The night went on with you mostly doing the work as Sans watched intently. You couldn't tell if he was watching you or the forklift doing the work, though it barely mattered. Most monsters his size end up leaving within a week. You thought to yourself. A part of you sort of hoped he wouldn't, though, since this is the first in many 'pair-ups' that didn't end in violence.

But the night wasn't quite over, yet.

The sun rose at about seven thirty, and you struggled to get the last of the boxes for the ModMedical shipment down and pushed to the overhead door, where the truck would arrive to load it and bring it out of the city. Setting down what marked two-thirds of the shipment, you hop off the forklift with an exasperated and frustrated sigh.

If he wasn't here I could finish this stupid job...

"Hey, Sans." You called out to him, and he snapped out of whatever thought he was lost in.

"Uh! Yeah?"

"I kinda wore myself out." You reached into your pocket and pulled out some single bills. You hand them to him. "Wanna run up and get me a water from the vending machine? I need a minute to re-juice the forklift. If there's enough, help yourself to something."

"Okay." He started casually walking and let the door swing behind him as he started up the stairs. With a sigh of relief, you pull off your glove and reach your hand up to the highest shelf.

"Come down." You ordered quietly.

You felt the rush of energy coarse through your body and into your hand, and the bones began to glow. The burn lasted a while before it went numb as you lifted six boxes at once and brought them to the floor, tucked in the empty space you had made earlier from the second shipment. With one last push, you start to move the second box when.

*Whoosh, Ka-chick.*

The sound of the door to the stairs. You rushed to put your glove back on and felt the energy being blocked from the fabric. You struggled against the burn of the resisting magic as Sans walked toward you, holding two bottles of water. Improvising, you slowly reach your hand to him and take the bottle. Feeling something material in your hand helped to control the movement of the heavy box that was quivering over thirty feet in the air. You slowly brought yourself and the water to the floor, and the box followed, hitting the floor with a quiet thud. Sans glanced over just in time to see the box shift an inch and you feel sweat on your brow.

"Did that box move?" He asked.

"It.. It might have." You say carefully. "A couple ghosts have been coming in here at random since the barrier broke, so it could be them again."

"Heh. If you used the forklift on that box, would you be... Lifting their spirits?"

You chuckled a little. "You're full of those stupid jokes, aren't you?"

"Sure, I've got a skele-ton of 'em."

"Ah. So you have quite the funny bone?"

"I prefer the word humerus."

I should either be worried or excited about this. You realized for the first time in a while, you felt warm towards someone. It was a feeling that would rush from your belly up to your face, and it was as comforting as it was terrifying. This pile of bones made you forget who you were. What you were.

The memories, however, always came back. You quickly gathered yourself after a few laughs and looked at the row of boxes.

"Back to work for me."

"I'll keep watch for ya."

**

It was about an hour before you finally made it to the apartment complex, which was about ten blocks from the factory. You kept close to the buildings, giving no one eye contact as you shuffled in your jacket pocket for your keys. Making your way up the old stairway to the fourth floor, you finally reached home. The empty apartment welcomed you with a glowing alarm clock and the scent of old wood and fried foods from the street vendors just below your window.

The studio had your bed in the far left corner, and the living room (which was a dated couch and TV), separated by a partial wall and white column. Around the corner from the door was a small kitchen, and against the right was was the door to an even smaller bathroom. Nothing but the necessities. You thought to yourself. Save your pennies for freedom.

You dropped the ten extra pounds of clothes off your back and clicked the thermostat on before making your way to the couch. You reached for the remote on the side table and clicked the tv on, only to notice something written on the dim yellow wall behind the screen.

"What the fuck?" You whispered, getting up and inspecting the scribbles. They weren't any language you had seen- or maybe any language at all, but rather a mess of simple images. Sign language, maybe? Then again, amidst the drawings of hands were faces and strange letters.

More ghost tricks, maybe. There goes my deposit. You felt a little irritated, but then again you never expected to get that pitiful amount of money back, anyways. This place was a cozy dump, but it was the only thing you could find in your price range.

You felt your hands stinging, and as you pulled the gloves off you felt the skin underneath tear and bruise. You winced at the pain, then cringed as you saw a strip of skin two inches long hanging from your index finger. Groaning, you wandered over to the kitchen and grabbed the tape and gauze from the far left cabinet, which was always filled to the top with medical supplies. You used the tape to hold the skin in place, and the soft cotton to soak up the blood. Reaching into the back, you pulled out a white, almost iridescent liquid filling half of a five-ounce vial. You wiped your thumb clean, placed it on the top, and shook the vial, then licked the medicine off. You felt it cool your tongue and slide down your throat, making you shiver as it lowered your entire body temperature, making you feel tired. You struggled to unclasp your bra as you dreamily wandered into bed, ignoring the murmur of the news on the television as you fell into a deep sleep.

I gotta cut back on the magic for a while....

**

It had been a few weeks since Sans' first day, and you were both content with him watching as you did most of the work, sometimes with him holding up two clipboards and directing your placement of boxes with the forklift. During lunch, you sat and counted numbers while he helped himself to nourishment.

"You wear those gloves all the time." He stated after a while of silence.

You blinked, then looked down at your gloves. They went halfway up the arm, and were a very worn and restitched leather. Most of the stains had come out at first, but you never dared to check the inside fleece, which now felt ragged and hardened as it brushed (scraped?) against your skin.

"My.. My gloves. Huh. I guess I do." You looked back down at your work, pretending to be busy.

"Keeps the fingerprints off the bodies, eh, Killer?" He smiled wide, as usual.

"You're pushing it, bone boy." You muttered, but shot him a small grin and sighed, while taking a drink of water. "They keep my hands warm, while I'm handling the machine."

"We've had a few warmer days, and you still had them on."

"Then I guess they're comfortable."

He took a deep breath, then exhaled loudly. "You sure got your secrets, babe."

Babe. You nearly choked on your water in surprise. "Don't call me that!"

"Huh? Call you what?"

"You know what!"

He shrugged with a cheeky grin. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Blood rushed to your face, then you quickly composed yourself. Easy, girl. We don't need another HR visit this year.

You regained composure and looked at him with your usual, passive stare. "Everyone's got secrets, Sans."

"Heh. That's true."

You noticed something change in his eyes, and an interest peaked.

"So, why did you come up to the surface?" You asked.

"Huh?"

"A lot of monsters had their reasons for coming up here or staying underground. What's yours?"

"Well, after everything that happened, there wasn't much left for us Underground. So, we live up here."

"You and your brother, right?"

"Papyrus, yeah. You'd like him. He's really cool." He chuckled. "We also take care of the kid who got us here in the first place, when her mom goes out. We've sort of got a family going on up here, which is pretty great for the both of us."

For a split moment, though you weren't sure if you imagined it, you saw a white hand lightly place itself on Sans' shoulder. Though, when you blinked, it was gone.

"What about you?" Sans looked back at you, watching closely. "I've been talking about myself since we met."

"Me?" I'm a paranoid loner. "There's not much to talk about. I'm just here."

"No one at the homestead?"

"No."

It was quiet, then Sans spoke:

"You got a phone?" He held out his hand.

"Uh," You reached into your lower leg pocket and pulled out a small flip phone. "Right here-"

He snatched it suddenly and dialed a number. His phone rang, and as he saved the number, he winked at you.

"If the only time you spend with people is at work, it's probably not healthy." He handed your phone back at you as you glared. "I'm sure Papyrus would love another human friend to torment with puzzles. You should hang out with us sometime."

The offering caught you off guard, and as you put your phone back into your pocket you fought off a smile.

"You're an odd one, Sans."

"You know it, babe."

Before you could react, he was already setting his tray on the waste bin and heading down the stairs.

You have no idea what you're getting yourself into.

As you thought it, you weren't sure if it was directed at Sans or yourself.

...

Or if it was even your thought at all.