Fanfiction: Fissures (Undertale, Handplates-verse)
I really, really love the relationship between Gaster and Alphys in 
zarla's Handplates fancomic for Undertale, so obviously I had to write about it being wrecked. That's how it works. (To be honest, I started out trying to write a Gaster/Alphys fic and failed miserably.)
This is set after 'If I knew you once, now I know you less', in an AU where Alphys decides to take the brothers directly to Gaster rather than to Asgore.
I dithered for a moment on whether to write all of Papyrus and Sans's dialogue in uppercase and lowercase respectively, but in the end I couldn't do it; it felt too strange! I haven't read much Undertale fanfiction, so I don't actually know what the usual conventions are there.
Title: Fissures
Fandom: Handplates (Undertale fancomic by
zarla)
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 1,900
Summary: After finding the brothers, Alphys goes directly to confront Gaster.
“So,” Alphys says, “I’m just rewatching the first season of Mew Mew this evening, and I know you’ll think it’s stupid - maybe it is stupid! - and I know I can’t cook and I’ll probably be boring and you’ve probably got loads of more important things to do...”
She’s going to invite him to visit again. As ever, her invitation is rambling enough to allow him plenty of time to word his rejection, if nothing else.
“...but I just thought, well, it’s the first season, so it’s exactly the right place to start watching - I mean, the first seven episodes are garbage but you have to watch them if you want the twist in episode eight to make sense and it’s incredible - and - and I don’t know, maybe it... maybe it would be fun?”
Gaster summons his hands and pauses.
He’s unlikely to find much merit in Mew Mew Kissy Cutie, it’s true, and he should really be keeping an eye on the subjects. But he doesn’t dislike Dr Alphys’s company. And when was the last time he did something outside work?
“Very well,” he says.
“No,” Alphys says, with a nervous laugh, “it’s fine, I get it, I don’t know why I aske... ohh my God. Oh my God? D-did you just say yes?”
“I said very well,” Gaster says. “I think yes would be overstating my enthusiasm for Mew Mew Kissy Cutie, but I’m not unwilling.”
“Oh, wow,” Alphys says. “You won’t regret it, I swear, it’s a masterpiece, I already know exactly who your favourite character will be-”
Gaster is absolutely determined not to come away from this evening with a favourite character. “We shall see.”
-
It’s strange, the things the mind latches on to in a crisis. Some part of Gaster, some dangerous part that can never be silenced, thinks it would make for an interesting study.
The elevator docks on his floor, and he glances along the walkway at it as the doors slide open. And suddenly all he can think of is that day, that mundane conversation, that first moment he decided to spend time with Dr Alphys socially, before he even fully registers what’s wrong.
Alphys
is with
the subjects.
Alphys is here, with the subjects in tow, and - no, no, this-
Gaster takes a stumbling step back from the railing. This can’t be real. He needs to-
He needs to run.
He can’t run, he’s not a common thief, does he not have enough dignity to face his colleague when...
When she’s looking at him in desperate, pleading horror. Whatever she knows of the situation, it’s too much.
He tries to speak, but his voice escapes him, so he can only sign. Alphys.
“Hey, this weird monster was moving their hands like that too!” 2-P says. “Is this a test?”
“I-I’m sorry,” Alphys mutters, staring fixedly at Gaster’s hands instead of his face, “I was - I was just worried, I wanted to make sure you were okay, I-I wasn’t expecting... I know I s-shouldn’t have...”
Gaster has known for a long time, of course, that his actions have been inexcusable. But somehow it comes into clearer focus in this moment, Alphys sheepish and apologetic and afraid, as if she thinks she’s the one who needs to be forgiven. He took this task upon himself; the blame lies with him alone. He wants to scream at her until she understands that.
She’s trembling, her claws, her voice. He’s seen her anxious before, on a daily basis; he’s never seen her terrified. Of what Gaster has done, or of Gaster himself?
It feels like something is caged in Gaster’s skull and trying to escape.
You went into my lab, he signs. He could probably speak if he made the effort, with grim reality setting in quickly after the initial shock, but this conversation’s likely to be humiliating enough without making the subjects privy to it.
1-S frowns. “Are you guys talking? Where are we?”
“I’m sorry,” Alphys whispers. “I just wanted to help.”
There are tears in her eyes. He’s held guilt at bay with such determination, for so long; it’s a distant, muted thing to him now.
“And I found them,” she says, “a-and I know there’s a reason, a good reason, there’s something I’m not seeing, I’ve p-probably caused all sorts of trouble by letting them out, I just... I just panicked.”
She pauses and takes a few deep, quick breaths. Under normal circumstances, she would be fretting over some imagined error in her research, and Gaster would offer her some curt reassurance.
He has no reassurance to give now.
“I saw their hands,” she says.
In retrospect, branding the subjects with his initials may have been unwise.
“Please just s-say something,” she says. “I... I mean speak, with your voice, don’t just... y-you’re freaking me out. Please tell me I’m just worrying over nothing.”
How would it look from her perspective? She entered his lab and discovered two skeletons, imprisoned in sparsely equipped quarters and incapable of communication, with screws driven through their hands. 2-P might, in such a situation, be able to conclude that there was no maltreatment at play. Gaster doubts anyone else would be so generous.
“I’d lie to you in an instant if I thought you would believe it,” he says. “You’ve always been cleverer than you thought yourself. Certainly too clever for me.”
Alphys blushes and flinches simultaneously, taking a step back. “I don’t, um, I don’t, I don’t understand.”
Alphys doubts herself so often that Gaster has developed a somewhat unorthodox sign for I know you’re capable: a gentle tap of his fingers to the side of her head when she starts claiming not to understand something that’s well within her grasp. He reaches towards her, out of habit, and she backs further away. 2-P gasps at the movement.
That’s it, Gaster knows; he knew it from the moment she appeared with the subjects. He’s lost her trust, irreparably, perhaps inevitably. She was a fool to trust him in the first place.
“You think he was trying to hurt them?” 1-S asks 2-P, pointing from Gaster to Alphys. He is making no effort to keep his voice down. Perhaps he suspects, correctly, that he’ll face no repercussions for insolence here.
“No!” 2-P exclaims. “He doesn’t hurt people any more, he’s good now!”
Gaster sighs, with such force he hears his ribs crackle. 2-P is an idiot. He’s made no such promise.
He’s... restrained himself, of late, but 2-P certainly has no cause to trust him, other than his inexplicably, unshakably trusting nature.
Alphys is watching the subjects, her tail twitching back and forth in agitation. “Uh, um, what are they... what are they saying?”
“Perhaps later,” Gaster says. He doesn’t want her to know. “But you’re in no physical danger from me, Dr Alphys.”
It hurts that he needs to clarify that, but of course he does. He clearly has no regard for the health or happiness of others; it’s possible to deduce that much from what Alphys has seen. Why should Alphys expect herself to be an exception?
“S-sorry,” Alphys mumbles. “I know that. I don’t know what I was doing. There’s... I know there’s a reason, I know there’s a reason for everything.”
She’s been threatening to show him the allegedly dire Mew Mew Kissy Cutie 2 and explain, at great length, all its faults. He’s been evading all her invitations; it seemed a thoroughly unappealing exercise. It suddenly aches that he’ll never have the opportunity to watch it with her.
It’s absurd of him to be thinking about that, of all things. There is not, he imagines, a great deal of legal precedent for the things he’s done, but he’s probably going to be arrested. Imprisoned, as the brothers were; perhaps it’s no less than he deserves.
The subjects, he corrects himself in his mind, too late. If they’re free of him, he supposes he has no control over whether they consider themselves brothers. Not that he ever seemed to in the first place.
“There’s a reason, certainly,” he says. “I’ve been researching ways to pass through the barrier. If you’d like some sort of moral justification, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
“Moral - what did you do?”
Gaster hesitates.
“I’ve been extremely cruel to these... these skeletons,” he says. “I hurt them, physically, to ensure their compliance and test my hypotheses, to say nothing of emotional damage and the ways I’ve no doubt impeded their development. To achieve my goals, I couldn’t allow myself to think of them as...” He pauses. Alphys has been a valued colleague to him, perhaps a friend, and she deserves better than his poor excuses. “I ask you not to make me tell you the details.”
Alphys is staring at him. He glances away, at the subjects, and finds himself equally unable to meet 2-P’s nervous, confused, hopeful gaze. He turns and stares into the burning glow of the Core.
“They have no families,” he says. There’s no need to go into the finer points of their creation. “You should take them to the King. He’ll take care of them as they should be taken care of, I’ve no doubt.”
“Wait, us?” 2-P asks. “Take us where?”
“Take care of,” 1-S says, scepticism clear in his voice. “Who’s the King?”
1-S’s wariness changes nothing. 1-S does not need to trust Gaster and in fact would be foolish to do so. And he is not a part of this conversation. They’ll be happy with Asgore, or happier, at least.
“This isn’t, this isn’t real,” Alphys says, very quietly.
Gaster closes his good eye socket for a moment. “I’m afraid it is.”
“You wouldn’t do something like that, I know you, y-you’re not that kind of - if you just g-gave them a slap on the wrist sometimes, that’s not-”
“I have broken their bones, repeatedly and intentionally, and you do not know me at all,” Gaster says, his voice perfectly steady.
Alphys falls silent. Gaster turns to look at her and regrets it; she’s almost in tears. 2-P is looking at her anxiously.
“I don’t mean to hurt you,” Gaster says. He still has one hand on the railing. Not for support; it just... happens to be there. “I would spare you any pain if I could.”
“Yeah,” 1-S says, “we all know how much you hate causing pain. Who is this?”
“W-what am I supposed to do?” Alphys begs.
Gaster frowns. “I told you, I thought. Bring them to the King.”
If she insists that he accompany her to turn himself in, he will. If she forgets that he needs to face consequences for his actions, if she leaves him here alone... well, what then? Will he run? Where will he go; what will he do? Without Alphys for company, without the King, without even the test subjects who’ve been occupying his time and attention...
She’s shifting on her feet, clawing unthinkingly at her own hands. “No, I mean - I will, but - about you. This can’t be - I don’t want to lose - h-how do we move past this?”
He is determined not to feel hopeful at the suggestion she might somehow still care about him. No such hope exists. The people he cares about are far too noble to continue associating with him after the things he’s done, and they’ll realise that swiftly enough as it all comes to light.
He’ll miss her a great deal. He’ll miss the King. He’ll... he is likely to feel the absence of his test subjects, given the amount of time he has by necessity spent in their company.
“I really don’t think we do,” he says.
zarla's Handplates fancomic for Undertale, so obviously I had to write about it being wrecked. That's how it works. (To be honest, I started out trying to write a Gaster/Alphys fic and failed miserably.)
This is set after 'If I knew you once, now I know you less', in an AU where Alphys decides to take the brothers directly to Gaster rather than to Asgore.
I dithered for a moment on whether to write all of Papyrus and Sans's dialogue in uppercase and lowercase respectively, but in the end I couldn't do it; it felt too strange! I haven't read much Undertale fanfiction, so I don't actually know what the usual conventions are there.
Title: Fissures
Fandom: Handplates (Undertale fancomic by
zarla)
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 1,900
Summary: After finding the brothers, Alphys goes directly to confront Gaster.
“So,” Alphys says, “I’m just rewatching the first season of Mew Mew this evening, and I know you’ll think it’s stupid - maybe it is stupid! - and I know I can’t cook and I’ll probably be boring and you’ve probably got loads of more important things to do...”
She’s going to invite him to visit again. As ever, her invitation is rambling enough to allow him plenty of time to word his rejection, if nothing else.
“...but I just thought, well, it’s the first season, so it’s exactly the right place to start watching - I mean, the first seven episodes are garbage but you have to watch them if you want the twist in episode eight to make sense and it’s incredible - and - and I don’t know, maybe it... maybe it would be fun?”
Gaster summons his hands and pauses.
He’s unlikely to find much merit in Mew Mew Kissy Cutie, it’s true, and he should really be keeping an eye on the subjects. But he doesn’t dislike Dr Alphys’s company. And when was the last time he did something outside work?
“Very well,” he says.
“No,” Alphys says, with a nervous laugh, “it’s fine, I get it, I don’t know why I aske... ohh my God. Oh my God? D-did you just say yes?”
“I said very well,” Gaster says. “I think yes would be overstating my enthusiasm for Mew Mew Kissy Cutie, but I’m not unwilling.”
“Oh, wow,” Alphys says. “You won’t regret it, I swear, it’s a masterpiece, I already know exactly who your favourite character will be-”
Gaster is absolutely determined not to come away from this evening with a favourite character. “We shall see.”
-
It’s strange, the things the mind latches on to in a crisis. Some part of Gaster, some dangerous part that can never be silenced, thinks it would make for an interesting study.
The elevator docks on his floor, and he glances along the walkway at it as the doors slide open. And suddenly all he can think of is that day, that mundane conversation, that first moment he decided to spend time with Dr Alphys socially, before he even fully registers what’s wrong.
Alphys
is with
the subjects.
Alphys is here, with the subjects in tow, and - no, no, this-
Gaster takes a stumbling step back from the railing. This can’t be real. He needs to-
He needs to run.
He can’t run, he’s not a common thief, does he not have enough dignity to face his colleague when...
When she’s looking at him in desperate, pleading horror. Whatever she knows of the situation, it’s too much.
He tries to speak, but his voice escapes him, so he can only sign. Alphys.
“Hey, this weird monster was moving their hands like that too!” 2-P says. “Is this a test?”
“I-I’m sorry,” Alphys mutters, staring fixedly at Gaster’s hands instead of his face, “I was - I was just worried, I wanted to make sure you were okay, I-I wasn’t expecting... I know I s-shouldn’t have...”
Gaster has known for a long time, of course, that his actions have been inexcusable. But somehow it comes into clearer focus in this moment, Alphys sheepish and apologetic and afraid, as if she thinks she’s the one who needs to be forgiven. He took this task upon himself; the blame lies with him alone. He wants to scream at her until she understands that.
She’s trembling, her claws, her voice. He’s seen her anxious before, on a daily basis; he’s never seen her terrified. Of what Gaster has done, or of Gaster himself?
It feels like something is caged in Gaster’s skull and trying to escape.
You went into my lab, he signs. He could probably speak if he made the effort, with grim reality setting in quickly after the initial shock, but this conversation’s likely to be humiliating enough without making the subjects privy to it.
1-S frowns. “Are you guys talking? Where are we?”
“I’m sorry,” Alphys whispers. “I just wanted to help.”
There are tears in her eyes. He’s held guilt at bay with such determination, for so long; it’s a distant, muted thing to him now.
“And I found them,” she says, “a-and I know there’s a reason, a good reason, there’s something I’m not seeing, I’ve p-probably caused all sorts of trouble by letting them out, I just... I just panicked.”
She pauses and takes a few deep, quick breaths. Under normal circumstances, she would be fretting over some imagined error in her research, and Gaster would offer her some curt reassurance.
He has no reassurance to give now.
“I saw their hands,” she says.
In retrospect, branding the subjects with his initials may have been unwise.
“Please just s-say something,” she says. “I... I mean speak, with your voice, don’t just... y-you’re freaking me out. Please tell me I’m just worrying over nothing.”
How would it look from her perspective? She entered his lab and discovered two skeletons, imprisoned in sparsely equipped quarters and incapable of communication, with screws driven through their hands. 2-P might, in such a situation, be able to conclude that there was no maltreatment at play. Gaster doubts anyone else would be so generous.
“I’d lie to you in an instant if I thought you would believe it,” he says. “You’ve always been cleverer than you thought yourself. Certainly too clever for me.”
Alphys blushes and flinches simultaneously, taking a step back. “I don’t, um, I don’t, I don’t understand.”
Alphys doubts herself so often that Gaster has developed a somewhat unorthodox sign for I know you’re capable: a gentle tap of his fingers to the side of her head when she starts claiming not to understand something that’s well within her grasp. He reaches towards her, out of habit, and she backs further away. 2-P gasps at the movement.
That’s it, Gaster knows; he knew it from the moment she appeared with the subjects. He’s lost her trust, irreparably, perhaps inevitably. She was a fool to trust him in the first place.
“You think he was trying to hurt them?” 1-S asks 2-P, pointing from Gaster to Alphys. He is making no effort to keep his voice down. Perhaps he suspects, correctly, that he’ll face no repercussions for insolence here.
“No!” 2-P exclaims. “He doesn’t hurt people any more, he’s good now!”
Gaster sighs, with such force he hears his ribs crackle. 2-P is an idiot. He’s made no such promise.
He’s... restrained himself, of late, but 2-P certainly has no cause to trust him, other than his inexplicably, unshakably trusting nature.
Alphys is watching the subjects, her tail twitching back and forth in agitation. “Uh, um, what are they... what are they saying?”
“Perhaps later,” Gaster says. He doesn’t want her to know. “But you’re in no physical danger from me, Dr Alphys.”
It hurts that he needs to clarify that, but of course he does. He clearly has no regard for the health or happiness of others; it’s possible to deduce that much from what Alphys has seen. Why should Alphys expect herself to be an exception?
“S-sorry,” Alphys mumbles. “I know that. I don’t know what I was doing. There’s... I know there’s a reason, I know there’s a reason for everything.”
She’s been threatening to show him the allegedly dire Mew Mew Kissy Cutie 2 and explain, at great length, all its faults. He’s been evading all her invitations; it seemed a thoroughly unappealing exercise. It suddenly aches that he’ll never have the opportunity to watch it with her.
It’s absurd of him to be thinking about that, of all things. There is not, he imagines, a great deal of legal precedent for the things he’s done, but he’s probably going to be arrested. Imprisoned, as the brothers were; perhaps it’s no less than he deserves.
The subjects, he corrects himself in his mind, too late. If they’re free of him, he supposes he has no control over whether they consider themselves brothers. Not that he ever seemed to in the first place.
“There’s a reason, certainly,” he says. “I’ve been researching ways to pass through the barrier. If you’d like some sort of moral justification, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
“Moral - what did you do?”
Gaster hesitates.
“I’ve been extremely cruel to these... these skeletons,” he says. “I hurt them, physically, to ensure their compliance and test my hypotheses, to say nothing of emotional damage and the ways I’ve no doubt impeded their development. To achieve my goals, I couldn’t allow myself to think of them as...” He pauses. Alphys has been a valued colleague to him, perhaps a friend, and she deserves better than his poor excuses. “I ask you not to make me tell you the details.”
Alphys is staring at him. He glances away, at the subjects, and finds himself equally unable to meet 2-P’s nervous, confused, hopeful gaze. He turns and stares into the burning glow of the Core.
“They have no families,” he says. There’s no need to go into the finer points of their creation. “You should take them to the King. He’ll take care of them as they should be taken care of, I’ve no doubt.”
“Wait, us?” 2-P asks. “Take us where?”
“Take care of,” 1-S says, scepticism clear in his voice. “Who’s the King?”
1-S’s wariness changes nothing. 1-S does not need to trust Gaster and in fact would be foolish to do so. And he is not a part of this conversation. They’ll be happy with Asgore, or happier, at least.
“This isn’t, this isn’t real,” Alphys says, very quietly.
Gaster closes his good eye socket for a moment. “I’m afraid it is.”
“You wouldn’t do something like that, I know you, y-you’re not that kind of - if you just g-gave them a slap on the wrist sometimes, that’s not-”
“I have broken their bones, repeatedly and intentionally, and you do not know me at all,” Gaster says, his voice perfectly steady.
Alphys falls silent. Gaster turns to look at her and regrets it; she’s almost in tears. 2-P is looking at her anxiously.
“I don’t mean to hurt you,” Gaster says. He still has one hand on the railing. Not for support; it just... happens to be there. “I would spare you any pain if I could.”
“Yeah,” 1-S says, “we all know how much you hate causing pain. Who is this?”
“W-what am I supposed to do?” Alphys begs.
Gaster frowns. “I told you, I thought. Bring them to the King.”
If she insists that he accompany her to turn himself in, he will. If she forgets that he needs to face consequences for his actions, if she leaves him here alone... well, what then? Will he run? Where will he go; what will he do? Without Alphys for company, without the King, without even the test subjects who’ve been occupying his time and attention...
She’s shifting on her feet, clawing unthinkingly at her own hands. “No, I mean - I will, but - about you. This can’t be - I don’t want to lose - h-how do we move past this?”
He is determined not to feel hopeful at the suggestion she might somehow still care about him. No such hope exists. The people he cares about are far too noble to continue associating with him after the things he’s done, and they’ll realise that swiftly enough as it all comes to light.
He’ll miss her a great deal. He’ll miss the King. He’ll... he is likely to feel the absence of his test subjects, given the amount of time he has by necessity spent in their company.
“I really don’t think we do,” he says.