Lair of the Dragon Writer

The shortcut to the Monster Embassy was everything he’d feared it would be and worse.  The spot he’d picked to teleport to - a small supply closet he’d hid out in a few times when tagging along with Boss - was more crowded than he remembered, and he knocked over several brooms and a bucket as he tried to find his footing.  He was lucky he hadn’t broken something.

He was also lucky that the embassy was too well-trafficked to make a barrier a possibility.  Trying to teleport into a barrier wasn’t something he’d ever tried, but...

...Wait.

He patted his pockets.  His empty pockets, devoid of a phone.  Oh, stars. He’d just gotten himself stuck outside, hadn’t he.  He buried the thought deep and carefully opened the supply closet door.  The hallway beyond was busier than he remembered, but no one questioned him when he slouched over to where he vaguely remembered the offices being.

It was uncomfortable being in the embassy, and not just because every bone in his body was screaming at him.  It was so bright.  The walls were light shades of green and blue and orange, and the ceilings were white.  There was plenty of lighting, but it was already an uncommonly sunny winter day; why did they need the lights on??  The simple benches in the hallway and a common area beyond gave the area a sleek and minimalistic feel.

It was the antithesis of what the Underground had been, with its darkness and grime and entire cities built from trash.  He didn’t know how to feel about that.

The office space in the embassy was a large room decorated in soft browns and greens and more potted plants than he’d ever seen in his life.  Doors along the walls had names and silly decorations, leading - he guessed - to offices for the senior staff. Several rows of cubicles on the edges of the room served as desk space for humans and monsters running to and from conference rooms and copy machines.  The open are in the center was like the eye of a storm: small groups had settled on the couches or were hovering near the tall bar tables, chatting in low voices or eating an early lunch.

He almost walked straight past Frisk’s office.  The room he’d thought was her office - a large and ostentatious space - turned out to be a conference room; hopefully, no one noticed him poking his head in.  In his embarrassment, he nearly didn’t notice a small, humble name plaque on a nearby door that read:

Frisk Dreemurr Ambassador for Monsters

That was it.  No fanfare, no mention of any of the other roles and titles she held.  Someone had stuck a stylized little paper angel near the doorknob, and there was a Delta Rune etched into the frosted glass, but it was surprisingly simple.

He hesitated, one hand raised to knock on the door.  What if she was mad at him? Boss was always angry when Sans showed up somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be.  Frisk wasn’t Boss, and had gone well out of her way to help him, but he couldn’t shake the comparison.

The door opened before he made up his mind.

“Sans?  Is...are you okay?  How did you get up here?”  She stepped aside and gestured him in, closing the door quickly behind him.

“You left your lunch.”  He held out the offending package.  “Your mom asked if I’d bring it to ya.”

“Oh.  Thanks.”  She set it on her desk, then moved it to the side so she could fiddle with some papers.  Her free hand was drumming a frantic beat on the desktop. “Do you have - no, you won’t be able to teleport back to the house with the barrier up.  Shoot. Shoot.”

“Everythin’ okay?”

“Yes, fine, I just have a very important meeting in a few minutes.”

The half-lie was so smooth he barely caught it.

He opened his mouth, about to say he could just go home, then realized his error.  He didn’t have a home anymore. “If I can borrow your phone, I can call someone at the house-”

“You're sure you can’t teleport home?”

“Too low on magic.”  Just the idea of teleporting again made him feel tired.

A ding! made her flinch and pull out her cell phone.  Whatever message she’d received made the crease between her eyebrows deepen.  “Sans, come with me.”

“Uh…”

“You’re dressed...fine.  Okay; this’ll work. Stay with me and do exactly what I say, please.  Oh; here.” She handed him a notepad and pencil. “Take notes or something; it’ll keep people from looking at you strangely.”

He wanted to protest, he really did.  Being ordered around had always grated on him, even after living so long under Boss’s rule.  But this was Frisk, who had saved his life and offered him sanctuary, and he couldn’t say no to her when she looked so shaken.  If taking control of the situation in this little way helped her regain her equilibrium, well, he'd survive. He’d been through worse.

The pair left the office area and went down a long hallway lined with windows.  Below them in the courtyard snow fell softly on the garden and the statues of a young boss monster and seven human children.  The walkways and flowerbeds were barely visible, little more than lumps and dips in the thick blanket of white.

Around a corner and down another hallway was a large conference room.  Frisk settled herself at the table with a motley group of other humans and monsters, gesturing Sans into one of the seats along the wall behind her.  He let himself be guided, a bit confused. Sure, some of the people looked pretty strange and were wearing funny clothes, but he saw nothing that could have caused Frisk to use her powers over time itself.

On the far wall, a logo of some kind was slowly appearing on a large projector screen.  A short human woman perched on a stepladder was tinkering with the setup, adjusting wires and pushing buttons on a remote she held.  After a few minutes the image suddenly changed and a second conference room, this one full of human men and women in dark business suits, appeared on the screen.  The remote was handed over to Frisk with a smile and a “call me if it starts making that sound again” as she was led out by one of the guards stationed at the door.

The guards were a combination of human security, easily identifiable by their uniforms, and the Royal Guards.  Sans was a little disturbed to realize that he didn’t recognize any of them. Either they’d been Hotland guards or they were new recruits.  Where was Undyne? Sure, she had other duties, but she tended to stick close to Frisk.

Maybe he was being paranoid.

The meeting itself was incredibly boring, at least from Sans’s perspective.  The most interesting part was when Frisk started speaking a rather musical foreign language, which was pretty neat, but it also meant he couldn’t understand what was going on.  Ten minutes in, and he was writing down macabre jokes in an attempt to stay awake and not embarrass her after she’d been so nice to him. The chair was supremely uncomfortable; he regretted ever worrying about the kiddo and agreeing to take her lunch to her.  Time ticked on slowly like he was sinking into swamp water. There was no reason for him to be there. There was nothing-

Actually, that human across from Frisk looked suspicious.  Sans tried to place him and failed completely, but something about him seemed strangely familiar.  He was wearing a picture ID badge - all the visiting dignitaries were - but it was too far away for Sans to read.  What he could see was the way the man was looking at Frisk.  It seemed...well. There was something there he couldn’t quite trace, something a little guilty and a little possessive and a little of something else that put him on edge.

The really strange thing was that Frisk never appeared to even glance the man’s way.  It was hard to tell from looking at the back of her head, but she certainly never spoke directly to him.  It was a large enough group that it was excusable, and he never spoke directly to her either, but the way she tensed every time he shifted made Sans wary.

A scuffle at the door made the guards tense, but a moment later Undyne shoved her way into the room.  Sans watched as she canvassed the room, did a double-take at seeing him, and softly stepped over to Frisk.  She whispered something in Frisk’s ear before joining Sans in the seats along the wall.

Sitting next to a live, sparking wire would have been less stressful.  She didn’t glance at him, didn’t ask why he was there or what he was doing, but he knew with absolute certainty that she was aware and curious.  Undyne didn’t seem like the type to be professional about such things, but she never did conform to what was expected of her. She just sat there, arms crossed, watching Frisk with a very intense expression.

Sans wondered if she remembered the anomaly as well.  Maybe she had a better idea of what was going on.

A sudden shuffling of papers marked either the end of the meeting or a break; he knew how long those things could get but hadn’t been paying attention.  Frisk stood abruptly and strode towards the door, followed by a rush of aides and politicians. Undyne turned to glare at him.

“...What?” he muttered.

The glare intensified.

More from a desire to get away from the crazy fish lady than anything, he followed Frisk out the door.

If she noticed him jogging along behind her, she didn’t react.  She just walked as quickly as she could towards her office without actually running.  Her office door smacked him in the face but she caught it at the last moment, letting him through before closing it quietly.

For all her composure and apparent easy confidence, Sans could clearly see her hands shaking.

“You...uh, you okay?”

“Yes.  Fine.”

“C’mon, give me some credit.  ‘M not that out of it.”

“Everything is alright.  I didn’t take you for a worrier, Sans.”

For the first time, he could see that she was deliberately baiting him.  How many times had she done that, used his fickle temper against him to avoid talking about something uncomfortable?  He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

He swallowed his temper and gave her a lazy grin.  “Wonders never cease. Was it that guy?”

“What guy?”  The way she stiffened said that she knew exactly what he meant, and she was too distraught to cover her reactions properly.  “There were plenty of-”

“Cut the crap.  The one who sat down almost right across from you.  Tall, brown hair, dark blue suit and grey tie? Ringing any bells, kiddo?”

“I...I don’t…”

There was a strange feeling of guilt as he watched her composure fail.  She didn’t wail or shriek or curse, just...sat there quietly, behind her desk, her face in her hands and her shoulders slumped.  Tears leaked out from between her fingers.

“Look, seriously, what’s up?  Are y’in trouble? I dunno how much good it’ll do, but ‘m sure Undyne ‘n I can take ‘im out if it’s important to ya…”

Her hiccupping laugh had an edge of hysteria to it.  “You don’t know how much that means to me, but...it’s a bit late now.  Stars, I wish I hadn’t been so stupid.”

“Psh.  ‘Ts never too late for a good bit of revenge.”

“No, no, I’d just feel guilty if I unleashed you and Undyne on him now.  No matter what he...what happened. Can you hand me a Kleenex? That box right there on the edge of my desk.”

Sans found the bright cardboard box full of soft pieces of paper - Kleenexes? - and handed it over.

“Thanks.”  She blew her nose and cleaned up her eyes a bit.  They still looked red and puffy.

“So’s the meeting done?”

“Hmm?  Oh, yes.  I have a bit of paperwork and some phone calls, but Undyne offered to take you back to the house.  There’s no need to wait with me.”

He didn’t budge.  Not only did he not know where Undyne was, he also didn’t want to relive the day yet again.  He couldn’t see a clock, and he didn’t have his phone, so he couldn’t tell if this attempt had lasted longer than the previous one.  Had he made a difference after all?

“Sans…”

“Dunno where Undyne is.”

“You’re being...really difficult right now.”

“I’m a difficult guy.”

“Aren’t you also a recovering guy?  Didn’t your brother just try to dust you?”

He didn’t flinch.  He didn’t.  “I’m resting here just fine.”

“I see the way you’re holding yourself.  Your legs and your ribs be killing you right now. Just go home with Undyne, get some food and take a nap.”

“There’s something weird going on here.”

“I can take care of myself!”

“You were crying.”  He winced internally; it sounded like an accusation.

Instead of the anger he expected, Frisk just stared at her hands.  “Why do you care?”

“I owe you.  No, let me finish.  You ‘n Undyne saved my life.  You think I’m just gonna forget that?  And...well, we haven’t always gotten along, but I’d like to think that changed a little.  That we have some common ground somewhere.”

“You mean...Attie.”

“Well.  Uh. Sure.  I mean, you’re not half bad either when you’re not sending big boxes of peanuts to my house.”

She snorted, actually snorted, and he felt a reluctant grin tug at his mouth.  Okay, in hindsight, the peanut incident had been kinda funny.

“Whatever happened to them?”

“Gave most of ‘em to Grillbz.  He put them out at the bar. ‘Course Boss m-”  He felt himself choke on his words for a moment and cursed himself.  “Boss had me eat them breakfast, lunch ‘n dinner ‘till I proved they were ‘gone;’ he didn’t want good food to go to waste.”  His grin felt strained.

“Oh.  I’m sorry-”

“Pft.  Don’t apologize; that ruins it.  I did send you that box of live spiders first, remember?  It was good ‘n proper revenge.”

She smiled a little, but it looked reluctant.  “I guess it was. Those poor spiders were very unhappy after going through the postal system, I’ll have you know.  We got most of them back to Muffet, but I suspect we still have one or two who decided to hang out here in the Embassy instead.  Hah. Hard to believe...we didn’t get along for so long, and here we are. Funny how that works, hmm?”

“Y-yeah.”

Of course they hadn’t gotten along, he reminded himself yet again.

He’d killed her in cold blood.  Many times.

He kept forgetting that with this new camaraderie.

That was the reason he couldn’t flat-out ask Frisk what had happened before she moved time back.  If she didn’t remember doing it, he’d look crazy. If she did remember doing it, then that meant that she remembered how he’d tossed her around until her skull and ribs cracked, blasted her to ash, stabbed at her soft belly and delicate hands and sensitive eyes-

“Sans?  Everything okay?”

Everything was not okay.  He nodded anyways.

“You looked a little lost there for a minute.  What happened?”

“Just...remembering.  Something bad. Sorry.”

“Oh, don’t apologize.  I’m...well, you saw. I’m hardly one to judge.”  She took a deep breath, folding and unfolding the Kleenex in her hands with steady movements.  “I knew that man. The one who sat across from me. He...he hurt me, very badly, and due to the circumstances he was never brought to justice.  I didn’t realize he’d been invited to a meeting with the Japanese ambassador, of all people. I usually have warnings about these things, but today…”  She shrugged.

Sans didn’t know what to say.  Why was she telling him this? Was this supposed to make him feel better?

“But...yeah, that’s why I rushed out of there.  I told them that I had a conference call. I may have lied a little.  In Japanese. So you didn’t find out.”

He stared at her for a moment, then burst into helpless laughter.  “Y’didn’t want me to find out?  Who the hell would I tell?  I don’t know those big-ass politician types!”

“I didn’t want you to call me out on it, okay?  Tact hasn’t...always been something you’re great at.  I mean-”

“Heh.  You’re right.”  It was weird, watching her try to justify her criticisms.  He knew very well that he wasn’t tactful.  He had no reason to be. He could dance around subjects that made him uncomfortable, but he didn’t care much about how it affected others.  It was something he’d probably have to work on, now. “So. You gonna tell me who that guy was?”

She eyed him warily.  “Why? What are you going to do?”

“Invite him out for tea and cookies.”

“Hah.  Nope. There’s no way in hell I’m going to sic you on him.”

“Alright, then, just tell me who he is.”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Because you’d go after him on your own, and probably rope Undyne into it.  And it would be a huge international incident and I’d have weeks of paperwork just to keep you from being tried in the human court system.”

“And Undyne wouldn’t be?”

Frisk shrugged.  “She’s Captain of the Royal Guard.  Leaders of the Guard still have immunity from prosecution when executing their duties, just like they did Underground.  Of course, it would still look bad, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Drat.”  The immunity thing was one reason why the Guard had been so distrusted Underground: they were a law unto themselves, as long as they didn’t cross Asgore.  Of course, when Undyne had killed the former captain and assumed command of the Guard, she’d put that loophole to good use cleaning up both their ranks and the Underground in general.  It helped that she had trained under Asgore himself for a time; vindictive as the king was, he had enough of a soft spot for her that he didn’t give into the cries for vengeance from his people. He didn’t protect her from assassination attempts, but he didn’t hand her over to the crowds, either.  “This guy is important, then? If it would cause a big incident?”

“Yes.”

“And...he’s Japanese?  He didn’t look like the other Japanese people.  Actually, he looked familiar...”

“No.  Fine. He’s a lobbyist.”

Sans vaguely remembered the term from when he was sitting in on meetings early on in their negotiations, when they were trying to find an arrangement that would let them out of the Underground, but the definition escaped him.  “That’s...too bad?”

She smiled.  “It means he works for a group of people who all want the same thing...at least in theory.  Workers’ unions have powerful lobbies, for example: teachers, policemen, firefighters, actors, railroad workers, airline pilots: they all have large memberships and can carry some serious political weight.  There are also lobbyists for companies, like pharmaceutical companies and banks and telecommunications providers, and special interest groups like members of a certain race or religion or people who want something in particular. Part of what makes these groups so powerful is that they’re hired, not elected; politicians change, but lobbyists stick around.

“That man was working for a civil rights lobby when I...met him.  You probably saw him, too, in the meetings you sat in on when we were first trying to gain citizenship.  He wasn’t terribly outspoken, but he wielded a lot of power. He was here on behalf of a group of energy companies today.  I’m not sure who invited him, but he speaks enough Japanese that I couldn’t reasonably call his presence into question.”

“That’s...wait.  “Civil rights;” that’s what humans call the whole issue of treating certain people in certain ways, right?”

“Well...that’s not quite how they’d put it, but I guess that's a fair enough assessment.”

“Then he was fighting against monsters having rights?”

Frisk sunk down in her chair a little.  “No, Sans. He was fighting for monster rights.  He was on our side.”

“Oh.”  Even on the surface, things were so awfully messy.  “I guess that’s what you meant by “circumstances,” then.”

“Partly.  If I’d said something, he could have turned it on us and made us look bad.  There were civil rights groups on both sides, you know; some saw us as an infringement on their “turf,” as it were.  Everything in the civil rights world is comparative: the biggest victims win. A lot of them helped make changes for the better when they started out - and many still do - but the political side is a competition for eyes and ears and money.  And how do you beat being buried under a mountain and left to rot for millennia? There were many powerful people who didn’t want us up here.  It was partly thanks to this man’s intervention that we won, despite...well.”

“Despite what?”

“Please...don’t ask.”  She looked like she was almost about to cry again.  “I just...I can’t do this today. There’s a reason I haven’t told people.  Please, just let it go.”

Naturally, this made every bone in Sans’s body want to dig deeper, but he nodded instead.  He could find out in other ways.

Once he was feeling better, maybe.  He shifted and winced; he'd been able to ignore it in the heat of the moment, but he was still very, very sore.

“Alright, that's enough.  Let’s go find Undyne and get you home.”

“Yyyyup, okay.”

Undyne’s grin was sharp when she was told that Sans would be taking her up on her offer.  She looked vindictive.  The driving wasn’t nearly as smooth as it had been the last time he rode with her; he was pretty sure he had some new bruises on his ribs in the shape of the car door handle.

“What’s eating you?” he asked when they were stopped at a red light.  “Didn’t get your coffee?”

“No,” she growled.  “I mean...that’s not it.  You saw that asshole, right?”

“I’m pretty sure I saw no butts-”

“YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!”

A soccer mom in the van next to them glanced over, worried.

“Heh, fine.  Which asshole?”

“The one sitting across from Frisk at the meeting, in the blue suit.”

“Yeah.”

“Whaddaya know about him?”

Well that was a pickle.  Had Frisk meant her explanation to be private?  Undyne was, famously, her bestie; did Undyne know?  “Frisk...said he was a lobbyist. Something to do with energy.”

“Hmph.  Just like her to leave out the important bits so she doesn’t worry anyone.”  The light turned and she looked back at the road, nimbly navigating around the soccer mom.  “Listen up, punk. The only reason I’m telling you this is because Frisk likes you now, and you haven’t gone after her.  If that changes I’m gonna have to dust you, but I’m not gonna spit in an ally’s face.

“So if you’re gonna be part of this friendship group thing, this is what you need to know.  That guy hurt her. Bad. Don’t know why or how, but I have my guesses.” Another red light allowed her to look over at him with an intense eye.  “Don’t you ever allow her to be alone with him, do you hear me?”

“‘Kay.”

“Stars-damnit, Sans, this is serious-”

“Okay, okay, I get it.  Don’t let her be alone with the asshole.”

“Good.  Do you remember what he looks like?”

“Uuuuhh…”

“Tch.  Here.” She unlocked her phone one-handed, pulled up a picture, and tossed it to him.  “Memorize that face. When your weak ass is healed up I’ll get you back in close quarters with him so you can get a good feel for him, too.”

It amused him that she was treating his ability to detect differences in magic like the dogs’ ability to pick up a scent trail.  He didn’t say so - she’d probably get mad and crash the car - but it was still funny.

“What’re you grinning for?”

“I’m a skeleton.  I can’t not grin.”

“You know what I mean!!”

“Car.”

“What-oh.  Don’t tell me how to drive, asshole!”  She swerved around the slow car all the same, barely missing its rear bumper.  “You’re in a mood today, aren’t you.  Bastard.”

He hummed in agreement.  “I’ll keep an eye out for this guy, though.”

“Good.  You followed Frisk to her office, right?”

“...Yeah?”

Undyne took a deep breath.  “Don’t be a fishstick about this, but...did she cry?”

He considered giving her a hard time for a brief moment, then relented.  “Yeah. Yeah, she did.”

“Hah.  No wonder you’re so on-board; you never could put up with tears for long.”

“Hey!”

“It’s true.  So many little shits from Snowdin owe you their lives.  Any proper sentry would’ve dusted them for breaking the law, but no, not you; they bawled their eyes out about how much their home life sucks, and you just growled something nasty and patted them on the head and sent them to Grillby’s.  And he would make them wash dishes and give them food.”

“They were kids, Undyne.”

“They were teenagers and plenty old enough to know not to paint obscene messages on the town bulletin board.  At the very least, a night cooling their heels in lockup would’ve done a few of them some good.”

“Hey, I stopped them when I saw them.”

“Yeah, and how often was that?  Once a month? I swear, you spent more time sleeping on that job than you did actually working.  At least you’re better at keeping an eye on things now, right?”

“Uh, right.”

“Sans…”

“I caught those kids going up the mountain a few weeks back, didn’t I?”

She sighed.  “Yeah, I guess you did.  But that doesn’t give you an excuse to start slacking off again!  When you’re back in business, of course.”

He relaxed against the back of the seat as they pulled in the driveway.  Undyne reached over and put two fingers on his skull to bring him through the wards, then cackled when he brushed her hand away.  “How long’ll it be ‘till I’m back in business, then, doc?  It’s not like injuries stopped us from working before.  It’s all sitting, mostly.”

“Yeah, but we don’t want your dear baby brother finding you at work; anything he’d do would be “on duty” technically, and he is your - ugh! - "boss."  Nope, you’re staying here with Frisk until your emancipation goes through, then we’re finding you another place.”

Sans awoke with a jolt, scrambling up onto the back of the couch he was sleeping on.  His skull was spinning. Where was he? He wasn’t in his old house in Snowdin and it was dark and he was clearly underground, so where-

“Sans?”

He shot a bone without thinking, only registering who had spoken a moment too late.  A wave of his hand redirected the magical projectile and slowed its speed, but it still left a dent in the wall.

Woops.

He slowly raised his head to find Frisk standing in the dark hallway, dressed in some kind of loose matching pants and a shirt.  Pyjamas, probably. Because it was nighttime.  He wasn’t back in the Underground; he was supposed to be sleeping.

What a stupid mistake to make.  Especially when he’d been on the surface for years…but it had never been so utterly dark in his apartment.  Boss always left a light on, somewhere, except in the-

“Sans?”

Frisk hadn’t moved, still standing in the hallway with one hand in the pocket of her pyjama pants, still tense.

“Hey,” he said.  He sounded hoarse, like his voice wasn’t working properly.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Uh…”  That was a good question, actually.  He glanced around, trying to remember where he was.  Had he teleported drunk again? He reached up to rub between his eye sockets-

-and doubled over on the couch when he saw his missing fingers.

It all came rushing back.  Boss, the awful punishment in the basement, the rescue by Frisk and Undyne.  “I. Uh. I…”

“You’re in my living room.  It’s about 4...4:32 AM on Monday, January 9th.  Undyne and I brought you here just about 24 hours ago.  You’ve been sleeping, mostly, since then; you woke up a few times, but you probably don’t remember that.”

He remembered a weird dream about Frisk covered in dust, but that was probably nothing.

“That was the cinnamon rolls,” she said.  He hadn’t realized he’d actually spoken. “I’m sorry; I didn’t even think...most of the monsters who hang out around here know when we’re baking, and - well - it isn’t an issue for Attie and I.”

Sans kept his mouth firmly shut and nodded.  That’s right; humans bled instead of dusting.  He really wasn’t doing well, was he.

“I, um, have your fingers still if you want them back.”

“Okay.”

She walked up to the couch carefully, not making any sudden moves.  On the end table nearby was a pastel pink jar labeled “TOOTH FAIRY,” which she opened.

“Attie let you use her tooth jar,” Frisk explained when she saw him eyeing the container skeptically.  She shook it gently, then tipped it over to reveal something wrapped in those white bits of soft paper that humans used to mop up their gross face leakages.  “Here. Let me know if you need more magic to reattach them; I think I have more Sea Tea in the fridge.”

He unrolled the soft paper to reveal the thumb, ring finger, and pinky of his left hand.  The bits of magic that held each set of bones together were intact, at least; reforming joints was always a pain, so the fewer he had to do the better.  He just needed to connect them back to the partially-fused carpals that formed his palm.

The first finger reconnected with a snap! that sent a worrying jolt of agony through the cracked bones of his palm.  Sure enough, trying to move it resulted in a grinding of bone against bone that had him ripping it right back off.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?”

He nodded, a little woozy from pain.  “M’fine.”

Sans wished he could have taken her up on her offer of Sea Tea - he was even lower on magic than he originally thought - but...he couldn’t form the words.  Something in the back of his mind was whispering how weak, how vulnerable you must look and he just couldn’t...couldn’t ask for more help than she’d already given.  He wished he still had his jacket; hiding sounded great right about then.

She hummed a little, looking skeptical.  “Well, I just wanted to make sure you were alright.  You were screaming, after all.”

He froze.  Screaming? He glanced Frisk over and realized that one hand was in her pants pocket, gripping something.  A weapon? Had she come to try to save him? “Uh. S-sorry?”

“No problem.  You didn’t wake up Attie - somehow - so everything’s fine.”  She looked him over again. “Well, feel free to help yourself to food if you change your mind.  There’s leftovers so you don’t have to cook.”

He had the urge to say something else, but no words came to mind.  Instead he nodded and watched her walk back down the hallway.

Slowly, he let himself back down onto the couch cushions.   Everything felt sore and hollow and he was desperately low on magic.  His poor attempt at an attack earlier hadn’t helped things, certainly.

It was fine.  Really, it was.  He’d operated under worse conditions before.  There was no reason to believe that this was going to take him down.

Standing hurt, though.  He could feel the spots along his spine where his vertebrae had been broken, still sore despite Undyne’s healing magic.  His legs and ribs felt fragile. His left carpals burned where his missing fingers should have been attached, and both palms ached from half-healed cracks, especially his left.

None of that mattered.  He wouldn’t let it matter.

An agonizing ten minutes later, he was slowly - slowly - pouring himself a glass of Sea Tea.  It had taken more blue magic than he liked to keep himself upright, scraping at his already-dry reserves, but the tea helped restore his magic.  Better, he could drink it instead of eating; he didn’t think he could stomach anything solid.

(Heh.)

The boost of magic felt like euphoria, like a rush of power and energy and life that made everything he’d suffered fade away for one brief moment…

Well.  Better reconnect those fingers, then.

He was more careful the second time, concentrating on forming the little pockets of magic that cushioned his bones from rubbing against each other.  Actually doing things properly worked much better than just sticking them on and hoping for the best. He flexed his hand carefully and grinned: it was still painful, especially since his carpals were still cracked, but the fingers were functional.

Getting back to the couch was a little easier too, thanks to the magic boost.  Still shaky, but he made it. He curled up with a soft sigh.

He was safe.  He was safe.  So, so tired, despite what Frisk had said about him sleeping a full day, but not in danger of being dusted.  He wished he could drift back off. So...why was he still on high alert?

It was like he was expecting Boss to crash through the door at any moment, ready to dust him.  Or worse, drag him back to the basement. It was unlikely - Frisk was in full control of her barrier, and her actions implied that she wasn’t happy with Boss at the moment - but the lingering worry remained.  What if this was all a setup? What if Frisk and Boss were...were working together?

Sans could feel his breathing speed up.  It wasn’t likely, not over his bony ass. They got along well, he knew from Boss’s monologues about work, but that didn’t mean they would conspire to torment him.  They were both too busy to spend time on that. Plus, they would’ve had to drag Undyne into it, and Undyne notoriously didn’t answer to anyone but Asgore himself. And she couldn’t lie to save her own life.

Yeah, it didn’t make sense.  So why was it so hard for him to believe that?  Had Boss finally broken him?

His thoughts chased each other through his skull.  Sleep, when it finally came, caught him unawares and dragged him down, down, down…

He awoke abruptly, jostling his bad hand in his haste to scramble upright.  Someone was watching him again, he could feel it.  He glanced around expecting to see Attie, but instead found...Tori?

It looked like she had just walked in the front door.  Frisk was standing nearby, one hand on the doorknob, in the middle of saying something.  Tori, though, was looking right at him.

Sans relaxed slowly, feeling the lingering aches and pains.  His left hand was better, but the cracks across his palms felt like little lines of fire.  His feet...well, his legs were still recovering from being broken, but as that pain dulled he became more aware of the agonizing soreness in the soles of his feet.

Standing felt worse then he remembered, but he managed it.  He wasn’t going to loaf on the couch in the presence of the queen, especially when she was angry with him.  Of course, she hadn’t tried to blast him into dust yet, so hopefully that meant she wasn’t too upset.

Tori was looking at him thoughtfully, no judgement apparent.  It was a little bit unnerving. Wasn’t she angry with him?  He could feel himself shaking under the weight of uncertainty and hunched over a little, trying to hide it.

Thankfully, that was the moment when Attie appeared.  She shuffled into the kitchen in her pyjamas, still groggy from sleep.  “G’morning Mommy, g’morning Granny,” she mumbled. After a few blinks, she turned to Sans and smiled.  “G’morning, Mr. Sans.”

Frisk and Tori managed a little “good morning” back, but Sans just gave a grimace and a nod.  Speaking suddenly seemed like too much effort.

The girl seemed unusually subdued.  Maybe being home wasn’t as exciting as being somewhere new, or maybe she was always shy around Toriel.  That surprised him. She seemed like a friendly kid; friendly enough to latch onto a complete stranger within hours, at least.  Why would she not be the same way around her family?

“Would you like to help me make breakfast, Attie?”  Tori asked, hesitation coloring her voice. It was odd; she was usually so self-assured that it was difficult to compare her to the lonely monster from behind the door.  Watching her try to charm her granddaughter, it was apparent that her issues with kids weren’t quite resolved.

“Toriel’s going to stay here for the day,” Frisk said in his general direction, focused on messing with her hair.  It looked damp; she must have gotten out of the shower not long before. “Feel free to sleep in here, or you can drag some blankets into my office if it gets a bit loud.  I’ve gotta run; meeting with the new ambassador from Japan…” She ran around for a few minutes, gathering shoes and hair pins and a packed lunch (she almost forgot the lunch until Tori reminded her) then abruptly stopped.  Settling her bags around her feet she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and composed herself.

When she opened her eyes, Sans felt a chill go down his spine.   This was the Frisk he was used to: the Frisk of meetings and bureaucracy and politics, the Frisk of little white lies and painted smiles.  It was disconcerting seeing her transform in a matter of moments, from a real human being into something so...determined.

She gave him a painfully polite smile and headed out towards the garage.

Tori and Attie’s breakfast wound up being scrambled eggs and hash browns with some kind of bright yellow sauce.  It smelled pretty good; better than oatmeal, at least.

Then he tried to take a bite.

He just...couldn’t do it.  The idea of eating sounded fantastic, and he was certainly hungry, but once it came to actually chewing all he could think about was Boss shoving food into his mouth to keep him alive.

He stared at his plate, feeling nauseous.

“You are not hungry?”  Tori asked, dishing up extra hash browns and sauce for herself.  “You really ought to eat; healing takes a lot of magic out of you, and you simply do not have the reserves right now.”

Attie mumbled something.

“Do not speak with your mouth full, my child.”

She swallowed and tried again.  “What does that mean? That he doesn’t have the reserves?”

“Well, you see, healing magic draws upon a monster’s energy - or a human’s, I suppose - to repair damage to the body and soul.  For monsters, that energy exists primarily in the form of magic. Without food, Sans will take much longer to recover magic; without magic, Sans will not heal.”

“Oh.”  She took another bite.  “Mr. Sans, you should eat your eggs.  They’re good.”

He gulped.  “I…”

They were both watching him expectantly.

“I...okay.”

He took a bite, trying not to think about it too much.  It sat like a lump of slime in his throat, taunting him.  What if his magic didn’t cooperate? What if he couldn’t digest it?  His hands shook, trying to fight off the imaginary foe that was his breakfast.

“Is it good?”  Attie asked.

“Uh, yeah.”  It tasted like dust in his mouth, but he couldn’t tell her that.  Instead, he forced himself to take another bite.

And another.

And another.

And...he just couldn’t eat any more.  “I, uh, don’t really have the stomach for eggs this morning.  Sorry.”

“Oooooh.  Granny Ree-”

“Finish your eggs, Atlas.”  Tori stood up and gathered her plate and Sans’s, heading into the kitchen.  She reappeared a few minutes later with a glass of that disgusting green juice Undyne favored and set it in front of him.  “Drink this, at least, Sans. You need the energy.”

Gagging down the juice was much easier than choking himself on eggs.  Suddenly, living on liquids for the rest of his life didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

“Attie, go get dressed.  I laid out an outfit for you; please put it on this time.  Then we shall begin your schoolwork.”

Attie did as she was asked with a tiny amount of grumbling and an equally tiny amount of enthusiasm.  Sans considered appealing to Tori’s softer side on her behalf, but he was a little caught up in the idea of laying out an outfit in advance.  Why hadn’t he thought of that?  It would’ve made those early mornings, scrambling to get ready for Undyne, so much easier-

“Sans.”

He gulped.  “Uh, yeah?”

“You and I have some...things to discuss.”

“‘Kay.”  Without his jacket, she could probably see him sweating.

“First, why have you not contacted me in so long?  No, let me finish. It has been eight months since we have seen each other, outside the times when either you or Frisk were in the process of dying.  Even before Frisk’s illness it had been nearly a year since we spoke for more than a few moments. I believe I deserve an explanation, as your queen if not as your...hmm.  Your ally.”

“Tori...I...I guess I just lost track of time.  It all kinda started to run together, y’know?”

She hummed disapprovingly.  “That has happened in the past, but never for so long.  Do you mean to tell me that you lost track of months of time?”

“Well, yeah.  I just had my hot dog stand and sentry duty.  Boss was busy; I didn’t see much’ve him ‘cept in the evenings.  I just...didn’t think about much b’sides that.”

“I tried to call you.  And text you.”

“My phone wasn’t really charged on a regular basis.”  He could read the faint betrayal that Tori was trying to hide, and it hurt almost as bad as the cracks in his vertebrae.  “Tori, I never would’ve ignored you on purpose. You’ve always been a great, um, ally. Maybe even...a friend. I didn’t mean to let you down.”

Sighing deeply, she started to relax.  “Well, it is in the past. You did me and my family a great service by watching Atlas while Frisk was ill, so it is only fair that I repay you.  Especially since Frisk said that you declined payment from her.” Her frown said that she didn’t approve of his altruism. “I have taken the liberty of gathering information from the various properties I own.  While we have no openings in our single-residency units, there are a few groups of monsters who are looking for a roommate. None of them are as far from your previous residence as I would like, but you would still be convenient to public transportation and Mount Ebott.”

“Okay.”

“Since you do not have your hot dog stand - and I am working to get you compensated for the sale; your brother had no right to dispose of it - you have some free mornings.  You will arrive at my home promptly at 10:00 on Tuesdays, beginning tomorrow. I expect you to arrive on time and properly dressed for a morning meeting with a member of your kingdom’s royalty.  I believe that the formal outfit Undyne retrieved for you will suffice. I intend this to be a private event, but you may see others as you come and go.”

“Okay.”

“Our first order of business is the-”

“I’m ready!”  Attie said, dashing into the room and skidding to a stop at her chair.  She was wearing a pink skirt and pale cream and pink striped top, with long sleeves and tights to protect her against the chill.

Apparently, the getup met Tori’s approval.  “Did you brush your teeth, my child?”

“Yyyup!”

“Then come here and let me do your hair.”

She eyed the brush Tori held.  “Can...Mr. Sans do it?”

Sans held his breath.  He didn’t want to get on anyone’s bad side…

“Very well.”  The brush was passed to Sans.  “It is difficult with my large paws, anyways.  The small hairs always pull.”

“Can we do the princess hairdo?”

He thought back.  “The what?”

“The one that looks like a crown.”

Ah, that one.  That had been one of the last hairstyles she’d requested while he’d been watching her, and he thought he actually remembered how it worked.  “Uh, okay.”

It was a little unnerving with Tori watching his every move, but he managed to work the girl’s hair into a braid that went around her head.  He tucked the last little end of hair in with the help of some neat bits of metal Tori called “bobby pins” and turned Attie around to examine his work.

“Okay, yer done.  Go take a look.”

“That is quite impressive,” the queen said, sidestepping her granddaughter and pocketing her bobby pins.  “I had no idea you were so skilled in the art of hair styling.”

“I’m not; we’ve done that one before.”

“Oh?”

“It was...a thing, I guess, back when I watched her.  She found fancy hairstyles and I tried ‘em out. Could never get a french braid to sit properly, but…” He shrugged.

Attie returned in much better spirits and began on her homework.  Tori apparently didn’t take questions; the little girl worked in silence, biting her bottom lip every so often.

“Now then,” Tori said, once she and Sans had retreated to the relative privacy of the living room, “As I was saying, our first order of business ought to be the upcoming trial.  No, do not respond; I am aware of your role, and we can discuss it when...small ears are not around. Frisk completed the interrogation - with my help, of course - and I have the report here.” She handed over a thick folder with a rusty smudge along one edge.

Sans opened it with shaking fingers to find about fifty pages of carefully typed notes on the interrogation of one Graciela Lira.  He nodded, dropping it into his inventory. “So...when’s the trial?”

“Early next month.  The 4th, I believe; a Saturday, so it does not interfere with business as usual.  That does put us on a bit of a time crunch.”

“It does?”  It was rare that he had so much time to prepare, actually.

“We - or, rather, you - must come up with a justification for whatever your verdict is.  The humans will be curious about how we dispense justice; they must believe that this is not a witch-hunt, but rather, a fair and unbiased decision.  We also must get your emancipation finalized before the trial, ideally, so Papyrus does not interfere. I have that paperwork with me as well; we can fill it out here or at the table.”

Sans limped back over to the table and sat across from Attie, who was watching him with keen eyes.  She glanced between him and his paperwork, then quickly went back to her own work when Toriel walked up behind him.

“Now.  We shall begin with Form 3848A: Formal Statement of Independence…”

By the time Tori had walked him through all the stupid little pieces of paper that needed to be filled out to officially declare him independent of the only family he really remembered, it was well past lunchtime.  Attie’s stomach had growled once or twice, but she’d been too interested in what the grown-ups were doing to complain. Or to do her own homework, much to Toriel’s displeasure.

Sans was more tired than anything.  He’d been starved before, and he knew he wasn’t at that point yet, probably thanks to the nasty energy juice.  It took a bit of wheedling and several yawns, but he managed to get himself dismissed to the office to sleep instead of eating lunch.

Frisk’s office was an interesting room.  It had probably been intended as a bedroom, but instead of a bed there was a chair, desk, and several bookshelves.  He was captivated; she had old and new books in English and Monster alike, mostly nonfiction with a few novels tucked away between political biographies.  She probably had more books in this one room than the library in Snowdin had before it was burned down in that turf war.

Sans secretly loved libraries.  When he first left Mount Ebott, he’d spent a few hours every day in the local human library.  The strange looks he’d gotten had faded over time; the barely-suppressed wonder at having so much information in one place had not.

Why had he stopped visiting?  He thought back. Right; the hot dog stand.  It took up more time than he’d expected to make it profitable, even with the regular morning visits from the dogs.  Between that and his sentry job and his own malaise, he just hadn’t gone much of anywhere in a while.

Grinning like a madman, he put his blanket and pillow down next to a particularly well-stocked shelf and curled up against it.  It wasn’t the most comfortable place in the world, and his bones protested, but-

He was standing in the living room in front of the couch, watching Frisk compose herself.  It took her a moment longer than he remembered.

Wait.  He...remembered.

Anomalies in the timeline had been rare since coming to the Surface, but that didn’t mean they didn’t happen.  Watching fear trace across Frisk’s face, he wondered for the first time why that was.

“Attie?”

“Yeah, Mommy?”

The tension in Frisk’s shoulders relaxed, and her mask fell into place.  “Come say good-bye to Mommy; I’ve got to head to work.”

“But I just said good-bye to you?”  Attie shuffled over, still in her pajamas, and gave her mother a hug and a kiss regardless.

“Be good, okay?”

If Frisk noticed Sans watching her, she didn’t react to his stare.  She ducked down to pick her bags back up and hustled out the door.

...What was that about?

He knew she had turned time back each time he killed her, so had she died?  If so, how??  She’d said she was headed to a meeting.  Was there an ambush? An assassination? An accident?

It had happened around lunchtime; hopefully, if she remembered, she could figure out what was going on.

“Sans?  Please come and eat your breakfast.  Or if you are unable to eat, at least drink a glass of juice.  You will not heal otherwise.”

In a daze, Sans sat down and sipped his juice.  Just like last time, Attie asked about healing and Tori explained.  Attie was sent to go get dressed while Tori satisfied her hurt feelings about their friendship.  He tried to respond the same way he had before - he could feel the echo of his previous actions, guiding him - but he wasn’t sure he’d succeeded.

At least the paperwork went a bit faster the second time around.  Not as fast as he’d like, but faster. He finished up a little before lunchtime.

“Oh dear,” Tori said, glancing around.  “Frisk forgot her lunch. And after I reminded her, too.  She must have put it down when she hugged Atlas good-bye. Sans, do you have enough magic to take it to her?”

He didn’t.  He really, really didn’t.  His skull pounded, every bone in his body ached, and he was in no place mentally to transport himself safely.

“Sure thing, Tori.  Let me grab another glass of that juice...stuff...and I’ll be on my way.”

The energy drink gave him a temporary boost, but it wasn’t enough.  He drank the last of the Sea Tea as well. He had a feeling he’d need every drop of magic just to make it to the embassy.

Tori made him change clothes, too, before he left.  His legs felt like they’d barely hold him when he finished shoving them into his pants, and he was sure he could feel every crack in his vertebrae that hadn’t yet fully healed. He pushed the pain away' he could deal with it after he figured out what was going on with Frisk.

Attie escorted him out of the house and through the barrier so he could teleport.  He winced; he hadn’t noticed it the night Undyne and Frisk rescued him, but this barrier was full of worry and hope and quite a bit more fondness than he’d expected.  Under all of that was a powerful feeling, one that would have been frightening if it hadn’t felt so incredibly safe.  Protectiveness, perhaps?  Or something similar?

But it was hardly the time to examine such things.

Sans was in pain.  More pain than he’d ever been in his life.  There was probably a better word to describe it, but he wasn’t feeling lo…

Loc…

...good with words at the moment.

He was pretty sure both his legs had been shattered.  His left hand felt...off. Boss had pulled a few fingers off, which was normal for a really bad punishment, but he didn’t remember if those fingers had ever been stuck back on.  He tried wiggling his hand.

...Ouch.

Probably not, then.

He shifted, trying to take some of the pressure of his aching ribs, and only succeeded in digging bits of splintered plastic into his spine.  Right, his phone. Boss had crushed it. That was...not good.

Why had he done that again?

Something, something, discipline…?

Oh!  Sans felt the corners of his permanent grin tugging up.  He remembered. That was good, remembering. Yeah.

Boss had found the food and water container he’d put out for the kitten (what had that kid named it, again?  Throw? That didn’t make sense, right?). Sans had left the little space heater on and Boss had heard it, apparently.  That was bad. Something about bills.

But...Sans paid all the bills for the apartment, so why was Boss so upset…?

Anyways.  Heater. Boss had seen the container and the mess, and had realized that Sans had brought home a pet.

Dun dun duuuuuun…

And so, Sans had been in even more trouble than he’d expected.  He’d expected to be in some trouble because...something. (He didn’t remember that part.)  Anyways, more trouble. Boss hadn’t been happy. He’d taken Sans’s phone, and then he’d seen the picture of something, which wasn’t good.  At all. What had it been again?

Sans slowly turned his head over to the wall.  His own claws had scratched out a message:

i will not contact the ambassador i will not contact the ambassador i will not contact the ambassador

Ooooh.  Right. Boss had -

- he gasped as his broken body reasserted itself, his vision blanking briefly before he regained control -

- had told him not to contact Frisk.  Or Attie. And he had broken the rules.  He’d kept a picture of Attie and Frisk in their Takersfaire costumes on his phone, and had been seen with them at the park.

Sans was bad.  And bad skeletons need to be punished.  He knew that. He’d always known that, right?

If it wasn’t Boss, it was…

...but that wasn’t important.  What was important was that Sans was sick and tired of this cycle of pain, alleviated occasionally by the food Boss kept shoving down his throat to keep him stable.  Despite Boss’s best efforts he could feel his last pathetic point of HP wavering, and he welcomed it.

He’d been hurting for so, so long this time.  Usually it was over so fast Boss didn’t even have to feed him.  This time it had gone on for...months, probably. Or years. It almost felt like years, but not quite.

...Weeks, maybe?

He was usually good with time, wasn’t he?  He’d had to be, because…

...nope, gone again.  He really needed to fix the hole in his skull that all his memories were leaking out of.  He laughed a little. That was funny.

(He couldn’t remember why it was funny, but he did remember that laughing hurt.)

Anyways, what was he doing?

Oh, right.  Dying.

He’d thought - hoped, even - that he’d dust in his sleep.  Just doze off and not wake up. That sounded nice. Painless even, maybe.

Being awake for it was not what he’d expected.  It was nice to know what was happening, in a way.  But...being awake meant he was scared.

He was scared, no matter how much he wanted to pretend he wasn't.  There wasn't even anyone to pretend for anymore. Sans shuddered, tears pooling awkwardly in his eye sockets and dripping messily down his face.  Once he started, he couldn’t stop; not even when the tears started dripping into his mouth and nasal cavity because his head was tilted so weirdly to the side, stinging the small cuts scratched there.  He couldn’t remember if they were from Boss or from his own neurotic clawing at his face.

He was scared because he’d never see anyone again.  No one would miss him. Boss wouldn’t even miss him.  Boss didn’t care. He’d said that, Sans remembered. Many, many times.

Undyne wouldn’t care.  He would be one less thing for her to worry about.  She’d have to make her own coffee again, but…

...where was he going with that thought?

Never mind.  Point was, no one would miss him.  Not even…

A wide grin and a pair of bright green eyes.  Frisk? No, he’d never known Frisk that young, not in a dozen (or was it a hundred?) timelines.  What was…

Oh, right.  He knew that kid; he’d just been thinking about her.  About Attie.

Attie wouldn’t miss him.

But…

She’d dressed up as a skeleton.  She’d hugged him. She’d asked for his advice.  She’d looked so, so happy to see him.

So had Frisk for that matter.  That’s right; Frisk was older now.  A mother. A good mother, better than any human or monster Sans had ever known. So very, impossibly kind and caring, even when it came to filthy assholes like him. Was it any wonder he was...

His soul was doing a funny stuttering thing that couldn’t be healthy for him, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the two of them.  And crying. Because he apparently couldn’t even die with dignity.

The haze that slowly consumed the world around him was getting worse.  Even his collar, which he’d worn for years, felt like it was choking him.

This was the end, he figured.  Time to give up. He always gave up, after all.  Couldn’t raise Boss right.  Couldn’t figure out how to break the barrier.  Couldn’t hold down a decent job.

Couldn’t kill the human.

Frisk.

He gasped, shuddering.  It felt like every bone in his body was trying to shake apart, disintegrate, fall to pieces.

To dust.

But…

“She CARES ‘bout you!  You impressed her!”

“Attie misses you.  She’s sad that you won’t call her.”

...But something wouldn’t let him.  He...he had something to live for. Someone who would miss him.  Someone who, maybe, needed him?

That was all he’d wanted from life, really. Abandoning something so precious, right when he was finally discovering it, seemed strangely impossible. More impossible than death.

And for the first time in his life,

Sans

R E F U S E D

To

Give

Up.

With one last, choking sob, his world went white.

He woke up an untold amount of time later.  He was still in agony, still a mess from his earlier ugly crying fit, but he didn’t feel quite so...fragile.  Emotionally or physically.

Still at one HP though, he reminded himself as one fractured hand twitched, so that was...a problem.  But something was tickling the back of his mind, now that he was alert enough to use it. He was exhausted - far too exhausted to use a bone attack, much less a shortcut - but there was something else. Another possible escape. Boss had read much of Undyne’s text chain aloud at some point, and it had reminded him of something...

Oh!  Right!  Undyne had told him to talk to Alphys before she sent any more pictures of Frisk and Attie.  The only weird thing he’d gotten from Alphys was that box he’d never gotten a chance to open.

Well.  No time like the present.

(Was that a pun?  He decided, reluctantly, not to count it.  It hurt still too much to laugh.)

Getting the box out of his inventory was a pain.  Literally. He had to choke back a scream when it landed haphazardly on his ribs, at least four of which were definitely broken.

Opening the box one-handed was even worse.  Sure, his right hand and arm were relatively untouched, but they were still stiff and sore and connected to parts of him that were injured.  Plus, he was left-handed, so he was even more clumsy than normal.

Finally, the box was open.  Inside - and he hadn’t dared to imagine what would be inside, but he’d half-expected a prank of some sort - was a phone.  A real, honest-to-goodness, modern, magically-compatible phone.

He hit the power button, willing himself not to hope.  This had come from Alphys; what were the odds it had a charge?

It blinked to life with a happy little chime.

Shit, he was gonna cry again.

Emotionally invested in this, now, he unlocked the screen and carefully tapped the contact list.  Undyne wouldn’t have arranged for him to have this amazing magical device without giving him contacts, right?  Sure enough, there were three listed.

He tapped one at random.  The caller ID said “Guess who? :-)” so hopefully it was someone friendly.

Stars, he hoped it was Undyne.

After two and a half rings, a gruff voice picked up.  “-ello?”

It didn’t sound like Undyne.  It didn’t sound like anyone he knew.  Then again, the phone was at a funny angle, and most of what he could hear was breathing.

“H-hello,” he said.  He sounded awful, and his voice was too quiet.  “Please. I-it’s Sans.”

“Sans?”  A choked sob cut off his name, and he could've sworn the voice sounded familiar.

There was a shuffle, then- “Sans?”

That sounded like Undyne.  He grinned. “I-I’m…”

“Sans?  Where are you? Stars, we’ve been worried sick!  And how’d you get-”

“B-basement.”

“What?”

He could feel his voice fading out.  His vision was darkening at the edges, too.  The pain was finally getting to him, and it made him panic a little.

He didn’t want to die.

“I’m...in the b-basement,” he managed before he passed out to the sounds of worried shouts.

A moment later - or was it? - he was woken up by the door opening.  On instinct, he dragged himself upright and against a wall; pain didn’t matter right then.  Boss was back. Boss was-

“Sans?”

He glanced up over his knees.  When had he curled himself up? How had he curled himself up?  And how had Frisk gotten in?

Shit, Frisk.  Boss was gonna…

He opened his mouth to warn her, but she stepped in before he could gather himself.  “Sans, it’s me; it's Frisk,” she said.

“Well, duh,” he wanted to say.  What actually came out was an embarrassingly high-pitched whine.

“Sans, it’s Frisk,” she said again, hands outstretched.  She was crouched down to his level, eyes not leaving his.  “Do you know who I am?”

His voice still wasn’t working, but he managed a strange, jerky nod.  He couldn’t stop rocking back and forth, back and forth; it hurt, but the motion was soothing on his frayed nerves.

“Okay, okay, good.  Do you know where you are?”

The nod came easier the second time, but hurt worse.

“Okay.  I’m here to get you out.  Sans, I’m going to get you-oh, snap; Undyne, he’s...he’s got fractured vertebrae.”

There was a muffled noise that Sans couldn’t make sense of, but he was starting to realize that...that Boss wasn’t in the room.

Yet.

He relaxed a little as Frisk argued with the muffled voice.

“Okay,” she said, facing him again.  “Sans, I’m gonna try to...oh, wait. Do you know where your fingers are?”

Uhhh...on his hand??

“No, no, don’t worry.  Let me...uh…”

She disappeared from his line of sight for a moment, then reappeared holding…

Oooooh.   Those fingers.  Right.

She fiddled with them and his fractured palm for a moment, but Sans already knew it wouldn’t work.  His magical reserves were too low to reestablish the connection between his fingers and the rest of his body. The thought made him feel a little resigned.

“Well,” she said, “I guess we’ll try later.  Here, I have some Sea Tea. Can I…?”

It didn’t matter what Sans thought; Frisk was already tilting the travel mug of tea towards his mouth, and he could either choke or swallow.  Choking was his first instinct (he couldn’t even remember a time when he’d needed help eating), but he really did need the HP. The impact was minimal - after being forced to eat whatever Boss brought him, his body was fighting what it saw as just another abuse - but he eked a few extra points of health out of it.

“You’re moving, so it can’t be that bad, right?  Right. I’m gonna try to lift you now. Okay? Can you, uh, lean forward for me?”

He wanted to make a witty comment - she was the princess, after all, not him - but it wouldn’t come out.  Especially once she picked him up and every single broken bone in his body screamed.

Oh, wait.  That was just him.

Frisk was shushing him when he finally regained the ability to hear.  “You’re gonna bring Papyrus down here,” she said. “Please, please, I’m sorry; we'll get you healed up soon, just please be quiet..."

He managed to shut his big fat mouth, finally.  That thing was gonna get him in trouble one day.

That was supposed to be funny, right?

“Okay.  This is gonna hurt, and I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta get you outta here.”

And she did.

And it hurt.

But Sans used every single ounce of magic and willpower left in his wrecked, mangled little body to stay quiet.  Because Frisk had asked him to, and that was important for some reason he couldn’t quite bring himself to remember.

It felt like he struggled against the rending, tearing claws of white-hot pain for an eternity.  There was nothing but him, the agony that ate slowly through his bones, and the faint, distant impression of Frisk’s arms around him.  Until...there wasn’t. There was something new.

Something...green?

Healing usually hurt.  If healing didn’t hurt, he’d always been told, that was A Bad Sign.  So when the inexplicable green magic actually felt good, felt like relief, he was caught between being glad it was over and trying desperately to hang on.

“Hey, lazybones,” Undyne said from somewhere above him, her hands still glowing green.  “You gave us quite a scare, y’know.”

He tried to speak, coughed, then tried again.  His voice felt weak, pathetic. “where...?”

“Alleyway behind your apartment building.  We snuck you out the back exit. Stars, man, you’ve been missing for over two weeks.  You’ve missed so many shifts…”

“Undyne,” Frisk said, but it sounded more like a sob.  Sans looked up. She was crying. Why was she crying over his sorry ass?

“Well, it’s true!  Now, man, let me tell you something.  You are not going back there.  I just arranged with Dogamy to have Paps called away; his car’s pulling out now.  We’ve got some time before he realizes you’re missing. You’re gonna tell me what you want from your messy room, and I’m gonna grab it for ya, then you’re gonna hang out on Frisk’s couch until further notice.”

She was looking at him like she expected an answer.

“ok,” he said.

“Wh-okay?”

“yeah.”

“You’re not gonna fight me on this?”

He shrugged a little, noting that his bones - though still sore - were actually holding together.  He wasn’t dying; in fact, the world was becoming clearer by the second. And he remembered what had happened to him, far better than he wanted to.  At the moment, he thought he’d be happy to never see Boss again, actually.

“Well...fine.  Here. Sit up and tell me what ya need.”

There wasn’t much.  A few binders, a box of photos he’d taken that one time he’d found a camera when he was young.  Some socks. (Undyne looked at him funny when he said that, but...hey, sentimental value.)

Honestly, he’d moved most of the important stuff to his locker at the gym weeks ago.  The possibility of having random humans come across it was a lot less terrifying than having Boss come across it.  If only he’d had the same discretion regarding his phone and that stupid nest he’d made for the cat.

While Undyne went up to raid his apartment, Frisk half-dragged Sans around to a side street.  It was surprisingly empty; even in the cold winter weather, it was sheltered enough to be a safe haven for drug deals or the occasional homeless monster.  Instead, there was a grey car idling just out of sight of the building’s exit in a pool of flickering light from the cracked streetlamp. Sans noticed, as Frisk helped him inside, that the emblem of the Kingdom of Monsters was emblazoned on the rear doors in red.

“No one messes with me, even in rough areas like this,” Frisk said, following his gaze.  “Especially when I have Undyne around. I don’t know whether it’s fear or respect, or if they just don’t want to draw attention to themselves, but I’ve never had trouble.”

Sans was willing to guess it was a bit of each.  Most monsters were just trying to get by, and avoiding notice by law enforcement and public officials was customary.  It didn’t matter if they were law-abiding; there had been enough corruption in the past that even Undyne’s reforms couldn’t completely rehabilitate the Guard’s poor reputation in many communities.  That distrust extended to the human police force as well, even though they were far more organized and there was a small and growing number of monsters who had joined up.

Frisk, on the other hand, was a legend to every monster alive.  Her name was whispered in awe in the depths of dark taverns where even the king’s crown was considered fair game.  Her every move was scrutinized by a loyal cadre of monsters who spread and exaggerated her deeds until - according to some reports - the very sun rose and set at her pleasure.

No, she had little to fear from these people.

Undyne reappeared a few minutes later, an entire dresser drawer tucked under one arm.  Sans grinned; it was his sock drawer. Stars bless the fish, she’d actually just up and brought the whole thing.  The binders he’d asked for (and several he hadn’t) were haphazardly piled on top.

“Here,” she growled, making to shove it at him before carefully setting it on the seat beside him.  She swung herself recklessly into the driver’s seat with extra enthusiasm to make up for it.  “I grabbed you a few changes of clothes too, you bum. Couldn’t find that ratty coat you always wear.  Now we’re out of here.”

Undyne was a far more careful driver than Sans would have expected.  Either she was being careful because of his injuries (unlikely) or she didn’t want to crash with one of her besties in the front seat (definitely possible), but she seemed to be sticking more or less to the speed limit.  If she hadn’t been blasting the radio at a volume that was probably uncomfortable for Frisk, Sans would’ve been worried that she’d been replaced by a doppelganger.

The drive to Frisk’s house was short, thankfully; after all, it was on his alternate route to the park, so it wasn’t that far away.  Driving was better than walking but Sans could feel every little bump like a kick to the ribs.  Undyne pulled up to the garage around back, pausing for Frisk to work the wards, and parked with careful precision.

“Let’s be quiet getting out,” Frisk said to no one in particular.  “We left Attie asleep; I don’t want her to know I was gone.”

Undyne nodded solemnly.  Sans tried to do the same, but winced when his neck decided to complain at him.

It was the captain who helped him out of the car and onto still-shaky legs, while Frisk tiptoed in front of them opening doors.  He choked back another scream with every step; whatever healing Undyne had done, it hadn’t fixed him entirely. His HP was much better but he could feel the sharp, stabbing pains in his legs where they had been broken.

He hadn’t seen much of the house the last time he was there, but it was a lot nicer than he remembered.  There was a full kitchen with a breakfast bar, cupboards in dark wood and shiny stone countertops. The dining room held a surprisingly large table with six chairs, two of which were enormous and lavish enough to be thrones.  Beyond that, there was a comfortable living room with a small TV, several bookshelves, and - of course - the couch Sans was apparently going to be crashing on for the foreseeable future.

Undyne helped him over to the couch and he collapsed gratefully.  There were low murmurs in the dining room behind him, but he really couldn’t care less.  He was getting ready to pass out again.

“Sans?”

He opened his eyes.  It was quiet. Had he actually crashed, or had he just not noticed Undyne’s departure?  “Heya.”

“Are you okay?  Anything I can get you?” Frisk asked, hovering over the couch. The kitchen and dining room were dark behind her, but a light from the hallway danced across her face.

“Nah.  ‘M good.  Hey...uh…”

“It’s fine, Sans.  We can talk tomorrow.  Get some sleep now. And holler if you need anything; I’m just down the hallway.”

She turned to leave, apparently not expecting an answer, but for a guy who usually didn’t give a damn he found that he was unwilling to just let her walk away.

“Thanks,” he croaked.

“Anytime.”

Her smile was conspiratorial, and Sans couldn’t help but smile back.  In fact, he was probably still grinning like an idiot when he fell asleep moments later.

He dreamed of torture that night.  It was bad - memories, mostly, combined with things he’d only ever feared Boss would try - but he was aware that he was dreaming, so everything had a strangely blurry quality.  It was like his rattled mind was trying to come to terms with the fact that he was safe, for the first time he could remember, and it was due to people and circumstances so unlikely it was difficult for him to believe.

Bizarrely, it was some of the best sleep he’d gotten in his life.

He opened his eye sockets slowly the next morning.  He wasn’t sure right away what had woken him up, but it was a peaceful waking.  No jarring alarms, no screaming, no dodging attacks-

A pair of bright green eyes was staring at him.

“Hey, Attie,” he whispered.

Attie frowned back at him for a long moment, glancing him over from head to toe.  In her arms, something furry and grey and striped wriggled a little.  “You missed Christmas,” she said.

“I...did?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.  Uh, sorry.”

There was an awkward pause as they looked at each other.  For such a small child, Attie had the uncomfortable stare down to an art form.  Desperate for something else to look at, Sans glanced down at the cat in her arms.  It looked...larger than he remembered, and substantially so.

“Wait, what day is it?” he asked without really thinking.

“MOMMY, WHAT DAY IS IT?”

Frisk reappeared, wearing a brown apron with the words “Chickens tremble at the sound of my name” emblazoned across the front.  For a moment, that distracted him from the fact that her hands were covered in a white, powdery substance.

On instinct he scrambled against the back of the couch, breathing hard.  He felt exposed. Where was his jacket?

“...Sans?” she asked, looking a little lost for a moment.  He watched, strangely detached, as she glanced down at her hands and realized the problem.  “Oh-oh gosh, I’m so sorry. Here, let me...uh…”

She dashed out of his field of vision, and a moment later he heard water running.  “I’m making cinnamon rolls for breakfast,” she called. “Sorry; I didn’t realize I was covered in flour.”

Oh, right.  Flour. Haha.

Sans curled in on himself.  Before...whatever Boss did, he would’ve laughed off something like that.  His nerves were clearly shot. Hell, he couldn’t stop shaking.

He felt the couch beside him dip, and willed himself not to flinch away.  “It’s okay, Mr. Sans,” Attie said softly. “Mommy won’t hurt you. She said that she and Undie rescued you.  Like badass superheroes.”

“Y-yeah.  I remember.”

Just having her on the couch next to him was bad enough.  He thanked the stars that she hadn’t tried to touch him; he didn’t think he could handle-

Something soft brushed against his leg, and he jumped.

“No!  Bad TOSS!” Attie yelled.

Sans looked down from his perch on the back of the couch to see the kitten, tail puffed up and back arched, where he’d been sitting.  He cursed himself internally and slowly climbed back down. “Uh, sorry there, pal,” he said, running a careful hand over the kitten’s head.  It was his left hand, the one that was...still missing fingers. He winced. He still had his pointer and middle fingers, but his thumb, ring finger, and pinky were all gone.  The half-fused bones that formed his palm were still cracked, too.

TOSS, at least, was as soft as he remembered.  The kitten froze for a moment, clearly untrusting, but gave in and started purring when he realized the big, scary skeleton wasn’t going to make any more sudden movements.  His good eye slipped closed and he lifted his head to give Sans better access.

“I see you’ve become reacquainted with our newest family member,” Frisk said over the back of the couch, now devoid of flour.  “Thanks for bringing him to us. He’s a little grumpy sometimes, but he fits in pretty well around here. Anyways, you were asking about days?”

“Uh...yeah.”

“It’s Sunday.  Sunday, January 8th.”

He felt her keen eyes on him, but he couldn’t keep his usual mask up.   January 8th.  That was…

“Wh...I mean, wow.  That’s...I guess I was gone for a while.”

“Do you know how long you were down there?”

“Uh, Boss realized I had this little guy in my room, and he was already upset, so...things escalated from there.  That was before Christmas, so…?”

“Wait, Papyrus has been keeping you in the basement for weeks?”

“Maybe…?  I don’t remember…”

“You gave TOSS here to us on the 20th.  Of December. That’s...18 or 19 days, depending on how you count; you did wake us up at 1:30 this morning with your call.”

“Uh, sorry?”  He wasn’t sure what to think.  It felt like he’d been down in that basement for years; had it only been two and a half weeks?

“Don’t be.  Stars, I feel so stupid.  If anyone should be sorry, it’s me.  I didn’t even realize you were missing until this past Tuesday; and even though Undyne and I looked, well, we believed Papyrus’s story too much, I guess.”

“Wait, what did Boss say?”

Her eyes twitched a little at the title, but they never left his.  “He called Undyne saying you were sick. That was...gosh, probably right around when this all happened.  She says she felt a little bad; you’ve been working a lot lately, so she agreed to give you all the time off you needed.  We started digging after I told her I was looking for you, but we didn’t find much. Undyne actually searched your apartment...Friday, I think?  She freaked out when it looked like you hadn’t been there in a while, but Papyrus wouldn’t tell her anything.”

“Oh.”  Sans wasn’t sure what to say to that.

“So...yeah.  Long story short, I’m sorry for not looking for you sooner.”

“Not your fault.”  It wasn’t like they’d been in contact regularly or anything.  How would she have known he was in trouble? Especially with Boss covering for him?

There was a ding from the kitchen, and both of them jumped.  “Oh, that’s the cinnamon rolls,” Frisk said. “I’d better get them in the oven.”  She wandered off, leaving him with an unnervingly quiet child and her now-sleeping cat.

“You made Mommy cry,” Attie said.  “She thought you were dead. She didn’t say so, but I could tell.  Undie had to have sleepovers on our couch because she was really worried.  She wouldn’t even let us have pillow forts.”

“Sorry, kid.”

She shrugged.  “It’s okay. But if you ever make my mommy cry again, I’m going to take all your socks and give them to TOSS.  He likes socks.”

“Uh...okay.”

With a firm nod, Attie leapt off the couch.  She looked happier for having delivered her threat, at least.  “I’m gonna go help in the kitchen!” she called. “I’m a really good baker, now!”

Frisk took a deep breath and opened the door to Grillby’s.  The atmosphere of the bar felt both new and familiar at once, and she took a moment to soak it all in.  On the one hand, there was a sense of safety in the midst of a terrifying reality, like being in the eye of a storm; on the other, there was a lot less up on the surface to worry about, and the effect was almost homey.  It was certainly a lot more relaxed than the old bar in Snowdin had been, and though most of the patrons were monsters Grillby clearly didn’t discriminate when it came to accepting cash.

His business choices certainly paid off.  Even three days after Christmas, there was a steady stream of clientele of both species.  Dogamy had apparently escaped his den for a brief moment and was waiting impatiently at the bar.  Next to him, Doggo was scratching luxuriously at his collar while nursing a dark drink that barely reflected the low light.  A multicolored group of humans was gesturing and laughing softly at a table next to the antique jukebox that she suspected had come from the old bar Underground.  It hadn't worked back then, but someone must have worked on it since; it occasionally let out erratic strains of music that didn't always coincide with what song patrons selected or when they selected it.

Behind the counter, her reason for coming to Grillby’s was sorting out plates of finger foods and mugs of beer with the ease of practice.

Pele, the little fire elemental girl Undyne had told her about, noticed her as she approached.  “Welcome to...oh!  Ambassador!  I...it’s an honor to see you here!”

“It’s an honor to meet you.  You’re Pele, right?”

The girl gulped.  “Y-yes?”

“I heard about you.  Undyne let me know you were here.  She talked with you a few days ago, right?”

“The, um, tall loud captain?  She saw...um...met?  Met me.  Yes.”

Great.  Whose bright idea was it to let Undyne be the poor child’s first impression of monsters on the surface?  It was a miracle she hadn’t bolted right back to the Underground.  “She can be a little intense.  Sorry.  I’m just here to make sure you’re happy here.”

“Y-yes!  I...I am very happy in this place.  Bar?  Very happy.  Yes.  Much work, but...hmm...good work.”

“I’m glad.”

“Not...trouble?”

“No, no one’s in trouble.  I just need to do some paperwork.  Actually, is Grillby here?”

“Yes.  He...I...let me get Grillby…”

“Thank you,” Frisk said.  Both the girl’s English and her Elemental were choppy, as Undyne had warned, but she was mostly intelligible.  Time and practice would help that.

She took a seat at the bar and clasped her hands in her lap, willing herself not to fidget.  Grillby was one monster everyone knew, but no one knew well.  He was a good businessman, suspiciously clean with the law, and what illegal activity he was rumored to allow was... mostly harmless.  He had been a force of nature in Snowdin - his bar had been a cross between a watering hole and neutral territory - and his reputation had served him well the surface.

“Ambassador Dreemurr?” the monster asked in Elemental as he stepped out of the back room, without waiting for a response.  “I’ve been expecting you.  Please, follow me; I have a private room in the back where we can talk.  Pele, watch the bar.  Come get me if there’s trouble.”

Pele’s flames flickered with uncertainty, but she nodded anyways and continued delivering orders.  She didn’t seem to have too much trouble understanding what was being said, nodding and humming as a few patrons asked for refills on their drinks, but she didn’t speak much.

Frisk followed Grillby into a private room.  She’d been back there a few times before when meeting with monsters who didn’t like going to more “uppity” establishments and didn’t want to be seen at the embassy, but it had been...stars, years.  A table had already been set with two chairs and a pitcher of water - a surprising concession to her humanity - and the fire elemental held her chair out for her as she sat at one of them.  It was a touch of chivalry that was even more unexpected than the water.

“I was taught manners, even if I don’t use them,” he crackled, clearly amused at her reaction.  “Now.  What do you need from me?”

She took a deep breath and opened the briefcase she’d brought.  A large folder was extracted and placed on the table in front of her.  “I heard from Undyne that you’re claiming guardianship of Pele.  Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“On what grounds?”

“She is...family.”  When she remained silent, he gave a little sigh and continued.  “She is my niece. I was emancipated by her father - my brother - when she was very young, and have been estranged from the family ever since.  I only recently found out she was orphaned.  Despite the...rift, I am claiming familial relationship.”

“How did you find out about her situation?”

“I’m afraid I cannot say.”

That was expected.  Frisk pulled the bag of gold she'd prepared out of her inventory, but Grillby shook his head.

“I really cannot say.  While I’m pleased you came prepared to bargain, this is one area where I will stick to my word.”

“I must admit, I’m surprised.”  It wasn’t like he’d had any qualms about cutting a bargain for information before.

Grillby just grinned.

“Alright, then.  If I may ask, why were you emancipated from your family?  I’m just trying to paint a full picture; without anyone else to take care of her, it probably won’t have much effect on your claim.”

“Pele’s father - my brother - was involved in...less than palatable activities with a group out of Hotland.  They call themselves the Sparks nowadays, but back then they were just a gang of ruffians out to make quick money.  I thought the venture was too risky, especially with children involved; my brother disagreed.  He gave me an ultimatum and I refused to comply.  You understand the rest.  It was not uncommon back in the Underground, I’m sure you know.”

She did, all too well, but it still made her heart ache.  She schooled her expression; he wouldn’t appreciate her empathy.  “You mentioned children.  Are there other kids we should be looking out for?”

“No.”  He didn’t elaborate, but his flames did tense.

She didn’t push, feeling the ache of secrets and old wounds in the air.  “Is there a chance the Sparks may come after her?”

“No.  They...disposed of her.  They likely believe she is dead.  Even if they did venture topside this time of year and found her, they would have no reason to believe she had not come to me by the same means through which she left their hands.”

It took a moment for her to process that, especially with the translation from Elemental to English.  “They sold her?  To who?”

“I’m afraid that’s something I will keep to myself.  Suffice to say: the individual she was sold to may hold a grudge, and I’m not willing to have any paper trails lead my way if I can avoid it.”

“Grillby, if someone is coming after Pele I want to know.  It’s part of my job as a Princess of Monsters to look out for the safety of children.”

The elemental eyed her searchingly, but did not respond.

Frisk sighed.  There was little she could do if he didn’t want to talk.  “Alright.  Please keep my offer in mind, though.  Let’s go over the boring stuff, then…”

Citizenship paperwork was something Frisk never wanted to touch again.  It was the written equivalent of banging her head against a wall fifty times.  Over the next hour or so - interrupted twice by Pele, who was looking more and more frazzled the longer Grillby was away - they gradually worked through it.

Finally, there was a stack of completed paperwork sitting in a pile between them, only lightly singed at the edges.  They hadn’t even used all the spare copies she’d brought.  “Alright,” she said, trying to hide her exhaustion, “I think that’s everything.  The preliminary work, at least.  Here’s a pamphlet for the Embassy of the Kingdom of Monsters; I’ve had it fireproofed for you.  Please don’t hesitate to contact us if you have any questions about the procedure.  Since you’re already a citizen this will be treated like a foreign adoption.”

“I’m not familiar with what that entails.”

“It’s not too bad, compared to some of the other processes we handle at the embassy.  We’ve done most of it today.  There will be a hearing in a few weeks with the family court judge, and someone from our child services team will need to meet with Pele to make sure she’s happy with the arrangement, but I don’t have any concerns about that.  All our people are highly trained, so don’t worry too much about cultural differences.  Because you’re family it expedites the process, since you would have legal guardianship of her either way.  It’s time-consuming but not as long as applying for citizenship as an adult; that’s a benefit.”

“Indeed.”

“And here is my personal business card.”  She held it out for him, noting the faint surprise as he took it.  “With the holidays it might take some time to get everything filed, but I’ll keep you posted.  If you need anything, or are concerned for Pele’s safety or your own, please don’t hesitate to give me or Undyne a call.”

Grillby stared at the card in his hands, his warmth making the fireproofing charm shimmer on the thick paper.  Finally, he looked back up at her.  “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care.  I’ve always said that monsters’ greatest weakness is their lack of solidarity, and I’m trying to do my part to fix that.  I also have a daughter of my own.  Being a single parent isn’t easy, and while I won’t presume to know your situation, I know it’s hard to go it alone.”

“I...see.  Thank you.”

“No problem.  Actually, if it’s alright, I have a question.”

He gestured for her to continue.  He was holding up well under the avalanche of bureaucracy he’d just been subjected to, but he was clearly a bit overwhelmed.

“Why doesn’t Pele wear stripes?  She’s still young enough.”

Grillby thought it over for a moment, running his glowing fingers along the edge of table.  “It is tradition in my family to work from a young age, to learn the family business.  Among humans this causes questions I’d rather not face, especially considering the...type of establishment I run.  If it becomes a legal issue we can work something out but I wish to pass along the knowledge I have.”

There was a lot implied in that statement.  Pele’s immediate family had been gang members; that was the only life the girl had known.  Helping her learn skills outside that line of work would be good for her and would keep her busy.  Sure, there were child labor laws, but...“We’ve had similar cases in the past and the human government deals with it as a cultural issue, like doing chores around the house, as long as the child is healthy and cared for.  I can help you and her apply for a formal work permit to make sure everything’s in order.  There is the issue of school…”

“School environments here are generally not equipped to handle her special...requirements, and I do not feel comfortable sending her back to Hotland alone.”

“I understand.  Actually, I brought over some materials if you’re willing to look them over.”

She’d only packed them on a whim.  Without knowing what she was walking into, Frisk had wanted to be prepared for all possibilities.

“What...is this?”  He was looking at the pamphlets and printouts she’d given him like they were some kind of strange, foreign science.

She tried to hide her amusement.  She’d felt the same way, back when she was first researching them for Attie.  “Homeschooling options.  Many monsters who have “special requirements” choose to educate their children at home.  There are quite a few good programs set up for just that purpose, actually.  Some of them even cater specifically to monsters, with courses on monster history and languages in addition to all the basic subjects.  Personally, I use a human course and supplement with more hands-on activities for culture studies, but each situation is unique.”  And she needed to shut up because she was rambling again and Grillby was looking at her funny.

After a very tense moment (during which Frisk was sure she’d offended him somehow), the elemental smiled.  It was a little horrifying - a dark, jagged tear that split his face in half, far wider than any human smile - but she recognized it for the genuine good-will gesture it was.  “I appreciate it,” he said.

She smiled back, relieved, and packed the completed paperwork back into her briefcase.  “Well, you know how to get in touch with me if you need me, so I’ll let you get back to your bar.  Thank you for your time.”

“It’s no trouble.”

He held the door for her and followed her out.  To her surprise, he spoke up one last time.

“If you want to know more about Pele, I would ask your small babysitter.  Your daughter has worked wonders on him.”

Then he ducked into the kitchen, neatly avoiding any further questions.

That didn’t stop the questions from coming, though.   Sans had something to do with Pele??  He hadn’t said anything, but Frisk wasn’t surprised; he seemed to have his fingers in everything.  From the way Grillby spoke it sounded like Sans had been the one to find her.  Had Sans bought the girl from someone?  The idea of the skeleton making shady deals for a child’s life and freedom was an odd one, but strangely heartwarming.  He was in the business of rescuing kittens, after all.

He was a better person than even he believed.

Sans came back to reality feeling disoriented and he automatically tensed.  Pain was what woke him, and for a long moment that was all he could focus on.  Taking a few deep breaths to calm down, he took stock of what was making his bones scream at him.

His injured arm felt like it had been shattered, which sent a pulse of fear through his soul.  A quick glance down confirmed that it was still only fractured, but the sight of the injuries seemed to only increase the pain.  He hissed, trying to find some way to release the tension that wouldn’t bring Boss to his door.

It helped - a little - and he fought to focus on something else instead.  Why was he injured?  Why was he so sore?  Slowly, memories of the fight trickled back.  The kids, the cops, Undyne.  The damn dogs that ran off without a second thought.  The alleyway…

The cat was mewling softly when he rolled over to examine it, looking a bit more wobbly than it had earlier.  Abruptly, he realized that neither he nor the cat had eaten dinner.  From its size, the cat was probably pretty young; babies needed to eat regularly, if he remembered correctly.

He pulled himself upright with a grunt and slipped his jacket on.  It was still damp, and smelled awful, but it was a layer of protection.

The clock in the kitchen confirmed that he’d only been asleep for about two hours.  He was feeling it in every bone of his body.  He felt heavy and light at the same time, and he wondered idly what would happen if he just collapsed.  Would he float, caught between the two odd sensations?  Probably not, his logical mind concluded.  He’d just tip over like an idiot and jostle his already-aching bones.

There was still some canned food in the cupboard, and Sans scanned the labels.  Cats were carnivores, right?  He thought back to the few times he’d encountered Mettaton’s torture assistant, a cynical and depressed cat monster.  A hazy memory of the guy removing the bun and pickles from a burger tickled the back of his skull.  It was unusual that any monster would turn his nose up at food, so the incident had stuck with him.

Hopefully surface cats acted on the same principle.  There was a can of shredded chicken in the back of the cupboard; he grabbed it and, after a bit of quiet shuffling through the shelves, an old clamshell takeout container that Boss had insisted on washing.  He filled one half with water, then carefully made his way back to his room.

The cat was extremely grateful for the water, which Sans found surprising considering it had nearly drowned just a few hours before.  He let it do...whatever it was doing with its tongue (flicking water into its mouth?  It looked inefficient) while he wrangled the canned chicken open one-handed.

Thankfully, the chicken didn’t have any weird flavorings.  He was fairly certain that it wasn’t the healthiest thing to feed a cat anyways, but it was that or starve.  He carefully dished out some smaller pieces onto the empty half of the container and set it beside the water.

Almost immediately, the food was gone.  Sans reluctantly took a few more lumps and plopped them onto the lid.

“That’s all ya get,” he grumbled.  “I’ve gotta eat too.”

The cat responded with a plaintive meow, indicating its displeasure at being cut off.

“What?  I don’t even know how you’re eating all that.  You actually have a real stomach, doncha?  Isn’t it full by now?”

Another meow.

“Shhh.  If ya wake up Boss, we’re both out on our asses.  You feel me?”

He finished up his portion of the chicken quickly, not really tasting it.  His arm was starting to heal as his body converted the food into magic, but it was a slow process.  He considered asking if Tori had some time to look at it; he hadn’t properly talked to her in months, since before he’d started watching Att...her.  The last time he came close to visiting was when he dropped off Frisk’s Christmas gift, and he’d just left that on her front porch.  Who knew what she thought of that.

On second thought, he could probably power through it.

“‘Kay, then.  I’m gonna head back to bed for a few hours.  You good in the box?”

The cat blinked at him.

“...I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

He rolled over carefully, taking the pressure off his injured side, and tried to sleep.

“SANS”

“Whazzit?”  Had he slept at all?

“WAKE UP THIS INSTANT AND TURN YOUR ALARM OFF!  ALSO, DO NOT THINK I HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT LAST NIGHT!  BE PREPARED FOR PUNISHMENT WHEN YOU RETURN THIS EVENING!”

Loud footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Sans’s soul sank.  There went his plan of avoiding Boss.

He sat up carefully and turned his alarm off.  He’d gotten so used to waking up at a certain time that he’d been getting up before his alarm even went off lately, which was useful but flat out annoying.  Apparently the night before was enough to throw his sleep schedule off.

A soft cry from the corner of the room brought his attention back to the cat.  Sure enough, it had made some kind of icky sticky mess on his shirts; just as well that they’d be tossed in the wash.

“Ya good in there, bud?”

The cries paused for a moment, then resumed.

“I, uh, don’t speak cat.  ‘M not sure what ya want.  Are ya hungry?  Thristy?  Throw me a bone here.  Heh.”

The cat didn’t speak any language Sans knew, but it apparently recognized when his attention was on it.  Its noises changed in pitch and frequency to the point where Sans half-expected Boss to come storming up the stairs to investigate the racket.

“Okay, okay.  Shhh.  Shhhhhhh.”  He picked it up and ran his phalanges over the impossibly soft fur.  This calmed the creature a little, enough that its noises weren’t quite so high-pitched and distressed.

“I tell ya what.  If you can keep quiet 'til I get out the front door, we can raid the hot dog stand supplies for breakfast.  How’s that sound?”

The cat made a few little mruph sounds that he took as agreement.

Boss had already headed out for the day by the time Sans made his way downstairs, which was helpful.  He had to set the cat down to pull his shoes on, which prompted more crying, but it stopped when he settled it back into his jacket.  He decided to leave the zipper alone; the little critter didn't like being restrained.  The way it was sitting didn’t exactly look comfy to him, but the cat was purring again.  It felt strangely nice against his bones.

The walk to the hot dog stand was worse than usual.  The cold rain had turned to snow sometime in the night, and his usual path along the side of the road was obscured by a light dusting of white.  He could feel the ache in his bones from the fight the night before with every step, and halfway there the cat decided it liked the cold even less than it liked being confined and had retreated further into the jacket.

It was a relief when his stand was set up and he could finally settle his bones onto his stool.  The cat, interested by the fun smells, popped its head out to explore.

CLANK CLANG KA-CLANK CLANG CLANG

...And immediately retreated as far back inside his jacket as it could manage.  Sans peered in the direction of the noise, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  “Heya, GD!  Want some breakfast?”

Greater Dog bounded up, slobber flying everywhere as he panted excitedly.  *YESYESYES,* he barked.  *WANT WARM PUP TREAT FOR BREAKFAST PLEASE.*

“One hot dog for a cool dog, comin’ right up.”  He dressed the ‘dog up the way he knew GD liked it: a few generous slices of cheese, some bacon crumbles, and a bit of steamed mustard greens.  (He’d been testing new ‘healthy’ toppings a year or so back, and while most of them were total flops the dogs really liked the mustard greens.  Since they couldn’t eat most of what he served, he kept it on the menu.)  “There ya go, big guy.  Bone appetite!”

Greater Dog barked a laugh and took the ‘dog with one large prosthetic hand.  *THANKS, FAVORITE BONE BUDDY.  LOOKS GOOD.  GOOD FOOD.  GOOD GOOD GOOD.*

“Glad it suits you.  Hey, don’t forget to pay again, yeah?  I’d give you all the ‘dogs you want for free, but I get in trouble when I don’t come home with cash.”

The dog whined an apology, then disappeared into his suit.  A moment later, he re-emerged and spat a few gold coins onto the counter.

“Thanks, buddy.”

*BONE BUDDY HAPPY?  GREATER DOG HAS BEEN GOOD BOY??*

Sans sighed.  “Yeah, you’ve been a good boy.  C’mere, big guy.”

Greater dog leaned forward, his metallic suit half-splayed across the counter of the hot dog stand.  The wood creaked under his weight, and he adjusted so he wasn’t in danger of collapsing the poor booth.

“Yer a good boy, GD.  A real good boy.”  Skeletal fingers scratched behind the dog’s ears, past the scruff of his neck, and around the sides to that spot up under his chin where he could never seem to reach properly.

Finally, after a small eternity of petting, Greater Dog sat up.  *PATROL, NOW,* he barked, ears drooping.  *NO TIME FOR MORE PETS.  SAD.*

“Hey, you’re filling in for Dogamy on patrol tonight, right?”

*YES.  DOGAMY HOME WITH PUPS.  PUPS GOOD.  PUPS NEED PROTECTION.*

“Cool.  I’ll see you then, ‘kay?  I’ll be at my usual station.”

Greater Dog whined.  *WILL MISS BONE BUDDY.*

“I’ll miss you too, GD.”

The dog licked the hand that had been petting him, then tensed.  *WHAT?  CAT?  BONE FRIEND HAVE CAT?*

“Uh...yeah?”

*CAT GOOD!  CAT FRIENDS FUN!  CAN CHASE!*  He leaned in closer.

The cat tucked inside Sans’s jacked hissed and made another rather poor escape attempt, thwarted by the fact that it didn’t quite know its way around.  Sans huffed at the unusual feeling of something furry clinging to his spine with tiny claws.  “Not this one.  I found it last night.  It’s just a baby, and I’m trying to figure out what to do with it.  It’s, uh…” he looked up at Greater Dog.  The dog’s eyes were bright with excitement, every muscle in his fluffy body tensed with the thrill of the hunt.  None of this was getting through.  “It’s...shy?”

*SHY NOT FUN,* he huffed.  *IS SECRET?*

“...Yeah.  Please don’t tell B...uh, Papyrus.”

*WILL KEEP BONE FRIEND’S SECRET.*  He whined.  *WILL MISS BONE FRIEND.  WILL SEE BONE FRIEND SOON.*  He barked a quick *HELLO, GOOD BYE, PATROL NOW* at something behind him and bounded off, enthusiasm barely waned.  Which was odd; GD didn’t like many people, but Sans couldn’t be bothered to care.

He was about to put his head back down for a much-needed nap when his eye sockets caught the person who’d been standing behind Greater Dog.  Someone he didn’t think he’d see again in...well, ever.  “...Uh…”

“Hi, Mr. Sans!”  Attie called, waving enthusiastically.  “I was going to come get a breakfast hot dog and tell you hello, but I didn’t want to interrupt Mr. Greater Dog’s petting.  He really likes petting, right?”

“Y-yeah, he sure does.”

“I know.  He sometimes lets me pet him outside his armor, but only when he’s security for me and Mommy.  If he has other jobs, he doesn’t let me.”  She pouted a little.

“Hey, uh, where’s yer mom?  Isn’t someone supposed to be watching you now?”  That was the rumor, anyways.  If Frisk had gotten sick again...

“Mmm-hmm.  She’s coming in a minute.  She’s prob’ly talking to somebody.”

Some part of Sans was screaming that he was being creepy, but he couldn’t stop looking at her.  He hadn’t seen her in...gosh, over a month.  44 days, to be exact.  It had been two weeks and five days since Frisk followed him home, and it had been three weeks and five days between that incident and Boss slipping Attie out in the middle of the night.

There was a strange sensation in his throat, a tightness he wasn’t used to.  It didn’t feel like strangulation - like when Boss lifted him by his collar - but more like there was something stuck there, in his vertebrae.  It was uncomfortable.  The sensation distracted him from the prickling in the corners of his eye sockets that he was far too familiar with; he blinked rapidly to avoid embarrassing himself.

“Are you okay, Mr. Sans?”

“Y-yeah.  ‘M fine.”

She bounced on her toes, making her shoes light up.  Those were the ones she’d told him about on one of the first days he’d watched her, he realized.  They did indeed have pink flowers on them, with little lights that flashed from their centers.  He wondered if that was a human invention or if she’d somehow charmed the mad Royal Scientist into making her customized shoes.  He thought about anything he could to distract himself from the fact that he’d remembered something, something small from almost two months ago, and that meant his mind wasn’t falling to pieces just yet.

Attie was dressed in a puffy white jacket with faux fur lining the hood.  On her hands were mittens, knitted in a pattern he recognized; Tori must have been busy since he last saw her.  The edges of her sleeves were stained in browns, greens, and reds.

She looked just like any other little girl.  Nothing about her appearance indicated that she was the daughter of the Ambassador of Monsters, that she had any security presence at all.

He felt it, though.  The glow of Frisk’s protective wards - much stronger now that she was recovered - was apparent in every bounce of her daughter’s feet.  There were few weapons wielded by humans or monsters that could touch someone with that much protection, and anyone stupid enough to try would be in for more than one nasty surprise.

“I don’t think you’re okay,” Attie said.  “You just keep looking at me funny and you haven’t even said ‘hello’ or ‘how are you.’  Are you gonna be a asshole again?”

“Not tryin’ to be.  So, uh, hello, Attie.  How are you?”

“I’m doing real good!  Um, really well, I mean.  How are you, Mr. Sans?”

“I’m, uh, okay.”

“Undie said you were in a big fight last night.  Is that true?”

“Yeah…?  I didn’t know she’d talk to you about that…?”

“She didn’t.  She told my mommy when she stopped in for a quick meeting while she thought I was getting dressed.  Mommy said we could come have breakfast hot dogs and make sure you’re okay, just in case.”

“Uh...cool?  Yeah, I’m in one piece.”

She looked expectantly up at him.

“...Oh, right, hot dogs.  So, uh, what do ya want on yours?”

Attie wanted bacon, cheese, onion, ketchup, mustard, and relish.  Sans handed the ‘dog to her with its toppings balanced precariously, then gave her a small stack of napkins.  “Don’t wanna get your nice jacket all messy.”

“It’s okay.  I can wash it.”

“I’m sure ya can, but you wanna look nice, right?”

“The lessons are finally kicking in, then?”  Asked Frisk from RIGHT behind him.

“Holy shit.”

“Language.”

“Uh...”  He glanced at Attie, who was giggling, then twisted on his stool to get a good look at Frisk.

...A good look was an apt way to put it.  She had a long tan coat on, red buttons in two neat rows down the front.  Her waist was accented by a simple brown belt that twisted into a casual knot on one hip.  The hat and gloves tucked under her arm were dark brown, matching her knee-high boots, but he could see the lines of a familiar pattern on them.  Tori hadn’t waited until Christmas to deliver gifts, apparently.

Slowly, hesitantly, he met her eyes.  She looked a lot better than he remembered, even from the last time he saw her in person.  Maybe it was the light - even the dull, filtered light of the winter sun through the clouds did her more justice than the harsh yellow bulb that lit the dining room in his apartment - but she looked more than ready to take on the world.

It was a far cry from the helpless mess she’d been when he found her, so many weeks before.  And she was completely focused on him in a way that she - or, frankly, anyone else - had never been.  He felt his face starting to turn pink.

Say something, his mind begged.   Come up with something - anything - to keep her from thinking you’re a complete fool.

“What-” No!  Not that!  “-do you want on your hot dog?”

He could feel his voice squeaking a little and resisted the urge to clear a throat he didn’t have.

Frisk smiled at him anyways, and he felt his soul stutter in a way that couldn’t possibly be healthy.  “I haven’t had a hot dog in ages.  Surprise me.”

The challenge in her voice was both clear and terrifying.

ABORT MISSION, ABORT MISSION!

He gulped and examined his options.  With phalanges that were definitely not shaking, he dipped into the small stash of fresh bakery buns he kept for his best customers, then put a few slices of cheese on it.  That went into the small, warm space behind the hot dog roller.  While it was warming he grabbed a paper plate and a sharp knife and started chopping a pickle spear and some of the baby tomatoes he’d picked up on a whim.  He pulled the bun out once the cheese was melted and put a ‘dog inside, then added bacon crumbles, onion, and his sliced pickles and tomatoes.  A drizzle of yellow mustard completed the masterpiece, and he held it out to Frisk with a flourish that (probably) disguised the slight tremor of his hands.

Attie applauded uselessly through her mittens, her own hot dog mostly gone.  “That looks really yummy!  Mommy, can I have a bite?”

“May I have a bite,” Frisk corrected.

“Sure, but only if I can have a bite of yours!”

She rolled her eyes and took a tentative bite of her hot dog.  Sans watched her chew and swallow, feeling as if quite a bit more than customer satisfaction rode on that simple action.  Finally, she nodded.  “It’s really good, Sans.  Thanks!”

“Yer welcome.”  Relief made him slouch against his counter.

“I never would’ve thought to put fresh tomatoes on a hot dog, but it’s not bad.  What was the inspiration?”

He thought, for a moment, that she was mocking him, but her face showed only sincerity.  It threw him for a loop, and he stuttered for a moment before he found his bearings.  “I, uh, well, I was doin’ a bit of research.  Gotta keep a femur upon the competition and all.  See, ketchup is pretty salty, and a lot of what I have - cheese, bacon, even the hot dogs themselves - is pretty salty too.  The tomatoes give you some flavor without the extra salt and give some texture, too.  Can’t really take credit for the idea, but...well.  Thought I’d give it a shot.”

“It’s brilliant.  You should keep it up.”

His face was definitely turning colors.  Thankfully, Frisk was distracted by Attie wanting a bit of the ‘super-special hot dog’ and he had a moment to compose himself.

Naturally, that was about when his little friend decided to make its presence known once again.

Attie squealed, nearly losing her grip on her hot dog.  “KITTY!”

“No way!” Frisk said looked at Sans, then down at the cat that was clawing its way up his shirt, then back at him.  “You have a kitten?  Since when?”

He tried to pry it off, but the claws were deceptively strong and he didn't want to break anything.  “Since, uh, last night?  It was caught in the rainstorm.  Found it when I was walkin’ home.”

“Can I hold it?”  Attie asked, tugging Sans’s sleeve harshly.  Her protective wards flared-

“Gah!”  Sans pulled his arm away, clutching at his fractured bone, and accidentally banged his bad arm on the edge of the counter.  He froze, cursing himself.  He hadn’t meant to dodge away from her like that; it was just so unnerving that someone would try to touch him (and someone with that much magic on her besides) that he hadn’t tried to simply maneuver away from her.  She hadn't registered as a threat, so she'd gotten closer to him than most people normally did.  He shrunk in on himself, taking his bearings, then remembered that she’d asked a question.  “S-sure.  Just, uh, give me a sec.”

Frisk crouched down so she was eye level with him.  “Sans, are you okay?  Undyne said you’d been injured last night in the confrontation with those humans on the mountain, but she didn’t know the details.  She thought it wasn’t serious since you shrugged it off.   Are you okay?”

Sans checked his HP before responding.  He was down to a single point.  When had he gotten so low?  He felt his breathing pick up, fear of his own mortality overpowering his pride.  “I...I...uh, I…”  He couldn’t seem to force the words out.

He felt the familiar chill of someone else’s magic invading his own, just enough to get a good read on his stats, but despite his embarrassment he allowed it.  More than that, he took a chance and showed his real stats; she'd been sympathetic before, hadn't she?  Across from him, Frisk took a sudden breath.  “Sans.  You need help immediately.  What are you even doing out of the house like that?”

“W-wasn’t that bad e-earlier.  Had somethin’ to eat...g-gosh, early this mornin’ and brought my HP up a f-few points.  I-I’ll be fine.  G-gimme a sec to grab a ‘d-dog.”

“Sans, I’m going to call my mother to take a look at you.”

“No...uh, n-need...”

“Yes, there is a need.  You and her get along fine, right?  She has some healing magic.  Just...please, let me do this.  I’m worried, and Attie’s worried too.”

They had a point.  A ‘dog probably wouldn’t bring his HP up far enough for him to get through his shift, and sentry duty later that night, and whatever Boss had planned.  He let out his breath in a solid woosh and nodded.

Frisk stepped away and started dialing.  Sans deliberately didn’t listen in on her conversation, instead focusing on carefully extracting the cat from his person.  Its nose was twitching but it allowed him to maneuver it into his lap without a whole lot of fuss.

It kept turning its head towards the counter, though.  It definitely knew where the food was.

“Here,” he said, gesturing to Attie.  “D-didn’t ya wanna hold it?”

“Can I?”  she asked in a very small voice.  “I’m really sorry, Mr. Sans.  I didn’t mean to hurt you.  I didn’t know your arm was hurt.”

He took a deep breath, willing his stutter away.  He wasn’t a babybones anymore, he reminded himself.  “Eh, ‘tsokay kid.  No real harm done.  If you’d meant to hurt me, well.  I’d be dust right now.  You didn’t, though, and ‘m fine, see?  Now help me with this little cat.”

He used his good hand to cup the cat as she lifted it, making sure it wasn’t actively trying to claw her.  It seemed a little upset at the movement, but its protests were more vocal than physical.  After a moment of Attie’s tiny fingernails scratching behind its ears it settled down and started purring again.

“Huh.  It likes you.”

The girl’s smile was smug.  “Of course!  Everybody likes me.”

For most kids, Sans thought, that would be a laughably arrogant statement, but...everyone did seem to like Attie.  She’d survived Boss.  She’d charmed the dogs.  She’d even melted Undyne’s heart a little, and that was a feat worthy of some kind of medal.

Frisk stepped back into his field of vision.  “Mom will be by within a few minutes.  She’s finishing up some paperwork that needs to be done before lunchtime.  Will you be okay until then?”

“Yeah.  Of course.”  It wasn’t like he hadn’t existed on one HP before.  Much as he’d come to regret how he got his LV, he would’ve been dust years ago without it.  He shuddered at the thought.

Frisk apparently mistook that gesture and hunched back down in front of him.  She looked at him for a long moment before narrowing her eyes in DETERMINATION.  “Attie, you can go play.  I’m going to keep an eye on Mr. Sans for a bit.”

The girl looked at her mother, then down at the cat in her arms.  “But...I’m holding his baby kitty!  I can’t go play!”

“Alright.  But no more grabbing, alright?  We’ve talked about this.  It’s one thing when you do it to me or your grandma and grandpa or Undyne, but you have to be careful.”

“Okay.  I said I was sorry.”

“I heard.  Good girl.  Now, Sans, where did you find this kitten?”

Sans explained how he’d found the cat in the alley the night before.  He deliberately ignored the small smile on Frisk’s face, as if she knew something he didn’t.

(He was sure she knew a lot of things he didn’t.)

Thankfully, her only remark was, “Are you even allowed to have pets in your apartment?”

“Eh, yer mom lets some of the dogs stay downstairs.  Why wouldn’t a cat be okay?”

“Uh-huh.  And how did Greater Dog react to your little friend there when we were walking up?”

“Heh, point taken.”

They both watched Attie play with the cat for a few minutes.  When it's meows became too insistent, she handed it to her mother.  “I don’t know what’s wrong,” she pouted.  “I thought it liked me.”

Frisk turned the critter over with deft hands, poking it gently along its stomach.  “He’s probably hungry.  Sans, has he eaten anything since that chicken you gave him last night?”

“Nah.  I was gonna give it - uh, him - something from the stand, but I didn’t get the chance.  Think he’ll eat a ‘dog?”

“It’s worth a shot.  Here - I’ll pay for it.”

“What?  No-”

“Please.  It’s the least I can do.”  She handed him enough to cover three hot dogs with the fixings.  He handed her back the change, but Attie scooped it up instead.

“Can I put the change in the tip jar?” she asked.

Frisk patted her on the cheek.  “Go ahead.  Don’t break anything.”

“Yay!”

Sans chopped up a ‘dog into tiny pieces and scooped it into a paper plate for Frisk, who tried to coax the starving cat to eat something.  He made another for himself and choked it down against the rolling feeling of nausea.

“Did you set that up?”  Frisk asked, gesturing to his tip jar.

“Uh, yeah.  The old coin funnel on top is something I found years ago in the dump.  Can’t remember why I bothered carting it home in the first place, but it’s come in handy now that we’re on the surface.  I, uh, had to fix it up a little to get it to accept g as well as human coins, 'n it doesn't work quite right all the time, but the kids like it.”

They watched Attie drop a pair pennies into a slot at the top of the funnel, the coins passing each other several times before dropping into the clear jar below.

“It’s hard to believe that monsters are able to enjoy things like this now,” Frisk said.  “I remember back in the Underground how, um, tense everyone was.  They’re a lot more...whimsical, I guess, now.”

“Yeah, well, fighting for space and food kinda takes the fun outta ya.  We didn’t really have time for things like this - not in public, anyways.  Heck, I didn’t dare leave a tip jar out back then; someone would’ve come by and stolen it.  Now look at me.  Some days I make more in tips than I do selling ‘dogs.”

She hummed in agreement.  Attie sent a few more coins down the chute, watching them intently.  After a moment, she turned to Sans.  “Why to they go around and around and around like that instead of dropping straight into the jar?”

“It has to do with gravity, angles, and the shape of the funnel.”

She held out a coin.  “Can you show me?”

Frisk frowned and raised a hand to stop her daughter.  “Attie, don’t bother-”

“Eh, it’s fine,” he said.  “Kid’s not hurting anything, and I’ll still be right here if someone wants to buy ‘dogs.”  He pushed himself up.  “Uh, feel free to take a seat if you want.  There’s just the one stool and it might be...a bit short for ya, but…” he gestured awkwardly and turned away.

Attie was a brilliant audience, holding onto every word as he explained the ins and outs of accelerated gravitational motion and centrifugal force.  He was pretty sure most of it flew straight over the seven-year-old’s head, but she didn’t interrupt.

“...Sans?”

He looked up to see someone approaching from the direction of the park.  “Oh.  Hi, Tori.  Thanks for, uh...y’know.”  He shrugged.

“It’s no trouble.  I heard that you were in a fight last night, but not that there were complications.  What seems to be the trouble?”

Frisk sent Attie off to play on the slides (one of the few areas of the playground without a coat of snow) while Sans reluctantly explained his situation.  Tori stood quietly through it all, her eyes occasionally flicking to her adopted daughter.

“I do not approve of healing every small hurt, but I also do not want to send a sentry out injured after what happened last night.  Hold out your arm, please.”

Sans did so, bracing himself.  Healing was an agonizing process at the best of times, and Tori was at least a little bit irritated with him.  He could feel the bone shards grating against each other as the fractures knit.  He hadn’t registered it through the general haze of pain, but there were even cracks in the small bones that comprised his wrist.  Tori’s firm grip on the damaged bones made his vision waver, and he grabbed the counter of the hot dog stand to keep from embarrassing himself.

After what seemed like hours, the pain ebbed and he came to his senses.  He didn’t realize until he extracted his hand from Tori’s that he was shaking from pain and exhaustion; the accelerated healing process was draining his reserves faster than the ‘dog he’d eaten earlier could replenish them.

“Frisk, let him sit,” Tori said, shooing her daughter off the stool.

With great effort, Sans managed to maneuver himself around the back of the hot dog stand and collapsed onto his stool.  He could feel the strain on his spine and hips from the position, but at least he was less likely to tip over in front of his…

...friends?

He decided not to think too much about it.

“If that is all, I shall be off,” Tori said to Frisk.  “Do you need me to watch Atlas this weekend?”

“That would be great, Mom.  We can talk it over this afternoon at the Embassy.”

“Very well.  I shall see you then.”

Tori walked off without saying goodbye to Sans, and he winced.  It was only half because of the little twinges of pain that kept shooting down his spine.  Shifting didn’t help much, either.

“I thought you and Mom got along?”  Frisk asked, looking concerned again.

“We do.  It’s just - ugh! - I haven’t seen her in a few months.”  In hindsight, he probably should have at least called.

“Well, I hope you get back on speaking terms.”

“No kidding.  Don’t want her to bleat me up.”

Frisk snorted.  “That was terrible.”

“I notice your lack of surprise.”

She just smiled.  “Oh, hey, your kitten’s back asleep.  Want him back?”

“Nah, I think he’s comfy.”  Both Frisk and the cat looked comfy, actually.  Realization dawned slowly on him.  (He blamed it on the lack of sleep.)

“Hey, uh, do you know anyone who wants a cat?”

“You’re not going to try to keep him?”

“Nah.  You were right ‘bout the dogs.  And, well, I don’t think Boss is gonna really go for ‘cute and fuzzy.’  He might, but it's 50/50.”

Frisk looked at him, then back to the cat, then back to him.  “Attie...has been bugging me about getting a pet for a while, actually.  She wanted a dog but, well, I’m sure you can see how that might get a tad awkward.”

“No kiddin’.”

“We also spend a lot of time at the Embassy, and when I travel Attie spends time with her grandparents.  A cat on the other hand...well, you don’t have to walk them, for one.  If you’d be willing to stop in every once in a while to feed him while I’m on trips, I don’t see why we couldn’t keep him.  If you’re sure…”

“Yeah, that’d be great!”  Attie had turned out... mostly alright, after all, short bouts of chaos and terror aside.  A cat raised by Frisk would probably wind up ruling the world (or at least the neighborhood), but Sans could think of worse things.

“Okay.  Um, do you want to keep him with you for a bit, or…”

“I, uh, don’t even have food for ‘im.  I made a little bed out of old shirts, but that’s it.  If you don’t mind takin’ ‘im now, go for it.”

She looked at the little cat, stroking gently behind his ears and smiling.  His eyes were closed, and Sans could hear the faint rumbling of that purring thing cats did when they were happy.  He grinned.

“I’d say he’s in good hands.”

“...Yes.  Hopefully.  We’ll see.”  That smile got just a bit wider, though.

Attie stomped up a little while later, shivering.  “It’s too cold to play much,” she said.  “And one of the big kids kept trying to get me to stick my tongue to the monkey bars.”

It took Sans a moment to register why this was even a thing humans would want to do.  That’s right; humans had drippy ‘saliva’ stuff inside their mouths.  Putting her tongue on the unprotected metal of the monkey bars would have probably caused it to freeze and stick.  “You tell that kid off?”

“Yeah.  I told him that if he wanted to do science so bad then he should try it first, because a good scientist doesn’t use other people as test subjects.”

“Ooookay.  I mean, you’re not wrong, but did he do it?”

“No.  I guess he didn’t believe in his hyp...hypoth’s.”

“Hypothesis?”

“Yup!”

Frisk chuckled.  “Fair enough.  Now Attie, I have an important question for you.”

“Okay?”

“Mr. Sans lives in a building with some of the dogs.”

“I know.  I heard them when I was having the long sleepover while you were sick.”

“...Right.  Well, dogs and cats don’t always get along, so Mr. Sans said he’d let us take the kitty home with us.  Would that be alright?”

Attie gasped and turned to Sans.  “Do you really, really mean it?  We can keep your kitty?”

“Sure, kid.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sans!  Thank you a whole, whole, whole bunch!”  She shuffled over and gave him a very soft, very careful hug.

He patted her on the back, feeling awkward under Frisk’s observation.  “Uh, no problem.  I’m sure he’s gonna be happy with you.”

“Does he have a name?”

“Nah.  I guess you ‘n your mom get to name ‘im.”

At Frisk’s nod, Attie began petting the kitten, her brows furrowed.  “You said you found him in water, right, Mr. Sans?”

“Yup.”

“And he’s got a bad eye, like Undie.”

“Sure does.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to name him...Terror Of the Seven Seas!!!  Because he’s a pirate cat.”

Frisk snorted.  “That’s a long name, honey.  Want to come up with something shorter?”

“Nope!  But he can have a nickname if you really want him to.”

“Terror Of the Seven Seas it is, then.”

“Guess you could call ‘im ‘TOSS,’” Sans piped up.  “Short for Terror Of the Seven Seas.  Pirate extraordinaire.”

The little girl hummed.  “That sounds okay.  He can be called TOSS for a nickname.”

Frisk was snickering behind her hand, he knew it.

Suddenly, a loud ringing noise interrupted the peaceful morning.  Frisk dug through her pockets for a moment, then produced a familiar-looking phone.  “Oh...Sans, I’m so sorry, but we’ve got to run.”

“Okay.”  It was expected, he told himself.  Frisk was an ambassador and a busy woman.

“Can we bring Terror of the Seven Seas with us to the embassy?”  Attie asked.

Her mother glanced down nervously.  “Well...just this once, I guess.”

She cheered.  “See ya later, Mr. Sans!”

“See ya, kid,” he replied.

“Sans!  Get her!” a voice crackled in Elemental.

Sans was already hot on Pele’s heels.  Literally.  Even if he didn’t have a trail of light and warmth to follow in the dark alleyway, she was disoriented and confused in a strange new place.  He couldn’t let her disappear into the night with no way to find shelter, regardless of what was going on with Grillby.

It was easy enough to catch the sleeve of her sweater in his phalanges just as she reached the main street.  She stiffened, just like she had when he’d held her hand to teleport, but didn’t lash out.  A glance over his shoulder showed that Grillby was still a safe distance away, hands raised and flames carefully controlled.

“Hey, kid.  Why don’t ya tell me what’s eatin’ you, huh?”

The fire girl just shuddered and curled in on herself while trying to put as much distance between herself and her captured arm as possible.

“Ooookay, wanna tell me why Grillbz knew your name, and why you don’t want anything to do with him?  ‘Cause I thought I was real clever, y’know, findin’ you a place to stay, but we can try someone else if you’d rather.”

“...Who…?”

That was a good question, actually.  “I...uh...I know the Captain of the Royal Guard.  She’s pretty, uh, intense, but she could probably find you a warm bed.  I’m gonna hafta tell her about you anyways, so she can get started on your papers and whatnot.  Or the queen-”

“...That’s...alright…”

“I understand Elemental if it’s easier for you to speak.”

She started struggling.  That didn’t seem to be the right thing to say at all.

Movement in the corner of Sans’s eye socket made him turn to see Grillby slowly walking up, carefully avoiding piles of snow that had blown in.  A few intermittent snowflakes evaporated in the agitated flames of his exposed head, almost painfully bright against the night sky.

“Pele,” the bartender said in flickering Elemental, both hands raised.  “Why are you here?”

She remained silent, but stopped trying to escape.  Her flames gave resigned little flickers.

“I, uh, brought her here,” Sans said when it became apparent that she wasn’t going to respond.  “She said she didn’t have anywhere else to go.  Found her in Alphys’s lab.”

“What?”

“Yeah.  Uh.  Alphys said she was an orphan.”

Grillby stopped, his flames still wavering.  He looked...devastated.  Sans had never seen the grouchy bartender look anything but angry or frustrated.  Not even when he left his old joint in the Underground, the one he’d built up for decades.

After a moment, the older elemental collected himself and gave a little sigh-like noise.  He smoothed out a little, more like a candle flame than a wind-whipped bonfire.  “Why don’t we go inside and talk.  I need to tend to the bar and I am sure it would be more comfortable for both of you.”

The obvious joke was on the tip of Sans’s proverbial tongue, but he didn’t want to set Grillbz off.  The guy’s temper was on a hair trigger at the best of times, after all.  Instead, he carefully released Pele and followed her inside, ready to catch her if she decided to bolt again.

She didn’t.  She did maintain a careful distance from both adults, but she stepped through the doorway without too much fuss.

Her flames flickered in obvious surprise when she got a good look at the interior of the bar.  What could be seen from the back hallway - the doorways to the kitchen and one of the private rooms, and the stairs to the upper level - wasn’t fancy, but it was a definite step up from the old Grillby’s in Snowdin.  Had she expected some seedy dive?

Grillby led them to the private room and left, citing bartending duties, but he looked a little shaky.

Pele still wasn’t talking.

And Sans really didn’t know what to do.  He texted Lesser Dog to ask him to keep an extra eye out and got an enthusiastic response, but that didn’t answer any of the real questions of the evening.  Sans had saved the kid on a whim, really.  If she’d been older, if he hadn’t found that little striped sweater in the lab hallway, he probably would have ducked his head and continued on his way.  That’s what was expected of monsters.  But…

“...Sorry…”  Pele was curling in on herself, her flames flickering lowly like the dying embers of a campfire.

“‘Ts fine, kid.  Were you, uh, down in the lab long?”

“...I...don’t know…?”

He hummed.  She couldn't have been down there more than a few days, not with the way Alphys was acting.  Still...an awkward silence fell.  What was there to say to a kid he’d pulled, pretty much at random, out of a situation where she’d been guaranteed a long and painful death at the hands of a mad scientist?

“So.  You.  Uh, you know Grillby?”

“...No…”

That didn’t sound like a lie, but it didn’t sound like the whole truth either.  He wanted to scream.  Trying to get answers out of elementals was, in his experience, an exercise in futility.  Getting answers out of an elemental who wouldn’t speak was on a whole ‘nother level.

It was a surprise, then, when she continued in broken Elemental.

“Grill-by was...father’s brother.  What call?”

“Uncle is the word we use, kid.  Can’t pronounce Elemental properly with this jaw,” he tapped the aforementioned body part, “so I’m not sure how you’d say it, but...yeah.  Grillby’s your uncle, huh.”

“...Uncle…” Pele crackled in English before switching back.  “There was...big fight.  No talking for much time.  Mother and father not want to go...up?  Go out?  Too much ties.  Connection?  But...hmm.  Thought Grill-by...would be angry.”

“So Grillbz and your parents fought, and you lost contact.  Then your parents didn’t want to go to the surface?”

The girl nodded.

“You said they had ties - some kind of connection - to the Underground.  Were they part of a gang?”

“Sparks,” the girl said, holding her left wrist loosely in her right hand and looking away.

That made sense.  The Sparks were a gang of mostly fire-type monsters based in Hotland; grabbing the left wrist (or comparable appendage) was one way they identified themselves to fellow gang members.  Sans had heard rumors of some fire and rock elementals among them but he hadn’t exactly kept up with the latest news over the past few years.  Still, it made sense that a group like that would choose to stay in their claimed territory instead of braving the rain and snow of the Surface.

“Pele, were your parents dusted?”

She tucked into herself further, which was confirmation enough in itself.  Sans sighed.  It was an old, familiar story: a kid orphaned by gang violence or infighting, then raised by remaining gang members.  Her parents had probably died years back, if her choppy Elemental was anything to go by; it was a difficult language for most monsters to pronounce.  Maybe she’d even been punished for speaking it, judging by her reactions.

The fact that she’d wound up in Alphys’s lab meant that the girl had either run away from the gang and into one of Alphys’s traps, or - and the thought was horrifying, even to a hardened guy like Sans - been traded off during one of her searches for test subjects.  Neither said particularly good things about the state of the Underground.  He knew things were getting worse since the Royal Guard was focused on the surface, but still.

Her reaction to Grillby explained why she hadn't gone looking for him, either.  She'd said she thought he would be angry with her.  She probably had her reasons, but...Grillbz was actually not bad, when nothing had set him off.  Many of the kids from Snowdin had earned a spare meal or two washing dishes in the bar, which worked out well for both parties.  It was why Sans hadn't thought much of bringing him a strange kid; that, and Pele looked like she could use a good meal or two.

Grillbz himself opened the door to the private room and entered carrying two trays.  The one he slid to Sans held a burger, fries, and unopened bottles of ketchup and mustard; the other held a stone bowl filled with what looked like glowing coals.

“Eat,” the elemental crackled to them both in his native tongue.  “I have an employee coming in about half an hour, if the lazy ass shows up.  We can talk then.”  He walked back out, not once glancing towards the girl.

Pele looked over at Sans, confusion radiating off her.  “...What…?”

He repeated what Grillby had said, paraphrasing a little.  “So, you really don’t know much Elemental, huh.”

“It has been...long time since speak.  Not...allowed?  Care-takers...did not understand.  Wanted...English.  But...hard to speak…hmm.”

“Gotcha.  Well, I understand it, and most of the folks ‘round here do.  Hell, even most of the humans who are regulars at the bar have picked up the basics.  At the very least they understand when Grillbz wants his money or is clearing out the bar.”  He grabbed a fry, dunked it in a puddle of mustard, then gestured at her bowl.

She giggled and slowly - very slowly, as if she suspected a trap - brought one of the coals to her mouth.  She didn’t make any kind of a chewing motion, but the glow of her flames brightened considerably over the next few seconds before dying back down.

The rest of the coals disappeared quickly after that.

Sans, on the other hand, savored his burg.  It had been months since he’d had the spare time and cash to have more than a quick beer at the bar to eavesdrop for information.  In fact - he checked his inventory - he probably had just enough left over from bus fare to pay for his meal.  It was annoying that most of his earnings went to Boss or apartment bills; maybe he could spend some extra time at the hotdog stand to compensate?

He had just finished licking the extra ketchup off his fingers (not willing to let anything go to waste) when Grillby walked back in.  The bartender was looking a lot more composed than he had earlier, his flames smooth and calm.  Sans was probably one of the few who could sense the lingering agitation in the other monster, and that was after long years of association and tenuous alliance.

Grillbz settled himself into the third chair at their table.  “So.  Pele, you are...a long way from home.”

The girl nodded after a moment.  The way she flinched whenever Elemental was spoken was hard to miss.

“Do you not speak?”

The way her flames curled screamed embarrassment.  “...Hard…”

“I see.  Well, let’s see how quickly you pick it back up, then.  How did you get into the Royal Scientist’s lab of all places?”

The ensuing conversation was painful to listen to - a combination of hesitant English and broken Elemental - but by the end of it Pele was picking up more and more of what Grillby was saying.  As it turned out, Sans was correct: the girl had been ‘traded’ to Alphys about a week prior for a favor.  What favor the Sparks wanted from (or owed to) Alphys was anyone’s guess; Pele hadn’t exactly been invited to those conversations.  She had tried to run away when she found out but had only succeeded in injuring herself.  The gang had been very unhappy about having to heal her before handing her over to the Royal Scientist, and she was still low on magic.  She’d been locked away in one of the cages in the back of the Lab ever since.

Throughout this explanation, Grillby grew more and more tense.  The flames that normally flickered up above his head to simulate some kind of crazy hairdo were so shallow that he looked practically bald.

Sans elected not to point this out; he didn't want to invoke the old elemental's fiery temper, after all.

After a moment’s consideration, the bartender stood and beckoned to the girl.  “...Come.”

“...Where…?”

“...Upstairs.”  Grillby’s English was always a little slow, but he was clearly trying to make it easier for Pele to understand.  “I...have rooms.  You will...be staying...with me.”

“...Really…?”

Instead of responding, he gestured the girl out the door a little more forcefully than such generosity required.  She complied without questioning further, Sans tagging along behind out of curiosity and a lingering sense of responsibility.

The second level of Grillby’s bar held rooms that he rented out to drunk idiots, less-than-legal deal brokers, and the odd human who wanted to engage in...personal activities while intoxicated.  Grillbz also had an apartment at the far end of the hall, but Sans had never been inside.

The group stopped at a door near Grillby’s private rooms, which he opened with a key strung on a loop of chain.  He handed the key over to Pele.  “Don’t...lose this.  Get some sleep.  You...start work...in the morning.”

The girl nodded, still looking a little lost.  She stared at Sans for a moment before closing the door wordlessly.

“Welp,” Sans said, stretching a little, “It’s been great.  I’ll be off-”

“Wait.”  The switch into smooth Elemental was a relief to both of them.

“Ooooh yeah!  Your money.  Well.  Here…”

“No.  Not that.  Come.”

Sans was stunned.  Had...had Grillby, once the most notorious miser in Snowdin, actually turned down money?  Or...did he want something more for dropping a kid on him without warning?  The skeleton fought down his trepidation and followed Grillbz down the stairs and back into the private room.

“What do you want?”

Sans started at the unexpected question.  “Uh…?”

“You want something.  That is the only reason you could have brought Pele to me.  How did you know we were family?”

Memories of a young human woman sitting at his dining room table flashed behind his eye sockets.   How ‘bout that deja vu.  “I didn’t.  Stars, man, I was just hoping you had a spare room or somethin’ that could get ‘er magic levels back up.  I didn’t know what Alph was doin’ to that kid but ‘er magic was pretty low.  I’m hardly an expert in elementals; most of the ones I knew back Underground either hate my guts or are part of the gang that sold her off.”

“How did you find her?”

It was a fair question; the Lab was hardly open to the public.  Or rather, it was, but getting back out wasn't guaranteed.  “Alph had something I needed, and I had a permit from the King to go and get it.  She must’ve forgotten I was in there.  I was on my way out, found a striped shirt in the hallway and went to investigate.  The rest...well.”

“Is the Royal Scientist going to come after her?”

“Uh, don’t think so?  She’s more likely to come after me, really.  I was plannin’ to get Undyne involved tomorrow morning; if nothing else, that’ll sidetrack Alph long enough to grab the kid and hide ‘er somewhere.”

For a monster whose concept of ‘eyes’ was a little vague, Grillby was a master at making someone squirm with a glare.  Sans managed to keep from fidgeting only because of his long exposure to Boss’s intimidation tactics.  “You really don’t want anything.  You had a plan.  What were you going to do after reporting her to Undyne?  Have her arrested for gang affiliation?”

“No?  I mean, has Undyne ever arrested a kid in stripes?  Nah, I was gonna ask around, see if she really was an orphan.  Thought she could get into a school or find some work or somethin’ to pay her way.  Something better than whatever goes on Underground these days.  Kid needs a family that’ll teach her surface manners and some way to earn money that won’t bring gangs - the Underground kind or Undyne’s happy little group - after her.”

There was another pause, then Grillby gave a strange, crackling laugh.  “You really have...changed.  I heard you were going soft, but this is the first I’ve seen of it.”

“Uh, r-really?  I mean, haha, you don’t actually think-”

“The child changed you.  Not Pele,” he said, amusement curling the ragged opening on his face that passed for a mouth, “The other one.  The ambassador’s child.”

“You...you know about Attie?”

“There are no secrets in a bar.  I am well-paid for my...discretion.  But you?  You aren’t the type to value money so highly, nor does your brother have nearly as good a hold on you as he thinks; his willingness to pay me for information about you says as much.  You must be doing this for...personal reasons.  Am I wrong?”

He wasn’t, but Sans didn’t really want to say so.

“It was certainly an unexpected development.  You were one of the monsters I least expected to have a soft spot for children.  Then again, you never did dust children, did you?”

“No.  But that doesn’t mean nothin’.”

“I know several annoying teenagers who would disagree.”

“Hmph.”

Grillby did his funny laugh again.  “Don’t worry; I haven’t distributed that information, and after what you’ve done for my family...I don’t intend to.  It isn’t even worth much at the moment.  It is strange, though, isn’t it?  Not too long ago, this would have been an incredible weakness for you.  And yet…”

“...Here, it isn’t.  Heck, most humans would see it as a good thing, bein’ too nice to kids.”

“Indeed.”

The warmth Sans felt wasn’t just because he was standing next to a man made of fire.  There was a strange camaraderie, an understanding of shared hardships and shared joys, that passed between the two in that moment.  For once, it wasn’t awkward to meet Grillby’s eyes, or whatever passed for them.

“I was emancipated by my brother shortly after Pele was born,” the elemental said, breaking the silence.  “I haven’t heard from him, his wife, or his children in years.  I thought they were all dead.  I thought I didn’t care if they were.”

That he’d thought incorrectly went unsaid.

A crash and the sound of tinkling glass broke the moment, and both looked away.  “Well,” Sans said, “I’d, uh, better get to my station.  LD can’t cover for me forever.  Uh.  How much do I owe you for…?”

“Nothing; it’s on the house.  Consider it thanks.  And do let me know if you find anything more about the situation.”

“Sure will.”

Grillby left the room first, headed towards the bar.  Sans went the other way, out the back door and into the alleyway.  He paused before teleporting back up the mountain.

It felt good, having an ally.  He seemed to be picking them up at a rapid rate lately: Attie, Frisk, Undyne, and now Grillby and Pele.  He practically had friends.  It was weird to think about, after living most of his life being the town asshole.

Speaking of which, he clearly wasn’t the only one who’d changed.  Who would’ve thought that Grillby cared about family?  Especially after he’d been emancipated?  This was the guy who was more than willing to roast some bones if, say, a skeleton eating at his bar came up a few gold short in change.  Not that Sans had ever been in that position, of course.  His hands curled reflexively; dish duty at a bar was one of the worst jobs ever, in his opinion.

With a sigh, he teleported up towards his station.

It felt like only minutes later that he was walking back down the mountain, leaving a twitchy Doggo in his place.  He’d been too preoccupied with going over his notes and wondering about Pele and Grillby, and time seemed to have jumped.  It began snowing in earnest halfway home; the comfort of his apartment was welcoming to his cold bones.  Boss was gone - as was the Takersfaire booth - so Sans had no interference getting to his room.  He immediately flopped over on his mattress.

As he passed out, he realized that he’d really only gotten three hours of sleep the night before.  Undyne was going to yell at him again if he stretched himself…

“SANS!  WAKE UP!”

Sans rolled out of the way on instinct as a bone attack struck the pillow where his head had been moments before.  “B-Boss?  Wha…?”

“I’VE BEEN TRYING TO WAKE YOU UP FOR TEN MINUTES!  GET OUT OF BED NOW, YOU LAZY SACK OF SHIT!”

He managed to climb to his feet despite the exhaustion dragging at his bones.  He glanced at the clock.  It was just past 7 in the morning, which was...not as early as it felt.  He must’ve used more magic than he thought, to still be so tired after what was - for him - an early night.

Oh, shit.  He’d forgotten to call Undyne, hadn’t he.

“GET TO YOUR HOT DOG STAND IMMEDIATELY!”  Boss growled.  “I WILL NOT STAND FOR ANY MORE LAZINESS IN THIS HOUSE!”

“It’s not a house, Boss, it’s-”

Thud.

The impact of bone on bone took away all the bonus HP Sans had gotten from sleep, and a few extra points besides.

“IMMEDIATELY, SANS!”

“I’m goin’, I’m goin’...”

He practically ran to his hot dog stand, not willing to give Boss any more reasons to punish him.  Once there, he pulled his phone out.

Undyne picked up on the first ring.  “WHAT??” she screeched.

“Wow.  What a nice way to greet a pal.”

“Oh.  Sans.  What the hell.  Is up with you.  You were.   So late.  Last night.”

“Uh…”

“Don’t.  You dare.  Pun at me.  I am not.  In the mood.”

“No coffee yet?”

The growl was confirmation enough.

“Riiight.  Uh, I’ll make this quick.  Soooo...stopped by the lab yesterday to look at...stuff.  Got what I needed, but picked up a...straggler along the way.”

“I swear to the stars, Sans, if you are calling me because you got involved in another shady gang deal trying to get drugs for a prank, I will rip off your skull and shove it straight up your-”

“I didn’t!  I didn’t!  Also: rude!”

“Don’t you talk to me about rude you little...no, y’know what?  No.  It’s too early for this crap.”

“Wait!”  He could feel her trying to hang up on him.  “I...it’s important.  I swear.”

“You have five seconds of my time, asshole.”

“It was a kid.  Alph had a kid down in her lab.”

There was a pause.  For a moment, Sans thought she really had hung up.  Then-

“WHAT???”

“Holy shit, that’s really not necessary!”

“YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT THE ROYAL SCIENTIST IS EXPERIMENTING ON CHILDREN?  AGAIN??  WHERE?  WHO?  HOW MANY??”

“I-”

“TELL ME RIGHT NOW YOU ASSHOLE!!!  NGYAAAAAAAAAH!”

There was a loud crash in the background.  It turned out to be the first of several.

Sans waited for the noise to die down a little.  “Uh...you done?”

The only response was heavy breathing.

“Ooooookay.  So.  I only found the one kid.  Fire elemental girl, claims she’s an orphan.  The Sparks sold ‘er off a few days ago, we think.”

“We?”  Undyne growled.

“Uh...I took her to Grillby’s.”

“You took a child.  To a seedy bar.”

“Nnnnoooo?  I took a fire elemental child to the only other fire elemental I know who isn’t involved in some hella crazy shit.”

“That’s...debatable.”

“Alright, what fire elemental do you know who would’ve been a better option?  Yeah, thought not.  And as it turns out, they’re family.”

“What the hell?  Grillby has kids?”

“Nope.  Niece, apparently.”

“You showed up with his niece, and he didn’t immediately toss you out on your face?”

“Nope.  Weird, right?”

“You do know he was emancipated years ago, right?  It was a huge fight, apparently.  They still tell legends about it in the Guard.”

“He...may have mentioned something about that?”

“...It’s too early in the morning for this crap.”

“Whelp.  I’ll, uh, leave you to it.  Just wanted to give ya a heads-up so you’d know that there’s a new kid in town who’s gonna need paperwork.”

There was another muffled crunch in the background.  “Sans.  I hate you.”

“Uh…”

“Not only do you call me at SEVEN THIRTY IN THE MORNING, ON MY DAY OFF, but you DUMP A CRAPTON OF PAPERWORK ON MY ASS???”

“Well-”

“DON’T ANSWER THAT!!!”

“Y’okay.”

“AND DON’T YOU DARE BE LATE TO YOUR SHIFT THIS AFTERNOON!!”

There was a low scream as the call was terminated.  Forcefully.

Well.  That went better than he expected.  And better yet, it was out of his sweaty little hands.  It was a good day.

Or...so he thought.

Sans shuffled home later that night a tired, worn skeleton trying not to jostle a bad arm.  Work at the hot dog stand had been uneventful, but his double sentry shift had been absolutely hellish.  A group of teenagers, drunk or high out of their dead little minds, had decided to storm the mountain.  Literally ‘storm;’ it had been alternating between snow and rain for most of the afternoon and into the evening before settling into a cold drizzle.  Fortunately, their path had taken them within roughly two feet of one of the sentry posts so they didn’t just disappear onto the mountain.

Un fortunately, that post was the one Sans was stationed at.

The fight had been difficult.  His blue magic only affected one human at a time, and the kids had been too impaired to really care about what was happening to one of their own.  They also had a hard time registering pain; the weak bones he threw at them took tiny slivers out of their HP, but didn’t do much to slow them down.  He was authorized to use magic - Mount Ebott was monster territory - but he didn’t want to risk killing them and starting a real incident.

At least they recognized him as a threat.  The focus of the group went from getting up the mountain to beating up the monster who was single-handedly kicking their asses.  Luckily for him, whatever they’d pumped into their systems made them both reckless and bad at aiming.

Even a complete idiot gets lucky sometimes, though.

It had taken twenty minutes for the other sentries to start trickling in, and by then the damage had mostly been done.  Most of the kids, exhausted and finally feeling their injuries, had collapsed in various undignified piles across the clearing by Sans’s post.  A few got away but...eh, that wasn’t his problem.

One of the dogs had called Undyne, who had called the police (after chewing out all the sentries collectively and individually for waking her up, again, on her day off).  Sans had, naturally, been left to deal with the ensuing chaos of mediating between an angry, sleep-deprived Undyne and the extremely wary human police.

No one else had been hurt - thank the stars for small miracles - but it was still a literal and figurative mess.  Mud was one thing, but trespassing onto monster property was a pretty big deal for humans, especially since monsters on their mountain had the legal right to defend themselves in whatever way they saw fit once provoked.  He didn’t envy the cops or the kids; neither would have a good night’s sleep for at least a week once Tori got ahold of them.

Regardless, all of that led to Sans wandering home in the freezing rain at an unholy hour of the morning, stiff and sore and trying not to jostle an arm that wasn’t quite broken.  He really, really just wished that he could just take a shortcut home, but he couldn’t summon the energy.  He needed to start working out again...it had fallen by the wayside over the past week or two.

He paused.  That sounded like...a cry?  He hesitated, remembering what happened the last time he’d responded to a crying child, but hearing it a second time broke his resolve.  He’d just rescued a kid; couldn’t a guy get a break??

Responsibility really was going to be the death of him.

The sound was coming from a nearby alleyway, which wasn’t ominous at all.  He summoned a bone, keeping his wits about him, and angled himself so his bad arm was protected by a wall.  His magic gathered instinctively, ready to protect him despite how drained he’d been by the earlier fight.

The pavement of the alley was slick from the recent freezing rain and there were deep puddles where it had sunken.  Sans avoided those.  The noise seemed to be coming from a pile of garbage stacked around a dumpster further back, but he could see no movement.

He stalked closer.  It sounded like the noise was getting quieter; he couldn’t tell if the kid was weakening or moving farther away.  He paused and strained to listen over the patter of rain on pavement and trash.  Weakening, definitely, but it was sounding less like a child.  There were no words, for one, and no matter how close he got he couldn’t sense a human soul or any type of magic.

Movement from one of the boxes made him tense, bone at the ready.  He felt silly; it was a small creature, not nearly big enough to be a threat…

...but it was the source of the noise, he realized as he watched it squirm.  He dismissed the bone.  He’d wasted enough time and energy chasing after...actually, what was that thing?

Curiosity got the better of him and he stepped closer.  The box was soaked through and half-submerged in a puddle that was half frozen over.  There was something hand-written on the box, but it was smeared by rain and he couldn’t make it out in the dark of the alley.  The crying thing - whatever it was - clung to one side, trying to keep from sliding into the water.

It wasn’t until he stood right next to the box and looked in that he saw the other dark shapes in the water, sunken and unmoving.  He thought of the Dogi’s litter of pups and shuddered.

Trying not to overthink what he was doing, he grabbed the little critter by the scruff of its neck.  “Please don’t be a rat,” he muttered to it.  He had too many awful memories of the little scavengers from his childhood on the streets of the Underground.  “I will literally throw you right back in there with your friends if you’re a rat.”

He picked his way back out of the alley, gritting his teeth against the cries.  Once back in relative light and safety, he held it up.

It wasn’t a rat.

He examined the thing carefully.  It was furry, he could tell, even though the rain had matted its fur down to almost nothing.  The fur was too dark to pick out colors, but it seemed to be covered in stripes of brown or grey.  From what he could see it had big pointy ears, a wimpy little furry tail that was curled up between its legs, and a huge green eye with a little slit.

Cat.

Well then.  He’d always wanted a pet.  But seriously, what was it with him and picking up strays lately??

Sans carefully brought his bad hand up under the cat’s butt, then released his hold on the scruff of its neck.  Even the slight weight caused his arm to ache, but he held it steady.  The cat shivered; humans and other creatures with fleshy bits shivered when cold, he remembered.  (He deliberately did not think about Frisk shivering under her comforter, hours from death when her daughter dragged his sorry ass in to help.)

It seemed to be calming down, though.  He knew from conversations with Att...with humans that they perceived the magic radiating off his bones as warmth.  He was soaked through, but held the little thing close to his chest anyways.  It wasn’t like a little extra water was going to hurt it at that point.

He walked home quickly, no longer caring about his injuries.

When he arrived at the apartment complex he carefully pressed his bad arm against his side.  The little cat fit perfectly inside his jacket in the pouch formed by the crook of his elbow.  It didn’t seem to like him zipping the jacket up, but Sans knew that Boss finding it would be a death sentence: for it, definitely, and possibly for Sans as well with how cranky Boss had been.

He slipped the door open quietly, listening for anyone else in the apartment.  The only sound was the rain beating against the kitchen window.  He started for the hallway-

“THERE YOU ARE!”

“Shit, Boss!”  He shifted his arm, silently begging the cat to stay quiet.

“YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN HOME AN HOUR AGO!”

“I-I got a little banged up in a fight.  I, uh, take it you heard from Undyne what happened?”

“CAPTAIN UNDYNE APPRISED ME OF THE SITUATION, YES.”

There was a shuffle somewhere over Boss’s head as the residents of the apartment above theirs came to terms with loud noises at unfortunate hours of the morning.

“Then, uh, I’ll just…”

“STOP RIGHT THERE!”

Sans paused.

“Remove your clothing.  I must examine you for injuries.”

“Wha... hell no, Boss!  What even??”

“YOUR GRAMMAR GETS WORSE EVERY DAY!”

“Why do you need to ‘examine’ me?”

Boss sighed, rubbing one knuckle along the smooth stretch of bone between his eye sockets.  “Because you were so careless as to worry the ambassador a few months ago, she is now under the impression that you are suffering from…‘abuse.’”  He said the word like it meant a tendency towards screaming esoteric love poetry in public.  “Absurd, I know.  However, Undyne still demanded that I ensure you remain in good health to appease her highness.  I MUST, THEREFORE, ENSURE THAT YOU HAVE SUFFERED NO LASTING DAMAGE AFTER THIS SCUFFLE OF YOURS!”

Sans shoved the flare of anger to the side, where he could deal with it later.  “I’m pretty sure that was just when I was babysitting.  I’m not babysitting anymore.”

“ENOUGH, SANS!”

Boss shot an arm out and made a grab for Sans, snarling when his prey dodged backwards into the hallway and made a desperate break for his room.  Boss wouldn’t knock down the door and risk the wrath of the landlord, and thus, the queen.

...Probably.

He locked the door mere moments before Boss slammed into it fists-first.  “SANS!  OPEN THE DOOR!”

Sans tucked himself into the corner behind the door hinge.  Boss was bad at picking locks, but even worse at noticing fine detail when he was all worked up.  It was that or the closet, and he’d started checking the closet.

Thankfully, he seemed content with just yelling and banging on the door.  He settled down pretty well after about half an hour and stalked back off towards his own room, muttering threats the entire way.  Sans made a mental note to stay away from his brother for the next few days to avoid punishments.

No need to get the big guy into hot water with Undyne if she’d started poking her nose in their business again.  It wasn’t a big deal; he could handle it, and there was no need to get Frisk involved.

He chuckled in relief, feeling his jacket.  It was still soaked through pretty badly.  The cat, however, had curled up between his arm and ribcage and was making a noise like a small motor.

That must be the ‘purring’ thing he’d heard about.  It was incredibly soothing, actually.

Gently, he set the cat on his mattress and changed into dry clothes.  After a long moment of consideration, the threw his jacket over the back of his desk chair to dry out.  The rest of his clothes were kicked into the heap of laundry in the corner, but he wanted to wear his jacket sometime soon.

He flopped over on the bed to examine the creature he’d brought home.  It was looking better, actually.  It had pushed itself up onto four tiny paws and was wobbling around the bed; whether the wobble was due to weakness, injury, or the softness of his mattress he couldn’t tell.  The long cuddle under his jacket had done it some good, at least.  It was looking puffy and mostly dry across its back and the shivering had stopped.

Upon further inspection, it only seemed to have one functioning eye.  Both its eyes were open, but one of them was milky and pale in a way that reminded him of Undyne and the other monsters he knew whose eyes had been damaged.  For all that, it seemed to be getting around okay.

“Yer not sleepin’ with me,” he said as it crashed nose-first into his leg and flopped over.  Little black paw pads waved wildly in the air.  “I know your type.  You make all kinds of wet, goopy messes that I hafta clean up, and I’m not in the mood tonight.”

It started purring again, curled into a tight ball against his leg.

“Fine.  Lemme see…”  He scooped the thing up and looked around.  A space heater he’d been meaning to fix up was still in the closet, buried under spare mechanical parts.  It rattled when he turned it up, but that wasn’t the end of the world.  He didn’t notice too much of a difference in temperature, but he wasn’t especially sensitive to temperature differences to begin with.  Hopefully it helped.

He found a large cardboard box from...well, he didn’t really remember and it wasn’t marked, so it could’ve been from anything, really.  Into the box went a pile of dirty shirts; if they were already dirty, the gooey mess the cat was going to make wouldn’t do much damage.

The cat protested Sans’s attempts to put it down, curling itself around his phalanges and struggling to find something to grip with its claws, but he was able to wrangle it into the box.  For the amount of struggle it put up, it didn’t seem too upset once he got it settled; it curled right back up and started purring again.

He ran his phalanges over the cat’s head and ears, concentrating on the texture of the fur.  It was a strange feeling.  It was soft, but not like cloth; almost feather-like, really.  It didn’t feel much like dog fur, though he hadn’t had many opportunities to study that in detail.  Dog fur was...he didn’t know how to describe it.  Thicker?  He had given scratches to Greater Dog during his last shift at the hot dog stand (that guy was a real softy at heart, a secret Sans would take to his grave) and he’d been able to feel the individual strands of fur.  The cat’s fur was so fine that it seemed almost like one solid thing until his phalanges passed through it.

The purring stopped abruptly and Sans paused, worried he’d upset the cat somehow.  It didn’t react at all.  Its eyes were closed and its head had drooped down to rest on the sleeve of one of his sweatshirts.

Asleep, then.  He grinned.

Mornings after a double shift were always a wash for Sans.  At least it was the weekend; no one expected his hot dog stand to be open on weekends, though it often was.

Boss had long since headed out.  The remains of the Takersfaire booth were occupying the dining room, making navigation difficult, but Sans managed to get into the kitchen to grab a bite to eat.  He figured he might as well run errands since he had nothing planned until his sentry shift that evening.

Since he hadn’t quite come to terms with facing the Royal Scientist just yet, he made his way down to the bus stop instead.  He needed to pay a visit to the one person who would probably be willing to pass on his Christmas gift without either freaking out or telling Boss.

Tori’s place was in a real fancy neighborhood.   Real fancy.  Guards-posted-outside levels of fancy.  Lobbyists, politicians, businessmen who’d done well for themselves...it was like a gathering of the most powerful people in the city, possibly the country.  The level of protection was such that Sans didn’t even want to think of teleporting, so he took public transportation as close as he could and walked.

Tori had admitted to him, once, that she felt a little uncomfortable in such a large and elaborate mansion.  She’d lived in the Ruins longer than Sans had been alive, after all; she was used to a much more modest lifestyle.  Having her own house was a condition of her reconciliation with Asgore, though, and she’d been angry enough at the time to take full advantage of it.

Sans let himself through the gate, ignoring the stoic monsters stationed there.  He didn’t recognize them.  The Queen’s Guard was mostly comprised of really old monsters and monsters from the Ruins, though, so it wasn’t surprising.

With a smirk, he knocked on the door.

There was no answer.  Not unusual - Tori was a busy monster - but disappointing.  After all, he was pretty sure he’d promised to visit her at some point...and it had been a while since he'd seen her...

He took the hat and mittens out of his inventory and, feeling a little silly, put them on the doorstep.  He had a notepad and pen handy for when he went record-diving with Alphys, so he tore a page off and wrote:

for frisk

His handwriting was distinctive enough; Tori would know who it was from.  Actually, that would probably make her less likely to give it to Frisk.  After a moment’s thought, he added:

(not a prank)

There.  He felt like he’d actually achieved something.

He rode the bus just long enough to clear the protections, then slipped into a deserted alleyway behind a bus stop and teleported.  It took him half an hour and several jumps, but he finally made his way back up to the top of Mount Ebott.

A new, separate entrance to the Underground had been carved out a few years back so people coming and going didn’t have to pass through the Palace.  Sans teleported there, instead of to his post in the Judgement Hall, in the hopes of avoiding Asgore.  No need to test his temper.

The walk through Hotland was a lot nicer than it used to be, especially the visitor-friendly portions.  Reflective shielding had been put up over most of the walkways to protect squishy humans from the heat and water stations stood on almost every corner.

“Wanna buy some water, sir?”  An enterprising young pyrope in striped shoes was standing by one of the stations, balancing a stack of paper cups carefully.  A small plume of smoke rose from where he was holding them.

Sans smirked.  “Don’t con a conman, kid.  The water’s free ‘round here.  Can’t have humans dropping dead left and right.  ‘Sides, I’m all bones.”

The kid jerked back, apparently realizing that he was speaking to a monster instead of a short human.  “Shut up, you stupid jerk!  Humans buy water all the time!  They’re dumb like that!”  His agitation made flames erupt and consume the cups, and he dropped them with a curse that wasn’t exactly age-appropriate.

The anticipation was getting to him, making his fingers twitch in his pockets.  “You’re lucky I’m in a bad mood today,” he grumbled as he wandered off.

“Oh?  Why’s that, you dumbo?”

“Because otherwise, you and I would have a great time.”  He let his eye socket flare for a moment, the threat of a beatdown burning bright.

The kid shrieked and stumbled off.

See?   That was the reaction most kids had to Sans.  Not the hugging and the questions and the dressing up as a skeleton.  He ignored the part of himself that felt a little guilty made his way further into Hotland.

Alphys’s lab was a little off the beaten path, literally and figuratively.  The fastest way to get there involved cutting through two businesses, an abandoned sentry post, and someone’s basement.  Sans was pretty sure the basement was one Alphys had commandeered for her projects, though, so he wasn’t too worried about being caught.

The lab entrance itself was disguised as a suspiciously-shaped outcropping of rock with a very conspicuous keypad to the side, between signs that read “DEFINITELY NOT A LAB” and “DANGER: DO NOT ENTER (ACTUALLY, PLEASE ENTER, WE NEED MORE TEST SUBJECTS).”

Subtlety was...not one of the Royal Scientist’s strong suits.  Unlike killer robots.

Sans could have teleported inside quite easily, but he was trying to conserve magic.  Also, it was funny watching Alphys try to run around trying to figure out how he always discovered her passcodes.  He punched the most recent passcode in, dodged both mechanical arms that lashed and tried to grab potential intruders, and ducked inside.

The upper portion of the lab looked like a mix between a child’s bedroom and the set of a cheesy, low-budget human horror film.  A rickety old iron bed stood in one corner, half-hidden behind a wall of zombie posters and half-decapitated dolls with glassy eyes.  Every light bulb in the place flickered, to the point where Sans - who normally wasn’t sensitive to changes in brightness - found himself wincing.  Dilapidated shelves had been scavenged for the sole purpose of hanging broken and empty in rows along the walls, draped in spider webs.  A big flat-screen TV had been rigged to only display black and white, and was currently flickering between a rotating security feed and ominous static.

The scientist herself was nowhere to be seen.  Sans checked around the place, tripping over rocks and detritus and a disturbing amount of glass eyeballs, until he finally located the trap door to the real lab.  The dumb lizard had put a bookcase and a rug over it, which was a pain.  Just because she liked relying on the shaky and accident-prone elevator didn’t mean people with less HP wanted to do the same.

The ladder from the trap door descended several floors down to an abandoned storage closet, which was also barricaded.  Guess he hadn’t been down in the real lab for a while.  He broke the door open with a wave of bones, utterly fed up with this shit now.

“AAAAAAAaaaooooh, Sans, it’s just you.”

The skeleton took a deliberate glance around the room, brow raised.  He wished he’d thought to record that; Undyne would probably have paid good money for it.  Also: “Just me?  Why, Alphys, I’m hurt.  Is that any way to greet an old pal?”

“Sh-shut up,” she growled.  She brushed herself off - apparently whatever had been in front of his door had narrowly missed her, which was a pity - and stomped further into her lab, growling obscenities.

The real lab was more practical than the movie set above, with white walls and grey concrete floors that hid the dust.  A heap of broken electronics filled one corner of the work room, dead camera eyes glaring out from it.  There was no evidence of live test subjects at the moment, which left Sans more relieved than he cared to admit; he didn’t need any reminders of how far Alphys had fallen.

“So.  Why are you here, Sans?”

She looked irritated, and probably with good reason.  He decided to lead off with a peace offering.  “Here,” he said, removing the broken cameras and microphone from his inventory and putting them gently on a nearby work desk.  “Thought you might like these back, for a start.”

“YOU...YOU ASSHOLE!!!”

Okay, so, that plan was a bust.  “Why’re you yellin’ at me? I ain’t the one who broke ‘em.”

“THE HELL YOU WEREN’T, YOU…AGH...SH...PFFFFFF!”  She sputtered, as if no language she knew could adequately convey her outrage.

“Really, though, I’m just doin’ you a favor here.  You could thank me.”

The hand gesture she made was somewhat less than polite and not really useful to a skeleton.

After a bit more sputtering and a few failed attempts at obscenity, she did eventually scuttle over to the work desk to evaluate her equipment.  She sniffed a little at the torn wires and immediately started scavenging replacements from the mechanical nightmare in the corner.

“What are you here for, a-anyways?” she asked, once she was settled in with a pair of wire strippers and some tiny screwdrivers.  “You aren’t exactly the philanthropic t-type.”

“Well, as it happens, I need access to files.”

“Which ones?”

“The ones on what’s-her-face...y’know, the freak who attacked the ambassador.”

“Graciela Lira?  What do you need to know about her for?”

Sans grinned wide.  “You’re not supposed to ask questions about that.  King’s orders.”

“I wa-wasn’t...I was wondering aloud!  Y-you jackass!”

“Oh, sure.  The king’ll love to hear how you’re ‘wondering aloud’ about things you’re not supposed to question.  Or maybe the queen will be interested?  You had another loooong talk with her a few weeks back, didn’t you?”

“How the hell did you find out about that?!?”

“I’m a skeleton of ineffable mystery.”  Also, he was a patron at Grillby’s and was good at going unnoticed while certain individuals got roaringly drunk.  And if one of those individuals knew someone who knew someone who was a member of the Queen’s Guard, well, that wasn’t Sans’s fault, now was it?

Whatever Alphys grumbled under her breath probably wasn’t pleasant, but it was quiet enough to ignore.  He glanced around her workspace as she shuffled off to grab his files.

She’d been working on something that was shaped vaguely like a hand, but with unpleasantly long fingers.  It wasn’t finished - the palm was an open mess of wires and half the fingers were still in pieces - but the quality of the work looked good, from what he could see.  The framework had the bluish tinge of new metal and the neat bundles of tiny wires were coated with bright rubber.  This wasn’t scavenged; this was being built from new materials.

A loud thud shocked him out of his examination.  “Here’s your crap,” Alphys muttered.  “It can’t leave the lab.  There’s an empty o-office in the back.  Now get l-lost and stop messing with my projects.”

The three-ring binder Alphys had retrieved was hefty, and seemed to contain more loose pages than punched ones.  “And you couldn’t just put this on a thumb drive...why?”

The lizard grumbled something about security and how paper couldn’t be hacked.  Her paranoia had only gotten worse, apparently.

“Also, I heard you have video files?”

A DVD rolled lazily into his line of sight.  Sans looked askance at her.

“Can’t put video on paper,” she sighed.  “And the king forbade me from using cassettes y-years ago.  Probably because I used a security tape to s-strangle an uncooperative test subject that one time…”

Oooookay.  “Welp!  I’m off.  You want me to just leave this back there or…?”  He waved the binder.

“Yeah, just...w-wait, I almost forgot.”  She pulled a small black box out of a drawer in her desk and tossed it at him.  “Now get your boney a-ass out of here before I decide to s-stick a needle in it.”

“Why, Alph!  I didn’t know you cared!”

He dodged a small bullet shaped like a scalpel on his way over to the office she’d indicated.  A sigh of relief escaped him once there was a closed door between him and the mad scientist.  That hadn’t been nearly as bad as he’d been expecting; Alphys must be having one of her better days.

He’d nearly been dusted by a wayward laser the last time he’d visited the lab, a few years back.   Between the weird goopy monsters she’d sicced on him (and Tori had not been happy to find out about the goopy monsters) and the magic dampening field she’d been working with, he hadn’t had the room or the energy to teleport.  If he’d been a few moments slower…

Shaking off that line of thinking, he slipped the box into his inventory to examine later and opened the binder.  Pages and pages of printed photos fell out, so he looked them over first.

The young woman in the pictures bore a strange resemblance to Frisk, actually.  He laid his phalanges over a picture of her in a white sundress, standing on a pier over what looked like an endless ocean.  Seeing her in a different light (both literally and figuratively) emphasized the shape of her cheekbones and the point of her nose.  She was built a bit differently - taller and scrawnier than Frisk, if his eye sockets weren’t lying to him - but the way she carried herself was familiar.

‘Course, that could be because humans were a lot harder to tell apart than monsters were.  They all looked so much alike: two arms, two legs, two eyes, one head.  It was confusing.  He set aside the pictures and flipped through the binder until he found Alphys’s summary.  Why she was the one in charge of summarizing the report Sans wasn’t sure, but the Royal Scientist had many responsibilities that were a little strange.  It probably kept her out of trouble, so that was a plus.

The document was messy, full of crossed out words and handwritten notes.  Alphys had never gotten into the habit of using a computer for her reports, or - at the very least - using white-out instead of scribbling over herself when she made mistakes.  He sighed; he was lazy, but at least he could write neatly enough when it counted.

What he gathered from the haphazardly-written pages was this:

Graciela Lira was born Maria Lopez roughly 32 years back.  She was the second-oldest of seven children born to a human baker and her mage husband.  Little Maria had been a problem child from a young age - there were old school reports attached that some reporter had dug up, showing everything from absenteeism to outright assault of other students - but her family insisted that it was because of mental illness.  Her grades were surprisingly good, despite that.

Which made figuring out her mental illness somewhat challenging.  Sans was personally of the opinion that the girl was just a little shit, but apparently she had been sent from doctor to doctor in search of a diagnosis.  Someone had finally pegged her with some kind of behavioral disorder (the terminology didn’t make a lot of sense to him) and given her enough medication to make her parents happy.  She’d seen some kind of shrink through high school and medical school, then had abruptly stopped shortly after.

Interestingly, the time when Maria stopped her appointments corresponded very closely to the breaking of the barrier.  There were some scribbled notes in the margins of the report that indicated Alphys had realized this as well, though Sans couldn’t make out what, exactly, she was so excited about.  Regardless, Maria had seen the news about monsters, then...disappeared.

She showed up a few years later as Graciela Lira, a pediatrician specializing in monsters.  She was respected by her colleagues but not very well-liked.  Her official record revealed that she had been involved in three accidents that ended in monster children dusting, but she had been cleared of any fault.  Sans made a note to look into those further; accidents happened, even in healing, but it wouldn’t hurt to be sure.

And...that was it.

The copy of the human investigative report (typed up very neatly) gave a little more detail.  Graciela had no friends, and didn’t keep in touch with her family.  No significant other.  The only hobby she’d admitted to was her involvement in some kind of anti-religion protest group; nothing that gave any sign of resentment against monsters.

Although...there was something interesting in one of the interview transcripts the human police had attached.  There were rumors (unconfirmed, unfortunately) that Graciela had been involved in a group called Equality for All shortly out of college.  Despite the name, the goals of the group had been downright sinister: complete segregation of humans and monsters under the guise of “equal rights.”

Sans remembered meeting with their representatives when monsters first came to the surface and he’d found himself dragged into all kinds of political debates to provide “a different perspective.”  They had spun some pretty story about safety and equality, painting vivid pictures of how “oppressed” monsters couldn’t be expected to live with their “oppressors,” but when Tori supported an integrated monster-human school system they had gotten upset.  Really upset.  Throwing-rocks-through-school-windows upset.

They had even started attacking people in the street, in broad daylight, claiming that those people were "monster haters."  Actually...now that he thought about it, some of those protests were recorded.  The group had never gained widespread support, but the videos had helped push public opinion in favor of monsters and against EFA, especially when Tori had been ambushed for a few hours by the group after one of her meetings.  Maybe something useful was still floating around on the internet.

The laptop that Alphys had left him was powered, but not connected to the internet.  Of course.  He sighed, but popped the DVD in anyways.

It was the security footage of the attack, neatly edited down to the actual events in question.  The attack had been recorded from two different angles, shown side-by-side on the screen.  Graciela had entered the room, woken Sans up, and sent him and Attie outside.  After they were gone, she had very quickly swapped out Frisk’s medicine bag with the one she’d been carrying.  She didn’t consult one of those tablets the doctors carried around, or even the screen on the wall above Frisk’s bed.

As she was making the switch, Frisk had woken up and asked her something.  The audio was too low to make out what was said, but Frisk apparently took issue with the response and began struggling, forcing Graciela to hold her down.  That was when the door opened and Sans and Attie walked in.  The rest of the fight went as Sans remembered it, but he looked it over just in case.

Graciela clearly hadn’t been expecting any resistance.  She carried no weapons (the police report confirmed that nothing unusual had been found on her) and didn’t appear to be trained in any kind of combat.  Her swings had been wide, uncoordinated and easily dodged.

So...why risk her job, her reputation, and possibly even her life to attack Frisk?

On that note: if she really was part of EFA, why would she attack the monster ambassador?  Sure, the group was hardly working in the best interests of monsters, but most of them had at least gone after people who were supposedly working against monsters, regardless of what the truth actually was.  Attacking people who disagreed with her also seemed like an odd hobby for a nurse who primarily worked with monster children.  Unless…

Sans cursed the lack of internet access in the lab.  He really needed to get out.  He closed the laptop, stuck his notepad back in his inventory, and stepped back out into the hallway...and promptly tripped.

He glanced down.  “Ugh...really, Alph?”

A stuttering chuckle came from further down the hallway.  “Oh, don’t mind me…”

The object he’d tripped over was a small shirt.  A small striped shirt.  “You know you’re not s’posed to experiment on kids, you sicko.”

“Ha...ha...ha...and are you going to stop me, Sans?”

He followed her voice into a small examination room.  A little maroon fire elemental was strapped to a table, dressed in only a medical gown.  The kid looked like she’d been struggling; and from the look of the scalpel the mad scientist was holding, she had good reason to.

“Alphys,” he said, carefully keeping his voice slow and even, “That’s enough.  Let the kid go.”

“Nooo…”

“Let the kid go, Alphys.  Do you really wanna get in trouble again?”

“But I need to,” she whined, inching closer to the examination table.  “I have to...you d-don’t understand!  The way it feels, to hold a life in your hands...to watch someone wriggle and fight...to see the light leave their eyes as you-”

The blue bone that went through the arm holding the scalpel was half-formed, but it held.

“S-Sans, stop!  D-don’t hurt me!”

“No one has to get hurt here.  Just don’t move and let me take the kid.”

“I...I can’t!  No one will miss it!  It’s just an orphan k-kid!”

“You gonna tell me how to get the kid out, or do I gotta make you?”

There was a long pause.  The fire girl on the table had returned from wherever she’d gone in her head and was shaking, her little pointed face turned towards Sans.  He’d known Grillby long enough to read elementals’ expressions a bit, and he could plainly see her desperation.

Finally, Alphys nodded.  “O-okay.  Fine.  Whatever.  A-asshole.  Locks are on a c-combination.  4357.”

He left her pinned while he tried out the code, and to his surprise it actually worked.  The girl flinched when he pulled the restraints off but didn’t fight him.  She didn’t let him pick her up, though, and instead wiggled off the table to stand beside him on shaky legs, arms clutched around her in a sad parody of a hug.

“We’re gonna head out,” Sans said to the room in general.  “The bone’ll vanish when we get out of here.”

Alphys didn’t like that and tried to struggle, but only succeeded in lowering her HP by a few points.  She growled something surprisingly obscene at him when he stuck a second blue bone through one foot for good measure.

“Right back at ya.  It’s been fun, as always.”

The fire girl followed him back down the hallway, through the work rooms, up the ladder and out of the lab.  To his surprise, she didn’t immediately bolt, but trailed him at an easy distance until he reached a small alcove free of surveillance equipment.

“So.  Kid.  What’s your name?”

“Pele,” she whispered...out loud and in English, actually, which was surprising.  “...Thanks.”

“Eh, ‘ts nothin’, kid.  Now.  Is Alphys right ‘bout you not havin’ a place to go?”

“...Yes…”

“Hmm.”  An idea began to form in Sans’s head.  It was a stupid idea.  A really, really stupid idea.  But then, weren’t all his ideas stupid ones?  “Hey.  If you wanna stay here for a bit, there aren’t any cameras.  I have another place you can go were I might be able to get you some more help. At least you’ll be safe.  I can, uh, run and grab you some better clothes first; I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable.”

“...Why…?”

“Why do you havta wear clothes, or why am I gonna grab you clothes?”

“...Why...help…?”

“Oh.  Heh.”  It was a good question, actually.  Monsters didn’t really do things like that unless they were related or stupid, but he’d already justified that to himself.  “Let’s just say you remind me of someone.  And that I’ll take any chance I get to piss Alphys off.  How’s that?”

“...Okay…”

He hesitated as he left.  There wasn’t any guarantee that the girl - Pele - would be there when he returned.  Sans remembered living on the street; if someone had swooped in, rescued him, and offered to buy him clothes he would’ve been extremely skeptical.  And possibly violent.

But...what else could he do?  Leave her in Alphys’s hands?

There was a small store that catered to fire-type monsters not too far from the lab.  It was open and rather busy; even the fire monsters who lived on the surface had a hard time during winter, and many chose to split their time between the surface and the Underground.  Sans grabbed a striped shirt and some pants - guessing at sizes - and got in line behind a rather feisty Madjik.

The pyrope cashier eyed him very strangely.  “Is this for...you?”

“No.  Uh.  Friend’s kid wrecked her clothes, ‘n he called in a favor to have me pick up more.”

“Ah.  What kind of monster?”

“Elemental.  Fire elemental.”

“I see.  You’ll want the ones on the yellow rack in the corner, then, or you’ll be right back here in ten minutes.  Not that I’d mind the business, of course, but I don’t want a kid to suffer because you’re a moron.”

Sans found the rack the pyrope had pointed out and grabbed a different set of clothes.  These ones, he noticed, had tags in Elemental instead of Monster: a good sign, he guessed.

His purchase was rung up without too much hassle (though the pyrope clearly disapproved of his fashion choices) and he made his way back towards the alcove.  The girl was still there, waiting for him, although from the way she jumped when he turned the corner he suspected she trusted him about as much as he trusted her.

Fair enough.

“Hey.  I’ve got a change of clothes for ya.  Wanna pop back behind that rock there and get changed?”

The girl did as he asked, confusion evident in her every movement.  She returned with the burnt remains of her medical gown in one hand and a cheeky grin on her face.

“So.  Uh.  I have a friend on the Surface who’s always complainin’ about not havin’ enough help.  I think you’d like ‘im.  He gets a little fired up sometimes, but he’s alright.  You wanna go see ‘im?”

“...Okay…?”

The walk out of Hotland was long, both because Pele’s legs were even shorter than Sans’s and because she refused to get close enough for him to teleport them both to the Surface.  By the time they finally reached the entrance, it was dark.  He was probably late for his shift.

Sans had resigned himself to a long, long walk down the mountain when he turned and...the kid wasn’t there.  He backtracked a little.  “Heh.  Haven’t seen the sky, huh, kid?”

“...No…”

“Gotcha.”  He relaxed his shoulders and let his skull fall back.  The stars really were something.

“...We...can go...now,” she said after a few minutes of stargazing.  She looked a little overwhelmed, and she hadn’t even seen the humans yet.

Sans grinned.  “Sure thing, kid.”

Making his way back through the layers of magical protection was a little harder with a tag-along.  He knew how to avoid sentries and keep from setting off alarms, but it was more draining than traveling alone.  At least by the time they reached the edge of the outermost barrier, the kid had relaxed enough to let him hold her hand.

After several teleports (during which Pele seized up in a concerning way) the pair found themselves in the alleyway behind Grillby’s.

“Well, here we are,” Sans said.

Pele looked around very slowly, like she thought he’d drop her off in some random back alleyway.

The skeleton grinned and knocked on the bar’s back door.  It took a few minutes, but a familiar grumpy face appeared.

“...Sans…” Grillby growled, before switching to his own native language.  “What are you up to this time?”

“Got a...a business proposition for ya,” Sans said, shifting to one side.

Grillby’s grip on the door tightened, and his flames flared ominously.   “Pele?  Is that…”

Sans stared at the items in his hands.  Why he’d ever thought this was a good idea was beyond him.

It had started off so simply.  In the Underground, clothing either had to be made by hand or repurposed from whatever fell into the old dump in Waterfall.  It had been Sans’s job to clothe himself and his brother, and he’d been...decent at it.  They were hardly fashionable (Papyrus had started dressing himself as soon as he was physically able, and wound up looking like a goth Halloween decoration) but they had adequate protection against attacks and the elements.

So.  Soon after Papyrus declared himself Boss and began enforcing his rule with more violence than Sans had been comfortable with, he’d found a door.  It was stupid - he couldn’t open it, and without some idea of what lay beyond he really couldn’t teleport to the other side - but he’d liked the door.  It represented something new, something different.  Something to hope for.  An escape.

Kinda like the barrier, now that he thought about it.

And yeah, okay, he may have told a few shitty jokes to himself out there, just for the sake of hearing his own voice, but it wasn’t like he’d expected anyone to talk back to him.

And yet, someone had.  Tori - though he hadn’t known she was Toriel, Queen of Monsters at the time - was funny.  Depressed as hell, and more than a little morbid, but when she put her mind to it she was hilarious.  For someone who hadn’t heard a decent joke in years, even from his own mouth, she was a small miracle.

They bonded over dumb jokes and self-loathing, even if they would never have admitted to either.  Maybe it was their sincere love of bad jokes, or maybe it was because there was a very solid door between them, but they became...allies, of a sort.

As allies, they exchanged stories and experiences.  Sans heard all about life in the Ruins (the most boring place in the Underground) and Tori heard about Snowdin (a very close second).  Once they realized that their respective lives were awfully dull, they moved on to something a little more practical: survival tips.

Like her daughter, Tori had an impressive fashion sense...and was very aware of the fact that Sans did not.  She was hardly subtle about it.  When he’d described the clothes he and his brother wore, she immediately offered her collection of knitting and crocheting patterns for him to choose from.  Yarn made from spun fiber was fairly common in the Underground, thanks in part to Muffet and her wild bands of spider mercenaries, so he agreed. He was never sure how she got them outside the door - there was never evidence of any evidence that it opened in any way - but from time to time he would find carefully copied patterns waiting for him at his spot.

He’d gotten pretty good at crocheting, actually, before everything went to hell in a handbasket.

Sans would’ve been content to live his life that way: avoiding Boss, swapping dumb jokes with Tori, slacking off work and bugging Grillby.  A few cases as the Judge here and there, a few run-ins with Muffet, maybe a trip over to MTT’s arena if he needed to blow off some steam; everything was pretty good.

Then Alphys - mad scientist that she was - tried to come up with ‘the ultimate weapon’ and accidentally brought a certain prince back to life as a weepy, over-sensitive flower with horrifying powers, and Sans’s life had gone to shit.

Which led, more or less directly, to a skeleton sitting at his sentry post one evening in the middle of December with a bunch of soft brown yarn and a crochet hook he barely remembered how to use.

He had pulled and reworked the little disk he was trying to make several times already, but it still looked lumpy and misshapen to his eye sockets.  With a sigh, he pulled the trailing end of the yarn to unravel his stitches - again - and grabbed the pattern out of his inventory.

What he was trying to make was a hat and mittens.  Simple, right?  He’d made much more complicated things Underground.  Hell, he’d made Boss’s first few undershirts for his Royal Guard uniform; the Guard had armor aplenty, but hadn’t been equipped to deal with someone as...skinny as Boss.  Some sort of padding to protect bone from harsh metal - and to keep the large armor on at all - was necessary, but trying to crochet around bones without a reliable pattern was awful.

He’d gone through a lot of yarn on those undershirts, more than he could’ve afforded at the time if he’d been inclined to pay.  That was probably when Muffet had started that bounty on his head.

The point being, he should have been able to pick crocheting right back up.  It was easy.  Once upon a time he’d practically been able to do it in his sleep.  He probably had done it in his sleep at least once.

But no matter how he twisted and looped and tucked and wrapped, everything kept coming out lopsided.  The urge to tear the wimpy human yarn apart was growing stronger.  Hmph.  Muffet was one of the monsters who hadn’t elected to move to the Surface - she was ruling her extended family-slash-crime syndicate from a roomy cave on the border between Waterfall and Hotland, last he’d heard - but maybe he could armor up and pay her a visit?

Nah.  He didn’t have the guts to go back to the Underground so soon after his confrontation with Asgore.

(Heh!)

He dutifully made a new loop and started crocheting a few stitches.  He wanted to give up, but...sentry duty was terribly boring after dark.  He adjusted his lantern so he could see better, then carefully connected his row together so it formed a small circle.

Well.  That try didn’t look half bad, actually.  Maybe he was actually getting somewhere.  He made a few chain stitches and started on the second row.

It took him a few more false starts, but he managed to create what looked like a small skullcap by the time one of the heavy-armored guards who hailed from Hotland stomped up to his post, leaving steaming footsteps in the snow.

“...,” said the guard.  “... ….”

Sans narrowed his eye sockets at the guard.  “Whatever, pal.  You here to take over?”

“....”

“Ooookay.”  He barely remembered to snatch his project and slip it into his inventory before leaving his sentry post and heading back into town.

‘Christmas present in progress,’ his inventory called it.  He felt his skull turning colors.  How...embarrassing.  Accurate, but embarrassing.  Why did magic have to work on intent, anyways?

Okay, so he’d decided to make Frisk a Christmas gift.  She was human; Christmas was a human holiday.  If only she was a monster...but no.

Monsters were so much easier to deal with, sometimes.  Their winter holiday - Takersfaire - was traditionally a time when everyone put out the crap they didn’t want in booths, and folks snuck around and stole what they liked from other booths.  It kept them sharp, especially on the Surface where stealing was generally discouraged.

And sure, humans sometimes celebrated Takersfaire (even if they were too nice about it; most wouldn’t even take a half-hearted swing at a monster caught stealing from their booths) but he didn’t know if Frisk was one of them.  He’d never seen her steal anything while watching his and Boss’s booth, but then again that was the point.

So...Christmas gift it was.

He felt stupid.  He and Frisk were barely kind-of friends.  But...he’d been cleaning out his closet, looking for a place to hide his new sock collection, and he’d come across his folder of crochet patterns.  There was a pattern for a neat hat with matching mittens that he’d never gotten a chance to try, and on a whim he’d picked up some yarn while he was getting socks and gloves for his uniform.

Frisk just happened to be the only human adult he really knew; that was it.  And the mittens, at least, were clearly designed for a human; he wasn’t sure how Tori had gotten ahold of the pattern, now that he thought about it.  They were far too small for her and far too big for a skeleton, at least without serious modification.

He was going to justify it by making a matching set for Attie, but Christmas was only two weeks away.  With the way his crochet skills were going he doubted he’d be able to finish anything.

Sans shuffled into his apartment (Boss was gone again) and flopped onto his couch.  He didn’t know where this motivation to make things was coming from.  Maybe it was because he’d taken to secretly working out between jobs sometimes; Undyne had been getting on his case, and he’d noticed shifts in his magic from the exertion.  It was almost like he was...getting more energy, or something.

Mostly, it made him twitchy.

He sighed and took the ‘Christmas present in progress’ out of his inventory.  Might as well do something useful.

That was his routine over the next week or so.  He got up, went to his jobs, worked out (but not too much; he had a reputation to uphold) and slowly made progress on Frisk’s present.  He was getting better at stitching; by the time he finished up the mittens, he was no longer pulling out rows for uneven stitches.  He did have to redo a good portion of the left mitten because he’d gotten stressed out and pulled the stitches too tight, but that was just because he was a neurotic mess.

He was sitting in his sentry station one evening having just finished tying off the second mitten when he got a text from Undyne.

Capn Undie 4:52 PM SO You ARE coming to Takersfaire in New Home, RIGHT???

Shit.  Right.  Takersfaire was that evening.  He knew he’d told Boss he wasn’t going, so he was probably working...right?  He checked his inventory.  The crumpled piece of scrap paper he’d written his work schedule on was one of five items labeled ‘Piece of junk,’ so it took him a bit to find it.

You 5:03 PM Uh u have me working a double shift 2nite

Capn Undie 5:12 PM CRAP I DO

You 5:15 PM Yeah bcuz the dogi r still out Puppies need food n stuff Who knew

Capn Undie 5:20 PM BUT THEN WHO WILL WATCH YOUR BOOTH???

You 5:22 PM Boss…?

Capn Undie 5:25 PM NO HE’S TOO HARD ON THE KIDS YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO DUST KIDS ON TAKERSFAIRE

You 5:30 PM Wait he dusted a kid? When was this?

Capn Undie 5:34 PM Nah, I got him in time BUT HE ALMOST DID

You 5:39 PM I dont know what u want me to do about it

Capn Undie 5:43 PM I WANT YOU TO Wait Oh.  Nevermind.

You 5:48 PM So am I working or what Hello Undyne? Hello?

He leaned back in his seat, propping his feet up against his sentry post.  Weird.  What was that about?

Sans hadn’t actively participated in Takersfaire since he was a babybones, but he did usually watch his and Boss’s booth.  He hated it.  Strong monsters sometimes used Takersfaire as a time to show off: the fancier the booth, the more confident its owner was that he’d be able to hold onto all his items.  It ran a little contrary to the spirit of things, but traditions were weird.

Because Boss was Boss, the skeleton brothers’ booth was always one of the most elaborate in the Kingdom of Monsters.   Also because Boss was Boss, most of the items were bones.  There were a few real goodies as well - electronics that Sans fixed up, plates of whatever Boss’s favorite dish was, envelopes of money, etc. - but mostly it was bones.  Bone attacks, at that, just to make things a little less fair.   Touching them wasn’t exactly what most folks would call safe.  And yet, Sans was expected to guard it.  And stay awake while doing so.

It worried Sans that Boss had taken the news that he was on duty during Takersfaire so well.  A calm Boss always had something up his sleeve.  He had no idea what it could be, though.

About an hour later, Sans was woken up from his usual nap by his text alert.

Capn Undie 6:55 PM *1 picture message received PUT YOUR EYE SOCKETS ON THIS

The picture was Undyne in full armor, posing dramatically, her helmet was tucked under one arm and the other around the shoulders of a human woman.  The woman was wearing a beaked mask of dramatic red and orange feathers that matched the hues of her long, flowing dress.  Sans couldn’t place the outfit's reference (some sort of bird??), but after a careful examination he was stunned to recognize the woman as Frisk.

He was so distracted that he almost missed Attie by Frisk’s side, which would have been a tragedy.  Her face was painted in an obvious facsimile of a skull, and she was wearing a hooded onesie with the pattern of a skeleton printed on it.  He considered being mildly offended (humans and their obsession with naked skeletons were a source of constant confusion for him) but Attie had put a pink skirt on over top.

You 7:04 PM Wow I dont recognize those monsters Who r they?

Capn Undie 7:10 PM *3 picture messages received

The first two pictures were both of a twirling Attie.  Behind her was a booth decorated in ribbons and strands of beads, a large Delta Rune symbol on the front.  The ambassador and her daughter had brought what looked like chocolate cookies in cheerful baggies, as well as some small toys and colorful pieces of clothing.  There was nothing particularly expensive, but the items were personal and useful...especially to those who still lived in the Underground.

The final picture was of Frisk.  She was looking at something off to her left, her head turned to expose the gentle curves of her neck and shoulders.  One hand was raised, lifting the mask just enough to reveal her face.  She was smiling, the same way she always smiled at Attie.

On the table behind her, one of the bags of cookies was missing.

Sans put his head down on the counter of his station, trying to control his trembling arms.   This was the woman he’d killed - sometimes slowly and painfully - dozens of times.  Maybe hundreds of times.  His memories of previous timelines had always been a little fuzzy; he didn’t know, really, how much pain he’d caused her.

And yet…

Don’t.  Don’t even think it.  It’s pointless.  It will only bring heartbreak.

...and yet...some part of him seemed to gravitate towards her.  She wasn’t just the young woman who broke the barrier, or the Kingdom of Monsters’ primary ambassador, or even Attie’s mother.  She wasn’t just someone he’d had an on-and-off passive-aggressive feud with for the past eight years.

She was someone who cared enough to advocate on his behalf.  He had no doubt that she was the one who had sicced Undyne on him.  Undyne rarely cared for anyone but herself (unless caffeine was involved), and yet she’d gone out of her way to help him on multiple occasions.  She’d befriended him.

He owed Frisk a lot.

Staying out of her life so he wouldn’t drag her down seemed like a small price to pay for all she’d done for his sorry ass, but…

“Attie misses you.”

...was that really the best option?  He really didn’t know what was “best” anymore.  He was beginning to doubt that Boss knew what was best, and the past ten years of his life had revolved around the fact that Boss always knew what was best.  The obvious course of action would be to talk to Frisk or someone close to her, but his soul clenched at the thought.

It was a fear of rejection, he realized.  If Undyne or Tori or someone else who knew Frisk well told him to stay away from her, he would have no reason to wonder.  He would have no reason to hope.  It was...more frightening than he wanted to admit.

Capn Undie 7:58 PM OI BONEHEAD!!!! ARE YOU ASLEEP???

You 8:05 PM Nah They look cool Thanks for the pics

Capn Undie 8:07 PM YEAH!!!  They clean up nice, don’t they? Hey, Attie wants to stop by your station after this.

You 8:10 PM You wanna let a kid go tramping down the mountain in the dark and the cold? Also it just started snowing Again

Capn Undie 8:19 PM Fishsticks Frisk got pulled into a meeting Maybe another time BUT I’m gonna take LOTS more pictures So many pictures it’s gonna BLOW YOUR PHONE UP But I’m NOT gonna send them to you YET I HAVE A PLAN GO VISIT ALPHYS SOON I PUT UP WITH HER FOR AN HOUR AND I WON’T LET IT GO TO WASTE

You 8:31 PM Fine

Sans groaned.  He’d been putting off going to see Alphys as long as possible (her broken surveillance equipment was still burning a hole in his inventory), but it looked like his luck had run out.  He really did need to see her records, and if Undyne was willing to consult the Royal Scientist about something...well.  It was probably important.

Everyone knew Undyne and Alphys had hated each other for years, ever since that little incident where Alphys had ‘accidentally’ added something experimental to the captain’s tea during a meeting, and Undyne had responded by trying to get the scientist fired.  Neither had ever forgiven the other, though Alphys remained disturbingly obsessed in that odd way she tended to fixate.

Regardless, Sans had a pretty good idea of what Alphys was messing with, and he didn’t blame Undyne for her reaction.  It was one of the reasons he avoided Alphys in general.  If she was trying to dose people with what he thought she was using…

He put his head back onto the sentry station counter.  Dozing through the rest of his shift seemed like a great option.  He almost managed it, too, but a distant bark from Lesser Dog at the next station over woke him up about half an hour before the end of their shift.

Teleporting over, he evaluated the situation.  There was an abundance of dog tracks in the thin layer of snow, but Lesser Dog was...completely fine??

“Heya, LD.  Heard your alert.  What’s up?”

*Lesser Dog is fine!  And not hiding anyone!*

“Uh-huh.  Do I need to get Undyne?”

*No!*

“‘Cause you know she’ll be upset if she has to leave her party to deal with something out here.”

*Lesser Dog is not hiding anyone!*

“LD…”

A shifting under Lesser Dog’s station revealed two white pointed ears and a small black nose against the backdrop of snow.  The nose twitched, then retreated.

Lesser Dog tried - and failed - to look like he hadn’t noticed.

“And who was that?

The sentry gave a huff and woofed something Sans didn’t catch.  A sleek grey female dog and a white puppy wiggled out from under the wooden counter, ears pulled back and tails low.

It took him a moment to recognize Lesser Dog’s mate and pup.  The puppy had been born not long before Frisk fell into the Underground, and was - if Sans recalled correctly - the only survivor from his litter.  He didn’t know how long dog monsters took to grow up, but the pup was still in stripes.  So...longer than actual dogs, then.

“Celebratin’ Takersfaire, then?”

*Yes,* the female woofed.  *Darker Dog was a bad girl for bringing Tiny Dog up here.  Sorry.  Please do not report Lesser Dog to fish-captain.*

The sadistic part of Sans wanted to, just because it was funny watching the dogs squirm.  Besides, he knew Undyne wouldn’t be too hard on them; she needed every available sentry, she didn’t believe in dusting kids, and it wouldn’t make sense to punish Darker Dog when the other two were off the hook.

“Eh, don’t worry about it.  You helpin’ your dad keep an eye out for humans, pup?”

Tiny Dog yipped excitedly.  He clearly shared none of his parents’ concerns about consequences.

“As long as everyone’s safe.  Hey, let me know if you run into any trouble, ‘kay, LD?”

Lesser Dog woofed his surprised agreement and gave his mate a fond lick on the mouth.  Sans immediately retreated back to his own station; the dogs were notoriously shameless when it came to PDA, and he did not need to see that.

He’d just sat down and settled in when his phone buzzed again.  He unlocked it, expecting to see more pictures from Undyne, but was instead greeted by the harsh and imposing features of his younger brother.

Boss 1:44 AM IN YOUR ABSENCE, I HAVE SUCCESSFULLY DEFENDED OUR BOOTH!! *1 picture message received

Boss had decorated the booth himself over the past week, entirely without Sans’s help (for once).  It was black and appeared to be covered in tiny white painted bones of various kinds.  Whatever Boss’s flaws, he had a good eye for style...and a lot of patience with things that held his attention.

An elaborate bone display was set up on and around the booth.  A few plates of something (lasagna, maybe) were barely visible through the latticework, but he couldn’t quite make it out.

You 1:48 AM Nice boss

Boss 1:54 AM I WILL HAVE NONE OF YOUR SLANDER!!! I AM NOT A NICE MONSTER!! I AM CRUEL AND FEARED BY ALL, HUMAN AND MONSTER!! THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS, SCOURGE OF THE UNDERGROUND!! AND ALSO THE SURFACE!!

You 1:59 AM Right of course

Boss 2:01 AM NATURALLY, I AM CORRECT!!

“I’m here to take over for ya,” said a gruff voice.

Sans pocketed his phone and looked up.  “Heya, Doggo.”

Doggo tensed when he stopped moving.  “What?  Hello?  Ya still here?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Grrrrr.  Get out of here, bone bag.”

Sans smirked and walked back towards the barrier.  As soon as he was clear, he teleported straight home.  He didn’t care if Boss punished him for it; two six-hour shifts back to back were exhausting enough without having to walk an hour back into town.

Sans followed the path from the Judgement Hall through the grey corridor to the king’s garden.  It had been years since he’d been there but the flowers looked the same as they ever did: bright green and yellow, providing comically cheerful contrast to the dilapidated and faded walls of the palace and the violence that took place within.

Like the hall, the throne room appeared to be undergoing renovations.  Parts of the crumbling walls had been torn down and cleared away, and there were a few pallets of stone brick waiting to be put in place.

“Frisk insisted on making our home a little more presentable, now that we have the resources,” the king said from somewhere behind Sans.

He jumped.  For such a big monster, Asgore sure was quiet when he wanted to be.  “Your majesty,” he mumbled with a sharp bow.

“Sans.”  Asgore passed him and continued on to the thrones in the center of the room, settling himself on the largest one.  Tori’s, which had been a mess of bent metal for as long as he could remember, had been either rebuilt or repaired and placed at Asgore’s right.  To his left was a smaller, simpler chair with the Delta Rune carefully painted across the top.

It took Sans a moment to realize that he was distracted by the scenery.  He jerked his attention back to his king.  “S-sorry.”

“Do pay attention.  I called you here to discuss you taking up a certain job you previously held.”  He held out one giant paw.  It took Sans a moment to register that a small, familiar badge was being offered to him.

It was...not unexpected; after Undyne’s unsubtle hints that morning, it was one of the outcomes he’d considered.  Still, he felt his knees shaking.  That badge - a small, black circle with an insignia heavily embroidered in red - was something he’d never hoped to see again.

He took it carefully, ensuring that his sharpened claws didn’t scratch the material.  “...Why?” he finally asked, not daring to glance up at the huge monster hovering over him.

“It is your position.  Just because you threw your badge away does not make you any less the Royal Judge.  You have been on hiatus, yes, but we have need of a Judge once again.”

Sans took a deep breath, trying to still himself and think.  “What...happened?  I thought we were getting along with humans?”

“Are you questioning your king?”  Asgore’s tone was one of idle curiosity, but the implied threat was clear.

“N-no, just trying to get the facts.”

The giant horned head tilted slightly in acknowledgement.  “That is...reasonable, considering your position.  Very well.

“About a month ago, my daughter - Ambassador Frisk Dreemurr - was attacked while recovering from a serious illness that nearly claimed her life.  I am told you were involved in that situation, correct?”

Sans nodded.

“The aggressor, a human woman who sought to weaken the Kingdom of Monsters, was apprehended by the Royal Guard soon after the fact.  She was passed into human custody in accordance with the agreements between our peoples, but the human courts did not...find enough evidence to punish her, or so we were told. The hospital's refusal to hand over certain documents did not help.

“The humans were persuaded to give us a say in the matter.  Since she attacked one of our citizens - a member of our royal family, no less - this woman has committed crimes against the Kingdom of Monsters directly.  We have agreed to judge her fairly in accordance with our laws.”

It made a sick, horrible kind of sense.  In the years since the fall of the Barrier, most monsters had moved to the surface.  Crime on the surface was dealt with by human cops and the Royal Guard, depending on jurisdiction.  Sans knew from living with the Vice Captain of the Guard that particularly serious or delicate cases were referred directly to Asgore or Tori, respectively.

Any incidents involving humans had, as far as he knew, been handled as diplomatic affairs and processed through the Embassy.  The humans hadn’t refused to punish one of their own who’d attacked a monster before; even before they were made citizens, humans had treated them fairly in that regard.

Then again, Frisk wasn’t biologically a monster.  In the eyes of humans, this was probably just a case of a human attacking another human. To monsters, this was a human attacking the most important monsters in the kingdom.

And there was one person in the Underground charged specifically - though not exclusively - with passing judgement upon humans who had wronged monsters.

“You will not be expected to take up all the duties of Judge right away,” Asgore said.  “You will focus on this singular case for the time being.  If another serious incident takes place between now and then, we shall adjust your duties accordingly.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Your conditions of employment are the same as they were previously.  That will change, given the circumstances, but for now you will be held to the terms you agreed to when you first took this position.  I still have your old contract if you wish to review it.  You may tell no one of your involvement and must keep to your normal schedule.  If we have need of you, either to judge a human or a monster, you shall be summoned and an appropriate excuse given.”

“‘kay.”

“What was that?”

“...Yes, your majesty.”

Asgore rose from his throne, looking out at the carpet of flowers.  “You have some time to prepare for the confrontation.  It has been delayed until after the holidays while we attempt to settle the diplomatic side.  Dr. Alphys has been ordered to give you access to any and all information you ask for without question; I recommend availing yourself of that.  Should the humans protest our judgement, we may need to give them evidence.”

“Yes, your majesty.  Uh...where will the judgement be held?”

“In the usual spot.  I am sure you saw the repairs in progress.  We have teams of monsters working to ensure that it will be ready for use by the appointed time.”

There was a long pause.  Sans tried to think of anything to say and came up short.  (He very deliberately did not laugh at that thought.)  The king was much more...stable than he’d been back in the old days, probably due to some serious therapy, but his temper was still unpredictable at best and explosive at worst.

“Very well,” Asgore said finally.  “You may go.  Either the queen or I will contact you in a few weeks to evaluate your progress and establish new parameters for you to operate under.”

“Thanks, your majesty.”

Sans ducked out of the throne room and leaned against a crumbling brick wall, trying to calm himself.  It felt like his soul was getting ready to pound out of his chest from the stress and anxiety.

He was alive, though.  That was good.

In his distraction, he forgot about Frisk’s weird barrier.  He wound up teleporting a little closer to it than he intended and instinctively braced himself against the harsh snap of her magic...only to be wrapped up in a big fuzzy blanket of happy curiosity and welcomeness that made his skull turn colors.

He wouldn’t have any trouble crossing that particular barrier for the time being, he thought wryly.

Of course, that could all change with his new job.  One of his claws worried at the edge of his badge.  Someone had cleaned it up a little; the familiar mustard stain and the ragged bit of cloth that should have been there from when he “retired” were both missing.

Did Frisk know Asgore had made him Judge once again?  Probably not, given her magic’s downright friendly reaction to him.  The one time he’d encountered Frisk as Judge, towards the end of her journey through the Underground, had been...well, unnecessarily harsh, to say the least.  It had been the catalyst for years of antagonism, and not without reason.  Despite what the law said he’d judged her unfairly, he knew; it was one of the reasons he’d tried to give it up.

(That, and the fall of the barrier made a glorious excuse for getting out of the job he hated the most.  He was a lazy asshole at heart, after all.)

To his surprise, Undyne was waiting at his sentry station.  She hid her flinch well, but he caught the tail end of it as he appeared and grounded himself back in reality.

“Uh, hey, Undyne?”

She grinned with all her teeth.  It looked like she still hadn’t gotten any rest.  “Hey, nerd.  Looks like you survived King Stabbybuns, huh.”

“Yeah…?  Why are you here…?”

“Figured I’d catch you on the way back.  Did he ask you?”

“Nope.”

There was a moment where Undyne tried to determine what he meant, and ultimately failed.  She settled for glaring at him with the dark hatred of one who hadn’t had nearly enough sleep to allow for higher brain functions.

He relented.  “When does he ever ask for anything?  Nope, he gave me my badge back and that was that.”

“Huh.  No arguments?  That doesn’t seem like you.”

“Hey, I’m stupid, not suicidal.  I’m not gonna piss ‘im off without a good reason.”

She hummed a little, lounging against his sentry station in a manner that fell just short of being casual.  “And...you’re gonna take the case?”

“...It’s part of the job?  I don’t think I have a choice?”

“Yeah, okay.”  She shifted a little.  “Listen.  So...Papyrus doesn’t have clearance to know about this.  Still.  We figured it would be better, given the circumstances.”

“Circumstances?”

“The Judge of Monsters is a position of respect and authority.  D’you think he’d actually show proper respect if he knew you were the Judge?  I mean, that’s true for most people-”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“SHUT UP!   Anyways, most people’d probably laugh if we told them that you were the Judge, but Papyrus would flip and that would look bad.  So don’t leave your stuff lying around the house or anything.”  She tossed him a key.  “Locker 237, down at the old Pumped Gym.  Papyrus won’t go near the place, the elitist bastard.  Don’t mind the look of the building; the people who run it are real friendly and shit.  Your locker is in the private section so you won’t have to watch naked humans running around.”

“Thanks…?”

She grinned sharply.  “Unless you wanna look at naked humans running around.  ‘Course, they’d be naked human guys, but-”

“Nope, nope, nope, done with this conversation.”

He tried to escape back towards town.  She caught up to him within seconds, still laughing - his short legs were a curse - and slowed down beside him.

“She doesn’t know.”

Sans glanced up.  “Uh, who doesn’t know?”

“Y’know who I’m talking about.  Well, actually, it could be two someones, but... you know.”

“...Spell it out for me?”

“FRISK!” Undyne growled through gritted fangs.  “Frisk doesn’t know, okay?  She has no idea.  Not very many people do; just me, you, and the king and queen. I don't know what happened between you and her before she broke the barrier, but she hasn't made the connection between you and the Judge.”

His mind reeled with the implication.  Frisk...didn’t know?  How??  He pushed the thought aside, glancing back towards his station.  “And the Royal Scientist.”

“Huh?”

“You were talking about it real openly near my sentry post.  I know for a fact that she’s got my station - probably every station - bugged.”

Something hard hit him in the skull without warning and he flinched, but his HP didn’t drop.  He caught the small objects before they fell.  There in his hand was a tiny microphone and a few of the little cameras Alphys favored, all of which had been crudely ripped away from their wires.  “I know when a place is bugged,” was Undyne’s excuse.

“Gee, thanks.  She’s gonna be pissed, and I’ve gotta deal with her to get the info I need for my job.”

“Then you won’t mind returning her stuff to her, right?”

Sans was tempted to throw the equipment right back at her, just on principle, but he shrugged and stuck it in a pocket of his jacket.  If Alphys went looking through her recordings for the person who’d disabled her cameras, she was going to see Undyne.  Watching her try to connect him to Undyne was going to be fun, if potentially explosive, especially with that obsession she had for the captain.

He sighed dramatically.  “If she dusts me, you’re my pick for the next Judge.”

“What??  You can’t be Judge AND Captain of the Royal Guard!”

“Exactly.”

“Tryin’ to get your brother promoted?”

“It’d serve him right.  Heh.  I’ve seen you after a few days on the job.  He’d finally be busy enough that I could grab a drink in peace.  Hell, maybe he’d wear himself out long enough to sleep through the night.”

Undyne snorted.  “Whatever.  I was actually up here for a job; we’re all pulling weird shifts to cover for Dogamy and Dogaressa while they’re out on family leave.”

“You didn’t say anything to me about that…”

“You’re pulling double shifts half the time anyways.  Besides, I know you doze off up here; we need someone actually awake and watching for humans.”

He waved her off and continued on past the outer barrier alone.

The talk with Asgore had been shorter than he expected; he had a couple hours before what should have been his second shift started.  He had some time to process that strange meeting and try to make sense of it.  Asgore was doing much better, but he’d been called the Mad Tyrant for a reason.  Still, Sans felt a little silly for being so nervous leading up to the the talk.

Then again...being appointed Royal Judge was nothing to take lightly.

Few knew the identity of the Judge - it kept the revenge killings to a minimum - so no one knew how the previous Judge had...left the post.  It had happened when Sans was a young teenager, still trying to make ends meet for him and Papyrus, so digging further into the circumstances hadn’t been his top priority.  What everyone did know was that the Judge hadn’t left an heir or an apprentice, so there was no line of succession.

Sans heard about the ‘auditions’ for a new Judge and had gone on a whim, giving some bullshit excuse to his brother for his absence.  It had been brutal.  Half his scars and most of his EXP had come from that one day.  Monsters had been pitted against each other in battle royales, then in groups and one-on-one combat: it had been a bloodbath.

To his surprise, though, it hadn’t just been an outright fight to the death.  All competitors were given masks and numbers to hide their identities from each other, so no one knew if the monsters they were fighting were friends or strangers unless they had the somewhat rare ability to detect the differences between monsters’ magics, or they recognized bullet patterns.  Some had taken advantage of that to gain as much LV as possible; others, like Sans, had taken a more cautious approach.

He’d never been told why he, of all the survivors, had been selected as the Judge.  He’d put up a good showing, but he’d hardly been the strongest person there.  No one had questioned him on his motives or his past.  His number had been called and he’d stepped into a small room with the King of Monsters, sure he was about to be dusted.

Instead he’d been given his badge, a uniform, and a small guidebook that had apparently been passed down from Judge to Judge.

It wasn’t a bad job, most of the time.  His main duty - judging humans who had committed crimes against monsters - had been considered a bit obsolete in the old Underground, but he’d still been called in to preside over a few cases each year that the king didn’t want to deal with.  The traditional stipend wasn’t anything to scoff at; it had paid for the house in Snowdin, even though Boss had declared himself the head of their little household soon after the move.

The guilt that came with the thought of that money was old and easily pushed aside.  Over the years he’d come to terms with the fact that he’d essentially been paid in advance to kill Frisk.

And he had.

Many times.

He was never quite sure how much she remembered of their fights.  Did she forget when she turned back time?  He closed his eye sockets, brow crinkled in thought.  His own memory had been patchy at best during back then, shredded by overexposure to time magic, but he thought he remembered...hadn’t she changed her stance?  Hadn’t she dodged differently after dying?  All the loops ran together; it was hard to tell.

There was no reason she wouldn’t have remembered, since she was the one in charge of the timelines, but...even after eight years of antagonism she’d never brought it up.  She had never asked if he remembered the way her weak human bones had crunched beneath the weight of his magic, if he still knew the smell of her blood on the tile floor.

She’d never asked why, after so many loops, he’d eventually just stepped aside and let her pass without a fight.

Then again, Undyne was under the impression that Frisk didn’t know the Judge’s identity.  Could it be that...that she really didn’t know it was him who’d killed her?  Had she hated him for years just for being himself, not for what he’d done to her?

That train of thought was making his knees shake and his head feel funny, so he shoved it aside.  He had a rare few hours to himself; he decided to check out the locker, then figure out whether he wanted to brave that lair of horrors Alphys called a lab.

Searching for the gym Undyne mentioned took his mind off more unpleasant things.  There were two “Pumped Gym” locations, according to the mapping app on his phone; he picked the closer one and teleported over.

If by “the old Pumped Gym” Undyne had meant “the old run-down, abandoned building that was a gym at one point,” then Sans had wound up in the right place.  It was located in one of the more monster-heavy areas of town, but it looked like it had been empty longer than monsters had been on the surface.  There was some suspicious movement in one of the windows and rather confusing (and possibly obscene) graffiti on the walls; nothing useful.  He ducked back into the alleyway he’d appeared in and teleported again.

The other location was bigger and much more lively.  It was a little shabby, sure, but there was a steady trickle of humans and monsters coming and going.  No one would question one more monster arriving.

Or so he thought.

“Hullo, mister!  Welcome to Pumped Gym!  How may I help you?” asked a bubbly young human woman behind a desk in the lobby.

Sans carefully placed the key from Undyne on the counter.  “My, uh, friend set me up with a locker.  Think she’s trying to trick me into exercising or somethin’.”

The change in the young woman’s face was immediate.  She looked at the tag on they keyring - a plain white plastic oval with his locker number and the gym’s logo - and nodded seriously.  “I’ll get my father.  Please wait right here; I’ll just be a minute.”

Almost exactly a minute later, a tanned, graying man in a tank top and sweats came out of the back room.  He was taller than Papyrus and had muscles that rivalled Undyne’s, but there was a keen intelligence in his piercingly blue eyes that made Sans shift uncomfortably in his sneakers.  This was one guy he didn’t want to face in a real fight.

“So you’re with the Captain of the Royal Guard, hmm?”

“Undyne...set the locker up for me, yeah.”

He eyed Sans for a long moment, then laughed.  Loudly.  “Well!  Any friend of ol’ Gills is a friend of mine!  Name’s Bruce Volks; come back this way and I’ll show you where we have you set up.”

Sans found himself ushered back behind the front desk, through a door marked “PRIVATE,” and down a flight of stairs.  The basement appeared to be composed of a single hallway bent into an angle, lined with yellow lights and numbered doors.  Bruce led him around a corner to a door near the end of the hallway.

“Gills said you’d need some privacy, and that you have your own ways into and out of places.  ‘S that true…uh, mister?”

“Uh, yeah.  And the name’s Sans.  Sans the skeleton.”

“Nice to meet’cha, Sans.  So.  Locker.”  He deftly opened the door with the key and waved Sans inside.  “Most folks share these rooms based on scheduling or preference, but you’ve got this one all t’yourself.  That locker in the corner is yours; feel free to put your own lock on it, or magic it up however you want.  Just don’t do anything we can’t take off when you’re done with it.  Actually,” he scratched his scruffy chin, “If you wanna do something awesome just ask me first.  If it’s cool enough, I’ll let you go for it.”

“Good to know.”  Sans could see why Undyne liked this guy.  He made an effort not to resort to his default crankiness; he didn’t want the captain angry at him.

“Let’s see...what else.  Oh!  Feel free to come and go as you want; front desk opens at 6 AM and closes at 10.  You technically have a membership if you wanna use it.  Though...from what Gills said, we won’t be seeing much of you upstairs.”

“Probably not.  Don’t really have any body to work out with.”

“Hahaha!  Guess not!  Well, if you need to come in after hours...just don’t go wandering around, if you get my drift.  Security won’t alert us if you’re just in this room, but if they catch you outside here they’ll investigate.  As for magic, we only ward our main locker rooms upstairs; these private areas are left up to you to put up whatever protection you want.  That means you’ll have to work around what other folks already have here, so keep that in mind.  D’ya need someone to do any spellwork for you?”

“Nah, I’ve got it.”

“A’right.  Well, I won’t keep you.  Let me or Tanya know if you need anything, okay, Sans?”

“Okay.”  The man was out the door before Sans realized that it probably would have been proper etiquette to thank him.  Oh well.

He looked around at the room he’d been provided.  It was a simple concrete cube, nothing fancy but sturdy enough to hold up under some serious use.  Along one wall sat the actual lockers with a bench in front of it; along the other was a longer bench and a mirror.  A small curtain along the far wall offered access to a toilet and shower.  Ignoring that, he stepped up to the lockers.

Undyne had been down there at some point, he noticed.  A new combination lock sat on the shelf inside the first locker in the row, enthusiastically bright packaging letting him know how difficult it would be to crack and how he could go about setting a combination.  Sans snorted; it was a nice gesture, but he didn’t need it.  Plus, he’d been picking locks like this one since he was a babybones, fresh on the streets.

Neatly hung up on a bar below the shelf was his uniform.  It looked the same as he remembered it, if a bit cleaner.  The magic woven into the fabric snapped a little against his fingers like static; someone must have renewed the enchantments that kept his magic hidden.  It felt like Tori’s work, strong and possessive and a little like a bonfire just barely contained.

His helmet lay in the bottom of the locker.  It was polished, but someone had left fingerprints around the edge.  He grinned; Undyne must have been trying it on.  It looked a lot more comfy than the one she wore as Captain of the Royal Guard, so he didn’t blame her.  He made a mental note to tease her about it all the same.

As he moved to close the locker, his attention was caught by a note taped to the inside of the door:

NERD, Try this on and make sure it fits. ACTUALLY DO IT!!!!!!!!! The magic is new and needs to recognize you. IF YOU WAIT IT WON’T WORK RIGHT!!!!!

Sans sighed.  He could probably get away with draping the uniform over himself and taking a nap on the bench, but he was curious.  He carefully unhooked the hangers and separated the pieces of his uniform.

First he put on the undershirt and pants, both made of black cloth and padded to give his bones a little more...body.  He’d made both himself, but the little patches and tears had been mended with a steadier hand than his.  Over that went his leather gear.  It had been a while since he’d worn it, but someone must have kept it maintained; the dyed black leather was still soft, if a bit tighter than he remembered, and the protective plates - made of dark opaline shell from some kind of creature he didn’t recognize - were still attached firmly.  The soft rasp when he moved let him know that he would need to oil the gear before he did any stealth work, but overall it was in good repair.

He tugged on his gloves and boots next, wincing at the feel.  The gloves had shrunk and stiffened; he’d need to find replacements, or find a way to stretch them back out.  It wasn’t a big deal.  They had never fit him properly anyways; he might as well find some good human gloves and wrap his hands in something to make them fit.

The boots were another story.  Even with the shrinkage from time, they were still terribly large.  The bulky socks Sans wore under his sneakers didn’t do much to help in that regard.  He couldn’t remember how he’d ever gotten them to fit right, but made a mental note to pick up extra socks along with the gloves.

His sleeveless overcoat came next.  It, too, was made of leather, though it was much softer with stamped embellishments across the shoulders and embroidery down the front.  It was more ceremonial, designed to be decorative and easily discarded should the need arise, but it had its uses.  The Delta Rune on the back blazed with protective magic as he settled it over his shoulders, and he winced as the magic pressed against his own.  His hands shook a little as he did up the clasps in front.  He’d grown a little since the first time he put it on, but the coat still hung down to mid-calf on him.

Finally, the head coverings.  The mask that covered his face was made of a stiffer leather, formed to give the impression of a nose and ears where he had none.  There were no openings; instead, small enchantments over each eye socket allowed him to see without hampering his peripheral vision.  Something similar sat over his ear holes.  The design had a closure in the back that allowed him to wrap it around his head completely, protecting his identity should the helmet be dislodged and padding his skull as well.

The helmet itself was made of shiny black metal, similar to Undyne’s but far simpler in design: a smooth dome covered his cranium and lower face, with a narrow opening for his eye sockets.  He settled it over his skull, curious.  It still fit.  The smell of leather and metal brought back memories, though - most straight out of his nightmares - and he ripped it off a little too harshly when he realized he was close to tears.

Breathing deeply, he set it back in its place.  He didn’t have a choice in this.  Whether he wanted it or not, he was the Judge once again.  Unless he wanted to punt and move to the Arctic Circle, which - to be honest - was looking more and more appealing.

He was tempted to shuck the uniform off and leave it a pile, like he did for his own clothing, but old habits died hard.  He carefully removed each piece and hung it back up, slipping the gloves and boots into his inventory for reference.

With one last glance around, he teleported straight to his bedroom.

The messiness of his room clashed with the rigid formality he’d developed as Judge, and he felt the sudden, Papyrus-like urge to clean.  He took a deep breath and deliberately relaxed.  There was no danger.  There was no case.  He was Sans the skeleton, lazy asshole extraordinaire.  No more, no less.

Outside his door, the apartment was still quiet.  A quick check of his phone revealed that Undyne was calling him in early, and had roped Boss into helping out with those extra sentry shifts since there were so many sentries missing.  She probably thought she was helping.

Mostly, Sans just felt...tired.

When he thought back - really thought, the way he had back when such things mattered to him - he recognized how much he had changed.  People still remembered him the way he’d been in the Underground, angry and spiteful and cruel and clever, but he hadn’t felt that way in years.  He couldn’t pinpoint when he’d started to change.  Like a glacier in the winter sun, his facade had melted away.

He was still angry, but that had been eaten away by complacency.  He was still capable, but the relative ease of living on the surface had lulled him into apathy.  Maybe he’d always been that way.  Maybe all he ever wanted was to be needed, and in the absence of that he’d been dying slowly inside.

It was silly.  Boss didn’t need him.  Attie and Frisk didn’t need him.  Even Asgore, for all his overbearing condescension, didn’t need him.

Weeks passed in a similar manner.  Though Sans didn’t breathe a word about Attie, or Frisk, or his missing phone data, he thought about them almost constantly.  It seemed like Attie and Frisk took up almost as much of his life in their absence as they had when they were actually part of it.

He made sure not to walk past Frisk’s house on his way to and from the park where he sold hot dogs.  It was pretty far out of his way, actually, especially on sore feet.  He couldn’t even remember why he’d started using that route in the first place.  It was much easier to take the straight path through the heavily monster-populated part of town, even if he could feel eyes on him.

The feeling was particularly strong one evening as he was walking home from his sentry shift.  He was almost sure someone was following him, but that could’ve been a trick of his half-mad mind.  Pulling double shifts on top of selling hot dogs was utterly exhausting, even though - or, perhaps, because - it had been such a boring job lately.  Sure, sentries were technically supposed to keep humans out of Mount Ebott and dangerous monsters in, but few people were stupid or reckless enough to try crossing either way.  Every once in a while some dumb human teenagers would dare each other to go up the mountain, but they were easily turned back.  Sans hadn’t had that pleasure in...well, since long before he met Attie.

He glanced over his shoulder.  His shadow didn’t duck behind the building fast enough, and he caught a glimpse.  A single figure, humanoid, face covered by the hood of a jacket.  Dark clothing.  Short, around his height.  Slender.  The faint outline of a rounded chest.

...What was a lone woman doing out at night in this part of town?  And tailing him, no less?

She was following him relatively closely, which was...not as annoying as Sans thought it would be.  At least if someone got stupid and jumped her he’d be close enough to hear the ruckus and intervene if things got out of hand.  He resolutely ignored the idea that he wouldn’t have cared before Attie came into his life.

The woman stalked him past Grillby’s, and he resisted the urge to stop in for a drink.  Grillbz would report to Boss if there was enough money in it for him, and Boss was still unusually cranky.  The last thing Sans wanted was a repeat of his punishment from the day Attie disappeared; that had been nearly a month ago, and he still felt a little sore when he stood for long periods of time.

Sighing to himself, Sans cut back towards his apartment building.  Hopefully she’d just confront him and get it over with.

He held the door to the building open with one foot and shifted, watching the woman tense from the corner of his eye socket.  “You comin’ in or what?”

She sidled along the building, a little unsteadily, and put a hand on the door.  As she passed him, the yellow glow of the bare bulb in the hallway highlighted the curves of a familiar jaw and cheekbone.

“F-Frisk?”

Frisk held a finger to her lips and stepped into the hallway, letting him close the door behind her.  She made a motion with her hand that took Sans a moment to decipher.

“O-oh, yeah.  Uh.  Sure.  C’mon in.”

He lead the way up to the apartment he and Boss shared, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

“SANS!  You sack of SHIT, you’re LATE!”

Sans dodged Boss’s attack on instinct, then felt his very soul stutter.  Frisk had been behind him.  He turned to look, but thankfully she stood…

...well, mostly unharmed.  She had a scratch on her left arm from wrist to elbow, skin and a thin line of blood showing through the tear in her jacket.  Considering the trajectory of Boss’s attack and the fact that she’d been caught by surprise in the narrow hallway, it was impressive.

“Kiddo, let’s-”

“Oh, Ambassador Dreamurr!  I apologize.  My underling-”  Boss kicked Sans out of the doorway- “Neglected to tell me that we would be having such a prestigious visitor in our humble home.  Are you harmed?”

Sans heard Frisk confirm that she was mostly alright.  The attack had been aimed him, after all; it hadn’t been very damaging.  She accepted Boss’s invitation to enter the apartment, but not his offer of dinner.

“SANS, GET OUT.  The Ambassador has something to discuss with me.”

He nodded and limped towards the door.  Grillby’s it was, then.

“Actually,” Frisk said, not moving from her spot in the doorway, “I need to speak with Sans for a moment.”  She glanced between him and Boss, amusement evident in the slight quirk of her eyebrow; Sans could only imagine what their expressions looked like.   “Alone, please, Papyrus.”

“Yes, your highness.”  Boss saluted and strode back towards his bedroom, shooting a very nasty glare at Sans as he went.

Screw this up, and you’re dust, the glare said.

Sans gulped audibly.   Message received.

Then they were alone.

“Do you, uh, want to sit...down?”

“Alright,” Frisk responded.  She headed not towards the couch that he’d been vaguely indicating but towards the dining room table.  He shrugged lightly and followed her.

They sat across from each other for a long moment, neither speaking.  He wasn’t sure how to break the silence without violating Boss’s rules, so he waited for Frisk to start first.

“I owe you,” she said, finally. Her voice was low, like she didn't want Boss to overhear.

“Uh…”

“What do you want?”  The question held a lot less animosity than Sans had been expecting, especially considering how completely she’d cut him out of her life.

“I…”   I want to see Attie again, he yearned to say.   Just for a moment.  Just to make sure she’s okay, and doing her Science and Math, and eating properly; nothin’ weird.  Just to say goodbye.

“Do you think Frisk wants a filthy pest like you in her daughter’s life?”

“I don’t...want anything,” he said, fiddling with his fingers.

“What?  Nothing?”

“Nope.  Never...uh, never did.”

And it was true.  From the day he’d found Attie in the bushes outside her house he hadn’t even considered collecting payment for his actions.  It showed a stunning lack of self-preservation on his part - Frisk was a powerful woman, and her favor could get him nearly anything he could ever want - but he was just...tired.

“Then, why-”

“I just didn’t want a kid to watch her mom die, okay?” He took a deep, needless breath, fighting to keep his voice down.  “I don’t...I don’t know where this idea came from that I want you dead’n a ditch somewhere, but that’s...not true, okay?  We...you ‘n me, we haven’t always gotten along, sure, but I don’t get along with most folks.  Hell, I don’t get along with Grillbz half the time.  Doesn’t mean I’m waitin’ in a back alley for him, tryin’ to extort money off ‘im whenever he’s having a bad day.”

“Okay, but you’ve done so much for us.  For me.”  Frisk’s hands pressed to the dingy tabletop without regard for the stains that littered its surface as she leaned towards him.  “Even if you didn’t help us so you could have something to hold over my head, isn’t there something you want?  I...I can talk to Papyrus about getting your shifts reduced, at least?  It isn’t fair that you should have to make up time when you were helping me.  It’s not like you were slacking off.”

“It’s fine.  Someone’s gotta watch the old place.”  And most of the other sentries had families, which was more of a consideration now than Sans wanted to admit.

“Okay, well...are you sure?  Is there anything you want?  Anything at all?”

A picture, he wanted to say.  You and Attie, smiling.  Just one - just something to remember the both of you by.  Something to remind me that you aren’t just the pretty painted statue I always see on TV.

“The ambassador’s daughter is too important a secret to be entrusted to the likes of you.”

He shook the thought away.  “Just...be happy, okay?  And make sure the kid does her Science.”  He couldn’t meet her eyes.

Weak, whispered his mind.   This is why you should stay away from them.  You’ll only drag them down to your level.

Frisk nodded, slowly, looking almost as lost as he felt.  “I...okay, I will.”

He gestured towards her ripped sleeve.  “And get your mom to patch that up, okay?”

“Alright,” she said.  She fidgeted with the ragged edge, apparently not bothered by the wound.  “Are...are you okay as well?”

“Fine.”

“Are you sure?  It looked like Papyrus kicked you-”

“I’m fine.  Really.”

Silence dragged on until it felt uncomfortable, then a few seconds past that.  Frisk watched him carefully the entire time, as if trying to peek into his soul by way of his eye sockets, but he forced all emotion down, down and away from her prying eyes.  There was no need for her to worry about scum like him.  “Well, then.  I suppose...I’d better leave you be, then.  And truly, Sans, thank you."

He nodded.  He didn’t think he could form words around all the things he couldn’t say.

“I’ll...see myself out.  If he asks, please let Papyrus know that I’m not happy with him; he’ll understand what it means.”  She stood, pushed in her chair, and was gone before Sans could think of a reason for her to stay.

He retreated to his room before Boss realized Frisk had left.  Passing on a message like that would probably cause a screaming fit, and he didn’t think he could handle another screaming fit.  His bones felt strangely fragile, like he was about to fall apart at any moment.  And what was there to keep him together?  Sans had just given up his best chance of getting everything he wanted, and he couldn’t tell if it was the right thing to do or the worst mistake of his life.

For most of the night he just sat on the edge of his mattress, face in his hands, and tried to ignore the tears that streamed down his cheekbones.

The next morning, he felt awful.  He hadn’t slept much at all but managed to drag himself out of bed on sheer force of habit.  The apartment seemed too quiet, just like it had every day for the past month.  How long would it take for him to get used to normalcy again?

Boss was out, as usual.  It abruptly occurred to Sans that he didn’t know what day it was.  He’d been counting days, sure (it had been 26 days since he'd last seen Attie), and it should be possible to figure out the day of the week from that, but he didn’t think his foggy mind would stand up to that much math.

He shuffled around in various pairs of dirty pants until he found his phone, only to find that it was dead.

Great.

It took only a moment to plug it in on his way to the kitchen, but even that felt like too much work.  It was surprisingly early; if he actually needed to go to his hot dog stand, he wouldn’t even have to run.  He stared for a long moment at the coffee machine, debating whether it was worth the effort.  On the one hand, it was even more work and he felt exhausted.  On the other hand...caffeine.

Deciding that caffeine was necessary to keep him going through the day, Sans dumped water and coffee grounds into the machine and started it up.

The door to his apartment slammed open just as the final drips of coffee were disappearing into the carafe.  For one terrible moment, he thought it was Boss; he nearly tripped over his own feet in an effort to get his back to the wall.

“...The hell, asshole?”

“Oh.  Hey, Undyne.”

“It’s CAP...y’know what?  Never mind.  Where’s your brother?”

“Uh...not here?”

“Don’t eff with me.  I can smell coffee.”

Sans wondered just how long Undyne had gone without sleep.  She looked nearly dead on her feet.  On the other hand, it was hilarious that she was still censoring her language around the apartment.  “Y’do remember that I can make coffee too, right?”

“Huh?  Oh, yeah, right.  Just didn’t think you’d bother.”

He sighed.  “Sit down, I’ll get you a mug.”

She grabbed at the piping hot carafe, ignoring the potential for burns.  “MUGS ARE FOR-”

“Yeah, yeah, but I want some too.  Go sit down or somethin’.”

Undyne actually sat down (in a chair, no less), which said a lot about her mental state.  She growled something under her breath when Sans moved the carafe, but settled down a little when he poked a mug of coffee into her field of vision.  The carafe itself followed, minus the contents of his own mug.

“See,” he said, sitting across from her at the table, “We can pretend to be all civilized.”

A skeptical eyebrow begged to differ.

“So, uh, whaddaya need Boss for?”

“He’s supposed to be on patrol around town this morning and he’s not answering his phone.  He always answers his phone.  So, that’s worrying.  Especially since there’s been an increase in weird stuff in the past few weeks, ever since...well.  You remember when Frisk was attacked by that bitch in the hospital?”

Sans did remember, but he was pretty sure the real “bitch” was the one who brought down the would-be assassin, not the assassin herself.  He knew better than to say that out loud, though.

“So, now that Frisk is able to perform the official interrogation we’re getting ready for the trial.  There’s a weirdly vocal group of humans who think we targeted this lady for some bullshit reason.  Don’t know who spread the rumors, but some of them are saying that we, I dunno, accused her at random because of her skin color??  Hah.  I don’t discriminate when taking down people who threaten my besties.”  She took an aggressive gulp of coffee, then refilled her mug.

“That’s weird.  Do they have any proof?  I mean, we caught this lady in the act.  We have video evidence of what happened.  ‘Ts not like we lined up a bunch’ve humans and framed the one that’d cause us the most trouble.”

“Eh, most of the human media won’t touch our footage; they say it’s fake.  Lotsa folks are saying we made up the whole thing, especially since the hospital’s official stance is that it was some kinda huge accident.  HAH!  I’m glad we got Frisk out of that place; one of the doctors was apparently bein’ a real creep.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.  Someone was tryin’ to get the hospital to keep her locked up for ‘mental distress’ or some kind of bullshit like that.  Kept tryin’ to turn away visitors, too.  That’s why there was the big rush to get her out of there.  Didn’t think you’d dump the kid on her right away, though.”

Sans’s head was spinning.  A doctor?  Was that Dr. Ray?  And: “...I didn’t dump the kid, Undyne.  Boss sent me out and passed off the kid before I got...uh, back.”

She stared at him.  “What are you talking about?”

“We’re talking about...about Frisk’s kid, right?”

“Yeah.  Attie.  You know her name, I know you do.”

He fidgeted.  He didn’t want to be having this conversation, especially not in his own dining room.  If Boss found out…

“Hey.”  Undyne leaned over.  “What the hell is going on in this dingy little apartment, anyways?  I get one story from Papyrus - and he’s my vice-captain; I know exactly how trustworthy he is - and I get another story from you.  What’s your game?”

“...Nothing?  Look.  I...I like the kid, okay?  Yeah, she was a little annoying at first, and I’m not convinced she won’t grow up to be a tyrant to rival Asgore, but...she kinda grew on me.  I tried to do my best with her, but Boss...he got worried.  He didn’t want Attie around someone like - well, like me - any longer than necessary.  I’m an asshole, remember?”

“Hmm.”  She finished up the last of the coffee, tilting the mug back to catch every last drop.  “Y’know, Papyrus can be a manipulative bastard sometimes, but usually I can call his bullshit.  This is just weird.  There’s no motivation for any of it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I texted him as soon as I heard that Frisk was released.  We needed security to escort her home and all that, especially since she wasn’t in particularly good shape.  He was in charge of that part.  He showed up with Attie and without you, which was weird.  Said you were tired of watchin’ the kid; to me, at least.  Told Frisk she missed her mom too much.”  She paused, rubbing her eyes.  “Actually...I guess I knew something was up.  Attie’s story didn’t match his, after all, but she’s scared enough of Papyrus that we figured she didn’t have the full story.   Dammit.”

“I mean...it’s not a big deal?”

A forceful punch made a dent in the tabletop.  “It IS a big deal, you ASSHOLE!  My vice-captain lied to me!  I mean, that’s normal - he’s overdue for his annual assassination attempt, after all - but I’m supposed to RECOGNIZE it!  I’m LOSING my EDGE!”

Sans shuffled around the table and took the chair next to Undyne.  He had the weird urge to pat her on the back, like he'd do for Attie when she was upset, but thankfully quashed it.  She’d probably bite his arm off if he tried.  “Hey, it was a weird situation for all of us.  Boss, uh, explained things to me after; I think he was just lookin’ out for the kid.  I’m really not the best caretaker, remember?”

“What did he tell you?”

“Uh, what?”

“What did he ‘explain’ to you about this?”

He thought back to his battle with Boss in the park.  “He, uh, said that Attie was too important to be trusted with me.  He pointed out that...well, I’m not the most reliable guy, y’know?  And Frisk and I haven’t really gotten along.”

Undyne examined him through her single narrowed eye.  “And yet, she snuck out of the house, past our defenses, and wound up here last night.  Now, why would that be?”

She knew about that?  Was it a setup?  “Uh...she was sayin’ thanks?  She thought she owed me somethin’.”

“IT WAS A RHETORICAL QUESTION, YOU BAG OF BONES!  She came here because she DOESN’T hate your guts!  She CARES ‘bout you!  You impressed her!  She realized that you aren’t just the lazy shitstain you pretend you are!”

“But I am…”

“SHUT UP.  I’m Captain of the Royal Guard; I’ve seen your employee file.  Your real file.  The one without bizarre grease stains blotting out half the information.”

Sans hadn’t realized he’d missed a copy of those documents.   Good to know.

“I know what you’re capable of.  I know what you’ve done.  Oh, and while we’re on the topic: expect Asgore to give you a call sometime this afternoon about your... other job.”

“Okay…?”

“My point is, you pass yourself off as a lazy asshole.  Heck, most of the time you are a lazy asshole.  But somehow, Frisk saw something different.  Something she, well, doesn’t hate.  She really was grateful that you, y’know, saved her freakin’ life and took care of her kid out of the blue for a couple weeks, and she was a little hurt when you didn’t contact her at all after giving Attie back.  By the way, why didn’t you contact her after...well, after Attie went home?  They haven’t heard from you at all, which backed up what Papyrus said, but when they tried texting you their numbers were blocked. That's just not right.”

“So, uh, Boss kinda...messed with my phone.”

“WHAT?”

“He took off Frisk’s and Attie’s numbers, all the texts, the pictures…”

“WHAT?  Even the ones where we were doing training poses??”

He grabbed the carafe, started another pot of coffee, and scooted down the hallway to grab his phone.  It gave him whiny messages about having a low charge, but it turned on.

“Here,” he said, sliding it in front of Undyne.  “I don’t know how he blocked numbers, though.”  He didn’t want to watch her look through it - the missing pictures and texts still stung - so he retreated back into the kitchen to watch the coffee finish up instead.

He didn’t have many pictures left, so he was still fiddling with the coffee machine when she shrieked in outrage.  “THIS IS AWFUL!  Those were GREAT poses!”

“Yeah.  I sent ‘em to Frisk, y’know; she still has 'em, I bet.  She’d probably send them to you if you wanted.”

“HELL YEAH!  Hey, do you want them too?  You took ‘em, after all.  Even if he’s blocked Frisk’s number somehow, he wouldn’t dare block mine in case I need to text you for work.”

“Better not.  Boss still goes through my phone sometimes; if he finds a pic of Attie he’ll be pissed.”  He brought the full carafe to the table and set it in front of Undyne.  She needed it more than he did, and if it kept her talking…

“Hah.  Never understood why you put up with that bastard.  I mean, I put up with him because he’s got a good head for strategy and he’s a natural leader and I outrank him, but he just yells at you. And beats up on you, if Frisk's right about that.  That’s grounds for you to leave the family.  Why stay?”

“He’s...Boss?  I mean, we’ve always been that way.  Him ‘n me against the world.”

She downed an entire mug of coffee in one go.  “You know the world’s not like that anymore, right?  There’s only so much I can do as his boss, but there are other people willing to - urgh! - help.  Hell, go make puppy eyes at one of those human abuse rehab programs; they literally throw parties every time a monster shows up at their door.  They’d get you set up somewhere else.”

“C’mon,” he sighed, “Does that really sound like me?  Whatever you think you know about me from those files, I gave up a long time ago.”

A strange look grew across Undyne’s face.  It was the same look she wore when she had defeated a particularly challenging enemy, but without the wide-toothed grin.  “Attie misses you,” she said, voice carefully neutral.

Sans had no response to that.

“She told me so yesterday morning.  She’s sad that you won’t call her.  Thinks you don’t like her anymore.”

“Undyne, stop.”

“Hmm?  Why should I? I thought it didn't matter. I thought it wasn't a big deal.”

“Look.  It really is better if she just...forgets about me or somethin’.  ‘Sides, Boss said I’m not allowed to even say her name.  How’m I gonna-”

A fishy fist left another dent in the table.  “THAT’S THE POINT!  If Papyrus isn’t around, he’s not your ‘Boss’ anymore, right??  Yeah, I know it’s not normal for us to break up families, even now that we’re on the surface.  And I know that he's the head of your family.  But...sometimes you just gotta pick your battles, okay?  Besides, I KNOW you pay the bills around here.  You can move out any time you like.  File for emancipation so he can’t drag you back and all that.  And then maybe my besties will stop talking my gills off about how much they miss your bony ass.”

The thought of anyone missing his ‘ass’ was laughable, but he felt his skull turning colors anyways.  “I...uh, well, maybe.  I mean, it’s not so bad ‘round here, y’know?  And like you said, we’re family and I pay the bills.  Who’d take care of the ol’ place if I leave?”

“STARS, HAVE SOME SELF-RESPECT, WOULD YOU??  THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS TO YOU!”  She chugged the remainder of the coffee.  “NOW I’VE GOT A CAFFEINE HIGH AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!  I’VE GOTTA RUN THIS OFF BEFORE MY MEETING!  LET ME KNOW IF YOU SEE YOUR BASTARD OF A BROTHER!”

She slammed the door behind her, the sound echoing around in Sans’s skull.  She had a point, he knew.  There would be plenty of advantages to living alone.  No more punishments, more free time, the ability to cook his own meals…

...missed shifts because he didn’t get out of bed on time, time lost staring into nothing, crippling loneliness…

No, he wasn’t ready to go it alone, no matter how bad things got.  Boss was just...Boss.  Just the same as any other monster.  They were family, and that meant something to monsters.  Abandoning your family meant you were the lowest class of monster, worse than froggits.  Worse than dirt.  If Undyne and Frisk were worried, well, maybe they had forgotten just how bad things had been in the Underground.

He owed Boss, and that debt would never be repaid.

With a heavy soul, he tied his sneakers on and made his way over to his hot dog stand.

Boss, as it turned out, had been summoned by Asgore sometime early in the morning.  Undyne came down from her caffeine high long enough to text Sans about that, and to send him forceful messages in all caps warning him not to repeat anything she said while sleep-deprived.  He smirked.  Over the time he’d been taking care of Attie, Undyne’s attitude towards him had changed.  It was strange, having the excitable and ruthless Captain of the Royal Guard as some kind of...of friend, but it wasn’t bad.  He respected her, actually.

And in light of that respect, he reconsidered her words.  She had said that Attie missed him.  Just the thought of that tugged at his soul.  It shouldn’t have, of course; he’d only known her for such a short time.  And she was a little human kid.  Why should he care about a little human kid?

He deliberately did not think about the kid’s mother.

Luckily, he had bigger problems to take his mind off things.  Just as Undyne had predicted, Asgore called him just after Greater Dog and Lesser Dog stopped by the hot dog stand for lunch.  Sans cleared his nonexistent throat, willing himself to keep calm; the King of Monsters was terrifying, even over the phone.  “Uh, hello, your majesty.”

“Hello, Sans.  I am calling to discuss your return to a job you have not held in quite some time.”

Fear locked his bones.  “Uh, w-which job?”

“Hmm.  You have held several positions, have you not?  I feel that a phone conversation is not the best place to discuss this.  Come to my castle in the Underground immediately.”

“Y-yes, your maj-”

The king had already hung up.  Sans texted Undyne with shaking fingers, letting her know that he’d be late to his sentry shift due to a meeting with the king, then sent the same to Boss.  Better safe than sorry.

He grabbed a spare ‘dog and closed down the stand.  A sudden thought prompted him to glance down; he was still in his pyjamas.

Teleporting from an alley to his room saved him a lot of time and potential embarrassment.  He listened closely, but everything seemed quiet; with any luck, Boss was occupied elsewhere.  A sharp ding from his phone made him jump, but it was just Undyne telling him to take the first of his shifts off.

He changed into his button-down shirt and slacks, still clean from the last time he wore them, then stepped into a shortcut.  He couldn’t teleport all the way to the top of Mount Ebott - even if the distance wasn’t too much, there were magical protections in place - so he went in stages.  His first teleport brought him to his favorite lookout spot, just a short jog from the sentry station he handled most often.

The air was crisp and cool and the forest smelled like winter.  From his lookout spot he could see the town laid out below, rows and rows of houses and hospitals and schools and businesses tied together by thin veins of black.  There was a bit of activity in the streets, probably humans and monsters getting ready for Christmas (and maybe Takersfaire, if the monsters were feeling bold), but it was barely noticeable from such a distance.

A slight breeze wiggled its way between his bones as he walked towards his station.  There were two barriers on Mount Ebott: one just below the sentry stations, and one closer to the entrances where the original once stood.  The first - designed to alert sentries when someone approached the mountain - didn’t do anything in particular to block normal entry but he couldn’t teleport through it.  It was annoying to have to stop, walk through the barrier manually, then teleport again, but it was an old routine and he managed.

The second barrier, the one that protected the Underground from most intrusions, was one of his least favorite spots in the whole world.  It was almost entirely Frisk’s work.  Her magic always felt hostile against his bones; no matter how many times he climbed the mountain, he was always a little afraid that her barrier would refuse him entry...or dust him outright.

It was a surprise, then, when he didn’t feel the familiar crackle of angry magic as he approached.  Worry niggled at the back of his mind; had Frisk not refreshed it recently?  It had been a month since she was released from the hospital; surely she’d climbed the mountain at some point...right?  King Asgore still lived Underground most of the time, after all, and she loved him like a father despite everything.

The low hum of powerful human magic filtered slowly into his senses, more noticeable the closer he got.  Within arm’s reach of the barrier, it was so strong that it rattled his bones a little.  It felt nothing at all like he expected.  He carefully held out one hand towards the barrier, and found…

Gentle.  Welcoming.  “Hi, Sans!”

“What the hell?”  This...wasn’t normal.  Actually, what had Undyne said?

“She CARES ‘bout you!  You impressed her!  She realized that you aren’t just the lazy shitstain you pretend you are!”

...Yeah, Frisk had refreshed the barrier, alright.  He felt his entire skull turning colors.  Beads of sweat began to form under his collar and his breathing picked up.

Magic, even Frisk’s weird human magic, dealt a lot with intent.  When he and Frisk had been passive-aggressive enemies - and they had been as long as he could remember, exchanging japes and the occasional harsh word off and on - her intentions toward him had been wary and antagonistic.  Now…

Well.

Sans crossed the barrier and stepped into a shortcut before he could think too hard.

A pool of brilliant light met him on the other side.  Once upon a time this had probably been a majestic hallway, a tribute to the golden sun the monsters hadn’t seen for generations, but with so many more urgent problems and a general lack of reliable builders it had fallen into disrepair.  By the time he had seen it for the first time it had been half-buried and caved in, more of an obstacle to reaching the palace than an entryway.  It had only gotten worse over the years.

Now, it looked like someone was in the process of repairing the old place.  Most of the rubble had been cleared out and the weak parts of the ceiling and walls had been reinforced with scaffolding.  The shattered stained glass windows had been removed; lead scraps were piled in a corner, waiting to be repurposed.  The artificial light sources were harsh without the scraps of color the broken windows had provided.

The world...really was changing.

Frisky Dreamer 7:47 PM Sorry, I was doing my discharge tests and exams. Thanks for the pictures.  It looks like Attie had a great time.

You 8:01 PM U leaving the hospital or going to school? And no problem

Sans glanced over to where Attie was munching on apple slices, dressed in her favorite pajamas with kittens on them.  Boss had a late meeting to either guard or attend - he hadn’t quite caught which - and had sent a flurry of texts demanding that he and Attie delay dinner.

He wasn’t going to let Attie starve waiting for Boss’s bony ass, so he was keeping her placated with snacks.  She was finishing up the last apple in the house.

“You okay?” he asked.  “Still hungry?”

“Not really.”

“You still gonna eat whatever Boss makes when he gets back?”

“Maybe…”

He didn’t blame her.  A few times they’d had to perform some pretty slick maneuvers to dispose of food that just wasn’t fit for human consumption.

“If I check it for you and it’s not poisonous, will you try it?”

“Okay.  But if it’s really gross I’m gonna spit it out.”

“Fair enough.”

It hadn’t come to that yet, but there was a first time for everything.

His phone vibrated again.

Frisky Dreamer 8:09 PM Is everything okay?  Attie just assured me that dinner was “probably not going to be poisonous.” I thought you guys were getting better at making food?  Then again, I’ve only seen your lunch experiments.

You 8:11 PM Boss makes dinner Sometimes it isnt exactly edible But we try If its not ill find something else for the kid

Frisky Dreamer 8:13 PM Good luck.

Who needed luck when Grillby’s was an option?  They were both in pyjamas, but if they put jackets on no one would notice.  Probably.  “Say, Attie, wanna punt and-”

The door slammed open to reveal a dripping - and very angry - Boss.

“SANS, I REQUIRE ABSORBENT MATERIALS!” he shrieked, hopping awkwardly from foot to foot in the doorway, as if that would prevent water from soaking into the carpet.

Sans took off down the hallway and returned with every bath towel they owned.  (Except the one he kept in reserve for Attie; that one was off limits.)  He dragged Boss inside, closed the door, and sent Attie to her room before beginning to unbuckle Boss’s armor.

It was an awkward and difficult process that reminded Sans of getting a young Papyrus ready for bed when he was...oh, six or seven.  There was a lot of wiggling, a lot of yelling, and far more leather straps than a self-respecting monster would ever voluntarily wear.

Eventually they managed to extricate Boss from his battle armor, which lay abandoned and wrapped in towels.  He’d had worn his leather armor; the DEF wasn’t as high as his metal set, and it absorbed water and weighed him down, but at least it wouldn’t rust.

“It’s been a while since we’ve done this,” Boss said, looking uncharacteristically introspective.

“What, dig you out of your battle armor?  Yeah, it’s been a few years.  Why’d you come home wearing it, anyways?”

“I was late for supper.  I am capable of extricating myself, you know.”

“Yeah, but I’m your big bro.  It’s-”

“UGH!  DON’T REMIND ME!”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry.”

“You’d better be.  It’s shameful.”

Sans collected the armor and began patting it dry.  He’d need to rub it down with an oil and vinegar mix after it dried out to keep it conditioned, but at least it wasn’t dripping anymore.

“Why don’t you start dinner, Boss?  Me ‘n the kid’ll look after your-”

He was cut off when one large, skeletal hand on the back of his neck forced him face-first into the threadbare carpet.  He tensed, but didn’t move; he didn’t want to worsen this sudden change of attitude.

After a long moment, Boss leaned in.  “Do NOT tell me what to do.  WHO IS IN CHARGE IN THIS HOUSE??”

“Y-you are, Boss.”

“YES.  And DON’T forget it!   I MAKE THE RULES!   I DECIDE WHO COMES AND GOES!  AND I, FOR ONE, AM SICK OF HEARING YOU GO ON AND ON ABOUT THAT...THAT CHILD!”

“But-”

“SILENCE!  Ever since you brought her home, it has been ‘kid’ this and ‘kid’ that.  WELL, I’VE HAD ENOUGH!”

“She’s-”

The fist that thudded into the carpet an inch from his skull probably would have dusted him if it had connected, so Sans stayed quiet.

“Enough.  Go to the basement and stand in your corner.  I will make dinner AND take care of my battle armor, which I am FULLY CAPABLE of maintaining ON MY OWN!”

He shuddered in relief when Boss let him up and stalked into the kitchen.  With a single glance back at the hallway that led to his room, he staggered out of the apartment.

The basement of their apartment building was split among all the residents.  Each housing unit had a storage area that they could lock - magically or otherwise - however they wanted.  Most used it for storage.  Boss used it as a punishment.

With Sans’s HP as low as it was, a beatdown wasn’t really an option.  Unfortunately for him, Boss had dug through human military manuals and found another method of enforcing his displeasure: stress positions.  Telling him to stand in ‘his corner’ was an old favorite.

The corner in question had a piece of wood laid diagonally on the floor across it.  It had been a wooden pole or something similar before Boss had chopped it in half lengthwise, leaving one flat side and one rounded side.  Sans was expected to stand on this bareboned as it dug into the arch of his feet until...well, whenever Boss came down to get him.  If Boss had been supervising he would’ve been expected to hold his arms out or something to make holding the position harder, so thank the stars for small miracles.

It didn’t hurt much at first, though he knew from experience that an hour or so would change that dramatically.  No; the really torturous part about this was the sheer boredom.  Sans hated being bored, which probably would’ve surprised some folks who saw him at his hot dog stand or his sentry post.  While he was working, there were things to catch his attention: people, wildlife, even the slow-moving clouds.  If all else failed, he had his phone.  Or he could nap.

There was very little in the basement: a camera, some tools, and a few other pieces of equipment for when Boss was feeling...creative, but Sans couldn’t even see any of that from his position.  There were no windows and very little sound.  It was cold; even skeletons would freeze at some point, and he was definitely starting to feel the lack of heat.  He couldn’t eat, or drink, or sleep.  In short, there was very little to take Sans’s mind off his worry.

Why had Boss reacted like that?  He’d been the one to force Sans to watch the kid, after all.

A horrible thought came to mind.  What if Boss was going after Attie?  Should he...should he leave?  Boss could check on him at any time through the camera.  He hadn’t avoided a punishment in a long time, not since right after they moved to the Surface, and he’d been locked out of the apartment without food, money, or his jacket for a full week.  It had been back when all monsters were required to wear magic blockers, so he couldn’t even teleport back in overnight.

Boss...would probably dust him if he tried something like that again.

With shaking fingers, he slipped his phone out of his jacket pocket, angling his body to block most of the motion from the camera’s view.  Hopefully Boss was cooking and not watching the camera feed.  He’d definitely be strung up if he was caught, but Sans needed to know.

You 8:23 PM Kid u ok?

To his relief, a response came immediately.

Bundle of Joy 8:24 PM Were are you?

You 8:25 PM In the basement Like the time last week remember? Just stay very quiet

Bundle of Joy 8:28 PM Im scared. I think Mr Papiruss is going to come down the hallway and hurt me. Why do I have to sleep in his rom?

You 8:35 PM Weve talked about this Boss’s room is the only free room And its less messy than mine

Bundle of Joy 8:39 PM Can I stay in your room until your back? Im rilly scared!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He leaned his forehead against the wall, ignoring the start of a twinge in his feet.

You 8:41 PM Sure Be quiet And lock the door Turn the little knobby thing to the right

Bundle of Joy 8:46 PM I dont seen the little nobby thing!

You 8:50 PM Dont be scared Look by the doorknob Its the little thing above the doorknob It should be tilted a little to the left Tilt it to the right But make sure the door is closed tight first

Bundle of Joy 9:01 PM I got it!!!! Are you sure you kant come back up stayrs?

You 9:05 PM Im sure Ill be up when i can

After double-checking that there were no more texts from Frisk, he turned his phone off and shoved it into his jacket pocket.

His feet were starting to draw a bit more of his attention.  He breathed deeply - the motion soothing, even if it wasn’t necessary - and braced himself on the corner of the little room to take some of his weight.  Then he let himself drift.

There was a certain state of mind that got him through Boss’s punishments, a combination of clearing his mind and filling it with static.  It didn’t always work, but at least it kept him from feeling the full effects.  As uncomfortable as it was to put himself into such a state - lack of awareness made him feel vulnerable - it was close enough to giving up that it felt almost natural.

Sometime later, Sans heard the telltale tapping of Boss’s boots on the basement stairs.  He barely had time to straighten his posture when the door slammed open.

“SANS!  ENOUGH LOLLYGAGGING!  Get back upstairs THIS INSTANT and find that insufferable child!  I haven’t heard from her in HOURS!”

Sans gingerly settled himself back on solid ground.  It felt great not to be standing on that piece of wood anymore, but now any movement hurt.  “I’ll find her, Boss.”

“Good.  You are allowed supper as well before coming back down here to finish your punishment.”

He was willing to bet that Boss didn’t even remember what the punishment was supposed to be for, but arguing only made things worse.  He grunted and slouched up the stairs, doing his best to put as little pressure as he could onto his feet.

...It was a failed endeavor.

He made a show of checking the kitchen, the living room, and Boss’s room before Boss got bored and wandered off.  Once he was out of earshot, Sans tapped on his own bedroom door.  “Coast is clear, kid,” he said.

There were a few moments of scrambling as Attie tried to open the door, failed, then struggled with the deadbolt.  Eventually the door creaked open.

“Hi,” she said in a very small voice, one hand tangled in her pyjama top over her stomach.  “I’m really hungry and I thought you left me all alone here.”

“Nah.  Sorry.  I got sent to the basement, remember?”

“But I haven’t ever seen your basement.”

“That’s because it’s dark and cold.  Uh, not really a nice place for a little kid.”

“Then why do you go down there?”

“You sayin’ I’m a little kid?”

She laughed, quietly.

“Nah.  Does your mom ever send you to your room?”

“Um...sometimes?  But only if I beat someone up.  Mommy says I need to use my words and shouldn’t punch people in the face just because they say something mean.”

“Your mom’s pretty smart.  But yeah, it’s kinda like that.  The room thing, I mean; not the punching people thing.”

The little girl looked disappointed that he hadn’t been starting fights in his basement.

“Aaaanyways, wanna head to dinner?  I smell Boss’s lasagna, and that’s not somethin’ you wanna miss.  It’s one of, like, five things he actually remembers to cook properly, and that’s because your mom taught him how.”

“Oooh!  I like Mommy’s lasagna!”

The lasagna had just come out of the oven, unfortunately, so Boss shooed them away until it cooled a little.  They wound up on the creaky old couch with their phones out.

“I wanna try this one sometime,” Attie whispered, tilting her phone screen towards Sans.  On the screen was a pasta and chicken dish with a cream sauce.

“Hmm...trying to keep milk around long enough to make the sauce is gonna be a challenge.”

“We could put a sign on the milk that says ‘do not drink?’  Or a sign that says the milk is really something else?”

“Huh.  That...actually might work.  What else could milk be, though?”

“...A trap?”

He narrowed his eye sockets at her.  “You remind me of him, sometimes.”

“DO NOT SCOFF, SMALL CHILD,” Boss said, walking up behind the couch and looming imposingly over them.  “THAT IS THE HIGHEST COMPLIMENT THAT SHALL EVER BE GIVEN TO YOU, EVEN IF IT IS SEVERELY UNDESERVED!”

Attie looked from Sans to Boss and back again, her brow knitted in confusion.  “Okay?  Thanks?”

“YOU SHOULD BE GRATEFUL!  NOW COME JOIN ME FOR LASAGNA OF SUPREME VICTORY!  IT IS A DELICACY LACED WITH LAYERS OF THE FINEST OF NOODLES, THE SAUCIEST OF SAUCES, THE TANGIEST OF CHEESES…”

Sans ignored the monologue and served three pieces of the lasagna, doing his best to cut Boss’s piece perfectly square with none of the outer edge.  He was pretty sure he succeeded; Boss only paused long enough to glance down briefly at his plate before continuing with his diatribe on the quality of his lasagna ingredients.

There was enough steam coming off Attie’s piece to worry him, so he mimed waving steam away from her plate before he put it in front of her.  She nodded.

Unfortunately, she either didn’t get the message or decided to disregard it, because Boss’s speech - which had gone from ingredients to prep work - was interrupted by the sound of a little human child spitting out his masterpiece.

“ARE YOU INSULTING MY COOKING, HUMAN?”

Shit.  “B-Boss, she-”

“I DIDN’T ASK YOU, SANS.”

He shifted, but stood his ground.  He could feel his knees shaking.  “It’s too hot for her, Boss.”

The taller skeleton’s eye sockets narrowed.  “SO YOU FAILED IN YOUR DUTY AS A CARETAKER BY FEEDING HER FOOD OUTSIDE HER ACCEPTABLE TEMPERATURE RANGE?”

“He warned me it was hot,” Attie piped up.

“SO YOU WERE NOT PAYING ATTENTION TO MY AWESOME AND TERRIBLE DESCRIPTION OF MY CULINARY SKILLS??”

Sans sighed.  There was no winning this argument.  “Sorry, Boss.”

“FOR THAT, YOU CAN GO BACK TO THE BASEMENT WITHOUT SUPPER!”

He nodded.  He’d sneak food later or something.

“That’s not fair,” the little girl said before he could take a step towards the door.  “And Mr. Sans is a much better cook than you are, anyways!”

There was a long pause.  Sans felt his life flashing before his eye sockets.  He was coming to the strange conclusion that Boss was... jealous of Attie.  It didn’t make sense to him - it was like comparing froggits to whimsums - but Boss could be very irrational at times.

This...surpassed jealousy.  Boss was furious, so furious he was just sitting at the table bending his fork and grinding his teeth.  The expression on his face was enough to make most people of any species run for their lives.

Sans was no exception.  “I’m, uh, gonna put her to bed.”

“Do so.  Then come down to the basement.”

He retreated to Boss’s room.

“I don’t wanna sleep in here,” Attie said.  “I’d rather sleep in your room, even if it’s smelly.”

“You sure?  I think your mom’d kill me if she found out I let you sleep somewhere so messy.”

“Please?  I’m scared of Mr. Papyrus.”

“Okay, okay.”

He’d thrown his bedsheets in the wash when they were doing laundry earlier (more on a whim than anything else; they rarely made it onto his mattress in the first place) so at least she had something clean to sleep on.  He awkwardly shuffled his pile of dirty laundry into the closet.  It helped the smell, but not by much.

“You’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she sighed.  She’d grabbed the skull-print pillow from Boss’s room and was curled around it in a tight ball.

“You want me to lock the door?”

“No thanks.  I might have to get up and go potty.”

“Okay.  Oh!”  He reached into his inventory and brought out a plate of lasagna with a single bite missing.  “Here.  Grabbed this for ya.  Just in case you’re hungry, or somethin’.  Don’t worry ‘bout makin’ a mess…”

Attie leaned over and gave him a hug that creaked his ribs.  “Thanks, Mr. Sans,” she said to his slightly stained pyjama shirt.  “You’re my favorite friend besides Mommy and maybe Undie.”

He snorted.  “Just maybe?”

“Undie does training with me, but she doesn’t like to play very much.”

“Fair enough.  Good night, Attie.”

“G’night, Mr. Sans.  Love you!”

He didn’t know what to say to that.  “I, uh, you...too?”

His head was spinning all the way down to the basement, where a quietly furious Boss was waiting.

“Stand in your corner,” he said, voice quiet but quivering slightly.  “Arms straight out from your sides.”

Sans assumed the required position.

“You will remain there, silently, until I am finished with my superior dinner AND with treating my armor.  I have the camera and microphone turned on.  If I look in and see that you have so much as shifted, you will do this instead of eating supper every night until you can do it right.  Am I understood?

“Y-yeah, sure.”

“AM I UNDERSTOOD?”

“Yes, Boss!”

For a long moment, Sans was sure that Boss was going to lash out at him - physically, verbally, magically, something.  He didn’t.  Instead, he left the storage closet, turning off the light as he went.

Sans closed his eyes against the darkness and tried to bury himself somewhere deep in his mind where he wouldn’t have to think.

Time seemed to jump, then crawl.  The walls - tantalizingly far away in the darkness - felt like they were closing in.  It was awful.  It felt like being back in the Underground, which was probably why Boss liked this particular punishment.

It could have been minutes or days (though the rational part of his mind estimated that it had been a couple hours) before Boss came back downstairs.  He was wearing his full plate armor, which was odd; he usually only wore that when meeting important people or making a public appearance with Undyne.  His leather set was probably still wet.  He also smelled faintly of car fumes.  Had Boss gone somewhere, Sans wondered?  He felt a little cheated; if he’d known Boss wasn’t even in the building, he could have relaxed at some point.

Then his mental block fell and he found himself choking on the agony shooting through his feet, shoulders, elbows.  He tried to keep his feet still and arms out; as bad as it was, any movement seemed worse.

But Boss was dragging him upstairs by the back of his shirt, so movement was inevitable.  He tried to block the pain out again, tried to go back to that small, quiet, dark place inside himself where nothing could touch him, but everything was bright and loud and it hurt-

Boss said something and shoved him at the closed door to his room.  He felt his hand turn the knob as if from a distance, as if it was a prosthetic and not really his own bones.  It was all he could do to stumble inside his room and over to his mattress, where he collapsed.  He felt his eye sockets sliding closed, exhaustion finally catching up.

He was missing something, he was sure of it…

Attie!

The thought sent him upright, even as waves of pain radiated from his arms and feet.  It was duller than he expected, and he glanced out his window.

It was morning.  Wait...that wasn’t right…?  How had he fallen asleep?

His mind was still a little fuzzy from exhaustion (what time had he gotten to bed the night before?  He hadn’t looked at his phone…) and from the attempts at dissociation.  He was sure Attie should be with him, but he couldn’t-

Oh, right, he had let her sleep in his bed because she was terrified of Boss.  Sans looked around.  Attie was...nowhere to be found?

Had she gotten up already?  But no, he couldn’t remember seeing her the night before.  Surely, he would’ve noticed if there was a little human girl there; if nothing else, she would have wanted to make sure he was okay.

Boss had probably moved her back to his room, then.  Sans needed to…he slowly sat up and crawled over to where his jacket lay, feeling in the pockets for his phone.

Nothing.

He’d probably left it downstairs.  Hopefully he hadn’t left it in the basement; that would be a disaster and a half.

He unlatched his door, lifted it on its hinge, and pulled it open.  The door swung with the barest whisper of a creak.  Perfect.  He made his way down the hallway to Boss’s room, only to find it trapped.

...The hell?  Boss wouldn’t actually put Attie in danger, right?  Even if he was jealous of the her, he did like Frisk.  Frisk, Undyne, Toriel and probably Asgore would roast Boss’s bones if they found out he’d done something to the kid.

Sans shuffled into the living room warily.  “Boss?” he called.  He could see his brother’s form on the couch, phalanges fiddling with something, but if Boss was still grumpy about the affront to his cooking he wouldn’t respond.  “Attie?”  He couldn’t hear the kid.  The apartment felt unnaturally quiet.

Something flew at Sans’s face, and he barely caught it before it hit him square in the eye socket.  His phone…?

“She’s gone,” Boss said, getting up from the couch slowly.  “Ambassador Dreemurr was discharged from the hospital last night, so she can watch the child.  You are no longer required.”

“Wh-what?”

“Your shift at that despicable hot dog stand begins in ten minutes.  You had better hurry.  No teleporting around the humans.  If I hear that you’re slacking off, even for something as absurd as hot dogs, there will be... consequences.”

“Yes, Boss.”

“And I expect you to be at your sentry post tonight.  You have nearly two weeks’ worth of missed shifts to make up; you will be on time for once.  Lesser Dog will give you your revised schedule during shift change.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Boss stood in the living room, staring down at Sans as if he expected some other response.  Sans didn’t know what else to say.  This was...this was too quick.  He couldn’t process.  Less than 24 hours ago, he and Attie had been playing out in sun-drenched leaves.  She’d called him a friend.  Now...this?

“WELL?”

“I’m gone!”  He dashed out the door, pausing only to grab his tennis shoes and coat.  He crouched on the front step of their apartment building and slipped the shoes on, tucking the laces in instead of actually tying them.  It seemed like too much work.

Coat in hand, he traced the familiar path back to the park and his hot dog stand.  He was halfway there before his feet and arms protested again, but physical pain seemed insignificant just then.

Attie...was gone?

Attie was home?

That was good, right?  All those days of...of frustration and interrupted sleep were over.  He could finally get back to his miserable life.

It was strange, that feeling of loss.  He thought he’d be relieved that he no longer had to worry about missing a check-in.  He hadn’t realized before that moment that constantly updating Frisk on her daughter had brought some semblance of structure to his day.  It felt like a small lifetime that he’d lived to the tempo of a seven-year-old human’s school and sleep and meal schedule, violently enforced by Undyne, instead of the two weeks or so it really had been.

He was...going to miss Attie.  Not just the activity she brought to his normally lackadaisical life, but just... her.  Her presence.  Her smile.  Her constant, nagging questions.  The little giggle she gave when she was taunting someone.

Just...Attie.

At least, he thought as he slid into his seat at the hot dog stand and pulled out his phone, he still had…

...Wait…

...Where had all his pictures gone?

He searched through his phone, then searched again.  Every picture he’d taken after the day he’d first brought Attie to his apartment had been deleted.  Frisk’s and Attie’s numbers had been deleted.  The hundreds of messages he’d sent and received had been deleted.  The charges he’d racked up for going over his data plan were still there, but everything else was...gone.

A wave of anger surged through him.  He knew who had to be responsible.

Boss.

Wasn’t it enough that he’d taken Attie away without even the chance to say goodbye?  Wasn’t it enough that life had been, once again, turned upside down on Boss’s whim?

He just had to steal everything Sans had left of Attie, didn’t he.  He really must have been jealous of the kid.  And for what?  Sans had dedicated his life to Boss; he’d taken care of Attie for all of two weeks.

“So you are here,” Boss said, appearing as if thought had summoned him.

Sans growled and drew the asshole into an encounter, too furious to worry about little things like self-preservation.

“Are you MAD?  Stop this AT ONCE!  You’ll draw attention to us!  This is neither the time nor the place for one of your little tantrums!”

* The Great and Terrible Papyrus is sparing you.

Sans shook away the unease that trembled in the back of his mind at the thought of defying Boss.  “How dare you!  How dare you mess with me like this!”  He swung at Boss with a conjured bone and missed entirely.  The movement sent waves of pain down both of his arms, which he tried to push aside.  Boss hadn’t even moved.

“You are getting emotional.  I thought better of you.  Is this the monster the ambassador entrusted her daughter to for the past few weeks?  I’m surprised the child was even alive after so long in your care.”

* The Great and Terrible Papyrus is taunting you.

Sans growled.  “You - why would you do this to me?  Why would you mess with my phone like that?”  Another swing, this one aimed at Boss’s femur.  It was blocked almost lazily by a large bone that appeared in Boss’s own hand.  For the first time in his life, he was tempted to show his brother what he could really do.

“Oh?  THAT’S what this is about?  Some pictures?  A few text messages?  The ambassador’s daughter is too important a secret to be entrusted to the likes of you.  You can’t even keep track of your phone half the time.  Why should we risk the safety of a member of the Royal Family just so you can, what, hold images of her daughter over the ambassador’s head as blackmail?  Is that what you’re after?”

* Smells like bones.

“What?  I would never hurt Attie - haven’t I proven that?  Why does everyone think I want to use the kid against Frisk?”

“Because that’s what you’ve ALWAYS done!  The only things you care about are sleep, food, and aggravating those around you for your own amusement!  LOOK at yourself, Sans!  You’ve been wearing the same clothes for three days!  Do you think Frisk wants a filthy pest like you in her daughter’s life?”

* The Great and Terrible Papyrus is disgusted with you.

Sans ended the combat, will to fight gone, and felt through his numbness that Boss had done the same.  He stared at the grass.

“...A filthy pest like you…”

“Thank you, Sans.  Thank you for everything...”

“I love you, Mr. Sans!”

Of course it was a lie.

Of course.

He’d never been worth anything at all, had he.

A hand grabbed the front of Sans’s collar and dragged him eye socket-to-eye socket with Boss.  He dangled limp, avoiding the other’s glare.  He didn’t even care about the agonizing pressure it put on his vertebrae; he deserved whatever Boss dished out.  He’d thought Boss was jealous of Attie, but clearly he was just looking out for the kid.

Like Sans should have done.

“You will sell your greasy food.  You will go to your sentry shifts.  And I will never - never - hear Atlas’s name from you again.

“Is.  That.   Clear?"

“C-crystal, Boss.”

“We will discuss your punishment when you get home from your sentry shift.”  Boss dropped him and stalked away, back towards the entrance to the park.

Sans sat, slumped against the side of the hot dog stand.  He couldn’t feel the passage of time.  He was too busy trying to hold onto memories of Attie - Attie playing, Attie smiling, Attie eating, Attie doing homework, Attie...uh, Attie…

He cursed his poor memory.  How was he going to remember her when he could barely remember to get himself up in the morning?

Did he even have a right to?  She wasn’t his kid.  He had nothing to do with her, really.  He was just a stupid bum who’d started to feel responsible for her with no real justification.

A knock sounded against the wooden counter of the hot dog stand, and Sans tensed.

“Hey, man,” said a rather annoyed teenager, peering around the side of the stand.  “You sellin’ hot dogs today or what?”

If you or a loved one is the victim of any kind of abuse, please get help.  Tell a friend or family member, inform your teacher at school or the HR department at work, report it to your local police department.  Here are some US resources, and some international resources as well.