Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Papyrus, go wake your brother up, he's going to be late for school again,” Gaster signed, then lifted the spatula from the pan and, poking the sizzling eggs before him, furrowed his brow in thought. Sans’ nightmares were becoming all too common, always flashbacks of the War, leaving his baby brother a crying puddle nearly every night. Only now, Sans’ reaction had somehow become worse; he didn't react at all. Gaster would find him in the morning awake, staring blankly at the wall, head nodding in exhaustion as Sans willed himself away from sleep. The toll on his mental state was awful, leaving Sans listless and despondent, not helped by his insistence of guilt that pervaded the boy’s days. There must be some way to ease his soul, Gaster thought. I only began to have flashbacks when I reclaimed my artifice when I was an adult, and I can barely suffer through them myself. A child shouldn't have to deal with those black thoughts. Gaster sighed. I should have been more careful, he thought. I should have known that resurrecting him with that Thing still in his skull would cause problems.

Turning as he heard Papyrus’ footsteps returning, he was chilled to the marrow when he saw his face. “Gaster,” Papyrus whimpered, “Something’s wrong with Sans. I can't get him to respond at all.”

He extinguished the stove and strode to Sans’ room as quickly as he could without showing his fear. Throwing the door open, he rushed to the bed where Sans lay. The second he laid eyes on his brother he could tell why Papyrus was so panicky. Sans was unnervingly still, the usual mimicry of breathing that accompanied his normal sleep was completely absent, and he lay perfectly supine, reminding him far too much of someone anesthetized. Gaster shook Sans’ shoulder. No response. “Sans, wake up,” he commanded. No response. A pang of fear ran through him; wrapping his brother in blankets, he scooped him up into his arms. “Papyrus, stay here, I'm taking Sans to the hospital.”

Papyrus leapt to Gaster’s side, clinging to his shirt. “Brother, what happened? Why can't I come?” The wide-eyed pleading caused Gaster to pause. A kid as little as he would just get under the nurses’ feet. Gaster began to refuse, but glanced back down at Sans. The awful realization came to him that if Papyrus stayed here, this may be the last time he ever saw his brother again. He beckoned Papyrus to follow with a conjured hand as he left the house, the two of their hasty footsteps the only sounds between them.

Chapter Text

“And what exactly are you accusing me of?” Gaster growled, arms folded tightly across his chest.

Kobold peered back at him over his clipboard with narrowed eyes, his smudged glasses resting low on his snout. “Children don't just “fall down”, Gaster. They don't just go comatose out of despair unless something has gone very wrong. I need you to tell me what's been going on, for Sans’ sake. At this point I don't care how awful it’ll sound to say, I need you to be honest with me about what's led up to this.”

“I've told you everything I can,” Gaster said, head in his hands. “Sans is just...Kobold, I don't know how to help him! He just hasn't got the will to live! He couldn't stay determined if...i-if his life d-depended on it.” Quiet sobs overtook him, his arms crossed around him not in anger but in consolation.

Despite Gaster’s lapse into tears, Kobold continued to peer clinically at him. I've always had an uneasy feeling about you, he thought, trying to suss out any trace of fakery in the skeleton’s demeanor. Since the day I found you, you've always acted off, always took the strangest actions, always tried to hide from everyone. Whatever you've done to that boy, Gaster, there'll be Hell to pay if, no, no When, he wakes up and tells me.

"I suppose if that's everything you can recount,” Kobold said, pushing his glasses up. "Say, why don't you send in Papyrus? Whatever's affecting Sans might affect him too. If we can catch it early, we might be able to save him. At the very least it could provide some clues.”

Gaster tried to steady his breathing enough to respond. "P-Papyrus h-has never sh-shown any symptoms like Sans. But, but if you think it best…” God, stop staring at me like that, he thought, tears beginning to well up again. You're the monster that raised me in this new life, you're like a father to me, why do you distrust me so much? I know I'm wrong in the head, but I'd never hurt my brothers. Unable to meet the doctor's gaze, he pushed himself out of the stiff-backed chair and left Kobold's office, footsteps falling silently even on the tile floor of the hospital.

Entering one of the waiting rooms, he spotted Papyrus sitting near a table, stacking blocks in a precarious manner. Gaster tapped him lightly on the shoulder, his little head snapping up to look at him with a big smile reflexively on his face despite the worry in his eyes. "I'm being quiet, see," he said, placing a finger against his mouth.

"Yes, you're acting very good, thank you," Gaster signed. "Doctor wants to see you. Please come.” Papyrus took his outstretched hand, a questioning look on his face, though he remained quiet. Back down the sterile hall they went, back to Kobold's office, the door left ajar. The doctor smiled and welcomed the little skeleton in, and Gaster let go of his hand. "Behave. I go check Sans,” he signed, closing the door as he left.

"Hello, Papyrus," Kobold said with a reassuring smile. “Can I have you take a seat right over there?”

Papyrus hopped onto the chair the doctor was gesturing to, sitting on his hands like he always did when he was nervous. Kicking his legs back and forth anxiously, he smiled back at Kobold. "Is Sans okay? I don't really know what's going on. And am I in trouble? I'm trying not to be loud, I promise.”

"Calm down, calm down,” Kobold soothed, "You're not in trouble, I promise. I wanted to ask a few questions about your brother Sans, is that okay?”

"Doctor K, what's wrong with Sans? Is he going to be able to come home tonight?”

Kobold hesitated, trying to think of a way to phrase what he had to say in a way that wouldn't cause the child to panic. "The situation with your brother is very serious. He's very ill, but I'm still hopeful that he'll recover.” Well, maybe that last part wasn't entirely true, but Papyrus didn't need to know that. '"Is it alright if I ask you about what might have caused this?”

"Um, yeah, I guess. I don't really know a lot about medicine-type stuff,” Papyrus fidgeted in his seat, panic starting to rise. How could he help?

"That's alright, I promise I'll ask easy questions. Firstly, do you know what HP is?”

"Kinda," Papyrus replied, though by his fidgeting Kobold knew it would require a more thorough explanation.

"It's kind of like stamina for the SOUL. If you spend all day running, you'll eventually get really tired and sore and won't be able to physically work anymore until you rest up. Well, when a monster is exposed to lots of negative emotions, like getting into fights or feeling isolated and lonely, their HP goes down. Usually, it takes rest and self-care for HP to increase again, but a low HP can almost always be recovered from unless it drops extremely low. Every monster has a maximum HP, a certain tolerance for emotional damage, and except for growing up, growing old, and very special training, it shouldn't change very much. Unfortunately, if a monster is exposed to emotional trauma over a long period of time, their maximum HP can decrease, which is obviously very bad.”

''Okay?” Papyrus said, legs swinging harder than ever. "But what does this have to do with my brother?”

"Well…” Kobold said, nervously rubbing his glasses clean on the hem of his coat, "After running some tests, it was discovered that not only was your brother's HP critically low, his maximum HP is abnormally low as well. Children should have lots of HP, but Sans, well, I've never seen a child with HP so low. Your brother…” Oh god, how can I tell him this? "Your brother is in a state called 'fallen down'.”

"Wait, but I thought that only happened to really old monsters,” Papyrus shouted, tears starting to fall down his cheeks.

"Not... not always,” Kobold said, sighing. "Papyrus, I need to know how Sans ended up like this. If you know anything at all, please tell me.”

The little skeleton was bawling at this point, rocking back and forth as he sobbed. Kobold stood up from his chair and went to hug Papyrus, holding him tightly as he tried to calm him down. "Shhh... It'll be alright, it'll all be okay. Sans still has a chance to recover, don't give up hope just yet.” Reaching over, Kobold grabbed a box of tissues and pressed it into the boy's hands, taking one and dabbing at his cheeks. "Do you want some water?” Kobold asked.

"I-I want t-to help m-m-my brother,” he choked out, the force of his grip crushing the box in his hands. "I-I w-want to help Sans.”

"Okay, okay, just try to take some deep breaths,” Did skeletons breathe? Kobold was about to apologize for being so insensitive, but despite lacking lungs, Papyrus was approximating the act pretty well. It took a few minutes, but finally the boy was quiet, the wails subsiding into an occasional whimper, Papyrus tucking his legs under his chin as he hugged himself.

"Are you ready to answer questions? If you're not, please take as much time as you need,” Kobold said. Papyrus nodded his head forcefully, wiping his cheeks with his sleeve, then with a tissue from the crushed box in his hands. "Alright. Can you tell me a little bit about Sans?”

"Like what?”

"Well, what are some things he likes? Dislikes? Who are his friends?”

"Um…” Papyrus rocked in his seat, his brow furrowed in thought. Why is he hesitating? Kobold thought, surely he's familiar with his own brother? "He likes snow,” Papyrus said, eyes cast down towards the floor. “And... and he likes, uh, cars… Sorry, my brother doesn't really like a lot of things.”

''Oh? Does he not have a lot of opportunity to find interests?”

"No. Gaster is always trying to show us cool stuff, like science-y things he does at work, or new books, but Sans never really cares about anything except sleeping. But he's really bad at it.”

''He's bad at sleeping?” Kobold asked, scratching away at his notepad. Now they might be getting somewhere.

"Yeah. He has a lot of nightmares about humans hurting monsters, so he always wakes up late at night. Then he tries to sleep during the day, but we have school, so he gets in trouble.”

"Does Gaster know about these nightmares?”

"Yeah. He keeps telling Sans that they're not real and that he's safe, and he says Sans can sleep in his room with him if he wants, but nothing helps.”

"Hmm…” Kobold tapped his nose with his pen. So far, everything Papyrus said was lining up with Gaster's story. Was there something he was missing? A thought occurred to him: maybe Gaster had coached him to repeat what he had said. More questioning was definitely needed.

"Let's see,” Papyrus began again without prompting, "My brother dislikes... well, me," he said, shoulders slumping.

"Why would you say that?”

Papyrus shrugged. "He doesn't like me. He never wants to do anything with me, he just avoids me. I don't know why. Sometimes... sometimes he acts like he's scared of me and Gaster, and I don't know why. Well, maybe I know why for Gaster, they're always mean to each other, but I'm nice! Really I am!”

God that face he's making, Kobold thought sadly as he watched Papyrus, his brother’s behavior must have really been hurting him. But what was that about Gaster being cruel? "Papyrus, what do you mean when you say Gaster is mean to Sans?”

"They're always arguing,” Papyrus said, looking at the floor." Gaster is mad that Sans never wants to do ANYTHING, and you know what?” he said, looking straight at Kobold, "I am too! He's lazy! He never tries at anything! It's like he's trying to be unhappy! A-and now look what h-happened.” He was growing sniffly again, and Kobold had to once again coax him back down. "Sorry, I'm just, just really really confused about why Sans is like this…”

“Does Sans have anyone outside of the family to talk to?”

“Well...Sans is actually pretty popular. People think he's funny and cool, but I don't think Sans really likes them back. There’s no one that he talks on the phone with, or hangs out with, he just gives them all a big smile and a joke and waits for them to go away.”

Well that was concerning, Kobold thought, pen flying over his clipboard. He's behaving exactly like Gaster did when he was young, never wanting to be near people, wrapped up in his own thoughts. His bad habits must have rubbed off on the boy. What was their home life like, he wondered. What did Gaster do behind closed doors? “Let's try a different angle now. Can you tell me some things about Gaster?”

“Same stuff as before?”

“Sure, let's start there.”

“Okay. Gaster likes science stuff A LOT, he's always telling us about cool things he's working on at the lab or reading hard books with lots of math in them. He says that they're about, um, about Counting Physics.”

"Counting Physics?”

"Yeah!'’ Papyrus said, suddenly perking up. "It's like, so, okay, it's about how light behaves, and you know how light is sort of everywhere? Well, it isn't like water, where everything is all mixed together, it's more like grapes, because you can count grapes and they don't lose their shape like water drops do when they're together. So light is like grapes because its countable and doesn't mix, but sometimes it's also like rubber bands because it wiggles, and somehow light does both those things at the same time, which doesn't really make sense, but I guess that's why my brother studies it.”

What on Earth was he talking about? Kobold stared in bewilderment as he tried to make heads or tails of Papyrus' explanation. "Wait, do you maybe mean quantum physics?”

"YEAH!!!” he shouted, bouncing up and down in excitement. The sudden loudness startled Kobold, causing him to jolt and drop his pen. As he bent down to retrieve it, he saw the boy sign 'sorry’, his shoulders hunched up in embarrassment.

Kobold smiled reassuringly. “It's alright, don't worry about it. What else does he like?” To his surprise, Papyrus continued to sign, presumably giving an answer, although Kobold couldn't comprehend it. He knew a bit of sign language, but not only was he out of practice, Papyrus was signing much too quickly for him to process. “Um, I’m sorry, b-but I can't understand you. Why have you switched from speaking to signing?” Papyrus gestured to his mouth, and after a few repetitions Kobold eked out the meaning. “Yes, of course you're allowed to talk.”

“Gaster gets really angry and upset when I’m loud, and if I continue to talk at all afterwards it just makes him angrier, so I sign instead. He taught me and Sans how to sign when we were really young, so it's like our family’s own secret language.” Papyrus said. He seemed to be just as happy as ever, completely oblivious to how bizarre his statement was, though he was being very careful as to how loud he spoke, taking on a sort of lisp as well which extricated any hissing from his cadence.

“How often does Gaster get upset like that? What does he do when he's upset?”

“Well,” Papyrus kicked his feet, “I try my best to be quiet, but I'm not that good at it, so he tends to get upset a lot. I can tell I've been too loud when he covers the sides of his head and starts rubbing his hands together and sways from side to side, ‘cause he does that when he's upset. He can't talk much when he's upset, and he seems confused a lot too.”

“Does he get upset like that about other things?”

“Yeah. Um, he can't touch buzzing things like pencil sharpeners or microwaves when they're running, and high pitched sounds hurt him too, and hissing sounds make him really irritated, and he doesn't like people at all. I think the people one is the worst for him ‘cause he tries to avoid them whenever he can. Hey Doctor K, what things upset you?”

“Papyrus, that sort of reaction you described is very unusual,” Kobold said as tactfully as he could, “I don't really have anything that upsets me that way.”

“Not at all?”

“No, Papyrus. I admit that crowds make me nervous, but it doesn't cause me to react like that.”

“Oh, um, okay…?” Papyrus scratched his skull as he cast a skeptical look towards him, then brightened up. “It's alright if you want to keep it a secret. Gaster says that its sometimes best to keep secrets from people who aren't family, like stuff about your body or fears. You need your privacy too. Would you be mad if I told you the things that make me upset?”

"Erm, sure, go ahead?"

"Well," Papyrus began with all the righteous derision deserving of that which offended him, "There are a LOT of textures that I HATE, like touching them is just AWFUL and GROSS and I WON'T DO IT! I won't touch anything slimy or sticky EVER and if anything is too smooth, that's weird too, and wood is icky and, and, okay there's a lot of stuff that I won't touch, but! BUT!!! That's why I wear these mittens!" he stuck his arms straight out, practically gloating over his gloves, cherry red knit and yellow cuffs presented with utmost pride. "Um, also, sometimes people say things in a way that upsets me, but like, not mean things, just like, um...Okay, I have an example. So, Sans likes puns A LOT, and it drives me nuts, because like, he puts this weird emphasis behind the word, and I get that's how puns are supposed to work, but there's also, like, a rhythm to how people are supposed to talk and puns ruin that rhythm and it throws me off of understanding what he's saying and it’s frustrating. And I hate when people don't follow the rules, because then why do we even have rules, and they’re supposed to be followed, even if you THINK you know how to do a thing you HAVE to follow the directions, and don't even get me started about people being messy because IT'S NOT HARD! It's not hard to clean up after yourself, and like just be clean in general and it MAKES ME SO MAD!!!"

"And how do you react to that?"

"I don't really handle it that well... I know I'm not supposed to, but I start shouting and sometimes crying, and I gotta sort of run around to burn off the angry feeling, otherwise it sometimes comes out magically, and I don't mean to but sometimes things get broken." Papyrus bunched up in his seat. "I'm not trying to be bad..."

"I'm sure you're not," Kobold soothed, "You're trying your best, I'm sure. Say, do you know if Sans has any triggers like this?"

Papyrus scratched his skull, legs kicking again. "Not really...See, it's almost like its backwards for him, 'cause like, with Gaster, everything is too much and overwhelms him, but with Sans, it’s like everything is too little. There's not all that much that even mildly bothers him, even when others would be kinda upset by things. Not a lot of things seem to cause him pain, he's not bothered by noise or lights or anything, he can fall asleep in ANY position. I think he needs more stuff that actually reaches him. Maybe he's just constantly bored? I mean, I kinda get it because when I'm playing at recess, and I fall down or hit my head or something, I just sort of get back up, and everyone is weirded out and like 'doesn't that hurt?' but it just doesn't, really. Or, like, it's hard to tell how loud I'm being because every other voice sounds really quiet or hard to make out and noise doesn't bother me at all, unlike Gaster who hates it SO much. I don't know, maybe we're all just weird..."

Kobold chuckled, “Well, I suppose that’s a possibility, but it’s nothing that makes you bad or wrong, I promise. You’ve been very helpful Papyrus; I really appreciate all the information you’ve given me.”

“Will you be able to help Sans with it?”

“There’s a very good chance that I will,” Placing his hand on the young skeleton’s shoulder, he smiled as he motioned for the boy to follow him. “Now, I think it’s time for you to join back up with Gaster. He’s in Sans’ room right now, I think. Do you want me to show you the way?” At Papyrus’ affirmation, the two set off down the sterile halls, both traveling with no more words to say between them.

Chapter Text

It was the most awful feeling, seeing a loved one in pain, suffering, and having no way to help. Gaster sat next to Sans’ bed, clasping his brother’s hand in his own, holding tightly to whatever was still there. His condition hadn’t changed since this morning, the late afternoon slowly creeping past the both of them, frozen in their positions. Was there truly nothing more I could do? Gaster scanned Sans' face; he did not look peaceful. Eyes fully open yet completely blank, his face stiff and without expression, like it never had life in it to begin with. He still did not breathe.

If he is in such pain, would it be better if he returned to the earth? Gaster immediately let go of his brother's hannd, repulsed at his own thought. What was he saying? He wanted Sans to live, how could he possibly think he would be better off dead? I didn't mean it, Gaster prayed, please hold on, Sans, I'm begging you...

Behind him, his sentinel stood guard. Unblinking eyelights gazed out of ivory sockets, formidable fangs at its disposal for when the time came to protect. Gaster never seemed to call his serpent-skull servants consciously, but they never failed to appear in his distress; they would be his eyes. Standing up, he leaned heavily on his cane as he left the hospital room. In his skeletal body, he hardly needed the crutch anymore, but with his thoughts so full of dread, he didn't trust himself to remember how to keep moving. Gaster made his way out into the Hotland plaza that served as the hospital's courtyard, pulling his pipe from the folds of his coat, igniting it magically as he fought back tears for the upteenth time today.

You can't do anything for him if you're in hysterics, he reprimanded himself, taking a long drag, the smoke filling his skull and clouding the edges of his senses, run ragged by the sharp, demanding hospital environment. Every beep,whir, and clack of the going's on around him had stabbed like needles through his body, the ambient conversations and orders given between nurses like chains yanking his focus every which way; he so desperately wanted to stay by Sans' side, even as his metaphorical nerves were set on fire with each passing second in that place, but he could only endure for so long. Conjured hands hovered around him, each in pairs moving alexically but far from randomly. One set had their fingers tapping a soothing pattern, touching each phalange to the thumb in rhythm; one, two, three, four, three, two, one, two, three...A second set linked together, tying elaborate knots in their hold, the tension on each knuckle giving a grounding, present sense. Yet another pair hovered low, just above waist height, tracing the holes in each other's palms. Gaster took another long drag on his pipe, realigning his head. Closing his eyes, he peered through to Sans' room: no change.

His eyes started to wander, following the mechanical architecture rising above him. Hotland, a place that would hardly exist without his vision. Every aspect of the industrialization of the Underground was due to his mad scheme to construct an engine powerful enough to break the barrier. Even if the CORE hadn't succeeded in it's original goal, it had forever changed monsterkind's course. Gaster sighed, puffing ruefully: you can work nearly any miracle you devise, except save anyone you love. The thought made his heart ache. He peered into Sans' room once more. Oh, Papyrus was there now, and Kobold too, checking the spider-like device on Sans' chest that tracked his SOUL's resonance. It wouldn't do to leave them waiting, he supposed.

His first few steps back into the hospital already raised his hackles. Jabbing at the button to call the elevator back down to the clinic proper, he entertained the thought of being able to strangle sensations. The obnoxious florescent lights flickered just at the detectable range, causing the the polished tile floor and pristine, white walls to bleed an excessive amount of brightness, and the tap of his own heels and cane as he walked were nails into his head. I have to get back to Sans. I will do anything to be there for him. I'm almost there anyways, its quieter there, just keep moving forward--

"There you are! Where in stars did you run off to!?" Kobold marched up to Gaster, impatiently pushing his glasses up his snout. "You might be upset, but now is not the time to be running off, your brothers need you! I can't play babysitter, neither can the nurses. And what in stars was that THING you left in Sans' room; the poor boy would wake up just to have his SOUL scared right out of him! Come on!" He reached out to grab Gaster's sleeve, only for him to jerk his arm away. Kobold sighed, "Don't start throwing a tantrum now. You wanted to play-act the adult, you need to respond like an adult."

Gaster narrowed his eyes. Of all times, the old fool wanted to drag their past up now. A white hot contempt ignited inside his chest, ugly wound filled with hurt and regret ripped open once more, resisting the temptation to throttle the monster beneath him. Straightening his back, he loomed over Kobold, behind him another guardian summoned itself, maw of teeth bared, Gaster gritted his teeth. “Get out of my way,” he hissed.” He did not wait to savor the fear in the doctor’s eyes; he only heard Kobold flee behind him as he stormed forward.

No change. Entering his brother’s room, it was the first thought that crossed his mind. Sans was just as inert and still as before, Papyrus clinging to the blankets at the edge of his bed. Kneeling down next to him, Gaster placed his arm around his shoulder, pulling him close as Papyrus sniffled. He gazed up at his guardians, the two of them staring coolly back; for all the power they possessed, there was no more aid they could give. As easily as they appeared, the constructs were dismissed back into the ether. “Gaster, I tried to help Doctor K help Sans, I really did…” Papyrus whimpered, wrapping his arms around himself, “I told him what I knew, I—”

“Shhh, you did your best,” Gaster said, hugging him tightly, “And I’m sure he’s very thankful for that. Sans will too, once he wakes up. We just need to let the doctor take care of him.”

The little skeleton was quiet, head turned away. “Are you sure he’s gonna wake up?”

“Sans just needs some time; right now we have to wait.” He turned his gaze back to his fallen brother. "Sans, if we mean anything at all to you, please don't leave us.

Papyrus reached out, grasping his comatose brother's hand tightly. "Sans, I don't know what I'd do without you, please come back."

A nurse entered the room, cloudy blue feathers ruffled by the day's hassles, followed by a skittish Dr. Kobold. "I wanted to let you know," she began, checking the resonator on Sans' chest, "visiting hours are almost over. You're family, so there won't be any issue if you want to stay, but we were hoping to run some more tests to better understand Sans' condition. I hope you understand."

"I suppose we should get going," Gaster sighed, "We've been here all day, there's not much more we can do." Standing up, he held his hand out behind him, "Papyrus, let's go."

"No!"

Gaster turned back, seeing Papyrus standing with his arms crossed and teeth gritted. He motioned for him to follow, only to be met with an indignant stomp. "I'm not leaving until Sans can come with me!"

"P-Papyrus," Kobold stuttered, "If you would--" the doctor couldn't even say his piece as the boy gave an ear splitting scream, leaping onto the bed. Gaster collapsed to his knees, hissing in pain as the nurse grappled to pull Papyrus back. He'd devolved into an inconsolable mess, slapping Sans' cheeks as he wailed, begging him to get up. Wrapping her arms around Papyrus' chest, the nurse dragged him partially off, him still desperately gripping Sans' arm, dragging him treacherously close to the edge. One final lunge flung Papyrus forward, little teeth clamping down on his brother's arm.

Sans groaned.

Instantly, the chaos ceased. Everyone froze in place, as if daring to believe their senses. Glancing up fom his recoil, Gaster was almost certain that the lights on the resonator that tracked the strength of Sans' SOUL was just ever more slightly brighter. "Sans," he croaked, "Can you hear us?" He gave no further reaction. "Sans!" Gaster rasped, his own volume causing him to see spots, "Get up now!"

Sans groaned, closed his eyes, and rolled over.

Well, it was a start, Gaster thought. Leveraging himself up by his cane, he hobbled over to the bed and lifted Sans beneath the arms up into the air. "Wake up," he commanded. Sns didn't vocalize anything, but his body was far more relaxed, chest gently rising and falling as his head drooped to his chest. "Wake up." His legs kicked slightly, a small whine escaping his throat, followed by a snore. "Wake up." Gaster shook his brother, causing his head to loll back and forth, an exasperation built out of both fear and hope rising in Gaster's chest at the change.

"St-stop that!" Kobold yelped, indignation on his face as he clutched at his clipboard. "This is ridiculous, you're going to hurt him!"

"But look, his SOUL's growing stronger by the moment," the nurse squealed, talons a covering her beak in excitement. "Come on, Sans, you can do it!"

"Wake up."

"...mmfhgmfrnnn...ssshool."

"Wake up." More shaking, abet gentler this time.

"...don't wanna go to school..."

"Sans, this is the last time. Wake up."

The skeleton gave a prolonged whine, arms and legs weakly flailing. Head only just lifting, his eye sockets fluttered, squinted, and finally, finally opened. His eyelights were cloudy and unfocused, but they shone out of his skull all the same. Sans grunted questioningly, head rolling from side to side as he attempted to process being back from the brink. Gaster pulled him close, hugging him tightly as his eyes became damp. Holding him in his arms, Gaster rocked Sans gently.

"...where...am I...?"

"Shhh, you're safe, I've got you. You're going to be alright." Gaster set his brother softly onto the bed, palm supporting his forehead up. "How are you feeling?"

Sans dumbly looked around, eyes hardly staying open. "It looks...like we're in...a hospital," he slurred,his own hand reaching up and helping his brother support his head.

"SAAANS!!!" Papyrus squealed, clawing into his brother's lap, tears rushing down his face. "You came back..."

"Uh huh...wait, uhm, hold, hold on," Sans croaked, holding Papyrus up. "This is a hospital...Bro, did you get hurt?"

"Not exactly," Kobold chuckled, scales slick with persperation. "Sans, you were in a coma for almost 9 hours."

"Wait...I'm in the hospital...?"

"You most certainly are," Kobold continued. "Your family waited so patiently for you, they stayed by your bedside almost the whole time. You've got a lot of recovering to do, young man, and a lot of resting."

"Are you going to be alright staying here? We'll stay as long as you need us to," Gaster said, hand on Sans' shoulder.

"I think...I think I'll be okay."

"So he can't come home?" Papyrus whined. A tight grip on his shoulder caused him to shrink. It was plain that he knew how his question would be answered; moreover he knew the toll his tantrum would cost him once he and Gaster got home. He tucked his chin to his chest, signing ''sorry."

"N-now I h-hate to be rude," Kobold declared, hands on his hips, "but give your kisses and say your farewells, I need you out of here so I can do my job! Please, stars above, there's been far too much commotion, just, just...just shoo!"

Chapter Text

Sans lay staring up at the fluorescent lights of the hospital room. He was completely motionless except for the occasional blink, his bones all feeling like lead, an empty ache residing in his chest that still lingered from his coma. Sure he was back from the dead, but he still couldn't convince himself that it was a good thing. His brothers’ words still echoed in his head, Sans mentally reciting them over and over as life support. ‘If we mean anything at all to you, please don't leave us,’ ‘Sans, I don't know how I'd live without you, please come back.’ I can't die, he thought, I can't die, for their sake.

A knock came from his right, and shifting his eyes over he saw Dr. Kobold standing in the doorway. “Sans,” the lizard began, “I'm so glad to see you awake again. You had us all so worried.”

“Heh, thanks Doctor K.” Sans cracked a smile. Force of habit. If they knew what I was made of, he thought, they'd never say that. Hell, even he didn't fully get it, but he sure saw it. Every time he looked in a mirror it was written so plainly on his soul, that black stain that was eating him alive. The stained soul of a murderer. “Hey, Doc?” Sans started hesitantly, “Can I ask you some questions about stuff? It's a kind of heavy topic, so…”

“Oh absolutely, Sans. You can ask me anything at all,” Kobold said with a warm smile. His relief was immeasurable that Sans was finally starting to exercise volition again; that he wasn't passively existing meant it was less likely he would fall down in the short term.

“Well, uh, so I was reading some old books, about back when monsters still lived on the surface, and there was this, um, kind of magic that monsters did, to protect themselves from humans.”

"Oh? Can you maybe describe it?”

“So from what I've read so far, there were these monsters who were called 'Judges’, yeah? They used their magic to 'see’ the souls of both monsters and humans, able to tell the contents of a person's psyche just by looking at 'em. And a lot of books about them talk about how their ability to see souls led to the beginning of medicine for monster-kind, 'cuz they could differentiate what kinds of afflictions souls could have, y'know?” Sans said, propping himself up to converse.

"Ah, yes, I actually know quite a bit about that. Not only did I have to take courses about medical history when I was studying to be a doctor, I actually had a great-great, oh several times great grandmother who was one. Pythia, her name was,” said Kobold. "Have you been thinking of a career in medicine?”

"Uh, sorry, but not really. What's interesting though about the Judges was that back then they were considered intermediaries between the two races, 'cuz they could tell whether or not humans that approached were good or evil. But here's the kinda scary thing: apparently they found a way to quantify how evil someone was, how easily they could bring themselves to hurt others. So, Doc, here's my question: what actually is EXP? And LV too, while we're the subject.”

“That... is an awfully dark topic,” Kobold said, pulling nervously at his coat collar, ”I'm not entirely sure it's a good idea to talk about that when you've only just woken up. I don't want to jeopardize your health by upsetting you.”

"Eh, fair enough,” Sans said. Immediately Kobold saw the intrigue leave his eyes, focus despondently drifting away to stare at the wall. Damn, I guess I shouldn't've asked, Sans thought, hole in his chest deepening. The one lead he might have had about how he was broken, denied. Shit, he's going to tell Gaster I was asking about this too, I can't deal with this. I didn't deserve an answer anyways, why'd I even--

"B-but if it'd make you feel better, I guess I could talk about it a little.” No, no, please stay with me Sans, Kobold thought frantically. I don't know why you'd want to talk about this, but I have to keep his spirits up.

"Really?” Sans said, smiling once again, stained though it was.

"Um, s-sure, I suppose…” Kobold took a deep breath. “Well, um, EXP is a-an acronym, for Execution Points. The concept of what it actually measured though has meant different things depending on how far back you go. Originally, the Judges would hold a soul accountable for any strike against another. The act of harming another, they believed, was all it took to show the cruelty, the Level of Violence, in one's heart. There were problems with that criteria though. What if you struck out in self-defense? What if you were a soldier, you would be fighting quite often, but that wouldn't necessarily mean you were malicious and dangerous, yes? Well, the most famous Judge, the Duchess Rachel Wishurr, the Queen's mother you know, she revolutionized the study of EXP by discovering a very important distinction. The mere act of fighting does raise one's EXP and LV, but only temporarily. On the one hand, it's theorized that it's a kind of defense mechanism for the soul; if you're always in conflict, having a distance from the emotional pain can help you survive. On the other hand, it's also been suggested that violence begets violence, and that the temporary heightened state of emotional dulling would be permanent except for the employment of mercy, deliberately stopping yourself from perpetrating cruelty. Only the act of killing someone would permanently increase EXP, that's why it's called Execution Points specifically, and such a stain would necessarily require one's LV to increase to endure it.”

"Wait, so then can someone have high EXP and low LV? Or vice versa? 'Cuz that sounds kinda impossible.”

"It can, most certainly, though almost never with good effect. For example, some humans have an abnormally high LV naturally, they're predisposed to act without compassion, to be unable to feel remorse. In a similar vein, when the Royal Guard were still protecting us on the surface, they underwent phenomenalIy difficult training where they learned to raise and lower their LV through sheer discipline. What little I know about it is that when it was practiced correctly it increased the monster's HP far beyond what it could naturally be and created an indomitable will, the perfect soldier to protect against humans. But... but the chance for failure was terribly high as well. Many monsters couldn't handle it, either dying, going mad, or... worse. Lady Rachel convinced the king back then that such a practice was far too tolling to be ethical and had it forbidden, so fortunately the Royal Guard no longer do that. Conversely, a high EXP with a low LV means one is left with the empathic comprehension of what they've done. That sort of guilt corrodes the soul, causes all sorts of psychosomatic problems. That's why you almost always see LV increase with EXP, if it weren't for the emotional numbing, it would chew away at a monster's HP until... until they fall down.”

A chill ran through Kobold as he finished his sentence, a disturbing thought occurring to him. Was Sans asking about this topic for... personal reasons? No, that couldn't be, he thought, watching the boy's expression. His smile was much less strained now, but neither was it an unnerving one either. It had returned to its usual, casual, amicable state that spoke towards his interest in their conversation, not hardly a slasher’s grin. Nonsense, he told himself, that's nothing but foolishness. "Anyways, the profession of Judge doesn't really exist anymore. Since the amount of magical training for becoming a Judge is so extensive, there's usually not a big enough return for studying it. After all, there are many other, less specialized ways that police use to determine perpetrators of crimes, and we don't really have to worry about humans anymore, do we?” He chuckled, "I hope that scratched your itch.”

''Wow, Doc, I didn't expect that good of an answer. Thanks,” Sans laughed.

"I'm glad I could help. Now I was wondering if you could answer some questions for me?”

Uh oh. "Um, sure Doctor K, whaddaya need?” Sans sweated.

"Well, obviously it's very troubling that you had fallen down, this is definitely not something that healthy and mentally sound boys experience. I understand that this will probably be very personal, but I'd appreciate if you could help me understand what lead up to this.”

"Heh, well you're not wrong," Sans said. How the hell was he going to lie his way out of this? There was no way he could tell Kobold about his dreams without him freaking out, without being recognized as as crazy and dangerous as he must be. What sort of freak was he that he had dreams every night where he was a human slaughtering monsters indiscriminately, efficiently, gleefully? But maybe, just maybe, the Doctor might be able to help? Probably not, but at the very least if he told him they could protect Gaz and Pap from himself. I can't live like this anymore, he thought. "Sure, ask away!”

"Thank you very much, Sans, I really appreciate your openness. Please know that this is just to try and help you, alright? So, let's start with an easy one. Can you tell me a little bit about yourself?'’

"About myself?” Sans said, scratching his head. "Eh, there's not a whole lot to say. I'm a pretty laid back guy, I like cars and science and history stuff, and I'm in fifth grade, though school kinda sucks 'cuz they always give too much work.”

"How about your home life?”

"Whaddaya mean?”

"Well, are you getting fed enough? Do you feel safe at home? Do you feel there's anyone you can reach out to if things went wrong?” Kobold said.

“Yeah, things are okay at home. Gaz is usually not home a lot, comes home late a lot, that is, ‘cuz of work, but he's a really good parent. He takes care of me and Pap as best as he can, makes sure we've got everything we need.” Sans was suddenly very serious. “Hey, listen, I know you and Gaster don't really see eye to eye. I don't know what happened between you two to be suspicious of him, but ya gotta believe me when I say he's a good guy. He's really been there for me through this, this isn't his fault.”

“That...sounds awfully defensive, Sans. I know you care about him, but sometimes things look ‘normal’ when you're in the middle of a bad situation because your mind is trying to protect you from how bad things really are. Can you please tell me more about what your home life is like?”

Really, it's not his fault, Sans thought, a pit in his chest. God damn it, this is why I shouldn't ever tell people things. Kobold's gonna pick apart anything I say and blame it on Gaz. I don't know what result he's going for, but it's gonna be bad. It couldn't be that bad though, could it be? Sans fidgeted with the hem of blankets, mulling over what the doctor said. His family was definitely weird, he couldn't deny it, and most of that weirdness did come from Gaster, but that wasn't enough to condemn him. He hoped. All those times Gaster held him and talked him down after a nightmare, all those times he was with him and Papyrus helping with homework over the phone even when he was stuck at work, all those times he reassured them that even if their parents were gone he was sure they'd be so proud of how they've grown, that had to be worth something, right? But there were other times. Those times when he had to run all of Gaster’s errands because he was too fearful to leave the house, when he was set off by the most innocuous stimuli, to the point that Papyrus almost never spoke out loud at home, and he could never run or move too fast around him, when he lost his temper, even if he never ever had directed it at them, was terrifying to see. His concern for them, his vagueness, his enthusiasm, his aloofness, his thoughtfulness, his obstinacy, his perception, his absence. The fact that Sans knew, even if he didn't know what, that Gaster was hiding things from him, lying to him, obfuscatiing the truth about the nature of his dreams. Maybe things weren't as rose colored as he thought. But it couldn't be that bad, could it?

No, Sans thought, it's not. If it was, Papyrus wouldn't be the smiley, excitable kid that he always was. If it was, Sans knew he wouldn't be anywhere near as comfortable as he was in confessing his thoughts to Gaster, the only person he ever really confided in. If it was, Gaster would have never slept in his room with him for two months to be right there when the nightmares came. They had food, they had a home, they were safe, they were loved. “Uh, Doc? I...I kinda have something to say, to, uh, tell you about. I-it’s really, um, really important.”

He had been quiet for so long, Kobold was thankful that Sans decided to speak again. The pause that had fallen between them filled him with dread, though the statement that hung in the air now wasn't much better. “Go ahead, Sans, I'm listening.”

Deep breaths, Sans, you can't back out now, he told himself. This was it. They'd know now. Whatever happens next happens, I've gotta come clean. “So...so I don't know if Gaz told you this, but...but I've been having, um, nightmares.”

“Yes, Gaster did tell me about that. I'd like to hear it from you, though, to get a better understanding.”

“Right…” Sans said. “So, this is gonna sound really weird and messed up, but it's what's going on, okay? So...these nightmares, I've had them for a long time, ‘bout as long as I can remember. They weren't always so bad, though. In these dreams, I'm, uh, well, I'm a human.” Sans glanced up at the doctor’s face, expecting condemnation, fear, disgust. Instead all he found was concern. He wasn't sure if that was actually better, but decided to continue anyways. “So I'm a human in these dreams, and it's like I'm reliving a memory where I'm on the surface, and other humans are there, who all seem to know me, and the really strange thing is that there are these two humans that sorta look like Gaz and Pap, though how they look alike I don't really know ‘cuz, y’know, humans don't really look like skeletons, right? But...recently these kinds of dreams have gotten a lot more violent. There's a lot of fighting, of me fighting...other monsters.” Sans started to feel his eyes grow damp, hating the way his voice was starting to shake. “I hate these stupid dreams! I hate that I'm a human in them, I hate how I hurt monsters, how I feel myself grinning when they turn to dust. I hate...I hate that as a human, I'm using magic, that I know what it takes for a human to cast magic and it's evil and cruel and selfish for me to kill monsters and steal their dust for my own use!” He paused to catch his breath. “It gets worse though,” he whispered, hands clenching at the sheets. “Recently…” But he couldn't finish his thoughts. The tears he was choking back burst forth, and he buried his face in his blankets, gasping sobs wracking his body.

Without hesitance, Kobold wrapped his arms around the boy, cradling his head as he cried. He felt Sans cling tightly to him, trying to calm himself down, but the tears continued to flow despite his best efforts. “Shhh, it's okay. It's okay to cry, just let it out,” Kobold soothed. Stars above, he thought, what's put these thoughts in this poor child's head? Again, an uneasy feeling rose within him, and he felt himself pondering once again about Sans’ prior questioning. What had happened? Kobold felt Sans shift beneath him, and the boy pushed himself back up, looking utterly drained. “Sans, I think you should rest now. You can always finish your thoughts once you regain some of your strength.”

“No, please,” Sans croaked, his bony fingers clutching tightly at Kobold's claw, “I gotta tell you this, I gotta, please…”

“Alright, alright, I understand this is important to you. Please go on.”

Deep breaths. “Recently,” Sans began again, “the dreams have gotten even worse. F-for a few months now, I've been having nightmares w-where...I'm a human, and Gaz ‘n Pap are there, and they look normal, like monsters, not those similar looking humans, I mean, and, and…” He began to shake again, a sickly chill all through his bones, cold sweat beading his forehead. You can't go back, he thought, you gotta say it, it's now or never, if you don't take the opportunity now it might be too late. “ And I kill them,” he whispered.

Kobold gasped, hands impulsively recoiling to cover his mouth, but Sans wasn't finished. “It's always different. Gaz and Pap are running away, or they're trying to hide silently, or Gaz is trying to hold me back while Pap escapes, but I always manage to catch them, always manage to corner them, and they cower and they beg me not to hurt them, but all I can feel towards them is disgust and hate and I walk towards them slowly and I'm grinning and I'm PROUD about what I'm going to do and, and...Doc, I think I'm gonna do something bad. Or maybe I already have and this is just my mind trying to process it, I don't know.” Sans looked into Kobold's eyes, the child's face streaked with fresh tears as he pleaded. “I don't wanna hurt them. You gotta believe me! I don't want to hurt my family! I don't wanna hurt anyone!”

The silence was deafening. Sans saw Kobold stand before him, claws steepled and eyes closed, deep in thought. “That...I can see why you felt it was so important to tell me that,” Kobold said finally. He placed his hand on Sans’ shoulder, a gesture of sympathy for the boy's sake. “I need you to know, no matter what happens, your family is going to be safe. The people around you are safe, I promise you. No one is going to get hurt, I'll guarantee it.”

Sans slumped down, eyes heavy with exhaustion. “Thanks Doc, I needed to hear that. I dunno what's wrong with me…”

“Don't trouble yourself with that, diagnosing these things is my job. Now, this time I have to be firm, you need to rest. You're in a fragile state right now and you've exerted yourself far too much. Do you need anything? I can tell the nurses to get you anything that would help.”

“No,” Sans murmured as he readjusted himself back into lying down, unable to keep his eyes open now, “I've said everything I needed to. I can rest easier now. And Doc,” he said, turning his head to face Kobold again, though his eyes remained closed, “Thanks. For taking me seriously.” With that, his head drooped down to the pillow, and the steady rise and fall of his chest told Kobold he was soundly, and safely, asleep.

Chapter Text

Kobold steepled his claws, scowling into the darkness of his bedroom. Sleeping, it seemed, was a failed proposition tonight, as the conversation he had with Sans crawled at his conscience. The very first thing the boy did after returning from the brink of death was to ask about the spiritual marks of a killer? He was just a boy, after all, didn't he say he was in fifth grade? What would have even led him to find material on the Judges? Kobold doubted that the school's curriculum had been revised to include them; there was hardly any material at a university level about before the War, it wasn't as if he could have just stopped by his local library for something so obscure. Least of all would books on LV and EXP be available to him, in the same sense that one wouldn't just peruse a medical journal for light reading. The nightmares, the coma, it all pointed to some awful trauma, except there wasn’t a scrap of physical evidence of what might have caused his mind to wall off these soul-shattering events. For all he really knew, Sans’ mind could just be exceptionally delusional, a mental illness without external source or blame. It all just felt so unsettling.

Huffing, he pushed himself out of bed and pulled his clothes back on. If sleep wasn't an option, he might as well take advantage of his waking state. Flicking on his desk lamp, he grabbed his goggles and smock up from his workbench and arranged the metal pieces of his project into a more organized set than he'd left them last time. Metalworking was practically fail proof for getting his mind off of anything that bothered him; he would have followed his father's footsteps into smithing if being drafted into weapon-crafting for the War spoiled his vigor for it. Humming as he adjusted the magnification of his goggles, he clamped one metal piece into place as he held the other half, examining it closely. This part of the pendant turned out quite nicely, he thought, setting it aside for the moment. Even if it had earned him some teasing from his colleagues, there wasn't a one of them that could deny his talent for jewelry making, especially not after he told them the story of how he first convinced his wife to court him by presenting to her, bashful, shaky handed, and stuttering, a gold necklace of his own creation. Working with gold and silver was especially soothing to him. You can't make weapons out of those.

Try as he might, the absorbing intensity of focus that would come to engross him in his work was just as elusive as sleep tonight. Time and time again he would catch himself staring into the middle distance, thoughts buzzing like flies, snippets of words and emotions too quiet to pull forward, too loud to quash, all blending together into a useless haze. Kobold sighed and pushed himself up from his desk; Alphys' birthday present wouldn't be finished tonight. He wandered over to his bookshelves, disinterestedly tracing his claws along their spines, knowing full well he didn't have the mind for reading right now. His claw caught on the frayed spine of a leather bound text. He sighed, pulling out the worn journal, sitting on his bed as he leafed through the pages. Handwritten notes and carefully drawn diagrams had been inked down long ago, detailing herbs for healing various ills, paragraphs illustrating symptoms of afflictions to the SOUL, notes on bedside manners and practices. One wouldn’t peruse a medical journal for light reading, unless it was one’s memento for their wife.

Daphne, what would you do in this situation? Kobold traced the pages pensively, like if he careful enough her spirit would guide him to the answers. They’d met just as the War started, her fleeing from the north from the encroaching humans with her village, serving as a medic to the king’s army, and his inspiration to learn medicine. She was the kindest, most caring, most thoughtful monster he had ever known, with an excess of opportunity to show it as a healer. Every patient she tended was blessed with the keenest and most practical of techniques with a level-headedness that was unparalleled, even in the middle of battle. Doubtless she’d coaxed countless injured soldiers out of hysteria, soothed torn apart families, comforted widows and orphans alike. Daphne, I need your clarity right now, I need your sensibility and peace and insight. Where do I go from here?

Well, she wouldn’t do nothing. If she knew she’d encountered something this far out of her expertise, she’d admit it and find someone who could help. If she really thought that children were in danger, she wouldn’t just turn a blind eye and hope for the best. Kobold gently closed the journal and returned it to its resting place. He had to go.

***

“Oh! Kobold, I did not expect to see you tonight!”

“E-erm, y-yes, I, um, i-if it’s a-alright…” Kobold fidgeted with his glasses, sudden wave of timidity keeping him from making eye contact with the King.

“You are always welcome here,” Asgore responded, placing his hand on Kobold’s shaking shoulder. “Why don’t you come in and sit down for a bit and have a cup of tea? You seem upset.”

“There’s s-something weighing rather heavily on m-my mind tonight,” he mumbled, allowing himself to be ushered into the royal family’s home. Pulling a chair over to the last red embers of the fireplace, he waited for the king to return with the promised tea, accepting it graciously. The warmth and earthy smell from the teacup soothed his nerves ever so slightly, but it wasn’t quite enough to keep his hands from shaking. Asgore sat across from him in a great reading chair, dressed informally and with his own steaming cup, mane somewhat tangled most likely from weeding his garden earlier today. Or, well, yesterday, considering it was just past midnight, Kobold thought, sipping.

“So how is my former Royal Scientist?” Asgore asked, hearty voice filling the room with a reassuring affect.

“Not terribly well, I’m afraid.” Kobold said, wrapping his hands around his mug to better feel its warmth.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Did something happen to Alphys?” Concern pervaded Asgore’s demeanor as he leaned forward to better listen, eyes creasing with worry.

“No, she’s doing well, it’s…it’s something else.” Kobold breathed deeply. “As you know, I still lend my services to the hospital in Hotland, still help treat monsters there, especially trickier cases. Recently, a patient--mind you, I can’t tell you their name due to confidentiality—came in quite ill. A child monster had fallen down, they were found comatose by their family a few days ago.”

“That’s terrible!”

“Well, fortunately it’s not all bad news; they didn’t leave us, in fact they’ve even woken up, although they’re still in a fragile state. But…I was able to talk to them once they’d woken up, and some of the things they said were, well, concerning. Asgore, it was very disturbing to interact with them, and just as heartbreaking seeing how much pain they were in. Helping this patient is going to be extremely difficult.”

“That does sound distressing. Would you be able to tell me what they said that disturbed you so much?”

“Yes, provided it doesn't leave this room, of course. It was shortly after they reawakened, a day after. They hadn’t talked to anyone except their family yesterday, which isn’t so uncommon from what few records we have of other monsters who have reawakened. I went into their room to talk, to try to figure out how they had come to such a terrible state. They told me they were struggling with these awful dreams where they attack other monsters, even killing them! The dreams had been occurring for quite some time, steadily getting worse until they even had nightmares of killing their family. Could you imagine such a wretched affliction?"

"The poor creature...Is there anything that can be done?" Asgore’s eyes were damp as he reeled from Kobold's tale.

"Nightmares are one thing; they're tricky to dispel, but just as much they can be indicators for far worse problems. Things like neglect, abuse, trauma. Some of the things they said have me terrified of what that trauma could be. I have my suspicions about their guardian, but I can't let myself accuse without more investigation. If anything, their parent needs to keep a closer eye on what their ward is reading. They, well, they took a very keen interest in the Judges, especially in how they divined murderers. That part's especially important; this patient, they say that in their dreams, when they're attacking monsters, they view themselves as human! What sort of monster's mind could be so addled that they believe themselves a human? Truly delusional; it's such a tragedy..."

Kobold glanced up as he sipped his tea. Asgore’s posture had shifted from sympathetic to guarded, stroking his beard as his brow furrowed in thought. It was hard to place why, but Kobold feared he’d said too much. He made to speak to assuage Asgore, but the king had stood up from his chair to walk to his bookshelf, the flickering of the hearth deepening the shadows on his face. Picking up a silver-framed photo, he stared in contemplation at the people therein: his departed children. The witching hour matched with the suddenly terse atmosphere stripped the familiarity and comfort from the faded upholstery and worn-smooth woodwork of the room. “A monster that believes they’re human…” Asgore rumbled.

“S-sire?”

“Your patient may be interested to know they will have a chance to meet a Judge. They will be seen before one by royal decree. What you have told me troubles me greatly. A monster who believe themself human may be dangerously confused, but could it be they are keeping a human SOUL?”

“I s-sup-p-pose it’s a p-possibility…”

“Do not be so worried,” Asgore said, replacing the picture to kneel and place his hands on his subject’s shoulders. The size difference meant that the king’s paws practically engulfed Kobold’s upper torso. “A Judge is rigorously studied in the workings of minds. Not only is this merely a precaution to ensure that a human SOUL isn’t being withheld and used for treasonous means, I’m quite certain that even if there is no SOUL, they will be able to determine the source of your patient’s ailment.”

Once the initial shock rolled through him, Kobold did see where Asgore was coming from. Could Sans be being used as a vessel for a SOUL? He hadn’t even considered that as a possibility. Wouldn’t that be something, he mused, to be a host to a power as unique as a SOUL. Doubtless, if Sans were to possess a human SOUL, he couldn’t have acquired it himself. Humans were frighteningly strong, so much that they could dust a monster with a single blow; a child would never be able to survive the encounter. Although, it wasn’t out of the question that someone else was keeping it close by placing it in the boy. How depraved. He couldn’t help but recall that Gaster was perpetually fascinated with humans, and certainly he’d handled SOULs before, but he quieted the notion. It would do no good to accuse without concrete evidence, and even with the monster’s deficiencies, Gaster would certainly be above such a thing as to make a slave of his own…son? Brother? Creation? It had never been made clear to him, really. That family was a mess when it came to figuring out relations. Even if this were to turn up nothing, Kobold would be eternally grateful to have the insight from the Judge’s divining. One way or another, it was a definite step towards curing Sans. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad a turn of events.

“I see the wisdom in your decision, sire. I predict it will be an excellent opportunity to help my patient. Now, I’m eager to help you with this in any way I can, but perhaps we ought to save the minutiae of this trial until the morning?”

“Of course,” Asgore chuckled. “I implore you to try to sleep tonight once you get home, Kobold. You can rest your head peacefully knowing that you have brought much aid to your patient and the kingdom itself. Surely you are feeling a bit better now, yes?”

“Much better,” Kobold laughed along, “now that I’ve gotten this awful weight off my chest. Thank you.”

Asgore rubbed his eyes. “Hmm…I suppose I should call Gaster to tell him he needs to begin studying before I head to bed. He needs as much time to prepare as possible for his duty, and I doubt he would be sleeping now anyway.”

All the relief and surety Kobold had restored by their chat vaporized instantly. Had he revealed Sans’ identity? No, he’d been stalwart in keeping his patient confidential. So then… “H-how do you m-mean?”

“Gaster is a Judge, Kobold. Didn’t you know that? I thought you and Gaster were rather close? Ah, but it would be just like him to have forgotten to mention something like that. Hasn’t the slightest sense of social etiquette, the dear clod,” Asgore continued amiably despite Kobold’s shock. “He is a remarkable talent; I had never pinned him the type to excel in such empathic and sensitive magic as Judgement. Especially for being so aloof and blind to emotions in his day-to-day life. Still, he is precise and he is contemplative and he uses these skills to masterful effect. It would be his first assignment in quite some—Erm, Kobold? Are you feeling well?”

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no, this had all gone horribly, disastrously, irreparably wrong. Kobold was aware that he was swaying from the faintness he felt. It was set in stone now. Sans was by royal command to come before a Judge, only to face his own family? Not only that, but Gaster was certain to have his suspicions raised by the assignment; Kobold was not remotely ready to face his wrath for putting Sans in this position. Might he even lie during the trial? Could he be convinced to hide the truth to save face for the both of them? No, such an outcome was not to be. Gaster would uphold his duty in perfect faith and destroy his own and Sans’ reputation, or life if necessary, to do it. He would never forgive Kobold for this. “A-are you, um, I m-m-mean, uh…I think t-there would be c-conflict-t-ts of int-terest. Uh, b-between Gaster and my p-patient, that is. Can anyone else p-p-perform this job?”

Asgore stroked his beard. “The profession of Judge is not terribly popular these days. We do not have to worry much about crossing with humans down here, do we? I am afraid to say that Gaster is the only Judge I am aware of, perhaps the only one left in the Underground. It is quite the curiosity that he chose to study such a thing after the War had ended, but that is neither here nor there. I am sure this ‘conflict of interest’ will not be such a hurdle as you think; Gaster has few he deals directly with, and even fewer he holds close. Now, are you sure you are alright? I hope your sleep deprivation hasn’t hit you all at once.”

“Ehehe, y-you know, th-that’s probably it. Um, thank you f-for your hospitality sire, I really should be heading home n-now,” Kobold managed, trying his best to compose himself. He bid the king goodnight as he was escorted back to the door, stepping out into the courtyard with a pit in his stomach. For a moment, all he did was stand in despair upon the silvery grass and granite brick-work. Sleep would be a failed proposition tonight, Kobold grimaced as he shuffled back home.

Chapter Text

“Sans, would you like to come out from your room for a bit? Your lunch is here.” The nurse standing in his doorway spoke in earnest to him, but Sans couldn't help but feel bile rise at the nurse’s presence. Interaction right now felt to Sans as grotesque as steamed broccoli, and truthfully he'd gathered enough depressive inertia over the night to lay on his scratchy hospital bed until he dusted or the universe ended, whichever came first. The first night in the mental ward. Uneventful, yet equal part maelstrom of lead-hearted isolation, he'd been numb to most of what happened after his brothers left. Orderlies informing him of a near-endless and legalese-filled list of his rights, guards sifting through a bag of niceties Gaster left him for contraband--a list meticulous enough to classify his shoelaces a hazard to him--and locking it away per protocol, nurses guiding him about the small yet sterile ward that was left as a white smear of disinterest in his memory, to end finally at a sleep-devoid night of Sans staring at the ceiling with nothing to dream for. He somehow drifted away late in the witching hours, and presently Sans’ only desire was solitude.

If you refuse, they'll hold it against you, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. You're under constant watch now and if you do anything out of line those nurses will scratch it down on your chart and it'll be one more mark on why you'll never get out of here, and you’ll never be able to go home, and you’ll be stuck with the shrinks ‘for your own good.’ I hope this ‘help’ will be worth it. In resignation, he plastered a smile on as he forced himself upright. “Yeah, might as well.”

To his irritation, the nurse kept close to him, apparently acting as escort. It wasn’t like there was any place for Sans to vanish to, the ward was just as small as first impressions. One big room with a nurse’s station as the main hub, various personnel either working paper-duty or ducking into a secured section with steel cabinets and computers, no doubt where meds and access to the rest of the hospital were located. Doors circled around the lobby, but most were plainly rooms for other patients, and thus uninteresting. At the far wall were more rooms, glass paneled to see tables and chairs and various furnishings inside like giant hamster cages, with a collection of monsters dining inside. Emptiness filled Sans as he was handed his tray, corralled into the room with the rest of the mad-folk.

Truthfully, he couldn't even find it in himself to determine the most isolated position possible; sitting in the corner by the glass wall was a sufficiently tolerable compromise. He moped. Could they really expect him to eat, to converse, to act like any of this was okay? Poking at the sandwich they had given him, he steeled himself to consume it despite his lack of appetite. They’re watching you, the voice whispered. Do what they expect of you, or else. His jaw clicked as he continued to poke at his food, unable to browbeat himself into eating, all the vicious whispers only serving to make him feel worse. They’re marking it down right now that you’re not eating. Later all the nurses will all hem and haw about how you didn’t eat and how they’ll make you change and they’re gonna psychoanalyze you to see what else is broken and--

“Hi, um, is...is it okay if I sit with you?” Looking up, Sans saw a fuchsia-hued squid monster swaying side to side in front of him, the tentacles that weren’t holding her tray up knotted together in anxiety. “I’m not trying to impose or anything, it’s okay to say no…”

“S’fine, uh, sure you can sit here.” Having his train of thought interrupted had left him to default to politeness. Brace for conversating, Sans sighed to himself.

The squid girl sat tentatively next to him, careful to leave a fair amount of space between them; whether it was to respect his personal space or a precaution in case he was a violent kind of crazy, Sans was grateful for small luxuries nonetheless. “So, um, I’m guessing you’re new here, right?” she probed. “I haven’t been here for all that long, but you seem to not quite, well, you don’t seem very comfortable here.”

A harsh, humorless laugh left Sans’ mouth. “Comfortable? Lemme ask you something: am I supposed to just waltz in here and act like I’m on vacation? Is ANY of this supposed to feel even close to normal? ‘Cause it’s not.” He huffed, pushing his tray out of the way to rest his head on the table. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you, it’s just...I guess I’m kinda salty about being here is all...”

“Kinda salty?” Squid Girl’s eyes crinkled like a smile as she leaned on the table, initial timidity dissipating. “Your salt rivals that of the entire Pacific Ocean, newbie. But I get it, I felt pretty bitter and adrift when I first came here too. There are parts that really, truly blow about the hospital, but for the most part it’s at least tolerable. Not really normal, but I guess it’s not really supposed to be. We’re here for a reason, after all.”

“So what’s your reason?” The sudden timidity that returned to his guest at the question made Sans stutter in backpedalling apologies, only to be shushed. His bones burned with white-hot embarrassment as he took stock in just how invasive he’d been. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. Really, I didn’t mean to be that big of a jerk.”

“I’m here because after my mom died I stopped being able to do magic,” she said, finally. “The doctors are worried that I’ll be permanently disabled if I can’t put my head back on straight, but…” A deep, shuddering breath wracked her body as her luminescent eyes dampened. “I’m not sure I can ever really “go back” to who I was before, you know?”

“Aw, geez, I’m sorry,” Sans mumbled. The first person he’d met that had show him genuine openness here and he made her cry. Can you really not screw up at EVERY turn?

Squid Girl wiped away at her misty eyes roughly. “Don’t stress it,” she croaked, “It still hurts, but I need to face it. I’ll be okay.” Silence drifted between the two, palpably tense. “Um, come to think of it, I don’t think I caught your name?”

“Sans. And, uh, sorry again.”

“Ikako, and it’s alright, really,” she said, stretching a limb out in handshake. Taking it, Sans cracked a smile. It was nice that he wasn’t completely alone, even if the meeting of his first companion could have gone perhaps a smidge better. Still, it wasn’t ALL screwed up, he could take some small comfort in that. “Now, Sans the Newbie, I’m thinking since you asked me why I’m here, it wouldn’t be too out there to ask the same of you? But, I mean, only if you’re ready, of course.”

Sans scratched his nape, mulling over how to begin. “Honestly, if I weren’t sent here for one reason, I’d have another malfunction queued up and raring to replace it. It’s, uh, it’s a lot, I’ll tell ya that.” Glancing at Ikako, he noted that she was listening candidly and without judgement. Still… “I guess I’m a little scared to say it too. I just met you, I don’t want you to be afraid of me for my particular brand of crazy…”

“If what you mean is you experience a violent kind of crazy, you’re not alone. I won’t give names, ‘cause it’s, like, just not my place, but there are others here who struggle with anger management, intrusive thoughts, impulse--”

A spate of shouting, an extensive segment of it vulgar, cut Ikako’s sentence short. Turning away to look out the glass wall, Sans watched as several nurses escorted a woman strapped to a gurney, who was plainly the source of the din. Red hair and razor-like teeth flashed as she struggled, continuing to holler about fighting every last one of them, the spineless cowards, she was fine! Not only was her head bound with gauze, her arm had been set in a cast, not that it seemed to bother her in any capacity. It was probably rude, but Sans stared as the entourage proceeded, disappearing behind heavy double doors.

“Impulse control,” Ikako finished, gesturing nonchalantly at their departure.

“Yikes.”

“Yup. Dy-Dy’s here usually for physical reasons, but they haul her over this way to see the social workers. She can’t be bothered with them otherwise; she’s got fights to get into! Curfews to break! Walls to vandalize! Either turned up to eleven or dead, that Undyne.”

“Huh. So you’re saying I’ve got competition for first in crazy, yeah?” Sans chuckled. A thought sobered him just as fast. “Does that kinda treatment, y’know, being restrained and hauled off, happen a lot?”

“Only if you’re an immediate danger to yourself or others. It’s really rare, save for a few repeat offenders. Even then, it’s pretty quiet in the ward. Too quiet, really.” Ikako sighed, rubbing the crest on her forehead. “Even violent patients tend not to stay here for that long. They might come back intermittently when their symptoms overwhelm their ability to live outside, but the goal is to get them into outpatient therapy, to not become dependant for stability on the ward and return to a halfway-normal life.”

Sans gripped the table. If he had skin, his knuckles would be white. “The ones that can’t?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged picking up her tray, “I’ve never met one. Group therapy is going to start soon, we should clean up. The nurses have a little fridge in the back if you want to save your food for later. I’ll go with you to ask, if you want?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Following Ikako out of the now empty cafeteria, she led him up to the desk and gestured over a nurse. “Could you put our food away for after group?” she asked. Sans peered around her form, jaw just clearing the top of the desk. Now that he was closer, the nurses station...was just as drab as ever. He supposed some things would just look the same whether through jaded lenses or not. Keeping close to his new acquaintance, he made to follow her to the glass walled room with a wide table and a milling of monsters inside, presumably to group therapy, only to be stopped short by a nurse calling from behind. He tensed as he turned, suddenly feeling exposed and singled out.

“Sans, we need you to do some evaluations for us so we can get a better grasp of your condition. Please follow me to Dr. Kobold so we can get started. These tests can take a while, so the sooner the better.”

His heart plummeted through the floor like a stone. Tests? What kinds of tests? Nothing about any of this felt good. You're here for a reason, he reminded himself, you're nuts, remember? Do what they say, and there won't be any trouble. Go, follow the nurse.

He sighed, looking over his shoulder in the direction Ikako had gone. To his surprise, she still stood outside the therapy room, waiting in concern by the door. She cocked her head in query. Glancing forward again, he waved parting as he turned to hustle after the now-impatient nurse. If any luck, he'd see her relatively soon.

Deep breaths, they're trying to help you, he reminded himself as the nurse led on through the labyrinthine corridors. If it weren't for the copious signage, there'd be little hope of orienting oneself in any timely fashion. Was that the intent? Or just a byproduct of multiple disciplines all with ultimately the same purpose crammed into one place? He pushed the thought aside as the nurse brought him to their destination.

“Ready to head in?” the nurse asked.

“Not really.”

Chapter Text

One look at his patient and Kobold knew he had his work cut out for him. “Sans, are you going to be able to stay awake for these tests?”

“Mmph, yeah, just resting my eyes,” the boy replied, skull lolling back against the wall his chair was situated against. He shook himself awake and leaned forward to face the doctor, “How long is this gonna take?”

“Considering the uniqueness and severity of your case, I sure hope you didn't have any big plans scheduled later today.” Sans groaned. Kobold patted him on the shoulder, “Oh, come now, it won't be so bad, I promise.”

“Sure, I guess. What do you need me to all, uh, do?”

Motioning for his patient to follow, Kobold led Sans into a prepared office, a poster with a monster with seven colored circles along their body pinned on the opposite wall. “A monster’s soul and body are inseparably linked to one another; the health of your soul can affect how healthy your body is, and vice versa. While it's not an exact science, monster medicine has determined the best way to divide and conquer when it comes to measuring fitness is through Aspect Theory. Um, you said you were in fifth grade, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Ah, then you haven't been in health class yet. Okay, then, I'll give you a quick primer. Aspect Theory divides up your overall capabilities into seven Aspects, that is, a rough grouping of abilities based on magical resonance. They're labeled by color, red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, and violet, all corresponding to the electromagnetic responses you'd get from being in a multipurpose metavital spectrometer. While you'll probably end up meeting that piece of technology during your stay here, one of its shortcomings is that it can't tell me WHY a particular Aspect is so out of sorts. Hence,” Kobold stated, rubbing his glasses clean on his lab coat's hem, “we are going to have to do this the long way.”

"Yay…” Sans’ antipathy was palpable.

''Yay, indeed. Now, there will be a magical, oral, written, and physical portion to this assessment; is there any particular order you want to take them in, or--” A look of genuine panic crossed his patient's face, "Are you alright?”

Sans shifted from foot to foot, eyes cast towards the floor like the answer he was looking for was encoded in the carpet's weave. "Doc, I… Heh, usually I'd be more worried about the physical test, but…” His hands knotted at his shirt in search of pockets that weren't there, shoulders hunched. ''Doc, I can't do magic.”

What…? “No, no, don't think that we're going to test you the same way we'd test an adult monster’s magical abilities,” Kobold chuckled nervously, “Honestly, that would just be silly. Of course a child wouldn't have mastery of some of the more, erm, ‘external’ magics like conjuring or energizing. We'll just--”

"No, Doc, it's not like that, it's…” He shrugged, unable to look the doctor in the eyes. “Y'know, looking back, I probably should have taken it more seriously when I couldn't eat without forcing myself, or constantly needed to sleep and still being exhausted, or just being a completely useless lump staring at the ceiling 'cuz I couldn't will myself to do anything else, but…”

Kobold was sure the effects of all the gears in his head binding in shock and confusion could be seen on his face, professionalism be damned. "W-what d-d-do you m-mean you c-c-can't do magic?! That's, I mean, I just…” Calm down, calm down, you can't do your job if you panic; put your head back on. "Sans, when did you...No, let me start again. Sans, WHY didn't you tell anyone how much you were suffering?”

“I didn't want anyone to worry about me.”

Kobold held his head in his palms, the maelstrom of pathos and rage and fear and overwhelm causing him to reel. “You didn't. Want anyone. To worry about you???”

“You don't understand,” Sans said, voice heavy with monotonous resignation, “The nightmares and sick days were what Gaz started planning his life around; if he kept nannying me he'd lose his job, or at least his position. He's the only one who brings home money. I had to make him believe things were alright so he could go to work and take care of Pap and just, y’know, keep things stable.”

"Well, that's, um…” Kobold steeped his claws, ”Stars above, this is a lot to process.” In the cramped confines of the office, he paced. "Okay, let's, let's skip the magical p-portion, then. Um, how about we just do the assessment in order, i-if that's okay with you? We've just, ah, addressed the Violet portion, I suppose, s-so let's, let's m-move on to the Blue section. Okay?”

“Might as well.”

———

Daphne, please give me your wisdom, Kobold prayed. Scores of grimoires were strewn around his private office as he flipped through their pages, as many books as he could simultaneously reference. Sans was, in no uncertain terms, dying. The basest of magics that maintained his body were consistently failing. What in all the heavens and earth could Kobold do now?

You can't let yourself lose your head, he reprimanded, especially not around Sans. You can't help your patient if you're panicking. Kobold practically heard Daphne’s voice say it as he chastised himself. Triage. Break down the disaster into it's parts and decide: what are the worst injuries? Which seem to be causes instead of just symptoms? Do you have the full picture?

The full picture I certainly don't have, but hopefully I'll get a few more answers by the end of the day, all things willing, he ruminated. And as for causes, I haven't any real answers. But symptoms, maladies, where to begin? He's going to need to be under constant monitoring so he doesn't just fade away on us; the staff need as much warning as possible with him. He said he struggles to eat, but obviously his soul still needs fuel, especially in the coming weeks, so how…? Ah, he’s not going to like how obtrusive this will be... I'll need to get working on that spell right away, not to mention how to bind it to him. Kobold sighed, rubbing his snout as his eyes blurred from strain. Designing a life support system that would be both effective to his patient’s physiology and unburdensome to any other therapies they'd have to do was going to be a nightmare, but it still felt so inadequate. He felt so inadequate, like the first time had lost a ward; the battle damage they’d incurred was just too much, he was just too late, there was nothing more that could be done. Please don’t let it be that there’s nothing more to be done, he pleaded to the air, there has to still be something. Breathe. Triage. You can’t help your patient if you’re panicking.

Kobold checked his watch. Even in his researching furor, only a few hours had passed. Still, that was good in that it meant he could take a moment to check in on Sans.. He should definitely be finished with the blue section by now, probably the cyan one too, he mused. I wonder if he’d want a break before the next set? Maybe I should try to get him to eat too while we're at it. Should I tell him about the treatment plan yet? I've barely fleshed it out as it is, I'll wait until I've got a clearer picture so I can explain it to him more coherently. Kobold checked his watch once more, out of habit more than anything else. It wouldn't do to allot Sans a break and then not actually tell him of it. The doctor departed with his and his patient’s reprieve.

The trek to Sans’ testing room was entirely familiar and chaffingly short, not giving hardly a minute for Kobold to process his thoughts much further. Ah well. Knocking on the door, he raised his voice, ”Sans, its Dr. K. Mind if I come in?” Silence. Despite himself, Kobold felt a chill down his spine. Louder, then. “Sans, are you at a good point to pause for a bit? Can we talk?” No response. Permission be damned, he had to know he was alright. Stepping into the office, Kobold was greeted with a scene he could only define as eerie. Sans had turned his chair away from his desk, upon which he sat with crossed arms and a hardened expression, his tests held in a clenched fist. The air itself felt charged with contempt.

“Erm, d-done already? I just, just wanted to, um, say you could take a break? If you want?” Sans held perfectly still, unwavering. “A-are you okay?”

A sigh hissed through clenched teeth, like steam being released from a valve. As if in slow motion, Sans leaned forward, steel-set eye lights boring through the doctor. “What I'm gonna say,” he began, voice quietly intoning, “I need you to listen carefully. Are you listening to me? Are you hearing what I'm gonna say?” Kobold’s mouth was paper dry as he nodded, unable to look away. Drawing his papers out in front of himself, his other hand grasped at the tests’ edges, and, without a single second of broken eye contact, ripped the papers in half and flung them scattering across the floor. “Fuck you,” Sans spat.

Kobold felt the earth fall out beneath him. “Why did you do that!?” he shrieked.

“Why!?” Sans snarled as he lept to his feet. “I’ll tell you why! Your tests are useless! Useless and stupid, and you’re stupid, and nothing about anything about those tests could possibly help! If you just wanted me to do busywork and pretend it was for my own good, you could have at least chose a way that wasn’t so bullshit!” Shoving the chair over as he stormed off, he scrambled under his desk and curled in on himself into a seething clump of bones, head tucked against his knees as his arms wrapped around himself. Even from the door, Kobold could see the child shaking.

Like walking into the aftermath of a bomb, the doctor drifted forward. He reached down through his sense of detachment to gather Sans’ papers, leafing through without any comprehension. Sans had already completed the Blue and Cyan portion it seemed, and part of the Green one too. Sort of, as the few answers committed had been scribbled over furiously before being torn. He'd smack himself later for his daftness, but Kobold couldn't stop himself from thinking: How do I grade for this? He sighed.

“Sans,” Kobold faltered, kneeling beside his ward under the desk, “Where on earth did this outburst come from?”

“None of this is gonna help,” Sans whimpered. “I don't even think I CAN be fixed. None of the questions made sense and I don't know how any sort of treatment would work and I don't know what's gonna happen to me and I just wanna go home except I CAN'T because I'm scared I'll hurt my brothers and I don't wanna get locked up forever but--”

“Stop, please stop! I…” Wrapping his arms around Sans, the doctor felt his eyes cloud with tears. Kobold forced himself to continue through choking up. “I know all of this is scary, and I'm sorry if I've overwhelmed you or pushed you too far. Even I don't really know what going through all this feels like. But I promise, I promise, that even if there’s no fairytale ending at the end of the rainbow we can STILL get you to so much better of a place than you are right now. I can't guarantee a perfect fix but we have resources and therapies and we can be a safe place for you and even work towards getting you happy and healthy and back home again.” They both sobbed, tucked beneath the bunker of the desk as uncertainty and nebulosity stalked at the edges. “Sans, it's going to be okay.”

“I'm sorry,” Sans sniffled.

“I know, I know...” As the tsunami of emotion began to ebb, Kobold felt the leaden weight of the situation’s gravity through his body. So much progress lost, and yet, he felt that some ray of hope that wasn’t there before shone through. Feeble, unsure, but it was there. “Listen. Why don’t we leave testing for tomorrow? You’re upset, you’re not in your best state. It wouldn’t make sense to force you further, especially if you’re having trouble with the questions. The rest of the day is going to be open for you, alright?”

“Are you sure? You were pretty insistent that I do them, like, today-today…”

“Do you want to keep going?”

Sans thought. “No, you’re probably right. I really don’t have any mental energy left after my outburst. But…”

“You’re wellbeing comes first,” Kobold chided, a gentle pat on the shoulder accompanying, “I’ll keep working with what I know already, and you rest up. We’ll try again tomorrow.” Standing up, he helped Sans out from under the desk and walked around the room collecting the last few shreds of the scattered documents. Behind him, Sans stood still, either dazed or deep in thought; potentially both.

“It still kinda feels pointless,” the child mumbled, “Like, it feels I’ve got so much wrong with me that it’s like moving a mountain as big as the one we’re buried under…”

Kobold debated internally what his next words should be, the truth making to breach in the ticks of silence, equally being fought back in a frantic evaluation of reactions, outcomes. Would knowing help or just drive him further insane? He's already under so much pressure, would a timeframe help or hurt? If he’s told, will he panic? Kobold realized he was halfway to hysteria himself as his mind churned. Breathe. Focus. You can't help your patient if you're panicking.

Sans needs honesty. More than anything else right now.

Deep breaths.

“Sans, do you remember when we talked about the Judges?”

That piqued his interest. “It was a little while after I left my coma; that one, right?”

“All that obsolete and macabre knowledge that you’ve got about them might actually come in handy, seeing as you're going to meet one.”

Sans eyes grew wide as dinner plates. “I thought they didn't exist anymore…” he said, awed.

“There is exactly one left. And as declared by a superior far above my position, you'll be meeting with him in exactly one month. Well, 29 days now, I suppose. They are masters of the mind, so if anyone could definitively say what's been plaguing you, it'd be they.” Kobold cleaned his glasses on the hem of his lab coat, not quite able to make eye contact. “That’s part of why I was pushing so hard to get everything done at once. The better a mental state we can build up, the less harrowing this encounter will be.” Not like there’s such a thing as a good encounter with a Judge, Kobold mused, but Sans didn't need to know such things now.

The skeleton was deep in thought. And trembling. “I'm, uh, starting to regret a whole lotta actions I've taken today…”

“No, no, no, please don't panic,” Kobold said with his most assuring affect. “We've still got a whole month to learn about your condition, and try different treatment plans, and take care of you. Even if the long road seems pointless, you can work on reaching goals for healing for the end of the month, right?”

“Yeah...One month. Thirty days…” Sans was ruminating once more. “Feels...weirdly short...”

“In the meantime, let's get you back to your room, yes?”. Stretching out his claw, he breathed a sigh of relief when Sans accepted it.

“One month,” Sans stated as he followed, a distinctly despair-less neutrality in his tone. “One month. Alright. I can handle that.”