Hey guys! Here's the chapter I promised. It's way too fun to write this story. Maybe a few more chapters. Hehe. ^^
Enjoy~
Disclaimer: I do not own Warehouse 13 or any of the characters.

Claudia trotted down the silent aisle of Havershim-824 as she held a clipboard in her hands.

'Straight off a plane from Ohio and Artie throws me inventory. Great.' She thought.

"Policeman's badge. Check. Orville Redenbacher's pan. Check. Christopher Columbus' apron. (Apparently, the infamous explorer loved to cook; she smirked.) Check. Peter Henlien's pocket watch. Double check." She listed off.

She gave a look at the watch that she and Steve had acquired and frowned. That dog had been vicious. As she continued down the aisle, she became acutely aware of the tick tock of a clock reverberating loudly throughout the silence. Claudia stopped in her tracks and turned around, staring menacingly at the pocket watch.

It was not supposed to be ticking.

Claudia took a step forward and opened the lid to find the two elegantly crafted hands ticking and tocking away. Shit.

She stuffed her gloved hand into her pocket while tucking the clipboard under her arm and took out her Farnsworth.

"Artie!" She exclaimed.

"What is it, Donovan? These artifacts aren't going to find themselves, you know." He stated, exasperated.

There was a sense of ambiguity in her next words, "We might have a bit of a problem."

.

As soon as Artie saw her standing in the aisle, trying to look as innocuous as possible, he knew something was wrong. His voice precise and threatening, he asked, "What. Did. You. Touch?"

"Me? No. I didn't do anything wrong. Steve, well, he might've touched something." Claudia took a step back and nodded at the ticking time bomb. Literally. Okay, maybe not literally. Half of that was literal…

Artie pushed his glasses up and walked towards the artifact, his eyes still trained on his "daughter."

He handled the object carefully with his purple gloved hands and sighed, "More like a major problem."

.

Three hours had passed as they desperately tried to find a way to pull Steve back from his trance. Artie paced back and forth, the pocket watch in his hands (gloved, of course) as the rest of the team sat in the living room of the B&B, franticly trying to find something, anything, to bring him back.

"If this pocket watch was created during that time then, oh, no. No, that would react badly to the…" Artie mumbled random words under his breath as he continued pacing.

"Steve's been in there for six hours. He only has six more left." Claudia's breath hitched in her throat as she tried to hide the strain in her voice. "We have to pull him out."

"We will." Myka laid a comforting hand on the younger agent's shoulder and repeated reassuringly, "we will."

Pete had had enough of Artie's incessant panic mode – he wasn't getting enough sleep as it is. He rose up from the floor of the living room and with a gloved hand, snatched the pocket watch out of Artie's hands. Taken aback, Artie stopped pacing.

The team gathered around him. He voiced his opinion, "What if we just stop it?"

"That would kill him!" Claudia yelled. She couldn't lose him again; wouldn't lose him again.

"That might be the only way to get him back. We can neutralize it, but there's no telling what might happen." He saw the tears threatening to fall and took a step forward. "Look, Claud. When someone is entranced by the pocket watch, it starts ticking right?" Unaware if that was meant to be rhetorical, Claudia just nodded slowly. "Then the only logical explanation would be if the ticking stops, the entrancement stops."

Claudia let out a sigh and nodded acquiescingly, this time sure of what Pete was trying to convey.

"Okay," Pete gave a nod and stepped back. He looked at Myka for comfort and she gave a small nod and smile in response. "Okay, show time," he murmured.

Pete stretched out his arm away from him and clicked the button on top of the clock's face. The hands stopped ticking and in a flash of gold light, Steve was kneeling on the floor, head clutched in his hands.

"Steve!" Claudia exclaimed in sheer relief. But it was soon lived as the team watched Steve fall on his side, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Thinking quickly, Myka rushed to one of the end tables and plucked a static bag from its contents. She held it out towards Pete and turned her head. Purple sparks sizzled in the room and Myka closed it quickly.

A gasp of air resonated within Steve and held breaths were released throughout the room. Claudia was kneeling by his side as he breathed slowly. A wicked sense of Déjà vu overwhelmed her as tears fell from her eyes.

A/N: Virtual oatmeal scotchies to anyone who spotted the White Collar reference! And for those who review! :D