Feedback, Feedback, Feedback! please leave any thing that was good, bad or terrible about the story - hell, review if you're bored and want to tell me a joke! ANYTHING! I apologize for the lack of Pete-ness about this story, but he's a shockingly hard character to write!
". . . I know it's allot to handle but we need your help. Nine times out of ten Artefacts can be deadly, and we really want to prevent any deaths, especially that of your partner's." Myka finished earnestly. She was obviously expecting Nathan to say she was crazy, to run off, or do something else dramatic, but he just laughed. Slowly at first, the louder until he was in danger of waking Audrey.
"Officer Wuornos, I assure you this is no laughing matter," said Myka, looking annoyed "lives could be at stake here."
"No, no, I believe you," chuckled Nathan "it's just that, I spent my whole life thinking that Haven was the only place in the world that had supernatural problems, and now I find out that the whole world has them? It's a relief," Nathan shook his head and chuckled some more.
"What supernatural problems do you have on the seaside?" brushed off Pete.
"The Troubles – people with powers that they can't control. We had a man who's shadow killed people and another who's mood affected the weather. You're lucky your Artefact turned up here – we're well practiced in the weird and not so wonderful."
"That sounds. . ." Pete started.
"Choose your words carefully," mock-warned Nathan, but the he sobered up again, remembering the deaths that had brought the actions of the Trouble's into their attention.
"How did you know the Artefact was here?" asked Nathan doubtfully.
"The Artefact was stolen from Warehouse 13. We don't know how, and we don't know who, but we knew they were from Haven." Myka seemed to be good at answering the real questions with real answers.
"Well, if this was stolen from you, shouldn't you know what it looks like?" Nathan queried. They had made a silent decision to go to the Diner and get the pan. The Agents had a big black vehicle, the sort of thing that could be a car or a 4x4. Now they clambered in, Nathan taking the wheel – he knew his way around Haven better than they did. Myka went in the passanger seat and Pete grudgingly too the back.
"They were clever – cut all the power supplies. We were still recovering when Arty sent us out to Haven. They'll update us when they have a description. Until then, we'll have to make do on our own." Nathan drove into the Diner and got out.
"This is the place you had lunch?" asked Myka, getting out as well, Pete hurrying to catch up.
"Ah, smells great!" Pete grinned "I could get used to being in Haven."
"Pete, focus." Said Myka distractedly.
"Hey, Nathan," Martha greeted Nathan with her usual fondness "what can I get you?"
"We need to get into the kitchen, to where your pies are made more specifically. Can you do that?" Nathan asked, walking up to the counter.
"Sure, Nathan – will these people be coming too?" Martha looked doubtfully at the all-work-no-play-looking Agents.
"Yes, they're Agents from the Secret Service. We really need to get backstage as soon as possible."
"Ok, Nathan," she disappeared for a second then came back "follow me." The three of them walked round the counter and into the kitchen. At the back there was a little area where a young woman rolled pastry, filled it with pre-cooked filling and put the assembled pie in one of her ovens.
"This is Cathy," Martha introduced "it'll leave you alone." Martha left, and Nathan had the sense that she didn't like her Diner being investigated by the Police.
"Hello Cathy," Myka greeted the nervous Cathy "have you sold any more of your cherry pie apart from the serving you gave to Officer Parker and Mr. Crocker this afternoon?"
"Yes," she said quietly "but only one, to an old lady, Mrs. Jeremiah. No one else likes the pie." Pete snorted but didn't comment.
"Do you have the pie here?" Myka pressed.
"Yes," Cathy flitted off and back again, this time holding a pie covered in foil "here." Myka took the pie and a fork on the side, shovelling it into the bin.
"Hey, what are you doing?" cried Cathy.
"Don't worry, we'll pay for it," Pete reassured, holding open a plastic bag, then to Myka "ready?"
"Ready." Nodded Myka and she dropped the pie pan into the plastic bag, quickly flinching away and hiding her eyes.
Nothing happened.
The pan wasn't the Artefact.