Undertale: Fallen Angel

Clarity

Head hung low, arms tucked away in their pockets, Frisk proceeds down a sidewalk; to their left, the rush of Mirstone traffic goes about its usual haste. Never have they felt as exposed as they do now, wandering out in public in the direction of somewhere- anywhere but the tense environment of City Hall, which is currently surrounded by no shortage of hostile and fearful faces.

Frisk hopes they didn't waste their breath back there, even if the word of a confirmed murderer understandably wasn't cause for much inspiration. Consoling a confused city and offering them words of encouragement seemed trivial compared to the looming threat of an unstoppable slayer of worlds, but they couldn't help themselves.

The war between monsters and humans has suffered enough casualties. If there is one thing that can be done to help make amends for the even greater level of suffering imposed by their past Genocides, Frisk knows stopping further bloodshed would be a good start to a long path of redemption.

A path I may not be able to finish by the time they arrive... how long will my doppelganger wait before coming back? Weeks? Days? Hours...?

Every time Frisk dwells on the inevitable encounter, the butterflies in their stomach grow more erratic. Chara's words left no room for interpretation. Their shared tormenter is practically invincible; fighting will not change what's to come.

Still, they'll fight anyway. They owe that much.

Nearby, a car breaks away from the continuous queue of vehicles and pulls up beside the weary human. They only see it in their peripheral vision, paying the driver no mind. Undoubtedly a civilian craving an interview with Mirstone's most recent subject of controversy. It's only after the car door opens that Frisk turns to the noise-

-and stops once their eyes process the grey station wagon. The very same vehicle they've ridden in for years with-

"Frisk?"

Time pauses. All other noise, such as the continual honking and strong wind, are rendered extraneous, and thus, indecipherable. Even the sound of their own heartbeat pounding away in their ears is relegated to a nonessential process.

Having walked around the hood of the vehicle, Toriel stands just a meter away on the same sidewalk, her stunned expression looking exactly how Frisk feels. They both stand there, residing in the same pocket of reality exclusive to its only two residents.

A step is taken without even realizing it, their mind subconsciously gravitating towards what may as well be a beacon. The brightest beacon Frisk has ever seen. Toriel doesn't give them a chance to get closer. She lunges forward, entrapping the human in a solid embrace, the wetness of her tears warm against their skin. Suddenly, Frisk too is crying.

Together, they tighten their hold against the other, almost as if to make sure this is real. And to their immeasurable relief, it is.

***

To say learning of the human's secretive misdeeds made Toriel overwhelmed with conflict would be an understatement deserving of laughter. Truthfully, she didn't know who or what she'd find near City Hall. It'd either be a cold shell of the person she believed to have loved her, or a complete stranger content with no longer masquerading as a monster sympathizer.

What she found instead was Frisk. No imposter, no lesser version, just Frisk. The child who made every day worth relishing. The child who always tried to do nothing but the right thing. The child whom she loved dearly. Her child.

Not much was said on the way home, likely due to neither they nor Toriel wanting to shatter what could be a wishful illusion. But no words were needed. Instead, they held each other's hands, pleased with the lively warmth of the other's palm. No matter what happens, another separation will never come to pass. She won't allow it.