Several months later, the rain had turned to snow. It was the first heavy snowfall of the year, and it fell steadily, softly, covering the leafless shrubs standing mutely in the garden, piling atop the featureless brick walls, coating the drained fountain at the center.
Most of this scene was lost in shadow from the window, which illuminated an arc of air and ground a few feet deep. Snowflakes whirled into brilliant being as they passed through the light, then vanished without a trace somewhere in the unseen garden.
Dr. Gaster stood in front of the window, arms crossed, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirtsleeves. His right hand slowly kneaded the bone of his upper arm, stretching the fabric. Now and then there was a quiet pop of thread. If he had had fleshy knuckles they would have been white.
Dierk came into the room softly and approached until he was close enough to touch him. Gaster did not turn, and Dierk saw his reflection across the black snow-blurred planes of glass. His eyes were unfocused.
"Dr. Gaster?"
He flinched.
"Don't do that!"
"I'm sorry, I thought you had heard me. As a matter of fact, shouldn't you be sleeping?"
"Gynbdgsff. Hehh? Theoretically!" Gaster threw up his hands.
"In any case, I have a question to ask you. Do you have a gender preference?"
Dr. Gaster looked blankly at him.
"For your Companion."
"Oh. Oh! Wait, they found someone?"
"Possibly, that's why I'm asking."
Dr. Gaster appeared to do some rapid mental calculations.
"Male."
"I'll pass it on."
Dr. Gaster nodded. Dierk retreated, and when he was gone Dr. Gaster turned and leaned into the widow, folding his arms and resting his forehead against the cold glass. With any luck it'd take another year.
Somewhere in the same city, snow pattered softly against the single-pane window of a small, bare room where Kip lay across a cot, dead to the world. One leg had dropped off the side of the bed and trailed on the floor. He had apparently fallen asleep while undressing, and was still in his slacks, undershirt and suspenders. His mouth was half-open and his chest rose and fell lightly.
A sound intruded into his consciousness. It was a sharper tapping, too distinct to be a part of the tinkly whoosh of soft snow. He half-opened his eyes and saw Sans pressed against the window, frantically tapping with his fingertips.
In a moment Kip was up on his knees, fumbling with the catch and pushing the window up, and Sans tried to jam himself through shoulders first. He promptly got stuck. The window was too small for a normally-sized person of any non-gelatinous species to get through, but Sans was able to get half-through by backing out a bit and then wriggling through with his head and one arm first. Then he stopped, panting.
"Help."
Kip worked a few fingers under his trapped armpit and pried him into the room. He fell onto Kip's knees in a flurry of snow and half-frozen mud, scrambled upright and put his hands on his shoulders.
"Ah jeez look at you, you've lost weight. And what happened to your face?!" He angry-whispered.
Kip's left cheek was scored with scratches and he had a black eye.
"Someone attempted to stab me in the eye with a fork. It's been an interesting few days," he said in a low voice. They spoke with their heads close together. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm your contact. I've been here for about a month, but this was the first time you were in a room with a window."
"I thought the Director was looking for someone else."
"You really think I'd stand for that? Nah, I'm coming with you as far as I can."
Kip smiled.
"Thank you."
"Are you alright?"
"As you see."
"No. I mean, are you alright?"
"Haven't changed since you last saw me. Wait, I'm wrong."
He twisted, pointing to the back of his neck, where the Republic seal was tattooed inside a circle with a distinctive, petal-like border. Sans looked at it with distaste.
"Good job I guess. Have you been assigned?"
"Why do you think I was stabbed in the face? They haven't mentioned names, at least officially, but the young lady who stabbed me was another monster who had a knack for knowing things she shouldn't. Nobody has said we're competing, but it's been understood."
"Huh. What's going to happen to the rest of them?" Kip shrugged, then yawned. "It's cold in here, why aren't you using the blankets?"
"I was too tired. And it was less cold before I opened the window." Kip looked only partly awake.
"Huh. OK, I won't stay long, but promise me something?"
"No."
Sans gripped the shoulders of Kip's shirt, bringing their faces close together.
"If he hurts you, I want you to kill him. For me."
"..You know I'm always open to murder suggestions." Kip smiled sleepily, then draped his arms around Sans, pulling him close. "You be careful too. Don't do anything reckless."
"I'll be fine as long as I know you're not being stupid. It almost killed me being here all this time knowing you were trapped in here and I couldn't get you out. I didn't even know what they were doing to you."
"Willingly trapped." Sans didn't answer, and Kip kissed him on the top of the head. "Admit it's a great joke on the humans. You like pranks, right?"
"Not when they can get you killed."
"Really. Well, now I know something new about you."
He wasn't as warm as he usually was, Sans noticed; or maybe he was, but his heat didn't radiate in the same way. Sans hoped it was just because he was half asleep.
Kip chuckled.
"Know what the hardest part of this was? Pretending I didn't know anything while they taught me to fight. Sans, combat training is a joke. I'm much better prepared than they think I am."
"Well good, maybe you can snap some necks before this is over."
Kip made a pleased sound.
"…I'm falling asleep. You should go."
"Yeah. OK, listen, I'll be close by if you need me."
"Not too close."
"Eh don't worry, I won't blow your cover. I can be sneaky if I need to be." He grinned, then looked up at the window. "Uh, think you can give me a push?"
Grillbz got up and looked out the window, checking that there was nobody in the alley outside, then crammed Sans through. He heard him land with a faint crunch and scamper away. The snow kept falling. He shut and bolted the window and lay back down, this time remembering to pull the covers over himself.
Kip healed quickly, but it was nearly a week before anything else happened to him. He wasn't let out of his room during this time. The anticipation was a new type of torture. He spent his time mentally reviewing what he knew about his mission and doing pushups and stretches in the space between his bed and the door. He was a little dismayed at how quickly he became fatigued. When he was too tired to do anything else he sat on his bed, calling up in his mind's eye the photographs he'd left behind. Each photograph in turn was a window into a moment of the past. Piano music. A birthday cake. A rose-colored scarf. Sunlight.
He was half-asleep when the door opened and one of the guards stepped in, carrying something dark draped over his arm. He laid it on the bed and Kip saw that it was a suit.
"Put this on."
Ah good, something was happening. And considering that they were bothering to give him a change of clothes, he was probably right in his guess that he'd passed. They wouldn't kill him in a suit.
The guard didn't offer to leave so he undressed and put on the new clothes in front of him, appreciating the feel of rich fabric in his hands. He remembered what a good suit was supposed to feel like. It included a vest and silk bowtie which he ran through his fingers before knotting.
Of course the humans still had access to the best imports. Maybe not all of them, this was for the elites. It gave him a sly pride to benefit from his enemy's largesse.
The guard opened the door and held it for him, then set off down the hallway outside.
"This way."
At the end of the hallway they turned to the side, through a locked door, and their surroundings were suddenly several orders of magnitude more comfortable. Kip's feet sank soundlessly into a thick carpet. Somewhere he could hear a clock ticking. Another door opened, and this time the guard stood back. Kip walked through and was suddenly bathed in sunlight. This room had windows, two of them, facing the street. Flickers of life walked past outside. Kip focused instead on the man sitting in an armchair between the two windows.
"Kip, is it?"
"Yes sir."
"Sit down."
The human extended a pudgy hand towards the other chair, standing angled towards his with a tea table between them.
Kip walked forward, sunlight sliding over his body. Sunlight. A glimpse of laughter on the face of a young woman passing just outside, arms around the shoulders of her two friends.
Sunlight was what he had most missed living in Doma. The sky was always cloudy, and on rare days when the sun did come up it was blocked by the cliff walls. The farther down one went, the less were the chances of seeing the sun. The humans had claimed the old sun-drenched cities along the mountains' crest and ridges and the gentle slopes by the sea, and if by nothing else the monsters were being dragged down by gravity. And in the past months he'd caught only glimpses of the sun. He hadn't had time.
He turned his back to the windows and sat down, sunlight spilling over his knees. He didn't lean back into the chair but kept good posture, hands folded in his lap.
The fat man reached across the table and poured coffee from a silver pot into a cup, which he handed to him with an affable "coffee?" Kip took it. It smelled real.
"Let me see your face, son."
Kip objected strongly to that term, but tilted his head towards the man, who prodded gently at the faint discoloration remaining under his eye.
"I'm sorry about your eye."
"It's healing."
"That it is."
The man poked the side of his cheek, where he'd been scratched, and evidently satisfied with the stage of healing of the cuts, which were almost invisible, sat back in his chair with a sigh and sipped his own coffee. Kip mirrored the gesture. The coffee was not only real but excellent quality, smooth with an almost cinnamon-like taste. He closed his eyes for a moment, basking in it.
"You know, Kip, you are the first monster Companion, but I think you may have started something. I don't see why we couldn't take on more like you."
Kip sipped his coffee and contemplated murder in the abstract. Not as something he'd do now, just as a pleasant idea. The human kept talking.
"You look quite striking. And the skin! I've heard you have incorruptible skin?"
"Yes sir."
One of the benefits of being made mostly of magic. As long as his soul was strong enough to repair the damage, he healed without a mark. It was coming in handy, since he'd been injured enough times that he probably wouldn't have been accepted by Snowflower if the marks had been visible.
"Are there many more like you?"
"I'm… not sure, sir."
"Hmm." He smiled, drained his cup and poured himself another one. "Cookie?"
"…Thank you."
Grillbz slowly ate his cookie, waiting for the human to get around to whatever he was going to say. Surely he hadn't just been called out for tea. Surely. Unless he were still on trial… nobody had told him he was finished.
The human consumed another cookie and shifted his bulk to face towards Kip.
"Well, son, I have news for you."
Kip looked over at him with polite curiousity.
"You've been assigned." He grinned, so Kip smiled back, questioningly. "Fellow called Dr. Gaster, up in the old town."
YES YES YES
"Heard of him?"
"I… think I might have heard his name before. I can't remember."
Fuck yes, it had worked, he'd done it!
"Well, he's a monster like you, but he's helping us now. Smart fellow. Scientist. I forget the rest. Oh, that's it, he's a skeleton. You don't dislike skeletons, do you?"
"Not at all."
"Well then, I think you'll get on very well."
"I hope so," said Kip, smiling. The human reached across the table and patted his arm, leaving several crumbs behind.
"Now, don't worry about seeing me, we'll keep in touch."
"We will?"
"Oh yes, I'll check in every few weeks until you're settled in, then every month. Kip, I think you'll be crucial to helping Dr. Gaster get used to living in the Republic, he seems… unsure. Make sure you encourage him." Kip nodded eagerly. "And tell me anything interesting that comes your way. I imagine they drilled that into pretty thoroughly during classes, didn't they."
In what hellish dimension did one refer to the months of training he'd gone through as classes?
"They did, sir."
"Good, good. Well then, when we meet again we'll exchange stories. Are you done with your coffee? I'll see you off. Yes, you're going now. How exciting! Oh, oh silly me, I never introduced myself did I? Call me Grandfather."