Promises, Promises
.
"At its most basic," said Clockwork, pouring a cup of tea, "a frailty is a psychic injury a ghost deals themself, repeatedly, until it becomes an incontrovertible, irreversible, indelible portion of their being. Not always purposefully, mind you, but it is still self-inflicted. Tea?"
"No, thank you," said Jazz, leaving her hands folded in her lap.
"Very well." He set the tea down on the coffee table and started pouring a second cup. "During the incident with his future self, Daniel promised that he would not become that person, would not become a killer. But, as you may imagine, a promise by itself is flimsy, breakable. He needed it to mean something, to be unbreakable. But why should one promise be unbreakable when no others were?"
"I suppose it couldn't be," said Jazz, voice clipped.
"Precisely. For this vitally important promise to mean something, all his promises must be similarly weighty." He sipped his tea. "It is a very common frailty, overall. The general category it is traditionally placed in is Stygian, after the river, which also includes inhibitions against lying, dishonesty, and dishonor, but there are other name schemes and other methods of classification."
"And this is relevant because…?"
"Because, you see, Daniel has made a promise. Are you sure you wouldn't like any tea?"
Jazz smiled thinly. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't trust you at all. What promise did he make?"
Clockwork smiled slowly, fondly. "It is rather sweet, actually. But you know how he is."
Jazz clenched her hands, the fabric of her slacks crumpling in her grip. "What. Happened."
"You do understand this will largely be speculation on my part? I may know what has, will, and could happen, but I have no ability with reading minds, least of all your brother's."
"Yes."
Clockwork nodded. "Daniel is, perhaps surprisingly, careful with his frailty. When he must make a promise, he qualifies it. He says, I will try, or, for today, or, even, if disaster does not strike. In his own idiom, of course, but the point stands. However, he broke this pattern earlier this week."
"I made him promise me that he'd start sleeping a healthy amount," said Jazz, briefly closing her eyes. "I told him not to say he'd try, to say he'd do it. But that shouldn't have caused all this." She spread her hands angrily, her little finger almost catching on the lid of the teapot.
"No, by itself it wouldn't. But that is also not quite what you said," said Clockwork, "although I cannot fault you for misremembering your exact words. He did manage to put a time limit on the promise, although it was a much more distant one that he usually uses. He appended his promise to attain a healthy amount of sleep with this month." Clockwork shrugged. "But you are not the only one who can compel unwise promises from him."
Jazz's eyes narrowed. "Who?"
"Sam and Tucker," said Clockwork, "although they are aware of their role in this as much as you were aware of yours when you first stood on my doorstep. In an attempt to satisfy his promise to you, Daniel took to sleeping in unconventional locations. Under the bleachers at school, park benches, trees, bushes, rooftops, alleyways… After all, ghost attacks didn't stop attacking just because he promised you he would get more rest."
On the couch, Jazz squirmed just a little as Clockwork paused, sipping his tea.
"His friends were naturally alarmed. Upon retrieving him from a tall tree for the second time, they made him promise to stop sleeping in unsafe places. The promise was extracted with the best of intentions, but I believe you can see why he never would have made it if he hadn't just been woken up."
Jazz opened her mouth to deny that statement, then closed it. "He doesn't feel safe at home, does he? He doesn't feel safe in Amity Park."
"As I said, I cannot read minds." Clockwork gestured with his cup. "But considering the circumstances that brought you here, I would reach that conclusion as well."
"And then there was whatever happened in the Far Frozen."
"Yes," said Clockwork. "Daniel asked Chief Frostbite what ghost sleeping schedules were like. Chief Frostbite, naturally, told Daniel that for ghosts of comparable power, when they feel the need to sleep, they sleep for months. As you can imagine, that only exacerbated the problem."
"What do I– How can I fix this? Can I fix this? Or is the only way out to wait for the end of the month and hope he's still–" She cut herself off.
Clockwork hummed. "Perhaps. On the other hand… It is possible," he said, "that you or his friends could release him from the promises he made to you. It is a common feature of Stygian frailties, though not a universal one, and not one that has been tested on Daniel. You would, however, have to find him first."
"And where is he?"
"That," said Clockwork, "I cannot tell you."
"Excuse me?"
"I am already bending the rules by giving you information you may have put together on your own from information you have already gathered. I have done what I can do. Further action on my part would be… unwise."
Jazz pursed her lips. "Fine." She stood up, hauling her bazooka back up over her shoulder. "Thank you for…" She waved in Clockwork's general direction. "This. But if you aren't going to tell me where he is, I need to go."
She made a quarter-turn away from him and raised the bazooka, engaging the lever that would allow it to make portals back to the human world. She fired, a beam of green light splashing to a stop on an invisible wall and a scintillating portal spun itself into being. Jazz stalked forward, her speed just a few steps below running.
"Jasmine."
"What?"
"Are you entirely sure you will not take some tea? You have a long journey ahead of you."
Jazz's face scrunched, the lines of it thrown into stark contrast by the glowing portal behind her.
"No." She stepped through, leaving Clockwork behind. The portal rippled and flared, then vanished.
"Well," he said. "I tried." He finished the rest of his tea and put the cup down, folding his hands in front of him. After a few seconds, he looked down and adjusted one of his wrist watches. "Any time, now."
The door of the clock tower creaked open, a shaking figure in the doorway casting a long shadow.
"Hello, Daniel," said Clockwork. "Would you like some tea?"
"I wh– What?" Danny's teeth - fangs, really - flashed white in the dimness of the clock tower.
"Would you like some tea? It should be cool enough now for you to enjoy."
Danny, still shaking and visibly nodding off between steps, made his way to Clockwork's couch and sat down, his weight on it so feather-light that he didn't even bend the cushions.
"I made it," he said.
"You did," said Clockwork. He stooped to pick up the still-full teacup and the corresponding saucer and pressed them into Danny's hands.
"Wh-what?"
"Tea. My own blend. It should help you sleep. Which you do need to do eventually. It has been days, Daniel."
"Sleep," said Danny. "Safe?"
"It is safe," assured Clockwork.
Danny nodded, eyes slipping closed again, and raised the cup to his lips. He drank it all at once, then immediately slumped to one side. Clockwork caught the cup and saucer before they could hit the ground and sighed heavily.
"Yes," said Clockwork, patting Danny's cheek. "You are quite safe here. I promise."