Trial and Error

by MissingLetto

Summary:

After everything went to black, Clover asked themselfs if this was how death was. If they had anyone to wonder.

It was too dark to see, too silent to hear, too empty to even think about it. A little more and they could feel the cold, hard glass of the container they're inside, trapped for who knows how long. It could be hours, it could be days, or it could be centuries.

It feels like centuries, until it doesn't.

And a dark, misterious ceiling with a light too bright welcomes them. It's not a warm welcome.

Notes:

• Inspired by Ego by orphan_account

Chapter 1: Awoken

Ceroba's face was almost burned on their head in last moments. Starlo and Marlet's were too. Clover always hated saying goodbye. They hated how they tried to argue with their choice, trying to make them go back, to live a happy life somewhere in the underground. Hidden like a pet you don't want your mother to find.

But Ceroba looked at them, and knew exactly what they meant. She knew they were tired. She knew how their head worked. She knew it wouldn't be fair if they got to live a happy life, while the other five got to rot on a coffin too early. She knew that look on their face, and she repeated her mistake for their sake. She let another child die, she let them kill themselfs, because of a bigger cause. And she wasn't okay with it, Clover knew it the moment she collected their soul. Watching them use their last strenght to keep a strong face, even if they felt like a corpse already.

She looked at them, asked if they wanted her by their side while it slowly ends. They refused, shaking their head softly, without enough energy to even speak louder than a whisper. With a look, Clover knew that Ceroba was regretting all of her choices, all the way to the point where they were. Probably she was going to drown herself on adult soda when she gets back home, probably too depressed to even have that party the Feisty Five made for her. And her daughter.

Everything ended too quickly, the cold rock on their back, the feeling of weakness spreading to the point where they couldn't feel their hands, the color red of the cherry blossoms, falling to a weird wind coming from the the ceiling of the cavern. The dying boy can't help but to think about a tree of red leaves, always losing them the moment they grow. They never saw something like that.

And they took their last breath, besides the curious look of a flower. They just hopes that it could truly be the end.

 

...

 

After everything went to black, Clover asked themselfs if this was how death was. If they had anyone to wonder.

It was too dark to see, too silent to hear, too empty to even think about it. A little more and they could feel the cold, hard glass of the container they're inside, trapped for who knows how long. It could be hours, it could be days, or it could be centuries.

Centuries to think, all alone with their thoughts. Maybe they should have given their hat to Starlo instead of Marlet. Well, no. The bird was too clumsy to have a gun with her and not shooting something (or someone) by accident. And Starlo can't wear two hats, either way. It's silly to imagine Starlo wearing three hats, one in every point of their star shaped head. Or if Ceroba would have to make holes on the hat to make it fit on her head...well, no. She wouldn't wear it, probably. They can't see her wearing a hat and acting like a part of the Feisty Five. Feisty Six?

 

They wonder what happened to Dalv. Yes, he got out of the Ruins, but they never knew what happened to him. Clover wonders if he got to make any other friends. Or Axis. Maybe he's just enjoying having the company of their...wife? Robots can have weddings? It's another funny thought, trying to imagine all the robots in the Steamworks having a big wedding for Axis. If the things were different, maybe even Chujin could have watched his creation marry. He married Ceroba, right? He must be an expert in them.

He must have.

Maybe Chujin is also like this. Floating on a dark void, in which no one can see anything, not even the darkness. Alone with his thoughts and regrets of the past. It's like floating on the air, uncorporeal. Just what used to be the will of a soul. Someone turned into a memory. In Clover's case, just another cog in a machine.

 

They could have been there for so, so long.

And suddenly, there was pain.

 

They screamed with the mouth they didn't realized they had, squirming with the body they didn't knew they still owned, hearing only static with the ears that can't work in the middle of the panic.

 

go back...

Gobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgobackgoback

 

They want to go back to the sweet, quiet death and stop hurting for once. They almost think that Flower threw them in the pits of Steamworks, just to see them burn alive, but they aren't alive. They are dead, dead as the other five kids who got sent to the underground before them.

 

But it keeps hurting. It keeps hurting that their ears ring, and they can't move because someone retains their wrists, and it's cold it's cold it's cold it's cold it's cold it's cold it's cold it's cold it's so cold and the air is damp, like the air of the ruins but worse, too closed too cold too painful and they jusT WISH TO BE DEAD.

 

The suffering extends. For a long, long time. But there's not too long until the hands and the cold metal manipulating their insides? retreat, and those shaking hands keep them steady while a needle pokes into their skin, closing the wounds on a equally painful way. Soon the stitches stop, but the pain stays. At least it's not that bad.

 

A shaky voice starts talking to themselfs, but Clover can't understand her. Not with everything coming back to them.

 

Their first run, in which they fell in the underground for the first time. Toriel explained how all the children there died in the fall, and she was the one guarding the Ruins to protect the children who fall. Taking her words as true, Clover, with no justice to be made and no other place to go, decided to stay with Toriel. Until he fell into the flower bed on the Ruins again.

 

And again, and again, and again. Countless times.

 

Until it starts to change. They get out of the Ruins, die, and rinse and repeat. Too many lives and too many deaths for such a short span of time. Something breaks.

 

And they stop moving again.

 

...

 

....

 

.....

 

And opened their eyes.

 

A ceiling with a light too bright catches their eye, muffling the horrible headache they have in favor of a much preferible numb, constant pain in the back of their head. Flowey is been toying with them. With their life. With every single aspect of them since they woke up in the Underground.

It's weird to realize it. More like funny, but without being funny. It's not funny, but everything clicks back into place the more they think about it, that makes it funny. Flowey was the one who made the floor crumble. Who else but him? The words he said before Clover passed away now make much more sense. He just gave up on them, and finally let them rest forever.

 

...But now. Where are they?

 

Clover tries to sit on the stretcher, falling back into their back with a groan of pain. Everything hurts so much. Hurts as much as wanting to die again, but there's too much going on, and too little at the same time. Like when they were on the space, wandering between life and death. The room is small, kinda like their own room back home. The floor hasn't been cleaned since who knows when, filled with dust, dirt and other weird substances. And some blood too.

Besides them, there's a nightstand with a little cristal jar, a flower with a strong resemblance to Flowey sits on top, a little bit of water feeding it so it doesn't die soon. On the other side, and Clover's no-heart doesn't jump like they though, bloody surgical suplements are lined up in a papel towel, and Clover looks away quickly, covering their mouth with a hand. It's cold.

They slowly start to move again. It's like they've been trapped on a ice cube, and only now are starting to warm up. But there's no warm, and the panic start to well up again, deep on their chest. They close their eyes, gasping as their situation starts to sink, trembling because it's cold and they should be terrified but this is not terror this is something else they can't describe but it's still cold and can't think straight and-

 

"Slowly, and breathe. In and out." They remember how Ivy always told them when everything started to get too overwhelming. Her voice resonates on their memory, as if she's holding them on her arms again. "Your head is being a little bitch, alright? Don't listen to it. Breathe and ground yourself. In and out."

 

She never had a good relationship with being gentle, but Clover doesn't need gentleness. They needs to ground themselfs before doing anything else. So they take a breath, filling their lungs, coughing and doing it again. Rinse and repeat until they could breathe normally. And slowly sit, feeling how something on their insides accomodates.

And right when they're on it, the door opens and a yellow lizard comes in, wearing a dirty lab coat and a bunch of papers on a clipboard. She tumbles a little, muttering to herself and looking at the papers, writing something. And finally looks up at the young one on the stretcher.

 

And screams.

 

"OH GOD!!" She starts, dropping everything in her hands and running around in circles on a pathetic display of something like a kid playing doctor with a plastic kit. "Oh my oh my god my oh my god my oh my god, they're awake?! I-I didn't thought that the e-experiment would be a s-success...much less t-this far-

 

And the lizard seems to finally notice how Clover is looking at her, and she composes herself. Kinda.

 

"A..Ah...H-Hi human! I..."

 

She pauses awkardly, and kneels to pick up the papers she dropped in her panic, all stomped over and looks over at them, trying to see something.

 

"Uh...s-so...ah..." She stutters, playing with the papers as she seems to sweat. Too much. "C-Congratulations! Y-You came back to life!"

 

Clover doesn't know what face they gave her, but she started to sweat even more, looking everytime more nervious. This is the royal scientist? Ceroba would be laughing on her face. The idea of this lizard being berated by the fox is something that almost gives Clover a smile on their face. Almost.

 

"M-My name is Alphys, the royal scientist and... oh..uhhh...welcome to my laboratory! I've been...ah..."

 

She looks at Clover, and takes a shaky step closer, trying to shake a hand on their face.

 

"A-Are you...concious...? I-I mean! C-Can you...think clearly? L-Like...with no p-problem?"

 

They nod, and Alphys seems to panic again, but surprisingly she keeps it together this time, writing something on a clipboard.

She asks questions. Simple things, really, if they could talk. Somehow, their throath only makes grunts and slight sounds that try to sound like words, and Alphys theorizes it could be because of the lack of use in those months they've been out. Seven months dead. At least they can write...with a horrible handwriting, but it's something, in her words.

They doesn't like her. Not at all. Too sweaty and too insecure to know what's happening, and there's a resentment in the back of their head that just want her to stop stuttering. But then, they can't remember where it comes from. Something that tells them they can't trust her...

And it comes to their mind. Ceroba's daughter, Canao it was? Was on the lab, and Ceroba was almost desesperate to see her again. Calling this lizard with disdain. Maybe she was just frustrated with the world, as she tried to kill them more than once-

...More than once?

Alphys seems worried when Clover holds their head. Ceroba...Ceroba killed them. More than once, or twice. It was dozens of times. But somehow, more than once they forgave her. More than once they...killed her?

And for a moment, they were there again. The rock of the rooftop of the resort, the wind on their face and the smell of burn that covers the air. They are exhausted, on their knees as Ceroba sobs, holding her broken mask and staff as if they were her own child. Looking around in sheer remorse, her voice breaks painfully when she asks Clover to do what it needs to be done. They forgave, used that mercy button but...she wanted a rest. She deserved a rest. Just like...

And in just a moment, she was dust, blew by the wind and lost. And Starlo woke up. Everything else was just static.

 

Clover gasps, holding their head tight. He didn't do that...right? No. No no no no no. It isn't right...right? They didn't killed Ceroba. They didn't. They couldn't. Starlo didn't called them...lower than dirt. It...happened. They can remember it happened, but it's not right. Nothing feels right.

 

"L-LISTEN TO ME, PLEASE!" Clover's head snaps towards Alphys, who quickly lowers her tone. "S-Sorry for screaming...I...uh..." And she swallows. "are..y-you okay?...Y..You were mumbling a lot...a..and...is..is your head hurting? I-I can give you something f-for the headache! M-Maybe the experiment had other consecuences..I didn't k-knew about..."

 

She rushes out of the room, and Clover lays back on the stretcher. They need a rest. A good rest...and maybe this will be a dream. Maybe they're just dead still, and their mind is doing something for them not to go nuts. They curl up into a ball, trying to warm themselfs against the constant cold that's freezing to their bones. It's so cold...

In the middle of their attempt to slip back to the afterlife, they catch something on the corner of their eye, and they snap back into a sitting position, even if the stitches strech and hurt.

 

Just to see a white, liquid creature on the door.

Chapter 2: Sticky

Summary:

I love making the boy (gender neutral) suffer.

 

Clover met and helped a lot of monsters through their journey on the Underground. A lot of them! From Snowdin, where the monsters who didn't had the resistance to the cold wore hats, mittens and scarfs to protect themselfs from the freezing temperatures, to the dunes, where the monsters had to acommodate wherever is water for survival. Some may be weird, some may be animal-like, some may be the weirdest thing they could have dreamed of. That makes them think about a strange flower, changing to so many different horrors in the span of a second. Clover pushes the thought to the back of their mind, for now. 

But they were, inherently, monsters. They knew they were monsters. Sentient creatures who were sealed away in a leyend. Monsters Clover managed to be friends with. 

 

But this?

 

Clover can't help but to flinch when the...thing crawls closer. They can't see their form, but they have two ears on the top of their head, like Ceroba? But not a fox. Maybe a cat? Or a dog? They squint, trying to see the form of the white thing when it looks up. A dark circle in the middle of where it's face should be shrinks and expands, like it was breathing from that hole on their body. No eyes, no mouth. The thought of that being their mouth makes their already cold blood turn into ice.

And their mind wanders to a childhood fairytale their guardians told them, long ago. About a monster with only one mouth and horrifying teeth that was eager to eat them the moment they stayed up after their time to sleep. On the contrary effect, Clover stayed until midnight, watching over the edge of the bed, just to see if the monster really was going to eat them alive. 

 

Clover's throath screeched when they came back to reality, with the thing already just in front of their face. They fall back, feeling the sting of the stitches on their torso as the automatic response of their body activates, their hand on their hip to reach their gun. There's no gun. 

 

There's no fight.

 

They really need to stop daydreaming.

 

Clover steps away, trying to get some distance in the cramped room Alphys gave them. The dog is huge, thrice as much as the average size of the usual monster they met. It seems to get excited, to the point of squirming and shaking the back of their body, stumbling against the walls again and again. The strange moves only makes a mess, crashing against the stretches and sending it flying towards Clover, who in pure reflex runs to the other side of the room. It whimpers and moans as it's big body hits the nightstand, dropping the vase with the flower, and the creature stops in it's rampage to see how the glass scatters around and the water spills on the ground. 

Clover takes the opportunity and runs besides it, in the right moment to see, at least, five pairs of eyes looking at Clover with smiles dropping to the floor in the dark lower body of the creature. Almost waving at them, if it had any arms.

Clover rushes towards the door, and they close it before the creature can reach them, holding the knob tightly as the thing whimpers and sobs and screams. It doesn't even talk, it just barks and whines like a dog begging their owner to be let out. Clover pressed themself against the door, gasping. 

They would swear if they could, but their throath is still too raspy to even let out a word without sounding like the static of the TV. Clover inhales, taking a moment to calm their mind before opening their eyes. They look around, trying to find something to block the door so the thing doesn't eat them alive taking out their insides again like Alphys did in a bloody way tearing apart their skin and flesh and

 

For the first time since they woke up, they can see the surroundings of wherever they are right now. Bed behind bed are lined up on the big room, some of them dusty and covered with the sticky substance that they're getting tired of. The lights are dim, some of them even turned off or flicking, the darkness spreading like a fog almost everywhere. Like the scary movies Ivy made them watch when they were younger. Clover looks at the door and takes a couple of steps away from it, checking if it can't open the door by itself before returning to the topic on their hands. Luckily, the thing doesn't seem to know how to use a knob.

The room branches into several different rooms. A lot of them are closed, others doesn't have any door, leading towards even darker corridors. The air is humid, wet even, to the point where Clover wouldn't be surprised if there's any mold growing somewhere in the walls, stained with even more moss and dust. Their barefoot steps resonate lightly as they watch how wide the room is. How many people sleep here? Or...not here. One, two, four, six, eight...nine beds means nine other people sleeping here. If someone wants to live on a place like this.

 

Clover almost falls again when a panel on the wall iluminates. It shows some text, like an passage of a diary. They frown when reading.

 

"ENTRY NUMBER 14.

Everyone that had fallen down...

... has woken up.

They're all walking around and talking like nothing is wrong.

I thought they were goners...?"

 

Clover reads it again, and again. And again. 

 What?

 

They look down at the dog plate in the ground and sigh. Flowey was right, they had an awful habit of sticking their nose where it didn't belong. Dead or not, they'll keep doing it, anyways. Clover was about to keep exploring the place, but hurried, wet steps made them look back, tensing. Whatever it is, doesn't sound good. 

The best option being Alphys is not a good thing. 

Clover quickly looks around and hides in the only place they can think of, sliding their body below one of the beds. It's even darker below, and it's still so dusty that Clover has to cover their mouth and nose with their hands. And they see it.

They have something like...feet? Small feet, barely holding on with those legs thinner than a rope. Still white, still sticky, but it seems to control their body better, walking one feet at the time, leaving footprints on the already dirty floor that melt into dust within seconds. It made weird sounds too, moving way too abnormally to be like another monster. Clover peeks up from the edge of the bed to see it better, and they immediately hide again. This thing has an enormeous beak and an eye, completly black, just like the void of the the other creature locked in their room. Clover sees in horror how the thing's thin neck swings like the stem of a flower, the upper and lower jaw splitting to run all along it's head, meeting on the other side of their face. 

It's body is no better, just a tangled, mashed up white thing, dripping and moving. Clover can hear making sounds. Disorted, like multiple voices talking to each other, in unison but not union, so loud that Clover has to cover their ears. They look again from the safety of the darkness, trying to find those chicken feet when something squirms besides them.

 

 Clover stops on their tracks. Freezing. 

 

The thing is pressed against their side. It only lets out static, overwhelming Clover's mind. It's melting, and it's cold, and it's rubbing itself against their arm like trying to eat it and it has holes all over and it's tail wrapped around their body and

 

Clover screams. It hurts their voice, but they get out of below the bed as quickly as they can, shaking the thing out of their arm. Their panic seems to have caught attention, since the bird thing it's so big it's so big it's so big it's so big it's so big looks at them, the sclera of the eye suddenly growing sharp teeth as the whole head snaps in their direction, and Clover doesn't stay too long. 

 

They run away, stepping into another of those static things in the way, their feet sinking into that awful substance that stays stuck on their feet but they can't care. 

They run.

 

And run.

Not even stopping to the other panels that iluminates on their step, nor the big door that probably has a puzzle of colors of something. They can't care. 

 

They can only care about the shrieking of the bird, right behind them. 

 

Until they reach a dead end.

 

 

Clover stops before turning around. The door of an elevator stands before them, and Clover tries to find a button. Anything to get them out of there. 

Anything to wake them up, anything to put them back to sleep. They are tired, are exhausted, are idiots to climb up Mt. Ebott in the first place, such idiots to trust a random flower with a smiley face, such idiots to struggle against that flower, every single inch of their being trapped by vines, struggling, torn apart and heartbroken. He promised he'll stop playing with their life so why? why? why why why why why w hy h-

Clover falls on their back, crawling away from the thing that wants to eat them alive. It's mouth fuck with their mouths fuck it with all their mouths gets closer, and Clover can smell the putrid odor of it's teeth. It opens it's mouth bigger, disorting and twisting it's whole head to fit Clover's head on it and

 

"S-STOP!"

 

Clover, still on their terrified haze, sees how Alphys runs through the hallway, a claw lifted into the air to catch the attention of the thing, carrying a bag of chips. The bird deformity looks right at the lizard, quickly turning it's attention from Clover to the chips, the ones that Alphys throw away to the ground. The creature follows and uses it's peck to rip the bag open, devouring the contents as it lets out whimpers. 

 

"A-Are you alright, human?" Alphys checks on them, and looking at their horrified face, she seems to sweat. "I-I'm sorry. M-Maybe I left the door of your room open. This...hum...this guys g-get moody when hungry...hum...I...do that sometimes too..."

 

Clover blinks. She calls that moody? Then she wouldn't like to see that time where Ceroba punched- No. Not now, Clover.

 

"Y-You see... hum..."

 

And again, coward. Now that they can see this "Royal Scientist" with their own eyes, they can definitely see why Ceroba was so skeptical of her. This monster is very bad news. They point to the door of the elevator, and Alphys sweats.

"I-I don't think so, h-human. I... can't let you go outside..." She makes a pause, and Clover doesn't know what kind of expression they have on their face, but Alphys gets even more nervious. "L-Let me explain! E...Everything..I..."

 

Another pause.

 

"Let's get you to your room. I-I don't think you should be up right now...just in case...a-and I still have to make a report about your situation a..and.."

 

Alphys keeps mumbling while walking, and Clover presses themselfs against the wall when they pass alongside the bird thing, walking a little closer to Alphys if they have to use her as a bait if the thing decides a bag of chips isn't good enough.

more weird thoughts that come from nowhere.

This time, Clover can read the other entries in the panels, and Alphys surprisingly waits for them to finish before walking again. Maybe she wants them to read them? With how socially awkard she is, she probably couldn't explain those things anyways.

The first three panels are Alphys telling how the King, and they can't help to think about a red trident, once stabbing them to death and being destroyed, all at once. They try not to think about it, asked to research for a way to free monsterkind. About how everything they have are monster souls, but they can't last enough outside of their bodies, so it's practically useless. 

The fifth one is the one that catches their attention.

ENTRY NUMBER 5

I've done it.

Using the blueprints, I've extracted it from the human SOULs.

I believe this is what gives their SOULs the strength to persist after death.

The will to keep living... The resolve to change fate.

Let's call this power...

"Determination."

 

Clover looks at the last word. It's horribly familiar, but they can't put the finger on it. The headache slowly starts again, or maybe they only noticed it again after that experience with the bird, as the pain on their throath and body. They have so many things that they need to think about, but somehow their mind blocks them in the moment the headache increases. 

Alphys guides them through the lab towards their room, where they woke up. Clover stays a couple of steps away from the door, as Alphys keeps mumbling as she turns the knob.

And the dog thing jumps out of the room, making Alphys and the thing fall to the ground. Clover shakes and steps back, expecting the thing to eat the lizard's head in a bite. 

But it just squirms on her lap, rolling and jerking on the ground. 

Alphys stays in blank for a moment, and quickly dismisses the thing, entering the room. Everything there is broken, messy and scattered around the floor, and Alphys takes her hands to her head in response.

 

"A-Are you serious!? Now I have to clean the surgery again! U..Uh..."

She glances at Clover, and closes the door again.

"I-I can do it! Don't... Don't worry. You...You can sit in a bed I... I'll do a check up, just to see how y-you're holding up. A-Alright...?" She rushes around, taking a clipboard and a pencil, looking at the human throughly. "S-So...Uh...can you talk now...? Your vocal cords were kinda..eh... damaged after the surgery..."

 

...they remember the surgery.

 

Pushing away the thoughts, they try to use their voice, but only a raspy sound came from it.

 

"W..Well... it's p-progress, i guess. Ah...can you take off the gown, please...? I need to see the sutures..."

 

Clover shakes their head. They won't do that. But Alphys taps the pencil on the clipboard to calm her nerviousness. Meeting with the accidental impatience, they take off the gown slowly, only to reveal ugly stitches in the form of a Y, from their chest to their stomach, carefully sewn back together with a strong purpleish thread. Clover looks away from it as Alphys inspects it with shaky hands. Looking at it too much will make them throw up.

Only if they could throw up something, with how empty their stomach is.

 

Alphys makes them do some other things too. Move their body, their joints, their eyes and mouth, and even some kind of psychological test, examining everything with medical coldness. It makes them feel even more like an experiment.

 

"S-So..." Alphys mutters, playing with her hands when Clover dresses up again. They miss their hat so much. "A...About what a-are you doing here..."

 

She swallows.

 

"A...As you know, I was investigating souls. Human souls have this unique trait on them...a-a power in which they c-can persist after the host dies. I-I called it 'Determination'..."

"H-Hehe...you get it? De-termination? The power to exist after death? Termination but inverse?"

 

"..."

After an awkard silence, response to that horrible joke but they liked jokes before..., Alphys clears her throath and continues.

 

"So! W..When your body was found, I..I asked Asgore if I could try something. Y-You see...the other humans were too deep into t-the rotting phases of the death of a human a..and t-the one who wasn't...uh.." She makes ANOTHER pause to dry her hands on her coat. "Wasn't...on a good state. S-So I wanted to see if...it would work o-on a body who could...hum...resist the Determination I injected...A-And it worked! And I got a lot of i-interesting data from t-the insides of a human...a..and..."

Clover rubs their eyes with a hand. Practically they were no more than a Rat. They remember how Ivy always hated biology on their school. She said how she never did the projects because she didn't wanted to open a frog with the scapel.

And now, they're the frog, it seems. 

"S-Sorry about that. I...really can't let you go like that. Asgore would ask a million questions and...and I can't answer to the families and...and how Undyne would see me if she knows...H-How everyone will think that I'm a failure..."

Alphys tone turns to distress, looking down like she's about to cry. On a usual circumstance, Clover would hug her and reassure her. They did something like that with Ceroba after they fought (No. It wasn't like that. Ceroba is dead on their hands. But they can remember a hug with Martlet, Ceroba and Starlo, but they can also remember how she reunited with Chujin after they pressed the trigger. The dust on their hands seems so real, it's to lucid and so real. Maybe they're just dreams?)

But Clover can't feel anything for the lizard in front of then. If it would have been for them, she would be better as a crocodile swimming in the waters of waterfall. They can't feel nothing for her, in any way. There's only a resentment in the back of their mind they still don't understand. It's probably because of the dissection. Yeah, probably about that.

"...A-Anyways! You must be hungry, r-right? I-I'll bring food for everyone, just don't run off, alright?"

 

She hurries to the deep part of the lab, and then to the elevator they saw earlier as Clover digests all the information they just got.

 

So. They died, they were brought to the Royal Scientist's Laboratory and were experimented on, brought back to life, and kidnapped, basically. This is great. Absolutly wonderful.

Not even when they're dead things can stop happening. There's always someone playing with their life...are they really that manipulable? 

 

But they know one thing. They need to get out of here, and quick.

Chapter 3: Her

Summary:

Clover doubts the only thing they have left, their perception of reality.

Soon, Clover is surrounded by monster deformities, flukes of mother nature. Great. 

 

All Alphys can give them is a cup of a cute doll with cat ears printed on it, filled with a cold coffee and some instant noddles. They're plain, tasteless, and the scientist doesn't seem to know what is the sugar, since the bitter taste of the coffee didn't left their tongue even when they finished eating. Either way, it fills their stomach, which is good, ignoring the fact that they weren't hungry at all. And at least they didn't threw it up.

The human looks around, trying to be as far as  physically possible from those things. They doesn't seem to be on their mind, or at least be on their five senses. Those roam around, barely remember how to move, or talk, or anything that isn't crying and whimpering about how hurtful is their new form. Clover kinda relates to them; the stitches on their body still hurt like they're still open wounds.

Alphys opened their torso to examine in detail the effects of the Determination when their heart started to beat again. As always, and Clover isn't surprised anymore, Alphys panicked, leaving their body exposed for a few hours until she remembered what she was doing to the human, only when Asgore asked what happened to upset her that much. Clover isn't very happy about it, but it's not like they can shoot their way out of the laboratory. They don't have their gun.

They lift their hand to their head, but they only touched hair instead. Their head feels empty without their hat. They had it so much time on that they can physically feel it's absence from the top of their head, one of the many reminders of their new life on the underground of the Underground. 

That wasn't as funny as they thought it would be. Maybe they can ask Alphys for a new one? ...Nah. She probably wouldn't find a cowboy hat specially for them.

 

Anyways, Clover doesn't have much time to lose themselfs deep in their thoughts before Alphys brings a new amalgamate (as she calls them) on the room, this time being a... something. They can't recognize much forms, but it's blueish color makes them think about Snowdin's monsters, the cold practically breaking through their goopy exterior into Clover's psique. Or maybe it's because everything is cold on this laboratory. Alphys should make some kind of heating system for this place, since she's so good at making machines and all. Or bring a piece of that fake sun on the Underground. That would work too.

"...hu...n...gry..." The new thing barely moves, like it's freezing to death in the middle of the ice as it sits on one of the beds and Alphys pulls a shelf from the headboard, serving as a table for the thing to eat, like she did with the three other specimens on the room. 

Clover takes a sip of the coffee, and looks back at the other things in the room. They called them different things to, at least, have the names they won't ask Alphys for. Dog, Bird and Freezing things. Very good names, yes. Very creative.

The scientist soon comes back with some ice on a bowl, and Freezing thing start to devour it with it's big mouth, cube by cube.

"... Alphys?" Clover asks, leaning forward to let Alphys know they're the one's calling. 

 

"Ah!" She screeches, like she didn't realized Clover was still there. "Y-Yes?"

 

"How many more of them are here?" 

 

Alphys pauses for a moment, walking around to gently remind the Bird thing to eat slower, and placing some more food on the Dog thing's plate.

 

"...W..Well...quite a few. They're...uh... there's..."

 

Clover lifts an eyebrown. There's no way to get anything useful out of her. So they just leave the cup half empty on the floor and stands up, walking away without listening to anything else. They don't really care about what Alphys has to say.

 

Ceroba really affected their perception of the royal scientist, didn't she? Clover didn't knew they could be that apathetic. 

 

They walk through the beds, and reach another dark hallway. The cold marble floor makes them shiver, as the sticky substance that cover everything down there sticks to their skin. 

The fog only grows the more they explore the place. A reddish machine is in the center of the room, connected by black wires to the ceiling, floor and wall. Clover swallows as they step closer, seeing the resemblance between the machine and a skull. They look away before their imagination wanders anymore, before choosing the right way to go.

And a familiar face looks back at them. 

 

Or...lots of them. 

 

Multiple flowers are sitting on pots, right on top of a counter filled with dust. They run a finger through the dirty surface, looking if any of the flowers has a face, or anything that could hint them to be a certain flower they knew. Feeling the dust between their fingers, Clover reaches for one of the petals of the nearest flower, pulling it as it's mouth opens, throwing up friendliness pellets that fill the space of the little box where Clover lays on. Another hand pulls another petal, opening the flower's mouth even bigger, the stitches painfully tearing apart the flesh and vomiting more bullets, hitting their soul, tearing their will. 

Flowey laughs in the backroom, flowers all around them when he lets them have their turn. They draw up their weapon, but they don't have one. They try to look into their bag, but they can't see. They want to cry, but they don't have eyes. They beg, but the moment cuts short. They try to hide, but there's nowhere to go. They weep, but within a second, their tears weren't there. He's your best friend, their mind remembers. 

 

He's your best friend, they remember when their soul is trapped by vines, and they struggle and struggle and struggle and struggle until they finally withdraw, coming back just to see the smiling familiar face of their captor. And back to hell.

 

He's your best friend, they remember when the strange vines in form of hands start to rise, bullets and petals and flowers filled with spikes fill the screen, leaving little time for reaction, little time to resist, to live. Their form shifts, their feet now touching the ground as the alarms on their head start to go crazy. They force themselfs to move, and suddenly a vine appears on their face, shifting their body to avoid it, and their feet tangle and

 

Clover falls backwards, the pot of the flower breaking into tiny pieces when it hits the ground, the flower falling into the mess of ceramic and dirt, the petal in Clover's hand, ripped from where it came from. Their head hits the surface of the mirror, breaking it too in numerous shards, some of them on the ground.

They stay in the ground for a while, waiting for the starts in their vision to return to the sky, before they finally can see the mess they made. A shadow of worry appears in their chest, but Clover quickly brush it off. Alphys should be used to things falling here, after all. A gentle touch in the back of their head makes them hiss, some drops of a...black thing? appears on their fingers. It's as sticky as the thing's bodies...does that mean...? No. No no no. That smells like blood. Maybe is because they're practically dead? Coagulated blood. Yes. That must be it. There's nothing wrong with their body. Nothing at all.

Either way, the human looks around, trying to process the annoying flashback. Flowey...he was never as friendly as he initially thought. Thinking back, it was obvious. All the carefully faked smiles, the words of encouragement, the little hints of something else behind that little exterior. He always seemed awfully aware of what was happening, in one way or another. 

 

And that's without counting all the times they died on his hand. Or vine. Or friendliness pellet. Or bullet. Or whatever!

Not even the "friend" of theirs is really a friend. 

In retrospective, they were fucked since the very start of their journey. Doomed to this since the very moment they fell of that hole.

 

Clover blinks, finally feeling the haze of the pain tuning down, leaving just a bother on the back of their heads. And something moves on eyesight.

They stand up, shakily, to see another "amalgamate" in the door, blocking the way out. Is large, seemingly like a...spoon? A white, large, almost thrice their size spoon. It grows two more spoons on their body, slowly moving forward towards Clover, dangling slightly. Preparing themselfs to run, they back up as slowly as the thing moves, ready to escape if the thing wants to eat it too. 

But it just gets closer to the point of the broken pot, and they pick up the flower, still with a little tilt of it's head, it tried to place it on their head, only for the flower to fall to the ground silently.

 

"..."

 

Clover leans against the mirror wall, finally noticing their reflection after who knows how long. Their skin is sickly pale, almost like, no pun intended, a corpse. They can see how it's practically translucent, showing some of their veins. Their arms and legs are now almost skeletal, as if all of their muscle and fat were stripped out of them when they revived. 

What Clover finds more disturbing is their face. It's also thinner, with deep dark circles under their eyes, eyes that seem lifeless, stripped of all shine and will that once had. The pretty ambar toned down to a ugly brownish color. They seem tired. Dead. 

 

"...change...lots...right?"

 

Clover almost jumps when they see a face besides them, talking with a small, childish voice filled with warmth. They instinctively jumped to their feet, trying to get away from the new face. 

The recognition spark on their eyes. The amalgamate of the spoon dissapeared, shifting their presence with a fox-like thing, also melting like the other ones. It's body remained almost the same, but there's some appendages attached to its back and tail. The fox ears twingle with curiosity.

 

"...Ceroba?"

 

The thing tilts it's head. Clover can see it. There's a striking similarity between the fox monster and the fox thing.

And they frown. Where have they seen this thing? They can't remember. But they're someone important to Ceroba. Ceroba...

The same Ceroba who died on their hand. They're sure of that. 

 

"...who...?"

 

The thing gets closer, the flower on its hands still with the petal missing. 

 

"Who are you."

 

"... who..?"

 

It smiles. 

 

"I don't...know. But...miss Alphys...calls me Kanako..."

Notes:

KANAKO TIME!

And Clover having a lot of existencial crisis. It'll happen again. And maybe some more after that.

Chapter 4: Maybe

Summary:

I just realized I haven't uploaded anything in over a month. Damn.

And Clover isn't doing well. I'm not sure where I want this to go, but I'll sort things out. Have patience with me, this is my first time doing this.

"...Kanako?"

 

Clover blinks a couple of times, examining the figure in front of them. In shades of white and grey, the figure seems like a miniature version of Ceroba, monochrome and creepier. Not like the other amalgamates, seems smaller than him by a couple of centmeters, thank god one isn't towering them, with a blank smile on her face, holding the flower as the white residue sticks to it's remaining petals. She leans forward a little too much, extending her arm to offer the flower to the human, who takes it dubious. The form and the golden petals in the dim light brings them too many awful memories, memories too fuzzy to tell if they were real or just nightmares. But they don't ponder too much on it; it'll be just a headache they don't want right now.

 

"...y...yes. Name...is K...anako..."

 

Clover opens their mouth and closes it in an instant. Disoriented as they are, they can't really process the monster they're supposed to recognize. The name sparks recognition, but without any evidence (mostly a flashback or feeling of meeting her before), they can't say it's familiar. Maybe someone mentioned her. Ceroba probably, since she was the first to come to their mind at the sight of Kanako.

And in the topic of her...state. She's as scary as the other experiments. Her face seems to be dripping, dusty and holding together by a thread. The...appendages, weird things attached to her body, seem like what would be called flesh if she was a human, kinda like the weird red machine outside of this room. The numerous eyes on it are freezed looking at one direction, not blinking even once. They form a lasso on her back, practically making a hole on her clothes. 

The fox-thing tilts her head, still stuck in that smile and those void eyes. Does she even care about her situation? Standing on their place, Clover doesn't want to do anything else than to put a bullet through that door and get out as soon as they can. And then, place some more on the elevator, another through Asgore's head and take the human souls, crossing the barrier with not only a sense of justice, but a overwhelming feeling of satisfaction.

With raspy, quiet sounds, Clover just mutters, equally as overwhelmed by the absence of guilt on their words.

 

"Sorry for what I did to your mother."

 

And before she can do anything, Clover stands up and runs to the other side of the room, leaving through the door while the fox-t...

Kanako. Her name is Kanako.

While Kanako says something they doesn't want to hear, Clover can't stop their legs from running to the other side of the lab, going to exactly the other side from where the amalgamates were eating to a corridor they weren't able to go before, not wanting to do anything with anyone. No more of any goopy whoppy drippy monsters. 

 

No more pain. That's all they wish for.

 

Clover only stops when they realize the fog grew thicker, heavy like a mantle covering every detail, leaving rough silhouettes on it's way. The air, clogged and hard to inhale starts to affect their lungs, the cold covering their whole body up to their fingertips. It's so cold it hurts. And yet, there's nothing to give them a little bit of warm comfort. 

Clover just gradually reduces their speed, to the point where they just stand in the middle of the room, eventually collapsing into the cold floor, filled with mold. They can't even rest in death. Is playing with humans lifes something monsters always do? The times they died on the exact position they are are too much to count, the muscle memory bringing more pain than anything good. How many times they have done this? Maybe Flowey just saved and loaded to the point where everything is going just as he wants to. Does that make sense? They can expect it from Flowey. Not the Friendly-Flowey, but the...Real Flowey? The Flowey who played with their life like a puppeteer, trapping them on a painful, endless cicle of death behind death, all over and over again until something anything changes. Little fragments of memory being the only thing keeping them from a endless cicle. A cicle that happened, either way.

It's not fair. At least Ivy got to die once, just a tiny bit of pain before everything ended, if she even felt it. Clover can't help but to wonder if this is better than ending up on that jar in the King's home. If that counts as a home. More like a coffin.

 

The whole underground is their coffin, after all. 

...maybe they should swallow that Hydrochloric acid again. Everything would be easier.

 

After a while of having a breakdown, Clover rubs their eyes, trying to get rid of the haze that keeps them from doing anything else but lay on the floor. The freezing temperatures makes their body shiver, feeling the goosebumps making their way into their pale skin. They lift a hand to run it through their hair, feeling their own blood coagulating round the edges of the wound made by the mirror on the Flowey room, the texture making them jump unwittingly. Slimy. Just like the white residue everywhere.

Clover didn't saw the amalgamates as monsters. They still don't do, and probably won't. If they were once, now they're nowhere near something that even resembles one. They're not monsters, and Clover should remember that. Now they're just creatures. 

Another strange impulse of shooting their way outside makes it's way into Clover's mind. The weight of their gun feels familiar, even without the gun on their hand. The dust fills the air. They choke on it, feeling their respiratory tract close, keeping both the dust and the air out of their system. More time on this room and they'll end up freezing to death. Again. Again.

 

Whatever. Whatever.

 

Clover manages to kneel on the ground, looking around, analyzing the little bit they can see from the surroundings and slowly, very slowly, stand up with shaky legs, the same they pushed to let them out of the room. They can see their pale, almost translucent skin even colder, icy cold. Like the time they got lost in the forest of Snowdin. Cold, every step, even if they had shoes and socks and they're prepared to the cold. That's what they thought, at least. The snow on their clothes wasn't that much of a deal until their limbs freezed, their hands twiching when they tried to make a miserable movement. Underground, the climate was something Clover didn't thought about. Didn't even believed it before stepping on there for the first time. 

But they started to believe it when, finally, their legs gave up at the strain, their whole body trembling uncontrolably as they fall to the floor, unable to even crawl to hide from the snow falling. It accumulates on their hair, on their fallen hat, on their clothes and face, flushed red. Soon started to be hard to breathe, and then 

 

Clover sits on one side of the door, moving their limbs to be sure they aren't freezing or something. Every memory of their numerous deaths makes them paranoid...but at least they aren't panicking per se. Not now, given how their head hurts less and less with those memories. It's good, in a way. Their mind is finally processing all the time they spent on the loop, dying and dying and nothing else than dying. And maybe making friends. 

Again, their friends go through their mind. They wonder if they're all alive, or if they are just all dead, turned to dust and betrayed. Without any sight of the outside world other than Kanako and Alphys, they would think they're still dead. But they aren't. There's a posibility that they truly came to life again, and everyone is okay. The best case scenario, like Flowey used to say. It's not like they're completly empty.

Clover can feel cold. It is something, right?

 

With a part of their optimism back, Clover stands up and shakes the dust out of the hospital robe they're wearing, even if they know it'll get dusty the moment they stop. Walking back to the Flowey room after their little tantrum, Clover looks around for anything they can learn from the place. The same broken mirror is on the floor, and Kanako is nowhere to be found. Fine by them. The little fox seems to be unaware of everything happening to her. So naive Clover almost feels jealousy. Almost.

They walk through the hallway filled with the Floweys, looking through every one of them, until they find another one of those panels. There's another a little far away, as still and off as the one in front of them. Clover, by sheer curiosity, touches the screen with their fingertips. They recoil when it lights up, showing finally the text they think Alphys wrote. 

 

 

"ENTRY NUMBER 7

We'll need a vessel to wield the monster SOULs when the time comes.

After all, a monster cannot absorb the SOULs of other monsters.

Just as a human cannot absorb a human SOUL...

So then...

What about something that's neither human nor monster?"

 

 

"..."

 

Clover looks at the screen. There's no Flowey to explain anything, so they have to make the conclusions themselfs. 

The first thing they notice is the word Soul. As far as they know, a Soul is the culmination of your being. In the surface, is always told that the Soul is you, nothing more, nothing else. The thing that defines, classifies and makes you unique, different from other humans. DNA, what one teacher said. Usually, people expect certain professions from certain soul aspects. Ivy was a victim of that, they realized soon after she dissapeared.

In the Underground, on the other hand, Souls seems to be more magical than science things. After that, Monsterkind itself is magical, of course everything is going to be magical. Even Toriel used magic to mundane things. They wished they had magic to, for example, use the kitchen.

...who was Toriel, again? Nevermind. It doesn't matter.

For what Alphys said, they needed a vessel for the soul. Something to store the human souls to break the barrier, maybe? No. That's not it. Asgore has to absorb those souls to become god. Maybe this was before they had the...cristal things? The capsules monsters use to store the souls. 

 

"Something not human, nor monster."

 

They repeat, tasting the implications of the words. And they turn their head, looking at the dozens of flowers in the counter, starting to overgrown their pots, filling the surface with awfully familiar vines. 

Before they can think too much about it, they walk to the next panel, suddenly feeling too much eyes on their back. 

 

ENTRY NUMBER 10

experiments on the vessel are a failure.

it doesn't seem to be any different from the control cases.

whatever. they're a hassle to work with anyway.

the seeds just stick to you, and won't let go...

 

... Alphys seems to like to write useless things. 

But then, Clover doesn't know the exact number of this things they've read. The first four, the 10th, the 7th and another one. They might find something to explain what happened to themselfs.

They know already, but reading it would make the truth settle in. Maybe.

Maybe they just want to stay sane.

Maybe they'll feel better. 

Maybe. 

 

With a deep breath, they turn around to the flowers behind them and they get on the counter, making a space between all the flowers and laying on their back. The ceiling have a lot of black spots of moisture and fungus stuck to it.

They close their eyes. Eventually, they'll find a way out.

Eventually.

Notes:

And I fucked up the layout of the true lab on the last chapter. Apologies apologies.

If anyone wants to tell me anything, here's my discord! @letto.web

Thank you for all the kudos and comments! It feels nice to know people like this mess of a story

Chapter 5: Petals

Summary:

Clover needs a hug. Lots of hugs they won't probably get.

 

It's been days. 

Or, at least, Clover thinks it's been. 

 

The day and night cicle is forgotten as the feeling of the sun is to their skin. The warm breeze of summer, the smell of damp dirt after the rain or even the feeling of waking up by themselfs with the first rays of sunlight in the morning seems like a far dream. Too far for them to grasp it on their hands, grazing their fingertips but never to wrap them around it properly. They wake up in a room of the many in the laboratory Alphys keeps hidden somewhere, and they feel the awful wet sound of something crawling down their bed. The terror they once felt went completly away, morphed into a feeling similar to having something stuck in the sole of your shoes they can't get rid of, the need of keeping the things as far away as possible. It's the only thing they've started to feel after some time, the uncomfy feeling on the deep of their stomach.

Even on their zombie-like state, they are probably the most sane thing down here. Between the failed experiments roaming the hallways, to the strange child they keep seeing sneaking around to see them, to the lizard who made all this mess, Clover does feel like the most normal thing, if they could forget the part of 'dying and coming back to life' and all. 

Ah, the things. There's an awful lot of them, and considering the amount of beds and rooms made, there must be dozens, hidden away or even dead. Who knows what Alphys did to them, even if she refers to them as equals. They're hings that Alphys did and is heavily ashamed of. Clover would be too. 

They swallow the taste of old blood from their mouth and sit in the bed, feeling their muscles stiff and tense, rolling the shoulders to try and lessen up the constant nuisance of not moving how their body want. It's like most of their body turned into stone, with the problematic result of pain whenever they try to move too fast or too suddenly. 

 

"..sszzz."

 

The moment they step off the bed, Clover recognized the slight buzzing from below the bed. They hold their bangs of the side of their face and tug hard, exhaling sharply at the morbid sound of the amalgamate doing...whatever they do on small spaces. 

'Memoryhead' was the name Alphys seemed to give this specific type of goopy-thing, considering the documents they snooped while she was busy trying to make a check-up on the dog-thing. She isn't very sure where they came from, and Clover much less. They're weird, always babbling in a language more akin to the static of a TV. All those holes and eyes on their body makes them shiver, something uncomfortable churning on their stomach.

 

"Zzz...zzsssh."

 

For some reason, the Memoryheads, or terror-blobs as Clover calls them, like hiding in closed spaces. Under the beds and stretchers, inside cabinets and behind doors. They've seen one emerging from one of the sinks, even.

The human just walks out, closing the door quietly behind them and looking around. They can see the Dog thing, the Bird thing and...Clover just walks away, as silently as they can. They have seen almost all of the things Alphys created, but they have no reason to interact with them. They give them a weird feeling, and they have already enough problems with the not-memories of who knows who's lifetimes to worry about any goopy drippy monstrous thing. At least monsters can talk and be reasonable with, this things just act under instinct, not different from animals. They're hungry, they eat anything around that seem edible, including their own flesh, it seems.

'Kanako' might be the exception. She seems more...here than the others, more alive in a sense, and just as gone at the same time. Sometimes she's just as lost as the others, and sometimes she just apologizes over and over in a voice they can barely know, but never fully recognize who is it. Clover doubts her sanity, their own is also declining fast.

They enter the room, the one they've been visiting after they wake up, inhaling the enclosed air, mixed with the almost sweet scent of the flowers. It's familiar, even if the instance where it was stronger was Flowey's cryptic memory landscape. They found themselfs there enough times to remember the small details, always repeating, always the same.

Mostly deaths.

Endlessly gruesome, endlessly agonizing. Endless. They would like to remember the exact number without having a headache, but they would probably pass out again if they tried. It's like their mind can't stand the sheer ammount of memories, traumatic or not, there's too many for any normal person to even recall. So their mind just didn't wanted to remember, it seems. They can't blame it, being the only part of their body that seems to work correctly.

 

They miss Flowey, they realized soon after ending up here. They miss that little squeaky voice that said 'let's get'cha saved!' so many times they could imitate the tone perfectly. They miss how he would say mocking commentary and awful jokes just to make fun of them. They miss the way their mood lifted every time they would spot that little, shining star among the scenery, and he would emerge from the earth with that smile and-

They even miss the deaths a little. A rush of adrenaline right after the piercing pain, like a bucket of cold water suddenly waking them up again, without any wound from whatever had killed them in the first place. Refreshed, but shaken. Their legs would buckle below them the first times, the blood running cold at the realization and the nausea coming in. Flowey would give them a pat on the head with a vine, cheering them up. He always knew what to say, somehow.

 

"...?"

 

Clover blinks out of their daydreams in a sudden jolt of cold air, sitting on the table they were laying in and cracking their back on the way, looking back at the mirror in the other side of the corridor.

It's the usual sight. Flowers, flowers and more flowers lay on old pots all across the table, dust filling it and the petals of the flowers, with the dim light of the dirty white LD's on the top, mudding the colors into nothing but the greyish tones that seem to cling into every object on this place, including their's probably. 

 

And the one shining from right in between both of the screens.

 

wait. 

 

They almost fall from the table when their head finally realized what was it, rushing with uncoordinated legs towards the glowing light that Clover knows by heart what it does. A little screen shows up before their eyes the moment they touch the warm star. They dismiss it, not before touching the 'save' button and, from between the tiles-

 

"Geez, what a mess! You sure look like you just rised from the dead. Oh, wait- I think you just did!"

 

Clover can't hear the rest, since their legs give up on them and they fall into the dusty, dirty, horribly kept floor as the flower, just like his potted relatives, presents himself with all his smiling, cocky glory.

 

"How have you been, Partner?"

 

And Clover can't help but to be happy about it.

Notes:

So...yeah. No ao3 author accident that didn't let me update in almost a year. No, I didn't got ran over by a bus and I didn't died.

I...forgor.

And suddenly, this thing has over 100 kudos wtffff????

Thank you very much, I didn't knew people would actually like this bad written thing. I've had this and the next chapter in drafts for too long and I think it's time to feed the people.

Love you lots, if you're reading this ♡