Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He idly adjusted his scouter, letting out a sigh. “So it’s come to this. In order to find our respective teams…”

Kris spoke, interrupting him just as he was about to continue. “Let’s search together.”

He stared blankly at them, taken aback — since when did Kris ever take the initiative? — before crossing his arms in a show of feigned reluctance, though he wasn’t quite able to keep from smiling. “Oh? Are you finally asking to join my party? If that’s the case, then I’ll generously accept your offer of comradeship.”

They hesitated for a moment, then nodded— and promptly turned to walk in the wrong direction.

“Don’t bother, I already looked there. They didn’t go that way.” He waited for them to respond, all to no avail. Did they know something he didn’t? That was impossible— but then again, they only ever acted that way when they had a plan. He’d never find out what it was if he just stood there, though.

He chased after their retreating figure, calling out to them. “Hey, wait!”

Kris stopped some ways ahead, waving for him to come forwards; once he’d reached them, they pointed towards the corner of the alleyway. His curiosity piqued, he did as they asked—

A Virovirokun turned the corner just as he did, blocking the path ahead. He flinched away from them, his halberd materializing in a flurry of colour as Kris swung their sword down beside him.

“Kris, you could have at least warned me—”

“Cast Headwind.” Their sword morphed into a shield as they spoke.

He snorted, raising an eyebrow. “Who made you the leader? I think I’ll use my superior intellect to strategize, thank you very much!”

They shot him a look over the edge of their shield.

“…Fine.” Still grumbling, he cast the spell; a breeze began to blow, growing stronger with each passing second as the rushing of wind filled the alleyway. The Virovirokun hovered closer, seemingly out of their own volition.

The first wave of bullets proved easy enough to dodge; he’d quickly located the few safe spots with his keen vision. Thankfully, Kris seemed to have fared similarly well— not that he’d expected anything less from a fellow gamer.

Kris glanced at him, then pointed towards their opponent. “Attack them.”

He glared at them through his Smart Scouter. “I know perfectly well how battles work. I don’t need you to tell me what to do, Kris—”

“Just do it.”

Damn his curiosity. He’d half a mind not to, but…

“Controller hog as always, aren’t you,” he muttered under his breath, readying his halberd despite himself. Waiting for just the right moment, he lunged forwards, swinging the axe blade towards the enemy; they jerked backwards as the strike connected, mouth open in a silent cry, then tried to flee.

The wind pushed them back.

“Again,” said Kris.

“But—”

“Do it.” There was an edge to their voice that he’d never heard from them before.

He leapt, his halberd morphing into a spear as he ran the Virovirokun through. Their thin form flickered red before shattering, soon reduced to naught but dust in the wind as the gale slowly dwindled.

Kris looked at him once — nodded — and walked onwards without a single glance backwards, as though they were completely certain that he would follow them. Against his better judgement, he did so almost mechanically, the newfound power coursing through him accompanied by a profound, unshakable feeling of apprehension.

What even… what did I…

…How did they know I had that spell, anyway?

Chapter Text

“Kris?”

They stopped, but did not turn to look at him.

“…What, exactly, is your plan here? You…” He swallowed once, then twice; for some reason, his mouth felt oddly dry. “You do have one, right?”

“Power leveling.” Their voice was flat, as though the notion was obvious and he was the only one who couldn’t see it.

He masked his nervousness with a burst of laughter. “Ha! Haha! I see!”

In hindsight, that… did make sense, didn’t it. He did feel as though he’d grown slightly stronger since the last fight’s conclusion; surely Kris must have, too. And with the extent to which the world they were in resembled that of a videogame, it really wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to say it was one. It would certainly explain a lot.

Tamping down his uneasiness, he continued with his usual confident air; he understood exactly what they were doing, now. It was plain to see. As for how they were going about doing it… well, that was just how games worked.

“You’re a new party member, so it’s only natural that you’d feel the need to catch up! You’re just having me carry to share the XP— just like in Dragon Blazers I, because they made all the recruitable characters terribly underleveled compared to the protagonist.”

“You’re the one catching up.”

He scoffed, pressing a wing to his chestplate. “As if. Need I remind you that that battle was three versus one, Kris? It wasn’t even fair! If I hadn’t been outnumbered—”

“Prove it.” They pointed to a nearby traffic cone.

“…You.” He looked at it, then back towards Kris, staring incredulously at them. “You want me to fight. A traffic cone?”

Kris stepped forward. The cone toppled as two enemies — Poppups, he recalled — emerged from a trapdoor hidden beneath it.

…“Prove it”, huh? Well, I’ll show them!

The wind blew. Four strikes of his halberd — two for each opponent — later, he and Kris stood in an alleyway empty but for themselves. He coughed, rubbing at his stinging eyes.

Kris turned to regard him. He couldn’t quite tell what that particular expression meant, but it certainly wasn’t approval. If they’d meant to say anything to him, they didn’t say it, instead remaining eerily silent— well, by their standards, which was probably not a good sign.

Regardless, they led on, and he followed behind, an inexplicable sense of nausea washing over him as they walked past the now-closed trapdoor.

“…It’s just a videogame,” he muttered to himself. “It’s fine. It’s fine.”

- - -

The garbage dump was nearly silent, save for the sound of their footsteps and the wind whistling high above the towering mounds of trash. It was clearly deserted— and even if it wasn’t, there was no way that either of their teams would be hanging around here, of all places.

“Kris. We’re going the wrong way.”

They didn’t stop; they’d ignored him entirely. His feathers ruffled as he shouted at them.

“I know you can hear me, Kris! This isn’t—”

“Follow.” Their voice was… since when were they so insistent? Deciding that protesting wasn’t worth provoking them further, he reluctantly did as they asked; perhaps they were so intent on going that way for a reason.

Just as he’d suspected, their teams were nowhere to be found; just more opponents that Kris had him strike down, and a grey door lodged into the side of a junk pile that neither of them could open. Nothing of particular worth.

Contrary to his expectations, they didn’t seem disappointed in the least. Or surprised at all, for that matter— as though it was exactly what they’d expected.

They’d probably just wanted the extra XP.

- - -

They soon returned to the city, only to find it… strangely empty. It wasn’t completely deserted, but all of the traffic they’d had to cut through on the way to the dump was now gone without a trace, as if everyone had just up and left.

If he were to go by typical videogame logic, then the current situation was probably a sign of an impending boss fight or some important plot point. They’d yet to come across anything other than the same few standard opponents, but that didn’t make him any less wary.

…Unless it was all because of them. He briefly considered the thought before discarding it; in his extensive experience as a gamer, videogames didn’t tend to be all that complex — or reactive, for that matter — when it came to random encounters. There had to be another reason.

He held a wing up to shield his face as the Ambyu-Lance they were fighting flashed bright red, abruptly disintegrating. The wind died within a few seconds, leaving him free to check himself for any stray particles; somehow, no matter how close he was to the opponents he took down, he could never find any dust on himself, though he swore he’d choked on it once or twice.

It made everything feel less… real. Though if it really was a videogame, then he supposed it wasn’t meant to seem very real anyway. And yet…

As they entered the next battle — this time against a Tasque — he looked to his classmate.

“…Hey, Kris? Are you… completely sure about this?”

They held up their shield. “Headwind.”

“But what if—”

Thinking better of it, he cast the spell.

- - -

It had to be a videogame, or some kind of fever dream based on one. One way or another, none of it could possibly be real— he had magic, for instance, and magic wasn’t real for obvious reasons, so it was the only logical conclusion.

While he couldn’t see a battle menu, or stats, or anything of the sort, he had spells — two, though Kris had told him not to use the second one, for some reason — and a class, though any further descriptions of their respective effects eluded him. He just knew what they were.

Prior to his alliance with Kris, he’d been a Gale Halberdier, which was… had been apt, he supposed. And now he was a Tempest Knight, most likely an upgrade of the former. It did sound cooler; the name had a certain ring to it. He... well, he wasn't about to complain, but...

It was just that after everything they’d done — everything they were still doing, he mused, as Kris took them both into another battle — he didn’t feel like much of a knight.

Chapter Text

He’d nearly missed the giant billboard — advertising a Ferris wheel, of all things — in the middle of the street, only having noticed it when he’d looked up to question why Kris had stopped.

He scoffed. “Really, Kris? You’re gaping at that thing? I, for one, don’t see what’s so impressive about it— we see one of those every year.”

When no reply was forthcoming, he leaned slightly to the side to get a better look at their expression. They were just… staring at it. Quite intently, actually.

“…Unless. You’re suggesting that. You… want to ride it, together?

Their voice was completely deadpan. “No.”

“Well—” He tried to mask the disappointment welling up in his chest with his usual bravado. “Good! Because I have better things to do than participate in something so… juvenile.”

“Noelle will ride with me.”

“Wha— but—” he sputtered, trying to settle on a response that didn’t involve contradicting himself. “Why are you telling me that?! And with such certainty— as if Noelle would ever deign to partake in anything of that caliber, least of all with you! I, for one, think otherwise.”

Kris turned, shooting him a withering look that bade him fall silent. “Noelle will ride with me.”

…He’d never seen them so angry. Not even when he’d accused them of cheating in Super Smashing Fighters— he was absolutely positive that they’d done so, but still. They… must’ve been truly serious, then.

So what if they chose to go on that… that gaudy excuse for a carnival attraction? Ferris wheels were for children. They could go waste their time up there for all he cared… without him…

They moved on soon enough to confront another enemy, and for once, he was almost glad for the distraction.

- - -

He stared incredulously at the shopkeeper Addison offering them a pair of… “Dating Shoes”.

“What? No! We’re just…” He desperately searched for the correct words. Officially, they were rivals, but he wasn’t entirely sure whether that still applied now that they were on the same team. “Party members! That’s all!”

He… couldn’t very well call them a friend, now could he.

“We’re something else.”

…What was that supposed to mean?!

The merchant interrupted him before he could ask Kris to elaborate. “If you’re something else, maybe a Dating Shoes isn’t right…?” Just as he was about to correct their grammar — a pair of, not a, or just forgo it altogether and use aren’t afterwards — they continued, cheerfully cutting him off once more.

“Maybe I could interest you in a PlasmaRing?”

“What, like a plasma globe?” He glanced towards Kris. “I highly doubt we’ll need that. I have wind magic, not electric—”

Kris didn’t even look at him as they spoke. “Get it.”

“Better safe than sorry, eh? Who knows— you might end up needing it after all!” The merchant grinned. “Besides, you can’t get stronger without good equipment.”

They… did make a good point. If they had the funds for it, it wouldn’t hurt to stock their inventory with items. Just in case. “…Fine. Name your price.”

“Just a small fee of three hundred and fifty-five Dark Dollars!”

That seemed reasonable enough to him. If he remembered correctly, however, they were just one dollar short of the price. It would be inconvenient, but… “We’ll be back for it. Kris, let’s—”

“Get it.”

He snorted. “Did you leave your IQ points at home, or forget how to count? We don’t have that much right now.”

“Get it.”

“Are you even listening to me? We only have three hundred and fifty-four.”

“Get it.”

“…That’s all we have, Kris. Party funds are shared. I don’t have any more money, if that’s what you’re asking—”

“Get it.”

“How do you expect me to ‘get it’ when we clearly don’t…” He trailed off, finally connecting the dots in his mind. “You can’t be serious.”

“Get it.”

“We can’t just— that’s not going to work! Anyone with half a brain cell knows that shopkeepers can’t be—”

“Get it,” Kris… commanded.

…Did they know something he didn’t? That seemed… unlikely — he was as good at games as they were, if not better — but this was unlike any videogame he’d ever played. If Kris was certain that it would work…

Well. It… wasn’t any different from what they’d been doing this entire time. Except for the fact that the merchant wasn’t an enemy like the rest, but…

If it was all just a videogame… did it really matter?

The merchant smiled still, only looking vaguely confused as he turned towards them.

It’s not real.

The wind howled.

- - -

Kris handed him the Plasma Ring. Strands of coloured light flickered against the surface of the glass orb embedded into it, all arcing away from a focal point trapped at its heart.

Mesmerized, he stared at it for a long moment, before a more pressing matter occurred to him.

“…How am I even supposed to put this on?” An idea came to mind, and he fumbled with the Royal Pin attached to the skirt beneath his chestplate, trying to detach it.

“No.” Kris tapped at a spot near their eye.

What… oh.

Almost unconsciously, he raised a hand to his Smart Scouter. “I’m not swapping it out for that.”

…Were they glaring at him? “Kris, I need my Scouter more than—”

“You don’t.”

Alright, they almost certainly knew something he didn’t. For all that he wanted to ask them to explain… it wasn’t worth it, he decided, considering the look on their face.

“…Fine.” He reluctantly removed the eyepiece, placing it in Kris’ outstretched hand, before tying the Plasma Ring to the corner of his skirt. Thankfully, that seemed to suffice— he felt slightly lighter, as though it’d lowered his defense stat, but the quiet crackling of electricity from within the glass was accompanied by a rush of power gathering at his fingertips.

They walked away without another word, leaving him with no choice but to follow.

…Maybe he was the one catching up after all.

Chapter Text

Kris stepped onto the switch. The barrier of cyan lightning blocking the path ahead winked out of existence. They stepped off the switch, and it flickered back to life, the ambient hum of the electric current starting up again.

“…So we need to stand on both switches at once,” he concluded.

The lightning vanished once more as Kris held the switch down with a foot. They fixed him with an expectant gaze, briefly tilting their head towards the other switch.

…Their stance was relaxed. Nonchalant, even. It wouldn’t be too difficult for them to release the switch with the slightest movement, and if that was all it took…

No. No, they… wouldn’t do that. Probably. Not if it would mean undoing all their progress. Not unless it would somehow help them, that was—

He nearly flinched when Kris coughed, the sound a clear reminder that he was wasting time just standing there. For them, of all people, to have gotten impatient, it must have been a while. Swallowing his apprehension, he walked across the—

Light flickered in the corner of his vision. He leapt backwards with a strangled yelp just as the barrier reformed before him, the crackling of electricity ringing in his ears like an alarm bell. Stunned, he sat there for a moment before rising to stand on unsteady feet, only to turn towards his classmate.

…Well. He couldn’t exactly say he hadn’t expected this to happen, could he? One way or another, he resolved to only walk behind them from then on.

As though entirely unconcerned about their act of betrayal, they gave no visible reaction as he marched up to them, not even as he pushed them away from the switch to take their place on it.

“You know what? You can go across.”

Surprisingly enough, they complied without protest, as though completely unworried about him attempting what they’d just done.

If anyone were to ask, he was… sorely tempted to do so.

He didn’t.

The other switch turned dim, marking the puzzle’s completion. Hesitantly, he walked across the now-safe passage to join Kris on the other side.

…I should’ve stepped off the switch, if only to give them a taste of their own medicine. But if they’d… if they couldn’t react in time… stop thinking about it, damn you. It’s fine. It’s fine.

“It’s natural,” Kris said, interrupting his thoughts— by the Angel, had he said that aloud?!

This time, he made sure to keep his mouth shut, hoping that by ignoring them they’d just forget about the whole thing altogether.

- - -

He shattered an enemy in one swing, squeezing his eyes shut on reflex. Its two fellows fell just as quickly — one turn to set up, and one more for each opponent — as the wind roared behind them.

As did the next. And the next. And the next.

What was the point, he wondered? It wasn’t as if they were actually getting any nearer to finding their teammates, as far as he knew. They were just having him grind XP, get stronger— but for what, exactly? To what end? A boss battle? Pure completionism? Or was he just mistaken?

…Perhaps it was that terrible curiosity that compelled him to keep following.

- - -

The dumpster shuddered as they approached it. A voice spoke from within— it sounded like a caricature of an overenthusiastic car dealer, dipping briefly into those of salespeople from different televised advertisements with every change in inflection, if all of it had been slapped together, distorted, and processed to sound like it was blaring from a malfunctioning radio.

He’d never admit it, but it terrified him.

Why Kris hadn’t had him attack this one yet, he couldn’t say, but he wasn’t about to question it. Some queries could go unanswered.

- - -

They’d found another puzzle on their search for “five more”. He knew the game had a modern, tech-based setting, but why did all of the obstacles have to involve electricity?

After the last… incident, he was more than happy to step back and let Kris have at it. He’d half-expected them to just solve it themselves, but…

“Proceed.” He nearly stumbled over a block as they stepped forward, forcing him backwards in turn.

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

“Proceed.” They moved forward once more.

Now thoroughly unsettled, he broke out in a fit of nervous laughter. “Ha! Haha! You’ve… don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how puzzles work? See, you have… you have to solve the—”

“Proceed.” They took a step towards him. He took a step back. Again, and again, until he could hear each and every spark of the live electric current behind him.

“Kris, is… is this your idea of a sick joke?” Not again, not again, not again— “I-I’m not going to fall for that again! Do you hear me?”

A thought crossed his mind— was this payback for what he’d said earlier? “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t step off, did I? So let’s just… bury the hatchet, and…”

“Proceed.” They looked dead serious; there was no humor in their gaze, nor the slightest hint of a smile. But that couldn’t be right— this had to be a joke. They wouldn’t really do that.

…Or would they?

“…Kris, this isn’t funny. You’re…” He dared a sideways glance at the barrier, registering with a hint of dread that his hearing hadn’t deceived him; he was nearly touching it. “You’re not really going to…”

“Proceed.”

There was the faintest smell of smoke, and the world went black—

- - -

When he opened his eyes, he was standing on the other side, the electrical barrier gone without a trace.

What… what just…

He patted himself down, half expecting some part of him to be singed or on fire, but found himself none the worse for wear. There was nowhere the smoke could have come from. Perhaps he’d just imagined it— not that he was complaining, considering the alternative.

“…I must’ve flown. Over the barrier,” he muttered, still feeling slightly lightheaded. “Of… of course I did. You…”

Of course you wouldn’t have let me die, is what he might have said had he actually believed the statement.

“…You know what you’re doing. I’ll just… do that, next time. For efficiency’s sake.”

- - -

Fortunately, the next puzzle didn’t involve electricity. Nor did Kris have him… “solve” it.

He watched them as they worked in silence.

- - -

He stood back as Kris approached the dumpster once more.

“[Champion], [Champion]. ARE YOU LOOKING FOR THE [Halberd] OF [Electricity]?” said the disembodied, electronic voice.

“Yes.”

“THat’ll be 1997 KROMER.”

He didn’t have the faintest idea what kind of currency Kromer was, but Kris at least seemed to— or perhaps they were just Dark Dollars under a different name, as Kris placed a large wad of them on the dumpster lid. It vanished.

“HERE’S YOUR [Halberd]! IT’S JUST A [Crying Shame] THAT YOU DIDN’T CALL A [Lost Friend] OVER TO BUY MY [Commemorative Ring], TOO!”

…A “lost friend”?

Seemingly unperturbed by the… merchant’s maniacal laughter, Kris pointed a finger towards the halberd that had appeared atop the dumpster. Even from a distance, he could hear the crackling of electricity as the axe blade flickered with light.

Why did it always have to be electricity? Even if it was a running theme, this was really taking it a bit too far.

“…Kris. I don’t know about you, but I, um… I’d rather not electrocute myself. Is this… are you sure this is absolutely necessary?”

“Get it.”

Ah. There it was again. At least he didn’t think they meant for him to attack… whatever was in the dumpster. “That… doesn’t look very safe. I don’t—”

“Get it.”

Trying his best to swallow his apprehension, he took one tentative step after another towards the dreaded thing, nearly forgetting to stop before he knocked into it.

It was fine. Everything was fine. Kris… it was unlikely, if one really thought about it, that they were trying to get him killed. They could’ve easily done so earlier, if that had truly been their goal, but what if…

Don’t think about it. Just get it over with.

He reached upwards, gingerly taking the weapon — the Volt Halberd, something told him — into his hands. A familiar, invigorating sensation coursed through him, travelling up his arms like an electric current, only to halt when he jolted at the brief sting of static.

They shot him a look, as though silently daring him to drop it.

His grip on the handle tightened despite the pain.

- - -

He’d gotten another class upgrade. Stormcaller, his mind supplied.

…It seemed more fitting than Knight, albeit in a terribly ominous way.

Chapter Text

The rushing of air filled his ears, a gale developing in a matter of seconds as he readied the sparking halberd. Kris had stopped in front of him; no doubt they’d come across another foe. Headwind, then attack, the routine they’d fallen into—

…Was someone calling his name?

He looked up, the wind abruptly slowing as he did a double take. “…Noelle? What… where have you been this entire time?”

He’d nearly forgotten he was supposed to be searching for her.

“I… I was trying to find you. Both of you. After you… a-and Kris…” Noelle stared at him, wide-eyed, her expression caught somewhere between apprehension and outright horror. “…W-what were the two of you…”

Oh. She… she thought it was real, didn’t she. “We’re power leveling. I…” He glanced towards Kris. They were silent. “I think. I joined them, and it's… it’s all just a videogame, so…”

“…You joined them? Berdly, are you alr—”

“Proceed,” Kris said.

He started, taking a step backwards on reflex. Kris wasn’t responding to any of Noelle’s confused queries, only staring straight ahead with a strange intensity to their gaze. “You can’t be serious.”

“Proceed.”

He glared at the back of their head as best he could, though the faint trembling of his hands — from the static, it was from the static — might’ve ruined the effect. “No. No. Absolutely not. I’m… I’m not going to…”

They seemed to stiffen for a moment, before pointing forwards. “Mimic.”

He opened his mouth to object, then closed it, taking a second look at N— the distant figure. That… would explain a few things. Noelle wouldn’t have come here alone, for one. He’d always considered the thought of being tricked by one to be laughable — surely there would be some blatant giveaway or other, some inconsistency in behaviour or speech — but it was so lifelike.

“Are… are you sure?”

Kris spoke over the mimic’s distant protests. “Yes.”

…Well. Kris knew what they were doing. Maybe this was the boss fight they’d been waiting for. With a heavy heart, he stepped forward, facing the enemy as the wind picked up once more.

- - -

She— it hadn’t attacked him once.

Each sparse wave of conjured snowflakes had been aimed at Kris, even if none of them had actually managed to hit them.

He’d come to expect that from Kris. They seemed to know what everything did, what the right action to take in every situation was, the… solution to every puzzle. Like all of the myriad rules and secrets of this game they were both playing had been laid plain before them, and only them.

It felt… unfair, above all else. But he had other things to worry about at the moment.

They hadn’t had him attack her — it, it wasn’t really her — yet. But they were going to. He knew that much. They’d encouraged him… reminded him that it wasn’t Noelle, told him not to falter, each and every time it had pleaded for them to stop fighting. Knowing Kris, they likely had a plan in mind, and were just setting up for some… ultimate move, or something along those lines.

But even if the thing they were fighting wasn’t the real Noelle… he wasn’t sure whether he could go through with it, when the time came.

It just didn’t feel right, attacking something that wouldn’t fight back.

Or maybe that was the point.

- - -

The moment he’d been dreading arrived all too soon.

“StormSlayer.”

“Wh… what? Kris, I… I don’t have that spell.” His incredulous, slightly confused demeanour came naturally— furrowed eyebrows, a smile twisted just so, the barest hint of laughter injected into his voice like they’d told a joke he didn’t quite get the punchline to.

He did have the spell. As usual, there was no description of what it did, but with a name like that…

Well. He hoped they bought the lie.

“StormSlayer.” Oh, no.

“I told you, I don’t have it! It’s not in my spell list!” Please, please work.

“StormSlayer.” There was a cold, dispassionate edge to their voice.

He stumbled over his words, wincing as static electricity pricked his hands again. “I… I don’t know how to use it! Kris, do— do you even know what it does? We can’t just—”

“StormSlayer.” The order bore down on him as though it carried literal weight; he could almost feel a tangible pressure upon his shoulders that only increased with each additional refusal.

“…Kris. Please. I… I can’t. I can’t use it. Please don’t ask me to…”

“StormSlayer,” they commanded.

As if on autopilot, he numbly raised the crackling halberd to the endless, black sky.

The air spun, a whirlwind forming around the enemy in the midst of the tempest as ashen storm clouds gathered overhead. His vision blurred, leaving him only aware of the gale practically screaming in his ears, before it was broken by a brilliant flash and the near simultaneous, distinctive crack of thunder—

- - -

He blinked, slowly recovering from the temporary blindness, as a wave of nausea struck him like a foot to the chest. It… it smelled of ozone, for the most part, but for the acrid scent of smoke and what seemed vaguely like bacon—

Oh. Oh. “I—” He averted his eyes, desperately trying to suppress the overwhelming need to retch. “I need. Fresh air.”

With that, he turned and fled.

- - -

They didn’t go after him.

He’d half expected them to, but they hadn’t, and he was thankful enough for that — even if they were the only one in the world who knew what, exactly, was going on — to not question it as much as he normally might.

Queen found him in an alleyway, dry heaving into a vacant trash can, trying his best to forget what he’d seen even as the lingering stench of sulfur reminded him with every breath he took.

“Burghley There You Are” If he’d flinched at the sound, she didn’t seem to notice; the tone of her electronic voice was as animated as usual. “Have You Seen Noelle”

“No.”

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. It wasn’t her.

“Are Your Eyes Leaking”

“No,” he repeated. Even so, he turned away, dragging the trash can with him as he wiped at his eyes with his cape.

…The smoke must’ve gotten to him. There was no other explanation.

There was a long pause, accompanied by the distant sound of fans whirring, before she spoke again. “Oh Okay”

She clapped once. Right on cue, a cage fell from above, trapping him — and the trash can, thankfully — within its slightly cramped confines. He abruptly stumbled as it shot straight up, only just managing to stay upright by virtue of his impromptu crutch and the hard-light bars behind him.

Under other circumstances, he might have made an effort to resist capture. He did think to try. Yet as the wind roared in his ears, all he could do was choke and tighten his hold on the mouth of the bin.

Chapter Text

His cage had been unceremoniously deposited in a large room, painted entirely in different shades of blue save for the various, seemingly random items scattered across the floor. There was a pile of signposts in one corner, three jackets which definitely weren’t fitting him over to the left, and what looked like a jar of sugar—

The computer screen on the far wall flickered to life. “Do You Like Your Room Unit”

He groaned, leaning over the open trash can. He could still smell the smoke.

“I Will Take That As A Yes”

Were it not for the green of the desktop background that remained barely visible in the corner of his eye, he might’ve thought she’d left in the moment of silence that ensued.

“Are You Sure You Did Not See Noelle”

It wasn’t her.

“Yes,” he managed to say. The nausea surged forth again, and he shoved his head further into the bin.

There was another pause. “Are You Sure”

“…Leave me alone.” His voice came out slightly muffled.

“Okay”

The screen went black with a hum, abandoning him to his thoughts.

In the face of that, he almost wished she had stayed.

- - -

“Do You Want To Be The New Knight”

He turned away from the screen, bitterness welling up in his chest at the notion. “I’m not a knight.”

Class or no, he didn’t deserve the title. Knights were meant to serve a ruler, to be chivalrous— Kris was no liege lord, and he doubted what he’d done could be called honorable or just by any metric. He’d wanted to be a knight, of course, but since when did that ever matter? He wasn’t, and perhaps never had been anything close to one.

“You Can Become One”

Liar.

“I’m not a knight,” he repeated, his attempt to inject artificial firmness into his voice weakened slightly by its hoarseness. “Please. Just… just leave me alone.”

Queen hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I Will Make Your Friends’ Faces Into Robot Ones If You Do Not”

She was almost certainly bluffing. He of all people would know. And yet…

“…Fine.” He glanced upwards and to the side. Her expression, displayed in detail on the screen, betrayed the slightest hint of relief at his acquiescence.

Liar.

“Good” She paused. “Then You Will—”

The Volt Halberd materialized in a flurry of colour. He gripped the handle tightly, ignoring the now-familiar prickling sensation of static electricity.

“What Are You Doing”

“Ending this game!”

With a yell, he drove the point of the crackling halberd into the top of the cage. Sparks flew, forcing him to briefly squint, as the contraption short-circuited; the bars of solid light retracted shortly after, and he pushed the now-supportless roof away with little effort. It hit the floor with a resounding clang.

Queen looked slightly panicked as he approached the computer, his halberd morphing into a spear.

“Stop—”

A stab directly to the screen later, the room was finally rendered silent once more, save for his audibly heavy breathing.

Putting one hand on the bin to steady himself, he looked around.

- - -

Someone was trying to open the door from the outside, pushing inwards to no avail.

He had absolutely nothing to worry about. He’d already barricaded it with everything he could find, including a heavy “gaming throne” taken very, very literally. There was no way anyone was getting in unless he wanted them to.

Even so, his hold on his weapon tightened, the spearhead aimed towards the door just in case.

It didn’t do much to quell the trembling of his hands around the handle as the wind ruffled his feathers.

- - -

He sat with his back to the wall, still clutching his halberd. His arms had long since gone numb, though he didn’t know whether it was from the static or the lack of movement. Perhaps both.

By now, it’d been a good while since he’d heard anything from outside, so it was… probably safe to say that whoever or whatever had been at the door was gone.

Good.

He hoped they weren’t coming back.

The Volt Halberd dissipated into motes of ethereal light — silver, copper, and black, somehow — as he slumped against the wall behind him, his hands closing on nothing.

He just wanted to be left alone, ironic as the notion might have been. And so he needed to be alone, because he knew the nature of his powers all too well and yet not at all, and if all it took to cast a spell was the intent to do so, conscious or not—

No. No more. He was… done. Finished. Whether he was strong enough or not didn’t matter anymore, because as far as he was concerned, the game was over. He was alone, well and truly alone, his only company the wind and the faint buzz of electricity coming from the ring tied to his skirt.

It was for the best that no one was looking for him. Not Queen; all she wanted from him was an expectation he couldn’t fulfill, just like all the rest. Not Noelle; he wasn’t sure he could look her in the eye after… well, everything. Not even Kris.

…Especially not if it was Kris.

He’d never managed to figure out what their plan was, but if they’d let him go, then that had probably been part of it, and as long as they didn’t go looking for him now, he could safely assume that that was the end of the part he was to play. Which was a good sign, all things considered.

It wasn’t that they’d… steered him wrong. He’d gotten so, so much stronger under their direction; he had to have levelled quite a bit, even if he couldn’t see it. The wind whistling in his ears, even now that he was indoors, was proof of that. But — and there came the recurring question — to what end?

They’d never managed to find Noelle. The… that thing didn’t count. It had been a necessary boss fight on the path to victory, only that and nothing more; no doubt it had all been part of Kris’ plan, just as everything else was. They’d probably known where the real Noelle was all along, and all of the power leveling had just been done in preparation for saving her from the true final boss. Or… something like that.

…He supposed they didn’t need him for that part, if they had yet to come calling. He’d… wanted to save her, but maybe it was better this way. She had — or would have — Kris with her, who knew exactly what they were doing and how to go about doing it.

Of course they would save her. That was the entire point of all this, wasn’t it? They’d offered to search for their teammates together, even if they’d never once come across them. That was how their quest had started, so it had to be the win condition.

But if it wasn’t— well.

…What would he know?

- - -

Somewhere, somehow, someone whispered his name.

The wind howled, a distant storm gathering as he heeded their unspoken command.

Chapter Text

He awoke in a daze, blearily lifting his head from where it had been nestled in the crook of his wing. The world before his eyes, though naught but a blurry mixture of blue and green and brown, was decidedly not the room he’d locked himself in.

Had… had it all been a dream?

…Of course it had been. That was the only logical conclusion. Magic wasn’t real, and the world, unfortunately — or fortunately, rather, his mind supplied — was not a videogame. There was nothing to worry about. Nothing had happened. He’d fallen asleep, that was all; other than that, everything was fine. Fine.

Besides, he had better things to do than fret over fictional events.

He reached up to his face— he’d probably smudged his glasses, having slept with them on—

“…Where are my glasses?” His voice came out oddly hoarse. How long had he slept for? A drink of water would do him some good, but that could wait; this was a more pressing matter. “Has… has anyone seen…”

Something nudged his hand. Grabbing it, he gratefully donned the proffered spectacles, blinking as his vision adjusted and sharpened in a matter of seconds. “Ah. Thank you—”

Kris stared back at him, their gaze unwavering even as he flinched away. For a moment, he thought they looked almost apologetic; a trick of the light, no doubt, for their expression as he saw it now was their usual, neutral one. Susie stood beside them.

“What…” He forced himself to face them. Nothing was out of the ordinary. He had no reason to be so… wary— he wasn’t scared. “What are you two even doing here?”

“Noelle invited us to study.” Susie spoke in Kris’ stead, a frown forming on her face as her eyes briefly flickered to the side. “Guessing she didn’t tell you, then?”

“No.” Of course she hadn’t. He was starting to get used to people making plans without him whether he liked it or not. “If I’d known— well. You’re here now, so.”

He glanced over at Noelle, who was still fast asleep in the chair adjacent to his, facedown and slumped over the desk.

“Noelle?”

His phone’s alarm sounded, its beeping only slightly muffled by the fabric of his pocket. He absently reached down to switch it off; he’d be late, and he knew he ought to leave before his spotless attendance record was marred, but a strange uneasiness kept him sitting there. “Noelle, are you—”

…The room smelled of smoke.

Suppressing the urge to flee, he swallowed once, then reached for her arm— gingerly, at first, before throwing caution to the wind as he grasped it and tugged. When no response was forthcoming, he tried again, disregarding the brief stab of static electricity in the palm of his hand.

It was a coincidence. It had to be. That had been a dream; no more, no less. It hadn’t even been her. But then— why wasn’t she waking up?

“Hey, is she okay?” Susie actually sounded worried, of all things. Since when did she care about anyone? The strangeness of it all didn’t matter, he reminded himself, not now. Least of all now. Something was off, and he…

He didn’t know what.

“I don’t know,” he whispered more than said; the current of anxiety turning to ice-cold fear beneath his feathers finally felt genuine, justified, but for once he did not revel in being correct.

“I… I think we should call a doctor.”

- - -

He was late, but it didn’t matter. He’d apologize later, explain that there had been extenuating circumstances to Ms. Boom when he found the time to seek her out, and that would be that. Then again, it wasn’t as if she would have needed him today, anyway; it would probably just have been another hour or two of cleaning the church, rearranging the prayer books, or something of the sort.

This was far more important.

They — well, Susie, mostly, she was the strongest out of the three of them — had placed Noelle down on the hospital couch for want of an actual bed. The nurse-receptionist had gone from bored to alarmed within seconds of seeing them rush through the doors, and was now speaking a mile a minute on the phone, presumably calling a doctor.

He stood over his friend’s unmoving, unresponsive form, carefully watching for any sign that she might sit up and prove that all was well, that they’d all been worried for nothing. She was alive. There was that. She was breathing, if the steady rise and fall of her chest was any indicator. But as the seconds ticked past, slowly but surely turning to minutes, and no words nor gentle shaking woke her from her slumber, they each grew… demoralized.

Susie gave in first, sitting down on the hospital floor. He continued his vigil in silence; he hadn’t the heart to tell her off for being unhygienic, nor to accuse Kris of encouraging her as they crouched on her other side, leaving him to stand watch alone.

Noelle would wake up. She had to.

They all turned towards the entrance at the sound of footsteps. No doctor emerged from the doorway, however; the nurse had come over to check on Noelle, though not without assuring them that he shouldn’t be long, now. Nothing seemed to be wrong at first glance, came the post-examination verdict, though something clearly was, if she wasn’t responding to any stimuli. Then a man he didn’t recognize burst through the double doors, saying something about patients and occupancy, and the rest was a blur.

In the end, everyone had accompanied Noelle into the newly-vacated hospital room she’d been assigned, save for the nurse, who had returned to the counter to make a few more necessary calls, and himself.

Something had compelled him not to follow. Apprehension, most likely, in that the doctor might come to the same conclusion that they all had, and he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to hear it again. Or perhaps it was the feeling of helplessness he hated; that there was nothing he could do but watch, that nothing he’d tried — nothing they’d tried — had worked, that he didn’t know what was wrong in the first place.

…Or perhaps it was something else still.

Staring down at the tiled floor, he couldn’t help but wonder whether he was to blame for her condition. First the dream, where he’d cast that dreaded spell despite his doubts about it all, and now reality— the scent of smoke, the static, the fact that Noelle wouldn’t wake up, all impossible echoes of what was ostensibly fiction. It might just have been the case that reality had influenced his dream and not the other way around, but for the last of the three.

Get a hold of yourself. It was a dream, for the Angel’s sake. A dream. The static was coincidental, it had nothing to do with—

“You’re wrong.”

He went still, his train of thought abruptly cutting off at the sound of their voice. Kris stood beside him, just outside the door to Noelle’s room.

When had they left? How had he not noticed? Had they been there this entire time? And— he hadn’t said that aloud, had he?

…He must have, if they’d heard him. Unless—

This had happened before, hadn’t it? This scenario, though not this exact situation— but that had been a dream.

No. No, this had to be mere coincidence. Another coincidence. Even if it was one of many, as impossible as it seemed, the alternative was impossible twice over. It had been a dream. Magic wasn’t real. The world wasn’t a videogame. He hadn’t…

Kris grinned at him, their smile stretching wide across their face. The gesture filled him with an inexplicable sense of dread. “It wasn’t—”

He ran before they could finish their sentence, acting on pure instinct as he shoved open doors and dodged people in the way with reckless abandon. At some point in his flight, he realized that he’d nearly hit Mayor Holiday in the face with the hospital door; only then did he slow, mortified, though by then he’d already put a good distance between himself and the place he’d fled in such a hurry.

He had nothing to worry about. This was— stupid. Worrying about an impossibility was stupid. Futile. Completely asinine. A dream was a dream. Kris was just… trying to mess with his head. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t— couldn’t be real. And yet—

Their voice had seemed so terrifyingly familiar.

Chapter Text

He shut the apartment door behind him as gently as he could with an unsteady hand, then locked it for good measure. His shift wasn’t over, technically speaking, but he was already late; whether he went or not didn’t matter anymore. Attendance records didn’t tend to make much of a distinction between tardiness and absence.

After a moment of deliberation, he dropped his keys back into his pants pocket in lieu of leaving them by the door. Better safe than sorry, after he’d nearly lost his glasses.

…When had he taken them off, anyway?

The question lingered in his mind as he went through the motions— leaving his textbooks and stationery on the coffee table, plugging his phone in to charge, and sending a quick glance towards the clock on the far wall. It was five thirty-seven; nearly evening, an observation congruent with the reddish-orange light of sunset cast onto the wooden floorboards through the open window.

For once, he’d returned relatively early in the day, which meant there would be time to shower before making dinner. Da— Father and Mother were still out of town; had been, rather, since the Internet outage began, but he was used to—

The curtains swayed, heralding a gentle breeze that chilled him much more than it ought to have.

He froze in place, his fingers reflexively closing around the handle of— on nothing but air, before surging forward to pull the window shut. The coolness on his feathers finally faded as he tugged the latch down, and he slumped slightly, allowing his breaths to gradually slow.

It’s fine. It’s fine. You’re home. It’s fine.

Dwelling on the contents of a dream was… well, it was completely illogical, really, but it didn’t stop him from quickly passing through each vacant room until every window was like the first. Having done that, he returned to the living room, pausing only to flick the light switch on.

“…Alright,” he muttered under his breath, trying to regain his composure. “Let’s just… pack, first. For tomorrow. I can do that. Then— everything else.”

Taking a moment to recall their schedule, he sorted through the small pile of books, setting the ones on mathematics aside. He wouldn’t be needing them, what with the project and all… that.

…It was fine. Even if his partner was… out of commission. He could start the task alone, repay her for all those times she’d helped him with homework, and fill her in on the details if— when she got better. When. Not if, when.

He grabbed a nearby history textbook with perhaps a bit more force than was necessary, nearly bending the paperback cover— behaviour unbefitting an assistant librarian, he reminded himself, inhaling deeply before gently placing it atop the pile.

Now, to attend to his stationery. He dragged the zipper of his pencil case down, inspecting its contents while reaching for the sharpener.

…That’s not one of mine.

The foreign pen was nondescript black and silver, save for the bronze clip on one side. Setting the pencil sharpener down, he turned the pen around in his hands, searching for a label that wasn’t there.

He didn’t recall borrowing it from anyone, though he wouldn’t have needed to anyway, considering his ample supply of writing implements. Had someone had placed it on his desk by mistake?

As he pondered the mystery he’d been presented with, he idly clicked the top—

He dropped the pen with a yelp, yanking his hand towards himself as though he’d been burned. The blasted thing clattered on the floor, and he turned his gaze to stare at it, a singular answer to his “mystery” running through his mind.

Someone was pranking him, and that someone was Kris.

No wonder he didn’t remember taking his glasses off; they must’ve done it while he was asleep to trick him into thinking he’d lost them, then returned them to try and suggest their innocence. Well, he saw right through them now— no doubt they’d been the one to sneak a shock pen amongst his belongings, too.

He patted himself down and emptied his pockets, suddenly suspicious as to whether they’d done anything else to him. Alongside his keys, he produced a ring-like object that he recognized to be a joy buzzer. It certainly wasn’t his — as a model student, he obviously owned nothing of the sort — but why had Kris just given it to him instead of using it? To frame him for their acts of delinquency?

…A ring-like object. That they’d given to him.

No. No. He should know better than to even consider that nonsense. The notion that his dream had been prophetic was frankly nothing short of ridiculous, and he didn’t have time for that— he had other, more important things to do. Forcing his thoughts away from the nightmare of a dream, he set the prank device down, did an about-face, and marched off to take a shower.

It wasn’t real. It literally could not have been real. They were just messing with you. Stop thinking about it.

- - -

That night, it rained for the first time in weeks.

He jolted awake to a resounding crash, just in time to see the faint glow of lightning fade through the fabric of the curtains he’d long since drawn shut. Despite himself, he buried his head under the covers like a frightened child, hoping his blanket would at least muffle the sound— not that it stopped him from flinching at the next rumble of thunder, however distant it was.

Try as he might, he could not sleep again.

Chapter Text

He’d filled his water bottle with coffee. It would have been an ingenious move, were it not for the fact that he was almost certainly going to regret his actions when the time came to wash it; it’d take ages to get the residue out of his feathers.

As the saying went, however, desperate times called for desperate measures, and at the moment he was indeed desperately trying to keep himself awake.

He’d barely slept a wink since the thunderstorm had started. He couldn’t say why — oh, he knew full well why, but actually saying it was just asking to be mocked — and so his main concern at the moment was taking measured sips from the container as he made his way to school, in hopes that its contents would fuel him in lieu of actual rest.

He ducked his head as he passed by the library, hurrying past Officer Undyne—

Who… wasn’t there. He did a double take, turning to look for the familiar blue of a police uniform, but the only person he saw that fit the description was her colleague; they hovered by the corner outside the hospital, presumably trying to direct traffic in her stead, though it was obvious that they were all but ignored by the passing cars for the most part.

It was rather strange to not see the policewoman patrolling or directing traffic in the morning, but then again, it wasn’t as if she never took days off… right? Brushing the stray thought aside, he resumed walking down the street; it was probably nothing to be worried about, anyway.

He passed through the school entrance without fanfare, briefly pausing so as to not collide with a blur of green and white. The younger student ran past him, giggling all the while, to join a crowd of their fellows outside the classroom just down the hall; another immediately took their place in whatever game they were playing, sprinting through the corridor to their classmates’ cheers.

An inexplicable sense of nostalgia mixed with bitterness washed over him at the sight. The last time he’d seen his classmates partake in something so… so pointlessly childish had been years ago.

With a deep breath, he continued onwards as he always had, keeping near the lockers to let the new runner pass before finally, finally arriving at his destination.

As he entered the mostly-empty classroom, he put on his usual grin, raising a hand in greeting—

Noelle’s desk was vacant.

He stared at it for a long moment, the words he’d intended to say catching in his throat, before lowering his hand. Avoiding Ms. Alphys’ questioning gaze, he sat down in his seat, reached for one of the history books he’d brought with him, turned to a page at random, and forced himself to start reading it.

While many would argue, perhaps rightfully so, that the history of these nations was fraught with conflict, the First Century of Peace is an oft-quoted example of a period in which it was relatively scarce…

- - -

“…H-has anyone seen Noelle?” Ms. Alphys looked up from her computer screen as she finished taking attendance, addressing the class with a hand half-raised. “And, uh… K-Kris and Susie?”

His classmates’ responses came in the form of scattered nos and nopes— or in Snowy’s case, a loudly proclaimed “I ain’t seen ‘em”.

He stared down at the book in his hands, doing his best to pretend he hadn’t heard the question.

The rise in the popularity of team sports and its influence on international relations, especially during the two decades leading up to the Silent War, must be duly acknowledged—

“Berdly? Do you know where they are?”

…And of course she had to ask him specifically. It had only been a matter of time, really; he was meant to be the responsible one. So that was who he had to be.

“Well!” he began. Closing the book with a clap, he held his head high and pressed a wing to his chest— body language always made it easier to slip into the act.

“While I certainly can’t speak for Kris and Susie, their respective track records would suggest that they are merely late, as per usual, and not absent.”

“And Noelle?”

The confident grin he’d plastered on faltered, and he found that he couldn’t meet the teacher’s gaze. “…I don’t think she’ll be attending school today. She’s… she’s unwell.”

That was all he would say. News spread quickly in Hometown on account of its size; they’d all find out soon enough anyway. Honestly, it was a wonder that they didn’t already know.

“O-oh. Okay, then.” Ms. Alphys turned back towards her computer. After a few seconds of audible typing, she straightened and faced the class once more.

“Let’s continue with yesterday’s reading— please turn to page one hundred and eighty-six…”

The classroom was filled with the rustling of paper as everyone searched for the right page. Everyone but him, that was; he’d come prepared, having made sure to mark the place where they’d stopped beforehand with a convenient sticky note. All he had to do was trade the book in his hands for another one from the pile.

“Would… anyone like to volunteer?”

Unsurprisingly, no one spoke up. One could almost hear crickets chirping— frowning, he turned, as did several of his classmates, to stare at Snowy. The monster in question flushed and put his phone away, rendering the classroom well and truly quiet.

“A… anyone?” Ms. Alphys looked around the room. “If… if no one volunteers, I-I’ll have to pick someone!”

He could practically feel everyone’s gazes boring into his back, expecting him to speak up. While that would be his cue to stand and sacrifice his dignity through narration, he’d wait for Noelle to…

…Oh. Right.

He lowered his head, using the book to block out his view of the empty desk beside him. It… was only temporary. It had to be temporary. She’d be back in no time— a few days, maybe, and then everything would be back to normal. Just as it should be. Just as it always had been.

“B… Temmie? Would you—”

“yaya! tem wil read!”

He couldn’t help but wince, already envisioning the catastrophe, no pun intended, that would soon follow. Much to his shock — and everyone else’s, evidently, as he heard no less than two people choking and the sound of a pencil clattering to the floor — her voice dropped at least an octave as she began to read in impeccable English.

“According to all known laws of seafaring, there is no way that the Colossus should have been able to stay afloat…”

Shaking off his momentary astonishment, he tuned her out to better concentrate on scanning the page.

In his experience, reading always made for a welcome distraction from his thoughts.

- - -

The classroom door swung open with a creak three-quarters through English.

Looking up on reflex, his grip tightened on the textbook in his hands as Kris and Susie trudged into the classroom. They were followed by Ms. Toriel, who, despite looking equally exhausted, managed a gentle smile.

“My apologies for interrupting the lesson. Ms. Alphys, a moment, if you would?”

He ducked his head behind the book as his ex-absentee classmates passed by, only hearing the door shut behind the two teachers. Ms. Toriel was surely here to… well, to explain things in his stead. He didn’t know what else it could be.

…Then again, it could very well be something else entirely. He… couldn’t be certain, could he?

The silence was quickly broken by the squeaking of chair legs against the wooden floorboards, followed by his classmates whispering to each other, filling the lull in Ms. Alphys’ lecture with various speculations on what was happening outside.

“Yo, Kris, are you in trouble for—”

“Shut up, they’re trying to sleep!”

“D’you think it’s because—”

He heard Susie snarl at Snowy, albeit quietly. Somehow. “Pipe down, or your face’ll be the next thing to go outside.”

“Hey, Catti, what do YOU think, about—”

“Did I stutter?”

While he felt slightly tempted to commiserate with those who had been unfortunate enough to rouse Susie’s wrath, she seemed to be on the warpath against anyone who dared to speak. It seemed… slightly hypocritical, but mentioning it would doubtlessly draw her ire in his direction.

Since when did she care so much about Kris, anyway? They… weren’t friends, were they?

…Unless they were. He found it hard to believe, considering how Kris had hardly been spared from being picked on in the past, just like the rest of them. And yet…

Well. For all he knew, they were. All signs seemed to point to yes.

“C-class.” He hadn’t heard the door open or shut, but Ms. Alphys stood by it, looking… subdued. “Noelle is… s-she won’t be present for the next few days. So—”

She pushed her glasses up. “About the group projects. Would… would anyone be willing to form a team of three?”

So he’d been right after all. It felt… nowhere as gratifying as it should’ve felt. The awkward silence that followed Ms. Alphys’ words just made it worse.

“A-anyone?”

This time, there were no cricket noises to break through the quiet.

“…I’ll do the project alone. In a group of one, if you will.” He forced a grin. He didn’t know whether it was sufficiently convincing or not, but he kept it up nonetheless. “It’ll be fine.”

It would be fine. He was… more than capable of doing it alone, wasn’t he? He had to be. High school wasn’t going to last forever, and she wasn’t… he’d always known they’d have to part ways eventually, it was inevitable, but…

But nothing. He could do it alone.

…Liar.

Chapter Text

His classmates filed out in the wake of the school bell, taking their conversations with them. Finally. It was over. Placing the book he’d been reading back atop the pile, he made to do the same.

“B-Berdly? Could you, uh… stay behind for a minute?”

He wavered for a moment, weighing his options with no small amount of apprehension — he’d rather not stay for any longer than he had to, but was he in trouble? Had he not done enough? — before gathering his belongings in the crook of his wing. Casting a furtive glance towards Kris and Susie, both of whom were thankfully fast asleep at their desks at the back of the classroom, he shuffled over to stand before the teacher.

“Ms. Alphys, if this is about the English assignment, I can redo it and have it in by tomorrow.”

She shook her head. “I-it’s not that. Are… you okay? You…”

“Of course I’m fine. Whyever would I not be?” The lie was obvious, but it was all he could say.

“…I know you and Noelle are… f-friends, and, uh…” Ms. Alphys fiddled with a pen as she visibly searched for words. “W-what I’m trying to say is. If you… ever want to talk to someone about it, I’m, uh… I’m always here, okay?”

“Thanks, Ms. Alphys. I… I’ll consider it.”

He wasn’t going to consider it. It was completely absurd, no one would ever believe him, and he’d be the school laughingstock until they all graduated. Maybe longer, if the younger students got wind of it. He knew better than to try, let alone while Kris — or Susie, for that matter — was still in the same room.

“And— a-about the project. If you need an extension or anything, just… ask me.”

He couldn’t meet her gaze. “…Thanks, Ms. Alphys.”

“I-I’m not saying that you can’t do it! You’ve always done well in class, it’s just… you’re doing work meant for two, right? So…”

Whatever impact the praise might have had on his state of mind was immediately dampened by the reminder of his partnerless state. He… should probably visit her, seeing as his shift at the Library wouldn’t be until four.

“I know. I’ll… keep that in mind. You have my word.” He wouldn’t — couldn’t — promise anything more than that. “Thanks, Ms. Alphys. See you tomorrow.”

“N-no problem. Get some rest, okay?”

“Will do.” He made his way over to the door, closing it behind him with an air of finality.

That had been… an awkward conversation. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Ms. Alphys’ concern, far from it; it was just that he didn’t know how he was supposed to respond.

He didn’t feel like he deserved it, all things considered. He wasn’t the one in the hospital.

- - -

Officer Undyne hadn’t been on vacation after all.

She laid across the couch where they’d temporarily placed Noelle yesterday, limp and unmoving even as the doctor — a tall cat monster, the man he hadn’t recognized — tended to her with a towel.

As the doctor shifted to dip it in a bucket, he caught a glimpse of her expression— her eyes were shut, and her face, damp with what was either sweat, water, or both of the above, seemed slightly flushed.

Realizing that he was staring, he hurried past them, making for the double doors that led to the patients’ rooms. The nurse-receptionist absently waved him past with one hand, holding a phone to the side of their head with the other as they spoke in a harried manner.

“No, we don’t have any other beds— we’re already at full occupancy, ma’am, there’s no way to— apologies, Mayor…”

Their voice faded away as he approached Noelle’s room, the one at the end of the hallway. Now that he’d arrived, hesitation was beginning to set in; he wasn’t sure what he could say to someone who was unconscious, let alone whether he ought to say anything at all.

…Perhaps he shouldn’t have come here.

Taking a deep breath, he gathered his courage and pushed the doors open before he could think of turning back.

Noelle was… no different than yesterday. Almost entirely still, and silent but for the quiet breaths that accompanied each gentle movement of the blanket someone had draped over her. Come tomorrow, there would surely be an array of bouquets and get-well-soon cards by her bedside; there was only one, now, a bunch of white flowers atop the nearby cupboard.

He probably should’ve brought some. There was a flower shop, he knew, at the other end of town— but the florist was Kris’ father, wasn’t he?

…On second thought, he’d just leave a card instead. Tomorrow.

Standing over Noelle’s sleeping form once more, he tried to think of something to say.

“You have to wake up?” “Can you hear me—” no, that’s stupid. Just… act natural.

“…We went over the 19XXs in school today,” he began. A wave of embarrassment washed over him, but he kept at it regardless. “It’s a far cry from mathematics, but you… you would’ve liked it, I think. Modern history, and all that.”

His voice echoed faintly across the clinical, white walls as he spoke.

“We had English afterwards. We’re… still reading chapter eight. Nothing out of the ordinary, but…”

He stared down at her. No response came, not even the slightest twitch. At this point, it was all but pointless to expect anything else— but he’d hoped otherwise.

“…It’s just not the same without you.”

Nothing.

What else could he say? He didn’t even know whether she could hear him or not— the one-sided conversation he was holding was purely for his sake, if anything. Maybe that was selfish of him, that he was still taking up her time, even while she was… unconscious.

And yet he had to say something. Anything.

“I’m sorry.” The words slipped out before he could consider the implications of saying them. “I’m sorry. I…”

He couldn’t be at fault for her condition — it had been a dream, the phrases he’d repeated like a broken record rising to the surface once more at the notion, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t her — because that was impossible. It should have been— was impossible.

One way or another, his guilty conscience bade him continue.

“…I should’ve stayed awake. I… I didn’t mean to…” he faltered, his gaze slipping to the floor. Empty apologies were nothing but excuses; he would know. But what else could he do, now?

He’d already done what he could. They’d all done what they could, and nothing had come of it. He, for all the things others somehow saw in him — genius, prodigy, what have you — was no doctor; he didn’t know how to fix… whatever had happened to her, let alone what it was in the first place—

…Unless.

“I’ll find a way to get you out of here.” He didn’t know whether he could promise her that, but he did so in spite of his doubts. “I promise.”

He would not — could not — fail her again. So even if he didn’t know enough to actually help her at the moment, he would learn. Or try to, at least. He had to try.

He owed her that much.

If there was a way, he would find it no matter how long it took. And if there wasn’t one… he’d try anyway.

Maybe he’d actually be able to live up to his own expectations, then.

Chapter Text

He ended up arriving at the library fifteen minutes early for his shift instead of the usual ten.

Averting his gaze from the door to the computer lab, he set his belongings on the circulation desk.  As usual, the room was empty but for him; it was always quiet at that hour of the day, but in a while the visitors would begin to file in.

…Perhaps he’d have time to get some research in before he had to attend to his duties.

The more… scientific books, if he recalled correctly, were located upstairs— mostly because no one ever wanted to check them out. While he was a regular book enjoyer, he could understand the sentiment; the concepts and terminology could be difficult to understand at times, even for him. Not that he’d ever admit it.

With Noelle helping him study, he’d… never really needed to.

Forcing the stray thought aside, he ascended the stairs to the second floor. The rows and rows of multicoloured spines that awaited him were a familiar sight, and he took the opportunity to scan them for anything relevant as a welcome distraction.

…Think, damn you. Think. Anything on illnesses, on sleep— comas, maybe?

Within minutes, he’d gathered a good number of books in his arms; few were exactly what he’d been looking for, but he took them anyway. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, as the saying went.

Frowning, he bent slightly to pull free one last book from the far shelf. This one was on the history of electricity, so it was unlikely to be too relevant, but it was something—

An image of lightning striking the ground spanned nearly three quarters of the cover. He stared at it, petrified, unable to look away despite wanting nothing more than to do so. In hindsight, he… probably should’ve expected that, but…

Hastily flipping the book around, he shoved it atop the pile and headed back downstairs. Even if he had to take it, there was nothing stopping him from not looking at its front.

As the first visitors of the afternoon entered the library — another bird monster he’d never learnt the name of, and two of his classmates, Kid and Snowy — he took his place behind the desk, reaching under it to retrieve his “Volunteer Assistant” badge. Dusting it off with a hand, he pinned it to his shirt.

“…meanest game of Space Pinball you’ve ever seen—”

“Says the one who’s lost the last five games.” He couldn’t see Kid’s face, but they were probably gloating.

“Well, this time’ll be different, partner! I’ve been practicing, and…”

Their voices grew quieter with distance as they made a beeline for the computer lab. He looked away as Snowy made to push the door open, grabbing the first book off the pile he’d brought to obscure his vision further.

The History of—

He opened it to avoid seeing the cover again, scanning the contents page for reference before turning to the chapter on static electricity. It would… probably be better to start there.

- - -

“You ask.”

He glanced up from his book at the sound, only to see Snowy duck behind the partition wall.

“Why me? Do it yourself!” Despite presumably hiding, the volume at which Kid was whispering — or trying to, at least — nullified any stealthiness they might’ve otherwise had.

“What, you chicken?”

“Don’t say that—”

“Then do it!”

“Fine!”

Suppressing a resigned sigh, he pretended to be engrossed in his book as Kid approached the desk.

“Yo, uhh… Berdly.”

“Go on.” Without looking up, he waved for them to continue.

“The computers in the lab are, uh, kind of broken? Just thought you should know about that, you being, uh…” They were silent for a few seconds. “‘Assistant Librarian’, and all.”

“…You want me to fix them.” He clapped the book shut, placing it facedown before them.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

In all honesty, he’d like to never step foot in the computer lab again. However. If he refused to help at all, they would almost certainly ask why, and he’d have no good excuse with which to explain his actions— or inaction, rather.

He straightened, putting a hand on his hip. “Well! Luckily for you, I am well-versed in the ways of electronic devices. Wait here.”

Before he could think better of doing so, he strode over to the doors and, in one fluid motion, shoved them open, stepping inside.

The room had somehow managed to remain fairly neat despite… yesterday, save for two chairs to the right that someone clearly hadn’t bothered to tuck in. He would have corrected the error as a matter of principle, were he not more concerned with getting the job done and leaving as quickly as possible.

As he moved to inspect one of the corresponding computers, the ceiling lights flickered, briefly dimming his surroundings. Silently, he thanked himself for having the foresight to have the two stay outside— they probably would’ve made fun of him for flinching.

Although nothing seemed wrong with the computer at first glance, it refused to turn on no matter what buttons he pressed; the same went for the one adjacent to it, even after he’d unplugged and re-inserted the cables at its back. The persistently dark screen almost seemed to be taunting him as he stared at it, suddenly unsure of how to approach the problem. He was a librarian, not an electrician.

…Yet they were relying on him to solve it. They expected him to be able to do it, and he’d… implied that he could.

There had to be something else he could try, even if he admittedly hadn’t the faintest idea what he was supposed to do besides adhere to the age-old adage of “turn it off and on again”. Which he had already tried, for the record.

“Hmm.”

The computers look fine to me, but something’s obviously wrong. I can’t—

He went still, his breathing involuntarily speeding up.

No. No. Get a hold of yourself! This— is not the time—

Clinging to the desk he’d grabbed on reflex with both hands, he frantically looked around, searching for the source of the smoke. His gaze swiftly landed on the only wall socket in use; its edges were blackened by soot, the plug attached to it glowing a faint orange from within.

Contrary to his earlier statement, he was not, in fact, well-versed in the ways of electronic devices. But if that wasn’t the problem, he didn’t know what was.

The sudden revelation galvanized him into motion, and before he could properly process why he was running or what he was about to do, he’d pulled the plug out barehanded.

…He hadn’t even made sure to switch the outlet off first.

He stood there in a daze, still holding the plug — which was thankfully not on fire — before coming to his senses, the realization slamming into him like a tackle at full force. With a startled cry, he dropped the plug as though it’d burned him, hastily backing against the edge of the nearby desk in an attempt to get as far away from it and the singed socket as possible.

“…It’s fine,” he repeated under his breath, though the way his voice wavered made it sound more pathetic than reassuring. “It’s fine. Let’s… let’s just get this over with.”

But how? The socket was probably unusable, now. The same went for the… whatever the thing on the floor was called. So it had to be replaced.

…There were spare electronics in the supply closet. That’d be a good place to start. He stepped towards it, pulling the metal doors open to reveal a variety of devices, only some of which he recognized; predictably, the top shelf held one of what he was looking for, and he reached up to grab it.

His hands wrapped around the whatever-it-was, its size and weight too familiar for comfort — like the handle of a polearm that had never existed — as he carried it over to its predecessor. The plugs attached to the old one, he redistributed to the new, before plugging the latter’s cable into a different socket on the right of the room, a good distance away from the dark stain he resolutely refused to look at.

The former went into the other closet, where all the old electronics were left to gather dust. Out of sight, out of mind; after everything, that was probably for the best.

With that done, he returned to the computers he’d inspected earlier. Much to his relief, one of the two flickered to life with a press to its power button.

The other did not.

All the cables seemed to be in the right places, as far as he could tell. Having made sure that everything was securely attached, he poked the button several more times, all to no avail.

…Damn it.

It was… probably just broken, or something. Probably.

On the bright side, a short detour to the left side of the room soon indicated that it was just that particular computer which wasn’t working. Which was probably the best-case scenario, all things considered, though that just made him feel worse about it all, somehow.

Stifling a frustrated sigh, he dusted his shirt off before stepping outside the room for what was hopefully the final time.

“…takin’ him so long—” His classmates turned to him as the doors swung shut, no doubt expecting his verdict.

He brushed past them, making for his desk. “I would advise you to use the computers on the left. The second one on the right isn’t functioning.”

“Thanks!”

Half-heartedly humming a response in lieu of a “you’re welcome”, he reached for the book he’d left behind, flipping through it to the creak of the doors.

For once, he couldn’t wait for his shift to end.

- - -

He returned to a still-empty apartment.

As the last rays of sunset faded through the locked windows, he went through the motions. The necessary books — school-required and borrowed both — went into one pile, and the rest to another. His pencils were sharpened. He showered, cooked dinner, then read while he ate.

For the first time in months, he did his science homework alone, sitting at the small desk in his room. Ms. Alphys had assigned it on Monday. It was due tomorrow. He hadn’t intended to leave it until now, but…

Well. Dwelling on it would do him no good.

One by one, he sketched and named the chemical structures that all looked roughly the same. They all blended together in his head, but he did his best to commit them to memory, slowly but surely matching each to its description in the heavy textbook beside him.

By the time he was done, the clock had struck ten. Some time was devoted towards making a card for Noelle; he traced the words “Get well soon” upon its surface in the festive reds and greens she always wore. Then, the textbook was summarily exchanged for one he’d borrowed earlier — he had yet to finish The History of Electricity — and he read till he fell asleep under the lamplight.

Chapter Text

It had been two days since the… incident.

He shifted his belongings to one arm, freeing the other so as to push the classroom door open. Though he’d expected the desk to the left of his own to be empty, this time, the sight of it was still… disheartening.

It would only be for a few days, he reminded himself. Just for the next few days, and then she’d be back, and everything would be fine again. Failing that, he’d… keep doing his research and hope for the best.

He’d promised her that much.

“Good morning,” said Ms. Alphys. He nearly jumped at the sound, though he quickly composed himself.

“Good morning, Ms. Alphys.”

It was a short trip from the door to his desk. There, he carefully set the items cradled in his arms down before moving to sit.

The classroom was quiet on account of it being nearly empty; he’d arrived early, as usual, so it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. For the… most part, at least.

Reaching for the bottle he’d placed on the desk, he unscrewed the top to take a sip of coffee. Just a sip. If he planned to stay awake through all of the day’s lessons, he was probably going to have to pace himself.

“Berdly, are you… are you getting enough sleep?”

For once in his life, he regretted choosing to sit so close to the teacher. “Of course I am! I—” make something up, damn you— “I just enjoy the taste of coffee! It’s… flavourful. Very delicious.”

Ms. Alphys didn’t look convinced at all. “…You don’t usually drink coffee.”

“You see, I only recently discovered the joys of imbibing this wondrous beverage! In small, precisely calculated amounts.” It wasn’t working. He knew it wasn’t working. But what else was he supposed to say?

“You don’t have to…” She paused, adjusting her glasses. “I, uh… p-probably shouldn’t be encouraging this behaviour, as your teacher, but… if you need to sleep in class…”

He put a hand to his chest. “Worry not, Ms. Alphys, for I would never dream of sleeping in class! No pun intended.”

“…I’m giving you permission. To sleep in class. Just… keep that in mind, okay? If you ever feel the need to, you’re, uh… not in trouble, or anything.”

As if that would be enough to persuade him. He just knew his classmates would lord it over him if he were to do that. “I highly doubt I’ll need it, but… thanks, Ms. Alphys.”

She nodded to him. “N-no problem.”

At least she hadn’t asked why he’d lost sleep. Then again, she… well, she probably already knew why. Or part of the reason why, if nothing else. But he was still grateful that she hadn’t had him explain himself, even if he wasn’t entirely sure why she’d asked after him a second time to begin with.

Ms. Alphys looked away before he did, turning her gaze back towards the papers on her desk as she picked up a red pen. He averted his eyes in kind, grabbing a book from the stack he’d brought with him — ironically, this one was on sleep, which really wasn’t helping his case — to resume his research.

He didn’t exactly have anything better to do, at this point.

- - -

He shrunk back in his seat, practically hugging his book to his chest as though it would shield him from his impending doom.

By some miracle, he’d managed to avoid interacting with Kris — or Susie — for the entirety of yesterday. Today, however…

Well. All good things had to come to an end eventually, he supposed. But why now, of all times?

“…What do you want?” he managed.

Kris held out a card that smelled vaguely of butterscotch. A few motes of glitter fell onto his desk. “Sign it.”

He stared blankly at them, taken aback. Was that all? After all they’d done to mess with him—

“Just take the damn thing already!” Susie leaned over Kris’ shoulder to glare at him. He started, involuntarily shifting his chair backwards with a squeak.

“W-why should I? I— I’ll have you know I already made my own card, and—”

“Sign it,” Kris repeated.

Dropping the book in his lap, he gingerly took the card from them, turning it around to inspect it. “Get well soon!” was printed on the front in blocky letters, along with what… resembled a bouquet of red flowers. Homemade, no doubt, and personalized, too— the red, green, and silver glitter that stained his feathers as he opened it was a testament to that.

The names and little messages decorating the interior were sparse, probably because it was early enough in the morning that most of their classmates had yet to arrive and contribute; even so, he could see that Kris and Susie had each written something, as had Ms. Toriel.

Susie shoved a pen at him. “You heard them. Sign it.”

He fumbled with the card, scattering more glitter that dusted both the desk and his hands — heavens, he’d never be able to get all of it off — before taking the proffered item in a trembling hand. All he had to do was sign it. That was all. It was a simple task.

The end of the pen wavered above the paper as he clicked—

He yelped, jerking his hand towards his chest. The familiar pen hit the floor with a clatter.

…To think he’d forgotten about it.

“I-Is everything okay over there?” Ms. Alphys spoke up, sounding rather concerned.

For some reason he couldn’t quite explain, he reached down to pocket the shock pen, pulling out a replacement from his open pencil case. “…Yes. It’s… it’s fine.”

Just get it over with.

Taking a deep breath, he scrawled his own message in shaky letters, before folding the card closed and pushing it back towards Kris. “…Done.”

Thankfully, they took it without a word, turning to make a beeline for Ms. Alphys’ desk.

“O-oh! Is… is this for Noelle? Hold on, I’ll…”

He paid no mind to Ms. Alphys’ words as he tried to brush the accumulated glitter off of his desk, succeeding in doing so albeit at the cost of getting more of it stuck to his hands.

Stifling a curse, he marched off towards the bathroom. If he washed his hands now, perhaps he could do away with the worst of it.

His one solace was that he… probably wouldn’t have to interact with Kris for the rest of the day, after that. Hopefully.

- - -

He stared down at one of the books he’d borrowed yesterday, pretending to work on his project as his classmates’ excited chattering filled his ears.

“Catti! What do you think, about these pictures I copied?”

“Hey, Kris, you got any ideas for what we’re supposed to—”

“I… don’t think we’re allowed to do our project on the Wild West, but…”

Try as he might, he couldn’t tune them all out. His grip on the edges of the book tightened as he tried to focus on the open page.

It’s probably not that… where’s the table of contents? There has to be something on comas in here…

Feeling the urge to yawn, he took another sip of coffee from his half-empty bottle, taking care not to spill any on the open book. He’d already done enough to the poor thing, what with the glitter and all.

Ms. Alphys’ express permission or not, he would not fall asleep. He could not afford to fall asleep, least of all during class. Least of all now. He had to keep reading.

Normally, he wouldn’t be caught dead going off-task, but… well, these were hardly normal circumstances. Besides, he… didn’t really have it in him to do the project, at the moment.

Everyone else sounded like they were having fun with their teammates. Even Kris and Susie, as unlikely a pair as they seemed.

He sat there in silence, alone, turning pages as he awaited the school bell.

…It really wasn’t the same without her.

Chapter Text

Lost in thought, he absently followed the steady stream of students moving towards the school entrance.

His plan for today was a simple one— evade Kris at all costs.

Today was one of the rare days on which he didn’t have any shifts scheduled, and they knew it. Because it was Super Smashing Fighters day. Usually, he’d join them at their house and partake in a few rounds of gloriously pixellated battle in front of the television.

But not today.

He… would much rather not speak to them. At all. Not… not until Noelle woke up, at least.

Knowing them, they were almost certainly going to try to track him down. Fortunately for him, a single, unexpected event was sure to throw a wrench in their plans— Ms. Alphys had asked Kris to stay behind after class.

He internally thanked her for giving him a head start, although that was unlikely to have been her intention.

Nevertheless. Kris probably expected him to go straight to the hospital. To… visit Noelle. Now that they’d been stalled, he could, in theory, do that; depending on how much time Ms. Alphys had inadvertently bought him, he could get in, drop his card off, and leave before Kris — and Susie, presumably — arrived.

In theory, that was.

Just to be safe, he was going to go straight home, wait an hour before running his errands, and then visit Noelle. Hopefully, he’d be done buying groceries before visiting hours were over.

- - -

An hour and a half after school ended, he finally left his apartment for the hospital, clutching his homemade card in one hand.

While he’d yet to run into Kris, which… probably meant he’d managed to lose them, one could never be too certain. Stopping near the street corner, he quickly ducked behind a tree before furtively scouting his surroundings. No Kris — or Susie — in sight. The coast was clear.

Letting out a relieved sigh, he turned the corner, only to jump back with a shout as Jockington nearly ran into him.

“Burghley! Are you ALSO going, to visit Noelle?”

He put on a grin, albeit a somewhat strained one, resisting the urge to correct Jockington’s pronunciation. At this point, he knew better than to try; no matter how many times he’d done so in the past, it had never changed anything. “…Indeed I am.”

“Me and Catti—” don’t correct him, do not correct him— “already went, earlier! To pay our respects, to a proud member, of the Cross Country Team.”

“That’s… very nice of you.”

“And to Officer Undyne, who was also out cold.” Despite the nature of his words, Jockington’s cheerful demeanour never once faltered. It was… slightly unnerving.

“…So I’ve heard,” he managed. “I—”

Clearly oblivious to his growing discomfort, his classmate leaned closer, lowering his voice to a not-so-inconspicuous whisper. “I heard from Snowy, that Kris found her knocked out, outside their house!”

By the Angel, when would this conversation end? “I see. Now if you’ll excuse—”

“So we gave her a few flowers, from Noelle’s bouquet. If I had arms, I would’ve done it myself, but Catti helped me with it!”

He forced himself to keep smiling. “Naturally.”

“Are you also, going to bring flowers?”

“…Yes,” he lied. With luck, Jockington wouldn’t notice that he was walking away from the flower shop instead of towards it.

“Cool! I’m going to go, back to training now! Have fun!” Having said that, Jockington blithely hopped past him with nary a backward glance.

“…Thanks,” he mumbled, trying to remain cordial. Jockington… meant well. Probably. He’d never known the other monster to be the malicious sort, anyway; while Jockington was more of an acquaintance than anything else, he was one of the three people in their class who would voluntarily give him the time of day when they didn’t need him for anything, even if it was only because he was like that with everyone.

But what was that supposed to mean?!

Shaking the thought from his mind, he continued towards his own destination, briefly pausing to let a car pass before crossing the street.

The now-familiar smell of antiseptic hit him as soon as the hospital doors opened. This time, both couches were empty, which… probably meant that no one else had fallen ill. Hopefully.

“Just visiting, I presume?”

He nodded to the nurse at the front desk, holding up the card he’d brought for Noelle. “I am.”

They waved him past without another word, inclining their head ever so slightly towards the doors up ahead. Thankfully, it seemed he’d done his calculations correctly; at this hour, the hallway was as quiet as it was empty.

In the absence of other visitors, curiosity led him to peek through the window to the first room. Just as Jockington had said, Officer Undyne occupied the sole bed, her usual energy nowhere to be found as she lay motionless in sleep.

…He wondered what had happened to Noelle’s father. Hadn’t he also been sick? Then again, the hospital did only have two rooms; perhaps they’d had him transferred, or something.

That was the best-case scenario, at least. But he tried not to dwell on it.

The next room was Noelle’s. Just as he’d predicted, the floor was practically submerged in a sea of flowers and get-well-soon cards, which formed a veritable maze spanning the entirety of the room. The white flowers he’d seen atop the cupboard the day prior had been replaced by new, orange ones.

He crouched to place his own card with the rest, a good distance away from the glitter-stained one he’d signed earlier that morning. His hands still glinted red, green, and silver in the light. Standing, he painstakingly navigated the space between the doorway and the bed, careful not to trip on anything.

Noelle looked exactly as she had yesterday and the day before that, save for the fact that someone had laid her game console atop the white blanket that covered her.

Taking a deep breath, he began. “Noelle. It’s me. Again.”

No response. Not that he’d expected one.

“…We had Science today, as usual. Ms. Alphys is still teaching the unit on carbohydrates, so you… you don’t have to worry about missing anything particularly important. Then English. We’re halfway through the ninth chapter, now.”

He tried to keep his voice from wavering as he spoke. “She had us work on… on our projects, towards the end of the day. I… I’ve yet to come up with a theme for ours, but…”

Could she even hear him? “…I’m doing research. To see if I can figure out what’s… well, what’s going on here. With you.”

“I promised that I’d find a way to… to fix this, and…” His vision was blurry, now, but he dared not bring his hands anywhere near his eyes. “I’m trying. I’m trying to. So just…”

Don’t die. Please don’t die.

He choked on his words, then gave up on speaking altogether.

- - -

It had taken him a while to compose himself, but he had managed to do so. By sunset, he was back at home, trying to wash the remaining flecks of glitter off his hands while avoiding the gaze of his own visage in the bathroom mirror.

Red, green, and silver — though mostly red, at this point — still speckled the bright blue of his feathers, even as he ran his soap-covered hands under the tap water again. How did the line go, again?

Ah.

“Out, damned spot,” he muttered under his breath. That was it. It was a fitting line to quote in a situation such as this, save for the fact that it had been spoken by a murderer. Something he was decidedly not.

And yet— red, bright red, like the dust he’d never found on his hands in that nightmare of his made manifest.

His breath hitched. Not now. Not now. Granted, he was alone, but not now— he didn’t have time for that nonsense. He had work to do. He still had to shower, cook, do his homework, research, then sleep; now was not the time — if such a time existed at all — to be dwelling on things that weren’t real.

It wasn’t real. It can’t be real. You should know better.

A dream was only a dream, just as coincidences were coincidences and nothing more besides. Fear was only an emotion, if one he ought not to feel so much and so often, and he was clearly overthinking all of this to connect dots that weren’t there to begin with.

Even if two people had managed to fall ill in three days, the incidents were obviously unrelated. One only had to consider it logically. Noelle and Officer Undyne’s conditions were different, even if they were both unconscious; the sole similarity was a minor one, coincidental and therefore negligible. The circumstances under which they’d been found, too, were different; Noelle had been in the library with Susie, Kris, and himself, while Officer Undyne had been—

…Officer Undyne had been outside Kris’ house. Allegedly. According to Jockington, who’d heard it from… someone else. Admittedly, the classroom rumor mill wasn’t the most reliable source of information, but…

He tried to recall yesterday’s events. That would explain why Kris had been late, if they’d found her that morning— and they’d arrived with Susie, hadn’t they?

The tap kept running as he stood there, staring at his red-stained hands.

When did coincidences cease to be coincidences?

The cold air cooled his damp feathers, bringing him to his senses. Cursing himself, he shoved his hands back into the stream of water.

Not now.

Chapter Text

On the third day, Noelle’s seat was still empty. Just as it had been yesterday, and the day before that.

It would be empty tomorrow and the day after that, too. School would be out for the weekend. As for next week… he didn’t know anymore.

The bell rang just as he wearily dropped his belongings on his desk, completely winded from running to school. After dozing off while reading again — he’d have to find a way to remedy that — he’d somehow managed to sleep through all three of his morning alarms.

He sat down, trying to ignore his classmates’ stares and scattered whispers. Someone murmured something along the lines of “almost late”.

Ms. Alphys looked up from her computer. “…Berdly? You’re, uh… right on time.”

“Indeed,” he replied.

The sounds of conversation died, as though everyone was waiting for him to elaborate. He did not. Last to arrive or not, he was on time; that was all that mattered, in the end.

Ms. Alphys continued after a moment. “A-anyway. Catti?”

No response came.

“…Catti?”

He turned to look at the monster in question. Her head was bowed as she tapped at her phone, entirely oblivious to how the entire class was staring at her.

Jockington leaned over his desk. “Catti! Ms. Alphys, is taking attendance!”

At this, her hands stilled. She abruptly glanced upwards, looking past him to meet Ms. Alphys’ gaze, before muttering a barely audible — even by her standards — “…here.”

Having said that, Catti lowered her head again.

Ms. Alphys, persevering as ever, returned to reciting the list of names in alphabetical order. Jockington, Kid, Kris, then… Snowy, Susie, and Temmie. No new absences.

Class began with mathematical equations written in chalk on the blackboard.

- - -

He couldn’t do the question. He just… couldn’t.

His notebook laid open on the desk, each blank line under the equation he’d copied from the board silently taunting him as he went over it again in hopes of some mathematical revelation revealing itself to him. None came. The tip of the pencil in his hand hovered helplessly just above the page.

This was stupid. He should’ve been able to solve it. Admittedly, mathematics had never been his forte, but his biweekly study sessions with… with Noelle typically concealed that fact as far as class went.

…He hadn’t exactly been keeping up with his studies since her hospitalization, had he? While research was far more important, it… wasn’t exactly relevant, here at school. But he just didn’t have the time to do both, and…

Well. Did it matter? Right now, there was a problem that he couldn’t solve, that he should’ve been able to solve, that everyone expected him to be able to solve, and no amount of pointless excuses would help him do so. All he had to do was try.

He read it once more, pressing a wing to his face to mask a yawn. By the Angel, he was tired— but that was no excuse either. He only had himself to blame for it; having overslept, he’d barely had time to get dressed that morning, let alone eat or make coffee.

“We’ll check our answers in, uh…” Ms. Alphys audibly typed something. “F-five minutes?”

Oh. That was… decidedly not a good sign. At all. He was nowhere near done— how in the world was he supposed to do all of the remaining questions within the next five minutes? He had to come up with something before Ms. Alphys inevitably called on him, or…

A thought came to mind. Closing his notebook to conceal his answers — or lack thereof, rather — he stood, approaching the teacher’s desk.

Ms. Alphys glanced away from the computer screen, looking mildly concerned for some reason. “Berdly? Is… is everything okay?”

“Ms. Alphys,” he began, speaking as quietly as he could, “may I have a hall pass?”

“O-oh! To use the… of course you can! Just, uh… hold on…”

He watched as she pulled open a drawer, rummaging in it for a moment before handing him the requested item. “H-here.”

“Thanks, Ms. Alphys.”

“No problem!”

He left the classroom at a measured pace, closing the door behind him with his free hand. From there, it was a short walk to the vacant bathroom, where he locked himself in a stall.

He wasn’t skipping class— perish the thought. As a model student, he would never do such a thing! He was just… taking a short break. That was all.

…Better to keep away than to risk ridicule. Despite the slight guilt he felt about leaving without a proper reason, he just knew his classmates would hold him being anything less than perfect over his head for years, if not the rest of his life. Most of them, at least. Noelle would… she would never do that. She’d never once mocked him for not knowing something.

She probably wouldn’t hold it against him even if he failed to keep the promise he’d made to her.

…Heavens, what had he even been thinking? If the actual, qualified doctors had yet to find a cure for whatever ailed her, what in the Angel’s name made him think he could? He could barely do a math problem, of all things, without her help, and yet here he was, hoping to… to do what, exactly? Wake up someone who wouldn’t respond to anything? Cure an unknown illness? Resurrect the dead?

No. Not that. She wasn’t — couldn’t be — wasn’t dead. She wasn’t dead. So long as she still breathed, she wasn’t…

Regardless. He’d keep researching, of course. Not doing so was out of the question; even if he had yet to find anything of substance, he still had to try. There had to be a scientific, logical explanation for what had happened. There had to be a cure. He… hoped there was one, at least.

In the absence of certainty, hope was all he had left.

…And if no such cure existed?

If. If. But, hypothetically, if— he could not do the impossible. He could not perform miracles. That sort of thing only ever happened in stories, and fictional ones, at that; it was just as real as magic was, which was to say, not at all.

But there had to be a cure. He didn’t know what it was, but he would find it. What kind of friend would he be to give up after only three days spent searching?

He was just… tired.

Trying to steady his breathing, he unlocked the stall door, making a beeline for the nearest sink. Dwelling on these things at school would do him no good; his first priority ought to be staying awake.

The ice-cold tap water pooled in his cupped, thankfully glitter-free hands. He wiped at his eyes with a bit of it, feeling his senses sharpen ever so slightly. Then, when he was certain that he wasn’t at risk of falling asleep, he produced his phone from a pocket to check the time.

…He’d stay a few minutes more, just to be safe.

When he returned, Ms. Alphys was still going over the solutions with the class. Much to his relief, however, she never once called his name.

- - -

By the time the bell finally rang, he was ready to go, having already gathered his belongings in his arms. He’d been the first person to leave the classroom.

This time, speed was his sole strategy; the sooner he arrived at the hospital, the sooner he would finish his visit and go home, thereby reducing his chances of running into Kris.

The floral scent of air freshener mixed with that of antiseptic, creating a distinctly clinical smell that invaded his senses as he entered the hospital. For once, the nurse wasn’t at the front desk; while he’d grown used to seeing them there, he supposed they did have other duties to attend to.

Paying no mind to their absence, he pushed open the hallway doors—

The darkness that lay beyond was undeniably ominous, but familiar, as though the endless night sky in that nightmare had been brought to life before him. Quite literally, too, for here he could swear it was growing, pulsing, much like how one’s chest would rise and fall with each breath, radiating outwards to lap at the waning light.

…No. It had to be a blackout, or something along those lines— why the reception had remained unaffected eluded him, but that wasn’t the point. The nurse themselves was in there, most likely, so it was fine. Probably. Nothing to worry about. To think anything else would be completely ridiculous.

He had nothing to fear.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the open doorway. It was fine. His phone had a flashlight; surely that would suffice for illumination. Fishing the item in question out of his right pocket, he pressed the power button.

Nothing happened.

He tried again, but to no avail.

…Perhaps it would be best to leave and return later. With the power off and his phone out of battery, he wouldn’t be able to see Noelle anyway. Turning back, he made to retrace his steps towards the exit—

There was only more darkness where the doors should have been.

He’d never closed them.

He ran forward anyway, hoping against hope that there would be a way out, only to lose his footing when the floor gave way to an abyss. The sudden rush of air tore a hysterical scream from his throat, and despite his best efforts to flap his flightless wings, he could do naught but fall.

Chapter Text

Coughing, he pushed himself to his feet, feeling the cold begin to seep in past his feathers. Bleached sand — no, snow, it was freezing to the touch — stretched far into the distance, an icy desert gleaming blinding white under the black, sunless sky. At its edge, he could make out the outline of a vast, translucent wall, like a glacier run aground.

Where… was he?

He looked down at himself, freezing in place at the familiar sight. The breastplate and gauntlets he bore were exactly the same as those which he’d worn in his dream— and there, tied to his skirt, was the Plasma Ring, buzzing with electricity as the bright, fleeting filaments trapped within the orb flickered against its glass surface.

The Royal Pin was nowhere to be seen. Slowly, he raised a trembling hand to his face, tracing the edge of a lens— his Smart Scouter, instead of his usual spectacles.

The same question he’d asked himself yesterday came back to haunt him with a vengeance. When did coincidences cease to be coincidences?

…Maybe they didn’t all have to be coincidences if this, too, was a dream. It was the only remotely logical explanation for what he saw now. While he didn’t recall himself falling asleep at school, he knew he hadn’t made coffee that morning, and what if…

No. If that was the case, then he had to wake up now. He couldn’t afford to sleep in class, not even if Ms. Alphys had given him permission to do so the day before— he had to wake up.

He pinched himself in the arm, wincing at the ensuing twinge of pain, then repeated the motion. The snow-covered plains remained in his vision.

How did one escape a lucid dream? He’d never had one before, but surely there had to be some method or other that would work.

“Wake up,” he told himself, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he’d be at his desk again, away from this… this poor imitation of a nightmare. When he awoke, everything would be fine. “Wake up. Wake up. You have to wake up.”

He opened his eyes to a sea of white.

It had to be a dream. This was neither the classroom, nor the hospital— it had to be a dream, and that was that. If he couldn’t wake up, then…

Was this the same fate Noelle had met? Was she trapped in an eternal dream as she slept? And— what of Officer Undyne? She, too, was unconscious; had she somehow contracted the same ailment?

…Had he managed to contract the same ailment?

When he woke up — if he ever woke up — he’d tell everyone that it was infectious. With his current… inability to do so, though, it seemed that he would have to let it run its course. For however long it took.

…That was fine, really. No one… well, he wasn’t particularly important. He wasn’t needed. He’d… never been well liked, either, had he? So it stood to reason that he wouldn’t be missed very much.

And who knew? Perhaps Father and Mother would finally come back, if only to visit him.

He couldn’t quite suppress a bitter snort. What good would that do him if he couldn’t even see them? The very thought of it was ridiculous. Pointless. Besides, he had no time to dwell on such things; he had other, more pressing matters to attend to at the moment, like getting out of… wherever this was.

He turned, surveying the area. Just behind him lay another wall like the one that loomed in the far distance; a set of grand, ornate doors had been carved into the blue-white ice, though there were no indicators as to where they led.

Out of curiosity, he tried to push one side open, but it refused to budge so much as an inch no matter how much he strained against it. Perhaps— if he were to pull instead? Stepping back, he looked the doors up and down, searching for handles that weren’t there. A lost cause, then.

Well. If this path was barred to him, then he would simply have to take another.

…If there was another.

- - -

A quiet crunch accompanied his every footstep as he walked across the snow, his wings wrapped around himself to keep the cold out. The plains were silent but for him, the stillness of the air only broken by each misty breath he took; no wind blew, here, though he was thankful for that part. Were it not for that, it would have been colder still.

Slowly but surely, he drew ever closer to the edge of the distant glacier. The snow-laden ground gave way to a solid path much like the frozen surface of a lake in winter; while the one in town was prone to freezing over, the layer of ice was always fragile, never thick enough to walk on. Not like this.

Though he had yet to see anyone else in the dreamscape, the presence of a road… probably meant that civilization existed nearby. He certainly hoped it did, so long as it meant that he could rest and warm up.

For lack of anything else to do, he tried to pick out the finer details of the icy wall with his keen vision. Unlike its counterpart, not one, but two sets of doors had been cut from it; much to his relief, both seemed to be open. Between them, a silver plaque was firmly embedded in the ice, though he couldn’t quite read it at this distance.

Some ways ahead of him laid a crossroads, a wooden signpost marking the spot where the sole path split in two, and…

He stopped in his tracks. Was that another person?

It was. A large figure wrapped in a black cloak — however had he not noticed them earlier? — stood at the crossroads, facing away from him, their hooded head tilted backwards as though they were trying to read the signs.

Gathering his courage, he called out to them. “Hello?”

They promptly ran down the path to the left, the end of their cloak adorned with silver tassels flaring behind them as they fled.

…Perhaps he shouldn’t have done that.

He approached the lonely signpost, staring up at the two arrow-shaped signs attached to it. Dark inscriptions had been masterfully engraved into their wooden surfaces, though neither contained words; the left sign had the number one, followed by a symbol resembling the flames of a bonfire, while the right sign had the number two, and a… lightning bolt arcing down from what had to be storm clouds.

Averting his eyes, he turned to follow the mysterious figure down the left path. He’d had enough of storms and electricity for a lifetime.

- - -

The doors at the end of the path were finally within his reach, though they now seemed to be shut. Had the other person—

“What-ho, traveller!”

He did a frantic about-face, seeking the source of the deep, jovial voice. “Where—”

“Up here!”

Hesitantly, he raised his head, only to see the voice’s words etched into the silver plaque far above. To their right was a plain, blank circle that looked decidedly out of place.

As it — the plaque — spoke again, its surface rippled as though it was made of liquid mercury, leaving the new sentence in its wake. “Wonderful. As Sentinel, I greet you, good pilgrim! Do you seek the Knight-King, or their slumbering charge?”

He gaped at it. “The… what?”

“Have you come here knowing not what you seek?” The… Sentinel’s confusion was clear in their inflection. “None arrive without some manner of purpose or quest.”

Regaining his composure, he pressed a wing to his chestplate. Now this, he could handle— the way they spoke was something straight out of Dragon Blazers, which he, much like any self-respecting gamer, was deeply familiar with. “I only seek shelter from the cold of the wastes. The lone signpost led me here.”

“...Signpost?” The plaque’s surface wavered. “Ah! There. Yon marker at the crossroads. Your choice of path was a fortunate one, then; the other chamber is colder still, or so I am told. Mine duty binds me here.”

He frowned. “What duty?”

“To stand watch, I suppose?” Their words took slightly longer to form, this time. “To guide and inform, though I… know not who. Those who venture here are few, and though their numbers have grown of late, you are but the second to stop and listen.”

Oh. That was… rather sad, actually. “Who was the first?”

“I cannot say. You must understand— I would tell you, but the Knight-King forbids it. Their word is law even here at the edge of their domain.”

“I see.” That sounded like an important detail. Perhaps it would make for an intriguing mystery to solve while he was stuck here. “Thanks— uh, thank you, Sentinel, for your aid! I shall be on my way, then.”

Booming laughter echoed from above. “Fare thee well, good Ser knight! And—”

“I’m not a knight.” The response slipped out on reflex.

“…Ah! My mistake, good pilgrim. You bear armor fit for one! May you find what you seek.” As they spoke, a symbol of fire identical to the one on the sign he’d followed appeared on the previously blank circle. With a resounding creak, the doors swung open just enough for him to pass through.

“Thank you.”

He gave a grateful nod to the Sentinel before approaching the ice-hewn doorway. The warmth that emanated from the narrow gap promised a respite from the bitter cold.

Letting out a relieved sigh, he entered the chamber beyond.