Hey, sorry for the delay this morning. There was a relatively early conference call I had to take, and I'm about to dive into another. Hope you all are staying healthy in this chaotic time!

Happy Dannypocalypse and Dannyversary!

.

.

.

Chapter 190: Could Be

.

Clockwork groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What's wrong?" asked Danny. "Do you have a headache? Can I get you anything?"

"There is someone at the door."

Reflexively, Danny's eyes darted to bedroom door. "You mean, outside? Who is it?"

"Too many options," muttered Clockwork, resting his forehead on the palm of his hand. "It could be anyone. The Observants, Nephthys, your advocate, my advocate, the Eumenides, Pandora, your sister, Pariah Dark, the Keeper of Fireflies… Do I owe her money in this timeline?"

"I don't know," said Danny. "I've never heard of her."

"Probably not her, then." He worried at the band of one of his watches, looking as lost as Danny felt. "Probably."

"Maybe I could go look?" suggested Danny.

"No!" Clockwork seized Danny's arm. "No. It could be Pariah Dark."

While Danny wasn't sure how that could be possible, he nodded. The still-glowing apparatus on the desk caught his eye. "Maybe," he said, pointing at it. "You could look?"

Clockwork moved his lips silently. "Yes. Thank you, Daniel." He stood, and went to the desk, beginning to make minute adjustments to the lens and mirror. The paradox knot disappeared, replaced by shimmering images backed by shifting green and lavender.

He put several sheets of paper under one side of the mirror, tilting it, and the images changed. They zoomed wildly, like a swooping camera. Familiar places swept into, then out of view. Elysium made a brief appearance, then Walker's prison. Clockwork seemed to get his bearings and moved the view smoothly towards Long Now.

Danny got dizzy watching, and averted his eyes, blinking hard. He looked back when Clockwork sighed.

"Who is it?" asked Danny.

"My advocate. Oleander."

.

.

.

Oleander stood in front of the doors of Long Now. The closed doors of Long Now. She dithered. Last time she was here, they had opened on their own. Was she not welcome anymore? Was Clockwork busy? Should she come back later-?

Oh. There were the doors.

She picked up off the ground and drifted cautiously inside. Once, when she was human, she'd gone to a haunted house. Long Now gave her the same vibe. It was… eerie. Big, and quiet underneath the ticking. The familiar echoes of the Ghost Zone were different here, warped and strange.

"Hello?" she called, drifting higher in the entrance hall. Not for the first time, she wondered why ghosts still bothered putting stairs in their buildings and lairs. It wasn't like they needed them. "Lord Clockwork?"

A small figure leaned over a railing several stories above her and waved. "Up here!" he said.

Oleander's mouth fell open. "Phantom?" she said, incredulous, before speeding up to his level. "Is that really you?"

"Yeah?"

"How are you here?"

"It's a long story," said Phantom, shrugging, then pushing the fringe of his black hair back from his face. "Like, a really long story. With time travel."

"Everyone is looking for you," said Oleander. "Are the rest of you here?" She peered behind him, stupidly, as if his entire class might pop out of the woodwork.

"No, just me. When I last saw the others, they were on their way back to Elysium." He glanced over his shoulder. "Um, just so you know, Clockwork's sort of having a hard time, today. He, um." Phantom licked his lips. "Yeah. Let's go!" He turned and flew down a hallway.

"Wait, wait, wait, a hard time how?" asked Oleander, hurrying after him.

"Just a hard time. I think maybe he'd better explain, though."

Oh, Ancients, it was a sensitive thing, wasn't it? What kind of sensitive thing could it be? What thing was that sensitive? Power loss? Some king of embarrassing disease? How should she handle this? Ignore it? Ask about it, and how to accommodate it?

She ardently wished that someone more senior, more experienced, had been found to advocate for Clockwork.

"I mean, I don't entirely understand what the problem is," said Phantom. "But, yeah. Will you tell Libra where I am?"

"Yes, I will, when I go back. They will probably send secure transport to get you. I don't think it's a good idea to try to take you back myself."

"Heh, yeah, probably not. I've had some bad experiences traveling, lately. I'd like to stay here, where I'm not likely to be kidnapped, at least for a while."

"Is that what happened?"

"Sort of." He stopped and knocked on a door. "Can we come in?"

Phantom must have heard something she didn't, because he opened the door, and flew inside. Oleander followed cautiously. Clockwork was inside, sitting at a heavy, carved desk.

"Hello, Miss Oleander."

"Ah, hello," said Oleander. "I'm here to inform you about the current state of the initial committee."

"I see," said Clockwork.

"I mean, you're probably already aware of everything going on, but there are formalities." She started to fumble for her documents case.

"Actually, no," said Clockwork.

She froze. "No?"

Clockwork sighed. "I recently broke my contract with the Observants. I am suffering the side effects of doing so, as well as of my method of doing so."

"You broke your contract with the Observants?" asked Oleander, shocked. She and Clockwork had not discussed the contract in-depth, they hadn't the time, but she knew enough, and had heard enough about other contracts held by the Observants, to know that breaking one was all but impossible.

Of course, if you wanted the impossible, who better to go to, than the Ancients?

If Oleander knew how Clockwork had done it, she might be able to help others in similar situations break their contracts with the Observants. She was filled with hunger, her interest and Obsession piqued. She yanked a pen out of her bag, followed by a legal pad.

"How?" she asked, hunched over in the air, ready to write.

Clockwork's smile was thin and twisted. "I lost my mind. I do not believe that I yet have it back."

"Oh," said Oleander. She frowned, disappointed. "Oh." That was a fine loophole, but it wasn't exactly the systemic flaw in the Observants' contract she'd been hoping for.

As the interview continued, the truth behind Clockwork's statement about his sanity was slowly proven. Multiple times, he went off on tangents concerning events that had happened centuries ago, or that would never happen. Phantom usually gently nudged him back on track when that happened.

With each tangent, however, Oleander's core dropped. She had known this trial would never be easy, but Clockwork's desired result had easily been the most logical outcome. He was Phantom's ghostly parent. Giving Clockwork custody of him was only natural. Giving Clockwork custody of the Fentons and the ability to determine their punishment was a reasonable next step. After all, Clockwork was the next best thing to an aggrieved party. Phantom very well couldn't be expected to punish them, after all. Not with his Obsession, and how young he was.

But now?

Their opposition would use this, would use Clockwork's infirmity.

Phantom asked about their chances when she left. She gave him an optimistic assessment.

She did not feel optimistic.

.

.

.

"That could have gone better," said Clockwork. "It went better when I was looking forward."

"I thought it was okay," said Danny, rocking back, and grabbing his heels. "I mean, it didn't go any worse than my last meeting with Hemlock went. Oof. That was a while ago."

Clockwork just sighed. "If there were nineteen, before… No. It didn't go well. No."

"Well, it didn't go terribly," said Danny, hoping to keep Clockwork in the present moment.

"Hm. It could have gone worse. I will admit. We could have been set on fire."

"Was that, er, a terribly likely outcome?"

"I don't know," said Clockwork, clearly distressed.

Danny winced, and stood. He walked over to Clockwork. "Why don't we, um, why don't we go do something? Like, baking, maybe? If you're not sleeping. But if you're still tired, then you should sleep, and, um. Yeah." He shrugged and bumped the desk.

The mirror and lens shifted, just slightly, and suddenly, Danny was looking at Amity Park. He knew it was Amity Park. The street layout and buildings were as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.

But it was all wrong. There were no people on the streets. There were these big white cars, and- Was that a tank?

The GIW.

He had known they'd be interested in the ghost-related disappearance of an entire class full of people, but it looked like they had taken over Amity Park entirely.

Danny felt his heart stop. They had done just that, hadn't they? They had invaded Amity Park, and turned it into some kind of- of dystopian nightmare where people were either too afraid to go outside or weren't allowed to go outside, and he was-

He was angry. Angry and afraid for his people.

"Clockwork," he said, not taking his eyes off the scene. "When is this? Is this happening now?"

Clockwork shook his head, looking vaguely nauseated. He reached out and grabbed Danny, pulling him close. Danny let himself be handled, even though all the worry for Amity Park he had pushed down over the past few weeks was bubbling to the surface.

"The hours grow long and late. Long and late and dark and deep," murmured Clockwork, tucking Danny's head under his chin. "There's time to wake and time to sleep. Time to sleep, time to sleep."

"Grandfather, no," complained Danny. He hadn't been at all sleepy a moment ago. Now he was. It was one of the things an adult ghost could do to a child ghost that was bonded to him. Usually Danny didn't mind, because it let Clockwork bring him down from stupid panic attacks, and he usually did need the sleep, but right now, he needed to know what was happening in Amity Park.

"Let the boy sleep, they said," said Clockwork, his voice very slightly singsong. "Let him sleep. Naptime." He started to wrap Danny in his cloak.

"Noooo, no nap. Clockwork. Amity Park."

"Sleepytime."

"Grandfather," said Danny, now thoroughly muffled.

"Hm? Yes?"

"What's happening to Amity Park?" The edges of his words were blurred with sleep, but he wasn't going to close his eyes until he knew what was going on.

Danny's bones vibrated with Clockwork's thoughtful hum. It felt good, and Danny knew that he was safe, but Amity Park wasn't.

"Many things. All the things. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing we can do. It was an island, once, a Realm of its own, floating through the Infinite. You were born there. Once. Twice. Three times. Then you died. You always die. Why do you do that? It is very sad."

"I'm not trying to die," said Danny, speaking into Clockwork's chest. He was starting to drift off. Crud. He wanted to stay awake.

He felt Clockwork float up, out of the chair, and to the bed. With Danny still wrapped up in his cloak, Clockwork climbed under the covers, and pulled them close.

The covers were thick, and immediately blocked out any and all light from reaching Danny's eyes.

"You can't escape," said Clockwork in a tone that would have properly been described as sinister, if he didn't ruin it by giggling, and then cuddling Danny like he was a giant teddy bear.

Danny grumbled, then sighed and gave up. Clockwork was right. He couldn't escape, and there was a very significant part of him that didn't want to.

It was time to sleep.