Work Text:
Alphys somehow lugged Mettaton's torso all the way to the back door of his resort. She had tried to construct him out of lightweight materials, but he was still hard for her to manage for more than a short distance. To make matters worse, he was leaking mineral oil from broken inguinal tubes in his leg sockets. The oil was somewhat hot, and it was soaking the front of her lab coat. Alphys pulled him tighter to her chest, her arms locked tightly under his pauldrons. She snuffled the back of his head, reluctant to lay him down. Hydraulic fluid started to drip down her legs. With a sigh, she lowered him and improvised clamps with the snack bag clips in her coat pocket.
She slowly pulled him through the entrance. She just couldn't lift him again on her own.
The startled hotel receptionist gave her a hand carrying him from there to the lab. Staff gathered to watch as they passed through. Alphys reassured them all that Mettaton would soon be as good as new. A few of the small Hotland monsters trailed along, concerned about their comatose robotic idol.
Vulkin was happy to volunteer to trot back to the Core. One by one, the little monster delivered arms and legs, each balanced carefully across its caldera, to Alphys' door throughout the day. Mettaton's gloves came back a bit singed, but that, mercifully, was the extent of the lava damage. No problem; Mettaton had many spares.
When she was alone, Alphys set the robot up on her workbench and assessed him. His face was uninhabited and lifeless. It gave her a creepy feeling. He had looked like this while she was building him, of course, but she had quickly acclimated to her friend animating the features. Even when he charged and slept, he looked present. Now he just looked...
However, despite appearances, a mild but perceptible glow was visible behind the pink heart on his abdomen. His soul was very much alive in there, slumbering until she recharged and repaired him. Thank god.
Tears fell down her cheeks. For about the fifth time in the past hour. She really didn't know what she would have done if he was gone. He was a shitty friend, but he was her shitty friend.
Alphys worked on his battery first, making the adjustments that would enable him to live in EX form full-time, as promised. She consulted her notebook figures, making sure that what she was doing matched her sketches. She double checked her math with care. She refitted the unit, made sure power was cut to his extremity circuits, and plugged him into the wall. When Mettaton's battery had completely died, it would remain impossible to wake him until he had at least a twenty percent charge. Maybe he'd sleep for longer than that. He had to be exhausted, and he had gotten his soul bruised to boot.
Alphys couldn't understand why he had opened himself up like that. He could have fought indefinitely, if that's what he had wanted to do. The human had never truly attacked him, but even the silly phone shooter she had designed could hurt a completely exposed soul.
It was clear now that Mettaton had never intended to really follow her plan. How had she not realized? He was too good of a liar. He was an actor, after all. Or perhaps, in her enthusiasm to befriend the human, she had just been blind to the possibility of Mettaton having different motives. He did tend to act in favor of his own self-interest above anything else. But he had deliberately put himself in harm's way pulling this stunt. For what purpose?
She got to work on fixing the damage to his legs next.
For that, she needed the protocols associated with Mettaton's hydraulic drive system. She leafed backwards through her notebook, looking for her early entries on low friction hydraulic cylinder actuators. Instead she found her copies of blueprints on DT isolation and injection. The figures and labels were neat... Certainly not her own messy scribble. Those blueprints she had inherited.
That hardly made her feel better. She alone had carried out their plans.
She regretted not having the motivation to properly index her entries. She regretted not keeping separate lab notebooks for Mettaton. It was too easy to relive distasteful moments turning those pages back chronologically.
She shut her eyes, laying her chin down on his thigh. A scene from months ago swam into her head, unbidden...
***
Mettaton, box form, in her room. Looking down at her huddled, blanket wrapped shape. “Alphys. Those monsters should go home.” His voice sympathetic.
“No, I can't let that...” she sobbed, peeking out from under the blanket. “Like that?”
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself and do something about this.”
“I can't just switch off my feelings!”
“Why not?” he inquired, mystified.
“I just c-can't.”
“You can't keep the amalgamates here,” he insisted.
“I'm not keeping them-”
“They're too confused to go home themselves. I talked to the one that has... Shyren's sister. I tried to, anyway. It's awful. You could help them. But you don't.” Slowly turning on her, with increasing venom. “You could help me, too, couldn't you, darling?”
“I-I intend to help you-”
“Like fuck you do. You're using me.”
“M-me?”
“You. You wanted me to be your brilliant creation. And I played along, didn't I? Asgore didn't care so much about a supposedly combat-oriented robot, but he was sufficiently impressed with your skills nonetheless. I did my job and I was free to pursue my own interests. I settled for this body in the short-term, and despite its challenges I rose to fame. I've been patient. Now, it's time to do your job and deliver your end of our bargain. But maybe you don't want that, darling.”
Mettaton's voice became harsh, sharp. He leaned over her.
“Does it make you feel fulfilled to have captive friends? Do you go down there and pretend Reaper Bird's gibberish is a meaningful conversation with you? Do you imagine Snowdrake's mother is your mother and that she misses and cares about you? How truly poignant. Do you think I'm happy like this, like our friendship is enough to solve all my problems? You make me sick. Keep your fantasy world to yourself and don't pull everyone else into it. It's hurting everyone.”
“Stop!” She wrapped her blanket tighter around her head. “T-that's not how it is...”
“...But it is, isn't it?” he replied, lightly and coldly.
She sniveled for a while. Mettaton watched in silence.
“M-Mettaton, does it make you feel fulfilled to be an asshole?” She sat up. Her voice shook. “You wreck your friends' lives and you do it on purpose.”
He crossed his arms, challenging her.
“Mettaton, do you even listen to yourself? You are the user. You ditched your cousin because they reminded you of what you are. You don't talk to Shyren anymore, do you? Maybe because of the dreams you shared, hoping to someday be noticed, appreciated? Do you even care how those two feel right now? Now you guilt me because I'm using you? The real problem is you. You can't stand anyone who dares remind you of yourself.”
Mettaton turned away slowly, as if bored. But somewhere inside him, the words stung. It was rare that anything could find its way through and hit the mark. He was silent for a long time.
Finally he spoke again.“It's unfortunate that we've been together long enough to know exactly how to best inflict wounds,” he said, enunciating each word precisely and curtly. “I'm leaving.”
“Good riddance. Go run away from your problems. Again.”
“Watch me, bitch,” he replied carelessly.
***
She opened her eyes. None of it mattered. She wasn't angry at him. She was just glad he had survived right now. The next pages of her notebook, thankfully, held the protocols she was looking for. She reattached his legs and cycled fresh mineral oil into him to prime the hydraulic pumps.
The arms would be easier. Those were strictly electrical.
She investigated the state of the wiring, the wear to the mechanical shoulder joints. She crawled up next to him on the table to fix a couple of issues just inside the sockets.
“I'm an awful friend, aren't I?” said a familiar voice. Soft, with just a hint of metallic timbre, but clear as day. His usual, intimate voice. As if nothing had happened.
She looked up. His eyes were closed, but his face looked alive again in some subtle way that was hard to pin down. Mettaton couldn't have been conscious for more than a few seconds. He opened his eyes slowly to gaze at her. He looked miserable.
She hugged him. He couldn't return the gesture because he had no arms, but she felt his nose, his cheekbone come to rest against the top of her head.
“I'm sorry.” He meant for everything. He hadn't ever apologized to her. Now was the time.
“Why did...?”
“Did I trick you? Because I'm selfish. You were right. If I had won, I would have left, maybe. That's what I do. Follow my dreams and leave everyone else in my wake. I... I'm glad I lost. I would have missed you. I would have missed Blooky. I would have lied to myself and told myself that I didn't... And I'd convince myself that fame was enough. It would have almost worked.”
“Mettaton.”
“Darling, I'm dreadful.”
“Mettaton, I'm just glad you're okay. But thanks for the apology.”
“I'm worthless.”
“That's enough. You're a jerk, okay?”
Mettaton laughed between quiet shudders.
Alphys waited for him to calm down. “Why did you purposely expose your soul? That was dangerous.”
“It was dramatic. I don't know, honestly. I wasn't thinking. The fight wasn't going anywhere, they were dodging all my attacks, I didn't want to back down... I kind of figured... Maybe if the human attacked me for real, I'd be gone, but you'd be okay?”
Alphys looked up at him, shocked. “Mettaton, I couldn't have dealt with that!”
“You could too have.”
“Nuh uh.”
“Ya huh.”
“Mettaton, I can't even convey how I'd have felt,” she snapped.
He was taken aback, and then he turned his head, ashamed. “This just proves how selfish I truly am, then. I just assumed... It's a good thing it turned out like this.”
She smiled, but started to cry yet again. “It is.”
“Darling... It's killing me not to be able to wipe your tears away. Please put my arms back on.”
“Okay.”
When Mettaton was fully assembled and fully recharged, she explained to him that, finally, he was finished for good. He bit his lip. This was the moment he had been waiting for, at long last. He embraced Alphys, lifted her off the ground, and spun her around.
But he had a determined look set in his features.
“Perfect. Because I've got someone to reunite with. You only hurt the ones you love, isn't that so? Well, I've got to right all the wrongs I've done. If I can.”
“I believe in you. I... I've got to do some things, too. I'm going to talk to the amalgamates' families...”
“Oh, honey. Good for you. Good luck, okay?”
“Thanks. I need it.”
“When the big fight is over, if we're free... I'll see you on the surface okay?”
Mettaton ran to the front door. But he stopped before leaving, turning back to her. He beckoned her over, then knelt down to her level. He clasped her hands firmly.
“Alphys... There's no-one like you. No matter what, I'll always be your friend.”
Despite her nervousness, for herself, for the amalgamates, for the human, for Asgore... For all of them, she smiled. “And I'll be yours.”