Author's Note: This has been my writer's block project for much of the last month. It's composed of 6 very short chapters, so I will be presenting it largely free of commentary. But be advised this story may only actually be funny to me and contains cosmology, graphic violence, and pretensions at philosophy.

Epilogue: Time

The ball of fire hung suspended in the blackness. It looked as it had always looked; a deep, deep red, as dim and menacing as an exit sign.

A ghost weaved his way between the whip-like tendrils of heated gases that it spun into space. Every part of it was straining against gravity, desperately pushing outward from its core. Its final breaths.

It was inevitable.

The ghost took a moment to watch it fondly. He was 5 minutes early, as was his habit, even with a trip as long as this one had been. There was really no need for it given the circumstances. He was so very rarely surprised by now, but all the same, the timing was important. And in busier times, being early tended to make for a positive impression.

These were not busy times.

This was his last appointment. It always had been.

Clockwork consulted a wristwatch, again as was his habit, even though he always knew when it was. Another tic from the category of social niceties. Appearing too prescient could make some sentient lifeforms nervous.

The seconds ticked down.

5. 4. 3, 2, 1.

He unclipped a Fenton Thermos from his belt, opened it, and created a shield of ghostly energy just as the green blast of ectoplasm would have hit him.

Dan Phantom seethed with rage from the other side, already charging another blast. He attempted to yell something at Clockwork, the sound lost immediately to the void of space around them, the air particles he had expelled ferried up and away by the faint stellar winds of the star below them. Some of the fire turned to surprise when he didn't hear his words, and some of the surprised turned to panic as he gasped for a breath he couldn't take. Red eyes darted around, finally taking in exactly where he was; and in his panic, he flew off away from Clockwork, who crossed his arms and waited.

3.7 days passed in a flash, and Dan came back.

He was hesitant to get too close to Clockwork, perhaps understandably so, but that wouldn't make what was about to happen any easier. Anger and betrayal, the constant fixtures on Dan's expression, were still present of course, but they were joined by unease. Clockwork raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms disapprovingly, still waiting. After a further 0.002 days, Dan finally buckled and approached close enough that they could have reached out and touched each other.

Clockwork summoned another shield of ghostly energy, enveloping the two of them in a tightly confined bubble, and opened the canister of compressed oxygen at his side.

Dan took one measured inhale as the air filled the space. Sensing it wasn't poisoned or some kind of trick, he took a few more breaths before falling into an easy rhythm. It struck Clockwork as funny, the few signs of humanity Dan had kept. Even after all this time. Eventually, he asked the question Clockwork knew he would.

"Where are we?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Why not?" he asked, gritting his teeth.

"This star has no meaningful name in any language I could use."

"Why are we here? How long did you keep me in there?" But of course, he knew the answer.

Clockwork knew that Dan knew the answer, because Danny would have known the answer. That was the funny old thing about his past selves. He could run, but he could never really get away from it. Not if Clockwork had his say.

And Clockwork always did.

"You've had a few days to think about it."

Dan was silent for a long moment, staring distrustfully at Clockwork, looking for any sign of deceit. For his part, Clockwork was as impassive as ever, until finally Dan gave up and managed to point out the obvious. "There are no other stars in the sky."

"No, there aren't," he agreed.

"How long has it been?"

"Approximately 12 trillion years. This star was never named because no humans were alive to see its light. By a chance of fate, it orbited very close to a supermassive, galactic black hole, which dilated the effects of time, the gravity alone keeping it young for trillions of years. A chance collision between two galaxies kicked it out into the far reaches of space. Of the billions and billions of galaxies, this only happened four times in the whole of the universe, and this was the last one. This is the last surviving star."

Below them, the roiling surface of the star bubbled and dimmed further. Dark spots formed that began collapsing inward, rushing down at speeds that seemed almost impossible given the scale of the object; the whole surface puckered and pulled in on itself as it collapsed, growing slowly brighter and brighter until it was glowing white-hot and the collapse abruptly stopped.

"And now, it's over. What's left of it will sit here cooling down for perhaps a few billion years yet. But this is the end of the age of stars."

Dan was shaking. With what, Clockwork never knew, but it was hardly important. "Why have you done this?"

"I thought you might want to see it. You used to enjoy astronomy, didn't you?"

The next expression was unambiguous 'spite'. "You should have just left me in the thermos."

Clockwork smiled. "I just might. But first, I need a favor from you." At Dan's confusion, Clockwork reactivated the Thermos, pulling the ghost inside.

And then he dropped his shield and began the long journey back to the ghost zone.