Chapter XXIII:
The link is within the soul
Souls are what defines people, monsters and humans. Those shiny hearts are reflections of their owners, the source of everything they are. They hold magic — or they do for monsters. Humans don't have this magic, they don't need it — their bodies are resilient, strong on their own. Monsters, however... They can't survive without it. It is supposed to be a natural balance: humans are physical, monsters are magical. It is basic knowledge.
However, Alphys knows there is an exception to this: wizards.
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Wizards…
Humans who could use monster's magic.
Humans who could erect a barrier to lock them all underground.
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But even with those powers, wizards still needed monsters with whom they could share the magic. On their own, they were only humans with some interesting pieces of knowledge. Only humans, forgettable souls among others. Forgettable enough to turn into fairy tales on the surface.
However, wizards were powerless without a monster to power them, to use their magic. Papyrus is too young for such a thing, and it's not his magic which was used. Sans had shown no sign of specific knowledge, or a least it was nothing more than what was to be expected from a human who had survived down there for such an amount of time. Thus, Alphys had found herself back to square one, the only logical explanation wiped out without further notice. Only then had Sans eventually agreed to explain what he knew, and she must admit she wouldn't have gotten anything out of him if it wasn't for Papyrus. The young skeleton sure knows his way with Sans, even now as she is still making him rephrase everything she can't immediately grasp.
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'So… You s-say magic is li-like… the on-only th-thing gl-glue... ' She pauses, breathing to keep herself in check. If she keeps on, her stuttering will turn her sentences into mashed words. 'It's the on-only thing gluing you-your soul together?'
'What Grillbz said. I don't know much 'bout it either.' He looks behind him, checking on his brother asleep on the sofa. 'It's not really important. We just need to find his father,' Sans added, his eyes avoiding Alphys's.
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She can tell he is lying, she can see how avoidant his look has become as as their conversation went on — it's easy without the wooden mask. However, Alphys may have noticed it, it doesn't mean she can do anything about it. She is a scholar, a thinker: making people at ease is not her main skill — in fact, she doubts it's even one of her skills. If she's not at ease herself, how could she possibly make others at ease? At least, Papyrus doesn't care about this. She isn't sure he knows what "uneasy" means at this point, and she envies him for that. Even as a child, she was always unsure about herself and too self-conscious — or so people rubbed it in.
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'Is he okay?' she asks, nodding in the direction of the young skeleton.
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Sans's stares at her with a frown, not immediately registering the question. Finally, he is looking at her. Not at the door, not at his hands, not at Papyrus. At her.
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'What?'
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Now it's her time not to register the question. Not what: who. Who? Papyrus. Why? The events. The events: death, escape, and search.
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'You- You know…' Alphys hesitates, unsure of how to voice her thought. 'What you said, his mother…'
'He manages, I think,' Sans cuts her. 'That's the great Papyrus for you.'
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He lets out a little laugh, which surprises her. She has been taught only human children could laugh, adults will lose this ability over time. Sans is no adult, she knows it, but she isn't sure whether or not he is still a child. There are many questions she wants to ask, too many for her to remember them all at a time, so she keeps them to herself. She keeps them to herself, and she tries to smile. She tries to smile, and she goes on with the conversation.
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'Yeah… He su- sure is o- one brave kid.' — Her ghostly smile fades — 'And you? You… You manage?'
'I'm not dead yet.'
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His mouth is smiling, his eyes not so.
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'It's- It's not what I meant,' Alphys lets out in a whisper. She then looks up again, higher than where Sans is. Her gaze stops on the ceiling, but her mind tries to imagine what is beyond it — beyond the fake sky she has always known. 'The surface?' she asks, letting her voice fade as she speaks. 'What you… you... left behind?'
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He follows her gaze, his remaining unfocused nonetheless. For a second, she thinks she may have reminded him of something important out there, but she can't say what. He seems to think about his answer, his lips pressed together, and sighs.
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'There's nothing waiting for me.' — He stands up, ready to leave — 'Now, if you let me, I'll follow Paps's exemple and catch some z's.'
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Taken by surprise as she was expecting something more than "nothing", Alphys tries to stutters a "Sure, I won't" which came out more as gibberish than actual words. Cheeks now red, she watches silently as Sans puts his mask and sweater on. She wonders for how long this little maskerade can go on, how long it will take before it becomes unbearable. Sans knows he can't keep the mask on forever — both literally and figuratively — but Alphys lacks the will to tell him he will probably never see the surface again. Souls are her major, she should know what is possible and what is not — even though she came to doubt it. However, even with the news which have made her abashed, there is one thing about which she knows her knowledge will not let her down: the barrier.
Human souls can go through without problems — after all, wizards wouldn't imprisoned their own kind. Monster souls, however, were violently rejected — and so was magic. Sans can probably still cross the barrier, or so she suspects, but she doubts he would survive it. It's not determination that is keeping him alive, that alone wouldn't have been enough. No, it's magic.
And magic is blocked by the barrier.
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The creaking of the door interrupts her thoughts, and she realizes she didn't ask for one last thing.
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'Wait, Sans! Who… Who's Pa- Papyrus's father again? I don't think you told me.'
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Sans lets go of the door knob, turning around to face Alphys as he answers her question.
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'His name's Gaster, he is the royal scientist for what I know,' he says, shrugging. 'Not the guy you can contact like that apparently...'
'Gaster?' she repeats in disbelief.
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He looks at her, brows raised and eyes full of confusion — or so she imagines. In truth, she can barely see his eyes, but there is something in his posture that makes her feel like he is surprised.
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'What's with your face?'
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She avoids his look, trying to think of a way to say what she realized, and settles for the direct one.
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'He is my professor.'
And Gaster's almost there! No seriously, he was supposed to show up at chapter 10-15 and I don't know what happened...