Hi guys! Over the winter break, I decided to try Warehouse 13 as a recommendation from a friend and found that I loved it! I binged watched it in a few days and absolutely fell in love with Claudia and Allison Scagliotti.

I also fell in love with Steve and Claudia and soon, they became my OTP for Warehouse 13.

Never has a show caused me so much happiness, sadness, and anger. Oh, the feels.

Anyways, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Warehouse 13 or any of the characters. I do own the pocket watch however.


It had only been an hour since their return from Cincinnati. The pocket watch of one Peter Henlien, inventor of the pocket watch had come onto their radar when two men had disappeared and later, reappeared/found (potato, pu-tah-toe) dead at places significant to them – one was found in the lawn of his childhood home and the other at the location of where he had first met his wife.

Henlien had been exiled to a prison in a small island and the only possession he had had with him was his pocket watch. The last day of his life, he had looked at the view of the vast sea the window of his cell (which was located four stories up) offered him, clutched his pocket watch tightly in his hand, and wished for nothing, but to be able to go back to the park where he and his lover had spent their days. Subsequently, anyone who was in possession of the watch, was thrown back into time (that person would be invisible to everyone and everything around them) to their most treasured place and watch what had happened. However, when the clock hit twelve, the person would be tossed back into reality and be found dead at their most treasured place. Their only possession, the pocket watch.

If you asked Steve, the whole "clock strikes twelve" was a little too "Cinderella-y" for him.

The pocket watch had been snagged (with trouble as usual; the object falling into the hands of a collector who refused to relinquish it without a warrant which led them to stealing the object and the collector's German Shepherd chasing after them of twenty blocks) bagged, and now, tagged.

Steve placed the pocket watch on the small velvet cushion and tapped the tablet in front of it a few times until it read, "Peter Henlien's Pocket Watch. Throws whoever is in possession back in time to their most treasured place. Downside: Death."

He ran his fingers over the face of the watch slowly. It still amazed him how such innocuous looking objects could cause so much harm.

Endless wonder, indeed.

He let out a sigh and walked to Artie's office. When he entered the office, he found Artie was carrying two open books and a bunch of papers in his hands walking over to his desk. He heard psshh of the door opening as Claudia came through it, throwing her messenger bag onto one of the chairs.

He turned around and said, "Oh good, you're here."

"Artie, I've been here the whole time." Steve said as-a-matter-of-factly, but there was no response. He looked over at Claudia who had a pissed off and annoyed expression on her face. What happened to her? What happened to her clothes? And her hair?

Her hair was shorter, with a blue streak in it. And she looked…younger?

"Well, the blood sample that Pete sent over," Artie waved a paper in Claudia's face and she angled her head aside, her face expressionless, (Blood sample? What Blood sample? Pete was at the B&B with Myka on a paternity leave for their two week old son, Isaac) "had trace elements of silver nitrate in it, which is not commonly found in human blood. Haha! What does that mean?" Artie took a pause and shook his head slowly, bringing other papers to his desk where Claudia sat, her fingers typing away at the keyboard. "I have no idea. So, what I-" Artie raised his head to look at Claudia, expecting a response, but found her response-less and tense. "H-how was your date?"

Date? The hell was going on?!

"It was perfect," she said, the monotony in her voice obviously giving her lie away.

"Oh. Good," Artie tapped his hand on the papers in front of him and walked back towards the round table by the filing cabinets to retrieve more papers of research. God, Artie is so oblivious sometimes.

"So as I was saying, human blood doesn't," Claudia stopped typing, stood up in annoyance and faced Artie, who was still rambling about whatever the hell he was rambling about, a folder and more papers in his grasp, "actually, no kind of blood has silver ni-" Artie, taken aback Claudia's expressionless face, asked, "What?"

"What kind of advice is be yourself? Artie, that's the worst advice I've ever heard. Because myself is… a giant freakazoid with no past and, and no real interests outside of my top secret job which I can't talk about. Oh, and I like onions!" Claudia walk over to the arm chair in the corner, as Artie was surprised at the impromptu rant.

Steve watched as Claudia picked up her guitar and picked the strings in a half-hearted attempt to distract herself.

He walked over to her and made an attempt to comfort her, to tell her that she was beautiful and amazing when his hand passed through her guitar. "What the-"

…That person would be invisible to everyone and everything around them…

"Shit," he cursed.

Steve stood up and paced around, his hands clasped on top of his head. Breathe, Steve. Think. How the hell are you going to get out of here?! There had to be some way to get out of this, right? He couldn't just wait until he died. Claudia would bring him back to life and kill him herself.

Claudia.

Damn. He couldn't leave her. Not again. And definitely not without telling her all his mixed feelings for their relationship that had been troubling him for the past few months.

Suddenly, his vision was becoming blurry and his head spun. He fell to the floor, clutching his head within his hands; it throbbed painfully.

Damn.


A/N: Peter Henlien was in fact the inventor of the pocket watch. The whole exile thing was my creation. Who knows, maybe he was exiled?

A/N: I plan on making another chapter or another two chapters. I'll probably update tonight or tomorrow.

A/N: Please leave a review, it would be appreciated. There's a fine line between hate and critique. The latter is happily welcome.