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Ghost of a Past
Prologue: Time
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"The trouble with our times is that the future is not what it used to be." – Paul Valery
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Time is a free-flowing string, wrapped around every creature, every object, and any other strand of life. It is a thread that, if disrupted, could and would cause the end of everything entangled within it. But the strand, the string is not quite as simple as its name implies. For every straw of time in existence, there is an alternate one. However, although time's effects can be seen by anyone affected by it, most can only see their own strand – they are completely unaware of what goes on in alternate timelines.
The Observers are some of the very few who are able to pick out all strands of time. Residing in the time tower council, the Observers do just as their namesake – observe. Although they aren't mortals, the Observers are just as ungodly and inhumane as, well, humans are. One could argue it's because the one-eyeballed creatures are ghosts, a selfish kind of creature who, in most cases, wish either to be left alone or to dominate the Real World and Ghost Zone. This theory of ghosts is most prominent in a majority of halfas, both who exist now and who existed in the past.
Of course, to every rule, there is always an exception. In the Watchers of Time's case, it's Clockwork.
Although it is true that Clockwork isn't exactly an Observer, he might as well be considered one, as his job is very much the same – to watch all strands of time, most especially the main, real one those who reside in the Real World are all used to. However, quite unlike the Observers, who'd rather watch time pass them by, Clockwork believes in Keeping time and protecting it, which is why the Observers come to him and tell him when time's mainstream universe exhibits signs of collapse. Clockwork had learned that he simply couldn't interfere whenever he wanted to, so he has relied on the Observers to know when he must put his foot down. That does not mean, however, that he likes to watch terrible events pass him by while he himself is unable to meddle in those twists of fate.
And his indecision to intervene in one particular event caused him a lot more grief than Keeping time is worth.
"Clockwork." The sixteen-year-old's voice echoed within the Tower, his glowing green eyes keyed in on the Master of Time himself. "You can't tell me that you like time the way it is."
The Keeper of Time grimaced as he adjusted one of the cogs endlessly spinning within the tower – anything to keep himself from gazing at the raw pain within the child's eyes. "No, I can't," he admitted, "but I can tell you this much. Everything is as it should be. I simply cannot tamper with it, and you know that, Phantom."
"All I know," the ghost child breathed, his voice overwhelmed with emotion, "is the fact that my family and my friends are all dead!" The whiz of a ghost ray passed by Clockwork's ear. "Damnit, Clockwork, look at me!"
He wasn't ready to obey that demand – not yet. "I feel hurt." The ghost of time kept his hands busy, balancing his staff in one hand (because no matter how much he trusted the ghost boy not to do anything evil, he would not let it out of his sight) and brushing dust off the cog with the other. "I thought I was your friend. Not to mention, thanks to Plasmius, you now have him."
"You're not getting the point!" Phantom practically screamed in frustration. Angrily, the ghost child blasted at a cog this time – thankfully, the cog withstood the brunt of the attack.
Another cog to repair, Clockwork thought, but he knew this time of all times was not one to make ill-fitting jokes. Sighing, the ghost finally turned, morphing from his young man form to that of an old man, like a sage. "You must control your anger," he warned Phantom. "You do not want to end up doing something you'll regret later."
Upon the noise made at the back of Phantom's throat, the Master of Time quickly realized that was the wrong thing to say. "I already did too many things I'm regretting now," Phantom whispered, his eyes squeezing shut. "There's nothing left to do! There's nothing left to mess up!"
"I was not referring to that and you know it," Clockwork scolded, though his voice was soft and gentle. He lowered from the cog, trading his staff within his hands, floating to the ghost boy, whose feet seemed glued to the spot. "Phantom." The boy's head tilted downward, his eyes finding the ground and not letting it go. "Phantom!" The child did not budge. Despite the surge of impatience welling up within him, the Master of Time couldn't blame him. "Daniel. You demanded I look at you. Is it too much to ask that you return the favor?"
The boy's green eyes met the ghost's, and the Master of Time could see the desperation, sadness, and terror that had flashed before his eyes and were echoed within them. "Can you blame me?" the ghost child rasped, his normally bright eyes bleak. "Everything has been going wrong, wrong, wrong ever since that day… I just want to repair it." He backed away from Clockwork, his eyes sparking defiantly as he gritted his teeth. "Why don't you, huh? You claim you're my friend, yet you do nothing? You just sit back? That's not like you, Clockwork. I had been under the impression you actually liked to intervene."
"But there are some events that I simply cannot intervene in," the Master of Time argued, his voice still soft. He knew it was Phantom's emotions talking, not he himself – and all he could do was try to make Phantom see reason despite that fact. "It is true that I step in when it is necessary. But it is not in this case."
"Why!? Because your family and friends weren't killed?" The ghost child's foot grazed over the edge of the temple's wall, his eyes glowing – but not with the glow that Clockwork yearned to see. It was a glow of anger, of rage… "We're only friends if the both of us agree that we are. You may think I'm one of your friends, but you sure as hell aren't one of mine."
"Daniel, I know it is hard to accept. It is for me, too." But the ghost child didn't listen. He turned his back on the Master of Time, readying to leave – he had apparently had enough of Clockwork's words. The ghost of time sighed. "You're not ready to face the truth yet. You will accept it eventually. For now, though, you belong in your own world." And then all of this would become a ghost of a past, he was beginning to think of saying, but he decided against it. After all, the last word that Phantom wanted to hear was "ghost," especially used in that context.
"Right back at you," was all Phantom replied with as he disappeared into the Ghost Zone.
Back to return to the only friend he had – himself.
Clockwork sighed. Time was hard enough to manage without silly emotions getting in the way.
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Author's Note: This was an idea I developed gradually for a fanfiction. Like Decree of the Tangible, this prologue is just a preview. Unlike Decree of the Tangible, however, I actually have a lot of muse flowing for this fanfiction, so expect updates fairly soon. This one I know exactly what I'm going to be doing in detail. Plus, this one I'm going to wing it a bit more than the other one, in which I'm plotting every move. In this one, each chapter could potentially work as a oneshot. Seriously.
