"What did you say?" His voice came out slow, a low hum that gave way to fear and intrigue. He watched their hands, the letters forming impossibly slow as his mind tried to process what it could not fathom
GASTER
"I don't- it's- I can't-" he stammered out, his head spinning a million miles per hour. He knew the name; he had definitely heard it before, but where? The word reverberated through his mind, bouncing off every thought until it hit an empty space - a gap. It wasn't just a memory missing; it wasn't just something he had lost to time; there was nothing there. Gaster, Gaster, Gaster, where had he heard it; why had he heard it?
He could feel the child's eyes on him, boring into his being and scrutinizing every action, every twitch, every darting of eyes or shifting of fingers; he could feel their gaze worrying, watching him, begging him to say something, anything, but he couldn't. The name was foreign, was wrong; he could not understand why his mind recoiled from the very mention of it; what did he know?
"H- how do you… know that na- ame?" he sputtered.
There was a hallway before this room. It wasn't there before, Sans, not in any other reset! And in the past few resets there have been these monsters, these weird, washed out, grey monsters, and they talked about Gaster. They said he was the royal scientist. And in that hallway there was a door to this small little room, but inside was this weird figure; it was like he was there, but also wasn't - I could walk right through him! He was all white and black, tall and thin, but he was hunched over real weird-like. He was bent over his hands - his hands had holes in them! His face was all messed up, like it was falling apart. I tried to talk to him, but he just disappeared. Who is he, Sans?
"I'm- kid, I'm sorry. I don't- can't- know, it's just-" he stopped abruptly to wince and rub at the sudden pain behind his eyesocket. What is it? What are you trying to tell me?
" How do his hands move?"
"What?"
"His hands - how do they move with those holes in them?"
"They just… move? I really don't know what you're asking here, bud."
"It's just that - here, Sans, take my hand. Put your fingers here, around my palm. Feel that movement when I wiggle my fingers?"
"Yeah, what are you-"
"Those are my muscles and joints. If you took a big circle out of my hand, I wouldn't be able to move it because I'd be missing some. How do his move?"
"You're literally talking to a skeleton, and you're asking how someone can move without muscles?"
"Oh, shut up."
He staggered, bracing himself against the wall as he rode out the wave of pain. Where had that scene come from? Who was I talking to? He tried to run a mental list of every monster he'd ever met, but came up with nothing. Even if it were one of the monsters with muscles, they wouldn't ask a question like that. That was a human hand; I was talking to a human. He righted himself, waving away the concerned child stepping toward him.
"It's okay kid, s'all fine."
Sans, you don't look fine.
"Wow, first you break my brain and now you're insulting my looks? Harsh, kid."
Sans, just tell me: who is Gaster? You know something, and it's hurting you!
"I think it's the thinking that's hurting me, kiddo. Haven't done any of that for a while, I guess," he said, winking.
Frisk did not look convinced. Sans, you're acting weird. Don't you want answers? What if Gaster is the key to everything down here?
"Kid," he pleaded, pressing his hand to his head again. "Can ya just stop saying the name?"
Sans, does it hurt? To remember him?
"I'll let you know if I ever do," he growled through gritted teeth. "Just go on, have your adventure. Maybe you'll even get us out this time," he spat.
It was cold and rude, but he really couldn't be bothered to care, at this point.
Sans, why can't you remember things?
"Maybe it has something to do with a certain person manipulating time. Maybe it's because I've been forced to live parts of the same week over, and over, and over again just to satisfy someone's curiosity."
Do you mean me? Their eyebrows were knitted together, their face scrunched in confusion.
"No, I mean Papyrus- of course I mean you!"
Sans, you had trouble remembering before this started up again.
"And that is relevant because..?"
Do you really not remember? I only reset three times.
"Not funny, kid."
I'm being serious. I came down here, and I accidentally killed a few monsters. I reset and got everyone to the surface, but then I got curious, so I reset again and… you know… but after selling my soul to Chara I came back and we went up to the surface. We stayed there for six years, and then… well… this.
"That can't be right. I have seen you murder my family, my friends, more times than I want to count. Why did you think I had such horrible nightmares on the surface? You think I was scarred by seeing it once? Try hundreds, and hundreds of times."
I promise you, Sans. There was only three resets. Four timelines. I really, truly promise.
They didn't give him a chance to reply. They bid him goodbye with a small wave, and walked off, glancing back every so often. Before they were too far away, they stopped and turned around, signing something he almost didn't catch.
Maybe you'll remember Gaster if you think about it more?
Goddammit, kid, he thought as the pain and vertigo returned.
"Okay, okay, sorry. How about a proper introduction? I'm Sans, Sans the Skeleton."
"I- I'm Alphys, Asgore's Royal Scientist."
"Royal Scientist? What about Gaster?"
"Wh- who?"
"G- nevermind. Why did Asgore hire you?"
"I- I mean, who else w- would it be?"
"Wait, how old are you?"
"I- I'm- is that, um, p-pertinent? … I'm - I know it's young, s- so don't u- um, judge me- e. I'm fi-fifteen."
"Okay, what did you do before this?"
"I mostly just worked o- on proj- jects in secret. I made a- a, uh- a robot, w- with a soul. A-asgore was really impressed, so he h- hired me."
"You weren't, y'know, an assistant to the old scientist?"
"I d- don't even know who the ol- the old scientist was. N- no one really t- talks about them."
"So you, uh, don't have a lab assistant?"
"N- no, and I, um, I don't need one. I'm not- not hiring o- or anything, s-sorry. Can you, um, l- leave me alone n- now?"
Alphys had honestly not remembered him. But, then again, why should she? That was the piece he was missing - why had he thought she would? How did he know her when she didn't know him? It must be related to Gaster, he thought, wincing again at the name. Everything is coming back to him, but I don't even know who he is. All these memories, all these feelings - why were they triggered by his name if none of them contain him?
He slammed his hand into the wall, causing a shift in the rocks and a startled "was that a star?" from a nearby monster. He had to remember something. The memories, the knowledge - it couldn't just be gone, could it? He resolved to retreat to his workshop, to see if something in there sparked anything with his newfound catalyst.
He appeared in the dark and fumbled for the lightswitch, flooding the room in harsh white. Nothing seemed different. Nothing jumped out and clicked into place next to the name, and nothing seemed out of place. Everything was exactly as he had left it and exactly as he had always seen it. He sighed in frustration, his elbows finding the counter as he slouched over. His fingers fumbled with the edges of the blueprints again, the worn edges brushing his bones. They were strange, to say the least. The writing was unreadable to him; half was in what he could amount to nothing more than chicken scratch and the rest written in some sort of shorthand he didn't recognize. He scanned the pages once more, scrutinizing the drawings and glancing back at the machine every once in a while. Nothing. At the top of the page, he noticed, was a small chunk of writing, separate from everything else and seemingly out of place. It had no pointers to the drawings and no notation whatsoever. But he could read it. It wasn't really reading, per se, but rather an instinct that washed over him. Either way, he knew what it said… or at least some of it.
F̢͔̼̺͇̞͎͓͖̍̇́Ǫ̢̟̟͇̙͙̺͓̩͛̓̋̇ͣ̓́Ŕ̩͍̥͎͓̹͆̎͋͗ͥͮ̉͢ ̡̡̘͈̯ͪ͢ ̟̫̟̩̲͕̦͇̈̆ͮͦ͛ͮ̓ͭṚ̝͈̼̱̬ͭͩ̾͛́̎̃ͣ̕E̵̸͍̹͔ͪͩ̚̚͜S̜͔̮̬͚͔̠͎͛͜Ě̶͎̲͚̭̳̰͓̒̄͐̊ͦ̀̕À̡̜͍͔̲̦̞̲͓̍̚R̵͓̃̍͒ͨ͊̓͘͘C͈̼̙͖̠̺̣̩ͣ͆͋͘͡H͚̼̓́ͫ͞ ̨̫̩͒͠ ͨͮ̚҉͘ͅỈ̗̩̰̜ͣ̕͠Ņ̷̛͎͉̈̓ͬ͌ͦ̓̃͑͛ͅ ̛̠̫̩̏̅͆̾ ͣ̓̆̿͗͏͕͚͝S͓̺͕͍̙̱̩̭̽̐ͬ̅͝Y͍̲̙̖ͥ͗̈́͑́͘Ş̵͍̺̓̌ͩͦ̏͜T̶͇̰̥̗̾̒̌̾̆E̵͇͍͕̟̍ͬ̓ͪ̉ͪ͌͑̃ͅM̶̡̟̬̫̲̔͒̏ͫͯ́͐̋̄̀S̢̨̳̲̖̬̈́̑̊ ̷̟͔̦̰͕͓̘̔͆ͦͯͬ͛ ̱͎͖̞ͬͭ̌͐̓͐͊O̺͚͎̦̦̓͑͘F̟̮͙͖͍̂͜ ͍̜̼̬͔̳͚̩̆ͣͮ͐ͣ̂̅ ͇̻̲̬̇̃̚͠͞T̴͖͙͖̝̗̉ͧͦ̂͂̔̏I̡͙̖͎͗ͮ͌̀M̸̛̻͉̮̞̠͊͋͐ͦ̑ͧ͌̕Ě̵̹̙̦̪̠̰̘͒͡-̨̮̬͕͚̥̝͗ͥ̽S̰̣̱̓́̇͋ͦ͌̋͂̀P̶̯̭͖̺̼͖̩̦͗͊̂̄̕ͅÄ̛̛̛̤̥̱͈̝͖̻̥͂͗̐̚ͅC̣̙͉̤̯͙̈̂̆̉̕͞ͅEͤ̐̔́҉̖̙
͈̫͈̪̱͍̤̻ͪͧ̓̾̾̊M̧̘̣͚͍̘͑͌̕A̵̹͔̻͆̈̀ͣ̔́Ç̶̤̞̺̘͛͠H̵͈̝͓̠͎̬̽͆̆͛̑͛͟I̛̟̻͈̩̹̖̜̐̈ͨ̇͢Ǹ̢̼̥͌̽̽̆̇ͥE̷̥̖̯͎͎͇̪ͯͦͭ͂͂ͦͮͦ ̷̴͎̬͙̜͑̑ͅ ͖͎̠͎̈ͣͮ͜͡F̻̓ͤ͒̈ͯO̬̳͛͑̊ͧ͌̌͊̆͑͜͠Ṛ̱͔̥̼͙̏̇ͩ̓̽́ͫͮ̑͡͠ͅ ̷̯̥̉̌ͩ̌ͪ ͧͮ͐͏̯̞̩̺̳̠R̗̳͒ͩ̾Ȇ̘͗͂̈̅̏͊M̷͚͗̑̎̀O͉̦̝̱̻̥̟̥̐ͫ̌̌̕͡ͅT̟̜̠̫̲̮̺͓̉͋͝Ė̑͌͑͌̚҉̱̠̫̘̘ ͉̰̭̫̠̖͓͙̃ͯ̔ͬ̍̀ͅ ̬͕̤̰̠́̿͐E̩̫͉ͪͦ͝Ẋ̠̻̫̓ͥ͋ͣ̍̓̐͡͞ͅP̛͍͈͐̄ͣ̽́͠E̷͖͐͗ͬͣ͋ͧR̴̤͎̣̰͉͉̞ͨ̃̐ͬ͊ͪ͆ͬͅĪ͇̙̺̹̜̠̾̋͝M̪͚͛ͭ͒̽͘͠E̡͓̪͉̗̠̦̬̯̓ͪͦͤ̽N͔̥̹̈́̂̄ͭ̎͠Tͪ̀̇̓̓̌ͦ͐͏̱̳͕̪Ạ̪͍̥̘̤͛̈́̂ͨ̽͢L͓͕̳̜͎̉̑̏̆̈́͑̑ͤ ̨͍̟̜̜̙̭̈ͮ̐̂̓ͤ̚ ̭̃̏ͪ̄̚͡ͅU̶̳̦̗̒͋ͣ̇̚͟S̡̙͈̻̘̜̦̠̻ͧË̴̛̗̖̟̣̙̬̼̱̪́ͬ́̽ͦ̃ͣ ̀̑̈́͑͊̇̈̇̚҉͈̺͎̙͇̬͙̯ ̵̙͔̬̘̻͈̀̀͢O̮̲ͤ̋ͪͨ́̋ͫ̆ͣ͟N̵̨͎̯̩̘̱̟͔̘̼̈́̽̿̉ͮͯ͞L̢ͦ́͂͏̼̠̰̪͉̙͟Y̹͓̮̥͕͕ͣͥ͐͌ͪ̂̓̏̕
̦̭̭͖̤̥̜̍ͣͅD͑͏̸̘̱A̟͙͕͐ͨ̿̒ͬNͭͩͫ͌ͭ͂͏̰͙̠̱̰̭̳̲G̸̢̪̈́ͪ̄̊̉̃͐̚̕Ẹ̠͙̝̩̘̹̬̏͒̾ͪ̑͗́̅͟Ř͋ͤ̍ͪ̋̊̚҉͉͈̱̣͈̘̀͞ ̅ͭ̇͌ͨ͐͢҉̫̰ ͥͬ̂̿ͩ̉͡҉͈̳̹͈̰̗W̵ͩ̆͌̈́ͩͩ̀ͮ̈́͏̰̭̦ Ắ̞̲ͮ͢͝R̹̲̟̩̻̱̃̐͡͞͡ͅN̯͖͚̉ͦ̉Ï҉̳̥͠Nͨ̈ͣ͑͌̇̄ͩ͘͏̼̹̫̗̞͕̟̥̠͞Ģ̻̾ͣ̀͒͂̕͝
W.D. GASTER
He recoiled from the paper as though it were deadly, all the while staring at the writing. He had blueprints by this man, Gaster, in his house. That had to mean he knew Gaster, didn't it? How else would he have gotten his blueprints? The name was the only thing on the paper that was clear to him. Everything else was muddled and produced the same ache in his head as the pictures did.
The pictures. Drawers flew open and the pictures came out, scattering across the countertop. He stared intently at them, searching for memories. Surprisingly, it was not the mystery pictures that he was drawn to. Instead, he found himself turning the pages of his photo album, flipping through pictures from the surface. There are so many… Frisk couldn't possibly have reset only three times. Just look at all these successful timelines. But why would they lie to me about that? What do they gain from it?
Carefully sliding each photo out from behind the plastic, he turned them all over, reading the notes written on the back. His heart sank. There was no indication of timelines repeating themselves over and over. In fact, only two titles were ever written on a photo. It was either the first or second time on the surface. There was nothing else - the kid was telling the truth.
But then why was he so tormented by dreams of his friends dying in a thousand horrible ways? Why was he so certain that his memories were lost amongst an inordinate amount of timelines?
He thought about what Frisk had said. The way they signed the name was so familiar, as though he had seen those exact letters signed out before him many times before. Gaster had to have something to do with his past. He considered, briefly, asking Papyrus about the name, but decided to save that for later. He would ask Papyrus only if no one else knew, since the name had something about it that felt dangerous; something about the name told him that the people who knew about it could be in trouble. He also decided to evaluate his conscience later.
It had been what he assumed to be close to three hours, and he still knew nothing about Gaster. The only progress he had made was the reducing of the name to a dull ache rather than a sharp pain in his skull. It was easily ignored, at this point. He was used to being alone, to being the only one who knew about some mystery, but he had expected that out of every monster in the Underground, someone had to know about it. Like Alphys had evidently said at one point, no one really talked about the former scientist. Unlike she had said, however, no one even knew who he was. Still, he was reluctant to ask Papyrus.
Unfortunately for him, he didn't get much of a say in the matter, for as he was slouched on the couch, looking at but not really watching one of Mettaton's shows, Papyrus' voice stirred him from his thoughts.
"SANS, WHAT IS A 'GASTER'?"
He froze, glancing at his brother from the corners of his eyes. "What did you, uh, where'd you hear that name, bro?"
"YOU HAVE ONLY BEEN MUTTERING IT FOR THE PAST TWENTY MINUTES. IT IS A NAME, THEN? WHO ARE THEY?"
"Your guess is as good as mine, bro. Why do you think I've been muttering about it?"
"IT SOUNDS FAMILIAR, BUT I CANNOT PLACE IT. IT IS MUCH LIKE THAT HUMAN! YOU SEEM TROUBLED, BROTHER. IS GASTER BOTHERING YOU?"
"I dunno who Gaster is, Paps. What makes you think they're bothering me?"
"WELL, I WASN'T GOING TO SAY ANYTHING BECAUSE I WAS FINALLY GETTING SOME PEACE AND QUIET, BUT YOU HAVEN'T MADE A SINGLE PUN SINCE YOU GOT BACK FROM WATERFALL.
"Oh, y'know," he covered quickly, "I was just giving you a break, 'cause I could feel a storm coming your way. In fact, I'd say it's punstoppable."
"SANS…"
"I think some of them might even be pun-in-a-million."
"SANS, PLEASE."
"What, you want to join me? Well, two heads are better than pun. "
"SANS, I AM LEAVING IF YOU DO NOT STOP THESE SHENANIGANS."
"Aw, are you really just going to cut and pun? Can't handle living in the Punderground anymore? I think Undyne might let you stay with her if that's a challenge you want to pundertake."
"SANS, STOP THAT. I KNOW YOU ARE CHANGING THE SUBJECT."
He froze again, letting the next pun dissipate in his mouth. "What'dya mean, bro?" he asked carefully.
"YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. DO YOU REALLY BELIEVE I HAVEN'T NOTICED? EVERY TIME YOU DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT SOMETHING, YOU START JOKING AROUND. IT'S VERY ANNOYING SANS AND…" He trailed off, a strange look coming across his face.
"And..?" Sans prompted.
Papyrus' voice came out much quieter, a stark contrast from his usual exuberance. "And it makes me worried. About you. You're getting the look again."
"What look?"
"The expression you used to wear before you would go to Grillby's and… drink… a lot."
Met with only silence from Sans, Papyrus continued, his voice growing louder again.
"I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY HE LETS YOU HAVE THAT STUFF ANYMORE. HE KNOWS WHAT HAPPENS, I KNOW WHAT HAPPENS. I KNOW YOU… YOU CAN'T HELP IT, BUT HE COULD! IT JUST MAKES ME… angry… or sad… I'm not sure… but it's not a happy feeling, and I don't like it."
"Paps, I-"
"I don't want your excuses, Sans! I want you to promise that you'll stop! I want you to promise that you'll AT LEAST TRY!"
"It's not that simple, Paps, I have a lot-"
"I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS THAT MAKES YOU SO SAD, BUT I KNOW YOU HAVE A LOT OF THINGS TO BE HAPPY ABOUT, SO JUST TRY AND FOCUS ON THOSE! THAT'S WHAT I DO!"
"Paps," he said, holding up a hand to silence his brother. "It doesn't work like that. I can't just choose to be happy. Don't you think I would if I could? I have tried, and I failed. Why bother trying again if it's just going to end up the same?"
"YOU DON'T KNOW THAT IT WILL."
"Trust me, I know. I can't be fixed, okay? Not by me and not by you. Just give up; I did."
"Sans, as your brother, I know I can help-"
"Did you ever think that maybe you're part of the problem?" he snapped. "That maybe I cracked under the pressure of having to care for someone when I was fourteen ?" It took a moment for what he had said to sink in, and he immediately stumbled to cover himself as Papyrus' expression shifted. "Shit- crap- I mean, Paps, it's not your fault. I just meant- it's hard, okay- I can't be as strong as you all the time. I mean, I don't understand you. We woke up and had no clue how we had come to be where we were. How are you so happy all the time? We didn't know what family meant besides each other. It was stressful. I just wanted to protect you, but all I've managed to do is push you away, huh?"
"SANS…" he paused, taking a moment to lower his voice back into a serious tone. "I wonder about our past, too, you know. Monsters all around us talk about their families - their parents - and it makes me… jealous. I don't understand why we don't know anything about them." He falls silent for a moment, but then perks up, realization crossing his features. "WAIT, BROTHER, DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THEM?"
"Paps, I would have told you if I did… you know that, right?"
"I SUPPOSE… I JUST GOT QUITE EXCITED AT THE PROSPECT. SO IF WE CANNOT TALK ABOUT OUR PASTS, WHAT SHALL WE DISCUSS NEXT, BROTHER? IT MAKES ME QUITE HAPPY FOR US TO SPEAK OPENLY."
"I,uh, have to go, Paps. I'm working on a… research… thing."
Papyrus gasped, clasping his hands together. "YOU ARE WORKING ON A SCIENCE PROJECT? SEE, THAT MAKES YOU HAPPY, AND YOU'RE DOING IT! YOU AREN'T A LOST CAUSE, BROTHER, YOU JUST HAVE TO BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!"
"I do believe, Paps," he said quietly, pulling the somber mood back as he walked out the door. "I believe I'm unfixable." And there's no mysterious blueprints for fixing me, he added in his head.
He had to ask Asgore. Asgore hired Alphys, so he must have thought about Gaster at some point, right? If not Asgore, there were plenty of monsters in the capital; someone must know something. He did not take his time walking to the capital, instead choosing to hop a shortcut right into the throne room. Asgore wasn't there. He shrugged and made his way to the streets, cutting through the crowds.
"Look at this gorgeous accessory I got, Juni! These two girls near MTT Resort sold it to me. Isn't it great?" Sans looked up, a sense of deja vu washing over him. A pair of monsters he didn't recognize sat on a bench. One of them was holding out her wrist, showing the other something.
"It's kind of beat up, isn't it?"
"No, silly, it's vintage! They said it was from the surface. I suppose it'd be nice if it did something, instead of just displaying the number twenty, but aside from that, it's my new favorite!"
No, that wasn't right. Sans stared at the exchange long enough for one of them to notice and tell him to take a picture. "Sorry," he said, stepping closer. "What number did you say it displayed?"
"Twenty. Do you know anyone who knows how to fix these things? I was going to ask Alphys but she said she was busy."
"Twenty? Not twenty-one?"
"Dude, come on, she said twenty. Like, leave us alone," the other one piped in.
"Yeah, sorry," he mumbled, turning to leave. Something about that felt seriously wrong. He had seen that before, heard that before, but it was definitely 21, wasn't it? Maybe it was something he should jot down before the kid reset again. Realizing he hadn't written down anything from this timeline yet, he reappeared in his workshop, getting out another piece of paper. After pausing for a moment to look at the old papers, he labeled it and began to write.
Reset 118 - Gaster is the key. He was the old royal scientist, and I have something to do with him. Alphys is involved too somehow? He wrote the blueprints and designed the machine. Monster in the capital has human thing that says 20? I thought it was 21. Paps got really mad at me again this timeline. No one knows who Gaster is. Paps says it sounds familiar. Frisk only reset 3 times before all of this, but I know there's more to this. There has to be.
Satisfied for the time being, he arrived back in the capital, seeking Asgore again. He found him in the throne room, chatting with Undyne.
"Oh, howdy, Sans! What brings you here?"
"Hey," Undyne said, shifting around in impatience.
"Sorry, am I interrupting something? I can come back…"
"Not at all! Undyne and I were simply discussing old times. Did you want to speak to me about something?"
He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he wanted Undyne to hear, but decided that if two of them were there, there was double the chance of someone knowing something about Gaster. "Do you know anything about W.D. Gaster?"
Confusion creased the king's features, and Undyne looked unfazed. "No, I do not believe I do. The Underground is a large place, and though I try, I cannot know everyone. Tell me about them."
"That's the thing: they're sort of… a mystery. No one I talk to seems to know anything. There's only one person, and they told me he was the old Royal Scientist."
There was a pause, hesitation lingering heavily in the air and coating the atmosphere is tension. "The old Royal Scientist was in an accident," Asgore said after a while.
"So he's dead?"
"No…" Asgore frowned. "Honestly, I cannot remember the outcome. I feel as though he simply retired and went to live somewhere else."
"What happened?"
"I… cannot remember that, either. Do you know anything about this, Undyne?"
"I don't keep up with nerdy crap! I'm not really into science. I guess I am a little bit… but I don't know anything about the old scientist… or that much about the current one… we're just kinda friends… I guess." She glanced at Sans, whose grin had grown just a little bit wider. It was funny, no matter how many times he saw it, to see Undyne and Alphys try to deny feelings for each other.
"Ah, well, thanks anyway. Say, any updates on that human wandering around?"
Undyne's cheeks grew red, and she glanced away. So she'd fought them already. "They're, uh, still en route to the castle. I don't think the little punk is very dangerous, fuhuhu!" she added, perking up. "They didn't even fight me; they just ran away! This guy here," she continued, jerking a thumb at Sans, "was no help at all! He was just sleeping at his station - the human ran right past him! I dunno how you can keep hiring this guy."
Sans jumped in before Asgore could speak, hoping he'd catch the hint. "What can I say? I make my sentry stations comfortable."
"I don't hire sentries," Asgore said slowly. Sans sighed in relief. "That is a position loosely related to the Royal Guard. Are you not the one hiring him, Undyne?"
"No? I hired his brother, but he actually works. This guy just does the absolute bare minimum every time… but somehow I don't think it's enough to be grounds for firing him?"
"Hey, come on, Undyne. You know my name isn't just 'This Guy'."
"Oh, right, it's 'Papyrus' Brother'," she retorted.
"Children, please," Asgore laughed.
Sans watched the king curiously. It was strange, knowing he knew things about other monsters that they perhaps did not even know, themselves. He had seen the way Asgore had nearly broken as he talked about the humans - had seen the remorse and guilt in his eyes - but no one would suspect it, looking at him as he was now.
"Hey, Undyne," he said suddenly, lowering his voice as Asgore had turned to tend the flowers. "Weird question, but what do you remember? About your eye, I mean."
"Oh, that? I lost it in a stupid stunt. My friends and I were daring each other to put magic into human junk, to see what would happen, and something kind of… exploded."
"I thought you lost it in a fight with a human."
"A human?" She scoffed. "You think I've fought a human before today? Hell no! Closest I've come to a human was when Gerson let me present Asgore with a soul, but I wasn't there, or anything. Man, that would have been so COOL if I was!"
"What do you remember… about me? Like, how we met."
"I mean, I met you at a Royal Guard meeting just before I became captain, I remember that. But we never really talked much... or interacted. You told me about Papyrus once or twice, but just in passing conversation, like when I was assigned to the same area as one of your stations. Why are you asking about all this? Do you think I'm losing my memory or something? Are you calling me old, punk? You're older than me!"
"Nevermind," Sans said, despite the curiosity burning in his mind. "I've just been thinking about the past."
There was a long pause, wherein neither monster knew what to say, and Asgore's cheerful whistling was the only sound to be heard.
"Well," he said suddenly, "thanks anyway, I guess. I better head back." He turned to leave before stopping. "My next break is starting soon," he added with a wink.
"Yeah, I oughta get going, too," Undyne announced. "Papyrus has a cooking lesson in a few minutes!"
Both Sans and Asgore looked at the fish monster in confusion. "A few minutes?" Asgore finally asked. "How will you get there in a few minutes?"
Undyne looked back, her expression seeming to say, "duh, how else?" and then she smiled. "I'm going to run," she said, already taking off.
Asgore simply laughed. "I remember her training sessions. She always was determined and stubborn."
"Yeah," Sans mumbled. "She certainly can be determined."
He took the long route back to Snowdin, stopping in with Alphys to see where the human was. When he arrived back at his house, Undyne and Papyrus were standing outside.
"WAIT, UNDYNE. IF THE R STANDS FOR RED… WHAT COLOR DOES THE L STAND FOR?"
Despite the phone in Papyrus' hand, the two seemed to be talking more to each other than whoever was on the line. It was probably Frisk, and Sans had to wonder why they continued to call the two goofballs, since, as far as he knew, they were basically no help.
"Uhhhh… Light green."
"OH! OF COURSE!" Papyrus cried, pulling the phone closer again. Before he said anything, he turned back to Undyne. "WAIT. ISN'T THAT TWO WORDS?"
"Light sea green," Sans said, strolling up to the pair.
Papyrus looked a bit disgruntled, and replied, "THREE DOESN'T FIX THE ISSUE!" He turned back to the phone and started speaking again. "NOW, HUMAN-"
"I think you hung up, Papyrus! Or maybe they did. How dare they! Do they think they're too cool for us? I'll get that punk!"
"UNDYNE, I THOUGHT YOU AND THE HUMAN WERE FRIENDS NOW."
"I'll get them in a friend way?"
The phone rang again, and before Papyrus could say anything, Sans chimed in again. "Light sea foam green."
His brother turned to regard him, speaking in a voice with a very clear undertone of "go away". "AREN'T YOU WORKING IN THE VERY NEXT ROOM!?"
Sans flinched slightly, but walked away, reappearing behind the station in Hotland. He could hear the muffled voices of Papyrus and Undyne through the phone as the kid walked up. They seemed to be debating how many stations he had, and he chuckled as they finally hung up.
"Hey buddy, what's up? Wanna buy a hot dog? It's only 30G."
Frisk nodded, reaching into their pockets and pulling out a handful of coins. He had a brief flash of memory as they handed them over, something about being respectful of traditions, but dismissed it, handing them a hot dog.
"Thanks, kid. Here's your 'dog." Seeing that the child was staring at him, he sighed and continued, knowing what they wanted to hear. "Yeah. 'dog. Apostrophe-dog. It's short for hot-dog."
They pulled out more coins and set them on the counter. "Another h'dog? Here you go… whoops," he added, handing them the package, "I'm actually out of hot dogs. You can have a hot cat instead."
"What? Another 'dog? Coming right up… you really like hot animals, don't you?" He laughed at the kid's expression, continuing, "Hey, I'm not judging. I'd be out of a job without folks like you."
Frisk tilted their head slightly, their lips parting and hands raising as though they wanted to say something, but decided not to.
"What? I said a job, not all my jobs." He winked as they turned to walk away, and he thought he caught an eye-roll directed his way. Well, they certainly kept their personality from the surface, he thought.
His thoughts drifted back to Gaster as he watched them leave. He considered going around Hotland to see if he could find any of the mysterious monsters who had told Frisk about him in the first place, but he had the nagging suspicion that they were gone for good now. Something stirred within him, and for a moment, he thought he heard the name being spoken aloud. He looked around quickly, jolting from his trance. "What did you say?" He asked no one in particular.
"I didn't say anything," a bird-monster nearby chirped as a Vulkin said, "Toasty bun!"
He sat back down, retreating into his thoughts again.
"Gaster."
"What?" The voice was small and quiet, but he somehow recognized it as his own.
"Your Uncle Gaster - Uncle Wing Ding. You and Papyrus are going to go-" the voice broke off in a fit of magic gone haywire, breaking and humming. "You're going to go live with him, in Hotland, okay? He'll take good care of you."
There was a hand resting on his cheek, its thumb rubbing small circles against his bones.
"But I want to stay here, with you!"
"I know, darling, I know," the voice said, growing quieter and weaker by the moment. "But it's what's best for you and your brother. You remember your uncle, right? You like him. He's a scientist, remember? I bet he'll teach you all about it."
"What about you and Dad? When can we see you?"
"Sans, we're going to say goodbye, okay? Wing Ding will take good care of you. You're going to go tonight, okay? You can pack your things, right? And Papyrus'? Wing Ding will be here tonight to pick you up, okay?"
"I don't want to leave you! Why do I have to?"
"Sans, there are some things we can't control, okay? We want you and Russy to live long and happy lives, okay? You have to trust us, please. We won't be around to help you much longer - Wing Ding will be."
"Come here, my boy, give me a hug. I love you, okay? You know that, right? Me and your father, we love you very much, y'know. He's very tired, but he might wake up if you want to say goodbye. You can go try. It's okay."
"Why do I have to say goodbye? I don't understand!"
"It's okay, Sans. It's okay."
He opened his eyes, gasping, and promptly took a shortcut back to his workshop, frantically adding the memory to the paper. What was that?
His mind answered for him, even though the logical answer made the least sense. That was my childhood - those were my parents! Why… why didn't I remember that before?
He was fully aware that he was now having a conversation with himself in his head, and he was fully aware how crazy it made him feel, but he ignored it.
Maybe you didn't want to remember it.
Why wouldn't I?
Think about it. What was happening there?
They were… Realization slammed into him like a wall, and he gasped again. They were sick… they were dying. We were going to live with Gaster… Gaster is our uncle?
He stood there for a moment, basking in the memory and reaching for anything else, but there was nothing. He stared at the paper, mulling over his newfound information. What do I tell Paps? He's always held out hope that our family is out there somewhere, just waiting to be found. Should I really tell him that our parents are dead and the only other family we know of apparently doesn't exist?
He buried his face in his hands as he felt the world slow again. For the first time in a while, he again began to wish that he could just forget everything and start clean with each reset, just like everyone else. His life would certainly be a lot simpler, and his mind would certainly be a lot less broken if he could.
The cracks webbed the surface, and a piece began to flake away, hanging on by only the barest of threads.