Handplates - Pills -

Witness

"SANS! BROTHER, I MISSED YOU!" Papyrus' reedy voice fills Sans' head, pounding round his skull.
"...Hey..." He murmurs, and pushes himself up into a sitting position. The stone is freezing against his bones, but he can barely feel the bite of the cold. At least he can actually see now. He leans against the wall, and surveys the cell, lit up by the blue beams of the entrance. 

"WHAT DID GASTER DO? I HOPE IT WASN'T ANYTHING BAD?"
Sans bites back the urge to snap back that the doc is always bad and replies with just:
"Yeah, it was a bit rough, but I'm fine, bro, really" He knows he isn't, but it'd be kinder to Pap if he pretends.
"WHAT DID HE WANT TO KNOW?"
"Well, we just had a bit of fun with those visions I was having...."
"OOOH! DID YOU SEE THEM CLEARER? YOU SAID YOU ALWAYS WANTED TO SEE THEM BETTER!"
"I guess you could say I saw them a little clearer, Pap." Sans sighs, and Papyrus looks at him with concern.
"YOU SEEM AWFULLY TIRED, BROTHER. GUESS WHAT? THE GREAT PAPYRUS HAS A PUZZLE TO KEEP YOU AWAKE AND MAKE YOU HAPPY!"
"Nah, I'm fine, don't worry." Sans said. "See? I'm not even yawning." It was true – Sans wasn't feeling tired, not yet, but empty, like someone had washed out his insides. He needed time to think it all over, to relive the vision, to work out what it meant, and he couldn't do that with Pap. The guy needed some positivity, not more depressing thoughts from his half-dead brother.
"NYEH? SANS NOT EVEN TIRED? I SMELL A LIE! YOU'RE ALWAYS TIRED!" Papyrus said triumphantly, waving his hands in the air in exaggerated emotion.
"Listen bro, I'm fine. I just need time to think" Sans replied, dragging a hand over his face.
"THE GRRREAT PAPYRUS HAS A GAME WITH THE COLOUR CUBE YOU ARE SURE TO ENJO-" but Sans cuts him off with a shout. "Pap, I need to be alone!" The younger skeleton jumps from the noise, his face scrunching up and tears welling in his eyes.

Sans continues, with a softer voice, putting an arm round his brother's waist, "Sorry bro." He fakes a yawn, before adding: "See? Maybe I am tired after all. Lemme sleep a little, and then we can do all the puzzles you want. Okay?" Pap nods, and Sans makes his way over to the other side of the cell. He curls up and faces the wall, thinking over the day.

Memories of the red and gold come flooding back, complete with a striped jumper and cruel smile. The force of the recollections hit Sans like a steam train, and he sucks in a breath. The vision rushes through his mind: the wound, falling to his knees, the figure and the knife. In place of curiosity of the person, he feels only cold, hollow anger. That one second flashes through his mind again and again: a drop of blood on the gold tiles, and the grin spreading over their face. He can still see the blood between his fingers, feel it welling up and pushing through his teeth. 

He clamps his fingers across his mouth, muffling the sob, and closes his eye sockets against the pain. His brother stirs from across the room, but doesn't come over. Papyrus has great hopes for the visions, thinking they're proof of escape and freedom, but Sans knows better. He hugs himself, trying to suppress the tremours passing through his shaking body, as his mind goes over and over one fact:

He just witnessed his own death.