Summer of 89

"Ok Myka you need to focus, focus on the Warehouse before the explosion, on when you first met Emily Lake"

"Why then?" Pete asked unsure of why they didn't go back further, before the Warehouse was hacked.

"If Myka goes back too far she will have to relive everything, her memories of what happened on our timeline will fade and lose clarity as more memories begin to replace them"

"Oh" Pete replied "If you say so boss man"

Artie shook his head in defeat, Pete was hard work sometimes. He stepped forward and handed Myka the watch.

"Will it have any negative effects?"

"No, just slight dizziness, but if you do go to the wrong time it will be 30 days before you can use the watch again and return to the right time"

"Why haven't we used it before?" she asked hoping it wouldn't go wrong. If the watch was so useful and had no side effects why hadn't they seen it before? And why did Artie have it?

"Macpherson was the last to have it; I got it from his room in storage, that's all you need to know."

"But..." Myka started

"That's all you need to know". Artie's voice had become stern and held an air of authority; Myka knew not to argue with him.

"Ok, I'm ready" she nodded, closing her eyes.

"Focus" Artie repeated.

Myka pressed the button on the top of the pocket watch, thoughts of the Warehouse flowing through her mind, `Warehouse, Explosion, Emily Lake, Warehouse, Explosion, Helena, Helena, Helena`

A ring of light surrounded Myka's form, sinking into every pour of her being; her head fell back as the image of the young agent disappeared from her co-workers view. The next thing Myka remembered was being gently shaken awake.

"Wake up sweetie, are you ok?" The voice was unfamiliar but had a strong enough standing to pull Myka out of her Light unconsciousness. Her eyes fluttered open, blinking rapidly in an attempt to adjust to the bright sun light which invaded her eye lids.

"Oh thank god." The voice began to evoke Myka's senses. It was colder; the sun shone yet the wind that blew had left her skin covered in goose bumps. Her hands that were resting on the ground felt wet, at least the side that lay flat on what felt like cobbled pavement was. Her eyes, curious of who her `saviour` was wondered left to focus on a man who was crouched next to her.

"Hello" he smiled weakly.

"Hi" she replied pushing herself forward into a sitting position, her hand finding it's way to the back of her head which was currently aching violently. Myka tried to push herself further and stood a bit too fast, she stumbled slightly, that dizziness Artie had mentioned finally kicking in, more so than expected.

"Whoa there, be careful." The man griped Myka's shoulders and held her stationary, "Are you ok?"

"Yeah I'm good thanks" Myka replied stepping back slightly releasing herself from the mans grip.

"Where am I?" she asked.

"London" the man replied.

"LONDON" Myka's eyes wondered down the man's body, his attire seemed rather peculiar even by British standards.

"Who are you? And what are you wearing?" The sudden change in climate had obviously lowered Myka's inhibitions. The man looked surprised, his mouth agape out of confusion.

"I'm sorry, that was rude" Myka continued.

"No, I should of introduced myself, I'm Charles, Charles Wells" he bend forward slightly in a small bow.

"I'm Myka, Myka Bering, It's nice to meet you Charles" Charles nodded and shot Myka a smile. "And as for clothing, I only got it last week; my sister told me it was very fashionable" her gave Myka a small flirtatious spin.

"In which century?" Myka mumbled to herself, her headache was making her rather cranky and she could not be bothered with filtering her opinions.

"Look around" Charles continued, unaffected by Myka's comment, "Everyone is dressed similar to me, it seems that you are the one who is dressed peculiarly."

Myka scanned the people passing her, all of whom were staring at her and whispering to one and other. The men wore similar clothes to Charles while the women all wore floor length Victorian dresses. The sudden enlightenment forced Myka to look herself up and down; her jeans seemed rather out of place in her current surroundings.

"What year is it?" Myka asked nervously, afraid of the answer that would follow.

"Why it is 1889, are you sure you are ok?"

"No Charles I don't think I am" Myka took in the street in which she stood, "But one thing is for sure, I'm not in South Dakota anymore"