Chapter Text

They got home shortly and without incident. It turned out they didn't need to worry about their lateness—while Toriel fussed over them, as could be expected, she didn't push the issue of where they'd been. (That might have been because of the golden petal she plucked off of their shirt. She glowered at it for a perhaps unreasonable amount of time but didn't mention it out loud. Chara still held Asgore's excuse in reserve if worst came to worst.)

She seemed more concerned over the expression they wore, but if there was one thing Chara had excelled at in life and in death, it was avoiding talking about their feelings. They managed to brush off the concern and keep their comforting smile fixed on at all time.

They said little over dinner, but listened to Toriel as she talked about her work; about the effort going on to integrate monsters and children into the school; about her various letters to local authorities; about things as small as the funny joke she heard from a friend earlier. Toriel had been lonely in the Ruins and seemed to still be trying to catch up for lost time to this day. Chara didn't mind. Listening to her had the same comforting nostalgia as listening to Asgore.

And a bit of the same guilt. They did their best to hide it.

"And here is another," Toriel went on. "It goes like this. Ahem. 'How did the skeleton know what would happen next?'"

They smiled politely and asked how.

Toriel's eyes danced with mirth. "'He felt it in his bones!'"

They couldn't help it. They laughed. It wasn't at the joke—they'd heard it right from the mouth of a particular skeleton at least thirty times, and that wasn't even counting resets back in the Underground. But even though they'd been around Toriel for two years on the surface now, there was still something so strangely delightful about actually hearing her laugh while sharing a space with her. To actually be the one she was directing the joke towards. To actually be... her child.

The laugh didn't take long to die away. They poked at their shepherd's pie, uncomfortably aware of Toriel's concern returning to her gaze. Great. More guilt. They couldn't even get through an evening meal without ruining it for someone, could they?

"You should take over," they mumbled to Frisk. "I'm just messing this up."

Frisk was quiet, and for a moment Chara was afraid they were going to back out of their earlier offer to step in if need be. Their voice however finally came.

"I will if you really need me to," they said. "But you're not messing anything up. You're allowed to be sad, you know."

They almost flinched at that, and weren't sure why. Frisk's tone was soft and reassuring—perhaps calculatedly so, given how afraid they were of losing their temper after the other day. Even at their angriest Frisk had never given them grief over their emotions... like they themself had done to Asriel more times than they could bear to recount.

'Suck it up.' 'Crybaby.' 'Big kids don't cry.' They hadn't said those things to be cruel, but it was only now that they couldn't bottle in their emotions any more and felt like letting it all out that they realized just how cruel they'd been.

"Asriel forgave you, Chara."

"...you can see my thoughts now?"

"I don't need to."

Chara didn't move their right hand, but it nonetheless moved to gently rest on their left, thumb gently rubbing back and forth. Such a ridiculous gesture. Yet one that meant so much to them.

"He knew more than he let on, didn't he? He was trying to tell me something I already half-knew." Toriel said suddenly. Chara was jerked out of their own head, suddenly aware of just how far they'd retreated out of reality. It was a shock.

"I don't understand," Chara said slowly. "What who meant?"

"Sans." There was an odd expression on Toriel's face as she regarded her child, one tempered with both doubt and concern. "He is a strange one, and usually filled with nothing but jokes, but... he did say something especially strange when we chatted on the phone today."

Chara was frantically going through their meeting with Sans today to see if they'd said anything particularly wrong when Toriel continued.

"He said... 'keep an eye on Frisk. They're not feeling like themself today.' He said it almost as though it were one of his silly puns, but I could tell there was a seriousness to it. And the more I think about it, the more I realize he was speaking of the exact same thing I'd been noticing since you got out of bed. You... haven't quite been yourself today, have you?"

There was a silence over the table that could have been cut with a knife. Chara sat stiff and still in their chair, shepherd's pie completely forgotten as every faculty shut down simultaneously.

Sans knew. Of course Sans knew. 'Even if that person is you'... they felt like an idiot for missing all of his not-so-subtle jokes. This was the legendary fartmaster thing all over again. It hadn't been funny then, either.

Asgore knew. How could he not? He'd known them better than almost anyone.

And Mom... Toriel. Of course she knew. Why had they ever believed they could fool her? Why had they wanted to so desperately?

"Chara," Frisk interrupted. "We're, uh, freaking her out again."

"I can tell. Take over."

"Are you-"

"Just do it."

A still moment. Toriel looked almost physically pained by the lack of progress in the conversation and the conflict on her child's face. Finally Frisk relented.

"Uh... I'm fine, Mom."

Just like that their face and voice didn't belong to them anymore; they were hiding behind Frisk's like the disgusting coward they were.

But if anything Toriel looked more disturbed, not less.

"Well..." She took a deep breath, looking profoundly uncomfortable. "If you say so, I hate to press the topic. But something is the matter. I can tell, Frisk."

Frisk frowned. "Huh? Nothing's wrong, Mom."

"You do not have to tell me. But please, Frisk..." She gave them a piercing look. "Stop taking me for a fool. I won't force you to tell me, but I am not as small-minded as my constant worrying could lead you to believe."

Chara took over abruptly. "I have never considered you small-minded. You are a queen!"

"Not in your lifetime, Frisk," she replied. There was a melancholy note in her voice. "You've never known me as royalty."

"Well... maybe not," Frisk said awkwardly, nonchalantly taking control back. "But I don't think you're dumb!"

"You always know best," Chara added.

"It's just that..." Frisk trailed off, passing off their body like a baton.

"...some things are impossible to discuss," Chara said.

"Even if we really want to," said Frisk.

"And we do want to."

"I want to, I mean," Frisk amended. "Though I know you want to too!"

"Of course," Chara continued. "I appreciate how much you want to help."

"Yeah—you're always there for me, and I know... I know I could talk to you. I..."

"I love you," they both said in unison.

They both stared expectantly at Toriel, who was staring at them with wide eyes as though they'd been possessed.

...oops. Body swapping at the table was evidently not their greatest idea.

"Are you on drugs?!" She blurted it out quickly, almost hysterically, immediately covering her mouth as though shocked by her own outburst.

Frisk—Chara—gah, they could barely tell who was at the wheel right now. Whoever it was, all they could manage was furiously shaking their head.

"Of course... of course..." Toriel rubbed her forehead gingerly. "Forgive me. I trust you not to be led astray down that path. But... if not that... what is going on today? Why are you acting so strangely?"

Neither human knew what to say or what to do as Toriel struggled to say what she said next. Her voice was trembling in a way they'd rarely heard from her.

"Frisk... I am going to show you the respect I would afford an adult by being completely honest about my concerns. I would ask you to be honest to be in turn." She looked at them with an almost pleading expression. "Are you... hurting yourself? Are you thinking about hurting yourself?"

They stared in surprise, feeling the weight of the words dropped between them. They could feel each other's confused upset over the question, waiting cautiously for the other to respond.

"No. No, of course not," Frisk said. "Mom... why would you think that?"

"Because..." She fidgeted with her paws, looking miserable. "...I am an old monster with many old memories. You know that I have... failed to protect my children on many an occasion. Today you especially remind me of one of them. I can see them in you as surely as though I were looking at a photograph. You talk as I remember them, walk as I remember them, smile as I remember them... it is eerie."

They were both silent. Frisk had no idea what to say and Chara felt a familiar freight train's worth of guilt crashing into them.

"...I must sound so delusional to you," Toriel continued, giving a short, mirthless laugh. "I assure you. Rationally I am fully aware that you are not... you are not my Chara. The times I see them in your smile are mere wishful thinking on my part. Anything else would be impossible."

Chara tried to open their mouth and speak. Frisk had backed away from control; they would let Chara say anything they wanted. They glowed with encouragement.

But...

They couldn't. They couldn't any more than they could with Asgore. They remained silent.

"You have heard the story," Toriel went on softly. "The story goes that my child simply... grew ill. It was what I believed at the time as well. But I have since had many... many years to reflect on what happened. So many nights when it was all I could think about."

She took a deep breath.

"They... poisoned themself. Buttercups, I am certain. They had... ample access to them. I should have seen it sooner, for I had seen what the flower's effects were, and I had seen how strangely Chara had acted in the months before..."

She sniffed abruptly, raising a paw to her face. She wiped away a tear that smoldered with the heat of a boss monster's fire magic, and took a moment to pull herself together.

So. Toriel knew more than she let on. Asgore may have figured out that Chara was still present, but she had cracked the far more subtle secret. Maybe not in full. But enough to make her worry about Frisk.

Chara's mouth was dry. This was exactly the sort of pain they'd wanted to spare her. She never needed to know what they'd done. She'd never needed to have to know her own child had done something so stupid.

What was the cruelest joke here? That Toriel blamed herself? Or that she saw the traces of Chara in Frisk's face as omens of imminent disaster?

"Mom..." Chara's voice was tight. They wished Frisk would take over again. "...you don't have to tell me about all of this."

"I feel as though I do," she replied, still sniffing. "I don't want to stifle you with my fears, but likewise, I cannot just watch history repeat itself. You remember how it was when I saw you trying to leave the Ruins."

"Hard to forget getting set on fire," Frisk murmured. There was an immediate spike of guilt and panic. "Uh, I didn't say that out loud, did I?"

Chara ignored them. Frisk dealt with bad memories in their own way, and needed some space. "Mom, history is... just that. I am not going to do anything to myself. I am truly sorry that I have made you worry about that."

They were truly sorry for a lot of things that they couldn't fix.

Toriel looked unconvinced; she'd already been on edge, and their body-swapping spectacle had only further convinced her something was horribly wrong. Chara took a deep breath. There was nothing they could do to entirely make her fears go away, but they owed it to her to try their best.

"The truth is..." they said slowly, "...I recently had an argument with a close friend, and I may have been acting... out of character as a result. But that was then. We've made up since, and I'm already feeling better. I'm just still a little emotionally exhausted from the whole thing."

Toriel looked through them. After a moment though she seemed to relax somewhat, trusting. It hadn't really been a lie, anyway.

"Well... if you say that is the case, then I believe you," she said, eyes darting away as though she felt awkward. "Forgive me. I know I take off on flights of fancy where your well-being is concerned."

"It is alright," Chara said earnestly.

"We know you care," Frisk added.

Toriel looked at them askance for a moment before nodding with a weak smile. "I do so very much, my child. Now... onto lighter topics... how was your day?"

Chara gave a smile of their own—as sincere as it could be, given the things they'd just learned their mother knew. They tried to distance themself from the cold pit still slowly revolving in their stomach and focused on the good things about today. "It was great. That friend and I spent some time down by the lake. We just... enjoyed being alive."

"I am truly glad," Toriel said warmly. "You've made so many wonderful friendships. I'm glad you can rely on them."

Their smile twitched even more. Frisk had friendships. Chara's was in the singular, and they weren't even sure they wanted any more. Mom wasn't talking to both of them anymore... she was talking to Frisk.

They had to know. They had to test their luck. They had to see what she'd have to say about where they'd actually been... about what it actually was that had brought some peace to them today.

"I suppose," they said cautiously, gauging her reaction. "...I spent a while with Asgore this afternoon."

They regretted it immediately when they saw her smile disappear. She already knew where they'd been, but it was evident that she didn't like it one bit. They could spot the disapproval in her face a mile away. Apparently they couldn't make it through a single conversation without downing buttercups and ruining everything.

"I see," Toriel said slowly. Her voice picked up a hint of anger, though Chara could tell it wasn't directed at them. "Did he perturb you in any way? Did he say something he shouldn't have?"

"No!" They said it too hurriedly, perhaps in too harsh a tone, and they winced. "What I mean is... it is the opposite. We chatted some, and then we worked in his garden for a while. It was nice. It made me feel a lot better."

After all this time with Frisk, Chara had become quite an expert on being at war with oneself. Toriel's face betrayed an ongoing civil war between her love and her bitterness. Fittingly, love prevailed, and an only slightly forced smile returned to her snout.

"...good," she said finally, a bit stiffly. "If it helped put you at ease, that is all that matters."

There was an awkward silence at the table. Toriel was the one to break it after some time.

"I... did not realize gardening was something you enjoyed. I don't have what some would call a 'green thumb,' but if you like, we could find something here to grow..."

"That might be nice..." Chara replied. "But... it's not really the gardening I like."

"Ah. I see." Toriel's tone came out perhaps a bit more curtly than she intended. She glanced guiltily to the side. "...apologies. You are more forgiving than I am. I... should not be as surprised as I am."

"I mean, if we refused to make friends with anyone who killed us a few times, we wouldn't have many friends," Frisk said. "Or a Mom."

"I've been killed by every Dreemurr," Chara replied with a grim humor. "Including myself. Do I get an achievement for this?"

It was a dark remark, but Frisk laughed quietly at it anyway. There came a point in every time-traveling teenager's life at which gallows humor became the usual way to handle bad memories. While Chara unfortunately couldn't get in the mood for it themself right now, it was still worth it to have amused Frisk. They turned their attention back to Toriel.

She was nodding, her eyes taking on a sheen as though she were somewhere else entirely. "Of course..." she said, barely more than whispering. Her voice had an unpleasant crack to it. "...he and... Chara used to stay in the garden for hours. Not talking much. Just... being."

The silence over the table grew yet darker. A heavy feeling tugged at Chara's chest like an iron weight. They found themself mumbling an apology for bringing those memories up again.

"No!" Toriel said quickly, snapped from her memories. "No, you did nothing wrong, my child. I just have old memories eating at me once again."

"Bad memories," they mumbled. "I'm sorry I keep reminding you of them."

Toriel smiled weakly. This was different than her forced smile at the mention of Asgore. It was full of pain, much like the one Chara so often wore, but... it was genuine at the same time.

"Frisk, you did nothing wrong. You remind me of my child. It hurts to remember them, but that does not mean for a moment that I would rather forget them."

They couldn't smile upon hearing that. Chara frowned, trying and failing so hard to understand.

"But..." They picked their words with care and agony. "...I'm sure they wouldn't want you to hurt yourself by thinking about them. Wouldn't it... wouldn't it be better to just forget them?"

Toriel shook her head slowly. "Of course not, Frisk. No more than I would forget you if the unthinkable were to happen."

That weak smile endured as she continued in the tone of a teacher. "I believe it was a human who said something I think about often—he said 'The pain I feel now is the happiness I had before. That's the deal.' To me, it means to remember that loss only hurts us when we had something truly precious before. How foolish it would be to forget something so wonderful over a little pain."

Chara struggled to keep their voice from cracking. "They were... that precious to you? Even though they..."

Even though they killed themself, they didn't say. Even though they killed her real son in the process. Even though they'd ruined so many lives.

"Nothing could sour my memory of them. Not even knowing of the pain they were going through that I was too blind to see." Full of love and concern she leaned across the table to squeeze their hand. "They were precious to me, Frisk, as are the memories I still have. As are you. Please don't forget that."

A warm gratitude surged in their chest. They felt it in double, their partner taking the words to heart at the same time. They weren't sure how to respond, but neither did Toriel make them feel they needed to. She leaned back in her seat, a faint nostalgic smile on her snout.

"You would have gotten along well with them," she continued. Her tone had gone quiet and wistful. "As well as with their brother. Sweet Asriel... the two of them were fast friends right from the start, and I have no doubt that you would have fit right in with them. I can almost see you in my mind's eye—a happy trio playing in the garden."

"That... would have been nice," Chara said, a mix of strange feelings swirling in their stomach. Frisk squeezed their left hand in encouragement, and they appreciated it dearly.

"We did all play together, once," Frisk mused. "Except not in a garden."

"You think of that as playing?" Chara said, recalling the incident. It was, after all this time, still one of the most vivid memories they had. One of the most important, too. "The entire universe was at stake."

"C'mon, I heard you shouting out his attack names. 'Chaos Saber'? 'Star Blazing'? 'Hyper Goner'? You were into it."

"Heh... well... maybe a little. It brought back a lot of good memories."

"I guess I was a little into it too. I mean, getting disintegrated wasn't fun, but the rainbows were pretty. You take the good with the bad, you know?"

Toriel seemed to take their outward silence as a lack of interest, chuckling in embarrassment.

"Ah... but my nostalgia is truly running wild today, isn't it? Forgive me. I must be boring you to tears."

"Not at all," Chara said quickly. "I... I think we would have gotten along too."

A faint smile crossed their expression. Half theirs and half Frisk's. Half out of joy and half out of grief.

"Like best friends."

No one talked much the rest of the meal. But then, none of the three at the table really felt the need.