Previously, On Warehouse 13...
Warehouse 13 faces a danger that seems more impossible to fight than anything that has come before. Time runs out.


"We can consider timbers officially shivered."


A blast of rippling light encircles the entire Warehouse as a cannonball hits a barrier.

* * *

"Once the shackle is activated, I'm afraid no one can get in or out," Jane, full of all the knowing of a Regent, tells Artie as he scrambles to get to Leena's.

"Claudia— I want you t— " Artie spins; Jane stands behind him, wincing. She looks decidedly unwell.

"Artie… I have a bad feeling. I have a baaaad vibe."

"But you said… that nothing could get in, once the barrier was up— "

"True… but it can't stop something that's already inside."

A ferocious beam of fiery light beams up from somewhere deep in the Warehouse. It's too late. Sykes has found their weakness. "I hope you don't mind— I let myself in."

"Initiating the barrier… automatically triggered the emergency exit portal," Jane realizes.

They're trapped inside with Sykes, tainted by the darkness of the Collodi Bracelet he's hell-bent on recovering. At any cost.

* * *

Trapped on the other side of the portal, H.G. sits toying with the chess pieces that nearly cost her and Myka their lives minutes before. "Myka… I'm sorry. I should've— destroyed the Janus coin the moment you found it, then I wouldn't have caused all of this."

Myka doesn't look up from picking up scattered pieces from the floor to set them back on the board. "I wish that you would stop doing that," she says tiredly — but she means it.

"Doing what?"

Myka looks up frankly. "You're not the bad guy, okay? I believed in you and I was right, so get off your— your cross and help me figure this out."

Taken by surprise, but recovering quickly to accept, she tips her head up. "… Righty-ho then. Old times. Wells and Bering, solving puzzles, saving the day."

Myka's head pops back up. "Bering and Wells." She smiles.

* * *

"Uh oh." Pete says as he, Artie, Myka and H.G. stare down a disturbingly suspicious slip of aged paper rigged in plastic and wire on the wheelchair Sykes left behind.

"I know that writing," says H.G. "That's from the House of Commons in London."

"Oh no…" The scope of what exactly that means is more than evident in Artie's voice.

But someone has to ask. It's Pete. "How bad?"

"The House of Commons was partially destroyed during the blitzkrieg of World War II, and there was a piece of masonry … it was said to have absorbed the concussive force of the entire…German… Luftwaffe." Everyone's horror builds, breaths held. "This is an artifact nuclear device.

"And it's counting down."

* * *

"The portal's closed, there's no back door— " Myka determinedly tries to figure a way out, desperately crunched for time.

"Come on Myka, we've gotten outta worse than this!" says Pete.

"No, no, we have, we have!" Artie raises his hands, just as determined. "There's a solution, all we have to do is keep a cool head! We'll find it in…" All three look down. "… Fifty-six seconds."

One by one, they start to realize the reality: they're not going to.

Myka stands beside Pete, looking down. "We did say that we'd… go out together…"

44 seconds.

"I always figured we would…"

Artie interjects. "Not me, I was planning on outliving both of you lunatics."



Helena is nowhere in sight as the seconds tick down.

At Leena's, Claudia sits back in frustration as her every effort to help is made impossible by the Warehouse's barrier, but she never takes her eyes off the screen. Mrs. Frederic and Leena look on gravely.

12 seconds.

Myka dares to look away from the timer, spinning next to Pete to hurry her eyes this way and that around the Ovoid Quarantine. If they're going to die, they should at least all be together. Even as the seconds reach critically low levels, Myka finds herself seeking H.G. out—

The artifact device starts to beep frenetically. One last warning before the concussive force of the entire German Luftwaffe obliterates the Warehouse and everything in it— including them.

9,8, 7, 6—

Beep, beep, beep, beep—

"Peeeete— " Myka instinctively bumps into Pete's arm as all three turn and watch the countdown. All three stumble back, as if distance from the numbers might soften the blow. Myka clings to her partner, pulling Artie in too as the countdown seems to speed up — or rather, down.

5, 4, 3, 2—




This is it.

A deep rumble sounds, beginning from the device and spreading out, stretching eardrums and setting bodies to tremble in the heralding shudder before a great force is about to be released.

BAM. A shockwave blasts outward, undulating the air and barreling hard into the three figures facing down their fates and sending them flying a few feet into the ground.

Cold. Black. Darkness.

That is all that remains… until Pete opens his eyes. The act of not actually being obliterated into a billion pieces will do that to someone. Y'know, make them open their eyes. His body has been thrown and the moment his eyes open, he can start feeling the pain of his body's impact on the Warehouse floor. His head lifts, despite the pain and he immediately starts looking around for his partner and his boss.

"Mykes? Artie?" The look on his face is both worried and relieved, in some sort of crazy twisted combination that makes it clear he's happy to be alive but confused as all hell and still worried about if the rest of his surrogate family is okay. His body flips over with a pained wince and he looks to his compatriots to make sure they are both as alive as he is. Or dead, as the case may be. Y'know, if this is a really cruel dream.

A few artifacts rattle, clattering off, shelves quaking … and all is silent except for a muffled groan to Pete's right.

One of the Warehouse's red emergency lights blows out with a loud, over-pressurized crack on a delay. Myka stirs abruptly next to Pete, face-down in a wild tangle of hair, alive — maybe not well, after being thrown onto the floor, but clearly, miraculously, bewilderingly alive. Well is relative. She pushes her way up into sitting, her face scrunched, one half disoriented, one half as though she has a growing headache — nowhere is there room for relief over not being, say, on fire. "Pete…?" Wait… "I'm okay…" She's getting there… "I'm okay — you're okay! How are we okay? Artie— ?!"

A groan. He rolls over, as disoriented as the rest of the lot, but okay.

Impossibly okay.

Myka struggles to hurry to her feet, briefly using Pete to push herself up with. As far as she can espy so far, the artifact is sitting perfectly still, not so much as fizzling.

"We can consider timbers officially shivered."

Pete doesn't even frown when he's used as a Myka stool for his partner to get to her feet. Because he's using himself to get right up after her. There's no need to dust off his clothes or anything like that, simply because he's seriously still lost in the world of bewilderment. There's just too much going on in his head right now to be worried about his appearance. Maybe in about five minutes.

"Not that I'm complaining, but shouldn't we be all over South Dakota right now? An arm here. A leg there. Strewn across this barren wasteland?" Pete has no idea what he's saying right now. But he's working with diligence to help get Artie to his feet. And he's quite content to let Myka do her Artifact Inspection.

The moment that Artie is up, Pete pulls him in close as if it were the most awkward hug in the history of awkward hugs, but a hand snakes out to grab Artie's. "I feel like we should be dancing. Should we be dancing?"

"Uhh," stumbles out from Artie as he staggers from foot to foot. He adjusts his crooked glasses, staring at the artifact device that Myka is approaching with all the caution of— well, of approaching a bomb. "Yes. No. No dancing." Or hugging. Possibly ever. Artie is as happy to be alive as the rest of them, but his stern look and clear confusion pegs him as entrenched with why — and wondering if there's still danger waiting for them. Nothing is this easy. "I don't know. I do know that yes, you're right, Pete, we should be all over South Dakota— well, no, not technically, more to the point, we should've melted with the nuclear blast and subsequently been completely and thoroughly incinerated by the explosion— "

"Okay!" Myka throws a halting hand up to Artie from her half-bent inspection of the rigged House of Commons paper, not a particular fan of imagining being eaten up by flames any longer than she already has. "Can we just— be happy we haven't been incinerated!"

"Yet!" Artie adds. "We haven't been incinerated yet."

"It looks like it just … stopped," Myka assesses. The digital readout on the timer is a mess of illogical lines instead of threatening numbers, as innocuous as a broken alarm clock. The rest of the thing seems completely intact. "Maybe it malfunctioned."

"An artifact of this magnitude doesn't just malfunction! And Sykes was a perfectionist!" Yet Artie's assessment of the device, as he scurries over, finds nothing obviously wrong

"Artie," Myka looks back to him and Pete with tentatively hopeful eyes, which lead them, as she turns her head, to the Warehouse's emergency lights. That is, the lack of them: they've all stopped flashing. The danger has passed. "If the Warehouse thinks we're safe, we must be really be okay, the barrier is down, we're good," Myka starts to smile, her features glimmering with a hope-against-hope that's becoming more and more bright, "right?"

"Right as rain on a summer day in Spain." Pete is not going to wait for any holes to be poked in this logic of what is wrong with the machine and why it didn't explodinate and kill everything. He's also not about to try and stick around to wait and see what is going to happen if they don't go ahead and make with the escaping. Escaping is good. And getting something in here to take care of this explosive artifact of doom is also a top priority. But those are all things that can be handled after they do some much needed celebrating about not being completely and utterly deaded.

"Okay, so, first things first. We get to Leena's and change. Because I don't know about you guys, but I could certainly use a change in underwear right now. Then! We come back here and put the Incredible Exploding Artifact on Bronzed Ice. Followed by a celebratory feast of Thanksgivingish magnitude." Pete is all smiles as he runs down his list of things to do not that nobody is dead. "Who's with me?"

It's who's not with him that stops Myka's smile from beaming in celebratory agreement all the way. She'd most certainly be with Pete, if it weren't for the reason that her smile gets partway and hits a barrier of her own, slowly starting to fade steadily away. Distracted, worry starts to seep back in so soon on the heels of relief — she doesn't even manage to comment on how much she doesn't want to know about Pete's underwear.

Artie has his own distraction to worry about, too busy fussing over the artifact nuclear device to give Pete's well-intended plans the time of day. As an afterthought, he says without looking up, "You should all get radiation tested before you leave!"


Myka starts to drift away, taking a few steps through the purple glow of the Ovoid Quarantine. Her brows pinch in. "…Where's H.G.?" She checks behind a stack of shelves for the woman. "She was right behind us before the countdown…" It's possible that she was knocked by the blast and is recovering like they all were — so why does Myka have this uneasy sense of urgency? She jogs faster to search back the way they came. "H.G.!"

Okay, so perhaps Pete's plans for celebration are a bit premature. But he knows that look on Myka's face and while he can already taste the best dinner ever, his loyalty has him following Myka without too much hesitation. Maybe just a little. Perhaps he's hesitant because he wants to make sure Artie doesn't touch the wrong thing and blow them all up anyway. Perhaps he's just slower than Myka because the way he hit the ground already.

Perhaps he was getting a vibe.

Whatever the case may be, though, Pete is off in a jog and attempting to keep up with his partner. "Myka…" Pete is not too sure on any specifics and he's definitely not too fond of there being trouble when they just avoided the biggest crisis in Warehouse history. He wants to sound hopeful about whatever may have happened to H.G. but the truth is that he's not even sure that's the best way to sound at this moment. He's already reaching out for her shoulder the moment he catches up to her. Perhaps to stop her from completely freaking out if H.G. is not anywhere in sight.

Myka is half-turns toward Pete when he reaches her shoulder. She's stopped, even though she'd only just begun her search — the look in her eye is unformed, caught between sheer confusion and sadness, the kind reserved for the kind of tragedy they just narrowly escaped. "She's not here," Myka says, seeming sure of that. She's barely here, her voice sounding distant. "I found— a note, it said…" She looks down at her hands, reading — maybe from her photographic memory — with an understanding tone of emotion keeping her from a perfect recital. "As long as I stay where I am, the Warehouse will be safe. Trying my hand at being the good guy — H.G. Wells."

Pete is almost at a loss for words himself. Almost. "We should get to Leena's." is all he says after a few moments of just standing next to Myka in some sort of silence. His tone is much less happy than it was a few moments ago when the thought of dinner was the only thing on his brain. Now, though, there's some worry about H.G. mixed in with his emotions and it's all becoming real again very fast. Those first few moments of realizing he was not dead were perfect. But nothing perfect lasts forever. "We'll find her, Mykes. We'll find her and we'll make it all right again. Everything. You know we will." It's about as comforting as he can be right now, given the circumstances. H.G. is, after all, keeping the Warehouse safe.

"God knows where she is!" Myka challenges Pete's optimism. She doesn't mean to; she wants to believe him. His comfort, instead, serve as a cue to keep talking — emotion surges with nowhere to land, since the source of it is nowhere to be found. Worry, a soft forlorn look in her eye, and a kind of admiration, touched by the note's words and the fact that everyone is still alive because of the mysterious, grand act of the woman who left it, all come to the forefront "She must have— she must have snuck away while we were so busy waiting to be incinerated and, and somehow figured out a way to stop the device— "

By somehow sacrificing herself or vanishing in the process. It's a day of impossibilities, even by Warehouse standards. And after everything they've been through with H.G., the importance of the selfless act of heroism doesn't go unnoticed. Least of all by Myka.

"Exactly. And if H.G. found a way that means all we have to do is find her way and follow her way until we find her and then we'll fix everything and no one will be missing and…" Pete has to stop himself from being too overly optimistic at this point. They have no clues. Just a note that Myka found. But since when do they need clues? They've got a Claudia. "It's going to be okay, Mykes. I promise." Are Pete's very important words, before he takes a few steps past her to continue on his path towards Not Explodedville.

He pulls his Farnsworth out of his pocket and holds it up. "I'm going to call ahead. Maybe make reservations." Pete cracks one of his classic smiles to try and calm this whole situation down, before he pops open the Farnsworth. The moment Leena pops up on the screen, "I need cookies. Please tell me you're in a baking mood." And Pete's footsteps take him off and around the bend, perhaps even to leave Myka with her H.G. thoughts for the moment.

Myka tries to smile — inspired by her partner's well-meaning attempts and, more, the fact that he cares so much to make them, she even nods. Maybe he's right, even if it seems impossible right now — so did everything else today. Plus, they're still alive; even H.G., she has to infer. She's just MIA.

Relief on seeing Pete's face (and the fact that he still has one) erupts tinnily over the Farnsworth from the three gathered at Leena's (or rather, two; Mrs. Frederic doesn't say much of anything, but for the moment her face appears on the screen behind Leena, even she looks glad).

The chatter fades as Pete gets farther away. Left alone, Myka bumps lightly against a shelf, her head downcast as she reflects on the note in her hands. It's a plain Post-It, scrawled familiarly with H.G.'s handwriting. Her smile, having disappeared again, resurfaces just barely — more private this time, and bittersweet. She could use the time with her thoughts — and she uses it, for a few moments — but decides to tuck the note into her pocket and run through the Warehouse. "Pete, wait up!"

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