/ tw for a discussion about a non-graphic but quite emotional discussion of suicide. Also, the Crane mentioned here is the protagonist of my other fic, Papyrus Dates a Bird!

The question of whether or not you were okay was a matter of semantics. Really, what was 'okay'? It was being functional, right? And you were definitely functional. You got up in the morning, showered, ate your traditional banana, forced yourself through your workout (ignoring how you collapsed mid push-up because why were you so tired), opened the store, handled customers requesting both magical and mundane services, and cheerfully diverted the topic when Gaster tried to ask you, what happened with the Primus, what's wrong, Two-Bit, are you okay.

You were just fine. Sure, it felt like your stomach was rotting, and you couldn't quite catch your breath half the time, but you were definitely, one-hundred percent functioning, so absolutely nothing was wrong!

(Your logic was, as always, impeccable. )

Anyway, only a day had passed since your meeting the Primus. You'd be in tip-top shape soon enough! You just! You know! Were panicking, just a little bit, because because trust was super scary and the Primus — he was right. The only thing comforting you was that if your friend turned on you, you could probably kill him, and that was so fucked up.

(You paused in your thoughts, rubbing at your eye socket with your thumb. Swear jar.)

Speaking of, where had Gaster had gotten off to? Last you saw, he'd given up on trying to pry anything out of you and holed himself up with some huge book he'd gotten from the library. It was kind of cute really, he got this super focused look on his face when he was reading, like it was just him and the book and nothing else existed. You could be saying something right to him, and he wouldn't hear you at all, it was adorable —

Realizing where your train of thought was taking you, you sighed, smacking your forehead on the counter. This... was pretty bad.

It was then you heard the upstairs door click, along with the odd sound of shifting fabric that characterized Gaster's movements. Halfway down the steps, he peered over the banister, and his mouth pulled into a smile when he saw you sitting there behind your counter. "I made tea," he called out, lifting up the tray in his hands. Apparently, he'd dusted off your teapot, which wasn't surprising — the pair of you had gone to the herbalist to buy some fresh leaves after you'd learned of his fondness for the drink.

"Oh! Thanks, that's very nice of you." Deciding to do what you do best — that is, bury your problems in a box deep, deep inside of yourself and pretend they don't exist - you beckoned him over, pushing the little charm you'd been carving for a client aside to make room for him.

Gaster had an odd habit of refusing any chair you offered him, but he was perfectly alright with sitting on desks, tables, and other pieces of not-chair furniture. He demonstrated this after setting the tray down with a soft 'clink', leaning over to pour out two cups from your floral-patterned pot before pushing himself up onto the counter. "It's jasmine, if that's alright."

"Nooooo," you drawled out, propping your chin on your hand. "It's awful. What sort of loser buys things they like?"

"Well, ah." He paused, then — as he often did — tried to justify his actions rather than calling you out on your blatant teasing. "You can like something but not be in the mood for it!"

You laughed lightly, picking up your cup and shifting back into your chair. "Don't worry. I'm in the mood."

"Well, ah, I'm glad." He flushed slightly, turning down to look into his cup, and you didn't quite understand. Gaster could be a pretty weird guy sometimes.

It struck you suddenly that you had some news. "Oh! So, uh, I was thinking I'd go visit the Forest Witch today. I bought some almond cakes from a baker that I'll pick up after work; she loves those."

"Ah, is that the Witch of the Western Woods I heard you mention before?"

"Yeah. There are other magicians out in the countryside, but she's kind of the most… hardcore, I guess, so most of us just call her the Forest Witch for short. Anyway, you're welcome to come along. I don't think she'd dislike you much."

"Er… dislike me much? I'd hate to be a problem."

"Uhhh…" You paused, and the vague hurt-but-understanding expression on his face tore your heart in two. Quickly, you clarified. "I mean, she dislikes everyone, and I think she'd dislike you less than most people. And any unfriendliness wouldn't be because you're a monster, but because she's..." You searched for a way to politely call someone an angry hermit. "...unsociable.

"Oh." A pause. "Well, I've met quite a few people like that in my time. I understand. If it's not a problem, I'd enjoy the fresh air."

Sipping at your tea to gave you a pause to think. You kinda didn't want to make the journey alone, especially since it'd be getting dark by the time you came back. And you…

….well. You had a night-light for a reason. There probably wouldn't ever be a time when you were comfortable walking around alone at night.

Before you could say anything more though, the door opened, allowing sunshine and a number of gleaming pelts to stream into your store.

The woman who stepped in lightly — her dainty shoes, flanked by a number of paws both great and small — was truly, absolutely, strikingly beautiful. Elegance clung to her like expensive perfume, seeped so intimately into her being that it influenced her entire demeanor. She held herself regally, head level and back straight, and that same carefulness of posture was reflected in her fine, well maintained hands and her clear, dark complexion. Her hair, braided finely, reminded you in coloration of those wise old oaks growing in Castle Spaghorde, and the brown of her eyes was just a few shades lighter. Her dress wouldn't look out of place in a museum exhibit on 18th century French fashions, with a wide, long skirt and carefully ornate ruffles, but despite the company she kept, she was always perfectly, immaculately clean.

It might be prudent to wonder as to how Lady Dogwitch maintained her aesthetic despite being the caretaker of all the homeless dogs in the city. The answer was this: the Lady of the Hounds had access to the most enviable miracle of them all; she never got dirty, no matter what.

"Ahh! Good afternoon, my Lady!" You beamed, setting your cup down with a soft tnk before bowing your head and kneeling before her.

It should be said that there was no particular reason to greet the Lady of the Hounds so formally. She claimed no impressive birthright; her power and station was equal to most magi in the domain. Yet neither the Primus nor the Inquisitor — the highest authorities you all answered to — claimed the same respect that Lady Dogwitch did, despite them both being older, more well established, and bearing much more important duties, and this was because you — and everyone else in the city — loved seeing her light up and giggle so wonderfully as you treated her like royalty.

The dogs all took this as a signal that it was acceptable to swarm around you, butts wiggling, tongues flopping, and wanting to be petted yesssss good that's the spot, that's the spoooooot. You could hear tails whipping through the air as they pressed up around you with pure, innocent joy. And — well. Perhaps, also, because it felt nice to pretend to still be a knight, sometimes.

You gathered as many dogs to you as you could, and buried your face in their fluff, ohhhh, furry dogs, yes, yessss good.

Gaster, of course, understood none of this and, upon seeing you kneel, joined you in a panic, thinking he'd been rude for not showing proper respect to a real Lady. Nor was he quite sure what to do when — suddenly — there were dogs, dogs everywhere, big ones, small ones, all wanting pets and affection from the goopy skeleton man.

"Heel!" The Lady said, seeming to realize that Gaster was getting overwhelmed. "Ahh, that means you too, Potato! Heel!"

A somewhat chastised chocolate lab extracted itself from Gaster's face, sitting in front of the monster and panting thoroughly.

"Hello, Doctor Gaster, hello Two-Bit," she said, gently closing the door behind herself. She was somewhat less striking when not framed by the afternoon light, but she still commanded attention with her ornate appearance.

"Hey there, good to see you," you replied, pushing yourself to your feet. Gaster followed immediately after you. "Want some tea? Gaster here just made some."

[YOU'RE WELCOME TO JOIN US,] he signed, and you weren't sure if Lady Dogwitch was fluent or not, but you were pretty sure she understood the intent.

"That would be lovely, although not everyone here is well-behaved, so I should take care of this lot first." She eyed a droopy looking spotted mutt who was sniffing around a corner, clearly shaming it for some past-transgression. "I have some news for you two."

"We can just go into the back patio." Technically, it wasn't really yours, but neither was it anybody else's, so everyone who had a shop that had a back entrance into the rough little square had all decided to share it. The idea of making it a garden had come from the little lady who ran the sandwich place next door who had something of a green thumb. You'd contributed happily — not only was it nice to have a larger space to grow things, but also because places like that really helped you work your spells. Magic was a thing of hidden gems and contradictions, after all, and what better example of that is an oasis in an alleyway?

"Oh, excellent. That'll be a great place to talk. Gaster," she turned to the monster, smiling and clapping her hands together. "I found Sans and Papyrus!"

—

Strange, you thought, looking over at Gaster. You'd expected him to look more… excited.

He was focused, sure, you thought it fair to call him enraptured as he hung on every word that the good lady said. But… there was an odd, serious grimness to his expression that you weren't quite sure how to interpret.

They lived together in a little house on Holiday Avenue, in a section of the town you knew to be in Many-Name's territory. It was a quiet street, she said, where quite a lot of monsters had found property... partially due to Many-Name's own efforts in speaking to the city-council. (One of the many arguments they'd had with the Primus, you'd remembered, as the latter believed in segregation between the two peoples, while you remembered the former saying, at one point, holy shit, open a fucking history book and tell me again that you think that's a good idea.) The location was a very reasonable distance from Papyrus' workplace, a hotel owned by the first monster pop-idol, Mintytin.

Wait, no, that wasn't right. Skittles, she'd just said it, uh.

Metybun?

Mittentun?

Metalun? Yeah, that sounded right, Metalnun.

...Anyway. He worked as a valet at Metalnun's hotel, the MTT Resort, which — and this was some insight from Gaster — made quite a lot of sense due to the man's fascination with cars and driving.

Apparently, quite a lot of monsters were employed at the hotel, as Metalnun was one of the first extremely successful monster businessmen, which you had no idea of, frankly, but Lady Dogwitch knew a remarkable amount about politics. Another reason why you all called her Lady, you supposed, of those in the city she fit the image of 'well-connected courtier' the most.

As for Sans, she had less information on him, other than he was a frequent patron at a bar called Grillby's. Ostensibly, he also held employment at the MTT Resort, although it was difficult to discern what precisely he did, if anything. He didn't work many hours.

"Huh… I wonder why Achilles didn't recognize either of their names."

"Oh, that's easy," Lady Dogwitch smiled, but there was something a bit nostalgic and sad about it. "They're kind of a homebody, really, and quite shy. It was always Beatrice who made them go out and do things, you know? So, unless it's somebody who's caused a problem, it's totally understandable that — " A pause. She squinted. "...Achilles? Really?"

"Swear-to-my-knickers, I have heard the words 'call me Achilles' come out of their mouth. They're the biggest dork."

Lady Dogwitch reached down, running her fingers through the silky fur of a collie sitting right by the bench she'd settled on. "That is… impossible to deny," she said with a soft laugh.

"Um," Gaster began, looking to you. "Who's Beatrice?"

"Beatrice is — ummn, oh. To be honest, um, I never knew her." You looked to Lady Dogwitch, gauging her expression.

It seemed like the years had dulled her sorrow enough that she was comfortable with speaking about it. "Beatrice was Many-Name's wife," she explained, looking down briefly into her tea before regarding Gaster. "Like them, she was a mage, and a quite accomplished one, at that; she studied with the previous Inquisitor — ah, of the domains that have always been part of the city proper; none of Spaghorde's holdings." You silently said a prayer of thanks that she didn't look at you at that. "She wasn't an Inquisitor herself, but she did work as his aid. I knew her quite well; she was something of an… older sister, I suppose. Not many here know of her now, so many of the mages here are new to this area."

You could tell Gaster had a lot of questions — he got this certain kind of look to his eyes when he wasn't quite sure what to ask first. You didn't blame him. You'd been purposefully avoiding talking about the city's history, after all.

He finally settled with, "Beatrice sounds like a very…normal name for a mage."

"Ah." You distracted yourself with a cute, tan dog with a ratlike tail, scratching it behind its floppy ears. "Yes. After a wizard dies, they're referred to by the name they were given at birth. It's a custom."

"We are mere humans in death, after all," said Lady Dogwitch, picking up on the question. "When our burdens are lifted and we can dream our final dream… only then will the world see us as human again."

"I see…" he murmured, musing on this. "What does she mean, about Spaghorde's holdings? Is that the Castle Spaghorde you mentioned before?"

The flowers were quite nice, you noticed. Bright, fat, colorful morning glories, it'd been a good idea to plant them where they were. You'd have to thank Mrs. Clemmons later, for giving you the seedlings. The sun was warm - you could feel it on your hair and brimming over your shoulders. Somehow, it even managed to warm your too-cold hands gripping the edge of your seat.

(The pause lengthened enough to become awkward, but the words got stuck in your throat.)

"Two-Bit…?" he called softly, and it didn't hurt (you lied to yourself).

"Uh," you forced out. "That's, uh — "

Lady Dogwitch read the mood and leapt in to save you. "...A long story, it seems like. Did you want to know more about your brothers, Gaster? As much as I'd love to, I can't visit forever. I have people to talk to, dogs to find homes for…"

"Oh, yes! Of course. Ahh." You finally could breathe easy now that his attention was off of you. "Oh, oh, goodness, are — are they happy?"

You smiled fondly, his question lifting your mood. "He's asking if they're happy."

Oddly, Lady Dogwitch paused at that. "Papyrus is very happy," she said, folding her hands and looking at the two of you. "And the both of them have a number of loyal friends; they're both among Frisk's associates."

For a moment, something caught your eye — Gaster stiffened at that name.

But no attention was drawn to it, and Lady Dogwitch continued. "...and Sans… from what I've heard, he sounds like a very jovial, relaxed man. However —6 ah, I haven't mentioned, have I? Crane knows them both."

"Crane?" You and Gaster said simultaneously, both with different inflections.

"Wait, we're talking about the same Crane, right? Sleeps all day in the park, wanders around at night cleaning up Nightmares? Only seems to talk to birds? Doesn't shower?"

Lady Dogwitch laughed. "Yes, that Crane." To Gaster, she said, "Crane is an associate of ours. She's… ah, well, she lives life her own way, but isn't known for having many friends. Yet, it seems like your brothers have befriended her. Papyrus in particular. I suppose no one thought to ask her if she knew them, considering her reservation. Anyway, she has a rather keen intuition, and she said that your brother is… not doing very well. She wouldn't elaborate on why, but knowing that… it might be good to show him some special consideration when you are reunited."

Gaster looked down, staring at his hands. A rather strange, difficult expression crossed his face. "I see. Thank you."

"He says he understands, and thanks."

"Of course. I'm sorry that I can't give you overwhelmingly good news, other than… both your brothers sound like they're well loved by those around them. That's all I can think to tell you though, unless you have any more questions?"

"No," Gaster said, before shaking his head. "Thank you again, so much. It's… I'm so glad to know they're not that far."

You translated, and then reached out to take Lady Dogwitch's finished tea. "You gotta head out now, or do you want another cup?"

"No, I should go." She stood, brushing out her dress, and all of the dogs gathered around the garden perked up at the movement. "Thank you for the tea. Stay well, you two! And I hope business is good."

"Of course. Thank you — and Gaster says thanks too, for like, the fiftieth time." You grinned, winking at the man, but his smile in return seemed kind of weak.

Hmn.

Instead of leaving through the store, Lady Dogwitch took her hounds through the alley, ushering them all along with light commands and some idle barking. You watched her leave, waving, and as soon as the last tail disappeared, you looked over at Gaster.

"You okay there, buddy?"

"I'm fine," he said automatically, and you'd pulled that junk enough to know when something stank.

"No you're not." You approached him, getting quite close as you waggled a finger accusingly. "You've got 'I'm brooding over something' written all over your face. It's in red marker. Very flattering."

His gaze flicked to you, and he said, "I'll tell you what's on my mind when you tell me what's on yours."

That sentence hung in the air, and you froze, staring dumbly at him. You swallowed, and he seemed to realize what he had done.

"Ah — that, that was horrible of me to say. I apologize. I should be respecting your privacy, not childishly guilting you into explaining yourself. I'm very, very, very sorry — "

"No," you held up a hand, shaking your head. "No, it's fair. I — I, uh. I was pretty obvious there, about Spaghorde. Um." Your fingers curled into your palm, and you let your hand drop to your side with a sigh.

Clearly worried, Gaster put his hands on your arms, leaning in. "It's alright," he said, voice gentle. "I won't pry. I know there's… something that you very much don't want to talk about, but it's fine. I was wrong. I'll… tell you what I was worrying about, alright?"

You felt your stomach curl in on itself, that sick feeling from before returning. You really shouldn't be doing this. You really shouldn't — you were dangerous, he was dangerous, you —

—Looked up at that worried face and felt yourself breaking inside. "...I'd like to know what you're thinking about," you said, arranging the dishware in front of yourself. "Especially if I can help at all."

He sighed gently, and you realized that his hands were still on your arms. He seemed to realize it too, because he pulled back with a slight cough. "Well, ah, yes, we can talk about it. We should probably take care of the tea things first, though. It'll give me some time to think about how to word it. If that's alright?"

"Of course it is." You smiled at him — an honest one. He did seem to have a way of bringing those out, didn't he?

—

You seemed to have stolen his habit, considering you'd sat yourself next to him on your counter instead of just grabbing some chairs from another room like a normal person. You didn't mind though, and, besides, you weren't really a normal person, were you?

He ran a finger across his mouth, the squint of his eyes deeply pensive as you waited for him to begin. You figured the problem had something to do with his brothers; it'd been when they were mentioned, Sans, in particular, that he'd become so glum.

Your suspicions were quickly confirmed. "I wish I could simply go back without reservations. My dearest wish is to simply… embrace them, to apologize for leaving them for so long, and say how much I missed them, because oh — oh, I missed them so very much. But. I… how on earth could they ever forgive me?"

"Forgive you?"

"I was supposed to be there for them. When our parents… passed away, I promised them, I wouldn't leave. I would always be there. I would always, always, be someone they could rely on. I took care of them. I encouraged them. I tried to give them all the love I could, so they wouldn't… feel the hole in their lives, the hole where…" He trailed off. You knew what he meant.

"But I left them. I left them, so completely, that they lost all the traces of my existence. I didn't even leave a hole that could be filled one day, I just left — horrible, empty, useless space in their hearts. Directionless loss and sorrow. I find myself wondering, how can I possibly return to them? So casually come back into their lives, like I'd never left? How can I make up for all the time that's gone? How can I understand their happiness, their grief? They've grown up without me. I'm not sure there's a place for me anymore."

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. He didn't look at you as he distantly stared off across the shop, and it was strange how he spoke, calmly and quietly, like he'd disconnected himself entirely from the situation. From his own feelings. "Gaster… you didn't leave them, not on purpose. How could they blame you for an accident? It's true, you've been gone a long time, and that'll be… hard, to get used to all of the things that are different, but… don't be afraid of being alive."

He went very still, and took a deep, deep breath. "It wasn't an accident."

You paused. His face, his dazed expression, and then you remembered — hadn't he sounded so insincere when he said he fell, so long ago?

His mouth moved, slowly, enunciating each little sound. "I jumped. I threw myself into the Core. I ki-—...ki...kiuh….kil…."

And there it was, all of that missing emotion and passion — there it was, dribbling down his face in big, fat drops from his sockets as his shoulders began to tremble. There it was, and you threw your arms around him, pulling his head to your shoulder. "Oh — oh, oh Gaster." You did your best to soothe him, to comfort him, to let him know you were there for him as he bawled against you. The emotion seemed to render him incapable of maintaining his solid form, and he started turning to goop around you, covering your legs as he gripped the back of your shirt tightly. You didn't mind. You ran your hand over the vague approximation of his back, and tried to piece together what he was saying as he spoke.

"K-kkilled myself," he choked out. "Oh, oh, I'm suh… so, so suh… sorry… sorry… I thought I'd… That I wouldn't… I thought I'd… I spent so long in there. Thought I'd. Dealt with it. What I did, how I felt, I — thought I could, seem, normal, I — oh, I'm sorry…"

"Gaster, don't apologize," you shushed, holding him as tightly as you could manage. "Don't ever apologize for crying. Oh, oh darling, I'm so, so sorry. Let it all out. It's okay."

Now that the dam was broken, he didn't seem intent on stopping anytime soon. "It feels so stupid, nuh, now, why I did it. I felt, so awful, so, so guilty for what I did, for — for those humans, for my, for my staff, who — who died, because I was so stupid, such a stupid, stupid man, I — I wanted to… to help, help the monsters. I wanted to break the barrier, but I… oh, I lead to so much suffering, I didn't even know, then, what I'd really done, who it really ended up affecting, I…"

He didn't sniffle at all, you noticed, probably because of a lack of mucus or anything. Immediately, you felt terrible for thinking about something so stupid in a time like this. All you could do was keep murmuring, "It's alright, it's alright…"

"I don't, don't even, quite remember how I got there. It'd just, that, that darkness, it'd taken another one. Another, another one of my staff. I knew it was my fault, and, and I didn't, oh, I had no idea how to stop it, and I had to, tuh, figure out, how to tell the family — and I couldn't — I realized, just, suddenly then, just, how, how awful I was, how many people I'd ruined, and I couldn't… there was the Core, and I thought, I, I deserved to be burned alive for what I'd done. I didn't. I didn't mean for him to see me…! I didn't just, I didn't just leave him, I made him watch…!"

Something cold filled the pit of your stomach. "Sans," you said softly. "Sans saw you jump."

Gaster couldn't even reply, he was crying too hard, but you knew that was the truth.

He'd told you his younger brother wanted to follow in his footsteps. He told you that he tried so, so very hard in school to get the chance to work with his genius older brother.

And then.

Suddenly, you realized, Gaster wasn't just amazed by every little thing he'd experienced because it was his first time on the surface. He'd been given another chance at being alive.

(How fitting that it was you who did that, considering — )

You took a deep breath, stopping that thought in its tracks and running your fingertips along the back of his head. He didn't say anything more — just cried, and cried, and eventually started hiccuping, and you were so, so glad no one had come in, wow, you didn't expect the conversation to be quite this heavy.

He probably hadn't either. Poor thing. How long had he been keeping all these feelings buried?

After some time — after his breaths had evened out a bit, he said, softly, mouth pressed against your shoulder, "I… I have a question for you."

"Mmm?" You tilted your head slightly, cheek brushing against his head.

"...In — in your view of the world, what would you call… something darker than the deepest darkness imaginable? A shadow so wholly complete that it'd — eat a man alive… without a trace?"

"That sounds like the Beast," you said without hesitation.

He let out a hoarse laugh. "There's that word again. You still haven't told me what it is."

"No," you said carefully, then closed your eyes. "No. But I'll tell you, if you want."

He breathed out. "...I was so foolish. I thought — I thought I'd found something fascinating, some new… anomaly, some phenomenon I could use to break the barrier. But then it began killing all my staff, and I couldn't stop it. So, I took — I took the route of cowardice. I couldn't imagine myself able to face… anyone, after what had happened. So I — ...I… How could I leave them like I did? I was so selfish, I realized that, watching them struggle alone, how selfish I'd been for leaving — "

"Shh," you interrupted, brushing a thumb across the back of his head. "Shhh, shh. Don't think that. Gaster — I don't know what to say, other than that you deserve to live. You deserve to be happy. And your brothers deserve the chance to choose whether or not you return to their lives. So please, please don't be afraid, and cry all you need to. I won't judge you. I — I'll fight anyone who would. And, uh. I'm pretty darn strong."

He laughed very softly at your terrible, weak joke. "You're — you're amazing. You're absolutely, undefinably incredible. I'm alive now, because of you. I spent all that time regretting it, and you — you let me live. Thank you, thank you, I can't possibly thank you enough. All of the thanks in the world couldn't possibly…"

You kissed the top of his head very, very softly. "I couldn't possibly have done anything else. You needed saving."

He let himself lean against you for a long, long while, but you didn't mind. There was time.

And… you thought, having seen that pure, sincere sorrow in his heart, that all of that stuff you were worrying about with him probably didn't mean anything at all. The Primus was wrong.

You had nothing to fear from Doctor W. D. Gaster. Not now.

Not ever.