#this kitten is literally id and instinct on four legs

[dragonasheswrites-blog]

The Heaven We Didn’t Choose, Chapter 21: In Which a Debt is Repaid

...But really, I don’t think Sans was counting.

First: Chapter 1: In Which a Child Makes a Friend

Previous: Chapter 20: The Trouble With Paperwork

Next: Chapter 22: In Which a Queen Babysits

Click here for the story overview.

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!”

Sans dozed off like that, one broken hand curled around a sleeping kitten and the sounds of gentle bickering coming from the kitchen.

#Dragonashes writes #Undertale #Underfell #The Heaven We Didn't Choose #Sans #Papyrus #Frisk #Undyne #Attie #TOSS #Time-space shenanigans #Torture #Aftermath of torture #Papyrus is abusive #This got so far out of hand #So many people will need therapy after this #But this is also the BIG RESCUE! #Things can only get better from here #Right??