The hand that holds the chain(swapfell)part 2

chapter 6

The last thing Papyrus heard before the door closed was 'Reset', and it was as though the veil of contented anesthesia was lifted, and he felt as though he was bareboned and under a limelight in one quick instant. The effect was jarring and it took everything he had to not give into his first reaction and panic, especially since Sans wasn't there to comfort him.

Papyrus took several deep breaths and forced his hands to unclench, instead busying them with locating his cigarettes. He maintained hyper-awareness as he pulled one out, forced his thumb to click on the lighter, and light it up, keeping himself here, in this moment, repeating to himself 'you are safe, nothing means you harm, you are safe, nothing means you harm'.

And little by little, his shoulders dropped and the panic in his soul ebbed away, leaving him with only manageable anxiety and a perception of how long he had spent getting into this mindset.

He checked his watch; his Lor....Sans.....Sans left him here at nine-thirty sharp. It was now nine forty-nine. A new record.

Papyrus exhaled heavily, staring at the end of his nearly-spent cigarette and was glad he had a full packet today. He was going to need it.

He turned his head when he heard familiar footsteps approaching, not worried about it now that he was in a reasonable state of mind, and rolled his shoulders to unkink them from his earlier tightness before turning around.

Undyne surveyed him carefully, keeping a reasonable distance and her hands where he could see them, giving him a smile. "Ready to get to work?" she asked, her voice enthusiastic, but cautious. Papyrus nodded and walked over to join her, shrugging off his jacket as he did so to hang it up.

"What's the workload today?" he asked as he lit a fresh cigarette up and shoved his lighter and the rest of his pack in his back pocket for later. Undyne grabbed two tablets and held them out.

"Mettabitch and Napstafuck want upgrades," she replied. "And of COURSE they wanted your fine touch to go with it." She tossed her ponytail over her shoulder before reaching back to twist it back into a messy bun. "And of COURSE they have a deadline. Though personally I think a few missed shows and an on-air malfunction would do those divas some good."

Papyrus looked over the requests on the tablets, rolling the butt of his cigarette between his teeth; Mettaton wanted something more streamlined and sharp while Napstaton wanted durability and flexibility, but both wanted to remain aesthetically-pleasing and desirable. "...sounds about right," he muttered, putting the tablets down and sitting back on a stool, grabbing some scratch paper to begin sketching and doing calculations in the margins.

Undyne watched him for several long moments, her brow furrowing slightly as she normally felt it do when she surveyed the younger of the Skeleton brothers at work. Every day he was here took her back to where it all first started.

She'd had childhood aspirations of the Guard when she was just a little fish; almost every kid did at some point. Even adults looked up to the great Captain Gaster, the Great Hero of the War, the Slayer of 10,000 Humans, the Sword of the Throne; and the Royal Guard was a dream and an ambition to hundreds.

But Undyne was a coward at heart, and she knew it. And like most cowards, she spoke loudly, banged a stick, and prayed away confrontation.

Instead, she watched the Guard from afar, and to no one's surprise, Captain Gaster's son Papyrus entered the fray for the top with more gods-given magical talent and tactics than even his own father in some areas. It had been a bloodthirsty ambition for most to see father and son battle it out for the top spot, to see who was better, stronger, more powerful, and it had been a disappointment when Captain Gaster simply dusted away one day, the toll of war, single parenthood, and his job all piling up together, people would say.