Phic Phight prompt from Dante DMC (kawaiijohn on tumblr)
.
It didn't take Clockwork long to find him, but any time was too much time. It shouldn't have taken so much time. But—
Clockwork strained against the limitations placed on him, against the bonds of linear time, the obligations of his position. But they held fast. He wasn't fast enough. It was inexcusable.
Still. He found him. Found Daniel.
The boy, the child, was wedged in a tiny corner made by three walls meeting at acute angles in the maze of stairs, walls, and other building fragments not far from the Fenton Portal. It wasn't exactly a secure place, but considering the child's state of mind, it must have seemed attractive.
Clockwork stopped some distance away, cautious of coming too close to Daniel and frightening him. Danny stared at him with huge, glowing green eyes.
They would have been more striking, if his whole body wasn't smeared with ectoplasm of the same shade.
"Daniel," started Clockwork.
Daniel's breath, already shallow, hitched, and he curled deeper into the corner. Clockwork frowned, but drifted backward, trying to give Daniel the space he needed.
Clockwork wanted little more than to sweep over and snatch Daniel up, bring him somewhere safe to heal. But considering what had happened to him… Clockwork could see that such a course of action would only lead to disaster and pain.
He settled on the closest thing this place had to a floor and coiled his tail underneath him, prepared to be patient. He had to be patient.
Daniel made a sound that made Clockwork's core ache. It wasn't a natural sound for a young ghost, all discordant and broken, keening around the injury in his core. It was a sound of fear. Fear of Clockwork.
Clockwork couldn't blame him. After all, Daniel didn't remember him. Couldn't, with that injury.
The core was a ghost's brain, and Daniel had taken a significant blow to his. They were lucky that the damage was relatively minor. Temporary amnesia, and, perhaps, a slight headache when trying to recall early human memories while in ghost form, would be the most troubling of the side effects.
As for the main effect, the wound that cut across his chest… It would heal, given proper care, which Daniel would receive if he let Clockwork near him.
Which he might not, considering the amnesia.
Clockwork closed his eyes and focused on projecting calm, safety. Daniel may be injured and, not to put to fine a point on it, terrified, but he was a child ghost. They responded to things like that.
Sure enough, Daniel's panicked breathing slowed to a more reasonable rate. He no longer looked like he was about to bolt at a moment's notice.
Clockwork could only hope that was because he was calming down, not because the wound was taking its toll.
"Who are you?" croaked Daniel, finally.
"My name is Clockwork," he replied, relieved, "I would like to help you, if you will allow me to do so, Daniel."
He could practically see the gears in Daniel's head turning, processing, weighing action against action, risk of trust against the still-dripping wound in his chest.
"Daniel… is that…"
"It's your name," said Clockwork.
"You know me?"
"I do."
More processing. Clockwork knew he was fortunate that Daniel got a good look at the ghost who had done this to him, otherwise he would likely be even more wary, more suspicious.
"Okay," said Daniel, finally.
"Alright," said Clockwork. "I will need to take you to my lair." He drifted slightly closer, and Daniel began to shake his head vigorously. Clockwork stopped.
"Not going anywhere," he said, beginning to pant by the last word.
Clockwork blinked, disappointed, but nodded. "I can see what I can do here," he offered.
Daniel hesitated, then nodded. Clockwork approached slowly, giving Daniel ample opportunity to change his mind.
Up close, the wound was gruesome. Leaking ectoplasm and bubbling. It seemed that one of Daniel's lungs had been nicked, and it was a good thing that he didn't need oxygen in this form. Clockwork carefully peeled first Daniel's hands and then the fabric of his torn jumpsuit away from the gash. Daniel whined pitifully, but did not stop Clockwork, or lash out, which was almost more than he expected.
A ghost with an exposed core was extremely vulnerable. After filling one's Obsessions, the instinct to protect one's core was often cited as the next strongest.
Clockwork clicked his tongue, and with a flick of his fingers summoned a set of first aid supplies. Daniel had tensed again at the motion, but visibly forced himself to relax when he saw what Clockwork had brought.
"You're doing very well," soothed Clockwork. "I need to clean your wound and bind it. It may hurt."
Daniel nodded curtly.
"I do have access to painkillers."
Daniel shook his head just as curtly. "Just do it," he said.
Demonstrating pain tolerance that broke Clockwork's metaphorical heart, Daniel did not scream while Clockwork disinfected (Daniel was still part human, after all) and dressed the wound. He did start keening, deep in his throat, when Clockwork packed the wound with an ectoplasm rich gel designed to help ghosts heal more quickly, and halfway through Clockwork binding the wound, he started to shake, fine tremors running down his limbs.
By the time Clockwork had done what he could in this environment, Daniel was clearly exhausted and visibly fighting sleep. Clockwork waited, patiently. Daniel did not endeavor to drive him off.
After a few minutes, Daniel's features smoothed into sleep. Clockwork eased the younger ghost into his arms and called up one of his portals, careful not to jostle Daniel further.
Daniel's recovery would go much more smoothly in the clocktower.
.
He (Daniel?) woke up all at once with no idea where he was.
No, that wasn't entirely true. He was in a bed. And there were clocks. And the walls were purple.
That was about where his idea of where he was ran out. So. Not a lot to go on. He tried to sit up, only to have agony rip through what felt like his very soul, and instead rolled over and curled up, trying not to make too much noise, because whatever had hurt him had to be nearby, looking for him, trying to finish what it had started, and he was so helpless, and—
Wait. No. He'd gotten away. Then that other ghost, Clockwork, had helped him, and Danny had…
What? Passed out?
That was embarrassing. Also troubling, because that seemed to imply that Clockwork had brought him here, and Danny wasn't at all sure of the ghost's intentions.
He had helped, sure, but how had he known that he (Daniel? The name sounded right, but… not quite) needed help in the first place? It was suspicious.
The fact that he couldn't remember anything about himself or what he'd been doing before being almost eviscerated made the situation all the more stressful.
He took a deep breath, ignoring how much it hurt. Staying here, tangled in the sheets, would not help him. Slowly, careful of his chest, he extracted himself.
His eyes met Clockwork's. He froze.
"Hello, Daniel," said the ghost, shifting smoothly from one age to another. "How do you feel?"
He chewed on his lower lip. "Better?" he answered, uncertainly.
Clockwork smiled gently. "I'm glad. Are you hungry?"
"No," he said, after a moment's thought.
Clockwork nodded. "Are you in any pain?"
"No. I'm fine. I think I should go, now."
Clockwork floated in front of him, blocking his path. "Daniel," he said, putting a hand on Danny's shoulder, "you need to take care of yourself better than that. Give yourself time to heal. Do you even remember anything, yet?"
He forced down his first, knee-jerk response, which was something along the lines of 'how do you know that' and instead said, "Yeah, yep, remember everything. It's all peachy-keen."
Clockwork fixed him with such a look of disappointment that he could almost physically feel the weight of it. He looked away, trying to suppress the feelings that rose up inside him.
"If you go slowly," said Clockwork, voice kind and gentle. "I can show you around my lair. I know you will feel restive, trying to stay in bed. There are things here that may interest you."
"Okay," he said. "Sure."
Internally, he resolved to escape as soon as possible.