Pain skittered through his body as he woke slowly. A weariness clung to every bone under the pain and it was all he could do to just open a socket.

The overhead lights were off but the ambient light from the windows was a good substitute. He wanted to raise his head and look around but there was no strength in his bones for him to even contemplate following through with that desire.

Shifting fabric to his right filled the silence as something moved at the side of his bed. After a moment, Grillby leaned into his line of sight. The fire at the top of the elemental's head was subdued. "How are you feeling?"

"'orrible," he croaked. Pinpricks of pain shot along his jaw and down his spine. "What 'appened?" There was a heavy pause, one that made his soul sink. "Grillby."

The fire elemental ran a hand over his skull, the other pressing into the blankets over Sans's arm. Pain flared at both points of contact but he ignored it. "I know." The pause was much shorter. "What do you remember?"

He frowned, apprehension settling in his chest. That kind of question was never any good and if Grillby was asking...

Oh.

The memories flowed in, foggy and half realized but the information was clear. An onslaught of emotions had awoken him, a suffocating wave of despair, terror, and grief that didn't have a cause. His magic reacted to that despair but his soul wasn't healed enough to support the pull towards elsewhere. Strong, familiar arms wrapped around him, pulling him against a chest that thrummed with equally familiar magic. Vaguely he was aware of the world changing around them, the drag of moving from one point to another by magic alone, as he fought to stay conscious. Noise bombarded him from all sides as the pain finally started to register. It made his entire body tremble, sucking away the miniscule amount of strength he had woken with. The part of him that was coherent enough to understand some of what was going on was grateful for those familiar arms.

Something was pressed into his chest. Whatever it was made his soul sing and ache painfully in equal parts. He tried to cover it with his hands wanting to shield it from the rest of the world. His hands didn't move from where they had fallen when he had been gathered up in those familiar arms.

Someone grabbed his left hand and brought it up over the thing pressed against his chest. Two different magics rushed into his hand and for one startling moment, the world and everything happening was crisp and coherent around him. Everything, that is, except for the noise.

Kepler was swaddled and pressed against his chest, pinned there by his hand that was sandwiched under Papyrus's. The souling looked to be asleep despite the torrent of magic rushing from the tiny form. Papyrus's magic was pouring into his body alongside Kepler's creating a thin barrier around the infant's magic. He felt the swell of it, could gauge how much the tiny body was expelling in earnest, and his fingers flexed under Papyrus's hand.

They both felt the moment the magic snapped to a stop.

For the half second it took for all the inertia to stop, Sans feared the worst, but then Papyrus's magic drew taut around Kepler's and pulled it from Sans as quickly as it had filled him. Magic filled the tiny form cradled between them guided by Papyrus's extraordinary control. When the last of Kepler's magic left him, his magic followed after determined to replace what the infant had expelled before they had gotten there. Papyrus's magic weaved with his before it even left his hand and drew Sans's magic up short before he could give Kepler anything. Instead, Papyrus poured magic into the tiny form, replacing what had been lost in Sans's stead. He could feel the well of magic Papyrus had, knew that the other had fathoms more to give than him, and yet it did nothing to ease the worry in his chest.

It took far too long for them both to feel the tiny form's magic capacity get reached.

He felt drained without having used magic. His magic was untouched, his soul left unharmed, and yet his body trembled as if he had given everything he had left. There was the impression of someone removing Kepler from their hold but he couldn't actually remember it. Even the realization that Papyrus had been trembling just as hard as he had was something he simply knew without being able to remember it.

"Kepler," he breathed, bringing himself back to the present. "Kepler expelled magic."

It wasn't quite enough to explain what he remembered but his mouth didn't want to work with him and the pain was growing worse.

Grillby nodded. "They believe the souling's form had given out causing the intention-less magic release. The doctors say that the only reason it was not an early neonatal death was because of you and your brother's intervention."

"It worked then?" he asked. Had he the energy he was sure it would have come out desperate but all he could manage was a breathy question.

Grillby put a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Yes. The doctors believe that Kepler will live but they are not willing to guarantee the longevity of the souling beyond the first decade. Kepler's form is very fragile, more so than yours, and they are concerned that the amount of magic required to keep the soul alive is too much for the fragile form to bear. They are also wary of any repercussions from what you and Papyrus did to save Kepler's life; they fear that the act of returning the magic after such an expulsion may have unknown consequences."

"But that's only a concern - a potential not an absolute, right? It's possible this was the only time and that Kepler could live a long life, right?"

Grillby gave his arm a squeeze. The skittering of pain nearly broke past his control. "They are hopeful but want to impose how uncertain the future is. Very little is known about neonatal deaths and their causes and even less about skeleton infants and how familial magic affects the souling."

His control suddenly snapped. The pain he had been trying desperately to ignore slammed into him, stealing his breath and erasing the world for a moment.

That moment had to have been longer than the second he could have sworn it had been; there were far too many people in his room for such a short amount of time.

Foreign hands were on him, each touch a pinprick of increased pain that filled his mind. Noise filled his skull as foreign magic seeped into his form and encompassed far too many bones. Distantly his awareness assured him that the hands were helping, that the touch was ok, but as a touch settled on the inside of his spine all he could remember was Gaster's touch with the intent to break more bones.

When he woke, it was to the soft sounds of fans running - small ones, the ones he would expect in a computer or the like. The room was darker when he managed to get a socket open and no one moved at his stirring. Moving was sluggish and he seemed to be disconnected from the pain it brought. A blessing, probably, and he appreciated it.

He drifted in and out of consciousness for a good while. There wasn't a clock in his line of sight but as light filled the room from the window, he was fairly certain it had been for a couple of hours.

The door clicked open and shut, the footfall soft - muffled, even - as his visitor entered the room. The magic was gentle and oddly foreign despite being immediately recognizable. He still didn't have the strength to look but he waited patiently as Papyrus walked around to the far side of his bed and came into view.

"What was with the magic?" he asked, the words coming out as an amused croak.

A gentle smile pulled at Papyrus's face as he sat down in the chair beside the bed. A small bundle was tucked into his brother's elbow; it was probably Kepler. "A 'check', though I think the word is lacking."

The word seemed to nag at him in a way that left him uneasy. Still, he brushed the unease off, asking, "New trick?"

His brother shrugged. "In a sense."

There was a weightlessness to those words that didn't match the heavy press of detachment that filled the room. Sans frowned. "Gonna just leave me in the dark on that one, bro?"

Silence met his inquiry and the longer it stretched, the more he wasn't sure he was getting an answer.

"I didn't figure it out on my own." The words were quiet, tempered in a way he hadn't heard from Papyrus in a very long time. It felt almost subdued and his soul ached at the thought. "I was released a few days after Kepler's magic expulsion and was sent home but I couldn't return to work yet. It left me restless, eager to do anything productive, so I started cleaning the house." A wry smile heavy with weariness was sent his way. "You'll have to relearn where everything is in your room but it is finally clean. Replaced the carpet, even."

"Seriously?" came out on a laugh. A dull ache filled his ribs, quelling the laughter immediately.

His brother nodded. "The entire house will have been touched by the end of the week. Just waiting on the flooring for the kitchen."

That sounded... "Pap, I think I lost some time in there. When did you get released?"

Papyrus finally met his gaze and Sans's soul sank. "Around two weeks ago."

"Two..." Sans tried to repeat but the words died. When he managed to get words to come out again, they were the questions that had filled his mind in turn. "How? How long was I out? When was Kepler born or any of this happen?"

His brother's hand was cool on his head. It was soothing and he took a shaky breath to try and stave off the panic that was clawing at his chest. Kepler's little bundle settled against his side where his brother carefully moved one of Sans's hands to rest over it. The strong, slow thrumming of Kepler's magic was the balm that his brother couldn't manage.

"The magic expulsion was the day after Kepler was born. We were both unconscious for a good two days afterwards but you woke before I did so what I know of the events are second hand." Papyrus's hand didn't even twitch yet Sans could feel the flex in his brother's magic at the suppressed anger around the comment. "When you woke up, you had a conversation with Grillby. He said you had been very coherent and receptive as he filled you in on what the doctors had said before something went wrong. The doctors aren't even sure what had happened to you but you were suddenly in a lot of pain. Grillby believes the painkillers they had been giving you were not strong enough; one of the doctors and a few nurses thought the same thing. The challenge came when the medical staff tried to help you. They had been getting a handle on the situation up until the point where you were unable to handle the situation anymore. No one knows what had set you off; all they knew was that you were in pain but handling the care well enough one moment and the next you were doing everything in your power to get away."

An echo of terror skittered at the edge of his thoughts, fleeting and gone by the time he tried to focus on it. He could remember the conversation with Grillby and where it cut off from the pain but anything after that was a haphazard guess at best.

"If it was like the other times previously..." His soul pounded in his chest. When all he did was stare, his brother went on. "Bash has helped us both but I know you've been avoiding talking about Gaster just as much as I have avoided talking about those weeks. I've done little to actually face what he had done to us and I've noticed how it affected my reaction to some of the doctors and nurses." Papyrus met his gaze again. "Your spine is their main concern. It would not surprise me if someone had touched it to either heal or secure it and you suddenly believed he had you again."

A smile pulled at Sans's face as he teased, "Sounds like working with Bash has rubbed off on you."

His brother snorted. "More like I experience it myself." The humor between them shattered. There was a heavy beat before Papyrus went on. "I used to be extremely reactive to any touch until Bash worked with me on it. After a while it was only ever when my thoughts spiralled or when there were too many things going on. Then only during very specific situations," Papyrus nodded at him, "medical situations unfortunately being one of them." His brother's gaze drifted as Papyrus drew in a slow breath. "I can't spar like I used to. Strength training, endurance, that's all fine but the minute we shift into anything requiring magic, something changes and I-" The snap of Papyrus's teeth was loud enough for Sans to hear but his brother didn't leave him enough space to speak. "Undyne has been incredibly patient with me and is the only one I can spar with for now. As long as we avoid magic, we can manage a thirty minute session of drills or bursts of mock fighting."

"Aw, Pap. I'm so sorry."

His brother waved him off. "There is plenty of progress so there is nothing to feel sorry for. I will forever be grateful that she has continued to be patient with me. These last few weeks certainly have done nothing for my progress." Papyrus focused on him. "But that is beside the point. Immediately after the complications you suffered in the middle of your conversation with Grillby, they put you into a medically induced coma in hopes of allowing your form time to heal and save your mind from the pain that was bound to accompany it. They sent me home three days later as they kept Kepler here and I have been wreaking havoc on the house ever since."

"So the new trick?"

A solemn expression crossed his brother's neutral mask. "My tidying included your lab, Sans."

Confusion drifted through him when the sentence didn't make sense at first. It slowly dawned on him what his brother was implying and his confusion quickly shifted into concern. "You went through his notes?"

Papyrus shook his head. "Not exactly. One of the stacks on the table fell over and it was while I was setting about returning it to the table that a line of text caught my attention." He frowned. "I was not aware we innately knew that font."

Sans blinked. "We don't. Or, at least, I don't think we should. I learned it with the amount of hours I spent working with the translations and a cipher." At least, as far as he knew.

His brother's frown didn't lessen. "Something for another time, then. The page that caught my attention had a line talking about a 'check'. The use of the word in context with the line was unusual so I read around it. It seemed he was able to use his magic to 'check' humans and monsters alike, able to pick up on the soul, any traits, magic level and strength, and a number of other things. It sounded more effective and more versatile than what we have done in the past."

Sans had forgotten about checking his brother's magic after Papyrus had teleported them out of Gaster's attack for the first time and wondered if that was what his brother was referring to. "It doesn't require touch," he realized.

His brother nodded. "He had a theory that any being with magic could 'check' another with a simple pulse of magic as long as they knew how to listen to it correctly. The whole thing was a scribbled note in the corner of a sheet of equations and terminology I did not understand."

"So, in theory, I should be able to 'check' others as well."

"In theory, but it is a theory that will wait until you are healed."

The scientist in him was too intrigued to leave it at that; he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer, though. "What did the 'check' tell you?"

Papyrus's expression closed off even as it pulled into a thoughtful frown. "I know your magic level and what it is supposed to be at, how much damage you have sustained, the trait of your soul, and your present strength." His brother shrugged. "Compared to what we did to check each other, it only allows for a few additional points of information."

"Still kind of cool."

His brother smiled softly at that. "Yes. Still kind of cool."

"What of the rest of it?" At his brother's questioning hum, he clarified, "I'm assuming there's more to my stay than just some shattered bones. Do they know if it will cause permanent damage or if it's affecting my ability to walk?"

"Ah." Papyrus reached over and ran a finger across Kepler's forehead. The infant wiggled in the swaddle but didn't wake. "The doctors say you have paraplegia - paralysis from the ribs down - or at least an equivalent to, seeing as we don't actually have muscles. They did not share if they knew how long you would be afflicted by it."

He closed his sockets against the sudden wave of grief. He was alive and so was Kepler and Papyrus. That was all that mattered; he would learn to live with his limitations. Alex certainly had. When he opened his sockets, he asked, "Do they have any idea what my recovery looks like?"

"No. They are waiting to state that until after you woke up. There is a range of possibilities and until you are able to vocalize your experience, they won't have a definitive timeframe." His brother's expression fell. "I feel a part of your paraplegia is my fault from my rough handling when Kepler was dying. I had not been as careful as I should have been and most likely agitated your injured spine."

"Hey, don't ever apologize for that," he quickly countered. "Because of you we were able to save Kepler." His frown deepened. "Speaking of: why didn't you take Kepler's magic? Why have me take it instead without letting me actually take it?"

"I had already recovered the spent magic from the birth and could not intake any more magic. And I fully expected the souling's magic to do more harm than good if you had absorbed it. You were already in an awful state and there was no need to make it worse."

"Your control and workings with magic is incredible, Pap. You are amazing."

A smile tugged at Papyrus's expression but it was fleeting. "Not amazing enough to make much of a difference in what you are having to go through." He tried to cut in but his brother kept talking, gaze focused on Kepler. "Kepler expelled magic again yesterday while in my arms. It was just as potent as the one previously but I discovered I could siphon off the magic faster than Kepler could expel it. It was...a strange experience. Once all the excess magic was withdrawn from the tiny form, I returned all the magic at a calmer rate until the souling was full of magic again. There has yet to be any signs of adverse results from my actions."

"Did you talk to Dr. Kole about it?"

"He walked in shortly after it had happened; he is apparently very in tune to magic fluctuations in soulings and claims it was part of the reason why he entered medicine in the first place. Kepler was checked over and given the all clear." Papyrus stilled before looking up at Sans. "He's concerned about these episodes but does not believe there is anything more we can do until the souling starts showing negative signs. He said to not fret about it until Kepler starts behaving differently or appears to be in pain."

"Which leaves all the fretting for me," Sans half joked.

Papyrus snorted and the conversation drifted from there.

Kepler went home with Papyrus a week later when it became clear Sans wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. The paraplegia started just below the shoulder blades and made his lower half absolutely useless. He couldn't feel anything beneath that one point, yet in the beginning that one point felt like fire whenever he moved or the pain blockers started to wear off. They had them on the highest dose they dared to give him and he still felt far too much for his and the medical staff's liking. Even the healing was a slow process made difficult by Sans's form. It seemingly refused any outside assistance if it wasn't his brother's magic leaving a whole month before he was able to push himself up under his own power and not be debilitated by the pain.

The doctors were optimistic about his ability to walk again, though. Physical therapy started as soon as he was showing even the slightest sign of movement above the paralysis line. Some days were easier than others; there were far too many days where he could barely manage to roll over in bed.

Papyrus visited daily with Kepler in tow and when his brother was unable to, Grillby would come in his stead. No matter what state Sans was in, Kepler seemed quite content to just be with him. The infant would hold onto one of his fingers and not let go until he or another carefully unwrapped those tiny fingers.

Sans didn't have any other visitors until Kepler was two months old. Papyrus and Kepler were watching him from a nearby chair as he braced himself upright between the parallel bars when the door to the room opened. The room wasn't a private one so he hadn't thought much of it, too focused on staying upright to glance up. The physical therapist was before him and an assisting nurse was behind him, both supporting a good amount of his weight as the physical therapist talked him through the exercise. His arms shook with the effort.

"Good morning, Papyrus. Who do you have there?"

Sans's head snapped up at the very familiar voice. The motion threw his sense of balance off and the two medical personnel grabbed him, pinning him between them with as much care as they could afford. He hissed in pain, the hand still on the bar clamping down in a vice grip as the other found the shoulder of the physical therapist's shirt. The voices of the two medical personnel drowned out the rest of the room as they talked between each other and occasionally him until they had him back in the wheelchair. Papyrus was there when the therapist moved aside and he offered his brother a soft, "I'm ok," when their gazes met.

"Are you alright, Sans?" came from behind Papyrus. The lankier skeleton stepped aside to not only reveal Toriel but Asgore, Undyne, and Alphys as well. Toriel - having been the one speaking - was the closest and had a hand pressed to her chest.

He offered them all a grin. "I'm ok," he repeated loud enough for them to hear. "Just lost my balance. Would have been worse had I not been in such good hands."

The physical therapist patted his shoulder as they turned to the guests. "Is there something we can help you with?"

"We have come to check on Sans," Asgore spoke, stepping up to Toriel's left shoulder. "It was not our intention to disrupt his session, though. We had been told he would be done shortly and had intended to simply wait."

The physical therapist looked to Sans. "I don't want to push after a slip like that so early so we'll call it for today and check in on you tomorrow to see where you're at."

He sagged into the wheelchair, flinching slightly from the skittering of pain that followed. "Thank you."

The therapist nodded. "We'll walk you back."

The trip to his room was surprisingly quiet. Undyne and Papyrus were chatting softly somewhere behind him but that was it. The day nurse took over for the physical therapist and between the two nurses, Sans was tucked back under the covers of his bed. The company that had followed settled around the room. Papyrus took the chair closest to his bed like usual but not before settling Kepler against Sans's chest. He happily wrapped his arms around his swaddled souling, grateful for the umpteenth time that he could now do so without assistance.

"So," Sans spoke up as the movement in the room stilled. "Is this a personal visit or a professional one?"

Toriel and Asgore shared a glance even as she said, "Both, unfortunately."

"While I am here in the interest of your wellbeing, I am also here on behalf of your employment," Asgore explained. "It is nothing serious; your job is still secure as are everything that your employment entails. Simply put, I am here to gather the needed information to help you transition back into work once you are able to, as well as making sure that doing so does not impede your healing."

"Rest of us are here to see you," Undyne spoke up, stretched out in the window seat. Alphys was sitting next to her awkwardly curled into herself. Undyne lowered her chin as her one eye settled a serious look on his face. "And the souling."

A quick glance at the three others informed him that they had not been previously informed about Kepler's existence. He looked to Papyrus who shrugged, making an off gesture as if to silently say his brother was leaving it to him to tell people.

"So the child is yours, Sans?" Toriel asked.

Sans expected her expression to tell him something about her stance on the whole matter but all he saw was neutral curiosity. He nodded. "Yes. Mine and Alex's." It slipped off his tongue with ease and lacked the pain he would have felt- had felt months ago at just the thought. It didn't make it any less foreign but he was glad it didn't pull at him like the others seemed to think it should if the looks of masked pity were anything to go by. And since he was already talking... "I was pregnant since about Alex's death up until two months ago. The souling dropped with no complications but a month after dropping something went wrong. I suffered spinal damage and damage to the ribs and pelvis from the backlash. We - Pap and I - managed to stabilize the newly created souling form before it could give out completely and aside from a few hiccups along the way, I've been recovering from that for the last two months."

There was certainly sympathy in their expressions but beyond that, the largest reaction was Alphys covering her mouth and looking like she might start crying.

"May I see the souling?" Toriel asked.

Sans shifted Kepler in his arms, looking to Papyrus even as Toriel stood. Papyrus took Kepler from him and placed the small bundle into Toriel's arms for Sans. Toriel dwarfed the tiny bundle and Kepler looked even smaller than ever cradled in her arms. She was quick to spot the crack on Kepler's face and looked at him with concern. "The form has suffered a crack?"

Sans nodded. "Two, actually; they're scars from the form failing at birth. The one on the skull is mostly superficial, though the souling will be blind in the right socket. There's nothing that can be done about that. The second one is on the rib cage. The sternum is partially missing while a crack cuts across the ribs from shoulder to opposite lowest rib cutting right through the gaping hole in the sternum. It's not life threatening as long as the souling's soul isn't corporeal."

"A-and there's nothing that can be d-done ab-about the two cracks?" Alphys piped up.

"No. But the souling isn't in pain nor is their life in danger so there hasn't been any real consideration for even seeing if anything could be done that the doctors haven't already suggested."

Toriel asked, "Does the little one have a name?"

Sans smiled gently. "Kepler."

"Hello Kepler," Toriel cooed to the infant. If Kepler responded, Sans couldn't see it. "Welcome to the world."

"Do you have an idea how long your recovery will be?" Asgore asked.

"A few months, at least. It depends on how well my form heals and how well I can get back on my own two feet."

"Well," Toriel said, returning Kepler to his arms, "may it be a speedy recovery. You have a child to care for and work to get back to, after all."

He chuckled. The latter was meant as teasing; she had the same mischievous glint in her eyes she got when she had a really good pun set up. "Here's to hoping," he agreed.

The months went on and for a while there it seemed he would be released on time. Unfortunately he was still as fragile as he had always been and while he regularly had bad days where even thinking of moving hurt, none were as bad as when he got sick barely weeks out from his original release date.

It came out of nowhere. One day he went to bed feeling right as rain and woke briefly the next morning only to sleep through the entire day. He woke that particular evening to a concerned nurse shaking his shoulder. There were a few other blurry bodies in the room but his magic would focus enough in his sockets to clear his vision. Whatever happened was lost to the fever haze he spent a week in.

When his fever finally broke and he was coherent enough, he felt incredibly weak and the progress he had made was gone. Thankfully he wasn't starting from the same point - it was more like when he had woken from his coma - but it was still disheartening to be put back that far.

"I'm honestly surprised you never got mad at me for hiding Kepler's existence from you," he told Toriel two weeks later. They were sitting on a bench outside with him bundled in what felt like an entire linen closet. It was certainly keeping him warm against the cold Snowdin air but it was cumbersome. Twice he had to rely on Toriel to pick up his crutches after he had slipped and she had caught him.

A serene smile spread across her face though her eyes seemed sad. "I have known a number of skeletons in my many years. I know just how unpredictable pregnancy is for your kind," she assured him. "Very few ever got to hold their souling and even fewer saw that souling grow into adulthood. I am not surprised nor offended you kept it to yourself until Kepler was born and because the circumstances of the little one's birth being what they were, a few months hurt no one."

"You'll remind me of that when I apologize again, right?"

She laughed. "Of course. Now, if you have rested enough, let us continue our trek back. Your outfit will not keep you warm for long if this wind keeps blowing."

He walked out of the hospital without any assistance just over a month from Kepler's first birthday.