13. Launch

[[File 13.1 GA-20060802-#-#]]

"GET READY," Gaster dictated, crossing the pointer and middle fingers on both his hands and shaking them away from his body. After signing, he raised up his right hand to fidget with one of his glasses frames. Though he touched the frame, his correction was so minute that he might not have budged the lenses at all.

A pretty nervous gesture for the impeccable, unperturbable Royal Science.

Sans responded, "we're ready." He glanced over at Rain and nodded at the same time he signaled Doctor Gaster.

"GOOD." Flattened hand left teeth.

Beside the machine, Rain cowered, sucking in short, shaky breaths and forgetting to exhale. He curled his fingers tightly around one another and pressed his skinny arms up against his body. Beneath his eyes, heavy bags sagged; the scientist had slept little last night, instead fastidiously checking and rechecking every inch of the machine. Sans, a night owl himself, had kept Rain at first, but when he recognized his colleague would not quit until the experiment appointment the following afternoon, he left to find assistance. Only when Royal Scientist Doctor Wings Dings Gaster himself tread into the room and demanded Rain stop did Rain stop. Sans and Gaster had hauled Rain away, assuring him that they had verified his calculations, that the experiment could not be more ready, and that Rain, as one of the most intelligent technical minds in the underground, ought to be more confident of his own work. But Sans could tell, observing Rain cringe before the machine now, that his friend had barely slept – if at all – last night.

Rain noticed Sans staring at him.

"I FINE," Rain signed insistently.

He didn't want to start a SOUL-searching conversation, even had they not been in the preparations of groundbreaking research, but he did want to point out the obvious farce in Rain's comment. Sans poked, "do you mean it?"

"Let's just get this over and done with. It should go fine." His hands were snappish, a rarity for Rain.

"it'll be just like my teleportation," Sans assured him. "a nice, safe journey that's been carefully prepared for with years of research."

The two exchanged supportive nods.

Even Gaster declared, intending comfort, "Calculations ensure a successful launch. All prior, meticulously-designed experiments with macroscopic magic-channel time travel indicate the short jump of a sapient creature will be safely accomplished."

"the party's coming soon, rain. we'll be clinking glasses together in victory. and it'll all be because of today."

"Machine power-up complete," said Rain.

"Commence experiment."

"initiating jump in five… four… three… two…"

[[File 13.2 SA-20060511-#-#]]

Sans rarely visited the main lab anymore. The majority of his days he spent deep within the CORE researching time travel with Rain and, on less frequent occasions, the Royal Scientist himself. Nevertheless, as Sans' office remained located in the Hotland laboratory site, and as he still was required to file paperwork like any other government employee, he now-and-then entered through those old white double-doors. With an off-key whistle, he sauntered into the building now, intending to grab a few needed articles before returning to the CORE.

Apart from his whistle, Sans heard little noise – just the buzz of the lights overhead, the soft whisper of air shifting through vents, and nothing else. Few scientists scurried through the corridors. Since it neared dinnertime, most workers had probably signed off their shifts, retired for the night, and returned home to spend time with friends and families. Only a few late busybodies greeted Sans.

"Oh Sans, how are you doing?"

"heya, cynthia. it's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Too long. We need to catch up!"

"yeah, sure. later, though. i've got some things to do tonight."

Continuing forward. Sans turned himself right and proceeded down the final hallway to his office.

"S-S-Sans! Is that y-you?"

Out from the corner of his eyesocket, Sans recognized a golden lizard. She shuffled forward awkwardly and at the same time pulled forth her most winsome smile. It was perhaps more lose-some than win-some, but Sans appreciated her friendliness – especially as he knew the young intern tended to shy away rather than welcome.

"yup. it's me. last time i checked, anyway, though i admit that's been a while."

"Heh." Alphys appeared to find his response only somewhat amusing. However, her grin wilted no more than usual. She did seem excited to see him; and Sans recalled, a little ashamedly, it had been quite some time since the last time they had conversed.

Perhaps he could afford a few minutes' delay.

"you look like you're in a good mood."

For the first time, Sans realized Alphys held a clipboard between her claws. Pulling up the board and snuggling it close to her chest, Alphys responded, as upbeat as she ever got, "I g-g-guess today has b-been a good d-day!" She paused, glanced at Sans as though to judge whether or not he would listen, and then continued, "I h-had a little time today to do more r-r-research on one of my favorite topics."

"asgore, amirite?"

Alphys blushed deep red. She reached out and whacked Sans on the arm with her clipboard – a surprisingly violent gesture for her – and then pretended as though the other scientist had never made the remark. However, her stutters worsened, betraying her shaken thoughts.

"I f-f-f-found another p-p-paper on t-time t-t-travel and alternate, um, universes?"

With a low laugh he hoped did not betray his sense of irony, Sans responded, "you research alternate universes?" and she's not on the team with rain, gaster, and me?

"W-well, th-that's not why Gaster h-h-hired me." Alphys shrugged. "It's not what I d-do every day in the lab, anyway. I've g-g-got another job. But it is something I'm interested in and research on my s-spare time."

"now that's pretty cool. what've you read up?"

"There's actually a good p-possibly that other alternate universes exist." Having finally forgotten Sans' teasing Asgore comment, Alphys now began babbling about the research she loved, and rambled with more-than-typical alacrity. Her stutter almost vanished. "There's an increasingly popular interpretation of quantum physics that says that, for every event that can only be predicted by p-probability, rather than be absolutely d-determined ahead of time… then there's a universe in which b-both possible outcomes exist. Research done by humans has shown that there could be a weak coupling between worlds. So separate worlds would be able to interact a-a-and…" Alphys' speech slowed. Her face wrinkled into a pained contortion, and Sans even believed he saw sweat form on her brow. "…but you know all that, don't you?" she groaned. "You're a quantum physicist."

"yeah, but i never get tired listening to people speak my language." Sans clapped her heartily on the back and winked.

"There aren't enough of us physics enthusiasts in the world," Alphys agreed, her laughter indicating relief that Sans took no offense to her unneeded explanation. "D-do you… what do you think about the many worlds interpretation?"

"welp, anything's possible." Sans shrugged. His eyesockets dropped down, he pulled his chin toward his neck, and stared at the floor. "heh." He started angling his torso away from Alphys, a subtle body language indication he needed to continue forward rather than mingle and chat. "you keep me updated if you find anything, okay, alphys?"

"Uh, s-s-sure!" She lapsed into an awkward silence.

Filling in the quiet gap, Sans provided a casual wave. "was great hearing from ya. wish i could stay and talk more, but i have to get going. can't believe you dragged me away from work this long."

"See you around?"

"see you. crack parallel universe travel for me, will you?"

They waved. Alphys trundled down the hallway, clipboard swinging from her paw, while Sans turned away with a pondering expression on his skull. His mind was whirling. alphys… if only you knew what we've already discovered.

[[File 13.3 SA-20150705-#-#]]

A formidable blast rocked the house. Sans awoke at once, staring in alarm as, outside their front window, half the snow from the roof catapulted off the house and crashed to the ground, forming an instantaneous foot-high wall around the perimeter. Silence followed, uncomfortable stillness, yet the house quivered in terror for the next minute. Sans could feel the couch rocking beneath him; could hear the rafters buzzing; could almost see the floor shaking. How was the television still upright? That boom could have knocked their low, sturdy couch to the ground.

what the hell could that have b…

Papyrus rushed past Sans, far more awake and conscious of their current environment. After spinning in silly circles around the living room like a wound-up ballerina, he charged up to the entry and yanked open the door.

Sans blinked, comprehension slowly reaching cognizance. was that unwholesome noise just a knock? he marveled in disbelief.

Sans shifted his weight on the cushions to peep over the arm of the couch, curious as to why they had a visitor, and who it was. Not everyone knocked so loudly they hurled all the snow off a house's roof in the process.

When Papyrus first opened the door, Sans thought he only sighted snow, for an enormous mound of whiteness squished between door frames. When that mound blinked, Sans realized who this individual was.

Papyrus recognized him, too. Throwing his gloves to his face and letting out a whoop, the skeleton exclaimed, "OH MY GOD! ! ! SANS! LOOK! THE KING HAS COME TO VISIT US! !"

Once in his life, Sans might have felt conscientious about his appearance. Dressed in an unironed wad of fabric he pulled off the floor this morning, and sprinkled liberally in popato chip crumbs, Sans hardly wore garb fit for the presence of a king. In truth, his clothes would not have been fit for any public eye. Had he cared. Those fretful years of anxious childhood had long since passed him by; he pulled himself off the couch to greet their visitor, but did not even bother to brush chip crumbs off his clothing. He slipped his hands automatically into his pockets at the same time he greeted, with some restrained curiosity, "hi, asgore."

"Howdy."

Asgore only found time to speak those two syllables before he was cut off.

Papyrus trumpeted, scurrying through the house willy-nilly, "HIS MAJESTY HAS FINALLY RECOGNIZED MY EXCELLENCE! THIS IS IT! I AM GOING TO BE POPULAR! POPULAR! ! POPULAR! ! ! AM I ACCEPTED INTO THE ROYAL GUARD? OR ARE YOU HERE TO MAKE MY FOOD MUSEUM A NATIONAL LANDMARK?"

"Um…" said Asgore. It appeared the only thing he had to say, for the moment. His large amber eyes shifted several times from left to right as he attempted to find a response. However, no response could be located in the house, not on the floor next to a flourishing collection of socks, nor near the precariously leaning tower of soda cans, and especially not beside the action figures stationed across the dining room table. Asgore did pause, however, to stare at the figures, as they were in a rather peculiar arrangement: they stood in a circle, holding up a plate of glittering spaghetti. It resembled some form of ancient sacrificial altar.

"SPAGHETTI IT IS!" Papyrus crowed. He nearly shot to the ceiling in excitement. As it was, he stumbled over his own boots five times before finally remembering how to take a step forward, and then nearly crashed into the oven as he spun to the kitchen. Gloves triumphantly jerked open the refrigerator door. "BEHOLD! 'FEAST' YOUR EYES ON THE GREATEST WONDER OF THE UNDERGROUND!"

"Um."

"ONLY EYE FEASTING," Papyrus clarified, closing his own eyesockets and pointing to the chest as he proudly orated. "NO MOUTH FEASTING FOR THIS SPECIAL COLLECTION OF FINELY-CRAFTED NOODLES.

"ALTHOUGH," and his face softened at once, "I AM MORE THAN HAPPY TO COOK PASTA FOR THE KING! THE FOOD WILL BE JUST AS DELIGHTFUL AS THESE EXHIBITS HERE!"

"Pasta sounds wonderful." Asgore spoke gratefully, as though this were indeed the reason he stepped inside their house. Only a slight catch in his voice betrayed his confusion. Sans admired how adeptly the king concealed it. "Do you also happen to have tea?"

"I THINK WE HAVE SOME BLACK TEA FROM UNDYNE'S LAST VISIT," Papyrus mused. He peeped into the cupboards and let out an excited guffaw that proved the beverage was indeed stocked. "TEA PASTA IT IS!"

"I didn't mean…" Asgore cumbersomely began, but cut himself off before finishing his thought. His bulky body shifted slightly while he watched Papyrus dump a full eight ounces of loose leaf black tea on top of uncooked perciatelli noodles, splash a generous dose of water from the sink on top of the mix, and throw it on the stove to heat.

Papyrus planted his fists to his hips as though he had conquered the world. In a booming voice suited for a gallant knight, the skeleton declared, "MY CULINARY MASTERPIECE WILL BE READY IN FIFTEEN MINUTES! !"

"Thank you, that is very kind of you," Asgore said, even as his eyebrows rose in worry. He continued to stare at the tea as it boiled in the pan with Papyrus' noodles. Mournful regret colored his irises.

"we also have soda if you want to drink something else," Sans offered. Even if Asgore could drink noodles, they probably would not be palatable after fifteen minutes of Papyrus' abuse.

"NO, WE HAVE CANS. NO SODA. CANS! AND YOUR CANS SHOULD BE CLEARED OUT IMMEDIATELY, NOW THAT OUR HOME IS BECOMING A DISTINGUISHED MUSEUM! !"

"there might be some liquid left in one of them…" Sans mused, and began to lean closer to investigate.

"Water is fine," Asgore assured them. He appeared even more concerned than before and eyed the tower as though it were about to bite him. When the king frowned to study Sans, his appearance remained comely; however, Sans suspected the monarch was analyzing his well-being and how much Sans had changed since the last time they spoke. And that Asgore found his current state… wanting.

"what flavor?" Sans asked.

"Oh, you have flavored water?" Asgore seemed pleased at this prospect.

"water-flavored water."

Papyrus unleashed a harsh, irritated groan from the kitchen. However, Sans' trollish remark prompted his brother to reach for a clean glass, fill it from the sink, and hand it off to Asgore, who accepted it with a genteel nod. The monarch's enormous paw dwarfed the glass of water. He raised the glass to his lips and tried to drink around both the white hair already accumulating in his glass and the hair poofing around his face.

"This is good water," Asgore declared in a desperate attempt to act like a grateful guest. The kindhearted king strained his bass voice in the effort.

Papyrus shouted competitively, "THIS IS EVEN BETTER SPAGHETTI! YOU WILL FORGET THE TASTE OF THE WATER WHEN YOU SMELL THE SWEET AROMAS WAFTING FROM MY ARTISAN STATION!"

Poor Asgore almost appeared ready to flee. Only great determination must have kept him rooted in the brothers' house.

Sensing that their guest wished to talk and brief them on the true purpose of his visit, Sans gestured to the couch and inquired, "so, want to sit?"

Asgore accepted the offer with alacrity that betrayed his great size. He landed heavily on the couch, fur overflowing from arm rest to arm rest, masking every inch of cushion in white hair, and leaving Sans to gracelessly stand in front of his king. That was fine. Once Asgore stood up, Sans doubted he would even find a couch anymore. Maybe a flattened pile of cushions and broken springs, but not a couch.

"I hope I am not bothering you today," the monarch began. The tone in his voice suggested he was beginning to settle down into business. His eyes rested on Sans as he pulled up a weighty smile. It was very kind but did not appear happy.

"nope, not bothering at all."

"Okay. Good. Good." Asgore's words sounded a little distracted. He pointed with one large paw behind Sans and asked, in a low voice which resembled a distant earthquake, "It happened in there, didn't it?"

Sans paused, momentarily puzzled, before he understood Asgore's question. "the kitchen? yes, that's where the human was," he said.

"You did a great service to the underground stopping them."

"the captain of your guard seemed a little upset."

"Did she? That's odd." Asgore shrugged. The weight of his shoulders sliding downward crushed the cushions to either side of him. If they had not been flattened before, they certainly were now. "Undyne has fought her whole life for other monsters' hopes and dreams. She's wanted nothing more than to get the seventh human SOUL. Maybe…" He reflected. "I think she's only upset now because she's surprised and confused. Undyne thought that she or I would take the human, not you." His voice softened to something barely audible.

At this comment, Asgore paused, and gestured once more to the kitchen. This time, however, he pointed to a specific chef clattering away at troublingly loud volumes: Papyrus, dancing in place, twirling the noodles in his pot, and humming some zany minor melody. "He's not going to hear any of this, is he?" the king inquired in a rumble.

"my bro? no. when he gets in the zone, he gets in the zone. he'll be occupied for the next ten minutes and wouldn't even notice if a hurricane of dogs tore through the house."

With that assuring response, Asgore returned to their previous topic. "Undyne is probably confused because she doesn't know about…" his expression turned uncertain "…those. You used Them, didn't you?"

No need to request clarification. Both king and subject understood exactly what "Them" referred to. Sans released his nervousness by clenching and unclenching his fists in his jacket pockets. Presumably, Asgore would not see the motion, and remain oblivious to his conversant's discomfort. "uh, i might have," Sans responded with uncertainty. "the memory's pretty blurry, but… um… yeah, i might have. maaaaaybe? sorry. i know you asked me to keep those classified, but…"

"It's okay. You did what you had to."

The two listened to Papyrus bash pots together for half a minute. Asgore drank the entire contents of the dwarfed water glass in one gulp.

"Even if other monsters learned about the weapons, most wouldn't be able to master them," he said after his drink. "The old doctor tried to show me how they worked, but I could never learn them."

"i never got very good, either," Sans admitted. "and i think i was the only person he tried to train outside of you? yeah… he was the only one who mastered those blasters." A thought crossed Sans' mind, and he chuckled. "heh heh heh. gaster the blaster master."

Asgore said, "You must not be too bad. You stopped the human safely without hurting your brother."

"i guess. i dunno, i'm not a fighter or anything. i just acted… in the moment." Sans would not admit to the king he had attacked the human in impulsive fear. After all, he could not explain from where the fear originated. Of all individuals, Asgore might have been one of the few who would heed Sans' words rather than disregard them as ridiculous yarns, yet the last action Sans wished to take was bare his SOUL to the king of the underground.

Asgore accepted Sans' vague explanation and responded, "That's what is important."

Nevertheless, the conversation did not feel concluded. Something else lingered in the task, some unknown agenda which the monarch had not yet made know. Sans' eyesockets narrowed. "are you getting at something, king?" he asked.

The large Boss Monster took a moment to glance at his empty glass before responding, "Well, you did turn me down the last time I offered you something."

"royal scientist was not a good gig for me. believe me."

"You were the most qualified person after the inci –"

"that's not the point." A hurried cut-off. He knew his sockets were black.

"I hope you are doing well anyway?" The king avoided looking at Sans and gestured about the living room. Asgore could not seem to comprehend the scenery around him… the stark clash of pristine, well-vacuumed carpets against an impressive mountain range of odorous socks. His eyes returned to the spaghetti-wielding action figures with renewed unease.

"dandy," said Sans. In some respects, the truth. In many other respects, an enormous lie. His fists clenched tighter in his pockets.

"Anyway, whether you admit it or not, you did a great thing, and I would like you around if we needed something like that again. The Royal Scientist is looking at the shattered SOUL. If Dr. Alphys' tests show we can use it to open the barrier…"

Sans' sockets remained black, and he spoke slowly, suspiciously. "Wait a second… The war isn't over yet, is it?"

That would answer the question all the monsters in the underground had dared not ask, or had forgotten to, in the middle of their celebrations.

Asgore said, "I declared war to give my people hope. I want peace now, but when the barrier is broken, that is not the end of our journey. I must keep to my word for the war on humanity."

Ominous… silence.

The king's voice cracked in sadness, but he stumblingly sought to justify his decision. "We don't know if the humans on the other side are peaceful. The last time monsters crossed the barrier, we got proof…" Asgore did not finish the sentence, but he did start a new one to complete his thought. "Depending on what we find on the other side, it might only be the beginning."

It was no answer. Asgore still had not clarified whether or not he had decided the Royal Guard would engage in overworld military efforts. He was thinking about it. That was for certain. But nothing else he said sounded conclusive.

"so –"

The two were interrupted by a jubilant cackle from the kitchen. "NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH! ! ! THE SPAGHET'TEA' IS READY!"

Sans and Asgore glanced at one another. There would be no more time to discuss. Hastily, Sans answered, "whatever you want exactly… the answer's no. sorry. i'm not a fighter. assuming you can use that SOUL, i've helped you break through the barrier. that's all i ever wanted to do. best of luck… but i'm best sticking to the sidelines here on out."

[[File 13.4 SA-20080307-#-#]]

This would be the last time he entered the laboratory. Ever.

Sans bulldozed through the uncomfortable stillness. White walls glowed in an unpleasant, indistinct wash that left him half-blind, and the silence pounded at his skull, but he forced himself to march straight through the strange lack of stimuli and enter his office. The sooner he completed his required task, the sooner he could leave this tomb of unpleasant memories.

He shoved himself into his office. Upon shutting his door, he almost collided into an avalanche of unsorted papers. Stacks rose up to heights greater than he. At once a distinct sickly twinge yanked at his SOUL; a sense of dread overtook him as he examined the messy office space and pondered the work before him. Sans had long since learned how to be efficient working, and would not exert excessive effort to complete a task… but never before had he experienced uneasiness at the thought of starting some project. Work had never intimidated him nor rattled his bones… until now.

The last thing he wished to do was clear this office.

He steeled himself. Leaning forward, Sans plucked a few important files off the floor. All were marked by a distinct alphabet in a handwriting not his own. He tucked those away for safekeeping, as well as several books that were more or less slightly accessible. Those he did value. Those he would keep.

Yet for the rest of the piles…

His phalanges hovered briefly over several of the documents. Eyesockets stared, wistful, at most of them.

But those were of the past, a place to which he was not certain he wanted to return.

He opened a portal.

A gaping black hole, like an open jaw, widened in the corner. Sans grabbed a handful of incomplete paperwork and tossed it into the maw. The other end of the portal would drop the papers into an obscure area of the garbage dumps near Waterfall, in a location that no one ever walked. He would sequester or burn the most confidential documents, but for mere everyday paperwork, the dumps would be enough.

Old printout of the laboratory office calendar, six months outdated. Tossed.

Progress report of his work the year Gaster first hired him. Tossed.

Five copies of the same academic journal, most of them stained in coffee and horrifically wrinkled. Obviously, tossed.

A laboratory report concerning the first successful transportation of particles across a magic channel into a parallel universe, evidence manifested in a double slit experiment containing statistically significantly altered photon readings between the pre and post particle travel measurements.

Sans… paused.

Vision lingered over the name on the top of the page.

Rain.

One syllable.

One important syllable.

With a heavy hand, Sans tossed that paper, too.

"Oh, y-you're in here?"

He thought he had shut the door, indeed recalled clicking it shut, yet it stood ajar now. Perhaps some draft from the ventilation system slowly opened it up. As it was, Sans currently stood before a wide open door, with Alphys standing on the other side of the frame, clipboard – and now coffee – in hand.

"just cleaning up," Sans stated.

Alphys struggled to speak. Downcast, she opened her mouth a few times, only to let her lips shut silent. Finally, though, she processed a simple sentence. "It was g-g-good to work with you."

"yeah."

"Everything's ch-changing. I don't like it."

Sans avoided her gaze, but instead picked up another paper. Another report penned by Rain. Tossed.

"I d-don't know everything th-th-that happened, n-not like you, b-b-b-but…"

A third report by Rain, discarded to the depths of Waterfall's dumps.

"I hate it." Despondent bitterness molded over her voice.

Fourth, fifth, sixth reports by Rain. An entire stack. Sans' hands shook as he held them. But he tossed those also.

"i hate it, too," he sighed.

"Don't you wish you c-could, maybe, go back in time?"

Sans froze. Almost a minute passed before he remembered to throw away the next sheet of paper. Another one from Rain. It pained him to feed it to the black hurricanous maw.

Pain.

Tried to reach for another… slowly… but it was not a report… it was a drawing… a pathetic drawing of three stick figures, who slightly resembled scientists, two tall, one short…

Pain.

His hand dropped to his side and he did not throw the scrap of paper away.

When Sans failed to respond to Alphys, she stammered, "I'll, uh… um… l-l-let you b-b-be. … …Yeah. Um. Bye? S-s-sorry…"

She shuffled away.

Sans stared, unfocused, at the pile before him.

And then at once he whirled toward the door and slammed it shut. It would not open this time, ventilation system or no.

No one but him could see this.

No one but him could see the bright glowing magic screen that appeared before him.

No one could see him as his left hand reached forward… and he selected… RESET.

[[File 13.5 GA-20060802-#-#]]

Doctor Gaster held a quivering, unsolid mess in his arms. Even as he attempted to keep Rain rightened, the remains of his colleague hung heavily, nearly dripping out of his embrace. Shaking and sobbing, trembling and moaning, the scientist contained naught but a vacant, traumatized glaze behind his eyes, and could find no strength or solidity of thought to keep himself upright. He nearly leaked to the floor, sliding backward with a mindless wail.

Desperately, Gaster squeezed tighter, barely holding onto the monster to keep him from falling to the concrete.

Sans crouched on the ground, seeking eye contact with the leaking wreck. Solid sought interaction with liquid. "Rain. Rain. Rain, are you… can you?"

Incoherent babbling, fluid sliding out from Gaster's grasp.

"Rain." Waving his hand before his colleague's face. But Rain stared upward – if something so vapid could be considered a stare.

"It's done. It's over. We turned off the machine. We're not going to try any more time travel. You're… god, are you okay?"

Jolted quaking as response. He slid even further backward, leaky feet merging into a puddle of himself. His fingertips nearly splashed on the floor.

Perhaps Gaster could not hear Sans' words, but he could comprehend the direction of the conversation. The doctor, hands occupied, could not sign back a remark – though the protective glare emanating from his face clearly spoke his thoughts: of course Rain was not okay.

"Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god," the scientist was whispering on repeat.

"Rain! Rain, please, can you…"

Too exasperated to simply operate as a leaning post, Wings Dings wrenched Rain to his feet, whirled the monster around, grabbed at both his arms for a short moment, and then signed with ferocity. "You have the rest of the day off, doctor."

Still a bit traumatized, Rain curled his arms around his torso.

"We will not repeat this experiment."

A glare. "Do you understand me, doctor?"

Blank response. No words. No expression on his face.

"I demand a response. Do – you – understand – me?"

Slowly, Rain nodded.

"Let me know if I can assist in any form. You are going to be alright." Gaster jerked forward, and instead of merely holding Rain up, he pulled the scientist forward into a squeezing hug. For a while it seemed he would never let his colleague go. When Gaster finally released Rain, he peered closely at his colleague behind his glasses and instructed, "Now go rest."