Chapter Text
He hadn’t meant to do it. Well, he had, but the aftermath of his actions hadn’t been accounted for in his “fool-proof” planning. Fool-proof? No, Dr. Gaster was worse than a fool. The sound of alarms blaring stopped after a short few seconds. Usually, he would have complained about the effectiveness of such a noise in a situation such as his; however, he was currently falling to his death. The brilliant Dr. Gaster, destroyed by one fatal concept: his own ignorance. He knew everything there was to know, but that didn’t make up for a complete and utter lack of common sense.
Surely, he should have realized that creating a machine to, well,… Travel through timelines (and possibly other universes!), would have some sort of drawback. It imploded! Imploded! And decided to take him with it. Great. Amazing idea, smarty pants. Gaster didn’t account for that. The one thing that consistently failed him was himself. It should have- Ugh! Why was he still falling? The ground couldn’t be that far down. Right? Right. It wasn’t scientifically possible. Unless it’s some sort of time-goes-slower-when-you’re-about-to-die thing, there was definitely a problem. Maybe there was no ground where he was going.
Ha! No ground. There had to be some sort of flooring, surely. Unless he was somehow launched into space, he would be fine. Probably dead, but fine. Perhaps slightly less-than-fine because he would be dead. His internal monologue was constant, it always had been and it always will be. Until he dies. Because he’ll hit the ground. That definitely exists.
It’s been at least five minutes since he started falling. The scientist had gotten in a slightly more comfortable falling position. He had a feeling it would take a while. Then, for the first time, he decided to look down at the space below him. The space was everlasting, stretching infinitely across what felt like the universe. Hundreds upon thousands of star-like formations were scattered, glittering in the vast darkness. Vaguely, he wondered what would happen if he ran into one. Were they balls of fire like the real stars? Would he fly too close to the sun and burn up like Icarus had? Unbeknownst to him, Dr. Gaster would find that out very shortly. The space under him gradually began to glow brightly, as he barreled right into one of these false-stars.
After the overbearing light, there was an impact. A violent, painful impact. Upon having a face-to-face meeting with an icy, wet patch of dirt. Dirt. Ground! That meant ground! Unfortunately for him, he passed out almost immediately after the collision with the earth. Dr. Gaster awoke to find himself in what might have been the most comfortable bed he’s been in, in… Ever. He nearly convinced himself it had been a dream. That was until he noticed both of his legs in casts. Huh. Casts. The skeleton monster considered himself lucky if those were the only major injuries he had sustained. Gaster didn’t notice the figure in the open doorway for an embarrassingly long time, eventually making eye contact with the fluffy goat-adjacent monster he knew all too well.
His long-time friend stared him down in disbelief, as if what was currently going on was impossible. “As… Gore?” The scientist’s voice felt foreign to him from disuse. That was odd. He’d been talking less than an hour before he had begun to fall. Maybe he was tired.
“You’re here. Wingdings, you’re truly here.” The king’s eyes watered, but he didn’t wipe away the forming tears. Asgore rushed to his bedside, putting his smaller hand in between his two large palms. The taller leaned down so he was eye-to-eye with the skeleton, “how are you feeling?” At such a close distance, the ever-so-observant Dr. Gaster noticed that his dear friend looked worn out. Like he had aged. Stress did awful things to a person, after all. “I am.. I’m not quite sure. Stiff, mostly. I give my sincere apologies, your majesty, if I upset you in any way. I didn’t expect to take such a tumble,” he word-vomited, unsure how to feel. How much of that had been real? Had it been his imagination? It all felt so real, but.. Perhaps it was a trick of the mind. Plenty of dreams are odd. “Stiff?” The king looked perplexed. “Is that all?” Those furry paws of his held the sides of his face, as if inspecting him for any sign of deception.
When he found no such indication, he pulled back slightly. “Is this about my legs? I don’t feel them at all. I assumed that would be normal.” The skeleton monster avoided eye contact, running his finger over the fabric of the blanket. Although he had just woken up, he continued to be exhausted. It was as if he had never truly rested in the first place. Asgore sat down in a chair that had been turned to face Gaster’s current resting place. Now that he was more awake, he looked the monster up and down. “I’ve never known you to be the type for floral button-downs. What happened to the usual purple cloak you wear?” He sat up more, rubbing the circular burn marks left in his palms by a previous experiment. It had charred the bone, permanently staining the areas black. Never mix up blue lasers with orange ones. You get crisped hands. “Oh, dear. I’ve decided to retire that old thing for good. The cape would only be a reminder of… Times better left forgotten.”
Cape? No, no. “Your majesty, it was a cloak.” So it has begun. “It clasped around my neck, that means it was a cape.” The debate of the century. “Sire, cloaks also tend to have that same feature. Capes don’t cover your whole body.” Truly a marvelous conversation. Very important. “I specifically requested a cape from the tailor.” It was never going to end, was it? “That doesn’t mean it is a cape, your majesty. You were lied to.” After a brief moment of silence, Asgore laughed mirthfully. It nearly sounded nostalgic. “You haven’t changed a bit, old friend.” Changed? Why would he change? “Of course I haven’t, I saw you last week.”
“Last week? Wingdings.. Do you not know? It’s been a decade since you went missing.”
And just like that,
his
world
shattered.