All he knew was pain and darkness.

Why was he hurting? Why was it so dark? Where was Sans? Where was HE?

He curled up tightly onto himself, feeling like he wasn't even there, yet being chipped apart little by little in the most painful way. He could feel his soul flickering like a dying ember, and felt the cold hand of fear envelop him.

He was going to die.

And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

So he waited, feeling stronger pain as more and more of him was chipped away, and just wanted it to happen and be done with...

A blazing brightness nearly blinded him, his mind having a searing pain before it dulled, feeling weightless and almost...serene. Around him, there was still the blackness, but with glowing strings of orange and purple threaded in and out, like they were holding the blackness together. The orange strings were extending from his own form, his own soul...

The purple strings extended across from him, attached to a black mass with withered white hands and a melted, cracked skull whose eyesockets seemed to stare at him sadly.

He was afraid. What did this being want? Who was he? Why was he here?

The creature slowly reached out to him and enveloped him in the shapeless blackness of his form, and he felt warm. Safe.

Familiar.

It was like blinders were lifted from his mind, and he looked up at the creature's face, taking in familiar features, especially those lines over the face; a line running upward over the right eyesocket, and down under the left...where did he know this face? Who...

"...Daddy...?"

The word slipped from his mouth before he knew what he was saying, and it was like something clicked; memories of his childhood he had lost came rushing back, feeling the overwhelming love he once had for the man fill him again. He threw his arms around the black shape, sobbing. "DADDY!"

Gaster held Papyrus to him tightly, kissing the younger's skull lightly. "Papyrus, my son..." he said softly, pleased more than anything that he was able to do this, even if it was in the Soul Void. He tightened his arms around Papyrus, rocking him like a baby bones again. "I am so sorry," he murmured. "For everything..."

Papyrus curled in on himself, still reeling from his returned memories; from growing up with his father and Sans, to being taken away and killing ten Guardsmen, to watching his father deteriorate rapidly over the course of a year, to watching him 'die'—all of it. "...why...?" he questioned weakly. "...why did you make me forget you...?"

"You know why, Papyrus," Gaster said, petting Papyrus's skull. "You were too young to have any of that on your conscience...too innocent."

Papyrus sniffled softly. "...is that why I'm so strong?" he asked. "...Because I have EXP...?"

"I despise that term when you defend yourself," Gaster replied. "...but yes. But it wasn't your fault, Papyrus. It was mine." He lowered his head contritely. "...I have so many sins to suffer for...but I won't have my children suffer them for me." He took Papyrus's skull in his hands, tipping his head up. "What I can do is give you this part of me to let you live on. It is the bare minimum of what I can do to make it up to you."

"B...but won't that mean...you'll die?" Papyrus stammered. "I don't want you to die! I just got you back!" Gaster smiled sadly, pressing his thumbs to Papyrus's cheekbones.

"I'll still be here, Papyrus," he said. "I'm simply giving you what should have been yours. Your own, REAL life." He pressed his toothless smile to Papyrus's skull. "So please, accept my soul."

Papyrus sniffled, nodding as he cried. "...o...okay..." he said before hugging Gaster tightly. Gaster hugged him back, the purple threads of light glowing brightly as the blackness began to dissolve slowly. Papyrus held onto him tighter, his own orange threads glowing...and flickering. "...D...Daddy..." he stammered, sounding frightened. "I...I feel strange...!"

Gaster paused, looking down at Papyrus, feeling his soul seize when he saw his son's bones flecking, the threads' light growing dimmer. "Oh no...oh no no no no...!" He held Papyrus tighter. "Papyrus, stay with me...!" He broke off when he saw his disheveled hands begin to reform into normal Skeleton hands, as Papyrus's began dusting away. "PAPYRUS!"

Papyrus let out a wail, his threads being intertwined and overwhelmed by Gaster's, his body dissolving and seeming to fuel into Gaster's, whose own was beginning to reform into something less melted, chipped, and warped. "What's...h-happening...t-to me...?!" he cried, pleading for Gaster to help him.

Gaster attempted to tear his threads from Papyrus to no avail, growing more frantic with realization by the minute.

THIS is what his original intention for Papyrus was.

THIS is what his soul was trying to do, what PAPYRUS'S soul was trying to do.

"I DON'T WANT THIS!" he screamed, holding Papyrus's crumbling body in his arms. "I DON'T WANT THIS ANYMORE! I JUST WANT HIM TO LIVE!" He kept pulling at his purple threads, fighting to keep Papyrus's orange ones intact. "I CAN'T—I...I can't...!"

"...Daddy..."

Gaster looked down at Papyrus, who was holding the front of his black cloak, his right eyelight flickering with fear...but also with DETERMINATION. "...it's okay..." Papyrus whimpered, his voice straining to speak. "...it's...better one of us lives...than neither of us..."

"Papyrus, don't even SAY that—"

"Someone has to...be there for Sans..." Papyrus said, his voice hitching. "...don't...let him be alone...please..." His eyelight flared brighter, reaching out as he cut his own threads to the soul free.

"PAPYRUS—!" The blackness of the soul space dissolved entirely into purple, the orange threads flickering and fading like dying embers. In Gaster's arms, Papyrus's body dissolved entirely, the pieces reforming Gaster's body whole and anew.

Gaster didn't care.

He curled up on himself, feeling his every sin crash into him with all the hindsight of a blind man. His son...his beloved Papyrus...was gone...

"...I'm sorry..." he murmured, pressing his hands to his face. "...I'm so sorry, Papyrus...I...don't deserve you...or Sans...or this life..." He curled up tighter, feeling the threads of his own soul spread and strengthen outward to his...Papyrus's body. No. He didn't care if this body was created with a piece of his own soul. It wasn't his. It was Papyrus's. And now Papyrus was...

…..was...

Gaster uncurled from himself, feeling a warm glow envelop around him, and he felt...love. Pure, unconditional love pulling him from his cocoon of hurt, urging him to look up and see a thread thicker than the others, pulsing with a warm orange glow curling outwards to him. He reached out and grabbed hold of it, and didn't just FEEL the love...

...it WAS the love.

Love for Sans.

Love for Frisk.

Love for Monster-kind.

Love for humans.

Love for life.

Love for HIM.

It was so tangible, Gaster swore he could feel Papyrus's arms enveloping him in a warm hug, telling him that it was okay. That this was best. That he was still there.

He still...IS.

Gaster curled the thread around himself, thinking of no better tether he could hold onto as he at last allowed himself to assimilate back into reality.

Everyone knew. He didn't expect them NOT to. Papyrus had too much of an air of exuberance that was impossible to feign for everyone not to notice.

Gaster and Papyrus had very different ways of displaying love. To Papyrus, love was shouting it from the rooftops, showing off gifts and tokens of affections, letting it be HEARD as well as seen. Gaster's display of love was more subtle, in comforting gestures, being a stable foundation for someone, in kind words. He supposed Sans inherited that from him, as well as needing declarations of love toward himself spelled out for him.

He was grateful that Frisk was easy to pick up his cues. That wonderful child, so caring and loving, bringing so much joy to his boys' lives before all of this. They were the first to truly know what truly happened, the first to truly question him. He couldn't help but be so heartsore over them losing their best friend, especially since he could feel Papyrus's love for this small child, but was unable to express it only as Papyrus could.

Frisk seemed to pick up on this, and spent more time with him, trying to involve him in ways that HE could contribute. When their soccer teammate broke his leg, they brought him over to help, remembering that he told them that 'Gaster' used to be a doctor. Oh, he could just hug that child forever; he had entirely forgotten what it was like to help someone like that, and knew that he wanted to keep doing it forever.

Someone else picked up on it too, the person who knew him best.

It was finally the first breath of his own love, being with his oldest friend, and his first flame. Being so close to him, their hands touching in the most intimate of gestures they shared between them...the last time he had felt this was on the day of his dissolve into the Void, when he was one foot in the grave already. He didn't want to wait that long ever again.

Apparently, neither could Asgore.

But it had to wait for a brief time, for him to deal with the hardest part of the entire ordeal.

Though Sans carried the other half of his soul, Sans's beginnings as his equal in mind had played in the younger's favor; obviously, Sans had some something to upkeep his strength of mind and became the dominant force. Gaster wasn't complaining; in fact, he was THANKFUL. He didn't think he could handle Sans being taken too.

But his efforts to have Sans's memories buried was in vain. He remembered everything. And the last of the pieces were put together for him to finally realize what happened between Gaster and Papyrus.

It wasn't how Gaster wanted him to find out. He would have been happier if Sans had NEVER found out. But he tried to reassure him as best he could, and then stepped away to give Sans time.

It seemed to him now that Sans would never have enough time in the world, and it broke Gaster's heart. Gaster had peered into enough timelines to know the lengths of which Sans had gone through—and WOULD go through—for Papyrus...and to have something like THIS happen...

Gaster would be lucky if Sans ever forgave him.

He tried to branch out in his new life, to establish himself, and not as Papyrus. He wouldn't tarnish his son's memory by pretending anything of the sort. But love was the sharpest of double-edged knives, especially when he could feel enough for two. Undyne still refused to be in the same room as him for extended periods of time. Toriel was delicate around him, like she wasn't sure how exactly she was supposed to act around him, despite his assurances she was doing fine.

Reestablishing a relationship with Alphys was trying, but they fell back into an amicable colleague relationship, having talks about her work over coffee, and coming up with solution to help him establish this new life of his.

Her connections with the government came in handy, though, and without much fuss, he was able to have a couple of his degrees and titles pulled up and into his name. Well...more into Papyrus's name. It was common knowledge of who Ambassador Frisk lived with, and he managed a compromise, with Papyrus's first name, and his family name, since he never really got around to properly giving him and Sans his own name.

So, Dr. Papyrus Gaster, PhD, MD became his established identity...even if it was the identity Papyrus had actually wanted for himself. It was the least he could do, helping Papyrus live out a career dream. In any case, Gaster found that helping treat and heal people much more satisfying than physics any day.

It was still trying. Outside of work, things were still tense. Despite his closeness with Frisk, he still opted to move out and find a place of his own, hardly able to stand the tense awkwardness in the household. His attempts to reach out to Undyne crashed and burned every time, and Alphys was almost always busy with her own work, and her relationship with Undyne.

Thank the gods for Asgore, the only person in the world who he felt even WANTED him.

Reestablishing their friendship had been easy; taking it to another level entirely seemed long-overdue and effortless. The heartsore they both carried made it all the easier to reach out and connect with one another, trying to make the hurt better, if even a little. It was bitter irony that the ones they were most pained over also had one another, and they shared sad laughter over the fact often.

Gaster quietly checked his watch on this cool early October evening, waiting for Asgore to appear at the restaurant for their date. It had just now become comfortable for them to call their meetings that, after their shared fears of exploring the relationship they had craved for decades any further.

First and foremost were their fears of what Toriel and Sans had to say about it. Their hearts were already raw from the broken relationships they had with the two, but hearing outright rejection would just make them BLEED, and Gaster was positive it would kill him to see Asgore that hurt again as much as it would hurt Asgore to see him in that state. So for now...it was a secret, more than anything.

He took a sip of his wine before looking up, smiling and standing when he saw Asgore, reaching out to touch his hands lightly in their own intimate gesture. "I was almost afraid you wouldn't make it," he said, sitting down, putting his book away in the bag strapped over his chair.

"Oh, I almost didn't," Asgore replied. "I've had such a large order of custom tea blends, I completely lost track of time."

Gaster smiled; in addition to being a gifted horticulturist, Asgore was also making a tidy profit selling custom teas over the internet. "Oh, what a horrid fate," he replied. "Being replaced by plants."

At Asgore's laughter, he couldn't help but smile more tenderly; it was nice hearing him laugh more often, especially after the first few months of their relationship being somber rekindling rather than something joyous to work at. He reached over the table, smiling when Asgore's did the same, their hands meeting in the middle and holding like missing pieces that fit together so well.

He squeezed Asgore's hands lightly, feeling a strum of love flutter through his soul as Asgore leaned over and kissed the top of his head, not even realizing that he was crying until he felt drips running down his face.

"...Wingdings, what's the matter?" Asgore asked, frowning. "Are you alright?" He reached up, brushing the tear tracks away, pausing when Gaster pressed his hand to Asgore's own, pressing his face into the hand. "...Wingdings?"

"...sometimes...it feels like all I have is you, Asgore..." he murmured, more tears dripping out onto Asgore's fur. "...I don't have any real friends...I don't have my children...Sans...Sans won't even speak to me anymore...!"

Asgore reached out, quietly shifting Gaster's chair around to him, hugging the Skeleton to him tightly. Gaster hated making a scene in public like this, but by gods, if Papyrus's emotional influence didn't overwhelm him sometimes... "He didn't...even tell me he was marrying Toriel, Asgore...I had to hear from Frisk..." He wiped his eyesockets before burying his face into Asgore's sweater. "...I feel like I'm nothing to him now...and that I never WILL be anything...!"

"Shh..." Asgore murmured, petting Gaster's back. "...you WILL, Gaster. He needs time to heal, just like you. Beating yourself up like this is not what Papyrus would want. You'd know. He's you."

Gaster let out a shaky laugh, wiping his eyesockets again. "...Yes...I know," he said, sitting back, taking Asgore's hands and squeezing them tightly. "...gods, Asgore...why did I even stop being close to you...you make everything better..."

"And you do the same for me," Asgore said, squeezing Gaster's hands back before bringing them up to kiss them. "Now, enough tears. Save them for when you need them...like your son's wedding. When you cry tears of joy."

Gaster smiled softly, nodding. "...I'll make a scene," he promised. "I'll be crying enough for a father AND a brother."

"Then I'll bring enough tissues to accommodate," Asgore said, kissing Gaster's head lightly. "Now, is there anything you'd like to eat?" Gaster gave him a 'look'.

"They serve pasta here, Asgore, what do YOU think?" he asked, smirking at the snort of amusement Asgore let out; even to Asgore, Papyrus's love of pasta was LEGENDARY.

Gaster placed his order with Asgore, keeping his holed right hand clasped with Asgore's tightly for the remainder of their wait time, feeling the orange thread curl warmly around his soul, his eyelight glowing a likewise orange in tandem with all the love he—and Papyrus—could manage.