Arc I: Adoption

Chapter 1


Two small figures stopped for a moment inside a large, metallic building to adjust to the rapid change in temperature. Outside, they had been positively smothered in heat—in particular the larger of the two, who wore an over-sized, patched green jacket over his bony frame. Appropriate for the occasional draft and cold of the capital, perhaps—not as much so for the walkways of Hotland so close to broiling magma down below. It was a wonder the article of clothing hadn't caught fire on the dash over here.

There were no lights on inside, and the echoing sound their sneakers made when the two took a step halted their progress. Though the smaller of the pair—the one dearly clutching his companion's hand, looking about the total blackness in trepidation—was unable to read, the sign outside had said "Laboratory". Neither of them had ever seen such a word.

The silence was deafening, but the sound of footsteps from outside was terrifying, spurring them to act once more. The taller took the first step, fumbling in his pocket and pulling out a lighter. The flame wavered and made flickering shadows in his empty eye sockets, but stayed alight as he held it out around him, seeing walls and cluttered work spaces. This wasn't a home—not like the building they had been staying in the past few weeks. The one they had thought was abandoned.

Careful to keep their bare feet from clacking as they came inside, the skeleton in the large jacket pulled the smaller behind a desk for cover, and held the fire up to his head.

"let's see what the damage is…"

His voice was soft when he spoke, as though relaxed, though that couldn't be further from the truth.

"SANS IS IT—" Sans had to clap a hand over the smaller one's mouth.

"papyrus you gotta be quiet okay?"

It couldn't be helped. His brother was younger, and seemed to have problems controlling the volume of his speech. Nonetheless, after a brief attempt at shouting YES, he nodded in understanding.

There was another tense period of silence where they listened to see if anyone had noticed their childish voices. The sounds they had heard while waiting at the threshold were still there but dimmer—farther away. Whoever it was, they weren't entering the building. They weren't pursuing the two any longer.

"…okay. –now hold still."

Papyrus obediently held his head steady as Sans looked over a few scratches on his cheekbone. They were minor—they'd heal without any scars remaining, no permanent damage. But they looked painful, and he could tell by the way his brother flinched when his fingers got near them that they stung. Fishing around in his coat pocket again, Sans pulled out a roll of duct-tape, peeling off a strip and carefully sticking it over the scrape.

"there. all better." He smiled wide and Papyrus smiled too.

"ALL BETTER?" The yell echoed off the walls and Sans hissed, pulling Papyrus to his chest to muffle out the noise of his loud apologies. Not waiting to see if there was a response from the outside this time, he grabbed his brother's hand again and ran into the darkness, only the lighter to show them where they were going as their feet clanged over the tile. There was a door to the left—Sans couldn't tell what was written on the front, and was momentarily stumped by a lack of hinges to swing it open on, but easily slid it far enough over that they could squeeze through.

The room was like a small box. Handing the lighter to Papyrus, he scrabbled against the handle and slide the door shut again, not wanting to see if Hotland's red light was coming through the entrance way.

"WHAT DO THESE DO?" Sans spun around, eyes narrowed and already bringing a finger up to his mouth in a gesture of silence. He saw Papyrus rubbing the strip of duct-tape on his cheek with one hand, and holding their only light source up to a panel of round buttons on the wall of the room.

"shhhhhh."

Papyrus clapped his free hand over his mouth in alarm for only a second before adding, "SORRY."

Groaning softly, Sans strode over and took the lighter back, frowning up at the letters inscribed next to the shiny buttons. 3F, 2F, 1F, BF/TL. They didn't make any sense. They weren't words.

Standing beside his brother whose brow was creased in thought, Papyrus recognized BF. He couldn't read but he knew that those letters meant "Best Friend". That was what Sans was to him. Without asking if he should—for he knew he would just get scolded again for making noise—he reached a small hand up and pressed the button next to those two letters.

The reaction from Sans was immediate—a startled look back in the smaller skeleton's direction, glowing white pupils tiny pinpricks. The reaction from the machinery they stood in was slower; the lights began to flicker dimly on, the door automatically sealing, and something high above them starting to whir into motion. Papyrus watched his brother run to the door and attempt to get it open before feeling himself grow queasy with the sudden sensation that the room was descending. Like gravity had begun to lessen around them.

"what did you do?"

"I PRESSED THE—" The machine stuttered in its climb downwards and Papyrus fell on his tailbone. Sans extinguished the lighter, stowing it away in a stuffed pocket and going to help his brother up. "ARE WE GOING SOMEWHERE?"

"i don't know." Sans opened the coat and pulled Papyrus into his arms, almost as though he was attempting to stow him inside. "i guess we are."

"IS IT SOMEPLACE NICE?" Over the sound of the room moving the high pitched voice didn't seem nearly as loud. Still, Sans made that same face that he had earlier, going to hold Papyrus' jaw closed with a soft clack of teeth to get the message across.

The noise and the nauseating drop seemed to go on forever, the two of them holding each other and shaking, before finally with a disorienting halt the ride ended. The lights again flickered, as though dangerously close to shutting off altogether. Neither of them made a sound as they waited for some new figure to arrive and create the need for more running. More fear. They could have pressed another button—see if one of them would take them back to the world above where they had just been. But the thought didn't occur to them, remaining in place until finally, with a loud pop, the bulbs above them burned out.

Again Sans had to get out the lighter.

Papyrus trembling at his side, Sans approached the door. It seemed stuck, for a moment, and with a choking feeling in his ribcage the larger of the two thought that they might be trapped in this small room forever. But eventually it gave way, and they stumbled out into a much larger area than before. Just as dark, though.

Taking a few steps forward, a large door came into view, covered in several colored keyholes. Beside it on the left was a tall vending machine—one that didn't appear to be operational—and on the right a TV box suspended along the wall. When the brothers took a step near the TV box, glowing letters popped up, and they darted back in fright. Waiting for the writing to disappear before they could relax again.

Sans was prepared to take his brother's hand and run back the way they'd come when Papyrus tugged on his oversized sleeve, pointing up at the vending machine that they now stood close to. "WHAT DOES THAT SAY?"

Too overwhelmed to remember shushing him this time, Sans peered at the bags behind the machine's smudgy glass. Unable to hold the lighter too close, he had to squint in the darkness. Taking much longer than he should have out of the strange certainty that he was reading the labels wrong.

"pot-pop…t-ato…chisp..s?"

Papyrus patiently waited for Sans to be more sure about what they were looking at.

"…popato chisps."

Something about that didn't seem right.

"CAN WE GET ANY?"

Sans wiped his face with his hand, the sound of bone scraping bone the only noise while he thought. "i don't think it's on. and even if it was, we don't have any money."

Papyrus whimpered, looking down at the floor. Voice just the tiniest bit quieter. "I'M HUNGRY."

"i know."

Before the conversation could progress much farther than that Sans heard the now-familiar grinding of gears and the shudder of movement. The room they had just exited was going back up.

"—come on." He grabbed Papyrus' hand and pulled him down the left hallway, their tarsal bones clack-clack-clacking as they jogged. More monitors lined the walls, each one popping up with text as they passed them by. Eventually they reached another room. The lighter couldn't show much—a few operating chairs, a few desks. Without many hiding places to choose from, the two of them huddled under a desk in the far corner, listening to the sound of the moving room.

"SANS, WHAT'S—" Sans clapped his hands over Papyrus' jaw again, shushing him and listening. The noise continued to go on for another minute before it stopped. Then, soon after, it started up again. Someone was coming down. It wouldn't—be the guards? They wouldn't have chased them all the way down here, would they?

Sans again flicked off the lighter and shoved it inside his pocket. Then he pulled his little brother inside the coat as though he was still small enough to be concealed in his arms, and he hoped that the darkness would keep them safe.

That is, of course, when the lights chose to dimly flicker on. The grinding noise stopped.

The two were well concealed from the side, but should anyone choose to walk in front of the desk, even look upon it at an angle, they would be seen for sure. There was only one set of footsteps coming from the hallway directly toward their room, but that didn't mean there wouldn't be others. Papyrus had started to tremble again.

A soft whistling became audible as the footsteps grew louder and louder. Whoever it was had entered the room, the whistles gradually transitioning to an odd, disjointed humming. Papyrus squirmed in the coat to try and get a look, and Sans only barely held him back. A chair creaked—he'd sat down at a desk farther away from theirs.

Only after a minute had passed this way did the two dare to look out at who they had thought was their pursuer.

It was another skeleton.


Dr. W.D. Gaster had come into work early that morning. He, of course, came into work early every morning. There was not a time when he did not enjoy being inside the laboratory building, to the point where several of his colleagues had speculated among themselves when they believed him out of earshot that he would live in or otherwise marry the lab if either option was available to him.

Of course the notion was ridiculous. Still, the idea of never having to leave did seem appealing when one thought about the treacherous, irritating commute through Hotland to get to and from his house. One that had been particularly irritating this morning, interrupted by guards hoping to catch a pair of thieves that had allegedly escaped into the area.

Well. No matter. Gaster paid little mind to such things, and he was well within the safety of his real home's metal walls, the gentle groaning of the support structure and the grinding hum of the elevator like an old friend welcoming him back. Inviting him to be productive.

Though as he'd deposited himself down at his workstation, looking at the keyboard through the holes in his hands as he typed in commands for his computer, something had indeed seemed…off. As though his day was doomed to hold many such interruptions as the one that had stopped him on the road.

Whatever it was, it was not something he could easily put his finger on, and he'd tried to ignore it. Tapping his fingers along the side of the desk, next to a mug that Asgore had gotten him with "#1 Scientist" on the side written in sharpie marker. There was no coffee in it.

Still, the odd sensation that there was an element of the familiar lab that was amiss, that was misplaced, continued. His legs felt as though they itched and so he stood, the small sound of bones popping as he stretched. Clacking his teeth together he paced in front of the operating chairs, eyes fixed on his shoes and hands behind his back, and ran through things in his mind.

Nobody would be here for a couple of hours. The building was empty. It had been locked since last night. None of the projects they were currently running were anywhere close to the stage where they could alter reality overnight, or even change color. Everything was operating as it had always been—out of date, inefficient, in need of repairs but somehow functional enough that his concerns were routinely waved off. Everything was the same.

But something was different.

He paused. The sound of his feet on the tiles stopped. And another sound became audible to him.

Ah. That was it.

There was the sound of erratic, quiet whimpering coming from somewhere in the room.

The noise had almost been drowned out by the hum of his computer hard drive and the high pitched whine of True Lab's poorly installed light fixtures. Frowning lightly, he glanced at his surroundings. Still everything seemed ordinary. The shadows below the operating chairs revealed nothing. Neither did those underneath the desk next to his. The faucets weren't leaking when he strode over to check them. A low grumble emanated from his neck bones underneath his turtleneck sweater. Then he turned around.

There under the far desk, glowing white eyes transfixed on his face like a Gyftrot covered in too many presents, was a young form in a battered green coat.

It hadn't even occurred to him that the noise might come from a someone rather than a something.

Or perhaps even two somethings. There was a lump in the coat and the top of what looked like a second head poking out from within. Two skeleton children, one smaller than the other.

Like they were in a standoff on one of those cartoons that their new intern sometimes found at the dump, the three of them stared at each other. There was little movement save for the squirming of the smaller skeleton attempting to get out of the other's embrace to see better. This sort of thing had never happened before—the only people who would be interested in what went on down here had already been hired—and Gaster's mind was having trouble selecting appropriate action to take.

At least the whimpering had stopped.

Finally he began with a basic command for them to stop hiding. Whatever it was they were doing breaking in could be dealt with after that. But the two of them didn't move, the bigger one—who he assumed was the elder—with eyes as wide as dinner plates.

Realizing quite suddenly that it was unlikely either of them were able to understand wingdings, he sighed and switched to the more comprehensible aster font. "Get out from under there now. Please."

There was no reply, but the whimpering returned. Feeling a flash of irritation, Gaster crossed to the silent alarm button by one of the operating chairs, quickly pressing it. Hopefully the guards who had accosted him earlier about their two fugitives were still in the area and would get there before things became too—

Oh.

"Are you thieves?" His brow creased, growing somewhat more incensed with this disruption of his morning routine. "Why have you broken in? There is nothing that would be of value to anyone but me and my colleagues in here".

They had begun to shuffle out from under the desk, finally. The smaller one in a dirtied yellow shirt had a patch of duct tape on his cheek, which glinted somewhat as he spoke. "WE DIDN'T BREAK IN."

The volume at which his voice came out was a little surprising in some ways, although it did clarify that he at least was young—very much so. He didn't even seem to appreciate how much trouble they were in at the moment, as his older brother had to keep holding him back as he idly tried to walk.

"Oh? Then how exactly did you get in here?"

"THE DOOR WAS UNLOCKED." The one in green merely looked on warily, appearing unconcerned with the precise nature of the conversation. More like a cornered animal, in fact. It was…remotely puzzling. But, while his ability to judge people might be less than optimal due to his scant socializing, Gaster wasn't under the impression that either of them were hardened criminals.

"I see. I'll have to talk to our intern about that." He took a step towards them—what exactly he intended to do he wasn't sure, but he wasn't keen on letting them dart away like the green one looked about to do. "—The guards will be here soon, I am sure you can explain everything to them and—"

"no" Before he could register that the new voice belonged to the older brother, before he could even process anything past a sudden flash of blue, Gaster felt something hard smash very quickly into his face. The impact knocked him off balance, the whole world toppling for a moment, and then his back smashed into the sink. A searing pain swept through his right eye and he brought a hand up to cover it, the pressure doing little for his suffering. He heard the sound of bare bone on tile as the two of them began to run for the hallway, vision blurry from his unfocused left eye.

It was unfortunate for them that the way had already been barred by two soldiers in ill-fitting black armor.

After that point Gaster had both eyes closed, attempting to focus and think of what had just happened. There was arguing across the room—two young voices protesting their innocence and the sound of struggling, two other voices distorted and tinny saying…something.

He gingerly ran a bony finger over the socket and found a thin crack at the top of his eye, spanning about an inch up the side of his head. What had he been hit with?

Blue.

Taking a moment to once again refresh himself on his second font, Gaster called out "Wait a moment" just as he had begun to hear sobbing from the two children.

There was silence on the other side. Satisfied, he began to hoist himself up from his half standing position at the sink, again rubbing his eye. He couldn't open the lid very far—only about halfway. Perhaps a mite concerning but it was most certainly not at the forefront of his mind right now, forcing himself to push through the pain as he strode up to them.

"I would…" He paused as though to clear his throat, looking down upon the two young skeletons. "…I would like a moment alone with these children, if I may."

"Doctor Gaster, your eye…."

Another flash of irritation, glancing up at the monster in armor to the left. He had floppy bunny ears. "Do I seem concerned about my eye? Give me a moment with these two. It is very important. Do not forget who you are speaking to."

In all honesty the position of Royal Scientist carried with it very little real authority save for in scientific endeavors. Still, Gaster was very skilled in throwing his weight around as though it did, and after a moment of nervousness the two guards began to start back towards the elevator. "I will call for you if you are needed. Though I doubt you will be."


Author Note: As an up-front warning I have no idea if I'll be able to finish this fic or not. I do want to-and I do have quite a bit written and planned out so far. But my inspiration and motivation has a tendency to flare up brightly and then quickly die, so we'll see how it goes. In the meantime, here is my contribution to the long list of fanfictions there are out there about Dr. Gaster and the skelebros. I hope you enjoy it.