He was so… small, so broken. Gaster could feel the full weight of his sins dragging him down, making it so very difficult to move. But he had to. He’d been so concerned with what he could he’d never given a single thought to whether he should. And now look what he’d done.
The first step was the hardest, a shuffle on the dusty floor - just dirt and abandonment it was just normal dust Sans was still alive and there before him - towards the tiny crying figure in the corner, but somehow it managed. It was easier to forget himself and his guilt and to just focus on that one thing. Some part of the scientist’s mind noted how strong and natural Sans’ magic flared and filed it away for later consideration, but consciously he barely even noticed it, or the blaster that materialised before him only to think again and give way.
Gaster half expected - feared - that as soon as he wrapped his arms around the small skeleton - Sans - his son - that nothing would remain but a cloud of dust.
It would be no more than he deserved,
and this time he would go confess and accept his punishment.
But somehow, Sans remained whole. By some miracle, through faith or science or a god with a crooked sense of humour his son was broken and frail but alive.
ѕннн… уσυ'νє ∂σηє ωєℓℓ, ѕαηѕ. уσυ'νє ∂σηє ωєℓℓ. ι нανє уσυ ησω.
Gaster’s own magic resonated with Sans’ fading one and though it was far from comfortable the scientist reveled in the feeling. If only he could Heal… no, there were more important worries now.
It took Gaster a moment to realise Sans had fallen asleep, and a while longer to trust his own balance well enough to pick up the small skeleton and carry him away. The cell had long outstayed its welcome as Sans’ dwelling place, and right now not even an army could have forced the scientist to let go of him.
The trek along the dark hallways of the laboratory wing to the areas more in use felt impossibly long, giving Gaster plenty of time to be alone with his thoughts. He felt disjointed, torn in two with one part of him appalled at himself for everything, that wanted nothing more than to weep and beg for forgiveness, and another part that was calmly analyzing the situation now that the worst of the pressure of it was gone, making note of the tenacity required of Sans to survive this far, of the pains and how many checkups and what kind were necessary to perform as soon as possible and of possible future tests. They were so opposite to each other, and almost like tearing his mind apart.
The fluorescent lights of the other end of the laboratory were a relief, marking areas in use. The scientist headed straight to a reinforced door which opened for him on its own, a system than only reacted to his magical signature. Beyond was a simply furnished spacious room - a work station, a storage area in a corner, a few cots lined against one wall, a door that led further in. Reluctantly Gaster lowered Sans from his arms onto the cot nearest to the corner and tapped the wall console until a specific intensity of a magic field lit up over the sleeping skeleton. The scientist then carefully set up an IV, just for now. Sans desperately needed energy and nutrients, but making him eat after so long would be unwise. Like this, his recovery should go fastest. The field wouldn’t limit movement once Sans would wake, so it should help lessen the burden on his already damaged mind as well.
With that, Gaster pulled a chair near the cot and slumped into it, one trembling hand grasping his glasses from his face while the other rubbed the space between his eye sockets.
There was nothing more left to do now but wait.
