something?" she put forward, coyly looking up at the skeleton. His permanent smile wavered slightly at the dire look in her eyes. She did not speak much but when she did, it was usually important. He placed his finished ketchup bottle beside of him, tucking his hands in his pockets.

"Fire away," he said. Frisk shuffled on the snow beneath her, withdrawing her chin into the collar of her jumper.

"Are you someone I was friends with? Were you someone I could trust?" she questioned, her eyes opening slightly more to reveal a look of genuine concern. Sans sighed heavily, not sure how to put this towards someone who, from the looks of things, was having trouble remembering the events herself. "You interrupted me when I was getting all those horrible flashbacks which is okay I guess but…I got to know."

"Depends on what you do from here on in, bucko. You've been on a murderous rampage lately so I'm not going to trust you again straight away or ever, even. In terms of placing your trust in me? Don't. I'm not the most trustworthy guy, no matter what the others tell you. Just know I won't actually harm you unless you slip up and hurt one of my friends."

Sans watched her face flicker into a grimace as her mind was overloaded with more flashes of the dead bodies of monsters. She was already growing tired of all this morbidity. She hung her head in her hands in shame and guilt. She sobbed silently for a good while, feeling better and better the more she let her feelings out. For some reason, being around this skeleton she barely knew made her feel like things were okay.

Once she had calmed down, she noticed Sans was holding out a gloved hand towards her.

"So, I haven't introduced myself yet, have I?" he chuckled, his grin growing wider. The girl realised what he was getting at and giggled. She already knew his name, her partially formed memories told her but it was a tradition for him to introduce himself in each timeline in some way. She gingerly took it, only to recoil in shock after hearing an obnoxious farting sound.

"The ol' whoopee cushion in the hand trick," he sighed nostalgically. "Works on you every time." Frisk giggled half-heartedly, unable to stop the creeping blush over her cheeks. "Anyway. I'm Sans, Sans the skeleton." Frisk nodded understandingly and decided to introduce herself. She wondered why she had never done so before right off the bat.

"And I'm Frisk, Frisk the human," she replied with a curt bow of her head. The pair laughed awkwardly together, their laughter quickly being drowned out by the roar of the wind. Frisk drew her jumper closer around her, if that was even possible, wishing that she was wearing some longer pants. Sans did not seem to care though. Instead, he stood, peering out over the outpost.

"You should get going. Since Pap's not out this late you should be able to get to town without too many issues," he advised, shielding his eyes with a hand as the wind threw icy darts at him. "Storm should calm down soon." Part of Frisk wanted to do as she was told and head towards town, but the other part of her felt like she had unfinished business here.

"O-one last question," she said, raising her voice. "What…is it I'm supposed to be doing…exactly. I feel determined to save everyone but…not overly so. Like this feeling I have isn't mine anymore…?" Sans turned his attention back towards her, looking vaguely concerned.

"It'll come back to you. This memory loss's killin you, huh?" he noted. "How you even lost your memory is beyond me. You're the only one, apart from that damn flower, that remembers everything in detail." Frisk pushed herself to her feet, shuddering violently as the wind shoved her to the side a little. She gave Sans a shrug to which he merely sighed again.

"Well, there's nothin' I can do to help ya," he replied. "Best thing you can do is leave the Underground without messing around too much. Just…leave us monsters be."

Sans had left the outpost now, heading off in the direction of the Ruins. His form was already obscured by the storm. Frisk steadied her hands on the counter, scolding herself for keeping Sans for so long, as she spoke. "Sans, don't you want to see the surface?" The skeleton kept walking without so much as a flinch; either he hadn't heard or he didn't care. It was mere moments later that his form completely disappeared in a single gust of icy wind, leaving Frisk both awed and mystified. Deep within her, she wished that she remembered who he was, remembered what she felt for him.

[You'll remember how much you hated him. He was no friend of yours and never will be.]

Frisk shuddered in the wind, forcing herself to forget the voice's vehement words. She was going to befriend everyone in the Underground, she had to – it was her true purpose here. Or so something deep inside her gladly informed her. She considered that deep feeling for a moment, trying to bring it more to light. But as soon as she recognised it, that presence disappeared, leading her to put it behind her and walk on.