Chapter Text
“ Try to catch this ball for me?”
You bit back a groan as the doctor held up the stress ball in question. Honestly, you wanted nothing more than to get some very much-needed answers to all, if not most, of the questions you had. But the man across from you was annoyingly wily. Every time you so much as hinted at a question, the doctor had evaded them.
No one would want to be in this situation, even if they had the basic facts, and here you were without even the date or time. You understood why it was necessary to assess your physical health, but that didn’t mean that you had to like it. Regardless of the frown that very much wanted to cross your face, you nodded in silent agreement.
The doctor gently tossed the stress ball from where he stood. You followed its momentum critically and reached out to grab it as it came to you. Instinctively, your arms rose to cradle the thing before gravity got hold of it. You missed, and it hit your chest. The ball fell into your lap, but your failure had you hissing in frustration.
This was going to be harder than you thought it would be. You had only been awake for a little over an hour, and you were still having trouble adjusting to your body. Your new and strange body.
That’s right, you were isekai-ed. When you first woke up, you panicked, and when the nurses came rushing in and somehow managed to calm you down, the first thing you asked to do was to use the bathroom. It was only when you looked into the mirror and realized the person looking back was you, and yet it also wasn’t you. Too big eyes, too smooth a face, and slightly older looking. Yet it reslembed was the face you had in your tween and late teen years, when you were more jaded and pessimistic.
You knew instantly that you were isekai-ed. The only good thing about this situation was that the girl you’ve somehow possessed had the same name as you.
A comforting hand landed on your shoulder, and you looked up to see the kind eyes of the middle-aged doctor watching you with a sympathetic smile. You had been doing these short exercises for almost twenty minutes, with little improvement. You felt uncomfortably disconnected from the body you’re now trapped in, and it was starting to drive you insane, not being able to do what should be a simple task.
“ You were in a coma for almost four months; it’s expected that you will experience some trouble for the first few days. Your body is readjusting itself to the changes.”
You stared down at your feet in concentration, as the doctor moved to sit across from you, no doubt watching closely. You had skillfully avoided the man’s probing gaze by focusing on the ball in your lap. You picked it up, squeezing it and lightly tossing it from left to right.
“ I know this is probably a scary situation right now. But I want you to know that we’ll do whatever we can to help you.” You knew that he was trying to be comforting, but it just sounded patronizing to you. You tried to appreciate the sentiment, though, and a part of you recognised the sincerity behind his words. Despite all his dodging of your questions, the doctor was a genuine man.
“Can you tell me what happened to me?” You asked, your eyes finingly rasing to stare at the man. The doctor blinked in shock. You wondered what was so surprising about the question.
“You fell,” the man began slowly, his eyes scrutinizing. You met his gaze confidently, and the doctor continued. “When you fell, you landed on your front, and your head suffered from an extreme amount of trauma. It caused your brain to swell and your body to shut down.”
“Ah,” was all you could say; still, you nodded, and the doctor continued when you showed no sign of distress. This was reminiscent of what changed your outlook on life when you were in your original universe, a near death experance. But in that case, it was a car crash involving a drunk driver, not something as innocuous as a ‘fall.’ You can tell that the doctor wasn’t being completely forthcoming about what happened because describing an event that landed you in a four-month coma as a ‘fall’ seemed a little sugar-coat-ish.
“Your body recovered quite well, but your mind…” Again, he hesitated. “It was as if you were just…gone. Nothing we did could pull you back; you were unresponsive to everything.”
The doctor rubbed his hands together, an almost nervous glint to his eyes. “To be perfectly honest, we’re shocked you woke up at all.”
You dropped your gaze, eyes unseeingly tracing the patterns on the floor. You did not like this. You wouldn’t say that you're the brightest crayon in the box, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together. The original host of this body was dead for about four months; this version of you had been dead in all but body. And now here you sat, inhabiting her body like some parasite.
You felt sick.
“Right.” You replied, for a lack of anything better to say. The man reached over and touched your knee, smiling again, though it was a little stilted.
“We’ll get through this,” he assured, “I’m sure it’ll be temporary. Someone with retrograde amnesia can recover most, if not all, of their memories.” You made a vague noise of agreement.
Amnesia had been the safest option, and after having dealt with a case of it before, you already knew how the illness differed from patient to patient. By using amnesia as an excuse, you could cover the gaps in your knowledge quite easily, while still being able to recall certain things without arousing too much suspicion.
Your head shot up when you heard voices on the other side of the door. You glanced over at the healer, eyebrow cocked. The man cleared his throat and pushed himself up to his feet.
“That would be,” he gave another awkward smile, “your emergency contact.”
You felt your heart flutter in your chest. You hoped that it was your brother, after all, he did come to your rescue in your original universe. Perhaps it would be easier to get accustomed to this universe if you had a familiar face by your side. Hopefully, this version of your brother wouldn’t be so different.
“Now, I’ll have to inform him of the situation.” The man said, oblivious to your thoughts, “It would be best that he were prepared for your reaction.”
And just like that, you were alone.
Bitterly, your emergency contact wasn’t your brother; instead, he was a rather scary-looking skeleton monster. He was in black leather pants, boots, and a leather military jacket. He had a purple scarf tied around his neck and a long scar running over his left socket. His purple eyelights looked you up and down, assessing you. He looked vaguely similar to the skeleton monster who ran the bar in town that was almost always closed.
“It’s good to see you again, Mr. Gaster,” the doctor began, a slew of rehearsed niceties on the tip of his tongue.
“I understand that the human has been awake for over two hours, and
I only been notified thirty minutes ago,” the monster said, fixing the man with a glare as sharp as a dagger. You narrowed your eyes at the monster. You didn’t like how he said ‘human,’ he made it sound like a slur. You lived in a monster town, you were adopted into a monster family, and besides your younger sibling, you were the only human in that town. You were used to being called by your species, but it was never said with such disdain before.
The doctor didn’t notice; he gestured at you, expression falling into a perfectly acceptable mask of compassion as he said. “Well. The injury to her mind was more substantial than we realised.” He began.
Mr.Gastor made a silent motion for the doctor to continue. “I’m afraid she doesn’t remember anything.”
You watched carefully as a complex look flushed across his face before it smoothed out into a calculating look as his purple eyelights scanned your face.
“Do you truly not remember anything?” He asked after a long moment. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, so you nodded. You felt childish as you practically curled in on yourself in the armchair, hugging your knees to your chest as you watched the monster warily. The doctor began to talk, giving a long-winded explanation about your very real and not totally fake aminisa. You zoned out ( “ there’s a possibility that she’ll never regain her memories.”) staring blankly at the linoleum floor.
The older man turned to you, and you instantly snapped back into reality. “Rushing these matters never works well, and we must all be patient to help her through this process.”
Aw, what a sweet way to end his speech. Shit, you were getting tired, and you wanted this whole ordeal to end.
“I was hoping to wait until you got here to go over some of the crucial facts, as support for her.” The doctor had turned back to Mr.Gastor.
“Yes, yes of course.” The monster said, sounding blaise about this whole ordeal. “ Where do we begin?”
“How about we let Miss Kane ask, and then fill in more as we go along?” The Doctor suggested. You flinched at the use of your old last name when you first woke up, and the doctor and nurses had called you Miss Kane; you had told them to only call you by your first name. So far, the doctor had only referred to you by your first name, until now. You couldn’t understand why this version of you didn’t take on your adoptive parents' last name. You thought that there would never be a universe where you didn’t, but you were proven wrong. That universe existed, and you were stuck in it.
You almost sighed in relief at being given a small level of control over this. You had no desire to hear all about what kind of person the original goods had been, because that would just make you feel even more like some sort of murderer.
“ What is today's date and year?” you asked briskly. The Doctor answered, telling you the year and date. Your body relaxed somewhat when it was the same year and date as the one in your original universe.
“How old am I?” you asked tentatively. This time, it was Mr. Gastor who answered.
“ Twenty-six.” So you were right, this version of yourself was older, twenty-six, compared to your twenty. She was a good few years older than you, born on the same month and same day, but in different years. At least you can legally drink.
Huh, you were older than Asriel, strange… You must be the older sibling in this universe, unless he was older than you. Maybe that's why this version of you had your old last name; maybe she was adopted later than you were and didn’t want to change it.
Maybe she wasn’t adopted at all; you didn’t even want to consider it, but at this point, it made the most sense. Because if you were adopted by your family in this universe, then why weren’t they here? Your mom wouldn’t have left your bedside; your dad would’ve been the first person to arrive, with your younger sibling, Kris, in tow, and Asriel would’ve been on the first bus back into town. So, besides your age and your last name, what if the big change was that you were never a part of the Dreemurr family?
“Apologies for cutting in, but how old did you think you were?” the Doctor asked. He tapped his pen against his clipboard. He was taking notes whenever you asked a question.
“Nineteen?” you said, but it sounded more like a question. You were nineteen, this body was twenty-six years old. The Doctor looked alarmed briefly, but he quickly regained control over his facial expressions. As the Doctor wrote down what you said, with no doubt his own added commentary. You glanced at the monster sitting across from you, and you had to hand it to him; he had great control over his emotions.
“Where are we?” Hopefully, you were still in Ebott County, you don’t think you can handle being so far from home.
“We’re at Buttercup Ward. It’s a hospital in Hometown. We are in a ward that specifically cares for cases like your own – long-term residents, as it were. You were still in Hometown, knowing that you were in a version of the town that you had grown to love, almost made you want to cry.
Your eyes strayed to the monster in front of you, taking in the tension in his seated form. His stiff, perfect posture, his analytical looks. You rubbed your chin thoughtfully.
“Who are you? What are you to me?” This person, Mr. Gastor, because you didn’t know his first name, was new. You didn’t know him from your previous life. Mr. Gastor jerked, as if startled; his eyesockets widened slightly. That was the most emotion he’d shown since he came here.
You were vaguely aware of the Doctor’s quiet departure from the room.
“I am Milord Gastor, your former Datemate,” his voice steady and careful, arguably more clinical than even the Doctors’. His gloved fingers were stabled together. And oh my god, this bitch. Had this version of you really forgotten to remove her ex from her emergency contacts? A wave of second-hand embarrassment flooded your body.
Apparently, the monster sitting across from you was named Milord, and from what he bluntly told you, he was an ex… one of many ex’s. Cheating? Maybe the original goods were a cheater, and Milord was one of her side pieces. He didn’t look like the type of guy who would like being a sneakylink.
“Oh,” you said dumply, but what else could you say in this moment?
“I’m sorry.” You didn’t even know what you were apologizing for, you didn’t know him, and you weren’t technically the same person who hurt him. But despite their faults, your parents raised you right. “Once the Doctor comes back, I’ll ask him to take you off my emergency contact.”
You felt proud of yourself; you were doing the mature thing of giving this guy an out. It must have been really awkward for him to be in this situation. You can understand in a way. Shortly after your parents' divorce, your dad landed himself in the hospital with a broken arm, and your mom was called because he hadn’t taken her off his emergency contact list. It was a tense few weeks for all parties involved.
“Don’t,” Milord said. And it was your turn to look at him in surprise. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. You wanted to ask why, but you thought against it. No need to look a gift horse in the mouth, for all you can guess, he was doing this due to his own sense of justice.
“Do you know why you’re here?” He asked suddenly. Huh? Shouldn’t he know? Still, you mumbled a response, repeating what the doctor told you: that you fell. Milord scoffed, and by his reaction, your suspicions were right. What happened to this version of you was more than a simple fall.
“I tried to kill myself?” You asked, purposefully keeping your gaze away from the monster so you could not see his reaction. You saw him nod out of your peripheral vision. That revelation wasn’t as shocking to you as it should’ve been.
Congratulations, you succeeded, you thought bitterly. This version of you got what she wanted. She died, and now you’re stuck in her body.
“Damn, that sucks,” you said, and for some morbid reason that you weren’t aware of, which earned you a huff of amusement from the skeleton monster.
You turned to Milord. “Can you get me out of here?”