A.N. Sorry it's so late! This was really starting to run long and I ended up spilling this part of the story in half. I really hope it'll be worth the wait! I think it will be. Let's see what you think. After all of the excitement of the last chapter, plus all of the excitement of life, time kinda got away from me. Sorry.

Anyway, enough excuses

EDIT: There is a song that is meant to be played during this chapter. When it get's to the right part (and you'll know when that is) Go look up "Light in the Hallway" by Pentatonix on You Tube. It changes the whole dynamic of the scene.

Chapter 7

Part 1: Peek-a-Boo

It took a while for tensions to settle, but once all magic had dissipated and Gaster had removed the force field, everyone was able to at least communicate with each other without worry of being attacked.

Sans had to admit that after the magic he used, he felt a little lightheaded. Okay, part of that was a lie. The fight, plus the drain on his HP, plus the aftermath of the feedback resonance with Papyrus had left Sans lightheaded, but he wasn't going to admit it. It was revealed, however, when his legs gave out on him and he fell onto his knees.

Initially, both Papyrus and Gaster started forward to help him, but after adamant protests from Sans, the other two stood their ground and allowed him to right himself. Sans didn't stand right away, choosing instead to sit in the hallway and carry on the conversation from that position.

It was a relief to see all three Skeletons converse civilly and without the tense air between them. Granted, Gaster still didn't trust the former specimen at all, no matter how Sans felt about it. Several times, Gaster sighed, having to remind himself that "Papyrus" was no longer an "it".

Together, they agreed that Papyrus would become Sans' full-time project. Sans was to take complete responsibility over Papyrus. In this case, those responsibilities would entail: monitoring his education, training, etiquette, and keeping him out of Gaster's way. Gaster would have preferred Papyrus to be out of his sight completely, but if it was to be living in the lab with Sans now, encounters with it would be inevitable.

At first, Sans seemed a bit overwhelmed by it all, but after an unsympathetic "Welcome to parenthood" from Gaster paired with seeing Papyrus' reaction to the thought of being around Sans more, eventually, he accepted the job willingly. He'd even smiled at the thought as he finally pulled himself up to his feet to escort Papyrus away to his room. For the meantime, Sans supposed, it would be THEIR room. Maybe he could convince Gaster to let Papyrus have the room next door to his. Best not to press his luck today, though.

Gaster noted, as Sans led Papyrus away and rattled off all of the things they would have to do to get him set up, that he would have to start using his other hand in order to keep track of Sans' smiles now. This latest one was number six.

Letting out a long and calming breath, Gaster turned as well to head in the opposite direction. There were still a few things he needed to take care of, but after those (and maybe putting off a few until tomorrow), he would finally be able to catch up on the rest he'd lost the day before. Besides, he still had to check up on that "special project" from King Asgore.

It didn't take as long as he thought it would. Maybe it was the promise of sleep that motivated him or maybe it was the events of earlier that kept him awake. Or maybe it was because he decided to put off the "special project" for tomorrow. In any case, Dr. Gaster was relieved to be back in his bedroom. Unceremoniously, he removed his lab coat and hung it up on a hook on the inward facing surface of his door and he kicked off his shoes, leaving them to line the wall next to the entryway.

Gaster sunk into an old green couch and immediately tilted his head back to rest. So much had happened in the past thirty-six hours that to him it almost didn't even feel real. He had to make a mental list of it all just to be sure he was remembering correctly.

There really had been so many new discoveries and breakthroughs that it was hard to take in the scope of it all without making that list. Let's see, aside from completing the inventory prep for Spring Cleaning there had been:

The discovery of P-497305

The revival of the aforementioned project

The destruction of the storage unit in the sub-basement

The naming of the project to "Papyrus"

The fiasco of the examination room

Then there came the actual Spring Cleaning, which was still not entirely complete. Sans still had a few chores to take care of after all. That aside, it had taken a good portion of the day.

Then, finally, the stand-off from just under three hours ago, during which time he had learned:

Just why Sans was so adamant about keeping Papyrus alive

The deep connection the two of them share

Just what was happening to Sans' HP

Papyrus actually had possession of his own soul

But the most startling revelation of all was this:

Project 497305 was never a failure to begin with. In fact, it was quite the opposite. It had been functioning just the way he had intended from the very beginning. The project, Papyrus, was an overwhelming success. He had chosen the wrong target, but he was functioning perfectly.

It was with this thought in mind that Gaster allowed a pleased smile to cross his features as he slipped off into unconsciousness.

The day had been long and he was relieved to finally make it back home, even if it meant only a short hour or two that he would be able to relax before lights out and having to reset once again.

It was already late and lamps had already been snuffed for the night. This meant he had to rely on the glowing trail of mushrooms to find his way home. Sooner or later, he would find a better way to light up this godforsaken underground and he thought he might be onto something at work, something that could change the lives of the underground monsters for good. Until then, though, glowing mushrooms and twinkling rocks in the ceiling would have to do.

He approached the grey door and even before he could reach out and turn the handle, he was greeted by a shrill squeal of delight.

"Daddy's home!" The little voice cheered.

"Now, Corbel," Another sweetly smooth voice sounded. It carried a slight accent with it that wasn't native to the area, "What did I say about snooping? Come away from the door, or he can't get in."

Immediately, Gaster's expression shifted as whatever worries he had been harboring lifted and he was left with nothing but joy and relief to be home. He opened the door only slightly, deciding to play a little game. He didn't push the door open, but left it right there next to the frame. The slightest touch could close it again.

For a few long moments, there was silence as the anticipation rose. Finally, sick of waiting, the curious child stepped forward.

"C'mon, Daddy. I know you're there!" Corbel Gaster's tiny voice called as he approached, chuckling as he began to piece together what was going on. With a few more careful tip-toed steps forward, the child reached out, ripping the door wide open to greet his father.

"BOO!" He shouted.

There was no response. The doorway was completely vacant and any sign of his father was gone.

"Dad . . . ?" The little boy questioned, taking a cautious step out of the room—

Only to be caught up into waiting arms with a playful roar.

Corbel squealed again, genuinely surprised and elated by the taller Skeleton's attack. He laughed, squirming in his father's grip, as he was pulled close in a tight embrace.

Gaster laughed too as he snuggled against his son, cherishing every laugh and every protest. After all, he was growing up so quickly and he wouldn't stay this small forever. Gaster had trouble accepting that five years had already flown by so stealthily and he wondered where all that time had gone. Corbel already had such long limbs. No doubt he was going to be tall like his father when he grew up. And with such strong cheekbones, he would grow to be handsome too. He dreaded that if the next ten years flew by like these past five, Corbel would be dating before Gaster could blink again.

"Daddy!" The boy's small tones protested, shocking his father back into the moment. He was still struggling to escape Gaster's grip, "Daddy, let me go! C'mon!"

"Nope." Gaster answered with a smile, never relinquishing his hold on the boy, "You're stuck with me now. I just decided I'm never going to let you go again. So, when you start school tomorrow, I'll just have to go with you!"

"No!" Corbel whined, "That'll be the worst! And you're too big for the chairs anyway. You have to let go!"

"No I don't!" The father argued, "I'll just have to bring my own chair and you'll be stuck in class with me glued to your side!"

The soft laughter of the third Skeleton made itself known as she approached the pair of them, wrapping her arms around them both and pressing her skull to Corbel's other side.

"Now who said the two of you get to have all the fun? If your father's going to school with you, then I'm coming too!"

"Mom!" The boy groaned, "Please no! That's way too embarrassing! No one else will have their Moms and Dads with them!" The boy continued to struggle until he eventually and inevitably gave into a fit of coughs. He had expended his energy and his strength trying to fight off his parents.

"Okay, okay." Gaster gave in, releasing his hold on the boy and setting him down on the ground, "You win. You get to go to school on your own. But . . . in return, I want you to tell me everything you do in class, okay?"

The boy's coughing subsided momentarily as he made a nod, smiling up at his father. The coughs continued immediately afterward as he fought to catch his breath.

"I'm sorry, buddy." Gaster sighed, lowering himself down to his son's level. He rubbed between the boy's vertebrae soothingly, "I guess we got a little carried away there, didn't we. Are you okay?"

The boy nodded again as he drew in deeper and deeper breaths and only let a few coughs slip through. It didn't escape Gaster's notice though that with those coughs came little clouds of bone dust. His condition was getting worse. He also noted Corbel's hands as he tried to cover his coughing, which was pointless considering the holes in his palms that were still steadily growing larger.

"There's my big strong boy." Gaster encouraged as he backed away slightly, "Alright, it's getting late and you've got a big day tomorrow. So, shouldn't you be getting ready for bed?"

"Aw man!" Corbel pouted. "I wanted to stay up and play with you and Mom some more!"

"And so you have." Nyala Gaster interjected. "You got to stay up until Dad got home. Now, go get ready for bed. Maybe, if you ask nicely, Dad will read you a story."

Corbel's eyes lit up at the idea. With his father coming home late almost every night, the boy was usually already asleep and almost never got the chance to see him. The thought of him reading the story tonight was enough to get him to listen.

"Will you, Dad? Please!?"

Gaster looked back at his son with an air of mock deliberation as if he were weighing his options. Finally, with a "defeated" smile, he nodded.

"Of course I will."

Corbel cheered again, turning on his toes as he left to complete his assignment. The whole time, the promise of his father reading his story echoed in his head as he ran off.

Gaster stood finally and turned to greet his wife properly.

"Nyala." He smiled, taking her into his arms and touching his skull to hers in a gentle sign of affection, "How is the most wonderful and the most beautiful monster today?"

"Hey," The woman protested with a sly grin, "Isn't that my line?"

"Well, in that case, 'beautiful' is not the word I would've used."

"So," Nyala pushed, excited to hear the answer, "How was your day? Any new discoveries or breakthroughs I should be alerting the Underground about?"

Gaster narrowed his eye sockets, "No . . ." He directed, switching the focus back to his wife. "I asked you first. So you have to answer. Those are the rules."

Nyala shook her head, her grin never letting up. Gaster always enjoyed hearing about her adventures in elementary school teaching.

"Well, there's not much to report considering school starts TOMORROW, Numbskull! Today was all about getting Corbel ready for kindergarten."

Gaster chuckled as he began to rock back and forth, holding the smaller form in his arms. He supposed he'd walked directly into that one. But no matter what she said, it was the sound of her voice Gaster craved, soft like velvet and smooth like silk And no matter how often he listened to her speak, he could never really get enough of that adorable accent. If he had to guess, he would have said her family tree had its roots somewhere near the Caribbean before they settled in his little town. Of course, this had been before the monsters had been forced underground. Otherwise he never would have had the opportunity to meet the woman he now called his wife.

Well, wherever the accent was from, he loved listening to it and if given the opportunity, he would have stayed there all night just rocking and listening to her recite the grocery list. It was so soothing to the taller Skeleton that he couldn't help but hold her close as he moved to the sound. The motion was calming as the two of them swayed and to anyone looking in, they could've been dancing. He never wanted to stop.

Then, seemingly out of absolutely nothing, something happened Gaster couldn't explain. It was as if the whole scene shook. It wasn't even a physical shake, but it felt like the mood of the whole world made a sudden stop and plummeted, crashing into the ground.

Somewhere in his head, he knew that time had skipped ahead. A few weeks, maybe? A month? Two? All he knew was that everything was different now. Instead of the calming dance he had been doing with his wife while he listened to her voice, he was holding her tightly as she shook with tears. It was almost as if she would shatter at any given moment.

"This isn't fair!" She sobbed into his chest, "He didn't do anything to anyone! Why does he deserve this?!"

Gaster could do little more than sigh as he held her close. He remembered this feeling vividly: the pain, the shaking, the inconsolable and overwhelming sense of hopelessness. He also remembered what he said to her.

"He doesn't deserve this, Nyala. Corbel is a victim of an unjust world. If I could, I would switch places with him in an instant."

"No!" Nyala cried, gripping at Gaster's shirt, "I don't want this for either one of you! I just . . . I just want my son. . . Isn't there something else we could be doing!? Why is there no cure!?" She stopped for a moment, thinking it over. "How did you do it, Wingdings?"

From where he stood, Gaster stole a look down to one of his own hands. The hole in his palm stopped spreading long ago, back when he was still a young Skeleton, no older than thirteen.

"Back then, there was a physician . . . Doctor Vrinda*. She was much more skilled than I could ever hope to be and the only one who knew how to treat Skeletons . . . but she . . . turned to dust long ago."

"And you? Surely, the Royal Scientist would be allowed access to her notes."

Gaster released a bitter chuckle. "Oh, I have access to the notes. Believe me, I've been giving every second I could spare and hours upon hours I couldn't spare looking for a way to save our boy. So far, I've been . . . Unsuccessful. Something is missing from the notes. Something important that gave the serum potency. No matter what I try, I can't seem to recreate it . . . And I can't imitate it. I remember it having a certain fluorescence to it and it was warm to the touch."

His grip became tighter around Nyala as the frustration seeped into him. "I have a theory . . . But no way of testing it . . . And on top of that, I . . . I'm running out of time . . ." Gaster stalled, his embrace becoming a desperate hold on his wife as he lost control of his composure.

In response, Nyala tightened her grip as well. Wingdings Gaster was strong, but even his solid defenses weren't impenetrable. In order to keep him standing, Nyala would be his foundation. This was one of those times he truly needed her and for him, she would be whatever he needed.

"I'm so sorry, Nyala." Gaster breathed, fighting his own emotion, "You're absolutely right. If not for me . . . If I had just . . . Then our son would be . . ."

"Shh." Came Nyala's soothing response, "I won't have you talking down about yourself, Wingdings Gaster! You are a brilliant and dedicated mind with a caring and devoted soul and I love you for that. I know you've done everything you could possibly do for Corbel . . . And if there was a way to stop this from happening, you would have done it."

"That's just it, though." Gaster explained through a waterlogged voice, "There IS a way . . . I've witnessed it . . . I've USED it! And I still haven't found it. What have I been doing wrong, Nyala? Why does he have to suffer because I failed?"

At the confession, Gaster broke down completely, sobbing heavily into his Nyala's shoulder. His grip on her shirt became like a bony vice that nearly punctured the fabric.

"I've failed you, Nyala." Gaster wept, "I've failed you and I've failed our son. There is no other explanation. He's dying and it's all my fault!"

Nyala let her tears fall as well. She couldn't pretend she hadn't had these thoughts already. She hated herself for thinking them because all she was doing was pointing fingers and passing blame. But Corbel did inherit the disease from his father . . . and if her husband had just been able to figure out his childhood doctor's notes and mix the right formula, then her baby would be . . .

But on the other side of the same coin, if she had been more diligent . . . maybe if she'd quit teaching and spent more time with Corbel . . . if she had searched through more books and if she had done more research, then she could have found the missing ingredient and helped to fashion a cure.

"This isn't your fault, Hon." Nyala responded, her throat closing in on her. "This isn't because of you. You've done everything in your power. And that's . . . that's all we could ever ask of you."

There was a fit of coughing coming from the next room and a small boy called in a voice that sounded as if he were gargling gravel, "Mom?" He coughed again, "Dad?"

His parents parted from one another as they went to their son, wiping away tears and putting on masks of false calm. The smiles were genuine, but the conviction behind them was ephemeral.

"Good morning, Baby." Nyala greeted as she approached her son's bedside, "Did you have a nice nap?"

Corbel observed his mother as she came to sit next to him on the little bed. She had been crying again. And so had his father. He hated seeing them so sad. And somewhere inside of him, he knew that it was because of him they'd been crying so much. No, he hadn't had a good nap. His sleep had been plagued with nightmares and discomfort and he was more exhausted now than when he went to sleep, but for his parents, he nodded.

"Hey, do you guys wanna hear a joke I heard at school?" Corbel offered. Somehow, he needed to make his parents smile again, "Why was six afraid of seven?"

It worked, both his mother's and father's smile pulled to a more real place on their faces. Maybe they knew the punchline already?

"I don't know, Baby." Nyala answered, leaning against the headboard and wrapping an arm around her son with a hand gently stroking his skull. "Why was six afraid of seven?"

"Because seven, eight, nine!" He laughed, "Get it? Because 'eight' sounds like 'ate'?"

"Oh!" Nyala feigned, laughing all the same, "I get it! That's really funny! Do you know another one?"

Gaster stood in the entryway to his son's room watching his family laugh at jokes they already knew. But through it all, there was that constant nagging feeling tapping away at the back of his skull. He had a terrible feeling about this and it shot such a sharp pang of guilt straight through his soul that he couldn't bring himself to laugh with them.

"I know one!" Corbel cheered, "What do you call the clumsiest teacher in school? You know, the shrew monster who always runs into the desk?"

Nyala raised an eyebrow. She knew the teacher, but was unaware the students have given him a nickname.

Corbel was so happy. She really didn't know this one, did she? "The Stub-stitute!"

Before she could stop herself, Nyala let a laugh slip and she had to cover her mouth to try to sober herself. Corbel laughed with her.

"Now, now, Corbel, honey. It's not nice to make fun of people. Even if you do find it funny. Imagine if the other kids started telling jokes like that about you? Would you laugh then?"

"Well, if the joke was a good one, I might." Corbel answered. His smile began to fade slightly as he took a look down at his hands. The holes in his palms had spread and had claimed three of his fingers on each hand. With only his thumb and his pinky, Corbel was having trouble gripping much of anything. When it first started happening, the kids had teased him, calling him 'Humpty Dumpty' and asking where he left all of his other pieces. But hey, anything was better than "Puffball," which is what they called him if ever they caught him coughing up dust.

Of course, he never told his parents about the names the other monster children called him.

But what the other kids didn't see were the holes forming through his feet or the pores in his ribs that were becoming more and more visible or the cracks in his shoulder blades. That was about the time the names started getting a bit old and worn.

"You're right, Mom." Corbel admitted, "The kids at school aren't very good at telling jokes."

Nyala nodded in understanding. Corbel hadn't been in school for very long, but already his time there had been full of stress and unnecessary tension. When it got to the point that his coughing and other various issues became a distraction to the other students, it was suggested that Corbel stay home until he was well enough to come back to class. Though she understood the reasoning behind it, Nyala was a little upset that her kid couldn't go to school with the other monsters his age. Instead, she took it upon herself to be his teacher from that point onward, leaving the "Stub-stitute" to take over her classes.

Sensing the awkward aura settling into the room, Gaster finally brought himself to enter and sit with the others, grabbing a book from the dresser. "Hey, enough with the jokes already. How about we read a book instead? And it just so happens, I've got your favorite book right here."

Corbel took one look at the book and gave a curt scoff, very much like his father's. "Dad." He groaned, "That book is for baby bones!"

"Oh, is that so?" Gaster grinned, finding a seat on the other side of his son, "What makes you say that?"

"C'mon, Dad. You read it to me when I WAS a baby bones! Can't you read me something else?"

A grin pulled at Gasters's mouth. "Well, if it really is for baby bones, maybe you wouldn't mind reading to me instead?"

The look on Corbel's face shifted as he thought. "There are a lot of words in there I don't know yet. I don't know if I can read it by myself."

"Well, you won't be by yourself." Nyla encouraged as she and Gaster held the book up between them so their son could see. "If you need any help with the words, we'll be right here."

"Okay." The boy nodded enthusiastically, "I'll try."

The skeleton family smiled as they sat together with a book between them. Corbel couldn't support the book well on his own, but with his parents holding it up, he was able to point to the words with his pinky and flip the pages with his thumb.

"There. Once. Was. A. Very. Fluffy. Bunny." Corbel staggered, "His. Fur. Was. As. White. As. The. New. Snow."

He was actually pretty good at reading, Gaster noted. At first, he attributed it to the fact that this was his favorite book and he'd heard it so many times, but it was in the words he didn't know that his skills would really shine.

"And. With. His. Eyes. So. Big. And. B-br- i-gittt. Briggitt?"

"That word is 'bright' son." Gaster explained, "That one's pretty confusing actually. There's no real rule why it's like that. Just know that it has the long "I" sound and the 'gh' like that is silent."

"Bright." Corbel repeated, nodding before continuing, "You. Did. Not. Need. To. Use. A. Light—"

"Good Job!" Nyala cheered, "See, 'light' and 'bright' are rhyming words. They even look the same."

"For. By. Himself. He. Seemed. To. G-gl- gl-a-oo. Glau?"

"Glow. It has the long "O" this time. It's just like 'snow'."

The Gasters kept on like that for a while and together, they read the book. They helped Corbel sound out the tougher words and by the end, Corbel was about ready to take back his baby bones comment.

"But. What's. That. There. Behind the. Tree?"

Gaster took the book then. He had been waiting for this part and he had to keep it interesting. He closed the book sharply with a loud snap.

"Peek-a-boo! It's Fluffy Bunny!"

At the sudden shift, even Nyala jumped with a small gasp and Corbel almost screamed, but covered his face instead as the reaction became nervous laughter and he attempted to calm his nerves.

The prank was genuinely funny and light-spirited and they laughed with and at one another for their reactions.

It really was funny . . . until Corbel's laughter turned into another violent round of coughs. Puffs of bone dust spread through the air and he gasped continuously, trying to catch his breath. No matter how he tried, however, he couldn't seem to do it.

Suddenly very worried, his parents stopped their laughter and tried to help Corbel breathe. They did everything they knew how to do to try and open up Corbel's airway. Nothing worked.

Through all of the encouraging words and coaching, nothing seemed to help him. The boy was completely overtaken and he turned to his side, gasping when he couldn't take a sufficient breath.

This reaction was the worst the parents had ever seen and after a minute or so with not so much as a pause, their worry turned into panic. It wasn't stopping this time. Every other time Corbel had a coughing spell, there had been a moment in which he would seem to find a pocket- a break during the attack where he could catch his breath and calm himself. That didn't happen this time.

It still wasn't stopping.

Oh God, why wasn't it stopping?

Nyala's eye sockets grew wide as more and more bone dust fell to Corbel's racecar sheets. Fragments of his body were starting to crumble, "Oh no!" She squeaked, "No no-no-no-no-no-no-NO-NO! My strong boy! My wonderful boy! My SWEET boy! Please, no! Not now! Not today!"

She brought the boy close to her, making sure he had room enough to breathe when he was able to catch his breath.

Corbel continued to cough and bone dust continued to fall. His mother's outfit began to collect a layer of it and it was only getting thicker.

His father seemed to be frozen. This was all his fault . . . if not for him . . . if he hadn't scared him . . . He knew better than anyone else what Corbel was going through. He knew what could happen if he was overexcited. He should NEVER have tried to scare him!

It wasn't until Nyala screamed that he snapped back to the reality of what was happening. She screamed his name, calling him into action. He sprung up to his feet.

"Hold on, son!" Gaster exclaimed as he rushed to grab the one thing that might stop this . . . at least for a little while longer. "Nyala! Get his shirt opened up!"

In the room he shared with his wife, there was a jar of what looked like cream on his nightstand. Every once in a while, Gaster would experience a pain in his ribs left over from when he had been suffering from the same thing as his son. Like him, the disease started to eat away at his ribs, leaving them porous and susceptible to breaks. This cream would smooth it over for a short period of time and offer a small bit of relief. When Corbel started to show the same symptoms, Gaster used it on him as well to give him at least some temporary relief.

The jar was light. There wasn't much left . . . but hopefully it was just enough.

When he returned, he found his wife sobbing over a small frail figure that was barely recognizable as his son. Nyala had managed to get the child's shirt opened, however, what she found was hardly comforting.

Several of Corbel's ribs had cracked straight through and they were beginning to crumble right before her. She couldn't even touch them to try and hold them in place. His ribs were so fragile now that she was afraid that the slightest touch would send the rest of him crumbling.

"Wingdings!" She cried, "Wingdings! Where are you!?"

Gaster rushed in to see if there was anything he could do to help. The jar was opened and the last of the cream was on his fingers. The problem was where could he possibly put it that would do his son any good? His ribs were falling apart and the sternum was crumbling as well. But still, he had to do something!

With the little bit of cream he had left, Gaster reached out and with the gentle hands of a father and the careful hands of a surgeon, he applied the cream to Corbel's sternum and gingerly spread it out to what parts of the ribs he still had. The bones were so small in his fingers. Corbel was still just a child growing out of his toddler phase. He still enjoyed 'Peek-a-boo with Fluffy Bunny' for crying out loud! Why did he have to suffer like this? What part of this was fair to him?

Corbel stopped coughing for a brief moment.

"Daddy . . . ?" A wheeze barely audible sounded, "M-Mommy."

"Shhh." Nyala coached, "Don't try speaking now. Just breathe. That's all Mommy wants you to do."

"Mommy?" He repeated. "Mommy?"

Nyala choked on her emotions, deciding it was probably best not to stop whatever it was her son was trying to tell her. "Y-yes, baby." She answered, "What- what is it?"

"Mommy . . ." And he coughed again, "Mommy, I'm scared."

That tore at the mother's heart even more. Her baby was afraid and there was nothing she could do about it.

She looked back toward her husband who was still diligently attempting to keep the boy's ribs from falling apart. He was trying to help. He was doing something. What was she doing? What could she do?

She could . . . comfort her son in what were sure to be his final moments.

She leaned over him and as she went to touch her skull to his, she noticed the cracking. Even his skull was starting to crumble.

She drew in a breath and instantly regretted it. How dare she breathe when her son had to fight so hard just to do that?

"Don't be scared, Baby." She tried to comfort, though she couldn't quite bring herself to sound even halfway convincing. She decided to try something else, "Corbel, honey. You know Daddy and I love you very much, right?"

Corbel nodded and coughed again.

"You know there's nothing in this world we love more than you?"

"Mommy . . . ?"

"Shhh." Nyala repeated, "It's okay. This is all just a bad dream. It's time to go back to sleep now, okay? How about I-I sing you a lullaby? W-would you like that?"

Something pulled at Corbel's mouth then, a tiny smile as he fought to hold in a breath. He closed his eyes as his mother touched her skull to his. His good-night kiss.

Nyala closed her eyes as well as she began to hum. The song was quiet and soothing and it always worked on Corbel when he was a baby. It was the perfect thing to sing for him now.

"Close your eyes. Lay your head down

Now it's time to sleep.

May you find great adventure,

As you lie and dream.

If you're scared of the darkness,

I will calm your fear.

There's a light in the hallway,

So you know I'm here.

So count your blessings every day.

It makes the [nightmares] go away

And everything will be okay.

You are not alone.

You are right at home.

Goodnight."

Tears began to seep through and fall onto Corbel's skull as she sang. The boy reached up and took his mother's hand with his two fingers. Nyala shuddered, stifling her cries as she continued her song.

"You won't need me forever,

But I'll still be here.

For we all have our nightmares,

Even me my dear.

From now on, if you need me,

You can sing this song.

There's a light in the hallway

burning all night long.

So count your blessings every day.

It makes the [nightmares] go away

and everything will be okay.

You are not alone.

You are right at home.

Goodnight."

Corbel smiled again as the song finished. He wasn't coughing anymore. In fact, he seemed peaceful, like he was ready for a nap.

"Goodnight, Mommy." He whispered, "Goodnight, Daddy."

"G-goodnight, baby." Nyala answered, through the same watery whisper, "I love you."

Gaster stopped trying to apply cream when Nyala began her song. There was nothing more either one of them could do. They both knew it. The most they could hope was to make sure he was comfortable and that he knew they were there.

"Goodnight, son." He responded in low tones, "Sleep well."

"I will, Daddy. I promise."

And he did.

For about five minutes, one for each year he had with his parents, Corbel slept soundly. He must have been exhausted. He had been fighting for so long and he had endured so much that he deserved his rest.

When those five minutes were spent, Corbel Harrington Gaster sighed, releasing the last of his energy. In the next moment, his body gave out and he crumbled into dust.

AN: I really don't have words right now for this. I can't explain and I can't do much more than just sit back. I actually cried when I wrote this down because all the while I had Nyala's voice in my head singing.

Now, originally, I had lyrics for an original song here, but I figured you guys should be able to listen too, so I changed it to actually be the Pentatonix song, because- just wow- it's such a beautiful song and it's absolutely perfect here. I just had to substitute the word "monsters" for "nightmares" because monsters aren't really what monsters fear, right?

Anyway, like I said, this is part 1 of 2. So this mess isn't done yet. With any luck, I'll have the next installment posted soon.

*Also, I forgot to put this in before the edit. That's my fault. Vrinda (Gaster's childhood doctor in this story) does not actually belong to me. She is the creation of a good friend of mine, PotentiallyHarmful. Go check out her stuff, because she's an awesome writer and the life she gives to her characters is so real, you can't help but become attached. So if you wanna find out more about Vrinda, go give her story, "The Beginning" a read!

Alrighty, that's it for me. Until next time.