Chapter XXXV
Need or Needlen't.
"Don't move, son. It'll be over soon."
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The needle slowly gets closer and closer, the ceiling light reflecting on its silver tips. A hand stretches the skin for the needle to pierce it effortlessly. Its movements are precise, steady, yet there is a short latency between each step. It knows what to do, but this little hesitation betrays the fact it is unsure. Knowing exactly what has to be done doesn't mean knowing the way to do it best. It will work, but is it the best way to make it work?
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'Try to stay put,' Gaster moans, not even blinking as the needle starts to pierce the skin. 'I only need a second...'
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"I don't like needles, dad…"
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'Sure, you needlen't tell me twice.'
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Sans lets out a nervous laughter, trying not to jerk as he feels the sharp tip sink into his arm. It's not painful, not more than being sofly poked with a pencil tip — not painful, only unpleasant. Yet, he can't look at this needle reaching for his blood.
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"I promise it won't hurt."
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It's true. It never hurt — not back then, not now. At least, this promise he held… No. Don't think about it. Don't think about him. Not anymore…
There is no going back, only forward. What's done is done, what's lost is lost.
So why do those memories keep flowing back?
Why did they start flowing back when they had stopped?
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'I missed the vein. I'll try to get it, but it might hurt a little.'
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The silver color needle starts to search its way to the vein. Its movements are small, yet the feeling of this metallic tip cutting a path to the blood is of the least pleasant. Sans isn't looking — he tries his best not to even see Gaster — but he can perfectly imagine what the doctor is doing.
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"The doctor knows what he's doing."
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He knows that, but it doesn't make it easier — in fact, it makes him question the authenticity of the aforesaid knowledge. Besides, Gaster isn't an actual doctor… For all he knows, his PhD — or whatever the equivalent is for Monsters — isn't exactly in the medical field, not for Humans at least.
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'I've never done this before, not on a living human.'
'Wonderful…'
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Sans can hear Gaster mutter "found it" at some point, he isn't paying enough attention to notice exactly when — or, rather, he is doing his best not to pay attention to whatever could be happening to his right arm.
Especially when he knows it's a first for the one playing with the needle.
And that they are in a kitchen which most definitely lacks proper material in case anything happens.
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'I warned you,' Gaster says, drawing out the needle. 'You still accepted.'
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Sans doesn't answer straight away, too focused on pressing tightly the wet cotton ball he has just been given on the excessively small cut. Only a dozen of seconds later does he realize Gaster talked to him, and it takes him a couple more to remember what was said.
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"I warned you, you still accepted"
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Right… Gaster told him the blood test could be quite displeasing. He also said there could be nothing to get from doing it, or that the results could be unexploitable. They were fumbling their way along, without much experience of what they were dealing with. There was no real procedure, and predicted outcomes were uncertain. All they had were trials, but even those were limited — you can't get away with everything when your subject is alive, after all.
Yet, such a situation raises many questions. What are the consequences of a partial fusion? How much do they differ from a complete one? Is such a state stable? How far can it evolve? Is it resorbable?
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'I don't have much of a choice. I…'
.
And, more importantly…
Is it dangerous?
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'I need answers.'
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"I was dead, right?"
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'Why?' Gaster asks, transfering the blood from the syringe to a few test tube-like containers.
'What?'
'Why do you need answers?'
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Gaster is fixing him, Sans can feel it. He is reluctant to answer — or, more precisely, he doesn't want to give him one without carefully formulating it first. He needs it to sound fully honest, while not being too revealing at the same time. A safe answer.
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'I can tell you don't trust me, so why take the risk?'
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Or Gaster may have a point. And he may not be as good as he thought when it comes to hiding his intentions. And he definitely hopes Papyrus won't choose this very moment to make his way to the kitchen.
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Might as well say the truth then?
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'You never planned on letting me get away with it anyway, so…' Sans puts on an incidental smile, comically shrugging. 'Well, that's a fair deal.'
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Indeed, even though Sans isn't sure of Gaster's intention, there is one certain thing : he never planned on letting him not be his test subject. He has seen how much his "condition" peaked his interest, how his look changed from stern and hostile to curious the very moment he had noticed the glowing. Now, Sans still can't explain why Gaster changed his mind so quickly — from his point of view, it simply makes no sense. He can't tell whether his friendlier behaviour was fake, not without being able to estimate how true an emotion is on a skeleton's face. After all, his main reference is Papyrus, who is an extremely expressive child compared to his harder to decipher father. Even without soft tissues, Papyrus is easy to understand. He needn't blush or redness of any kind, nor does he need brows and lips — somehow, his bones are malleable enough to mimic their movements. Unless Gaster's bones had similar properties or whatever name can be given to this oddness, he takes it from his mother. She had the same ability…
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'A deal?' Gaster raises a brow, apparently unaware a deal had ever been agreed on.
'You get to study me, what you wanted. I get to learn more about…' Sans's focused gaze fades into a vague one. 'You know.'
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He knows.
And he hopes he won't discover something that could hurt Papyrus.