Archive of Our Own ^beta

His heavy, hurried pants cut through the silence of the dilapidated warehouse. Sharp pains erupted through his right leg, each accompanied with a grunt as he fought the urge to succumb to the pain.

It didn’t matter how much pain he was in right now; if he faltered for even a moment, he was dead.

His eyes darted around the large storage area he had stumbled into. He cursed his luck, there was barely anything nearby to hide behind. Regardless, there were several other connecting rooms nearby, so he made a run for one of them and hoped to God he hadn’t landed himself a locked door.

He tried the handle. No luck. He slammed into it. Didn’t budge. He tried again, with no luck, and then looked around in a panic. He had no time for this, no time to get caught here in the open.

Wait— Was that door always open? His eyes settled on the nearest door to his right, which had been shaken slightly ajar by all his havoc. He didn’t question it any more than that—he didn’t have the luxury of doing so—and quickly ducked into the room and shut the door.

Was that too loud? Maybe. It didn’t matter. This door opened inwards, so he could plausibly keep the door closed with enough force, and maybe his pursuer would think it was locked. It’d buy him more time to call the police anyway—oh, finally, there was a signal here! He needed to make a call right now. Three digits, ever so simple. Yet, his fingers fumbled to even get his phone out and it took far too long to focus his shaking finger onto the first digit.

Second digit.

Thi—

His phone clattered as it hit the ground, accompanied by a meaty thud that he didn’t process at first. Why had he dropped his phone now? This was quite literally the worst time for him to have a clumsy streak. He needed to pick it up quickly—

Where… where was his right arm?

His left hand quickly moved up to cover his mouth and stifled his screams, the one instinctual action he’d managed to contain before it bit him in the ass. Unfortunately, it was too late to worry about messing up.

Wood creaked, bringing the man’s attention to the bone that jutted through the door where his arm once rested. Said bone retracted, leaving a jagged hole and a moment of tense silence. A single light of unstable red and blue flickered to life, mixing into a harsh violet light that stared him down through the hole as those last two haunting words rang through the air.

“Found you.”

“Frisk!” The door to the detective’s office slammed open, its handle landing snugly in the cushion pre-taped to the wall. “It’s awful! Our killer struck once more while we slumbered!”

There was no response to the tall skeleton’s exclamation; he was instead greeted by a thick haze of smoke that enveloped the room.

“Asgore’s sake, Frisk!” the skeleton yelled as he walked around the room, sliding open all the windows. “At least leave the windows open. You’ll suffocate in here if you let this get any worse.”

There was a groan and a sigh as the detective in question finally roused from their half-asleep state. “W… What?”

“OUR KILLER—!”

“Quietly, please." they interjected while softly rubbing their temple. "I have the worst hangover right now and your yelling is making it worse.”

“Apologies,” he said in a hushed tone. “Another body was discovered last night, and I’ve compiled most of the police’s findings from the scene.” He placed a thin folder on their table, another in a line of many they’d gotten since the police had come to them with this case.

The smoke thinned, and the two could finally see each other clearly. The skeleton scanned the human’s appearance. They looked just as haggard as always: a sleeve of their unbuttoned brown detective’s longcoat hung rested halfway to their elbow instead of on their shoulder, a newly lit cigarette sat loosely between their lips, threatening to fall out at a moment’s notice, their black turtleneck was wrinkled harshly and their hair was a complete mess. In other words, they looked about as good as they usually did, and in the same pose they usually held, with their legs crossed and laying on the table.

“You really should work those slovenly habits of yours. It’ll do your health no good to treat yourself like this.”

“I’ll die when I decide I’m going to die,” Frisk replied with practiced speed.

He sighed. “Yes, but keep going like this and living is going to be pretty inconvenient.”

As usual, Frisk didn’t have a response, instead shifting their eyes to the folder on their table. “Thin. Should I assume that there was nothing to glean from the site of the killing as well?”

He hummed a saddened agreement. “Indeed.”

Truthfully, they weren’t surprised. Their culprit—who Frisk internally nicknamed Violet, though they weren’t sure why they were so set on that name—had a track record of being virtually unobservable. They seemed to avoid all cameras with pinpoint accuracy and had fine enough magic control to leave no traces at the scene of their crimes.

“That’s fine. I’ve gotten myself a lead on where to check next.” The detective put out their cigarette and let out a deep exhale. “Tonight we go camping!”

“…What?”

“Come on, Papyrus. I expected you to be more excited. You know you love anything outdoors after all.”

“I do, but knowing you there’s a catch.”

Frisk snickered and tried to get up. “Really? You can’t trust little old me—” There was a thud as they fell off their chair, followed by a groan as they pulled themselves up. “—to not trick you anymore?”

“The last—”

“Point taken,” Frisk interjected, not wanting to know how long the list of their wrongdoings he was about to read off was. “But come on. I promise this time there’s no shenanigans. Just a normal stakeout.”

Papyrus sighed in resignation of his fate. “Whatever. I suppose I’ll be fine regardless of whether you’re telling the truth or not.” His focus settled on the ticking wall clock that sat above Frisk (once again, he was reminded about how that had to be inconvenient for them to read) and remembered something important. “You seem to have forgotten, so I’ll do you this kindness and remind you now. Your meeting with my brother is happening in under half an hour.”

“Wasn’t that yes—?” Frisk, who was currently leaning against their desk and trying to light themselves another cigarette, froze in place. “Oh, uh. Y— Yeah. That was… today, yeah. I uh, definitely remembered.”

Papyrus gave them a look of disappointment and let out another sigh. “Well, time’s ticking. My brother may be a lazy bag of bones, but he is ever punctual. Something he learnt from years of having me as his brother, no doubt. You have about twenty minutes till the appointed meeting, give or take a few. Do remember that you insisted on this; it would be extra rude to not show up given that fact.”

Frisk tried their best to tune out his scolding; he was 100% correct, they were certain, but they didn’t want to have to confront their own failures here. They dashed into the restroom, giving themselves a look over in the mirror. They indeed looked haggard, which usually didn’t bother them until now. But this was the brother they’d heard so much about after all. They needed to give the best first impression… for some reason.

Truth be told, they didn’t know why they’d been so insistent on eventually meeting Papyrus’s brother. They’d heard so much about him due to being compared to him whenever Papyrus got fed up with him, and eventually they just thought it’d be nice to meet him eventually. Well, more like they felt they had to. Something was wrong here and Frisk wasn’t just going to ignore it.

Mysterious draw or not, they were a detective. They needed to get to the bottom of this.

Twenty minutes later, an only-slightly-better-looking Frisk stumbled into a bar, panting as if they’d just run a marathon. They’d ridden a bike here, in fact, and it was becoming apparent to them that they needed to spend less time lazing around in their office given how much more tired they were than usual. It was fine, they could worry about all that later. What was important was that they had arrived here just in time, which was a passing score in Papyrus’ book.

Their eyes scanned the room for their soon-to-be-acquaintance, remembering that Papyrus had told them to look for a blue hoodie and lazy attire. Sure enough, there was a blue hoodie in the room, worn by a skeleton sporting a green shirt with the words “Bone Zone” boldly plastered upon it in perhaps the most despised font to ever exist. Accompanying that absolute fashion disaster was a pair of black joggers with a white vertical stripe down the sides and a pair of sneakers with their laces completely untied.

Safe to say, they’d found their man.

They composed themselves quickly as they claimed the seat beside him at the counter, taking notice of the cup of red liquid he lazily sipped up. His white eye lights flickered lazily to them as they came into his vision, the corners of his grin lifting ever so slightly.

“Heya,” he greeted with a fittingly lazy tone.

“Ah, hello…” they paused for his name.

“Sans. Sans the skeleton.” He motioned for them to sit down.

They took their seat without much hesitation. “Frisk. Just Frisk. Pleasure to meet you, Sans.”

He looked over them as if he was trying to recall something but he quickly gave up and went back to drinking his cup of red liquid. “Pleasure to meet you too. It’s nice to finally meet the great detective my brother has been working with for so long.”

Papyrus talked about them that much? And called them a ‘great detective’? They knew he was kind—the best person they knew, really—but they were still flattered. “Ah, thank you, but I don’t think I’m anywhere near as great as he made me out to be.”

“You can drop the formalities, you know. This is just a friendly meet up, after all. Nobody here is going to judge you for being a little more friendly.”

Frisk couldn't help but crack a smile at the puns, though that second one was odd; it came out of nowhere and yet they were they still found it rather funny. They simply made a mental note of it and continued on with their conversation. “Ah, then that’s alright.”

Their eyes returned to the cup of red liquid he was drinking. It didn't look like wine and seemed to have an odd texture for a drink. Was that what they thought it was?

"Ketchup." He answered the unasked question. "A little vice of mine, don't mind me."

Somehow, they weren't surprised. And speaking of vices, they were really starting to feel the need to give in to theirs. “Ugh, what a shame that we didn’t meet outdoors, I could’ve used a smoke right about now,” they groaned.

“Ah, that explains the smell.”

“Wait, really? I was sure the smell wouldn’t be obvious. I even caked myself in perfume!”

“A shame, but Sans nose all.”

That got a small giggle out of Frisk. “How awful. Do you have any better jokes?”

“Nah, I forgot 'em. All my good ones went up in smoke.”

That got another giggle out of Frisk, and the two fell into a comfortable rhythm of jokes and conversation. Nothing of much importance, really, but they definitely felt like the two of them had become friends, somewhat. Yet, the ever looming feeling that they were forgetting something never seemed to leave their mind.

Which was really odd, because Frisk never forgot anything. Anything they deemed important, anyway.

They had a hunch, and they were going to get to the bottom of it. After all, their hunches always seemed to lead them to whatever answer they needed.

That was reason enough to politely ask if they could meet again tomorrow, suggesting they meet up at an arcade. They’d expected him to refuse, which would’ve given them the opportunity to let him choose instead, but he accepted it with no hesitation whatsoever. That was fine, it wasn’t that big a deal if they’d misjudged what he’d be alright with. There would be more opportunities to sharpen their knowledge of him.

They’d made a new friend, sure, but they could think about that later. They had a case to solve, and there was no harm in being early to the stakeout spot.

“So you’re absolutely certain we’ll catch him if we just wait here for a couple more hours?” Papyrus scanned the area around them, his skepticism growing every moment as the sun fell lower in the sky.

The duo sat parked on a mountain road overlooking a slightly dense forest. There wasn't much of notice in the forest, save for a long abandoned warehouse with a trail carved out to it, though said trail had long been overtaken by the vegetation, leaving it barely visible.

“Trust me, Papyrus. When have I ever failed you?” Frisk took a bite of their chicken sandwich, humming with satisfaction at the ever delicious taste. “Give it a bit, they’ll be here soon enough.”

Papyrus sighed as he watched sauce dribble down Frisk’s cheeks. Those two were birds of a feather indeed. “And I assume I shouldn’t ask how you came to this conclusion, should I?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told the truth,” Frisk nonchalantly answered. “It doesn’t matter anyway. You already know I’m right.”

Papyrus was grateful he had the foresight to bring himself a set of crosswords to keep him occupied. The next few hours were certain to be boring without them.

And sure enough, he was right. Nothing of note occurred even as the sun finally began its slumber and the night slowly grew to maturity. He questioned why he’d bothered to come here so early; his brother almost certainly wasn’t going to make himself a healthy dinner without his presence, and he could have spent the extra time looking over the details of the new cases their office had recently taken up. He'd nearly exhausted the pile of new puzzles he'd gotten himself to tide him through this, and at this point he was beginning to wonder just what Frisk was up to.

Frisk was never wrong. He'd love to say he was being hyperbolic, but whenever Frisk told him to trust them like this, with no evidence but an inexplicable conviction that something would come to pass, it always did. The only issue was that they also almost never told him exactly what they were going to do once said event happened, and at this point he'd come to realize that he'd have to act on his own best judgement whenever they left him to do whatever they were doing. They seemed to rely on him doing just that anyway.

Speaking of which, where were they? They hadn't said anything in a while, and while going for hours without saying a word wasn't uncommon if they were focused, he was beginning to worry that they’d done the usual.

He stashed his puzzles back into the car's glovebox and stepped out of the car. Last he'd seen them they’d been sitting on the car's trunk, staring intently at the warehouse through their pair of binoculars and ignoring his suggestions for them to join him in completing the crosswords. A quick glance was enough to tell that they were no longer there, the pair of binoculars they were using sitting where they once were.

He scanned the surroundings carefully for Frisk. They were nowhere to be found. He was beginning to think that he should never let them out of his sight given how often they did this, but in the end all he could bring himself to do was sigh. They’d be fine. They were one of the most tenacious people he'd ever met.

Not that that fact would stop him from finding them and making sure they were safe.

Hide. Hide. Hide. Hide.

The doorknob rattled, refused to open, took its time in finally clicking, finally relented and convinced the door to open. The door took its time too, made its noise too, screamed its presence too.

There was still time. They weren’t here yet. He would be safe if this damned door would just open!

He stumbled his way through as the creaking door opened against his weight. Just as quickly, just as slowly, he slammed the door shut behind him.

He was fine. He was fine. HewasfineHewasfineHewasfineHewasfi—

“Why, you look like you’re in quite the pickle.”

A voice, calm and knowing, wormed its way into his ear. He jerked away immediately, brandishing his pocket knife that had been utterly ineffective so far. It didn’t matter how good it was, anything was better than nothing when stuck in this room with nowhere to go.

How had they gotten behind him? He’d held the door shut. He’d put a great distance between them. They seemed to move inhumanly fast, but this was just absurd. Were they really toying with him the entire time? Had it been truly hopeless from the start?

A shrill cackle erupted from the figure as they stepped closer. “Of course. I suppose I should have expected such a reaction from you.”

They were uncomfortably close. So close he could just barely make out their face, even in this darkness.

Their smile, a gash of darkness visible only through the absence of a mouth where it should be, seemed to stretch past their face in a ghastly manner. Their shoulder-length hair flowed weightlessly in the air, dragged around as their head tilted to and fro in an almost unnatural manner. And finally, those eyes. Those crimson eyes. They stared him down, sized him up, saw through his pitiful front and read him for the filth he was. They knew everything, he could tell, despite the fact that they were meeting for the first time.

…They were meeting for the first time. This wasn’t the person who had been chasing him down. They shared the color of their eyes—that terrifying crimson—but they didn’t have the same grin. There were other differences, other minute things that added up into him knowing this for certain, but that was the most obvious.

He didn’t drop the knife, didn’t let down his guard. Just because this figure wasn’t his pursuer didn’t mean they weren’t just as bad, or even connected to them. It wasn’t a relief; it could perhaps be even worse.

Amused laughter erupted from the figure in front of him as they stepped away, the crimson lights of their eyes fading as their face once again returned to the shadows.

“That was too funny. Oh, I’m sorry, I’m not here to hurt you, but I saw you so spooked and couldn’t help but wanna play a little prank on you.”

He didn’t trust it. Not one bit. Didn’t let his pocket knife so much as budge. And yet, he felt himself letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding onto. He felt himself relax against his will, as if he desperately wanted to believe it.

“I mean it. I mean, if I really wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead, so don’t worry about it, okay? Besides, I wasn’t here for you in the first place. I’m actually after the man who’s been chasing you, in fact.”

…He supposed they were right. If they wanted him dead, they would simply have stabbed him in the back when they had the chance.

He finally found the courage within him to speak. “…Why are you after him? He’s—” He briefly returned to the memories of being chased through the dark forest. The feeling of being surrounded on all sides by the same two crimson eyes was terrifying; he could never seem to shake off that grinning spectre no matter how far he ran. Even this abandoned warehouse would only serve as temporary reprieve in the end. “…You’re better off calling the police or something. He’s terrifying. You’re marching to your death chasing him down alone.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about little old me,” they responded with complete confidence. “I know my way around murderers. Granted, I’m usually only around after the act, but I know what I’m getting into. I am a detective, after all.”

A detective? He supposed they looked the part, at least from what he could barely make out in the dark, what with the long coat and glasses. But they weren’t part of the police. For all he knew, they were one of those weirdo self-styled detectives who were always chasing killers and caused problems wherever they went.

He didn’t want to be here any longer. “Well, that’s great and all—“

“Ah, but wouldn’t it be lovely?” He found himself interrupted by their muttering as they turned away from him. “Ah, the feeling of watching myself bleed out slowly. Oh, I don’t know why but I just can’t help myself.”

He wasn’t exactly sure if he’d heard that properly, but he had the sinking feeling he needed to leave. Right now. He’d dallied far too long, and being with them was perhaps just as dangerous as still being in the forest now.

He took the opportunity while they continued muttering to themselves to step past them and go for the door. Hopefully they would leave them be if they just peacefully left.

He gripped the doorknob and turned it.

“Ah, there he is,” they said with sudden alertness. “You sure took your time.”

“Who…?” His speech slowed. A sharp pain ripped through his chest and his grip on the doorknob faltered. His eyes slowly trailed down, revealing to him the pain’s source: a bone, impaled straight through his chest. “…What? When did… this?”

He stumbled, barely able to keep himself upright. His left hand brought itself to the bone as he feebly tried to pry it from his chest. All that resulted was a fresh bloom of pain in his left hand where it met the bone, causing him to fall to his knees.

“Ah. It’s…” It’s over, isn’t it?

He couldn’t even eke out those last words before he collapsed onto his side, dead.

“You sure took your time.”

The door creaked open slowly, as if moving on its own. Frisk stood still, staring down the doorway as if waiting for something.

In an instant, something white flew straight through the air at Frisk’s head. They shifted their head out of the way with practiced ease, a smile crawling its way onto their face as if they’d expected that very reaction.

“Ah, there it is. You always did go for the cheap shots when it came to me, didn’t you?”

There was an almost imperceptible shift in the air as soon as Frisk finished their sentence. Perhaps anyone else would have failed to notice it, but not Frisk. Not Frisk, who swiftly pulled out a knife and slashed at the space behind them.

They missed, of course. If there was one thing he was good at, it was dodging.

They barely made out his figure in the dark, but they could see him step back out of slashing range, as if he’d expected Frisk to react that way to him teleporting behind them. His crimson eyes focused on the knife in their hand, then shifted to Frisk themself, before a big grin appeared on his face.

“You.” He spoke but a single word before snapping his finger.

A crash rang through the warehouse as Frisk found themselves tumbling through several walls of concrete. Pain rang through their body in waves as a wall finally caught them, their body threatening to crumple under all the damage. They forced themselves to stay on their feet anyway, as if they were used to it all. They caught their glasses—that had flown off their face from the impact—in mid-air with ease.

“Ah, how rude. And here I expected you to be more talkative.”

Another bone straight for their head was his only response. They pushed themselves to the side swiftly, narrowly dodging the bone, before rolling away from the wall. A mass of bones erupted from the wall shortly after, ready to impale anyone who had been too close.

“Always going straight for the kill with you,” they said as they picked themselves up once more. “What happened to enjoying the hunt? To wanting to watch me suffer as I slowly but surely die from my wounds?” Another bone. “What happened to that, huh?”

A shrill sound cut through the air as they turned right and ran down the hallway. Moments later, there was an explosion of light and a loud boom, and the area where Frisk once stood was reduced to mere rubble.

Those blasters are just as scary as before, they thought to themselves.

Frisk quickly found themselves ducking, weaving and rolling past a number of bone attacks one would consider quite overkill, earning themselves near miss after near miss. He was going overboard against them for some reason, though Frisk supposed the fact that nothing had hit them yet made it sort of justified.

Still, dodging everything in the enclosed space that was a warehouse was rather disadvantageous to them. So, as soon as they ducked into a hallway that had a window in it, Frisk made a beeline for it and slammed their way straight though, ignoring the shards of glass as they tore away at their skin and coat.

“Oh shit, that kinda hurt, huh.” Frisk chuckled dryly to themselves. They pulled out a large shard that had managed to get itself lodged in their arm, before quickly looking around.

The forest didn’t have many landmarks aside from this warehouse. They’d managed to land on the side of it too, and there wasn’t really any way for them to tell which way the entrance was other than trial and error. That was a tall ask, what with the killer hot on their trail. On that note–

They barely managed to dodge out of the way as a bone flew by, grazing their cheek. It stung, perhaps worse than any other wound they’d sustained so far. Weird. As far as they knew, they should’ve been immune to that. How odd.

They made a break for it, deciding to abandon all caution to the wind and dart through the trees, simply hoping he’d miss. It was almost time, anyway.

Of course, he didn’t miss. He never did.

The first thing to go was their left leg, a bone flying straight into it. They barely managed to keep themselves from tripping, groaning as pain continued to ebb continuously from the wound. It only seemed to increase in intensity with every second, demanding their attention lest it distract them later.

Or, perhaps, lest it distract them immediately, as the bone stole their attention long enough for their pursuer to materialize in front of them. His hand latched onto their face, before he promptly slammed them onto the ground with as much force as he could muster.

Their head ached like it never had before. Their eyes struggled to keep focus and they found themselves tearing up from the combined pain of their leg and head. Without a second thought, their right hand went for their knife, but that too was pinned to the ground by a bone.

They could slowly feel their life draining from their body as the bones continued to do damage over time. Slowly but surely, slower than they usually did. He was taking his time watching them die.

They groaned, forcing themselves to speak even as every inch of their body protested. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

His gaze slowly washed over them, two crimson dots moving in what seemed to be complete darkness. They could feel his weight on them, pinning them below him as if the bones in their limbs didn’t already do that, yet they could barely make out most of his face. That hood, that goddamned hood, obscured his face as it had in the past, leaving just the lights that were his eyes visible.

He seemed to have ditched the old, worn-out hoodie look for this new hobby. He sported a different one, a hoodie they’d never seen before. It didn’t seem like something he’d owned for long, given the lack of stains or the smell of condiments. The turtleneck was new too, and it climbed all the way up his neck and then some. He’d probably bought them specifically for use for this job, perhaps so he could dispose of them quickly and without question if need be.

Still. Another hoodie. They supposed he did love his hoodies.

“…I suppose I am enjoying this, aren’t I?” He finally replied. A grin, an utterly ecstatic one at that, etched itself onto his face. “I remember this. You. It’s coming back. Slowly. But surely.”

He loosened his grip on their face, letting it trail down the side of their head, down their cheek and onto their neck.

“You. You did something, didn’t you?” His voice shook with rage, yet there was an undertone of excitement that he couldn’t quite hide properly. Perhaps the feeling of his memories returning had rendered his mask less reliable. “I was here. Yesterday— No, today. I came here, I killed that man, I left without incident. You. You weren’t here.“

They smiled.

“And. Even before that. Before… any of this. I won. Back then. In the hall. I know that. I remember that. And yet, you’re back. Not to mention. Everything.”

A new world, monsters on the surface, everything being happy.

“Took you long enough. I remembered the first time you killed me, you know. I’m disappointed it took you so long.” They giggled at his confusion. “It’s quite the perfect world, isn’t it?”

He didn’t respond.

“If that’s the case—” they took his silence as a yes “—then why are you still here?”

There was silence as he contemplated the question. It didn’t take him long to reach his conclusion, however. “You. Because of you. Because you’re still here.” The rage all but faded from his voice, leaving only excitement as his grip on their neck tightened.

“Of course,” they affirmed between labored breaths. “Because it will always be just you and me. And you can no longer have it any other way, can you?” Their voice rose into a frenzy, as if they weren’t being choked at all. “YOU’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO GO BACK, WILL YOU SANS? YOU WILL FOREVER BE STUCK CHASING AFTER MY TAIL, WORKING TO BRING ABOUT AN END TO ME THAT WILL NEVER COME!”

Their eyes glowed a bloody crimson as determination coursed through them. A sudden fervor overcame them and they gripped both his arms, loosening his grip on their throat. They ignored the way the bone ripped through their right arm; it would not matter in the end.

“Me? The one in danger? That dumbass could never have understood what was really going on.”

A bone erupted from beneath them, ripping through their torso. They felt something spill—an intestine, perhaps?—but pushed ahead undeterred. They pushed themselves up, forcing their face as close to Sans’s as they could.

“YOU’VE GOT IT BAD, DONTCHA? You’re stuck with me and no matter how many times you rip me to shreds, no matter how many times you shatter my skull, I will never let you go. NEVER.”

Their shouting devolved into insane, loud laughter, cackling as if something about the lack of a reaction from him was hilarious. Yet, he couldn’t help but giggle a little too.

Their grip loosened. His tightened. His hands were back on their neck. “You’ve died a few times today already, haven’t you? You’ve grown rusty, it seems. Letting your guard down when you’re right in my hands.”

Their cackling died down, reduced to painful wheezes as they struggled for air. And yet, even through all of that, they managed to whisper one last sentence.

“You’re. too. late.”

As if on cue, a booming voice rang through the forest. “FRISK? WHERE DID YOU RUN OFF TO THIS TIME?”

Sans froze. Frisk giggled.

“Checkmate, my beloved Violet.”

He looked at them and sighed. He muttered a “next time” before vanishing into the night, along with all the bones pinning Frisk down.

“FRISK? WHERE ARE—? OH DEAR, FRISK!”

Ah, Papyrus spotted them. Just in time, in fact; they’d probably have died about ten times over during the course of that whole conversation if they hadn’t willed themselves to stay alive. It was honestly surprising they’d managed to hold out for that long, but frankly their determination was beginning to run dry.

“YOU LOOK HORRIBLE,” he exclaimed as he got closer. “WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?”

“I’m fine,” they managed. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to die to this.”

They had died from less than this a bunch of times already, sure, but it wasn’t like he knew that. Though that probably didn’t matter when a regular human would have kicked the bucket ages ago.

“FRISK, I KNOW YOU’RE PUTTING ON A BRAVE FACE, BUT IT’S NOT VERY REASSURING RIGHT NOW. DON’T WORRY, HOWEVER, YOUR PERFECT ASSISTANT WILL GET YOU PATCHED UP IN A JIFFY.”

Of course. Papyrus could always be relied on to be more than perfect. He truly was wasted on them. “Thanks,” they uttered, before letting themselves drift to some much needed sleep.

“IT’S NO PROBLEM!” The tall skeleton responded, before dashing towards the car at a cartoonishly fast speed.

“You sure got roughed up, huh?”

The short skeleton lazily chugged down another cup of ketchup as he asked the question. It was a simple provocation, acting like normal after all that had gone down. He didn’t even glance backwards to look at the human as they entered the bar, opting to wave the bartender over.

They sighed. It was thanks to their run-in last night that their arcade date had been cancelled; Papyrus had specified in no uncertain terms that they were not to strain themselves during recovery, and that included “going ham on the DDR machines”. Needless to say, it would be a shame to go to the arcade and not do that, so Sans had offered to meet up at the bar instead.

“Yeah.” They took the seat next to him at the counter and gestured to the bartender for some juice. “Had a run in with our ever elusive culprit, but they did a number on me before escaping.”

“What a shame,” he said, and for a moment Frisk felt themselves holding back a chuckle. They settled for giving him an unamused stare, which he ignored before continuing. “But knowing you, you’re probably not going to give up on chasing them, are you.”

Frisk chuckled to themselves, as if the answer was obvious. “Of course. I’d claw myself out of the grave before I let them escape my grasp.”

The grin on Sans’s face grew wider with amusement. “Knowing you, you’d literally do that. Well, I suppose I’ll toast to that.”

With the clinking of glasses came a promise of dedication, one understood in its fullness to only the couple making it. Not a word needed to be said, yet the ever eager detective could not hold back their excitement.

“Oh, I won’t give up on you, my dear Violet.”