AN: Merry Christmas everyone! As a Christmas present, I give you the next chapter of Another Medium! Thank you for being patient with me!

I'd also like to answer a question left by a Guest in the reviews. Since I can't respond directly, I'd like to say something here!

I'm sorry, there's no real set release schedule, though I do try to aim to have new chapters out on Sundays. I think once the next chapter comes out, I'll try to have a new chapter out every Sunday (since I've gotten a lot of the story set up already) The issue there is making time to edit with a busy personal schedule. You have my word, however, that I'll do my best to stick to that once Chapter 8 is finished.

Thanks again! Merry Christmas, and I'll see you guys in the new year!

Chapter 7

Recovery

"Well, I believe you will be a fine addition to the team. Report here tomorrow morning at 8:00 am so we can get you squared away. Congratulations, Mr. Gaine. Welcome to the -"

There was a shrill note that screeched from somewhere off to the side- from within the doctor's pocket . . . an alarm . . . THE alarm!

"Corbel!?" Gaster choked, his hand diving swiftly into his pocket to fish out the receiver. He found the device easily and retrieved an old re-purposed pager he'd found in the dump at least a decade ago. The thing wailed relentlessly, flashing a red light urgently at him. The name "Corbel- 911" flashed at him as well, followed by what looked like soundwaves. Gaster knew, however that those waves were a representation of Corbel's magical signal strength.

He looked at those waves immediately. That was close to the only reason that alarm would sound. If they got below a certain frequency, the alarm would sound automatically . . .

No . . . his signal strength was still strong. He was okay. But then, what . . . ?

"Distress beacon initiated."

He had to go! He had to get to his son NOW!

"Forgive me." Gaster said urgently to his newest intern as he reached out toward him. Quickly and a bit forcefully, he grabbed the Cat's shoulder, flooding the both of them with magic that would transport them to the entrance of the lab.

Gaine blinked in confusion as he regained his bearings and there was a lingering tingle as his nerves ignited once again.

"My apologies." Gaster explained in a hurried tone, "This is an emergency."

"Maybe I can help!" Gaine offered.

"No. Go home for now. Report here tomorrow at 8."

"Understood." Gaine responded with a nod. "Take care of whatever it is that's going on."

Gaster nodded wordlessly as he clenched onto the pager, focusing on that magical signal. On Corbel.

In an instant, he was enveloped by the searing furnace that was the CORE. Was it overheating again? Is that what was going on!? Was Corbel trapped in here?

"Corbel!?" Gaster called urgently, searching the area for his son. The frequency got him close, but it always had a bit of a margin of error, "Corbel, answer me! CORBEL!"

"DAD!" Corbel called from further in, "Dad, help! Please!"

Immediately, Gaster ran off like a shot, following the voice. As Corbel continued speaking, his words were shallow and panicked . . . and directed toward someone other than Gaster.

"S-see? I told you help was coming! Hang-hang on, okay!? Just hold on! We're gonna get you out of here! C-c-c'mon! C'mon, wake up!"

There was someone else trapped in here!?

Gaster finally found his son huddled over another unconscious figure. Corbel looked as if he'd been trying to move the other . . . was that another Skeleton!?

"Corbel!" Gaster called again.

"Dad!"

Gaster closed the distance between them quickly, rushing through the space to stop at his son's side. He didn't seem to be harmed at all, but he was deeply shaken. The figure in his lap, however, was injured and he seemed rather lifeless as his frame was supported by nothing but his son's attempt to help. By the looks of him, he was indeed, another Skeleton. Young, just like Corbel. Short in stature. And in danger of overheating.

"Who is this?" Gaster questioned, "Where did he come from?"

"I-I-I dunno!" Corbel stammered, "He-he passed out be-before I could . . . Dad, we gotta get him out of here!"

"Yes." Gaster responded, taking Corbel by the shoulder and laying a hand over the other boy's chest. "I'm going to send you home. Make sure you lay him out with his feet elevated. Get cold cloths and water. Bring down his temperature."

"D-dad . . . ?" Corbel said softly, his hands were shaking almost violently.

"It's okay, son." Gaster assured, "Just stay calm. I need to make sure everything here is secure and I'll be home as soon as I can. If you're lucky, Mom hasn't left for her lesson yet. She may be able to help you. You can do this, Corbel. You can help him!"

Corbel hesitated for a moment as the grip tightened on his shoulder. This other Skeleton guy was depending on him . . .

For him, he could do this!

But what if he screwed it up? This was another monster's life he was dealing with here! What if he did something wrong and things took a turn for the worst.

No. His dad trusted him with this.

"O-okay." He answered, still unable to shake the stammer.

Gaster nodded. "Go!"

A sharp tingling sensation filled Corbel then, as if all of his "nerves" shut off all at once and turned back on again like a flickering switch.

At once, the first thing Corbel noted was how significantly cooler it was. When he focused his eyes again, he was looking directly at the grey door. He was home.

Now to see what he could do for the other boy.

Corbel shifted his grip on him, trying to situate him in a way that made it easier to move with him in tow. As he tried, however, he noted that his fingers weren't responding well at all. He was almost out of juice. The distress beacon must have really eaten at the charge.

With what he could manage, he tried to make a fist to knock on the door.

"M-mom!" He called, hoping to high heaven that there would be an answer. "Mom, are you home!?"

Corbel slumped with the other Skeleton's arm around his shoulders. If the other guy couldn't stand, there was no way he could support him like this. He had to get him up and onto his back. Then, he could carry the other guy inside piggy back.

As he struggled with the dead weight, there was a shift from inside and the doorknob rattled.

"Mom!"

"Corbel!? Honey, what's -"

Nyala gasped when she opened the door and saw. Anything that she might have been carrying, was instantly discarded and clamored on the floor as she covered her mouth.

"M-mom!?" Corbel pleaded, "Mom. Please, he needs help!"

Nyala threw the door open, keeping it in place with her art case as she rushed to the Skeleton boy's other side. Together with Corbel, they were able to walk the boy inside and help him onto the loveseat.

"What happened?" Nyala asked urgently. She needed to know how best to help. "He's burning up!"

"I-I found him in the CORE. He was hurt pretty badly and-and he passed out . . . I-I-I think it might be heatstroke! Dad said to keep his feet elevated and to give him cold cloths and water. But . . . but he's not waking up! Maybe when we get his temperature back to normal . . . ? Maybe when he rests some more . . . ? But what if he doesn't wake up? W-what if something's really wrong!? What if- what if we're already too late!?"

"Shh." Nyala jumped in quietly, taking both of Corbel's trembling hands in hers. "We're not going to let anything bad happen to him. For now, let's focus on what we can do to help him. Honey, you grab towels and I'll get ice water. We're going to cool him down."

Quickly, they parted to complete their tasks, Nyala taking an extra moment to prop the other Skeleton's feet up on the arm of the loveseat while resting his head on a pillow on the seat cushion. Feet elevated: Check.

"Did he tell you his name?" Nyala called down the hall as she worked in the kitchen, finding a large pot and filling it with all the ice they had.

"N-no. He seemed really out of it . . ."

"Did you happen to CHECK him?"

"No." Corbel repeated. "I didn't . . . it didn't even . . . I-I . . ."

"It's alright, Honey! I'll do it. How are we on those towels?"

"R-right here. Aaah!"

With a bit of a fumble, Corbel tried to juggle the small collection of towels in his hands, but unable to find a decent hold on them, they tumbled from his grip.

"Damn it . . ." He hissed, dropping to his knees to pick them up.

Filling the pot with water, Nyala released a long breath. Her poor baby was struggling so much with this. The whole ordeal seemed to have really done a number on him.

Turning off the tap, Nyala took the pot to the coffee table in the living room before slipping through the hallway to meet Corbel's curled form. His hands and his breath were still so shaky.

"Corbel." Nyala sighed lowering to her knees and reaching out again to take the boy's hands. "Honey, breathe. Everything's going to be okay. Breathe for me?"

Corbel focused down to where his mother held his hands, comforting and secure and he drew in a breath, trying to let it out slowly. It was still shallow and it was still shaky, but when Nyala guided him with deep breaths of her own, Corbel seemed to visually settle. His breaths became steadier and, though his hands weren't completely back to normal, they weren't shaking quite as violently as before.

"Better?" Nyala asked.

"I . . . guess." Corbel answered, looking up again from their hands, past his mother and to the boy on the couch, "But what about him . . . ? What if-"

"Don't you start that again, you hear me?" Nyala said firmly, "Listen, honey. You did everything exactly right. You saw someone who needed you and you did everything you could to make sure he got help. You can't second guess yourself now. Got it?"

Corbel nodded, turning his attention back to his mother. "Got it."

Nyala nodded back, looking back down to their hands.

"Why don't you change out your cuffs. These ones aren't doing you any good right now. And your charger is still at the lab, isn't it? Grab your spares. And change out of those clothes while you're at it. I'll grab the towels from here."

"But Mom . . ."

"It's alright. Just keep breathing, change, and meet me back in the living room. Don't worry, baby. We'll save him."

Corbel nodded again as he pulled away and prepared to stand.

"O-okay."

Corbel stood and took the final few steps toward the door to his room. He closed it behind him with a soft click.

Nyala let out a long breath of her own, reaching out to collect the towels Corbel selected. Her son had already taken on so much responsibility for this other Skeleton's life that it was clearly messing with his head. He needed to step away for a moment and let someone else take over for a while before he broke down completely.

With the towels in hand, Nyala made her way back into the living room. The other Skeleton still had yet to move, but at the very least, he was peaceful in his sleep.

Dipping the smallest of the towels in the ice water, Nyala concentrated. She hadn't needed to go into a battle scenario for quite some time, but once she focused on the feeling, it was like second nature all over again.

"Sans, is it . . . ?" She hummed. "Oh my . . . only 20 max HP? And you're only at 1 right now! It's a good thing my Corbel found you when he did, Sans. Anything more and I'm afraid you might not have made it . . . now I'm not the best at healing but-"

A figure appeared then at the front door, still propped open by Nyala's art case and very concerned Gaster came through. Along with his own briefcase, he carried Corbel's backpack. A blue jacket was draped over his arm.

"How is he? Has he responded yet?"

Immediately, Gaster could feel the heaviness in the air and he knew he'd walked in the middle of something. Within seconds, the heaviness lifted and everything went back to normal.

Nyala lifted her eyes to her husband.

"He hasn't moved since Corbel and I brought him inside. But this is a lucky little boy all the same. If Corbel hadn't called for help. If you hadn't sent them home, there's a real possibility he would have died in the CORE. Wingdings . . . he needs your help. He's only at 1 HP right now out of 20 Max. Can you heal him?"

Gaster circled the couch, setting the things he brought in on the carpet, and lowered himself to his knees beside his wife as he studied the boy.

"It probably wouldn't do any good to heal him before his body is ready for it. Let's stabilize him first and then we'll slowly bring his HP up as well."

Nyala nodded reluctantly, deciding instead to continue what she'd been doing before. Reaching out to cradle the boy, she sat him up slightly and laid a few dry towels beneath him to cover the couch. Fishing the smallest towel now from the pot and wringing it out, she touched the boy's face. With the cool damp cloth, she stroked soothingly at his skull and at his neck. Another, slightly larger towel went into the pot to gather moisture. That towel was laid out over his chest to help lower his core temperature.

"Corbel said he believes it might be heatstroke." Nyala informed, continuing in her work.

"Did he?" Gaster sighed, standing now, "Very observant. However, if it were heatstroke, it would be much more severe. He's not shivering and he hasn't been violently sick . . . not that it would be that obvious in a Skeleton . . . I believe this poor soul is suffering from heat syncope- just a couple of stages below heatstroke. And if no one had been there, I'm afraid it would have escalated to that point rather quickly. We will still need to monitor his condition carefully, however, to make sure he recovers well. Corbel really did save the day here . . . Where is he?"

"I sent him to his room to cool off. He was so worried and sending himself into a panic. And his cuffs died on him too, so he's switching to his backup set."

Nyala sighed again, re-wetting the towel and folding it to lay across the boy's forehead. He was still extremely warm to the touch, but the towels and the ice water were definitely helping.

"Rest well, Sans." She said softly with a final stroke to the skull before leaning back from her work.

"Sans?" Gaster questioned.

"Yes. When I CHECKED him, that's what his stats said."

"Huh . . . odd. Usually 'Sans' is more of a middle name . . . That aside, does he . . . look familiar to you at all?"

Nyala shook her head slowly. "You?"

"Not at all. I wish I knew where he came from . . . After all this time . . . another Skeleton. It's incredible! If he's here, then, maybe there are others. Perhaps they are in hiding. I'll have to ask him . . . after he wakes, of course."

Gaster took a few steps away, eyeing the door that led to Corbel's room.

"I should check on Corbel." He sighed again.

Nyala reached up to grab at Gaster's sleeve.

"Leave him be for the moment. When he's ready, he'll come out. I'm sure he'll want to check on Sans as well."

As if on cue, there was a slight rattle from down the hall and Corbel's bedroom door opened. He'd changed from his lab coat and business attire into a loose T-shirt and a pair of pajama pants. He had a spare set of clothing with him.

"Just in case he wants to change." He said softly. "I don't know what size he wears . . . but anything's better than nothing, right?"

Gaster took a few more steps forward until he was right in front of his son. He didn't speak, and for a while, neither did Corbel. They just stared at each other with so many unspoken thoughts floating between them.

Moments later, Corbel closed the gap, nearly crashing face-first into his father's chest. In response, Gaster wrapped his arms around the younger Skeleton in a firm embrace, one hand cradling the back of his skull. Corbel returned the embrace, soon afterward, catching his father tightly around the middle in a crushing grip.

"Well done, son." Gaster said softly so only Corbel could hear him, "Sans is out of danger now because of your efforts. Doubtless, he'll recover well."

" . . . Sans? His name is Sans?"

"It is. Your mother CHECKED him and began initial treatment. He's resting now and his temperature is dropping."

"Thank goodness." Corbel sighed, keeping his face buried in his father's coat.

"And what about you? Are you feeling better now?"

Corbel nodded, finally pulling away from the embrace, wiping a bit at his eyes and letting out a slightly embarrassed chuckle. "Yeah. I kinda freaked out there for a bit. Sorry about that."

"No need to apologize. It was a stressful and harrowing situation to happen so suddenly like that, especially when you haven't had any training of what to do in a situation like that. You did well."

Corbel sighed, shifting his gaze to the other boy once again. "At least he didn't die. I don't think I could've handled that. I'll just . . . I'll feel better when he actually wakes up and can tell us that he's okay. I mean we can go by looks and stats and all, but I just- I wanna hear it from him, you know?"

"That makes sense." Nyala answered, standing from her post and making her way toward the other two. "How about, until then, we look after him in shifts. Wingdings, you watch him now, Dearest. Keep a close eye on his HP. Corbel, you help me in the kitchen. I'm sure he'll be hungry when he wakes up."

With the touch of his mother's hand on his shoulder, Corbel tore his eyes away from Sans once again and followed the direction into the kitchen.

Sans continued to sleep through the night. He must have been extremely tired in order to need THAT much rest. There could be no doubt that he'd been through a lot, quite possibly for an extended period of time. The Gaster family agreed to do whatever they could in order to help him.

When night finally did come around, Corbel took it upon himself to watch over Sans, setting up a few blankets and taking refuge on the couch in case he woke up during the night. He even brought a light blanket for Sans. His temperature was nearing normal levels, the doctor had healed his HP to his (extremely low) Max, and everything else seemed normal enough. So there was no danger in letting Sans have a blanket and pillow as he rested.

As Corbel kept watch, a million questions came to mind. Where had Sans come from? How did he end up in the CORE in the first place? How did he end up so beat up? Was he running away from something . . . or someone? How come he'd never seen him around before . . . ?

. . . Another Skeleton . . . Before Sans, Corbel had never seen another Skeleton outside of his family and only knew what he did about his people from books and his parents' accounts . . . to finally meet another . . . it was like . . . a miracle? Yeah, that sounded about right.

Several times throughout the night, Corbel crossed the room to touch the backs of his fingers to Sans' skull, checking his temperature . . . even when it was pretty clear that his temperature had returned to safe levels and his parents had gone to bed for the night, Corbel still checked to make sure it stayed that way. He was still worried. There was no shaking that feeling until Sans woke up.

And when he did wake up, there would be a meal waiting for him. Corbel and his mother had put together a soup and some breadsticks. Nothing heavy. After all, they didn't know Sans' full story yet and had no idea what state he would be in . . . they wanted to make sure that he would be able to handle whatever they made for him. So soup it was.

Several quiet hours passed, with Corbel keeping watch, checking Sans' temperature, re-wetting and reapplying the washcloth on his skull, and stirring the soup so it wouldn't settle too much. The cycle continued until Corbel was forced to admit that he was getting drowsy. He found it difficult to even keep his eyes open for more than a few minutes. Before he passed out completely, he decided to put the soup away so it wasn't left out overnight. With a final brush of Sans' skull, and making sure his blanket was pulled up, Corbel took up his own couch, pulling his blanket up as well. He was out within two minutes, the fatigue finally catching up to him.

It happened a few hours after that. In the peaceful quiet of the early morning, while the Skeletons slept, there was a slight stir, tiny at first, and a miniscule twitching. A low groan joined it moments later.

A sharp breath and the one on the loveseat bolted upright, suppressing a cry, blue magic glowing faintly in his hands. He panicked, trying to catch his breath, his eyes darting all around, trying to make sense of his surroundings.

"What the . . ."

Right away, he found it slightly difficult to move, his arms and legs getting caught up in something . . . a sheet? A blanket . . . ?

"Wait. What?"

He took another look through the darkness, raising his magic a bit more to cast a glow and light the area around him. Slowly, he was able to put together a general idea of . . . something.

He was inside . . . somewhere and beneath him was cushioned . . . a couch? Covered in towels. In front of him . . . a table of some kind, with a . . . random pot with what looked to be water.

The outer walls of this place was filled with furnishings and belongings and art, coats, a smock, cases . . . was that an easel?

The home of an artist.

Across from him was another couch . . . with another person sleeping there. It looked like he was deep in sleep . . . and he must have been if he wasn't disturbed by his sudden movement and noise.

Wait a minute . . . it was that kid! That kid he ran into when he'd been exploring the CORE! The kid was curled up on the opposite couch with a blanket of his own. He hugged his pillow, gripping into it lightly just beneath the point where he rested his head. A slight tug pulled on the corner of Sans' smile. As much as the other boy protested to being a kid, he sure did look like one right then.

So, this was his home then? Huh . . . He honestly didn't know what he had been expecting. He didn't know anything about the kid except that he was a Skeleton, he worked around the CORE and his name . . . Began with a "C" or a "K" or something.

Oh and he kinda saved his life! And brought him home! And took him out of the heat. And gave him a couch to sleep on . . . Which was so much better than the floor. And . . . And . . .

A sharp pang shot through Sans then and he curled in on himself, clutching at his middle, where his stomach should have been.

It hurt so badly . . .

It'd been about four days since his last meal. It was finally starting to catch up to him. Glowing vegetables and ketchup packets weren't enough to be considered a meal. The more he tried to move, the more he felt the effects. And truth be told . . . He felt a little sick to his stomach . . . Not only that but the throbbing headache that had been bothering him for a while now decided to remind him of its existence as well. Well, after being beaten, blown up, buried alive, starved, and roasted, he supposed, it was only normal to feel a little less than 100 percent.

Maybe . . . Maybe he could hold off a little longer. After all, it was still extremely early and he was kinda crashing uninvited in someone else's home . . . Which was actually kinda normal for him . . . But normally there weren't people in the home with him!

That changed everything . . . He couldn't just take their food. They'd already done so much for him he couldn't just . . .

That pain returned and again he debated.

Maybe he could force himself to sleep it off. If he was lucky, maybe the family would even offer to . . . no . . . That was being selfish. He shouldn't just assume . . . He'd already inconvenienced them enough . . .

Maybe he should just leave now. Headache and stomach pain aside, he no longer felt dizzy or delusional. He'd been healed. He had no doubt that he would be able to walk now until he found something.

Yeah, that's what he would do. He wouldn't burden these people anymore than he already had. And hey, maybe he could find something nearby, maybe someone on the surface threw something away that he could nab from the dump. No, it wasn't much of a plan, but it was-

"Oh, are you awake?" Said a deep voice from the hallway, "That's good to see. I trust you slept well."

The sudden voice took the boy off guard and he just sat there in silence, the only light, coming from the glow of his own magic.

"I hope you weren't planning on leaving just yet." The voice continued, stepping completely into the room and flicking his wrist toward the back wall. Instantly, the living room was engulfed in a warm light, making it much easier to make out the shapes lining the walls and the figure entering from the hallway. When the boy's attention whipped to follow the direction of the silent command, he was able to glimpse the final moments of the magic hand the figure had created.

At the sudden light, the boy lying on the other couch let out a low groan and frowned in his sleep, clutching the pillow closer to him. He didn't wake.

"My son, Corbel." The figure introduced the sleeping boy with a soft nod and a slight gesture. The figure was a tall Skeleton . . . Though somehow, he seemed a bit different than other skeletons the boy had seen before coming here. His features seemed slightly off compared to what he was used to. He supposed, however, that those differences changed depending on the monster. It seemed he was already dressed for the day in crisply pressed slacks and a fresh button-down shirt. He wore a spotless white lab coat to complete the ensemble.

"Corbel is the one who found you in the CORE." The figure continued, "And he acted quickly to make sure we were able to get you out in time."

Corbel! That's right! That was his name! He looked back to the sleeping boy and around the room again.

This place . . .

"Where . . . ?"

"The only place I knew where you could get immediate assistance. Welcome to the Gaster residence. I am Dr. W.D. Gaster, Royal Scientist to King Asgore and Queen Toriel."

The boy's gaze was glued to the scientist now as he gave a slight tilt to his head in welcome. This was the Doctor!? The one who built the CORE and found a way to convert thermal energy into a safe . . . well, almost safe . . . clean, renewable energy source for his entire community. This was that guy!? And this was his home . . .

And that kid was his kid . . . Well, that did explain how someone that young could land a gig like that working at the CORE.

"You were asleep all afternoon and all night." Gaster explained, "Corbel was so worried about you that he didn't want to leave your side." He let out a terse chuckle, "Even now, it seems as if he wasn't able to pull himself away. Really it was Corbel and my wife, Nyala who tended to you when you were brought here. They made sure you were comfortable and they helped to bring down your temperature."

When the boy frowned, confused, Gaster continued in his explanation.

"Heat syncope. It's a very serious heat-related illness. When Corbel found you, you were delirious and weak. You could barely stand or speak and your HP was incredibly low. It looked like perhaps you'd been in a fight or you'd been hurt. And when you lost consciousness, Corbel was convinced it was heatstroke and informed me right away. You're lucky. If it was heatstroke, I have no doubt that yesterday would have gone a lot differently."

So . . . basically. The kid really did save his life. But the doctor wasn't going to say it like that. Maybe he felt that it was too boastful . . . ?

"Tell 'im I said thanks."

The doctor tilted his head in question, "You won't be staying with us?"

The boy shook his head, "I mean, thanks for everything. Really, but I've already taken up too much of yours and your family's time and energy. I should really -

He groaned as he shifted to stand, that stomach pain stabbing him again as if in a reminder.

The doctor sighed, "I thought that might be the case." He said. "When was the last time you've had anything to eat, Sans?"

At first the boy hesitated, but after a moment or two, he thought about the question rationally. The doctor already said that he and his family had been keeping a close watch on him and had already checked his HP . . . if they'd been regularly checking his stats . . . of course they'd know that name.

He lowered his eyes as a bit of a "frown" came over his features.

"I see." Gaster answered, "Why don't you come to the kitchen table? There is some soup here for you. I know it may be odd having soup this early in the morning, but my wife insisted she make you something substantial yet easily managed regardless of your current state."

The boy continued to keep his gaze averted.

"She did . . . ?"

"Of course she did. You are our guest here."

"A guest . . ." He repeated as if it was some sort of foreign concept. "I- but I've only been an inconvenience to you ever since I showed up. Since before I showed up. I'm a . . . I just- I shouldn't be here."

"Nonsense." Gaster pressed, "From what I can see, you're a young Skeleton who hasn't had the best of luck recently. You deserve a bit of a break. A little repose. If only until you're well enough to continue on your way. Though, if I'm honest, I had been hoping you would stay around for a while longer. I would love to search you skull for a few things and I'm sure Corbel wouldn't mind the company of another Skeleton."

That's right . . . Skeletons were pretty rare. At least that's what the Frog and the Carrot said. That's why they sent him to find Dr. Gaster to begin with- the hope of finding a familiar face.

If anything, his frown set in even more.

"At least have some soup." Gaster pressed, holding out his hand to help the boy stand. When he did, there was the slightest flash of something across his features, something that concerned him. "It'll certainly get you back up to full HP."

Somehow, Sans thought that last part was the reason the doctor had that split-second concerned look. In that fragment of a moment, he had been able to check his stats again and compare them to whatever information he'd been able to collect before. Was there something odd about his HP?

"Where's it at now?" Sans asked in curiosity.

Gaster hummed, caught, "Only at about half right now. Which is a bit troubling since I healed you to full health myself before bed last night . . . you really should have some soup. And perhaps a bit more rest. Perhaps that will stabilize your HP so it doesn't drain so quickly."

Hesitantly, Sans took the doctor's hand and allowed him to pull him up to a standing position.

"I don't believe you ever answered my question." He said, leading the boy to the kitchen. "When was the last time you had a proper meal?"

Again, the boy hesitated and he thought about the answer.

"No wonder . . . If you really need to think that hard about it, then it's been too long. Here, have a seat."

Obediently, Sans sat, pulling up to the table. Meanwhile, Gaster, who seemed to have been preparing to leave before, made his way through the kitchen, grabbing everything they would need for their meal. Within moments, they were both seated with bowls of last night's dinner in front of them.

At first, Sans seemed a little apprehensive about accepting, still feeling as if he was imposing on the family's kindness. But at Gaster's assurance that he wasn't, as well as the reminder stab in his gut, he picked up the spoon and scooped up the broth, being sure to get some of the potatoes and sausage pieces and was that . . . kale?

They say hunger is the best spice, but even if he hadn't been so hungry, the meal would have been phenomenal! There was a bit of spice throughout that gave it a comforting warmth. That warmth filled Sans and seemed to reach from his toes all the way to his eyes. He had no idea food could have this kind of effect.

"Your wife made this!? It's incredible! I'll have to remember to thank her when I see her."

This is what Sans WANTED to say, but there wasn't enough time between bites to get the words out. Before he knew, the soup was gone and he was left trying to sop up anything the spoon couldn't get with a torn off end of breadstick.

There was a slight chuckle from the other side of the table.

"Would you like some more soup, Sans?" Gaster questioned, lowering his own spoon into his bowl which he was still working on.

Sans, a little embarrassed by his own ravenous appetite only hesitated a second before nodding earnestly.

"Alright then." Gaster nodded back, "I won't discourage you since it seems you really do need the fuel. However, I must caution you to be careful that you don't overdo it and make yourself sick."

If Sans had skin, he would have gone red at the comment and he struggled for a rebuttal. However, seeing as he did kinda just inhale that last bowl, there wasn't much he could say.

"I'll try not to overdo it, then." He managed to get out.

It was about halfway through the second bowl that there was another addition to their table.

A lanky drowsy figure plopped heavily into another chair surrounding the table. His eyes half-lidded and it seemed as if he was only halfway aware of his surroundings.

"Ah, Corbel." The doctor greeted, "Good morning, son."

"Mmmnhh." The young Skeleton answered. Apparently, that was supposed to mean something. "Ooorning . . ."

"Perhaps you need another few hours as well." Gaster noted.

Sans remained silent as he studied the other. He didn't even seem to notice he was there. Sans wondered if this was a normal occurrence. Maybe the kid was just not good at mornings. Vaguely, in the back of his mind, Sans wondered if the boy had ever been one to sleepwalk.

Corbel continued to sit blankly as his eyes closed once again, leaving those around him to wonder if he would fall face-first onto the table. Maybe he really had fallen asleep again.

"Is he . . . ?" Sans began quietly as not to startle him.

"He'll come around." Gaster answered, continuing his meal. He did, however keep his eyes glued to his son, as if he'd topple over at any moment.

"Soup for breakfast is it?" Said another melodic voice. In moments, another presence showed itself in from the hallway and a woman floated in, still wearing her watercolor nightgown and matching robe. For a second, as she tied the robe's belt around her waist, she looked to the couches and was surprised to find them empty. A few moments passed before she turned her attention to the kitchen table.

"Oh! You're both awake!" She very nearly gasped, "How fantastic! I'm so glad to see you're up!"

She made her way to the kitchen and dining area, being sure to stop at Corbel's chair and give him a quick kiss to the top of his skull.

"Good morning, Mr. Sixteen." She said softly, hugging him from the side and giving him a second kiss to his cheek, "I can't believe how fast that time just flew!"

Corbel opened his eyes to slits once again, woken up by the gestures.

"Mmmooommmm!" He groaned, raising a hand to wipe at his eyes and actually begin to wake up.

"Didn't sleep well?"

"Mmmnn-nnghh." Was his answer as he shook his head, "Ffffellsleeeepannndehh. 'eFfforeSannsnevverwoookeupp."

"But, Sans is right here." Mrs. Gaster answered right away, automatically able to decipher the sleep-speek. She must have had to translate on a regular basis, "The only one who isn't awake now, is you."

Corbel hummed in question, daring to open his eyes a little more, focusing on the strange shape where the empty chair usually was at the table.

"Mmngh . . . Saanns?"

Slightly apprehensive about being put on the spot, but oddly interested in just how sluggishly his savior was moving, Sans gave a little bit of a wave.

That seemed to have done it. Corbel's eyes went wide and his face fell into something that could only be described as utter shock.

"Sans!"

". . . Hi."

Then . . . he saw everything just now!? The stumbling into the room, the incoherence, the nearly falling asleep at the table . . . His mother's coddling!?

Completely silenced, Corbel shifted his gaze. His return wave was almost undetectable, though the faint magic blush that flushed his features was a little more noticeable.

"So, what do you say? How about some soup?" Doctor Gaster suggested, attempting to cut through the awkward situation, "I know it's a bit unorthodox as far as a birthday breakfast is concerned, but it is a fine opportunity and a chance to get properly acquainted with our guest."

Before Corbel could even answer, a bowl was set before him with a spoon. He looked up to the one who placed it there, the mild shock still evident in his expression, to find his mother's smile and a quick wink in his direction.

From across the table, the newcomer raised his spoon add if delivering a toast.

"Happy Birthday, kid." He nodded.

"I . . . I guess I can't refuse now." Corbel sighed, letting a tiny smile sneak onto his face. "Thanks . . ."