Chapter Text
Ink didn't ever think he'd ever be the target for one of Dream's arrows. The concept had never even occurred to him; not as an idea, never mind a possibility. If there were two people Ink could trust to never hurt him, no matter the situation, it had been Blue and Dream. It had always been Blue and Dream.
Until now, that is.
Ink had thought that nothing could've made it so they'd be on opposite ends. The three of them had stuck together for so long that being without them felt unnatural and foreign. Blue and Dream had become parts of him that he would give up everything to keep. They had become more important than any art piece, or mindless whim, or even whole AU's could be to him.
The whole multiverse, if Ink let his mind wonder that far. Himself, his very concept, the strands of code and magic that kept his soulless state intact. Everything, if he let himself linger on it, meant less than them.
It was a dark thought. One Dream and Blue would be horrified by, surely. They'd refuse the idea outright- their righteous natures never letting them even consider themselves more important than everything they knew. Dream and Blue would be horrified by many things. Ink had known that for decades now.
They never really did truly come to understand what his soulless nature implied. What it could mean. Most people became too disgusted by the concept to really understand what it meant- to be truly soulless like he was. Not even Error had, despite all he knew. His hatred always kept him from truly realizing.
Blue and Dream cared for him even after the truth had been let out. Even without the hatred, or disgust, or fear, even they never realized it. Perhaps the only way to really know was to experience it. To lack the biases and emotions that the soul was made of to see the truth uncovered.
He could see it in Dream's expression. He thought he knew now. Thought he finally unblinded himself to see the truth. The heart aching hatred- the loss, the hurt, the begging- all emotions Ink could name but never feel, all rolled up into one messy, unexplainable emotion. There was fury in those eyes just as there was grief. He stared up at him as if he thought he could see Ink for who he truly was.
He hated him, Ink realized. Hated that he had loved him. Hated anything to do with him.
Hated what he had thought Ink had done.
Blue and Dream hating him had been a fear of his, long ago. Back before they knew about his lack of soul. He stared into his own eyes, saw the murky purples, oranges, and greens, and felt the fuzzy grip in his chest and known it as fear.
He had been afraid they'd hate him. Leave and judge him just as everyone else who had realized had done. But they hadn't, and that fear fizzled out and died, left a small plant that grew and strengthened the trust between them all. After that, there had been no fears, no second thoughts, or stray doubts.
If they hadn't left him after all that, nothing could pull them apart. It had been such a core thought of his, a trust in the universe similar to how he could trust the sky to be blue. It had defined his decisions, broken beliefs, and formed new ones. There was no Ink without Dream and Blue, and the same was said for them.
The bowstring was pulled back further, shaking ever so slightly.
White eyes stared at a crowd of familiar faces, some more important than others. Dream stood at the front, eyes desperately trying to convey a stone-cold look despite his inability to do so, but there were others there as well. Error stood amongst them, his height immediately making him stand out. His red eyes held his usual look of hatred, but it seemed more muted now. Less feral and more relieved, making him for once not look like a beast.
Dream's brother stood there too, along with most of his usual tagalongs. They, like Dream, all had their weapons out, minus Nightmare, though Ink knew Nightmare didn't need one to hurt him. Outer was also there, Gaster blaster floating in the air. If Ink were a better person, perhaps he might've been happy to see them all on the same side for once instead of fighting each other.
But he wasn't. Nothing could be worth the blinding hatred currently staring at him with golden eyes.
Ink instinctively took one step back, stumbling at the feeling of a void underneath him. He glanced behind himself and found his gaze landing on the end of a world. Stars sparkled brighter, and the cosmos stared at him judgingly. A black void observed him, waiting patiently like a mouth, anticipating him to fall in.
Outertale was a wonderous world. With a sky full of stars, far too close for any amount of light pollution to make them disappear. Colours scattered above him, beside him, and although he couldn't see it, underneath him too. It was a painting far too detailed and unique to ever truly capture properly. A sight far too complex to ever truly appreciate in the way it deserved.
He remembered, back before, when the first Outertale appeared. He held hands with the creature that desired it's existence, and was led as the being showed him what it wanted and where it wanted it. He could remember every star's formation, watching in awe as an untethered being created the world with Ink as its vessel. A mere spectator.
It had settled something inside Ink. Shown him how beautiful creation could be. Made him treasure every AU in its entirety.
What irony it was, to have all of that thrown back in his face here.
"Are you going to shoot me, Dream?" Ink questioned. A part of him still felt incredulous at the idea, that the words had left his mouth. But a part of him knew, could see from how light and shaky Dream's hold on it was, that he was barely holding it back from shooting.
Ink didn't know what was stopping him.
Something shifted in his eyes, a sharp breath being exhaled as Ink ended his sentence. Dream's face crumpled, an expression appearing that Ink couldn't've said he'd seen on another person before. "I won't if you don't make me-" Dream paused, his voice wavering, "Please don't make me, Ink. Please." He begged.
The desperation he could hear made Ink briefly pause. He could tell Dream meant it, at least. Ink went to stare at the others surrounding him and was met with far less kind eyes. Eyes that were angry. Eyes that had been hurt.
Dream knew him well. Too well, perhaps, as he instantly noticed Ink mentally withdraw. "Please Ink! Please, can't we just talk? It doesn't have to be like this- you know that-!" Ink tensed up.
"We already talked." He responded sharply, something painful rising in him before disappearing again. Expressive eyes became even harder to look at, as Dream took in his response. Could hear the underlying meaning behind them.
We talked. You didn't believe me. You chose someone else.
Dream opened his mouth- to say what, exactly, Ink was unsure of- before Nightmare cut him off with a furious scoff. "Stop trying to reason with him Dream!" He hissed, the dark extra appendages behind him becoming sharper as they moved around without thought, "You know what he did, don't act like you forgot-" Nightmare accused, his voice raising.
"Don't." Was all Dream said. His voice turning hostile in a rare show of anger. It was all it took to make the other twin shut up.
It was, surprisingly, Dust who spoke up. "Don't?" He exclaimed, an hysterical laugh exiting his mouth. "Are you being serious right now? How dare you force us to do this when you can't even handle to hear what he did!" He cried out, barely being held back by Horror's strong grip on his shoulder.
"Dust-" Cross began, before being stopped by the sheer volume of Dust's next words.
"All your talk about reconciliation and friendship and all that other bullshit!" Dust's feet scraped harshly against the dry, orange rock of the floor, the only thing keeping him from attacking- whether that was Dream or him was unclear- was Horror's now full body grip.
He stopped fighting, letting out a gasp as hollow laughs left his mouth. "You can't even say it, can you?" The silence was almost deafening, and Dream looked like he was about to be sick. "He fucking killed him! Blue's dead! You want to play house and make flower crowns with his killer? How dare you! You don't get to decide that for the rest of us!" Dust screamed.
The usual erratic and furious Killer looked more somber than crazy, as he lightly touched Dust and forced him to calm down. Even then, Ink didn't need to know Dust that well to see the obvious misery in his expression. The grief, if Ink dared to call it that.
He wouldn't, actually. What Ink had felt- felt before he wiped all colour out of his system and refused to touch it again- had been grief. A pain so silent and suffocating Ink had thought dying might've been easier. Blue had been more important to him than everything combined, and there wasn't anyway to explain the destruction that had wrecked inside him when he'd realized what had happened.
Dream and Blue were parts so integral to Ink himself that the realization that one of them was gone forever broke him. He hadn't been able to breathe, a flurry of unfamiliar emotions bombarding him with such intensity Ink had almost thought he had gained a soul. What Ink had felt couldn't be described with words, and even now, empty for far longer than he had been in decades, he still couldn't say he was back to normal.
Blue's death had taken away something important in him, the effects still being felt despite the husk he was now.
Long ago, Dream had explained what mourning was. He had treated someone- a young child, striped and small- in a way that Ink could now recognize as inconsiderate and cold. The details were foggy, just as much was that far back, but he could remember that the boy had lost his parents. Error had killed them, if he remembered right.
It had been Dream, that long ago, who had told him people needed time. That they couldn't be hounded and treated in the way Ink tended to treat people he just met. Overwhelming, Dream had kindly put it. Obtrusive, Blue had corrected, always truthful.
Mourning took time, he had been told, not quite understanding yet learning all the same. It took weeks, or months, usually years. Sometimes mourning never stopped, but became easier to ignore, less sensitive when touched.
Dream then used terms Ink understood, his understanding on how to explain things in a way Ink would truly get not quite there yet. Their bond not strong enough to use Dream and Blue as examples themselves. He'd instead talk about AU's, compared it to Ink's reaction when they got destroyed.
(It was back when they hadn't known about his soullessness. He remembered the off-put expressions, the thought processes of this isn't normal. He never really forgot anything about the two of them, even at the beginning.)
It wasn't a completely correct comparison, but it did well enough for awhile. Ink got upset when AU's got destroyed because of all the wasted effort, the creativity and joy that he'd watched the creators use when forming entire worlds and ideas. It had upset him, how easily someone could destroy all of that. Burning the art and life and interest down to the ground like it meant nothing.
He understood eventually, of course. Once Dream and Blue truly became permanent fixtures in his life. Could see the subtle differences, the not quite explainable emotion behind what made them different.
He'd survived AU's dying. Survived both copies and the last remnants of an idea die out.
Ink couldn't survive without Dream and Blue. He hadn't.
Ink hadn't had the time to mourn Blue. He had learned that Error had destroyed the main branch of Underswap while Blue was in it and then only hours later was he ostracized by everyone he had thought he had friendly relations with.
He had heard Error claim that Underswap was going to crash into Undertale. That the only way to stop that from happening was to destroy one. It was a ridiculous notion- the thought of there only being so much room for so many AU's. He knew it was a lie, he knew the creators wouldn't continue if it meant the destruction of their own creations.
The other's weren't so sure. In fact, they sided with Error- the destroyer, the man who had killed so many people they knew, even more they didn't- almost immediately. As if it wasn't the first time they had heard the story.
He had been disheartened that their faith in him wavered so easily. That he was so dislikable that they believed a world-destroying monster such as Error before him. He knew, of course he knew, that he was too much. Overwhelming, Dream told him kindly, Obtrusive, Blue would state, always more honest.
But lovable, they'd always end with. We're best friends, Dream would say. Your good more than makes up for your bad, Blue would explain. Overwhelming, Dream told him gently, but good-willed, he'd add. Obtrusive, Blue admitted, but genuine, he'd always reassure.
He hid away in the doodlesphere, the hurt that they believed Error's lies nowhere even close to what Blue's death was making him feel. It had barely even been a thought of his, hidden away up there, he only thought of Blue, of what he could've done. That there had to've been something he could've done.
He hadn't even felt the usual slow ache in his chest as an AU started the process of being destroyed. It was as if it disappeared instantly, the ache only appearing far too late for Ink to do anything. He wondered, briefly, how Error had accomplished it. He wondered, briefly, what Blue had been thinking before it happened.
It had been so quick. Had he had time, to leave? Or did he try and save as many people as possible, just like he so often did, uncaring what happened to him. Or did it happen for him like it did for Ink? A second existing, before it all disappeared, not even enough time to form a thought?
His mind had been a muddled mess. Too many unfamiliar emotions and painful thoughts, and not enough time to figure out how to sort himself out. Throughout it though, there had been one shining beacon of hope- one Ink had come to depend on so many times before.
He needed Dream. Dream would know how to fix him. He would figure out what to do. Blue was gone and Ink didn't know how to deal with that but Dream would. He always knew. He needed to find him. To tell him, if he didn't already know. He needed to find him and then keep him safe, because if Blue could go then so could Dream and Ink refused to let that happen.
He had expected many things. He hadn't expected to be met with hostility and cold, familiar eyes filled with betrayal.
He hadn't expected Dream to side with Error. To really think he'd let AU's fall, or kill Blue. He had thought Dream knew, had understood, that Ink would rather die than let go of either of them.
(The lack of feeling and familiar-now-not white quickly overtook him after that.)
"What are you trying to say?" Dream whispered, the bow lowering slightly. His gaze left Ink's, landing on the people surrounding him instead. Cross winced, and Horror diverted his eyes, but the rest stood their ground, Nightmare's tense, dark expression, matching oddly with Dust's hysterical and Killer's angry one.
Error didn't look at anyone. No one but Ink.
There was no emotion behind it, not currently, but Ink knew he hated him. Hated Error with everything he had.
There wasn't any response to Dream's question. For the first time since their confrontation, Ink could feel the powerful absence that was left beside him while Broomie was missing. If he had them, he'd probably be able to leave. Flee back to the doodlesphere and...
And do what exactly? Blue was dead, and Dream, while alive, was staring at him with such a complex look that Ink could discern nothing from it other than hatred. He could run, hide away in the doodlesphere and rot. Everyone incorrectly viewed him as the reason their friends were dead, and everything he cared about was so far out of reach he had no way to get to them. It was obvious, that no matter what he said or did, no one would believe him, never mind the person who it mattered the most.
He wouldn't even be able to continue to create. He had no way to do it solely in the doodlesphere, and Error had shown he knew when new AUs had been formed. Even if he didn't know exactly where Ink was when he did it, there was still a chance they'd find him before it was over. Then he'd have to do this again, staring at golden eyes that hurt too much to look at, but too much to look away.
Was there anything else Ink was? Anything else important to him?
He couldn't really think of anything.
(Ink had never really believed in the afterlife, but Blue had.)
He could see it. In Nightmare's too dark stare, and in Killer's twitchy behaviour. What said it the most, though, was the dead-eyed stare Error was giving him. The kind of look that wouldn't go away into something was settled. One that wouldn't let a person rest. Dream hadn't realized, but Ink had.
He wasn't surprised by the black bone that shot through his figure. He was just glad it wasn't an arrow.
(The void swallowed him whole. Quick and efficient. But not quick enough to not hear someone scream.)