Happy Friday!

Jeptwin: I know, they're so cute together. :) I'm glad you're enjoying Dan and Nephthys as well, because this chapter is all about them.

lenasmith106: To put it simply, Dan is not mature. At all.

ReflectiveReader: I'm glad it's in character. :) You're going to have to wait a bit to see what Clockwork and Danny are up to, though.

neokid93: Yeah... the GIW are really bad in this one. Sometimes it's nice to have straightforward and hate-able villains.

aquestionablepresence: Thank you! Some of my chapters are kind of filler-y, but I'm working on getting the plot rolling again. Although... I have been taking a bit of a break from writing this because of the phandom events... The pace should pick up soon, though. I'm glad you're enjoying the story.

DarkFoxKit: Happy birthday! I still... haven't written the trial... my brain just doesn't want to do it... haha. Soon. Soon, I will make myself do it. Perhaps in June...

Asilla: Well, this chapter is slightly longer than normal? :D I don't really say so explicitly, but I'm trying to imply that Clockwork is seeing possible futures and alternate timelines. They may or may not contain foreshadowing. :)

ShadowPillow: :D They do fight about that, though.

17: Yes, I finally let him rest. He gets a good long nap. :)

Lbmarch: Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it (and, wow, you read fast). Be assured that I do intend to finish this.

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Chapter 195: Place of Secrets

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Dan and Nephthys continued in relative silence, the sounds of the forest 'life' echoing around them. They passed a pyramid of dark stone, watched by neon-pink ghosts with black eyes. Huge flowers with eyes on the petals rested on their heads, reminding Dan of both the flowered snakes and the Observants.

He glared coolly at them, daring them to attack.

But they stayed on their pyramid, not making so much as a sound as Dan and Nephthys passed by.

"Creepy," said Dan.

"They do try their hardest," agreed Nephthys.

The leaves grew larger but sparser as they went on. Parasitic ferns and dark, rich mosses and lichens began to appear on the trunks and branches. Then mushrooms began to appear, both dull and colorful. Some of them were a truly horrid shade of yellow. They stank. Dan wrinkled his nose.

"Smelling these isn't going to, like, turn us into ducks or something, is it?" asked Dan, waving away the fumes. It didn't help.

"Probably not."

"I hate the jungle," said Dan.

"You're not the only one," said Nephthys. "In fact, that's a fairly normal sentiment. This is more of a rainforest than a jungle, however."

"What's the difference?" asked Dan, despite not really caring.

Nephthys began to answer. He tuned her out.

After an interminable eternity of Nephthys's prattle, Dan spied a different structure among the tangle of bare tree trunks.

"- and that's why you should never get on an airplane with a duck. Ah! I think that might be Memento's home, up ahead."

As they drew closer, and passed more trees, the building became clearer. It was an open circle, with Grecian pillars on the sides, the waters of the Lethe pouring from the gap. Red Letheblossoms grew from the flat top of the building, while blue flowers grew from the bottom. Forget-me-nots?

They stated far away from the river, taking a circuitous path now that they had the building in sight.

Dan was somehow pleased to see that Nephthys was just as leery of the Lethe as he was.

"Let's see if I can remember where the door is," she said, once they were behind the pillars. She looked back at Dan. "Careful of drips. The ceiling leaked the last time I was here."

Dan grinned. This was one situation in which it was beneficial to have fire instead of hair. He made it flare brighter. Any water would evaporate long before it hit him.

… Unless it hit his shoulders, which, admittedly, were quite broad and bulky. Ugh. He had better keep an eye out.

The wall behind the pillars was completely smooth and level, white, featureless stone. No doors in sight. Nephthys walked beside it, trailing her hand along her wall.

"Is it on the other side?" prompted Dan, annoyed at how slowly she was going.

"No, no. It's hidden. Memento hates people."

"What?"

"Yes, absolutely despises them. She loves me, though! Everyone loves seeing me!"

"People hate seeing you. You're death."

"Yes, well, like I said, Memento is weird."

A section of wall abruptly stopped existing.

"Stop telling people that I'm weird, you freak!" shouted a voice from inside. A moment later, a ghost leaned out. She almost looked human, except for the fangs and pointed ears. Her curly hair was piled on top of her head, and her nose was long and straight. She wore a Romanesque tunic robe and scarf. Oh, and a rather withering glare.

The glare was directed at Nephthys.

"You've grown so much since I last saw you, Memento!" said Nephthys, spreading her arms wide and beaming.

"No, I haven't."

"You were so small before!"

"No, I wasn't. I stopped growing before the birth of Christ, you utter grapefruit."

"True, but you'll always be as I first saw you in my heart."

"You don't have a heart."

"Ah, but I do." Nephthys reached into her robes and pulled out a human heart.

Dan would know. He had handled a few human hearts in his time. It slowly dripped blood onto the white floor.

Memento stared at it blankly. "How long have you been carrying that around?"

"Oh, I haven't been carrying it around. You know, portals are one of my specialties."

"Wait, wait," said Dan. "Why couldn't we just take a portal here?"

"I told you, because things move. I didn't know exactly where this was."

"She forgets where I live all the time," said Memento. "Which is good, otherwise she would bother me as much as she bothers Clockwork." The corner of her mouth inched up, and her eye twitched. A strange noise emerged from her throat, and then she doubled over.

Was she having some kind of fit? Was it contagious?

(Did she need help?)

But then she straightened up, laughing.

"Oh, gosh, I tried, I tried to keep a straight face. Come on in, Aunt Nephthys. And your weirdo friend, too, I guess." She walked back into the building. "How long have you even kept that heart? You don't outright kill humans very often."

"Some people are special," said Nephthys. "But you're right, it has been a while since I picked this one up. Do you want it?"

"Nah, what would I even do with it? Keep it for your collection."

Was this a stroke? Was this what a stroke felt like? Dan didn't think he could even have a stroke, on account of not having a brain. Since he was dead.

"Just," said Dan, stepping into the entrance way, which was pitch black, even to his ghostly eyes. "Just wait a second. You collect human hearts?"

Both women burst into laughter.

"Oh, your friend is hilarious," said Memento.

"This isn't even real," said Nephthys, taking a bite out of the heart. "It's made out of gelatin."

"What? What's even the purpose of all this?"

"Oh, it's just a game we play, the two of us."

"Especially when there are other people watching," said Memento, pleasantly. "When you're immortal and live alone, it pays to have your little jokes. It helps break up the monotony of existence." She waved her hands. "But why are you here, Aunt Nephthys?"

Nephthys sighed. "Well, we're here for Clockwork's memories."

"Clockwork's memories?" Her face had fallen back into flat neutrality.

"Yes. Your mother would have taken and stored them."

Memento cocked her head to one side and narrowed her eyes. Light flickered in the distance behind her. Dan hadn't thought the building had been large enough to have something so distant in it. Just like he hadn't thought Memento would live in pitch darkness. Unnatural darkness. Anything else, he could see through by now.

A prickling feeling ran down Dan's spine. This wasn't just Memento's home, it was her lair… A fact that would have been painfully obvious long beforehand had he taken even a moment to think about it.

(Why was he so stupid?)

True, he had rooted ghosts out of their lairs before, but he had never tried it with such a strong ghost. He was under Memento's power here.

"When would this have been?" asked Memento. "Before I came to be, I suppose?"

"Five thousand years ago, give or take," said Nephthys.

"Hmm," said Memento. Other lights sparkled around the three ghosts, and a dim room resolved around them, lined with shelves of thin, browned books. It blurred like something out of memory, and features of it warped when Dan wasn't looking directly at them. Everything about the room screamed of age, and the scent of it tickled at a memory Dan was certain he didn't have.

Memento walked to one of the shelves and pulled free a book. The papers in it unfolded and spilled onto the floor as one huge piece. The words on it were hard to look at, and, taken together, had no meaning, even though Dan could read each one individually.

"Mother recorded everything," said Memento, "but she did not record everything here." The book was back on the shelf. "Some histories she kept secret, though she gave me charge of them." The room went dark around them. "If any of Lord Clockwork's memories are being kept here, they will be in the Ewuutwue," she said, slipping into an old ghost tongue. She glanced at Dan. "To the less educated, the Place of Secrets. Roughly translated."

"I know what it means," said Dan.

"This way," said Memento, turning. "If the memories you seek are not in the Ewuutwue, then they do not exist."

Slowly, she walked away, her footsteps echoing oddly, as if there were no walls. She walked precisely, despite the dark, as if she had memorized the way. Which she probably had. Except, the way didn't properly exist. There was no floor beneath her, no floor where she was walking. Dan checked.

A door shimmered out of the dark, small and wooden, but bound with glowing iron. Memento ran her fingers down it and pushed it open with a light shove. She stepped back, away from the door.

"The thing about secrets," said Memento, "is that you often have to seek them yourself. Or yourselves, as the case may be."

"What are you talking about?" said Dan, irritably. "What's with you old people and being cryptic?"

"Excuse me? Old people?"

"Forgive him," said Nephthys, "he's terribly young. What she means to say is that we have to go get Clockwork's memories ourselves."

"If they're there to begin with," said Memento, "which is not guaranteed. You remember how the Ewuutwue works, Aunt Nephthys?"

"More or less," said Nephthys, with a sigh. "Dan doesn't, though."

"He'll figure it out on his own," said Memento, negligently. "I'm sure we 'old people' have nothing to teach him, besides how to be cryptic, hm?" She gave him a brief, disaffected scowl before rolling her eyes. "He doesn't have to go in if he's scared."

"I'm not scared of anything."

"Everyone has secrets," said Memento. "Both terrible and banal. Things we lock away in memory alone. Try not to lose any down there, hm?"

"Down?" asked Dan, peering past the door.

"Yes," said Nephthys, putting a hand on his back. "Down."

She pushed.

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Dan fell through memories.

It shouldn't have been possible for him to fall, but still, he plummeted. Lower, lower, deeper, deeper.

Images flashed around him, and he was a child again. At the breakfast table. Sitting.

(And it burned around him, his skin crackling and peeling as he grew. His power pulsing through his muscles as his form found a balance between Danny's form and Vlad's.)

The calendar on the wall flipped through dates, squares marked off with his mother's red pen. They stopped. He whirled and went down the stair, into the portal, a button depressed under the palm of his hand.

(And an innocent child screamed.)

Dan snarled at the illusion, and mirrors turned slightly to reflect something else. A building on fire. Smoke and fire, spices and burnt oil. It lay heavy on his tongue. It burned his nose.

("Did you know," said Sam, once upon a time, "smell is the sense most connected to memory?")

The smell of burnt flesh, blood vaporized on the air.

He couldn't breathe. He didn't need to breathe.

He hated that smell, but he relished it. It reminded him of the last time he saw them. The last time he was truly whole.

But he had seen them again.

(If he had let himself, could he have been happy to do so?)

"I've already done this. I've changed," said Dan. "Nephthys changed me," he added, more quietly, ashamed he couldn't change on his own.

Ectoplasm flickered at the corner of his eyes.

Danny was thrown through a portal, once, twice, a hundred times. Dan had tried to keep that from happening. He had tried. Why?

"I've been here," repeated Dan.

Defending Long Now. Chess games played from inside the thermos. A flash of concern for the old man. Danny staring at him, but not attacking. It wasn't quite forgiveness, but it was something.

It wasn't forgiveness.

In the cabinet of the confessional. There were scratches on the inside wall, as if the people inside had been reaching for something.

(The sins, the sins, the sins. He hadn't time for all his sins. Did the confession still count, if he had pride in some of them?)

He wouldn't have stepped inside before, but he did this time.

"I've been here," said Dan, becoming annoyed.

The hospital, where he had taken his first life. It had almost been by mistake. There had been so much pain. They had wanted to go, begged to go, but their family had denied them. The family had power of attorney. They had wanted to go, to leave the pain behind. Dan had helped them.

Then he kept helping. He helped people who weren't choosing. People who didn't want to go. That had been wrong. He knew that now. He knew it.

He didn't need this.

This hospital had a library, a small one, for the patients. He had never spent much time there, but he remembered where it was. He went there now.

The library he entered was large, a patchwork of all the libraries he had ever seen. Fragments of the library at Danny's elementary school laid beside Vlad's carefully curated collection of Ghost Zone tomes. To his right were shelves from the library at a college Jazz had once dragged him to visit. Ahead of him, tables and chairs from Amity Park Public Library. Above him were skylights, showing scenes from the forest he had just passed through.

"Good," said Nephthys, "you made it." She looked him up and down. "You've already sufficiently resolved the issue, as far as the internal details go."

"That's what I said," complained Dan, crossing his arms. "What was even the point of that?"

"Safeguards," said Nephthys, brushing her fingers through a shelf that wavered and reformed as an entirely different shelf. "This place is designed to keep secrets. To archive and store them, and to keep people from finding them out. Lucky for you, you don't have a lot of secrets for it to beat you with. Except, I suppose, that you feel guilty for what you've done, and you were already aware of that. Not much of a secret, honestly."

"I'm not guilty."

Nephthys gave him a look, one halfway between exasperation and disgust.

(But was there fondness underneath it? Now that Nephthys had put the idea in his head, he couldn't shake it.)

"Okay, I'm guilty, I did all that stuff. But I don't feel guilty. I don't feel anything. Feelings are for humans."

"Really, Dan, I thought you were past that."

"I-" Dan stopped, frowning. She was right. He didn't want to say it. "Look, is Clockwork's stuff here or not?"

"Hmm," said Nephthys, scanning the shelves. "I'm not sure. This isn't the proper way to look at this."

The shelves warped and twisted and were replaced by row after row of bottles of water. They stood in a cave, high and dark. The bookshelves still lurked behind Dan's eyes.

"This isn't right, either," said Nephthys. "But I suppose it is close enough."

"How does this work, anyway?" said Dan. "If he drank from the Lethe, the memories should be destroyed, right?"

"You weren't worried about it before," said Nephthys. "You had ages to ask about it while we were traveling."

"Wasn't thinking about it before," said Dan, grudgingly.

"Memories return to the spring, and Memento collects them, as Mnemosyne, her mother, collected them before, because memory is the root of forgetfulness. To forget, you must first remember. Most memories fade to nothing, evaporate, so to speak. But the sharper ones are kept."

"What would happen if I drank one of these?"

"Nothing good," said Nephthys. "This will take some time. None of these are labeled… Because their owners are secret, of course. Why do I keep forgetting that?"

"Maybe you fall in a puddle every time you leave, or something," muttered Dan.

"Perhaps. Try and look for something with Clockwork's ectosignature, will you?"

Dan rolled his eyes and walked away. He'd do anything to get out of this place faster. It was giving him a headache, and he didn't even have a real brain, or other organs, only shadows from when he had been half-human. The farther he got from Nephthys, the more the library reasserted itself.

He looked at the bottles and pages. It was somehow both wet and dry in here.

Clockwork's ectosignature. As if he could recognize something like that. It was a ridiculous thing to expect. He'd been the man's prisoner, not his best friend. Not a friend at all, when it came down to it. Dan barely knew Clockwork. There was no chance he'd be able to find 'something' with Clcokwork's ectosignature. Especially if it had five-thousand years to fade.

This was stupid.

"Stop sulking!" called Nephthys from the other side of the not-room.

"I'm not sulking!" protested Dan, hunching his shoulders to sulk.

A clock started to tick, harsh and echoing. He hated that sound. He followed it. It reminded him of Clockwork.

He found himself in front of a tall cabinet with glass sides. Almost in a trance, he opened it, and took out a… thing. It wasn't a bottle, and it wasn't a book, and it wasn't anything else Dan could identify, but-

"You found it," said Nephthys. "Good. Let's go."

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Dan pushed back a piece of foliage, and paused, looking back.

"How…?" They had just been inside.

"That's just what Memento's place is like. Trust me, I have questioned it myself, many times."

(Dan had not jumped when Nephthys started speaking. He hadn't.)