Chapter Text

Chara didn't speak again till evening.

Frisk hadn't given up since that afternoon, never going more than a couple of minutes without trying again to coax them out of the back of their mind. They'd pocketed their phone and spent the day alone after all, which should have made the other human happy. It was sort of their way of making a peace offering, which they expected them to understand. Yet the only emotions they could sense beyond the walls Chara had erected were of a profoundly bitter flavor. If anything it looked like having gotten their way had only made them feel worse.

Frisk felt the same way. 'Winning' the argument the way they had made them feel like shit. Why did they say that? They didn't mean it. They'd just been venting—they didn't want to hurt Chara. Most days they didn't even mind hearing their voice in their head. Hell, if the latter half of their day had proven anything it was that they felt lonely without it. They wanted to hear that bossy, funny, comforting voice.

So why had they gone and ruined the one relationship that had been with them since the very beginning?

Dinner passed without a peep from Chara and Frisk couldn't even manage a half-hearted conversation with Toriel. As gravely concerned as their Mom had appeared towards the end of the evening she'd had no more luck getting Frisk to open up than they had with the voice in their head.

As enthusiastic as they usually were for affection Frisk still found themself accepting their mandatory evening hug with a despondent exhaustion.

"Frisk," Toriel said yet again, though more softly than before. "While you do not have to tell me, I want you to know that there is nothing you can tell me that would make me want to help you less. Do you understand? If I have said anything to make you doubt me..."

Stepping back Frisk hurriedly explained that she hadn't done anything of the sort. They just... needed some time. Toriel accepted this, though the look in her eyes behind her consoling smile was pure misery.

Frisk had just dragged themself up the stairs and was brushing their teeth in front of the mirror when they finally heard that precious voice again.

"Like Russian nesting dolls filled with recursive inner sadness, our family once again refuses to be happy."

Despite the dry sardonicism dripping from the remark, Frisk felt a crashing wave of relief. They gave a toothpaste-slathered beam into the mirror.

"You're back!"

"I never left. I have been watching you refuse to live your life all day."

Frisk's face fell.

"I—I didn't mean what I said before," they said earnestly. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

Chara was silent again, long enough to make Frisk worry that they were done talking for the night. But they spoke again, their already quiet, purely inner voice nonetheless sounding softer than before. Softer and tinged with the stoic seriousness that only seemed to come through when they were truly upset.

"You... shouldn't be sorry," they said slowly. Frisk's face felt an uncomfortable itch to smile the pain away. They knew very well that tendency wasn't their own."You were right, Frisk. I'm dead. Dead from my own choices, but still trying to live vicariously through you. It is... truly pathetic that I haven't been accepting the consequences of my own decision."

The miserable pile of guilt in Frisk's stomach started to churn. What they'd said couldn't be taken back and it had hit harder than they'd ever meant. Not for the first time they wished they could reset up here and undo their mistakes... though even in the Underground this had been one of their precious few relationships that couldn't be started over from scratch. All they could do was what anyone could do. Apologize.

"But I am sorry," they insisted, "Even if you don't think I should be. I don't actually think like that, Chara. I was mad about other things, and-"

"Liar."

"I'm telling the truth! You're not dead... you just went to sleep for a while and you woke up as my partner. We're partners, right?"

"No."

Chara's curtness was crushing. Frisk watched their face in the mirror reflect back the distress they felt. Chara went on, their voice remaining cold and aloof.

"You are a human. You have a life. A future. Me? I am nothing but a ghost. I am a memory that can speak to you, and evidently, I have nothing of value to say."

"That's not TRUE!" Frisk put enough energy into the words that they might as well have been yelling. "You're my best friend! I value what you say a lot!"

No answer. They had withdrawn again behind the half-translucent barrier that divided their minds, showing nothing but the faintest shadows of guilt and anger. It was unclear whether the anger was at feeling lied to or was entirely self-directed.

No amount of pleading or coaxing in front of the mirror was enough this time, and with a heavy heart Frisk eventually had to go to bed. They lay awake for a while staring up at the ceiling, kicking themself out of guilt and frustration.

Before a thought occurred to them. A thought and bad memories.

"Chara."

No response. They really only had themself to blame then for what Frisk was about to bring up.

"Chara, you're not a ghost. You're an amalgamate."

Despite the trauma of both the experience and the countless nightmares it had birthed flashing through their mind, Frisk couldn't help but smirk when they felt Chara's bitterness flash into shock and indignation. Pleading hadn't worked, but this dragged them back out of their shell.

"Alright," said the voice in their head in an icy yet curious tone. "Please explain to me in ten seconds or less how I am anything like those... things."

"Actually, I think it'd be safer to say we're one of those things."

"EXPLAIN, FRISK."

Frisk closed their eyes, taking a moment to think. It often took them some time to gather their words out loud, and conversations in their head were evidently no exception. It was also, if they were being a hundred percent honest, a little bit satisfying to keep Chara waiting.

"Alright," they began slowly. "First of all, 'amalgamate' is the right word, yeah? Maybe it was something else..."

"Yes. It's amalgamate. Get to the POINT, Frisk."

Bickering Chara was so much more of a comforting presence than quietly miserable Chara. Frisk smiled lightly despite the disturbing subject of their thoughts.

"Okay, okay. Listen. The amalgamates 'fell down.' They were basically dead. But thanks to Alphys they're alive again, right?"

"I wouldn't exactly call what they are 'alive.' Are you trying to make me feel more or less like an abomination?"

"They are not abominations," Frisk said firmly. "They're just monsters who had bad luck. Even so... don't they seem happy to be alive? Don't their families seem happy they were alive? Do you really think everyone would be happier if they were dead?"

Chara was quiet. It was a more contemplative quiet this time, tempered with a stab of guilt for their less-than-kind remark. Frisk continued more softly.

"You know the one you called Lemon Bread? The one that's made of Shyren's sister and Aaron's cousin?"

"'Welcome to my special hell,'" Chara's voice came in a whisper. They clearly remembered well.

"Do you think they argue?" Frisk asked softly. "They've got to want to do different things some days. But they can't. But it wouldn't be fair for one of them to say that this was their life and only their life."

Chara finally seemed to catch on to where Frisk had been going with this. They clearly didn't like it one bit.

"We are NOT an amalgamate. We are not two bodies melted together. I died and began to haunt you. You are the one with the body. You are you and I am-"

"Still you," Frisk interrupted. "Despite everything... body or no body... you're still you. And you deserve a life as much as I do."

The silence now between them was less bitter than before. Chara was refusing to speak not out of stubbornness but now at a true loss for words. Frisk didn't press them. They needed some time to make up their own minds on this too. Even so, a new conviction was forming in them.

"Chara. Are you still listening?"

"...yes."

"Sometimes... we have a bad day... and I get frustrated that we have to do everything together. Sometimes I don't like sharing my life with you."

They shared the pang of hurt that Chara felt at that, even though they knew the feeling was mutual. But it was honest, and they knew that telling lies to the voice in their head was never worth it.

"I'm not the easiest person to be with," Chara replied in a near mumble. "I am bossy and unempathetic. I know that. I don't blame you."

"I don't think there's anyone it would be easy to share a life with," Frisk said. They smiled weakly. "Well, maybe Sans, but only 'cause he'd be too lazy to argue about anything."

Chara didn't laugh, but they felt a twinge of amusement from them. Good enough. Frisk went on more seriously.

"Sharing isn't easy. But I wouldn't even have a life to share right now if I'd landed anywhere but on top of you. We both got a second chance, Chara."

"...those flowers were on top of my grave. You landed on top of the grave that I might as well of dug myself. It was my choice that put me there, Frisk."

"And climbing the mountain was my choice."

They knew Chara was already aware of why they'd climbed the mountain. If nothing else they would have pieced it together from their shared nightmares. Saying it so clearly, so boldly, still seemed to take their partner completely by surprise. Frisk pressed on despite the bitter memories.

"...but... neither of us had to face consequences for that, and I'm glad. We should both be dead, and everyone should still be in the Underground. That's not what happened though. We both got a second chance, and I... I think it's not fair that I haven't been sharing it with you. We both threw our lives away. Now there's just one between us."

They took a deep breath, but smiled inside and out.

"So let's be an amalgamate, Chara. Let's be someone who's both of us."

They could feel Chara trying and failing to form words for a long time. The emotions swirling around in both of them were confusing and blurred. Was that Chara who wanted to smile, or was it Frisk? Was it Frisk who was fighting the urge to start crying into their pillow, or was it Chara?

"Don't cry," Chara's voice commanded harshly. If ever an internal voice had cracked with tears, it was this one. "Don't you dare cry. We're too old for it."

"I won't if you won't."

Frisk gave them time and space. Well... as much space as possible. They waited for Chara to make some sense of the emotional hurricane that was battering at the both of them. Eventually the storm began to recede and a more rational Chara began to speak.

"Alright..." Chara's voice was stuffy but managing to remain calm. "I am... open to what you are saying, but I don't know what 'sharing' a life is supposed to look like."

"Um. Well... neither do I," Frisk admitted. "I just know that what we're doing right now isn't working. I wind up making you feel like what you want doesn't matter."

"And I make you feel like you're not in control of your own life," Chara said, another pang of guilt bleeding through. "I will... commit to being less bossy. I don't mean to control you."

Control. Hmm...

"And I'll try to compromise more," they said back. "It doesn't always have to be all or nothing. We can listen to each other and try to figure out how we can both be happy."

Chara was thoughtful for a moment. "...how do you propose that we handle conflicts like meeting with your friends today? I am antisocial. You feel sad when you're not around people. There are days where we cannot both have what we want. One of us has to make the deciding call."

Frisk pondered this for a minute. Chara didn't seem to mind them taking their time. It occurred to them that, as irritating as they could be at times... there really wasn't anyone else they really felt comfortable with like this.

Comfortable enough to give up control altogether.

"Then... how about... we share more than just our head?"

"Explain."

"Chara. I know you can move my body."

A spike of alarm. A suddenly half-desperate tone. "I choose not to. I wouldn't-"

"It's okay," Frisk assured them. "I know you wouldn't try to take things from me. But back in the Underground I noticed you move my feet sometimes when I was too scared to move..."

"I... I don't know for sure if that was always me. When things got really serious I was usually just as scared as you were."

"Let's try it. See if you can move my hand."

They sensed great hesitation.

"...are you sure?"

"C'mon, just do it. It's not a big deal."

"But it is a big deal. It will be the first time that I've deliberately-"

"Come ON, Chara. You're being a baby."

There was a long pause. They could tell that nervousness had just given way to irritation and were about to say something else when it suddenly happened. They felt their hand move upwards, fingers flexing. It was a surreal feeling, undeniably in motion but not controlled by Frisk at all. If there was any doubt about that at all it was gone when Chara flipped them off.

"...really, Chara? That's the first thing you do? Real mature."

"You're the one who called me a baby. All I was trying to do was respect your boundaries."

"Whatever... the point is, it works! You can steer my—our body, Chara!"

Their hand dropped dramatically back into bed, as though it were a puppet with its strings suddenly severed.

"I don't know if I want to," Chara said, their nervousness returning. "It's been a long time since I... 'lived.'"

"You'll do fine," Frisk assured them. Then, cheekily, they added "As long as you don't flip off Mom."

"Oh, ha ha. You are the only person I will both respect and betray."

"Aww. I knew what we had was special."

They felt a warm feeling in their cheeks—a slight flushed sensation, and the feeling of lips involuntarily twitching upwards. It was impossible to tell whose lips those were right now, so neither remarked on it. They simply lay there, close together by necessity, before Chara finally broke the silence with a voice barely more than a whisper in the back of Frisk's conscience.

"...when... would it be alright for me to 'steer'?"

"How about you take over this weekend?"

"No. I'm not taking your weekend."

"It wouldn't be fair to let you do whatever you want on a day you have to go to school, Chara. Besides, you haven't been paying THAT much attention in math."

"There's usually nothing better to DO than—Frisk, I don't want to start that fight again."

"Okay, okay. Still, I want you to have the weekend."

"Still. No."

"Just take Sunday, alright? Please? Sunday sucks anyway 'cause I spend half of it thinking about Monday."

". . ."

"I've been in charge every single day since we met. Just take a day, Chara. Just let yourself feel what it's like to be alive again."

Frisk's own thoughts had taken a pleading tone they hadn't intended, but it seemed to sway Chara. They finally relented with a sigh that was both quiet and completely for show, as it didn't quite touch Frisk's actual lungs.

"...alright. I'll steer on Sunday. I'll be the bored teenager and you can be the annoying voice in their head telling them they're doing everything wrong. A complete Opposite Day. Will that make you happy?"

"It'll make you happy," Frisk promised. "And that'll make me happy."

That warm feeling touched their cheeks again, this time with a lot less ambiguity over whose feeling it was. But there was still some doubt—they both felt it, for different reasons. It was Chara who gave voice to it first.

"If you're only doing this to overcompensate for exploding earlier..."

"I'm not," Frisk assured them. They hesitated a moment. "Well... it's more like exploding earlier was our wake up call. Things aren't all okay between us. It wouldn't have happened if we were both happy, right?"

"You can never really know." They felt hope from Chara, but that doubt was still poisoning it. "...I don't want anything from you that you feel obligated to give. I forgive you for what you said earlier. I'm not angry."

Frisk frowned. "You're still hurt. I can tell."

Chara was quiet. The hurt was obviously still there, and they seemed to realize hiding it from their headmate wasn't an option. They relented.

"Yes, you hurt my feelings. Yes, I still feel bad. But forgiveness isn't about whether the damage is gone. It wouldn't be worth anything if it was."

"I... I get that."

And they did. They'd forgiven Asriel, after all, even when two years later they were still waking up in cold sweat from dreams of vines and fire.

"But this isn't about forgiveness," Frisk continued. "I'm not trying to trade my body for you being happy with me, or whatever it is you think I'm doing. I... really think this is a better way."

"Truly?"

"Yeah, truly. I was only right about one thing earlier, and that was when I said we weren't partners. We aren't right now. We can't be partners when only one of us ever has any control."

They smiled weakly.

"And I really want you to be my partner, Chara."

The doubt, as stubborn of a stain as it had been before, finally seemed to be washing away. It was replaced with a bubbly warmth.

"I... want that too," Chara said, their voice unusually meek. "Our agreement stands, then. I will take control on Sunday. It may only be a test run, and I may decide to never do it again. But I will try it, if it means so much to you."

"I think it'll mean a lot to you too," Frisk said with a smile. "Now... we should probably try to sleep some tonight, or else algebra's gonna really thrash our ass tomorrow."

"Ha... yes. Good night, Frisk."

"Night, Chara."

Chara slowly retreated back to the corner of their mind, but not bitterly this time. It wasn't so much anger and guilt were swirling back and forth across the flimsy mental barrier between them. The emotions this time were of a much warmer variety.

Hope. Hope and excitement. They hadn't completely made up yet; it was hard to make up for two years spent with one in control and the other as commentary. It was hard to make up for the kind of words that had been said. But maybe they could make a start. At least they didn't have to go to bed angry.

Frisk rolled over and began to drift off to sleep, Chara in tow. There was some peace between them now. A relief they shared from finally talking about the most important details of their existence.

Maybe being an amalgamate didn't have to be so bad.