I would like to apologize for the delay in updating—don't know what's gotten into me.

Disclaimer: Danny Phantom isn't mine. I hope that has become obvious long before this, but if not, what medication are you on? Same thing goes for Marvel's characters.

Chapter XXIX—Some Questions answered, More Questions raised—By Quacked Lurker

Night had fallen and Jazz laid on her bed unable to sleep. The Fenton house wasn't silent as Jack's snores vibrated through the floorboards and there was a slight blue illumination coming from the hallway.

Giving in to her curiosity, Jazz slipped out of bed and slowly stepped outside and paused to let here eyes follow the light back to its source. Odd, it pierced the closed door separating Danny's nighttime activities from his ghost obsessive parents.

Inside, her brother was sound asleep—something Jazz envied. However, he was also in his ghost form, glowing faintly. She frowned. Apparently it was taking conscious control to keep him as Danny Fenton. Oh, well. Questions about this could be asked later, when he was awake.

Jazz stepped back carefully and retreated to her solitary room after picking up a pair of earplugs from a junk drawer. After another fifteen minuets spent unsuccessfully in trying to get to sleep, she gave up and pulled out a notebook after turning on the headlamp for illumination—relying on the blue ghost light wouldn't do at all.

Meticulously, Jazz looked over all the odd facts she had noted about Professor Parker and turned past the page of questions she wanted to ask him, but dared not, at the time. Now, she added the fight with Vortex and the teacher's part in defeating the weather ghost.

She hadn't seen his flight from school to the Fenton house firsthand, but she did put down Danny's observation and conclusion of the speed shown in getting professional help. The twenty-foot jump was witnessed firsthand and Parker's acting abilities were virtually nonexistent, despite the convincing tone and story he told. Not for even a second was she going to believe the super powered jump was enhanced by the strong winds blowing everyone around.

Plus, his disappearances and his need to stop bullying in its tracks gave more details. So far, Jazz had figured out Parker wasn't a ghost—one had managed to fool Danny's ghost sense, but anyways—which meant Parker was human, for the most part, but more and more facts pointed to him being changed somehow. While Mutants weren't unknown by the folks in Amity Park, news of these "freaks" tended to remain in large cities.

Pausing in the endless search for answers, Jazz turned to her computer and went to the Internet. After learning of her professor's job at the Daily Bugle, she had taken it upon herself to check up on the news it reported and check the stories against other New York newspapers. Oddly, whenever this Jonah J. Jameson took control of an article, it seemed to twist the actual events while keeping the facts accurate. That took both talent and determination.

Hmm. It seemed the latest rant was on the absence of Spider-Man and the subsequent takeover of his territory by other costumed "villains and menaces to society". Pursuing a related tangent, Jazz realized Peter Parker's pictures of Spider-Man often made the headlines and, overall, his remained the best in several respects.

Frowning, Jazz continued on this search for Spider-man and noticed numerous other things—mainly the last time he was seen publicly was shortly before Parker showed up in Amity Park.

This is crazy. Jazz thought after several possible conclusions and testing them for weaknesses. Yet possible. After all, my brother is also a ghost so why can't our science teacher be a superhero?

With that thought occupying her mind, she fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of possible ways to confront the teacher and confirm her suspicions. Included were nightmares of realizing she was wrong.

---------------------Tuesday Morning----------------

Mr. Lancer had decided to forgo his habit of waiting in either the Teacher's Lounge, or his classroom and was enjoying the shock it was giving the students. He was slouching by the main entrance, greeting every student by name, regardless if they had him as a teacher and what year they were in. This was possible in part to the computer files and pictures taken of everyone and a experimental identification program.

Inwardly, the English teacher was smirking at the panic and mayhem caused by this unexpected development. "Good morning, Mr. Leyland. Mr. Baxter."

Dash snarled as he walked by, but kept the vocal comments to himself. Mars just shook his head. "Checking up on me? I'm exuberant at the concern all the adults have shown me since my parents skipped town." Lancer frowned. If there was anything more difficult to understand than the ever-changing teenage slang, it was sarcasm. "Later."

When Dash and Mars passed the watchful eyes of the teachers, Baxter snorted. "Your parents skipped town?! I knew your life stunk, but I never imagined it to be this bad."

Mars grunted. "It could be worse—although having Lancer march me to your house to ensure I knew where you and your family lives wasn't one of my more pleasant memories."

"True." Dash admitted. "But from my point of view it was rather funny having the dullest teacher drag a student out of detention." The blond jock thought for a moment. "How come you weren't sent with Fenturd or Kwan? "

The exaggerated shrug said, "Don't ask me"

-----------New York City----

"TIME OUT"

All motion in the busy hospital stops. Everything paused in mid motion, leaving words unfinished and electrical monitors begging for the impulse that allows them to continue. Bodily functions are also frozen in this timeless realm.

A blue ghost in a purple hooded robe flew over to the bed where Bruce Banner lay and spoke to the swirling black mass in the center of his chest. "Well, this was unexpected."

The swirling, black mass seemed to liquefy and spilt outside the gaping wound—which can't bleed if time is no longer moving—and piled up to form an older version of a familiar ghost. "Hello Clockwork." The solidified form looked exhausted and sweet poured down his face before blending back into the black jumpsuit. The limbs were a bit formless as the ghost shifted energy from shaping himself into holding himself together.

Clockwork shifted from middle age to extremely old. "Daniel?" His gravely voice expressed shock. "What happened? I don't see this future a head of your younger counterpart."

Green eyes twinkled for a second and a half-hearted grin pierced the impassive face before Phantom grimaced and struggled to hold himself together as a humanoid figure instead of a bucket of goop. "That's because my past is no longer an option for Danny."

Several questions popped up, but Clockwork hadn't survived as long as he had by being impulsive. Instead he gently pointed out, "In your purely ghostly state, emotions would benefit you greatly; why do you persist in denying your body energy?"

Daniel shook his head. "I would love to, but the drain would kill Mr. Banner." He chuckled. "Odd thing about me is that I am harmless to humans when distant, but touching could draw out all emotions." He turned his back on the patient and old friend before stating ominously. "I will not lower myself to Spectra's level."

"Even if it costs you, your life?"

"Even if it causes my permanent death. This half existence isn't worth it."

Red orb-like eyes closed, revealing a jagged scar cutting the right eye. "Apparently I don't know everything." Clockwork looked up and glanced around the room. His attention was caught by the still form of Bruce and he examined both the wound and elder Phantom's energy levels as the other ghost struggled to stay intact. "You don't have enough energy to deny yourself long enough to heal this young man," he critically stated when Phantom faced the two again.

Daniel nodded. "I know, but what else can I do? He'll die without my intervention."

"And he'll die one you face away" thundered the time ghost. "Look, just talk to him. I might have something that will distract him from the spiral of depression and anger he's on." Clockwork sighed before laying his staff across Bruce's body—above the wound—and whispered time in towards the head and shoulders.

Bruce came to motion instantly and tried to throw off the figure standing at his head. When he found nothing was mobile, he panicked and began hyperventilation. "Hey, Banner, calm down." Cool, white-gloved hands touched his shoulder and forehead. "Us ghosts are trying to help you."

His inefficient struggles subsided as his scientific brain shouted, "Ghosts can't be real!" He turned his head to the side, mildly surprised he could as everything below his wound was immobile, and he could feel nothing below the solid pressure across his chest. Bruce gazed upon the speaker and noticed green piercing eyes and a gold medallion hanging from the neck. "You" he gasped. "You're what's baffling the doctors! How come you are solid instead of a gaseous liquid preventing my blood from spewing out?"

The stranger smiled. "Right now we are between seconds and my friend"—he gestured towards the currently motionless blue figure at his other side—"decided you needed to listen to what we are saying."

Silence.

Then the purple shrugged ghost spoke. "Your anger, self-hatred, is killing him. He can't heal you if you bombard him with draining, negative emotions."

Bruce snorted. "Well, sorry" he drawled out, "But it's not like I can avoid my self pity routine, not when I'm reminded everyday, all day, locked up from a normal life because of what I could turn into." He glanced over to the black clad one and noticed with some alarm his form destabilizing. "What?"

Spiky white hair flopped around and the gloves dissolved back into the black suit. "You didn't need to see that" he muttered.

Bruce, even though he'd never admit it, was shaken to the core. "I'd like to help, but nothings been approved for my entertainment and no one visits. What would you have me do? Deny my existence?" He was startled by his abrupt change, but now that he had spoken his new opinions, wouldn't take them back.

The previously motionless ghost drew something out of his pocket and presented it to the bed-ridden patient. "You might want to read this." His voice was reassuring and Bruce reached for the ancient, leather bound book. His hand closed in and he grasped it firmly before bringing it closer. " 'The Book'?" Bruce read the title. "Seriously, who names their work, 'The Book'?"

Banner's healer shrugged his shoulders. "Actually, that book has been a classic since before the printing press was developed. For centuries, it was the only thing available to read. In addition, the information inside that particular book was deemed too important to be just orally spoken and remembered. The people needed a physical record—that is unchanging--as human memory is fallible."

Bruce though about it before opening The Book and glanced at the first line before snorting and reading the words aloud, " 'In the Beginning'. . Oh that is so clique," but he fell silent and continued reading, lost in his thoughts.

For an unknown length of time, all that was heard was the turning of parchment papers. Midway through the first big section, Bruce spoke up, startling his visitors. "Something's been bothering me. I wouldn't mind knowing more about ghosts, especially you two in particular, but I have one question to ask: what's up with the gold medallion hanging from your neck and his staff?"

Phantom stood up and walked around. He noticed with some relief that it was easier to do so now than it had been before. "My friend claims to be the master of time and watcher of all time streams, but my presence here threw him for a loop."

Clockwork nodded before speaking. "The medallions are my creation. They are limited to ghost use and allow me to pull creatures from the future or the past without disrupting the timeline. Once the medallion is removed, they pop back where they were before with only a memory, or dream of time that has passed."

Black ghost took over. "I have a different theory though. Since I am from the future, theoretically, everything that happens now happened in my past and is unchangeable. However, my memories do not fit in this world. It is also possible I am from a different dimension, but ghosts can't access other realms—it takes too much out of us."

Bruce nodded thoughtfully. "So you're from an alternate future that won't happen to us. Got it."

"That's not it though" he sighed, and hung his head in an effort to explain in an understandable way. "Every choice has an effect on the future. The universe does not expand into countless possibilities for every action we take or don't take. Rather, the universe and infinity's possibilities slowly combine to reduce what will happen later on. There are consequences and the only thing set in stone is what has happened before."

This revelation was digested for a moment or three before Banner spoke up. "That might explain both free will and Fate or Destiny without the two being mutually exclusive. After all, if the futures slowly dwindle down from countless to a handful, obviously what will happen is inescapable and yet prophesied as there is no time limit on any one even happening. That makes sense and will be revolutionary, if the scientific community will accept it."

Clockwork snorted. "Little chance of that. You humans tend to believe in evolution and throw out all evidence towards a creator who has power over all things and is omnipotent. There is one God and only one. The big-bang theory has so many holes in it, it might as well be thrown out."

Banner was indignant. "Now wait just a blasted moment."

"No, you think about it." With that, the ghost spoke Time out and lifted his staff up.

When Clockwork's staff rose from Banner's chest, Bruce froze like everything else. "Time for me to go."

Daniel Phantom sighed. "Are you sure? I was really enjoying the slight repress I had and the energy boost."

"Boost, what boost?"

"There was a living human giving off emotions in that timeless state, and like you predicted, it was easier to accept the supernatural energies when he was distracted." Phantom pointed out. He sighed theatrically and dissolved his form before flowing back into the undisturbed wound and supporting the heart, lungs, liver, and blood vessels.

As soon as the time traveler was in place, Clockwork spun out and shouted, "TIME IN". He disappeared before people began walking again, and words continued flowing; even the electronic machines noted no discrepancies in time as they too received commands and followed their programming or function.


A/N Cookies to JC and SpartanCommander for their reviews. I plan on updating again soo, but that is no guarentee--although reviews would greatly encurage me. THANK Y0U