So yeah it's me. Also I don't know if I like the POV change but I figured if I'm reviving this may as well try something new

Chapter 14 – A Snowflake on a Summer Night

Toriel ran her hand across the small child's head, her eyes lingering on that tiny chest rising and falling, on the strands of hair that crossed her pale face, on the eyes closed in rest at last, the fingers resting on the stuffed jellyfish; so frail, so small. So precious. If only her sleep were always this peaceful. If only Toriel could give her that.

Frisk had fallen asleep on the ride home from the Aquarium, and Toriel had carried her to her bed, the girl clinging to her robes with a sleepy whine as she was placed under the covers, leaving Toriel to step out from the bedroom and back to the living room. The significance was not lost on her; she remembered the first few weeks, when Frisk would not dare to fall asleep around others. When her head would nod, up and down, and her eyelids would grow heavy, and she would suddenly blink them awake before repeating the process because she did not want to fall asleep first. And now, she would rest her head on Toriel's shoulder, and she would feel her breath tickle her cheek.

The rest of the family was waiting out in the living room. Well, save for Alphys and Mettaton; the robot had needed to leave to recharge his batteries, though he was more than willing to stay. Alphys had forced him to, her concern rising to the occasion, and had returned home with him to ensure he would be okay. That left Sans, Papyrus, Asgore, and Undyne to discuss the matters that Toriel very much did not want to discuss.

But she would do it. For Frisk.

Toriel had wanted to start right away, but Sans had said to wait. For what, Toriel wasn't sure, but when she'd asked, he said to just trust him on this one. Wait an hour before getting down to business. So they'd settled in, turning the television on (though Toriel insisted they keep it low to avoid waking Frisk), chatting about the day, their plans for the week. The first day of school was fast approaching, so Toriel needed to get her classroom ready, while Undyne was apparently at a dead end in the kidnapping case; the man had gotten a very good lawyer and was tying up the court proceedings.

And that's when she heard the door squeak open, slowly, carefully. And Frisk had plodded out, heading to the bathroom, when she'd stopped and noticed them all in the living room.

" . . . mom?" She'd murmured, peering down the hall.

"Is everything all right, dear heart?" Toriel had asked, rising from her chair. And Frisk had hesitated for that briefest of moments before nodding her head. Just needed a glass of water. And Toriel had gotten her one, and walked her back to bed, and stayed with her and stroked her hair and kissed her head, because she knew that everything was not all right. And it was her job to make it so.

"she back asleep?" Sans asked, as Toriel returned to her chair.

"Yes," Toriel nodded with a smile. "How did you know to wait?"

"eh. I had a feeling," Sans shrugged. Toriel accepted it; Sans had become one of the people Toriel trusted most, and she knew his feelings for Frisk went beyond the goofy facade he liked to show. He had a genuine interest in her well-being (though to be fair, everyone did; everyone loved the dear girl), though sometimes Toriel couldn't help but wonder just how he seemed to know so much.

"Heh. Startin' to sound like the pipsqueak," Undyne ribbed Sans.

"huh."

"Thank you all for staying. I realize it is late, but I felt that it was best that we discuss this now, and do not put it off any longer. I fear we may have already done so too much," Toriel said.

"Of course, Toriel. We are all here for you, and for Frisk," Asgore replied, though he'd stumbled a bit over the "for you" part. "And after some of what I saw today, I agree one hundred percent."

"Yeah, but I don't know if I like talkin' behind her back like this," Undyne scowled. "Besties don't do that. We should just get it all out in the open."

"FRISK . . . DOES NOT LIKE TO SHARE MUCH, I FEEL," Papyrus said. Undyne turned to him, scowl still there, but she reluctantly nodded her head in agreement. "I DO NOT KNOW WHY, THOUGH. SHE IS USUALLY SO GENEROUS AND THOUGHTFUL!"

"Frisk has . . . been through a lot," Toriel answered, a sad look in her eyes. While she still had yet to tell her much, the fragments she'd let drop did not paint a pretty picture.

"worse than you think," Sans replied, patting Toriel's hand as if to apologize. She looked over at him, concerned.

"The punk's tough as nails. She had to be, to get through all of us! Especially me!" Undyne pounded a fist to her chest. Toriel appreciated how she always stood up for Frisk, but now . . . "She's practically unstoppable!"

"no. not like that. it's . . ." Sans took in a deep breath, nodded to himself. "it's bad. I wanted to wait for the kid to bring it up, give her space, but this ain't the time or place for that anymore. heh. this is seriously a bad joke." Toriel wasn't sure what he meant by that, but by now her concern was starting to grow into something else. Much hotter, and much colder at the same time.

"Sans. What do you mean?"

"has the kid let you give her a bath yet?"

"What?" Toriel blinked, surprised by the sudden change of topic.

"y'know, a bubble bath. every squirt likes a bubble bath, yeah?"

"No, she hasn't. Frisk said she was shy. She likes her privacy when getting cleaned up."

"ever roll her sleeves up when coloring or cooking?"

"No. Why?"

"ever catch her scratching or biting? and did you see the look on her face when she left that gift shop? have you seen it before?"

"Sans," Asgore's voice boomed out, the jolly mirth from the day vacant and replaced with the authority that he once wielded as king. "What are you saying?"

"she's been hurt. she's been hurt real bad," He pointed a bony finger at his arm, tapping it. "I saw them the day she got hurt by that ass that took the Margaret kid. all over her arm. it's real messed up."

" . . . how bad?" Toriel whispered.

"scars. burns. cuts. worse. all up her arm. which probably means . . ."

"There's more," Asgore lifted a hand to his face, rubbing at his cheeks. His shoulders sagged, as if he felt the weight of the entire Underground and more back on him. Toriel knew because she felt the same.

"FRISK . . ." Papyrus was on the verge of tears; they all were, in their own ways. Undyne was, thankfully, restraining herself from an outburst, but looked about ready to murder someone. "I DON'T . . . I DON'T UNDERSTAND."

"What that punk was talking about earlier. Her birthday. You're not saying . . .!"

"i dunno. I've tried to talk with her about it. any attempt and she clams up. I didn't get a good look, but they looked old. not from the Underground. or at least, not all of them."

Toriel rose wordlessly, determined to make it to Frisk's room, when Asgore stuck out an arm.

"Asgore. Move."

"Toriel. Now isn't the time."

"That is my child. I . . . I have to know. What she's been through. I have to be there . . .!"

"I know, Toriel. I know." Toriel's voice kept rising, even as she struggled to avoid waking the child, but Asgore kept his voice firm, reassuring, and before long Toriel had gone from trying to push past to holding onto his arm.

"Who? Why? She is so . . . so kind, so generous, so happy. Who could even think to hurt a child like that?" Toriel asked no one in particular. But even as she said that, the reality of the situation was making itself known, crawling into her mind. Hadn't they all hurt her in some way? Chased her, scared her, threatened her. Fought her and tried to . . . but she'd forgiven all of them. Frisk had accepted all of them as family, loved them and cherished them, even after what they'd done. Who would do that?

Was Frisk really happy? Truly? What had Toriel missed, so wrapped up in all the tumult of the surface? She knew the child had troubles, knew she had bad dreams and trouble sleeping sometimes, but she had thought that she would come to her in due time. She would be patient and let Frisk come speak when she was ready. But this whole time, was she suffering in silence, alone?

"How could I have failed them so?"

"tori, no," Sans cut her off. "that kid in there? she worships you. she worships the ground you walk on. she looks at you and sees the world. you're the best thing to ever happen to her, so don't go blaming yourself."

"If it really was someone she knew on the surface . . . if it really is abuse," There. Toriel's stomach dropped out from under her. That word. Asgore said it, the reality she didn't want to face. "Then we need to face the fact that we cannot put off any longer. We know nothing about Frisk's life before she fell, and she has resisted every attempt to explain it to us. We need to have a serious discussion about this with her, soon. Not tonight, of course. But we cannot put this off. Not if it puts Frisk at risk. What if they're still out there? What if they want her back?"

"NO," Toriel almost exploded. "I will never allow that to happen!"

"it's been two months," Sans raised his hands, trying to placate Toriel. "i don't think that's the case, but the King's right. though I don't know how much good it'll do to force anything."

"How?! How did we not notice anything for two goddamned months?!" Undyne punched the crap out of a pillow, the best she could do in the situation, and she was barely controlling her voice. "Sans, why didn't you say anything earlier if you knew?!"

" . . . you don't get it," Sans shook his head, something dark in his eyes. Toriel didn't know what she was seeing, looking at him. His fist clenched, and he looked about ready to say something, but unclenching and letting out a long sigh. "i had to promise the kid. I told her we could talk about it when she was ready. if you just barge in head-on with his kind of thing, it can make it worse."

"How can it be worse?! Someone was hurting Frisk and we don't even know who! When I find them, I'm gonna rip them limb from limb!"

"NO," Papyrus suddenly interjected. He had been sitting, his head in his hands, silent. But now he picked up his head, and tears were streaming down his face. Sans immediately went to him, a hand on his knee. Papyrus looked over at him, thanks in his eyes, before continuing. "FRISK WOULDN'T WANT THAT. WE HAVE TO DO WHAT'S BEST FOR HER. WE HAVE TO BE HERE FOR HER. THAT'S WHAT SHE DID FOR US." That look again in Sans' eyes.

But before she could say anything about it, there was a sudden crash, something shattering, from down the hall. Specifically, halfway down the hall, in the room on the left.

Frisk's room.

Toriel was the first one there, already up and hurling the door open. What she heard shattered what remained of her heart.

Frisk was a quiet child. The most noise they'd usually make was a gasp or a squeal of joy; even their laughter was subdued, breaths that danced in the wind. Their sing-song voice soft and gentle, a note in the air when they'd hum to themselves.

The noise she'd made when the door opened was none of that. It was horrid and breathless, a scream that desperately wanted to stop itself but couldn't, a keening moan that scratched and halted the rest of the monsters at the door.

The bedside lamp was on the floor in pieces, the pillows scattered, the blankets nearly torn up and thrown everywhere. The bed was empty. But in the corner, wrapped up in the comforter, was the shaking form of a little girl. Every inch of her was trembling, her legs desperately pushing herself into the corner, and her eyes. Angels above, those hazel eyes were wide, so wide, a piercing stare that saw all of them and at the same time nothing, boring straight through them. Terrified. No, petrified would be better. Her hands were bent into clenched claws, the tendons in her hands pronounced, and her nails dug into the side of her head, scratching bloody lines that dripped onto the blanket.

"Frisk!" Toriel cried out, tears dampening her fur, but as she stepped into the room, wanting to race straight to her daughter's side, the begging started.

"Nonono, please, no! I'm sorry, I'm sorryI'msorryI'msorry," The shaking got worse as Frisk flinched even deeper into the blanket, her eyes squeezed shut and her fingers digging in deeper. "Please don't no, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, please."

"Kid, it's okay! It's okay, calm down!" Undyne called out. "Their hands!"

"FRISK! PLEASE!"

Toriel plunged in, even as the pleading accelerated and the shaking worsened, kneeling down right next to the huddled mass and gently taking the reddened hands into her own.

"I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryIwon'tpleasedon'tplease," the stream continued, and Toriel pulled her in close, wrapping an arm around her, even as the tears fell from her face, humming a familiar lullaby and stroking her hair.

"Farah! Farah!" Frisk began crying out, now pressing into Toriel almost instinctually. "Where are you?! I'm so scared, Farah!"

By now, the rest of them had come closer for support, Asgore beside her. He shot a questioning look around, but was only met with shakes of the head; no one seemed to recognize the name. Except for Sans. He'd just gone still, the farthest back, still hovering near the doorframe.

"I want to go back . . .! I need to go back! Where . . . are you?" Frisk had started to settle down, but Sans just stared, his eyelights out and his sockets pitch black. He suddenly stepped forwards, joining the others, spurred into action.

"kiddo. stay with us here. I don't know what you're seeing, but we're here. you're not going anywhere, you're staying right here buddy."

"We're all right here for you. Mom's here for you," Toriel kept stroking her hair, hugging her close, until the child's mantra stopped. She blinked once, twice, her breathing hitched, the shakes still there but lessening, and she seemed to truly look around her, realize where she was.

And the first thing she focused on was Toriel's face, gazing down at her.

"Mom," Frisk suddenly grasped onto Toriel like she was a lifesaver and she was adrift at sea. She clung on for all she was worth, burying herself deeper, her face burrowing into the purple robe. "I . . ."

"Hush now. I'm here, dear heart."

"I love you. I love you."

"I love you so much, Frisk."

" . . . please don't leave me."

"Never."