Lights Like Stars (Sans x Reader)

22 - The Kind of Hurt that Heals

In which Sans presents an unexpected talent.

Sans

I was so scared. Oh god, I was so scared.

When I saw her laying there with her pants around her ankles and that... I don't even know what to call him. There's not a word for what he is. I should try to come up with one later. Might be cathartic for me. But when I saw him kneeling above her, I just lost it.

I beat him 'till he cried and pissed himself.

And Checkers saw me do it.

I can't feel sorry for what I did. Nobody can tell me he didn't deserve it. But I can't expect Checkers to accept that side of me. She's such a good person; I'm sure it horrified her. Hell, I saw that it did. I wouldn't be surprised if she moves out as soon as she's recovered. And never talks to me again.

I'm not like other monsters. I'm... bad. Wrong. Maybe crazy, too. I'm broken in ways that even I don't understand and somehow I bungled the repair job. Now I'm a mangled mess of jagged shards stuck back together haphazardly and Checkers would be so much better off without me hanging around her.

But I can't stay away from her. She's hurt. She needs me.

She needs me, right?

Of course when she fainted I had to bring her to the hospital. Then I went to check on Rob, and called an ambulance for him, 'cause after checking I figured he might die without medical help. The back door was unlocked: fucker kept copies of his work keys. Fucker planned this. I kicked him in the male human junk before I left. Feel kinda guilty about that. But, hey, nobody's perfect. Sometimes ya just gotta let off some steam. Then I called Paps and told him to come to the hospital, 'cause the doctor had called the cops when I brought in Checkers and when I came back they grabbed me and told me to come to the station for questioning. Poor Paps thought I was getting arrested. I'd have preferred to leave him out of this, make up some story about how Checkers fell or something, but when I realized I couldn't stay, I wanted someone to be there for her when she woke up.

Aah, she probably wouldn't want to see me, anyway.

So here I am in the station, hours later, charming cops. Put The Face on, stay loose, read your audience, crack some jokes you think they'd like. It's kinda sad: I'd'a really enjoyed this if I wasn't so stressed out. These guys are actually pretty great. On any other day, I might even have made some friends. But all I can think about is Checkers, if she's okay, and if she's scared of me.

Then, in the middle of a joke, I hear her voice. I look up just in time to see her come straight at me.

She hugs me.

Isn't she scared? Didn't she see the shit I can do to humans?

God, she's all beat-up and bandaged. What kinda lowlife does that to a woman? She's clinging to me, but suddenly getting a good look at her is the most important thing in the world. I need to reassure myself that she's all right. I hold her out at arm's length and check her for trauma.

She's hurt, yeah, obviously in pain, and exhausted, and shaken, too. But she's up and walking around, and she's smiling. Something tight in me slowly unwinds. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

Thank god.

She's okay.

I try to stay available to the rest of the world, laughing when Paps says something awesomely funny and throwing some goodbyes at a few of the guys and girls in the station, but seeing Checkers has destabilized me: all my focus and self-control is unravelling like a torn sweater. I gotta get her outta here, gotta get her home. I need to make sure she's safe and comfortable and... and SAFE, and I have to do it before I fall apart. My soul's trembling in my ribcage, and I don't want to start shaking physically until I can get somewhere private. So I put my arm around her waist and lead her out of the station, into the night, and I leave Paps on the sidewalk while I bring Checkers home.