Chapter Text
Chara was finding himself more and more in what some people may describe as a predicament. Really, in his opinion, it’s all that stupid dog's fault.
If a boring, regular dog from the surface could understand a simple command to get help, then why couldn’t a cool, monster dog from the underground do the same. Chara had tried asking the dog, ordering the dog, begging the dog-- he’d even promised to donate money to its stupid dog shrine! But the dumb thing just refuses to budge, staring at him with that same dopey smile.
Under normal circumstances, he’d be surprised the dog could even see him. Most creatures- human, monster or otherwise, rarely acknowledged Chara’s presence. Not because they’re rude, but because Chara is not like most kids. No, Chara is unique because, unlike most 13-year-olds, Chara is dead.
But don’t worry, he’s been dead for a long time now and he’s over it… really. Trust him. But, his currently deceased state is not doing him any favors, as the only person in the universe who seems to be able to see him and talk to him and keep him company in his lonely existence, is passed out on the floor.
So, you see, he would really appreciate it if this dog would make its merry way down the stairs, find Toriel in the kitchen and bring her upstairs. But, the dog does not do that, the dog simply lays down in the doorway and falls asleep. And, after shouting a stream of insults at the dog that would have certainly made his adoptive goat-mother disappointed, Chara finally decided to try to find a different solution.
Kneeling next to Frisk, Chara reached out again with their soul connection. Partly to check on Frisk’s wellbeing and partly to see if he could wake them up. The warm glow of Frisk’s soul met his own and Chara could feel the crunch of snow beneath his feet, hear the faint churning of a stream, and taste the overpowering sweetness of a butterscotch cinnamon pie. Frisk’s soul was so light at its core. So light that each time Chara looked at it he could convince himself, just for an instant, that there was nothing eating away at his friend’s mind. And, just for an instant, forget that it’s all his fault.
“No, don’t think about that. Focus on Frisk. They need your help.”
With a sigh Chara lets go of Frisk’s soul. It seems that they were fine (besides being unconscious, obviously.) But there was no way he could wake them up.
What had even happened? One minute he’s helping Frisk with their 3rd grade math homework, and the next his friend is on the floor.
He looked back to the desk, and to his surprise, it was no longer the tedious multiplication tables that sat front and center, but a box. Moving closer he could see that the box was actually a dvd set. On top, covering the title of whatever show it was, was a letter addressed to Toriel.
“The universe really seems to want to rub the fact that I’m incorporeal right in my face today, huh,” Chara thought bitterly. Looking at the spine was no help either, as none of the cases seemed to have their own titles, just numbers, likely indicating the watch order. But before Chara could begin to speculate on what the disks might hold, a soft knock resounded from the other side of the bedroom door.
“Frisk, it is time for dinner, dear,” Toriel said. After a few moments with no reply from her adopted child, she began to slowly enter the room. “Frisk? You should not play music so loud--” Her halfhearted scolding died in her throat as she noticed the small 9-year-old crumpled up on the floor. “Frisk!? Darling, what happened?” The child did not stir. Toriel fumbled, rushing over to the child’s side and pulling them into her arms.
“I need to call for help,” she thought. Quickly, though gently, she set Frisk down onto their bed before grabbing her phone from her pocket. But before she could dial any number, something made her stop in her tracks. The smell of buttercups and chocolate bars.
“Chara?” She asked, tentatively to the empty room. But nobody came .
Toriel mentally chastised herself, “I need to calm down. Chara is gone, it is only nerves.”
And yet… And yet…
Lowering her phone Toriel turned to her child’s desk. And there she was surprised to find a letter addressed to her.
“I should be calling emergency services.” But something kept her from doing it.
She opened the letter.
Your Majesty, I would like to begin this letter by giving you my sincerest apologies. If you are reading this, it is more than likely that you are still recovering from the great shock of seeing your child unconscious on the floor. I found it was the only way to get the last piece of information I needed.
I know you have been growing more concerned for the wellbeing of your child. Believe me that is something I can relate to as well, but that is beside the point. As Frisk has grown more withdrawn you have become more desperate for answers. Answers that Frisk does not seem keen on providing. Now normally, it would be considered best to let Frisk come to you in their own time. However, given the… magnitude of this situation, a more direct approach must be taken.
I have provided a set of dvds for you to view that will hopefully help you learn what Frisk is hiding and how to help them. But I also caution you, there will be many things on these recordings that will hurt, sadden, shock, or disturb you. But if you truly mean to save Frisk from their own demons then you must watch.
I would also suggest bringing in the close friends of Frisk to view these as well. Not only am I sure they will be as eager as you are to help their human friend, but the events recorded here do heavily involve them and their relations to Frisk.
But, moving on. I want you to know that Frisk is alright. After the viewing they will wake from their slumber rested and refreshed. This is likely for the best as you need to watch each disk to its completion.
Thank you and good luck,
- An old friend.
Toriel set the letter down, not sure what to think, a million questions racing through her head. Not sure where to start, she turned to the box. On the cover, in large, white letters was one word: UNDERTALE .
"It would seem I have some phone calles to make. "
“I swear this kid is gonna be the death of me one day,” Sans thought to himself. Just an hour ago, Sans found himself being roughly awakened from his pre-dinner nap by his younger brother hitting him in the face with a cushion and yelling that they needed to go to Toriel’s home right this instant.
As if that hadn’t filled him with enough foreboding, Toriel’s explanation of the situation and what they needed to do did nothing to ease his growing dread.
Staring at the collectors-edition set of doom that they were expected to watch, Sans considered, for a moment, just dropping all pretense and blasting the dumb thing into nothing.
“If those DVDs are about what I think they are, I’ll be doing all of us a favor.”
Caught up in his own brooding, Sans barely registered that Papyrus had begun speaking to him.
“What was that, bro?” Sans asked.
“Good grief, Sans,” his brother groaned. “I expect you to be more attentive during our viewing, for Frisk’s sake, if nothing else.”
“Sorry, bro. I didn’t mean to space out on ya. This is just… a lot, ya know.”
Papyrus sighed. “Yes, this is all very concerning. But on the bright side, we’ll be able to help Frisk through whatever troubles have come over them afterwards.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Sans replied.
Despite what his rather child-like personality may suggest, Papyrus was far from oblivious… well at least when it came to important things. One of which being the emotions of his friends and family. For example, he knew that his brother was hiding something from him. Well, he supposed that Sans was usually hiding something, that was just what Sans did. But over the past few years, Papyrus couldn’t shake the feeling that his older brother was hiding something important. But, as Sans wasn’t inclined to share, and Papyrus wasn’t sure how to confront him, he seemed to have reached a dead-end on that front.
But, when his new human friend had begun acting oddly, Papyrus knew in his (metaphorical) gut that this situation couldn’t be shelved away like his brother’s. Not that Papyrus didn’t worry about his brother’s wellbeing, he just figured that Sans had been dealing with his own inner demons long before Papyrus took notice of it and by now had a good handle on them. But Frisk was only a child.
Meanwhile, Chara was growing annoyed, but that was nothing new. The current reason for the dead boy’s vexation was Toriel. Instead of simply waiting for all of the guests to arrive before explaining what was going on, the goat monster wasted all of their time giving explanations as each group arrived. First to Asgore, then to the skeleton brothers, and finally, now, to Alphys, Undyne and Mettaton. Chara would bash his head into a wall if it wouldn’t phase right through it.
“I just want this to be over already,” he bemoaned to no one. Well, that wasn’t exactly true, what Chara wanted was for this not to happen in the first place. Despite how much he cared about Frisk, he was none too keen on the idea of all of their secrets being put on display for the others to judge. Being dead really sucked sometimes.
“Well, darlings, I see no further need to delay,” proclaimed Mettaton. “I personally can’t wait to see my debut on the big screen.”
“First off, it’s not the big screen,” said Undyne. “And second off, why did you come with us, Mettaton? I know you like Frisk but last I checked you too are hardly what I would consider close.”
Mettaton gasps, “and that means I can’t help out our dear Frisk in their hour of need. Undyne, how could you think me so cruel?” Though it was hard to tell if he was truly offended as he moved with the same over exaggerated dramatics that he did on stage.
Before Undyne could retort, Alphys interrupted, “you know I just upgraded him back to his ‘EX’ form, Undyne. I need to keep an eye on him for a couple hours at least, just to make sure there aren't any major malfunctions,” she explained. “A-and Toriel already said that it was alright for him to join.”
“That I did.” The former queen turned to Mettaton, “As long as he promises to take this seriously.” She gave him a cool stare, Though Mettaton either didn’t notice or didnt care.
“I promise to be on my very best behavior,” he said as he draped himself across the couch. Undyne gave him a flat look at that, then forced him to scoot over so make room on the couch for herself.
“Are we really sure this is legit? I mean how can we actually be sure that watching these things will wake Frisk up?”
“I had the same thought,” Toriel said, moving to sit in one of the armchairs. “But I had Asgore take a look at Frisk when he arrived, and he confirmed that the sleep they are in is a magical one and not a medical one.”
“Yes,” Asgore said, taking that as his que to share his findings. “Upon inspection the enchantment seems to be keeping Frisk in a stasis- rather than a sleep. Meaning, thankfully, we won’t have to worry about them physically deteriorating from not eating or drinking.” Unbidden, the king thought back to another child, one who had also fallen into a deep sleep one day, and one who had withered away into nothing before his very eyes. “No. This is not the same,” he reminded himself. “And even if this letter is nothing but lies, I will not fail Frisk like I failed Chara.”
Looking to his former wife, he could see a glimmer of determination in her eyes, and he knew she was thinking the same thing.
“Which means that even if watching these videos does break the spell, we still should have time to find some other cure.” Toriel concluded.
A slight bit of anxiety eased from the room, but it was quickly replaced by a daunting anticipation. Though Frisk may be safe from harm for the moment, another question still hung in the air; what information could possibly be hidden in these tapes that would warrant such drastic means?