Warehouse 13-

Questions.

Brown walls surround Claudia like an ever closing gap, her time was running out, she needed to ask so many more questions, but there wasn't time. Mrs. Frederick was talking but the young agent was paying no attention, she had to think about her questions.

The stench of oldness filled Claudia's, and the feeling of death wandered around her. One thing she knew is that he wasn't there for the residents; he was there for a closer to home figure. Mrs. Frederick! This made her become increasingly more aware of the elderly woman's presence. Claudia caught her looking at a colored man across the room; painting. "So is that Mr. Frederick?"

"Yes; my grandson." The caretaker replied in her signature voice.

Claudia became suddenly sympathetic for the other women, knowing the pain she must go through outliving him, with a shocked voice she asked another question which she already knew the answer to and didn't want to ask anyway, "So your son…. Is long gone?"

"Yes. Now if you will excuse me." And with that she walked off towards the similar looking man.

This was it her last chance. Thoughts, questions, and emotions ran through Claudia's body like a speeding train, never slowing, never stopping, and never ending. One stuck out amongst the rest; it was better than nothing.

Mrs. Frederick's wooly cream cardigan crinkled and stretched under the women's plumpness. Her hair stood tall and on end with the grey streak that glinted in the flickering lights. From across the room a small shout draws Irene's attention, "Mrs. F?" Miss Donovan was almost whimpering at the words.

"Frederick!" She commanded.

"Yeah right, whatever. I have a question?" She said as if asking.

"Go ahead."

"How old are you?" The young agent recoiled as if she was about to be yelled at.

Irene's brow wrinkled like paper and her eyes squinted as lasers. That one moment stretched out for what seemed like a lifetime; endless waiting. Also her famous single eyebrow rising pinned Claudia to the floor; this was it how would she react? Musty air filled Claudia's mouth and lungs destroying her taste buds.

"Why do you wish to know?"

"Please just answer me." The younger of the two pleaded.

"I am…. 167 years old, and I have been the caretaker on Warehouse 13 for 113 years." Whilst Claudia gasped in shock Mrs. F didn't even move a muscle.

"How is that possible?" Claudia asked but she already knew, or at least could make a very good guess; the warehouse."

"Please Miss. Donovan not here."

"Yes of course, but one more thing. Is she your daughter?

"Ah. I was hoping you wouldn't see that." An awkward smile spread across the caretakers face.

"But that's the thing I can and I don't know how, does she even know?"

"No and I would like to keep it that way, is that understood?"

"Defiantly." Claudia gasped.

Leena pulled a chair up and stared out the open back door of her cozy B & B, something was wrong. She could feel it; like something was slipping away just out of her reach. The inn keeper had never been so sad in all her life. A waterfall flowed from her eyes and small screams of sorrow, the light which was usually in her was dying, it was meant to be an intense inferno boiling her insides, and making life more vibrant but her gift was gone along with her soul. She could no longer see into other or see auras.

Life had left her.