The door was gone.

Neither of them had been quite sure when it had happened. The plan had been to spend a few hours in the room, then take their chances and leave. Lucida and Palatino had dozed off in shifts, with the one who was awake keeping tabs on the door in case anything came in. But somehow, in a moment where neither of them were watching, the door had just...vanished.

Their first reaction had been panic. Lucida rushed immediately to where the door had been, feeling around for it. "It has to be here," she whispered frantically as she searched. "Doors don't just disappear."

"It might be an...an illusion, or something like that," Palatino assured, keeping his voice as steady as he could. He carefully pulled Lucida away from the wall, holding her shoulders gently. "We're tired. We can't think after everything that's happened."

"But, Tino, we're trapped!" she cried, and he shushed her gently.

"So let's wait. We'll...we'll rest and gather our wits, and when we find the door, we'll figure out what to do next." He gave her the best smile he could manage. "It won't be long, Luce. And you can't get much safer than a doorless room." She didn't look at all comforted by that; he squeezed her shoulders. "Trust me, Lucida. We'll be fine, and once we're out, we'll start our life properly. No matter what's out there, we're going to be happy together."

Lucida's jaw clenched, but she let out a long breath once she met Palatino's sockets. "Okay," she said after a long moment. She reached up to cup his cheekbone. "Okay. I trust you."

So they slept. And then they talked, trying to push away the shock of all that had happened with fluffy conversation about what kind of house they should live in ("Something cozy, but decent-sized," Palatino suggested.) and how many children they should have ("I want a whole house of them!" Lucida said, giving the first of her trademark smiles since Palatino's kiss in the village square.). Eventually, though, they couldn't help the shift in their mood, addressing their grief ("I'll never see my sister again," Lucida sobbed.) and regret ("I fought with my grandmother before I left. I never apologized," Palatino said, covering his face.).

Eventually, they simply fell silent, hands clasped as they wondered if this was the end for them as well.

It wasn't clear how much time passed. It could have been several hours, or it could have been an eternity. Palatino wagered it was a couple days, but one thing was frightfully clear: Lucida wasn't doing well. For the longest stretch of time, she merely leaned against him listlessly, her spark gone as she stared ahead with half-closed sockets.

Palatino wasn't sure if it was from the attack or from this damned room itself, but something was sucking the life away from her. Skeletons were frightfully delicate when it came to shock, he knew that, but he'd never imagined that vibrant, cheerful Lucida would fall victim to it.

He tried to be cheerful, telling her funny stories he'd never been able to tell at her stall. He tried to make her laugh by suggesting the silliest names for their future children. He told her again and again how much he loved her, and to please, please stay with him, because he couldn't survive this on his own.

She didn't dissolve just yet, but she was clearly very weak. He couldn't wait any longer. He had to find a way out of this room. His sockets blazed blue as he tried again and again to break the walls, to rip out the wood or concrete or stone or whatever these walls were made of, but nothing worked. He tried for hours, or maybe even days. But finally, exhausted and with nothing to show for his effort, he had no choice but to stop.

They hadn't even had a chance to start their lives.

Defeated, he gathered Lucida into his arms and just sat with her in silence, whispering apologies as he waited for the end. She broke his thoughts, though, as she cracked her sockets open and whispered, "Tino, look."

He brought his head up.

The door was back.

He wasted no time. He scooped Lucida into his arms and got to his feet, energy surging in him at the thought of escape. He opened the door and ran out as fast as he could.

And what he found was...startling.

The cave looked the same as the one they'd left a few weeks ago, but there were...shops? Buildings? Lights? How had this happened? They had to have been in there less than a week...right?

Palatino's curiosity was quickly stopped as Lucida's head lolled against his chest. It didn't matter where they were or what had happened. Lucida needed help, now.

He wasn't going to lose her. Not after all of this.

~

Monsters didn't speak Serif or Arial, but there was no doubt that the skeleton man carrying his unconscious wife was calling for help. So, after a few monsters tried to ask what was wrong and gave up at Palatino's incomprehensible answers, it was a helpful fish-monster that finally guided him to the Inn and Shop in Snowdin.

The owner, a little old bunny-monster, had a secret fondness for skeletons, so she wasted no time in calling a healer for Lucida. Meanwhile, using mainly gestures and short, easy-to-figure-out words, she urged Palatino to keep calm before guiding him to another room, so he could rest and recover as well.

For a few days, he had no choice but to stay in his room. While he was in much better shape than Lucida, the grey room seemed to have drained him as well. He slept more than he had in his entire life. He didn't want to eat, but he also knew he needed to, so he forced down the soup and tea the owner gave him. Every now and again, she would say a few words slowly to him, but he merely stared in response, unable to even guess what she was saying.

Finally, finally, he had the strength to leave after a few days of recovery. He went straight to Lucida's room, pushing past a younger bunny-monster without so much as a glance. He braced for the worst as he opened the door.

But there she was.

She was propped up on several pillows, and she still looked frail. But she was awake and aware, and the moment her sockets locked onto his, her face split into her bright smile.

They didn't even speak. Palatino was immediately at Lucida's side, cradling her face and pressing his browbone to hers as he fully took in that she was alive.

It was one of the very, very few times Lucida ever saw Palatino cry.

~

The truth was, Lucida needed quite a bit more care before she could leave the Inn. While Palatino wanted Lucida to be as well as possible, he was also getting restless. So he would regularly go out for walks in the snow, red scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. Monsters were all around, of course; the ones that saw him would regularly whisper. He wasn't surprised; they were likely the last two skeletons left after the war.

The strange thing was, not one seemed nervous despite all that had happened. Had they all recovered so quickly from the battle just a few weeks before? And how had they made a village here underground? With electricity, even!

It just didn't make sense.

One day, after his walk, he returned and headed straight to Lucida's room. As usual, she sent him a bright smile as he came in.

"Great news, Tino!" she chirped. "I'm just about well enough to take care of myself with a bit of help. Lula says she'll have Sable move your things in here. Isn't it funny that her daughter's named Sable? I thought that was just a skeleton name."

Palatino blinked. "Lula?"

"Oh, the Inn's owner. Hasn't she introduced herself?"

Palatino blinked again. "You can...understand her?"

Lucida shrugged. "Well, sort of. There's a lot of gesturing still, so I might not be quite right. But she's been teaching me some of their language while I've been cooped up here." She glanced down at the bedside table. "Oh, and there's this!" She picked up a little scrap of paper, holding it out to him. "Apparently, there's a place called 'the Core' that's always hiring. Maybe we could work there while we sort things out."

Palatino took the paper and shook his head. "Isn't this...strange? I mean, we did walk into an empty cave, right?"

"We did," Lucida agreed.

"But now there's a whole...whole city in here. This is impossible, isn't it? That there's been this much progress?"

"We did spend a while in a room with a disappearing door, Tino. I don't think much is impossible after that."

"I know, but—" He trailed off as the door opened, with the owner—Lula, apparently—bearing a tray with a teapot. She greeted them in her strange language and, shockingly enough, Lucida replied in an almost-perfect imitation. She then tapped Palatino's arm and said another thing in slightly-stilted Monster; Palatino could only pick out his name.

"I've introduced ya," Lucida murmured. Lula, meanwhile, gave him a smile.

"Hello, me Lula," she said in butchered Arial before setting the tray down over Lucida's lap. She said something else to her, and Lucida shook her head before saying the Monster form of "thank you." Lula nodded with a warm smile before stepping out.

Lucida poured herself a cup of tea, then looked up at Palatino, who still looked dumbfounded. She smiled up at him, then reached out to take his hand.

"You said that no matter what was outside that door, we were going t'be happy with each other," she said quietly, then squeezed his hand tightly. "It doesn't matter where we are, whether it's...it's some place in the future or past or whatever it is. We're here, and we're going to be happy."

Well, how could he argue with that?

~

It took some time, but they slowly began to acclimate. Palatino insisted he would work in the Core alone; even after she was recovered, Lucida was never quite as strong as she'd been before...everything that had happened. She tired easily, and some days she looked and felt so brittle she thought she'd just fall apart. If it meant that she could live as easily as possible, Palatino would work every job in the world.

As they began to build their lives together, it was inevitable that they would find their spouse's faults. Lucida was a chatterbox; while this was refreshing at times, Palatino had snapped, "Just an hour's silence, Lucida! Please!" several times throughout their first year together. Oftentimes, this resulted in her not talking for at least a day out of spite. Meanwhile, Lucida found that Palatino—while not nearly as bad as the other Garaldes—had a definite streak of pride. While he voluntarily picked up extra shifts and worked long hours, it was clear he wasn't happy in his work at the Core. Plus, he had difficulty learning Monster, and he'd finally given up trying to learn more than what was necessary.

"It's not like my job involves a lot of talking," he said bitterly one evening. "I just push blocks back and forth to keep the steam moving."

"But ya need to talk to people," she countered as patiently as she could.

"No, you need to talk to people. That's probably why you learned this damned language so fast," he grumbled. "Couldn't bear not talking to someone for over twenty-four hours."

Lucida frowned hard. "At least I don't think I'm too good for Monsters," she said under her breath as she returned to her language book.

Palatino sat up stiffly. "I don't think that!"

"Yes, you do," Lucida shot back. "Ya don't understand what it's like to work with the 'common folk'. You think this way of living is below you!"

"Fine! You're right!" Palatino said, throwing up his hands. "I wanted to do something more than do grunt work with my life! I wanted us to live somewhere better than a one-room worker's apartment!"

"Then push for that. You need to try, Tino, or you won't move an inch in your life! You think I came into this world able to sew the way I do?"

"You know, Lucida, it's really easy to say this sort of thing when you're not living it..."

"I did live it! I lived the kind of life you're living every day back in the village. And I found a way to find some joy in it, and...and now I feel so useless and you're so unhappy and I can't help you because I'm not strong enough a-and..." Her argument dissolved into tears. Palatino's anger melted, and they were both quick to apologize for the fight.

It wouldn't be their last fight, of course. Some days, each would wonder if their spontaneous marriage had been the wise thing to do. But then Lucida would smile, or Palatino would let out the most god-awful, wonderful laugh, or they would have a moment sitting in Waterfall, staring up at the crystals in the ceiling and pretending they were the stars. And, once they looked at each other, they were certain that being together was the best possible thing they could do.

~

One of those moments inspired Palatino to scrimp and save, keeping away bits of gold without telling Lucida. Then, nearly a year later, he was able to surprise her with a refurbished sewing machine and several bolts of cloth. She had kissed him several times, teeth clacking all over his skull, and immediately set to sewing.

Soon, she was putting out clothes nice enough to sell.

Not too long later, she became one of the most requested seamstresses in the Underground.

Finally, things began to look up for the Garaldes. With plenty of work for both of them, they were able to move out of the worker's apartments and into a lovely house in New Home. Lucida, now practically fluent in Monster, chatted easily with her customers as she sewed to her heart's content. Palatino, for his part, had worked up a few more ranks at the Core; he still had a largely manual job, but he was able to design ideas for puzzles and put them forward to be vetted by the Royal Scientist. He never thought they actually got to him, but it was refreshing to use his brain and get paid for it.

For close to fifty years, they enjoyed their new, mostly comfortable life, still just as much in love with each other as they were when they were first married. But things weren't quite perfect yet. And it was abundantly clear that they were ready to take the next step in their marriage: children.

~

They had agreed right away that they wanted at least one child. A knucklebone each and some magic—along with a bit of patience on Lucida's end—was all that was needed. Lucida was ready to use up every finger to have a houseful of children immediately, but Palatino convinced her that they should have this one first, then decide if they wanted more. (With her delicate health, they couldn't be too careful.)

For the most part, things were rosy while they waited for their new arrival. Palatino bought heaps of toys and baby furniture; Lucida sewed onesies and other little outfits. Palatino hoped for a boy; Lucida didn't care one way or another. They agreed to speak nearly exclusively Monster to them, to make things easier for them when they went to school. Really, they agreed on almost every decision made for their new family member. But there was one argument they kept returning to: what to name the baby.

One day, Lucida, doing a bit of embroidery on the soft, blue baby blanket she'd sewn the day before, decided to broach the subject. "Ya know what name I've always liked for a boy?" she said as she worked. "Sans. I've always liked the name Sans."

"Sans?" Palatino grimaced as he repeated the name. Lucida looked up at him with a little frown.

"What's wrong with it?" she asked. "It's a good name."

"But it's so...common. I'm sure every family back home had at least one Sans." Palatino shook his head as he sketched out another puzzle idea. "Our firstborn should have a strong name. Like...Garamond." He looked up. "Or maybe even something like Papyrus."

"Papyrus? Oh, god, Tino, what a stuffy name!" She snipped off the red thread she was using, then deftly threaded her needle with yellow. "And who cares what other people named their kids? There must've been twelve Lucida's in the village, but that doesn't seem to bother you."

"Of course not, you can't help what your name is."

"I like my name, Palatino Garalde!" She sewed with a bit more force than necessary. "And not all of us skeletons were impressed by your lot's fancy names. They're a bit silly, honestly."

"At least they stand out! A Sans would get lost in the crowd."

"What crowd? Last I saw, there weren't any other Sanses Underground." She sniffed dismissively. "Though maybe we could just give our kid a Monster name."

That comment earned her the cold shoulder for at least an hour. She did nothing to immediately alleviate the situation.

She did, however, approach him later that evening. With a sigh, she plunked herself down in his lap, much to his surprise. However, Palatino was still a bit miffed from the argument, so he merely held his book closer to his face. Lucida wrapped her arms loosely around his neck.

"Look, love, we shouldn't fight like this," she said.

Palatino lowered his book just enough to peek his sockets over the top of it.

"Let's compromise," she said, looking up at him. "We're planning on having at least two kids, right? So one can have a name I'd like, and one can have a name you'd like."

Palatino didn't lower his book any further. "How do we decide which one this baby gets?"

Lucida shrugged. "Flip a coin when they're born?"

It was a silly solution, but given how they'd fought, it was likely the best one. So that's exactly what they did.

And, to her credit, Lucida didn't brag too much when she wrote "Sans Garalde" on their son's birth certificate.