I survived the first week of school... yay... love my students, but I'm so tired...

.

.

.

Chapter 217: Could Have Been Pen Pals

.

Here was the thing about Sojourn: he'd been away a long time. A long, long time. Centuries. He'd missed a lot.

For example:

Whatever happened to Theory.

The migration of various Realms into and out of the Time Locked Lands.

The new members of the Council of Ancients.

Several wars. Several vicious wars.

Various technological advances.

A plethora of political issues. (Somehow, the Observants had gotten even worse in his absence.)

The list went on.

He didn't have the time to catch up. Not completely.

Really, he should sequester himself until he had enough understanding of the current situation not to offend important figures. For instance, by asking after the Governor of Dis' sister, or referring to the apparently destroyed Turquoise Mountain.

Sojourn was actually rather concerned about that last one. In the human world, Turquoise Mountain had been destroyed by the son of Ghengis Khan shortly before he had resigned his position among the Ancients. However, the ghost of that city had stood as a strong young realm, her people clever and enduring in the face of unthinkable tragedy.

It was disturbing, to know that it was gone. He had to wonder, how many other realms had fallen to ruin since he last flew through these skies? How many roads could he never walk again?

The loss only underscored the need for a stable government. He couldn't really blame Pariah Dark for it, he'd been locked up, but the Council of Ancients? The Judges? The rest of the High Council?

But Sojourn hadn't done any better. He had left. So, he really shouldn't be casting judgement. If he thought about it, things were starting to get weird back then, too.

Sojourn sighed.

"Is something wrong?"

And there was another problem. Well, he really shouldn't call his best friend a problem, but it was increasingly obvious that Clockwork wasn't well. At all.

"I am only thinking," said Sojourn. "Much has changed."

"Such things do occur," said Clockwork.

Sojourn gave him a sideways glance. They had spent the last few hours shadowing Phantom as he worked himself into exhaustion. Humans tended to have some difficulty regulating their sleep schedules without a sun to guide them. Liminals who had spent most of their existences in the human world seemed to have the same problem.

Unless this was more a feature of young Daniel's personality than anything else. From their brief interactions, Sojourn would say Danny was that kind of person, but he needed more data before he could come to a conclusion either way.

"You said you would be better, when I came back," said Sojourn. He did his best to keep a tone of accusation from his voice.

"I said I would be free, not better" said Clockwork. "You should have seen me last week. I was fighting with Nephthys."

"Well, she is your sister. I think fighting is the natural state of things."

"A real fight. You remember, all those years ago, when I told you about the risks… Were you too far away to feel it? The effects of our battle?"

Sojourn blinked. He had felt something amiss in the fabric of the universe but hadn't considered that his friends could be the cause.

"Is there anything I can do?" asked Sojourn.

"I don't believe so." Clockwork shook his head. "My powers are returning as the tide, advancing as a wave, and then receding, with little ground gained. Even so, the water does reach the high tide mark, eventually. I can only hope there is no storm surge to overpower my sea walls."

"Hm," said Sojourn. "Do you talk like that with Danny?"

"Only when necessary."

"Necessary?"

"Alright, alright, when I feel like it. It does him good, to learn how to interpret metaphor."

"I don't doubt it."

"And it adds to my air of mystery."

.

.

.

Danny was confused, at first, when people started bringing him mail. He'd thought they were somehow related to the trial.

They were not.

No. They were petitions, requests, demands, complaints, congratulations, invitations, and various other things that came with being King (Prince) of All Ghosts.

Danny didn't think they had announced that yet. How did people know? Who told them?

Then he remembered the crown, his struggles with said crown, and the vast number of people moving in and out of Libra and tried to dial back his paranoia. There were, as always, people out to get him, but that didn't mean that everyone was.

Right. So, he had mail.

Mail he had to read, because what if it was important? What if he ignored something and started a war?

Of course, he did also have various court documents he had to look at, to prepare for the trial. Court documents that kept getting buried by things like invitations to masquerades and creepy questions about whether or not he'd set up a harem yet (yikes).

When he took a break from the mail, he inevitably got roped into other stressful activities, like reassuring the Amity Park adults, trying to teach his classmates how to use their liminality, and dealing with Dan. His friends were a great help, except when they were adding to his problems.

Danny was no longer sure when the trial was going to start with respect to the current time, and he was fairly certain he'd been up longer than forty hours. He also suspected that he'd been doing something with time, because that part of his mind felt sore. Of course, in keeping with his usual luck, he had no idea what it was, and Clockwork just shrugged at him when he asked.

Although, the shrug had included a small smile, so maybe Clockwork did know what was going on, and was just being his mysterious self. Which was good, actually. If he had the energy to do that, he probably felt better.

Danny put his head down on the desk.

"Running out of steam?" asked Tucker, who had been slowly going through a smaller pile of mail that Danny had delegated to him.

"Yeah," said Danny. "But there's so much."

"Tucker's right," said Jazz. "You should take a break. You didn't sleep with us, earlier."

"That sounds kind of wrong," said Tucker.

"Get your head out of the gutter," said Jazz, rolling her eyes. "Aren't you royalty now?"

"Sort of," said Tucker.

"Shouldn't you act like it?"

"I mean, I guess I could find some people to execute or peasants to exploit if you think I should."

Sam snickered. The sound nearly covered up the sound the camera shutter.

"Hey, Sam, any luck yet?" asked Danny.

"No, not really," said Sam. "I haven't gotten Ellie on film, but I'm not taking pictures of this room anymore, so that's progress?"

Sam was trying to see if she could take remote pictures of people other than Danny. Ellie had volunteered to help her practice and was currently wandering around Libra.

(Danny rather suspected half her reason for volunteering was to avoid being roped into reading Danny's mail. No matter. A good portion of Danny's mail was, in fact, Ellie's mail.)

Jazz started putting rubber bands around the stacks of mail she'd sorted. "This can wait," she said. "The trial is supposed to start in just…" she trailed off and started searching the room for a clock. She found Clockwork. "When is the trial starting, again?" she asked. "Do you know?"

"Ten hours," said Clockwork. "Assuming the jury doesn't burn down another room."

Danny gave Clockwork a small glare for answer his sister but not him, remembered that Clockwork simply might not have known when he had asked, might have been dealing with inconstant powers, and immediately felt guilty. He buried his face in his arms.

Next to Clockwork, Sojourn shifted from his reclined float to a more erect posture. "Well," he said, "if you are about to go to sleep, I should leave."

"It's fine," said Danny. "You've watched me sleep before; I don't care."

"Yes, but there were several extenuating circumstances," said Sojourn. "And, no doubt, you would like to carry out your evening ablutions in private."

"Hng," said Danny. "I guess. Am I going to have to go to all of these?" He gestured at the invitation pile. "That's not physically possible…"

"No," said Clockwork. "You do not have to go to any of them. As I said before, even I am rather surprised at the quantity and speed at which these were delivered to you."

"You said that?"

"I did."

"I must be really tired. I don't remember that at all. What happened to Sojourn? Where'd he go?"

"He left," said Jazz. "Just now."

"Oh."

"Yeah," said Sam, standing and sweeping her photographs off the bed. "You need to sleep. Go ahead, get ready for bed. I'll clean up your desk."

"It isn't really my desk," said Danny. "It's just… the desk in this room. It's like a hotel room. So, it isn't really ours?" He paused. "I was going somewhere with this."

"Go to bed, Danny."

.

.

.

"Explain to me what we're doing one more time," grumbled Dan from inside the bathroom. Why Nepthys had a bathroom in her lair, Dan didn't know. He also didn't understand why, out of all other options, his sense of physical embarrassment was the first of his emotions to make a full recovery.

He was, grudgingly, grateful for the bathroom. Even if it didn't make sense.

"Like you didn't hear it the first five times. You're just stalling. Are you dressed yet?"

Dan grumbled again, because, no, he was not.

For the last eleven or so years, he'd worn his jumpsuit and nothing else. In the thermos, he hadn't even had a body.

Forgive him if he was having trouble remembering how, exactly, clothes worked. After all, if these freaks and weirdos could forgive him for sort-of-didn't-happen-because-of-paradoxes attempted genocide, they could extend their absolution to this. Right? Right.

Especially because this wasn't even normal clothing. He glared down at the offending fabric on the counter. He'd never worn anything like that in his life. Either of them.

"Do you need help?" called Nephthys through the door in a far too gleeful voice.

"No!" snapped Dan. "Don't you dare open that door!"

"Come on, you don't have anything I haven't seen before. You'd be shocked how many people die in the nude."

"Not really," shot back Dan. He'd killed way too many people to have any illusions about that.

"Come on, I want to get a few good ones in before the trial starts. I haven't done this in forever. I'm so glad Sojourn reminded me of it."

"Do I really have to wear this? Can't we do, like, a more modern take? I could wear a suit. I understand suits," he added, in an undertone.

"Suits are boring," said Nephthys. "Usually. We can experiment later. Today, we're being traditional."

"If you really wanted to be traditional, why don't you do it by yourself?"

"Because I want to do it with you."

"Is that code for 'because I'm here to babysit you?'"

"Admitting that you're a baby is the first step."

"The first step to-? I am not a baby," hissed Dan.

"One step forward, one step back," said Nephthys with a sigh audible through the door.

Dan growled, curses leaking through his teeth, and simply shoved the robes on over his head. He tugged them down until they sort of hung around his ankles and, snarling, threw open the door.

Nephthys started laughing. Then she helped Dan adjust the robes so that they laid properly. Dan did not pout. Nephthys did not stop laughing until she opened a portal and pushed him through.

Bright sunlight shone into Dan's eyes, and he blinked, disoriented. "Where are we?"

"Washington DC!" chirped Nephthys. "No one needs memento mori like politicians and lobbyists. Quick, turn invisible. We don't need to scare tourists. Or protesters. Most protesters." Nephthys scowled briefly.

"Whatever," said Dan. Still, he complied. "Now what?"

"Now, we find the most corrupt guy we can, and give them a heart attack."

"Aaaand how do we know who's the most corrupt?"

"That's part of the fun! Next time, we'll do China, but they have way different death omens than the West."

"But that's part of the fun, huh," Dan said, flatly.

"You're getting it! Now, let's go find Monsanto's lobbyist, I've heard bad things about them!"