No One is Happy with This (Undertale)

82 ~ Because Science!

You spend a sleepless night worrying about Gaster. Several, in fact, as it's a few days before you get any news of him. Everyone is worried, you think, and you wouldn't be surprised if they're getting about as much sleep as you.

And you realize that you feel guilty. Like this was your fault. It's illogical, you know. You didn't make the machine explode. That was an accident, and not even one you were involved in. You didn't make Gaster jump in front of Papyrus. That was his decision, a decision you couldn't have even thought fast enough to contribute to.

But- but you were there. You had his attention. You were talking to him when it happened.

And- you feel like it was your fault. Your fault that Gaster had to do that, had to put his life on the line like that for Papyrus, your fault that he could be dying right now-...

Because you wanted to know. You wanted to know if something could hurt him, and because you asked, now he is hurt, and it's your fault, because you asked...

Even if you know it's not, you still feel that way.

But then you get word from Toriel, who was told by Sans, that Gaster is doing just fine- or, relatively so, anyway. Apparently, the only way to get him any medicine to help is to inject it directly into his Soul, on account of it being completely ineffective to his body, as his body doesn't exist. And, well, once he was well enough to be up and about (because apparently, despite a near Soul-shattering injury, it only takes Gaster a few days to be up and about) he apparently decided that he wasn't going to take that lying down.

You also hear that, drugged as he apparently is, he acts like a stubborn child. Or, rather, even more like a stubborn child.

Regardless of the rumor, however, Toriel decides that pie will help Gaster feel better sooner. So it's only a week after the incident that you're heading over to the skeletons' house. Toriel couldn't come- some school board meeting or something- but she sent the pie with you.

When you knock on the door to their house, you hear some sort of commotion inside. There's a bit of shouting. And then- astonishingly- it's Gaster who opens the door.

Granted, he looks pretty awful. Rather than his black coat, it looks almost like he's wearing some sort of long black robe, and the light and shadows don't seem to fall on it quite right, though you can't exactly point out what's wrong. His face is sort of off, too, with a sort of blank smile, and his right eyesocket more of a drooping crescent than usual.

For a moment, he just looks at you. When he speaks, there's an odd hitch in his voice, and a slight hiss of static underneath. "Not ri-ight now. I'm busy."

And then he shuts the door.

You hear more commotion, and something that sounds a whole lot like Papyrus scolding his father for shutting you out.

Then Sans is opening the door, a faintly amused expression on his face. "sorry 'bout that, kiddo. th' painkillers are really wreaking havoc on his head. come in?"

You just laugh a little and step inside. Then you pause.

The living room is a horrifying mess- to the point where it seems Papyrus can't even keep up. There are papers everywhere, tacked to the walls, on the floor, sticking out of the couch cushions, everywhere. They're all covered in complex equations and strange symbols you can't make heads nor tails of.

And Gaster is moving through it all, muttering to himself, sometimes snatching up papers and scribbling something down on them, or else crumpling them up and throwing them into what was probably once a wastebasket, but is now an ever-growing pile of crumpled papers.

"Er..." you hesitate, looking towards where Sans and Papyrus have slumped into the couch (after pulling out a few fistfuls of paper.) "Is-... Isn't he supposed to be resting or something?"

Papyrus nods, a slight look of frustration on his face, but Sans just shrugs nonchalantly. "yeah, but, well... kid, he's on a lot'a drugs right now. you try'n stop him. ...is that pie?"

You nod, and carry the box over. But before you can hand it to Sans, Gaster swoops in and grabs the box, flips it open, somehow lifts out the entire pie, and crams the whole thing into his mouth. You have no idea how he does it, or even what you're seeing as he does do it, but the end result is there's no more pie, and Gaster is already shifting away, back to... whatever he's doing.

You frown at his back. "What is he doing?"

"He's trying to figure out what went wrong," Papyrus answers. "He says the machine-"

"Shoul-dn't have blo-own up!" Gaster lets out the hissed interjection, that weird hitch in his voice still there, snatching a paper off the wall. That blank smile looks almost like a grimace. "I do-on't understand. I che-ecked everyth-ing so ma-any times. Ran so-o many sim-ula-ations—! Wh-hy did it expl-lode? And even if it di-id, it shou-ldn't have been li-ike that- the failsa-afes- and triple redun-dancy— mi-inimize the da-amage— completely unprecedented—" He's moving about at a rather furious rate by now, accompanied by several pairs of his Magic hands- though how he's doing that with a damaged Soul, you're not entirely sure. And his words shift into Hands, the complex language growled out in angry syllables, accompanied by every twitch of his hands.

You're worried that he's going to hurt himself.... Even worse, that is.

Papyrus seems to have gotten the same idea, rising to placate his father. "Dad, won't you-"

"No!" Gaster cuts Papyrus off. "I will not si-it down!"

"But you're going to-"

"O-oh-ho, on the contrar-ary, I will not hu-urt myse-elf." When Gaster turns to Papyrus, his expression has assumed as much of a vicious grin as he's currently capable. "Do yo-ou know why, Papyrus?"

Papyrus's exasperated (but still concerned) expression says he's been asked a similar variety of questions before. "Because-"

"Be-ecause I'm the Ro-oyal Scientist!" The sentence is accompanied by a grand gesture. "I do-on't hurt myself un-less I wa-ant to! Unless it's fo-or science! Because I'm the Royal Scientist, and sci-ience is what I do! Wh-enever I want to-o, because I'm the Royal Scien-tist, and by An-noying Dog, I can do wha-atever the heck I want-! Beca-ause science!" With that, Gaster promptly passes out and collapses to the floor, whatever force that had been driving him apparently having been exhausted.

Papyrus just sighs, and heaves Gaster up onto the couch. Once there, Gaster hesitates not to cuddle up against his sons. It's an astonishing contrast to his behavior less than a minute ago.

"Is he-..." you begin. "Has he been like this, you know, the whole time?"

Papyrus groans and Sans chuckles. "pretty much. thanks for the pie, by the way. i'm sure it was delicious."

You just laugh, and the next few hours are spent in pleasant conversation with the brothers, while Gaster sleeps on.

§

A/N

Honestly there were, like, nine different possible variations of this chapter, all essentially the same thing, where Gaster gets really worked up and then crashes really hard. It was difficult to figure out which one I wanted to write.

Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! Comments and votes are my Favorite Things, and every notification I get makes my day!