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Not with a Bang but with

CHAPTER NINETEEN:
Her Theme

This chapter contains self-loathing and what could pass for discussion of suicidal ideation. It's not too heavy and doesn't play a major part, but you know yourself best—always remember to look after yourself and assess your needs.

oOo

Frisk didn't remember the Ruins being quite this huge, or requiring quite this long to travel through. And this was without leaving the old castle—there was an entire city out there, a city that, only a couple centuries ago, used to house the entire population of the Underground before monsters began to expand outward. She could glimpse it from the balconies near the top of the castle, standing on tiptoe to peek over the parapets.

A part of Frisk wanted to venture out into the old capital, just to see if she could find any of the monsters that had chosen to stay behind. Many of the monsters from Home had done so, too intimidated by the prospect of a busy, crowded life on the Surface. All the Whimsums had stayed; they were so timid. By this point Frisk was starting to yearn for the company of a live person, but she knew that she wouldn't find anyone here, not really. This was just an echo of the real Ruins, and it struck her that the world might turn dark and empty as a pitch any minute. Was it Chara's projection that kept this place intact, broadcast by her doing all the way from Snowdin? Or some other force entirely?

Then again, they could be real—this wasn't even the real Void. This was an in-between place. Limbo.

But Void or not, the castle had turned into a ghost of its former majesty. Without anyone tending to them properly, the Ruins had finally begun to crumble, true to their name.

The walls towering over her were marred by deep cracks that spread out like parasitic roots. The stone floor centuries old was weathered down, scuffed with claw marks, testaments to the generations of monsters that had spent their lifetimes passing through here without ever glimpsing the sky. And the stones themselves had lost their unusually vibrant violet tint; had gone dull and desaturated. Only the ivy, which climbed up every wall and pillar, wearing away at the castle's infrastructure, seemed to thrive.

Layers of dust—real dust, not monster dust—coated every surface, clinging to Frisk's shoes as she walked, her every footstep reverberating through the chamber. The dead leaves crunched under her feet like the bones of small rodents.

After what seemed an eternity, Frisk finally reached the stairs in the castle's entrance hall. She trotted down the stairs and crossed the foyer. Then, in the stone archway, she paused, sinking down to sit on her haunches.

It was so quiet here.

Frisk hated how her list of options just seemed so short, now. She just needed time to think. If Asriel really had turned back into a flower… well, even if he'd tried to kill her countless times, Flowey had always had pretty good ideas. One way or another, she would save Sans. She would stop Gaster from hurting him again. She would secure the happy ending she'd built.

A jolt of pain made Frisk realise she'd been biting at her thumbnail; the nail was split in half. She winced, sucking on the stinging wound. Then, keeping her head high, she marched into the next room.

The golden flowers were thriving, their petals wide and bright, their stems a deep and healthy green. A single stream of sunlight filtered in from above like a benediction, catching the dust motes and flecks of pollen that danced in the air. And there, directly in the centre of the bed of flowers, the sun catching it like a spotlight—

Her stomach dropped. Her mouth went dry.

Frisk raced forward, dropping to her knees before she'd even come to a complete stop. It was different from the rest of the flowers, taller even in its condition. "Flowey?" she whispered, but there was no response. Hesitantly, the child reached out a hand toward a withered brown petal, only for it to crumble at her touch. Frisk recoiled. She thought she might be sick.

Half the flower's petals had fallen off, and those that remained were shrivelled and dried. Flowey's head—for she knew it was him even as her heart denied it—sagged, and his face was gone.

"Flowey?" she tried again. "It's, it's me." Then, in scarcely more than a whisper, "… Asriel?"

Nothing.

Just an ordinary, dead golden flower.

Footsteps sounded behind her, and Frisk spun round. Chara was standing just a few paces behind her.

Frisk swallowed, brushing her hair back from her face as she took in the sight of the other girl. "You came after all."

Chara was staring fixedly at Flowey's remains, her face a mask. She nodded once.

"Did you follow me?"

Chara crinkled her brow, thinking. "No. You were quite ahead of me when I changed my mind. I believe I was able to catch up with you quite quickly, though. And I knew where to look."

"Oh."

"So." Chara came a few steps closer, until she was standing directly behind Frisk. "This is what's become of our little detour to the Ruins, then. What a sorry fix we're in!"

"Is he…" Frisk couldn't say it, leaving Chara to do the hard part.

"Dead? Yes. He has been for a few days now, I believe."

Frisk swallowed. "I'm sorry."

The look that passed over Chara's face was one of curiosity, but Frisk caught the anger flashing across it before her expression settled into something milder. "Are you? Why? It may not bode well for the success our mission, but it seems rather out of place to deliver condolences."

Frisk had nothing to say to that. She frowned suddenly. "Why are you all wet?"

"Because I lay down in the snow."

"Oh. Aren't you cold?"

Chara remained deadpan. "Yes, very."

"I didn't think you'd feel the cold after being, um, dead."

"Oh, yes."

That sounded like a sorry deal to Frisk, but she didn't say anything more, turning her attention back to Flowey's withered remains. She heard Chara shuffling behind her, and when Frisk peeked, she saw Chara seated cross-legged on the ground, poised with her hands resting on her knees, like she was gathering on the carpet for storytime at school.

"So…" Frisk sat back as well, drawing her knees to her chest and scooting backward so that she was positioned beside Chara. "What do we do now?"

There was no sarcasm in Chara's tone, for a change. "What, indeed."

"Saving Sans?" Frisk prodded.

"Well, yes. We have our end goal in mind. Unfortunately, we still need to figure out the steps to get there."

"Yeah…"

They lapsed into an uncertain, uncomfortable silence, both of them staring at Flowey's remains and not moving from where they sat. The beam of sunlight from up above was starting to dissipate. The small patch of sky that was visible was darkening into a deep and cloudy grey—night was approaching, and this was a no-nonsense sky without time for sunsets. Frisk wondered if they'd be able to glimpse any stars from this angle.

"I'm buried here, you know." Chara suddenly spoke up. "Mamma buried me under these flowers."

Frisk glanced at the spot Chara was indicating. "Oh, yeah. I, um. I knew that, I think."

"It's funny. You fell here and you were not hurt. None of the humans were. But I broke my leg rather badly when I landed. It's like I cushioned your fall."

It was a strange sentiment, but a sweet one. Frisk offered her a half smile. "That's kind of nice. It's like you were looking out for us."

"Oh, I don't believe it was on purpose."

"Right," Frisk cautioned, but Chara had stopped paying attention. Now she stood on alert with her eyes skyward and her whole body rigid, like a dog with its ears pricked.

Frisk wasn't sure if she should be hopeful or frightened. "What is it?"

"Shut up," said Chara, sharply, and Frisk fell silent, straining to listen with bated breath. It took a moment, but after a while, she could hear it too—a faint hissing sound, like a kettle on the brink of boiling. She could not locate the source of the noise, only that it seemed to come from very far away.

"Something is shifting." Chara's eyes flicked over to Frisk. "An opening." She shot to her feet, and for a moment she actually looked excited. "Get up, you."

Frisk scrambled to stand up. "An opening? Is it the Void squares? Are they disappearing so we can get back to Hotland?"

Chara snorted at that, seeming to surprise herself as one hand flew up to cover her mouth. A teasing smirk played at the corner of her lips, though she fought to suppress it. "Void squares," she mimicked. At last a small laugh escaped her, and she shook her head with an eyeroll. "Gracious. Well, no matter—let's go."

Frisk faltered, then nodded, turned on her heel, and began to head out the room. It wasn't until she'd reached the other end of the cavern that she realised that Chara wasn't following her. "Now who's the slowpoke—oh."

The dead girl stood with her back to Frisk, just on the edge of the flower patch. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides, and her head was bowed, a curtain of reddish-brown hair obscuring her face.

"Chara…?" Frisk was careful to approach slowly.

Chara jumped, swiping at her eyes with the back of her sleeve. "I am fine. I only just caught something in my eye."

Frisk giggled at that despite herself, remembering. "What'd you catch?"

But apparently Chara wasn't in on the joke, turning her face the other way again. "I apologise for lingering. We really must move on." She lifted one foot as if to move, wobbled in place, then wound up sinking, slowly, to her knees. With the last of the sunlight streaming down on her bowed head, Chara resembled an image taken straight from a stained glass window.

Each step plodding and cautious, Frisk finally reached her companion, lowering herself to kneel down next to her. She knew better than to reach out or lay a hand on her shoulder. She just waited, until at last Chara spoke, her voice tight and her teeth all but clenched.

"It is just—very strange. I hated that flower with every fibre of my being. That wretched thing that passed itself off as my brother, or some version of him. Grown from his dust, it took his memories, used them as some—twisted motivation to wreak havoc and misery and do all manner of things that Asriel could not have dreamed of. That thing which stole my brother from me, trapped him inside its essence. And then it had the audacity to seek me out, crying that it missed me. I hated it. I should be glad that it's dead." Chara's voice shook, her hands shredding at blades of grass. "So why… why aren't I…?"

Frisk stayed quiet for a moment, then, biting her lip, dared to inch closer. "You're… mourning him?"

She thought Chara would turn on her, shout, become angry. But the dead girl answered her: "I don't know. I don't… But I should know." She peered up at Frisk, brown eyes bloodshot. "This was truly where you left him?"

Frisk thought back her last trek across the Underground, after the Barrier had been broken. She nodded. "Asriel… he was waiting here for me. He knew I was coming, but… he didn't want to come with us to the Surface. I think… I think he must have never left this room. He must have turned—back into a flower, eventually," she added, remorsefully.

Chara nodded vaguely. "Ah."

"When I met Asriel, he was… really, really nice," Frisk ventured. "I wanted him to come with us. I was thinking I'd do anything to save him, maybe even Reset and try again. But he was already dead, I guess. Way before I came into the story."

"Some things are inevitable." Chara's gaze had returned to the withered flower. "But yes, my brother had already died. No Reset could have reversed that." She allowed for a delicate pause. "Asriel was astonishing. He was so good, and so very stupid. Merciful to the point of idiocy—not so different from you," she added, and this time, Frisk knew to take it as a compliment.

Frisk waited a moment before pondering: "If Flowey's dead, though, and if… if Asriel was stuck as part of Flowey, like you said… maybe he's not stuck in the Void anymore. Maybe he's happy."

"Perhaps." Chara's voice was a whisper, then she shook her head and stood abruptly, her face clearing. "Well. We ought to be going—we've wasted enough time as it is."

"Sans." Frisk nodded, getting to her feet. Her gaze fell upon Flowey's remains, and she paused despite the urgency of their situation, staring down at the shrivelled, browned petals, the bent-over stem. A strange sense of clairvoyance, deep down in her soul, told her that she would never see him again—not in either form.

"Do you really think he could have helped us?" Frisk spoke up. Could, not would. She didn't want to think about whether or not Flowey would. "If he was alive?"

Chara snorted, then sharply turned on her heel and began to walk away. "No." Her voice was flat. "Perhaps not. More fool me."

Frisk nodded vaguely, her gaze lingering. "Bye, Asriel," she said softly, and left it at that.

Up ahead, Chara had already turned the corner into the next room. Back to business. "Come on, slowpoke!" she called over her shoulder. "We've quite a journey ahead of us!"

"Okay, okay, I'm coming!" Frisk broke into a jog to catch up, muttering under her breath. "Cheater."

If Chara heard her, she didn't say anything. But she was right; it was a long journey to Hotland, and it would be longer still if they were forced to loop round via New Home. For now, though, they had to cross the Ruins, and eventually, eventually, they would save Sans. And through the Ruins they trekked, with their legs streaked in dirt and grass stains on their knees.

oOo

The children remained silent as they crossed the Ruins, but Frisk found the trip to be far less lonely with Chara by her side. Chara resolved to remain stoic, but just the sound of her footsteps, and the occasional glance over her shoulder she aimed at Frisk, were a comfort on their own.

Still, Frisk's mind wandered. It would be a while yet before they reached Hotland, but it wouldn't take more than a couple hours at this pace. They needed some kind of plan before that—Frisk didn't think Gaster would let Sans go very easily, and if she didn't have easy access to her powers…

Her feet were starting to get sore. With every step Frisk felt as though her legs were made of lead; she began to drag her heels. Chara shot her a look of annoyance. But Frisk was finding it harder than ever to keep up, and now her stomach was beginning to pang and twist with an unknown pain. Chara frowned at her again. The ground was teetering.

"Blast," she heard Chara utter, and the next thing she knew, the dead girl was leaning over her. It took a moment for it to strike Frisk that realise she was lying sprawled on the ground.

Frisk blinked blearily. "What happened?" she mumbled as Chara dropped back onto her haunches.

"You collapsed suddenly," Chara supplied. "Do not worry, you were only out for a few minutes. Sit up—slowly, now. Take your time."

Frisk obliged, slowly propping herself up on her elbows. Her head was sore, and she still felt weak and lightheaded. She blinked in an effort to clear the black spots flashing before her eyes. "…. Why?" she managed, and Chara hummed in thought.

"Do you remember the time you were pulled into the Void? Before Sans found you, and rescued you from being hit by a car once you emerged? We did not see each other that time—it wasn't my doing."

"… yes?"

Chara tilted her head to one side. "Time passes differently here." She spoke in a flat kind of sing-song, as if quoting a familiar saying she'd gotten bored with. There was no missing the sarcastic bite behind her words, however—she knew Frisk had heard it too. "When Doctor Gaster pulled you into the Void, you only spent a few minutes there—at least from your perspective. In reality you'd been gone many hours. You were hungry when you emerged. Do you remember that?"

Frisk nodded, not sure where this was going.

Chara, who seemed to be enjoying monologuing, carried on. "The same thing is happening now. You have already been here for quite a while. I believe you have been here a full day. Most likely longer. Meaning—" she paused for full effect— "your resources are low, and you are weak. You have gone a very long time without eating or sleeping. Reality has caught up with you. It would be ill-advised to press on without pausing to tend to your mortal needs."

This was a lot to take in. "So… time passes faster here?"

"Slower," Chara corrected. "In this case, yes. Sometimes time passes slower, and other times it goes by faster, and other times it is more complicated than that. You get used to it." She shrugged, as if it didn't matter.

Frisk sat there, letting all of this sink in. Days… in the real world, she'd been here in the Void for days. Her heart dropped as the full implications of that hit her. "Everybody at home must be so worried," she whispered. "They'll be looking everywhere and they're not gonna be able to find us here. Papyrus and Alphys and… oh, no. Mum."

"And," Chara said pointedly, "you must eat, and you must rest. Come. It isn't much further to—" she froze, catching herself. "—the house. That is a good place."

"But we can't, what about—"

"—Sans?" the other girl finished on an eyeroll. "For pity's sake. You'll be no use to him like this and you know it. How do you expect to fight Doctor Gaster while starving, on two days without sleep? No."

"Fight him?" Frisk wrinkled her nose at that. "I'm not going to fight him."

"You—" Chara looked momentarily disgusted. "Fine. When you dodge his attacks, then. Whatever." She batted away a troublesome strand of hair that had fallen into her eyes. "Either way, you must eat and rest and that's the end of it. The skeleton will have to wait."

Frisk stared at the ground. She'd been so certain when she'd set out to the Underground with Sans, but now, everything was falling apart. She should have done something before Gaster had taken Sans. She never should have let him come here at all. "He's hurt," she said, very quietly.

"Yes. But he is not at risk of dying. Gaster will look after him."

"But—"

"He is being tortured, yes. But the torture has already begun and he can't be in any more pain than he is right now. Trust me. So for the sake of all that is good in this world, would you please take my hand and come with me so we can take you somewhere to eat and get some blasted rest?"

Frisk blinked at Chara's outstretched hand. She got the impression it had been extended like that for quite a while, but she hesitated to take it. She didn't want to stop and rest, not when so much time had been wasted already. Not when her family was worried. Not when Sans was hurt and in pain, not when he must be thinking she'd just left him there to suffer at Gaster's hand. And Frisk got the terrible feeling Sans wouldn't try to escape even if he was given the chance. He needed her, now more than ever.

But she also didn't think she could stay awake much longer, let alone make it all the way to Hotland and then face off against the notorious Doctor W.D. Gaster. Not like this. A pang of hunger flared through her, as if to make a point.

She looked at Chara's pointed, measured expression. "Okay," she finally said, then added a "you win" just to make her displeasure known.

Chara snatched up her hand before she could reach for it, hoisting Frisk to her feet. "Very good," she said in delicate tones, and Frisk only had time to nod once before her legs buckled under her. Chara caught her before she could hit the ground.

oOo

When Frisk woke up, she was propped up against Toriel's big, tan-coloured reading chair. (That wasn't right, her mum had brought the chair with her to their house on the Surface; it wouldn't be here in the Underground anymore). She must have passed out again on the trip to the castle's living quarters. Apparently Chara had tried to lift her up into the chair and then given up, or perhaps just changed her mind. Frisk also got the distinct impression she'd been dragged here rather than carried, judging by the scrapes on her calves and the leaves clinging to her clothes.

Frisk pulled herself up onto the chair just as Chara emerged from the kitchen. She blinked when she saw Frisk.

"Awake, I see."

"How long was I asleep this time?" Frisk asked, daring to be hopeful. Maybe she'd slept long enough to satisfy Chara, and they could move on out of here after a bite to eat.

"Barely five minutes," said Chara, and Frisk tossed her head back in exasperation.

"But there's a spot of good news," Chara continued. "There was pie in the icebox—actually, there were several pies—and I've just put one in the oven. The taste will be better if it's warm."

"Icebox?"

"Refrigerator," Chara corrected herself. "So that is one problem solved. I am currently scouring the cupboards for more food. Afterward, you will sleep—properly—and then we can continue with our mission." Frisk nodded, and started to get up, still a little shaky at the knees. "Careful," said Chara, not quite a rebuke. "You must take it slowly." Then she disappeared back into the kitchen.

Frisk waited for a spell, trying to take a moment to gather her strength. She could hear Chara rummaging around through the drawers, then came the muted clap of the cupboard doors opening and closing, joined by the expected crash and clatter of pots and pans. "Aha!" followed the victorious cry, and Frisk turned around just in time to see Chara hopping down from the counter, holding something high above her head. She seemed to be waiting for Frisk to acknowledge her find.

Frisk had to shift a little more to see, finally deciding to climb down from the reading chair. She could stand if she held loosely to the armrest. "Oh, chocolate."

"Chocolate," Chara echoed with glee, already stripping away the tinfoil wrapper. There were several more bars sticking out from the pocket of her slacks. "Oh, marvellous day! Oh, yes, this is a happy day indeed."

"Except that Sans is in trouble," Frisk reminded her, but Chara waved that off.

"Never mind that," she said around a full mouth. "We've scores and scores of chocolate to eat, now come and enjoy it. Have you a preference? Because I have full intention of keeping the hazelnut to myself."

"I guess plain," Frisk shrugged, and Chara tossed her a bar, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "amateur."

Frisk turned to her chocolate, peeling the wrapping away. It was different than any candy wrapper she'd ever seen; it was plain silver tinfoil all around with only a small paper label on the front to identify it. But as soon as she snapped off a piece and popped it into her mouth, her taste buds exploded with the rich, sweet taste of creamy milk chocolate. It was way better than anything she'd had on the Surface—monster food was, at least most of the time.

Chara seemed satisfied, turning around and going back into the kitchen. Frisk followed her, leaning against the doorframe and watching as the dead girl resumed her ransacking of Toriel's kitchen. It was the calmest Frisk had ever seen her.

But it soon became clear that there was nothing much to do but watch, and as she munched away on her chocolate bar, Frisk was even starting to feel a little bored. She turned, wandering in a lazy, looping circle around the living room.

Clatter, crash, came the sounds from the kitchen. Then, a heavy pause, and Frisk turned to see Chara through the doorframe, frowning as she stared into one of the kitchen drawers. "Where are the knives."

"Why would you need knives?" asked Frisk alarmed, but Chara had already moved on.

Frisk resumed circle-pacing the living room. She finished off her chocolate bar, and spared Chara another glance. She could see more chocolate bars sticking out from the dead girl's pockets, but one full candy bar was more chocolate in one sitting than Frisk was used to. Besides, she wanted to save room for pie.

Frisk looped around the living room one last time, then wandered into the hall. She paused before the door to what had, briefly, been her bedroom—what had been Asriel's bedroom—then kept going. At the end of the hall, she stopped before the mirror.

Frisk sighed heavily. For some reason, it seemed like it had been a long time since she'd looked at herself in the mirror. Which was silly—she'd seen herself in the mirror just that morning, or however long ago morning had been, when she brushed her teeth and combed her hair.

But maybe it was the first time in a while that she'd taken a long, proper look.

"Still just you, Frisk."

Frisk startled and almost spun before she saw Chara in the mirror, standing just behind her. Her hands were folded neatly behind her back, and she wore a bland smile, head canting to one side.

In the mirror, Frisk met Chara's eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She was only met with a quiet hum.

"Chara—" Frisk shook her head and frowned. Then her nose crinkled up and she lifted her head again, sniffing the air. "Do you smell something?"

The girls met eyes. "The pie!" they said in sync, and shot off down the hall toward the kitchen. Chara got there first, Frisk at her heels.

Smoke poured from the oven in thick, billowing clouds, so much that it was hard to see. Here the smell was acrid and unpleasant; not so much hanging in the air as opposed to curling up in tightly coiled spirals.

"What did you do?" Frisk was dismayed.

"I was only warming it!" Chara crouched before the oven, and using one of Toriel's oversized oven mitts, reached in and pulled out a blackened, circular thing that must have once been a pie.

"Yeah, but even I know how to warm things up in the oven. Though…" Frisk eyed the scene. "Maybe not in an old wood stove, I guess."

"Hmph. I expect not." There was a long pause as Chara stared down at the burnt, crispy remains of the pie. "Did you know," she said, "the last time I tried doing anything with a pie, it went very badly too?" Her head snapped up, and she began to giggle, high and closemouthed.

Frisk swallowed, shuffling from one foot to the other as she waited for it to be over. It frightened her when Chara got like this; it frightened her that she was starting to get used to it.

Somewhere deep down inside her, a shadow of doubt flickered to life. She shoved it away. She couldn't expect to get by without trusting people, and right now, Chara was her safest bet. Her only bet, really.

And besides—it wasn't fair to Chara.

So Frisk waited for Chara's fit of maddened giggles to pass, trying not to think of yellow flowers and cups of butter and lips stained with pollen, and when at last it did, the dead girl sighed woefully and stared at the pie a moment longer as if nothing had just transpired. Then she shrugged, plopping it into onto the countertop. "Well, there are other pies. I suppose a chilled chocolate pudding pie would not be so terrible."

Frisk chanced a small smile. "No. I guess it wouldn't."

oOo

They ate cold chocolate pudding pie straight from the pan, pressed together on the reading chair together with elbows jammed uncomfortably into each other's ribs. Chara smacked her lips the whole way, and when Frisk couldn't finish more than a few large mouthfuls of pie, the dead girl polished off the rest without a second thought, even licking her fingers when she was finished.

"Maybe we should eat something healthy," suggested Frisk, whose stomach was starting to hurt.

"Monster food is always healthy. Why, monster chocolate is better for you than any Surface vegetable."

"I think that's… wrong."

"Nevermind that. You need to sleep!" Chara practically shoved Frisk off the chair.

Frisk couldn't help but roll her eyes, laughing a little as she picked herself up off the floor. "Okay, okay. Let me go get ready." She trotted obediently off, but stopped to stick her tongue out at Chara on her way out.

Unsurprisingly, the little bedroom was exactly as she remembered it. The toybox at the foot of the little cot, the cosy red rug in the middle of the room that seemed to soften all its edges; the child-sized furniture tucked up neatly against one wall. A faint aroma of must hung light in the air.

Frisk remembered how, the first time she'd set foot into this room, shaken and weary and hesitant to trust Toriel, the room had seemed too perfect to be true. She'd been suspicious, and frightened of the monsters she met. But then she'd lain down on the bed, which was so old it made creaking sounds every time she moved, and somehow that had comforted her enough to settle down into a heavy sleep without fully meaning to.

Frisk shivered a little and drew her arms around herself. She was starting to miss her mother more than ever.

Shaking her head, Frisk wandered over to the nightlight in the corner and flipped the switch. With a click, the rest of the room darkened, and the nightlight began to play its soothing, tinkling melody from a tinny speaker. Frisk listened for a moment, then stepped back and dropped onto the bed, but she didn't lie down just yet.

Sitting on the stiff old mattress, she couldn't help but wonder if Chara might be a little insulted, or find it a little morbid, that she was going to sleep in her dead brother's bed.

As if on cue, there was a gentle rap on the door. Chara didn't wait for Frisk to answer before pushing it open.

"What do you think?" Chara stood in the doorway, her arms crossed.

"It's… what do you mean?"

"I did quite a good job with it, did I not?" Chara gestured around herself, and Frisk remembered what Chara had said about her influence over the Void.

"It looks like his room," she supplied. It seemed to be the answer Chara was looking for. The dead girl's eyes softened as she crossed the room and came to flop down on the bed next to Frisk. Frisk paused, then lay down next to her. The bed was so small that when they crammed into it facing each other their noses almost touched. "So, how does it work?" Frisk couldn't help but ask. "Did you restore the whole Underground? It looked really cool, what you did to Hotland. Can Gaster do it, too?"

Chara stiffened at the mention of Gaster's name, but she still answered. "Not really," she said. "I had no control over the Void, you know. There was nothing at all there. Nothing but blackness, in every direction, no matter how far you went or how long you stayed somewhere. Have you been to the ocean before?" Frisk nodded. "It was something like when… you float on your back, and let your limbs go quite loose, and let the waves carry you. And your ears are underwater so any sound becomes muffled. When you lose sensation of anything, really. If you stayed like that long enough, you'd forget your own name. It was like that. But there was no sky above you to stare at, nothing at all."

She'd been looking directly at Frisk, her eyes wide and wild. Now a glaze passed over them as Chara flicked her eyes away. "There was no Underground, at any rate." And now back at Frisk with a catlike intensity. "Until you came along. You were so strong. And thanks to you, time tore open wide enough for the Void to begin seeping into reality. And we crawled out, too. Me, and Doctor Gaster. Only then did I find myself in this in-between place, a pantomime of the Underground. Reality flickered in and out, and at intervals I would be plunged back into the abyss. It was… frightening at first, I admit. Before very long, though, I began to realise what influence I had over this place. I could maintain images of the Underground as I pleased, and it was no time at all before I'd mastered the skill. Normally I can only handle a few bits at a given time, but then there are times when my control is stronger. These things vary. But…" Chara rolled onto her back, taking in the room in its entirety. "There are certain places I like to try and maintain as often as I can. As I said. Intentionality is quite a big deal here."

Frisk mulled this over. She started to say I'm sorry, then realised it wouldn't do much good, and Chara would probably just scoff at her anyway. Instead she said, "But Doctor Gaster has control too."

Chara sighed, irritated. "Yes. He does at that."

The pair lay for a while in the silence of the room. The tinkling music box song had faded into white noise; now Frisk drew her attention to it again, and she knew Chara was listening, too.

"Chara?" Frisk spoke up. "How do you think he died?"

A pause. "Well," said Chara, "I certainly have an idea. Really it's intuitive."

"What's intu—I mean. Okay. Tell me."

The words burst out of Chara, as if she'd been burning to put them out into the world, but her tone remained measured as always, never rushed. "Well, he hadn't a soul as a flower. You know that. There was nothing keeping him alive but Determination. Without it, he'd be an empty husk again." She sighed, now lacing her fingers together and resting her head beneath her hands. "It is much more complicated when it comes to creatures with souls, like you or me. We cannot simply lose our Determination and cease to exist. I'm still here, after all. But when all you have, quite literally, is a will to live, and you simply lose that will, then there is nothing left." She shrugged, indifferent, before lapsing into contemplative silence. "He must have made a choice."

A choice. It seemed like everything came down to choices, at least the way Chara framed things. Sans did, too, Frisk realised with a slight jolt. She wasn't sure what to make of that. Loading her old Save files when she died hadn't been a choice. She hadn't even known she was doing it. It had been thoughtless; raw instinct.

But then, maybe letting go was different.

Frisk thought back to the flower patch and wondered at how Chara could be so knowledgeable, so methodical about these facts, reciting them as if from a script, yet could still lay her heart out when it came to her concern for her brother. Frisk was drawn once again to the plinking music box melody, and tried not to think about what might have happened to Asriel, wherever he ended up.

"Just Determined," was all she could think to say, a murmur under her breath.

But if Chara found Frisk's comments lacking, she gave no indication of it. "Of course, he wouldn't have had any Determination if it wasn't for me—or he would have, I suppose, but it would not have done terribly much. Certainly it would not have made an anomaly." She pursed her lips, thinking. "I am not sure what would have happened if Doctor Alphys had chosen a different flower. Blasted sentimentality."

Frisk's attention was piqued at the mention of an anomaly. She propped herself up on one elbow. "What do you mean? Alphys injected him with Determination when she was starting the, um." Calling them DT Trials felt awfully morbid now. "Those tests. I read it in her log entries. She wanted to see what would happen if something without a soul gained the will to live."

"Oh, yes." Chara mimicked Frisk's pose, nodding enthusiastically. "Quite an intriguing concept, actually. Contemplating it does so nurture the mind. I doubt she would have been able to create a sentient creature, had it not been for my brother's dust within that flower's essence. But it's possible, I suppose, that she might have been able to create an especially resilient flower." She cleared her throat. "That isn't the point, at any rate. The point is that she wouldn't have made an anomaly."

Frisk frowned. "But she did! Flowey came alive when Alphys gave him the Determination and then he figured out about his powers."

Chara arched an eyebrow. "And was a prick of Determination enough for Sans? No. If he'd been made into an anomaly on the first try, then none of this would be happening now. It takes an indefinite amount of Determination to create a fully-fledged anomaly like yourself. That soul of yours is a treasure-house! Oh, Frisk, just think about it. Flowey was always Determined."

"… how do you mean?"

A huff of impatience. "Well, when I died, our souls fused together, didn't they? And I still had Determination at the time. Flowey is Determined—he is an anomaly—because of me. My Determination." A smile twitched at the corners of her lips and was gone in a flash. Chara's hand rose up to grip at her sweater, bunching up the fabric at her chest in her fist. "Really, he was an anomaly well before Doctor Alphys created him. He just needed an extra little prick to wake him all the way up. My Determination that started it. The original Resets, all this trouble. My Determination. My fault."

Frisk waited for Chara to laugh, but she never did. The silence that followed felt like a judgement, and Frisk scrambled to fill it. "It's not your fault, Chara," she said softly, obligingly.

"Oh, it is."

"No—"

"If I had not made a very foolish decision, then he would not have died. Nothing bad would have happened."

"No, it's not like that, you—"

"I am not a good person, Frisk, no matter what you seem to have convinced yourself. It is in your best interest to understand this. Dreadful things happen when people get close to me." Her voice had gone unsettlingly flat, but now her lips quirked up into a crude smile that didn't match her tone. "You know what happened, of course. The night we died."

Frisk nodded.

"When he absorbed my soul, we shared control over his body. It was I who carried us through the Barrier and to my village. He was the one who resisted at the end, who would not fight back against our attackers. But did Asriel tell you that we could communicate for that period? I was a little voice inside his head." Chara lifted one hand in the air, index finger sticking out, and traced out lazy heart shapes in the air. "So do you know what I said to my brother?"

Frisk didn't dare answer, feeling her insides curdle.

"I said, 'You've ruined everything. I hate you.' He died after that. Those were the last words he ever heard."

Oh. There was nothing to say to that, and Frisk couldn't imagine Chara wanted her to. But it seemed nothing could be worse than the empty silence that followed, heavy and punctuated by the same tinkling music box theme that now played like a taunt. Frisk wanted to get up and turn it off.

But then Chara said, "Well? Have you no words?"

Frisk shrugged a little. "I'm sorry," she acknowledged, then sat up a little. This time, she was quick, not even giving Chara a chance to scoff or roll her eyes. "But… but even if that was awful, you were upset. You didn't mean it, and he knows you love him really. He was looking for you, he isn't mad at you, or—wasn't." Frisk fell to silence, worried she might have made it worse. "He forgives you," she tacked on. "For all of it."

Chara blinked. "Oh, but I did mean it. Certainly and wholeheartedly. He could tell. I was furious, angrier than I had ever been in all my life. At the time, I mean. I didn't understand him; he was… " She shook her head. "It is such a complicated matter. He was so much better than me, so fundamentally good. If he had been willing to fight back, to defend himself, not so driven to be kind, then he would not have been hurt. Such carnage! We would have been so much better off underground. People were happy there. I believe… I believe I was, too."

Frisk thought of the old photographs she'd seen, those candid shots capturing the Dreemurr children wrestling on the floor, climbing on the furniture, running through the garden in a game of pretend. Up to their elbows in batter in the kitchen with Toriel. The laughter that was etched across Chara's face, or sometimes a look of surprise captured just before she could express her irritation. She thought of the way Toriel looked at those pictures, even now.

"Yeah," she said, and a small grin broke across her face. "I know. And… Mum still really misses you. Asgore, too. I don't see him as much, but he thinks of you guys every day."

"Hmm." Chara hummed with vague interest, but she seemed…. Pleased probably wasn't strong enough a word, but happy didn't account for her subdued reaction either. Contented?

"I don't know what's happened to Asriel. But at least you have good memories of him. Right?"

A smile flickered across Chara's face, wavering, like a glitch. "I expect so, yes."

"Wanna tell me?"

That Chara answered at all surprised her. "I could. Though I remember nothing in particular detail." She half-laughed. "But… well, we were both a pair of rambunctious scamps. Fantastic makers of mischief. I am under the sure impression Asriel was a much more quiet and obedient child before I fell from the sky. He was a terrible liar—lack of practise. I made quite the rascal of him. Poor Mamma and Papa! It must have come as such a shock." She trailed off into silence. "Once I had the grand idea to try and con the spiders out of their money. It was not going entirely badly, either, until Asriel burst into tears from the sheer guilt of our little operation. Heaven knows why; the spiders are most unpleasant monsters and they con or intimidate innocent people out of their money all the time." Chara's smile faded. "But Mamma and Papa never stayed angry with us for very long. Not even me. They never struck us, never raised their voices. And by evening Mamma would always put us to bed, even though we were surely getting too old for it by the time we died. Sung us to sleep every night."

"She sings to me, too," Frisk said quietly.

"That is unsurprising." Chara blew a stray lock of hair from her face.

"Are you mad? Or jealous? That I call her Mum? Because, um. I do, by the way."

Chara made a tch sound. "No. I have many loathsome qualities, but pettiness and jealousy are not among them."

Frisk's lips quirked up. "Are you pleased for me, then?"

The dead girl appraised her with seriousness. "She deserves a child like you," she said at last. Pause. "I believe I shall turn that lamp off."

"Good idea."

The bed creaked as Chara climbed down off of it. Frisk rolled onto her side to watch her patter across the room, pause before the lamp, then reach out and turn it off with a resounding click. The room was plunged into darkness and silence, snatching up the light like a fist.

Frisk waited for Chara to join her on the bed again, but nothing happened. She couldn't even see the other girl on the side of the room, couldn't make out her silhouette as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness. "Chara?" she called out, but there was no answer.

She swallowed, her palms going slightly sweaty. She thought she heard the crackle of static from somewhere above her but she couldn't be sure. The knot of dread tightening in her chest, she groped around in her pocket for her phone, hoping to illuminate the room with the glow from its screen, but when she pressed the Home button nothing happened.

Tap-tap-tap. Tap. Tap-tap.

Frisk's chest seized. Wringing her hands, she slowly pushed the blankets aside and moved to climb off the bed. The soles of her feet brushed against the wood floor.

BAM!

There was a loud crash followed by a thwump as something landed on the bed. Frisk gasped, gulping back her scream as she nearly threw herself backward over the headboard. Then she made out the small silhouette crouched, gargoyle like, at the foot of the bed. Barely a moment later, she heard the cackling giggles.

"Chara!" she exclaimed, but she settled down into the covers, heartbeat easing. The laughter came at full force now as Chara crawled forward to lie back down next to her.

"Oh, your face!"

"You can't even see my face! It's too dark in here!"

"No, but I can certainly imagine it."

And Frisk could picture Chara's face perfectly—a great toothy grin on her face and eyes alight with wicked amusement. She scowled, jerking the blankets away and wrapping them around herself. "It's not funny."

"On the contrary. It's extremely funny."

"Not right now, it isn't."

"I could not be more inclined to disagree."

"No, it's not funny. You really scared me."

"Asriel used to say that all the time, too." Chara reached to tug the blankets back. "He fell for it every time. And oh, how he'd yelp! Have you ever heard a goat scream?"

Frisk shook her head, but surrendered the quilt.

"I thought you would be more accustomed to pranks, living with that jokester skeleton."

"Not like that, he isn't," Frisk contended. "Not mean pranks. Mostly he just leaves whoopee cushions everywhere."

Chara snorted. "I see." She delivered a long, drawn-out sigh. "So what is it like, living with all of them? I should think it would… not be very peaceful."

Frisk shook her head, giggling. "No way." She paused, then, without being able to stop herself, launched into a rant. "'cause it's the six of us, there's always something going on. Sans and Papyrus always break things when they're sparring, Undyne and Papyrus too. And Alphys has a lab down in the basement where she does all this cool science stuff with Sans sometimes, but she can't do anything with chemicals or explosives because of what she calls Undyne precautions. And Undyne used to try cooking all the time, but Mum banned her from the kitchen 'cause she says we can't afford to renovate anymore. We have a lot of fun, though." Her heart swelled as she thought of home. "Mum cooks the best food ever, and she and Sans and Alphys are really good we get to watch movies and play video games and board games together all the time. I get to have friends over to play whenever I want. And everybody… I know they really care about me.". Frisk trailed off, a lump forming in her throat. "So. Anyway. It's just… really nice."

"And here I thought you had a reputation for being quiet," Chara shook her head. "Well, clearly I was mistaken. Or somebody else was."

"No," Frisk faltered. "I mean… I'm getting better at talking, but. I didn't used to before. Hardly ever. I talk way more now, so that's good, I guess. But… it's easier talking with you," she confessed. "Than it is with anyone else. Even Sans and Mum and everyone."

"Well, since you're so chattery. I should think it's my turn to ask you a question, now."

Frisk shrugged, indifferent. "Okay."

"Why do you want to save Sans so badly?"

Frisk opened her mouth to voice her incredulousness, because how could Chara even think to ask such a question, then changed her mind. After taking a second to gather her words, she just gave her answer, honest and deliberate. "Well. Because he's my friend. He's family, and I care about him. Because I couldn't even think of just leaving him. And because it's right. I just need to save him." Frisk shrugged and smiled a little. "I guess I just need to save everybody."

"Except you didn't," Chara said pointedly, and Frisk looked away.

The silence was weighty; an edict. Finally Chara rolled over, too, turning to stare out into the empty blackness of the room. "You should get some rest," she said. "Replenish your energy for the morning. Save whoever you want."

Frisk waited a long moment, clenching a corner of blanket in her fist as the tiredness settled in. "I'll make things right," she whispered. "For everyone. Promise."

"I knew you'd say that," Chara muttered. But she shuffled a few inches closer on the bed.

Frisk smiled to herself, despite everything, wrapping the blankets tighter around herself and closing her eyes. As she drifted off to sleep, she thought she heard Chara humming.