jackdraw-spwrite

[jackdraw-spwrite]

Escapement, Chapter 2

Characters: Sam, Tucker, Danny, Clockwork (Cassius) Words: 3409 (chapter length consistency? what's that?) Warnings: None

Still a fill for @five-rivers' prompt

In a human disguise, Clockwork buys an antique store in Amity Park and offers Danny (and possibly the rest of Team Phantom) an apprenticeship.

“You trashed his store and he gave you a job?” asked Sam, apparently skipping right past the part where Danny was suffering. 

“You never know,” said Tucker, fiddling around on his PDA. “It might not be a job. Maybe he's planning to get the money back by harvesting Danny's organs!”

“I didn't trash his store,” said Danny, though his heart wasn't in it. “And he gave me his business card. To give to Mom and Dad, I guess?”

“Maybe it's fake,” suggested Tucker, who really seemed awfully set on the idea of Danny getting murdered.

Read the rest on AO3, or below the readmore:

“Why are you so set on me getting murdered?” asked Danny. 

“It's a valid concern!” said Tucker.

Sam rolled her eyes. “He found a new horror MUD. He was telling me about it before you got here.”

Tucker brightened. “It's called After Daylight, and you can play as a werewolf!”

“Obviously a major selling point for Tucker.”

“Hey,” said Tucker. 

The conversation turned to the game after that. Later, when Tucker was fiddling with the character creation screen, Sam brought the store back up.

“Do you want us to come with you on Saturday? Or, like. I could pay for it.”

“Yeah,” said Tucker. “If he's a serial killer we could try and catch him in the act or something.” He started typing out the character’s description. Danny caught the phrase ‘chiseled muzzle.’

Sam's offer was tempting. But owing her a favor that big was bound to end with him dressed up as a goth. Or worse, attending poetry night at the Skulk & Lurk.

And Cassius didn't seem sketchy. Just, you know. Like a guy who had and cared about his begonias.

Also, Danny had superpowers. He could overpower just about any human.

As long as they weren't like Freakshow.

“Maybe hang out nearby and go in after a few minutes? It's by that ice cream place with the coffee.”

Tucker was scrolling through a list of starting equipment kits. He tapped ‘gunslinger.’ “What's the place called, anyway?”

“Uh,” said Danny.

“Wow,” said Sam. “You trashed a store and don't even know what it's called.”

“I wasn't expecting to trash it,” hissed Danny, aggrieved. “I get the jar, but why is incense so expensive, anyway?”

“It's not, usually.” Sam frowned.

“Ooh,” Tucker actually took his eyes off the screen. “Maybe he's laundering money!”

“The most expensive incense at Skulk & Lurk is like…$20. Max. How much was he charging?”

“...about that much.”

“Huh,” said Sam. 

Danny hunched his shoulders. “It adds up!”

“Maybe I'll buy something on Saturday,” she said. “Tucker, you should give that guy some holy water.”

“Why?”

“Aren't there vampires?”

“Yeah, but there are zombies, too...”

—

With midterms the week before, the final few days of the week were relatively light on schoolwork. Most of Danny's classes focused on reviewing parts of the material most people had gotten wrong on the test, and with so little new material, the days passed quickly. 

Or they would have, if Danny hadn't done worse than most on most of his midterms. He'd gotten a D in English. A D!

So he spent what time he could stressing out about failing sophomore year, when ghosts weren't on his case. 

Or when he wasn't on theirs. For whatever reason, fall seemed to be just the right time for a night on the town for what seemed like half the denizens of the ghost zone. He'd caught Johnny and Kitty twice in three days.

And then it was Saturday.

“I dunno,” said Danny, shuffling nervously on the corner. The faded letters spelling ANTIQUES loomed over the unassuming storefront across the street.

“Cheer up,” said Tucker. “If it turns out he's secretly a mad scientist, we'll help you escape.”

He gave Danny a pat on the back. It didn't feel very reassuring. 

“Thanks,” said Danny. Anxiety was chewing through his stomach–over his grades, over the ghosts, and now over this.

Maybe he should just tell his parents so they could settle the damages. What if a ghost attacked while he was working? Danny bit his lip.

But he'd gone off to his certain doom against Pariah Dark. A job was much less scary. No one even shot at you, probably. 

“I guess I should head over,” he mumbled. 

“Remember: we’ll come rescue you in 30 if he's a cannibal,” Tucker said with entirely too much cheer. 

“We won't even charge you a rescue fee,” added Sam, gravely. “Considering your finances.”

“Wow. Thanks,” said Danny, and crossed the street.

Behind him, Tucker said, “We could have charged him a rescue fee?”

And Danny pushed his way inside.

—

“Daniel,” Cassius’s voice greeted after the chime had sounded. “You're a few minutes early.”

Danny looked around for him.

“You can get started right away.” Cassius appeared through the door to the back room, apron in hand. “This is for you.”

While Danny figured out how to put it on, Cassius bustled back through the door. He reappeared moments later with a pair of boxes and a pen. “I'll show you around the store, and then you can start labeling things.”

Danny pocketed the offered supplies. “Haven't I seen most of it already?”

Cassius smiled. His teeth were straight and even, except a slight gap between his front two teeth.

Danny had not seen most of the store. As it turned out, the store was just as full of half-hidden doors to more rooms as it was with stuff. It seemed like behind every door was another room piled with curiosities and about half as much floorspace as Danny would prefer. Two rooms were packed with clocks; they sat three and four deep on the shelves, and more clocks papered the walls. 

Once, they circled around to a room they'd been in already and Danny was just figuring that out when Cassius slid past a chair straight out of a history painting and disappeared through another door Danny hadn't realized was there. 

The place was a warren, and Cassius moved through the aisles like he had never tripped in his life. 

Danny couldn't have said that even before his accident. He was starting to wonder how many times he'd trip into inventory before Cassius gave up on having him work the debt off and just called his parents to tell them about their son's destructive tendencies.

It was seeming like a better and better option. 

Three steps ahead of Danny, Cassius turned, dodged three porcelain figures with grace no one so old should have, stepped up a staircase marked ‘Employees only’ and gestured for Danny to follow.

Danny eyed it dubiously. The staircase was pulling double duty as a shelf for a series of eggshell-delicate knickknacks.

The staircase led to a work room with papers, clocks, and a few dark television screens. A set of the ubiquitous shelving units stood against a wall, unusually bare. A few foldable tables with peeling wood veneer occupied the center of the room. An electric kettle perched atop a filing cabinet tucked in the corner, along with a selection of painted teacups.

“Through the door, you'll find the entry room and front desk,” said Cassius. “Questions?”

Lots. Danny had lots. But one was more important than the others.

“Where's the bathroom?” he asked. He did have ghosts to worry about.

“You'll want to use the one next door,” said Cassius. 

“...The tax office?” Danny asked.

“We have an agreement. Just say you're working for me and they'll let you use it.”

“Okaaay,” said Danny. He tried imagining pulling his usual disappearing trick around a bunch of accountants.

…He was so screwed.

On the other hand, the worst thing Cassius could do when Danny inevitably vanished for a ghost fight was fire Danny, and Danny already kind of wanted that to happen. 

Just…not more than he didn't want his parents finding out he destroyed part of a store’s merchandise.

Cassius had apparently taken Danny's distraction to mean Danny didn't have any more questions, and was now examining a packet of yellowed paper. Was that cursive? 

“You didn't tell me what to do with the stuff,” said Danny. 

Cassius waved a hand. “I haven't finished pricing everything. Go through the shop and tag everything I haven't, so they'll be easy to find.”

Danny aborted a move for the door. “You haven't finished pricing everything?”

“No,” said Cassius, apparently seeing nothing wrong with having stuff out without a price. “It's a lot of inventory, and this way I won't have to check individual pieces for a price tag.”

And with that, he went back to the packet.

After another moment, Danny made his way out of the room. As promised, the door Cassius indicated led to the front of the shop, behind the counter. From this vantage point, Danny could see a horde of paper stuffed into shelves, lying in wait behind catalogs and massing on the work counter beside a till so ancient it looked like a typewriter.

He crept his way from behind the counter and into the floor before consulting the stuff in his apron pockets, which revealed itself to be day-glow orange paper tags and a box of elastic loops. 

Well. Even if he was worried about failing sophomore year, he was smart enough to figure that out.

He was tagging a vase a few minutes later when the bell chimed and Sam and Tucker piled in.

“Oh good, you're not murdered,” said Tucker. 

“You never know,” said Sam. “Maybe he's a ghost.”

Danny rolled his eyes, replacing the vase on the window sill. “Very funny. Yeah, I survived.”

Lower, he added. “The guy's a serious weirdo though. He's got two rooms that are just clocks and half this stuff isn't priced.”

Sam suppressed a laugh. “You don't visit many antique stores, do you?”

“No. Why?”

“Because,” said Cassius, “neither of those are unusual for an antique store.”

Danny’s stomach made a sudden lunge for the floor. He lurched around. 

Cassius stared down at him. One eyebrow raised. “Did you really think I was a murderer?”

“That was a joke!” said Sam from behind Danny.

“Really?” said Cassius. “If it wasn't, feel free to check in on him. As long as you don't distract him from his duties.”

He vanished. 

“How does he do that?” muttered Danny. 

Sam patted his shoulder. “It's something you pick up working in antique stores, I think. The old ladies who run the one Mom goes to can do the same thing.”

“Really?” asked Danny.

“Sure.” Sam shrugged. “I could show you sometime, so you don't start wondering if this place is cursed or haunted or something.”

Danny paused. “Sam. This is Amity Park.”

She rolled her eyes. “More haunted. You know what I mean.”

“Danny, are you planning to chat with your friends all afternoon?” called Cassius from somewhere in the depths of the shop.

Danny grimaced and grabbed another vase.

“Sorry,” said Sam. “We'll take a look around.”

“And be sure to tell you if we see any saw traps!” said Tucker. He gave Danny a thumbs up, and the two of them vanished around a corner.

“Wow,” Danny heard him ask Sam from the next room over. “How many of these do you think are cursed?”

“With Danny's luck? Loads.”

“Wow. Great.” Danny said under his breath.

Neither Sam or Tucker gave any indication of hearing him, and the clomps of Sam's boots grew quieter as they moved farther away. 

At least he could keep an ear out for them. Sam and Tucker made fun of his luck, but if anyone was getting cursed today, Danny hoped it was himself. The other two were fragile in ways that worried him.

Also, they knew how to snap him out of mind control.

The last three items in the window were all priced. Danny looked longingly at the door Sam and Tucker had vanished through.

Also, he was already bored.

…What if he just followed them through the store to keep an eye on them? He could check for prices while he did. 

—

Eventually, Sam and Tucker satisfied themselves that there wasn't anything obviously evil in the shop. On the way out, Sam brought a pair of skull themed candle holders to the counter to ring up. As Cassius explained the ancient till to Danny, Tucker said something.

“They're not evil, they’re goth. Memento Mori,” Sam was replying. “Remember that you will die.”

“Yeah,” said Tucker, “you've mentioned. Is there a thing for ‘Remember that you'll probably come back weird?’ That seems more relevant to us.”

“No,” said Sam.

“So we could totally make one up.”

There was a speculative pause as Cassius wrapped up Sam's purchase.

“We could use Technus’s face instead of skulls,” said Sam.

“We could use Plasmius’,” said Tucker, and the door chose then to fall shut behind them. Danny couldn't hear Sam's response. They walked past the window, leaving Danny behind.

Danny stared after them. He'd never wanted to be able to duplicate so badly in his life. Having to work and not participate in that conversation was going to kill him a second time. 

Cassius cleared his throat. “You kept a close eye on them.” 

“I was working,” said Danny quickly.

“I know.” Cassius paused. “Have you been cursed before?”

Danny froze.

“This is Amity Park,” said Cassius.

Danny unfroze. “Right. Yeah.” He frantically rifled through his memories for something Danny Fenton would have dealt with. “There was a necklace thing my Dad fished up that turned you into a dragon when you got angry.”

“Sounds difficult.”

“Yeah!” said Danny. “Phantom helped us, though.”

Cassius made a little hum at that. “I see,” he said, and set about tidying the counter.

As far as Danny could tell, this didn't actually have the effect of making the counter any neater. If anything, Cassius was just rearranging piles of papers.

“How do you find anything in all this?” he asked. 

“I cheat,” said Cassius. He smiled. 

“How?”

“I prefer to keep some mysteries to myself,” said Cassius. He wound past Danny, lingering in the door to the office. “You can leave at five, if you have the first three rooms done by then. You’ll be able to focus there, now that your friends are gone?”

Danny felt his cheeks pink. “Yeah.”

He turned to the first shelf, but his fingers  hovered over a stack of brass bowls. 

“Cassius?”

“Yes?”

“What if I don't get it done before five? Or I have to leave for something?”

“Get it done when you get back. I don't particularly care when they're done, as long as they're done by tomorrow.”

Huh. 

Danny picked up the first bowl in the stack and turned it over.

Danny didn't sense any ghosts as he made his way steadily through the first room. No, he felt something much worse: boredom. Even cleaning the lab was more interesting than this. That was because he needed to figure out what would and wouldn't hurt him if he touched it, and how to get around the stuff that hurt. But still. 

It was at least interesting. 

This was stuff.

Why did so many of these bowls have holes in them?

He wondered what Sam and Tucker were up to. He wondered if he'd meet back up with them in a couple of hours to discover them already selling Plasmius themed merchandise. Somehow. 

They really were scary fast sometimes. Danny smiled. He loved his friends.

There were about a dozen clocks lining the top of every room, and Danny looked at one now. Three thirty. 

Jazz would probably still be out of the house doing Jazz things. Who knew what his parents were up to. Hopefully, not ripping apart some poor ghost.

In the office, Cassius shuffled some papers. His chair scraped. Boots tapped across the floor.

Hurriedly, Danny turned the bowl he was holding over. The price tag on the bottom read $15 in smudged pen. 

“Would you like to see something interesting?”

Danny set the bowl back down and turned. Cassius stood in the doorway. He didn't look like a serial killer. Just a very eccentric old guy.

The last eccentric old guy he'd met had turned out to be obsessed with killing his Dad and marrying his Mom.

“What kind of interesting?” Danny asked.

“Just something you might not have seen before.”

Danny hesitated. “Okay.”

If Cassius was secretly a ghost and he was about to try killing Danny, he'd sure feel dumb. On the other hand, he wouldn't have to check for prices anymore. 

He was really bored. 

Cassius led him back to the office behind the counter and then to one of the folding tables, where a little metal cylinder sat. It was about the size of Danny's palm, an elaborate design cut into the top.

As Danny watched, Cassius pulled the top off and set it to the side, revealing a metal tray nestled just beneath, a winding design sliced all the way through it.

“Do you know what this is?” asked Cassius.

Danny frowned.

The design wasn't just winding. It formed a single line that wound around the entire plate. It reminded Danny of a complete game of Snake. It didn't really look like one of the ones, but Mr. Lancer had said mazes without dead ends were labyrinths, hadn't he? And this was winding, and had no branches. 

“A labyrinth?” he guessed. 

Cassius tilted his head. “Of a sort.”

He pulled the tray from the box, revealing another, similar design. He pulled that out as well, and then a final tray. That done, he pulled the entire top part off the box to reveal an empty compartment, and then a second time to reveal a bottom compartment with a weird little spoon the size of Danny's thumb, and a stamp.

“This is an incense clock. Ordinarily, this central compartment is filled with ash. The person who uses it tamps it down with this tamper,” he picked up the stamp, twisting it between long fingers so it caught the light. “And then they put one of these stencils on top of the ash, and fill it with incense. Remove the stencil, light the incense, and it will burn for hours.”

“Like a fuse on a cartoon bomb?” Danny asked.

Cassius smiled. “Yes.”

“Isn't it more of a timer, then? Like an hourglass?”

“If you use only the simplest setup, yes. But the night watchmen who used these would add different scents at specific points along the line. Since the line of incense burns at a predictable rate, they could use it to tell the time.”

“But it would need resetting, like a timer.”

“Most clocks throughout history have needed resetting. Even pendulum clocks and mechanical clocks require occasional intervention to keep their time. And quartz crystal clocks still need their batteries.”

“But that's different.”

“Why?” asked Cassius. Then he gestured to the door. “That's all I wanted to show you. You can get back to your checks, now. Think about it.”

Cassius was weird, Danny thought as he returned to the shelf Cassius had pulled him away from. In a lonely old man sort of way. At least it wasn't Vlad's lonely old man sort of way. It was just like he didn't talk to people much. Which he probably didn't, if he thought antique timekeeping systems made for fascinating conversation.

Still, Danny turned the idea over in his head. What was the difference between clocks and timers?

.

“It's how often you have to reset it,” said Danny, some time later. “If you have to do it every time you want to keep track of something, it's a timer. If you can let it run, it's a clock.”

“So it also depends on the length of time you're tracking?”

“I guess?”

Cassius hummed. “Remind me to show you the water clock next weekend.”

“But I'm free now?”

Cassius nodded. “You can keep the apron here.”

Danny was already halfway to the door. He pulled the apron off, hopped back to Cassius to leave it in his outstretched hand and bolted out the door with a “Seeyanextweek” before Cassius could change his mind.

The chime jangled. The door thunked shut, and then Danny was free. He jogged around the corner, and then behind a building. A flash of light later he was rocketing through the sky, wind fluttering his hair. 

He couldn't wait to see what Sam and Tucker had gotten up to. And tell them he hadn't had any disasters.

[jackdraw-spwrite]

Escapement, Chapter 1

Characters: Danny, Clockwork (Cassius) Words: 949 Warnings: None A phill for @five-rivers' prompt:

In a human disguise, Clockwork buys an antique store in Amity Park and offers Danny (and possibly the rest of Team Phantom) an apprenticeship.

Danny hadn't been looking for a shop. He'd been following the chill of his ghost sense. But the chill that slipped out his mouth led to a door with peeling green paint and an open sign propped in the window next to it, so he pushed it open and stepped inside. Hopefully, whatever little ghost he'd sensed would be an easy catch, and he'd be on his way without the whoever ran the store even noticing.

And then he caught sight of the interior.

It was a cluttered mess. There was stuff; mountains of it. It was piled all the way to the ceiling on shelves arranged like dominoes. Just looking at it made Danny shrink in on himself to avoid knocking anything over.

…And there was a ghost somewhere in here.

Great.

Read the rest on AO3, or below the readmore:

Danny crept around the shelves, looking for a telltale glimmer. He searched past pots and pans, over nested coils of chains. One of the shelves had a collection of bowls with holes in the bottom. Another had old jam jars full of older nails, jammed next to teetering boxes of candles.

Danny caught a glimpse of the ghost’s tail flicking around a rack of incense.

There! He dove for it.

Several things happened in quick succession: his feet left the ground. His hands clapped closed around the little ghost just as its expression shifted from mischievous to shocked.

In the space between those two instants, Danny realized he was leaping at something in a very confined and cluttered space.

He also felt his foot catch on something.

And then he was on the floor, ghost wriggling in his fingers, boxes raining down on his head.

Oh no.

The little ghost slipped through his fingers like a bar of soap and fled through the floor with a squeal.

To round off the whole humiliating episode, there was the sound of something rolling, and Danny went intangible just in time for a jar to sail through his head and clatter on the floor before rolling off, visibly dented.

Intangible.

He could have gone intangible.

Danny let his head hit the floor with a thump.

“I'm an idiot,” he moaned into the musty carpet.

“I can't argue with that.”

Danny's stomach dropped, which was quite a feat since it was already on the floor. Of course. Of course some guy was here. The shop was open.

“You're also paying for anything you've broken.” The owner of the voice emerged from the back of the shop.

He was an old guy with a stoop, a sagging face, and a long, scraggly beard. What captured Danny's attention most, though, was the scar striking down the side of his face, straight across his eye.

What happened to this guy?

Said guy raised one bisected eyebrow, and Danny realized he hadn't responded.

“Um,” he said. “What?”

Wow. He was really showing off the Fenton genius today.

“You knocked things over in my shop,” explained the guy with clearly waning patience. “Which might have broken them. If it has, I can't sell them.”

“Oh, um. Right.” Danny grimaced. “How much is it?”

The guy told him.

“What?”

“You don't have that much.” said the guy. He didn't even do Danny the decency of making it a question. “Of course you don't. You're fourteen. Probably.”

“How much can this stuff cost? It's all junk.”

“Lots,” said the shopkeeper, wryly. “If you don't believe me, check the price tags.”

He rustled around behind the counter while Danny peeled himself off the floor. He wished he could do the same with his dignity. Mournfully, he set about picking up the boxes. There went his allowance for the next year. Maybe he could do Sam a favor?

“What's your parents’ phone number?”

Danny froze. Shame, fear, and a noxious soup of teenage embarrassment combined to conjure a vision in his mind's eye. His parents showing up at the shop. His Dad, barely fitting through the door.

His Dad, accidentally knocking over the shelves with an enthusiastic gesture. Each of them teetering like dominoes before slamming into the next one over.

The Fenton Ghost Finder going off.

Both of them pulling out weapons. His Mom leaping over the counter to hunt down the ghost…

Danny shuddered. “Can’t we settle this another way?” He pleaded. “I could give you my allowance money?”

The shopkeeper frowned. “Do you get an allowance?”

“Hey,” said Danny, even though he didn’t. “I could have.”

That got a sigh. “Look, kid. If you really don't want me to call your parents, I won't.”

“You won't?”

“If you show up here at two on Saturday to help me out. And give me their number. And your name.”

“But you just said–”

“In case you don't.”

“Oh.”

Briefly, Danny entertained saying he was Dash. But he really did feel bad.

The guy, who was apparently named Cassius of all things, Danny felt even more sorry for him now, raised both eyebrows when Danny said he was a Fenton.

Great. Danny didn't know what that meant, but he could guess. Hopefully his parents hadn't already wrecked this place or trampled his begonias or something. Cassius seemed like a guy who cared about his begonias. It was probably the purple shirt.

And then, he pulled out the phone book with a thump and checked that Danny's phone number was what he said it was. Right in front of him. While he watched. Which, wow.

And then Danny had a business card shoved into his hand before he was shoved back out into the street.

He blinked a few times at the sudden brightness, then scowled and slouched in the direction of Tucker's house. Suddenly, he had complaining to do.

[jackdraw-spwrite]

Frigid, Chapter 5

Characters: Danny, Clockwork Words: 1583 Warnings: little bit of body horror

Danny didn't wake up. Waking up would imply he had lost consciousness. If anything, his awareness of his surroundings dimmed, fading from searing overwhelm to something softer, kinder. Like being wrapped in layers of blankets.

His brain felt scoured clean, like the sense of light and…and other things had stripped away several layers of gunk and some skin besides.

His core felt similarly bare.

Read the rest on AO3, or below the readmore:

For a good few seconds, Danny wondered who had hit him, and with what. Everything stung like fresh road rash, from his…

He couldn't feel his fingers. Or his toes.

He could feel other things. He could feel a lot. He was definitely alive, or at the very least existing. He would hurt less if he didn't exist. 

So. He existed.

Had his parents peeled him? Was this what the Fenton peeler felt like? If it was, Danny was turning that thing into scrap the first chance he got.

Something moved. His eyes were closed. There was no corner of his sight for movement to catch in. Instead, it felt like shadows shifting behind frosted glass, except rendered in memory and metaphor. 

His ghostly senses.

Danny swung his head in its direction, and was rewarded with the memory of brass, and glass, and cycles. The sense of machine oil lingered on his tongue, melting into memories of ticking clocks and asking Clockwork for help exhausting the endless well of cold inside.

Oh.

It was Clockwork. He would know what was happening. 

Danny asked. Instead of speaking, some part of him stretched. Another trembled. 

More of him curled in confusion. What was going on?

The memory of cycles redoubled, painting itself over a body part that Danny was starting to worry wasn't actually his head. The cycles tick-ticked by, steady. Certain. Soothing.

He didn't know what that meant. He wriggled, then winced. The scraped-bare sensation was already shifting into a deepening ache.

Danny suddenly found himself swaddled in the memory of clocks. There was a reminder of other things prickling across his tongue; candle wax and seawater, silver and burning rope, the song of tiny quartz crystal, vibrating in time with one another.

Was Clockwork hugging him? 

Danny wasn't in any shape to question the oddity. However odd the situation was, Clockwork comforting him was the least of it. He did his best to lean into the situation, and was rewarded when the sensations he associated with Clockwork intensified, softening around him until Danny's mind began to calm.

They drifted. (And how did he know what they were doing?)

Danny listened.

And beneath the clocks, beneath the brass and machine oil scent–beneath silver and seawater and the arc of stars–beneath that there was something quieter that he'd never felt before from Clockwork. It was fabric whispering against itself, like the baritone rumble of cloth drawn taut in the wind.

It felt like–

Like–

And Danny remembered unfolding.

He remembered space pouring into his veins, filling his lungs like a river bursting from its banks. Remembered it swirling in eddie currents just as strong as those pressing in from Europa's ocean…and then getting stronger.

He remembered it building like a tide within him, until it wasn't buttressing Danny against the pressure of Europa’s ocean but pushing him into it, seeping out of him through hairline cracks in his skin that flaked, that crumbled under the strain, taking pieces of him with it until the whole of him, newly him, had been swept free of his shell.

He remembered understanding. He remembered seeing, feeling the sun and other countless pinpricks in the cosmos, each of them larger by far than the delicate little dustlings that orbited them. 

He remembered the vast symphony of it all.

He remembered why he was keeping his eyes closed.

He trembled, shoved himself closer to Clockwork at the memory of the flood of formation, of sensation, and Clockwork folded around him in response.

The enormity of his memories was a tangible thing, their weight great enough to hold their own gravity.

He could not ignore them forever. 

But for now– for now, he could cling at the taste of brass and clocks and other human trappings, and ignore the murmur of eternity beneath it. Ignore the way it harmonized with the murmur in himself.

For now, he could keep his eyes shut and pretend he hadn't seen the shape of infinity, hadn't understood it. Hadn't found it within his core, hadn't become it.

Hadn't Become.

—

It was some time later that the sensation that was Clockwork began to push against Danny in some places while pulling at him in others. 

Curious and not a little exhausted, Danny let him.

Soon, Danny felt something come unstuck. It peeled from him in scraps and strips before the motion built, and the whole piece floated away. 

Except–except not quite. 

He could still feel it. It was still attached to him. For a moment he wondered if Clockwork was going to tear it the rest of the way off but instead there was another faint nudge, and another piece started peeling away from the rest of him. 

A steady buzz built in the skin (was it skin?) that was now only barely attached to the rest of him as it fell asleep. Pins and needles swept over it–and were replaced with something else. The entire area shivered with a sensation like the play of light, the wind in trees.

But it was different. Not wrong, but harsh. Desolate, like the Arizona desert.

Quiet.

And then, his senses brightened, bloomed across the flap attached to him. 

Danny froze.

Partway through pulling a second piece off of him, Clockwork froze too. Unlike Danny, his was a watchful sort of quiet, and when Danny’s worry began to buzz around him, Clockwork's aura pulled close again. For a few long minutes Danny was back in Long Now, nodding off on the couch Clockwork had never admitted was there for Danny. 

The familiar aura lingered, and only withdrew once the worry had, too. 

The message was clear: Danny was safe. This was expected. Everything's the way it's supposed to be. Danny shivered from head to tail, feeling it more than remembering Clockwork say it.

Clockwork's aura focused on another part of Danny and began prodding again. With a couple of pinches, Danny felt the leading edge of another piece of himself peel away. It felt–Danny twisted in Clockwork's grasp, trying to tug it loose faster. It felt like a hangnail, a loose tooth. Having it linger like this was uncomfortable.

Just when Danny decided to locate his hand so he could itch the thing loose properly, Clockwork interceded. A feeling like the hands of a clock caught under the flap and pulled, peeling it away like skin from leather. There was another starburst of sensation, light shivering along the surface of it followed by an increase in Danny's awareness of their surroundings. 

Relief. Danny relaxed.

The flaps, two of them now, floated around him like fabric in water: slow, graceful. Fragile. More like veils than flaps of skin. Danny twitched one and it was slow to respond, trailing after itself like a pennant in wind.

With each nudge, with each veil tugged open, Danny could feel a little bit more. But the veils protected him, too; they took the harsh reality glaring from his memory like an incoming train and diffused it, softened its razor edges until only a gauzy vision of it remained.

Like this, the stars felt familiar and kind. Like this, the distant dance of a binary star system as it whirled ever closer to kilonova was like the strain of a melody carried on wind.

It was violent. He knew it was violent, could see it playing out behind the eyes he still hadn't opened. The way the twin neutron stars spiraled together faster and faster, closer and closer until–

Most of the universe’s heavier elements were thought to be from kilonovas, rare as they were. Stars didn't make those elements unless they were dying, and certain elements simply couldn't be born from anything less violent. Not even supernovas were enough.

Kilonovas were.

But for now, the breathtaking destruction of the kilonova hadn't reached them yet. The light from it, and its gravity waves were still rippling towards him like waves in an ocean vast beyond comprehension.

The beat of it grew sharper; a horror movie chord growing more urgent.

He drew his attention to other things; the yawning black hole at the center of the galaxy, juggling solar systems in its orbit. A blue giant, large enough that the sun was a pinprick in comparison. The vast emptiness where no galaxies were–

He shied from that, reached instead for a scattering of newborn stars too close to be coincidental, caught in a diaphanous cradle of dust.

A nebula.

The horsehead nebula.

He remembered.

He remembered wondering if Clockwork visited the horsehead nebula in his free time, since he knew his tower could withstand what Danny could throw at it.

He remembered the workshop, and sitting on brass, and being so frightened, so cold.

He remembered the ice sheets of the Cryogenian, and of Europa above. He remembered the much smaller ice sheets of Antarctica in his own time, and visiting each of them.

Earth was so small, and he'd been smaller still.

Clockwork's presence was careful around him, and gentle. It pulled another veil loose, and another.

The universe crooned to him, and Danny knew: he was safe. He was home. 

[jackdraw-spwrite]

Frigid, Chapter 4

Characters: Danny, Clockwork Words: 1005 Warnings: Drowning and suffocation. Really trying to evoke a sense of smallness with this one

Dark. 

Black. 

If the ice had made them as giants wandering a field of singing stars, the ocean beneath transmuted them into motes of dust in a dense abyss. The darkness was deep, and suffocating, and endless.

Read the rest on AO3, or below the readmore:

The bubbles that had given their time in the ice a sense of scale, of motion were absent here, and so Clockwork became Danny's only point of reference. The rush of fluid against his face could have been from the speed of their travel. But it as easily could have been from some tide, or current. They could be flying through a river within an ocean, large enough to put the Amazon to shame. They could be skimming less than a mile beneath the ice, just out of sight. Or they could be lost, tumbling out of control in a vast churning, twin droplets in entire seas of water as they rose, boiled against the ice above, and sank again every minute.

Danny was intangible. Danny was intangible, but that did not make him untouchable. Even back home on Earth (on Earth!) he could hear things, see them while intangible. He could pick things up. And, even while intangible, he could feel it as he moved through walls. Or, less frequently, as walls moved through him. 

All this was to say: Danny was intangible. The water closing in around him with the strength of iron still affected him. It buffeted his face, tangled his fingers and hair in turbulence and wrapped him in an endless rush that drowned all other sounds before they could reach Danny's ears.

Ahead of him, Clockwork's form distorted in the flow, outline wavering as if through rain on a windscreen. His glow wavered, too; for long moments, the water turned cloudy, tinting Clockwork's blues and purples a more amber hue.

Danny closed his eyes and looked for Clockwork in other ways.

The dizzying texture of Clockwork's aura blazed across Danny's more ghostly senses. It was a thing of glass and glittering shards and it was full of cycles cast in brass marching around eternity, and focusing on it made Danny all the more aware of just how tiny they really were.

How tiny everything was. 

He thought about the bubbles in the ice, small enough to sparkle like the distant stars. He thought about the Sun.

He thought about Earth.

A pale blue dot, Danny thought, and remembered the picture Voyager had taken decades before. Suspended in a sunbeam.

Surrounded by black. Surrounded by everything and nothing at all. 

Earth was nothing.

Earth was everything. It was all Danny had ever known, all any human had ever known.

There was an idea, there. Something between yearning and revelation that was just begging to spread trembling wings.

He opened his eyes again, and looked ahead to Clockwork. Maybe…

Maybe, Earth was all any human ever would know. The only ghost who knew was flying through the water ahead of him, every line smoothed to a perfect curve.

Maybe…

The water shoved at Danny again, and instead of resisting it, this time he let it flow across his skin in an echo of the ice’s touch, carving away as it would. His body rippled, smoothed, drew long again and suddenly–

The rush parted. The water quieted.

And in the newfound silence, the echoes of a song.

Unlike what Danny heard at the surface of Europa, miles and daylight and a world ago, it didn't whip-crack into higher registers. This song wasn't even as high as Clockwork's song as they'd descended the last miles through the ice, deep as that had been.

No.

Whatever sang now resonated not in his ears, but in his body, in his bones. He felt it drum across the smooth torpedo he'd become. It beat against skin stretched taut over ribs and found purchase just behind them–against his heart. 

No, against his core.

It settled there, dark and ominous, and filled the rest of him with a restless kind of helplessness as he tumbled down, down into the abyss in Clockwork’s wake.

.

The iron grip of the water grew stronger. It wrapped itself around Danny like a boa constrictor made of the darkest black he'd ever known, and as eddies tore at his intangible body like enormous teeth it occurred to him that even the touch of starlight was miles distant. 

That by now, the closest source of natural light might be the magma of Europa’s straining mantle.

But they were lost within the–not night. Night had never been so dark as this. This was the abyss, yawning wide around them. 

Danny opened his eyes again, and saw Clockwork's faint outline. Only Clockwork's faint outline.

Everything else was nothing. 

A pale blue dot–

He had never felt farther from the stars than this. He had never felt so isolated. He thought back to the stars he'd cradled under his skin just minutes before.

The nameless idea strained again, wet wings trembling under the weight of potential.

The water-song swelled.

Its notes piled against one another, crowding against Danny until it was as intense as with the iron grip of the ocean, miles deep. It wrapped around his chest and squeezed, and it was all Danny could do to imagine elsewhere; the mantle beneath them, the stars outside Europa's eggshell surface, the stately weight of Jupiter nearby. 

His eyes were open. He wasn't seeing with them.

Danny's mind was elsewhere, anywhere, everywhere. He wasn't miles beneath an alien ocean, lost and tumbling and unsure of his surroundings.

He reached, and imagined he could feel steady heat beneath. Imagined he could feel the well of Jupiter's gravity, where it dipped deeper, deeper, keeping fragile Europa caught in its orbit, crushing it to keep it warm.

Danny imagined that he knew exactly where he was.

He imagined reaching for Ganymede and Io and scarred Callisto and

something–

–cracked.

For a solitary, suspended moment that stretched like taffy, Danny wondered if it was him. 

And then, he knew it was. 

.

And the idea’s wings unfurled.

[jackdraw-spwrite]

felt like doing a real simple one, so I did @goodfish-bowl's blob ghost lantern lines tonight using the furniture shopping color palette:

I started with a black canvas and white lines, and did my best to use only the four colors on the bottom to build up color. I ended up needing to use black in some spots to darken things back down, though :D

[jackdraw-spwrite]

Another GWE color! These are @ovytia-art's lines and boy were they fun to color!

In a split from my technique for the previous pieces for this event, this time I used dry brush brushes instead of krita's watercolor brushes. I'm very happy with the result!

[jackdraw-spwrite]

Hey @five-rivers guess what I did? :D (This is another GWE piece, this time using Rivers' lines! Though I turned their ectoplasm blobs into fish and added some kelp and endocerids)

(I blame @tytach. I am totally innocent in this wild interpretation of your lineart.)

Totally.

cough.

I was figuring out values for the composition by painting with a desaturation filter active, and it looked like the left image. And then I removed the filter and got the right.

And then Tytach said it had coral vibes, and things naturally escalated out of control immediately.

Anyway! I hope you like :)

[jackdraw-spwrite]

And another! This time, it's colors for @weshney's fanart for SilvermoonPhantom's Demon Slayer crossover, Trophic Dynamics!

[jackdraw-spwrite]

More GWE 2025 colors! These trans Bullet lines are courtesy of @forestfairyunicorn!

[jackdraw-spwrite]

Another GWE piece! This time, I did @furiarossa's wonderfully sinister lines for Freakshow and his new pet ghost!

That can't be good...

[jackdraw-spwrite]

A nice simple color this time! These lines are courtesy of @sykloni! I tried doing the color palette challenge for this one, too! Specifically, I painted this using only colors picked from #1 Hisuian Zorua Plushie pallette.

[jackdraw-spwrite]

Another GWE piece! This time, I did @furiarossa's wonderfully sinister lines for Freakshow and his new pet ghost!

That can't be good...

[jackdraw-spwrite]

For my first color of GWE 2025, I did @tytach's lovely sunflowers!

[jackdraw-spwrite]

Danny fighting...something!

The second of two linearts I did for Green with Envy 2025.

[jackdraw-spwrite]

Clockwork enjoying some quiet time in a clearing that happens to also feature one of humanity's oldest clocks: a sundial. The first of two linearts I created for GWE 2025.

[jackdraw-spwrite]

Star Nursery

Words: 4660 Characters: Clockwork, Danny Warnings: None Also on AO3

Sometimes, the timeline needs a little nudge to get things going in the right direction. And sometimes, it needs more than one. At least, that's why Clockwork tells himself he's showing Daniel the stars.

---

The room was dark when Clockwork appeared. Around him, dark shapes were distinguishable only by a night light, by Clockwork's own glow, and by the window, blinds open to a snowy December night. Lit by the neon sign out front, the flakes drifted down outside like falling stars.

The soft silence of the snowstorm would have swaddled the room, if not for the muted rises and falls of voices one floor below. Though the sound was dampened, the cadence was that of an argument. Occasionally, snatches of it survived the smearing effect of the walls. A careful listener could probably discern the topic.

Clockwork didn't care.

He focused instead on the bundle in the crib. Daniel was tiny, his hair fluffy on his head. One hand was curled into a fist, impossibly small. 

He was sleeping soundly. 

Read the rest on AO3, or below the readmore:

There was a thump loud enough to rattle the walls. The argument fell silent.

Daniel had been sleeping soundly, at least. He shifted, grimaced, and prepared to scream at the interruption to his nap.

Before he could, Clockwork picked him up.

"Hello, Daniel," he murmured. He pulled Daniel to his chest, rocking him gently to soothe him.

After a moment, he added, "Daniel, I have something to show you."

Mistily, the baby’s eyes opened, focusing on Clockwork. Too young to know fear at a stranger's face, he reached clumsily for his hair.

Clockwork gave him his index finger instead. Daniel wrapped both his tiny hands around it. Eyes wide, he studied it a moment and then pulled it towards his mouth.

"Yes, I am fascinating, I know,” said Clockwork, as Daniel gnawed on his glove. “But you'll like this much better."

He held out a hand and a circle of blue swirled to life at his fingertips. He carried Daniel through the portal, and–

—

"Look," said Clockwork, and directed the child's vision.

Daniel's eyes grew wide, and he reached out a hand as if to grab at what he saw.

Above, below, and everywhere around them was the inky void of space studded with countless stars. In an immense cascade of light, a great strip of them split the sky in two.

Each and every star seemed to hold hints of a different color, a sincillating rainbow of red to blue. They varied in brightness and as the moments passed they seemed almost to dance among themselves.

No, they were dancing. In a slow waltz, the brightest points of light sped past the dimmer, stars exchanging places with one another in a dizzying spectacle: a mobile to put all others to shame.

Daniel stared, transfixed, and did not look away until sleep weighed his eyes closed.

—

"Daniel, I have a present for you," murmured Clockwork, nudging the two-year-old awake.

Blearily, he squinted at Clockwork. His serious expression lent him a gravity that was entirely undone by his chubby cheeks and the incredible cowlick rising from the back of his head. 

Clockwork didn't let his amusement show, instead letting Daniel wake at his own pace. He'd been showing up long enough and often enough that Daniel would recognize him.

After a moment, he was rewarded by Daniel widening his eyes and twisting to get a good look at their surroundings.

Already wide, his eyes grew even wider.

Beneath them, the rings of Saturn stretched like an immense road. The stars were cradling the pair of them, solid and steady.

And beside them loomed the immense bulk of Saturn itself, banded and pale and breathtaking, crowned by a circlet of glowing blue.

Danny squealed in delight, wiggling to be set down. Instead, Clockwork let go--

—

--and Danny giggled, hair floating free in a halo that glowed in the light of the binary suns behind him and for a moment, it was as though he had his own corona.

At Clockwork's back was a tiny, frigid planet coated in a filigree of white.

He smiled and reached out to catch Danny's hand.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Danny nodded.

—

Clockwork had shown Daniel many, many planets by now. The one below them was dark and small, but growing. Every few moments, impacts spiderwebbed out into tiny red lines that faded just as quickly.

The planet's star hung to the side, close enough that it resembled a coin instead of a point of light. 

"Daniel, do you know which planet this is?"

He shook his head. His hair twisted gently in the low gravity, like seagrass.

Clockwork smiled and said, "Watch."

At just the right moment, he pulled their progress through time from blistering speed to something far closer to real time and pointedly looked at a particular point in the stars around them.

Daniel followed suit.

It started as a pinprick of light just barely brighter than the backdrop. And in slow motion, the shadow of an asteroid grew from it. It grew from a pinprick to a coin, and grew again until it loomed enormous before them, and before the infant planet. So close, it was easy to see that it was rounded by the strength of its own gravity; a planetary mass in its own right.

And then it struck.

Even so early in the existence of this solar system, the gas surrounding the planet wasn't thick enough to carry sound. But the impact before them kindled to a blaze so bright it had a roar of its own.

Time for them may have been allowed, but it was still significantly faster than real time, so in the hours that followed, the cataclysm unfolded before them like a dancer’s skirts.

The planet deformed terribly, countless flakes of it crumbling away or rippling outwards, away from the impact site. Yet more were flung outwards in a cloud of cosmic debris. And then, finally, the paired masses began to pull apart again, taffy-like.

Slowly, the masses separated. The furiously flowing bridge between them cooled and broke apart, pieces beginning a slow fall back to the planet where they splashed back into the gaping wound of the impact. The planet’s new moon lingered nearby, just as disfigured. The glow from its scar was bright enough to wash away the stark shadows of space on its dark side, and the molten rock shimmered like an angry burn.

Slowly, they dimmed. First to orange, then red, then just a hint of it brushing the edge of the visible spectrum like a slumbering giant just out of sight.

Shadows returned. 

By the time Danny's eyes grew heavy with sleep again, the smaller of the two objects was round and gray in the light of the star.

He'd rested his head against Clockwork's shoulder as he watched, and now Clockwork bent his head to ask him, "Do you know now?"

Danny shook his head, looking up with sleepy eyes.

"It's Earth. Your home."

—

"This is what a nebula looks like from the inside."

Around them, the stars seemed almost to trail veils. Or, to decorate them like gems.

"They're also known as star nurseries."

"Star Nusr'y"

"That's right, Daniel," Clockwork said. He combed a hand through Daniel’s hair. "Isn't it pretty?"

One finger in his mouth, Daniel nodded fervently.

—

The moment they appeared through the portal, Clockwork spread an ectoplasmic construct beneath them before letting Daniel down. 

He swirled his cloak from his shoulders and spread it out before settling atop it in a coil. He patted the spot beside him and Daniel turned from where he was peering at the ground and half-floated, half-stumbled over. 

The gravity where they were was odd, partway between Earth's surface gravity and the absence of it. In it, Daniel was adorably clumsy.

Clockwork hid his amusement in his smile. Daniel was three – "And a haff," he'd insist, stubby fingers held up to emphasize the point – and very serious. He wouldn't take it well if he thought Clockwork was laughing at him. 

Clockwork offered his arm as an anchor as Daniel settled beside him, and pulled him close once he was seated. Daniel's little hand grabbed hold of Clockwork's tunic, and Clockwork felt a surge of fondness. He'd watched it grow from a hand that could barely grasp his finger, and yet like the rest of him it was still so very small. 

He spent a space of breaths savoring the contact.

"Well Daniel,” he said at last, “do you know where we are?" 

From the shelter of Clockwork's arm, Daniel looked up and shook his head. 

"Do you want a hint?" offered Clockwork. 

A nod.

Daniel wasn't in a particularly talkative mood yet. Clockwork had woken him only minutes before; he was still fuzzy from sleep.

And in other ways. His hair wasn't quite so unruly here as it was in zero gravity, but it still stuck up at odd angles. In places, it puffed out like the down of a baby bird.

"You should be able to recognize where we are," said Clockwork. "Not here specifically, but the colors and landscape should remind you of somewhere you've seen before." 

"'peficaly," muttered Daniel, and scrunched his face into a grave frown. 

Clockwork filed the sight away, then did the same with the heartache. He still had a little time. 

.

Daniel had decided he wanted another, more careful look at the landscape beneath them. He was smushing his face into the platform in his focus, and muttered softly to himself as he puzzled out where they were. 

Clockwork felt a smile wrinkle the corners of his eyes and kept quiet. The landscape beneath them was distant, he thought, but recog nizable. With only the dark of space to compare it with, the land was pale. It was craggy, too, and dotted with countless craters.

He wanted this night to be memorable for Daniel for more reasons than the conversation they would have, and Daniel had longed for this sight for as long as he'd been able to form sentences. 

He would piece together the clues.

Had pieced them together. He scrambled onto all fours and whipped his head to look at Clockwork. His eyes were huge and shining. 

"The Moon?!" 

After a teasing moment to let Daniel’s anticipation build, Clockwork nodded. 

Impossibly, Daniel’s eyes grew even larger. The emotion radiating off him built like a volcano until Clockwork could imagine it humming under his skin. 

The squeal of excitement that erupted would have been deafening if Clockwork hadn't anticipated it. Still, he was glad the volume cut significantly as Daniel slammed himself back down onto their platform and continued to yell his delight directly into it. Or tried to, at least. With the reduced gravity what he managed was more of a float. 

Clockwork chuckled and settled in to watch his little boy try to expel more excitement than he could physically contain. It would be a while before the excitement died down, and Clockwork intended to savor every moment. 

.

Clockwork stroked one hand through Daniel's fluff. With his other, he pointed to features on the moon's surface. They were overlooking the far side of the moon, and though Daniel had spent much time looking at maps of both sides, the low angle was contorting even landmarks from satellite images into something more earthly.

With each feature explained in terms he could understand, Daniel made appreciative little oohs and ahs. Even at three (and a half) his attention for all things space outstripped all other topics. Clockwork was grateful for it: each crater, peak, and exposed basalt plain meant another scrap of time like this.

…

He was putting off the conversation they needed to have.

He knew that.

It didn't make it easier to stop. 

Clockwork had the power to slow time, and to stop it. If anyone could, Clockwork was the ghost who could hold onto a moment forever. A ghost did not gain power like that without wanting it, without needing it as a human needed air.

Clockwork held a reputation as cool and reserved. As almost uncaring in his distance. As impersonal as a mountain river, and just as cold.

Clockwork was reserved. Clockwork was distant. He had to be, because he was also deeply, terribly, cruelly sentimental. He loved as a river ran: swiftly, deeply, ceaselessly. 

He loved Daniel.

He knew that soon they would part, and so soon was not happening.

Outside their little bubble, the world was frozen. 

But while Clockwork had gained his powers over time from sentimentality, he'd mastered them with discipline. He steeled his resolve. 

"Daniel," he began, "there is something I should tell you." 

Not want. He did not want this. Nor must. He could avoid this conversation. But for Daniel… 

For Daniel's sake, he would have it. 

Daniel looked up, floppy contentment draining from his limbs. 

"Cl’work?" he said, slurring the first half like he hadn't done since he’d mastered Clockwork’s name. His eyebrows furrowed as he pulled himself to his knees. 

Clockwork had planned this conversation. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say he'd charted it, tracking the best paths through a multitude of futures. His sight had shown him how Daniel might or might not react with every spoken turn.

What it had not shown him was the grief like lead in his chest. 

He took one of Daniel's hands in his. It was so small. 

And yet. 

It felt like there was something stuck in his gears. But his ticking was regular. His pendulum’s sway was familiar. He was functioning.

And yet.

Had he been human, Clockwork would have wet his lips. He was tempted to do so anyway. Just a fraction more time…

He was deviating from his script.

“You’ve grown in these past few years,” he started. Saying so felt comical, with Daniel’s hand still so tiny in his own.

“I already knew that,” said Daniel, wrinkling his nose.

“Of course you did,” said Clockwork. “You’ve been there for all of it.” Was his voice thick? Could Daniel tell?

Footing lost, he opened his mouth to continue.

I’m leaving was too heavy to leave his lips. As was, We will have to say goodbye soon.

I love you felt feather-light on his tongue. He stayed it for other reasons. To say such to Daniel shortly before vanishing–he was cruel. He liked to pretend he was not that cruel.

“You’re growing up,” Clockwork said. It was not in the script.

“Oh,” said Daniel. His voice was small.

Even with such a small deviation, the timelines were starting to shift and sprout new branches. It caught Clockwork off guard. He found himself surrounded by a sensation of space, vast like their surroundings.

Adrift.

The possibilities here…

No. He needed to stay focused.

“‘r you gonna say,” Daniel’s tone shifted to mimicry, “A Fenton isn’t scareded of anything and. ‘m too smart not to start early or the other kids wouldn’t havva chance an’. It’s only acoupla hours anyway?”

The sentence had been too long for Daniel to manage at once, full of awkward pauses and trailing sounds as he lost his breath and found his words. But the point of it was clear, regardless.

“Your parents told you that,” Clockwork said. It wasn’t a question, but it would let Daniel follow the conversation.

Daniel nodded, looking down so his hair fell over his eyes.

Clockwork hummed. Daniel was three, nearing four. It would be some time into the school year before he turned four, so registering him for preschool was unusual. A more common choice at his age would be daycare, but with his parents’ rock-solid belief in Daniel’s intelligence…

Daniel was looking up through his hair at Clockwork.

His core ached.

The parenting books had said that children of preschool age would feel afraid of starting preschool for a number of reasons. They did not say what children of Daniel’s age would be afraid of, starting preschool.

“And you would like me to say something as well?”

A nod.

He pulled Daniel into a gentle hug, and ran a hand through Daniel’s hair. It was the same motion he’d long used as Daniel fell asleep watching the stars around them. It should be soothing.

Softly, he asked, “Can you tell me what you’re worried about?”

Daniel ducked his head and muttered something unintelligible.

“What was that?”

“Jazzy’s got friends.”

This was not all Daniel would say. Clockwork waited.

Daniel had grabbed hold of Clockwork’s cloak. Now he twisted it in his hands. Contemplative. Fretful.

“What if,” he said. “What if.”

Clockwork tugged their hug a little bit tighter. “I see.”

And Daniel relaxed, head falling against the pane in Clockwork’s chest. He could feel it, warm and solid, hair feathering against the glass. It tickled, a bit.

“You’re worried you won’t make friends?”

Daniel nodded.

In the timelines he’d so meticulously navigated before bringing him here, Daniel had made them. Though the timelines were spiraling and blending around them now, Clockwork had little doubt that was still the case. For all his youth compared to his classmates, Daniel was a bright and friendly child.

For a moment, Clockwork considered telling Daniel that his fears were groundless. But. For all that this was an unexpected conversation, it was not an unforeseen one. Clockwork had expected to steer around it with Daniel none the worse for its lack. But he’d done his research. The paths through this conversation had been sparse at first: Clockwork could only consider paths one of the participants might take, and he hadn’t known to consider some options put forward in the parenting books.

He was the ghost of time, not parenting.

Do not minimize, the books had said. Do not dismiss. Acknowledge the fear. Saying that there is nothing to fear, that they will succeed may not alleviate their fear, only pile fear of disappointing you atop their fear of rejection.

They’d gone on to list other fears a child could have, starting preschool.

Separation anxiety…

Clockwork tugged his thoughts from the path with a twinge of guilt. Neither he nor Daniel’s parents gave enough attention to him for that. Regardless, the shape of his reassurance was clear enough.

He gave Daniel a reassuring squeeze and selected a response. “Ah. A whole new group of children your age, and you don't know how well you'll get along with them.”

Daniel said nothing to that. Instead, he kept his head leaning against Clockwork’s chest, soft breaths misting the glass.

“Maybe it won't be all new faces. Have you seen children your age at the park?” He had, Clockwork knew.

Daniel nodded again.

“Did they play with you?”

Another nod.

Not every child had. Some had parents who were leery of the elder Fentons. But others encouraged their children to play with Jasmine and Daniel. Clockwork could not say the reason–he could not read minds, after all. But he could guess they were the same.

“If they go to the same park and are only a little older,” said Clockwork, “they may be in your class. So maybe it won’t be only new children. Does that sound a little less scary?”

Still quiet, Daniel nodded.

In all, about five of Daniel’s classmates would be children he’d played with before. Not that he should tell Daniel that precise figure. This was enough. Any human could have guessed what he’d said aloud.

Clockwork should pull the conversation to what he needed to say. To what needed to be said.

But if Daniel was content to rest his head against Clockwork’s chest awhile, then perhaps it could wait.

Just a little longer…

.

But all things must come to an end.

Clockwork shifted, and pulled his hand from where he’d been using it to cradle Daniel's head against his chest.

Sleepily, Daniel murmured in confusion before bringing one fist up to rub at his eye.

“Cl’wrk?”

It was time. The anticipatory grief in his chest found an echo outside the bubble. Slowly, in shudders, time was beginning to move on.

“Daniel, I brought you here because I have something to tell you.”

Daniel peered at him, suddenly tentative.

The rest of this conversation would be so very difficult.

“Daniel,” Clockwork began. Haltingly.

It would be so very easy to lie.

…

He was looking at Daniel’s hands. He should at least look him in the eye. He dragged his eyes up.

Daniel’s eyes were so very blue.

“I–” love you, he wanted to say. He mustn’t. 

He forced himself to say what came next.

“I am not going to be able to visit you much longer.”

And there was the shock Clockwork had so dreaded.

And there were the tears.

.

Eventually, the tears slowed.

The repeated “no no nos” had too, and Clockwork was left with a wet shirt, a little limpet gripping the fabric of it so tightly his fingers quaked, and a guilt he adamantly ignored.

This was for the best.

He was holding Daniel close, of course. Stroking his back to calm him and humming soothing nothings. It was–It wouldn’t matter if Daniel knew how much Clockwork regretted this. He would forget it anyway. Clockwork could grant himself the indulgence of being kind.

It was nothing to all the other indulgences he’d already taken, with his child. All the other sights. The joy on his face at some new wonder–

Daniel hiccupped.

“We have a month,” offered Clockwork, moving his hand to muss Daniel’s hair. “Two more trips like this.”

“‘ree.”

“Hm?”

“Three,” bargained Daniel. His voice was muffled by Clockwork’s shoulder.

“Two,” said Clockwork, biting back more regret. “One for a bad day, and one for goodbye.”

“Today’s bad.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Daniel tensed in his arms, and Clockwork closed his eyes. Of course he didn’t believe him. Of course he was angry. Why should he be anything else?

Clockwork sighed. “I’ve visited you far too often in the past few years. I want you to know you can handle a few weeks without a visit before we say goodbye.”

At that, Daniel was silent. Clockwork let him be, instead savoring the feel of Daniel’s weight against his chest, even if he was angry. What he would give to have it longer.

But he already had.

Clockwork pinched his eyes shut.

“What if I can’t?" Daniel asked.

“I think you may surprise yourself."

Daniel frowned.

“But if you can’t, you’ll have my help.” He gave Daniel a reassuring squeeze. “We can figure it out together.”

In this, Clockwork felt no guilt in the untruth. Daniel would never need his help, so what might happen if he did was immaterial. Irrelevant.

“And besides, you have your parents and sister.”

“Jazzy’s baw, baws.” Danny began, stumbling over the second word before abandoning it entirely. “Jazzy’s mean.”

“But she makes sure you’re safe, doesn’t she?”

“I guess.” and then Daniel clutched harder at Clockwork’s shirt. “But I want you.”

“You have your parents, too.”

“Want you.” Daniel’s voice was higher now, and plaintive. On the verge of tears.

I want you, too.

“I only show you the stars,” said Clockwork. “Your parents do much more than that. Your sister, too. In a few years you won’t even remember me.”

“I will!”

“It will be kinder to forget, little star.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“You will.”

Daniel was silent for a time. Then, barely a whisper: “I love you.”

Clockwork’s hug squeezed tighter. Fiercely, briefly. Like if he bundled everything he wanted, everything he felt into the action, then Daniel would understand.

I love you, too.

.

Clockwork tucked Daniel in.

He adjusted the covers. He wiped the tear-tracks from Daniel’s cheeks. But the frown still marring Daniel’s face could not be fixed so easily.

It could. All he had to do was–

Core twisting cruelly in his chest, Clockwork stroked his hand through Daniel’s fluffy mess of hair before backing away.

Daniel had refused to give up the idea that he would remember Clockwork, doubling down and insisting and insisting until.

It wouldn’t matter.

Clockwork had let him fall asleep in his arms.

It wouldn’t matter.

Daniel would forget him.

With a swirl of blue, Clockwork vanished.

—

Daniel launched himself at Clockwork with a wail. Clockwork closed his arms around him in a hug, letting his child cling to him as he sobbed in great, wracking heaves that should have consumed all the air in his lungs. They did not die down quickly. For long minutes he alternated sobs with shuddering gasps and for longer still he just tucked his head against Clockwork’s shoulder and whimpered.

Clockwork swayed, watching the expanse around them. It was a simple scene, tonight. Nothing new. Just Clockwork, and Daniel, and the familiar stars of the Milky Way from Sol’s neighborhood, only a few years distant.

As simple and humble as a scene like this could be.

Tonight, he wanted Daniel to find comfort in familiarity rather than distraction in the novel.

He was still sniffling.

Clockwork coiled his tail into a lap and set Daniel in it.

“Would you like to tell me about it?” he asked..

—

Clockwork hitched Daniel up on his hip, and pointed. He was leaning his head a little against Daniel’s, letting his cheek rest on Daniel’s crown where his hand was not. 

"Do you see over there?"

Danny squinted. "Yeah."

"Just watch that spot."

Clockwork had pointed to a patch in the sea of stars surrounding them which seemed veiled by a shadow. Daniel’s eyes trailed uncertainly over the area, back and forth, back and forth.

Clockwork smiled to himself, savoring the bittersweet loss on his tongue. 

Only eleven years. An eyeblink, to Clockwork. Thousands of times that period were unspooling before them every instant as he drew time along for Daniel like film across a movie projector. At his age he'd never have the patience for these wonders otherwise. 

But only eleven years without Daniel carried a different weight, didn't it? Lonely, in an empty tower filled only with visions of his child, come home at last. Visions, for all they would feel like memories.

Eleven whole years indeed. 

As they waited, the stars behind the veil flickered a little, rippling in brilliance as the clouds of gasses in front of them gathered. As they built on themselves, thicker and thicker. The formation of a protostar was a quiet sort of spectacle, like this. Just the sort to put an exhausted young child to sleep. Just enough to fill his dreams with wonders of a similar kind. 

Clockwork hoped.

For all his sight, he wasn't able to see them.

He held Daniel close, and let the hours trail smooth across mental fingertips. Slowly, as Daniel must still have counted it, there came a flickering glow that strengthened into brilliant yellow. Even so, he watched it with the rapt attention which had so captured Clockwork’s mechanical heart. 

Eleven years. 

Clockwork slowed the play of time. Just a fraction. Just enough for a little more time. But of course, there was one thing he couldn’t control here.

One little boy.

Daniel’s eyelids were drooping, his breaths lengthening. Every few moments he would jerk one awake, or twitch. He was fighting so very fiercely to stay awake. But it was a losing battle.

His head dipped to his chest, once, twice, thrice and didn’t lift back up. 

Clockwork looked down at him, a fond smile playing on his lips.

He’d fallen asleep holding Clockwork's hand.

A few stolen moments of indecision later – could he wake Daniel to show him one last sight? Should he? – a portal swirled open before them, and Clockwork left Sol's earliest years with Daniel in his arms.

In his bedroom, stars and space paraphernalia cluttered every surface.

Silently, Clockwork raised the comforter on the bed, slipped Daniel beneath the sheets. When Clockwork wrested his hand from Daniel’s grip and tucked him in, his brows furrowed at the loss.

Clockwork ruffled Daniel's hair for the last time in more than a decade, and leaned down to murmur into his ear.

"Until we meet again, Daniel. Be good."

There was a flash of blue.

And then, the room was dark.

[jackdraw-spwrite]

Foreworn

I've finished my initial fic for the Infinite Realms 2025 Remix event! @infiniterealms

Please feel free to remix this fic to your heart's content, all I ask is that you @ mention me if you do, so I can read and enjoy!

Words: 2428 Characters: Valerie Gray (post PP timeline), Valerie Gray (post AGIT timeline) Warnings: Implied character death

Valerie might be juggling a job, school, and a second job hunting ghosts, but she’s got it handled. Heck, she’s doing great!

And then someone who looks exactly like her crawls through her window at 2 AM. .

Valerie woke to the sound of her window sliding open. Before more than incredulity could fire through her mind – seriously? Someone was burgling her? – the figure slapped a hand over her mouth and lifted the other hand to her mouth in a shushing motion.

Her mouth.

Valerie’s mouth.

It was a doppelganger.

Read it on AO3