Tucker sang along softly with the music floating out of the craft's speakers, while his fingers drummed loudly on the dashboard. Normally, Tucker loved being able to belt his lungs out, especially alone in a car, away from criticism and the withering looks of his friends. No joy and very little volume were evident as he sang, however. The soft singing he was doing now was a distraction, a way of keeping himself occupied and away from panic.
He'd been traveling in the Ghost Zone for well over an hour and there was still no sign of his destination. His eyes darted back and forth almost constantly, nervously surveying the swirling greenish void around him and checking every island, doorway, or anything else that might be called a landmark. He was well past anything he easily recognized now, which only made him more anxious. Yet the GZPS on his PDA said he was still on course and the Speeder continued to fly ahead, so he refused to believe he was lost. Instead he sang, he drummed, he watched.
Danny had become so adept at finding his way around the Ghost Zone, it seemed to Tucker that it was his second home; an unwelcoming, violent, purgatory of a home, but an exceedingly familiar place, nonetheless. Having his friend with him in this place, had given him more of a sense of security than he'd ever realized. Now that he was forced to navigate the limbo without him, Tucker was well aware how much he depended on him and how keenly he missed his presence.
Tucker had once asked Danny how he always seemed to find his way from one place to another in the shifting landscape.
I just concentrate on where I'm going, and I get there, Danny had answered.
He hadn't been able to give a better answer than that and didn't seem to understand why Tucker pressed him to be more specific. That was simply it. Concentrate and arrive.
So, half lost and alone, Tucker concentrated. He called to mind the image of Clockwork's tower, hazy in his memory. Please, he thought, please let me get there.
There was a sound in the distance now and Tucker turned off the music. He could hear the sounds of gears turning and ticking at different speeds, all distant and distorted, but real. He jumped as his PDA rang, indicating that he was close to his destination. The ship turned sharply to the right (leaving his stomach slightly on the left) and Clockwork's tower suddenly loomed amid the ghastly green mists of the Zone, the cogs that preceded it clearly in view, spinning in the nothing, with no source of power that Tucker could detect.
The tower itself looked like a giant grandfather clock, built several stories high, with spires and turrets, and a pendulum that could be seen leisurely swinging back and forth inside its middle, the ball of which was easily several times the size of the Speeder.
As Tucker got closer the sounds of shifting gears, ticking, and spinning cogs grew louder and louder in a symphony of noise that might have been unbearable save that it was somehow asynchronous and harmonic all at once.
Tucker turned off the autopilot on the Speeder and gently guided it on to the small rocky surface on which the tower was perched. He turned the Speeder off. He unplugged his PDA and placed it in his pocket, patting it as if it were some sort of good luck charm. He realized his palms were sweating, took a deep breath, wiped them on his pants and then got out of the vehicle, shivering slightly at the chill of Ghost Zone.
There was a large door at the base of the tower and Tucker stood for a moment briefly debating, whether to take advantage of being in the Ghost Zone and walk straight through it and inside. He decided to err on the side of politeness when coming to ask for a favor.
Raising a fist he knocked loudly and deliberately against what felt like heavy wood and iron, like one might find one the door of a cathedral. The door swung open before he could get in a third knock and startled Tucker as there was clearly no one on the other side.
Carefully, Tucker stepped into the tower, his tennis shoes making a muffled echoing noise on the floor, which could be heard despite the gears and clocks.
"Hello?" He called out. No answer. "Hello?" Still, no answer. "Um, it's Tucker, Danny's friend." Silence. "Clockwork?"
Looking around, Tucker could see a set of stairs winding its way up to the top, hugging the insideof the tower and circling around the pendulum. He must be upstairs, Tucker thought with a sigh, as he started towards the stairs.
Climbing the slim staircase was disorienting and nerve-wracking. There was no bannister or wall to protect him from falling and the higher Tucker climbed the more frightening it was to look over the edge. Adding to theterror of theclimb, was the pendulum, the ball of which flew only inches away from the edge of the stairs. Tucker gasped despite of himself as he made his way past the enormous, flat, brassish sphere, and pressed himself against the wall more than once, unable to fight down the feeling that he would be crushed.
Past this obstacle, however, there was nothing left to do but climb. Exactly, how many floors it would have translated to, Tucker couldn't say but he knew it was quite a few. He was hardly a quarter of the way up when he had to sit down, his legs aching and his breast pounding.
Mentally, he gave himself a sharp talking to. Come on, Foley, he told himself. You've done a lot worse than a couple of stairs. Let's not forget who you hang out with all the weird things you've gotten through. You can do this. Besides you have to do this. So you will.
"You could have just been a little more patient, you know." A voice broke Tucker out of his personal pep talk. Looking up he was face to face with a ghost floating next the stairs. He wore the face of an old man, with a long mottled beard. He was hunched underneath a long robe, his thin body adorned with watches and time pieces. Tucker only had to glace at him for a moment to realize he was aging backwards, slowly losing the wrinkles that covered his face and regaining the vitality of youth.
"Clockwork?"
"Who else," he responded cooly. "Now were you planning to walk the rest of the way or shall I help you up?"
"I think I'd take a lift, thanks." Tucker said getting to his feet.
"Very well then." And the ghost's hands, now the hands of a strong middle aged man, were grabbing his shoulders and pulling him upwards at astartling speed.
Clockwork set him down once they reached the top floor. The enormous room was filled with a dizzying assortment of cogs and wheels and time pieces of all sorts, new, old, and yet to come. Tucker glanced around taking it all in. He felt a slight twinge when he saw devices he didn't understand, a sort of jealousy rising up in him as he looked at artifacts whose technological basis he had never seen and many he quite possibly never would.
"You are easily distracted aren't you." The young looking ghost fingered his staff and gave Tucker an indecipherable but vaguely amused look.
"No, I'm not." Tucker shot back, annoyance overcoming awe and apprehension. "I'm here for Danny. He needs help."
"And you think I will help you?" Clockwork quirked an eyebrow.
"I think you'll help Danny. You watch out for him, don't you?"
The caped ghost floated near to the boy, his teenage face near to Tucker's own.
"Is that what you think?" A smile twitched on his face.
"Don't you?" Tucker felt worry and fear regain their hold on his brain.
"It's true," Clockwork responded. "I could be called his friend." He floated away from Tucker becoming more of a child with every second.
"Do you have any idea what's going on? Danny disappeared. And so did Sam. And Sam told me this terrible story about him just showing up..."
"Of course, I know what's going on." The infant ghost smiled. "The question is, do you?"
Tucker shook his head. "No. That's why I'm here."
"Well then, suffice it to say, I have a much better handle on things than you do." The babe who was once again a toddler, gestured towards the teenager. "Why don't you come here."
Tucker followed Clockwork to what appeared to be a large round mirror, suspended in air. He waved a hand and the image of Danny and Sam standing in a strange room flickered into existence.
"For now," he said, "we will watch." A chair seemed to appear from nowhere and the child who was growing older every second gestured for Tucker to sit down. Tucker did so automatically, for once in his life at a loss for something to say.
"Would you like some tea, while we wait?" asked the ghost.
Okay, I changed some things with Clockwork. Actually, I changed one thing. I decided to make his aging and de-aging a smooth rather than a jumpy process. This is mostly just because I think it makes better text and the image sort of makes me jump a bit.
Other than that, his tower is as close of a description as I could manage from the show. Also, I have to say, I love Clockwork. He's pretty much deus ex machina with an odd sense of humor.
As always, thanks to my readers. And remember reviews provide a soft atomic glow in my heart and critiques supply you with better reading material.
- Daphne
