𝙉𝙮𝙭𝙚𝙧𝙖 ✧

The Forgotten

That child in the blue-and-pink-striped sweater, the one who had once ventured through the Underground, was a distant echo.

A soul that wandered through countless timelines, slipping between kindness and cruelty, innocence and destruction.

Each timeline was different.
In some, that child made friends with every monster they met.
In others, they killed everyone.

Some timelines ended in laughter, others in tears.
And sometimes, everything ended in nothing but silence.
Countless timelines. Countless possibilities.

But all of that… was gone now.

Those memories—wiped away, lost somewhere beyond Frisk’s reach.

The child that once stumbled through those paths no longer existed.
In their place was someone new:
the warrior of Natlan.

A person forged in the fires of war and tempered by determination.

A person with no memory of the choices they had made in those fragmented realities.

Sans leaned back, his hands resting loosely in the pockets of his jacket.

His grin stayed, but his gaze was heavy.
He knew.

He had seen this child in every form—timid and fearful, brave and reckless, merciful and monstrous.
Now here they sat beside him,
a stranger and yet not.

Frisk shifted slightly, their brow furrowed in quiet confusion.

There was something… strange about all of this. Something they couldn’t quite place.

They glanced at Sans, and for a brief moment, the uneasy feeling inside them bubbled to the surface.
“I feel like…” Frisk trailed off, struggling to find the right words.

Sans didn’t say anything. He just waited, patient and still, as if he had all the time in the world.

“I feel like I’ve… seen you before.” Frisk’s voice was quiet, hesitant.
“Like we’ve met. But… I don’t know how.
Or when.”

Their fingers tightened slightly around the cup.

The feeling was so strong—like deja vu, but deeper. It gnawed at the edges of their mind, just out of reach, like a dream they couldn’t quite remember.

“I don’t know why,” Frisk murmured,
“but it’s like… I know you.” They turned to him, their eyes searching his face.

“Have we met before?”

Sans didn’t answer right away. He just stared at them, his gaze steady but distant, as if he were looking through them—through all the versions of them he had ever known.

And then he gave a small, quiet chuckle, the kind that carried both sadness and relief.

“maybe yeah,” Sans said softly.

“something like that.”

Frisk tilted their head, waiting for him to explain. But Sans didn’t.

Some things were better left unsaid. Some things were better left in the past, where they couldn’t hurt anyone anymore.

“don’t sweat it, kid,” Sans said, his voice light but gentle.
“you did good this time. that’s what matters.”

Frisk blinked, confused. “This time?”

Sans gave them a small, knowing smile.

“yeah.” His gaze softened, and for the briefest moment, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something old and tired, but grateful.

“this time, you did something new. and that’s a pretty big deal.”

Frisk frowned slightly, the confusion lingering in their mind, but something about Sans’s words felt… right.

As if they carried the weight of something important—something they didn’t fully understand, but didn’t need to.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the distant sounds of laughter and music.

The weight of the war had lifted, but the past lingered—just out of reach, like a shadow that never quite faded.

Frisk broke the silence first.
“Before the Pyro Archon announced the monsters,”
they said slowly,
“I almost… fell. Into the Underground.”

Sans’s grin twitched, but he didn’t interrupt.

“But Kachina grabbed me just in time.”
Frisk let out a soft breath, their lips curving into a small, thoughtful smile.
“She saved me from falling.”

Sans leaned back further, his grin relaxing into something softer, quieter.

thank you, kid.

he thought, though he knew Kachina wasn’t there to hear it.

thanks for saving us from the loop.

Frisk fell silent again, their thoughts drifting. The strange sense of familiarity with Sans still lingered, but it no longer felt unsettling. It was… comforting, in a way.

They glanced at him again.
“Do you think… things will be okay now? Between humans and monsters?”

Sans shrugged, his grin tilting slightly. “dunno. but hey—you made it this far, didn’t ya?”

Frisk smiled, the warmth of his words settling deep in their heart.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

They just sat together, side by side, as the celebration continued around them.

The past was gone, the future uncertain—but here, in this moment, everything felt just right.

Eventually, Sans pushed himself to his feet, brushing off his jacket.

“welp, I should probably get back to the others before papyrus starts worrying about me.”

Frisk stood too, their heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time.

“see ya around, kiddo.”
Sans said with a casual wave, his grin lingering as he turned to leave.

Frisk watched him go, the strange sense of familiarity still lingering, but this time, they didn’t mind.

Some things didn’t need answers.
Some things just… were.

And in the end, it didn’t really matter who they used to be.

What mattered was who they were now—a warrior of Natlan, a protector of both humans and monsters,
someone determined to forge a new future.

Frisk smiled to themselves, the echo of the past fading into the background as they turned back toward the celebration.