Chapter Text
Papyrus had his toolbox with him. Its handle was clenched in his fist tightly as he made his way down deeper into the labyrinthian depths.
He was expected at the Core.
He smiled brittlely at the shadowy figures of other engineers he saw on his way down. They didn't seem to notice him, they were all quite distracted. Bleeding in and out of reality as the lights flicked around them would be rather distracting he supposed.
And there were lights flashing, but no alarms.
Yet.
He was sure everything would be fine!
The corridor seemed to bend and loop in on itself, his desire to not arrive at his destination twisting reality itself into the same path over and over again.
Papyrus was trepidatious, despite his inner reassurances. His work never brought him down here and frankly, he was very glad for it!
It gave him a bad feeling.
There was something that felt almost... final in this place.
Calling to him over and over like some sort of horrible spectre!
It was like something deep inside of him knew something he didn't know about it. Some primal instinct that he couldn’t fully rationalise.
It was a cloying weight that stuck to him when he got too near.
And yes, Papyrus couldn't quantify rationally why he felt how he did, but the closer he seemed to get, the more sick with anxiety he felt.
"Ah, there you are!" Gaster said, not looking up, "You took your time getting here, hurry up and come here."
Papyrus didn't remember arriving. One moment he was still in the twisting hallways, and now he was here.
Papyrus forced himself to walk over to the large control panel his father was hunched over.
He looked down at the board and could immediately tell something was deeply wrong.
"Those readings aren't right!" Papyrus blurted out.
"You're right, they're not." Gaster pulled himself up and looked at Papyrus, "I need your help to figure this out."
Something felt wrong.
This whole situation felt very wrong.
"I don't understand," Papyrus said slowly, "Wouldn't Sans be a better choice to help you, he works with you directly. He would know more about this stuff."
Gaster shook his head, leaning back over the panels, not looking him in the face, "Your brother is too fragile for this. You can't ask him to do this in your place, don't be selfish. I sent him to fetch something from the upper labs. T̷̢̧̪̖̯͇̉͛̈́̓͌͠o̶̜̱̿̓͊̌̀̎ ̴̘̮̺͛͑ḵ̴͚̓͂e̶̟͐̿̏͑̍͜e̶̹̳͕̊̊̚ͅp̵͓̋̑́̆̓̉ ̵͔̣͖̘̖̓͑͗͂̈́̇h̵̻̤͛̎̈͑i̴̠̫͗m̴̹̼͎̋̿̄͐͝ ̷̦̭̤̝̯̓ȯ̵̰͔̖͍̣̺u̷̝͙̿̅̊͌͠t̸̯̯̝̭͒ ̸͉͙̰̰͛ơ̶̙̻̲̆f̴̥̄ ̷̺̭̙̺͖̋͗t̸͕̺̳̊̂̿͠ĥ̶̫̫̤̼̱͔ë̶̻̠͚ ̷̡̞̼̈͊̑̄̎w̸̬̒̓ǎ̶̠͔̱͝ẏ̷͈̺͚͋ ̷̼̎̈́i̵̢̛̭̜̖͎̯̚f̷͖̫̑͊͝ ̸̗̫̬͔̄͂̋͠t̸̞̒̇͐̽ẖ̴̇͛̒̕͝ī̴͈̦͓͖̃n̶̡͓̪̤̈́̉̋̄͝ģ̵͎͐̑̊s̷̳̦̰̰͓̓̉̃̚͠ ̴̛͔̥̮̗̼̈́g̴̡̣̠̼̅͜ö̶̧̺͕̜̿̇͛͠ ̷̞̤͎͇̏̒̚w̴̪͉͍͉̆͛̀̀͝r̷̨͙̞̬̯͔͐̈́̂ǫ̸͈̪̟̬̔̂͆͝ņ̸̝͉̟̪̓̏̿ǧ̸̣͈̥̠̻̼́."
Papyrus felt dread pooling in his bones.
He'd sent Sans away. Nothing good could happen if he sent Sans away.
Not in this place.
"And I know you know enough about our work to do what I need from you! You work with very similar technology as an engineer, and I know you listen when Sans and I are talking about our work at home."
"What… are you asking me to do?" Papyrus said, voice studiously blank.
"I̷̺̭͎̐̐͒̐͝ ̵̫̯̿n̷̛̳̠͋͛̏ẹ̸̢̬̊̊͜͝e̷̢̖͎̙̩͉̅͑̓͝d̴͕͓͕̗̘͋ ̷̢̡̜̫͂͆̅̊h̷͇͕̤͂͊̑̚ë̴̟́̈́̔l̴͉̻͖͖̱̄̈̍p̵̧̑̅̏.̴̰͈͔͕͉̈́̎"
The flashing colours of the controls and the eerie glow of red cast strange shadows over Gaster's face.
“Of course! How can I help?” Papyrus asked with a false cheer. A strange heat building up inside him at the familiar unfairness of everything.
The room seemed distended, and time seemed to be moving differently between him and everything else.
The Core grew hotter as his emotions gained more unfamiliar pressure with his attempt to contain them.
An autoclave reaching its limits, about to explode. He wasn’t sure which was which right now, the Core or himself.
They were the same, in a way.
His father’s face distorted and half of his body seemed to melt as he reached one distended arm towards Papyrus.
"Y̸̧̽͑͝͠o̷̬͙̊̄̋͜u̴̡̡̧̯̼͊̿̇ ̶̨̟̘͕͈̙͎̭̋͊̓̑̾̒̊n̶̜͈̆̏̄͝e̷̛͇͚̩̝̬̪͔͛̄̋͝͠ͅe̸̖̖̪̾̈́̽̌͊̚̚d̵̛͈͈̺̟̪͍́̒̐̓̈́ ̶̪̫̟̹̤̝͕́̑̾̕t̶̢̛̮̦̺̓͒͂̍͌̌o̵̭̠̭̽̈́̈́͊̑͘ ̴̨̳̯͈͙̰̞̱̪̌̽͗̆͒̅ǵ̷̛̻̞̙̳̤̻̤̣͎̓̒̐o̴͙̭͠ ̵̛͕̆͒̀̓͒͛͝ī̵̙̩̱̿͐̈́͝͝ͅn̵̘̦̖̹̂s̴̰̠̎̕ị̴̲̳̓̓͛͛͒̃͝d̸̨̨̼̗̟͇̰͙̺̓̌̂̈́̓̎̎ê̶̱̭̼͚̥̲̩̐͗̃͠ͅ ̴͉̥̇t̷̢̅̂̐̒̄̓h̸͔̿̓͑̐͐̂e̴͕̝͇̘̫̣͍̋̾̃͘͝ ̵͊̄̈̒̐͝ͅC̴̡̩̦͉̀̈ǫ̵̛͖̯̞̫̝͓̼̼̽̀̉̕͝ṛ̵̡̙͙̞̥͉̓̍̄̅̃͋́͘e̷̱̟̱͛̆̑́̓̽̃̚.̷̯̞́̊̀̆͋͜͝"
Papyrus backed away at the sight. Barely registering the buzzing words in his skull.
The melting figure grabbed him, hand melting into him.
He fought against the hand, anger swirling hottly as the Core grew brighter behind them.
Gaster’s face seemed to melt entirely, another face twisting out of the bubbling goo.
It was his own face.
Papyrus's face staring back at him, the melting Gaster flowing over him in turn.
Papyrus struggled to pull away from the figure that seemed to envelop him as it melted into him.
A horrible buzzing filled his skull.
He was viewing things from the outside. Watching this happen to himself as a spectator from above.
He was melting as well now.
His face distorted into the very same melted visage that had grabbed him, even as the goo dripped away from Gaster to reveal more and more of Papyrus in turn.
Garbled, buzzing nonsensical words rang out as he struggled to get away, but he couldn't understand them.
The world dissolved into white-hot static as the Core released the surge of power. And the static garbled out...
" C̸̨͖̬̫̹̜͖̖͇̞̹̳͌̽͋̾͊̈o̴̢̖͎̤̗̞̰͎̲͓̼̮̮͖͑̔̒̈̔͛͘͜͝ͅm̴̼̿̈̉ȩ̸̱̖̱̤̠̝͍̖̙̖̤͔̘̇̓̉̐̉͌̂̈́̀̇̽̚ͅ ̸̡̡͓͖̣̠͎̺̜̤͙͉͌͂̐̅ͅj̸̧̭̜̝̘͙̃ơ̷̢̫̘͎̻̺͖͕͙̝̩̲̮̰̱͙̣͋̄̐̄͌͌͗̌̚͝͠í̷̡̠̜̗͇͂͜n̷̹̓͆̽̃͂̈̉́͠͝͝ ̴̲̐̄̋̊̍͐͑̈́͊̀̚̕̚ų̷̡̢̹͎̪͍̩̼͔̩͕̣͙̼̱͗̏̊͝ŝ̸̨̤̼͇͓̮̼͓̮̩̻̖̗͖̭̭͗͑͗̒̏̊̑͐̽͘͜͝…̵̪̦̏̊͑ ̵͇͈͙̪̲̞̲̐͂͗̂͒̚̚͘c̴̡̛̹̜̹̥̯̿͌̆͋̾̔͑̀̋̒̔̚͝ǫ̸̨̢̻̪͍̞̻̞̞̀̿̃͗̊̾͌͗̋̚m̵̡̗̦̱̓ẻ̷͚͓̂͒̇͛͗̓̑̀̓͠ ̸̮̰͇̠͂̂͒̕j̴̝̻͖̾͂̊͊̚ö̴͚͚̲̜̜̲̯̠̼̟͍͚́į̶̳͈̭̜̭̬͉̟͚̱̜̂͝ṇ̷̢̣̻̹͔̥̮̲͈͖̲̓̑̃̉́̆͆͗̿͊͐̔̕̚͝͝ͅͅ ̵̧̺͔̭̗͙͕̱̈́ţ̸̮̺͔̮̥͔̤̖̹̘̭̞̲͙̮͆̕͝h̸̢̧͓̯̫͈̟̮̟̦̱͕͇̪̺̤̎̅̿̈́̉̾͒̾͑͋̓̆͒͌̚ȩ̵̢̭̰͙͈̩̉̈́͆̃̈́̆̽̀̕͝͝ ̵̡̮̗̺̫͖̖̫̲͛͑̔́̃̌̄͐̈́͘̚̕͠͝f̷̡̬̜͖̯͓̦̭͖̜̜͉̞̣̗̀́̉̐̓̊̍̂̂̃̄̋̿̍͐͂u̶̦̾̒͂͑͊̋̓͂̽̓̅̇̓͐̒n̵̢̛̲̦̠͓̘͕̼̰͈͙̥͇̳̙͂̈́́̋̍̆̐̒̿͝ .̴̦̲̻̙̬̦̙̥̺̪̗̝̹̙̫̄̂̊̃̉̊̾͗̅͌̄̌̓̕"
Papyrus woke up silently.
To an outside observer, the only change would have been his eyes opening up.
Inside was a different matter. He felt frozen. As if any movement would reveal that the relief of waking was just a lie to lull him into a false sense of security.
After slightly too long he twitched his hand, before reaching up and touching his skull.
Feeling the unmelted cheekbones and solidity under his phalanges, he could finally breathe.
It was a similar dream to the ones he'd been having for months now.
Ever since he'd gotten those damned glasses!
He'd changed the frames with his new pair, but it didn't really help. He still just looked like him, only with different glasses on!
He couldn't unsee it!
He'd thought that being on the surface would remove any lingering reminders that could pop up unexpectedly.
He hadn't expected that he would end up being the reminder!
It was rather hard to escape yourself. Somehow you always managed to catch up with yourself, no matter how fast you tried to run.
The reoccurring dreams weren't a memory.
Or at least, they weren't an accurate memory. And the dreams were never quite the same. In some, the way leading down to the Core was normal, brightly lit and clear. No flashing lights or shadowy figures. In others the strange figures would drag at him, clawing at him every step of the way, trying to pull him back the way he came.
In some Papyrus would...
Nevermind.
The dreams seemed more driven by his emotions than any actual reality.
That old, deeply pressured burning that Papyrus had overflowed with after keeping it carefully contained for so long. Rage that should have felt more alien than it had.
Anger at...
He didn't like to think about it.
He didn’t like to think of that day. Not the dream versions of events and not the actual version of events!
And especially not about the conspicuous gap in the actual version of things!
How his true recollections of that day had ended with him and Gaster having an argument. It had been the first time Papyrus had raised his voice at him since... back when he was a child too young to know better.
And then things went blank.
Blank until the melting happened at least. Watching, frozen as Gaster started to melt right in front of him.
And then Sans had turned up and pulled him out of that place. Dragging him through a shortcut even while Papyrus continued to be mesmerized by the Core.
Feeling it softly dissolve parts of him, not even then, but in his past and future. Hollowing him out of minds and time.
Making him always feel like he was on the edge of existence. No matter how many people knew his name now.
Going through the shortcut had stopped that. But also it hadn't.
That was the problem with quantum tunnelling, there was too much uncertainty involved.
Papyrus shuddered.
He hadn't used a shortcut since. It was like he knew what would happen if he did, except he'd forgotten what that was because the reason existed... adjacent to the location he actually existed in.
That was one of the many problems with living within the uncertainty principle!
It didn't matter, shortcuts were lazy anyway! By nature you had to be ‘patient’ to use them, waiting for the correct probabilities to occur for the equations to work correctly, and then on top of that, you utilised the energy of your surroundings rather than your own abilities!
There was no growth or self-improvement in that! No need to use them! There were far better ways to get around! Why anyone would want to avoid the opportunity to challenge themselves and face an obstacle head-on was something he refused to understand!
But these dreams kept forcing him to be reminded of that day. Forcing him to think about what might have been in that conspicuous gap.
He shuddered. He felt nauseous at the awful possibilities his mind would fill it with.
Had he done something?
Could he have... lost control?
That idea almost scared him even more than the fear of having done something intentionally.
If there was one thing he feared, it was a lack of control over himself.
He couldn't lose control! He needed to be in control of himself!
It was the only thing he could control!
He was always perfectly poised and responsible and perfectly in control!
He repeated that lie like a mantra over and over until it blocked out any other thought.
Papyrus sat up and got out of bed.
Nothing good ever came from sleeping, he thought to himself. It was a very familiar thought.
It never had, and it never will!
He carefully put on his glasses, adjusting the bright green and black striped strap that kept it secure against his skull without ears to hold them in place, allowing the world to swim into focus.
He'd taken down all the mirrors in the house, outside of the bathroom, and he had developed a very deliberate tendency of pulling them off so they hung around his neck by their strap if Sans happened to enter the room or came looking for him.
Sans had clearly noticed, but had the good sense not to comment on it.
Thankfully!
Everyone at work had told him how dashing and refined his glasses looked on him. The complements had turned into dust in his bones, but he had done his absolute best to pretend to embrace the compliments given!
It would be horribly impolite not to!
But… they had seemed to rip open exactly what he didn't want to touch every time he was reminded.
Especially seeing the confused and slightly sad looks Asgore had on his face when he thought Papyrus wasn't looking recently!
Papyrus knew the King had known him. But he didn’t know if Asgore remembered more than he was currently letting on. And frankly, Papyrus did not want to ask!
But speaking of Asgore, Papyrus needed to prepare for work!
He forced himself to go downstairs and made breakfast for Sans first. Sans wouldn't be awake for at least a few more hours, but Papyrus left the prepared dish covered on the counter for when he came down as always.
Quick and easy for Sans to reheat in the microwave.
The dog hadn’t turned up this morning, which was fine. He didn’t always show up for breakfast, and he wasn’t always focusing on filling Papyrus’s life with mess and mayhem.
Only mostly.
Still, Papyrus prepared a bowl for the dog as well. It was the dog food recipe that had seemed the most popular yet with the dog, topped off with a scattering of raw chicken necks.
The dog loved crunching them, even if he insisted on always taking them out of the bowl first and going to do said crunching on Papyrus’s nice clean couch!
After preparing the bowl, he put it in the fridge. He wasn’t going to leave raw meat out on the counter!
Grabbing a sticky-note, he wrote a message telling Sans that there was a prepared bowl for the dog in the fridge if he turned up, and stuck it to the plate covering Sans’s meal.
Finally, Papyrus reached for his favourite box of oats next, before hesitating.
The sweetness of the colourful eggs and gummy additives suddenly felt like too much today. It was just too much after that dream.
Too much overwhelming flavour and sensation.
It felt like a betrayal to his favourite food to try and eat it if he wasn’t even going to enjoy it.
With a dejected sigh, he reached for the plain rolled oats instead.
It tasted like absolutely nothing, which seemed like something he could handle right now.