Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a simple in and out mission, go in, get info for the next supply run, get out. Dust and Horror were currently in Undertale, sneaking around under the castle in New Home, a location both were used to and not in a good way. They were looking for any weaknesses in the foundation, any good meetup points, basically anything useful for the group’s clean entrance and escape. Why they were scouting out the original universe of all places was beyond Dust, but he figured that it wasn’t worth it to argue over something Nightmare had obviously taken a long time to plan out.

Ten minutes the pair had been searching without any hint of life, only stagnant (non-monster) dust that was floating around in the air was the only movement besides their own. They were about to call it quits, having found a good meetup spot in the king’s vast wine cellar, when a noise caught both Dust’s and Horror’s attention.

“... us.” Horror whispered. The voice was the Sans of this AU; Comic. What in the world was Comic doing down here?! Dust couldn’t quite put a finger on anything besides that the voice was present. Horror walked towards the voice, obviously trying to get closer without being noticed by anyone. As they grew closer, the voice died away, leaving behind an eerie silence.

Cold stone brick walls gave way to metal bars, chilled and unforgiving. Even more nerve wracking was the lack of people, no guards, no king Asgore, no prisoners in the cramped filthy cells. It was eerie enough that Comic was down here in the first place, but what was he doing here alone? It was dark, damp, and smelled of sickness and infection. Dust could tell that it was getting to Horror. 

“i’m messaging boss.” Dust whispered to Horror, who nodded and creeped forward. ‘ found a good meeting spot in the wine cellar, no weak points in the foundation, all solid stone, no people either. we heard comic down here but something seems off. we’ll message when we find out what’s going on. ’ 

He set his phone back in his pocket, only for the device to vibrate a few seconds later. Nightmare had replied, ‘ Stay safe. Cross and Killer have just returned with supplies and Error has almost finished checking over this world’s code. We will go to the meetup spot you suggested and wait for you there. Keep me updated and stay safe. ’

Dust placed his phone into his pocket, but ran straight into Horror before he could look back up. Why had he stopped? He looked up, then forward. Comic. Why the hell was Comic in one of the cells?! Dust stepped forward to see the past version of himself lying on the ground, unconscious and shivering, a thin sheet draped over him. Blood and magic were splattered all over the cell, and at this distance it was quite obvious that the smell of infection was coming from him.

He felt disgusted, but pushed through the nauseating mental images of what could have possibly happened. The keys for the cell’s door were left conveniently on the opposite wall, though while turning around to retrieve the keys, he locked eyes with Horror, who had a look of righteous fury, and also worry. If it were up to the normally-gentle giant, there would be a few heads rolling, but Nightmare had made it clear that violence should only be used as a last resort for this mission. Swallowing back his emotions, Dust grabbed the keys and walked back to the cell door where Horror was waiting, and made quick work of the lock.

Horror was immediately by Comic’s side, removing his own coat to replace the pitiful excuse of a blanket. Dust had to physically take a step back when he saw the amount of injuries that littered Comic’s small frame. His iconic jacket was gone, and the white-t-shirt he had been left in was coated with more blood than Horror’s. He easily scooped Comic into his arms, careful not to jostle any of his injuries too much as he also wrapped him in his jacket.

“call night.” Horror whispered. “we’re... taking him.” Dust nodded, knowing just how much Horror hated to see another version of himself, especially a past version of himself, in this kind of condition.

He pulled out his phone once more. No new messages, good. That meant that nothing had gone wrong and the others were likely waiting for the pair to return. He pressed the call button on Nightmare’s contect, hoping that there was enough signal under the stony roof to allow the call to connect.

“Are you alright?” Nightmare immediately asked as soon as the call was answered.

Dust motioned for Horror to follow him, walking back to the meeting spot. “everything went smoothly, we’re walking back now.”

“And Comic? Did you figure out what was wrong, or is that something you want to investigate next time.”

“horror has him. we found him in a cell unconscious and covered in infected injuries. he needs urgent care, and there’s no way you can convince rory to leave him behind.” Dust explained, glancing back over his shoulder to see that Comic had begun to stir. Horror was shushing him, offing small amounts of comfort as they quickly navigated the maze, back to the wine cellar. He heard Nightmare sigh over through the receiver.

“Is it serious enough that we need to request Sci’s help?” Night asked. As much as he was obviously trying to hide the emotion in his voice, Dust could still hear the worry in his tone.

Dust thought for a moment, “between the supplies in the infirmary and cross’s healing magic, he should be alright, though i also haven’t really been able to check over his injuries.” They turned the corner into the wine cellar, disconnecting the call the moment his eyes met Nightmares. Cross and Killer watched curiously as Nightmare walked over to Horror and looked over Comic’s injuries. Wait a minute…

“where’s error?” Dust asked.

“Back at the house. He went to prepare the infirmary as soon as he heard that Comic was injured.” Cross explained. The room was quiet as Nightmare inspected the injured skeleton. Without another word, he stepped back and opened a portal back to the manor.

“Dust, Cross, clean yourselves up and go to the infirmary. Killer, you help Horror in the kitchen once you are cleaned up. I’ll keep an eye on him while you four are busy.” Nightmare instructed, his voice even and tone cool, putting up the facade that he was not internally worried for someone he barely knew.

Dust did as instructed, going straight to his room and immediately into the bathroom where he turned the shower onto the hottest setting, and waited for the water to heat up. Why was he even worried about Comic? Why did any of them not hesitate in taking him in? Was it because he was just a past version of three of them in the gang? Well, even that was debatable, seeing as his Killers and Horrors AUs were all the original before being replaced, not being split off. 

He stepped into the water, hissing quietly at the temperature change. Thoughts clouded his mind. Maybe Nightmare had seen Comic and thought he could be a valuable asset, maybe a trophy of sorts, something to gloat about to the self-proclaimed good guys, or maybe he just reminded Night of himself Killer or Horror when they were first taken in? Why did he even care? Did he still see the smaller as a past version of himself, or did he somehow perceive him the same way he saw the rest of the murder trio?

By now he was already clean, but the hot water hadn’t run out yet and the steam helped clear his head, silencing the voices that he had basically always had tuned out. Why had Comic even been in that tiny cell? He must have been there for a while for the wounds to become infected. Was it Asgore? Maybe the human had already gone through with tormenting everyone and there was a different ruler who had decided to torture the poor skeleton. No matter who had done this to him, he was their charge now, and Dust felt a tiny spark of determination to help him heal, no matter how long it took.

— — —

Cross ran a warm cloth over the many wounds covering Comic’s body, careful not to open up any cuts or agitate any bruising. He couldn’t even fathom how much pain he had been in, or how much he would be in while healing considering how badly everything was infected. Right now he was just trying to figure out what was a wound and what was just blood or magic stuck to his bones. Where was Dust? He didn’t want to start healing anything until Dust did the documentation he always did when someone ended up in the infirmary, but he also didn’t want to imagine the smaller monster in pain for much longer.

The door opened, “oh you’re already here.” Dust said, grabbing a chair and opening the laptop he always kept in the infirmary for documentation. “this is going to take a bit, but i need you to go over every wound he has for documentation purposes. because there’s so many we don’t need too much detail, but there needs to be enough that if he needs to go to sci, then there’s enough details to help him know what he’s dealing with.” he explained, going into full infirmary mode. Cross nodded, starting at the head and working his way down.

“Minor bruising on the back of the head, appears to be half healed.” Cross started, speaking loud enough for Dust to hear but not enough that he felt like he was shouting. “One inch crack on the zygomatic, mild infection. Mildly swollen and hot to the touch.” Satisfied that the rest of his head was alright, Cross moved down. He waited for Dust to stop typing before continuing. “Fresh bruising in the shape of a hand wrapped around his upper sternum.” Cross shuddered, not wanting to imagine how much that had hurt. 

“do you think it could be self-inflicted?” Dust asked. Cross took his own hand and moved it around to try and replicate the angle Comic would have had to grab his sternum with. 

He shook his head. “The palm is at the back, he wouldn’t have been able to get that kind of angle, and if he did, it’s such a weird angle that there wouldn’t be enough power behind it to leave this serious of a bruise. There’s– holy shit!” he couldn’t stop himself from reeling back a little when he saw something he didn’t even notice before.

“what?! what happened?” Dust asked, dropping his formal tone and looking over to the bed.

Cross pointed to Comic’s ribs, and along the death scar that almost every Sans held, were dozens if not hundreds of razor-thin cuts, all in various stages of healing, thankfully none of it was infected. The death scar was an incredibly sensitive area for everyone, and that many cuts inside of the mark must have been excruciating.

“I’m healing that first.” Cross whispered.

“i’m surprised he can still breathe without screaming.” Dust shuddered. He turned to his computer and started typing again. “this… this type of stuff is starting to make me think it was torture and not just an interogation gone wrong.”

“Uhm… the rest of the ribs are… no the bottom two have more bruising. It could be another handprint but there’s not enough area on those ribs to really tell.” Cross continued. His voice was shakier than before, but he knew he had to keep going.

He moved on to the arms, “There’s so much I can’t tell what’s what. A lot of it is infected.” Cross admitted, there were bruises, burns, cuts and scrapes in all stages of healing, some inflamed, some discharging discolored magic, all of it smelled sour, it was impossible to document everything. Dust walked over and took one look at Comic’s arms, then walked back to his computer and started typing. “What are you writing?”

“mutilated. i’m noting that there is too much damage to differentiate what is what, but that the arms are indeed heavily damaged.” Dust was back in full infirmary talk. “are his shoulders the same way?”

“Yes.” Cross said, moving down to inspect the spine and pelvis. Thankfully there were no injuries there. “Spine and pelvis are undamaged, moving to the legs.”

He lifted the blanket, expecting the legs to be in a similar state to his arms. Nope. Every wound was separate and defined, not overlapping or even minor. Cross took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady. “Left femur has two large bruises and a second degree burn, the left knee has a three inch crack running diagonally and is not infected. Left tibia has a gouge taken out and is very infected.” His voice cracked while describing the injuries, but he had to keep going.

“let me see.” Dust murmured, looking over and inspecting the gouge for himself. He grimaced, then gave Cross’s shoulder a light squeeze as he walked back over to the computer and continued typing.

“The bones in his left foot are all shattered. I don’t know if we can fix something like this…” Cross whispered. It looked like someone had taken a mallet to his foot. He moved on to the right leg, swallowing back his horror. Almost done, then he could start healing. “There’s a series of vertical cuts all along the upper right femur.” Dust looked up, alarmed.

“how old do they appear?” He sounded a little frantic. It took Cross a moment, but he realized what Dust was worried about soon enough.

“Fresh enough that we can rule out self harm. Unless he did it while alone in that cell, which I doubt.” That was a lie. The newest lines were older than everything else and mostly healed. The oldest lines were completely healed and fully scared over. Cross didn’t want to think about what had caused Comic to do something like this, but he also didn’t want Comic to be put on the spot.

“Right fibula and tibia are untouched, though there are what looks like pencil markings. Maybe the person doing this had planned on injuring his lower leg when they got back, but you found him just in time.” Cross speculated. “The right foot is in the same condition. Can I heal him now?” He didn’t mean for his last request to sound desperate, but after staring at the injuries for so long, he couldn’t stand to think about leaving them alone for much longer.

Dust took a moment and finished typing, then closed the laptop. 

“start with that,” he pointed to the thin cuts along Comic’s death scar, “i’ll get the… oh we’re going to need more bandages after this.”

— — —

“Killer, stop poking Horror and finish cleaning up the dishes.” Nightmare warned. He looked back down at the cutting board in front of him, doing his best to not accidentally get any of his corruption into the food. 

“aww, but dishes are boring!” Killer whined.

Nightmare sighed. “I know you don’t like them, but I can’t do the dishes without my corruption clogging the drain, and Error is hydrophobic, so he can’t do them either.” Behind him, he just heard Killer groan, but the sound of the sink turning on at least was a good sign. Once the carrots and onions were sliced up, Nightmare walked over to the stove where Horror was tending to a stew simmering gently.

Horror mumbled a quiet thanks, and slowly and deliberately added the vegetables to the mixture. “red book?” He requested, pointing over to a small shelf filled with cookbooks. Nightmare didn’t know what was in that specific book, but because he always had it out when someone was injured, he assumed that most of the recipients were healing foods or magic-replenishing.

“What page?” Nightmare asked, walking back over beside Horror and setting the book down on the empty part of the counter. 

Horror seemed to think for a moment, “twenty-six.” He concluded.

“oh! that’s the hot chocolate that crossy likes, right?” Killer asked. The water shut off, and Nightmare looked back to see that Killer had started drying off the now clean dishes. Horror nodded and placed a lid on the pot of stew.

Nightmare opened the book to the right page. There were notes along the margins, little tweaks to the recipe, small changes in the instructions, and a small note at the bottom of the page mentioning that the recipe was one of Cross’s favorites, and was perfect for after he used a lot of healing magic, and also good if he was dealing with overstimulation or a sensory overload.

Even though the book was open and on the counter, Horror never even looked at it as he gathered all the ingredients and quickly prepared the drink, pouring it into a few cups, one for each of them and two for Dust and Cross when they returned. Cross’s was more magic-replenishing, slightly bigger, but no one present seemed to argue. 

Nightmare took two cups, one for himself, and left to find Error to give him the other. Leaving the kitchen, he found Error sitting on the couch in the living room, knitting something. Wordlessly he walked over to the glitch and handed him the cup. He sat down.

…

“Y-Y-You’re st-tressed-d-d.” Error said. Nightmare sighed, realizing that he had been on autopilot for the last hour or so.

“I… I wasn’t expecting to feel the same way about Comic that I did about the boys when I found them.” Nightmare admitted. “I’m not sure if we will be able to help him recover. Sure we can heal the physical injuries, but will he ever recover mentally?”

Error leaned forward a little, contemplating Nightmare’s words. “C-Comic has-s-s surviv-ved th-thousand-d-ds of resets. He h-has always-s-s been ab-able to bounce b-back-k from p-p-partic-ticularly bad g-genocide runs-s, so-so I th-think he’ll-ll-ll b-bounce back f-f-from thi-this too.”

Something told Nightmare that Error hadn’t actually seen the state Comic was in. This wasn’t a genocide run, the oldest injuries had been at least a few weeks old, and a few had started to scar over. This hadn’t been on the same level as the resets, and judging the frequent bursts of shock and anger he could feel from Cross and Dust, it was much worse than any of them had initially thought.

“You d-don’t believe m-m-me.” Error said with a sigh. 

“Not quite.”

“Th-That’s-s alright. I d-d-don’t-t quit-te believe mys-self either.”

Nightmare sighed again. He should go check on their guest.

— — —

Killer walked to the infirmary, two glasses of hot chocolate in hand, one for Dust, and a special magic-replenishing version for Cross. He was in a ‘poke someone in the arm until they smacked him’ kind of mood, but something told him to not do that in the infirmary. Meh, he was gonna do it anyway.

“knock knock! delivery!” he said, kicking the door open and waltzed in. He walked in to see Cross holding Comics hand, who was now wide awake but seemed a bit out of it, helping him keep calm as Dust went over some nasty looking infected wounds with what he recognized as a cloth and a little bottle of saline. 

“wonderful timing killer.” Dust spat.

“Ignore them, just focus on me, try to match my breathing. You’re doing great.” Cross murmured to Comic, who had somehow looked more panicked than when Killer had first entered the room. Whoops.

Quietly, Killer walked past the trio and to the back of the room where he cups down, then hopped up onto the counter so he’d be able to give each of his favorite healers their drinks once they were done healing up their charge. Even with his very limited ability to feel emotions, the little pained gasps from Comic paired with Cross’s encouraging words, and Dust’s frequent apologies was enough for an ounce of sympathy to worm its way into his soul. 

Finally, after a little while longer, Dust stood up and placed the cloth into a laundry basket, then poured out the rest of the saline and washed his hands after removing a pair of disposable gloves. Cross also pulled up a chair beside Comic so he could keep giving him encouragement. Dust wasn’t done, moving over to a medicine cabinet and pulling out what Killer recognized as a bottle of painkillers. He poured two of the capsules into his hand, then got a little plastic cup and some water and walked back over to the pair. 

He couldn’t exactly see what was happening from his sitting point, but when Dust walked back over to the trashcan to dispose of an empty plastic cup, he figured that he had managed to give Comic the painkillers. Killer hopped down from the counter and grabbed the two cups, silently handing one to Dust, then walking over to Cross.

“horror made this one magic-replenishing.” Killer said, quieting down just enough that he wouldn’t get yelled at for being too loud. Cross gave Killer a tired smile.

“Thank you.” he murmured, then took a sip of the drink, his posture slumping and shoulders relaxing as the drink worked its magic. He looked over at Comic, who was watching him with a tired yet curious expression. He was definitely out of it, yet it seemed that he was lucid enough to recognize him and the others. 

The door opened once more, revealing Nightmare with Error directly behind him.

“everything has been documented. just gave him some painkillers and finished flushing the infected wounds. i’m not sure if his left leg will ever fully heal.” Dust updated Nightmare. “the nature of severity of the wounds all point to torture.” Killer saw his eyelights flicker out for a moment on the last statement. 

“Show me your documentation, for supply and planning purposes.” Nightmare asked gently. Bullshit. Even Killer could tell that Nightmare was asking about Comic because he was worried, not because of some stupid planning. He didn’t dare call his boss out on that, though, even he could tell that now wasn’t the time.

“I-Is he l-l-lucid-d?” Error asked. 

Cross shook his head. “As far as I can tell, he knows where he is, he knows who we are, but that’s about it. He was responsive when I helped him through the pain while Dust was flushing his wounds, but he didn’t respond to any questions I gave him while testing how aware he was.”

“probably less aware now that he’s had those painkillers. i had to give him the strong stuff because of how much damage there is.” Dust continued, setting his empty mug on the counter.

“D-Damn. I-I-I want-ted to kno-know who did-d-d this-this.” Error said, crossing his arms. 

“Don’t we all?” Nightmare asked, his face scrunched in disdain as he glared at nothing in particular. “Anyways Horror is almost done with Dinner. He has already agreed to let one of us stay in here with Comic in case of emergencies, and I already volunteered to be that person.”

“you’ll still eat dinner though, right?” Dust asked, almost accusatory. Nightmare’s tendrils flicked around in annoyance, though his expression remained neutral.

“Of course. Horror wouldn’t let any of us skip a meal unless it was absolutely necessary.” He replied. “Now go, you know what will happen if you keep him waiting.”

Killer sighed, taking Dust’s and Cross’s empty cups and leaving for the kitchen.

— — —

Horror finished setting out the last bowl of beef stew on the table, careful not to spill a single drop. He went back to the kitchen to grab the bowl full of bread rolls he made to go with the stew. Nightmare said he would send down the others soon, and he had left a few minutes ago. He left back to the kitchen, trying to think of how to keep himself busy and not overthink the situation. Horror distracted himself, but the fact that someone was injured and likely starved and he wasn’t allowed to help was driving him crazy.

Stay calm. You can beat the shit out of whoever tortured Comic another day. Your mates need you to stay strong right now, be the voice of reason. Horror stepped back out of the kitchen to see Killer walk out of the infirmary with the two empty glasses. The lack of peppiness or spunk in his step worried him immediately, but there wasn’t much he could do as everyone, save for Nightmare and Comic, followed Killer out and all silently made their way to the table. 

Cross looked shaken up, nervously stimming while rocking back and forth in his seat, while Dust was the exact opposite, looking like he had completely dissociated. Horror sat down, waiting for the others to start eating, and trying to ignore the elephant in the room until Killer sat came out of the kitchen and sat down, immediately scooping up some stew and taking a big bite.

“ooh! horror this is fantastic!” Killer complimented, his messed up soul taking the shape of a wobbly inverted heart.

Satisfied that someone was at least eating, Horror began to sample his own meal, sighing as the warm food replenished some of his magic. “thanks for… helpin’ me.”

“ahaha it was just dishes, you should be thanking night–… oh.” Killer trailed off, the gears in his head turning, “is that why everyone’s so quiet?” he looked baffled.

“M-More or l-l-less-ss.” Error confirmed, taking a bite of the stew. “Oh w-wow! Y-Your c-c-cooking-ing never dis-disapoin-nts.”

“wait why is everyone quiet because nightmare isn't here? he said he would eat after someone went back to the infirmary once we all ate.” Killer questioned, looking genuinely confused. Horror sighed internally. He knew Killer didn’t quite understand situations like this because of his lack of emotions and therefore empathy.

“Th-They’re jus-st not used to-to-to it. It-it’s a bit-t-t unnerving-ing when the h-head of-of the table is m-m-missing-ing.” Error explained. The gears turned in Killer's head again, and the little ‘oh’ he said made it clear that he was starting to understand.

Horror looked to his left to see that Dust had barely touched his food. Slowly, he took Dust’s hand and rubbed a thumb over the back of it. Dust looked over, then up at Horror. He looked down at his own hand and grimaced. Slowly, Dust lifted his hand and inspected it with his other hand, wordlessly pinching each of his fingers with barely any force. Horror recognized this pattern all too well; Dust was making sure that he wasn’t hallucinating, making sure that he was real and present. 

Horror pointed to his utensils, then to the food. Thankfully he took the hint and began to eat more. Horror didn’t exactly like that Dust was basically moving on autopilot alone while his mind was in a dissociative state, but at least he was getting the magic back in his system, at least he wasn’t going hungry. 

He looked over at Cross on his other side. He had stopped rocking, but he could still see the classic bouncy-leg as Cross nervously picked at his food. Something was bugging him, and it was quite obvious from his frustrated expression and the fact that he was stimming more than normal that he was on the verge of a sensory overload if he wasn’t having one already. Looking around a little, he finally saw it. Shit, how could he forget? Cross didn’t like this kind of meat all that much because of the texture, and usually for meals like this Horror usually let him take a bit longer to pick out what he wanted, or he went out of his way to exclude the unwanted element. 

Thinking quick on his feet, Horror picked up the bowl and stood up. “accidentally… gave you night’s food.” he said, walking into the kitchen and fixing the bowl to be more friendly towards the former guard’s sensory issues. He quickly returned, placing the new bowl in front of Cross, who immediately relaxed a little.

“Thanks.” he whispered. Horror nodded, then looked back over to Dust who had finished his food and was now staring off into space. He continued to eat his own food while keeping an eye on both monsters. He wasn’t annoyed with helping either through their own unique issues, he just wanted to make sure that they were both eating and staying healthy. Pretty soon Killer and Error finished their stew, with Cross finishing soon after. Wordlessly, Horror stood up, picking up Dust at the same time. He then turned to Cross and offered a hand, which he took. Horror turned back to Killer and Error.

“... you coming?” He asked. Killer nodded and ran around the table to stand beside Cross.

“N-Not to-tonight.” Error said with a sigh, “S-Someone has to-to-to conv-vince Night to s-sleep tonight-night.”

Horror nodded, at least unlike Nightmare who just needed much less sleep than most monsters, Error actually lacked a need for sleep.

“see you tomorrow.” Killer said with a small wave. Error nodded, then walked off towards the infirmary. Horror gave Cross’s hand a light squeeze, then led them away to Nightmares room. He knew that Night would try to fight sleeping tonight, especially with someone injured under his care, but he also knew that if everyone slept in his room tonight, he would be more likely to at least lay down in bed, and therefore more likely to fall asleep.

Dust still hadn’t snapped out of his dissociative state, which was a little worrying, but considering what he had seen and done today, he didn’t blame the smaller monster in the slightest. Horror set Dust down on the bed, gently removing his shoes and jacket before guiding him to lay down next to Killer who had already made himself comfortable. Cross also hopped up onto the bed, out of the more complicated parts of his outfit.

“Are you going back to eat with Nightmare?” Cross asked quietly, pushing himself up onto the bed. Horror nodded.

“try not to… take long.” He promised.

He turned to leave the room, hoping that Nightmare was already eating.

— — —

“M-My turn to-to-to watch over h-him.” Error said the moment he stepped back into the infirmary. Nightmare immediately stood up, checking over Comic one last time before nodding.

“Have the others eaten?” He asked, not even trying to hide the worry in his tone.

Error shrugged, “C-Cross and Dust-t-t had-had some iss-ssues, but-t they b-both-th finished their f-food.”

“Good.” Nightmare turned leave, then paused. “Comic has been drifting in and out since you left, but he always replied with nonsense whenever I tried conversing with him. I don’t sense any distress, but he does seem very confused.”

Error nodded. “G-Good to know-w-w. Now go-go. H-Horror is-is-is waiting fo-for you.” He instructed, shoo-ing Nightmare out of the infirmary and closing the door before he could say anything else.

He looked over at Comic, who was fast asleep and tucked in gently under a blanket on the infirmary bed. The infirmary was eerily quiet, with no noise save for the faint humming of the medical fridge and the dimed lights. Error pulled a book from the antivoid and hoisted himself up on one of his hammocks.

Chapter one, he heard Comic shifting around in his sleep, but didn’t really wake up. Chapter two, three, and four, nothing interesting. Chapter five, Comic woke up, muttered something about the children of a snake goddess, then fell back asleep. Chapter six and seven, nothing beyond one of the dim lights going out. He’d have to tell Nightmare about that tomorrow. Chapter eight, it was midnight, but still nothing interesting. Chapter nine, Comic started whimpering in his sleep, though it sounded more out of pain than in fear.

Error sat up and lowered himself to the ground. The painkillers must have worn off, but thankfully there was a note on the counter from Dust; ‘the drug will probably wear off while we’re sleeping, so whoever is awake with Comic will have to give him more if he wakes up or he appears to be in pain. i gave him two capsules from the white bottle with the brown lid, or the one with the word ‘brown’ on the cap if it’s cross reading this. it should be in the cabinet directly above this note on the bottom shelf. the capsules need to be taken with water.’

Error set the note down, then opened the cabinet, and just as he said, there was a white bottle with a brown lid, the top of which had ‘brown’ written on it. Why was it that way, and why did the note specifically mention Cross? Maybe he was colorblind or something? Meh, that wasn’t important right now. 

He grabbed a little plastic cup from a stack beside the sink and filled it in the sink, then took out two capsules from the bottle, then the bottle back and walked over to Comic. He gently nudged the sleeping skeleton, but he didn’t seem very aware when he opened his eyes.

“I-I need you-you-you to take th-this.” Error said, holding the two capsules out. Comic managed to sit up slowly, and the more he settled into wakefulness, the more awake and aware he seemed.

“what time is it?” Comic asked, his voice barely a whisper. He seemed nervous and a little paranoid. Understandable, considering what he had been through.

“U-Uh… one th-thirty.” Error said, setting the capsules on the little bedside table. It seemed like Comic wanted to talk before taking such heavy painkillers.

Comic stared at his blankets, then at his arms, examining the bandages. He looked like he wanted to ask a question but something was stopping. Error waited. Comic took a breath and looked up at Error with an anxious expression.

“why did you take me in?” He asked. He was somehow even quieter than before. Why did he look so scared?

“B-Because it-it-it was o-obvious that-t-t you were b-being tortured.” Error said, deadpan. Comic looked confused, then conflicted. He wrapped his arms around himself, likely an unconscious attempt at self-soothing. 

He whispered something else, but this time he couldn’t hear Comic. Error sat down on the bed, worried that Comic was scared to talk to him. He tried to make himself appear non-threatening, worried that Comic had somehow forgotten who he was, and was nervous because he didn’t recognize him.

“C-Can you re-re-repeat-t that-t-t?” Error asked gently.

“... deserved it.” Comic whispered, burying his face in his hands. His breathing quickened, and he started trembling. 

What? Comic had basically just confirmed his suspicions, and then had the audacity to believe that it was somehow his fault?! He needed to clear his head before he accidentally scared the injured skeleton.

“I-I’m going to-to-to get us s-someth-thing to eat. Do-Do you want-t-t any-anything specific-c?” Error asked, trying to keep his expression and body language as calm and relaxed as he possibly could. The question seemed to startle him out of his panic, just a little bit, occupying his mind and forcing him to focus on something else other than… whatever he was thinking about.

“i… i don’t think i can handle anything heavy right now.” Comic said, lifting his face out of his hands for a moment to meet Error’s eyes.

“I’ll s-see what I can-n-n find.” He promised, standing up from the bed. “Oh, and th-those paink-k-killers w-will knock you out-out-out, so t-take them if-if you w-want, b-but I don’t-t recommend it-it before y-you eat something.” He warned, then left the room. He walked down the hall, turned the corner into the main area, and almost ran straight into Nightmare. 

“Where are you going?” Nightmare asked.

“C-Comic wok-ke up. G-Getting him some-something to eat-t.” Error explained, “D-Did he wake y-y-you?”

Nightmare nodded. “Is he lucid?”

“Yes… but-t-t…” Error started, then trailed off. “I think h-he’s sh-showing signs of trauma-ma.”

Nightmare nodded, his gaze darkening. “I’ll go check on him. I’ll see you in the infirmary.”

Error nodded back. Nightmare walked away as Error continued his quest for snacks.

— — —

When Nightmare stepped into the room, he was expecting to see his charge disoriented and unable to communicate like he had been when Nightmare first watched over him almost five hours ago. He wasn’t expecting to find Comic sitting up and looking around, his eyelights sharp and clear enough to tell that he was mostly, if not fully lucid and aware of his surroundings.

“did something happen to error?” Comic immediately asked. His hands were hovering just over his soul, eyelights flickering back and forth rapidly, as if searching for unseen threats. Paranoia. Was this what Error meant when he was referring to trauma signs?

“He went to get you some food, we happened to pass in the halls and I came to check on you.” Nightmare explained, sitting on the bed next to Comic’s feet. “Is it alright to ask a few questions to test your awareness?”

Slowly, deliberately, Comic nodded.

“That’s good. Do you know where you are?” Nightmare asked.

Comic seemed to think for a moment, “y-your home.” Nightmare didn’t miss the little stammer in his voice.

“Wonderful, and are you aware of who I am?” Nightmare tested once more. He knew Comic well enough before today that answering this should be simple.

“you’re nightmare, the guardian of negativity. you told me once you considered me a friend.” Comic said, each word was quieter than the last, and his tone less confident with each second that passed. By the end he was cowering, eyelights darting around, searching for danger again.

“You’re doing great. Are you aware of who you are?” Nightmare asked. Each of Comic’s responses were concerning him more and more.

“i’m comic to you, but sans to my own world.” He said simply. If just answering who he is or who Nightmare is was causing him this much trouble, Nightmare was nervous over how Comic would react to being asked about the torture. Maybe tonight wasn’t a good time. Maybe there would never be a good time.

“You did wonderfully, that’s all I wanted to ask.” Night said. He reached out to pat Comic on the shoulder, but the moment he reached his hand forward, Comic immediately raised his hands from their protective position above his soul, to a protective position in front of his face. 

Shit. Something was very wrong.

This wasn’t the Comic that Nightmare knew.

What the hell happened?

Slowly, Comic lowered his hands and their eyes met. He looked so scared, apologetic, guilty, hopeless. There was so much fear and anxiety swirling around in his soul that it made Night want to kill the fucker that did this even more than he did before.

“Who did this?”

Comic froze. Error entered the room, a bowl of small cut fruit and some crackers in his hands, as well as a glass of water. He took one look at Comic’s expression, then looked to Nightmare.

“W-What did you-you-you ask-k?” He asked as he set the food down on the nightstand next to the painkillers.

Comic took a deep breath, “it… it was papyrus.”

Chapter Text

“i’m sorry what?!”

“you’re kidding! please tell me that this is a sick joke.”

“...”

“Why- How- Are you sure?!”

Nightmare sighed as he watched each of his mates' expressions morph into shock and disgust at the news. After Comic had admitted that his own brother had tortured him, and for reasons that Comic wasn’t even aware of, no less, he knew that informing the others would be difficult but necessary. He had waited until everyone had finished eating breakfast and was cleaning up to break the news.

“are we allowed to at least hurt him a little?” Killer asked, brandishing a knife.

“Put that away.” Nightmare said, “And no, not for now. We need more information on the situation before going through with any drastic plans.” 

“The plans for today will be a little different than normal.” Nightmare continued, switching to a more formal tone, “Dust and Cross, you will still be in the infirmary today, Comic is conscious and lucid enough for conversation, there are no real goals for either of you besides keeping documentation on everything you deem important.

“Killer, you will go with Error on a supply run. This mission will be a stealthy one, so try not to be spotted.”

“you got it!” Killer said with a mock salute. Nightmare nodded back in acknowledgement.

“Horror, you will be floating today. Dust and Cross may need help at some point today, and I also may need some assistance with my own work.” Nightmare finished. “Dismissed.” Without another word, Nightmare left for his office, leaving the four alone.

Cross looked down at his feet. He felt small, smaller than normal, insignificant, he knew he shouldn’t be feeling like this when there was someone who needed his help. He knew he had a job to do today. Nodding in Dust’s direction, he turned away and walked over to the infirmary.

He stopped at the door. It was going to be alright, everything would be fine. They would fix up the rest of the wounds, they would figure out a plan for the near future, everything would work out in the end. With one final deep breath, Cross opened the door.

Error sat up, then set his book down. “Wh-Where’s-s K-Killer?”

“Still in the dining room, I think.”

Error nodded, turned to leave, then paused, “Did N-Night tell y-y-you?”

It took him a moment to figure out what Error was referring to, but when he realized he was talking about who had hurt Comic, he nodded. Error nodded again in return, then left the room just as Dust walked in.

“how’re you feeling?” Dust asked. Cross turned around to see Comic sitting up, looking both tired and nervous. He was picking at the ends of the bandages covering his arms. This wasn’t the Comic Cross remembered, even with the limited amount of conversations they had prior to yesterday.

“i… could be better.” Comic admitted with a weak, strained laugh. He was quiet, so much quieter than he ever remembered. Cross went over to one of the cabinets and pulled out some fresh bandages and some healing gel. It was better to use actual healing magic over the gel, but Cross knew his magic wouldn’t be enough to heal all of Comic’s wounds, even halfway. Maybe he could focus on just one body part today, get that nasty death scar out of the way and use the remaining magic on that crack on his cheek or something. The rest of the wounds could be cleaned off, have fresh healing gel applied, and rebandaged. If he was lucky, maybe Cross could replenish enough magic to heal more of the wounds before the end of the day, all he had to do was look out for the infected wounds.

It was dangerous to try and heal a wound with an infection, especially on monsters as opposed to humans, as humans processed infections differently to monsters. Cross visualized it as kind of like a pool and a water balloon full of dye. The water balloon was the infection, and the pool was a monster's body as well as their magic, their leylines. Infections were suppressed and isolated by a monster's body naturally, thus the water balloon analogy, and they were meant to either heal on their own by slowly growing smaller, or being extracted out of the “balloon” with healing gels or by being flushed with something like saline. If he were to use healing magic on the wound, it would seal the infection inside the monster’s body, therefore constricting the “balloon” to the point that it would burst and contaminate the rest of the “pool.”

“I wanted to focus on healing the wounds on your ribcage, are you alright with that?” Cross asked, setting the bandages and gel, as well as a few small towels to clean up any excess gel on a little table with wheels, also dragging a chair behind him. Comic looked nervous, but nodded anyway, sitting up a little straighter but hissing in pain and slouching back down.

Slowly, carefully, Cross unwrapped the outer layer of bandages, likely only there to not get healing gel all over the bed as it only wrapped around his ribcage and not the individual ribs. Fully unwrapping Comic’s ribs revealed that Cross’s healing magic from last night had only healed the wounds on the death scar about halfway. Considering he hadn’t really been able to focus on the wound yesterday, he figured that he could heal it fully, that way Comic would be able to sit up fully comfortably.

“make sure you tell us if something hurts too much. we can’t read your emotions like nightmare can.” Dust said. He was back to documenting things.

“Just how much do you need to do on that thing?” Cross asked.

“documenting how much we’ll need from the next supply run to restock.” Dust said with a sigh, “it’s been far too long since these shelves have been full. i’m about seventy percent sure we have some expired healing gel somewhere around here.”

Cross nodded, focusing for a moment before his hands were enveloped in a warm green glow. He sat down and got into a good position before hovering his hands a few inches from the wound. Little specks of green magic floated around his hands, settling on the injuries before seemingly sinking into the surface of the bone. Slowly, surly after a few minutes of awkward silence, the majority of the cuts on Comic’s ribcage were healed.

“Does that feel any better?” Cross asked, backing up to give him some space. Comic took a moment, but eventually nodded, looking away with somehow an even more nervous expression than before. Did Cross scare him? 

He tested his reserves, seeing just how much magic he had leftover, there was enough that he could get that bruise on the back of Comic’s head, maybe the crack on his cheek too if the infection was gone.

“Can you lean your head forward a bit?” Cross asked, reigniting the healing magic in his hands. Comic complied, leaning just far enough that the bruising was fully visible. The moment his hand accidentally touched the back of Comic’s skull, though, the smaller skeleton flinched away, hard. Cross immediately pulled his hand back, worried that he had somehow accidentally hurt Comic. “I… Sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i won’t-” Comic trailed off as he covered his face with his hands, shaking as his breathing grew faster and more erratic with each breath.

“woah what happened?” Dust asked frantically, immediately jumping down from his chair. He walked over to the pair, only for Comic to curl in on himself, hissing in pain when pressure was put on his injured leg. Cross backed up even more, his soul swelling with anxiety that he had hurt Comic.

“I-I don’t know, I was healing him and he just-” Cross whispered, oh angel above he didn’t mean to hurt him. He was just trying to help! Why did he always mess everything up, he was such an awful healer. His thoughts were spiraling, he needed to get out of here before he messed up anything else.

Cross practically ran out of the room, needing to get anywhere but here.

— — —

Nightmare was alerted the moment he felt the influx of panic from two people in the castle, followed by a spike of worry from a third party. One panicked soul eventually ran, moving outside. Making a quick decision, the guardian of negativity turned to the infirmary where the panic and worry stemmed from.

Opening the door, he was immediately met with the sight of Dust doing his best to try and calm Comic down, though with how nervous and flustered he looked, it was quite obvious that his comfort wasn’t doing much. Nightmare could tell Comic was in some physical pain, but he couldn’t tell exactly how.

Quickly, he moved to stand next to Dust, wrapping a tendril around his arm, as well as another around Comic’s. He used a bit of magic to siphon away their negativity, sighing at the mild headrush the small wave of power brought him. He felt Dust relax, and although it took a bit more time and effort, eventually Comic relaxed too.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Nightmare asked.

“i wasn’t looking when it happened, but i heard cross and comic start apologizing at the same time, then they both freaked out, and cross ran out.” Dust explained.

“i didn’t mean to–” Comic started, looking distressed.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong, and neither did Cross. I’m positive that there was some kind of miscommunication.” Nightmare said, letting both of them go and standing back up. “Dust, can you continue treating Comic’s wounds? I am going to go find Cross.”

Dust nodded, “yeah, that shouldn’t take too long. i’ll finish documenting the infirmary's supply level once that’s finished.”

Nightmare nodded, perfect. He trusted Dust to handle the infirmary alone for a bit until he could locate both Cross and Horror, Cross to help calm him down, as the second source of panic was most likely him and was still very much active and growing worse with each passing second, and Horror to potentially help Dust in the infirmary.

As he walked out and moved through the many winding halls of the castle, Nightmare realized that Horror was the only one who hadn’t seen Comic since he was brought to the castle yesterday. Maybe that’s why Horror’s emotions had seemed so… off… since yesterday, having to deal with his usual self-assigned tasks while also being aware that someone in the castle was injured and he was largely unable to help. Nightmare was very aware that Horror was basically the mother hen of the household, and was also aware of the possibility of him unintentionally overwhelming Comic while trying to help him.

He needed to find Cross first. Comic freaking out was likely what caused Cross to panic, causing Cross to run off and hide somewhere to work through his feelings. He wished the former guard had just come to Nightmare instead of hiding, but he also understood that this was something he had been working on for a while, and it was pointless to be upset at Cross for a slipup like this. He just had to find him before something bad happened.

Nightmare’s search led him outside, the trail of anxiety leading him to the castle’s gardens. Interesting. Cross usually sought solace in the library or in his bedroom, not outside. Maybe Horror was out here and Cross had looked for comfort from the gentle giant? No, he could sense Horror still inside. He wasn’t in the greenhouse or near any of the small isolated patches of poisonous or toxic plants that Dust cultivated. By now the trail had grown too muddled for Nightmare to accurately follow, but he knew he was close.

His own worry grew as Cross panic suddenly disappeared. That was… concerning to say the least. Where else could he– Oh! Perhaps he was sitting by the little pond. It was nice and secluded, being located in one of the furthest corners of the gardens and also obscured by layers upon layers of bushes, trees, and plots full of plants. It was also incredibly scenic, being nicely shaded by a beautiful weeping willow tree and the pond also being home to a few koi fish that Killer had somehow taken from a random surface AU. One path to the left left, two turns right, keep going straight at the broken statue of some random nobleman who used to own the castle, trip over a gardening tool, and one last left turn. Nightmare finally found himself staring at Cross, curled up in a ball at the base of the willow tree, practically being cradled by its exposed roots, blanketed and embraced by the drooping branches.

Nightmare walked forward, sitting down in front of Cross and trying to figure out what he was feeling right now. Why had the panic disappeared? Cross didn’t move, or even acknowledge his presence. Strange… Testing the waters, he placed a hand on the crown of Cross’s skull. The other shifted slightly, but other than muttering something inherently he didn’t respond. There were a few more moments of confusion before Nightmare finally realized what was going on;

Cross had fallen asleep.

With a quiet chuckle, Nightmare took Cross as gently as he could in his tentacles, bringing him to gently rest against Nightmare’s chest. While trying to stand back up, Cross suddenly woke up, confusion and a mild amount of panic.

“What happened? Where am I?” Cross asked. His voice was scratchy, evident that he had been crying.

“I found you asleep. We are still by the willow tree.” Nightmare explained, turning around and settling himself against the willow tree, still holding Cross close. “Your panic drew me to you.”

“Oh.” Cross whispered. He didn’t say anything, only pressing his face into Nightmare’s chest a few seconds later. 

Nightmare only continued to hold Cross tight, keeping him safe and secure. 

“Is he alright?” He asked. Nightmare immediately knew that he was referring to Comic.

“He’s fine, Dust is still with him.” Nightmare reassured him, running a hand comfortingly over the back of Cross’s skull. “What about you, mi amor?”

Cross thought for a moment before answering. “I… I don’t know. A little overwhelmed, I guess.” 

Nightmare nodded, “Do you want to stay out here, or would you be alright if we went back to my office? I’d rather not leave you out here alone.”

Cross lifted his face out of Nightmare’s hoodie and turned to look back at the pond. “I…”

“Remember this is your decision, and I am perfectly content with either option.” Nightmare reassured. Cross’s anxiety spiked a little, but calmed down with Night’s words.

“Can we stay out here?” Cross asked.

“Of course, mi amor.” Nightmare said, leaning down to gently touch his forehead to Cross’s

He would stay out here for an eternity if it meant keeping his love happy.

— — —

Comic was even quieter than he had been before, barely saying a word as Dust went over each and every wound with a thick layer of healing gel. Thanks to Cross’s magic, there was no need for Comic to forgo a shirt anymore, and said skeleton seemed to be grateful to have something covering his scar again.

His arms hadn’t taken much time to go through. It had just been a matter of wiping away the excess gel that didn’t hold any magic in it anymore, and reapplying a fresh layer before wrapping the entire limb in bandages. And the right leg had been quick as well, if not a little patchy.

He was working on the left leg at the moment, smearing a healthy amount of gel over the two large bruises that covered most of his upper leg. Dust was more careful when applying the gel over a decently severe burn. It looked accidental, like some hot liquid had been spilled onto the area. It looked fresh…

Comic hissed at the contact, though quickly slapped a hand over his mouth to try and muffle the sound.

“make as much noise as you need to.” Dust reassured, “it tells me that you’re responsive and that i’m applying this stuff to the right places.”

Comic didn’t reply, but he saw the smaller skeleton lower his hand from his mouth.

Dust moved onto the knee, where Cross had put a lot of magic into healing the large crack that once took over Comic’s kneecap. There was still a small crevice that could easily get foreign bodies stuck inside, so it was better to cover the joint with the gel than to leave it be. Finally he got to the infected gouge. It was discolored, swollen, and hot to the touch. It looked painful.

Dust didn’t want to admit it, but with the severity of the wound, plus the fact that his foot was quite literally crushed on that leg, meant that it was likely that the limb would have to be removed. That meant contacting Sci, and Sci potentially sending Comic back to his home universe.

He made a mental note to talk to Nightmare about this later today. For now, he just applied another layer of gel, careful to not touch the obviously-painful wounds, and wrapped them up in fresh bandages. 

Dust stood back up with a quiet grunt, then went over to the sink to wash his hands before putting the remaining medical supplies away. He spotted something while placing the container of gel back on the shelf.

“are you in any pain right now?” Dust asked. Comic looked up from staring at the blanket, thought for a moment, then made a ‘so-so’ gesture.

“only if i move it. i’m fine right now though.” Comic reassured. Bullshit. Dust could tell that Comic had been and still was in a considerable amount of pain, but was just concerningly good at hiding it.

He grabbed a different, less potent painkiller, measured the correct dosage, then walked back over to the bed. “take this anyways, just in case.” Comic didn’t argue, but still looked reluctant to take the capsules. “they’re not as strong as the last one, and it shouldn’t make you drowsy either.” Dust explained, theorizing that Comic just didn’t want to feel loopy again. He wordlessly took the medication, looking noticeably more nervous than before. 

Dust went over to the computer once more, opening a new section in his documentation and titled it appropriately: Potential Trauma Symptoms. Right at the top he noted the change in behavior, the paranoia, the frequent apologies, and a section left partially blank to add whatever had happened with Cross once he learned what had happened.

“what are you writing?” Comic asked, sounding hesitant yet curious.

“it’s documentation on your injuries, just in case something happens and we need outside help.” Dust explained. He knew dumbing things down was insulting to most Sans’s, and it was especially true for Comic. If he didn’t understand something, he would ask for clarifications. Besides, he wanted Comic to feel safe here, and keeping him fully informed on these kinds of things would help with that. “with the state of your leg, it’s likely we’ll need to bring sci here to properly fix everything.”

“and if it’s not possible?”

“...”

“...”

“......”

“i… i understand.” Comic said, his voice was barely a whisper.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to not answer.” Dust had no idea how to reply. He knew it had been a possibility, he had written it down in his notes, but saying it out loud to the person who was likely going to have to get his leg removed seemed impossible.

Comic only nodded in return.

“i didn’t think i was going to keep it either. the infection is too far along. too much longer and it will start poisoning my magic.”

Dust didn’t understand how Comic was so calm right now. Maybe he had known for a while and had already come to terms with it. Still it was a little unnerving.

“i promise that we won’t let that happen.” Dust reassured, referring to the poisoning of his magic. He went back to typing. He needed to call Sci, hopefully tonight, but he needed to talk to Nightmare first and he didn’t have a good feeling about leaving Comic alone right now.

…

“you promise?”

“yes. i promise.”

And Dust found himself truly meaning it.

— — —

‘It was a simple mission’ he said. ‘It would be easy, just a supply run’ he said. Obviously Nightmare hadn’t taken Killer’s chaotic nature into account when he sent him with Error to a fell-verse marketplace. Well, maybe Killer’s chaoticness would be useful for haggling (something Error was a bit too socially inept to do) but right now they were on a stealing mission, not a haggling one.

“oooh is there anything we need from that stand over there?” Killer asked, pointing to a stall that seemed to be selling random junk. “they have a really pretty knife, and i want it.”

“I-I doubt it-t-t.” Error answered.

“you sure?” Killer asked with sly tone to his voice, “the stand next to it is selling chocolate, and it would be so simple to swipe a few bars while i’m over there.”

Damn it. Error’s only weakness. Fell chocolate.

“U-U-Ugh fin-ne! But-t-t see if they hav-ve anything we-we n-need while you’re-re ov-v-ver there.” He groaned, throwing the list Nightmare had given him at Killer. He stayed hidden in his little string hammock a bit above the streets, just out of sight as he gently lowered Killer to the ground.

He watched as the little gremlin wiggled through the thick crowds and in between the two stalls where he swiftly grabbed the blade, still in it’s sheath, a jar of something he couldn’t recognize, and then at least three stacks of chocolate bars and shoved everything into his inventory before sneaking back over and grabbing the string Error had left dangling. Error swiftly raised Killer back up to their birds-eye-view hiding spot.

“W-What was th-that ja-ar?” Error asked.

“rory wanted a specific type of seasoning and i saw a big jar of the stuff, so i took it.” Killer explained with a smug grin, pulling out a chocolate bar and handing it to the glitch.

Error immediately ripped the paper off with excitement, shoving half the bar into his mouth the moment it was exposed. He sighed as soon as he tasted it, the flavor of fell chocolate much richer yet not overpowering than any other chocolate in the multiverse. He still had no idea how they were able to do it, but it was always something he savored.

When the bar was finished, he looked over to see Killer had taken the blade out and was examining the sheath’s craftsmanship. Slowly, he unfastened it and pulled the blade out, revealing a gorgeous obsidian that shined in the dim lighting. Killer looked incredibly excited.

“can i steal your chocolate wrapper? i wanna see how sharp this thing is!”

Wordlessly Error handed over the wrapper and watched as Killer sliced cleanly through it with almost no effort.

“woah!” 

“D-Damn.”

“this stuff is too brittle for an actual fight, but i can find other uses for it.” Killer’s grin turned sinister for a moment, then back to smug.

Error looked back down to the streets. As much as he would like to stay up here and eat chocolate, the pair still had a mission.

“G-Give me th-the list-t-t.” Error said, quickly glancing over what was on it the moment Killer handed it to him. Copper wire and thermal paste (if they could even find some) for Dust, that weird spice stuff for Horror but nothing else (they would get foodstuff next week), Cross had requested some colored pencils, and killer had simply written ‘knife’ at the bottom of the list in his horrid handwriting.

Looking over the many streets all chock full of stalls, he managed to locate a street corner that appeared to have someone selling various mechanical parts. 

“Y-You see that-t-t corner?”

“the one with lots of shinies to steal?”

“W-Why are you-u-u like th-this?” Error sighed, “Th-The one at-t-t the cross-ssroads.”

“yeah. the one with lots of shinies to steal.” Killer said with a grin.

Error sighed, pinching his nasal bridge. “A-Anyways, can y-you get some w-w-wire from-m over th-there? T-Take the l-list.” He handed the list back to Killer and lowered him once more. Error would go out and get the items himself, but everyone and their mother recognized him as the destroyer, at least Killer could disguise himself as a regular Sans for missions like this as long as he covered his soul and regularly wiped the goop off of his face.

He watched as Killer made his way through the crowds once more, slipping just out of sight for a few minutes before popping back into view maybe three minutes later. He looked panicked, but still calmly tugged on the string so that Error could pick him back up.

“What-t’s wrong?”

“the stars were following me. we need to leave now.” Killer whispered. Error immediately opened a portal and dropped Killer through, then jumped in right after. They landed in the base’s living room, thankfully without any trouble.

“i managed to get everything before they started following me.” Killer said with a nod. He opened his inventory and began to place everything he grabbed on the coffee table just as Horror walked in.

“got the spices big guy!” He said, picking up the jar and handing it to Horror.

Horror smiled gently, patting Killer on the head. “thanks.”

“no problem rory.”

“Ugh. I’m-m gonna get-t-t a cavity w-with how-how sweet you t-t-two are.” Error groaned.

“nah that’s just because of all the chocolate i got you.” Killer shrugged, pulling the stack of chocolate bars out and placing them on the table. Error immediately snatched them all and shoved them into his own inventory. His.  

Killer then raised his hands up in front of Horror, silently asking to be picked up. Horror in turn chuckled and went through with the silent request.

Not wanting to see if this would escalate, Error took his chocolate and went back to his own room to eat every last piece in peace.

— — —

Horror’s smile fell as he held on tightly to Killer. Just watching the smaller empty out his inventory with all the goodies he stole was just another reminder of just how little he was doing in this situation. This couldn’t last much longer, he would be able to help Comic eventually, right?

Maybe the others had thought he wasn’t very useful or would just get in the way. In his arms Killer shifted around a bit to get comfortable. Did the little gremlin want some sleep or was he trying to get Horror’s attention.

“stop thinking you’re useless. gonna make me sad too.” Killer mumbled, then sat back a little to look up at Horror. “come with me to give dusty his things, and maybe you can help out in the infirmary for a bit.” He said with a much softer grin than normal. Horror nodded, reassuring himself that he wasn’t useless and set Killer down.

Killer grabbed a bunch of orange-ish wire and a tube of something before walking to the infirmary. Horror followed, a little nervous that he wouldn’t be welcome in the infirmary. The two walked in to see Dust and Comic both sitting on the bed, both just quietly talking.

“got your stuff dusty!” Killer said, setting the wire and other stuff down on the counter. “where’s criss-cross?”

Comic looked guilty and Dust looked concerned. “he ran off earlier and hasn’t come back. i haven’t had a chance to go and check on him.” Dust explained. 

“oh. i can go look for him it you want.” Killer offered. Dust nodded in response.

“that would be helpful.” Dust said. Killer quickly left the room.

There was a pregnant pause, followed by many more baby pauses.

“... ‘s there anything… i c’n do ta help?” Horror asked, feeling a bit awkward just standing there.

“we’re not really doing much right now, but keeping us company is more than enough.” Dust reassured, standing up and moving back over towards his computer and the things Killer left on the counter.

Horror looked back down at Comic, who only sat on the bed looking down nervously at his own hands. He looked small, scared. He wasn’t supposed to look like that. Horror didn’t want him to look like that anymore. 

Dust explained something once a long time ago, just after Cross was taken in by Nightmare. He explained how the original universe had been replaced multiple times, and how each of the murder trio had once been the original. Dust had theorized that each time a new original was formed after the old was pushed out of the way, that the characters were tweaked slightly to give them a better chance of staying the original for longer.

For example, Geno had been the original before Killer, and once Geno had been replaced, they made Killer more prone to violence in order to avoid another Sans injecting themselves with DT. That had obviously backfired, so when Dust became the original he had been given less hope but the same disposition to violence. Horror had been an interesting case, with so many changes that Dust couldn’t theorize what exactly had changed.

Horror idly wondered what kind of changes had been made for Comic. They must have worked considering just how long he had remained the original, much longer than his four predecessors combined. Maybe he would be replaced once more now that he was with them? Or maybe this specific run had been a one-off thing.

Papyrus must have been changed significantly. Maybe he had been made more violent or cruel to protect him from the human’s attack, and that had backfired onto poor Comic. But those changes were only made when the universe was replaced, meaning Papyrus had…

Papyrus had been that cruel to his own brother the entire time.

Oh no…

Horror looked back over to Comic, who was staring at him with a curious look, likely wondering what he had been thinking.

“was… that the first time… he hurt you?” He knew the question was one that could hurt, but it was necessary. He felt Dust’s eyes bore holes into the side of his skull, but he didn’t return the gaze, he only continued to watch Comic’s reaction. The smaller skeleton looked a little shocked, then sad. Worry spread over his features but eventually he spoke.

“it wasn’t that bad until he stole the throne.” Comic confirmed, staring at his hands once more. “instead of undyne taking over, he stole the title of king from her.”

“what do you mean by ‘wasn’t that bad?’ was he still hurting you?” Dust asked, sounding more concerned than upset with Horror.

“i…” Comic froze up, a million emotions flashing on his face until it settled on fear. “yes. yes he did. i knew it wasn’t right, but he always managed to convince me that everything was my fault.” he whispered.

“do you still believe… it was?” Horror asked.

Comic didn’t answer. He had to fix this.

Horror sat down on the edge of the bed and rested a hand gently on Comic’s hands. His hands were cold and much smaller than his own, though Horror’s hands were quite large compared to most of his alternates. Still it was concerning just how cold he was.

“look at me.” Horror whispered, keeping his voice calm. Comic looked up, almost unnoticeable tears beading up in the corners of his sockets. “no one… no one deserves abuse.”

Comic stared. He stared and stared and stared, a look of desperation but also hope clear in his expression. Finally he broke eye contact, looking down to where Horror was still gently holding his hands. He could practically feel Dust staring at the pair, but didn’t interrupt them.

“you didn’t deserve… any of it. i promise.” Horror whispered, squeezing Comic’s hand ever so gently. 

That broke the floodgates. Comic let out a sob as he fell forward into Horror’s chest, clinging for dear life as the tears came pouring, what must have been years of repressed emotions and hidden abuse all surfacing, strong enough to overwhelm even the strongest of people.

A small part of his mind was surprised that Nightmare hadn’t shown up to check on them yet. The rest of his mind was purely focused on the crying monster in his arms. His soul broke as so many waves of pain were swiftly and violently exposed, leaving Comic vulnerable and certainly frightened. Horror only continued to hold the smaller skeleton, keeping him stable and acting as a rock to cling to until the violent waves calmed. It was terrifying to try to change a mindset continuously drilled into him, and it was terrifying to accept that those who were supposed to love and care for him were the ones who hurt him the most. Horror understood.

Everything was scary, and that was alright. It was only natural for him to be frightened in a frightening situation, and to show that fear was healthy. The trauma ran far beneath the surface, that much was obvious, but Horror was going to do his best to help Comic heal.

— — —

Cross wasn’t in his room. He wasn’t in the living room, he wasn’t in the training room, he wasn’t in Nightmare’s office, he wasn’t anywhere.

Killer was starting to worry. Where was his oreo? He wasn’t in the house, maybe he was outside? Killer calmly opened one of the ground-floor windows and jumped out, not bothering to go to a door to leave the castle.

He was in the gardens now, flowers of every size shape and color surrounded him, but it was too thick to see if Cross was out here. Killer huffed, then continued, wandering down the twisting paths of the gardens, cursing whichever idiot decided on such a confusing layout. Eventually he passed the weird statue of some human that he and Dust had repeatedly defaced over the years, and heard voices. 

Ah, there was his oreo! And his Noot Noot too? Cool! Two birds with one stone. He waltzed into the enclosed pond area, only to see Nightmare holding a tired-looking Cross. Oh jeez, no wonder Dust looked so worried.

He plopped down right next to Night, snuggling into his side while facing Cross, and grabbing one of the octopus’s tentacles and forcibly wrapping it around himself.

“Looking for attention?” Nightmare asked flatly.

“yeah sounds like something i’d do.” Killer said with a shrug. “oh, and dust was worried about where crossy went.”

“Didn’t mean to…” Cross whispered, looking crestfallen. Nightmare squeezed Cross just a little tighter, whispering that he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“comic looked guilty when dust-bunny mentioned it. he probably didn’t mean anything either.” Killer added, hoping that it would help.

Nightmare stood up abruptly, picking up Killer in his tentacles while he continued to carry Cross in his arms. “I’m taking you two to my room, you two have both had an eventful day, and I want you to rest up before dinner.”

Killer saw straight through Nightmare. This was so Cross would actually rest instead of ignoring his own needs, and both of them knew he would be more likely to take a damn nap if someone else was there with him. Still, Killer wasn’t complaining about a nap in Noot’s room cuddling his favorite knight in monochrome armor.

“But what about-”

“Whatever it is, consider it taken care of.” Nightmare interrupted before Cross could come up with any excuses.

“hey crossy!” Killer started, reaching into his inventory.

“What?” Cross asked, curious.

Killer grabbed one of the chocolate bars he had hidden from Error and pulled it out, reaching over Nightmare’s shoulder and holding it out for Cross, who gasped and promptly snatched it out of Killer’s hand. He could hear Nightmare chuckle as he heard Cross rip open the packaging and start breaking off pieces of the bar.

The walk to Nightmare’s room was mostly uneventful besides Cross absentmindedly muttering his thanks over and over to Killer. He found it adorable how the little oreo was so absorbed in whatever he enjoyed that the outside world was basically nonexistent to him, but he was still aware enough to thank whoever had given him the source of said enjoyment.

Nightmare gently deposited Cross onto his bed, gently helping remove any extra clothing that would make napping uncomfortable while Killer hopped out of Nightmare’s tentacles, yeeted his jacket onto a nearby chair (while also leaving his shoes nearby) and jumped onto the bed. Cross slipping under the covers, getting comfortable while Killer crawled up next to the guard and slipped under the covers as well, immediately attaching himself firmly to Cross’s side and not letting go. Cross giggled and did the same to Killer, intertwining their limbs together and holding each other securely.

He closed his eyes and signed, snuggling into the covers as Cross ducked down and slotted his skull just under Killer’s chin. Usually they play-fought over who got to snuggle in that position, but this time he knew that Cross needed the extra comfort of being held right now. He didn’t quite know what had happened earlier, but he was glad he was able to help.

Chapter Text

Dust stared at his dinner, knowing what he was going to have to report to Nightmare. Everything was flavorless as his anxieties bubbled up, wrapping around his limbs like vines and puppeteering him, forcing Dust to move on autopilot as his mind swarmed.

Nightmare had been staring at him the entire meal, knowing that something was wrong. He didn’t want to ruin the already tense atmosphere with the news he bore.

Before he knew it, his food was gone and he was left staring down at an empty plate, waiting for his mates to finish. Nightmare stood the moment he was done eating.

“Dust, a word in private.” He said, prompting Dust to stand and follow as Nightmare quickly left the room. In a hallway near the dining room, Nightmare stopped and turned back to look at Dust. He didn’t say anything, only made a swift motion for him to speak.

“it’s… about comic’s condition.” Dust said, his voice shaking with his anxiety. He knew Nightmare wouldn’t be mad at him, but Nightmare’s actions didn’t change how people in the past treated him over a negative diagnosis.

“Are you and Cross unable to treat him?” Nightmare asked, his voice softening.

Dust took a deep breath. Stop psyching yourself out… “his leg is too injured… i already talked to him about it a-and it’s likely going to have to be…” Dust paused. A tendril wrapped around his wrist, drawing the majority of his anxieties away through the contact. He sighed, thankful. “it’s likely that his lower leg will have to be removed, but we don’t have the equipment nor the space to do something like that here, not to mention i don’t have the experience-”

“Thank you for telling me.” Nightmare stopped Dust before he could ramble any longer, “Don’t worry, I will hold an emergency meeting with you, Cross, and Comic to figure out how we are going to fix this. If we have to bring in outside help, then so be it.”

“we likely only have a few days before the infection begins to poison his leylines.” Dust whispered, reminding his boss just how urgent the situation was. Tendrils wrapped themselves loosely around Dust’s arms and back, pulling him into a loose embrace. Nightmare held Dust close, bringing a hand up to rest on the back of Dust’s skull, patting him soothingly. Any remaining stress he held was gone at that moment.

“Don’t worry, my love, we won’t let him hurt any longer.” Nightmare whispered. He let Dust go, “Now, head to the infirmary and send Error down to the Dining room so he can eat.”

Dust nodded, taking a step back before leaving the hallway he and Nightmare had been standing in. He made a beeline for the infirmary, passing and completely ignoring every door and hallway he passed. 

He walked into the infirmary. “boss told me to tell you to get some food.” He told Error as he opened his laptop, pulling up the notes he had taken since Comic showed up. 

“M-Make sure you-you go t-t-to bed-d at a reason-sonable time.” Error huffed as he left the room.

Dust looked over to Comic, who seemed to be asleep under the admittedly thin blankets in the infirmary. Maybe he could get Killer to steal a blanket from his AU? The infirmary wasn’t all that warm, after all. Pulling up all the necessary sections of his report, Dust waited for the other two monsters to show up.

Exactly five minutes later, Nightmare walked into the room, Cross in tow.

“he’s asleep.” Dust murmured, getting both their attentions.

Nightmare sighed. “Normally I wouldn’t do this, but you made it clear how urgent the matter is.” He explained as he walked over to where Comic was sleeping and gently shook his shoulder to wake him up.

Comic woke with a gasp, looking just a touch panicked before it faded away. He looked confused.

“We need to discuss something very important.” Nightmare said as he pulled up a chair. Comic sat up in the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Cross hopped up on the counter and Dust turned his spinny chair to face the infirmary bed. “It has to do with the state of your leg.”

“oh…” Comic whispered. “i kinda knew that it wouldn’t be salvageable.”

“No one has said it directly, so I’ll say it now. You understand that this means your leg will have to be amputated, right?” Nightmare asked, his tone slightly more forceful than before.

Comic looked a little upset, but nodded anyways. No one was happy about the situation, but amputation of the injured leg seemed to be the best solution. “yes, i’m aware.” 

“Wait, we don’t have the-” Cross started.

“I will call Sci to take care of this. He owes me a favor, so we don’t have to worry about waiting very long to get you the help you need.” Nightmare interrupted Cross. He gently placed a hand on Comic’s head, likely taking away certain negative emotions from the smaller skeleton.

“i have all the necessary information that he’ll need.” Dust confirmed.

“I will call Sci once I return to my office and have him come here tomorrow.” Nightmare concluded. “Are there any more questions?” 

No one responded.

“Good. I will be back soon.”

— — —

Nightmare shut the door to his office, his hand lingering on the handle for a few seconds as he mentally prepared what he was going to say. Sci owed him, he wasn’t going to hurt Comic unless he wanted his entire universe destroyed.

He let go of the cool metal and walked over to his desk where an old phone sat. His boys teased him for it, but he enjoyed the feel of the rotary phone and took comfort in its little quirks. Besides, modern technology went by much too quickly for him to keep up. 

He began to dial the number, one he had memorized long ago, preparing what he had to say once more.

One ring, two rings, three–

“Hello? Who am I speaking with?” Sci asked.

“Hello Sci, I need your assistance with something.” Nightmare spoke, pushing as much authority and urgency into his tone as he could. He did not need to name himself, Sci recognized his voice.

He heard Sci whisper something to someone else, then replied, “What is it you need help with.” it was less of a question and more of a statement. He knew Nightmare wouldn’t call unless he actually needed help.

“We found Comic in his own AU, severely injured by his own brother–” Nightmare heard Sci gasp on the other end of the line “– and while we have been able to heal most of his wounds, we have determined that one of his legs will likely need to be amputated.”

“I-I trust that you have kept proper documentation of his condition?” Sci asked. Nightmare could hear just how worried he was.

“Dust has been diligent in writing everything down just in case we needed outside help.” Nightmare replied. “Are you available tomorrow morning? It is likely that if Comic is unable to receive proper treatment in the next few days, then the infections will poison his magic.”

“Oh… I see.” Sci whispered something else that Nightmare couldn’t hear, then spoke once more. “It appears that I am suddenly available all day tomorrow. If the wound is as urgent as you say, I will have everything ready for an operation tomorrow morning.”

“That sounds good. Thank you for your cooperation.” Nightmare finished, promptly hanging up the phone. Comic was going to be in good hands, everything would be all right. Maybe once he was no longer in danger, this aura of tension in the castle would go away.

Without warning, the door flung open and Killer waltzed inside like he owned this AU. 

Nightmare sighed, “What do you want.”

“aww! can i not visit my favorite boss?” Killer asked, making a fake pouty face before running over to Nightmare and collapsing into his tentacles. Nightmare caught him, of course, he didn’t want two injured skeletons on his hands.

“How much did you hear?” Nightmare asked.

“just the whole conversation.” Killer said with a sigh as he got comfortable.

Nightmare walked out of his office with Killer still bundled up, and walked over to his own bedroom. He unceremoniously dropped Killer onto the bed and turned to walk out.

“where you going?” Killer asked, scrambling to sit up.

“I’m going to collect the others. Tomorrow is going to be long and hectic, and we are all going to need to be as well-rested as possible.” Nightmare explained, quickly leaving the room to gather the rest of his boys.

— — —

Cross stood nearby, silently watching as Sci looked over Dust’s notes, the two of them discussing all the little numbers and terminology that Cross barely understood. Nightmare was also in the room, standing on the other side of the bed Comic was sitting up in. Cross had managed to heal the rest of the injuries on his face and arms earlier in the morning, and was showing fewer signs of pain than before. 

“Alright, can I see your leg?” Sci asked once he and Dust were done going over the notes. Comic nodded and reached over to remove the part of the blanket covering his leg. The gash somehow looked worse than last night, and even more disturbing, some of the fractures in his foot looked like they were starting to become infected, each piece barely held together by weak strands of magic, straining to stay held together.

Sci winced at the sight.

“Has anyone discussed–”

“yes, we did before nightmare called you.” Comic confirmed, almost as if he didn’t want to hear the word ‘amputation’ at all.

“I was informed last night, and had enough time to set up my equipment to go through with the operation today, that is, if you are willing.” Sci explained.

Comic looked down, took a deep breath, and then looked back up at Sci. “the sooner, the better, i guess.”

Sci nodded in return, then turned to Nightmare. “It would be easier if you were to carry him, I can take us straight to the operating room.”

Cross spoke up. “Can I come with you?” He didn’t want Nightmare to be alone. He knew that Sci wouldn’t let him be in the operating room.

“Uhm, if you want to.” Sci answered, obviously caught a bit off guard.

Nightmare offered a tendril to Cross as he walked over. He leaned down and swiftly picked Comic up from the medical bed, using a tentacle to support the injured leg. Comic hissed in pain a few times, but seemed alright overall. Sci opened a portal and quickly brought all three through.

Sci led Nightmare over to the operating bed, where he set the injured skeleton down, then the pair were ushered out of the room.

He felt like he was operating on autopilot until Nightmare set one of his hands on Cross’s. The two had been given a private room to wait in. Even though this universe was neutral, someone seeing two of the “bad guys” in a place like this would likely cause them more trouble than either wanted.

“Mi amor, are you alright?”

“Just worried.” Cross admitted. “I want him to be okay.”

“I do too.” Nightmare whispered, rubbing a thumb over the top of Cross’s hand. “I always get a feeling whenever I take anyone in, I had it with Dust, Killer, Horror, and you too.”

“What about Error?”

“Well, he just kind of showed up. I never took him in, it was more like he took us in.” 

Cross laughed at that. “Yeah that sounds about right.”

“Anyways, I have that same feeling about Comic.” Nightmare finished, a faraway look in his eyes. Cross set his head on Nightmare’s shoulder.

“I want him to stay too.” He whispered.

Nightmare didn’t say anything, and neither did Cross. They only sat still, staring at everything and nothing at the same time. Worry permeated the air. It was dense, thick, holding him hostage as his mind raced circles around the room.

What if it wasn’t all right? What if Comic’s magic had already been poisoned, what if Sci somehow messed up the operation? What if-

“You’re panicking.” Nightmare whispered.

“I’m alright.” Cross whispered in return, his mind not slowing at all.

“No. No you’re not my love.”

The silence was so loud. Please quiet down…

But what if-

His thoughts stopped in their tracks, and it took him a few moments to figure out that it was because Nightmare had kissed him, a certain giddy nervousness replacing the anxiety. He was certain his face was mostly purple as the realization hit.

“Heh, you’re adorable.” Nightmare murmured, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

Oh angel above his soul couldn’t handle this…

Nightmare chuckled, “Oh love, I’m sorry for embarrassing you.” Cross said nothing but buried his face in Nightmare’s coat, waiting for the feeling to pass. 

He was glad that the atmosphere was a bit better, but not at the cost of his pride! Cross couldn’t suppress a playful grin as he silently swore to get his revenge!

— — —

The house was too quiet. Night wasn’t here to be annoying to, and Cross wasn’t here for him to pull any pranks on or to flirt with. Error was just gone , and Horror was just too far in his mother hen mindset to have any fun with. Dust was on his own little sidequest, something about going to a market au for certain mechanical parts and other medical bullshit.

What if he… Oh yeah! Killer ran up to the room that Horror was converting. It was one of the spare rooms on the ground floor, which tended to be slightly dirtier but was definitely going to be a lot more accessible for Comic once he returned. No wonder Horror was going through such measures to keep the place clean.

He poked his head into the room to see Horror changing the sheets on the bed, the visibly dusty sheets on a pile on the floor. Damn how long has it been since this room was used?! It was quite bare, the walls, closets, floor, and just the room in general was empty and felt artificial. He knew that he would hate being stuck in a room like this while recovering from a surgery, and felt that Comic would feel similar. 

“hey rory?” Horror turned around to face Killer. “since mister boss man put you in charge, i figured i should ask you before i left.”

“ask… what?”

“if i could go out and steal some shit to make this room more cozy.”

Horror looked around and seemed to come to the same realization as he did. He nodded. “yeah, sounds good. don’t get… caught.”

Killer did a little fist pump, then ran out of the room and practically through himself through a portal and into Undertale. He had a mission.

First Killer dropped straight into Comic’s old bedroom in his house in snowdin, grabbing all the clothing he could find (which there was barely anything) and shoving it into a special part of his inventory so it wouldn’t get mixed up with all his personal stuff, then he looked around the room. Random rocks on the dresser? Sure. Food wrappers? Nightmare would strangle him for taking that. Wow this room is depressing… What else? Ooh a journal? That could probably have some sentimental value. He wasn’t going to read it. His emotionlessness may have made him incapable of empathy, but he sure had a lot of sympathy and knew that reading something like this would not be very good.

Well that was everything from here… Maybe he could drop this off and head out to a market au to steal some more shit.

Wait. Killer grinned as he thought of something he could do. He giggled then took a shortcut all the way to the capital, right into the castle where a certain asshole decided to reside as the underground’s worst king. He landed right outside the throne room where he got a clear shot of King Asshole himself. 

Killer grabbed two small things from his inventory. He could barely hold back his giddy laughter as he looked down and saw a lighter and a firecracker. He flicked the lighter and lit the fuse, then dropped the firecracker and took off in a sprint in the other direction. This was just a distraction, what he had in mind would be so much more satisfying, though it definitely didn’t involve as much bodily harm as he would have liked. He couldn’t hurt this world’s Paps too much, especially when Nightmare already told him not to stab him.

Sure enough, after a few seconds, the firecracker went off with a bang. The sound of multiple guards and the asshole himself freaking out over the noise was music to his ears!

He hid behind a curtain, another firecracker in hand, and watched as Papyrus waved for the guards to go back to the throne room as he walked over in Killer’s general direction. Wow, this was going to be way easier than he thought.

He put the lighter and second firecracker away, then waited. At the very last second, just as Papyrus was about to pass, Killer stuck his foot out and tripped the bastard. He enjoyed the sound of his heavy metal armor hitting the ground as Papyrus let out an undignified cry. Then, just before he made his escape, Killer calmly walked out of the shadows and grabbed him by the shoulder.

Without a word, Killer punched the royal asshole in the face as hard as he could.

He cackled as he jumped through a portal, hearing Papyrus shouting about the ghost of his brother coming back to haunt him.

He looked around. Random marketplace AU, plenty of variety, probably not going to be the best quality but it’s a start.

“alrighty, what do we have to work with.” Killer muttered as he wiped the goop from his eyes and shoved his soul into his jacket. He had to look somewhat normal if he wanted to blend in. So far he had a handful of clothing and a few knicknacks. He wanted this room to feel more like a bedroom and less like a second infirmary.

The marketplace he was in had more small items than anything he was looking for, but at least this would be a good place to start.

A stall with nothing but hats, one with cheap t-shirts, one with purses and sunglasses… this was all touristy shit… Okay keep looking, something useful has to be around here somewhere. Killer passed a stand of discount fabrics, not useful but maybe he could let Lust know that this was here, knowing just how much the other loved sewing. Next stand: specialty chocolates. It wasn’t fell chocolate, but he swiped a few bags of the stuff for Error and Cross anyways. Scarves, no. Cheap electronic knockoffs, tempting to mess with Dust with, but no. More hats, definitely not.

Finally he found something promising; a stand selling curtains. Why was there a stand selling curtains in a place like this? Killer assumed it was just plot convenience. He walked over to the stand, sneaking around back (preferably without being seen) and simply swiped a few of the folded stacks of fabric and shoved them into his inventory, some sheer, some fully blackout, one with cool embroidery, the rest mostly plain. He also grabbed a curtain rod, but remembered that there was already one in each of the guest rooms.

Slinking off into the shadows, Killer went to the outskirts where more shops in actual buildings were. Maybe he could find something better. He wasn’t looking for much, honestly, just little details that would make the area more welcoming and comforting. Blankets were high on his list, maybe a small rug for the bare floors too. The ceramics shop probably wasn’t going to be useful for that.

Something sparkly caught his eye. Oh, there was a stand selling sparkly things. Little bits of crystals. They were pretty. He wanted some.

Right across the street was a merchant selling blankets. Hmmm… Killer could have some fun with this. He felt giddy again as he took a shortcut up to a nearby roof and grabbed his unused firecracker. He lit the fuse and yeeted the thing into the crowded market, unable to stifle his laughter as he heard the panicked screams following the loud bang. It was hilarious! 

He casually walked back to the two neighboring stands, both of which were now empty, the owners likely both went off to investigate or ran away in fear. Either way, Killer loaded up his inventory with plenty of sparklies. Next up he crammed as many soft fluffy blankets into his inventory as he possibly could. Comic was going to love this! Blanket nests were the best. He should take Cross back here and steal more blankets for him. He knew how much Cross loved blankets like this, and anything soft like this in general.

As he heard the people make their way back to this area, he figured that now was a good time to go. He jumped back into a portal to home, directly into the guest room, and immediately tripped over a pile of something fabric-like. Killer groaned as pushed himself up off the ground to see Horror knelt in front of him, looking worried.

“sorry ‘bout that. didn’t mean to scare you rory.” Killer laughed, pushing himself to stand up. He turned to see that the pile he had tripped over was the pile of dusty sheets from earlier.

Horror nodded, then held an arm out. Killer took the hint and stepped forward into Horror’s embrace. He could tell that Horror was stressed beyond belief, and didn’t blame him one bit. These past few days have been stressful on everybody. Oh yeah! The reason he left!

Killer let go, and began to dig around his inventory, pulling out all the blankets he stole. Admittedly it was way too many blankets for a single person, but Killer didn’t care, only spreading them out over the bed and stacking each one on top of each other. There were five more blankets in his inventory, but there were already seven on the bed. Huh. maybe he wouldn’t have to go back and steal more for Cross…

“how many?” Horror asked.

“way too many. it was worth it though.” Killer said with a shrug. “oh, boss said not to kill comic’s brother, so i didn’t. i just punched him in the face.” 

Horror looked proud. “don’t say that… in front of comic.”

“why not?” Killer asked, confused.

Horror sighed, looking a little sad. “still cares… ‘bout him.”

Oh. Even after all his brother put him through, Comic still cared about Papyrus. Well, at least the bastard couldn’t hurt his brother while he was here.

— — —

Error sat on one of the many cliffs in Outertale, hiding in plain sight. He had come here to watch the stars, but plans changed, and now he was watching the Stars.

He hadn’t expected Dream or Ink to show up at all, Blue maybe, but not either of the others. At least none of them had noticed him nearby.

“I’m telling you, they’re responsible!” Ink all-but shouted as he waved that oversized paint brush around. He almost hit Blue with it with how hard he was waving this thing around.

“Don’t be ridiculous, why do you think they would be involved with his disappearance?” Blue huffed, pinching his nasal ridge. They must be talking about Comic.

Dream looked nervous, “We don’t have any other explanations…”

“What if he left on his own?” Blue suggested. “He’s aware of the AUs and has left before, what if he just left for a few days and we’re worrying over nothing?”

“That… makes sense, but wouldn’t we have seen him by now?” Dream said.

Ink stopped swinging broomie around for a moment. “I could try to find Error and ask him.” Error cringed inside. No matter how much Ink tried to be buddy buddy with him, he never wanted the ink-stain to be around him. Guess he’s avoiding his usual brooding spots for a while.

“Don’t you two hate each other?” Dream asked.

“He hates me, but I think I’m getting through to him.” Ink laughed. No. No he was not. Blue looked doubtful as well.

“I think that everything will be alright. We know that he is alive, we know that the universe is still stable, and he hasn’t sent out any distress signals. I say we give it a week or two, and if Comic hasn’t returned to his own AU, then we start searching.” Blue said.

“I’m still asking Error.” Ink said. No he wasn’t going to. Error was going to do everything in his power to avoid the damn squid.

“Alright.” Blue nodded.

Dream didn’t say anything. Blue seemed to notice.

“Dream? Are you alright?”

“It’s just… You know how Nightmare and I can feel each other’s emotions?”

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with any of this?” Ink asked. He was… sitting on broomie like it was a bench… that poor brush.

“Ink, shut up.” Blue snapped, “Go ahead Dream.”

Ink made a mock offended pose, then went back to messing with broomie’s bristles. Was he braiding them?! 

“He’s been in a constant state of stress and anxiety for the past few days.” He said. Error’s shoulders slumped, he knew Night had been stressed, but he felt bad for not being able to help.

“Wait… Someone’s here.” Dream hissed. Error immediately shortcut away. Shit he had to leave. He formed a portal to the antivoid, just in case one of the Stars tried to follow him through, and jumped through, sealing it as quickly as he could. 

Once he was confident he was alone, Error made a new portal and dropped himself through.

— — —

It took a few hours, but the bedroom for Comic was complete. It was simple for now, less empty now that Killer had added the curtains he found, way too many blankets, and had placed some of Comic’s keepsakes on the nightstand. Morning had long since passed and it was now early afternoon. 

The phone rang. It was Cross.

“hello?” Horror said, just to let Cross know he was there.

“Hey! Good news, Comic’s stable, everything was successful. We’re going to be here for a few more hours just to make sure nothing goes wrong and for the anesthesia to fully wear off, but we’ll all be home tonight.” Cross said, sounding relieved.

Horror felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. “that’s great! i’ll… let the others know.” 

“Oh! He’s awake! Uh, kinda.” He could hear faint talking in the back. “Do we have any guest rooms ready for him?”

“just finished. all ready.” Horror nodded, even though he knew Cross couldn’t see. “ground floor to make… things easier.”

“Perfect! You really thought of everything.” Cross said with a laugh. He could practically see the former guard beaming with excitement on the other end of the receiver. He hoped Dust and Error would get back soon so that he could tell them. “Oh, Nightmare asked how you’re doing.”

Horror chuckled, imagining Nightmare acting strong and stoic while asking if his boys were alright. “i’m alright. better now that… i know he’s okay.”

Dust walked into the room, looking tired, like he had been on the move for hours.

“dusty’s here… wanna tell ‘im?” Horror asked, handing the phone to Dust.

He watched as Dust held the phone to his nonexistent ear, listened to Cross talk for a few seconds, and felt his soul warm as Dust’s face lit up. He looked incredibly relieved, like all his hard work was worth it, which it was.

“well that’s a relief! i managed to steal a wheelchair, by the way, so you and night don’t have to worry about stealing one from sci or something.” Dust explained. Ah, so that’s where he’s been. 

He could hear Cross talking on the other end of the phone, but couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“oh no you don’t have to worry about that, killer started bugging me earlier about how he stole a bunch of shit for the room.” Dust said in a nonchalant voice. “oh, well, i’ll hand the phone back to him.” Dust said, then handed the phone to Horror.

He put it up to his ear. “I hate to cut this short, but I have to go real quick. I’ll call back if I can, but don’t worry if I don’t.” Cross said as soon as Horror held the phone to his ear.

“alright… call me before… you three come home.” Horror asked.

“Of course. We’ll see you tonight.” Cross confirmed, then hung up.

Horror put the phone back in his inventory, then turned to Dust. Before he could ask, Dust took his hand and led him out of the room and over to his own room.

“what’s this… about?” Horror asked before Dust could pull him inside.

Dust looked up, an exhaustion he hadn’t noticed before present in his eyelights. “want to take a nap before everyone gets home, but i can’t sleep.”

Oh, that made sense. Dust often had trouble sleeping alone, and Nightmare or Killer were usually his first pick. Horror was glad he was chosen this time, he was tired from cleaning for three hours straight. A nap sounded nice.

Horror leaned down and scooped up the tired skeleton, carrying him into the bedroom. He gently set Dust down on the bed, then followed, guiding him to rest his head on Horror’s chest. Gently, Horror grabbed a blanket folded nearby, and spread it out to lay over both of them. Dust snuggled into Horror’s hoodie, one of his hands unconsciously latching onto one of Horror’s ribs through the hoodie. Oh no… He was trapped… What a horrible problem to have.

With a light chuckle, Horror adjusted his position for both of their comfort, bringing a hand up to rest on Dust’s back, slowly rubbing large circles to calm any agitations he may have. His soul warmed the moment he heard (and felt) the faint vibrations of Dust purring as he finally fell asleep, the joy strong enough for his own rusty purr to kick in.

With a heart full of love and a sleeping Dust on his chest, Horror found sleep very easily.