Hey guys! Sorry for the almost two month delay between this chapter and the last. I've been really busy these past few months, and it's probably not going to slow down anytime soon. However! We had a four day weekend for our winter break and I decided to get busy.
A lot of the time spent was deciding how to end the story, as this is the epilogue. I ended it how I saw fit, and I hope you like it as much as I do.
It's been over a year since I first posted the prologue to this story. Crazy right? I want to thank all of you who have read through this story. I want to thank you for reviewing, favoriting, following, all of it. It means a lot to me, and even though I've been through some troubles this year, your support has given be motivation to keep writing and finish this story. So thanks for reading this crappy story about everyone's favorite mysterious goopy skeleton.
So, without further adeu, here is the epilogue to Leaving the Void. I hope you enjoy, and thank you for the wonderful writing experience.

~Emily Believes

"Have you ever thought about a world where everything is exactly the same, except you don't exist? Everything functions perfectly without you. Ha, ha…

"...The thought terrifies me."

Gaster had accepted his fate long ago. Erased. The ability to interact with the physical world around him, every wisp of his memory… all of it was gone, all in a small instant. No one could see or remember him in any way. He had no way to interact with his colleagues, his friends, his sons…

He'd concluded long ago that everyone's memories were completely back to zero; a true reset had occurred. It was all so horrifying to watch from the outside, seeing friends revert from their good terms back to sour ones, as if they had never reconciled once upon a timeline. Yet, they still made peace with one another eventually without his intervention whatsoever. Everything had worked so perfectly without him. It worked better without him. It was almost as if everything he'd done was for naught…

Sure, he accepted his fate, but it forever haunted him.

This was almost worse than being trapped in the Void. Being in that black nothingness allowed him to watch the timelines as they unfolded, meaning he could analyze everything from every part of the Underground as it occurred. He didn't have that luxury anymore. He was subject to a limited perspective, only being able to view the world that went on around him, nothing more. Unless he followed the human, he couldn't know what was going on.

Not being able to intervene was frustrating as well. He couldn't necessarily do that in the Void either, but it was always an option (if not a risk). In this state of incorporeal dematerialization, it wasn't. He couldn't change the course of the timeline, no matter how much he tried or wanted to. If things started to go south, if some sort of unprecedented genocide route started, he wouldn't be able to stop it. That thought ached his soul more than anything. If everyone he knew was murdered and he was powerless to stop it, he felt it would weigh on him, that somehow it would be his fault. After all, it was his fault he was stuck in this sorry state, not being able to do anything.

He couldn't bare to stay outside the mysterious grey room for long. Sure, he supposed he was thankful that the route playing on the other side of the door wasn't one of genocidal nature; those death-filled timelines were perhaps some of the worst things he'd ever seen. But the fact that everything could be better still bothered him greatly. If the glitches hadn't occurred, everyone would have reached the surface by now. He was certain. But that was not the case. He was stuck in a timeline that took everything away from him in a peaceful way, damaging only his mind and soul, and fortunately no one else's.

Yes, it was good that Chara was gone. Yes, it was good that the universe was not in danger of being destroyed. Yes, it was good that the timeline seemed to be following the nature of the few routes he had categorized as "pacifist routes." But even so, he couldn't help but wonder… if he hadn't fallen into his machine, if he hadn't entered the Void all those timelines ago, could all of this had been avoided?

Hmph, he thought bitterly. Of course. But I am not the one who killed everyone. That was Chara, and her actions do not affect my goodwill. It was often that he had to argue with himself to stop the guilt formulating from hopeless "what if"s. He went outside of the grey room regularly just to escape his own thoughts. Perhaps his own mind, he frequently pondered, was more destructive to him than Chara's words ever were. Or perhaps that was a part of her plan, to manipulate his self-confidence and warp it into a paranoid habit of second guessing himself.

It hardly made a difference now, of course, but it seemed that was all he could do. Ponder. Ponder and watch. It drove him to the brink of insanity. Maybe he had already crossed that blurry line… It was impossible for him to tell at this point.

Much like his mind, his physical form (or some incorporeal illusion equivalent) was wearing away as well. The cracks in his skull and the holes in his hands had returned. His torso and legs had begun to amalgamate together into a puddle of a body. He didn't know if he had proper legs or arms anymore or if they were just stuck in the melted mixture of his physique. Quickly after all this started occurring, the doctor concluded that his magic couldn't gather itself properly, as he did not truly exist to the outside world. It was tragic. Even if he wanted to leave the grey room, the entire experience would be throbbing, so what was the use?

However, one day, Gaster decided to deal with the pain that came with every movement of his malformed body. He left the grey room. He himself wasn't exactly sure why he did, but he had the strongest urge to do so. Where would he go? He didn't know that either, but he seemed to know where, in his soul.

He wandered not quite aimlessly. Before he knew it, the moist grounds of Waterfall turned into the hard bedrock of Hotland, and that soon turned into the pristine concrete of New Home.

The capital city was rather vacant and quiet, especially when compared to the more suburban areas of the Underground that he had just passed through. From what he remembered, the city used to be teeming with people at every moment, but he could only see a noticeably few. The barrier always provided a static background noise as well, though that too had disappeared. It was strange.

Gaster continued to walk to the castle, trying his best to ignore the aching pain that seemed to engulf his being. A striking sense of determination had struck him. He had to move on, he thought, in spite of the pain. He still couldn't piece together why, but that was in the back of his mind at the moment.

He entered the mighty castle, feeling a wave of bittersweet nostalgia as the noble atmosphere consumed him. Oh, what he would give to be working there again. What he would give to still be living in New Home, to still have his sons, to still exist.

Oh, what he would give to undo his mistakes.

Slowly, he entered the Throne Room, the silence of the barrier rather strange. At first, he expected to see the tragedy-stricken King Asgore either watering the numerous flowers growing around the room or sitting pensively on his throne. When the King was shown to be absent, he then expected the room to simply be empty. That too, however, proved to be a wrong assumption. There was a small figure standing cloaked in the shadows of the naturally lit room. They were sitting down, a look of distraught all over their face as they stared at the flowers.

It didn't take much analyzing for Gaster to realize who it was. Even still, it confused him. If what he thought was happening was actually occurring in the timeline, then shouldn't the boy be a flower? "Asriel," the skeleton said, partly out of surprise and partly to catch his attention.

The child looked up at Gaster, taken aback by the latter's melted form. Gaster tried to search the prince's eyes for any sort of recollection or remembrance, but alas, there was none. How selfish, he berated himself. I should be thankful he can even see me… It took a small moment for him to realize what was off about that thought. He furrowed his brow. How can he see me?

"Sir, shouldn't you be leaving the Underground?" Asriel asked, causing the doctor to snap out of his thoughts. Ah, yes. His speculations were correct. The true pacifist route had seen completion, and the barrier had been broken.

"Shouldn't you, my boy?" Gaster countered. He knew it was a dumb question. Surely the boy would turn back into a flower at any moment, but he felt it was polite to pretend he didn't know of the poor boy's unfortunate fate.

There was a small chuckle, followed by a sad smile. "Heh, I wish I could. But, I wouldn't stay long…" Asriel's sad tone echoed throughout the room. He looked back down at the flowers sorrowfully. Gaster knew there was an unspoken "If I go, I'll just hurt everyone" at the end of that phrase.

"Well, I do believe the sun is a sight to see. Even if you don't plan to stay, I think you should see it, at least once," Gaster stated, walking slowly towards the opening that led to where the barrier used to be. He didn't take his eyes off of Asriel.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm going to have to pass," the boy said without looking up.

There was a small pause as Gaster gave Asriel an empathetic glance. What he would give to give this boy a better life… The scientist sighed. "If you insist. I wish the best for you down here, Prince Asriel," he said, a certain guilt noticeable in his tone.

Asriel looked back up at Gaster for a brief moment, before looking down again in what Gaster could only assume was embarrassment. "Thank you, sir, but I'll be… fine. Don't worry about me, sir." Another wavering moment of silence. "Uhm," piped the boy just as Gaster was about to leave. "Good luck on the surface."

Gaster smiled. "Thank you."

"No problem, sir."

Gaster went through the opening in the back wall that lead to where the barrier used to be. As much as he wanted to feel proud that monsterkind had finally been freed, his mind was completely somewhere else. How did Asriel see him? How was he still Asriel, and not Flowey? And why was he just sitting around in the Throne Room? It was curious, to say the least.

But there were more pressing matters.

Gaster shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. He looked over at an archway that he knew had to lead to the surface. Briefly, his mind flashed back to when those who ruled the surface, the humans, shoved him and his entire race under this cursed mountain, killing countless others (including his father) in the war. But that was lifetimes ago… Would this be the same surface? Or would it be something entirely different, entirely new?

He took a deep breath. He would worry about such things whenever proved necessary. He wholeheartedly believed that everyone (that being, everyone from the journey in the previous timeline) could handle such dangers if they arose.

He took one last look back. Though his eyes only landed on the opening to the Throne Room, his mind travelled back through so much more. This little cave was where they had all been trapped for longer than they would ever know… It provided him with so many opportunities. The opportunity to prove his genius and work for the King, to help improve the life of those underground and to be a father… the opportunity to save the world. He couldn't lie, he was going to miss this place. However, he knew the surface would provide more opportunities, at least for those he cared about. And that, he decided, was the most important thing.

Thus, he climbed out of the Underground and entered the surface.

Rising sunlight nearly blinded him as he gained his footing on the dirt above. His melted eye sockets adjusted rather quickly, however, and he noticed he wasn't alone. In front of him stood the others from the journey, who looked like they had just climbed out of the Underground as well.

Asgore had stepped up to the edge of the mountain, admiring the sunlight. Undyne was helping Alphys get the dust off of her lab coat, maybe paying too much attention to a few areas... Papyrus was talking to Toriel and Frisk about what he thought the surface world would be like. Both the former queen and the human were listening bemusedly as they too walked up to the edge of the mountain. All of that was to be expected, of course. Nothing really seemed out of the ordinary.

That was until Gaster laid his eyes upon Sans.

Sans was still near the exit of the Underground. In fact, he was only a few feet away from Gaster, and the scientist was surprised he hadn't noticed him sooner. He looked down wistfully at something Gaster couldn't identify immediately. Soon enough, however, his eyes did catch glimpse of two words written in a familiar font upon a strikingly wonted picture.

"Don't forget."

Gaster couldn't help but stumble back slightly when he saw the small piece of paper. It was a photograph taken ages ago, timelines ago. Sans still had it in his possession to this day, hardly damaged. In the picture was the both of them as well as Papyrus, all young and undamaged by the burden of timelines and evil, determination-filled entities. He kept it all this time…

The short skeleton turned back, unknowingly looking where his father stood. At least, that's what Gaster thought, until something strange happened, something so strange he almost didn't believe it actually occurred. Sans winked. Sans winked at him.

This caught Gaster off guard. For a split second, he didn't know what to think. How in the world…? Before he could confront Sans, however, the stocky skeleton walked up to the edge of the mountain like all the others and proceeded to spout lines of predictable dialogue the former recalled from the few other pacifist timelines there were.

It was a rather curious situation. …Could it be that his son actually remembered who he was, even after he was wiped from his memory? Did he truly remember? For the first time in a while, Gaster smiled. He sighed, looking at the glorious sunrise, the coming of a new dawn, a symbol of the new life that all monsters would be able to live.

Perhaps the journey wasn't for naught after all. Perhaps this is where the journey was supposed to lead to all along. And maybe, just maybe, Sans's acknowledgement of his existence was just the beginning of something greater. Maybe others would also come to see him, remember him…

Maybe there was hope after all.