I do not own Warehouse 13 (W13 for notes) Nor do I own Doctor who (DW) or Torchwood (TW) I make no money, this is just for fun. Continuity note. I wrote this before the current season of w13, so Jinks isn't there, and from a DW standpoint it is in the 200 year gap. From a TW standpoint probably pre season one specifically part of the time he was working for TW london, so he knew he could not be seen out and about.

What happened to Karen Trainer? What foe is so frightening that even Artie is terrified of it? How do they know the Doctor? And what are these unknown Artifacts lurking in the shadows that have this agent so terrified she can only speak of them in Puzzles? And who is this Madman?

Karen Trainer couldn't remember how she ended up there. All she knew was that she was reaching out to bag an artifact, and then there was a flash and there was open land all around her. The field where the warehouse should have stood was empty, in fact, everything was empty. Something nudged her hard at her arm and she looked over to see a horse. It had nudged her as if it expected something of her. The beast was saddled, and so, figuring it was some sort of trick of the artefact, she looked for a block. Finding a rock that would work, she pulled herself up onto the horse and headed toward town.

She didn't know where she was going, she just headed for what she thought would be the direction of Univille. Her gun and notebook were still there. And when she was found three days later, she was raving mad. Talking about a warehouse, a man named Artie, and an Angel.

No one there had heard of the Warehouse, and certainly no one had heard of Artie, and so Karen Trainer, Secret service agent, found herself in the worst situation imaginable, a hundred years out of her own world, stuck in a place she didn't know, with people who didn't know her, aware of the fact that she was in the wrong time. Of course everyone else said she was insane. Which is how she ended up in Ward nine.

Artie sat at the desk. He had heard something, but couldn't immediately see what it was. It took two more repetitions before he noticed it. The small stone box on the table had changed. The sound had been the latches on the lid moving. The words on the box were written in a language that even he couldn't identify. It was one of the few Artifacts that had never been catalogued, because in the lower right corner was an icon any warehouse agent as old as Artie would know. A box with six smaller boxes set in two rows.

The last latch popped loose.

He pulled the lid off and looked inside. Like the bag of holding, he was surprised to find it dimensionally trancendental. And inside was a bundle of papers written in an unfamiliar script. Artie pulled the papers out and opened them up, looking at them closely.

He was so absorbed in trying to to read them that he didn't even hear claudia until she stopped right in front of him. "Oh cool, you have a message box."

"A message box?"

Claudia nodded. "Yeah, supposedly they are a box you put your message in, whatever it is and you sign it, date it and seal it and it will find its way to place it needs to be, it will open on the date you specify."

She picked up the box finding it heavier than she expected but not bearing a trademark. It felt like it might actually be metal. "This is a good prop."

"Prop?"

"Yeah, it's from a british TV show, one of the things that the main Character, the Doctor used."

"You mean Doctor Who?"

Claudia nodded.

"Umm, Claudia, I hate to tell you this, but, that show isn't fake."

"What?"

"This is an artifact" Artie said. "A couple centuries ago, he had us hide some things that he didn't want getting into public circulation. Unfortunately, I can't read any of this."

Claudia heard something rattle in the bottom of the container and reached in, pulling out a pair of specs. A paper stuck to them said "for Arthur."

He put them on without a second thought and looked over at the paper. The words moved until they were in alignment as letters that he could understand.

"Arthur, if you are reading this, I am afraid something has gone rather amiss. I'm putting this part in Phasic Ink so that only you can read it because I trust you to know how much to reveal to the others as we go along. And before we start. I'm Sorry, I'm so sorry, there truly was nothing I could do."

Artie took the glasses off and looked down at the squggly lines again. He hated those words. They usually signaled trouble, and almost always someone died. But he had made a promise to help the Time Lord. Now he just had to figure out which version of him this was.

With the glasses back on he read, turning pale, he said nothing to Claudia, but handed her the papers that were written normally. The others, he put along with the glasses back in the container. The locks sealed again.

"I need you to get Myka and Pete."

"All right, where are you going?"

"I have to find an old Friend of the Warehouse and wring his scrawny neck.

The figure in a suit and Suspenders, wearing a bow tie looked out of place, as out of place as his accent. There, on the street corner, leaning against a public call box was the Doctor. If Artie hadn't known the Tardis, he wouldn't have recognized the man before him. "Bit of a facelift."

Artie said as he approached.

The figure smiled, "a couple,"

"What is it now, ten?"

"Eleven."

Artie nodded. "So you said you had some information about our missing agent."

The doctor nodded. "But you won't like it."

"That's a given Doctor."

"Karen Trainer died in 1801." The doctor said. His normal boistrous self reserved.

"1801?"

The doctor looked very worried. "Please, tell me that vault 9 is still intact."

"I don't even know if any of my current agents know it exists."

"Then let's go see if the beasts are still in their cages."

"Did you know about McPherson?"

"I tried to warn you."

"But why couldn't you tell me?"

"Spoliers." The doctor wasn't his normal bouncy self.

"So what happened?"

"Will happen." The doctor tried to smile. "Tenses get all fouled up."

"You're looking a bit like nine right now, foul-tempered and moody."

"Artie, I die in two weeks"

"On to twelve then." Artie tried to laugh it off as the Doctor did, but was unsettled at the role reversal.

"No, Artie. Gone, dead, Kaput. They stop my regeneration cycle before it starts."

"Forever gone." The two words were like a lead weight. "I'm sorry." This time it was Artie's turn to give condolances.

"Probably better than I deserve."

"Don't say that." Artie laughed. "I know most of your deep dark secrets Doctor, and I know that anything you have done you have done to help. It is not your fault that people die. It doesn't matter matter how much we care, or don't care, humans are Fragile."

"I notice you are not bugging me for your Wrist strap back."

"For the first time in a very long time, I'm happy Doctor."

"Good, but I have to say, I was hoping that you wouldn't show. That she had managed to get away."

"So what happened?"

"Did you read her diary?"

"No."

"You haven't been to the vault yet?"

"No, I only got the letter an hour ago."

The doctor smiled and dashed off towards Leena's "Then there is still time."

The man who had once been Jack Harkness lay sprawled on the floor of the room. The room was dark and quiet. He was quite sure that everyone had forgotten about him. Not really a new experience. On one side was a small wardrobe, containing the clothes he had been wearing when he woke up. He had changed clothes, and when he came to later he had found the clothes cleaned, pressed, and mended, hanging on the rack. The room was entirely without windows, along one side was a cot, one that reminded him too much of Ianto, and in another corner was a Lav. He had running water, a shower.

He had long since lost all track of time, or how many times he had starved to death. But he wasn't very happy. Something had happened, he wasn't sure what, but something had disturbed the universe somehow, something that had woken him from his self-induced coma to the raw, gnawing pain of hunger.

The Universe writhed again. Something was wrong, something was very wrong. He couldn't explain it. It wasn't the quiver and turn that the universe did when he and the Doctor were together, no this was something bad, something Evil, something had awakened and it had woken him.

Carefully he pushed himself to his feet, it took three tries before he could stand, and he knew he had been there a very long time. The fixtures were the same non-discript turn of the century they had always been.

Finally he stumbled to the lav, relieved himself and then started the shower. He knew it must have been a large building because it always took forever to get hot water. But it was the one luxury he allowed himself.

He soaked in the blindingly hot water, trying to wash the grime and pain away. The burns healed as they always did, the pain lancing its way down into the very bottom of his soul. He didn't move until the water began to chill. Then, with practiced motions he dried himself off and dressed. He couldn't have told you why he picked his old clothes rather than the white and black shirts he was usually in, But for some reason, this time, it seemed right. Just like it seemed right to take his boots out of the bottom of the closet. They were still dusty and full of grime so he pulled the brush and polish out of one of the pockets of his greatcoat and set to work, whistling a tune that the Doctor had taught him a long time ago, and wishing to see him.