Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

degenerate cycle
dəˈjen(ə)rət ˈsīkəl
(noun) a repetitive process or loop in which the system loses quality, energy, or functionality with each repetition, leading to deterioration over time.

(☝︎✌︎💧︎❄︎☜︎☼︎, 🕈︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ 👎︎✋︎☠︎☝︎💧︎. "degenerate cycle." Encyclopedia of Quantum Physics and Practical Mechanics, 18XX, pp. 66.)

This golden sunset is always temporary.

Frisk smiles as the sky glows golden.
Toriel is humming.
Sans is making a terrible pun.
Asgore waters his garden with hands too gentle for a war.
Alphys and Undyne argue over something dumb. Papyrus is winning.
They should be happy.
They are.

And then—

        silence.

Not sleep. Not death. Not even emptiness.

No light. 

No sound.

No sensation.

Just oblivion.

It all turned

D A R K

D A R K E R

Y E T    D A R K E R

Frisk panicked.

And they reset. 

And the cycle begins anew.

They fall.
They get up.
They make friends.
They fight.
They forgive.

And they die.

Again. And again. And again.

And again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and 

Days blended into weeks, 

        which blended into months, 

              which blended into years.

Frisk stopped counting.

They tried everything.

They tried mercy.
They tried neutrality.
They tried—

Genocide.

It had been easier, starting with the Moldsmals and Whimsuns; they didn’t even look remotely human. It didn't feel like murder.

It was for science. For discovery. For a “happy ending.”

And Frisk began raising their LV.

An important thing to note was that Level Of ViolencE and EXecution Points weren’t just measurements of the sins that Frisk bore; those numbers tangibly made them stronger, faster, and more durable. 

However, they could feel those changes not only in their body but also their SOUL.

The hate and death clung to their SOUL like a thick miasma and numbed them as they swung their weapon with the intent to slaughter every last monster that stood in their way. The LOVE and EXP wrapped around their SOUL muffled the guilt, smoothed over the horror, made it feel okay .

Frisk had been looping for so long, the numbness and apathy felt freeing. Liberating.

Anything other than their fear of oblivion.

With those walls of murder and destruction stripped away with the rewinding of the clock…

The grief hit them harder than Sans’ blasters. For the people they had killed, for the fact that they hadn't felt anything, and for the fact that they… they’d gotten so close. Close enough to be completely unrecognizable to themselves.

Then, there was the voice in the back of their head that grew louder and louder with every senseless murder. The dark, cruel voice that roared with adrenaline as they danced between waves of bones and lasers of death.

When Frisk first noticed the voice, they thought they were just going insane. Which wouldn’t be that surprising after a hundred-odd resets.

After emptying out the Ruins with dust-coated hands, Frisk checked Toriel’s kitchen out of a sense of obligation; the entire point of starting down this violent road was to see what they could change. Find any kind of hint on how to reach any true, meaningful ending. 

Even if they were, to some fucked-up degree, enjoying it now, they were still doing it for a purpose. Everything had to be investigated. No stone could be left unturned. So Frisk slid open the kitchen drawers.

Where are the knives.

‘…What?’

No response. Just a faint sense of confusion and a cold sweat down their neck.

‘…Weird. Maybe I’m finally cracking…’ Frisk’s cold face, expressions deadened by their LV, quirked upwards in a slightly amused smile.

Internally, they knew that smiling after they just killed droves of innocent monsters was messed up on so many levels. They couldn’t bring themselves to care that much with the shroud of Execution Points and the mental exhaustion that clung to them like a thick syrup.

Double-checking that they were alone in the kitchen, they again searched for the source of the voice.

‘…Guess it was nothing.’

Frisk shrugged.

They didn’t hear from it again for a while. 

However, they quickly realized the voice wasn’t theirs, nor the resultant delusions of a fractured mind.

It grew louder and louder the more they slaughtered, until they were one hundred percent sure they weren’t alone in their head.

Not worth talking to, they whispered as they turned Toriel to dust with a single strike.

16 left, they murmured when they saved outside Snowdin. The number dropped with every monster they killed.

Forgettable, they dismissed as they fought Papyrus.

And when they looked in the mirror, they saw the face of Chara, the first fallen child.

Rationally, they should have stopped. Voices of dead children encouraging murder in their head was an obvious sign that they should probably not do that.

But it was something completely and totally new.

Driven both by their search for a solution and a morbid curiosity, they continued their slaughter.

‘It could just be reset, anyways. No harm, no foul,’ they reasoned.

Sure enough, the voice kept growing in volume with each speck of dust on their hands.

And it grew to a cacophony as they stepped into the last corridor. Their echoing footsteps could barely be heard over the rabid screaming going on inside their head.

KILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIM—

Sans.

Wearing his signature blue hoodie and pink slippers as he stared them down.

Dust swirled in the air as Frisk stepped forwards.

“heya. you've been busy, huh?

...so, i've got a question for ya.

do you think even the worst person can change...?

that everybody can be a good person, if they just try?”

S H U T     U P

He seemed amused as he chuckled softly.

“heh heh heh heh...

all right. well, here's a better question.”

The lights in his sockets went dark. Chills traveled down Frisk’s spine, even despite the twisted grin teasing their face. The voice went momentarily silent.

“do you wanna have a bad time?

'cause if you take another step forward...

you are REALLY not going to like what happens next.”

There was an air of finality to this.

Sans had always been a lazybones.

They were going to reset this timeline anyways.

Might as well enjoy it, right? Frisk wondered idly how strong Sans could actually be; as the Judge who had determined the worth of their actions in numerous other timelines, he must’ve been prepared to judge someone truly evil. Just in case.

Frisk’s grin stretched wider.

‘There’s nothing wrong with being a little curious, right?’

K I L L

Tap.

They planted their foot firmly in front of them as they took on a loose fighting stance.

“welp.

sorry, old lady.

this is why i never make promises.”

The air felt charged.

“it's a beautiful day outside.

birds are singing, flowers are blooming...

on days like these, kids like you…”

The pause felt loaded. Loaded like a loaded gun leveled at their head.

“should be burning in hell.”

And then the wave of bones ripped them to screaming shreds before they could react.

…

He killed them, hundreds of thousands of times.

They might’ve even given up, despite their overflowing Determination. But the voice—

KILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIM

—didn’t let them rest.

They fought. Over and over again. They barely heard what Sans was saying.

They got used to the pain. To dying. To the taste of their own blood in their mouth.

And each time, they got further than before. Eventually…

“...listen.” Frisk watched as a bead of sweat rolled down the side of Sans’ skull. They barely spared a thought on the question of how skeletons sweated as they braced themselves for the next attack.

“i know you didn't answer me before, but... somewhere in there. i can feel it.

there's a glimmer of a good person inside of you.

the memory of someone who once wanted to do the right thing.

someone who, in another time, might have even been...

a friend?

c'mon, buddy.

do you remember me?

please, if you're listening...

let's forget all this, ok?

just lay down your weapon, and...

well, my job will be a lot easier.”

Somehow, those words pierced through the thick miasma of LOVE around their SOUL. They hesitated.

Sans didn’t move.

They paused as the dying breaths of every other monster flashed through their mind.

Toriel. Papyrus. Undyne. Mettaton.

They were honestly tired of fighting. They’d died so many times by now.
They just wanted to sleep for 72 hours straight.

And doubts had started creeping in.

‘It could just be reset, anyways. No harm, no foul…’ They paused, hesitating more. ‘...right?”  

The dam of LOVE buckled slightly.

KILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIM—

But that damned voice…

They tried to drop the knife.

‘...What?’

Their hand twitched but didn’t let go.

Do you think you’re in control.

Raw terror ripped through them. Their body wasn't theirs anymore. 

‘STOP! WAIT!’

The realization that their actions might actually have consequences was like cold water poured down their back.

Something in them told them that killing Sans would take them beyond the point of no return.

K I L L

'NononononononononoNONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO—"

They could only watch as their arm raised upwards in preparation for another strike.

They were nothing but a puppet.

A toy.

A complete and utter fool.

They thought being a god of time made them above the consequences of their own actions and now they were paying the cruel price.

*But it refused.

Mustering every drop of Determination in their body, they pushed.

They slowly lowered their arm. 

…What.

Why.

Stop that.

FIGHT

KILL

STRIKE

The voice seemed confused and angry, devolving into meaningless babbling.

Meanwhile, Sans seemed both surprised and deeply relieved. Admittedly, it was difficult to read expressions on a skull. “...you're sparing me?

finally.

buddy. pal.

i know how hard it must be...

to make that choice.

to go back on everything you've worked up to.

i want you to know... i won't let it go to waste.

...

c'mere, pal.”

He winked and opened his arms invitingly.

Frisk tremblingly lowered the knife. It had been… it had been so long since they’d gotten a hug.

They didn’t realize how much they missed it up until now.

It clawed at them violently, even through the shield of LV wrapped around their SOUL. 

Combined with the terror of their body no longer being their own and the doubts creeping in…

Clang.

The knife bounced against the tiles as they shakily stepped forward into arms’ reach.

The screaming of the voice in their head faded into their background.

Tears gathered in the corners of their eyes as they reached out desperately.

Shhk.

Abruptly, bones sprouted from the ground. The pain was sharp and sudden as the magic constructs speared through their body easily, lifting them several feet off the ground and leaving their dying carcass suspended in the air. They tried to scream but their destroyed lungs only allowed them the tiniest wet gurgle. Blood slowly dribbled from their chin and onto the floor as they felt the KARMA course through their veins.

“geeettttttt dunked on!!!”

Despite the agonizing pain, Frisk chuckled internally as shudders wracked their soon-to-be corpse.
Sans leaned in with empty sockets, endless darkness staring straight into Frisk’s SOUL.

“if we're really friends...

you won't come back.”

They didn’t.

They grabbed at that tether in space and time hatefully bound to their SOUL and pulled, harder than they had ever before.

They awoke on a thick bed of Golden Flowers.

Never before had they been so grateful that they were trapped between oblivion and endless repetition. They weren’t dead, they weren’t dead, they weren’t dead—

Their stomach heaved. They choked on dust that wasn’t there.

The Level Of ViolencE and EXecution Points wrapped around their SOUL that had been muffling the guilt, smoothing over the horror, making it feel okay… had been torn off like a band-aid.

Everything came crashing back down to reality.

‘I… I… killed them… I killed them all…’

They retched.

Then they laid there in the flowerbed.

No matter what they did, the memories flashed underneath their eyelids whenever they closed their eyes.

Toriel's smile turning into a smear of dust.
The silence in Snowdin.
The sound of their own footsteps echoing alone through Waterfall.
Undyne’s screams. How long she held on. How furious she was.
The way Alphys never showed her face again. Not even at the end.
The way Mettaton’s body sparked and twitched, his voice giving out mid-sentence.

And Sans.

The dance of bones and blasters. The taunting. The laughter. The growing quiet.

Frisk had murdered almost everyone. The Underground was a tomb.

And yet, when Sans gave them that one last chance… they took it.

That’s what saved them. That’s what damned them.

The moment they reset, all the numbers dropped away.

And without them to keep the blood from sticking, everything came crashing back.
Not in pieces, but all at once.
Every face. Every final breath. Every “why?”

It hurt.

It hurt so much they couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. Couldn’t even muster the willpower to move.

Eventually, Toriel found them lying there, dehydrated and hungry.

They met her warm eyes.

They weren’t ready.
Ugly, powerful sobs wracked their small body.
The memories of Toriel’s dust coating their fingers…

“What’s the matter, my child?!” the goat-monster rushed over to them, arms reaching out by instinct.

Frisk recoiled from her touch before desperately gasping and hugging Toriel around the torso. They buried their face into her robe and clung to her like they were drowning.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”

Their words dissolved into incoherent sobs.

Despite her confusion, Toriel dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around them, holding them tight and steady.

“Shh… It’s alright, little one. You’re safe now. I’m here.”

‘I’m not the one you have to worry about.’

They didn’t meet Sans’ eyes in that timeline, or the next few either.
And they never laid their hands on another monster after their attempted genocide warpath.

...So they didn’t try everything.

They came close, though. In the end, they couldn’t finish what they started.

And they reset.

Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and 

They drifted through resets like a purposeless, silent specter.

At some point, they could practically go through the Underground blindfolded without a single scratch.

And they were so very tired.

'I think I'm reaching my limit,' they thought as they listlessly hit reset again. They knew it was starting to get bad when timelines started to bleed together in their head. 'I think I need... a break. I need to talk to someone like they're real again.'

They shuddered.

It had been a while since they had last stopped to really breathe...

And this would be their first break since... Since the timeline where they attempted a total genocide of all monsters.

'...how shameless can I be?' 

53rd Reset After Aborted Genocide
6:05 AM, Sans' and Papyrus' House.

A gentle knocking rapped against the door.

Snow drifted past the fogged windows.

Chapter Text

The morning was quiet. Frisk doubted anyone else would be awake this early. Snow lay fresh on the ground, undisturbed except for one trail of small footprints leading up to a familiar door.

Frisk stood in front of it, staring at the wreath they never took down, their breath fogging the chilled air.

‘It’s been a while since I’ve done this… and the first time since...’

They froze. Visions of dust-covered fingers mentally flash-banged them.

'...how shameless can I be? Asking for help after what I did?'

Despite their inner conflict, they didn't step away from the door.

After gritting their teeth for a moment, they knocked.

A beat passed.

The sound of shuffling slippers came from inside.

“did you lock yourself outside again, pap? y’know your puzzles will be there like four hours later too, right?” An all too familiar voice yawned.

The door creaked open a few inches.

Sans blinked out at them with bleary sockets and an easy grin. He was wearing white slippers with bunny ears and a faded bathrobe that read "NO BONES ABOUT IT."

He froze when he saw Frisk, his eye lights constricting into pinpricks.
However, he quickly relaxed into a more casual slouch as he greeted them.

“a human knocking on my door, this early in the morning... you’ve got a lotta’ backbone.”

Frisk chuckled. “Good morning to you too, Sans.”

His eyes narrowed at how familiar his name was on their tongue, even though he hadn’t introduced himself yet. “...do i know you?”

“No,” Frisk replied. “Not in this timeline.”

Sans’ eye sockets widened, any trace of drowsiness disappearing. “timeline?”

Frisk took a breath. Might as well get this part over with quickly.

“Those reports you’ve been getting… What did you call it again? ‘A massive anomaly in the timespace continuum,’ right?”

The skeleton’s eyes blew wide. Even though they found it hard to read the skeleton’s expression, this emotion was obvious: surprise. 

Frisk had expected that. This tidbit of information had only been wrung from Sans when they were fighting to the death in… extremely strenuous circumstances. Clearly it was something that he kept close to his chest, and the fact that this random human child who showed up on his doorstep knew about it…

“I’m the anomaly you’ve been detecting,” they said, affirming his suspicions.

A faint understanding appeared in his expression as he relaxed again. When he spoke, his voice was dry.

"so what are you here for, kid? showin’ off how you have the entirety of monsterkind in the palm of your hand? or did you just want to freak me out before breakfast?”

Frisk’s nervous smile faded. They looked down, tugging the sleeve of their sweater.

“I’m here because you’re one of the few who remembers,” they said quietly. “Not always, not completely. But between saves and loads, you get flickers. Enough to notice that something’s changed.”

Sans didn’t answer right away, simply watching them. The air felt heavy.

“I haven’t loaded a save since I got here. This timeline’s untouched—"

'By me at least.'

"—That sense of déjà vu. The headaches. They disappeared, because this is the first time 'today' has happened in this timeline.”

His expression was unreadable.

“i’ve got something to show you.”

He stepped past them, bunny slippers crunching in the snow. Around the house, shaded by the tree line behind the building, was a door. He gestured at Frisk.

They tilted their head. “What?”

“your keyring.”

Frisk gave it to him with some confusion.

Using a silver key that they swore wasn’t there moments ago, he unlocked the door.
He stepped inside and gestured for them to follow. They did. 

Inside was what could only be described as a workshop, with purplish floor tiles and a faded blue wallpaper. The room was barebones: a recessed table nook was built into the wall with drawers underneath. There was almost nothing else, just a strange machine covered with a drop cloth tucked into the corner and a single schematic spread across the table. 

But it was the drawer that Sans opened that caught Frisk’s attention.

Inside, stuffed haphazardly and curling at the edges, were dozens— hundreds —of photographs. 

A smiling group of friends.
Undyne giving Alphys a piggyback ride.
Sans and Papyrus mid-pun.
Toriel cradling a huge pie in her oven mitts.
Asgore giving the camera a small, worry-crinkled smile
Frisk, in the center of it all, caught mid-laugh.

Frisk’s breath hitched. Their hand trembled as they reached for one.

“These…” they whispered. “These shouldn’t exist. I reset. These should’ve been erased.”

“yeah.” Sans didn’t smile. His hands were in his pockets. “but they weren’t.”

They stared down at the photos. So many endings. So many lives.
Preserved somehow in this drawer, but also a reminder of how many timelines they had reset.
How many times they had gone through the never-ending cycle.

“I… I didn’t know anything could survive a reset.”

“so why?”

Frisk looked up from the photograph, sensing a tinge of anger from Sans. “...What?”

“why did you reset? we made it out of the underground. we were happy. you were happy.”

They stepped away from the skeleton. Despite being about the same height, it felt like he was looming over them at that moment. At any moment, it felt like those blasters could come out again.

“so did you erase it over and over again because of some kind of sick sentimentality? did you get some sort of kick out of it?”

“I– I…” 

Sans stood there, just as imposing as when he stared them down in the hall where he normally judged them near the end of each timeline. His cold gaze sent them spiraling back to that timeline where they stood awaiting judgement with dust-covered fingers.

His words, spoken at the end of that violent warpath, spilled out of Frisk's mouth in that moment.

“You once said that you saw ‘timelines jumping left and right, stopping and starting… until suddenly, everything ends’.”

The skeleton's expression changed minutely. He didn’t say anything and Frisk took that as a sign to continue.

“You were right.”

“what?”

“When we get out of the Underground, we only get a few moments before… everything ends.”

“No light.”

“No sound.”

“No sensation.”

“Just…”

Sans swallowed. “oblivion.”

“...” 

Frisk nodded wordlessly.

He leaned on the edge of the table, silent for a while. “…could be just you. getting pulled out. doesn’t mean the rest of the world isn’t still movin’.”

“If that were true,” Frisk said softly, “then the rest of the world could keep going.”

Sans seemed uncomfortable, like he wanted to say something but didn’t.

Frisk just continued quietly. “But then I’d be there. Forever. Alone. Stuck in absolute nothingness with the power to create timelines at a whim.”

Sans went quiet again. He didn’t look surprised. Just horrified.

“And that’s the problem,” Frisk continued. “I wouldn’t stay sane in there. No one would. And if I go insane with the ability to reset reality…”

“...that’s a real bad time.”

“...I’ve done some pretty horrible things, Sans. And I’d like to say I’ve still got most of my faculties.”

It was uncomfortable for Sans seeing a child who looked no older than thirteen speaking with those haunted eyes and that hollow voice.

They both let the silence sit a little.

“I don’t want to be a god, Sans.” 

A violent shudder passed through Frisk’s shoulders. 

“I just… I’m tired. This— this was the only thing I could think of that would keep me together. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I keep doing this. Every few dozen resets, I stop… trying… and I just…”

Sans seemed lost on what to do. Rubbed the back of his skull.

“…so what happens now?”

Frisk rested their head on the table, holding one of the photos in front of them wistfully.

“I’ll stay in this timeline for a while, loading my saves every once in a while instead of doing a true reset. Then when I feel like I can… I’ll go again. Try again. Until something changes.”

“and if nothing ever does?”

Frisk offered a tired smile.

“Then I’ll just keep knocking on your door.”

Reset #???+53; Reload 3
6:03 AM, Sans' and Papyrus' House.

The morning was quiet.

Again.

Sans blinked awake with a strange, creeping sensation curling around the back of his mind, like someone telling you a joke that you had written a long time ago.

The kind of feeling you get when you've misplaced something important but don’t know what. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, then slowly dragged himself upright, slippers scuffing against the floor as he shuffled toward the front door.

He opened it before Frisk knocked.

“mornin’, kid,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “either my future vision’s finally kicking in, or you’ve got great comedic timing.”

Frisk stood on the doorstep, hand still raised mid-knock. They lowered it sheepishly. “Morning, Sans.”

“come on in,” he said, motioning them inside with a yawn. “make yourself comfortable, i’ll joint you in a minute.”

Frisk snickered as they stepped inside and settled into the couch. “I can’t believe you're still in the mood to pun even after…”

Their happy expression dropped.

“…everything l told you.”

“what can i say? a skeleton’s gotta’ stay humerus,” He said without missing a beat. Sans shot them a grin as he searched through the fridge for his breakfast. “besides, someone’s gotta keep the mood light; existential horror is at least marginally better with a side of puns.”

Frisk smiled, but it didn’t reach their eyes.

Sans scratched the side of his skull and gave them a sidelong glance. “...so, this is the same day again, huh? the... fourth time or so?”

Frisk nodded, slumping deeper into the couch. “More or less. I reloaded the save this morning. Or last evening.”

Sans frowned slightly, the déjà vu now undeniable as he sat down next to them; the same TV shows were playing as they were 'yesterday'. Or technically, a previous run-through of 'today'. He flicked the television off with a sigh. It was getting stale, and watching the same shows over and over again due to a lack of entertainment variety was already stale enough.

Instead, he turned towards the child with a probing tone. “why? i used to be mad about the timelines hopping, but knowing your circumstances... but there's probably more to it, right?”

He ripped open a bag of chips, popping a few in his mouth. For a few moments, the only sound in the living room was soft crunching.
Frisk didn’t question where the food went; it was probably magic.
He swallowed before speaking again. 

“why reload your save every single day?”

They shrugged, pulling out a chair and sitting down heavily. “Because even when I don’t finish my journey through the Underground, even if I don’t reach Asgore and break the barrier… time still ends.”

Sans propped his chin up with a hand, his other hand still wrist-deep in his chip bag. “so no matter what, the day ends with you stuck in that void again.”

Frisk just nodded wordlessly.

"why don't you load a save from earlier then? from before you fell into the underground?" Sans asked curiously. "i think you'd be significantly less bonely if you had access to the wider world."

"The earliest point that I can reset to is just after I fell into the Underground," they sighed, not even acknowledging his pun.

“…guess it makes sense then,” Sans muttered. “if you want to stay in any given timeline longer than twenty-four hours, you gotta' load a save in the same morning. over and over.”

“Exactly.”

Sans rubbed his nasal bone. “damn, kid. that’s rough.”

Frisk looked up. “It’s not the worst thing. It lets me rest. Talk to people. Just… be here. For a while.”

“still,” he said slowly, “even if it’s better than nothingness, it must be frustrating being able to do nothing but loop one day over and over again.”

Frisk didn’t respond for a long moment.

“It feels like I’m slowly forgetting what it means to move forward. Every loop feels like I’m sinking, but I’m just refusing to accept the truth.”

A moment of silence passed between them.

“...damn. want a chip?”

The depressing atmosphere collapsed.

They snickered. “Sure.”

A loud creak echoed from upstairs.

Frisk and Sans both looked up at the telltale sound of oversized boots. Papyrus appeared at the top of the stairs in his beloved battle body and a pink fuzzy robe draped dramatically over it. His eyes widened at the sight of his brother.

"GOOD MORNING, SANS! I SEE YOU'RE AWAKE EARLY FOR ONCE!" Papyrus proclaimed with a wide grin, which vanished the moment he saw Frisk.

He froze mid-step.

His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

“IS THAT A… A… A HUMAN?!” he whisper-shouted to Sans.

Sans didn’t even flinch. “nah.”

Papyrus blinked several times. “BUT THEY LOOK EXTREMELY HUMAN. INCREDIBLY HUMAN. IN FACT, I’D SAY THEY’RE THE HUMAN-EST THING I’VE EVER SEEN.”

Sans glanced at Frisk, then back to his brother, deadpan. “yeah, wild, huh? turns out they’re actually a new monster type. real rare. super squishy.”

Frisk gave a little wave. “Hi.”

Papyrus gasped. “INCREDIBLE. I KNEW MONSTERKIND HADN’T FINISHED EVOLVING YET! OH, I CAN’T WAIT TO UPDATE MY JOURNAL— ‘DAY 438 OF MY JOURNEY TO BECOME A ROYAL GUARD: MET A BRAND NEW MONSTER SPECIES WITH FLUFFY HAIR AND AN EXPRESSION OF EXISTENTIAL DREAD.’”

Frisk bit back a laugh. Sans raised his brow.

“they’re human-adjacent. still got the bones for comedy though.”

“SAAAAAAAAANS.”

“what?” Sans gave him an innocent expression.

Papyrus gave him a long-suffering sigh. He perked up quickly though, and struck a heroic pose. “IN ORDER TO REPENT FOR MY BROTHER'S BAD PUNS, I SHALL MAKE OUR NEW GUEST PANCAKES! THAT’S WHAT YOU DO FOR EXTREMELY LOST AND POTENTIALLY ENDANGERED SPECIES!”

And with that, he clomped off into the kitchen, muttering under his breath about the proper syrup-to-pancake ratio for diplomatic breakfasts.

Frisk looked at Sans. “…Did that actually work?”

Sans chuckled. “heh. welcome to snowdin, kid. again.”

Papyrus was on patrol, looking for fallen humans (ironic). They were lounging on the skeleton brothers' couch while watching a random channel. Mettaton Presents: A Solo Symphony of Suffering, Sponsored by MTT-Brand Burger Emporium™. 

It was probably the last show that they both hadn't watched in a while, though they both probably had at some point (Frisk, over the course of their long looping journey; Sans, at some point during his life in the Underground with limited shows to watch). Still, it was a welcome(?) distraction for both of them.

Onscreen, Mettaton dramatically recited poetry about heartbreak and hydraulic fluid while spinning slowly on a rotating pedestal covered in rose petals and broken disco balls. At one point, he paused to have an emotional argument with a fog machine.

The background dancers seemed confused. One tripped. Mettaton didn’t notice.

Frisk shifted, looking like they were just about to fall asleep. Sans' eyes looked like they had glazed over.

“This is... not his best work.”
“is this the one where he cries in autotune for ten minutes?”
“Yeah.”
“heh. classic.”

Frisk was interrupted mid-chuckle by their own violent yawn.

“so.”

“Hm?” They looked up at Sans, who seemed more awake than a few moments ago.

They got a bad feeling.

“can you tell me what you tried in the other timelines?”

Frisk froze, pupils constricting into fearful dots.

"...Why?"

"i'm curious, what can i say?" He shrugged. "and maybe i can help find a solution."

“...I tried... A lot of things.”

“like?”

Frisk looked down.

They could feel the skeleton’s eyes on them without even looking.

He continued. “i’ve told you a lot of things that i didn’t think i’d tell anyone, in other timelines. the reports. the nothingness at the end of timelines.”

“it doesn’t sound like me. what did you do to make me say that?”

Frisk swallowed.

Chapter Text

For a few moments, the only sound was Mettaton’s dramatic ranting, before being cut short by an extended MTT-Brand Burger Emporium™ advertisement.

They fidgeted with their sleeves. They took a long breath.

“I got desperate. And curious. And angry. And scared. I thought… I thought I needed to see everything. Do everything. Find some kind of real ending.”

“Anything other than…”

Frisk shivered at the thought of the nothingness that waited for them at the end.

Sans didn’t speak.

They continued.

“In my first run, I… killed several monsters. Moldsmals. Migosps.”

Frisk winced, but Sans only looked at them impassively.

They hesitated, before speaking again. “At the end, you explained what LOVE and EXP actually stood for.”

Sans nodded, “sounds about right.”

Frisk fidgeted with their striped sweater. 

“...It stuck with me, even after countless resets.”
“So I thought…”

“What if I tried something… new?”

They shuddered, remembering the taste of dust in the air.
It clung to their tongue, dry and bitter.

“What if… I tried raising my Level Of ViolencE to the max?”

Sans’ expression was stiff. A drop of sweat rolled down the side of his skull.

“I killed almost everyone,” Frisk admitted, voice small. “I listened to that voice in my head. I thought it was mine. Then I thought it wasn’t. But either way, I gave in.”

A long silence, interspersed by loud, comical sound effects coming from the TV.

“You stood there in the last corridor, to judge me like every other time.”

“we fought.”

He said it simply. Calmly.

Frisk nodded shakily.

“...did you win?”

They didn’t answer for a moment, trying to find the words.

“You told me that you thought… we might’ve been friends, in another timeline. To stop fighting.”
“It got through to me, even through that shroud of LV that clung to my SOUL.”
“I dropped the knife.”

“And then you killed me.”

“...i’m sorry?”

They shook their head, a bitter smile on their face. “I deserved it.”

“i don’t see how—”

“I killed Papyrus.”

Sans stiffened next to them. His grin shrank slightly. The air turned frigid.

“...i do see how.”

Another beat of silence passed between them.

“...You told me to ‘get dunked on’.”

“heh.”

His signature grin widened again.

Frisk grinned weakly as well, though it was short-lived as they continued. “You told me that if we were ever friends, I would reset. Despite my curiosity and apathy… I did.”

They tilted their head back on the couch, staring at the ceiling with empty eyes.

“There’s no excuse for me. I’m sorry.”

Sans sighed.

More silence, broken only by the sound of the TV.

“...you’re not killing anyone this time, right?” Sans said, his voice low.

“NO!” Frisk shook their head vehemently, horrified by the idea. “No. Never again.”

“alright,” he said, voice soft. “then we’re good.”

Frisk nodded, but their eyes lingered on the floor. On the memory of dust. 

The way it clung to their hands.
Their shoes.
Their SOUL.

“I didn’t understand what I was doing, back then,” they murmured. “Not really.”

“At first I just… liked seeing what would happen. Every choice, every path. I thought if I did everything, I’d understand it all. Find something that would finally stick.”

Sans didn’t interrupt, his expression softening slightly. His sockets remained steady on Frisk, unreadable, but not uncaring. They felt like they’d gotten a better grasp of his expressions recently.

“But the more I reset, the harder it was to remember why I started. Eventually, I was… just moving forward out of habit. Sheer determination forced me to go through it again, in hopes that something… anything would change.”

Frisk looked down again. A bubbling mixture of shame, despair, and frustration filled their chest until they felt like they were drowning.

“I tried almost everything else.”

“Spared everyone.”
“Spared almost everyone.”
“Delayed the ending.”
“Rushed it.”
“Tried to make new endings.” 

“And still…”

Their eyes went blank.

Ḑ̴̨̛͍̘̖̪̪͕̘͗̉̉̈́̅̓̄͋̐͝ͅ ̵̡̧̢̦̬̘̜̠̼͈̰̞̝̲͓͎̖̈́Ǎ̵͎̲̦̟̥͔̗̅̑̋̏̈́͛̀̃͊̇̎̒ ̴̨̧̼͎̲̤͕͔̟̖͙̑͑̅̋͆͂̃̈́̽͆̽͘͜R̴̢͍̦̞̥͓̤̘̆́͒̌̊̒ ̸̺̳̤͈͇̦̼͓͊̄̔K̷̟̗̳͔͚̂̕͜͝ ̵̛̛̝̼̗̩̱̣̍̋̈͂̆̍͌̀̓N̸̗̺̩̓̿̈́̊͛́͒̀́͂̇̀͘͝ ̴̢̨͍̩̺͙̹̳̬͉̣̭͍̗͎͎̤̋É̶͇̳͕͓̪̩̟̳̫̞̗͎̳̺͕́ ̴̨̟̤̠̼͕̻́́S̸͓̻͙͙̃̔̈́̃́̆̃̋ ̵̧̦͇̖̯̼̿͋̿̅̋̓̈̿͊̓̅̽̒̀̆̽̚͜͜S̴̳͖͉̫͓̑͆̉͊

Sans’ next words shook them out of their thoughts.

“we’re more alike than i thought,” Sans admitted, not looking at them directly. 

Frisk startled, their empty eyes regaining light as they looked at the skeleton in surprise. “What?”

“it’s the feeling that nothing you do will matter, isn’t it?”

They gave him a small, hesitant nod.

“although we feel that way for different reasons, it’s familiar to me as well.”

The memory of Sans, standing in that corridor while they dodged past walls of bones and volleys of laser blasters. The smell of death permeating the air. The words he said…

        “you can't understand how this feels. knowing that one day, without any warning...

        it's all going to be reset.”

“...It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

“hey, hey... it’s not your fault. you can’t help the fact that you need to reset and load saves.” Sans turned towards them with a worried expression. “i’d much rather you do that than devolve into a bloodthirsty killer.”

Frisk hesitated, before nodding wordlessly. 

“if you’re ever feeling bonely, stop by. take it from me; it’s okay to take a break, kid.”

They trembled slightly, barely registering the pun. “...you don’t hate me?”

“i don’t know about the other sans,” he mumbled, leaning into the couch. “but i don’t. knowing the circumstances, i think you made mistakes, but ultimately, you tried to do the right thing.”

“even if the sans of that timeline hates your guts, he’s probably glad that you chose to reset and bring back paps.”

Frisk let out a shuddering breath. “...I’m sorry, Sans.”

“hey it’s alright, kid. i’m surprised you haven’t gone bonkers yet, actually. if it were me— wait, are you ok???”

Frisk paused, looking at Sans in confusion. His glabella was scrunched in worry, almost looking like human brows.

“...What?”

“...you’re, er, crying.”

“Oh.”

Frisk touched their cheek, looking at their damp fingertips and feeling tears slide down their face.

“...Oh.”

“I didn’t…”

“I shouldn’t…”

“I don’t deserve…”

“I– I can’t…”

Suddenly, they were wracked by violent sobs as they messily tried to wipe at their face with their sleeves. It was the kind of crying that couldn’t be controlled. All their suppressed emotions came out, messy and raw, leaving them gasping for breath.

The sound of Mettaton entering a musical number on the TV faded into the background.

“kid, kid... it’s alright.”

Sans awkwardly opened his arms. 

Frisk froze. The vivid memory of being speared by hundreds of bones flashed through their mind.

Sans’ smile faltered and he began to lower his arms.

Before he could, Frisk threw themself against his chest with a muffled, choked cry. 

“But it’s not! It’s not alright!”

“I killed them, Sans!”

“Even if that voice in my head was urging me…”

“Even if I was just trying to find something new…”

“Even if…”

“No matter how I try to justify it, I killed them!”

Sans seemed lost, but wrapped his arms around Frisk’s shoulders.
He gently patted their back as they cried into his shirt. He didn’t say anything.

“And even if I undid everything…”

“What does that say about me?”

“That I would slaughter my friends just to see something new?”

“What kind of person does that make me?”

“I can’t— I don’t deserve to cry!”

Frisk’s sobs began slowly dying down, becoming choked whimpers and shivers.

Sans’ baritone vibrated through his chest.

“...listen, kid.”

“i’m not gonna’ say that any of that was justified. because it wasn’t. you killed them.”

A violent shudder passed through their body. 

“but.”

They swallowed hard, looking up at him like they were about to start crying again.

“i can’t say that we’re all saints either.”

“i’m sure plenty of monsters killed you, on accident or on purpose.”

“how many times did you die?”

Frisk seemed confused, no longer on the cusp of tears. “...I don’t know? I’ve… lost count.”

Sans sighed. “just because you can’t die permanently doesn’t excuse monsters for killing you, y’know?”

“What?” The concept seemed entirely foreign to Frisk.

“if we’re weighing sins here, monsters like toriel, asgore, and gerson have probably killed more humans during the war than the entire population of the underground.”

“my two cents? nobody here is in the right.”

“and the fact that you still want to do good, even after going through what would drive most people insane… even after monsterkind has killed you so many times…”

“i think that’s admirable.”

Frisk’s grasp on his body tightened for a moment. They buried their face into his shirt again.

“...I think I’m going to cry again,” Frisk chuckled, though it sounded choked and wet.

“what? why? don't tell me you're hiding more skeletons in your closet?”

“Saaaaaans.”

“heh.”

Now that they weren’t crying their guts out, they noticed that Sans’ ribcage was warm through his thin, white shirt. It was most definitely a hard, and not very comfortable ribcage, no bones about it (heh). But he had body heat, which… he was a skeleton. That made no sense.

“Sans?”

“hm?”

“Why do you have body heat?”

He seemed confused. “i dunno’. why do you ask?”

“Just entertain me.” Frisk poked his side. “Also, Papyrus once said that skeletons don’t feel cold, since they don’t have skin. So body heat doesn’t make sense.”

“heheh. you remind me of paps when he was just a babybones, sometimes.”

“That’s not an answer,” Frisk pouted.

“well,” Sans thought for a moment. “i’ve never really thought about it, and skeletons are rare around these parts. but…”

“But?”

“heh, you said butt.”

“You’re so mature, Sans,” they grumbled, glaring at him. The efficacy was greatly diminished by the fact that they were hugging him around the midsection.

“yep. the mature-est.” He looked like he was holding back a laugh.

“And you were saying…?”

“well, as i was saying before i was so rudely interrupted,” he said, giving them a teasing glare that made them giggle. “normally, humans stay alive due to metabolic processes in their body, which are exothermic, meaning they produce heat as a byproduct.”

“Mhm.”

“monsters don’t eat regular human food, with carbohydrates and nutrients... instead, monster food is mostly magic, so they don’t do quite the same thing. but you could say that they ‘metabolize’ magic.”

He seemed slightly more animated than usual. ‘With books on quantum physics and a secret workshop, I guess he is kind of a nerd,’ Frisk snickered internally.  

“just like in any instance of energy conversion, transference, or usage, energy is lost. second law of thermodynamics.”

“we can assume that this ‘magic metabolization’ is exothermic like human metabolism, which is why monsters have body heat.”

“Too many hard words…” Frisk complained.

Sans grinned. “basically, monster’s eat magic and generate heat as a side effect, like humans.”

“...What about Ice Caps? Do they generate heat?”

“don’t think about it too hard.”

“Not a very good explanation, then,” Frisk snickered.

“guess not.” Sans shrugged with an easy grin

…

After a moment, Frisk awkwardly let go of him.

“...Thanks. For distracting me.”

“no prob.” He rubbed the back of his skull, seeming just as awkward.

“...So, what do you want to do now?”

On the TV screen, Mettaton burst into a new, dramatic musical number with accompanying flames and disco lights going off. The abrupt guitar riff caused them to startle and look at the screen.

“OH WOE IS ME; FOREVER CURSED TO SHINE TOO BRIGHT FOR THIS DIM, DIM WORLD!”

Sans’ blue-and-yellow eye light returned to normal. 

“anything but watch another mettaton production rerun.”

Frisk slowly lowered their clenched fists. They laughed; it was a clear and bright sound.

“...Agreed.”

Chapter Text

Reset #???+53; Reload 4
10:37 AM, Outside Snowdin.

The shortcut dropped them near Sans’ sentry station, the glow of Snowdin’s lights distant and faint beyond the treetops. It was quieter out here, even though most monsters were probably awake by now.

The only sound was the hush of the river sliding past, slow and glassy, catching hints of light on the surface. Someone had left a fishing rod wedged into the dirt, the line swaying gently in the current.

Sans plopped down near it with a grunt, pulling out a folded blanket from who-knows-where and tossing one to Frisk. They caught it clumsily, draping it around their shoulders before sitting beside him.

Frisk didn’t say anything, but they nestled deeper into the blanket. Their nose was pink from the cold, their face unreadable.

“a change of scenery is nice, once in a while.”

“Mhm.”

They sat there for a while, not speaking, the river burbling softly beside them. A gust of wind rustled the trees, sending a few flakes of snow drifting from the branches. 

“are you still thinking about it?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of hard not to not think about how I'm probably going to never to experience another day again,” they said with a deadpan expression.

He didn't know what to say, so he just made a vague noise of acknowledgement. “mmm.”

“I try not to,” they shrugged, fidgeting with their sleeves.

Sans glanced at them, but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t the best at emotional support, for sure.
But being here for the kid was clearly a lot more than they usually got.

“I used to think that there was a route that I could find… that there was some timeline where I'd get to keep our happy ending.”

A ghost of a smile passed over Frisk’s face before fading.

“I’m not so sure anymore.”

“It doesn’t matter what I do. I still end up there. Every time.”

“assuming that the world just ends right then and there, there’s nothing we can actually do about it if it’s a predetermined event that can’t be influenced by our actions.”

Frisk seemed even more depressed at the thought. The idea that their actions didn't matter, when they had a power that could change the world... yeah, that was pretty disheartening.

Sans rested his weight on his hands and leaned back to glance at the suffocating darkness above. 

“and even if we operate under the assumption that the rest of the world keeps ticking after you vanish… that doesn't mean much if you’re still able to yank the plug whenever you want.”

He sighed. 

“no offense, kid. but you being the single point of failure for reality kinda sucks.”

Frisk gave a bitter laugh. “No offense taken.”

The burbling of the river seemed to rise up to fill the silence between them.

There sure was a lot of silence between them. Though, that was understandable considering the circumstances of their friendship and the topic of their conversations.

Sans spoke softly.

“hypothetically. let’s assume that the timeline continues even if you end up in the void.”

"Okay...?"

“and let’s say we can’t prevent you from ending up there.”

Frisk stiffened at the thought of having no choice but to spend forever in D A R K N E S S.

Sans noticed their tensed shoulders, but pushed onwards.

“in the worst case scenario, we gotta’ make sure you can’t reset. otherwise, you could reset the timeline and go psycho-mode after a few centuries in the void. after a while, you'd do pretty much anything to escape, and there's still that route.”

Frisk flinched, the thoughts of darkness slipping away. They didn’t like hearing the fact that they might become a psychopath killer out loud.
But he wasn’t wrong.

Sans stared at the floor, teeth clenched in thought. He had an idea.

He didn’t like it.

Then he looked up.

“...there’s always the DT extraction machine.”

Frisk blinked. “...That machine in the True Lab?”

Sans was barely even surprised that Frisk had discovered that secret as well; there was only so much that could be hidden from a time traveler who had experienced the same twenty-four hours several thousand times.

“yep. the name’s pretty self-explanatory, no?” Sans’ smile was half-hearted. “we fix it. you complete the perfect timeline. then, before your twenty-four hours are up, we siphon off some determination from your soul.”

“not all of it, just enough.”

“enough that you won’t have the juice to... reset or load.”

Frisk stared at him. “You’re suggesting we… trap me. For good.”

“not trap,” he said, but it sounded weak, even to him. “just… let you rest. for real this time. if you can’t reset anymore, then even if you lose it in the void, the rest of us are safe.”

He swallowed. He couldn’t look at them when he added, “and maybe… if there’s a ceiling to how long a soul like yours can last, maybe you’ll just… fade. no resets. no reloads. no more being alone in the dark.”

What a fucked up thing to say to a kid. Barely more than a babybones.
But what else could he offer?

He imagined Papyrus again. 

Bright smile.
Making spaghetti.
Peaceful. Safe. Laughing.
Seeing the sun for the first time.
Even if it meant condemning a child to an eternity in sensationless darkness…

Frisk’s voice was barely a whisper. “You mean die.”

He finally looked at them again. There was no pride in his face.
“i mean peace,” he said. “the one thing you haven’t gotten to try yet.”

They were quiet for a long, aching moment.

Then Frisk looked at him and gave a small, tired smile. 

“That’s just like you,” they said.

He blinked. “what?”

“In another timeline, you said if you hadn’t promised the lady behind the door… I would be ‘dead where I stood’.”

The words cut deeper than they should have.
He felt like his bones were full of lead.

“Guess you still would,” Frisk murmured, not unkindly. “If it meant giving Papyrus a better future.”

He didn’t respond. He couldn’t.
Because he didn’t want to lie.

They leaned into him, forehead resting against his shoulder.
He wanted to move away, but what right did he have to refuse them this much when he was suggesting—

“If… if there really is no way for me to keep a happy ending… I shouldn’t deprive the rest of you all from seeing the Surface.”

Sans felt both relief and guilt coiling in his gut like twin snakes; they had decided.

They were determined.

“…Let’s fix the machine,” they said, their words muffled by his jacket.

……

He put a hand on their back.
Their shoulders didn't even shake.
He hated himself.

Frisk left to go explore the rest of the Underground. Sans had a feeling that they wouldn’t be back within this load.

'heh. i wouldn't wanna' see my face either after that conversation.'

He pulled out his phone, his fingers clicking away at the buttons already.

legendaryfartmaster: hey al

ALPHYS: oh hey sans (＾▽＾)

ALPHYS: whats up ???

ALPHYS: did u need smth?

legendaryfartmaster: actually yea

ALPHYS: (ദ്ദി˙ᗜ˙)

ALPHYS: anything for an old co-worker :P

ALPHYS: what do you need help with?

legendaryfartmaster: can we talk in-person

ALPHYS: uh… sure…?

Sans took a breath, before stepping forwards and through space. For a moment, he was surrounded by impenetrable darkness. It was so dark, it was beyond the concept of colors.
Then, he was standing outside the lab.

legendaryfartmaster: knock knock

ALPHYS: (-_-)

ALPHYS: …who’s there.

legendaryfartmaster: im outside ur door

ALPHYS: im-outside-ur-door who?

legendaryfartmaster: no im literally outside ur door

He knocks on the door of the lab, boney knuckles clanking against the warm metal.

ALPHYS: fjskdjsk ok WOW

legendaryfartmaster: lol

A few moments later, he heard the rasp of scaly feet from behind the door before it slid open with a mechanical whir.

Wearing her usual lab coat, Sans didn’t comment on the sleep-wrinkled Mew Mew Kissy Cutie pajamas underneath; she probably was lounging in bed until he showed up on her doorstep.

“H-hi Sans…”

“hey al.”

“Uh. C-come on in…?”

They shuffled to the side and he stepped inside.

As the door clicked shut with a pneumatic hiss, Sans spoke.

“it’s about the DT extraction machine—”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“i haven’t even told you what it is yet.”

“You don’t have to.” Her voice cracked. “If it involves that machine, the answer is no.”

“alphys.”

“I said no!”

She was shaking.

Sans didn’t move.

Alphys turned away, arms wrapped around herself. “I’m not doing it again, Sans. I c-can’t. I can’t.”

“we’re not going to be doing DT experiments. we’re just going to be extracting it.”

Well. That was partially true.

Alphys looked back at Sans. “From what? That doesn’t make any sen—”

“the last fallen human.”

The way that he said it made the lizard fully turn and face him. 

“…You’ve seen them, h-haven’t you? This isn’t hypothetical.”

“yep.”

“W-what are you using the DT for?”

“nothing. we’re just extracting it from the human.”

“…Why?”

He hesitated. Should he tell the truth? After all, this was Frisk’s story.

Then again, they were a god-like immortal who could rewind time.

‘if they don’t like it... they can just load a save from before I told alphys.’

He took a breath before continuing.

“we know that ‘determination’ allows human SOULs to persist after death.”

The words ‘after death’ caused Alphys to shiver, her eyes flicking towards the “bathroom” door.

“Y-yes…?”

“i believe that a SOUL with strong enough determination can persist through time. or rather, manipulate it and rewind back to before they died.”

“... what.”

Alphys looked completely flabbergasted, her jaw dropping in astonishment. After a moment, she recollected herself and laughed nervously.

“Y-you’re joking, Sans, r-right? Th-there’s no way that’s r-real— ” 

“i’m dead serious, al.”

“...Oh my god, y-you are . Y-you actually b-believe that.”

Seeing that Alphys wasn’t getting it, he sighed and tried again. “think about it al. the reports on the timespace continuum would all make sense if we just accounted for a time traveler.”

“T-that’s true, b-but, I don’t t-think…” Alphys looked less sure of herself.

‘ok, let’s seal the deal.’

“you know the readings that the machine has been getting from other ‘layers’?”

“I– uhm– s-sort of? T-this timespace stuff d-doesn’t really make a w-whole lot of sense to me… I d-do know that the sheer quantity of data that t-the machine received ended up breaking it…”

“right. furthermore, the data that we received all ends in abrupt ‘termination’.”

“...W-what exactly does t-that mean?”

“nothingness. the void. oblivion.”

“S-so all those other timelines w-were… d-doomed???”

“well, that’s the worst case scenario; more optimistically, it just means that our timeline merges with another meaning that any deviation beyond that certain point is irrelevant. we don't get any data after that.”

Alphys breathed a sigh of relief. “O-okay. T-that’s reassuring to h-hear.”

“well, the more immediately concerning matter is the anomaly themselves.”

“T-the last fallen human…?”

“yep. i didn’t just see them; i talked to them.”

“W-wha???”

Alphys seemed ready to faint with all the bombshells that Sans had been dropping on her. He winced as he knew that they weren’t even at the crux of the matter yet.

“see, i was thinking. what could possibly make a time traveler restart so many times that it breaks our recording machine? any obstacle could be overcome with a few tries and the number of total resets was totally unwarranted.”

While she looked confused, the yellow-scaled lizard slowly nodded along.

Sans took a breath and continued.

“the reason is because they’ve reached an obstacle that cannot be overcome.”

“W-what kind of c-challenge...?”

“the void.”

“!?!?!?!?!”

Seeing Alphys’ concern, fear, and confusion resurface, Sans placated her with a firm hand on her shoulder.

“like i said, the sudden lack of data past a certain point doesn’t mean that our world is doomed.”

‘it means it MIGHT be doomed. which is a small difference, but then everything is meaningless if we operate on the idea that the world will end no matter what.’

He pushed forwards before she could interrupt.

“what this means, is that the human could be entering a state of self-aware non-existence. but if we assume it’s not the world ending, just the human’s ability to stay in it... then there’s a major problem.”

“...The h-human can still r-reset?”

“bingo.”

Alphys’ eyes widened as she put together two and two.

“You want to r-repair the Extraction Machine to drain the human of determination b-before they enter non-existence…”

The full implication hit Alphys.

“We’re condemning someone to non-existence until the end of time, Sans! How could I—”

“they’ve been looping for years now. they're losing their mind, al."

He let some of his guilt appear on his face. Being more candid with Alphys would likely increase the chances of her agreeing. "and there’s a chance their SOUL just... decays. if we give it some time, maybe.”

Alphys was sweating profusely, mopping it up with a handkerchief. She turned on Sans with an expression that clearly cut straight through his bullshit.

“With so much n-natural determination, they c-can control time if they aren’t handicapped??? With that much determination, they’ll be there even after t-the sun explodes!”

Sans knew deep down she was right.

“think about a bright future on the surface. where you face your fears and more on. maybe even live a life with undyne.”

Alphys immediately blushed and shut down. Sans continued seriously.

“all of that can be taken away in an instant.”

The lizard monster’s expression was the sobering realization of dread.

Sans reassured her.

“they understand.”

“they want this too.”

Those last two sentences left a bitter taste in Sans’ mouth, even though he didn't really normally taste anything.

She didn’t meet his eyes. But she didn’t walk away.

“…I’ll need a few days.”

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “that’s fine. i’ll talk to you later then.”

They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment.

He turned to leave.

“…S-Sans?”

Sans stopped. “yeah?”

“I f-feel like it’d be wrong t-to create something like t-this without even knowing them… C-can I meet t-them? I mean, t-the last fallen human?”

The skeleton was faced with a dilemma. 

‘if alphys met them, she would probably see them as a ‘person’ and might not be able to fix the machine… but if I refuse her, she might also not want to fix it if she doesn’t understand who she’s working with.’

Ultimately, he picked the most cowardly option.

“...i’ll ask. no promises.”

‘i’ll leave it up to them.’

Then, he disappeared on the spot.