Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Danny would say he knew Clockwork fairly well.  Both in the sense that he knew Clockwork better than he knew other ghosts, and in that he knew Clockwork better than other ghosts knew Clockwork.  He knew from speaking to Poindexter, Skulker, Ember, Johnny, and Kitty (both during fights and during rare truces) that Clockwork was considered borderline mythical.  Both in the sense that a lot of people didn’t think he was real, and the sense that he was regarded as a deity.  Which was a weird thing to find out about someone you knew, but Danny didn’t have any room to comment.  He was half dead.  

All this to say, Danny had never seen Clockwork sleep before.  Or act sleepy.  Or even tired, except in an ‘I'm tired of your crap’ kind of way.  So, the addition of a massive, curtained bed to three main room of Long Now, his lair, seemed distinctly out of character.  

Out of theme, too, unless he was aiming for some kind of extended bedtime-based pun.  Which was… possible.  Not likely, Clockwork preferred irony as a comedic device, but possible. 

Although, he also liked pranks.  

Danny had no idea what kind of prank this could be, though.  

He lingered in the doorway, looking over the room, trying to spot any other clue as to what was going on.  Some other object, maybe.  A time viewer left on a particular scene.  A clock showing a notable time.  Clockwork himself, floating silently in a corner.

Nothing.  Nothing that stood out, anyway. 

Danny slid his backpack (stuffed with social studies homework - Clockwork never gave Danny answers, but he'd give hints) off his shoulder and put it quietly on the floor.  Cautiously, he approached the bed.  He remembered the time Clockwork had slammed him repeatedly into a bell, and while it hadn’t hurt that much, and Danny had arguably deserved it, Danny didn’t want a repeat.

Just like before, nothing seemed out of place, other than the bed itself.  Danny reached it, and lifted a hand to touch the curtain.  It was multi-layered, with the top layer a lavender gauze and the deepest one a dark, heavy, purple.  Brass stars were sewn into all the layers and they jingled against one another as Danny drew the curtains back.  

The bed was occupied.  Danny thought he might have known this, or at least predicted this.  Clockwork lay there, beneath the blankets, perfectly still, not moving, not breathing.  He wasn’t wearing his usual cloak and robes, but something more like a bathrobe or nightgown.  His long white hair was braided over his shoulder, looping over the comforter.  

But the most striking change to Clockwork’s appearance was the black and glittering ooze dripping from his eyes.  It looked like there were stars trapped in it.  

That… didn’t look good.  

Danny bit his lower lip, then shook Clockwork’s shoulder.  “Clockwork?” he said.  “Clockwork?  Can you hear me?  Wake up.”

Yeah.  Maybe not the most polite thing to do to a guy when you just showed up to his house uninvited, but Danny was worried.  This was massively out of character for Clockwork.  If Clockwork had just decided to take a weird nap in the entryway, fine.  Danny could apologize.  But if this was a sickness, or an attack of some kind, Danny couldn’t just leave.  He had to check.  

Clockwork didn’t stir.  

Danny didn’t know enough about how ghosts slept to know if that was normal.  

He stared down at Clockwork, stymied.  ‘Sleep like the dead’ was a common phrase, as was ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead,’ but he’d never seen any ghost asleep.  Unless he counted Nocturn that one time.  

Speaking of Nocturn…  The black stuff under Clockwork’s eyes was familiar.  It looked like the substance of Nocturn’s body, made liquid.  Sort of liquid.  It looked distinctly gooey.  

Could this be–?  No, before, Nocturn had used bulky helmets.  But that had been when they were trying to keep the whole city under their control.  Maybe the rules were different when they were only putting one person to sleep.  

Actually, they hadn’t even needed the helmets to put people to sleep.  They’d used sand for that.  The helmets had been to collect dream energy and maybe to control the dreams and keep people asleep.  

Okay.  So, this might be a Nocturn thing.  Which meant Danny should…  Do what?  He should do something .  With his friends, he had overshadowed them to jump into his dreams, but, historically, him overshadowing another ghost, or another ghost overshadowing him, hadn’t exactly worked well.  In fact, one particular incident was downright apocalyptic.  

But what else could he do?  

He shook Clockwork again, fruitlessly.  

Maybe he should go back home and get some backup.  But then he’d have to leave Clockwork, and Nocturn might be around somewhere.  Could he bring Clockwork with him?  No, that wouldn’t be safe for Clockwork, with the trip through the Fentonworks lab and all.

Well, if the overshadowing looked like it was going poorly, Danny would just… disengage.  It wasn’t like he wanted to fuse with Clockwork or take over his body, he just wanted to wake him up.  

He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck.  This… was probably a bad idea.  Almost certainly.  But he wasn’t sure if there was a good way to deal with this.  

(Danny might have been freaking out about someone - even Nocturn - being able to beat Clockwork.  Just a little.  Internally.  As one did.)

Still, he stood there, looking down at Clockwork, hoping that a good idea would come to him.  

It didn’t.  

He took a deep breath.  “It’ll be fine,” he said to himself.  “How it was meant to be or whatever.”

Overshadowing was a deceptively simple power.  Go intangible and slip into something.  But there was more.  When Danny phased through something he could overshadow, he could feel something like a spiderweb.  Something delicate, connecting it to itself.  Something Danny could tangle himself in.  Or, when he was sliding into a dream or video game, something he could travel down, spiderwebs turning into highways with a shift of perspective.  

But in a ghost, the lines were less spiderweb and more chain net or root bulb. Dense, thick, and focused on a single point.  When Danny forced an overshadowing ghost out of a human, he had to push that knot out.  When he fought Poindexter, he’d lost that fight.  When he’d jumped into Nocturn’s dreams…  Well, Danny was glad he’d been trying to go after his dreams, because he’d been practically sucked in.  

Jumping into Clockwork was the same way.  He was just so strong, his will so solid, that the shift in perspective was automatic.  He was swept away, inwards, and emerged tumbling into Clockwork’s dreams.

He took a minute to orient himself.  Dreams were… strange.  And personal.  They didn’t really exist far away from the dreamer, the landscape forming and dissolving around them in a sort of bubble.  But even in that bubble, the rules of cause and effect, permanence, and persistence were suggestions.  

After the first time with Nocturn, Danny had asked Tucker how he’d perceived his dream, and it turned out that he’d thought there was only one Star, instead of the legions that Danny had seen.  It was just that Star was everywhere.  

Danny was apprehensive about what kinds of dream logic would prevail in the dreams of a person who could see time.  

But this looked…  Normal.  It looked just like Long Now’s entryway, actually, minus the bed.  

Good.  Normal was good.  

Okay, Danny’s next steps were clear.  Find Clockwork, figure out how to shock him or otherwise wake him up, and then work out what had happened in the real world.  Easy.  

Except for the part about shocking someone who could see the future.  That wasn’t going to be easy. 

Why didn’t he ever think these things through?  

He shook his head.  First, find Clockwork.  Then deal with the other stuff.  Who knew?  Maybe telling him he was in a dream would be enough.  

“Clockwork?” he called.  His voice echoed, but he got no other response.  He flew deeper into Long Now, calling out periodically.  Clockwork didn’t answer.  Long Now continued to look normal.  

Except–  Was it getting darker?  And were those stars moving in the dark?

That was all the warning he got before the shadows swirled around him and contracted, forming a sort of starry bubble.  Sleepwalkers, cloth-covered ghosts with stitched-shut eyes, rose from the black like swimmers from a pool and swarmed him.  

Danny fought, but the sleepwalkers were numerous and they were on their home turf.  Much like during his very first encounter with them, they pinned him and dragged him into place so their master could have a better look at him.  

Nocturn emerged from the darkness, and it clung to them, merging smoothly with their long robes.  They glared down at Danny with deep disfavor.  

“You,” they said.  “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to stop whatever you’re doing to Clockwork!” snapped Danny, angry at Nocturn for doing this, and furious at himself for not being able to get away.  

“What I am doing to Clockwork?” said Nocturn, rising up, their body elongating and looming over Danny.  They had to curve so as to avoid the low, rounded ceiling.  “What I am doing to Clockwork?  Better to ask what everyone else is doing to him.  Uncountable petitioners, begging for this favor or that, kings seeking to use him as a tool, those cursed Observants.”  Their lips curled.  “You.”

“Me?” repeated Danny.  “What did I do?”

“Paradox on paradox,” hissed Nocturn, circling Danny.  Danny craned his neck trying to keep track of them.  “Do you think your little jaunts through time are without damage?  Without consequence?”

Well.  No.  Danny knew his trips through time made work for Clockwork.  That was one of the reasons he started visiting.  But that didn't explain–

“Why do you care?  You attacked him and put him to sleep!”

Nocturn laughed.  “You seek to take me to task, but you know nothing.  Less than nothing.  Eons, I have been by Clockwork's side, and the oldest of your histories is younger than our relationship.”

Danny… blinked.  “Relationship?” he asked.  “Like- like a romantic–?”

“Of course a romantic relationship!”  Nocturn paced through the little bubble of starry darkness, back and forth.  “We have been lovers since before your kind had writing.”

“Okay, I kind of got that from the history thing, but–”

“I have had enough of this world harming him.  I have had enough of watching him work himself to his gears, trying to satisfy cruel masters.  I will have him rest in peace.  You will not disturb him!”

“And did you ask him before you did–”  Danny tugged at the sleepwalkers holding him in an attempt to gesture. “--All this?”

Nocturn scoffed.  “Do you ask your right hand whether it is acceptable to hold it with your left?”

“Oh my gosh,” said Danny.  “This is a domestic violence thing.  Are you even dating, or–”

“Our love transcends such distinctions.”

“You’re a stalker.  I can’t believe this, no wonder Clockwork never mentioned you–”

Danny’s words died on his tongue as Nocturn gave him a particularly poisonous look.  Okay.  Yeah.  Sometimes snarking at the person who currently held you captive wasn’t a good idea.  

“Why would he mention me to you, when our relationship far exceeds anything you could even dream of?” they asked.  It was only barely a question.  But then their expression slid towards contemplation.  “But he does care for you.  Somewhat.  He dreams of you.”

“And I dream of infinite tacos,” said Danny.  “What’s your point?”

“No, you don’t.”

“Huh?  I think I know what I dream about.”

“I am the Master of Dreams and Nightmares.  I know what you have dreamed of, and it is not tacos, infinite or otherwise.”  Nocturn leaned close, looming.  “You dream of stars.  Of tragedies that never happened.  Of your own death.  Of being loved in ways you never will be in waking life.”

“Uh, I think I know what I dream about,” said Danny.  “Also, excuse you, I am loved in real life.  Even Clockwork likes me.”

Oh, heck, that’s where they started.  That’s what Danny was trying to distract Nocturn from.  

“Yes,” said Nocturn, tapping a clawed finger against painted lips.  “You might be useful.  But not with that tongue on you.”  They snapped their fingers and the sleepwalkers moved, pulling at Danny’s lips and teeth.  “Oh, stop struggling, child.  I’m not going to cut off your tongue or whatever you’ve convinced yourself of.  I’m not a monster.”

Danny snapped at one sleepwalker’s fingers.  “Could’ve fooled me!  Augh!”  The sleepwalkers got their fingers firmly into Danny’s mouth and pulled his jaw open.  Their fingers tasted sandy.  

Nocturn held their hand out, and one of the idle sleepwalkers, standing behind them, pulled towards it, like it was being sucked into a black hole.  Its body warped, turning green, then inky, starry black as it swirled into a dripping orb a few inches across.  Dark liquid dripped onto Nocturn’s palm and disappeared, absorbed into their skin.  

Danny did not like the look of that.  Should he try a wail?  He hadn’t before, because this was Clockwork’s dream, and he didn’t know what would happen to him if Danny did something so damaging in his dream.  

“This servant of mine,” said Nocturn, “will make sure you do not say anything against the rules.”

What rules?

Nocturn leaned close, bringing the sleepwalker orb with them.  Danny felt something cold drip on his lips, and then press against his back teeth.  The orb was far too big to swallow and he gagged, trying to throw off the sleepwalkers one more time.  

But ‘too big to swallow’ was a problem for rigid humans.  It wasn’t an obstacle for ghosts whose bodies could vaporize or stretch like putty.  Not when that stretching was reflexive.  Danny’s throat expanded as Nocturn pushed.  But Nocturn didn’t push it all the way down to Danny’s stomach.  Instead, the sticky, gooey ball lodged somewhere in Danny’s esophagus and compressed when the organ seized around it, but didn’t move.  

Danny gagged and heaved, but the thing didn’t move.  All that came up were a few splatters of black that were lost in the black that surrounded Danny, Nocturn, and the sleepwalkers.  

But the sleepwalkers were fading away, disappearing, and soon only Danny and Nocturn stood there.  Or, rather, in the case of Danny, knelt there.  Without the sleepwalkers holding him up, he’d collapsed as he coughed.  

Nocturn grabbed the back of his collar and pulled him up as the darkness around them dissolved and Danny saw… Clockwork’s workshop?

And Clockwork.  

Danny tried to call out, but black liquid bubbled out over his tongue and past his lips, staining the front of his suit.  

… That was gross.  

But it also gave Danny time to realize that Clockwork was talking to… him?  To Danny’s doppelganger which was–  

Not that weird, actually.  He’d been in Sam’s dream and Tucker’s dream, and Nocturn had just said Clockwork was dreaming of Danny.  It was still a little unsettling to see.  

“I would tell you the rules,” whispered Nocturn, “but they are the rules of a dream.  You will figure them out…  Or not.”  They pushed Danny forward, and Danny experienced a brief moment of vertigo before finding himself sitting on the stool the dream double had been on, listening to Clockwork as he explained the function of a particular type of gear.  

Okay.  Danny didn’t know what game Nocturn was playing, but now that he was in front of Clockwork, he could just tell him that he was in a dream.  He opened his mouth and even more black ooze spilled out.  The action was completely silent.  

Okay.  That wouldn’t work.  Could Danny speak at all, now that Nocturn had forced an entire sleepwalker down his throat.  

“Clockwork,” he said.  

“Yes, Daniel?” asked Clockwork, looking up.  

Danny pointed over his shoulder.  “Nocturn.”

Clockwork’s gaze followed Danny’s finger, and then his entire face lit up.  “Ah, my love.”

“My love,” said Nocturn, significantly more possessively.  He leaned down as Clockwork reached up, and they kissed.  

Deeply.  

Ew.  Just.  Ew.  That was– That was going on way too long.  Way, way too long.  

(And some of Nocturn’s claims must be true, because if they weren’t, Danny was sure this would count as shocking.  It was certainly shocking to him. )

“I believe we are scandalizing your child, my dear,” said Nocturn. 

“Our child,” corrected Clockwork, absently.  “I am sure he will become used to it.  In time.”

“In your dreams,” said Danny, horrified, and not really processing the rest of the conversation, such as it was.  

Clockwork patted Danny on the head, ruffling his hair, then planted a kiss on Danny’s forehead, which was about ten times as intimate as Clockwork had ever been with Danny, and Danny felt his thoughts grind to a halt.  

What– What?

No, no, this was a distraction, he had to get Clockwork out of this dream.  

“Is there something the matter, dear?  I thought that you were working.”

“The problem was easily solved,” said Nocturn, carefully placing an arm around Clockwork’s shoulders.  “I thought that I would come watch you teach, if it is not an imposition, love.”

“Of course not.  And I am sure Daniel will not mind.”  He looked at Danny expectantly.  

Danny tried to form many words around a mouthful of inky ectoplasm (it had to be ectoplasm, right?) but the only one that managed to come out was, “No.”

Clockwork smiled.  “Very good.”  

Nocturn smiled, too.  Much more sinisterly.  

Danny swallowed.  This… was going to be a lot harder to deal with than he thought.

He really should have brought that backup. 

Chapter Text

Danny might have been reckless, but he wasn’t actively suicidal.  Or passively suicidal.  Or suicidal at all, actually.  He liked being alive.  Just as a general thing.  Not that he hated being dead.  A ghost.  He meant he didn’t hate being a ghost.  Which… was a type of being dead.  

Existing.  He didn’t hate existing.  He liked existing.  

Yeah.

He might be dumb, too.  

The point was, he knew Nocturn could overpower him.  Especially now that he’d overpowered him once, and stuck that thing in his throat.  Luckily, he was used to playing along when in a room with an enemy and someone clueless.  Vlad was good for that, at least.  He rubbed his neck and grimaced at the stickiness under his fingers.  

“Are you feeling alright, Daniel?” asked Clockwork, turning from his work.  While he wasn’t looking, the spring in his tweezers turned into a miniature cherry branch with blooming flowers.  Danny’s attention was pulled away when Clockwork touched his forehead.  “Hmm.”

Danny would have liked to tell Clockwork exactly what was bothering him, but heavy midnight black ooze drooled from between his lips instead.  Clockwork didn’t seem to notice.  

“Would you like to lie down?” asked Clockwork.  “If you are feeling unwell, you can always rest in your room.”

Danny shook his head and eyed Nocturn apprehensively.  “No, I’m fine.”

“Truly, there is no point in lying,” said Nocturn.

“Now, now,” said Clockwork, twisting to pat Nocturn on the arm.  “There is no need to make accusations.  You may always change your mind, Daniel.”

Clockwork picked the tweezers back up.  “Ah, this happens sometimes,” he said, indicating the cherry branch.  Then, he went back to describing the mechanisms of the clock he was assembling.  None of them made sense, but Danny wasn’t sure if that was because they were inherently nonsensical, due to being in a dream, or because Danny wasn’t paying close enough attention, due to Nocturn looming over them.  

Okay.  So.  Shocking Clockwork.  With Nocturne there.  Okay.  Danny could do this.  

What would be shocking?

For him, the first time he’d encountered Nocturn, it was Sam kissing him (which shouldn’t have been that shocking, they’d done a lot of fake-out make-outs), for Sam, it was ‘Dash Phantom,’ for Tucker, it was just…  Danny showing up… Which was kind of mean…  And, for Jazz, it was being married to Dash.  

Lots of relationship drama type stuff.  Not that four people was a big enough sample size to be statistically relevant.  

(Hey, Danny paid attention in science!  That’s where he learned about space!)

So, Danny should probably try to generate some relationship drama.  His eyes slid over to Nocturn.  Nocturn gave him a thin, dangerous, smile.  

Danny pulled his lips back in a sort of instinctive half-snarl.  More goo leaked out past his teeth.  

Maybe– Maybe Danny should kiss them.  That would startle Clockwork, right?  And show Nocturn exactly how gross their weird dream goo was.  

And then Nocturn would kill him.  

(Plus, Nocturn was, like, a million years old.  Kissing him, even for shock value was just–  Yeah.)

Danny looked away.  Clockwork absently patted his knee, and he nearly jumped out of his skin.  That was going to be hard to get used to.  

So, relationship drama between Clockwork and Nocturn was…  Not out, exactly, but shelved for the moment.  Until he failed to come up with a better idea.  

What else?  Well, if Clockwork thought Danny was his kid in this dream, maybe he could run away from home?  Except Nocturn was very capable of dragging him back, or making a fake dream-Danny.  Well, it’d be safer to try.  He’d put that on his list.  

Faking a seizure or something?  Clockwork would be able to see through that, though, wouldn’t he?  Maybe if Danny added in some judicious use of powers, like duplication–

Duplication.  Would the thing in his throat duplicate?  It wasn’t part of him, but then, neither were his clothes– Or were they?  His suit warped with him, healed, dissolved if it was separated from him for too long…

“Daniel?”  Clockwork was checking his temperature again, and this was absolutely not the right time to have an existential crisis.  On any subject.  

He bit his lower lip, and then wrenched at his core to duplicate.  

Duplication was a difficult power even in ideal circumstances.  Danny’s present circumstances were far from ideal.  He was dream-hopping, and there was a foreign ghostly presence (however weak) lodged in his throat.  

He encountered the problems caused by the compressed sleepwalker first.  While he was separating, peeling apart from himself, it wasn’t, and when he started to slide away from himself, particle moving from particle, it caught.  The effect was like his throat being grabbed, twice over, but he had experience with that, so he pulled. 

Which is when he encountered the next problem.  

In the real world, the waking world, duplication was somewhere between mitosis and intangibly splitting himself.  Which wasn’t an explanation that satisfied Sam, Jazz, or even Tucker, but Danny didn’t have a better one.  Especially since he was probably doing it wrong in the first place.  

But this wasn’t the real world.  This was inside Clockwork's dream, inside his mind, inside his body.  So instead of stepping away from each other and into clear air, the duplicates stepped back into the net-maze of Clockwork's will.  

Danny was slammed back into his body, his throat aching as if he'd been screaming for hours.  His fingers felt numb.  He had also fallen off the stool. 

Huh.  He didn't have to fake a seizure after all.  He could just have one.  

A blurry mass of purple and blue entered his vision.  “You are back with us,” said Clockwork.  “How do you feel?”

“Bad,” said Danny.

“Do you know who you are?”

“Danny.”  

“Do you know where you are?”

Briefly, Danny hoped that the reason he was on the floor was that he'd managed to wake Clockwork up, but, no, there was Nocturn.  Smug bastard.  

“Workshop,” said Danny, when it became clear he wouldn't be able to say anything at all unless he lied.  He tried to sit up, not wanting to lay in the puddle of goo he had produced. 

Clockwork pushed him back down.  “Wait.  Are you injured?”

“I– No.” 

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  “I’m fine.  Really.”

Clockwork frowned.  “Nocturne, love, will you watch him for a moment?  I will fetch his medicine.”

Nocturn hummed.  “Of course,” they said.  

“Thank you,” said Clockwork.  He leaned close to Danny again and pressed another kiss to his forehead.  “I know this is difficult, but it will be alright.”

Danny didn’t want to be left alone with Nocturn, but he wasn’t able to say that, because Nocturn was a jerk.  

“That was quite a performance,” said Nocturn.  “Very dramatic.”

Danny scowled and rolled over to push himself to his knees.  “It wasn’t a performance.”

“Everything is a performance.  Just because it is genuine doesn’t make it less so.”

“Whatever,” said Danny.  He looked around the workshop and all its detail… Although some of those details were warping in Clockwork’s absence.  If it was like this in a dream, how much did it matter to him?

The seed of an idea took root.  It wasn’t an idea he liked.  It also wasn’t something he wanted to try with Nocturn right there.

“Oh, dear me.  It seems you have managed to have a thought,” said Nocturn.  A lounge chair materialized for them to sit in.  “Please, don’t let me stop you.”

“Like you could,” said Danny, before he could think better of it.  

“You are in a dream I control.  Of course I could.  I already did.  But I’m curious.  And I would very much like to disillusion Clockwork as to your… virtue.”

Danny scowled, but shut his mouth before he could say anything else.  “You really aren’t going to stop me?”

Nocturn smiled. Black liquid came up out of Danny’s throat with enough force that it started to pour out of his nose.  Danny’s hands flew to his face in an instinctive attempt to clear his airway.  

“Remember.  I could if I wanted to.  Easily.”

Danny gagged again, then sucked in a wet-sounding breath.  

“You’re already beaten,” said Nocturn.  “The only reason I haven’t squashed you is because that would upset Clockwork.  As soon as he no longer cares.”  Nocturn mimed squishing a bug.  

Danny reached out and grasped the edge of a workbench, pulling himself up.  He made eye contact with Nocturn.  Then, he grabbed the clock Clockwork had been working on and smashed it to the floor.  

Nocturn looked bored.  

Danny put his other hand on the edge of the workbench and heaved it upward, overturning it.  He looked back at Nocturn, who looked even more bored.  

So, they really weren’t going to do anything.  

Fine.  Great.  That probably meant that this wouldn’t work, if Nocturn was so unconcerned, but now that he'd started, he couldn't stop. 

He overturned all of the tables and swept his hands over the shelves on the walls, knocking everything off, then hit the shelves themselves with a few ectoblasts for good measure.  When that didn't destroy the more robust mechanisms, he  manifested an ectoplasmic construct in the rough shape of a hammer and started hitting things.  

“Daniel?”

Clockwork’s tone was so confused that Danny felt his heart plummet even though that was exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for.  He wanted Clockwork to be shocked.  That way, he’d wake up.  And rescue Danny from Nocturn.  Hopefully.  

(Danny really didn’t like how Nocturn had gotten the best of Clockwork, to put him to sleep, but he hoped that Nocturn had just taken Clockwork by surprise.  Despite Clockwork being able to see the future.)

“Why would you do this?” asked Clockwork.  He was standing in the doorway, holding a small, antique medicine bottle and a silver spoon.  

“Because–” Danny couldn’t just say ‘you’re in a dream and you need to wake up,’ so… “I hate you and you aren’t my real dad!”

Clockwork’s face cleared instantly.  “I see!” he said.  “You are testing my limits to see how I treat you when I am angry with you.  Rest assured, that I have no intention of harming you, kicking you out, or restricting your food access, as others have.”  He paused, thoughtful.  “Go to your room.  After you take your medicine, that is.”

“Medicine?” asked Danny, eying the bottle.  Knowing Nocturn - and dreams in general - whatever was in there would do something unpleasant to him.  

Clockwork flew up to him.  “For your illness,” he said.  “To help with the seizures, memory loss, and… other symptoms.”  He looked around the destroyed room.  “Of which this may be part.  No matter.”  He made a sweeping gesture and with a wave of blue sparkles the workshop jumped back to the way it was before Danny decided to wreck it.  

Right.  Master of Time.  Master of Time in a dream, even.

While Danny stared at the room, Clockwork had opened the medicine bottle and carefully poured something milky into the spoon.  “There,” he said, when the spoon was full to its brim.  “Take this, please.”

“Um,” said Danny, leaning away.  He took a step backward.  Clockwork took a step forward, raising the spoon to the level of Danny’s lips.  “No, I think I’m fine.”  

The milky substance smelled sweet and floral.  Not like medicine at all.  

“Daniel,” said Clockwork.  “You have had this before.  It is unpleasant, but it isn’t poisonous.  I must insist that you take it.  When you don’t, you have more seizures.”

Danny shot a look at Nocturn.  “It’s true,” said Nocturn, with mock concern.  “You will have more seizures if you don’t take that.”

That was a threat.  Judging by his expression, Clockwork hadn’t noticed.  

So… the choice was to have Nocturn giving him ‘seizures,’ or drink the mystery liquid.  Which was… Well, Nocturn could probably make him drink it, if he wanted to.  He was forcing him, basically, just with the force of Clockwork’s concern and various threats.  

It was effective.  Danny would say that.  

Very reluctantly, he opened his mouth.  The ‘medicine’ tasted like grass.  

“There we are,” said Clockwork.  “Now, I will walk you to your room.”

“You don’t have to do that,” said Danny, because he’d been hoping to escape into the depths of Long Now to plan his next attempts to escape.  From the dream, that is, not from Long Now.  Or dream Long Now.  

“Daniel, you just had a seizure.  I don’t want you to have another one while you’re walking down the hall.”  He paused.  “I could carry you.”

“No,” said Danny, quickly.  “That’s weird.”

“Then we’ll go together.”  Clockwork put his hand on the small of Danny’s back and steered him out of the workshop.  

For a second, Danny thought that Nocturn might stay behind.  He was disappointed.  

The hallway wasn’t as clearly and sharply defined as the workshop was.  It was almost generic, an average of all the hallways in the lair.  Walking down it took both longer and shorter than it should have, the walls, floor, and ceiling sliding by at different rates.  It was both ruler straight and twisty enough that he couldn't see more than a meter ahead. 

By the time they appeared in front of the door (or the door appeared in front of them), Danny was thoroughly dizzy and leaning on Clockwork for support. 

“There we are,” said Clockwork, opening the door and leading Danny in.  He patted Danny's back.  “Clean yourself up and take a rest.  I will come get you when it is time to eat.  Unless you would prefer me to stay?”

Danny glanced at Nocturne, then shook his head. 

“Would you like Nocturn to stay?  Pajamas he can put you to sleep–”

Danny shook his head harder. 

“Very well,” said Clockwork.  He flew back out into the hallway.  “Call us if you need us, please.”  He shut the door, the latch making a faint clicking noise as it fell into place.  

Danny was alone.  In a dream that wasn't his.  Briefly, he wondered if the room he was in was going to fall apart or dissolve. 

When that didn't happen, Danny looked around the room.  It was kind of amazing, actually.  Just… not in the way that Danny usually expected from Long Now and Clockwork.  

It was detailed, just like the workshop, although the edges were soft, comfortable, rather than sharp.  The bed was covered in a blue quilt with pale gold stitching.  It hadn’t been made quite right - actually, it looked a lot like how he made his bed when he was in a hurry - and the sheets underneath were peeking out.  The pillows were slightly askew, but they looked soft and fluffy.  The rugs on the floor continued that theme.  There were shelves along the walls that contained books, model rockets, and other knick-knacks.  The walls had posters for bands and space shuttles.  A desk in the corner had both drawing tools and a sleek computer on it.  A window looked out on what appeared to be outer space itself.

In short, it was the kind of room Danny would design for himself, if he didn’t have a budget, complete with the contents of the bedside table.  Actually, some of the things in the room - posters, models, and books - were stuff Danny had in his room.  His real room.  

He didn’t know whether to be creeped out or touched.  

Danny wanted to look at those books.  He wanted to turn on the computer, and flip through the sketchbook.  He wanted to know what Clockwork thought he would like, what he thought he’d draw, or play.  

The palms of his hands itched and he licked his lips.  

He shook his head and looked away. 

Just in time for Nocturn to appear.

“Did you truly expect to surprise or shock someone who can see the future?” they asked, mockingly.  

Danny was pretty sure that he had surprised Clockwork.  It just hadn’t been enough.  He had other questions. 

“Shouldn’t he be able to tell what’s happening now if he can still see the future and the past and everything?”

Nocturn waved a lazy hand.  “Clockwork is Master of Time, I am Master of Dreams.  He does not read minds.  I can.  Everything that is happening is happening inside his head.”

“But then I should be able to surprise him,” said Danny, holding on to his point.  “Since he can’t see what I’m going to do.”

Nocturn’s eyes were solid red, but Danny knew the body language that went into an eyeroll.  “He may not be able to see what you are going to do now.  But he has seen every possible action you could take, over and over, in his waking life.  What he has not seen, he has imagined.  There is nothing you could do to surprise him.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” said Nocturn.  “Just as I know that you would be doomed to fail even if you could surprise Clockwork.  You picked a fight with me in a dream.”

Danny felt himself flush.  “Well, I wasn’t going to let you do whatever you wanted to Clockwork!  And I’m still not!  I’m not giving up just because you’re stronger than I am.”  He hadn’t done that with Dash, and he wasn’t going to now.  

For some reason, this made Nocturn pause.  They swept their gaze over Danny, from his head to his toes.  It made his body feel tingly, and he crossed his arms.  

“I see,” said Nocturn, tone significantly more subdued than before.  It didn’t make Danny feel better.  “But your plan, if it can even be called that, failed.”

“My next one won’t.”

Chapter Text

As soon as Nocturn left, Danny tried the door.  It didn’t open.  There wasn’t a lock, the hinges were on the outside, and when Danny examined the door more closely, he found that the door was fused to the wall.  

Before this, Danny hadn’t hated Nocturn.  He generally reserved that emotion for ghosts that attacked Amity Park repeatedly, and also Dash.  But now…  

He tested the walls to see if they were permeable to intangibility.  He wasn’t surprised when they weren’t.  He tried the window, too, but it was tightly sealed and the glass reflected the experimental ectoblast he sent at it. 

So, he was stuck in here until it was ‘time to eat.’  Whenever that was.  If Clockwork even remembered, because he was dreaming, and people weren’t very consistent about remembering things while they were dreaming, even when they weren’t being messed with by a deranged stalker.  

Alright.  Okay.  He could use the time, however much he had, to make a plan.  

… He had nothing.  

He bit his lower lip, thinking, then grimaced.  That… stuff was still on them.  On almost all of him, actually.  It didn't taste like much, more of an absence of taste, if anything, but the texture it gave his lips was weird.

Maybe he should get cleaned up, like Clockwork suggested.  There was no way he was even touching the bed, though.  Going to sleep in a dream controlled by Nocturn was a terrible idea, even he knew that. 

But he didn't trust the clothing that was probably in the dressers and closet.  They'd probably do something to him.  Although the ‘medicine’ hadn't, yet.  Speaking of which, he should probably come up with some excuse to not eat when and if Clockwork came back for him. 

Or was that a closet?  The carpet there seemed a little… off.  

Danny approached the door, then opened it cautiously.  It was a bathroom.  A nice bathroom, even, with counters, storage, a shower and a bathtub.  Danny spotted the shampoo he used in the shower, but most other things were unfamiliar to him.  Which sort of made sense.  Most of the bathroom products at home were Fentonworks brand, right down to the toilet paper.  

Clockwork’s instructions about cleaning himself up made more sense, now.  

Danny stepped into the bathroom, then paused, catching sight of himself in the mirror.  He looked… bad.  Which was only to be expected, given that he’d lost a fight and then spent the last couple of hours leaking black goo from his face.  His front and hair were soaked in it, but not evenly, which made for a very odd, patchy appearance.  His mother had been bugging him to get his hair cut, lately, and the parts of it that were covered in black looked especially scruffy.  But if he looked only at the black, focusing on it, the stars inside were actually rather pretty.  

That was sort of hard to do, though, considering.  

He huffed and pulled a handful of washcloths off one of the shelves, then got to work.  He wasn’t going to take a shower.  He was vulnerable enough without getting undressed, thank you.  Instead, he scrubbed.  

The black goo came out of his hair more or less alright, even if his hair felt too smooth where it had touched.  It had stained his skin, though, leaving dusky purple blotches where it had touched.  It didn’t want to come out of his suit at all.  

Danny frowned at it.  He wasn’t entirely sure Clockwork had noticed Danny spitting up the black, which was a disturbing thought, but par for the course for the whole… experience.  Either Nocturn was hiding it from him, or smoothing it away with dream logic, or it was part of the narrative of the dream.  

Maybe… maybe Danny could work with that?  He could figure out what the dream was about, then do something that would be surprising in that context?  He’d have to learn more, though.  

What did he already know?

Clockwork thought he was… romantically involved with Nocturne.  Danny didn’t have any confirmation yet about whether or not he thought they were married, dating, or some other ghost-exclusive thing.  He thought that Danny was their child.  Adopted, not biological.  Ectological?  Whatever, terminology was so far down on his list of priorities that it might as well not exist at all.  In the dream, Danny had some kind of illness, one that caused seizures, memory loss, and maybe outbursts where he violently destroyed everything around him.  

That meant that Clockwork probably wouldn’t be shocked by anything Danny said, even if it was hurtful.  He’d just assume that Danny was having an episode.  Which meant that Danny had to do something shocking, or cause something shocking to happen.  

Would picking a fight with Nocturn be shocking enough, if Nocturn was supposed to be his other ‘parent’ in this situation?  No, he wouldn’t even be able to pick a fight with Nocturn.  They’d just make him collapse, and another seizure wasn’t shocking.  He could try ‘running away from home.’  That was usually upsetting to parents.  But was it shocking in the current situation?  

He needed to know more.  

Danny gargled some water, trying to get as much of the inky blackness off his teeth and tongue as he could.  It didn’t really help.  

He dropped the towels in a conveniently place laundry basket, then left the bathroom.  Maybe one of those books in the bedroom would give him some more insight into the situation.  Could dream-Danny have a journal?  Or, maybe there was something on the computer.  That would make sense.  He kept his ghost files on the computer, so if there was a journal, that would be the most likely place for it.  

He sat down, opened up the computer, waited for it to turn on, then groaned.  The computer was working, but the screen was packed with nonsense symbols that shifted, jittered, and floated in and out of the screen.  He reached for the nearest book, and found that the pages inside contained the same mess. 

Writing usually didn't work in dreams.  Danny didn't know why he expected this to be any different. 

Wait.

He looked at the posters more carefully.  At first glance, the titles and words made sense, but when Danny focused, they were gibberish. 

Heck. 

Okay.  

So.

Danny sat in the desk chair, trying to think of something he could do.  Otherwise, he was going to die of boredom.  There were all the hobby things, the rocket models, the drawing materials, the window and the telescope, but he didn’t think he could focus on any of that.  What would be the point, anyway?  This wasn’t real, and Nocturn might be able to spy on anything he did, which wasn’t exactly a comforting thought.

Danny took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  It wasn’t good to get worked up about it, either.  This was just something he’d have to work out, like always.

His eyes fell on the sketchbook.  It wasn’t a journal.  He wouldn’t find any explanations there, but he often sketched to vent.  A lot of his sketchbook pages back home featured Dash or a particularly annoying ghost getting beaten up.  If Clockwork knew that…

Danny wasn’t entirely sure he wanted Clockwork to know that, but Clockwork could see everything.  Except that he was in a dream, apparently.  

He flipped through the sketchbook, slowly, looking at the drawings inside.  A landscape (much better than anything he could do), Dash being beaten up (eerily close to his real style), Danielle asleep on a couch (cute), a page of sketches of Cujo (messy, slightly torn), Clockwork’s workshop (partially inked), the Far Frozen (it had little stick figure yetis in it), eyeball ghosts being beaten up (no idea who those were), and a series of careful sketches of Clockwork and Nocturn.  

They reminded Danny of sketches he used to do of his parents, before the portal opened.  

Hm.  

There was a knock on the door.  “Daniel, may I come in?”

Danny jumped, tossing the sketchbook back to the desk. “Uh, yes,” said Danny.  “Come in.”

Clockwork opened the door.  “You are feeling better,” Clockwork said, pleased.  “Come downstairs, we are about to eat.”  He stepped back away from the door and Danny followed him.  

Right outside the door was a spiral staircase Danny was sure hadn’t been there before.  They went down, and then into a narrow maze of hallways.  At some point, Clockwork reached back and took Danny’s hand. Danny hadn’t let go.  

Without warning, the maze dumped them out into a small, old-fashioned kitchen with brightly colored linoleum and appliances.  Nocturn sat in one of the corners, the ethereal tails of their robe swirling over the whole floor.  It made walking in the room like walking through very shallow water.  

Nocturn was… sewing something? 

“What are you doing?” asked Danny before he could decide that was a bad idea.  

“Oh,” said Nocturn, holding up what looked like a cross between a sleeping mask and a Venetian mask.  The front was bone white and delicately embroidered in brass and silver.  The inside, when Nocturn turned it, was black with stars, just like Nocturn’s robes, and looked thick and plush.  “Just making a little something for my loved ones.”

The inside of the mask deformed slightly, then dripped.  Danny blanched, then clenched his jaw.  He wasn’t going to let Nocturn put that on Clockwork.

“It looks wonderful,” said Clockwork.  “I believe Daniel has been having some trouble sleeping lately.  Perhaps it will help.”

“Perhaps,” said Nocturn, smiling more widely.  “But I think that maybe all he needs is to eat something.  Settle his nerves.”

Clockwork chuckled.  “Maybe you’re right.”

Danny looked away, at the kitchen table.  There was food there that hadn’t been a second ago, but Danny didn’t know if that was a dream thing, or a Master of Time thing.  But there was only food in front of one place at the table, a fluffy stack of waffles layered with fruit and whipped cream.  Danny’s favorite type of breakfast.  

“Aren’t you guys going to eat something?” asked Danny, not sitting down.  

“We ate just last week,” said Clockwork.  “We aren’t hungry.”

Okay.  Now Danny didn’t know if that was a dream thing, a Master of Time thing, or a Clockwork specific thing.

“I’m not hungry either,” said Danny.  

Predictably, his stomach growled. 

“I mean,” he said, “I think the medicine upset my stomach a little?  So, I don’t know that I should eat anything.”

Clockwork frowned.  “I shouldn’t have made you take it on an empty stomach,” he said.  “You will feel better if you eat.”

Danny looked at the waffles, then back at Clockwork.  He bit his lip.  The problem was that Clockwork really believed that all of this was real, and Danny was too used to listening to him.  Clockwork was wrong, but he didn’t know that, and there was no way to prove that to him.  

Danny sat down at the table.  Then, he flipped his plate off the table.  

The plate flipped back onto the table.

Danny knocked it off again.  

It came back.  

Danny looked up at Clockwork, who looked worried.  Then, he glanced at Nocturn, who looked bored.  

“I’m really not hungry,” said Danny.  

“You need to eat,” said Clockwork.  “You are still half human, Daniel.  I do not want you to waste away.”

Now, normally Danny couldn’t vomit on command.  Nocturn was going to regret giving Danny that ability, however tangentially.  

He thought hard about telling Clockwork about the dream, waited for a fair amount of black liquid to build up in his mouth, then, when Nocturn was starting to look suspicious, sprayed it over the whole room.  

Clockwork blinked.  “Maybe you are feeling ill,” he said.  “Let’s get cleaned up.”  He flicked his fingers and the black vanished.

“Don’t you think he needs more than that, dear?” asked Nocturn.  “He looks like he slept in those clothes, and his hair needs to be taken care of.”

Clockwork looked Danny up and down.  “Are you truly unable to eat?” he asked.  

Danny nodded, not trusting himself to speak.  Or Nocturn to not let him throw up black stuff everywhere.  

“Alright,” said Clockwork.  “Come, we can go relax.”

Clockwork walked back out of the kitchen, and despite walking out the same door they’d entered through, the room was different.  It was organized like a living room, with a couch, armchairs, art on the wall, a coffee table, and a bookshelf on the back wall, but instead of a TV or something similar being the focal point, there was a tree with purple leaves that grew and fell in a constant shower growing from a circular planter on the floor.  It was hard to look at.

On the coffee table (a block of clear glass that faded into obsidian) was a hand mirror, a hair brush, and a stuffed bear that looked suspiciously like Jazz’s Bearbert Einstein, but astronaut themed.  

“What’s that?” asked Danny, not sure if he meant the tree, the mirror, the brush, the bear, or the table itself.  Dreams made things so uncertain.  

Clockwork picked up the toy.  “You don’t remember Neil Bearstrong?”

“Um, no,” said Danny.  It did look like Neil Armstrong.  

“It was a toy your sister gave to you when you were younger,” said Clockwork.  “Unfortunately lost and never found.  Until now.”

Clockwork presented the bear to Danny, who took it.  Danny didn’t remember this at all, but had Clockwork made it up?  Nocturn?  Or was this based on something real?

Feeling a bit dazed, Danny let Clockwork direct him into a chair and settle Bearstrong comfortably in his arms.  Which– Why was he being so cooperative?  Shouldn’t he be trying to run off?  He–

He looked at Clockwork and the thought wilted.  

He just–  It wasn’t a good time, anyway, with Nocturn right there, working on his evil sewing project.  Nocturn glanced at Danny and nodded, which made Danny feel dirty.  

Clockwork picked up the brush and started brushing Danny’s hair.  Danny stiffened.  Probably, his mother or Jazz had brushed his hair for him when he was a little kid, but he couldn’t remember that.  The only time he could remember someone brushing his hair was when Sam gave him and Tucker goth makeovers.  

The bristles of the brush ran smoothly through his hair - too smoothly, given how tangled it had been after Danny’s attempts to get the black out of it - gently scraping against his scalp.  Clockwork’s movements were rhythmic, steady, never pulling too hard or pushing too hard.  

Danny’s eyes fluttered half closed.  Not all the way.  He couldn’t risk it.  But this was surprisingly pleasant.  

He let his thoughts drift, and he’d almost forgotten that this wasn’t the real Long Now, that he was asleep, when the brush whispered over Danny’s elbow.

Startled at the touch, he jumped, twisting, his hands on the arms of the chair.  A long curtain of snowy white hair twisted with him.  

“What?” said Danny, touching it hesitantly at first, then pulling on it more firmly when he found that it was attached to his scalp.  “What is this?  How–”

“It’s your hair,” said Nocturn.  

Danny glared at him.  “Why is it so long?”

“Hair grows when you do not cut it,” said Nocturn, “and it grows longer over time.  You haven’t had it cut since you got here.”

“No,” said Danny.  “It hasn’t been long enough for it to grow this much!”

“But it has,” said Clockwork, reasonably.  “Do you not remember it being this long?”

Danny stared up at him.  It hadn’t.  This was a dream thing.  But maybe he could use this.  Memory problems had been on the list of symptoms.  

“Clockwork,” he said, more uncertainly.  “How did I get here?”

“We flew from the kitchen,” said Clockwork.  

“No, I mean, here, in Long Now.  I know I must have been here for a while, but why?  How?  I don’t remember any of it.  Will you tell me?”  He made his eyes large and shiny.  

Clockwork frowned.  “If you do not remember, I hesitate to tell you.  It is not a pleasant story, and I think it may be better for you if you forget, even if it is only temporary.”

“It’s really bothering me,” said Danny.  “I need to know.”

“Are you certain?” asked Clockwork.

“Yes,” said Danny.  He wanted to know what Clockwork thought was going on.  

“Please, turn around.  I am not nearly done with your hair.”  

Danny bit his lip, but complied.  He really needed that information.  

“Do you remember that you used to live elsewhere?  With scientists?”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  “With my parents.”

Clockwork sighed like wind blowing through tree branches.  “For some time before you came here, I had been adjusting the timeline to ensure that they did not discover your secret.”

“Okay?” said Danny, confused.  “Why?  I thought you hated it when people asked you to do stuff like that.”

“I do.  This, I did willingly.  Because in timelines where they find out in unfavorable circumstances… or even in circumstances that should be favorable… they react poorly.  They hunt you, reveal you, throw you injured into the Ghost Zone, attempt to fix you, use you as a test subject…  The timelines where they do not, where they accept you fully are a vanishingly small percentage.  Lower than the percent chance of you becoming Dan.”

Danny nodded, hyper-aware of how his hair was now pooling on the floor beneath him, and tasted bile in the back of his mouth.  

(He wondered what would happen if he made himself vomit?  Would that dislodge the thing Nocturn had put in him?)

“I found these results to be less than acceptable.  So, I prevented them.  But a week before you came to us, I was incapacitated by a rogue paradox.  By the time I recovered, the scientists had discovered you and captured you, and they were beginning to attempt to ‘cure’ you.  I rescued you from them and brought you here.”

“But couldn’t you have just erased the whole thing?  Couldn’t you have rewound it?”  Maybe inserting logic into the narrative would be a wake-up call.

“Yes, but I couldn’t stand the thought of this version of you, or any version of you, going without rescue.  So, here we are.”

He put the brush down on the table and picked up the mirror, holding it in front of Danny so he could see his face and hair.  

At first, Danny thought that the mirror wasn’t.  That it was some kind of device for seeing distant people.  The purplish stain on his skin had spread, and there were very few tan patches left.  His ears were delicately pointed, and so were his teeth.  His sclera were tinted green.  And, of course, his hair was long.  

“Any preferences as to how you would like your hair today?” asked Clockwork.  

“I– Something simple.  I think I want to go back to, uh, my room and… think about this.”

“Of course,” said Clockwork, starting to braid Danny’s hair.  When he was done, even bound, the braid reached Danny’s ankles.  

Meanwhile, Danny was reeling.  He didn’t know what to think.

Maybe Clockwork had been going through and cherry-picking timelines, keeping Danny from being a test subject or a dissection specimen.  Maybe the story Clockwork had told Danny was just that.   A story in a dream.  

Whatever else it meant, it meant that Clockwork cared enough about Danny to think about these things.  

Hair done, Clockwork led Danny back to his room to ‘sleep for the night,’ breakfast apparently forgotten.

“Um, Clockwork?” asked Danny, as he stepped into the room.  

“Yes?”  

“Can you leave the door open?  It just… I don’t want to be, um, enclosed right now.”

Clockwork’s expression pinched in worry, but he nodded.  “Sleep well, Daniel.” 

He left the door open.  

Danny held his breath for a minute.  Two.  Five.  Eight.  Clockwork didn’t come back.  Nocturn didn’t show up.  

The door was open.  He slid forward, then quickly pushed it open and slipped out into the hall before shutting it behind him.  

Alright.  So.  He was out of ‘his’ room.  Out into Long Now.  Dream Long Now.  Which could rearrange itself nonsensically or worse than nonsensically at any moment, according to Clockwork’s dreams and Nocturn’s whims.  But all Danny had to do was get to an external window or door and fly off.  

Considering how Clockwork was acting and the story he’d told, Danny ‘running away’ had to at least rattle him.  

He had to fly quite a ways to find a window.  When he did, it was small, and Danny had to wriggle quite a bit to get through it and out into the clear air of the Ghost Zone.  Once he did, he shot off like a–

There was an impression of chains, of vast, slow-moving gears.

The next thing Danny knew, he was lying on the floor of his room, twitching.  

“You do realize that there is no reason for a dream to exist that far from the dreamer?” asked Nocturn.  

Danny stuck out his tongue at them.

.

That was the general pattern as the dream progressed.  Danny would try something.  Clockwork either wouldn’t notice, or put on a Disappointed Dad face rather than be properly shocked about it.  If Danny tried to tell him something of importance, he would gag and his mouth would feel with black liquid, stopping him from saying anything at all.  If he managed to annoy Nocturn too much, he’d wind up incapacitated.  In between, he’d be subjected to various family bonding activities, like watching movies in the branches of the purple tree (it turned out that it was a TV, after all).

At no point did Danny sleep.  But it was getting harder, especially when he was sent to ‘rest’ in his room, or in the blurred aftermath of a ‘seizure,’ which was usually caused by failed power use or getting too far away from Clockwork, rather than Nocturn punishing him, surprisingly enough.  

Nocturn seemed much more tolerant than they had been at the beginning.  Maybe because they were beginning to think that Danny wasn’t a threat to his plans.  Unfortunately, Danny was beginning to think that as well.  

None of Danny’s plans had worked so far.  Not even a little.  His hope was beginning to fade, and he felt sticky and gritty from being up for so long.  Cold showers in the attached bathroom could only do so much.  

He was fading, and Clockwork and Nocturn both knew it.  They had to.  Otherwise, why would they be trying to get him to drink a glass of warm milk.  

It did look good, and smell good, and it would probably taste good, too, but danny hadn’t been eating since he came into the dream, and he wasn’t going to start now.  

“Perhaps you will feel ready for it after we have sat on the couch for a little while,” said Nocturn.  

“Excellent idea,” said Clockwork, leading Danny to the ‘living’ room. 

Danny wound up wedged between Clockwork and Nocturn on the couch, which was very awkward, but also cozy.  He’d just rub his eyes…

.

The next thing Danny knew, he was tumbling to the floor of Long Now, next to Clockwork’s bed.  Wait– The bed.  In the middle of the entryway!  

The word swam dangerously in front of Danny’s eyes, and he fell over again.  Why did he feel so weak?  So unsteady?  He didn’t think he’d even be able to lift himself up.

“You haven’t eaten or slept in days,” said Nocturn, sweeping Danny up in his arms.  “You ran out of energy to continue to overshadow Clockwork.  Or did you forget you were doing that?”

Danny blinked hard.  He was dizzy.  

“Regardless, the current circumstances beg the questions of what to do with you.”

“Just let me go,” said Danny.  “You don’t even want me here.”

“You would come back with reinforcements,” said Nocturn, which was true.  “Even for me, sufficient numbers would be problematic.  Besides which, when Clockwork told you about what he had been doing for you, keeping your parents from finding out what you are at inopportune times…  If I were to let you go, you would return to that… situation.”

“Clockwork is dreaming,” said Danny, pushing weakly against Nocturn’s arm.  “What do you care, anyway?”

“Without Clockwork monitoring you, your parents might discover you and destroy you.  Clockwork would be quite upset if that were to happen.”

“Then let us go,” said Danny.  “Let him wake up and do what he wants.”

“The thought upset me as well,” said Nocturn, as if they hadn’t heard Danny at all.  “I have, for better or worse, become attached to your presence.  The dream would be incomplete without you.”  

“I’m not going back in.”  He couldn’t, even if he wanted to.  He was too weak to even try.

“Not with overshadowing, no,” said Nocturn.  “But it is quite possible to link two dreams.  For me, that is.”

Danny struggled harder.  Nocturn didn’t notice.  

“But you aren’t dressed for bed at all, I must say.  Let us fix that.”  

They made a pulling motion, and Danny’s jaw gaped wide as something vast and sluglike crawled up his throat.  He gagged heavily, his already exhausted body dedicating all his remaining energy to the task of getting it out of his body.  The thing, possibly a remnant of the original sleepwalker, fell wetly on Danny’s chest, then spread out.  

Underneath the sleepwalker, his clothes changed, warping into something softer.  A set of star-spangled pajamas.  Danny coughed, drooled, and panted, but otherwise laid limp and still in Nocturn’s arms, spent.  The sleepwalker was no longer in his throat, but there was still something there, lingering.  

“Much better,” murmured Nocturn.  He reached into his robes and pulled out the sleeping mask he’d been working on.  

Danny twitched and moaned when Nocturn lowered it onto his face, but otherwise couldn’t do anything at all.  The mask adhered immediately, trapping Danny in inky darkness.  

There was a faint sense of movement, and Danny felt himself placed on a bed, then carefully tucked into bed, his limbs arranged just so.  

Don’t sleep, he told himself, don’t sleep.  But he was so tired, and it was dark, and the sound of the clock in Clockwork’s chest was right under his ear.  

.

Danny woke in his bed at Long Now, stretched, and then went into his attached bathroom to take his medicine and get ready for the day.  Clockwork was going to make him waffles.