Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They feel themself start to exist.
It's a weird thing to be certain of-- from anyone else's perspective, one moment he was on Blue's couch, halfway through telling a story, and the next moment, nothing has changed. But he cuts off mid-sentence, staring into the distance, and knows--
This is the beginning of the multiverse.
Everything up to this point has been nothing but backstory. The real story starts right now.
He can't remember the story he was just telling.
"...Ink? You okay?"
Ink startles and turns instantly to look his friend in the eyes.
We've never really met.
Ink panics.
In just seconds, he's thrown up on the floor and teleported in a rush straight to the Doodle Sphere, leaving Blue no time to question what's going on before he's left, confused, alone in the living room.

...

(Dream walks in a moment later from the kitchen with three cups of tea.
"What happened?"
"No idea??" Blue says. "They just... froze, panicked and teleported away."
Dream looks at the paint on the floor, concerned. Nobody but Ink can access the Doodle Sphere, so Dream and Blue both know there's not much hope of going to check on them.
"I hope he's alright... should we try and call?"
"Already on it--" Blue unlocks his phone and goes to Ink's number-- then stops and looks at the other side of the couch, quickly changing to a disappointed expression when he sees. Ink's phone is barely poking out of the couch cushions, forgotten. Nothing to do but wait.)

...

Ink is alone in the Doodle Sphere. For the first time. He already knows everything about it. The multiverse spins around them. Within each world, people live as if they always have. Somewhere, a Dust makes his first kill, believing with the rest of the world that it was one of thousands-- a Frisk falls underground for the first time with no other life to go back to. They'll choose to stay with Toriel at the end. Error reboots in the anti-void-- Cross misses a world that never existed-- Dream hopes Ink is okay.

Ink remembers Dream and Blue-- his best friends. They've been not only protecting the multiverse from Error, Nightmare, and anything else that dares threaten it together, but also always there for each other and always happy to spend time together, for years now.
Years that didn't actually happen.
How can he face them-- the real them-- now?
He sits on the ground, hands over his face, and tries to focus. They know the characters, they know how to have a conversation--
He doesn't know how to have a conversation. he feels out of character-- he cant be out of character when it counts--
They curl up even smaller.
He's been aware he existed for about ten minutes and the weight of hundreds of worlds is on his shoulders. He's had no problem handling it before but he wasn't really there. How will they protect the multiverse now that it's really on them, for the first time? They cant fail now. They've never succeeded.

...Their first act of free will should be cooler than this. Ink can still be a character-- is still a character. Ink is silly and impulsive-- annoying (on purpose, at least usually), mysterious and inexplicable, not concerned with being "normal," and his friends know and accept that-- an easy character to play, right? Even if he plays him a little wrong, that too can be a part of the character. No one will suspect a thing. He's got this.
Ink stands up, wipes the edge of their eye sockets (for no reason) and teleports straight back to Blue's living room.

They materialize out of the paint puddle still in front of the couch, jumpscaring Blue and Dream. Blue flinches and Dream makes a quiet squeaky noise.
"Heyyy guys what's up?" Ink says, cheerfully, getting on the couch.
Blue and Dream are on opposite sides of the couch. Dream sits with crossed legs, while Blue is entirely on the sofa, and sideways, leaning his side on the back cushion. Ink remembers it would be in character for him to sit even more incorrectly, so he climbs up to flip upside down in the middle with his legs over the back of the couch. He smiles up at Blue and Dream in a normal and friendly way.
"What were you doing? Are you okay?" Dream asks. He looks concerned.
Ink really can't explain the truth to him.
"I... forgot? Everything's fine though!"
His friends look suspiciously at each other. Nobody says anything for a moment. Something is wrong. Ink needs to fix this. He says something that seems in character.
"I-have-to-go-prank-Error-or-something-see-you-guys-later-love-you-bye---"
The end of his sentence is cut off as he sort-of-backflips off the sofa from his upside down position into the... portal. Nailed it! They're so good at being a person from real life.

...

(Yeah, something's definitely wrong.)

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Error wakes up in the Anti-void, frozen standing still. He takes a minute to remember what was just happening. His memory is fuzzy, yet he feels his thoughts are much clearer today, like a thick layer of static is no longer over them. It's so quiet. The last thing he did was... escape, after a fight over destroying a universe. It was difficult-- must have been why he crashed, the reason is always blurry afterwards anyway-- but he successfully destroyed it before retreating.

...He destroyed it.

A whole universe, one of hundreds, maybe thousands over the years (however long he's existed, he doesn't even know how many he's killed.)
For what? Suddenly none of the pure hatred he used to feel for the "anomalies" means as much as he thought it did just hours ago. His life until now feels like a blur, like he was barely there, watching his own actions through a breaking screen. It's so quiet. He's aware of everything now. and there's nothing to know but crushing guilt. Oh stars. He's terrible. How dare he?
Nothing he can do will ever make up for this.

Reality hits him like a train.

Something leaks from his eye sockets, rolling hot down the side of his skull where he's curled up on the white nothingness of the Anti-void. Static buzzes frantically over him, breaking painfully, but does not blur his guilt.
He won't go on. Can't risk becoming that monster again. He'll dust himself now, while he's conscious enough to understand why he should, and, at the very least, know he'll never be able to kill again.
How should he do it? Can he make a magic attack strong enough to do it in one hit? Or maybe with his strings--

His suicidal ideation is rudely interrupted as someone materializes only a few feet away. He flinches hard.
Of course it's Ink. He thinks, that bitch again, then realizes they were only trying to stop his own murderous rampage, and so he really should be grateful, and feels worse. He's certainly not grateful they've visited, though. Maybe he'll at least get killing me over with, he thinks instead. Yeah, maybe it's good that they're here, actually. They have a good opportunity to crush their worst enemy once and for all. Error stares up at him, silently offering up that last victory. He does nothing.
...Ink looks afraid too. Error wishes he'd just do it already. His expression crumples a bit more.

"E-Error? What's... going on?" Ink says. His voice is shaky. They almost reach out but cancel the action. They hover awkwardly around where he's still vulnerable on the ground. Ink looks anywhere but the ground, staring at Error then into his own scarf as if he finally realized it's rude to stare. His gaze snaps back to Error just as quickly.
"You win," Error says, voice breaking like a lagging video. "Just dust me now. I won't stop you."
This snaps Ink out of it a little. "WHAT??" he starts, "Why?? I-- I don't want to do that!?"
"Why NOT," Error snarls. "I've killed MILLIONS. I'm GIVING you the chance to stop me forever, so JUST TAKE IT NOW--"
The rest of his sentence is garbled too bad to understand. Ink stares, looking on the verge of tears himself.

Why wont they just do it? They should be happy to be rid of him. All he's ever done is kill and destroy and do his best to make Ink miserable. He didn't think Ink would hesitate. He really shouldn't.

Error breathes, trying to calm down before he crashes again. He has the feeling this idiot won't do it while he's out, and he'd rather not crash in front of him and survive. After a few minutes, he uncurls a little, glaring back at Ink. He looks thoughtful. Anxious. He stares back.
"If you're not gonna kill me, get the hell out already--" Error starts.
"You haven't actually killed anyone."
What.
Ink must be the crazy one, now.
"Pretty sure I did, asshole, I was there--"
"You weren't."
"Stop LYING,"
"I-I'm not!! You haven't done anything, nobody's done anything--"
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT."
Oh no, he actually asked, now they're gonna tell him, and that's gonna be annoying--
Ink fidgets with his scarf.
"Okay, I know this is crazy, and you might not believe me, and I'm not even supposed to tell anyone, but--"
Error lets out a staticky noise that's almost a growl. Hurry up or get out and let me dust.
"Themultiversehasonlyexistedfor26minutes!!"
...What???
"...What?"

Ink takes a breath, pacing around, staring into the ends of his scarf like he can't look at anything else. Annoying.
He finally starts explaining. Error lets him, if only because he's... actually kind of curious what the hell they're talking about now.

"The multiverse has only existed for 27 minutes. Anything that happened before that was just... backstory. It didn't really happen, we all just remember it so the story can carry on with already established characters who don't know any better--" He scrunches his scarf in his hands, pacing faster, "And I'm the only one that knows and now everyone's real and they're all counting on me and I don't know what to do but-- you didn't do it, Error! You've never destroyed anything, or anyone, and you can't die now, YOU'VE ONLY EXISTED FOR 28 MINUTES--"
"OKAY STOP," Error snaps. He's still curled in on himself, but is now sitting up, glaring suspiciously at Ink.

What the hell?? This is the dumbest idea he's ever heard, this idiot's totally lost it--
...But it almost makes sense?
Why else would the rest of his life feel like a destructive blur, yet now...
He doesn't remember feeling awake before. He doesn't feel like he's ever been in control of himself. His memories feel like a first person view of someone else's shitty decisions. The timing matches up.
...This is so stupid. He should just dust, before he risks being that destroyer again, before he has to live with the consequences.

Ink waits anxiously, hopefully, for a response.
He wants to believe them.
Fine. He'll hear this out, at least. If the squid's lying, he'll dust himself later.
"So what now, if I believe you?"

Chapter Text

Ink falls through a waterfall and lands face first into the echo flowers.

He and Error managed to have a good talk, Ink explaining and convincing and panicking, just a little, before Error announced he'd be fine, wasn't gonna dust right now, so get out already. Ink was secretly relieved to get far away from there. They were already overwhelmed by a simple conversation with their friends, and in escaping, he fell right into having to tell Error the secrets of the multiverse to talk him down from dusting himself--

The flowers crumple under them. Soft. They whisper to him.
This world was some kind of Dusttale. It completed its story before the multiverse was born, making it a safe place for a breakdown now. These people never lived at all. Is it really monster dust if it was never a monster? The air sparkles with it, just a bit, in the dim light.
Ink listens to their words anyway. He isn't sure how he feels. The sound is blurry. He can't be sure exactly what they said.

Of course they're glad they could stop Error. He really hasn't done anything wrong, yet-- Ink still winces at the "memory" of realizing he'd never stop, never change, stop trying to talk to him. He'd never be more than dangerous, violent, destructive.
They're glad he seems to be kinder than that, now that he's... coherent. And real. Well, "kind" is probably an overstatement for now, but he's much better than Ink remembers! Besides, "he's going through a lot" is an understatement, Ink's lucky he was even able to be reasoned with at all.

Still face down in the flowers, Ink screams.
They don't really need to breathe, so they just keep going for a few minutes. The last--first???-- 87 minutes have been terrifying. They're pretty sure they weren't supposed to tell Error any of that, but they couldn't just leave him like that! And the Anti-void was a terrible place to land, anyway, they can barely stand the endless white, it stresses them out and they're not even sure why-- And he's aware of so many overwhelming details, so many new stats, stuck in his head and distracting, now-- does he really need to know how long the multiverse has existed?? Is he just going to know that forever????
...Okay, that might be pretty cool, actually, once the number gets really big. They trail off back into silence.
He sighs and rolls over to stare at the ceiling, covered in sparkling gems. As always. This is technically his first time seeing a version of them, but the patterns are familiar.
The flowers echo his scream. It shouldn't matter that the nonexistent voices are overwritten. Does it?

He's afraid. He hopes that Error will be okay, that whoever created this multiverse hasn't planned something terrible to happen so the story can go the way they want it, that he'll be able to protect the multiverse like everyone is counting on him to, that his friends will still like him now that he's really himself. They feel less capable of choosing their own actions than ever-- it's like he just doesn't have any good dialogue options and has to watch himself bumble through every interaction while knowing he's doing it wrong, but there's nothing he can do to change it. Blue and Dream must still be worried...

This existence is literally a story, and that means everything happens for a reason. That doesn't mean everything will be okay. They wonder if they're even in it. Maybe they just need to stop the multiverse from collapsing around the real hero. Or maybe they are the hero, and they need to get up and do something worth watching already. This isn't exactly it.

Ink has no choice but to keep going. Pretend everything is fine (because, really, everything anyone else can perceive is perfectly normal so far! Nothing is wrong, nothing is more dangerous than usual. Even Error shouldn't be so destructive anymore-- maybe not at all!) until one day it's true. One day, surely, he'll be good enough. He'll be able to protect everyone. He'll get them their happy ending, and they'll never even have to know.

He watches the "stars." He takes some time to lay in the soft flowers and just exist. He has to believe everyone will be okay. He has to be ready for whatever is coming next.

Chapter Text

It's been almost 9 hours since the multiverse was born and Ink is doing great!
After his break in that Dusttale, he went back to the Doodle Sphere to check on things. Everything seems to be doing fine. Nothing out of place, nothing glitching or breaking, nothing being destroyed. Not since this morning's defeat against Error, anyway, but that didn't even happen, so it's fine. It never existed, its destruction was scripted, there was nothing that could be done about it.

They realize they're having a hard time remembering its name. Or anything about it, really. Was there snow...? There's usually a Snowdin, did he even remember that or was it just a guess?
They write a note on their scarf to ask their friends about it later. Or should they? If the AU truly didn't exist, even in the backstory, would it make the other characters --no, people now-- suspicious not to remember? Dream would never forget its name the same day he failed to save it. Wouldn't he be upset if he realized he did? And Ink couldn't even tell him why.

He scribbles, "or dont????" at the end of his note and tosses the end of the scarf back over his shoulder.
Well, that's suspicious, but he'll have to investigate later. He's got a café to go to!

...

(At some point while checking on the AUs, Ink realized they didn't have a phone, so they wouldn't have received any messages Blue or Dream might have sent... They painted up a new one in under 5 minutes, making this one pastel blue and sparkly gold and shaped like a star, thinking of their friends-- they left the design fairly plain, in a rush to get it finished and make sure their friends weren't too worried. Then he realized this was the first thing he'd really made so far and he really should make something cooler-- oh well, he'll make a cooler one next time. He could never seem to remember where he left a phone for longer than a few days each, anyway.

He checked his messages. Several missed calls and unread texts. He spent a few minutes trying to decide how to reply. They were still having a hard time choosing words. Eventually they settled on something and sent it:

✮✮✮THE STAR SANSES ✮✮✮✮✮✮

INK: Hi :) Everything's fine don't worry! Just had to check on something in the Doodle Sphere but its ok now :D do you guys still want to hang out?

They put their phone face down on the floor in front of where they were sitting, and waited anxiously for a reply.

A minute later, he got one!

BLUE: OMS Ink it's been like all day!! We were worried!! Glad you're OK though!! And of course we want to see you :D Dream and I were actually about to go to Ccino's, do you want to join us?

Ink smiled at the phone. Honestly, he's so lucky to be close with Blue and Dream like this-- they're so cool and sweet! He winced as he realized he could have been created without friends at all. He was lucky he never actually had to go through making friends for the first time, especially not like this, knowing nothing was real until today...
That would have sucked really bad. But!! He'd been invited to Ccino's with Blue and Dream!! He was still anxious, but he felt so excited to go meet them for real for-- basically-- the first time!!!!
They could barely wait.)

...

And so they had sent back a text promising to be there in 10 minutes and have spent the past 9 pacing around, trying to mentally prepare to go out and be a real person who does things like visit cafes with their best friends.
And then got distracted thinking about that weirdly... blurry AU. And now it's been 17 minutes. Oh stars, he's already screwed up--
He teleports directly into the cat cafe, appearing right next to a random table. The longhaired bunny monster sitting there is startled and accidentally pours their drink into their own face, fur now dripping with sticky sugary coffee. Whoops.
"Sorry!" Ink squeaks, rushing off before the monster can even get a good look at him. He hurries over to the cat area, where his friends are frantically waving him over with concerned expressions. He hops onto a velvety orange couch next to Blue, Dream sitting across from them. A little orange cat is already leaning into Dream's hand.

"Hey guys!" Ink says, slightly too loud, as he sits down.
"Hey, Ink," Dream answers, expression softening into a more genuine smile at the sight of his friend. Ink's smile becomes real too at the realization. Dream hesitates slightly before finishing, "you doing okay?"
Ink freezes. He must see right through them--
No, that's a normal question, people ask their friends that all the time. Respond appropriately.
"Y-yeah! This is great! Today is great. For real!" He grins. "How about you, Dream? And Blue?"
"I'm doing well," Dream starts, before he seems to realize something and stops talking. His expression changes for just a second, before he returns his attention to the orange cat, smiling softly as the cat purrs on his lap.
Another cat, with fluffy black fur and a cute pink nose, jumps onto Ink and Blue's sofa.
"So am I, of course!" Blue says. His inside voice is even worse than Ink's. Ink finds it comforting. He realizes again how happy he is to know them both.
Blue's concern seems a little less. Ink must have said the right thing this time. They're already getting the hang of this!

The cat meows, catching Ink's attention. Ink holds out his hand for the cat to sniff before trying to pet them, and is rewarded by the cat rolling right into his lap, already purring deeply. He pets them with both hands. Soft.
Cat social rules are so much easier than people's. He spaces out, just a little, relaxing as the cat rolls over and kneads their paws into the air. Blue might have said something. They don't register it enough to realize they should answer. Someone laughs softly. Must be okay, then.

Someone brings three hot drinks and a few cat treats to the coffee table. Dream thanks them. Ink can't help but let his mind wander to them-- how much of their existence so far has been spent in this coffee shop? The idea bugs him a little. The thought leads him away from reality and back to that blurry AU. They still can't remember its name...

"Hey, Ink, c'mon. Your coffee's ready. You okay?"
They look up. Blue's put his arm around them, gently shaking them back to reality.
They realize one of their eyelights is a question mark and quickly blink it back into something less suspicious as they remember they need to answer.
"Yeah! I'm fine, sorry, just distracted, thanks," they answer, reaching for the mug on the table. They can't quite reach without waking the cat so Blue gets it first and hands it to them, settling back at Ink's side. Ink thanks him.

The coffee is sweet and has whipped cream and chocolate syrup in it. Ink doesn't really need to eat or drink, but they still like some sweets, just for fun. His friends must have ordered it before he got here, already knowing his favorite. Ink isn't sure if he would have even remembered his own favorite right now. He doesn't need to sleep, and can't remember-- does caffeine even work on him? But he still feels a little more alive as he sips the coffee, leans against Blue, and finds it a little easier to talk to his friends, as Dream must have changed the subject a few minutes ago to something more fun and less stressful.

The three of them are all petting cats-- there are at least eight crowded around them now-- and Ink slowly starts forgetting to worry about what he's saying and what they're thinking about him.
They stay late into the night, talking and laughing and petting the cats.
Tomorrow, Ink will still have plenty of things to be worried about. But tonight, he can see that spending time with his best friends doesn't have to be one of them.

Chapter Text

Error sits at the edge of the world and watches the stars.
His clawed hands twist strings idly over his lap, not paying enough attention to do anything more complicated.
Some time has passed since... all that, he's not sure how long, doesn't matter. He's been trying to make sense of everything since.
That blurriness and rage hasn't come back. He's glad, though not ready to feel relieved yet. The thought of being that monster again, believing himself righteous as he breaks entire worlds, some small part of him just watching, horrified, as his body destroys with a deranged grin-- still makes his vision fill with warnings and his hands shake.

So he tries to ignore it. There are plenty of other things to try not to crash over. Like--
Something lands lightly-- threateningly-- behind him, and the glitches surrounding him flare up like the fur of a scared cat. He quickly stands and turns to see-- Of course it's them again.
Ink steps back as Error turns on them, looking up at him with wide sockets and shrunken eyelights, hands up nonthreateningly. Error catches himself mid-snarl and forces himself to stay calm. Don't yell at them. Don't be that kind of person. They haven't done anything wrong.

Yet.

He forces an attempt at a pleasant expression.
"What do you want?" he asks, words coming out too sharp even when the question was something like genuine. His voice crackles like static.
Ink smiles, genuine and painfully awkward. "Just... wanted to see you again?"
Error squints at him in disbelief. He must want something. Or are they just stupid? That's a possibility. He remembers fragments of conversations-- if they could even be called that-- in which Ink took way too long to realize Error was incapable of friendship. He almost feels bad for the poor idiot--

The glitches are buzzing over his face again, pixelating the world, and he realizes he actually feels kind of terrible about that? What??
He tries to focus on real life again and as the haze fades, he notices Ink is still anxiously trying to talk at him.
"--but I really can't stand it there so I was waiting to meet you somewhere else but-- oh, are you okay? S-sorry, I didn't mean to--!" they cut off as they seem to realize Error is now staring at them rather than through them.
They look as afraid of this social interaction as Error feels, eyelights pale purple and tiny as the stars in the distance behind them.
Error fights back more glitches as he realizes he doesn't know what to do about that.
Start by not crashing in front of him!

He takes a moment to hide his face in his arms, allowing the error messages to clear. He finally stops shaking so hard-- he swears it's just from the glitches-- and, with a deep breath, looks up. Ink is several feet away and immediately turns away like they've just been caught staring. Error notices a glossy black puddle off to the side. Ugh.

"...We're both idiots." Error says with a defeated crackle in his voice.
Shit, why did I say that??
"Yeah," Ink laughs, tiredly. A pause. He walks over to sit next to Error, two or three feet apart. Error doesn't bother wondering when he ended up back on the ground. He stays where he is and looks over at them, expression not quite friendly but no longer hostile.
"How's the start of the multiverse going?" Error asks, hiding behind an attempt at a sarcastic tone. He's surprised by his own question, not expecting to be the first to ask anything. That almost sounded friendly, ew. He rationalizes it to himself-- he must have just been trying to change the subject.

Ink's eyelights flash through a few bright, surprised colors, as he blinks at Error. Then, a shaky smile appears on his face. He laughs tiredly again.
"It's!! Something!! Haha..."
They look weary, but maybe more open? Error doesn't call their attention to himself and waits for them to continue.
"Honestly, nothing's even gone wrong yet, I'm just worrying for no reason... It's like now that I know I've never done anything, before, I feel like I can't, actually, in real life? But everyone's counting on me? But I don't even know how to talk to a friend, anymore, and maybe I never did, I was just too dumb to notice cause I didn't exist--"
Error lets them ramble.
"--and nobody else even knows, except you, so they're just carrying on like nothing's weird! Like I'm the weird one, and I am, and I have to protect the whole Multiverse-- And it's fine, it'll be fine. It's just. A lot."

They sigh and rest their skull on their knees, tense.
Error isn't sure how to reassure them. But after a pause, they smile at him again, so he must not have screwed up too bad...?
Ink twists their scarf in their hands, eyes focused on the black smudges on the fabric.
They sit together in silence for a moment, on an edge between comfortable and tense.

"Do you remember--" Ink starts, then cuts off, avoiding eye contact.
"Remember what?" Error asks.
Ink hesitates. He changes the subject and asks, "How have you been? Since. Y'know."
Absolutely not. He's not talking about this with Ink.
Well, not with anyone else, either...
What's he supposed to do, tell Ink all about how terrible he feels? About all the murders and destruction and how he can't even be a person anymore and actually never was? No. He's not saying a word of that-- even if he wanted to, he'd probably crash and make everything worse if he tried.

Ink's first question sounds more interesting, though.
Error squints at them for a moment, then repeats himself.
"Remember what?"
Ink's eyelights pale and he looks away uncomfortably.
"It was about. Before. Is it... okay if I ask?"
Error nods. He was thinking about before anyway, it's not like Ink's question can make it any worse. He's glad they're dropping the other subject.
"Do you remember the name of the last AU you destroyed?"

"Of course I do, squid. I wouldn't just forget that. It's..."
He trails off and stares into the distance, confused. He wouldn't just forget that.
"I can't either."
Suspicious. Is it because it wasn't real? His voice buzzes as he asks, "Why?"
"Never got to exist at all. Wasn't important enough to make?" they half-explain, half-theorize. "But there are others-- XTale was destroyed before everything started, so it never existed either, right? But I remember it perfectly fine, I checked and I still know all the char-- people-- wait, are they characters if they were never real people or is that wrong?"
"How would I know?" Error shrugs.
"But anyway, I know the people and the story and the world and most of them never actually existed but I still know them so it must have been cause that other AU wasn't considered "important?" But of course XTale was important, so we can still remember it? Wait, you remember it, right?"

Ink looks expectantly at Error. Even through the concern about the topic, they look a little more comfortable talking to him. He doesn't notice he's calmed a little, too.
"Well, I haven't been there or anything-- thank the stars-- but it's not... missing or anything? That... edgy Oreo's from there, right?"
Ink laughs at the nickname. "Cross, and yes. Good." They smile at him, easily for the first time. Error's expression softens and he smiles back, just a little. He's still not sure what to say to them, but the silence is not uncomfortable as he waits, allowing Ink to pick up the conversation again.

They both sit quietly in thought. After a few minutes, Ink seems to grow anxious again. Error doesn't have long to worry-- what is he supposed to do?? before Ink speaks.
"Can we try being friends? Now that we're both... able to?"

Error still isn't sure that he is able to have friends. Even ignoring everything else wrong with him, he almost crashed just at the sight of them earlier. He can't possibly be anyone's friend, let alone a good one.
But Ink...
They panic at the sight of a social interaction too. They're the only one that knows about the beginning of the multiverse, and they told him to save him. They've been through so much together-- even if most of it was just beating each other up and also never happened-- and they're still willing to spend time with him. And be friends. If there's anyone Error could, maybe, be friends with...

Cautiously, Error smiles at Ink.
"Y-yeah. I'd like that."

Chapter Text

Ink swings his brush, hitting Dust hard in the chest. Neon red paint splatters dramatically into the snow as he stumbles back, already retaliating with a tornado of sharp bone bullets.
Nightmare was attacking one of this multiverse's Underswap variants-- not Blue's, thankfully-- and the Stars were there to protect it. For the first time, not that anyone else knew that.

Ink dodges most of the bullets, not flinching as one of them still punches into his shoulder.
He's pretty sure they've been handling the attack well so far! At the beginning, he had been so anxious about this first battle, he almost made Dream worry-- but Ink couldn't let him worry about them while fighting, so they made sure to stay in character-- Ink would never be afraid of Nightmare. That would be ridiculous.

He uses his magic to throw Dust into the ground, then shields himself from more bones. There was no need to worry, anyway. They've been doing great! Nightmare and his gang haven't even had time to do much damage yet, too busy fighting. Fighting as destructively as possible, but at least nobody seems to have gotten seriously hurt or killed. They'll have to check on everyone when it's safe. He'll make sure they're safe...

He drops his shield, letting the magic splatter to the ground and evaporate. Dust isn't where they left him. They had gotten distracted, and that left them a second too late as they turn to see him inches from their face. Before they have time to react, he has them on the ground, bone bullets pressing into them in too many places.

Ink doesn't really feel it as the bones chip at his HP, but they still feel a little panicked at the realization they could be losing. They can't lose. They can't fail this AU, they can't fail Dream and--

Ink is only fighting one person. He's only losing to one person. Dream is probably fighting Nightmare one-on-one.

That leaves Blue against three.

And Blue is capable, he's handled three before without many problems, but he's mortal and Ink shouldn't leave him to deal with those three alone.

Ink's magic abruptly throws Dust off of them, hard. By the time he's landed, slammed into the side of someone's house, Ink has already forgotten him. They rush blindly towards the last place they saw Blue, turning towards the forest at the sound of bone bullets shattering and being stabbed into the trees as they miss their targets.

He reaches them in the forest, quickly catching sight of Blue through a storm of flying bones. He fires blasters at Horror and Killer, dodging the attacks they send in return. Ink doesn't see Cross anywhere, but now isn't the moment to worry about that. He wastes no time in joining the battle.

They swing their paintbrush, flinging black ink across the battlefield. Horror doesn't have time to notice before Ink has teleported through it, appearing right behind him. In less than a second, they force some of their dark magic through Horror's bones, dealing damage and startling him into dropping his attack against Blue, before he manages to turn on them.

They stay close together as they fight. Ink barely reacts as Horror shoves a sharpened bone through his ribcage, not feeling the same pain any other monster could. He still keeps an eye on his HP-- lower than he'd like, but not dangerous yet-- as he takes the damage without letting his own attack falter. They try to overpower Horror with inky magic, not able to focus on dodging at the same time.

He recklessly takes a few more bullets, still dealing more damage than he takes, as he keeps a careful watch on Horror's own HP. They finally decide it's low enough-- but not too low, they can't kill any of the characters, especially not an important one like him-- and swipe their brush across Horror's back as he tries to attack them up close from the front. Dark blue paint drips down Horror's jacket, drops landing in the snow and into his shattered skull, slowing him down. Ink turns away, bone shards still stuck in his torn clothes, looking again for Blue as the neutralized threat stumbles. They hear the buzz of magic as a teleport fails, then fails again, but they ignore it. He'll be fine. Find Blue.

They melt into the blue paint as they see him, reforming quickly nearby, through another splatter of black ink.

Blue is fighting Killer and Cross at the same time. He's looking more tired now, bruised and trying not to use one of his arms, a smear of dark ink over his clothes, armor, and the side of his skull as if someone pushed him into the blackened snow. He still fights resiliently, expression showing no hint of fear or uncertainty as he fires a blaster into Killer's face, the glow of his magic just as bright as it was at the beginning of the fight.

Ink doesn't feel the bone bullets still stuck in their ribs but they feel a sharp pain in their chest at the sight.
They rush to help, tackling Cross to the ground, forcing him to lose focus on his blaster and fire it into a tree instead of its target. His expression is almost a snarl as he twists Ink into his place in the black snow, holding his knife to their neck. Ink forgets to grin at him tauntingly as they melt under him, teleporting a few feet to the right. They fill their brush with blue magic and swing it at Cross like a bat, attempting to put the same slowness effect on him, too, but he rolls out of the way just in time. Blue paint splatters where he had just been.

In the distance, Killer seems to be winning. Blue barely has the chance to get off the snow before he's dodging Killer's bullets again. Painful worry rushes through them as Ink lunges for the blue splatter to teleport to him, forgetting Cross in the moment. Cross, right behind them, ready with his knife.
Ink misses the paint as the knife barely misses his spine. Cross still easily forces him to the ground in his distraction, pulling the knife from the snow to stab again. Ink feels sick hearing another blaster fire nearby. His movements are panicked and sloppy as he tries to roll away from the larger skeleton. The knife drains his HP, but even after all the damage he's taken already, Ink has no doubt that he will live.

They finally get a hold of their brush and splatter the blue paint all over Cross's face and once-white jacket. They don't wait to hear his curses as they melt into the paint.
He reforms at the closest splatter to Blue, still several yards away. His black magic shoots towards Killer faster than Ink can run, pulling Killer backwards off of Blue. Ink teleports over, only a second behind. No longer holding back for anyone's safety, they nearly drown Killer in their magic, throwing him off to the side somewhere. They don't have time for him right now.

Their expression crumples when they see him. Blue barely keeps standing, giving a weak smile at the sight of Ink. Too many magic knives stick out of his armor, several buried to the handles. A few of them disappear as the fight ends and Nightmare teleports Killer away. Cyan magic leaks from the wounds, some already getting darker and gritty with dust. His eyelights stay bright, but the edges are fuzzy.

Tears start to form at the corners of Ink's eye sockets. He catches Blue before he has the chance to fall.

Chapter Text

The next several minutes pass in a blur.

Nightmare retreats-- Ink finds Dream-- magic, healing, glowing-- teleport home--

Blue will be fine. He leans back on a pillow in his bed, awake, saying something to Dream with a tired half-smile. Dream sits by the side of the bed, hands glowing soothing green. Blue's dented and pierced armor leans against the wall. Ink lingers uselessly in the doorway.

They have no healing magic, not for anyone but themself. They could have been too late. No soul beats frantically in their chest, leaving them feeling even more stagnant. They stare ahead with hollow eyes. Blue will be fine. He's right there. He's not falling, not dusting. He won't, they won't let him. They can't do anything.

"Ink, he's alright. You haven't healed yourself yet." Dream says, loud enough to catch his attention, yet so softly. His eyelights are, just slightly, fuzzy around the edges. Ink feels another stab of guilt.
They snap out of it, nod, and obediently start sipping from their paint vials.

A few bone shards-- bullets, not Ink's-- fall off his body as the healing neatly forces them out. He barely feels it, only notices his shoulder's moving correctly again at some point near the end. He wouldn't have noticed or bothered for a while, on his own, but he knows better than to argue when Dream reminds him. He cares, he doesn't need to but Ink at least won't give him more to worry about if they can help it.
They're so easily repaired...

They notice their HP is almost full and put the lid back on the vial they're holding. They'll stop here, don't want to take too much by accident. They look back at Blue and Dream, eyes now flashing with brighter shades of purple fear.
Blue smiles and waves at him. Awake, chatting with Dream, who also looks up and gives Ink a soft smile. They're safe.

Ink keeps staring-- eyes now showing more pink, green, gold.
"Come here," Dream calls, so they do. Ink stands next to Dream, next to Blue's bed.
"Hey, Ink," Blue says, sitting up a little more and smiling at them. He looks a lot better.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Ink means to say. What he actually says is, "I'm sorry--"
"About what--" Blue starts, but Ink doesn't hear him. Dream carefully picks a bone shard off Ink's clothes.
"I-- I should have been there sooner, shouldn't have left you alone against those three--"
They're leaning into the bed now, eyelights frantic shades of blue, purple, pink, one arm holding them up, the other starting to reach out, then holding back. Blue takes his hand, gently.
"I took too long, was only fighting Dust, could have stopped him faster, could have been too late--"

Blue looks a bit lost as Ink holds his hand like he doesn't believe it's still there.
"Ink, I'm okay?? It wasn't that bad, you've seen me handle worse, no problem! Why so... serious, now? Are you o--"
He stops talking when he sees the look on their face. "You did great?" he tries. "Did you have too much purple or something?"

He doesn't know. He has no idea Ink could have lost him in their very first battle, let him get hurt when it's their duty to protect. They fail to come up with the right words, too, and instead just look at him.
He's fine. He doesn't know. The guilt burns them, but he can't doesn't blame them, and there's no way they can explain.

"Yeah, that must be it," they mumble as they lean over the bed into a gentle hug. "Sorry..."
He hugs them back. Dream puts a comforting hand on their shoulder, a few inches away from where the healed bone is exposed by the torn clothes.

Defeated, they relax into the hug. Everyone is safe for now.

Chapter Text

Dream sits alone in an abandoned Waterfall in a complete True Pacifist Undertale. He's too far away from the surface to feel the auras of the monsters that now live there. He leans against the cave wall, curled up slightly, far away from any echo flowers. It's quiet. Peaceful.

He lets out a shaky breath.
He's not sure how long it's been since he was really alone like this, and he kind of hates it, but he finally got a bit of free time without any disasters that need his attention, and he needs the break badly.

Blue is fine-- he's been fine for a while, actually-- but Dream still feels bad about letting him be hurt. He knows it's not his fault Blue was involved (he can make that choice for himself), he knows it's not his fault Nightmare is like this, doing this at all (at least, that's what his friends say, and he wants to believe them), but he can't help but feel painfully guilty over it all anyway. If he had just been a little better, maybe Blue would be safe, maybe Nightmare could have been safe...

And if he had just been worse...

Stop thinking about this.
He holds his arms around himself a little tighter.

Ink has been suspicious the last few days.
He's always a little weird-- Dream thinks this with nothing but affection-- but it seems like something is actually wrong right now, and Dream still has no idea what it is. It's been bothering him, as he can see it's bothering Ink. They haven't said a word about it and their feelings are impossible for Dream to sense. Which is usually refreshing, but it's a little distressing at times like this when something is wrong and Ink hides it from him. He hopes it's not too serious.

Dream misses him now, curled up in this cave trying to keep it together, alone. He had been getting overwhelmed by everyone's auras when he ran away here (all the time, always at least a little), but Ink is... safe, even and especially when nobody else can be. He wouldn't want to burden Ink with his problems, but he wants a hug right now. It's fine, maybe later. Now isn't a good time for him to be around other people, anyway.

Error has been suspicious too, although in a different way. Dream hasn't heard from him at all since a few days ago, when he destroyed...
Wait. What AU was it?
No, he can't be forgetting it. He wouldn't, he's just tired, must have mixed it up with another because he's tired, right? It'll come to him in a second. He wouldn't forget it.

He wouldn't.

Is he losing it?

He tries not to let his face crumple, holding his sleeves to his eye sockets so no tears can fall. He can't let himself be weak, negative, people are counting on him to stay strong, bright. He wouldn't forget an AU he couldn't save.
He spirals, seeing all kinds of worst-case-scenarios. Maybe Dream's not the problem-- is something going on that he can't see? Maybe Error's found a way to delete worlds entirely, and that's why he can't remember it, why he hasn't heard from Error-- he's been destroying worlds right in front of him this whole time, and he didn't notice--

He sucks in a harsh breath that can't be a sob.

Then lets out a sound that... definitely was a yelp as Ink appears out of nowhere behind him.

"I-Ink! What are you-- how long have you been here??" Dream cries, flinching sharply away even as he realizes it's only his friend. He's mortified at the idea Ink might have seen him like this, with no aura to recognize before they reveal themself.
"S-sorry! I just got here, I didn't-- hear anything??"
Good-- although, is that even true? Honestly, it could go either way with Ink. Dream holds back an annoyed sigh or rude words. He loves Ink, but he feels a little betrayed that even here, worlds away from where he left them, he can still be walked in on mid-breakdown with no warning.

"Okay. What do you need?" he settles on saying. He can't just ask them to leave, that would be suspicious. And rude.
"Just... wanted to check on you? You looked... a little sad? When you left? So I wanted to make sure you're okay?"

Oh no. That's sweet and caring and Dream can't escape. He forces his expression into something normal, sits up straight and polite. He holds his hands in his lap, keeping them away from his face.
"I'm okay, Ink. Thank you for checking on me but I just want a few minutes alone, okay?"
He tries to keep his voice steady, but he knows Ink will see right through him. Honestly, there was no hope from the moment they showed up, but he can't help trying to politely push them away. They shouldn't have come here, shouldn't see him like this, shouldn't have to deal with his problems.

Ink sits next to him, not touching but close. He takes his brush from its place at his back and sets it to the side, so he can lean on the wall next to Dream.

"Do you really?" they ask.
Dream sighs. His sleeve goes back up to his eye socket.
"I don't know," he admits. "Everything's a lot right now, I don't want you to see me--"

Ink turns to lean his skull against the wall, facing away from Dream. He leaves one hand in the grass next to Dream, a silent offer of support. Dream smiles a tiny bit and puts his hand in theirs.
No longer expected to make eye contact, he turns away slightly as well, feeling a little more comfortable. Ink's fingers curl reassuringly over the back of his hand.

They sit in near-silence for a few minutes as Dream's sharp breaths slowly calm.

"So, what's up?" Ink finally asks.
Dream gives in. He feels a bit ashamed to admit this, but maybe Ink will know something about it?
"The last AU Error destroyed. I can't-- can't remember it." His voice breaks halfway through, but he keeps a straight face despite Ink still not looking.

Before he's even finished his sentence, Ink's hand is violently pulled away from his. Startled, Dream turns and sees Ink fold over as if they had been punched. They let out a quiet choked sound as their hand presses to their face, a small amount of dark paint dripping into the grass through their fingers.

Dream flinches back, startled and deeply concerned by Ink's reaction.
"A-are you alright??" he asks.
Ink nods, eyes scrunched shut as he tries to calm down. No aura tells Dream if that's true. Dream feels a pull to comfort them, but isn't sure how. His hand hovers powerlessly above their shoulder, unsure if the contact would be comforting or distressing.

He knows Ink doesn't need to breathe but he's still extremely uncomfortable, watching Ink leaned over, completely frozen in the grass, not moving even a twitch as they process what Dream had just said. Their feelings are completely blank to Dream, leaving him feeling like he's anxiously watching a paused screen. He waits for them.

After a minute or two, Ink opens his eyes, takes his hand away from his face, and sits up. Dream pulls his hand back so he doesn't touch them. They wipe their hand on the grass. Dream suppresses a wince. Ew.

Well. He's got a pretty good idea of what's been bothering them, now.

"What was that about?" Dream asks. Ink's eyelights-- one still shaped like an exclamation point-- shrink in alarm.
"You noticed too," they say.
"W-what happened to it?" Dream questions.
Ink hesitates, looking away. Dream's eyes narrow suspiciously.
"You know," he presses. He backs off when Ink makes a little gasp sound, hand hovering back over their mouth. "Sorry. Take your time."
Ink nods and hides his face, sitting with his knees in front of his chest.

"I can't just let this go, though," Dream adds, after another minute or two. "It's-- a whole AU, so completely gone I can't even-- I can't just forget it, we can't let this happen again! I-is there anything we can do?"
Ink's hands twitch, clasped together in front of their legs. Dream half-realizes he should slow down, don't spiral, if only so they don't as well, but it's all so much, he can't stop talking.
"Was-- is it something Error did? Is he-- somehow, deleting AUs now--"

"No," Ink says, sharp and certain in contrast to the last few minutes. "Wasn't him. He's not doing that anymore. Don't worry about that."
"What?" Dream says, thoroughly confused. Error, not dangerous anymore? What has Ink been doing the last few days??
"He's different. We're... friends, now," he says. This does not make Dream any less confused.
"What??" he's left to dumbly repeat. Ink's hand goes up in front of their mouth, briefly worrying Dream that he's upset them again, until he realizes they're giggling at him.

Dream gives them a faux-annoyed look, wishing they'd stop being so frustratingly mysterious about it, but unable to really be upset with them. As distressing as it is for Dream not to know what's wrong, they're clearly... doing their best, even if they really shouldn't be trying to face whatever it is alone.

"Sorry, forgot I didn't tell you about that yet..." Ink says, finally looking a little more comfortable, though still tense. "Error's cool. Wasn't... in control, before. But he's good now!"
Ink grins. Dream stares through him, trying to process his words.
"He doesn't actually want to destroy anything. Feels really bad about it, even though he technically didn't even..."
They trail off, eyelights shrinking again as if they caught themself revealing too much. After a few blank seconds, he continues.
"Uh, don't tell him I said any of that? Didn't really ask if it was okay..." they finish, laughing awkwardly at the end.

This is not where Dream expected this conversation to go. He hopes Ink is right about Error-- if this is true, it's great news, but he's concerned it's some kind of trap. But he doesn't want to be too suspicious of either of them, so he accepts it for now.
"That's great," Dream says, smiling softly at Ink, who grins back.
"I know!" he says brightly. "I always wanted to be friends with him instead of just fighting all the time."
They sound so genuine. If Error betrays them Dream will have to go punch him in the face. He pretends not to have had that thought as he smiles supportively.

"How did you two become friends?" he asks.
"I asked and he said yes!!" Ink says.
Dream looks suspiciously at him. There is no way that's the whole story.
"...And what else happened?"
Ink laughs a little, embarrassed. "Tried to visit him and both kinda panicked?"
That sounds normal enough for Error, but why would Ink panic? Unless Error did something to him? And if it was bad enough for Ink to admit to "panicking," it must have actually gone a lot worse...

"Both? What happened before that?"
Ink looks afraid again for a second before he forces a carefree expression back on. Something is definitely upsetting him. Is it Error, or something else?
"Uhh, not sure if he'd want me to tell you?" Ink tries.
Dream nods. Even if Ink's just changing the subject, he'll still respect that.

They both fall silent again. Dream lets himself lean over to rest his skull on Ink's shoulder. He can feel them relax a little as they put their arm around him.

"I'm glad you two are getting along," he says. "How is he doing, now?"
He looks up slightly and at the edge of his vision, he can see Ink smile as he starts rambling.

He decides to let the other subjects go for now. He doesn't want to push Ink away by pressing too hard. He'll have to try again at some point-- he's still worried about that missing AU and whatever else might be wrong-- but for now, he gives in and lets the conversation drift to lighter topics.

Even with these new and old worries, Dream feels a lot better with Ink's arm around his shoulder.

Chapter Text

Dream can never find out.

While Ink is pretty sure he's not supposed to be telling anyone they didn't exist last week, Dream especially can never know. Ink can't hurt him like that.
They can't ever tell him that the Nightmare he knew was never alive.

And he's about to figure it out anyway.
The only reason he didn't press the answer out of them right then was to spare their feelings, because they couldn't even handle the first sentence of that conversation.

When will he be forced to tell him the truth? Will it be the next time they meet, or will they dance around the subject-- can Ink find a way around telling him? Should he lie? Pretend not to remember any helpful details? That might be in character for Ink-- he doesn't feel very good at staying in character lately. He's having a hard time understanding what that even means.

Will Dream even like them anymore?

Did they only get a few days with him as their friend at all? He should have spent more time with him. Now he doesn't want to see him (even though he does) in fear that it will be the last time.

Will he hate them for hiding the truth, or for letting him find out?

Maybe he'll just think Ink is crazy-- they're sure acting like it lately-- but no, that stupid fake AU is proof to him that something has changed for real. Maybe Dream could forget it entirely? No, he noticed on his own, it must not be that hidden from him.

No, they need to stop spiraling. Dream is better than that. He wouldn't hate them. He might be upset, disappointed, but he wouldn't just ditch Ink that easily. He cares, so much.

Right?

But they're not the Ink he loves. They never existed.
Just like the Nightmare he loves never existed.

Ink realizes that they, too, have never been alive, and never will be, not really. They shiver silently, looking down, away from the stars.

As he hears a familiar buzzing of static several feet away, he forces himself to be still, blinking his eyelights back into cheerful shapes and soft colors.
He looks up with a grin toward the sound as his friend arrives, then averts his eyes from the blank white portal.
Something tells him even his reason to be uncomfortable with that is fake, but he pushes away the thought in favor of waving cheerfully as Error closes the portal behind himself.

"Hey, Error! I brought hot chocolates!" he calls out. Error's cautious expression shifts into an interested smile and Ink holds back a laugh. Error sits down next to them on the cool stone ground-- maybe a few inches closer than last time? He picks up one of the to-go cups between them and sips it.
"Thanks," he says after a slightly awkward pause. Ink smiles at him and picks up their own cup, which has cooled a little, while they were waiting for Error to show up, but is still pleasantly hot. A layer of sweet, melted whipped cream sits on the top under the lid.

They sit in almost-comfortable silence for a minute or two before Ink breaks it.
"So, how's it going?"
Error shrugs, seeming to consider the question for a moment, before replying.
"Still sucks, but better." He puts on a carefree smile that could almost fool Ink into thinking it was his real expression-- but his words sound genuine, and Ink is happy to hear them.

"That's good! What have you been doing?" they try. Something about their own speech sounds stilted and awkward to them, and they're not sure how to fix it, or what to say instead. They're not sure whether it's their fault or his-- there's not much to go off of yet-- but Error doesn't seem to mind yet, so he tries not to worry about it.

Error doesn't hesitate as long before answering this time.
"Not much... Thinking about things. Made a few dolls. Feels more real now..." He pauses, then adds, "And the voices finally shut up!"
He grins, genuinely. Ink remembers, maybe a few seconds late, that backstory-Error said something about voices a few times. The memory is a little blurry, but he can tell from context that this is very good news, so he grins back.
"That's great!" Ink cheers. Error looks a little embarrassed, yet still very pleased.

Another pause. Ink starts to ask, "How are y--"
"No." Error interrupts. His voice glitches slightly more, and Ink notices it has actually sounded much more clear than usual today. Maybe because he's been more comfortable? Ink smiles a little at the thought. They catch themself a second later, realizing that probably doesn't look like a normal response to that. Error is giving them a look.

They tilt their skull as if asking a silent question. "Why not?"
"Y-you're not getting any feelings talk from me," he says. Okay, got it, not right now, Ink receives the message loud and clear through the static in his voice. They nod and give him a thumbs up, sipping the hot chocolate.

"What about you?" Error asks.
Ink does want to tell him, but he just said...
"Thought you said no feelings talk?" they say.
"Not about me," he replies, looking absolutely ready to hear some drama. Well, as long as he doesn't mind...

For a second, Ink wonders if he should water the story down, not reveal too much-- but screw it, he has one person he can talk to about this and he really needs to.

"Dream knows."
Error makes a broken electronic noise and Ink realizes he should maybe slow down a little.
"M-maybe he doesn't actually know yet??"
"Which is it?" Error snarls, dark pixels breaking off his silhouette.
"I don't think he's actually figured it out?? But he knows about that missing AU, he knows something's wrong-- he tried to ask me but--"
Error looks a little less concerned now, in contrast to Ink, now gripping his hot chocolate so hard the cup crinkles under his fingers. He doesn't notice a quiet pop as the lid loosens.

"What's wrong with him knowing about that?" Error asks.
"His brother never existed."
"Oh shit. Wait, what happened to Nightmare?"
"Actually been dead for 500 years. The one we know is like... his evil zombie."
Error seems to try to hold back an insensitive laugh at that description. Ink makes a face at him, then goes for a sip of their hot chocolate.

"Gghhkk--"
Ink makes a startled noise as the lid falls off and sticky lukewarm milk spills directly into their face. They can hear Error not trying very hard not to laugh at them. They can already feel it sinking into their scarf, clinging uncomfortably to their neck.

He sets down the half-empty cup next to where he's sitting and lets out a defeated whine as he leans forward to rest his skull in his hands. Error goes quiet.

"Y-you okay?" he asks, voice fuzzy again.
"Everything sucks," Ink replies.
At the edge of his vision, he sees Error nod in agreement.
They take off their scarf, trying to wipe off the stickiness with the dry ends. It doesn't really work, only changing wet stickiness into dry stickiness. The milk feels terrible between their vertebrae. They shudder, feeling slightly sick.

Something bumps against their shoulder. They look up-- Error is holding out a water bottle, holding onto the cap and tapping them with the end of the bottle to keep as much space between them as possible.
"Thanks," Ink says, taking it. Error tosses a clean, folded t-shirt at him. Only their scarf got damp and the shirt would fit them like a dress, so they assume it's meant for cleaning up.
"Did you just steal these?"
"Don't be a baby."
Ink laughs and starts wiping the hot chocolate off himself, using the water to remove it more effectively.

They feel a little calmer by the time their bones are mostly clean and dry again. They set down the water and shirt, and fold up their scarf almost-neatly, to wash later.
"Okay, all good," he says. Well, not all good, but at least he's not sticky anymore.
"Good," Error replies.
A few seconds later, Error continues, "So why would Dream know?"
Ink laughs uncomfortably.
"He's just-- just figuring it out on his own!! He can tell there's something wrong with me, and he realized that fake AU was missing before I even showed up, and the only reason he let the topic go was 'cause I couldn't even answer him when he asked about it, which is just-- even more suspicious!!"

Ink hides his face in his hands and takes an unnecessary breath before continuing.
"I... I don't want to hurt him with this. But he's-- he's not giving me a choice! And that's not even his fault, he doesn't know, he's just worried about me 'cause I couldn't even act normal for the few days I got with him before I let him find out his whole life has been a lie--"
Their voice breaks. They stare at the ground, tears threatening to spill, only held back because someone is still watching.

Error seems to shiver as pixels break off of his body, but he still looks intently at Ink, until he notices Ink look back and averts his eyes. Ink reaches for a scarf they aren't wearing and settles for brushing a tear off their face with the back of their glove.

They don't breathe, so their breath can't come out as a sob.

Finally, Error replies.
"Did you make most of everyone's lives never happen?"
Ink misses his tone through the heavy static. Incredulous, they forget for a moment to be upset by the question.
"O-of course not?? I wouldn't-- it doesn't work like that??"
"You literally haven't done anything wrong. Why would he blame you? Still sucks, but he's not gonna ditch you over it."

Ink takes a moment to process his words. Some part of them did know Dream wouldn't be mad at them, but it helps to hear Error tell them so. They still don't want him to have to live with it.

"Also he doesn't even know yet, you can just lie about it," Error adds.

Oh, right.

They're not sure if they can be convincing enough, considering how bad their acting has been so far, but maybe they can hold back the truth until they get better at it? They can find some other, lesser issue, and let Dream think it was that all along. It won't be ideal, but at least Dream won't ever have to share their burden.

"Thanks," Ink says, voice still shaky. He looks up at Error with a hesitant smile and lightly tear-streaked cheeks, a few lines of transparent gray like water used to clean a paintbrush.
Error blinks at him, looking a little surprised by his answer, then nods and looks away again.

"Good luck."

Ink's smile becomes just a little more real. Before... everything, that would have sounded sarcastic at best, but they know that Error truly means it now. They're not alone in this.

Chapter Text

The Star Sanses have just gotten home after helping out an AU recovering from a recent attack by Nightmare, and Dream is fine, really--
"No, Dream, I'll get it. You relax!" Blue says, gently pushing Dream onto the couch.
"I'm fine, I'll--"
"And so am I, so I can do it," Blue leaves no room to argue, speed-walking off to the kitchen. "Be right back!"

Dream accepts it and sinks into the couch, tense. Ink follows Blue, silently. Dream had been trying to help that AU on his own, healing and helping clean up and bringing supplies, before Ink and Blue had caught him. They had helped him for a few hours before Dream had started involuntarily slowing down, and Ink had practically had to force him through a portal back to the Stars' base.

He knows he should take better care of himself, but he still just can't bring himself to stop, sometimes. So many people are still out there, suffering after Nightmare hurt them. It feels like Dream's responsibility. He's not sure how long he was out there today, but he could have stayed longer...

Blue returns, Ink trailing after him like a puppy after its person. Together they carry three cups of tea, infused with magic to regenerate their energy. Two bowls of some kind of pasta, prepared earlier to be easy after a long day. One cup of ice cream, because Ink doesn't need to care about anything like physical health or complete meals, and just skipped straight to dessert.

Blue hands him a mug and a bowl.
"Thank you," Dream says, smiling warmly at his friends. Blue grins back and sits down by Dream's side. Dream hesitates, then leans against him, sipping the hot tea.
Ink sits on the arm of the couch, next to and slightly above Blue. They attempt to balance both cups, twisting into a catlike and uncomfortable-looking position as they finally manage it. Dream looks at him, watching him notice immediately and avert his eyes.

They're still avoiding him.

Despite their lack of aura, Dream can practically feel their tension from a mile away. They're afraid of something, something related to Dream. Dream finding out some kind of secret? But Error isn't the secret?? Or is he, somehow???
Dream decides to leave that alone for now. They both need a break from worrying about whatever it is.

He doesn't really want to mention it in front of Blue, in case Ink would prefer he didn't, so he waits until Blue gets up to put the dishes away. Normally Dream would insist on doing that (although Blue rarely lets him, after a day like today) but he needs Ink alone for a minute or two.

Ink attempts to follow Blue, but Dream stops him.
"Ink, come here, please?"
Ink does, hovering over the arm of the sofa again, though this time on the side closer to Dream. His eyelights are the usual bright shapes and colors, but smaller than usual, making his discomfort visible anyway. Dream wonders again what could possibly be making them look so afraid of him. Afraid for him? Not the time.

"I'm not going to try to make you talk about it, Ink. Please don't worry about that right now, okay?"
Their eyelights shrink even smaller, then grow closer to their normal appearance, as they seem to realize the world is not about to end. They nod awkwardly, then fall intentionally off the arm of the couch and next to Dream. Dream holds out one arm and Ink slips into a hug, leaning into his side. It feels much more right than whatever they were doing before.

Neither says anything for a moment, until Dream hears the sound of a dish being set down in the kitchen, and remembers one more question to ask before Blue returns.
"Did you tell Blue about your new friend?"
Ink gasps unnecessarily for dramatic effect.
"No, not yet!" He grins. "Forgot, thanks for reminding me!"

Dream smiles softly. That's more like Ink. He's glad Ink seems more relaxed now. Of course, this isn't the end of it-- but at least they don't have to worry so much in this moment. Well, he's pretty sure they don't-- but they're a terrible liar, especially lately, so Dream hopes he'll be able to tell...

Blue walks back to the living room, smiling brightly when he sees Ink no longer awkwardly lingering on the other side of the couch.
"Hey, Blue! Guess what!!" Ink says, slightly too loud.
Blue takes his place on Dream's other side again.
"What's up?" Blue says, volume unconsciously raising to match Ink's energy. Dream winces a little but can't truly mind. Despite the noise, he relaxes with both his closest friends by his side.

"Error's cool now!!" Ink cheers.
"...What??" Blue's grin remains on his face, now thoroughly confused.
"And!!! We're friends now!!!"
Dream laughs softly at Blue's expression.
"...How??"
"I asked and he said yes," Ink says. Dream catches mischief in his eyes-- of course he's saying it vague on purpose...

"No way," Blue says. "You're messing with us, right?"
"I haven't met him yet, but they seemed pretty serious when they told me," Dream says.
"What changed?? Is he still trying to destroy AUs??"
"Nope," Ink grins, "It wasn't really him, doing that, he... didn't, actually want to..."
Something about that sentence feels wrong to Dream, but he can't quite pick out what. He pays attention silently, not daring to push the topic right now.

He unconsciously pulls Ink slightly closer. They don't seem to notice, still talking.

Ink continues. "But the real Error is cool! I actually saw him earlier today in Outertale," they say.
"But we've been in that Underfell all day-- Never mind, you don't sleep-- What happened?" Blue asks, processing what he's just heard.

Oh, Dream must have been there a while...

"Uhh... Talked about some stuff! He's been doing better," Ink completely skips over the topic, interesting-- "And I brought us some hot chocolate, which was nice until I accidentally spilled it all over myself," they add.

Dream tenses, now very aware of Ink cuddled up to his side on the couch. This wouldn't be the first time Ink has hugged him, completely forgetting he was covered in paint, or whatever else he'd already forgotten he got into that day-- Dream winces at the thought of the time Ink forgot he landed in some kind of candy-themed AU earlier, and then teleported straight into Dream's room to tell him something, not thinking of the time. They had landed right on his bed, clothes dripping with hours-old strawberry syrup, just as he was falling asleep...

Dream tries not to get his hopes up.
"Ink, please tell me you wiped it off..."
"Of course??" Ink looks confused at the idea he wouldn't. What?? Dream is grateful anyway, and relaxes again.

"Error helped, actually!" They say, casually.

"WHAT!" Blue shouts. "You're just making things up, aren't you??"
"What???" Dream whispers.

The mental image of Error, the Destroyer, wiping hot chocolate off of Ink's face... No??? No, it's not possible. Dream wanted to believe what Ink told him, but that's just too weird.

"What?" Ink says, again as if his words made perfect sense. "He stole someone's water bottle for me," he clarifies.

Okay.

That makes more sense, but...
"Why?" Dream asks.
"Because... Hot chocolate's too sticky to wipe off without water?" Their eyelights shrink slightly, one turned to a question mark. They look uncomfortable. They tense in Dream's hold.
Blue can't tell, from his place at Dream's other side, and asks the question Dream might have known to hold back.

"Since when do you care about that?" Blue says, laughing a little.
Ink curls up smaller against Dream. Dream can tell he's stopped breathing, an attempt to hide any anxious hyperventilation before it has the chance to start-- as if Dream wouldn't notice just as easily when he goes still.

"I've been telling them, please make sure they're not covered in paint or anything before we do this," Dream lies, gesturing to how close they're sitting. "Thanks for doing that, Ink," he adds.

Honestly, he had just accepted that Ink will probably be hugging him with paint splattered across them forever, and Dream was willing to pay that price for Ink to keep hugging him. They've just never been able to keep a chore like that in their head for longer than a few days.

Ink relaxes a bit.
"Oh, cool," Blue says, looking a little more impressed than he should be for Ink having remembered not to get hot chocolate on Dream and the couch.
Ink resumes breathing, close to calm again.

The conversation moves on, Ink cheerfully telling them something Error had said the other day, something that sounds so strangely normal that it's weird to imagine him saying it.
Dream's mind wanders back to the mystery of what is Ink so worried about?

They never cared about getting messy before. Before what? Now "of course" they would clean up. And... that's a secret for some reason?? But they didn't seem to remember-- or realize-- until Blue caught the details not matching up??

The details don't match. Memories don't match reality-- not Dream's, not Ink's. Something changed-- a few days ago, when that AU went missing, when Error supposedly changed. Did Error do it? Do what??

Dream tunes back into the conversation. Ink and Blue seem happy, now chatting about something cool Blue had done in Underfell earlier. Dream is tired. He rests his skull on Blue's shoulder and lets himself zone back out, peacefully enjoying the company.
He'll worry about this tomorrow-- tonight, he needs sleep.

Chapter Text

Error stares at the stars. Again.

He's been doing that a lot lately. No longer destroying worlds, fighting the Stars over destroying worlds, or prowling around the Anti-Void talking to himself, has... pretty much freed up his entire schedule for a while.

He tried watching TV. Can't really focus. Can't hear them over his own thoughts.

He's not sure how he ever made so many dolls-- maybe he lost track of time in the Anti-Void, or maybe he was only so fast because he didn't pay attention to details much. He had looked at a few of them, noting that while some had been well made, others were missing details, falling apart at the seams, or just left half-finished.

Error remembers the one he found last, filled with dust, spilling from rushed, too-long stitches.
He had strung up that one and all the others he hadn't looked at yet into some kind of chaotic spiderweb, somewhere far enough from his beanbag that he wouldn't have to look at them again for a while. He tries not to think of them, either.

It's both easier and more difficult, now. It's like before, it was just a thing he did, while now he has to actually do it. Which takes time, and thought, and it's nice being able to think so clearly but he never realized how long it takes to sew?? His latest doll is much cuter than the ones he "made" before it, at least. He still doesn't feel like making another right now.

So he watches the stars again.

...He catches himself wishing Ink were there too.
What??
He never thought he'd be thinking that one day.
Is that normal? Should he stop thinking about them?? Or maybe he should text them??
They're probably busy. Would he be annoying if he texted them?? He's been a lot worse than annoying before, and they don't seem to blame him for that, but they also think he didn't actually do any of that, so...

Nah. What is he thinking? Ink has better things to do, and Error doesn't need him anyway. He's always been alone, he doesn't need anyone else. Besides, they always seem to upset each other somehow. Ink is stressed enough, he shouldn't bother them.

He idly twists a few strings in his hands as he tries to find anything else to think about.

His thoughts keep wandering back to dust in careless stitches.
He takes out his phone. Ink had put their number in a while ago. All he needs to do is type in a message and send it. They might be busy, but he can at least ask.

He stares at their contact in his phone. Just type something.
No matter how lame it is, this message can't possibly be the dumbest thing he's said to them. Ink won't care. They've told him before, they don't know what they're doing either. They get it. Right?

Error's fingers hover over the screen for a few more minutes.

Eventually he types a message. Something about him stops the device from working quite right-- no matter how he tries to edit it, the letters just won't type correctly.
hh ey im At outerta iF yyou want t0 HAngout :)
...It sounds bad. But he's been staring and editing for like fifteen minutes already so he presses send and puts down the phone before he has time to change his mind.

Three minutes pass with no response. Error cringes at the dim, silent phone. Ink appears suddenly next to him. He tries not to flinch, before looking up at him, slightly surprised he actually showed up.

"Hey!" Ink says, bright and cheerful, like they're happy to see him.
"Hey," Error says, grinning back despite wondering how they could possibly want to see him.
Ink sits down next to him, a few feet apart, and he pushes those thoughts away.

"What's up?" Ink asks, casually, as if it's easy.
Error looks away, tries to blink away a few stray pixels as he realizes he doesn't have much of an answer. Anything he could say is either boring, clingy, or guilty-- He rushes to settle on clingy as the least painful option before Ink can realize he called them with no plan.
"Uhh... Realized I wanted you here?"

Error regrets everything.
He shivers as an anxious wave of static passes over him. But when he looks back at Ink, their eyelights have turned to sparkles and stars.
They look so happy he wanted to see them again. Their smile is warm, eyes shining bright.
Maybe he doesn't regret everything...

He thinks he hears a quiet, excited, "Aww!!", but can't be sure, with his audio lagging slightly, hoping he doesn't blush so Ink can't notice.

He doesn't have to force it when he smiles back-- he worries for a second it's reminiscent of his expressions before, but Ink's delight doesn't falter, so he's able to push away those thoughts for now.

"So what're you doing?" Ink asks, leaning slightly closer, yet still safely outside of his personal space. Much more considerate than Error remembers-- have they both changed, or is he just nicer because they're not fighting anymore? Probably that one... Wait, shit, he asked a question, he has to answer--

"Just sitting here," he says. Boring. "Not much to do now," he tries to continue, "not destroying anything or fighting you anymore," stop talking, "and watching TV kinda sucks now--" shut up--
He stops abruptly. Too much information.
"What were you doing?" he blatantly changes the subject.

"Checking on some AUs, nothing was wrong, just had some time to kill," Ink answers. "What's wrong with TV?"
Error cringes a little, narrowing his eyes at Ink. He hadn't meant to actually tell them anything like this. He twists one end of his scarf in his hand.
Ink looks back at him, one eyelight a calm green question mark, waiting patiently. He looks genuinely curious.

"...I was going to kill them last," Error hears himself say, voice crackling.

Ink's eyelights shrink a little. For a second Error worries he screwed this up by telling them-- he knew he shouldn't-- but they only look concerned before their expression goes close to neutral again.
"Right, sorry," they say, looking away awkwardly. "Thanks for telling me."
They try to smile reassuringly at him. Error shrugs.
"It's fine. Just boring now, really," he lies.

"You want to talk?" Ink asks.
"Not about that," Error replies. One sentence was more than enough feelings talk for him right now-- or at all, really.
Ink nods, dropping the subject easily.

"How about you? What's up with Dream?" Error asks.
He has no problem with Ink's feelings-- well, that's not quite true, he might crash if they get upset and their voice starts sounding like they're about to cry and he gets anxious and shaky and doesn't know what to do--
But Ink doesn't seem to mind talking about his problems. And Error doesn't really care if Dream finds out he wasn't real last week, but he cares about Ink, and they seem to like having someone they can talk to.

Plus, the drama is way more interesting than whatever Error was doing before.

And he doesn't really know what else to try to talk about, when it's already been established that he doesn't really do anything.

Ink sighs dramatically. "He said he wasn't gonna try to make me talk about it, but I know he's still suspicious," they say. "And apparently I've changed, and he and Blue are noticing that too."
"Changed how?" Error asks.
"The stupid hot chocolate," Ink whines. "Apparently I never used to notice if I was sticky?? I used to hug Dream, covered in paint, all the time."

Error laughs, leaning forward slightly and getting stuck on one sound that repeats unnaturally. "Paint from what?" he asks, looking up to grin at them. "Don't tell me you used to do that after throwing up paint all over yourself."

He can see the moment Ink's eyelights go out, looking absolutely haunted by the realization. Error struggles not to laugh harder and miss Ink's reply.

"Oh... oh, stars, I don't know..." they say, voice quiet and defeated.
Error makes a sharp, electronic noise as he fails to hide his laughter (not that he was trying very hard.)
"S-shut up!!" Ink squeaks, whacking Error with one end of his scarf. "Even if I did, I didn't actually do that!!"
"Dream remembers you did," Error teases.

"Aaaaaughh," Ink groans, muffled by the scarf they're trying to hide their blush under. Error can still see a bit of soft purple and green peeking out.
"I might not have even done that..." he tries.
"You probably did, though. Maybe Dream didn't notice." Error says, smiling a little too wide to be reassuring.
Ink hits him with the scarf again. It's so soft, he barely feels it, though a few pixels snap out of place for a half second at the contact.

Error has a scarf too. He takes it off, grinning faux-maliciously at Ink. He hides a few strings on it, then pretends to swing the scarf back at him. He uses the strings to propel it faster, softly but quickly hitting Ink in the face with it.

"Hey!" Ink says, sounding annoyed, though the amused smile on his face tells a different story.

It's clear after a minute or two that they're both cheating, Error with his strings and Ink's scarf slightly damp with magic. They pretty quickly give up on the scarves, fighting more like they used to-- though now more careful, no malice behind their attacks. Ink never physically touches Error, and Error uses only harmless strings, not damaging bullets.

Eventually Ink catches Error, held down by their magic on the ground. Error had thought he'd win, since his strings should be great for this kind of battle, but Ink just never got tired???

Ink leans over him, triumphantly.
"Say it~" he sings.
"Fine... You probably didn't used to get thrown up paint all over Dream."
"Error! Not like that!!" They try to sound annoyed, but they're laughing.
"Okay, okay..." he says, "You only got normal, clean art supplies on Dream."
"Close enough," Ink says, removing the magic so Error can get up. They look happier than Error has seen them in... A while? Maybe all time?

Ink holds out their hand to help Error up, wrapped up in their scarf in case he'd rather not touch. He takes it, still smiling.
Even getting up from the ground after losing, Error realizes-- maybe for the first time-- he's happy, too.

Chapter Text

"And then I led him straight into Dust's blaster!"
Ink listens intently as Blue tells him and Dream about what happened while they were separated during the fight earlier.
Blue gestures with one hand, acting out the battle as he talks, above where Ink lay across his and Dream's laps. His other arm is still around Dream's shoulders, as they lean on each other just enough to feel cozy. Ink looks up at them, content, as they listen to his story.

The moment is golden, joyful. Blue and Dream are safe and happy. They haven't noticed or mentioned anything related to the beginning in a while, or to Ink being different or wrong.

He can't know how long this will last-- how Dream will react to the truth or to Ink continuing to hide it, or what other unknown problems may get in their way. But in this moment, the only thing that changed is that, finally, it all feels real, in a way he had never known he missed.

As if on cue, a sharp, wrong feeling interrupts their comfort.

Destruction.

Dream, too, flinches.
"Dream?" Ink barely hears Blue say. "What's he doing, trying again? We just kicked his-- oh stars, Ink, what--"

Their bones tense and rattle as they struggle, either to breathe or to force themself not to, they don't know which. Small tears form in their wide, dark eye sockets. All they can feel is bright, jarring panic.

It can't be him, he wouldn't, please--

Dream lifts Ink, just a little, from where they lay on his lap and holds them close. They curl up to his chest, hiding their face. Blue's hand falls gently onto their back, and they hear him say something, maybe ask something, but they can't think of what it was, much less an answer. The feeling of destruction still burns, stabbing right through where their soul should be.

They have to stop him--

Ink tries to get up, still too shaky to be effective at even that, certainly not fighting-- not Error it can't be him-- but Dream gently holds him back, shifting so they can see each other better.
"Ink, what's wrong?" Dream asks, concern clear in his voice and eyes.

"It-- it's like when-- Error, but it's not him it can't be--" he covers his mouth with one hand, tasting fear, trying to force back the paint. He takes a sharp breath and continues, "It can't-- can't be him but we need to stop him--"

They try to get up again, and this time Dream lets them. Blue stays by their side, guiding them quickly to the small trash can in the corner of the room. They had meant to get up and teleport to the breaking AU, but they kneel to lean over the can as they try to explain, to themself as much as anyone.
"H-he wouldn't, he hates that he ever did, it can't--" he's cut off by a harsh, wet sob. Dark paint splashes into the can.

His friends hover over him, anxiously, each with a comforting hand on his shoulder.
Staying here with him on the floor, when someone is destroying an AU-- a Fellswap-- when he should be saving it.

He has to save it. It's why he's here. Why he exists at all.
Ink forces himself up.
"We have to-- to go save it," they say.

"Are you sure you're ready?" Blue says, hesitant.
"Doesn't matter until they're safe," they insist.
Their friends clearly don't believe that, but they can't argue-- people are being hurt. They have no choice-- it's an emergency, they've taken too long to get there already. Without any more hesitation, Dream opens the portal.

That wrong, destructive feeling still burns their chest, only harsher as they run through. It never hurt this bad before, on its own, but that was before he knew Error.

The Error Ink knows now would never do this-- he would be disgusted by the very idea, would likely rather die.

He had been doing so much better, Ink was so happy for him-- so happy to know him. It meant so much that he was now here for them, helping them, lightheartedly teasing them. Finally starting to relax, texting them just to spend time together, after they had both started out so anxious they could hardly stand to be in the same AU.

Ink had thought, for a moment, that he knew things would only get better from there. Error would have been happy, free to live a real life. They would have been close friends, maybe even as close as with the Stars, maybe the four of them could have even been a group one day--

This can't be him. If this is him-- then it's not really him, again. He wouldn't do it on purpose but he still could. Could he be forced again? Ink doesn't know if-- no, how they could save him.

Dream and Blue come through the portal, close behind Ink. Ink runs, purposeful yet lost, searching blindly for an answer, for something they can save. They glance frantically around-- bright white snow, mostly trampled. The cold can't hurt, or even really bother them at all, but their bones still rattle as they shiver violently.

It's suspiciously quiet. The snow muffles most sound, making the place feel uncomfortably blank.
Clouds of cold, white powder blow through the air with the wind, and Ink can't tell whether it's dust, snow, or both at once.

After a moment's clueless hesitation, on guard and anticipating, a scream in the distance gives the Stars direction. They rush toward the voice. The others let Ink lead, to keep him safer in their sight.

Ink doesn't notice the strings until they catch him, wrap his bones, sharp as blades.
He's dragged harshly away to the side before anyone can even process that he stopped.

Chapter Text

Error had no reason to believe something was wrong.

It's normal for him to be feeling bored, tired, yet awake and so restless. To wander the Anti-Void, sit around in Outertale, try again and again to pick up a project or watch the TV, then fail to focus on it.

Lose himself to his thoughts-- memories, that Ink says never happened, yet he just can't stop seeing, feeling, how they had melted under his claws, the time he killed them with his own hands.

He doesn't know whether it had been a battle strategy, or if they had already given up on him (as they should have, a long time before) and started trying to bother him on purpose, just because they could, just to see what would happen.
Ink had moved the fight up close-- started trying to cover him in uncomfortably wet, sticky paint, touching at any chance they got, just to see what got the most dramatic reaction. His vision started to disappear behind stray pixels and error messages-- his body started lagging and glitching so bad he shook.

Error can't blame them. Whether he's the same person now or not, that version of him had totally deserved it. He's pretty sure he had tried to kill them many times before and after, with much less reason.

In his fury and desperation, he had been attacking them wildly, anything to make them go away. They didn't even react to the sharpened bones smashing into their skull, their back, anywhere he could reach. Blasters fired around them, often completely missing as he was barely functional enough to aim. The ones that hit barely even pushed Ink to the side as they brushed the lasers off.

Until he had started fighting with his hands, trying to rip bones from joints, and they were forced to notice.

At the time, he hadn't even been bothered by the way they liquefied in his hands, eyes wide not with fear, only surprise, as if they hadn't expected him to actually do it. If anything, he had been thrilled by the victory.

The memory makes him sick, now.

He doesn't ever want to see that again. He wants to see them alive, safe. Smiling at him, because they're friends, because none of that ever happened.

The vision won't leave his head.

And something feels wrong. Wrong like glitching, like crashing, yet somehow far away. Probably still just him, but it's weird.

He wishes Ink were here. The thought is somewhat embarrassing, but everything feels a little lighter when he's with them. They're probably busy, though. Ink has other friends.

Error paces around the Anti-Void again, trying to get that image out of his head. That wrong feeling keeps bugging him. These things together are making him a little paranoid-- is something actually wrong? Should he be doing something? Does Ink know anything about this?

He stops, takes out his phone. The screen is littered with dead pixels. He types a message.
HEyy do u ff3el tha? is snth\ wr0ng/
The situation feels urgent by now so he doesn't waste long trying to make the message type correctly and just sends it.

No reply.
Is Ink okay?

He knows they can't permanently die, so he shouldn't worry about that. He's pretty sure they don't even feel pain. But that doesn't mean they can't be hurt.
He can't help but fear this is related to them somehow.

He still doesn't have any proof he should be worried. He always feels glitchy and weird-- just because this is different doesn't mean anything. And there are plenty of reasons Ink wouldn't reply. They might not even be doing anything-- they probably just left their phone lying around somewhere.

But it's not like he has anything more important to do. And maybe if he sees Ink safe, he'll stop seeing them die every time he closes his eyes. He wastes no more time hesitating, and starts looking for the suspicious AU.

////

Sharp strings dig into Ink's bones, wrapping him so he can barely move, harshly pulling him far away from his friends before he has the chance to make a sound.
They throw him hard into the side of a tree, wrapping around it, too, to suspend Ink a few feet above the ground.

Fresh watercolor tears run down his face. Error's strings don't feel like this-- but Error is the only person to use strings at all, so who else could it be?
Please let it be someone else. Anyone but him.

At the edge of his sight, he sees red strings, and hopes that means they're different.

A moment later Ink sees his attacker, stalking up to him like a cat about to break its prey's neck.
A skeleton, a Sans. Unfamiliar, unnaturally bright white bones. Surrounded by familiar error messages. One blue eye-- one wide, melting red one. Bleeding, violently bright colors, a feral grin.

The red strings are pulled tighter. If Ink could feel pain, they surely would have screamed by now. The skeleton walks right up to them-- stares straight through them. Mutters something to himself. His words overlap and repeat, so that Ink isn't sure exactly what he said, even inches away from their face.
"Not right," Ink thinks they hear him call them.

Their bones almost rattle, barely silenced by the strings holding them in place.

This is definitely not the Error they know, but he reminds them of the Error from before, enough that they still can't be sure-- did something horrible happen to him? Or is this someone new?

The fact they still don't know, even looking into this skeleton's eyes, hurts them even worse. The sharp panic in their bones is worse than this skeleton's strings could ever be, even if Ink felt those.
They throw up a small amount of paint, unable to move their skull to stop it dripping into their scarf. The strings constrict with the motion, leaving them almost unable to breathe.

The skeleton in front of them doesn't seem to even be doing anything, still only staring through Ink as if looking for something, talking to himself in a voice they can't understand.

They hear a blaster charging up behind them, and it sounds just like Error's used to, down to the soft buzzing of static around it. They scrunch their eye sockets closed, a few more tears running down their face, just before it fires.

////

Error is furious.

That wrong feeling only grew stronger as he searched the AU, eventually finding the source.
A bright white, disgustingly corrupted skeleton, holding Ink hostage-- and Error has no idea what this asshole did to make Ink cry, but Ink had never reacted like this to anything Error-- or his nonexistent past version, whatever-- ever did to him, so it must have been something awful.

Something about this guy's very existence bothers Error, which he might have felt bad for thinking if he wasn't doing... whatever that is to Ink right now.

Error charges up a blaster and fires.

The stranger stumbles back, attention drawn to Error, yet not visibly damaged at all. What the hell?
He pulls strings from his mouth, the same unnatural red as the blood that drips from it.
Those red strings shoot towards Error, who dodges them, firing back with sharp bone bullets. His enemy somehow avoids them all. They trade a few more attacks, neither getting any hits, until Error finally stabs a few bone bullets into the weirdo's back.

Error's enemy teleports behind him, too fast to anticipate. The sharp red strings wrap around his ribs, starting to cut through the bones. He holds back a pained scream.

Error realizes he doesn't really want to fight this guy.

Instead of struggling against the strings, Error quickly pushes back against the skeleton, not only allowing himself to be pulled closer, but using that momentum to force his enemy to stumble backwards-- right through his portal to the Anti-Void.

Between the contact and the constriction of the razor-sharp strings as the skeleton fights back, Error screams furiously as painful glitches go over his body and the two fall backwards onto the blank white ground. They both struggle against each other for a few moments-- firing bullets and blasters and strings-- as Error grows less stable, more desperate.

Finally, Error untangles himself from those bloody strings and forces himself up, bones covered in slices, glitching badly. If he doesn't get out of here now, who knows what this guy will do while he's crashed.

He holds back the enemy with a blaster, keeping him down just long enough for Error to fall through a portal, leaving the other skeleton in the Anti-Void.

He lands on his hands and knees in the snow, breathing hard. He rolls onto his side and curls up, hiding his face, and waits to either crash or recover.

Several minutes later, still lagging but functional enough, Error forces himself to get up. He needs to find Ink.

Only a few minutes of walking later, Error finds him. Still tied to that tree, struggling to get rid of those strings-- it looks like he might be trying to free his arm by letting it be sliced through. Their face is stained with tears, and black ink drips down their jaw and scarf.

"H-hey-y," Error calls, voice shaky from nearly crashing. When they look up and see that he's there, Ink seems to lose control all over again. They breathe in uneven, strangled little gasps as fresh gray tears roll down their cheeks and they attempt to reach out, even while held back by sharp strings.

"Hey-y, c-alm down, wha-t-'s wrong-g?" he asks, already starting to overheat from the pressure. He walks up to them and summons a sharpened bone bullet, starting to saw at the strings holding Ink up. Some snap easily, while others take longer. He cuts his fingers on them a few times, hasty and lagging.

"You're-- you're here? You're okay?" Ink asks, voice cracking as if he doesn't believe it's true. Their eyelights are small, in muted colors and pointy shapes.
Error doesn't understand why-- What do they think happened to him? Why would they care this much?
"Wh-at did h-he do to yo-u?" he asks, using his strings to help gently lower Ink to the ground after finally cutting through the red ones. They both sit down in the snow together, exhausted.

Sure, he's seen Ink tear up from stress or something once or twice, but he's never seen them like this. He can't even try to guess what could bother them this much.

"It felt like-- like when you used to--" their voice cuts off, making an unpleasantly wet sound into their ink-stained scarf. "I knew you wouldn't, but it was-- it was the same, I thought you-- thought something happened to you," they sob, not taking their eyes off him for even a second.

Error shudders violently, harsh glitches going over him, and breaks the eye contact.
A new destroyer?
Ink thought it was him.
He wouldn't do that-- but he has before-- Ink thought he would--
No, don't blame Ink, they were scared for Error, they trust him, right?
They shouldn't. What if it is Error, next time?
No, he won't do it, he won't--
Why does Ink care so much?
The newbie will be difficult enough on his own. Error could barely even escape that guy, how can anyone fight him?

Ink is still staring at him, eye sockets wide and teary, eyelights flickering anxiously. Error can't find words to comfort him.

Error takes a moment to brace himself, then reaches out and takes Ink's hand. They take a sharp, surprised breath, and for a moment Error worries he's done something wrong-- but they hold his hand, reassuringly certain, and smile at him like they've just realized the world isn't ending.

Error still can't make sense of any of the rest-- he'll think of it later, when he's not so close to crashing-- but Ink is safe and still wants to be friends and they're holding hands.
And he's tired. The cold snow feels nice on the slices in his bones, but they still sting badly. Stray pixels still float through his vision, warning him to calm down before he gets worse and crashes.

He lay down in the snow, Ink following a moment after, still holding hands. Both exhausted, they stare into the gray sky and rest.

Chapter Text

It's likely only minutes that Dream and Blue spend searching that forest for Ink (and possibly a dangerous Error) but it feels like hours.

With Ink having no aura to track, Dream feels lost trying to find him. The world around them is damaged, the inhabitants putting out auras of fear, barely-perceptible fractures in the sky-- and neither Dream nor Blue can be sure if these patches of trees are the same because the Stars are lost, or because the world isn't sure where to put them anymore.

The fractures are nothing they haven't seen. The world is cracked, but not yet shattered. Ink is usually able to fix these easily, as long as they manage to get Error out of the AU before he shatters it completely. The AU will be fine-- if Ink is there to fix it soon.

Dream had been hoping to be wrong about Error today, but this nearly confirms he did it. He hopes Ink isn't too hurt by the betrayal to be able to fight back effectively, but their reaction earlier...

Dream doesn't often hate, but he thinks he might, right now.

He's not sure how or why Error convinced Ink they were friends at all. It was so painful, watching Ink become aware of Error's betrayal-- even with no aura for Dream to truly feel alongside them, he felt it hurt them like a knife through the (metaphorical) soul.

They had still been insisting Error was better than that when they disappeared...

Finally, Dream catches an aura nearby-- distress, relief-- and directs Blue and himself toward it. It's not Ink, of course, but he might be around. They at least have a better chance at finding him by finding this guy first.

The two Stars rush closer, finally reaching the source of the aura.

The rage towards Error drains from Dream instantly when he sees them, replaced by deep concern and confusion.

Ink and Error both lay on the ground, bleeding-- black ink, red blood-- into the snow from many thin, deep cuts.

Ink is covered in dark stains, watercolor tear tracks dried onto his face, staring into the sky with dull eyelights. His green vial is shattered, glass pieces stuck in his clothes, a bright green stain across the center of his chest. Two more vials-- blue and purple-- are missing entirely. Dream will have to be sure he gets new ones quickly-- Ink must be running low on those two already, after what happened earlier.

It's harder to tell how Error is doing, but Dream has never seen him anything like this, the way he lay there, exhausted yet calm, holding Ink's hand. Holding Ink's hand??
Stray pixels and error messages float erratically across his body, occasionally making him twitch or harshly shiver, but neither of the skeletons on the ground seem to pay any attention to that.

They don't react when the Stars appear. Not until they rush over, kneeling by Ink's side.
"Ink! Are you-- are you two okay? What happened?" Blue asks, reaching to take Ink's other hand-- then stopping before they touch.
When Dream looks to see why he stopped, he sees one of Ink's arm bones has been sawed through. He's grateful to know Ink doesn't feel it, but still winces at the sight. Why hasn't he taken his paints and healed it yet?

Dream looks over Ink's sash again. Three missing or broken, four medium or low. It's a good thing they have some backups at the base, just in case Ink runs out and can't get more on their own. That shouldn't be a problem now-- they have four left, and they still look awake enough to handle it themself-- but Dream can't help worrying about the little skeleton, whose eyelights are muted and fuzzy.

Ink blinks at his friends, then smiles at them softly, taking a moment to decide what to say-- a bit slow, likely from being low on paints. Error, realizing the Stars are there, pulls his hand away much faster. He attempts to sit up, then hisses from the pain and lowers carefully back into the snow, glaring uncertainly.

Ink makes a soft noise as Error's hand is pulled away.
"We're... fine," they finally answer. "New Destroyer, I think?"
"He s-sucks," Error adds. Dream has never heard his voice so clear.

Okay. New Destroyer. That's bad.
Looks like Ink was right about Error, though. Good-- great, really, though it's still difficult to believe, after years of him tearing worlds apart as the Stars try to stop him. Ink looks completely comfortable next to him.

But if he's truly good-- on Ink's side-- then Dream is on his side, too.

"You two need to heal. Ink, are you able to do that yourself? We'll get the other colors at home in a few minutes, unless you'd rather get them yourself." Ink nods and forces himself to sit up, looking a bit like a doll that has trouble holding up its own limbs. Blue sits next to them, allowing Ink to lean on him. Ink smiles gratefully at his friend as he opens the first vial.

"And Error," Dream starts, "Is it... okay if I heal you?"
Error, now half sitting up and leaning, tense, on one uninjured arm, looks at Dream like a deer in headlights. He does that uncomfortable-looking shiver again and glances at Ink, not answering.
"Say yes," Ink says, eyelights looking a little brighter. "He doesn't have to touch."

Error nods, looking uncomfortable and weirdly guilty. Dream moves to sit next to him. His hands glow with warm green magic, and hover cautiously over Error's bones. After a minute or two, they both relax a little as Dream continues.

Error's bones are covered in slices, as if his own strings were sharp enough to cut them. Must have been the "new Destroyer..."
Dream's magic slowly fills in the cracks, leaving almost-smooth bones.

After a few minutes, Ink finishes with the paints. It's hard to tell, still covered in dark blood, but he doesn't seem completely healed yet. Ink seems to have already forgotten-- or just chosen to ignore-- that fact. After a quick hug with Blue, he stands up, no longer shaky or off balance.

"I'm going to fix the AU," he announces.
"Good luck," Dream says, "Not that you'll need it," he adds, smiling. Of course Ink almost never has a problem with fixing AUs, unless they're too far gone already, but it feels right to show support.

Dream notices Error start to say something, but he hesitates-- and then Ink has already teleported away. Error's voice quietly lags and stutters as he cuts off before Dream can tell what he was going to say. Dream politely doesn't question it, and continues his healing.

Eventually, Dream finishes healing Error, who is now sitting all the way up.
"Does anything still hurt?" he asks, just to be sure.
"N-no," Error replies. A moment later-- it's unclear whether he forgot at first, or just hesitated-- he adds, "Tha- thanks-s." He smiles at Dream, aura revealing he means it, despite how extremely awkward he is. It would have been difficult to read him, otherwise.

He shivers violently again, glitching in a way that's confusing for Dream to look at-- but Error still doesn't acknowledge it, so Dream assumes it's normal and not his place to wonder about.
"Of course," Dream says, smiling at him. This first meeting is going much better than expected!

It's uncomfortably silent. They no longer see cracks across the sky-- Blue smiles fondly at Ink's success when he looks up. Hopefully they'll be back soon. Dream has been able to feel Error's distress this whole time, only getting worse while Ink is away.

At first, Dream thought it might have been leftover stress from whoever he and Ink had been fighting, but after Ink left him alone with the other Stars, it became clear to Dream that the former Destroyer has really bad social anxiety.

It feels weird, sitting next to him. Not bad-- just weird. After years of fighting as the Stars against the Destroyer, they're now just sitting there like any other painfully awkward acquaintances waiting for their friend.
Dream doesn't want to risk making Error uncomfortable by attempting conversation, so he and Blue stay silent as Error looks anywhere but at them, all of them unsure how to behave around each other without Ink.

Finally, Ink returns-- teleports right behind Blue, who turns around and quickly hugs them before Ink has the chance to affectionately jumpscare him. They let go, and now Dream can see how his eyes are bright, his clothes are no longer torn and ink-stained, and his vials are all there and full. All his friends look delighted to see him again-- Dream can feel their relief, both at seeing him fully healed, and at being saved from the uncomfortable silence. Dream glances over at Error, and the fond look on his face is unexpectedly sweet.

"AU's all good now! The people are still a little freaked out, but nobody died, they'll be okay," Ink says. "I think the Papyrus here got stuck under a bed like a scared cat, wonder what's up with that guy," he adds, holding back a laugh but grinning a little. Error laughs sharply, hiding his face in his scarf.

Ink sits down between Error and Blue, like before. Dream can see Error get less visibly glitchy as he feels, through his aura, his anxiety become less when Ink sits next to him. It makes Dream worry a little less, knowing just a bit of how the former Destroyer is feeling. There's still a lot Dream doesn't know, but Error definitely cares about Ink. Good.

Dream smiles a little at the two, then makes sure not to let them see. People don't usually like when he reacts to things they didn't voluntarily tell him.

Now that everyone is safe and Ink is here, Dream and Blue need to know what really happened. All Dream knows for sure so far is that there's a new Destroyer, who behaves a lot like Error used to, but Error is better than that now (for unknown reasons,) and he and Ink fought him off together somehow but got damaged really bad??

He takes a deep breath, preparing to ask the question, but Blue gets there first.
"So, what happened to you two?"

Chapter Text

Error freezes at the question.

Not that he has anything to hide-- it's just that talking to Ink's superhero friends who Error has been trying to kill for as long as he can remember is really stressing him out.

He was just here to help Ink-- he can go back and sit alone in the Anti-Void where he belongs now, they don't have to pretend to trust him or anything, he gets it, they shouldn't, he doesn't either.

Except he can't go to the Anti-Void because he trapped that n00b in there and if he's honest with himself, he can't fight that guy again and win. And Ink is here and Ink's friends are acting nice to him and he doesn't know how to get away without disappointing them.

Since when does he even care about that?? That's stupid??

He doesn't move-- not to speak, and not to leave.

"I'll start with what happened before Error got here, since I didn't really tell him yet," Ink says, saving him-- at least for a few minutes-- from having to say anything. They give him a look that says they definitely knew what they were doing, and he smiles awkwardly back at them, mildly embarrassed they noticed, but grateful anyway.

"I was on the couch with Blue and Dream after we got back from fighting Nightmare, and then I felt that same sense of impending doom that used to mean, uh, you know what,"
Both Error and the Stars cringe a little.
"And so we went through a portal here and started--"
"Aren't you missing a part?" Blue says, teasingly poking Ink, whose face scrunches up a little.
"Noooope." he replies, a light blush over his face.

"What happened?" Error asks, starting to grin as he looks over at Blue. He freezes for a second when he sees him and looks away, but recovers quickly enough not to look weirder than he already does, staring at a space just over Blue's shoulder to mimic eye contact.
"Blue, no," Ink says.
Dream answers, eyelights sparkling with mischief. "Let's just say he was pretty worried about you."
"Rude," Ink says, blushing a vivid rainbow half-hidden under his scarf, although his tone suggests he isn't truly upset.

Error is unpleasantly surprised to find himself blushing too, the glow of his magic likely clearly visible over his dark bones. What??
What did Dream mean by that? What did Ink do? Why would they care that much?? Was it just because they don't want the Destroyer back, or do they really see him as their friend?

He already knows the answer. Doesn't understand why, but he knows it's true.
Ink laughs quietly at Error as he hides his face too, bunching his scarf up like a mirror of how Ink's is still held up just under their eye sockets.

He can feel the other Stars looking at them, trying not to smile at how the two are matching. He nearly glares at them, in the lighthearted way he would at Ink if they teased him, but holds back at the last second, knowing only Ink can get away with that without looking creepy. He covers his face entirely instead, glitching more violently as he realizes this only looks more embarrassing.

He knows he looks terrible right now-- he's sure the Stars are noticing, glancing between him and each other, with misplaced, patronizing concern, or maybe judgement, which is fair but he'd rather not be here for that either-- but the thought only makes him more glitchy and uncomfortable. He still tries to raise his head and return to the conversation-- maybe Ink's friends don't know what the glitching means, maybe they still think he's being normal.

He quickly averts his gaze when he sees blurry gold, knowing it must be Dream looking at him. Instead, he turns to look at Ink. His vision is full of pixelated noise, but he can see how they cautiously smile at him-- he attempts to smile back, show them everything is fine, and it must be close enough because they glance back at Dream and Blue and ask,
"Which part was I going to tell next?"

"We just got through the portal to this AU," Dream reminds them. Error relaxes a little, vision becoming more clear as Ink starts talking again.
"Right-- so we were looking for whatever was going wrong here, and then--" he acts out the motion with his hands, quickly tossing one hand to the side as if it were pulled by strings, "that guy just grabbed me with those red strings-- and they're sharp, I mean I didn't feel it really but you guys don't touch those, got it?"

Ink sounds a little too enthusiastic about telling that part. Error assumes it's easier to talk about now that they know everyone's safe. Everyone nods at their warning, as if they wouldn't be doing their best to avoid the n00b's strings anyway.
"And then he tied me to that tree," Ink continues, gesturing to a tree a few yards behind himself, which is covered in thin slices and pieces of red string, left from where Error cut him free earlier.
"And then he just kinda stood there, creepily, saying something I couldn't really understand, and then Error blasted him, which was awesome," they say, grinning at Error with an almost proud look on their face.

Error thinks he knows what Blue meant by Ink leaving out parts of the story, now. He doesn't tease them about it-- while Ink cheerfully tells the story without that part, Error is still shaken up by seeing them like that.
He does share a knowing glance with the other Stars while Ink isn't looking, though.

"After that they both disappeared for a while, and then Error came back and got me down from the tree and I was so glad to see you again, Error, I was so worried-- aha, sorry, I'll stop--" they cut off when they see him turn away, hiding his face as he starts to see in pixels again.

They pause a moment, then Ink continues, a more genuine look on their face.
"Really though, thank you. I'm... really glad you're here," they say. Their eyelights are warm colors, large and bright, when he turns, shocked, to see their face.

Before he can even fully process what they said, Dream is agreeing with them??
"So are we," Dream says. "You saved Ink, and likely this AU with him. Thank you, Error."
Dream smiles warmly at him, and Blue speaks next.
"You're clearly good-- and a good friend to Ink, too. Thank you for what you've done today, Error! And we'd love to be friends, if-- if you're interested," he says, trailing off at the end when he sees the look on his face.

The last thing Error hears is Ink's voice--
"No, no it's okay--"
--before the world goes blue.

Chapter Text

"A-are you-- is he okay?!"
Ink cringes as Dream stands and rushes over to cautiously kneel beside Error, concern clear on his face. He half-reaches out with one hand, as if deciding whether to try to use healing magic on him.
"Uhh-- don't touch, I think he's fine??" Ink says, holding his arm protectively in front of Error.

Error doesn't exactly look fine. His face is frozen in an expression of shock, eyes wide and pure blue. His body is completely still and rigid, as if paused like a character in a game. Even the pixels and error messages that normally float around him are completely still, frozen in the air around him in a thick, unnatural cloud that makes him confusing and difficult to look at.

But Ink has seen him crash before-- not really, but close enough-- and he's pretty sure Error just needs a few minutes to restart.

Should probably make sure the Stars aren't staring at him when he comes back, though.

"You think he's fine? What's going on??" Blue asks, nervously loud. Dream backs off a little.
"He's just crashed, he should be okay in a few minutes..." Ink explains, glancing between Error and the other Stars.
"What happened? I thought telling him that would have helped, not..." Dream trails off, looking guilty.

"No, it's not your fault-- he's just-- really stressed, I think??" Ink feels a little bad, trying to explain Error like he's not right there, but he's not sure what else to do. Dream and Blue still look anxious and guilty, and Error is still frozen, and Ink has to handle it without upsetting any of them. They unconsciously curl up to make themself a little smaller.

They quickly decide they have to get Error and themself out of this before he wakes up-- they can explain to their friends later, if they have to, once everyone has calmed down and they've had the chance to talk to Error first.

"I think we--" they gesture to Error, "--should go," Ink announces. "I'll meet you guys at the base later, we can talk then?"
Their friends still look worried, but they nod in agreement, unsure what else they could do.
"When you... get the chance," Dream says, "tell him we said 'sorry and we're still glad you were here and that we got to meet you,' for me, please?"
"Will do," Ink answers, and starts to open a portal to Outertale.

Carefully, only touching when necessary, he maneuvers the portal around his friend, so that the two land softly on the ground in the quiet part of Outertale where they usually meet.

Ink quickly checks on Error, making sure nothing seems wrong. His pose and expression are completely unchanged, so Ink sits down a few feet away and waits.

////

The first thing Error processes when he comes back is the stars, and the next is shame.
Despite recognizing Outertale's sky, he still doesn't immediately realize Ink's friends aren't here with him, glitches already buzzing around him with panic as soon as he remembers what made him crash.

He hides his face again, trying to calm down so he doesn't crash again, shuddering as he realizes they've been looking at whatever stupid face he was making when he crashed this entire time. He barely holds back a quiet groan at the pain in his head, not wanting to make a sound and draw attention to himself.

"Oh hey, you're back? You okay?"
Ink's voice. Somehow it's both comforting and annoying-- he wants to hold their hand again, wants to snap at them for daring to stay near him.
He replies with a wordless growl, still not quite awake enough to form a sentence that isn't extremely rude. Hopefully Ink gets the message-- "stop, not right now--"

They pause, then continue. "We're in Outertale. I told Dream and Blue to go home, they were cool about it."
Good to know. Error starts to take a breath-- harsh and shaky-- tries again, deep breath, calm down. Still glitching, head still hurts, thoughts a little clearer.

His vision clear enough now, he lifts his skull to look around. Outertale's sky full of stars, the same dark ground he usually sits on with Ink. He turns, pain stabbing through his skull with the motion, and--
Ink, his enemy, too close, dangerous--
Without thinking, he automatically summons a blaster at the perceived threat, letting out an unnatural electronic shriek that nearly stops him from hearing Ink's startled squeak. He catches himself just in time, hastily turning his weapon to the side so it fires into the void.

Error and Ink both scramble a few more feet apart, still on the ground, staring at each other with wide, shocked eyes. Error shivers violently as the glitches take over his vision again, blocking his view of Ink, his friend, safe, looking at him like they're scared.

Why would he do that? He doesn't want to hurt them, he wouldn't, but seeing them while disoriented from a crash, it was like instinct, built on false memories of them being the one to cause it.
He hates it-- hates himself for being so volatile, for not knowing if he'll be able to stop himself next time.

"Error?"
He can barely see or hear the blurry figure in front of him, but he catches the sound of them calling his name-- carefully, like he's a dangerous animal.

He hesitates, then finally remembers Ink still needs a response-- an explanation. Will they hate him? The idea hurts, but he almost wishes they would, if they'll be safer away from him, if he won't be able to hurt them when he snaps.

"F-fuck, I didn't-t mean th-that," he says, voice weaker than he intended.

"I... I know," Ink replies, shaken. They hesitated-- they weren't sure.
"I w-would-n't," he tries. "I don't-t want t-to--"
"I know," Ink says. "I believe you, I'm-- I'm not mad, just-- let's just stop, for a minute?"

Error can barely hear them through the static and lag, can barely speak through his own panic, so he has no choice but to take the chance to stop, like they said. He nods, the motion sharp and shaky, assuming they can see him better than he sees them. He lets himself lay down and roll onto his side to wait for the glitching to clear.

Curled up on the ground, alone with his own thoughts, he tries to regain control of himself.
For just a moment, he felt like he did before, and the idea fills him with dread. He can't be that monster again.

Desperately, he searches for anything to prove to himself that he won't ever be that mindless Destroyer again, but the terror only makes his thoughts feel blurrier and harder to grasp.

It's fine, he's fine, he knows he always feels like this when he thinks about it too long, he's not going to do anything, he'll be safe in a few minutes if he just calms down. Just stop.

He focuses on a memory of something real-- Ink leaning over him, held down, harmless, by their magic, Ink playfully demanding he admits they never did anything gross, as if that's the worst thing either of them has to worry about--

Slowly, his vision stars to clear, the glitches calm down, he can hear himself think again.
Still not thinking anything good, but it's a start.

After a few more minutes, he sits up. Ink is already up, staring at the stars. He turns to look at Error a moment later.
"Hey," they say, smiling awkwardly.
Error hesitantly returns the greeting. "H-hey."

"I'm not mad. I know you wouldn't... do that, on purpose."
Error glances away, silent.
"We've basically been trying to kill each other for years. We've been friends for... eight days. That was... probably normal?"
"N-no it's not," Error snaps. "I could h-have--"

"I'm not that weak, you weren't going to kill me by accident," they say, brushing off his worry. "I'd be back, anyway. Wouldn't even feel it--"
"Shut up," he interrupts. "That d-doesn't make it okay-y."
"I mean it would suck but I'd be fine--"

"That doesn't-t matter-r! I don't w-want to hurt y-you!" he shouts, a thick layer of static in his voice making him sound even more like he used to.
"You t-thought it was-s me, destroying that AU. It c-could be, next-t time-- what if it was? What-t if I lost it again?"
His expression is somewhere between a feral grin and a snarl, his voice raised as if he's trying to scare Ink away, even as he looks into their wide eye sockets and pale, shrunken eyelights and only feels sharp, stabbing guilt.

"You won't," Ink says, calm yet nearly matching his intensity.
"You d-don't know that-t."
Ink gets up and comes closer, sitting down in front of him only a few inches apart. They hold out their hand, and even knowing he shouldn't, he shouldn't touch them-- he takes it, holds their hand gently, staring as if he still doesn't believe they're here. Glitches run up his arm at the contact, but for once it's not unpleasant-- almost feels right, in a way nothing ever does.

Shocked into silence, Error looks into their bright eyes. They smile at him, certain in their surely misplaced trust. He looks away, holding their hand a little tighter.

Ink isn't getting it. Before Error can stop himself, he tells them his fear.
His voice is quiet, and he avoids Ink's gaze. "What if I change back-k?"
"You won't," they insist.

He doesn't understand how they can be so sure.
"Why-y?"
Ink pauses to consider his answer.
"The Destroyer has already been replaced. There's no reason to change you at the beginning, just to go back a week later. You're... already getting better. It would be stupid."

They're talking about it like changing back would make him a poorly written character. He knew Ink thought of the multiverse more like a story sometimes, but they're acting like that makes it true.
"Does r-real life really-y work like that?"
They hesitate. "I... have reasons to think so."

Well, that's ominous. Either they know the secrets of the multiverse for some reason, or they're just a total weirdo.
They've already told him one of the secrets of the multiverse.
...He accepts it for now.

"You still thought-t it was me, earlier-r."
Ink sighs. "It felt the same. Wasn't thinking straight. Didn't know it could be anyone else. And you thought it was you, like, 20 minutes ago."
They smile teasingly, just a little, at the end of their sentence, and Error is again surprised to realize he isn't mad about it.

He's sure that before, he would have snapped at them.

Maybe he is getting a little better.

He still needs to be sure of one thing, though.
"Ink."
"Hm?"
"Before. When I was the Destroyer-r. Why didn't you kill me?"

Ink blinks at him in surprise, eyelights cycling through a few pointy shapes.
"Thaaaaat's a question..." they say, fidgeting with their scarf with their free hand.
"You got an answer?"

Ink hesitates for a few moments, thinking.
"Can't kill important characters. Especially before it even starts... It just couldn't have happened, you're supposed to be here. That, and I might have gotten a little attached, before I had any friends..." They smile sheepishly at that, turning to hide their face a little.

He's not sure what answer he was expecting, but it wasn't that. It makes as much sense as anything else-- only because it's Ink.
He'd love to question what they meant by that, but it'll have to wait. He has something more important to ask.

"If... if I start-t destroying again, I want you to do it," he tells them.
Ink flinches, his grip on Error's hand tightening.
"What??"

"I don't ever-r want to be the Destroyer again. It was-- I was horrible. I'd rather be dust-t, and you're the only-y one who could do it."
"Error, I can't--"
"You said it wouldn't happen-n. If that's true, you won't have to. Just... promise. I c-can't-- I see the dust on my hands every-y time I close my eyes, Ink, I can't do it again-n--"

"I promise I'll stop you," Ink says firmly.
"That's not-t the same."
"You can't make me promise to dust you. I'll stop you, I'll find a way, it-- it doesn't even matter, it's not going to happen."
"If-f it's not going to happen, why-y won't you just-t say it?"

Ink sighs, frustrated. "Look, it's not going to happen. And if it did, I promise I'd do what's necessary to stop you. But I'm not going to be that specific about it, when there could be another way. I just told you I got attached, stupid."

Error is silent as he catches up to what they said. He holds their hand a little tighter.
"F-fine. That was... a dumb thing to ask, anyway-y."
He realizes how dramatic he was just being and cringes. Way too much information. He did not need to tell them all that. His vision pixelates again and he turns so Ink doesn't see his scowl, although he's sure they already know. Ugh.

"Not dumb. Just... don't give up so easily." Ink replies.
If only it were that easy not to...
But this is nice. As long as he stays like this. Safe to be around. Watching the stars with Ink. He... doesn't want to not be able to do this anymore.

"I won't."
He'll at least try.

Chapter Text

Ink thinks about a new AU he saw a few hours ago as he sips from his vials of paint. He spaces out a bit, daydreaming of a sharp art style and an adorable new favorite character. He lets himself have a little extra yellow, to savor the moment, make sure he gets to fully appreciate its beauty.

He catches himself staring into the distance for a few minutes too long after that, and tries to snap out of it long enough to... finish taking his paints? Which one was he about to have? He guesses absentmindedly and continues.

They feel closer to "normal," now, though it's still difficult to tear their mind away from that cool new character. But they have things to do-- Ink and Blue have finally convinced Dream to take a break at the cat café with them today. Ink needs to finish getting ready, and they need to focus enough on their own life to not zone out in the middle of it.

Did they take that last one yet? Purple-- most prominently fear, although each color is tied to many emotions. While they don't like to feel that one, not having it could dampen some of their other feelings. Better if they take it, just to be sure.

Maybe they need a little extra, just to keep them aware. Make sure they stay alert, ready for anything, not spacey and easily distracted. Someone could get hurt. Ink could accidentally tell someone things they really don't need to know.

He realizes his mistake as what definitely was not his first-- or even second-- sip of the paint disappears over his tongue, and a deep, unnatural anxiety settles into his bones.

They wince as they look over their vials-- uneven levels of paint left in all of them. They don't even remember if these were full before they started, or if they hadn't refilled some in a while-- but it's clear that they've just downed at least two thirds of the vial of purple, likely more.

A lot more than his usual dose. Although he didn't need to see the vial to know that. They feel so anxious they're almost sick-- and they wish they would be, to get this out and save themself from it, but nothing happens besides their irregular breaths as they lower themself shakily to the hard, wood floor.

They curl up there and try to force themself to stop breathing, stop shivering, calm down.
Nothing bad has happened yet. Error is okay, Blue is okay, Ink will always be okay, Dream is okay, as long as they don't ever let him find out, he can't find out, it would be like Nightmare died all over again--

They're fine, they're fine, stars they can't do this he already knows--

He doesn't know, calm down--

They barely hold back a soft whine, careful to stay silent so nobody knows anything is wrong because nothing is wrong.

Ink curls up and stares at the wall, considering their options. They could try to balance it out with the other colors, but they know from experience that just makes everything worse. Or they could throw it up, but they can't really do it on command like that, so that probably won't work. They realize they'll probably, embarrassingly, do it in the middle of the cat café in front of everyone, and shudder at the idea. That would suck-- nearly everyone knows about the Protector, so they can't even never see anyone they were gross in front of again...

But they can't stay hidden-- Dream and Blue are waiting. It was already hard enough to convince Dream to take a break-- Ink can't just leave him like that.

He furiously wipes a few tears from his sockets, disappointed in himself for not being any better at hiding. They should be used to this by now, as often as they've done this kind of stupid thing.

Except that this is really the first time.

Which isn't even new information at this point but the thought still sends terror through his bones. Part of him is just frustrated with himself-- seriously, it's no big deal, act normal-- but a much louder part is screaming at him that no one-- especially not Dream-- can ever know or else they'll all be miserable, and also mad at Ink, and he'll have to live with the fact he let that happen, alone, forever.

For a moment, he considers just telling his friends-- only about the paint, of course-- but no, that would just stress them out, they shouldn't have to worry just because Ink just had to give himself a fake panic attack right before they went out, that's stupid, he needs to keep it together for them.

He slowly stands up, trying not to let his bones rattle audibly.
He's fine. This feeling isn't real-- even as he stabilizes himself against the wall, he knows it's fake, it doesn't matter, nothing is wrong. He'll be quiet, so he won't tell anyone anything they shouldn't know. The cat café should be safe-- but if it's not, Ink will be ready to protect everyone. He has to be.

They silence their breath, flip their scarf over so the watercolor-like stains don't show, and teleport to the café.

They really should come here when they're not panicking, sometime. It's a nice place. A friendly cat rubbing against their leg almost distracts them from the anxiety that stabs through their bones at the sight of the room crowded with real people.

They lean down and pick up the big, friendly, orange cat-- they recognize him from the last time they were here, they know he won't mind. The cat is at least half as long as Ink themself. Despite everything, they manage a small smile as they give the cat a hug and carry him over to sit next to Blue and Dream.

Blue and Dream, who are already here. How long have they been here? How long did he leave them to wait? He tries not to let his guilt show, sitting next to Blue and hiding his face behind the cat in his arms. Blue reaches out to pet the cat on the head, his other hand already busy petting a little fluffy calico.

"H-hey," Ink greets them, already cringing at the uncertainty in his voice.
Fortunately, their friends don't seem to notice-- or they're just politely ignoring it-- over the noise of the other people in the café.
"Hey, Ink!" Blue says, cheerfully loud, while Dream smiles softly and waves from across the couch.

Ink smiles back, trying not to hesitate. They feel like something must be visibly wrong with their expression, even though nobody has reacted yet, then remember their eyelights must be looking colder and smaller than they should. That's bad. But there's nothing they can do about it-- trying to blink them into something calmer wouldn't help-- so they settle for looking away from their friends, hoping they don't pay attention.

They don't speak. Surely their friends will fill in the silence with conversation? Then Ink can stay quiet, stay on their safe topic, don't say too much, don't look weird. They can't cause problems if they don't say anything, right?

They stay still, only moving to pet the cat who is now flopped over their lap-- which he really doesn't fit on top of-- though they're glad he's staying with them anyway. They're not sure even Dream and Blue together could fit this cat entirely on their laps. The orange loaf is much too powerful. His purring is comforting. Ink quietly purrs back, more for comfort than happiness. It helps, just a tiny bit.

...It's been quiet too long. The nausea and uncomfortable prickle in their bones returns at full force as they realize something is wrong.
They look up at their friends. He's been avoiding their gazes too long, though he nearly flinches when he finally sees them.

Dream and Blue are both looking at him-- their full attention on him, except for concerned glances shared between the two.
Ink tenses, holding back violent, anxious shivers, unable to tear his gaze away from the worry in their eyes-- his fault, even silent, he still screwed it up, they're going to know--

"Ink, are you... alright?" Dream asks, voice pleasantly soft even now and making them feel even more guilty, even more seen. The cat gets up and moves off their lap, to purr at their side.

They try to speak, to confirm that everything is fine, nothing hurts, they can't be hurt-- please, don't worry about them, it only makes them hurt worse-- but all their voice allows is a squeak. Their eye sockets burn with forming tears that they desperately try to blink away before anyone sees.

Of course, their friends are unconvinced.

And then Dream just makes it so much worse with one question.
"Is this about...?" he gestures vaguely, not finishing the sentence. Of course Ink knows exactly what he means.

They barely stop themself from throwing up paint right there on the café's couch-- instead, their bones audibly click together as they curl harshly forward, muffling an unpleasant sound under their scarf.

They compose themself just long enough to say, firm and much too loud, "NO."

They feel everyone's eyes on them as they silently gasp into their scarf. Blue-- concerned. Dream-- guilty. And everyone else in the café-- closely watching, memorizing, the embarrassing things they saw the Protector do today, ready to gossip about later.

Normally, they really don't care about that-- even find it nice, sometimes, that people care enough to notice them at all. Even if it's something embarrassing-- it usually isn't that bad, and sometimes they have to admit it is a little funny.

But in this moment, specifically, it takes all the willpower they have to stop themself from teleporting away.

"...It's not that," they continue a few moments late, once they've found their voice again.
"S-sorry--" Dream half-whispers, hesitating to try to put a hand on their shoulder or something. Ink cuts his apology short, grabbing his hand to hold as they continue to avoid eye contact.

"It's nothing," they say, defeated. They lower their voice so only their friends can hear. "I took too much of one paint and gave myself a fake panic attack. Don't worry about it."
"Not fake," both their friends say at once. Even though he can't quite believe that right now, it's sweet.

"You didn't have to deal with that alone!" Blue says, almost indignant at the idea Ink wouldn't have told him. "Do you guys want to go back and do movie night instead?"
"N-no, you don't have to--" Ink starts to protest, but Dream speaks first.
"That sounds great," Dream says. "I'll go get our coffees to go-- and some dessert. Meet you at the base?"

He walks off toward the counter, leaving Ink no room to argue. They exhale shakily, guilty and relieved and still unnaturally anxious. Before leaving, Ink turns to the cat still loafing on the couch. He purrs as they pet behind his ears.
"Thanks," they whisper to the cat, quiet enough that no one should hear. "See you later."

After a final long pet, they teleport themself and Blue back to their own sofa at home.

////

Blue watches the screen, not really paying attention to the movie but enjoying the company anyway.

Ink has chosen a scary movie for some reason-- something about redirecting the fear to something fictional to make it "the fun kind" instead of panicking about real life. Now they've been squeaking or flinching at every jumpscare for the last hour, but they seem to be enjoying it. They've mostly calmed down, now flopped over Blue's lap like a cat at the café, rather then shoving themself into the corner of the sofa like they had at the beginning.

He's not sure, but he thinks he can even hear them purring. He smiles affectionately as he glances down at them.

One thing has been on Blue's mind, though.
He doesn't ask, because clearly even mentioning it was enough to upset Ink, and now is really not the time.
But Blue wonders-- what was Dream asking about?
What is Ink so worried about? What are they hiding?

It's probably not much-- just something that seemed more important in the moment because of the paint. But then why was Dream so serious about it?

He'll have to ask when Ink is feeling better.

Chapter Text

"No--"
Ink turns swiftly-- he can't let himself be too late-- to fire an inky imitation of a blaster at Fatal, stopping him just before he reaches Dream. The magic splatters over their enemy's side, dealing damage and staining half of his white coat a harsh black. Ink advances, ready to strike again with his brush, while Dream shoots golden magic bullets at Fatal from a distance.

Red paint and red strings hit their targets at once-- Fatal stumbles backward with a feral hiss, while Ink attempts to ignore the cuts in their bones, not reacting until their arm bone gives out under the weight of their weapon and forces them to notice. They miss their next swing, dark blue paint dripping uselessly off to the side of their enemy.

When Fatal appeared in this AU-- maybe half an hour ago-- Ink handled the call to action much better than last time, but he still feels his control slipping with every hit he takes.

He switches to magic bullets, smirking as one hits the new Destroyer right through the eye socket. Black paint leaks back out as Fatal blindly fires a hundred bullets in Ink's general direction. Being hit with one or two of those was worth it, though he still feels mildly disappointed at failing to dodge all of them.

And then Ink is left to chase after him once again, as Fatal becomes distracted by Blue, whose attacks Fatal has been brushing off like nothing this whole time-- yet he just won't stop chasing him, as if Blue-- and Dream-- are more interesting than whatever he was here for in the first place.

(They are, but Ink would prefer if the new Destroyer didn't think so... What does he even want from them??)

He hates to think about them like this, but Ink really wishes his friends would have stayed home today. Normally, they're his greatest allies-- today, Ink has spent more of this battle worrying for their safety than anything else. None of their attacks are doing anything-- and Fatal just keeps targeting them.

Ink catches Fatal in dark, thick magic, then stumbles as unpleasantly glitching blaster fire strikes him in the back. He uses his status effect paint to slow his enemy down for a moment, leaving him lagging and glitching violently on the ground, then looks ahead--

Too late.

Ink ignores the pain that shoots through his chest at the sight.
Dream has been captured in sharp red strings, trying to stay still so they don't cut any deeper. Blue snaps the strings carefully with sharpened bone bullets-- gentle, slow, vulnerable.

Ink rushes to help free him, careless with their own numb fingers to protect Dream's already-scarred bones. They think they hear Dream insist that they shouldn't-- they listen instead to the static in the distance, confirming that the Destroyer has not yet escaped.

They finish cutting through the tangle of string, anxiety only slightly eased as Dream finally takes a full breath without the strings around his ribs.

They only have a minute, maybe just seconds, before Fatal will be on them again. Ink does the only thing that makes sense in the moment.
"Trust me," he says, his voice shaky, "please don't come back."
And he forces them both through a portal, safe in the AU where their base is.

He only gets a half second to close the portal before the glitching blaster fire is on him again, lowering his HP to a dangerous level. He flinches-- not at the physical attack, but at how familiar the unnatural glitching feels as the fire hits his body, not feeling the pain from the damage but still feeling incredibly wrong.

But Error is safe, and Fatal is the one now holding Ink in those uncomfortably sharp red strings.

Despite the situation, Ink feels slightly better, now that they're the only one in danger. Ink can heal easily, even come back if they die-- and they would a thousand times before they let Fatal anywhere near his friends.

That doesn't mean they'll go down easily, though.

Dark, wet magic wraps around their enemy, who lets out a lagging shriek. Ink hastily escapes the strings-- not without damage, but that's not important right now, they have an AU to protect-- and swings their paintbrush, adding vibrant red paint to the mix.

In this brief moment of safety, they take a quick sip from a random vial of paint-- the cuts in their bones become barely shallower, their HP a few points higher. Not enough-- but they're out of time. They dodge some flying bones and throw a few melting imitations of the bullets in return.

They're careful not to deal too much damage, only aiming to force him to stop for a while-- they don't want to know what would happen if they killed him.

Surely, this Destroyer would be replaced too.
They're not going to take chances with who would be next.

The two continue to fight-- this Destroyer doesn't seem to have a problem with touch, so a few of their strategies to upset him are only confusing to Ink. However, they've found that nobody likes wet paint in their bones, so that still seems effective, especially when the goal is to upset but not kill.

Fatal captures Ink again, his own intent clearly murderous, his eye sockets glowing unnatural, violent red as he holds them down on the ground.
Then before they can react, a familiar dark blaster hits Fatal hard in the side of his skull, pushing him off of Ink's spine. He immediately retaliates, sharp bones spinning through the air to hit--

Error??

One of the bones hits Error in the shoulder, causing him to stumble harder than Ink expected-- but his expression stays determined, eyes focused. He raises his hand, and his eyes seem to glow as a tornado of dark, glitching bones smash against Fatal's skull.

For a moment Ink forgets to be afraid-- he looks powerful, as if Error were some kind of guardian or protector, too.

And then Fatal hisses, unnatural and glitching, and flings red strings over him, trapping and slicing into one of his arms and both of his legs, and Ink is once again filled with terror as he rushes to stop Fatal.

Why is he here, why did I let him get trapped, what do I do--

Their movements are sloppy from the cuts that go deep into their bones-- their movements just don't work the way they should. They're low on paints from damage and use of magic. Despite this, they force themself to keep fighting-- they can't leave Error alone with him.

But that choice is made for them when a blaster shoots bright fire through Ink's ribs and their body crumples, spine bent uncomfortably to the side, bones no longer strong enough to hold them up. Harsh, glitchy static can be heard across the battlefield.

They need to heal, or they'll respawn too late.

They think they still have at least one arm functional enough to take their paints-- close enough.

They let their body melt, and reform somewhere safer.

////

NO--

They can't-- please--

Maybe if Ink's previous death hadn't been burned into Error's memory, he could have remembered that their teleportation looks very similar. Not identical-- but from a distance, it might as well have been.

Painful, disorienting glitches overtake his body and threaten his vision-- but he can't shut down now. Instead, he forces himself up, barely feeling the red strings he hadn't quite finished cutting from his bones.

A wordless, violently glitching shriek is torn from Error's chest as he recklessly teleports directly behind his enemy, holding a blaster right up to the glitch's face.

"You'll pay for that," he attempts to growl, but his voice comes out even glitchier than Fatal's-- making it impossible to understand what he said.

The blaster fires.

////

Ink returns just a minute or two later-- not completely healed, but at 23% HP, close enough, he has to get back--

The two glitching skeletons are tangled in strings on the ground, loudly screeching as they both attempt to force sharpened bones through each others' skulls.

Both are weak-- Ink acts quickly. He summons a bullet, something sharp, and cuts the strings between them as he pulls Error away-- then shoves the inky magic into their enemy's skull, finally forcing Fatal to surrender and teleport off to wherever he stays when he's not ruining things.

He lets out a heavy, unnecessary breath, slumping to the ground next to Error.

Ink looks up at their friend-- why is he so still-- and is startled by the way he stares through them. The edges of his asymmetrical eye sockets look slightly red, irritated-- while his eyelights are fuzzy. His expression is stuck in what looks like disbelief.

Before Ink can process this, ask what's wrong, what happened-- Error crashes, a single harsh breath escaping before he goes.

Chapter Text

Slowly, painfully, Error wakes up. Something is wrong.

(Something is always wrong.)

What happened?

(What did he do?)

Bones crack under his hands, he bites down hard on something, tastes blood and dust, he summons bones and strings and blasters, fires, over and over and over--

Why-- why did he--

And then the memory hits him-- Ink, bones torn apart, missing too many to stand, under their enemy in a pool of ink darker than the void-- melting, falling apart, his fault-- and Error curls forward, shaking violently, unable to find any breath to scream-- or even whine.

"Hey, everything's okay-- h-he's gone, everyone's safe?"

Ink's voice.

Right?

Error looks toward the voice, can't see them through the glitching warnings, can't see anything real. How could it be them? He could be delusional, pretending Ink is still here, moments away from tearing through worlds and souls as he talks to a ghost who can't do anything to stop it--

"You're okay-- you did good, uhh-- breathe??"

He can almost see their face, pixelated, concerned, obscured by black pixels that look like their blood.

He needs to touch them, know if they're real-- feel their solid bones, feel that they're not falling apart. Even if the contact hurts, even if he crashes again. Anything to make this stop--

Blindly, hands still shivering, he reaches out. He sees the vague shape of his own hands, landing awkwardly, one on Ink's face, one somewhere near their shoulder.

He barely hears their startled squeak-- but feels their hand carefully rest over his own.
Real. Alive.
Their bones have no temperature, and if he hadn't held their hand before, it might have sent him into another panic that they're not really here. Instead it reminds him, more comforting than it should be, that they're already undead.

Ink can't stay dead.

And suddenly the haze is broken, and Error is just sitting in the grass with his hand on Ink's jaw, staring intensely and stupidly into their eyes with tears still wet on his own cheeks, where he likely has been for several painfully awkward minutes already.

Shame heats his skull, but he stays frozen, completely unmoving except for the glitches hovering erratically around him.

Ink blinks a few times, eyelights flashing through question marks, exclamation points, and various other shapes. Error thinks he sees the shape of a teardrop in one, just for a moment.

"...You okay?" Ink finally asks, hesitant.

Error takes several more seconds of staring dumbly before he thinks to remove his dust-stained hand from their face. He jerks backward suddenly, hand now buzzing unpleasantly with static as if it only just realized he touched someone.

He blinks away some stray pixels, attempting poorly to hide his face without taking his eyes off them.
"Y-yeah," he replies, late.

"What... happened?" Ink says.
How is he supposed to respond to that?? 'You died and I couldn't remember you'd be back because I'm dumb and maybe crazy, so I crashed??' Don't say that??

"...Y-you died-d," he answers, sounding much more weak than he intended.

Then Ink looks at him like they're confused, one eyelight a question mark as if they've somehow already forgotten.
"What?? No I didn't??"

What?

"But I s-saw you--"
"I didn't die, you-- you probably saved me, actually," they reply, tense yet still too calm. Why are they so calm? Why are they denying what happened-- or is it Error that's making things up?

The glitches start to blind him again, and panic rushes over him as it gets more difficult to put coherent thoughts together.
"Ink, d-don't do this-s, I need to know-w what's real," he says, voice lagging so badly he's not sure if Ink can even tell what he's saying. "I s-saw you melt, did-d that-- really-y happen?"

"Oh," they say, eyelights brightening as they put the pieces together. "Oh, that wasn't-- I teleported, Error, that... also looks like melting. Sorry..."

Ink didn't die.

Error knows that's what teleporting looks like for them. He's seen it a thousand times. Why did he just break at the sight? Why can't he stop shivering?

Ink glances away, looking anywhere but Error's face. Good-- he's sure he looks ridiculous right now. Error wants to do the same, yet still can't look away from Ink, as if he doesn't think they'll be here when he looks back. Even though they didn't die. They're fine.

They're fine.

He forces his gaze away from them, breathing deeply to calm down. A few minutes pass, and the pain from the glitching calms down, leaving the pain from his injuries in its place. Still hurts, but he can finally think straight, and he knows now how valuable that is.

His breathing finally slows down near normal, still occasionally interrupted by uncomfortable glitches. He'll just stay like this a few more minutes, then he'll have to face Ink again...

"You need to heal," Ink says, interrupting his thoughts.

Error shudders involuntarily at the idea-- does Ink mean he has to see Dream again? Yes, Dream is nice, but Error can't stand the thought. He really doesn't want to be around other people right now, doesn't want Dream to even look at him.

Dream is nice to Error, and that's terrifying.

He'll just wait it out in the Anti-Void or something. He's done it before-- he'll be fine. Hopefully it won't be much different now.

He looks up at Ink, to try to tell them he can't go, but he doesn't have to. They hold out a slice of butterscotch pie, the kind that heals a Frisk's entire HP. It won't be quite that effective on injuries like this, but it's basically the best thing out there that doesn't require another person to heal him themself.

They must have gotten it from another AU while he was restarting.

Ink anticipated that he wouldn't be okay with seeing other people right now, and went and got this just for him... It's touching. He reaches out and takes the slice, a small smile on his face for the first time since he woke up.

"Thanks," he says, voice small.

(...or it was Dream that didn't want to see Error again, and Ink was watching out for him instead. Either way, they saved Error from that awkward conversation, so he can't bring himself to mind right now.)

Ink smiles back, leaning forward to rest their skull on their knees, as they sit next to him in the grass.
"Tell me if you need more, or something else? It might not heal everything."
Error nods, despite having no plans to ask for anything else. Before, he would have demanded it.
Now, he avoids Ink's gaze as he nibbles the slice of pie, still hot and glitchy from the shame of everything that's happened in the last hour and also just existing.

The magic fills in the slices in his bones, and he feels a little less sore. Mostly healed-- looks like he doesn't need to lie that he's fine, after all.

The two sit together a while longer.

At some point, Error's hand finds its way into Ink's smaller one. Despite the danger they've just escaped, that they'll definitely be facing again soon, in that moment he finds peace and comfort.

Chapter Text

That was... absolutely terrifying, Ink thinks, finally able to rest for a few minutes.

Error's hand is in his, still lightly shivering in a way Ink recognizes as normal after he's been especially glitchy. Ink holds on, softly yet firmly, secure. His friend is turned away so Ink can't see his face-- though he can still see the pixels flickering anxiously around him.

That last fight was a lot. He texted Blue and Dream while he was waiting for Error, so they haven't been completely left in the dark, but he's not looking forward to the inevitable conversation about how he kicked them out of the battle and sent them home.

But what else were they supposed to do? Fatal just kept chasing them, as if he... wants them somehow. But not Ink. He probably wouldn't bother with Ink at all, after that first meeting, if they weren't actively trying to stop him.

They'll... have to talk about it later. But right now, he needs to be with Error. He's sure the other Stars will understand. Probably.

Error's hand is warm, almost warmer than even Dream's, and feels a little like static-- pleasant, once Ink got used to that. They've been mostly letting him be the only one to initiate touch, since he never used to like or even tolerate it, and they're surprised by how often his hands have found theirs.

It's a good surprise, of course. Ink is usually the one to cuddle up to Dream's side or let themself fall across Blue's lap. They still don't expect anything like that from him, but they'll always be happy to hold hands.

They should try it when he isn't trying not to crash...

Ink hadn't even thought about how his teleportation looks, when he did it. Even if he had, he wouldn't have thought it could affect Error this much-- he didn't think it would bother him at all, really. Although his other friends have been used to it for as long as he can remember, so Ink honestly had forgotten that most people think it's creepy when he liquefies his body to reform somewhere else.

It's always just been normal to Ink, so he didn't think twice.

And now Error is holding on to their hand like he doesn't think it'll be there anymore if he lets go. He had admitted to it-- he hadn't been sure Ink was even really there.

Something about that hurts.

Ink doesn't know what they could have done differently. But the expressions they saw on his face, when he couldn't be sure what was real, haunt them, make guilt keep pricking at their bones.

They hadn't expected him to get so attached so quickly, really. After-- what seemed to be-- years, of Ink being the one to desperately seek out any scrap of attention they could get, until Dream and later Blue showed up and filled that void in their metaphorical heart. That Error had never cared at all-- he couldn't, focused only on mindless destruction and the occasional TV show.

But as soon as he was able to, as soon as he was real...

He cares. So much.

Ink holds their friend's hand a little tighter, looks over at him, glad to see how his glitching has mostly calmed down now. They purr quietly.

The moment is ruined when a monster-- a tall, white-furred dog monster in light armor, Ink can't quite tell which character they might have been based on-- approaches the two, already growling, the sound low and hostile.

Error turns to look, letting out a sharp, glitching hiss. It probably sounded threatening, though Ink is pretty sure he's just startled-- the staticky feeling around their hands grows more intense and starts to travel up Ink's arm. They don't let go.

The dog draws their sword, holding it defensively as if they could actually threaten the two skeletons in front of them.
"What are you doing, sitting here with him?" they snarl, speaking to Ink as they glare at Error.

Oh.

As far as the dog knows, their "Protector" has sat down, mid-battle, to hold hands with the guy that just tried to kill everyone not even an hour ago. He shouldn't blame them for being upset about that.

But he still feels bright red anger, as Error's glitching flares up and he stays still, otherwise not reacting at all to the dog's words. Not even snapping at them, like Ink suddenly would like to.

They shouldn't make this worse-- that won't go well for anyone-- so they try to explain.
"He didn't do anything," they say. "It was someone else, Error helped stop--"
"Bullshit," the dog barks. "I saw him, he nearly tore this place apart not even a month ago, did you already forget?"

Their voice drips with true hatred. And they're right-- to anyone but Ink, Error did try to destroy this AU a few weeks ago. And Ink did forget.

Error still doesn't react, except for the static now numbing Ink's entire arm and shoulder.

"It-- it wasn't him," Ink tries, but the dog isn't listening.
"Were you the one that brought him here?" they bark, lifting their sword and stepping forward threateningly, but not actually moving to attack. "Get out!"

And then Error hisses like an unnatural feral cat again, this time definitely on purpose. The dog flinches so hard they nearly drop the sword, and Ink takes this moment to teleport them both away, to Outertale where nobody has tried to bother them yet.

Probably because Outertale already knows to leave the "Destroyer" alone. Ink decides to stop thinking about that right now, focusing on checking on their friend.

"You okay?" Ink asks. Error's face still shows no reaction, though Ink can see the stray pixels floating around his eyelights, betraying that he must be feeling something about it.
"I'm f-fine," Error says, looking away. "They-y weren't wrong-g."

Ink isn't sure how to respond.
"You didn't do it," they settle on, after a few moments of hesitation. "I know you're good. They didn't know. It's not your fault."

Error doesn't reply, instead turning away. Still clinging to Ink's hand.

Ink almost tries again-- they open their mouth, ready to say more reassurances. But Error shudders, warnings and pixels running erratically across his bones, and Ink realizes he won't want to hear it right now.

So instead, they just stay close, and be there for him.

Chapter Text

He put a bone through their skull.

Shock was the last thing he saw on their face before the bone between their eye socket and their mouth exploded into shards, black blood splattering from the wound onto their hands, their scarf, his face.

He was powerless to stop himself-- unable to move, unable to freeze-- only watch as his own hand reached out, sending strings through the new hole in their skull, then feel the weak resistance as his hand pulled the string and snapped off the rest of the bone in their face.

His nemesis, his friend, his worst enemy, his hero-- fell forward, black ink running heavily from the gaping hole where their face should have been. They caught his arm to try to steady themself as more paint gushed from their skull-- but even as he fought hard to stay still, his hands pushed them violently away. They stumbled, but somehow stayed upright, backing away, taking heavy breaths that made paint leak into their scarf.

Ink's hands felt around the void-black edges of their hollow face. Error could almost feel how he should shudder and crash at the sight, but his body stayed calm, except for static where they touched him. The lack of reaction felt even more disgusting and unnatural than if his glitching had torn him apart.

Instead, he only felt sick as he walked toward them again, feeling his grin widen as he started to summon a blaster.

But a single, fuzzy red eyelight appeared in the middle of their skull, and Ink stood up straight again.

They melted into the blood stains on the ground, and Error only had a moment to be alarmed before he was dragged to the ground, Ink crawling over him, surrounding him with angry, painful, wet red magic that felt like it was melting his bones. He tried to focus on that burn instead of the dripping black ink he felt on the back of his skull as they held him down.

He didn't want to struggle, and he definitely didn't want to see what he'd done, but he started trying to flip them over onto the ground anyway, striking wildly with sharpened bone attacks. The glitching was finally starting to overtake him, something sharp and wrong rippling over his bones like dangerous waves. But his vision didn't blur in time to miss the sight of Ink's defiant eyelight hovering inside what was left of their black-stained skull, and his own hands trying to push them off of him and stab through it again.

Ink moved as if it were only a fracture. They fought as if they had something more important to do after this. Even shattered, they kept going like a zombie, unaware of any pain they should feel.

Black paint kept dripping onto Error's face as they leaned over him, now made invisible by the pixels and warnings clouding his vision. They were uncannily silent, which should have been barely noticeable over Error's broken shrieks.

Error hated crashing-- it was painful and confusing and vulnerable-- but this time, he welcomed the end of his awareness when it finally happened.

Just for a second, he didn't have to think about what happened anymore.

/////

Error wakes up, abrupt and jarring. It doesn't feel like he crashed, but something still hurts. Everything still hurts?

He takes shaky breaths. Glitches run across his bones and in between his joints-- it feels like his bones might fall apart if he moves them, but he can't stop shivering.

All around him is blank white, a few stray blue strings hanging from some non-existent ceiling. He stares into the Anti-Void, trying to figure out what happened.

When he remembers, he instantly wishes he didn't. He can still feel the cold blood dripping onto his bones. He can almost see them again when he stares into the white. He can't look away-- there's nothing else there.

It takes several minutes of lying there, glitching violently and trying to stare at his shaking, clean red and gold claws through a haze of lines and pixels, before he's able to calm down and believe it wasn't real.

It wasn't real. It didn't happen. He didn't do it and he wouldn't and he's never going to. He remembers too clearly. He felt their bone snap under his strings. Their bones are smooth, not even scarred. When he sees them again, they'll smile at him and blink both their eyelights through bright colors and sit next to him like they've never spilled each other's blood.

Does Ink think about these memories, too? Do they really dismiss the things that never happened, or do these fights haunt them?

He's not sure how those bright eyelights can even look at him now.

Error barely holds back a staticky hiss as another involuntary shiver makes his bones rattle. The glitching feels painful and numb at the same time. It doesn't usually hurt this bad for this long... and he's pretty sure he didn't even actually crash.

He realizes what it is-- he hopes he's wrong. He checks his HP, and winces when he sees the number. It's at two right now, and doesn't seem to be changing. As if things needed to be any worse...

For as long as he can remember, his HP has been random. It varies wildly and unpredictably, taking anywhere from seconds to hours to land on the next value. Usually it stays around a healthy range, with some days especially weak while others feel especially strong. Sometimes he even gets to have over a thousand for a few hours-- that's always nice, though he tries not to think about how he often used to "celebrate."

But some days he's not that lucky, and ends up stuck with barely any HP for a while, and has to spend the day hiding in the Anti-Void, trying not to let his bones glitch apart or crash from the pain. Or snarling with rage, alone in the empty white, only stopped from tearing worlds apart by his own weakness.

He knows this. He remembers this is how it's always been. But this is the first time it's been this bad since... everything started.

He's still frozen, shivering, overheating all at once, lying on the ground. His thoughts feel cloudy, and that feeling of slipping away fills him with terror that only makes him glitch harder. He knows he just needs to calm down, but his very existence feels overwhelmingly wrong.

For a moment he thinks about teleporting into some random AU, to lay still in some snow or grass until someone shows up, recognizes him, and takes out the last of his HP in one hit. The dust would lay there with no wind underground to blow it away. He'd never have to fear or hurt again. He'd know, at the end, that he'd never be able to destroy again.

...Ink would save the dust, if they found it in time. They wouldn't forget. They wouldn't be relieved. The n00b would keep destroying and Ink would face him alone.

He wouldn't get to see them again, their face whole and cheerful like he never shattered those bones. Because he didn't. He wouldn't.

He thinks about it a while longer, but doesn't move to open a portal. Even as his thoughts return to it with every painful twitch of his bones, he knows he isn't actually going to do it. It almost feels wrong that he doesn't quite want to. Even before, he had always been the final anomaly he planned to take out.

Error doesn't know how long he spends there on the ground of the Anti-Void, thoughts drifting between peaceful death and things he might rather do instead. He wants to sleep, but whenever he gets too close to drifting off, the feeling of losing coherent thought sends him into a panic again. He's not sure how he fell asleep in the first place. His HP stays low, his bones stay uncomfortably tense and loose and shaky, occasionally threatening to glitch apart.

He thinks of Ink, a few times, but never considers picking up his phone-- if it's even still on him, he doesn't want to move his arm to check. He won't let anyone see him like this, especially not Ink. He'll stay here alone, until his HP randomizes again to something better, and probably stay here for a while after that. No one will know he can be this weak--

--until he feels a familiarly sharp, wrong presence wander into his Anti-Void, and realizes he isn't alone.

Chapter Text

As soon as Error feels that unnatural presence approaching, he knows-- that n00b has wandered into his Anti-Void. Which is a lot more terrifying than it sounds.

Terror shoots through his soul-- he could barely fight this guy on his better days, right now he can barely move. Just minutes ago he was dreaming of a quick death, but now that he's faced with the opportunity, he can't bear the idea of waiting to be found.

The prickling feeling of another glitching abomination like him coming closer intensifies, and he can't stay still any longer. He forces himself to start getting up, instantly making his glitching worse. It feels like something squirming inside his joints, like the bones are threatening to break apart into shards with every movement-- but when he looks, nothing seems broken at all. He's careful to keep himself as close to silent as possible, though he can never stop the sound of crackling static that follows him.

Error manages to drop himself through a portal, going anywhere but the Anti-Void. He lands roughly on frozen ground-- the impact makes one of his shoulders painfully clip through the bone of the socket for a second, returning to its usual place when he flinches and curls up.

He uses his other arm to start searching through the pockets of his jacket for his phone, the shame he felt earlier replaced by panic. He finds it, holding it close to his face so he can see the dim screen. The screen-- and his vision-- are both littered with dead pixels. His hand shakes as he unlocks it, taking a few tries to find the contacts without the phone glitching onto a different app or shutting down again.

The snow melts around him, making his clothes uncomfortably damp.

By the time he gets to Ink's contact, all his hesitation is gone. He knows he won't be able to send a coherent text right now, with the way he's nearly breaking the phone every time his glitching fingers touch it. He calls them.

The phone starts to make a sound as it waits for Ink to pick up. Error tries to silence it so he won't be found, but that just makes it put out a high-pitched screech. He flinches, trying not to zap the phone again so it doesn't hang up. His audio starts lagging a little worse, but he can hear Ink's voice.

"Hey, Error! What's up?" they say. The phone lags, but it's audible.
"Hey," Error tries to reply, but the sound that comes out is glitched beyond recognition.
He tries again. "H-h-h-h--"
"...Error? You okay?" There's clear concern in their voice. Shame burns in Error's chest. Snowflakes continue to land and quickly melt on his skull.
"N-N0," he gasps. "I c-can't--"

"I'll be right there, hold--" Ink's voice cuts off as Error violently shivers again and his hand clips through the phone. The phone falls through as if nothing was there, into the snow, probably dead-- Error tries and fails to hold back a pained whine as he pulls his hand tightly to his chest.

He never told Ink where he was...

They said they'd be here. They must have some way to know...

He hears the crunch of snow and something wet as someone appears right behind him. If he had been able to think about it, just for a second, he would have known he was safe-- but instinct makes him flinch.

He's vulnerable-- his enemy is behind him-- he can't escape-- he's back, no no no he can't go back, he can't hurt anyone again-- it hurts--

His body and the frozen ground blur together like his swirling, panicked thoughts-- only half a second later, he physically snaps back into reality.

The shock sends him into a crash before he has the chance to really feel the pain.

/////

Error restarts, more peacefully than the last time he really woke up. He's lying down, somewhere soft. His bones feel sore and glitchy, but not trying to tear themselves apart, which is an improvement.

Slowly, he starts to process his memory of what happened. Pain, snow, harsh glitching. A threat. A dying phone, a desperate call. Static. He keeps his sockets closed.

There's noise in the background, something like a robotic voice. He doesn't recognize it, but it sounds far away, doesn't sound dangerous.

He stays still, aware enough to know that waking up, still disoriented like this, will leave him with regrets. He doesn't quite remember why, but it's not safe-- he'll lash out, and that's bad, and he doesn't want to be like that again--

Dark pixels start to ripple over him from the stress. He tries to stay still-- he's not alone, he shouldn't let himself be noticed. He can't suppress a few anxious shivers. Someone moves next to him-- he freezes.

"Hey, you're back now? You okay?"
He recognizes Ink's voice quickly. Safe. Not his enemy. He relaxes a little.

After a few moments, he opens his eyes and looks up at him. Error is lying on a couch he's probably never seen before, and Ink is sitting on the other side of it.

They're in a cozy-looking living room. The light is dim-- an amber lamp just past a doorway, and a TV playing a show he doesn't immediately recognize.

"Yeah," he finally answers, pleasantly surprised by how easily he says it.
Ink grins at him. "Oh, already? Nice," he says, leaning towards Error a little bit. "I think that's your fastest so far! How're you feeling?"
Error turns his face back over, into a pillow. "Better," he answers, a little muffled. He still doesn't feel like processing that whole sentence yet.

They sit like that in comfortable silence for a few minutes. He can tell Ink is trying to pretend they aren't paying attention.

Eventually, Error cautiously tries sitting up. It doesn't feel like he's going to clip into the couch-- his HP must have randomized again, good. He sits up all the way, leaning almost-comfortably into the corner of the couch. It's nice to be able to relax again.

"So... what happened?" Ink asks.

Error had almost forgotten how much he was not looking forward to answering that question. He can't stand letting them see him weak and glitchy, especially now that they'll worry instead of just taking the damn opportunity like before-- and now he has to try not to show that he's bothered, or it'll just feel worse.

But he can't just not explain why he called them in a panic to come drag him out of some random Snowdin and onto what he's assuming is Ink's couch.

He decides to just go with the truth-- a version of the truth that can hopefully be over quickly.

"HP randomized really low. Was just gonna wait it out in the Anti-Void, but the n00b chased me out of it-- wouldn't let him do that, but 2 HP isn't enough to fight that guy," he says, leaving out the worst of the details. "Got... worried, some guard dog might find me crashed out there, so I called you."

Ink nods in understanding, but still looks at Error a little suspiciously. "How's your HP now?"
"Better," he answers.
"Good," they say. "What killed your phone?"
Damn. He'll have to steal a new one from some dead AU or something later...
"Phones hate me, it probably just got worse when I touched it before crashing," he says. He's not sure whether Ink is suspicious, or just curious...

Ink seems to accept that answer. Error takes the opportunity to change the subject.
"Where are we?" he asks.
"Stars' base," Ink replies casually.

"What??"
Why would they let him in there?? He's never been anywhere near it-- the location of the Stars' base has always been top secret. He hadn't even known for sure that it existed, until Ink mentioned it in conversation a while ago.

They especially shouldn't let the Destroyer in.

Ink looks at him, sees the shock on his face, and waves his hand dismissively. "Chill, it's fine," Ink says. "I can invite a friend over if I want."

He's really not sure he, specifically, should be invited. Now that he's been here once, he'll likely have no problem finding it again. He could teleport from the Anti-Void directly into this living room.

If a Destroyer knew where the Stars lived...

But Ink has clearly made up his mind about it, and Error doesn't really feel like losing an argument that he sucks really bad and needs to be kicked out. And it's his own fault for putting Ink in the position of having to take him somewhere, anyway. And it's too late-- he's already here.

So he doesn't say anything about it, and just answers, "Okay."

Ink, too, just keeps acting like nothing is weird about that.
He glances at Error, now a little bit awkward. "So, do you want to just... hang out? Probably shouldn't go back to the Anti-Void for a while..."
"Yeah," Error says. "Not going back there right now. I mean, I can go somewhere else, if you want--"
"No! I mean, I was going to invite you over here sometime, anyway..."
"W-what--"

"Stop being so surprised!!" Ink says, his voice slightly raised but not hostile. "We're friends, of course I'm going to invite you over, and no, I don't think you'll come back and destroy it later, you obviously don't want to do that." One of his eyelights turns a frustrated red, the other a deep blue, as he leans back into the couch with crossed arms.

There's an uncomfortable pause in their conversation. Error isn't sure what to say. It feels weirdly like an argument, yet he knows neither of them are actually mad at each other.

Ink sighs and reaches for his sash. "Just don't worry about it right now, okay?" he says, taking out two vials of paint-- cyan and yellow-- and sipping from each. They close the lids and put back the vials, then relax back into the couch, leaning more comfortably into the pillows.
"You ever seen this show before?" they ask.

That was a little weird, but if Ink won't question him clipping through the ground, he won't question them drinking paint mid-conversation...

Error turns to the TV, realizing very late that that's where the robotic voice was coming from earlier. Two robot monsters are performing some kind of musical show. He only recognizes one of the robots on the screen-- some version of Mettaton, of course, just like every other show in the Multiverse. The other guy's new, though.

That's weird-- basically every person is some version of the same characters, over and over. Even he and Ink were both somehow supposed to be Sans, which... really should be impossible, if he thinks too hard about the differences between them. Neither of them is anything like Sans.

"Don't think so," he replies. "Who's the TV guy?"
"That's Tenna, he's from Deltarune," Ink says excitedly. "It's new! This is an AU, though-- their show, Metta and Tenna, it's pretty much like any other Metta's show, but I put on the whole AU instead of the show, the real drama's off the stage. Those two are so doomed," he continues, eyelights sparkling.

On the TV, the "episode" ends, but the show keeps playing. The robots go backstage and immediately start loudly arguing over something.

"Cool," Error says, grinning back at Ink.
"Yesss, I knew you'd get it. Dream said it's rude to 'spy,' but what, are we just supposed to watch Mettaton normally? The whole AU's so much better."
Error laughs quietly. "Yeah," he agrees. "So what about Deltarune?"

"You don't know about it yet?" Ink gasps dramatically.
"Heard of it, I think? Didn't really think of it since... you know."

Ink looks absolutely delighted to get to tell him all about it. They explain that it's a new "original" universe like Undertale, and that there are a bunch of new characters, but also some of the "usual" ones but they're not nearly as important there, and there's a prophecy, and lightners and darkners and heroes and titans and a knight, and then they go off into a ramble about characters and themes or something.

Error listens, understanding... most of it. He occasionally asks a question, or looks back at the unfamiliar monsters-- or darkners??-- on the screen. He wasn't really expecting so many new things out there, but it's not unwelcome. It's nice to look at a person he doesn't remember planning to kill one day.

"--your mom, but then they get home and he's actually in the living room and it sucks," Ink finishes a sentence Error doesn't remember him starting, looking completely unbothered and even a little excited by whatever he just said "sucks."

"...Nice," Error replies, hoping that was a safe answer to whatever Ink just said.

Ink rolls his eyelights, but smiles lightheartedly. "It's cool, you need to see it for yourself anyway-- probably for the best if you didn't pay too much attention to all those spoilers..."

Error looks away, trying to hide the blush he's sure is visible on his skull. Close enough...

They go back to chatting about the "new chapters," whatever that's supposed to mean. Didn't Ink say it was all new??

They don't notice someone else approaching, until a figure blocks the light from the hallway, making them both turn to look.

Dream stands in the doorway, his expression shocked.
"Wh-- what are you two doing?"

Chapter Text

As soon as Dream asks what they're doing, Ink's mind goes completely empty of potential answers. Beside him, Error flinches as if he were accused of something much worse than... sitting on the couch? Why is Dream being so weird about him sitting on the couch??

Ink stares at Dream, eyelights shifting into random shapes as he blinks in confusion.
"Uhhhh. What??"
Dream looks confused, too. "Why... is he here?"
"Dream!" Ink scolds, glaring at him. "I thought you two were cool now??"

Error looks anywhere but at Dream, visibly trying and failing to repress a physical reaction. Dream seems to notice his mistake and backtracks.
"No, no no it's okay, Error is fine! I'm sorry, Error, I didn't mean-- there's nothing wrong with you being here, it's just... Nobody is supposed to be here."

"What?" Ink questions.
"Nobody except us is meant to be in the Stars' base, Ink. Whether we... trust them, or not. We have enemies-- not you, Error-- it's dangerous for anyone to know where it is. We agreed on it, no one, not our friends, not even Blue's brother."

Ink speaks before he thinks.
"But Papyrus has been here a bunch of times?? You were... there..."

Ink and Dream stare at each other.

Error avoids looking at them, pressing himself back into the cushions of the couch in a poor attempt at making himself smaller. Ink can feel a sort of aura of nervous static starting to reach them, the tension taking physical form.

Ink can't break away from Dream's calculating gaze.

"I was there," Dream says, his eye sockets narrowing at Ink.

he knows

Ink tries to keep his breath steady. Nothing is wrong, Dream.

he knows, he's going to be miserable, it's ink's fault

They try to stop their breath entirely. They don't need it. It's too shaky. Dream will notice something is wrong.

even nightmare's memory is less than dead

Dream's eyelights are still locked onto their own, sharp as he tries to put the pieces together, sharp like the feeling of horror that scrapes at their bones.

they've already failed him, they've already ruined something, they've barely even started to live and they've already hurt dream

The silence breaks as their paint violently spills from their throat. Losing that extra paint is meant to calm down their too-intense feelings, but they only feel worse as they quickly turn away to try and hide from Dream and Error. If they were alive, their skull would burn with shame-- instead, room-temperature paint drips from their blackened teeth onto the floor.

because they didn't start to live, alongside everyone else, they're dead and they always have been

just like nightmare

but ink is the one that's here, and ink is the corpse left to protect the multiverse, and nightmare never lived but ink is the one to kill him all over again

"What is this," Dream quietly whines under his breath, pressing one hand against his face. He goes around the front of the couch to sit down next to Ink-- which means a few feet away from Error, who stares at the other skeletons with widened eye sockets, like a frightened feral cat.

"Ink," he starts, putting one arm around his friend's shoulders. Ink leans into him, despite everything. They're still turned away so he can't see their face, crumpled and smudged with black and gray.

They're shivering. Dream is warm. Ink is hollow and cold.
"Please tell me what's wrong. You don't have to face it alone. I promise, I won't--"
"No," Ink whispers, their voice wet and rough with tears and paint.

"Why not?" Dream asks softly, taking one of Ink's hands in his own slightly larger one, gently running his thumb over the back of their glove.
"I can't tell you," they insist. "It's-- it's important, trust me, you don't want to know."

"I do want to know! Something is hurting you, and I can't help if you don't tell me!"
"It's okay, I can handle it, I just need time," Ink pleads.

They know the only thing they can do about it is become a better liar. But they can do it, they just need to get used to it, let Dream think they solved some problem and hide well enough that he thinks that's the end of it...

"You shouldn't have to handle it," Dream tells them. "I know I can help, if you just tell me."

He's wrong. The only thing that could help is if he stopped worrying for them. Just stay by their side and trust them, that's all they need him to do. Please, just don't force them to hurt him.

"I don't want you to feel alone." Dream says.

"H-he's not a-alone," Error speaks up, so quiet he's barely audible over his own static and lagging stutter.

Dream's eye sockets widen in shock as he turns to stare at Error. "You know??"
"Don't," Ink whispers-- please don't tell him, don't give him any hints--

Error doesn't tell him what's wrong.
"N-no one is dying-g, no one is-s threatening h-him, and th-the multiverse isn't about-t to collapse," he says. "It's n-not even-- it's not dangerous-s."

Everyone is silent, except for Error's anxious buzzing and Ink's unsteady breath. Ink hesitantly rubs the end of his soft scarf around his eye sockets, then turns to look up at Dream.

Dream's arm is still around them, holding them close. He looks frustrated-- and worried, with heavy shadows under his eye sockets. It hurts, knowing they're the reason he's upset. Guilt eats away at their already-hollow chest. But there's nothing they can do. They know the truth will hurt him so much worse.

"I'm sorry," Ink says quietly, their voice breaking, "please don't worry about it. He's right, it's not dangerous, it won't be a problem in a few more days, I just need you to trust me and leave it alone..."

Dream sighs. He hugs Ink slightly closer against his side, and they lean into the contact. He holds one hand over his own face, hesitating.

"Fine," Dream relents. Ink instantly relaxes against him, and he pulls them into a full hug-- Ink is so small, this puts them practically on his lap. They're still a little shaky, but their arms are stronger than they look, and they hug him back at full force.

"You always used to refuse help, when we first became a team," Dream whispers. "And you kept being hurt... Please, don't let that happen again. I want to be here for you..."
"You are," Ink assures him.

They stay like that for a minute or two, Dream's warm hands on Ink's back, which softly rumbles with their catlike purr.

It's... not safe yet. They're still going to have to be very careful. But if Dream is really going to give them some time...
They'll make themself a better liar, somehow. They'll make sure not to slip like that again...

...They aren't sure if they can do it. They try, but they always screw up, and end up making him worried and suspicious.

Dream has to be close to figuring it out. The only reason he hasn't yet must be because it's not something most people would guess-- usually, only Ink seems to think of the world as a story at all. How much of that has Dream picked up on?

But Ink makes it so obvious. If they hadn't reacted so strongly, when Dream realized that AU was missing, would he even still be thinking of it?

...Probably. A missing AU is a big deal, if you don't know it never existed. He probably could have blamed "whatever happened to the Destroyers," and let that be the end of it, though...

Error is still on the other side of the couch, awkwardly staring through the TV. Suddenly embarrassed, and slightly guilty for ignoring him, Ink ends the hug and climbs across the couch to sit closer.
"Hey, sorry about... all that, you good?" Ink asks sheepishly.
"It's fine," Error says, shrugging-- though he doesn't hold eye contact for long, and Ink sees uncomfortable-looking pixels floating around in his eye sockets before he looks away again.

He looks toward the TV, but doesn't seem to really be watching it-- only avoiding Ink's gaze. Unfortunately, at that moment one of the robots on the screen dramatically pulls the other in for a kiss. Really, not much is even happening, neither of them even really has a mouth-- but Error's attention snaps back to Ink so quickly, they have to try to suppress a laugh.

They don't want to tease him in front of Dream and make him start glitching, that would be mean-- but the cute magic blush he tries to hide under his scarf makes it hard to keep their face serious.

"...Okay, I don't mind, I'm just asking-- why are you here?" Dream asks Error, breaking the awkward silence.

"Ink's j-just showing me this new AU," Error answers.
Dream glances at the TV for the first time. The robots are clearly having a personal conversation. He puts his face in his hand for maybe the hundredth time since he walked into the room.

"Ink, you can't just spy on people..." he says, though there's not much heart behind his words.
"As the Protector of their AUs I can and I will," Ink replies, sticking out their colorful tongue.
Dream sighs, though Ink can see a fond smile behind his hand. "Sure," he says, no real disappointment in his voice.

"And Error, I can feel you lying about whatever embarrassing reason you're here right now and I don't really mind what it is but you two have got to tell me the truth about something," he continues, now sounding genuinely frustrated.

"Sorry..." Ink says, reminded of his guilt.
"S-sorry," Error repeats quietly. He shivers a little bit, a few lines of pixels flying off of him. Dream's expression softens.

Ink answers for him. "Fatal's in the Anti-Void. Not destroying anything, just... there, for some reason? So, I invited Error over here instead, since it's not really safe there until he's gone. I guess we could have tried to chase him out or something, but it seemed safer not to fight him at all, and I was gonna invite Error over sometime, anyway."

Dream nods, accepting that answer. Ink left out the part about his low HP and the way they found him, painfully crashing in the snow-- they were a little afraid Dream would read Error's aura and notice it still wasn't the whole story, but he either doesn't notice, or lets it go. They know Error really doesn't want anyone to know about that, so it's not for Ink to explain.

"Right," Dream says, "I'm sorry about that, Error. Did either of you get hurt?"
"No," Error answers. Not by Fatal, anyway...
"That's good, I'm glad you're both alright," Dream replies.

Dream starts glancing awkwardly around the room.
"Do you want to watch TV with us?" Ink asks, hoping Error won't mind too much. They don't want to make either of their friends feel left out.

"Ah... no, thanks, I actually need to get back to... doing something," Dream says, getting up. "You two have fun, though!"
"Okay... see you soon," Ink says. He's a little disappointed, but he definitely understands wanting to escape this painfully awkward conversation. They'd probably have run away too, if that wouldn't have meant leaving Error and Dream alone together in the Stars' living room.

Ink waves as Dream rushes out the doorway, then teleports somewhere else.

It's just Ink and Error alone on the couch again, now. They both hesitate for a moment, then wordlessly agree to pretend none of that happened for a while.
Ink flops over like a cat, laying sideways on the couch, next to Error but far enough apart that he has some space and they won't accidentally touch.

"...So can I show you Deltarune now?" Ink asks.
"Sure," Error replies, using a few strings to grab the remote from across the room for them.

Chapter Text

The TV is on, but Ink stares through it without seeing. Familiar voices and the crackle of Error's static float around them, background noise to their spiraling thoughts.

One way or another, their horrible attempts at secret-keeping are almost over.

Either they get much better at lying-- and calm down, don't worry about it, stop throwing up paint at the first sign of suspicion, that only ever makes him more suspicious stop doing it-- or he finds out.

Logically, he knows it's not the end of the multiverse if Dream finds out. He'll be upset-- and surely have to grieve Nightmare again. Not to mention that most people feel existential dread about that kind of thing. It'll hurt.

He doesn't want that to happen to Dream. (Or Blue, of course-- though Ink has a feeling he would handle it better. His AU hasn't changed much, he hasn't lost anyone-- Ink is still a little concerned about the existential dread but at least his brother definitely exists... Still, hopefully Blue will never have to know.)

It... would be okay, eventually. He's pretty sure they wouldn't leave him over it-- though the thought is more terrifying than he ever wanted to accept he could feel. And Dream and Blue are strong-- they would learn to handle it.

But they shouldn't have to handle it.

To let that happen, to tell them their whole lives have been a lie...
What kind of Protector would allow that? What kind of failure would hurt them like that?

They couldn't even last two weeks.

...Error has moved closer to them on the couch. Despite everything... they're glad this happened. They're glad everything changed. They finally remember to breathe, and look over at him.

His eyelights are on the screen, and he's twisting strings between his hands, tying and untying his fingers together. He'd look peaceful if not for the pixels flying erratically off of him, betraying how tense he really is. He's only about a foot away, now-- closer than Ink would have expected from him, but always welcome.

...Did he do that on purpose?

Well, Ink would rather be thinking about that, and not Dream's suspicion. They glance away, hoping he didn't catch them staring.

The way his hands start to twitch tells Ink that he definitely noticed. They rush to find a conversation topic, hopefully before he thinks they were being weird.

They weren't being weird. Just thinking about their impending doom and how sweet Error is now that he's able to be a person more than a plot device. Are those normal thoughts or is that weird?

Doesn't matter. Conversation topic. Ink gestures toward the TV.
"Pretty cool, right?" they say, enthusiastically and slightly too loud, before looking over at whatever is happening.
Lancer has just put down a bucket as a threat.

Error turns to him, grinning like he's trying not to laugh.
"Yeah," he admits. "It's cool. Why... this part, though?"
Ink doesn't have a good excuse. "...Didn't think about it very hard," he says.

Error laughs quietly, his voice soft like static. It sounds nice. He'd probably get self-conscious if they said anything about it, so Ink doesn't draw attention to it. But they can't help the way their eyelights get fuzzy with affection as they look at him-- not that they would ever hide it, anyway.

It took a while-- or it didn't, really, but whatever-- for Dream and, eventually, Blue, to get Ink to understand that their ability to love their friends was real. They had always thought of themself as less, hollow, fake. How could they ever know if what they felt was real, when they had never felt anything "real" to compare it to?

But Ink can believe it now. Even when he can't believe in anything else, he could never doubt that he loves Blue and Dream.

...And Error, he thinks. Maybe it's a little early for that, but they feel like they know him well enough to know that even if it's too soon now, it won't be for very long.

They smile a little at the realization. They're so glad they were created a week and a half ago and not a couple years ago, or else they would have had to go through all of that doubt in real life... Although they're a little sad they missed the good parts, they never really had to live without Blue or Dream... or Error.

Ink realizes he's been staring. The pastel blush over their cheekbones starts glowing closer to neon.

"What are you d-doing?" Error finally asks, starting to glitch and stutter and pull his scarf up to hide behind it. He leans away, just a little.

Ink's multicolored eyelights sharpen as he snaps back into reality. "Oh, didn't mean to stare, you're just..."

They only take a second or two to find the words to finish their sentence, but in that short time, Error's expression drops. He glances away, pulling the strings around his shaking claws so tight it must be painful.

What did he think they were going to say??

"You're a good friend," Ink says, sincerely. "And cute."

Error's reaction is instant, caught completely off guard. It's as if Ink's words were a jolt of electricity, shocking him so he curls in on himself, tense and shaky.

Okay that might have been a little too sweet but whatever, he needed to hear it, right?

Error tries to say something but gets caught on the first sound, repeating like a lagging video.
"Sorry, sorry!" Ink says, hesitating before they reach out to brush their hand against his. Error takes it, holding their hand tightly. His hands are still tangled up in strings, leaving his other one hovering awkwardly close by. Ink can feel that he's already starting to overheat...

Okay. Too much. Good thing they didn't accidentally say the rest of what they were just thinking about...

After a few seconds, Error rebuilds his composure enough to ask, "What?"
"...It's true," Ink says, and thankfully Error's only reaction is to look away anxiously, trying to untangle the strings from his finger bones without pulling his other hand away from Ink's.

Error starts and restarts his next sentence a few times, before eventually finding the words to answer.
"I... d-don't even do anything good, though?? I'm n-not..."
He trails off, his hand getting impossibly warmer as he continues to avoid their gaze.

"Yes, you do," Ink says. "You're always here for me, through the... The beginning, and you saved me from Fatal twice, and you-- you don't even have to do any of that, you've got other stuff to deal with anyway! But you're just-- really cool!!"

A few seconds pass in silence, then Error tries to muffle the sound of a broken, glitching sob. He hides his whole face in his scarf, clearly fighting not to just shut down completely.

"You don't have to say anything," Ink assures him. They look away, suddenly a little awkward after telling him all that. "I just... wanted you to hear it. You're good."

Familiar static makes their hands feel fuzzy as he holds theirs tighter, saying what he can't say out loud.

Chapter Text

Error doesn't know what he expected Ink to say. Some instinct had said to brace himself for the worst. He was completely unprepared for anything nice.

It's embarrassing, how their words make him so weak. Pressure builds inside his eye sockets as he tries to breathe through tears, hiding from Ink but clinging to their hand.

"You don't have to say anything," Ink says. Their voice sounds far away through his glitching. "I just... wanted you to hear it. You're good."

He squeezes their hand. It's good that they don't expect a reply yet, because he can't even attempt to say anything out loud right now. He muffles a sob under his scarf.

Some part of him knew Ink really cared about him, but it's hard to believe anyone could. He's terrible. He's killed tens of thousands of people, not even considering that he might be wrong.

The only reason anyone-- including himself-- even tolerates him is because Ink, somehow, truly believes he didn't do any of it.

He didn't do it. He's good. He wouldn't do it. He won't...

He's almost feverish, lagging and overheating, struggling to keep enough composure not to crash. His grip on Ink's hand feels weak.

It's okay, he's safe, Ink doesn't mind, it's okay, it'll stop when he calms down--

It feels like his skull is filling up with sludge. His shaking hand reaches up to his eye sockets, trying to relieve the pressure, and frantically pulls hot, wet strings from his eyes, dripping with something like tears.

He cringes at the wet feeling of the strings against his fingers, quickly opening a small portal to throw it all straight into the void. The string sticks to his finger bones uncomfortably, making it difficult to throw away. He keeps pulling, faster, trying not to sob.

Beside him, Ink worries. They hold his hand gently, saying something he can't quite hear.
"I'm-- I'm f-fine," he says, his voice breaking several times before he's able to get those two words out. He's not sure if Ink can even understand him, but that's the best he can do right now. The glitching focuses in his eyes and throat, making it hard to see or speak or breathe-- though somehow, it doesn't really hurt. Glitching this badly usually hurts a lot...

He focuses on holding Ink's hand. He just needs to calm down, it'll stop when he calms down...

He finally runs out of string, the last of it seeming to melt as he aggressively throws it through the portal. So gross.
How does Ink even stand him?

Error takes deep breaths until it isn't difficult anymore.

Ink sits with him patiently, switching between glancing worriedly at Error, and looking at the floor so he won't catch them staring.

"...You okay?" they finally ask.
Error nods, not trusting his own voice yet. A few tears keep running down his skull-- he wipes them before turning to look at Ink.

"...Sorry," Ink says, a little sheepishly. "I'm just... really glad you're here."
They look at him with nothing but affection, even as he feels like he could never deserve it.

"I'm glad you're h-here, too," Error replies quietly, a minute or two late, once he's sure he'll be able to say it.

He'd like to say something... better than that, after the kind things Ink said, but he's sure he'll cry again if he tries, so he leaves it at that for now. Instead, he just... looks into their eyes, as they smile softly at him in reply.

If anyone is cute, it's them. Honestly, what were they even thinking, calling him that...
Embarrassingly, his blush intensifies at the thought. He looks away.

The silence isn't quite uncomfortable, but Error isn't sure what to do now. It feels wrong to look back at the TV, so they both look towards the floor.

"Hey," Ink says. Error's attention returns to him.
Ink slightly lifts their hands, still held together. "Is this... good?" they ask.

Holding hands? It's... nice. He's tried not to overthink it. Ink hasn't seemed to mind, so far...
"Y-yeah?"

"Do you still... not like touch?"

He's not sure. It's not like he's had many chances to try it. It felt really bad when he was fighting the n00b, but everything feels bad when there are bullets stuck through his ribcage. Ink hasn't tried anything more than holding hands, and Error hasn't dared to.

...It would suck, anyway. He'd mess it up.

"Probably, I d-don't know," he shrugs.

"Want to try it?" Ink asks. "Like... a hug or something?"
Error almost saw that coming, but anxious sparks of static run down his arm anyway, suddenly very aware of the contact between their hands.

"I-I--" Error stutters, trying to find the right answer. Does he want to? Hug? Maybe?? What??
"Only if-- if you want," Ink backtracks, "or something smaller first? Like... holding both hands maybe?? You were... trying to sit closer together, a few minutes ago, I thought maybe..."

Ink noticed that... He tries not to let his embarrassment show. It's difficult, since his stupid glitchy body just has to shiver and fling stray pixels around every time he feels anything other than numb. He knows that Ink already knows he's a mess, but the constant, uncontrollable reminders are the worst.

He surprises himself when he stutters out the word, "yes."

Ink's eyelights flash through star shapes. "Really? I mean, cool," they grin.

"So, how...?" they ask.
"D-don't move," Error says quickly, afraid to be startled.
"I won't," Ink promises.

Okay. Okay, they're doing this. How did he end up in this situation...

It shouldn't be difficult. He likes holding hands with Ink. Ink already knows he's a mess, and they choose to be here with him anyway. Somehow.

Ink hugs their friends all the time. This is normal.

He hesitates, barely repressing anxious shivers. Then he leans closer, awkwardly reaching his free arm behind them, a few inches away from a side-hug. Ink smiles reassuringly at him.

He can feel the fuzz of static between them. His breath speeds up. This is normal. Just a little closer. He's already being so awkward, so weird, if Ink hadn't just told him how much they care he'd wonder how they can even stand this.

The anticipation is almost painful. A few times, he almost gives up and pulls away-- but he stays frozen next to them.

He's paralyzed by irrational fear, yet he's not even sure what he's so afraid of. Will it hurt? Will Ink hate it? Will it make him glitch out or crash? Will anything happen at all?

Ink stays still like he asked. Error stays still, except for the shudders and pixels and warnings.

Then, he squeezes his red eye sockets closed and leans in all at once.

The sudden contact shocks him like electricity, but he stays, accidentally grabbing Ink's shoulder a little harder than he meant to, pulling himself close into their side. His glitching flares up, making him lose a little of his physical control and hug them almost aggressively. He gasps, startled-- then takes deep breaths.

He-- he did it. His glitching slowly fades back to a normal, not-too-painful level as he settles into the hug. The position is a little awkward-- hands still clasped together in front of them, Error pulling Ink a little too tight against his side, Ink's other arm pinned between their ribcages since he told them not to move-- but he's... hugging Ink.

Nothing bad happened. It's... good. Slowly, he relaxes.

Ink seems comfortable, content even though he's squishing them a little bit. He can feel a soft rumble start up in Ink's chest like a cat's purr-- then he realizes that's exactly what it is, they're purring.

"Is th-this... okay?" he asks quietly, his voice still a little rough from the glitching.
"Yeah," Ink answers. "This is... nice." He can't quite see their face, but he can tell just from their voice that they're smiling.
"Y-yeah," Error agrees, unable to keep a grin off his own face as well. He turns his skull away to the side a little, unsure if Ink could see him from that angle.

Ink's purring intensifies, the sound light yet somehow also loud. Meanwhile, Error gets quieter, the nervous static around him calming down until it's barely noticeable under the rumble of Ink's purr. This might be the calmest his glitching has been since the beginning-- it doesn't even hurt.

Carefully, he leans his skull on theirs.

It's the most peace he's felt for as long as he can remember.

Chapter Text

He had to go back to the Anti-Void eventually.

He didn't really want to. The few hours Ink spent with him were probably the most comfortable Error has ever felt. But he'd been taking up enough of Ink's time already, and he was a little (or maybe a lot) afraid of Ink's other friends coming back. He knows no one-- except maybe Ink, for some reason-- wants him around.

Ink even offered to let Error stay longer, maybe even stay on the couch for the night, but he wasn't ready to accept. Of course he doesn't like to go back to his empty void, but staying and letting himself be vulnerable-- around Ink and probably their friends, too, who knows when they'd be back-- would be worse.

He's sure that Ink only offered so they wouldn't have to tell him to go away, and Dream wouldn't have been pleased to find the former Destroyer still in his living room.

Besides, it's not like Error doesn't have a place to go.

Error sighs as he looks around his Anti-Void.

It's even worse than when he left. That n00b trashed it.

The blue strings have been shredded, tossed around the space like confetti. His beanbag is even worse off, reduced to a bunch of scattered foam beans.

Even his sewing supplies have been tossed around, most of them clearly tattered or broken-- okay, that n00b definitely did this on purpose, there's no way he just happened to be wandering around in here.

Error walks through the pile of foam beans and they start to float closer and stick to the static around his legs. He scowls. Annoying.

He tries to kick the foam away and it doesn't budge. He tries to brush it off with his hand and it sticks to his hand.

He almost starts growling at them-- but he stops, wipes the beans off on his jacket and moves on. The Destroyer would have thrown a tantrum about it, and Error refuses to be like him again. So he stomps-- no, walks away from the beans.

Whatever. That beanbag and his sewing supplies were the only things that made this part of the Anti-Void any more "home" than the rest of it, and he stole all that shit anyway. He'll just steal new ones and go to a different part of the void where he can't see these stupid beans anymore. It's fine.

He ignores the claw marks in the pieces of fabric as he walks around the empty space, picking up the salvageable parts of his sewing kit. Ew. Error doesn't hold the fabric too tight in his hands.

Error ends up with pieces of fabric big enough to make some small dolls, a couple needles and spools of thread, a pair of scissors, and a box that's now missing its lid. He doesn't even attempt to pick up the stuffing. He'll get more later.

He puts the half-box of sewing supplies under one arm and walks off in a random direction. If he goes far enough, he'll find a place to set it down. Then just... stay there, he guesses. Or steal some new stuff.

...Should take it from an empty Underground instead of Underfell or a random one, if he's supposed to be a good guy now.

...

More walking. Boring. Nothing better to do anyway. He could teleport in a random direction, but for some reason, he'd rather know where he is and how he got there.

...

He finds the pile of dolls. The ones he tangled up in strings and left behind, when he found them on the first or second day, because he couldn't stand to look at them and be reminded what he did.

The ones full of dust. They're not full of dust anymore.

He doesn't know how he ever could have had the patience to make all of these. There must be at least a hundred here, all of them torn open by sharp, disgusting claws just like his own, all of them spilling monster dust from their wounds.

He didn't make them. This dust was never-- it was never people. It's just dust. It's always been dust, and these dolls have always existed, and Error never made them and he never killed anyone.

Error's breathing speeds up, his eyelights get fuzzy at the edges. His hands shake.

The string he tied them up with has also been torn up, stuck to the shreds of fabric with nasty dried blue crust. His strings were melting and sticky when he tried to hide these away, dripping with guilty tears.

Many of the dolls' faces have been left intact. They're complete enough to stare into Error's soul. Their eyes are different-- some buttons, some embroidered, some plastic, some fabric-- but they all stare into his soul. It beats painfully fast at the sight.

He recognizes them. He recognizes the people they were based on-- he sees how their faces looked as he shattered their fragile souls, before he took their remains back here for this disgusting, pointless collection.

He didn't do it. He didn't do it he didn't do it he didn't he wouldn't--

He starts to feel the hot, damp string building behind his eye sockets. Just like what's on the ground in front of him. It's gross, it hurts, he needs to pull it out but he killed these people with this string and he doesn't want to pull on it, he doesn't want it to feel familiar, in his hands, ready to catch a victim he doesn't want--

He doesn't touch the string. His eyes hurt. His soul hurts worse, beating heavily, irregularly.

He needs to stop looking at them. He knew even before the warnings started to cloud his vision. Forget about them. It doesn't matter. He didn't do it.

Error stands there, frozen and shaking, and stares into their torn, dusty, blue-stained eyes until the glitches blind him.

He teleports randomly, as far away as he can send himself in a dimension without coherent space. He curls up into a shivering ball, face down, on the nonexistent ground.

The only thing he knows is there with him is the sewing box-- he'd be glad he didn't drop it, if he could think clearly enough for that. He clings to it, not out of any real attachment, but simply because it's the only real object he can find while blind in an empty void, and he'll hold on to anything if it helps him hold on to reality.

He can't even be alone in his own empty void without panicking himself into blindness, helplessness. He tries not to make a sound. He doesn't want to know what kind of sound he would make.

He feels sick. He can still see his victims' faces-- feel the string barely resisting in his hands as he tightens it around a soul and crushes it.

He can't leave the string in his eye sockets anymore. The growing pressure is painful and already dripping out of his skull onto the ground. Somehow, he finds enough coherent thought to acknowledge that he's being disgusting right now.

As if he isn't always disgusting. The fact that no one will know about this doesn't relieve him of that thought as he reaches into his sockets and frantically pulls.

Globs of thick tears splat onto the ground. The string is too melty and thin to use as a weapon. He's not sure whether it's better that he can't hurt anyone with this, or worse that he'd be without his weapon if someone found him here.

His vision starts to clear once it's gone. He blinks, several times.

Slowly, Error calms down. He's fine. He didn't hurt anyone. He didn't kill anyone. He's alone. Stop it.

The sewing kit is unharmed. Good. Error quickly turns away from the pile of useless, defective string, then winces when the sudden motion makes his vision pixelate again.

He lets himself lay down and stare into the void for a few minutes. He's not in a hurry to get wherever he's going. He's got nothing important to do. Once he gets there, and finishes setting up a new stolen beanbag and maybe some new fabric and stuffing to occupy his hands with a project, he'll just be waiting around.

Waiting for Ink to call him again. Or for any other reason to leave this void. He doesn't really have a lot of reasons to leave. So stupid. Pathetic. Just waiting for someone, who has better friends than him, to find time for him again. Even though they were just together, like, an hour ago. He's pretty sure people are supposed to have a few more things to live for than that.

But the rest of the multiverse hates him, for good reason. There aren't a lot of other things he could do. Nothing really sounds worth getting off this not-floor for, anyway. Unless Ink called him. Stop thinking about that.

...He remembers something. He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and finds what he's looking for, as well as a hard object he doesn't recognize immediately. He takes both out.

It's a doll, and... his glasses.

Have these been in his pocket the whole time??

He puts it on and his vision gets noticeably less blurry, and somehow more... 3D? Whatever. It's better. There's a big crack in one of the lenses, but it's still an improvement. There aren't a lot of things to look at in the Anti-Void, so he holds the doll up to his face.

It's a small, imperfect plushie based on Ink. In hindsight, it might have been a little creepy to make this after being friends with them for barely a few days, but it was one of very few things he knew to do to pass the time, and he'd thought it was normal for as long as he could remember before that...

He feels a little embarrassed to have it, after realizing that most people don't have dolls of their acquaintances, and the desire to make one was just another habit left over from his time as the Destroyer. Still, it was the first thing he actually made, with real care and without dust, and he was... attached enough to keep it in his pocket with him.

He really shouldn't have. He would have been mortified if Ink had found out about it-- so he shouldn't keep bringing it where they could easily find it. But keeping it in his pocket did save it from the n00b's wrath. He's glad he still has it.

Holding it now, wearing the glasses, he can see most of the stitches. It really shows that he couldn't, before-- despite his best effort, the stitches are uneven and messy. The embroidery of the face is cute, with sparkly mismatched eyelights, but less... realistic, than the ones that just appeared.

But that might be for the best. It's not creepy, unlike the other dolls. It's just cute, and imperfect and real, because he actually made this one.

He holds it close to his chest and lays his head back down on the not-ground. The fabric is soft and the plush is just slightly squishy. It's comforting, though he'll never let anyone know he thought that.

He stays there until he's completely calm, and then a bit longer, before he finally gets up to move on. He already doesn't know where he is, and it doesn't really matter, so he just picks up the sewing box and teleports randomly again, so the gross pile of string isn't his problem anymore.

The Anti-Void is white in every direction, as far as he can see. This place is as good as any.

He puts down the box. Home sweet home.

...Until the n00b comes back. He can get in here. He'll trash it again, Error is sure.

He deserves it anyway. He made it his life's mission to break into people's homes, attack them, destroy everything. He doesn't get to act scared and upset the first time someone else does it to him.

He'll just have to keep anything important with him, don't leave it where it could be found. He puts the Ink doll back in his pocket. Done. That was easy.

Error sighs and sits down. He takes off the glasses. They have round, red frames and a badly cracked lens on one side. They look dorky.

He opens a one-way window portal to the Underfell skeletons' bathroom mirror. No one is in there, and he already knows how the house is set up since it used to be his favorite to steal from. It's easier than getting his own mirror-- he'd rather not have one, really.

Error looks in the mirror. The Destroyer looks back, his face weary.

His eye sockets are tired and slightly blue around the edges, one stuck half-open. His mouth is a small frown, not an evil grin.

He hates it. His expression is no longer like the Destroyer but his face still is. Blue tear-tracks are scarred into the dark bone of his cheeks. One eyelight is smaller than the other, and he can't force his mouth into a smile that looks natural.

When people look at this face, they see the face of a remorseless murderer. When he smiles, it looks just a little too close to the way he would grin with delight every time a world crumbled under his claws.

He must have carved the long scars into his cheekbones himself, drawing his weapon out and across them. Catching and breaking another soul each time, until even his face was a warning.

Every so often Error catches a glimpse of him in that mirror. Then his expression drops into something more hurt, and he doesn't recognize who he's looking at anymore, but it's better than when he does.

He lifts the glasses up to his skull and puts them on.

...Is there a difference?

He takes them off. The Destroyer looks back at him.
He puts them back on. He doesn't quite know what's looking at him.

The cracked glass distorts the reflection of his half-closed eye. The other one looks larger through the thick lens. The red frame sits above the deep blue scars, so the frame is the first thing he sees.

He looks like... a nerd. The thin round frames and thick lenses make him look like a nerd.

But a nerd is non-threatening and capable of rational thought, so it's an improvement over the Destroyer.

He leaves the glasses on.

Still not good. It's not a disguise. Everyone knows what he is.

But... maybe it's better. It's at least not worse.
And he can actually see now-- still kind of blurry, but maybe that's normal. He wouldn't know what to compare it to. It's close enough, he's sure.

Error closes the window. That's more than enough thinking about that.

With nothing else left to do, he starts picking through dead and surfaced AUs, for things to replace what the n00b destroyed. A beanbag-- or a sofa or a bed, maybe, whatever-- a new phone (oh, Ink couldn't call him right now anyway...)-- some new sewing supplies.

It's not much to rebuild. He'll be fine.

Chapter Text

Can I come over? I need to talk to you.
Blue laughs under his breath at the slightly ominous text from Dream. From anyone else, a serious "I need to talk to you." would probably mean something terrible has happened, but he knows this is just how Dream texts-- polite, to the point, and with no concept of certain texts being "scary."

Sure, I'm the only one home right now, just teleport in!
He taps the send button and goes downstairs to the living room where Dream usually appears. Dream is already there on the couch when he arrives. He looks serious.

"Hey, Dream! What's up?" Blue asks, staying cheerful at least until Dream gives him a real reason not to.
"Hi, Blue," Dream smiles at him as he sits down next to him. Then Dream's expression becomes serious again.

"Ink is acting weird," Dream starts.
"Anything new?" Blue jokes. They both know there's no malice behind it-- weird or not, they love their friend. It would be more weird if Ink wasn't weird, really.
But Dream continues, "No, seriously. There's something wrong, lately."

"...Right," Blue says. "So what is it?"

He's been busy at home in Underswap pretty often the last few weeks-- protecting the multiverse or not, he's not just leaving Papyrus at home all the time!-- but he has noticed Ink being... unusually anxious, recently. He hoped it wasn't something bigger, but he hasn't really had the chance to keep an eyelight on them like he planned to.

You can't be certain until you have facts, with Ink. They could be trying to hold the multiverse together alone, just so their friends won't worry. They could also be trying to hide something so small Blue won't even understand why they're embarrassed about it.

They'll treat both situations with as much care as possible, which is difficult when they'll be a terrible liar either way. Yet somehow not terrible enough to easily tell what's wrong.

But either way, the answer is usually to get the answer from them. Even if the conversation is uncomfortable-- something Dream struggles to push through.

Then reassure them, or help them stop the collapse of the multiverse, whatever is necessary. Step one is to face the problem together.

"I don't know, but it's something important to him, and probably connected to Error," Dream admits.
"What do you know so far?" Blue asks.

Dream takes a deep breath. "Almost two weeks ago, Error destroyed an AU that we tried to save, and as you know, he hasn't destroyed since. Do you remember the name of that AU? Or anything about it?"
"Yeah," Blue starts confidently-- of course he wouldn't forget that. But...
He doesn't need to finish that answer-- the combination of his aura and his fallen expression gives Dream his answer.

"...It's missing," Blue says. Dream nods and confirms it.
"A few hours after it was destroyed, Ink panicked for no clear reason and disappeared. They came back claiming to be fine, and a few days later, they claimed that Error was now "cool," "didn't destroy anything," and that they were now friends. Which is suspicious, but we've met Error now, and while he could be hiding something, his aura felt genuine. Nothing like he felt before-- he's definitely changed somehow."

That matches up with what Blue has seen, the one time they met. Error is extremely suspicious, though Blue agrees that he doesn't seem malicious. There's still something off about him. And his sudden closeness with Ink.

"I do believe that he genuinely cares about Ink," Dream adds, "even if the... situation is weird."

Weird is an understatement, but of course Dream wouldn't be too harsh about it. Even though Error isn't listening.

"They seem close," Blue mentions.
That's the weirdest part so far. The fact that just days after Error was killing people, even somehow erasing a whole AU or surely at least being involved somehow-- Ink treats him like a best friend.

And Error, somehow, seems even clingier with Ink. Like he doesn't know how to exist without them. Blue isn't exactly judging him for that, but he hasn't forgotten about the murders. Like literally everyone else seemed to.

No, Ink said Error didn't actually do that. Still, the complete trust feels rushed to Blue.

"They are," Dream says. "I... just walked in on them watching TV on our couch. And he was just... normal. Anxious. He didn't do anything wrong. He... was trying to help Ink keep secrets."

Not sure he actually did nothing wrong, then. Need more information.

"What kind of secrets," Blue asks.

"That's what I wanted to talk about," Dream says.

/////

Ink follows Blue easily to sit with him on the couch when he asks. Their eyelights are a bit dull, the colors muted-- a little low on paint. Not badly, just enough to notice.

But the vials are half-full across their chest, and they still smile easily when he invites them to sit with him. They must have simply forgotten the paint, distracted somehow. It happens sometimes.

Usually he would remind them now, but he doesn't think they'd want to be feeling particularly intensely for this conversation.

"I talked to Dream," Blue says seriously, and Ink's eyelights instantly shrink.

"About what?" they ask. Even though they're grinning nervously. Even though they're already fidgeting with their scarf, their eyelights pale and darting around so they can't keep eye contact.

This is going to suck. He hates to upset Ink. But he knows letting them hide and isolate will only hurt them worse. He can't help if he doesn't know what's wrong.

Dream gives in if Ink gets upset, worried but unwilling to make his friend uncomfortable. But unlike Dream, once Blue finds a problem, he won't let it go until he's ready to let it go.

Blue gets straight to the point. "Why are our memories not matching up with the present, why are you afraid of Dream finding out, and what does this have to do with Error? And the missing AU, and Fatal."

Ink takes a shaky breath. Then another, and then he seems to decide that's not helping and stops entirely. They still shiver anxiously, not going completely still even without breathing. Blue understands now why Dream couldn't stand to press him for answers.

Ink looks so small, like they're hoping to sink completely into the couch cushions. Blue unconsciously curls in on himself to appear smaller as well, instead of looming threateningly over them. It doesn't quite work.

He waits. And Ink doesn't say anything. After a few minutes it seems like they weren't considering an answer at all, just avoiding the question.

"Ink, this is obviously important," he says. "I need to know why. I want to help."

"You... you can help by leaving it alone," Ink finally says, noticeably trying hard to keep their voice stable. "It's just... a secret. Nothing else. Nothing anyone can do about it, nothing anyone should do about it, it's nothing."

Ink stares at the floor.

"If it's nothing, why are you so worried about it? And-- and how can it be nothing if our memories are wrong?"

An AU was erased. Papyrus has been at the base, but no one is allowed there, but Ink thought it was no big deal to bring Error. Ink doesn't like to be sticky. Ink never cared if he was sticky. Error "didn't destroy anything." Error knows. All at once, something changed.

Blue's best guess is... something impossible. Something wrong with time. Or memories. Or reality itself. Maybe Error was... switched with some alternate version of himself. Maybe he wasn't the only one.

Nothing matches up. But it's something. Something happened, and it's nothing known to be possible.

He needs to hear it from Ink.

That's the most effective way. He can't expect to put it together on his own, when it can't be anything he's even heard of before. And he'd still have to confront them, anyway.

"It would hurt Dream," Ink says, barely above a whisper. "If he knew."

Okay. That's something. Something already obvious, but at least they're talking.

"How?" Blue asks.

Again, Ink hesitates, and then simply doesn't reply.

Blue puts his hand on Ink's shoulder. They look up at him, their eye sockets wide and dark. They still don't breathe.

Blue's expression softens.
"I won't tell him unless you say it's okay," he says, then adds, "...unless it would be dangerous not to." Just in case he would have accidentally agreed to hide the end of the world or something.

"It's not dangerous," Ink says. They look away, back at the floor, but they lean into Blue's arm.

"I should hear it from you instead of just finding out," Blue tries.

Ink twists the end of their scarf in their hands. They breathe irregularly, like they can't decide whether to take deep breaths or fast ones or none at all. They glance between the door, the trash can across the room, and their own hands.

"I shouldn't tell anyone," they say, their voice strained.

"Then why Error?"

Ink flinches a little, but they shift a little closer to Blue's side. Even now, Ink knows they're in this together. Blue holds them a little tighter.

"...I had to," Ink admits. "That was... the first thing I did."

Blue waits patiently for Ink to continue, his hand finding theirs. Ink starts to play with his fingers instead of their scarf.

"He didn't know he didn't kill those people," Ink finally says, "and I did know. So I had to tell him. He was..."

They hesitate.

"I don't think he'd want me to tell you all of what happened. But he didn't do it, and he thought he did, and it... hit him all at once. I had to tell him."

Blue can guess what they meant by that. No one could be doing well in a situation like that. He's still suspicious of the former Destroyer-- he's only met him once, after all, after fighting him for years-- but he feels for him. He hopes he's doing better.

"But the secret isn't just that Error didn't destroy those AUs," he states.

Ink told him and Dream about that easily, and almost immediately.

Ink takes a breath. "You're-- you're close," they say.

"It's--" they pause, taking one of their hands away to hold over their mouth. Nothing happens-- it's a sort of nervous habit, to cover it when they're especially anxious. Blue is patient, not pulling away-- that might only make them more nervous.

After a moment to rebuild their composure, Ink speaks again.
"It's... no one destroyed those AUs, it... didn't happen. Everything before... aaaah please don't be upset about this I'm not supposed to tell you--"

"It's okay, Ink," Blue says softly. "I promise, I won't be upset."

"Blue seriously this is existential dread you don't want it," Ink stresses, their voice almost a whine.

That's concerning, he thinks. "Well, I'm not leaving you alone with it," he says instead, forcing a smile of confidence onto his face.

"I can handle it," Ink tries to insist.

Blue can't feel others' emotions like Dream, and he wouldn't be able to feel Ink's anyway, yet he can definitely feel the anxious turmoil radiating off of Ink.
They shiver, stuttering over their words. They want to tell him, they want to tell no one, they feel like neither is an option, they're trapped.

"So can I," Blue says. "I want to know. I want to be there with you. Even if it's bad. Especially if it's bad."

Ink doesn't speak, their hand hovering awkwardly over the lower half of their face. Just when Blue starts to think they're avoiding the question, they tell him.

"This is real," they start. "Now we're real.

But we weren't.

It was... the beginning of the multiverse. 12 days, 4 hours, and 28 minutes ago. Nothing before that moment really happened."

They look resigned. Like they think they've failed, somehow. Their sockets are completely dark.

Blue hugs them closer.

"Okay," he says.

Ink doesn't respond.

Okay. That's... weird. He needs to think about it. He needs to know more. How could everything before just... not be real?

They all remember. And yet... they don't, not perfectly, not always, do they?

It... almost makes sense. The off memories, Error needing to know it wasn't real. It probably says something about him, that he'll believe this so easily. But he trusts Ink, and Ink has always known some weird truths about the multiverse.

He has important memories. He'd hate for that not to mean anything. But the people are still with him. He still has Papyrus, and Ink, and Dream, and Underswap. They're all okay. The time they've spent together still matters. He knows it.

He'll figure it out. It's not the end of the world. He won't let it be.

He can think about the implications of that later. Right now, there's something real and more important to worry about.

"Okay," he repeats, "that's fine. We'll... deal with it. Together. You okay?"

"Passive Nightmare never existed," Ink says, their voice dull.

...Oh. That... explains why Dream can't know.

That's really bad.

"...You're low on paint," Blue says instead of answering the statement. Ink clearly still cares, but their reactions are much more subdued than usual. It would be clear even if he hadn't already seen their eyelights.

Ink nods and starts picking out vials, still leaning on him. They look a bit uncomfortable with each color, unsure what to let themself feel right now. They end up taking extra cyan and not much red or purple.

As soon as that's done, Ink gets tense again. Blue feels guilty, somehow both for reminding them now, and for waiting until he was done interrogating them.

Of course, Ink was always the one in control of their own paints. It's not like Blue purposefully waited until they were low so he could question them. But it did make it easier to get an answer out of them, and they are clearly starting to panic at full intensity now that they've already told him.

"I'm not going to tell him," Blue assures them. He hesitates for a second-- would they want him close right now?-- but decides to put both arms around Ink instead of just one.

Ink clings to him, curling up tightly into his side, their hands holding onto his arms.

They're so tense they almost tremble, not breathing at all. He can't quite see their eyelights at this angle, but he's sure they're either tiny or missing entirely.

The... beginning of the multiverse. It hasn't really sunk in yet. It's just another problem the Stars will solve and then go home and not worry about anymore.

It's just another weird multiversal secret Ink tells him, like "we're living in a chaotic spiderweb of video game fanfiction" or "you can't kill Nightmare's gang because they have plot armor."

Okay, sure, the whole multiverse is actually based around a video game or something. It doesn't mean that Blue and Papyrus and Underswap and Ink and Dream and the rest of the multiverse aren't real. He can think, and make choices, and Ink is very real in his arms right now. He has no reason to doubt that.

He knows he doesn't fully get it yet. It doesn't really feel true. But he'll get it later, and it will be fine. It's just another weird answer Ink has to live with, to a question they never asked. They'll get through it.

Ink still isn't moving. They seem to be having a harder time processing that Blue knows than Blue is having with actually knowing, at least so far.

He considers doing something. Trying to reassure them. Hugging them closer, saying something, anything.

But he doesn't get the chance. The moment he moves-- he barely moves at all, just adjusting his arm around Ink-- Ink is out of his arms, throwing themself off of the couch.

Ink lands harshly on the floor in their haste to get away. They don't make it any farther before their paint spills onto the floor, dripping messily between their fingers like they thought that would stop it.

Dark purple. Concentrated fear.

They're... very concerned about the beginning of the multiverse...

They stop breathing again, shuddering irregularly. Staring at the floor with hollow sockets.

Blue gets on the floor next to them.
"I won't tell Dream," he says. "I'm not upset, and I'm glad you told me. I want to be here for you."

Ink looks up at him. Blue's hand hovers over their shoulder-- they nod, barely enough to notice, and he puts his hand down on them. Ink leans into his side, just a little, so they don't make a mess.

Slowly, they start to breathe again.

Blue wanted to be in this together. He'll be there as long as it takes for Ink to be okay.

It feels like the least he can do after pressing them to tell him.

Chapter Text

Ink told Blue.

They can't tell him but they just did and now he knows--

And now he has one hand on their shoulder, the other holding the ends of their scarf out of the way while they try-- fail-- not to throw up paint all over the floor because they just can't ever keep a feeling or secret down. Even if it's important and everyone else can keep a secret easily.

Everything sucks and they feel like a terrible Protector and a terrible friend and they hurt everyone--

The paint keeps dripping. Just in case it wasn't already obvious that they're upset and terrified, it's even color coded so everyone can see exactly what's wrong with them. They hate everything.

Blue is patient, even though he's the one who just had his reality flipped upside down-- stop thinking about yourself.

He seems to be handling the news better than Ink did. Unless he's just going to put it aside to worry about later, once Ink is done being a problem, for now.

(they're hurting him, they've ruined everything already, the very moment they got the chance to)

But he's calm. And despite everything, comforting, sitting patiently by their side anyway, in this together.

/////

It doesn't have to mean anything. Ink has always told him weird truths like this. This doesn't make anything any less real.

(except that's literally what it means)

No. Blue knows what really matters. He's real, and Ink and Dream and Papyrus are real, and their remembered lives up until last week still had real meaning.

He's strong. Not just physically or even magically. He'll push this aside until Ink is calm, then he'll piece together what matters now logically, and nothing will matter any less and he'll know what to do about it. And everyone will be okay.

Blue will make sure of it.

/////

Dream asked Blue to find out what was wrong with Ink. He never brought back an answer.

Instead, he got suspicious along with them.

He said Ink was stubborn. He couldn't get it. They should wait a week or two and try again, Ink just needs some time to realize it's not that bad.

That's not right. Blue doesn't give up like that.

Dream knows Blue. Blue knows Ink. He would never let them hide away their problems like that.

He already got the answer, and he's hiding it from Dream, too.

Everyone is hiding from Dream. Ink, Error, Blue. All of them know something big enough, awful enough, to agree that Dream can never know.

What happened?

Or will happen? Might happen? Won't ever??

Maybe Dream should stop. If everyone agrees that it's for Dream's own good, how could he disregard that and go get himself hurt anyway?

...

No. He has to know. This feels dangerous.

It's hurting everyone.

Dream can't stand by and let it.

Chapter Text

In one freezing cold tentacle, Nightmare holds Dream. In another, he holds a monster Dream has never met before today.

Nightmare's aura is overpowering like this. Dream feels weak, his vision dark around the edges, unable to summon a bullet that could deal even a single point of damage against him. He still tries. He knows what happens next, he has to try, he has to do something--

The monster stares at Dream, their aura of fear spiking and stabbing through Dream's soul. Their eyes are wide, pained. Tears dampen their feathers, sticking flat against their face.

Dream begs. It's difficult to force the words out.
"Nightmare-- please--"

Nightmare's single cyan eyelight is cold, nothing like the soft purple lights that he failed to protect.
He looks Dream in the eyes. He smiles.

Then his tentacles squeeze the life out of the bird monster, and they turn to dust in his grasp. Dream feels their terror increase and then cut off. A bit of dust sticks to Nightmare's corruption-- the rest blows with a cold wind, into Dream's face.

The monster's remains cling to Dream's skull, to his clothes. He can't do anything to stop particles of dust from floating into his eye sockets. He can't control his panicked, labored breathing enough to avoid inhaling it.

Nightmare looks pleased. Not happy, not angry-- just satisfied. Not completely. He's simply given himself a treat.

Dream knows Nightmare is tasting his pain, and enjoying every moment, and yet he knows it means nothing to him, not really.

He feels nauseous and dizzy. His soul hurts. He feels each time it beats in his chest, too hard and too fast and aching throughout his body. It beats so hard he's sure the cold tentacle around him can feel it through his ribs.

That monster has-- had a life and a family. They did nothing wrong, yet they were murdered only to hurt Dream. This never should have happened to them. They deserved to live. Dream doesn't even know their name.

The dust sticks to Dream's cheeks as tears roll down them.

He sobs. Nightmare continues to simply hold him, squeezing his ribs together painfully tight, drawing power from his misery.

The real Nightmare held him gently, when all they had was each other. Then Dream didn't let him have even that.

He misses Nightmare. He's so sorry. It hurts but he knows he let Nightmare be hurt so much worse. He doesn't deserve to feel sorry for himself at a time like this. Not ever.

Dream misses him so much. It hurts.

He wants to plead with the creature in front of him, just to give Dream some sign that his brother is still there somewhere. This can't be all that's left of him.

But the empty smile in front of him could never be his. He should know it's wrong to even try to see a glimpse of him, in the monster crushing Dream now.

Dream tries to stay hopeful, most of the time. But when he looks this Nightmare in the eye, he knows his brother is dead.
His naïve hope will be back. After everything, he still just can't let go of the hope that one day, he'll see him again.
But in this moment, he knows that hope will be crushed as many times as it takes before it never comes back.

"I'm sorry," he whispers to his brother, even knowing Nightmare will never hear him again. He barely even had the breath to say it.

Nightmare's corrupted corpse squeezes hard enough to break another rib. He doesn't fight back. There's no reason to try, anymore.

By the time Ink gets him out of Nightmare's grasp, he feels numb.

/////

Dream doesn't let the pain show on his face as he takes off the dusty outer layers of his outfit. Very carefully, he puts them away for now. He'll have to come back and separate the dust from the fabric later, so it can be sent back for the funeral. He doesn't have the strength to do it yet.

He leaves his room and walks robotically to the bathroom.

As soon as he closes the bathroom door, Dream breaks.

He falls to his knees, shaking with the effort of keeping his sobs quiet. Tears drip from his eye sockets and onto the rug. He shouldn't have any dust left on him, but he feels the phantom sensation of it drifting off of his face,

He keeps seeing the monster's terrified face every time he closes his eye sockets. He thinks he sees dust whenever he opens them.

He feels the grit in between each joint in his fingers, stuck in his eye sockets no matter how hard he cries.

With shaking hands, he removes the rest of his clothes and gets into the shower. He doesn't wait for it to heat up. He's already shivering, even before the freezing water hits him.

There can't be much dust left on him. Most of it has been put away to be saved, or was blown away or stuck to Nightmare's corruption. But he feels completely covered, like it's stuck in every joint, every chip or dent or scar on his bones.

He scrubs his bones desperately, aggressively, and cries. He doesn't look at the water going down the drain, afraid to see it turned muddy gray.

The water heats up until it almost burns him. It takes most of an hour to run out of heat and go back to freezing. Dream spends the time scrubbing until his bones feel raw, then a little longer, and then sitting on the floor and staring into the drain. Each time he sees a gray speck (or is it a soap bubble?) go down, his soulbeat speeds back up.

It's his fault. All of it is his fault.

He let the villagers hurt Nightmare until he turned like this. He let Nightmare catch him. He let him kill that monster. He lets him keep getting away, keep hurting people, only ever chasing him away and never even trying to stop him permanently.

And he never will. He knows he'll never hurt him. He'll spend the rest of forever trying to save people from him. Spending hours every day carefully cleaning up messes that are so easy for Nightmare to make.

And he'll say it's for the balance, and maybe that's true. He doesn't know what would happen if the corrupted Nightmare died. Maybe the multiverse would collapse. But if he really thinks about it, he's pretty sure it wouldn't. If that were the case, it should have died along with Nightmare over five hundred years ago.

Most likely, Dream would simply keep the balance alone. It might even be easier, without anyone trying to stop him.

But Dream knows he'll never find out, because he'll never have the strength to raise a single intentional bullet against him.

He doesn't know how to give up on Nightmare. He can't accept that he's already dead.

Dream will see Nightmare again, and Nightmare will try to make his life hell, and never respond to Dream's hope, and never care for him again, and Dream will always know that monster has never been his brother.

But Dream will see Nightmare again.

The thought doesn't bring him any comfort, tonight.

/////

It took another hour for Dream to find the will to get up out of the frigid shower.

If Blue is home yet, he'll be able to tell Dream's aura has gone dull and numb. He usually keeps it somewhat restrained, so he doesn't manipulate anyone's feelings when he shouldn't. He doesn't bother now, knowing it won't feel like anything but a vague absence right now.

Dream left him and Ink to deal with the AU. And the dead monster's family. While Dream sat under cold water doing nothing.

Dream doesn't have the energy to feel as guilty about that as he should. They did tell Dream to go home and let them handle it. Even as crushed by guilt as he is right now, he knows it's normal to want-- need a break after that.

It still feels wrong to be so unhelpful. It's his own fault, after all. But he wraps himself in a fluffy, dark-colored towel, shivering hard from the cold. He's thoroughly chilled himself under the water, and the cool air on his bones isn't helping.

He teleports into his room and closes the door. Sitting on the end of his bed is a set of clean, folded, comfortable clothes, a folded blanket, and a note.
He picks up the note first.

/-- -- --
Dream,

We've already handled the dust. You don't need to worry about it.

It wasn't your fault. We're here for you whenever you're ready. We love you!!! ♥❤

/-- -- --

It's not signed, since it's already clear who wrote it. Dream can even tell that they each drew one of the hearts. He still can't form a real smile, but his hurt expression softens as he reads. He's so lucky to have them as his teammates. His best friends. Family.

It's not okay. What just happened will never be okay.

This wasn't the first time Nightmare hurt or... even killed someone, just to upset him. He's only killed-- deliberately, just to hurt him-- one other time. Nightmare usually doesn't-- people are more useful to him alive and miserable.

He'll break bones, tear through flesh and guts, crush limbs until they crumble to dust. Those following months of pain give him more power than simply dusting someone ever could. It's horrible. Evil, disgusting.

But Dream's healing magic is strong. He can take that pain away, leaving only the faint scars of someone who survived. Those people can recover. They can live.

He did it just for Dream.

Dream never wanted to see that cold, mildly pleased look in his eye again. The unnatural, evil cyan light in his brother's socket, glowing dimly with hatred that he knew Nightmare could have never been capable of.

He knew Nightmare couldn't. But the monster with his face and his name and his corrupted body did, and Dream saw that look on his face again, and he'll see it again and again.

There's nothing he can do about it now. He can only do better next time. He can do his best to save Nightmare's next intended victims, and keep acting as if that could ever make up for his mistakes.

That's Dream. That's who he is.

He puts on the clothes, which are light and very soft. He wraps the blanket around his shoulders, then gets onto the bed.

The bed is covered in plushies, neatly arranged. Gifts from Ink and Blue, after they discovered Dream liked them-- many of them are even handmade. Some sewn, some magically painted. Dream loves them all.

He picks up a large plush cat and curls up on the bed, hugging it tight, the blanket over them both. He pets its soft, thick fur. A few more tears run down the side of his skull.

He'd like Ink and Blue to be there with him. He feels too ashamed, too undeserving to call them, or to go out of the room.

He knows they'll be waiting for him, patient and ready to offer comfort. Whether Dream thinks he deserves it or not.

He stares at the blankets, the other plushies, the wall. The tears slowly dry on his skull, then new ones take their place.

After a while, there's a knock on the door.
"...Hey." Ink's voice. Concerned, uncertain, like they're not sure if it's okay to be there.
"Is it okay if we come in?" Blue. Worried, caring, like he already knows Dream would rather not be alone.

Dream doesn't want them to see him. He wants to curl into the blankets and never get back up. He wants none of this to have ever happened. He wants everyone to forget him so he doesn't have to feel the shame.

...No, he doesn't. He wants Ink and Blue with him.

"Yes please," he says, his voice so quiet and pained that it's almost a whimper.

The door opens, and Ink is on the bed within seconds. They hug Dream immediately, practically laying on top of him. Blue is a little more careful, sitting at the end of the bed and offering his hand to hold. Dream takes it, then gently pulls Blue closer. Given permission, he doesn't hesitate to hug Dream as well.

Blue is kind, gentle. Dream feels his aura-- despite everything, there's a positive warmth there. He's not feeling happy-- he's feeling love. Care. He's focusing on that love instead of the pain, just because he knows it'll make Dream feel better.

Blue always focuses on love, when Dream needs positivity he couldn't otherwise find reason to feel. Even when everything is terrible. When everything hurts and Blue's aura should feel painful to even be near. He always takes special care to stay strong, soft, comforting, safe.

Ink, too, is comforting and safe. Their presence curled up around Dream's back is peaceful. They purr gently, not for happiness but only for comfort, snuggled firmly against him. They care so much, and they're not going anywhere.

Dream loves them both so much.

Dream doesn't have the energy to respond, but he holds on to one of each of their hands, squeezing gently, trying to say without words how much he appreciates them.

His friends understand. They stay with him.

It still hurts. So badly.

He'll do better. He'll be a better Guardian.

Until he's not, and he fails again, and the price is a life that is not Dream's to risk.

Too cowardly to do anything else. He doesn't know how to be any other way. He wants, so much, to be better.
Yet he's not, and he'll fight this same battle over and over, as long as he and Nightmare are alive.

But they stay. Ink and Blue stay with him.