Really, the healers said, he'd been quite lucky.

He'd ended up with several broken bones, but with a little healing magic, they had mended up like nothing had happened. He'd be sore, they warned, but only for a bit.

But then, of course, there was the issue of his hands.

The levers had gone straight through them, ripping out his capitates and a good chunk of metacarpals from each hand. With no bones to fuse back to, his hands couldn't heal the same as his ribs and legs, and it seemed there was no quick-fix for exposed marrow—at least, none that they knew. So they had no choice but to bandage his hands and let his body's magic heal the wounds. They'd take the bandages off in a few weeks.

With that, he was escorted from the hospital and dropped off at the big house in Snowdin, which was technically his, and he was too woozy from the blast and potions and being overloaded with magic to mention that he hadn't moved in yet. But he was in no state to walk back to Home, so he went inside.

And he stayed inside.

A week later, rumors started to rise. The Royal Scientist must have died from his wounds. Or maybe he hadn't actually made it out. Maybe he fell into his creation with the others.

As the monsters started to whisper, the Dreemurs decided it was time to intervene.


The knock echoed through the empty house. Gaster, slumped against a wall, groaned and covered his sockets with his bandaged hands.

"I said I do not want to talk, Asgore!" he snapped.

"Well, I would like to."

Gaster let his hand fall as he looked up curiously. That wasn't Asgore's baritone. "Toriel?"

"Will you please come out, my friend?"

Gaster scowled. "If I did not come out for Asgore, why would I come out for you?" He covered his face. "Just…leave me alone."

Toriel let out a huff on the other side. "It has been a week since you've been released, and I doubt you had enough food to last that long. Surely you must be hungry."

Gaster scowled again, this time looking at the bandages on his hands. "I am not like you. I do not get hungry."

Well, that was a lie, but it wasn't like he would be able to eat anyway.

Toriel was silent for a long moment. Gaster drew his knees to his chest like a child, praying for her to leave.

"Gaster, it was an accident."

Gaster grimaced and shook his head. Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong! He buried his face into his bony knees.

"How many?" he finally asked.

"What?"

"How many?"

Another silence. "Seven."

The number pierced straight into Gaster's soul. Seven. Six interns—he could name them all, no doubt. One bright, organized assistant. God, he should have fired Erie. He should have let her go home, should have let them all go home. If he hadn't been so cruel and full of himse—

"Gaster, I am coming in."

He stayed silent, curling in as tightly as he could despite his height. He kept his skull knelt against his knees. The door creaked open, and Toriel let out a little gasp.

"Where are your things?"

"Home."

"So you have had nothing?"

He shrugged. "What would the point have been?"

Toriel walked over. He shut his sockets as he listened to her footsteps, and didn't move as she sat beside him. This was the last thing he needed. A small part of him wanted to blame her for what happened, but that was unfair. It was his emotions that led things to get to this point.

"Gaster, this was an accident."

He drew in tighter, willing her to leave.

"You cannot blame yourse—"

"The vents were not working, Toriel!" he cried out, head finally shooting up. "But I told them not to fix it! The safety system had malfunctioned for weeks, but I pushed it aside! The Core overheated because of me, and seven monsters died because of my stupid decision to move up Waterfall's deadline!" He shook his head with a ragged gasp. "This is my fault, and all that happens to me is this?" he asked, holding up his hands. "Where…where is the justice in this?!"

Toriel touched his arm. He looked up with another shaking breath. Her eyes glistened.

"There is no justice in tragedy, my friend," she said softly. "Do you think I have forgotten the monsters who died when we first came down here? Do you think I do not ask myself everyday how I could have helped save them?" She blinked, and two tears spilled over and streaked her fur. She swallowed as she squeezed his arm. "It will always hurt. You will never forget, and you will always think of what you could have done to save them." She swallowed hard. "But you cannot let yourself stay in those thoughts."

Gaster blinked as he felt his own sockets grow wet. All at once, Toriel's arms were around him in a tight hug, one that aimed to comfort while begging for comfort in return.

"We must press on, with the living," she whispered against his shoulder. "Because in the end, that is all we can do, Wing Ding."

Slowly, carefully due to his bandaged hands, Gaster returned the hug. A sob escaped her as he did, and, for the first time in at least a century, he let one out as well.

They clung to each other like children as they mourned—for the interns, for the monsters lost in the war, for the parts of themselves that they lost with the victims.

Soon, it would be time to press on. But not now, not yet.

Even queens and scientists need time to cry.


A team of movers came in the next day. Gaster was nowhere near recovered, but he quietly let the movers put things wherever they saw fit. As they went in and out, a small bunny in a striped shirt darted inside the house, announcing that he had a message from the king and queen.

"They're having a…um, a thing about the explosion," the bunny said, scratching his ear. "And if you're feeling up to it, they said they'd like it if you'd come."

Gaster looked listlessly at the boy, and he sighed.

"Yes, I will come. It is only right," he said quietly. "They…er, they did not say that I need to… speak, did they?"

The bunny laughed. "Don't see why they would. You never talk anyway. But I'll run back and tell them." He paused in the doorway. "Um…I heard you got really hurt. Maybe you can take the ferry instead of walking."

Gaster's browbone furrowed. "Ferry?"

"Yeah! It's been in for the past few months. You can get all the way to Hotland in like a minute!" The bunny smiled. "Bye, Dr. Gaster!"

Gaster sighed and waved a bandaged hand. He supposed he ought to clean up.


Not too much later, in his black sweater, black slacks, and black coat, he asked around Snowdin as to where to find a ferry. Finally, he found the little opening between the trees just outside the town. A large river ran through, and floating serenely near the bank was a little boat and a cloaked person. Something about them seemed very familiar.

"Hello, I'm the riverman. Or am I the riverwoman? It doesn't…" The cloaked head turned to look at him, and they abruptly froze. After a moment, they asked, with a sudden coldness, "Where would you like to go?"

Gaster blinked. "Have we…" He raised his hands, but there was no way to sign with the way they were bandaged. "Er, can you go to New Home?"

"Just to Hotland," the riverperson said shortly. They raised a sleeve; perhaps they were just a sentient cloak. "Hop in."

Gaster stepped into the boat, and it almost immediately took off, nearly jolting him into the river. Once he steadied himself, he sighed and watched the Underground go by. The next few hours would be hard. But he just had to sit and look imp—

"Tra la la. Must be hard to speak with so much blood on your hands."

Abruptly, Gaster looked up. "What?"

"Tra la la."

"What did you say?"

The hood turned slightly. "I sing while I ride in my boat. Tra la la."

Gaster's hands tried to clench into fists, but the initial twitch had him grimacing. "I…I do not have blood on my hands."

"Tra la la."

"I do not!"

"Tra la la."

Gaster lunged forward, making the boat rock, but stopped himself and took several deep breaths. The riverperson didn't even flinch.

They couldn't know what had happened. No one knew, not even Toriel or Asgore. Had word gotten around from the survivors?

And why blood? Monsters didn't bleed. He shook his skull.

"Stop the boat," he said gruffly.

"What?"

"Stop the boat."

The riverperson was silent for a moment, but they stopped it just outside of Waterfall. Gaster quickly got out.

Once he was on land, the hood once again turned to look at him. "Beware the man who speaks in hands, Dr. Gaster," they said. "I hear he likes to fight."

Gaster stared at them; they looked serenely ahead. Were…they there after the battle? After he had...but those were humans. And the Core was a different situation. And…

Gaster stood up straight and turned, walking away as quickly as he could. He took great care not to look back. Even so, he couldn't stop the riverperson's words rattling in his skull.

Beware the man who speaks in hands.

It…must just be the ravings of a sentient cloak. That was all.


"And it is with heavy hearts that we speak today. As you all know, the explosion at the Core has not only brought a halt to our progress, but to several young lives…"

Gaster, at his usual spot on the balcony, stared straight ahead as Asgore's somber speech went on. For once, Toriel didn't try to make him laugh. Even if she had, there was no way he would have even registered her. His thoughts were far off.

This was all his fault.

He had to do something. Anything. Just to even slightly ease the ache of guilt filling his center. He took a breath as he had an idea.

He took a few steps forward, which was enough of a shock to send murmurs through the monsters below. Asgore turned around, and he stared at Gaster curiously. Gaster swallowed.

"I…I want…" He cleared his throat, then gestured to the podium. "If…I may?"

"Oh, Gaster, you don't have to," Asgore whispered. Gaster set his jaw and stood up straight.

"Yes. I do." He looked at Asgore pleadingly, willing himself to hold his composure. "Please, Asgore. I need to."

Asgore looked at him for a moment, then nodded and stepped away. Gaster took a breath, then stepped forward.

Oh, god.

There were so many monsters out there, and all eyes were on him.

He almost backed out right there. He couldn't speak! He couldn't subject them all to his hideous voice! He was meant to be in the shadows, working on progress in near silence. His fingers started to flutter nervously, but the quick stab of pain in his palms reminded him why he was here in the first place.

So Dr. W.D. Gaster took a deep breath, set his shoulders, and stepped up to the podium.

"I…" God, he didn't even have his hands to help him. "I…I cannot give you the hope King Asgore does. N-nor can I give you the wisdom of Queen Toriel. Truthfully, I…I am not able to give much of anything that usually comes in speeches. But, but of the little that I can give, the most relevant are the facts.

"The fact is the Core overheated and exploded. The fact is that we lost seven of the Underground's brightest young minds: Tryce, Marsel, Levaret, Bindy, Melusine, Ches, and…and Erie. The fact is that you, and I, and all of us here are mourning the loss of these monsters, of progress, of hope."

He swallowed as he looked out at the silent crowd of monsters. "But the facts do not end there. While I am hesitant to return to work, the fact is that we need power. While the explosion is still v-very fresh in my mind, the fact is that the Core is fixable. And, while I, like you, am deep in mourning, the fact is that those monsters would not want us to stop work on the Core. Not after they worked so hard. Rather, we must, we must press on for the needs of the living rather than live in the regret of lives lost." He fell silent as his voice broke. Silence filled the Underground. He looked out the monsters, the living, and took one last, deep breath.

"Please, do not forget what has happened. Do not let the monsters who died be left in anonymity. But look forward. Look to where we are going, not where we have been. There, we will be able to find the progress we need."

He pulled away from the mic and walked back toward the balcony's exit. He heard claps and cheers and words, but he filtered them out. Really, it was only the clap on the shoulder that brought him back.

"Gaster," Asgore said. "That was…I mean, you, that was…Listen to them!"

Gaster's face remained impassive. "I am glad they liked it, considering it was a speech for myself." He looked up wearily at Asgore. "I have work to do, Asgore. I must go."

Asgore looked over him, brows drawn in concern. But, after a moment, he nodded and let go. "Of course."

Gaster drew away, but stopped before he left. He didn't turn around. "Asgore?"

"Yes, Gaster?"

"Please, tell the University to not send any more interns." Gaster let out a breath. "I work best on my own."

Before Asgore could respond, he left. He walked as quickly as he could through New Home, hoping to avoid any and all interaction between here and the remains of the Core. He didn't know how long he could keep up his composure, and the last thing he needed was someone…

"Gaster!"

He stopped. Because of course he would. He turned, dully watching her gathering her black skirt as she ran after him. Toriel was immediately reaching a hand out for him as she drew closer.

"Gaster, I know how hard that must have been for you," she said before he could stop her. "And you were amazing in spite of the circumstances. And I…" She trailed off as he held up a bandaged hand.

"Toriel. Now is not…" He let out a breath. "Please, go back to your husband. He will need you once the questions begin."

Toriel's brows drew together. "And you need someone as well."

"I do not. I work best alone."

She looked up ahead, toward where he was headed. "You're going back to the Core?"

"I need to."

"But…but with what happened, surely you cannot…"

"We need power, Toriel," he said softly. "And I…I would like to be alone to work."

"But you need—"

He shook his head, cutting her off. "I need time to heal." He let out a breath as he met her eyes sadly. "More than just my hands. So please. Go back to Asgore and let me be alone."

It clicked. He saw it on her face. He wouldn't be surprised if she had realized that she, in a roundabout way, was the catalyst to all of this tragedy. She was clever that way. After a moment, she nodded, clasping her hands in front of her.

"Of course, my friend," she said softly. "But…be careful, please. The Underground needs the Royal Scientist."

Gaster gave a quick nod, then turned and walked away without so much as a goodbye. There was no time for that.

There was work to be done.