(This chapter is brought to you by 90% revitalization from MissRooster and their wonderful comments, 5% energy and excitement spurred by a completely different fandom, and 5% self-loathing. Please enjoy! —a sheepish and apologetic Lunar)

Y/N stood alone.

Like usual.

Snow billowed around her, a blizzard in the making. Wind nipped at her cheeks, froze her lips blue, and numbed her fingertips. She didn't think she had ever been so cold. The chill she had was breaking over her. Her hoodie was of no help, and now she noticed that she wasn't wearing it. She just had her plain white t-shirt.

Far in the distance—or maybe it just seemed like it with the howl of the wind?—trees of pine shook, needles chattering with their own complaints.

"Hello?"

Her yell was lost to the hurricane of snow.

"Anybody?"

No response.

She really was alone.

Y/N might have cried then, but she knew that any tears she shed would only warm her cheeks for moments before they would glue to her face, becoming frozen reminders of her sorrow.

So instead she dropped to the ground, huddling her body into a ball. The better to conserve heat, or so she had read off the Internet one time. Her arms almost had a thin layer of ice covering them, crackling as she moved and her heart beat.

For once, her hope was draining from her. She usually had all the hope to give—she loved life (at least some of the time). She wanted the rest of the world to have it, too. But now, amidst only the feelings of cold, it trickled away, bleeding out of her, almost like blood soaking the white to red.

"Y/N?"

No.

"Mom?" she shouted back into the wind, pushing up to her knees, then teetering on frozen feet. Frostbite would take her limbs, but the cold could not take her voice. "Mom, I'm here! I'm here!"

The snow spoke back to her—softly, but she could still hear it. "Y/N, baby, where are you? I can't see you!"

There was no question. That was her mother's voice.

-HOPE RESTORED-

85/85

Y/N outstretched her arms, reaching forward and grasping only snowflakes. "Don't move, Mom! I'll come to you!"

"Okay, baby, I'll stay right here!"

The stinging prickle of winter forced her forward. Desperation clung to her like the snow crystals blanketing her hair and the flecks of ice growing on her eyelids. Exposed to the elements like this, she wouldn't last long. But her DETERMINATION burned bright as a beacon, shining through the storm.

"Mom?" she called out once again, unwillingly swallowing a gust of frigid air and frozen dust as she did so.

This time, the wind did not call back.

"Mom?!" This time her voice was a scream.

No answer.

Y/N collapsed back to her knees. She had wasted precious time and energy searching for ghosts. Her mother wasn't coming back for her.  She would never. She broke the promise—the promise to always come back for her, no matter what.

It was only then that she began to cry. Over the years she had perfected the art of silent tears. The remnants would still be there, plain to see, frozen to her face. Yet even if the wind dissipated, no one would hear her.

Though she hated being alone, her inability—or, rather, her difficulty—to connect with other people isolated her, forcing her into a persona of aloofness as she tried to maintain some semblance of her sanity. Maybe it had always been that way. Or maybe, in her self-sabotaging illusion of her life, she had made sure of it.

The snow bit at her now. It would consume her in moments. The flurries blew around her. She was being swallowed whole...

And yet, despite her presence on Death's doorstep, she was not let in.

Just the moment that she thought she would finally cave to her mother's call, her murmur from the other side, the world began to slow. The wind died from its mighty roar to only a whisper in a minute, and the snow became only a few flakes that drifted from gray clouds, circling above.

All was still.

Then someone took her hand, and Y/N was pulled up to standing and held by the arm. She looked—to her side was a shadow, materialized into form. Red eyes, red smile, hair blowing ever so slightly.

"Hello, Y/N."

Y/N blinked, sniffling, and the shadow was a person. They had choppy mahogany hair, irises that glimmered like rubies, a green sweater with two yellow stripes, brown shorts, white calf-length socks, and black sneakers. Their smile was cool, but not heartless—on the edges, there was a glimpse of warmth and kindness.

"I'm—"

"Chara."

Their grin curled, knowing and sly. "You've heard of me."

Y/N tilted her head back and forth, thinking back and remembering a younger face, smushed next to a white goat, beaming even wider than them. They had both looked so happy, almost glowing from the better world through the glossy paper they were printed on. "Toriel has mentioned you before, once or maybe twice."

The smile slipped. "...oh."

With the mood successfully killed, Y/N cleared her throat, scratching at the back of her scalp. "So, um...what are you...doing here?"

"I thought I might visit you." Chara couldn't help but let the smile return, impish in nature. "After all, with a soul with such concentrated DETERMINATION, how could I stay away?"

The word, despite how strange it was alone, felt familiar, as it sifted around in her mind. It felt right. "Determination?"

Their face pulled, as though they hadn't expected her to not understand. "Yes, well...i-it's probably better to just show you. Open your Menu."

Y/N blinked, cheeks reddening. "...Menu?"

"Oh—just—just hold out your arm. Say 'Check.' That should do the trick. It'll show you your stats and your soul."

She obeyed meekly, extending her arm before her. "Uh...Check?"

A black rectangle with white text and a heart appeared. For a moment, Y/N studied the data: the 'LV' was at a 1—was that good?—and the 'EXP' was at 0. What did those mean? They felt arbitrary. Meaningless. Maybe to her they were, but to someone else they weren't? Who would care about 'LV' and 'EXP'?

Flowey did.

She shook off the thoughts of that accursed flower, a demon in disguise. It was best to keep him as far from her mind as possible. Especially the eyes that weren't quite eyes. If she stared at them too long, even from the safety of her mind, she feared she would see hell flickering behind them, until she was sucked in.

Instead, she glanced at the next stat, 'HP.' Now at least this one was rather familiar to her. Health points? She pondered the 85/85. Was that higher or lower than normal? Who was she to know? Humans and monsters battled in much different manners nowadays, and nifty little stats didn't usually show up like this on the Surface.

"Whoa."

Apparently, Chara was occupied with something, and Y/N glanced up. "What whoa?"

At the sight of her soul, however, her eyebrows shot in the air, awe illuminating her eyes. "Oh. That whoa."

Her soul was an upside-down heart. It burned a bright red, glowing with an imposing, yet soft aura. Yet as it turned, it shimmered in the light, revealing new colors bleeding from under the shining, almost polished surface. It reminded her of the way crystal refracts white light into all the colors: it spun slowly and she caught glimpses of yellow, orange, purple, blue, green, indigo. Beautiful, her heart beat, it beat.

Y/N tilted her head, furrowing her brows as she glanced between her soul and the slack-jawed entity that had decided to haunt her. "What's wrong with it?"

Chara stammered, unable to take their eyes off of it. "I don't know—I don't think anything is wrong with it?"

She squinted as she noted ripples of yellow and purple. "Then why is it...doing that?"

"I've never seen anything else like this. How would I know?"

"That's fair, I guess." Y/N murmured, almost to no one, as she let herself gaze lovingly at her soul. She was allowed to admire it, right? How could she not, with how pretty and wonderful it was? It made her insides flicker and her brain tickle. "It's kind of cool, though."

"Yeah."

Out of nowhere, and very unsteadily, Chara spoke again. "You know, um...you know, you could probably break the barrier?"

Like a deer in the headlights, Y/N swiveled her head to stare. "Wait, what?"

Helplessly, they shrugged, as though they themselves barely knew where that thought had come from. "I just...Frisk, for some reason, hasn't broken the barrier yet. Your SOUL—your DETERMINATION might be strong enough to."

"...uh..."

They groaned, looking away. "Look, just...forget it, okay? I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. I'm just being weird again."

Y/N regained her sense, shaking her head and holding her hands out in pacification. "No, it's fine, I just didn't know what to say. Break the barrier? Me?"

"Well, why not? Your SOUL is probably the strongest I've ever seen, right next to Frisk's. Its DETERMINATION concentration could possibly generate enough power to deactivate the barrier."

Y/N shrunk down. Oh, more gobbledygook. It was the Flowey fight all over again—no! Bad Y/N! You weren't supposed to think of it anymore! "Generate?"

Chara clicked their tongue, wringing their neck as they squinted to the sky for a moment, then back down to her. "Um...okay, imagine, for a second, that SOULS are generators. Depending on the condition they're in and whatnot, they can output a finite amount of power."

At the blank look she gave them, they rolled their eyes, crossing their arms in a mimic of a defense. "What? When you hang around a gloopy doctor all the time, you pick up some lingo."

They waved away that thought quickly. "Anyway, as I was saying, a SOUL in perfect condition could contribute a seventh of the power necessary to break the barrier. Seven human wizards, seven human souls necessary. Hence, the...unfortunate happenings to the other six."

Y/N winced. At least the last part she understood. "...oh."

Chara bulldozed over her sorrow and empathy to continue their tirade, not ready to stop now that they were on a roll. "Your SOUL could easily fill and even exceed that seventh gap. You might not even have to die for it to work."

Y/N froze, understanding only one word from that. "Die?"

Immediately they backpedaled, intelligently realizing that perhaps that was not the best thing to say in the moment. "L-like I said, your SOUL is strong, a-a-and it has a lot of DETERMINATION. There's no reason you shouldn't survive."

"Die?"

The blizzard started to pick up again, flurries rushing around them in the white-coated wind.

They glanced at their surroundings, wincing. "Oh, geez. Um, I think it's about time I skip town, anyway. Your dream's crumbling—or, uh, you're waking up."

The ever broken record: "Die?"

Chara nodded confidently, sure that she would probably be fine. "Yeah, I think I should go. Good luck! Try not to die. Dying's bad, yada yada, see you!"

Even as the snow whirled them away from sight and her dream faded around her, Y/N kept staring into the abyss. That one little word had sent her into a loop she couldn't break out of, a strange mixture of fear and acceptance of her fate leaving her stunned and paralyzed.

"Die?"

I don't want to die. Don't I?

(•)

Y/N opened her eyes to a white ceiling, already tired, and sighed. Today was Saturday, right? Ugh. Work. Opening shift at 8. Gotta get up.

With a groan, she sat up and stretched, yawning wide and itching her neck. Blearily, she sent a glance around the room in search of her closet with her uniform in it, but her eyes widened slightly from their exhausted droop as she realized there was a tornado in the corner.

Oh. Right. She was in the Underground. Yeah, the commute might be tricky from down here.

She squinted at the clock, reading a wonderful 12:17 PM. Besides, she was late anyway. No sense in getting up for nothing.

Y/N flopped backwards into the pillow and buzzed her lips. "Well then. Foiled."

What was most certainly not foiled was her hunger, which she was reminded of as she turned over in Sans's bed to get at least a couple more hours in and suddenly caught the smell of deliciousness wafting through the door. In an instant she bolted up, putting her nose in the air to sniff like a hound.

"Mmm...basil...tomato sauce...meat...pasta! Spaghetti for lunch!"

Still in her sweaty clothes from yesterday but rather uncaring at the prospect of eating good old fashioned Italian food, Y/N leapt from bed, clearing the distance to the door in one bound and kicking it open.

"FOOD!" she bellowed, thundering down the stairs two at a time and hitting almost every creaking spot—her arrival was basically announced for her by the time she swung around the bottom of the steps to stumble through the doorway, manic hunger in her eyes as she surveyed the scene. Her tiredness was all but forgotten.

Frisk was sitting at the table, appropriately traumatized by the way they stared at her, as Sans chuckled in the seat next to them with his head propped up by his hand. "told you she'd be here when she smelled it."

Y/N's gaze turned to Papyrus, seemingly unaffected by her crazed expression as he lifted up a wooden spoon covered in sauce and grinned at her. "HELLO THERE, HUMAN FRIEND! OH, SORRY, I MEAN Y/N! AS YOU CAN SEE, I MADE LUNCH! SANS SAID THAT YOU WERE SLEEPY LAST NIGHT, SO I WILL FORGIVE YOUR LATE ARRIVAL THIS ONCE."

She peered around him to see a lovely black pot, steaming with what could have only been a meal sent from God inside. She had to swallow back her saliva to prevent herself from visibly drooling.

"Eh, you might need to get used to it," she mumbled, not taking her eyes off of her next victim as she felt around the air for a chair. She pulled it out and sat in it, but only after a few tries, as her attention was on the food (Sans snickering throughout her failed attempts, of course).

"bad sleep schedule?" he finally asked, sympathetically, after Y/N managed to get her rear end in a chair with her focus elsewhere.

She shrugged, managing to pull her gaze away for just a moment to meet his sockets. "Yeah. Never managed to get it under control. I'm lucky I get to work on time with how bad it is sometimes."

"THAT'S UNFORTUNATE!" Papyrus chimed from over his shoulder, back to them as he turned off the heat and gave the pasta one last stir. "SANS HAS A SIMILAR SLEEPING ISSUE. HE BARELY SLEEPS AT NIGHT AND TAKES FREQUENT NAPS DURING THE DAY TO MAKE UP FOR IT. IT'S A VERY BAD SYSTEM. ANYWAY, WOULD YOU LIKE SOME OF MY FAMOUS SPAGHETTI?"

With a flourish, he pulled the pot off the stove and set it down in on pre-placed hot pads, and Y/N eyed it like prey.

Sans lifted three fingers and counted down, signature smirk wide. "three...two...one..."

She attacked the pot, dumping as much as she could politely dare into her bowl until it was heaped high, then proceeded to dive into her massive serving.

"hungry?" he teased, scooping himself a ladleful of sauce and noodles.

"Shut up," Y/N mumbled through chipmunk cheeks, which were themselves flushed with embarrassment (and led to a cheeky little smile from Frisk, who shook their head amusedly). "I don't get a lot to eat. The service industry sucks major ass and doesn't pay well enough to make up for it." Then she stabbed and twirled up more noodles to shove down her gullet.

After she finally managed to take a slower bite and register the taste, she moaned. "Oh my God. This is so good. This is better than Italian restaurants—hell, it's at least as good as the stuff actual Italian people make! How?"

Papyrus beamed, sockets somehow sparkling. "THANK YOU, FRIEND! IT IS DUE TO LOTS OF TRIAL AND ERROR! AT FIRST, UNDYNE TAUGHT ME HOW TO COOK, BUT THEN FRISK TOOK OVER, AND NOW I HAVE AN EXPANDED REPERTOIRE AND EVEN BETTER RECIPES!"

Mouth full themselves, Frisk signed with a proud grin: Besides, I have a little Italian in my blood. It's only natural.

Before long, Y/N lifted the last bite to her mouth and swallowed it quickly, leaving her plate completely cleaned, not even little traces of sauce left.

"ZOWIE!" Papyrus exclaimed, eye sockets wide in admiration. "YOU ATE IT ALL! I DID NOT THINK YOU COULD DO IT! HOW?"

Y/N's smiled a little at the familiar phrasing, then leaned back in her chair and patted her stomach in satisfaction. "Determination, buddy, and lots of perseverance."

Sans's gaze flickered over to her at that.

"WELL, I AM PLEASED THAT YOU ENJOYED IT SO!" Papyrus stood from his chair and lifted the pot up and away, some pasta still remaining for leftovers. "TONIGHT FRISK INSISTED THAT WE HAVE MEXICAN, SO WHAT IS YOUR OPINION ON TACOS?"

Y/N licked her lips at the mere thought of the spicy seasoning in her mouth. Toriel's cooking was amazing, but definitely not as eclectic as this. If she got home-cooked meals this good and different every day and night, there was no chance she was leaving the Underground any time soon. "One word: yum."

Sans laughed a little. "good, 'cause Frisk would have physically fought you for it. they love tacos."

Frisk nodded enthusiastically, confirming his notion. Did their eyes gleam red for a second, or was that just the light?

She folded her arms on the table and put her head down in them, smiling helplessly. Was this her life now? Companionship, good food, sleep whenever she wanted it? Maybe she really had died back there, whether by the fall or by Flowey, and went to heaven. Nothing could have prepared her for the joy she was feeling now.

What a transition. Her life on the surface and been dull and agonizing, to put it in as few terms as possible. A waitress in a little backwater town, under consistent abuse by rude older women with nothing better to do than make other people suffer, with no friends or family to lean back on, living in a dirty and pest-infested apartment, going to bed some nights completely exhausted and wishing this was the night she wouldn't wake up.

And look at her now! She had a new mother figure, friends, and home all in one day! She was unlocking levels of happiness she hadn't thought possible, at least since—

—well. Now was not the time to think of that. It was the time to think of the future. She had to text Toriel and brag about Papyrus's food, had to hang out with Frisk and chat, had to trade puns with Sans, and had to explore the Underground. It was her time now!

The only question: how was she supposed to fit a couple dozen tacos in her stomach if she was already full on pasta?