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Who: Chara and YOU!
When: After they resurge on the 8th, and ending when the voting on their murder sentence is determined.
Where: Galley, Bow, Housing Decks, Hold, and potentially anywhere else.
What: Catchall for Chara post resurge. Chara kills Sans. Chara stays in the hold after the murder.
Warnings: Dark themes and warnings for Chara, plus strong likelihood of Undertale spoilers.

Galley

The second work week in the kitchens is nearly over by the time Chara finally shows up. They offer no explanations for their absence on their own, and it's clear that they're only there to avoid having to be anywhere else. Still, their work is good; sometimes they'll appear at someone's elbow to reach past them for a utensil they've been sent after. Other times they'll lay out ingredients, and when they make the occasional mistake they correct it without complaint.

Everyone else has already had a few shifts to learn the ropes, and Chara sticks out like a sore thumb. It doesn't help that they're smaller than everyone, and it's a fact made especially obvious when they're sent dish-washing. They have to lift their elbows to reach into the sink, and their apron has been folded over at the waist so as to not reach their ankles.

They could probably use some help. That dirty cooking pot looks heavy.

The Bow

It's like the observation deck, but it's also not. They don't feel anything while standing by the same stars that watched them die, and for all that their eyes move over them, they're not even paying attention.

The Gunnery is empty. The door is closed, and Chara is standing mere feet away from it, arms crossed and chewing on the inside of their cheek. They haven't been here since the ship was struggling to escape with its precious load of rescued lives, and the lights are out at this time, with a stillness that seems oddly bereft. Chara's not making any attempts to get inside; it's as though the room itself has echoes of an intent that they're absorbing passively, like water creeping up strips of paper.

They seem lost in thought.

Nomo and Mero Deck

Both of the decks they're not on have communal bathing areas. That's about as much as they can tell from the looks of the doors, and they're reluctant to talk to anyone at all, let alone recruit someone to help them explore. This is perhaps the second time they've appeared on these levels. Like the first time, they walk through without going towards any specific room, and when they're done they pause at the end to look back.

They're still standing still when someone else appears. As though not wanting to seem lost, Chara stirs immediately and begins to leave.

Moro Deck

Generous lighting, soft beds, and desk sets that all match. The hallway wasn't dim outside, but Chara stands in the doorway and blinks anyway, adjusting. At some level they'd pictured their old room. They knew it would be different, but somehow the contrast between a shared room for children underground and this housing deck really drives it home.

Chara steps inside. They don't have anything to put down, and they own nothing that isn't 'borrowed', or ruined by their own grisly demise. That's fine. They avoid having to think about it by exploring the room, reaching for light switches and opening drawers.

Wildcard and catch-all! Suggest a place, or just assume they're taking a meal in the emptiest corner of the Mess Hall they could find and clearly need someone to eat with them.

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Frisk is falling apart. Chara's hug tightens like it'll press them back together, or at least hold the pieces long enough for Frisk to put glue on. Their arms are brittle, but they're something stable, and Frisk called and Chara has answered with as much support as their tiny supply can offer.

They're in shock. Their eyes leak, and their head hurts, but they don't actually cry.

"It's ok," they murmur. "I know." Their hug presses in more, and then relaxes, one arm rubbing their back in an awkward little circle. They've never been able to do this before. They're inept.

The contact, Chara's voice and weak comfort, they ground Frisk and bring them back from that hysterical edge, and while their grief still pains them the storm in their heart begins to die down. Shivering and hiccupping, they cry quietly against Chara's shoulder, the third time in as many weeks that they've broken down like this. Part of their mind scolds them, tells them they have no right to be so upset after what they've done, but it's quiet and mostly lost amongst their other swirling thoughts and hurts.

"Don't leave. Please." It comes out barely a murmur, quiet and half-choked in their rebelling throat. "I don't wanna be alone again."

Edited 2016-02-17 07:35 (UTC)

It's an impossible request, and Chara knows they won't be able to keep it. They're just not good enough. Maybe one day they'll die like a real person and they'll actually not come back, or maybe Frisk will grow and Chara won't know how to be someone they still need, and they won't keep up because Frisk can actually change, Frisk is that good--

Chara can't fulfill it, but they also can't keep the words down.

Their mouth and throat are dry. They stare unseeingly and don't swallow.

"I won't go anywhere. It's okay."

They sob again, but there's an edge of relief to it this time. Chara may not have faith in themself, but Frisk has more than enough to spare; they believe Chara, take that reassurance and store it deep inside themself where that cold and isolated feeling lies the strongest. The faint tremor in their shoulders, that desperate grip slowly eases as they process that.

Despite everything, Chara still loves them.

After a few long moments Frisk pulls back just enough to look at Chara properly, sniffling and blinking the tears out of their eyes. "Are...you're okay now, right? You're not hurt?"

"'m not." Chara wipes their face on their shoulders, looking exhausted. Their nose is runny. They pretend it isn't. "I'm fine," They say more clearly.

"Honestly, I'm. Probably even better off than you are." They feel great, physically. "Don't worry about me."

It's just like waking up with determination in their bones and anticipation of the future on the tip of their tongue. Except, perhaps, a little more gradual: coming back from cryo had been like waking up from a sleep, while determination had felt like no time at all.

Frisk sniffles and manages a small smile, reaching to take Chara's hands with their own. They know they must look a mess, tired and rumpled and like they took three pages out of Sans's book on taking care of themself, but they couldn't care less right now. Chara is here again.

But...

Their expression falls, bit by bit, and Frisk's gaze drops to the ground for a moment. They don't want to talk about this right now. They just want to be happy that their friend is alive and whole again, but the knowledge of Chara's deeds hangs over their shoulders, twists itself around their ankles like thorny vines.

"Chara...Sans...he told me." It's so hard to drag those words out of their throat, Frisk feels like they could choke on it. Their eyes dart back up to meet Chara's gaze, too many emotions to name at once muddled together to name...but never any anger. Never any hate. "Why? Why did you do that?"

Everything falls apart and Chara tugs their hand free.

They thought they'd done a good thing just now. Frisk had been smiling, and accepting, and now they're hurt again. It figures that Sans would've torn everything down when they weren't around to stop him. He's probably the one interfering with time just to satisfy his hateful grudge. He'd do anything to screw them over, and this is his fault. He just couldn't leave well enough alone.

'You did this', they can hear faintly. 'You brought this on yourself.'

Chara was really something, weren't they? Was it that the rest of the world just wasn't cruel enough and they felt the need to pick up its slack? That's probably it. A blight on everyone's day, even themself.

"Why do you think I did it?" they say coyly, lips stretched in a nauseous smile.

Chara pulling away is worse than a spear to the heart, and Frisk's expression twists up all the worse for it. But they can't back away, they have to see this through. They can't accept that the Chara they once knew is gone forever, replaced by a--they refuse to even think of that title. It's not what they are.

"You were hurt. And you wanted to hurt them back." Frisk has had a lot of time to think the whole thing over, try and figure out how it all could have happened. They're not stupid; they know how Chara hates humanity, how they see so much darkness in everyone and nearly everything. It's not hard to imagine that sickness becoming worse, spreading to infect their view of everything. "But...that doesn't...it won't fix anything. It just makes the hurting worse."

Frisk's words are slow, faltering. Forced out past phantom thorns ripping through their skin, tightening around their throat. "It wasn't fair for you...but we can make the future better. I know we can." Frisk knows better than to say anything can be 'fixed'--there's no going back. Even with RESET, it would still linger on in them both, and the shattered fragments would cast their own shadows onto others. But they can make up for past mistakes. Even with that horrible weight on their necks, they are both Determined. They can do things over, do it right.

They shrink back as though Frisk's words are knives, hugging themself protectively. No one seems to understand that kindness is just as deadly as hate, and their heart is slicing itself with an agony that they never would have had if Frisk didn't exist. It's Frisk's personal brand of nastiness, this pain, and Chara should've seen it before. Their back touches the wall.

"You can," they whisper. Their lips have drawn back in a wretched smile. "It's always just been you."

Frisk wants Chara to be what they aren't. Chara can't give them what they don't have.

Frisk takes a half step forward, not enough to bridge the full distance or really trap Chara, but an advance none-the-less. "No, it wasn't. I couldn't SAVE Asriel on my own. You're the one that called out first."

They still remember that foreign rush of memory and emotion, the dizzy joining of their minds in a desperate bid to reach out. For all it left a bittersweet taste, that had been the real key to finding Asriel's true heart again.

"And--" Here Frisk stops, their throat closing around their words in rebellion, a spike of shame and hurt spearing Frisk right through. But...Chara needs to know, now more than ever. All the times they had frozen up, wanted to run away and hide, or felt like there was nowhere left to turn to... "You SAVED me, too. I wouldn't be alive without you."

"Frisk, I..."

God. They're looking at the one person they've ever done anything nice for. Frisk's faith in them is heartbreaking, especially considering how much of their life Chara screwed over. Chara doesn't regret it, but it's left a weight on their shoulders, and they sag more against the wall because of it.

"I might've saved you... but I definitely killed Asriel." It's beyond them why Frisk might think otherwise. Maybe they don't just 'not' remember. Maybe they've built up explanations with things that never happened.

"I don't know why he's here... I. I stabbed him." The understatement is fills them with a hysterical sort of energy, and they're holding back giggles. "He was Flowey, and he was pretty dead when I left."

Not that they're surprised he's back, of course. 'Second chances', extinguished lives brought back for another retelling of the same story--it's just another reset, even if it's weirder than usual.

The words jam something up in Frisk's mind, and for a moment they can't even think. How...how could Chara not remember? Or do they really think they did so little?

"N-no, you..." They swallow, stumbling over their words for a moment. "You did! The--the God of Hyperdeath, the Barrier breaking...we've done it so many times! You were there with me, you can't have forgotten that!"

Something is wrong here, more than either of them ever suspected. Frisk thought before that they were just Chara's 'past', but...if they don't remember those timelines, then what happened at all? Whose memories are 'right'?

"Barrier breaking?"

Now they do laugh, because that's just rich. Wouldn't that have been nice, to have finally accomplished that tired old dream of theirs. Their whole face is creased, and amusement lingers in the form of stray chuckles.

"Man... I don't know what a 'God of Hyperdeath' is, but this timeline you're talking about must've been amazing."

An amazing hallucination, Chara suspects. They remember the curled up lump their invisible Frisk had been after a while, and there's loss in this image. Maybe there's been a chasm between them for longer than they realized. "Is this where your mind was when I was... killing?"

Edited 2016-03-01 06:10 (UTC)

Angry, frustrated tears start to spill from Frisk's eyes, and they take another step forward. "It did break! I'm not lying, Asriel remembers it, too! But something kept...it pulled us back, and everyone forgot..."

Their arms wrap tightly around their middle, and Frisk has to struggle to not start sobbing again. "I...I don't remember you ever killing anyone. Even when I got scared and you stepped in, we never..." They never gained a single LV. Not once. But Chara's talking like it was just a fact of life. "Chara, what's going on? We can't have both forgot!"

Frisk is about to cry and Chara was about to laugh, they're both hugging themself around the middle--they're distorted reflections of themselves. 'Mirrors', Chara remembers dimly from crinkled pages, 'are never to be trusted.' That story was right. Reflections weren't supposed to walk on their own.

Their smile is gone, now. "I know I'm right," they murmur. "Sans saw things, too. Papyrus tried to help. But..." Their eyes sink down, past Frisk's chin and to their covered collar bones. There's a lump behind the fabric, a mystery they'd tried not to think of after unwittingly spotting it.

They wordlessly reach for their own neck, tugging the chain there. Their necklace spills out--soul shaped. Heart shaped.

Frisk's breaths are uneven, but deep, and they can't wrench their eyes away from Chara at all. There's nothing but the two of them right now--the ship could fall apart around them and Frisk would barely even notice.

Maybe it already has.

They can feel their heart beating in their chest, and they look down at the locket Chara pulls out in disbelief. There's...no way...

Fumbling, Frisk tugs the chain out of their sweater and reveals the same locket, the same one they stole-but-didn't from that dusty room in New Home. They're identical, the shape and color and even that funny little nick along the bottom edge.

They're shaking. This can't be possible. "H...how...?"

Chara pinches the chain between two fingers, rolling it very slightly. They can feel the links like grains of rice, each one tied end to end. It feels real. Every sense they have is telling them everything real, and that they're a part of it all. It's nice.

"I'm dead, Frisk," they sigh. "This body's... it's rotted. Back home... Under the soil--I died, and then I stayed put until you came along, and then I grabbed on and left it there." Like a leech. Frisk shouldn't forgive them for it, but they do. Stupid of them.

They lift their free hand. "I don't think 'this' is fake, but..." Ugh. Grinning makes their face creak. They settle for a grimace. "There's no other explanation. I have to be. So my necklace here is probably fake too, cause I know you picked it up in my timeline."

It feels like Frisk's heart is being torn in two, like those thorns have reached inside and are about to tear them into tiny pieces all over again. It's not just their pain but Chara's as well, a sympathy and knowledge that goes deeper than anything else.

None of this is right. Chara isn't a fake, they can't be, they never were! They're just as real as Frisk, as Asriel and Sans and Papyrus and everyone. They don't know what's going on, what happened to the timelines, but--

Frisk darts forward again, clinging to Chara and trying not to sob into their shoulder all over again. "You're not fake. You're just as real as I am, I--I know it."

The second heartfelt hug hits them like a child-shaped bullet. It must have wounded them, Chara thinks, because it saps their strength the same way. "Frisk...!" They squeeze their eyes shut. "Frisk, I'm dead! My body should look like Sans right now, not--not this--zombie--freak--"

It's no use. The need Frisk senses in their friend has filled them with determination, and Chara can't fend them off. Somewhere along the line they put their arms around Frisk to push them away, and wind up hugging them back instead. One of them seems to be trembling. It must be Frisk.

They push them back at the earliest chance possible, chin tucked towards their chest. "I wasn't trying to--to make you feel sorry for me," they mumble pathetically.

Frisk only stumbles a little bit from the shove, the heavy weight on their shoulders and in their chest pulling on them with the heft of every shared sin, every burden. There's too much between them, too much shared hurt and pain even past this sudden rift they've found.

Frisk shakes their head in denial again, their breath going funny for a moment. "If--if you should be dead then--" The tears are falling again, the vines gripping tight. Frisk can barely speak. "Then I should be dead a million times."

They reach out, trying to take Chara's hand once again.

"We're the same..."

"I don't mean--" they try, letting Frisk have the hand. "Look, I'm not trying to say that I should..." be dead? Are they saying that they didn't deserve it, or that they weren't a better person dead than they ever were alive? They make a face, tilting their head away.

Frisk is crying. None of what they're trying to say really matters in the end, and it's just making them both upset, and Chara doesn't want to deal with it anymore. Who needs answers to completely impossible time paradoxes or grand bodysnatching heists anyway? Not them.

"... Look, nevermind. We're the same."

Their sniffles quiet some, but still linger, and Frisk squeezes Chara's hand for a moment. They don't know what they're looking for now. Reassurance? An apology? They just want things back to normal again, but that can't happen.

There's no going back here.

The silence hangs for a little longer, heavy with unspoken words and confused emotions, before Frisk speaks up again. "...are we still friends?"

"... Are we?" They're scrambling to keep up. How does Frisk pick up these questions so fast? "You'd. Um. I killed people." What a graceless few words. They don't even begin to capture the truth of it. And what possibly could?

"I killed a lot of people. And I used you, and stopped listening. Friends don't--usually do that. They care." Chara's earlier shock-like symptoms are starting to return more obviously, and they're too numb and too nauseous to feel much of anything. A shiver takes their spine, and the rest of them is too sluggish to follow.

"You were hurt," they conclude. "Even if you don't remember it, I do. You were really hurt, and I kept kicking."

Frisk's hold on Chara's hand tightens, ever so slightly.

"I...I know." They haven't forgotten. They can't, not with the way Sans had looked at them back then, the way Papyrus still flinched sometimes before he got a clear view of them. It hurts, and what Frisk never saw hurts even worse--the mental images of dust on snow, in the water, coating them, choking them, clinging to them in a sign of their sins... It's a nightmare they never thought could come to pass.

But it did. And Chara was the one to blame. Chara, whom they had gone through so much with, relied on for so long, tried over and over to help as much as they could. Chara killed monsters, killed their friends, killed Papyrus, Sans, their parents, Asriel...

"But..."

Even a wretched person like that...still deserves mercy. And even more than that...

"I can't...you're Chara." It's so hard to put voice to their thoughts and feelings, the love and need and worry and care that all piled onto each other in a way impossible to define. Chara is part of them, ever since they fell down. Losing them would be like losing a piece of their soul. With a quiet whimper, Frisk closes the distance between them to gently press their forehead to Chara's, eyes closing against further tears. "'S hard when I can't think it at you."

They're close, but all Chara can think is that they're so far, too. "Yeah" They grumble. "I know what you mean." Part of them sort of wished they could just beam thoughts at anyone they wanted, but if they had to pick and choose, they'd pick Frisk. Frisk is the only one that mattered.

They were also pretty stupid, though. Or maybe they were just young, and this was the kind of thing where Chara had to pull their scraps of life experience together and try to instruct them like older siblings were usually supposed to.

"Look, I get that we're--that we were friends." Crap. Frisk isn't going to like this any more than the last dozen times this has come up... "You still have to stop it and start protecting yourself on your own. You can't just let people walk right up and hit you after they already did it once, you need to learn from things."

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