Handplates - Pills -

Guilt

Gaster buries his head in his hands, the light of the computer screen casting jagged lines across his face. He's so tired. Bone shatteringly tired. Twenty hours of work, seven days a week have hunched his shoulders and created shadows under his eyes. His clock reads 2:00 AM, but Gaster doesn't move. He stares at his screen through his fingers, watching 1-S and 2-P through the camera in their cell. 

Instead of sleeping together, arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, they're curled up at opposite sides of the room. 2-P looks lonely, his long arms hugging himself tightly, pressing away the feelings. But Gaster doesn't linger on 2-P, instead letting his gaze fall on the small bundle at the other end of the cell. 1-S's small body, made even smaller from the screen, looks breath-takingly fragile.  The doctor slowly breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth. He zooms in the camera on the skeleton, 1-S's silhouette filling the screen. 1-S's shoulders shake, and his blue eye burns a frail trail into the darkness.

Guilt creeps into Gaster's soul – he caused the separation, he caused 1-S's silent tears. He would, he should, push it away, but he's too tired. The urge to stop fighting it is overwhelming. Overpowering. Pulling away his hands, he leans into the computer, pressing a cheek bone against the warm screen.

A tear slips onto the keyboard, disappearing under one of the keys.

The doctor stares up at the screen, tears blurring the picture. He looks through the pixels, through the camera's gaze. He looks at 1-S.... and remembers why he's doing this. To his dismay, he feels his heart shift. Compassion is squeezed out, cool practicality creeps back in. He must not allow kindness to compromise the mission. He sits up straight, clicking away from the CCTV and back onto the vision recording.

1-S, on hands and knees, looks through dark eyes at the figure in front of him. Curiosity and duty pounds through Gaster. He needs to know who s/he is. He needs to find out where 1-S is. He needs to see the vision again. The doctor scoops up two more pills into his hand, staring at them. He'll make 1-S go through the vision again. 

He grimaces, but resolve toughens his heart. He'll make 1-S go through the vision as many times as he needs. Even if it breaks him. 

He stays awake the rest of the night.

***

"Get up."

Sans opens one eye to see Dr. Gaster's boots.
"Get up, 1-S." Gaster repeats, voice brittle.
"Nuuuugghhh" Sans manages. He feels his soul grabbed, and his view tilts, until he's level with Gaster's eyes. They're dark, rimmed with heavy black shadows, and cold. He isn't in a mood to be pushed, so Sans straightens and manages a "I'm awake, I'm awake! Geez." Gaster grunts and drops his soul, letting Sans' shins take the landing.

Sans grimaces, but doesn't make a sound. A curse builds in his throat, but he shoves it down. He wouldn't give Gaster the satisfaction. Instead, he drags himself up and asks:
"So... Doc. What're we doing today? Lasers, maybe? I've always loved lase-" but Gaster cuts him off.
"How did you sleep?" Sans jumps at the question, and was about to reply with a sarcastic quip, but one look from Gaster stops him. What's his problem today, anyways?
"Slept like a baby." Sans says, feeling the oily lie slide off his tongue. Two can play this game.

"Why?"

"Be more specific, 1-S." Gaster snaps. 

"Why d'ya ask me? Surely it means nothing to you. So why ask?" Sans questions, as Gaster unlocks the door. Gaster turns to look at him, trying to understand the little skeleton's meaning. He pauses for a second, and then makes up his mind. 

"Scientific purposes, 1-S. You wouldn't understand." He replies, forcing his face to remain blank. He steps into the corridor and briskly trots down the hallway. 

Sans has to half-jog to keep up, but does so anyway, keeping pace with the doctor. He smiles, a dark grin sliding onto his face. He would understand. He does understand. Just as they turn into Room 233, Sans asks:

"How'd you sleep, Doc?"

Gaster jumps, suspicion written clearly across his face. He pauses. Subject 1-S is clever. Too clever.

"Like a log." Gaster replies. "Slept the whole night through."