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[telefonemast]

[*It’s finally over]

[*You idiot]

[telefonemast]

Count the days where I felt whole

This is my first time writing literally anything lmao, I'm editing and posting stuff semi-consistently. If u take some time to read this, thank you! (https://archiveofourown.org/works/53395966/chapters/135145096)

- Starts shortly before the Ceroba fight in true pacifist. As Clover is haunted by fragments of past resets as he goes through the underground. He's been able to push forward so far, but when he's betrayed by the only person who hasn't killed him yet, will he finally snap? Ceroba has been planning this moment for a while now, and although she's gotten a bit attached to her human companion, she knows what she has to do. But in the end, will she stop herself from repeating past mistakes, or will she follow through? Cringe description, ik, but what I'm putting here isn't super long, and I have more planned, so if you stop to read this at all I'd be over the moon! As I said before, this is still mostly WIP, the story isn't going to change, but I'm trying to improve, any and all constructive criticism is welcome (please, I need feedback)

-

Since falling down, Clover’s original purpose of finding the fallen children had slowly faded to the background. He wasn’t stupid, he was able to quickly figure out rather quickly that the missing humans were long dead. With nowhere to go back to, and his purpose gone, for a while, Clover just decided to allow Flowey to drive him forward. He knew Flowey was lying to him, but the flower clearly needed Clover for something, and that was reason enough for him.

He learned early on that almost every encounter started with a fight. Clover was able to peacefully resolve each run-in with some fast footwork and quick thinking. The battles were even a bit entertaining in their own way, and it never felt like there was any real malice directed towards him.

However, the monsters he encountered didn’t seem to register the fact that his body was fragile. He didn’t blame them, most of them probably had no idea how weak human children were. But, as he made his way through the Dark Ruins, it became more and more difficult for him to emerge unscathed. He figured out that he could heal himself with food after an encounter in Snowdin, where a crab monster had pinched his arm hard enough to pierce skin; and since then his supply of items had started to dwindle.

The first peaceful interaction he had with any monster, aside from Toriel, was at the Snowdin Resort. Most of the monsters had never even seen a human, and those that had were simply curious. The more he talked with them, the more he realized that the monsters had been trapped down here unfairly, unjustly. He saw it in their eyes, a buried despair that was only barely covered by a facade of optimism. Most of them had nothing to do with the war, let alone the fallen children; so why had they been left down here to rot? Finally he had real purpose, something worth working towards no matter how vague and impossible the task seemed.

He pressed on, doing his best to shoulder a portion of their burden so that he could give them a fraction of the happiness they had been robbed of. So that he wouldn’t be forgotten.

The first time he died was during what he thought was his first encounter with Martlet. During his battle with the blue bird monster, a feather had gotten dangerously close to his soul. He blinked, and for a split second he saw the feather he had just dodged pierce clean through his left arm, causing him to fall to his knees in pain. While he was preoccupied with the unexpected wound, another feather slammed through his forehead, snapping him back to the present, blinking away tears at the sudden phantom pain.

Afterwards the visions became more prevalent, MUCH more prevalent. Every encounter brought with it a near constant onslaught of memories that Clover forced himself to ignore.

I've only gotten this far because of it right? Without this pain I wouldn't have been able to accomplish anything, without this curse I wouldn’t be useful to anyone.

Besides, he could take it, he had to.

He tried to convince himself that Starlo, Martlet, and the others hadn’t meant to kill him in those memories. It was just his fault for being incompetent, he was doing enough that they didn't want him dead. Right?

As much as he desperately wanted to open up to his new companions, being with them only caused him to spiral deeper into the pit of doubt he had dug.

The only exception was Ceroba. She may not have been the most compassionate monster, but Clover felt an odd type of assurance when he was with her. He sympathized with her quest to obtain justice for her daughter Kanako, and without her he would have died, or at least died more than he already had, attempting to navigate the Steamworks.

However, the biggest reason Clover felt at ease with Ceroba wasn’t because of what she had done, but because of what she hadn’t. When he was with her, he didn’t have to worry about having memories of false death's flash before his eyes.

She was calm, collected, and for some reason cared about him enough to protect him during their journey together. After she began to open up more about her daughter, Clover found himself wishing he had a parent like her to protect him, to make him feel worth something.

Clover knew good things never lasted forever, but was it really too much to hope that she could care for someone like him? ______________________________________________________________________

Pink leaves floated slowly through the air, pushed steadily to the ground by the whispering wind. Clover stands up to face Ceroba, stopping only to quickly glance at the prone forms of Martlet and Starlo. Ceroba stared down at him, eyes filled with a dark determination.

“Clover… I… I'm sorry for what I've done.”, Ceroba’s voice sounded almost uncertain now, a stark contrast to the anger and conviction moments prior, “I almost wish you never showed up in the Wild East. Maybe then I could've continued to bury my sorrows in the Saloon.”

Clover's gaze was locked onto the Kitsune, one of the few people he thought he could consider safe.

“But now... I must follow through with my mission. I've somehow grown to respect the hell out of you but… At the end of the day, you're naive. There is so much you don't understand about monsters. What, did you think you'd jump down here and find them? Five humans, living out their lives, unharmed… That isn't how it works.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Clover whispered, he may be a child, but he wasn’t stupid.

Ceroba continued, “Then what? Was your plan to plead for a free ticket back to the Surface? He only needs two more SOULS to shatter the barrier. Wouldn't hesitate for a SECOND to make that one. But who am I to criticize how he carries out business?”

Her head jerked back and a tense laugh escaped her mouth, “Here I am about to do the very same thing I am a hypocrite. I am no better than Asgore on a scale of morality, I'm sure of it. But what I am, is proactive. Truthfully… I have nothing left in life, so I've made peace with throwing it away.” At this, some of the tension drains from Ceroba’s face, but only for a moment as she locks eyes with Clover.

“Nothing left? You had Starlo! You had the gang, the town!” Clover screamed.

You had me.

But it was clear that Ceroba wasn’t listening anymore.

“You'll fight back, but you can't forever. Goodbye.”

Clover gripped the handle of his toy gun as he prepared to draw. He thought back to his battles with Starlo, Martlet, the Feisty Five… Even if the resets had taken a toll on him, he truly believed that they didn’t want him dead, that they cared.

Now, he was facing down the one person who seemed to realize that he was a child, someone who had helped him without killing him; and now she wanted him dead.

Ceroba twirled her tasseled staff through the air and Clover yanked his gun out of its holster. His soul appeared, and the small rooftop faded to monochrome… and for the first time in Ceroba’s presence, his vision went black.

In the memory, a ball of beautiful crimson flame burst from the ground behind him, striking through his chest and killing him instantly. Clover braced himself for the phantom pain that usually accompanied each vision, only to scream out as his entire body burned with the heat of a flame that wasn’t there.

His vision flashed black again, this time he was hit from the front, another flash, from the sky this time. Body and eyes alight in agony, another scream tore itself from his mouth as countless visions, countless deaths piled on top of each other. Clover stared up at Ceroba with wide eyes, panting with exertion even though the fight hadn’t even begun.

Tipping the brim of his hat down so it covered his eyes, Clover realized that this wasn’t a fight he could win by deescalating, this was a duel for survival, and Ceroba wanted him dead.