Handplates - Pills -

Again

The door to Room 233 swings open, and Gaster strides into it, quickly outpacing Sans. He sits down at his desk, and fumbles for an old mug of coffee. Subject 1-S has clearly inherited the doctor's intelligence. He wipes one hand down his face, and hides his expression behind his computer screen. Sans follows in, glancing around the room. Gaster's usual computer sits in one corner of the room, a white table occupying the centre space. A single spotless chair sits flush against one table edge.

Sans approaches it carefully, suspicion in his eyes. However, when he gets closer, he notices something that freezes his feet to the ground. Two white pills are placed on the smooth table top. Sans recognises them. They're white, whiter than his chapped bones, and round and smooth.

Anger floods through Sans and he spins, glaring at the doctor.
"What's this?"
"They're pills, 1-S. I'd have thought you would have recognised them, but I must be overestimating your intelligence." Gaster answers, sounding bored. "Now, let's continue. Please si-"
Gaster's snide tone is too much. The pills, the idea of reliving the vision, and the fact that Gaster has the power to make him do it triggers a wave of emotion that courses through Sans. "SHUT UP!" Sans shouts. His eye crackles and bursts into blue flame. "SHUT UP! YOU DON'T GET TO MAKE ME DO THAT AGAIN! I WONT LET YOU!"

Gaster's head snaps up.

He stands up so quickly, his chair slams into the ground behind him. Only two paces puts him right in front of Sans. He's angry, too angry. The lack of sleep, the pressure from Asgore, the work in the Core and the fact that 1-S has the gall to protest builds a pressure behind his head, but he keeps his voice low. He towers over Sans, glaring at him through his small spectacles.

 "1-S. You will sit down, and -" Gaster slows down, grinding out each word a bit at a time, "You. Will. Be. Quiet."

"Why do you get to control me?" Sans spits. He tilt his head up, meeting Gaster's eyes. "Who had a sick enough mind to put you in charge? What cruel twist of fate let you get hold of our lives?" His eye flames a dark blue and pulses, a whirl of stormy colours twisting and coiling.

He spits a ball of phlegm right into Gaster's eye.

Gaster draws back, letting the action hang between them. Sans is breathing fast, his bones rattling together like a cornered animal. Tension tightens the air around them. Gaster contemplates lifting 1-S's soul and hurling him against the wall. It's tempting. But instead, he breathes out through his mouth, in through his nose. He counts ten beats, and then reaches up and wipes the phlegm out of his eye socket.

He smiles.

"Let's now forget about your brother, 2-P. It would be best to think about him when you do such things. We wouldn't want anything to happen to him, now, would we?"

Sans' gaze drops. He sucks in a breath. 

"Sit down, 1-S, and let's get on with it." He steps back and takes his seat behind his computer. Glancing up through his spectacles, he watches Sans' eye slowly fade away. He watches as Sans slumps, the fight leaving his body, like a rubber band released. He watches as Sans walks over to the chair and leans back against the plastic.

"Let's begin." Gaster calls out over his computer. "Now, I have a few questions to start us off with." He pauses, and checks to make sure Sans is paying attention. "Focus, 1-S."

Sans grunts, eyes fixed on the table. 

"I want to know, truthfully, if you've had this vision before."
Sans grunts. 
"Full sentences, 1-S." Gaster reminds, voice singsong and patronising. 
"Yes, doc, I've had that vision before."

"How often have you seen it? When did you see it?"
"Several times. Once or twice. At night, when I sleep."
"To the same detail as when we used the pills?"
"We?" Sans questions, regrets it. He moves on, saying with a shudder "No. Not to that level of clarity. It's usually blurry - all I see is red and gold, red and gold." 

Red and gold and red and gold and screaming and blood and a smile and a knife.

But Sans doesn't say it. He stays quiet, watching Gaster take notes. He can't bring himself to even look at the pills, and hopes his answers to the questions were enough to keep them from him. 

"So, 1-S. I thank you for being truthful."

Sans takes in a shuddering breath. 

"Now, here's a glass of water."

The skeleton stiffens and looks suspiciously at the doctor.

"Why?" He manages to croak.

"For those pills. We're going to see the vision again."

The pills go down easier this time.