Author's Note: I know this isn't exactly what people wanted to see from me, but I guess this is an easy way to show I'm still alive and well. I've got other stuff to update, I know, but this was fun to write and I hope you all have just as much fun reading it. If you've never seen Warehouse 13, there will be a link on my profile that will take you to a quick reference page that has a list of people and tools that will show up in the series. On with the story!
Episode One: The Strongest Man in Greece
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
Santana glared at the tall man-child standing next to her, but he was too preoccupied smacking the pen against the counter to notice her narrowed eyes. The pen tapped against the wood once more and her eyebrow twitched as she resisted the urge to slap it away. Her patience could only last so long, however, so when the end of the pen clacked against the countertop again, she snatched it out of her coworker's hand and tossed it over her shoulder. He started to protest, but she raised a well-manicured hand and he wisely bit back the stream of idiocy he was about to spew forth. He sighed and propped his head up on his hands, using the counter for support, and Santana returned her attention to her nails as she waited for the bell on the front door to ring.
Working at an antiques shop wasn't exactly glamorous, but it was something to pay the bills while she waited for her big break. That's what she told herself when she took the job anyway. Three years later and she was still there, stuck in Lima with Finnept Hudson for a coworker and a woman who always seemed to be three sheets to the wind for a boss. Three years and she still couldn't remember which month her boss was named after. She was leaning towards May, but she couldn't be positive. Still, the job wasn't awful. It was actually pretty peaceful.
Bells jingled throughout the store and Santana cringed before she looked at Finn, whose hands were too far from the service bell to have made the sound.
She shifted her gaze to the front where a woman stood, her blonde hair tied back in a loose ponytail. The door was still open and she was leaning her slim body against the frame as she talked to a woman standing outside. Santana couldn't make out what was being said. The potential customer was either too far away or Santana was too busy admiring the way the dark dress pants and jacket looked on the leggy blonde.
When the customer fully entered the store and started walking through the aisles of antiques towards the counter, Santana straightened her posture and nudged Finn in the ribs with her elbow. He stumbled away from the cash register and Santana quickly took his spot, plastering a smile on her face as the woman approached. The smile faltered when the customer stopped in her tracks and turned on her heel. Santana wasn't sure, but she thought she could hear her having a conversation with someone.
While the cute customer was distracted, Santana shooed Finn away. He silently mouthed an argument at her, but she mouthed back that she was his superior in both employment and intellect so he had to do whatever she told him. He stared at her for a moment, most likely trying to figure out what she had just said, before shaking his head and reluctantly walking to the back room. Soon after he left, there was an exasperated groan before something snapped shut and her mysterious customer turned back around. When she approached the counter, her fingers fidgeted with several pamphlets on display and Santana's smile slowly diminished until, finally, it turned into a frown.
"Look, if you aren't here to buy, sell, or steal, maybe you should go back outside with your friend," Santana said. The woman jumped slightly and her hand knocked the stand of pamphlets on the ground. After a quiet apology, she picked up the scattered papers and neatly placed them back on the counter before she gave Santana a nervous smile, who, despite her irritation, couldn't stop herself from responding with a half-smile of her own.
"Sorry. You're just really cute and I'm about to ask a really dumb question."
Santana chuckled and leaned against the counter. "Trust me. There's no such thing as a dumb question."
"Do you ever smell fudge when there isn't any fudge nearby?" she asked. Santana blinked. The woman had just made a liar out of her, and in record time. Dumb questions definitely existed. "Sorry, sorry. I don't think that's how I was supposed to ask that. Let me start over."
The customer reached her hand into the pocket on the inside of her jacket. The movement pushed the fabric of the jacket back, revealing a holstered handgun at her hip. For a moment, Santana wondered if she was about to be part of one of America's worst robberies, but then the woman pulled a leather wallet out of her inner pocket and flipped it open, revealing a badge and a government official ID. It looked official to Santana anyway.
"My name is Agent Brittany S. Pierce and I was wondering if you happened to smell any fudge lately. Possibly when none was around?"
Santana stared at the badge for several seconds before shifting her gaze back to the face of the expectant woman on the other side of the counter. Contrary to what the woman seemed to believe, introducing herself as an agent did not make the question any less ridiculous. Santana crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head.
"I don't really smell much besides dust after being stuck in here all day."
"Oh." The other woman glanced down at her free hand and Santana could make out some smudged words written on her pale palm. "Does it ever feel like you're re-eating—repeating!—the same day over and over again?"
"I work in an antiques shop in Ohio. What do you think?"
The strange woman laughed. "I guess the better question to ask would be if anything out of the ordinary has happened recently."
"Aside from my boss making it to work on time this morning?" Santana asked, and Brittany nodded as she returned the badge to her pocket. "Just you coming in to ask about fudge," she said with a shrug and glanced at the weapon on the blonde's hip.
The so-called agent noticed the shift of her gaze and cleared her throat as she quickly pulled her jacket closed. Her fingers played with the hem for a moment before she apologized for wasting Santana's time and hurried towards the front of the shop. She stopped when she placed her hand on the push handle, muttered something to herself, and came back to the counter. She pulled a small card out of her pocket and pushed it across the wooden countertop towards Santana.
"If something weird happens, will you let me know?"
"Weirder than you?" Santana asked with a raised eyebrow.
The woman nodded. "Or if I come in here again and start asking you the same questions I just did."
Santana sighed, but she took the card and slipped it into her back pocket. The other woman smiled at her. The two stood in silence for several seconds, observing one another, until a strange clanging ring echoed through the shop. The blonde muttered a curse under her breath and said a hurried goodbye before turning away and leaving the shop, shoulders hunched. She met up with the woman waiting outside and the two of them walked out of sight together.
Finn returned from the back room several minutes later. When he asked how it went with the cute blonde, Santana glared at him. She grabbed a rag from under the counter so she could wipe down the antique furniture and figurines scattered throughout the store while she tried to forget the strange woman. Why were the weird ones always so damn hot?
Three hours later, Santana was still at the antiques shop. Her shift had officially ended an hour ago, but she had decided to stick around and help Finn catalogue their inventory. She was supposed to be having a Marvel movie marathon with her roommate, but she needed the money and Sam would understand. When she had texted him to let him know she would be late, he told her he would just log in another hour at the gym while he waited. She frowned at the message and warned him if he kept it up, he might sweat off his guppy lips. He never responded so she figured he had already begun his workout.
While they worked, Finn kept asking about the woman who had come in earlier—there was no need to clarify which woman as she had been their only customer all day—but Santana ignored him. She had hoped he would get the hint, but he didn't stop asking until she smacked him in the arm with her clipboard and reminded him his job was inventory, not her personal life. Once they had finished taking stock of the shop, she handed him the inventory list and reminded him to lock up before he left.
"See you tomorrow, Finnocence," she called over her shoulder as she left the building and stepped into the humid outdoors.
Bugs, damp heat, and gross couples walking down the street hand in hand: The wonders of summer nights in Lima Ohio. Santana grimaced as she stepped around one couple trying to suffocate one another with their mouths in the middle of the sidewalk. When she reached the end of the street, she called Sam to let him know she would be home soon but there was no answer. If he was still working out, she was going to kill him before he could overwork himself.
Instead of walking to their apartment, Santana headed for Sam's gym to see if he was still there. It was out of her way, but if he was there she would just make him give her a ride home. If he wasn't, she would call him and tell him to pick her up. She hoped it would be the latter, but those hopes were dashed when she reached the gym and saw his car in the parking lot.
The attendee at the front desk tried to stop her when she walked in, but Santana ignored him and made a beeline for the sweaty blond man doing bicep curls in the corner. She shoved against his arm to get his attention but he continued to curl the seventy-five pound weights in his hands as if he hadn't felt the touch at all.
"Damn it, Sam," she muttered before she grabbed hold of the dumbbell in his left hand and tugged it out of his sweaty grasp. She stumbled backwards with the weight and struggled to put it back on the rack. Sam's other arm was still pumping the other dumbbell. When she got closer, she noticed the far-off look in his eyes as he watched himself in the mirror. He had definitely been at the gym way too long.
Santana grabbed the second dumbbell with both hands and tugged, but it was harder to yank this one out of Sam's grip. She grunted and tugged and pulled until it finally came loose, sending her stumbling backwards until her back hit one of the weight racks. She hissed in pain and dropped the dumbbell, the weight barely missing her foot.
"Santana?" Sam finally spoke and his sweaty brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought you were going to be working late?"
"Nice of you to finally acknowledge my existence, Trouty Mouth," Santana said with a roll of her eyes as she used both hands to lift the dumbbell off the floor and put it back where it belonged. "And I texted you that an hour ago. I'm done for the night."
"An hour ago?" The crease in Sam's brow deepened and he rubbed the back of his head. "Are you sure? I swear I just put my phone away."
"Come on," she said as she took his hand. "I think the endorphins are starting to screw with your memory. If you keep it up, you're going to start forgetting your name," she teased, but Sam tugged his hand out of hers and stepped back. "What are you doing?"
"I think I'm going to stay here a little longer. Get a couple more reps in and tackle some cardio," he said with a shrug before he grabbed another pair of dumbbells off the rack, heavier than the last ones.
"Trouty, you've been here all day," Santana said. She took a step closer, lightly wrapped her hands around his biceps, and gently tugged him in the direction of the door. "You're going to overdo it if you keep it up."
He shoved her away from him and glared at her. "I'm not going to overdo it so can you just back off and go home? I'll be there later."
"Sam—"
"Damn it, I'm fine!" Sam threw one of the dumbbells and it crashed into a weight machine with enough force to knock it over. Santana's eyes widened and she took several steps back from the red-faced man her friend had morphed into. "Go home, Santana," he said through heavy breaths.
She stared at him for a moment before her eyes narrowed. "Fine. Have fun walking back to the apartment."
She left him to his bicep curls and headed for the entrance. The attendee at the front desk was still staring at the eighty-pound dumbbell and the weight machine that had been knocked over. Santana grabbed Sam's car keys out of one of the cubby holes at the front and walked out of the gym, slamming the door behind her.
The drive home might as well have been silent. Santana was too busy remembering the strange look in Sam's eyes to pay attention to the radio. The way they had looked after he threw the weight… It was the first time she had ever felt frightened by him. She pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex and parked the car. Once she cut the engine, she rested her forehead against the steering wheel. That hadn't been Sam in there. Her thoughts drifted to the card in her back pocket, but she shook her head and got out of the vehicle, hitting the lock button as she walked towards the building.
What happened with Sam was strange, but he was just stressed. His three year anniversary was coming up and she knew he had something special planned for Mercedes. She had found a ring in his room while spring cleaning a month ago. That had to be what he was trying to work through, not some strange, fudge-related incident that had him repeating the day, or whatever it was that woman had been asking about. Still…
Santana slipped her key into the lock on the apartment door and went inside. She dropped the keychain on the coffee table and headed for the kitchen. After grabbing a beer out of the fridge and going back to the living room, she dropped onto the sofa and sipped the cool, bitter drink as her thoughts returned to Sam and the card in her pocket.
If Sam was stressed about proposing to Mercedes, that was understandable. That was logical. What wasn't logical was how he could suddenly throw an eighty pound weight like it was an oversized baseball. He was a strong guy, but he wasn't that strong. She took another sip before reaching into her back pocket with her free hand and pulling out the card she had been given.
Special Agent Pierce was all it said on the front. There was a small paw-print underneath the raised black letters, but it didn't look like it was supposed to be there. She turned the card over and scanned the ten digits printed on the back. Her eyes stayed on the area code for a moment before she set the beer on the coffee table and pulled her phone out to Google the 605 area code.
"South Dakota," she muttered as she ran her thumb over the numbers. "You're a long way from home, Agent Pierce."
Her thumb tapped against the screen, typing out a search for government facilities and jobs located in South Dakota. She highly doubted Pierce was a lead transportation security officer. After several failed searches, she sighed and tossed the phone to the other side of the couch. Maybe she just wasn't looking in the right places. Google searches had never been her strong suit. Or maybe she had narrowly avoided being robbed by a woman masquerading as a government agent. It wasn't like she had gotten a good look at the badge and ID card.
That was that then. Sam was just stressed about what his plans for his anniversary and the stress was affecting his mood. She still wasn't sure how he had thrown that weight so easily, but it probably had something to do with adrenaline. That was the only logical explanation. She set the card on the table and stood up, raising her arms and stretching out her back as she looked through the stack of movies she and Sam had picked out that morning. After putting in Captain America, she returned to the couch and her beer so she could enjoy the planned movie night and try to forget about her roommate's behavior.
Santana was halfway through her second movie and her third beer when Sam finally walked through the door. His shaggy blond bangs stuck to his forehead, darkened by sweat. He must have run to the apartment. Santana shook her head and returned her attention to the television, where Natalie Portman and Chris Hemsworth were sharing a scene together.
"You couldn't wait for me to start the movies?" Sam asked. The door slammed shut behind him and Santana jumped. "I thought this was supposed to be our Marvel marathon."
"It was until a certain fish-lipped blondie acted like a total meathead at the gym," Santana said with a shrug.
"Damn it, Santana!"
Something solid pounded against the wall and she looked over to see Sam with his fist in the drywall. Sam's eyes had the same glazed-over appearance they had had at the gym and his breathing was heavy again. She glanced at the phone on the other side of the couch and slowly leaned over to grab it while Sam tugged his fist out of the wall. Just in case. Once he was free, he glared at the hole he had made before walking over to the couch and sitting down next to Santana. Her gaze flickered down to his hand. The skin was split and bleeding in several spots but Sam didn't seem to notice.
"That's going to get infected."
"It's fine."
"Fine," Santana said. Her nose crinkled as she got a whiff of the sweaty scent oozing from Sam's body. "Do you at least plan on showering any time soon? You reek."
"This is how men smell," Sam said.
"Yeah, single, friendless men," she replied with a roll of her eyes, but she kept the rest of her comments to herself and returned her attention to the movie. If Sam was hanging out with her, he wasn't about to keel over at the gym. She could put up with the smell of body odor and chocolate as long as Sam was close enough for her to keep an eye on. Her brow furrowed. Why the hell did Sam smell like chocolate? "Do you have a candy bar on you?"
"No," Sam said as he shifted his weight to get more comfortable on the couch. "Do you want one? I can run to the store and grab you one."
Santana shook her head. "Don't. I think you've done enough running around for the day."
"Seriously, though. The store isn't too far," he said with a smile on those guppy lips. He didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he got to his feet and headed for the door. "I've been itching to get another run in anyway," he said before the door closed behind him.
Santana groaned and sank lower in the couch. What the hell was going on with her friend? Her gaze landed on the card resting on the table. Possibly-An-Agent Pierce's number was facing up. Santana sighed and leaned forward with her phone so she could see the digits better. There was a moment of hesitation before she tapped the number onto the touch screen. The phone rang three times before someone answered.
"Agent Pierce," was the response from the other end of the line. The fingers of Santana's free hand drummed against the armrest as she tried to figure out what exactly she wanted to say and how she wanted to say it. "Hello?"
"I smelled fudge," she said, regretting it seconds later. That sounded so stupid. "I mean, I smelled chocolate. They're basically the same things, right?"
There was a moment of silence before the other woman said, "Who is this?"
"What do you mean 'Who is this'?" Santana hissed into the phone. "This better not be some stupid prank to make me look like an idiot. If it is, I'll—"
"It's not a prank! I just need to know who I'm talking to," the other woman said in a hurried voice. "I talked to a lot of people today."
"Oh," she said as her cheeks started to heat up. "Sorry. It's Santana Lopez. I was at The Rhodes Show earlier this evening."
"Yeah, you were the cute girl," the voice said and Santana swore she was smiling as she said it, which made her smile despite the reason she was calling. "So you smelled fudge?"
"Yes," Santana said with a nod, but she quickly corrected herself. "I mean no. I smelled chocolate. Does that make a difference? Are you part of the CDC? Is this some strange gas leak? Do I need to go into quarantine?"
"Hey, hey. Calm down," the agent said. "I'm not part of the CDC and there are no gas leaks that I'm aware of. The smell is just something that happens around weird stuff."
"What kind of weird stuff?"
"Where are you right now, Santana?" the agent asked, ignoring Santana's question for the time being.
"My apartment," she said. She listed off the street name and some landmarks nearby when a thought popped into her head. "This isn't some elaborate ruse to murder me, is it?"
"Nobody's going to murder you, Santana. We're here to help, I promise."
"I'm sure that's what all murderers say before they kill someone," Santana said with a sigh before ending the call and tossing her phone to the other side of the couch once more. She brought her knees up to her chest and drank the last of her beer as she kept watch over the door to her apartment.
She breathed a sigh of relief when someone knocked at the door half an hour later. Sam wouldn't have knocked. She opened the door and Agent Pierce and another woman entered the apartment. Despite her relief, she was a little confused. It shouldn't have taken Sam so long to run to the store. She had hoped Agent Pierce would help take her mind off her missing roommate somehow, but the older woman was the one who spoke first.
"Agent Roz Washington," she introduced herself, flashing a badge similar to Agent Pierce's in Santana's face before quickly tucking it back into her jacket. "I am senior field agent and as such you will be directing all questions and answers to me. Is that understood?" Santana looked over the woman's shoulder at Agent Pierce, who shrugged and mouthed an apology at her. "I asked if that was understood, civilian."
"It's understood, lady," Santana said with a frown. "Now can you get out of my face and tell me what the hell is going on?"
"We were actually hoping you could fill us in on that," Agent Pierce said from behind her superior. When Agent Washington looked back at her, she mumbled an apology.
"Now, Ms. Lopez," the senior agent said once Brittany had been silenced, "I do not smell any fudge in this residence. Are you sure this is where it was coming from?"
Santana shook her head. "It was coming off my roommate. I almost missed it with all the body odor he had going on, but it was there."
"And how do you know he wasn't just packing some extra snacks for later?"
"Because, Agent Washington," Santana said through gritted teeth, "Sam doesn't eat junk-food. And he said he hadn't brought any home."
The senior agent nodded. "So your boyfriend—"
"Roommate," Santana corrected, glancing over the older woman's shoulder to make eye contact with Agent Pierce, who ducked her head but had a shy smile on her face.
"Your roommate," Agent Washington amended. "Has he been acting any stranger than usual?" Santana explained the short temper and the show of strength at the gym as she showed them framed photographs of her and Sam together and a couple with his girlfriend. The two agents exchanged a look before the senior agent returned her attention to Santana. "Where is he now?"
"He ran down to the store because he thought I wanted a candy bar. I think he just wanted an excuse to run," she said. "I thought it was just stress, but he's never pushed himself this hard before."
Agent Washington excused herself so she could join Agent Pierce, who had a strange rectangular device in her hand. Someone was talking over it and Santana wondered what the hell kind of phone it was. She shook her head and escaped to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. She had a feeling she would have to be a little more sober to deal with the rest of the night's activities. She frowned. Maybe drunker was the smarter way to go. She didn't have time to decide which was the wiser choice because a pale hand touched her shoulder, startling her. She cursed as water splashed on the linoleum floor.
"Sorry," Agent Pierce said. "I didn't mean to scare you."
Santana shrugged the hand off her shoulder. "It's not your fault. This whole thing with Sam has me on edge," she admitted before she took a sip of what was left of her water. "Just… make a little more noise next time?"
The agent smiled and nodded. "I'll try." Several seconds of silence went by before the other woman said, "Agent Roz is out looking for your friend, Ms. Lopez. We'll help him."
"I think I liked it better when you called me by my first name," Santana said. She took another drink and looked at the clock on the microwave above the stove. It was almost midnight. Where would Sam be this late at night? "So why didn't you go with your partner?"
"I'm supposed to stay here in case he comes back," she explained and Santana's gaze dropped down to her hip where the gun was hidden. The other woman noticed and shook her head. "I'm not going to use that on him."
She reached to her opposite hip and pulled out another weapon. It was shaped like a gun, but it was made of glass with a metal coil on the muzzle. Inside, there was what looked like a tiny motor. The dial on its side was set to the number three. Her mouth was drawn into a thin line as she offered Santana the handle.
"I want you to hold onto this."
"I can't—"
"It won't kill him, Santana. You may not even have to use it," she assured her. Santana stared at the strange gun for a moment longer before wrapping the fingers of her free hand around the leather handle. Agent Pierce wrapped her hands around Santana's and gently squeezed. "It will protect you if things get out of hand. I promise it will only stun him."
Santana stared at the hands on hers for a moment before nodding. The other woman smiled but didn't pull away until Santana cleared her throat. Even then, it took her a moment to drop her hands and go back to the living room. Santana watched her leave and, once she was gone, took a deep breath and shook her head.
She hoped Agent Washington caught Sam. Or, if she didn't, she hoped Agent Pierce could talk him down. She rubbed the leather handle of the strange gun with her thumb. The other woman had said it wouldn't kill anyone, but what if something went wrong? She hoped she wouldn't have to find out what it did. Santana finished off her water and set the glass in the sink before walking back into the living room. She found the agent sitting on the couch watching the front door. Agent Pierce smiled when Santana took a seat next to her. The smile disappeared when Santana asked what agency she worked for.
"I'm not really allowed to tell you."
"Seriously?" Santana asked. The agent nodded and Santana scoffed. "Well, what can you tell me? Can you tell me what the hell is wrong with Sam?"
"Mushrooms," Agent Pierce replied automatically. "Really strange effects from eating bad mushrooms. Or drinking water with mushrooms. I can't remember."
Santana rolled her eyes, but before she could call the agent out on the lie, the front door opened and it was not Agent Washington who entered.
"Sam," she said as she got to her feet and hurried to her friend's side. His shirt was drenched with sweat and his face was even redder than it had been before he left. His breaths were coming in heavy gasps and when he looked at her, his eyes still had a hazy cloud over them. "Sam, what are you doing to yourself?"
"I need to get stronger, Santana," he wheezed. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. "I try and try but it's not enough. I'm not strong enough."
"What aren't you strong enough for, Sam?" Santana asked, trying to keep him calm. Her eyes flickered to Agent Pierce, who was still seated on the couch. The other woman waved her hand, gesturing for her to keep going, as she slowly got to her feet. "What's wrong?"
"I'm not strong enough for her. I'm not strong enough for you. I'm too weak to be of any use to anyone," he said through heavy breaths. He squeezed his eyes tighter and Santana was no longer sure if it was sweat or tears sliding town his face. "Why aren't I strong enough?"
Santana shushed him. "Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you, Trouty Mouth," she said and he reluctantly opened his hazy eyes. "You can stop trying, Sam. You don't have to keep doing this to yourself," she told him. "You're the strongest guy I know and even if you weren't, Mercedes and I would still love you."
He wiped at his eyes and shook his head. "I can't stop, Santana. If I stop, it will all go away."
"I know you think that, but that's why I asked someone here to help you," Santana said with a small smile.
"Help me?" He asked, and she thought she saw relief flicker in his eyes.
She nodded. "This is Agent Pierce," she said with a wave of her hand. The blond man turned around and finally saw the other woman, who had moved behind him. He backed away from the agent and glared at Santana.
"She's not here to help me. She's here to take it away."
When Agent Pierce shut the door and locked it, Santana started to think maybe Sam was right. Maybe the other woman wasn't here to help. Maybe weird mushroom water had been the problem and Agent Pierce had been sent to eliminate the evidence and anyone who knew about it. The strange gun was still in Santana's hand. She could use it on the agent and get Sam to safety, hopefully find him some help. Her index finger slid to the trigger, but she paused when Agent Pierce started talking.
"Sam, I know you don't think I'm here to help, but I promise I'm not going to hurt you," she said, her hands raised. "Have you recently come into contact with something new?" she asked as she took a slow step forward. "Maybe a leather band of some sort?"
To Santana's surprise, Sam's eyes widened.
"I told you she's trying to take it away, Santana," he said. "She's going to take it away and keep it for herself and I'll be useless!"
He moved faster than Santana thought was possible, especially for someone who looked so exhausted. One second he was standing next to her, the next he was in front of Agent Pierce, throwing punches that the other woman just barely managed to avoid. When he couldn't hit her, he switched tactics and tackled her into the heavy door. It buckled under the force and the two of them crashed into the hallway, landing in a heap on the floor. Sam recovered first and straddled the agent's waist, his fist raised. Santana looked down at the weapon in her hand and remembered Agent Pierce's words from earlier. It wouldn't kill him. It was only meant to stun. As she raised the gun and pulled the trigger, she really hoped the agent hadn't been lying.
A mass of blue bolts traveled from the coils at the end of the gun and hit its mark. Sam's body went rigid for several seconds before he slumped sideways and hit the floor with a thud. Santana's eyes were wide as she stared at the weapon in her hand, her eyes studying the glass and coils once more. She didn't look away until she heard a groan in the hallway. Luckily, it was Agent Pierce trying to stand and not Sam. Santana hurried to her side and helped the agent up, little pricks of static shock poking at her skin.
"Did you see that?" Santana asked once Agent Pierce was on her feet. "It shot electricity. This gun shoots electricity!"
"I know," Agent Pierce said with a hiss as she gently took the gun out of Santana's hand and slid it into its holster. The strands of hair that were no longer contained in the agent's ponytail were sticking up and Santana realized the agent must have felt some of the effects of the electricity. She started to apologize for not waiting, but the other woman cut her off and smiled as she said, "I'd rather go through a little shock than get my teeth knocked out, thanks," before turning to Sam's unconscious body.
Agent Pierce sighed and pulled a pair of purple latex gloves and a small silver bag out of her jacket. After she slipped the gloves on, she crouched down and Santana watched as she searched through the man's shorts, pulling out lanyards, a wallet, lip balm, and finally a long, leather cord. She handed the silver baggy to Santana and asked her to carefully hold it open. When she dropped the cord inside, sparks flew and Santana had the sense to close her eyes. Once the miniature fireworks show was over, she heard Sam groan.
"What the hell was that?"
"The sandal of Ajax," Agent Pierce said. "Well, piece of it. Agent Washington and I have been tracking it for a couple months." The agent turned to face Santana and gave her a lopsided smile. "Your friend will be alright now. He'll just be really sore for a while."
"Looks like he won't be the only one," Santana pointed out. "Are you sure you're okay?"
The other woman nodded. "I'll be fine. It's not the first door I've gone through," she said before resting a hand on Santana's shoulder. "Take care of yourself, Santana. And if you ever smell fudge when there isn't any—"
"You'll be the first person I call," Santana said and the agent's smile turned into a grin. They were both quiet for several seconds before Santana spoke up again. "I don't really know what the hell happened today, but I'm glad you were around to help."
"All I did was drop the cord into a bag. You're the one who stopped him," Agent Pierce said. "And don't worry if you don't understand right now. I have a feeling you'll get an explanation soon enough."
Before Santana could ask what she meant, the strange clanging ring from the shop echoed in the hallway and the agent had to turn away from her to take the call. She couldn't hear what was being said, but when the call was done, the other woman turned back to her with a twinkle in her eye.
"Goodbye for now, Santana," Agent Pierce said before placing a quick kiss on Santana's cheek and then hurrying down the hallway.
Santana watched her go, only slightly aware of the smile on her face, until she heard Sam groan again. She looked down at his prone form and sighed. How nice of Agent Pierce to leave before they had Sam in his bed rather than on the floor. Maybe she would just sit next to him until he regained consciousness. It seemed like a better option than dragging him across the floor of the apartment.
After the incident, Sam apologized at least five times a day for two weeks. It would have gone on longer, but Santana threatened to move out if he kept whining about how sorry he was. After that, neither of them brought up the strange night or the woman he had tackled through the door. Life went on. Sam proposed to Mercedes on their anniversary and the night after she said yes, all three of them went out to celebrate at a karaoke bar. Santana could have sworn she caught a glimpse of a blonde ponytail that night, but the bar was too crowded for her to be sure.
Work was still work: Monotonous and Finn-filled. She still couldn't remember her boss's name, so when she was called into her office, she felt dread tie her stomach into a knot. The knot only tightened when it appeared that her boss was sober for once. Or at least partially sober. More sober than she had been since Santana started working there. There was another woman in the office as well. Santana had never met her before, but the stern look on her face and the rigid way she carried herself made Santana think she was someone important.
"Is this going to take long? Finnocence can't be left on his own too long," she said as she took a seat in front of her boss's desk.
"Santana, you and I both know you've been with The Rhodes Show for a long time now," her boss started off. Her gaze flickered to the woman standing in the corner for a second before returning to Santana. "And I appreciate all of the hard work you've put in over the years, but I think your skills are being wasted here, sweetie pie."
"Wait… Am I being fired?" Santana asked. This was possibly the nicest termination she had ever received but she'd still like to know what she did wrong to cause it.
"No, no. You're not being fired," her boss assured her. "You're being… well…"
"I want you to work for me," the stern woman finally spoke. She took a step forward and Santana's boss took that as her cue to leave, muttering something about a bottle of Nyquil and a box of wine as she left the room. The stranger waited until the door shut before she continued speaking. "I believe you experienced an issue with your roommate several weeks ago and two of my agents helped you resolve it."
Santana nodded, although she wasn't sure where the woman was going with the conversation.
"While I do not approve of her methods, Agent Pierce has informed me that you handled yourself well in a stressful situation and did not hesitate to act when the time came," she said. "I have reason to believe that your instincts would be of great use to me and the agency I work for."
"I don't even know your name or what it is you people do and you want me to come work for you? I don't think so," Santana said as she got out of her chair.
"My name is Mrs. Frederic and what we do, Ms. Lopez, is hunt down artifacts," the stranger said in a low voice that made Santana think twice about walking out of the room. She slowly lowered herself back into the chair.
"Artifacts?"
"Like the one your friend Samuel had," Mrs. Frederic said. "Granted, that was only part of an artifact. If he had been in contact with the whole sandal, the effects would have occurred sooner and your friend may not be here today."
"Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?"
"Not at all," she said. "It's a lesson. Not all of the objects in this world are as harmless as you and your friends like to believe. Some are capable of great things, but at a terrible cost," she explained. "The leather from Ajax's sandal grants the bearer immense strength, but also shortens his temper and instills in him the idea that he will never be strong enough, which causes the bearer to work himself to death."
"Sam…" Santana remembered the way Sam had looked that night, red-faced and exhausted, struggling to breathe because he was so worn out. She never wanted to see him like that again.
"The agents who work under me, they travel the world to make sure people like your friend Sam are not victims of objects like Ajax's sandal."
"That doesn't make sense. Ajax wasn't real," Santana said as her brow furrowed. "He was just some made up warrior guy."
"There is always a kernel of truth in stories, Ms. Lopez, and there are some stories that are more believable than the truth," Mrs. Frederic said. "The agency I work for is expert in dealing with the things that some people would pass off as myth or legend."
"And what agency is that?"
Mrs. Frederic placed her hands on the desk and leaned forward as she said, "Warehouse Thirteen."
Author's Note 2: A big thank you to Jax for helping me come up with an artifact for this. I had already been thinking something Greek, but he helped me figure out what it was I needed. Also, if you've never seen Warehouse 13, I highly recommend it. Fun concept, fun stories, and fun characters. Plus, some really cheesy special effects. Who doesn't love those?