interstellar5555 | 'Cause I'm Lonely and I'm Blue

Entry tags:

'Cause I'm Lonely and I'm Blue

Who: Frisk, Connie, Greg, Papyrus, and Sans
What: Rescuers rescue the kidnapped rescuer of kidnapped
When: April 20
Where: Wave Boulevard Mall, Spooky Virgo Torture Dungeon
Warnings: mention of serious violence at the least

It's been a week since Sans smuggled his fellow musicians from Virgo, contacted allies to let them know he was leaving... and then evidently vanished altogether. It's been two days since articles surfaced talking about his wild bender that ended him up in rehab, and isn't it a shame, let's all keep him in our thoughts.

Sans didn't ever have a whole lot of fans. The guy kept to himself, rarely made appearances, and generally only performed just well enough to justify being in the band in the first place. His legacy would likely be the toc-tic pun memes that would go around for a couple weeks, then fade out into obscurity. People wouldn't miss him.

It's pretty much all that's been on Greg's mind. His friend made a heroic effort, and paid for it. It's his fault. But life goes on, right?

So here he is. Buying flowers for his bedroom. To liven the place up, you know? Add some color, to contrast the blackened char left behind by giant laser blasts. It'll really brighten things up.

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This isn't real.

That's what his mind keeps telling him. Greg and Papyrus breaking him free from his bonds already feels like something he just imagined, and that any minute now the other shoe is going to drop and he'll be wrenched back into that world of pain and misery. He feels like he needs to scream for help, but his voice won't come to him. No one will hear him, anyway.

He can't keep standing like this. Slowly, he sinks down closer to the floor, the blaster sinking down with him, keeping him supported. His visible eye flickers around the room feverishly, like he's trying to see something that isn't there. All there is is him and a lone skeleton. (It isn't real, it isn't real.)

"You're not here," he tells Papyrus, his voice ragged and crazed. "You left me here."

He clutches his broken eye, the cracks extending from the socket and all the way down his face, and across the back of his skull. Magic seeps out of the worst of the breaks. He lets out a formless yell, like a cry of anger or pain.

Various small objects that have been left strewn about the space abruptly teleport several feet in the air, and then drop to the floor.

"Left you...?" That's absurd, Sans is the one who left Papyrus. First accidentally, when he was kidnapped, then intentionally, when he teleported out of that first room. Could he be talking about the Fairy Trials? Even then, Sans was the one to run away. Surely he remembers that. Right?

"I had to wait until that chip was gone! Remember?" Papyrus yelps as he scrabbles to his side, trying to get pressure on his brother's skull and stop the cracks from spreading, with his own hands if he can. "So stop that! Sans, whatever you're doing, you're just hurting yourself more! Your head...!"

Sans reacts to being touched by immediately trying to squirm away, grunting raggedly through his teeth. He tries to push Papyrus back with one of his hands, but he essentially has no strength what so ever to push with at this point, and its as ineffectual as it would be if he wasn't pushing at all.

The blaster rise up defensively, breathing wisps of magic aura more or less down Papyrus's neck.

"Get out of my head," he yells again, increasingly desperate, thrashing around despite his own frailty. "Just let me die."

It won't matter. He's nothing. There's nothing left.

Edited (typos) 2016-05-02 19:20 (UTC)

If he just pretends hard enough that the blasters aren't being dangerous, then they won't do anything dangerous.

Or so he hopes. He doesn't really have the attention to spare on them anyway; not with the way Sans is trying to push Papyrus away, moving around and making everything worse for himself, or the awful things he's saying. How could he say that? How could he even start to mean that?

"No! How can you say that?" Papyrus draws back, appalled. "I'm not going to do that! That's the last thing I want! I'm here for you, brother! To save you!"

Maybe if he lowers his hands to hold Sans' hands instead, his brother won't feel so pinned in. Maybe if he pulls Sans' hands up to his face, where Papyrus can feel the tears trickling trickling down his cheekbones, Sans will finally start to realize where he is and what's going on. Something, anything to get through to the bonehead that his brother is here to help, he doesn't need to be so nihilistic or frightened.

It took a while, but Stella feels it now - more though Papyrus's intent towards Sans than through his intent towards her. It's what the signal to alert her is based on. She is more than eager to get to Sans after what's happened to him, and is relieved to realize that he's gotten out at all.

She appears as a softly glowing specter above the brothers, visible to both. The shock is clear on her face as she sees the state Sans is in - and the way that he fights against Papyrus's aid. What he needs healing in is all too clear. She offer Papyrus a nod to show she understands, and slips down behind Sans to gently place her ghost hands on each side of his skull. He'll be able to feel her, now - she can only hope he'll accept the gift. From both of them.

It will take time to repair damage this deep, and more power than she can offer - but she can get him started, and sooth the worst of his pain, for now.

Sans shakes as Papyrus moves his hands to his face, like he still doesn't understand what he's feeling. The person before him doesn't even seem real, doesn't seem like someone whose emotions he can understand or be sure of. All he can tell is that something is dragging back from the release that he wants so badly, and its scares him into a panic, tortured and wild. It's not clear how long he'll have to fight this, until aid comes in another form.

Stella's touch frightens Sans enough that one of his blasters finally goes off - straight into the wall on the far side of the room. All he can feel at first is something pushing inside of his mind again, and he knows all too well where this is going. He pulls back even as his hands stay in place like he's hoping that moving his head away will make the feeling stop. He doesn't understand and he's too afraid to try to.

"Stop. Stop," he begs, as Stella's influence starts to take root in his unreasoning mind. "Pl-Please..." Even as he tries to fight it off, though, the soothing nature of her love is starting to quell some of the pain. The feeling swiftly becomes comfortable, even desirable. The nature of Sans's own alignment has been so thoroughly buried by what the labels did to him - to Stella it will feel like a matter of opening heavily locked doors.

He gradually stops fighting Papyrus, his pleas becoming quieter and unfocused. It takes minutes, if not much longer, for Stella to sort through the tangles and tears left by his torture. Slowly, though, it brings a calm over him, his eyes falling close restfully as the cracks - while not fully healing - seem to stabilize against further damage. When she's finally done, she vanishes, and Sans is left to hazily open his eyes, both of his pupils now fully forms and capable of sight even as cracks still line his socket.

He sees Papyrus's face, and for the first time in so long, he understands what it means. He is overwhelmed and so very tired, but he knows what he's seeing. Tears break over his cheekbones as well, his hands wet with Papyrus's as he hands still hold his little brother's face.

"Papyrus..." he says, his fingers actively holding on now instead of just being positioned by the other skeleton's grip. He seems stunned, or perhaps uncomprehending.

He's been handed a reason to keep living.

Finally, finally, Stella appears. His earlier calls must have gone to her ghostly voicemail; good thing she apparently checks her messages frequently. She appears, and descends, and brings the help he'd asked for, while Sans is still too weak to get himself away.

A blaster fires, and probably wrecks a long gash in one of the walls, but Papyrus is too busy to care. He's holding onto his brother's hands, trying to steady him, to give him something solid to cling to.

And there's several minutes of that, of keeping Sans from bolting as he asks them to let him die, before something starts to change and he relaxes. Several minutes that Papyrus never wants to think of again. Not compared to the next minute, when Sans' eyesockets open and his proper eyelights form again. When he finally says Papyrus' name again.

"Yes! That's right! Are you feeling better now? Your eye is--" Papyrus scowls at Sans' forehead. "Oh my god! Your head is still cracked! Ugh, I guess she couldn't fix everything just like that."

Does Stella's voicemail have a complaints file? Papyrus has half a mind to lodge one. Or maybe he should go to the source and leave Virgo a few terrible voicemails.

He's filled with dizzying emotions a deep sense of weariness. So many new memories seem to have opened up all at once, bits and pieces of a whole life and part of himself that he'd completely forgotten for all of this time. A segment of his existence - a foundational core - that he'd had ripped away from him and replaced with nothing. Knowing that it was gone now that it's returned... he can't imagine how he survived. It's like realizing how to see after years of being blind.

He feels ashamed, in remembering, to have put Papyrus in this position. To have shown him this. Along with a deep, abiding love, there are feelings of responsibility and fear all their own. So many things he's not told him, so many things he'd decided that Papyrus is better without. Sans feels like all of that has been put on display here against his will. He's said things he can never take back, and in some ways that hurts him as much as having forgotten.

He hates that this has been done to him. That he's been shattered opened like this and that his brother has been forced to watch. That particular indignity has only occurred to him now. His entire existence feels shameful and detrimental to something so pure and good in his eyes.

He was always so scared of the idea of family. Of people who had to care for him no matter how terrible he was. All this time, that fear had been real.

But with that regret and shame, there is relief. There's peace within Papyrus's hold that he couldn't have found anywhere else, and despite these feelings of self disgust, his frightened exhaustion is happy to let everything else go away in favour of giving himself over to his brother.

"Kinda... Kinda been cracking up over here without you, bro," he says tiredly, drooping forward against Papyrus's body, another few tears running down his cheeks.

Being addressed by name was one thing, but at being called 'bro' again? Papyrus' breath catches, and it's a good thing his brother isn't looking at his face any more, with a truly embarrassing amount of tears streaming out now. Who knew it was possible to feel this relieved?

He quickly coughs to cover any sob-like sounds, and shifts to a half-hug that lets Sans lean against his shoulder. Because clearly Sans needs it, and who's Papyrus to deny his far-too-long missing brother a hug? Or ten. If he hints that he wants them. Or just doesn't complain about them. He'd be happy to provide them, entirely out of the goodness of his heart.

"Believe me, I noticed! It's no wonder they took you away alone. Without your cool brother to look after you, you've been so susceptible to their terrible trickery! Not that you're the only one," he concedes. "There are a lot of musicians. And they've been doing this for a very long time. They're very good at tricking and hurting people!"

Sure, the ex-musician would have a better idea how many others there are, or and what kinds of things the labels put their victims through. But it's good to hear other people say things confirm things. It seems like Sans didn't really crack up until after he'd been tortured, and nobody could hold that against him.

"In fact, I feel I ought to tell you," Papyrus continues on, "I'm actually... very impressed! All of the kidnapped people got twisted around, so you could hardly remember which way was 'up'... but! Somehow! In the midst of all that, you managed to save people, Sans."

Papyrus is partly talking himself up there (like he always does, Sans notes reflexively, and is somehow soothed by the fact that this is something that feels familiar again) but what he's saying is actually entirely accurate. Sans isn't really capable of observing it objectively at the moment, but he can feel it instinctively that so much of what's been done to him has been centered around that one keystone of disruption.

He couldn't have imagined having someone he was alright with letting look after him like that, and even now it feels out of place and intimidating in its way. Right now, though, he's too tired to do anything but accept this strange reality no matter how surreal it seems. He lets himself crumble against Papyrus completely, cradled by that supportive half hug. It really only takes one arm to get around him with their relative sizes.

The blasters slowly pull away, easing up along with Sans's mood. Acknowledging that the danger has passed, they vanish.

"So they made it, huh?" he asks, that last statement pulling his attention out of this warm, fuzzy haze. Even now he feels skeptical, despite everything. "They...didn't let me know that."

He's spent a long time being assured that his every effort is worthless.

Edited 2016-05-03 03:50 (UTC)

Hopefully time and repetition will let things sink in. Right now, they're both a little too emotionally worn out for any really new or meaningful conversation to happen. Papyrus bragging about his greatness (partly to remind Sans, partly to reassure himself) is easy to do anytime.

"Of course they didn't say that, they're louses!" It's hard to stomp while sitting on the floor hugging somebody, but Papyrus manages it, along with a disgusted huff. "The others made it. I don't know how many, I didn't ask. One of them, Rarity, is staying at the same place I am! She will probably be very glad to see you."

In fact, speaking of Rarity... she has the holographic projector right now, doesn't she? And sure, Sans might have that teleportation trick, but it doesn't mean he can instantly go anywhere. There's some kinds of rules it operates by.

Without the hologram... Well, they're a pair of skeletons in a world where skeletons are surprising and frightening props. They would not get far, undisguised as they are, without getting caught.

"Hmmm. I should probably give her a call," he decides, and pulls his communicator out of his pocket to settle it on his head, unfashionable headband holding it in place over his skull.

Sans just smiles slightly at Papyrus's outrage about the labels. It's hard to even know what form his own anger should take at this point, with all the things they've done. It's surpassed his ability to quantify. It feels more like a force of nature than a being that he can individually be angry with.

He perks up a little at Rarity's mention though, his eyes flickering more brightly for a moment in attention. She's okay. God. Of all of them, he was most scared for her. Flowers Over Bones had each other - Rarity had left on her own.

He can hear Papyrus talking to her, and the fact that he knows she's on the other end lets him relax. He settles again Papyrus again and listens to the conversation, grinning faintly at what is clearly a comedic misunderstanding and slowly beginning to doze despite himself. He only manages to wake up enough to sleepily point out that they're in 'the warehouse', certain that Rarity will know what he means.

His bones feel so heavy, and right now he feels the closest thing to safe that he has in a long time.

The conversation is brief, and strangely worded on Rarity's end. It's not until it's nearly over that Papyrus realizes why she's speaking as she is; she's afraid of being overheard!

And here he went and missed one of the best opportunities for using coded turns of phrase. He had some really good ones saved, too. Sure, maybe nobody else would know what he meant... but that meant bad guys wouldn't know either. Which would technically be a victory for Papyrus.

"She knew where you meant. Even though your description was terrible! 'The warehouse,'" he imitates Sans' low and chuckling voice as best he can. "I can't believe she knew where you meant. Did you come here together on a picnic? Not for the view, I hope."

But Sans seems to be falling asleep, so Papyrus just continues muttering to himself, not expecting answers. With no idea where in the city they actually are, who knows how long it'll be until the cavalry appears?

Not terribly long, as it turns out.

Their conversation is very brief but also very important, and Rarity moves quickly. Of course, it helps that she's come to know more of the smaller and sneakier thoroughfares of the city by necessity, and also that she was relatively close to begin with.

She takes the last few blocks at a calm, casual pace, despite the fact that it's killing her to wait any longer than she already has - but she can't afford to give the game away. She makes certain there's nobody around before slipping into the warehouse, taking a moment to drop her disguise and listen.

Someone's muttering, it seems, and she follows the sound to find Papyrus and-

"Sans!" She drops her bags by the door and drops to her knees next to the skeleton brothers. He's alive- but he's terribly hurt- she doesn't know what to do- she doesn't even want to touch him for fear that he'll fall apart completely-

For a moment, she's overcome, and she looks at Papyrus for reassurance.

It's been weeks since Sans slept well, and this nap alone feels more satisfying than anything he's had for a while. Papyrus grumbling about vague descriptions serves as the perfect lullaby. Of course, that doesn't stop Rarity's presence from drawing his attention.

He shifts in Papyrus's arms slightly, opening his sockets enough to see who it is. He's slow to speak, but it comes eventually.

"Hey buddy," he says lethargically.

Papyrus nods at Rarity, grinning far more cheerfully than his brother's injuries might seem to warrant. But Sans isn't dust, and he's here and recognizing him. Everything else... is just details that they can work out, somehow.

He loosens the hug enough that Sans could choose to sit independently, if he wanted to, but keeps his arm to provide a backrest.

"See! He's still injured," Papyrus admits, "apparently blue, dead people ghosts aren't very good at healing magic... but this is an improvement!"

Don't ask what kind of condition he was in when they found him, Rarity. Nobody wants to give or hear the answer to that kind of question. Especially not in this moment of happy reunion.

Edited (blue people are typically not human) 2016-05-03 18:01 (UTC)

Papyrus is grinning, and Sans is- he's alive, and he's safe, and he's talking to her, and-

Rarity is smiling and crying, all at once, silently, before she really realizes it. She reaches out and gently - tentatively, even, he looks so fragile - takes one of Sans' hands in hers. "I think it's a different kind of healing," she manages, voice barely above a whisper.

He clasps his fingers around hers, his grin managing to look more like an actual smile than a grimace as he does so. He's still in a lot of pain, but the opportunity to rest and the relative peace that's been brought to his mind makes all of this feel relaxing in comparison.

He's not good at dealing with other people's emotions. He's not really sure what to say about her crying - crying about him of all things - and he doesn't really have any reassurances to offer, either. But he's relieved. He's really, really relieved to see her here, and okay.

"Good point," he says, and weakly gestures up to her horn with a lopsided grin.

That's a suspiciously familiar tone of voice, weary as it is. And paired with that hand gesture to Rarity's head... Papyrus gets it.

"Ugh," he groans, clapping his free hand to his forehead. "It's so good to have you back, brother! And your sense of humor. I'm glad they didn't break your... funny bone." It doesn't occur to him to wince at the terrible timing of the joke, given the more persistent injuries. After all, Sans already made that cracking up pun. The topic must be fair game.

Edited (needed a little more narration) 2016-05-03 23:58 (UTC)

They're making puns.

It takes a moment for that to sink in, but when it does, Rarity buries her face in her free hand. She wants to laugh, but she's still a bit too overwrought to get all the way there. She winds up somewhere between laughter and sobbing; whatever it is, it's not exactly pretty, but it does feel good.

It takes her a few more moments to pull herself together and manage to speak. "Well, if you're both going to be boneheads about it..." It's a bit ruder than she likes; hopefully they'll appreciate it regardless.

Another deep breath sets her on a more even keel, and she removes the hologram projector from her wrist and offers it to Papyrus. "Here. Get him home."

Edited (Typo fix) 2016-05-04 15:43 (UTC)

He can't help but smile a bit more broadly at the sound that Rarity makes. Ah. What a gal. She never seems to do anything half way, and right now that is making him feel exceptionally fond. He's really fond of both of these people, despite everything going wrong in his head.

He chuckles in soft appreciation (any more would be too jarring to his ribs) and leans back against his brother. He squeezes her hand once more before letting her go so that he can brace himself for being picked up.

Teleporting would be so much easier, he thinks, but he doesn't know where he's going and he's not sure he has the magic left to do it anyway.

Edited 2016-05-04 15:57 (UTC)

Papyrus cackles a cacophony of "nyeh heh heh," following Rarity's contribution. Affectionate mockery of Sans is music to his non-existent ears. He can handle being lumped into the 'boneheads' category this one time, especially since it was his bad for not having a disguise with him.

Well, maybe it was a little bit Lion's fault too, dragging him off without warning. But a skeleton should be prepared for anything! And... that includes glowing pink teleporting lions...? This train of thought got away from him somewhere.

He accepts the hologram projector with a decisive nod, and begins fiddling with the settings to make something that could conceivably cover both of the brothers. While he does, he glances up at her. "What about you? I could give you a call when we get there! And come back for you. With a hat?" A big hat should hide all that's inhuman about her, right...?

Rarity is already coming up with a disguise as Papyrus chatters and fiddles with the projector. "Send it back with someone who doesn't need it - perhaps Frisk or Connie?" She magics her shopping bags over to her and removes a length of fleece. She'd been planning on making a blanket, but there are currently better uses for it. "Here. Wrap Sans in this and carry him. The story is that your son wore himself out playing at the park, and you simply didn't have the heart to wake him up for the walk home."

Sans titters again at that comment. Ha ha, Rarity is on a roll. Also, he is increasingly delirious with injury and exhaustion, so it's probably even funnier than it would be normally.

"Ah, classic Sans," he comments, the regained memories of his life with Papyrus still fresh and somehow novel. He likes that it's familiar. It helps, he thinks.

Rarity's still making them? That's it, the punning is contagious and they're all doomed to lives of wordplay. Papyrus grumbles something wordless and sighs, resigned to their fates. He nods a thanks to Rarity as he accepts the fleece as well.

"It is! This won't be the first time I've carried you home," he confirms, "but usually it's because you fell asleep, at the bar."

'Cause I'm Lonely and I'm Blue

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