Clockwork was not given to self-contemplation. His task concerned the outer world, with the twists and turnings of the path of time, guided by the thread of fate-a thread which he himself had twisted and respun, guiding the future toward a kinder destiny. After all his task was to mediate between the sister dimensions. Keeping their times in sync was a complex dance, one that required constant corrections.

The time of the ghost zone was stagnant, long-lasting but inconsistent and broken; the living world passed its time in orderly fashion, like beads strung on a wire, but each of these moments was fleeting and soon forgotten. So different in their natures, yet the two must coexist, because life and the afterlife were inextricably linked. All of Clockwork's windows looked without, peering into the past, present and future, monitoring that delicate balance between the passing and the eternal-all save one.

Clockwork paused as he passed by this rough stone frame, which housed a sheet of perfect obsidian, so glossy that its black surface cast back a perfect reflection-or almost perfect. Clockwork noted with amusement that his reflection, while it carried his staff and wore his cloak, shifting in sync as he felt himself move from an infant to a young man once again, it was distinctly female.

The reflection gave a crooked smile and a nod, which he returned. Her smile graduated to a full grin, but even as he watched she faded and was replaced with another visage of the time ghost, this one male, but wearing a robe of pure white that glowed faintly. He too smiled and nodded, before fading into another, and yet another.

It was good, Clockwork thought, to see the differences another time could hold. It was important to remember that his way was not the only route to maintain a universe. That reminder above all was why he kept the mirror in his tower.

Besides, it was nice to see a friendly face. Time guardians had a very lonely existence.

Just as Clockwork moved to resume his work, the mirror changed again, and not one but two hooded figures stood watching. He turned back in surprise to study them closer. They did not smile. This new Clockwork was quite similar to himself, excepting the small beard that his adult and aged forms wore. He looked grim; the edges of his cloak were frayed and there were visible cracks in the time staff. In fact-unless it was some distortion of the mirror-his body itself seemed to be losing substance and blurring at the edges.

The Clockwork of this dimension raised an eyebrow and looked askance at the mysterious second figure. At a word from the reflected Clockwork, the figure raised his head so the light stole the obscuring shadows from under the hood. Burning green eyes stared at him out of a gaunt and desperate face. With a shock Clockwork realized he knew this ghost. Suddenly he was sure that something had gone terribly wrong in that universe. So wrong that Clockwork himself had been unable to foresee it quickly enough to stop it. No, they would need outside help.

"Time out!" he declared, and all the clocks and images in the tower abruptly went still and silent. Then he tapped the mirror with his staff as his double did the same, and the black stone became transparent, rippling out from their touch like water. The other Clockwork stepped through, and after a moment of hesitation the second ghost followed.

"Thank you, brother," the other Clockwork said faintly, leaning on his staff. Up close he looked even more ragged and insubstantial. "I know you risk yourself by allowing us here."

"The Observers find it difficult to monitor my actions outside of time," Clockwork reassured him graciously. "The moment, so to speak, is ours. But nonetheless do not waste it. What has happened to your time?"

"A disaster that I, alas, failed to prevent. I did not find its source until it was far too late. The Ghost Zone has been cut loose from its anchor. It has done terrible damage-all but the strongest willed have lost their form and perished. The ghost zone has been reduced to a formless sea of ectoplasm. Even time has fragmented, and I have no more power over it. My tower has crumbled. Only the mirror remains. Even the Observers have fallen. While that allows me to do as I please," he added with a glimmer of humor, "I fear it is too late for my help to be of much use. Who would have thought that I of all ghosts would run out of time? But before it does, I may have found a slight hope."

"What do you suggest?"

"As you know, this mirror is itself a reflection of a device on the mortal plane. It goes where our ghostly powers can no longer reach. Our chance comes soon-and for that its hero needs a future untouched by the present, and the future needs a hero untouched by its past."

"I see. A swap then."

"My powers are gone-our time moves only forward now. But yours is a bit more lenient."

"Indeed. If I am given the opportunity to use it." He glanced over his shoulder, already feeling the eye of an angry Observer on his back. They may not be able to penetrate his timeless world, but they knew perfectly well that he'd stopped time, and they would very shortly want an explanation for why. "We must be swift and subtle. I will not have the opportunity to explain."

"He will find his destiny. I have faith-if he's anything like mine."

"If he's anything like 'yours'," the third ghost broke in, speaking for the first time, "Then we are all doomed." He had a thin raspy voice, dry and rough as the desert wind. His eyes burned with green fire under the shadows of the hooded cloak, which might once have been white, but now was a dirty green-grey. "Phantom, your great hero, was the one who caused this disaster in the first place."

"All the more reason for him to fix it," Clockwork said calmly.

The other Clockwork gazed at his companion with something akin to pity, putting a hand on the seething ghost's shoulder. "I know this is hard for you, friend, but you can do nothing here. For now you must wait. Even if you have no faith in Phantom, have faith in me-or rather, us." He gestured to include Clockwork. "In time you will see."

The ghost's shoulders slumped in defeat, and he nodded wearily. "There's no choice, I know. Let's get this over with."

"In a moment," Clockwork said, turning to his monitors. "There is a slippery friend I must track down if this is to work." He raised his staff and brought it down on the stone floor. "Time in!"

A/N:

Man, this one is way too dense. Brownie points to reviewers who catch the Stargate SG-1 connection! I had entirely too much fun with time references, too. Again, sorry if the quality's not that great, it's nearly two years old and I only did a quick proofread instead of rewriting it (I'm supposed to be writing TtS! right now, ehehe). I'm not going to tell you too much about the plot behind it because I might actually write this one.

Thank you for your reviews! I'm glad you've enjoyed these bits of randomness. :)

-Hj