Chapter Text
"... Indie?"
Indie, her sockets widening, turned away from another monster she'd been speaking to. She locked eyelights with Harper, who stood in a long black dress, just like her, albeit a slightly fancier fabric, the hem of the chest adorned with glass beads and a black cardigan over her shoulders.
"Hey... sis."
... The two embraced.
They hadn't seen each other face-to-face in many months, perhaps even years, only having spoken over the phone and occasionally been reunited at family gatherings. Harper (who still maintained the habit of keeping her hair back in the same ponytail) lived abroad from the rest of her family... after all, she'd quit her job as an extremely successful lawyer, with a long-standing career of success, to pursue a full-time occupation of writing books about her experience growing up and living as a monster/human hybrid in the professional world.
Indie, with the bonus of age on her side, was a respected professional psychologist. She'd never quite been able to match the massive income or notoriety her younger sister had achieved and had remained near her parents, but was happy nonetheless.
The girls were 57, and 59.
... But they didn't look a day over 21.
"It's good to see you. ... You okay?" Indie asked, in an unusually quiet voice, breaking away from the hug to cup her sister's face and study her sky blue eyelights.
"..." Harper's gaze fell to the floor. Her voice dropped, too, eyelights going a little bit dimmer. "I just... can't believe they're gone. Both at once. I still expect them to show up, or..." She shrugged. "I dunno... call me."
... Indie nodded, her voice uncharacteristically silent. "... Me too."
"... How're the kids?" Harper asked, still looking down, trying to start a conversation. It was kinda cold, up on the hill by the sea, and she tugged her cardigan a little tighter around her.
"Moving out." Indie chuckled, lightly, attempting to alleviate the pressure, tucking some of her hip-length hair behind her ear. "It's a pretty strange feeling. It's like..."
... The happy tone left her voice, her smile falling. Immediately her voice became slightly choked.
"It's like... I'm losing everyone at once?"
... Harper looked back up, face turning into one of concern.
"... Any word from Jj?"
Indie shook her head, wiping the tears off with the palm of her hand, sighing shakily. "I-I know he's definitely coming, he'd never miss it, but none of my calls got through."
"... Yeah," Harper nodded, her own tears repressed. "I had the same problem. I didn't know if he was just ignoring me, or..."
"No, he'd never. He was there, with them, when it happened." Indie bit her lip, looking away. "I think... it hit him a lot, lot harder. Especially with how close he was to mom."
"... Who's got the ashes and dust?" Harper asked.
"Uncle Papyrus. He should be arriving in a minute."
"...They in the same urn?"
"Yeah, mom and dad wanted t-"
... Both girls stopped, after noticing the familiar magic in the air, the buzz that only they, as relatives, could feel. The smell of sea salt that had nothing to do with the ocean being nearby. And moments later, Jester appeared.
He was wearing Sans's old favourite jacket, that had been passed on to him. The black one, with the fur-trimmed hood, that smelt of pine trees and smoke, and a little bit like mustard.
... He looked weary. He too was physically much younger than he really was- 53, with the appearance of the mid twenties. He had bags under his sockets, and his green eyelights were small, and faint. He only glanced up momentarily to see his sisters rushing toward him, both of them a whole head smaller. You'd been right- Jester had grown to be a few inches taller than even Sans.
All three of them hugged.
Jester's breathing wobbled, but he didn't start crying again, instead just squeezing shut his sockets. He wrapped his arms around his sisters, and they all huddled together, in Sans's jacket, the familiar smell both comforting and painful.
Your old age had caught up to you in the way that Sans, Indie, Harper and Jester would never experience. While your children never seemed to age further than the period in their twenties and Sans never changed at all, your skin thinned and lines appeared, grey hairs growing and spreading. Your legs stopped being able to carry you quite as far, your heart stopped being quite as strong and sure of itself, immune system starting to trip and fail.
Your SOUL slowly, but surely, losing it's flame.
Until, finally, somewhere in your eighties, with Sans holding your hand and planting one last kiss on your forehead, Jester looking on, it fractured for the last time, shattering into nothingness.
Sans, tied to you forever, gladly went with, sifting into dust peacefully.
As per both your requests, the funeral was held on a familiar little grassy hill by the seaside in another country. No one but the children were quite sure why it was at this specific location, abroad.
Your body was cremated into ash, mixed together with Sans's dust and joined with an organic solution to lower the toxic pH and sodium levels in your remains, which subsequently turned it into the perfect fertiliser, for a plant of any kind.
At the funeral, a small hole was dug in the earth at the top of the hill. The compound was then poured into the hole (luckily there was no wind, and Papyrus didn't have the displeasure of his brother's remains blowing in his face), where a single, small seed was placed.
Hopefully, in the coming years, it would become a tree.
That evening, when the final of the funeral attendees had left to go home and Jester had been led away by his sisters, the sun began to set in a completely clear, blue and orange sky, burning golden where it met the sea, the deep blue waters sparkling and glittering underneath it.
It slowly lowered, slipping inch by inch under the horizon. The top of the sun got smaller and smaller, the trail of light on the water receding to meet it.
The last twinkle, the last piece of the sun, so tiny that it could've been a star, faded from yellow, to lime green, to dark green.
"Goodnight, Sans."
It was gorgeous, like a minuscule green emerald balancing on the top of the ocean itself.
"night, (y/n)."
Then it slipped under the horizon, and vanished.
...
The silence that followed was everlasting.