Ok, I legit forgot to post it yesterday... And I may or may not have finished it Friday instead of working on my exams... I may be posting it between two tests too.

But, eh! Who cares?

It's almost the end of the year :)

Chapter XXVIII

Knocking on wood

Hypothesis number one: Papyrus came across the human, and they decided to help eachother out. This one is perfectly believable on Papyrus's side, though Gaster can't imagine a human would trust a monster so quickly. Had this Sans been a child, he would have considered it, but he is not.

Hypothesis number two: the human is manipulating Papyrus into helping him. Indeed, being accompanied by a child would make him less suspicious, especially with Papyrus being undoubtedly a monster. How would have they ended up together then? Had Myriad… No, Gaster doesn't want to think about her. He can't bear imagining her ashes filling up the air, her only worries being for her son and not for herself… He had made mistakes, but he had always thought she would still be waiting. Not for him, he had no illusions of the sort anymore, but she would still be waiting. For what, he didn't know. Perhaps for Papyrus to ask about the rest of the Underground, perhaps for herself to find… Someone else. But she would still be waiting, healthy and alive. He is rambling, he has no time to dwell on her death for now — not that he had had the guts to ask his son about her.

And… Hypothesis number — number three, was it? Gaster thinks so. Very well, hypothesis number three: the human fell a while ago, and met Papyrus — and possibly Myriad — no so long after. It is unlikely — or Gaster wants it to be unlikely. Myriad would have known better than letting their son sympathize with a human — even if the human in question was a lost child.

.

How should he explain the glowing then? Without a monster to teach him about magic, there was no way a human would come up with such a trick. Even then, a human alone can't use magic — they need some sort of tank to hold the magic in their place, this role being almost always held by monsters. Papyrus is too young for such a thing, he doesn't have the control to share his own magic. Alphys then? No, she is too unstable when it comes to her emotions. Gaster needs to examine the mask, it the only thing which can provides him an explanation about the nature of the glowing.

The answer is at reach, right in front of him. Gaster could just ask, yet he doubts he would be told the truth. He locks his look in the human's eyes, this "Sans", voluntarily glowing at him in hope he would trigger the same reaction than at the park. He has to see it again, to see it better — to study it, even.

.

'So…' Gaster starts, 'Sans is it? Take off your mask.'

'If I refuse?'

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Resistance? No, spite. If Gaster recalls well, such a behavior can be expected of warry humans. However, he also knows fear has a non negligeable power on them.

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'Let's say I would rather not break Papyrus's trust.'

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There it is: fear. Good, it means the human will do as asked — probably, unless he opts for attacking. Gaster conceals a smile when he notices the hesitant movement of Sans's hand: he has to keep a straight face on. If Sans understands he has no plan in case he decides to attack him, he will lose his main advantage. Gaster has taken a huge risk by taking a human into his home, for it only gives him the not-so-advantageous advantage of knowing his way around the place. However, if he is correct, Sans will talk. Now, there is no doubt Gaster would rather do this in his lab, but it is too far away…

.

'Happy?'

.

The word brings him back to reality, as he notices Sans holds the mask he was previously wearing in his hand. Gaster's hand reaches for the recorder in his pocket, turning it on while putting it on the table. He then takes the mask, slowly detailing its features.

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'Truly fascinating…' he says, turning the mask around. 'So the glowing isn't one of the mask's features. Indeed, it appears it is simply made of carved wood. A regular object, not a magical one.'

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Without the mask, Sans's wincing is impossible to ignore. Obviously, Gaster has stricken a chord. However, he is too focused on his inspection to notice.

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'What…' Sans hesitates, unsure of whether he can — and should — ask the question he has in mind. 'What are you talking to?'

'A recorder,' Gaster answers mechanically, summoning two magical hands to take notes for him.

'Why?'

'Science.'

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One single word. A word that send shivers through Sans's spine.

"Science".

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What hasn't been done in the name of science? What hasn't been tested "for science"? When does the thirst for knowledge overrides the ethics? What even is this ethic for Monsters?

The sick feeling of dehumanization, one no one wishes to feel. This feeling, rampant in the depths of the mind, that what happens to you doesn't matter — science needs to know, it cannot wait. Science will do what it takes, for you are nothing more than an object in its eyes. Pain caused to an object is irrelevant, results are the only thing that matters. But what should you do when science, in its frightening excess, seems to be lurking in the corner?

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'Kay, Sans. You're not freaked out.

Not at all.

This is Papyrus's father, not some mad Frankenstein.

He promised, and — he is staring at me!

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He tries to ignore the tickling in his fingertips. He tries to conceal the glowing. He tries to hide the fear. So he smiles — a strained, trembling smile. One that cannot hide the fear, nor can it hide the instinctive call upon magic.

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'Eh… Of course. Science.'

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Gaster's movements slow down, as he feels the air becoming tense. He promised Papyrus not to hurt the human, not to hurt his — and the word pains him — friend. What would be the point anyway? Myriad left him because of this, he wouldn't give his son a reason to do the same.

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'I won't hurt you. I merely want to make sure Papyrus is safe, and-'

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He raises his head, and freezes. He expected the glowing, he knew he would have seen it at some point. And there it is — an unnatural cyan with a tint of yellow. No, not cyan: blue. The dominant is blue, yet the yellow is strong enough for it to be mistaken for cyan. Although, there must be cyan too — yellow alone can't be enough. Integrity, justice, patience — an interesting combination.

His magical hands aren't taking notes anymore, he is too bewildered for that — not by the eyes, but by something else. The eyes are one thing, yet he knew deep inside he was bound to see them without the mask. No, the reason behind his sudden freezing is quite different, but extremely similar at the same time. The magical hands disappear, dropping the notebook they were holding on the table. In front of him, five small to middle-sized bones, not even remotely sharp — floating. And, surrounding them, a soft yet vibrant light.

A blue light.

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'Don't move.'

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He doesn't even know to whom these words are intended. He doesn't even know if they are a warning or a plea.

The only thing he knows is that they left his mouth before he could even think.

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As his hand reaches for the soul responsible for all of this.