AN: Don't kill me if you wanted another chapter of Vlad's Problem with Cats! ^^; I've had a hard time with that one.

So, this is a chapter of this...thingy i've spent HOURS daydreaming the stories and plots and things.(Literally, one day i just sat in my armchair and did NOTHING except for think about this, TV off, house quiet, barely talking, just sitting and THINKING. Should do it more often.)

It's been in my head for, oh, maybe about last fall, the beginning of the school year. I can't remember. But, it's been in there a good LONG while, not just a month, and i keep coming back to it and finally i gathered strength to show it to people.

SOO, i present to you my BABY, i've been working on this a while, and it's been through a LOT of edits and re-writes, both on paper and in my head, and it's still going on WAY past this first adventure, if anybody cares to show interest, i'll post them ALL.

also, the title is... tentative. Last second. I can think of every minute detail to interlock, but when i get to upload and i see the title space, i go complete blank. Any better suggestions, go ahead!

Oh, and one more thing, jsyk, THIS IS NOT, AND NEVER WILL BE, SLASH.

Please read and review, they give me POWER which leads to UPDATES!

Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom or Doctor Who respectively.

Ch 1

Clearing Known Data

A tower resting in the deepest part of the Ghost Zone. The ticks and tocks of clocks was ever-present, slow and deep, faint and fast. One being floated alone, the glow of the screen of the viewer bright in the faded light that radiated from the very air of the Zone. The only other glow was from his red eyes, startling against his blue skin and the scar that trailed down over his left eye. But it did not matter. He hardly left his tower anyway.

Clockwork watched as the snowy-haired ghost boy, Danny Phantom, dived into an ally as he flew and landed, turning into his raven-haired alter ego. Fenton shot a look to the sky, jumping behind a dumpster for good measure when the news helicopter passed overhead. It was unnecessary, but the hounds of the press grated the nerves of even the most steadfast man.

Clockwork allowed himself a smirk, thinking to himself of how trouble seemed to follow the boy like a dog trailed a steak in the hand of its master. Danny at least had the advantage of an alias at this particular point in time.

Vwooorp. Vwooooorp. Vwooorp.

The screen blinked black. The sound was barely there before the time stream blurred, a beautiful painting that had been doused with water. It's caretaker was not spared. The Ghost of Time, attacked in his only weakness, the very time stream itself. The past was not in stone, for the stone was now but clay to be molded as long as one wished. The future, it's possibilities, the chances and decisions Clockwork influenced, controlled, watched, protected; his omniscience was ripped from him and he could do nothing. Nothing but nurse his head in his hands, silently writhing in his mind in the pain that burned like an inferno through his thoughts, through his core. He was not used to pain, and never a pain such as this; would it never stop? Then, like a switch flipped, as if someone had snapped their fingers and made it so, it froze. No more pain, just nothingness. No more ticking. No more past, nothing but his best guesses at the future. All was malleable, nothing was fixed. Nothing he could feel, at least.

The sudden emptiness, he couldn't believe it. The sound of the time stream was soft and scared, hurt and changing. He couldn't touch it, for fear of damaging it more. He couldn't find the cause from here, he couldn't fix this he-

He couldn't cope. No powers. No clairvoyance. But the single blessing was that there were no-

"CLOCKWORK!"

Observants, two of them from what he could sense. They swept in the room like a un-wanted gust of wind, livid and wild. He could feel it already, the anger, hiding their fear, the terribly covered emotions radiating from their cores letting him read them in a way one just couldn't read a human. Their feelings were one thing, but their thoughts were another.

"The time-stream-"

"Has disappeared, I know." He interrupted with a growl, turning on them with a swish of his cape behind him. They only responded with silent glares at his rude greeting. To hell with manners, they weren't the ones connected to the very time stream.

His hand gripped his staff with a white-knuckled grip, holding back the urge to collapse and nurse his lingering migraine. Weakness wasn't allowed, at least he wouldn't allow it. Even though they had yet to abuse any weakness, Clockwork had this deep-seated instinct to never give them a chance. They were manipulative, and it was only his power over them that kept them in line and him sane. Yet, it was also his power that made them interested in him in the first place. Weakness would mean they would gain the confidence to do something. Their numbers and his power forever had them at a gridlock that they grudgingly agreed to make a peace contract.

With a huff, Clockwork glanced back at the screen, still shrouded in black. "For once, I don't know why. The only thing I know is that it was cause, followed or was accompanied by a sound I've never heard before."

"That can't be possible!"

"Surely you know something more!"

"All that I know is that in was in Amity, near by the area where the boy was, at the time." Clockwork sighed, loosening his grip as the migraine slowed more. "Danny might find the source, but I cannot look to see what it is."

"An informant then?"

"I couldn't contact them, and who would I send to face an unknown enemy?" He paused, the Observants huffing at his apparent uselessness. They turned to each other, bickering under their breaths.

Clockwork pondered the predicament silently, turning away from the planning Observants. No one reliable to send, no one that could handle themselves. Useless here, and the Observants certainly wouldn't go do anything.

"Perhaps I could go-"

"What!" They interrupted, shocked out of their bickering.

"Clockwork, you cannot directly interfere!"

Clockwork's face fell into a frown. "Than who will? It's unknown, and you honestly trust any other in the affairs of time? Anyone else I send could possibly make matters worse, since none understand the matter as we do. And you never leave the Observatory, save to make me to do your dirty work."

The Observants gave him daggers, glaring better than one would think they could with only one eye. "You will not interfere with this!"

"Then what would you have be done to fix this?" He said slowly.

They glanced at one another. "If the boy is there, perhaps he could handle it. Send a scout, if you cannot see either."

Clockwork scowled, looking from one identical ghost to the other. Nothing he could say would end how he wanted it to. "Fine."

Without dismissal they nodded, and left without a word. Probably off to argue about the anomaly. That's all they ever do, argue amongst themselves.

Clockwork floated silently, stirring in his thoughts. He couldn't sense the Observants any more, and if he couldn't see anything, it meant neither could they. He had barely ever gone against them, it was too much trouble to banter with their idiocy, but this was too important; it was too personal.

With a small smirk that bespoke mischief, he attempted to teleport into the human realm. But something went wrong, as the fates chose to do when something was already wrong and they wanted it to be worse. It was not Clockwork who was usually the brunt of their trip-ups, so he did not expect it. His staff was ripped from his hands, his core suppressed from some odd force, taking away what power was left after the previous oddity. When the ghost appeared in the mortal plane, he was dumped unceremoniously onto the ground, like a trouble-maker kicked out from a building, unable to right himself before he met hard earth.

As Clockwork pushed himself up, it did not take him long to take a guess as to who had hid the trap for him.

"Observants!" He cursed in his head. They must know him much too well for his liking. Because he would not accept that he was that predictable.

A suppressed core left him with no powers. No powers meant no flying, and also no spectral tail. Which left him with legs, and, apparently, a default disguise that his form adapted when he was thrust into the human's world without the power to defend himself. Fairly normal, just a T shirt under a hoodie, dark jeans and black boots. No more blue skin, pale white and dark brown hair, but he couldn't tell was his eye were, or if his scar was covered. He assumed it wasn't.

Gathering his wits from the unsuspected mishap, he quickly realized that at least he was in Amity Park, and even with the disturbance he had landed only one alley away from where he assumed the problem appeared. And, if his intuition was right, it had thrown him about five minutes before that sound had started. Ah, yes, the news helicopter flew overhead a second later, and Clockwork stumbled on his new legs towards the place in question.

Just as he got to the entrance of the alley, there was Danny, stepping out from behind the dumpster. It should be only min-

Vwooorp. Vwooooorp. Vwooorp

It was just as bad the second time. Technically, it was the first time if you wanted to think of it from Danny's point of view. But Clockwork couldn't help but gasp as being so close to the source, so close to the ripping and changing of his time stream, struck him through his core, through his connection with Time. He leaned on the wall, trying not to collapse completely.

"Hey, are you okay? Sir?" And there was Danny, as kindhearted as ever, not two feet from him.

Clockwork caught his breath, which in retrospect, wasn't really necessary.

"Sir? Do you need help?"

Clockwork paused before looking up at the boy, nodding. "I'm fine, Daniel."

"What-" He tensed, stepping back. Oh, shoot, that was right, disguise. If random stranger knew your name, that would be startling. His stance went defensive, ready to fight. "Who are you?"

Clockwork couldn't help the smirk. "What, the scar doesn't give it away?" The boy was really confused now, but it eventually clicked.

"Clockwork? Why are you-?" He held up a hand stopping him.

"Maybe later. In all honesty, I didn't come to see you, Danny." Danny opened his mouth to respond, but Clockwork just interrupted again. "Really. Right now, you should be going home. Already late, are you not? Just go, everything is fine."

"But-" Danny stammered, barely moving until the ghost started to shoo him away.

"Just go, Daniel. You are in enough trouble with your parents as it is."

Danny hesitated, glancing back every few steps, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. Clockwork watched the boy go with a small smile. It was a show of the respect Danny held for him that he hadn't resisted more, stubborn as he was.

The sound of a squeaking door opening and closing with a bang echoed in the ally, wiping that train of thought away. Clockwork scowled at he marched to the sound's source. Around the corner, a large, blue, 1960's British Police Box stood where he knew it wasn't ten minutes ago, hardly 10 feet away.

An aura came off of the box, something akin to what a ghost's core did, but more of a mental consciousness than an energy signal, though he felt that too. It felt old, odd, and not quite there, in the time stream at least. It…seemed to waver a bit, not quite as stable temporally as it looked physically.

The man standing in front of it caught his attention, then, when his curious consciousness brushed his. He had felt the mental capacity in his head, the openness that gave the ability for telepathic connection. Not human, at least, not a normal human. Few mortals had such self-aware telepathic ability that he seemed to have. They caught eyes, and that made the feeling of power coming from the man's mind magnify as he looked into the too-old brown eyes. The surprise there probably meant he could tell Clockwork had some ability himself, though few other humans or ghosts could even notice, let alone communicate with him. But this man seemed eager to try, but held back out of, from what brushed past, politeness and caution, barely holding back his excitement.

The excitement burst forth in a spark in his eyes, his face lighting with it into a broad, childish smile.

"'Allo there!" He called out, English accent marking his speech. He stepped forward, bouncing on his toes with restrained electric curiosity. His tan trench coat he wore flowed with him, on top of his blue-pinstriped suit, contrasting with his red tie and chuck tailors. "Sorry to bother, but I think I might be lost, had a bit of a night with the boys, mind telling be where I am?"

Clockwork raised an eyebrow, skeptic. If that sounded authentic, he was a human. "In the middle of Amity Park."

He nodded, understanding on his face. "Ah, right." He paused, then scrunched up his eyebrows. "And where is that?"

The ghost frowned. "Illinois, of course."

"Ah, right right, of course, Illinois. America, the good ol' U.S. of A! Haven't been here in a while." He ranted, stepping forward again, hands in his pockets. A couple times, he almost half turned, looking next to him or over his shoulder- he was missing somebody who recently left, if any guess could be made. But still, every time his eyes wandered they quickly came back to catch Clockwork's.

"Was a nice trip last time I came. Well," He stretched the word into syllables, rolling it in his mouth as it came. "It wasn't horrible- Weeell, no, I suppose it was an experience at least. A bad one at that, found and old…friend, had a bit of a spat." That train of thought seemed to sober him up, but he seemed to shake it off and smile again.

"But that's over for now, ah, mind if I ask you ah, what year is it?"

Clockwork scowled now, annoyed that this man was so ignorant. "It's 2007. Also, since you probably don't know the date, it's June 19th."

The man nodded, coming within a yard with another few steps. "Ah, right, okay. Uh, if it's not too much trouble, just, one more question." He looked him right in the eye, and the smile dimmed, remaining there halfheartedly. "Who are you? That mind, you probably aren't human. No offence if you are, just I haven't met any real psychics that look as powerful as you that were completely human. Maybe one, but I think she might have had a telepathic enhancing device she hid under her hat." He was serious now, and maybe a little hopeful- for what, Clockwork couldn't tell, but it was desperate.

He raised an eyebrow, mildly impressed now. "If at this point I told you I am human, would you believe me?"

Pause. "Prolly not, but I thought I'd give you the chance. And If I tried the same?"

"Not a chance."

They both smiled now, just a little. The man ran a hand through his messy brown hair, making it stick up even more before he held said hand out to shake.

"Well then, want to try this again?" He smiled, eyes lighting up. "'Allo there, I'm the Doctor."

The ghost looked at the hand, thinking. "Clockwork." He replied, taking the offered appendage

Then the connection flooded his thoughts.