A/N: Hello all! Apologies for the lengthy lapse in updates...but I've working on this multi-part mini-story, so it took a tad longer than the usual drabbles. So the next several chapters will be a direct continuation of this one...because I think it's high time that the Doctor and Donovan saved the world and got hopefully lost. :) Spoiler Warning: Season 1-2 of Warehouse 13, Series 5-6 of Doctor Who.

Disclaimer: I don't own Warehouse 13 or Doctor Who

Weeping Warehouse– Part 1

Myka Bering liked inventory.

There was something…comforting about it. Something…nostalgic. When she walked the length of the endless Warehouse shelves, she was five years old again, learning to alphabetize the books on the shelf in her room.

"Someday I might even let you organize the shelves downstairs." Her father would promise when he'd come each evening to inspect her work and read her Cat in the Hat. Of course, at the time, she'd been thrilled with the prospect of getting to help downstairs, in the Store. It wasn't until many years later that she grew to despise what was once a precious accomplishment to her kindergarten self.

Wilbur Wright's bicycle…check. She marked it off on the manifest. Alphonse Pénaud's ornithopter…check. She smiled. That took care of this aisle. Time to move on to the ne—

"Hey-O!"

Myka jumped, nearly dropping her clipboard. She turned and glared at her partner.

"Pete!" Myka cried angrily. "Don't do that!" Pete grinned and tried to look innocent.

"Do what?" he asked. She punched him in the arm.

"You know what. No goofing off." She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and eyed the shelves warily, unpleasant memories of a certain disco ball incident coming to mind. "Not on the Warehouse floor."

"Oh, c'mon Mykes." Pete laughed. "You're just mad because I totally got you."

"You did not get me." Myka's worried frown disappeared, replaced by a skeptical grin.

"Yes I did!" Pete asserted.

"No, you didn't." The two laughed as they headed over to the next aisle, Pete continuing to insist that he'd scared her, and Myka only halfheartedly arguing her case as she absently checked off artifacts.

"Alright, I'll concede that I was…a little startled. That's all."

"Psh. Startled. Yeah right."

Michelangelo's claw chisel…check. Block of indestructible marble…check…

"So is that what you came down here for? To startle me?" she asked, briefly looking up from the list. Pete furrowed his brow.

"What? No, of course not." He said dismissively. "Obviously, I came down here to spend some quality time with my partner. You know…work on communication. Express some feelings."

"Artie kicked you out of the office, didn't he?"

"…I spilled Coke on his paperwork." He admitted, cringing. Myka smirked knowingly.

"Why am I not surprised?" Donatello's goldsmith tools…check…

"Yeah, didn't come down here for the sights, sorry. Not a huge fan of the Ninja Turtle aisle. This stuff is really boring." He poked at a drill on a nearby shelf. "I mean…the card for this one says 'drills holes.' How lame is that?"

"What do you mean, 'Ninja Turtle' aisle?" Myka asked, frowning at the list. Something was off.

"Well, you know…cause the Ninja Turtles…they're Raphael, Donatello, Michelangelo...that other one I can never name…you're telling me you don't know the Ninja Turtles?"

"Must've missed them." She muttered. Was something mis-shelved? It was almost like there was an extra artifact here…

"Seriously? You never saw the movies, or the cartoons? Four turtles, kicking butt and eating pizza, with the dude in the hockey mask and the hot chick…uh, named after a month, I think, and—"

"That's weird." She said suddenly. Pete blinked.

"…Well, yeah, that's kind of the point, I think—"

"No, no," Myka waved a hand at him. "Not the turtles. This statue." She pointed at a small, hunched marble figure on the lowest shelf. It looked like it had been crammed haphazardly into the tight space, as its horned head was flush with the underside of the shelf above. "It's not supposed to be here."

"So? It isn't hurting anything."

"But it's in the wrong place." She said firmly. Pete sighed dramatically and glanced heavenward.

"Yeah…but…it looks heavy."

"Pete."

"Fine." He grumbled as he stooped and grabbed the statue. He grunted as he attempted to free it from the shelf. "You…erg…so owe me…nff." The stone scraped nosily against the wood as it fought to stay in its current cramped space.

"Do you have the Farnsworth? I'll call Claudia, see if she can figure out where it goes."

"Back pocket," Pete told her, still bent over, grappling with the statue. Myka glanced at the Farnsworth's current location, and curled her lip in mild distaste.

"I'll wait."

Pete misunderstood her reluctance.

"It's probably for the best. She's been kinda weird lately. I think it's the new beau." He expressed as he finally yanked the artifact off the shelf and hoisted it up—it was about the size of a medium dog. A bit more cumbersome, though.

"What?" she asked him. She followed as he made his way slowly towards the end of the aisle, still grunting every now and then at the weight of the thing.

"Yeah…new boyfriend. I've only seen him a few times…I think he's a hipster. He wears a bowtie."

"Pete, that's not her boyfriend, that's—"

KER-THUMP. He set the statue down unceremoniously and wiped his hands on his jeans. He then slowly stood, grimacing a little as audible snapping sounded from his spine.

"Oh yeah…you so owe me for that. Gonna be sore for days." Myka opened her mouth, ready to shoot back a reply, but he held up a finger. "But I know how you can make it up to me. Taco's at the Univille diner. Your treat."

"I—"

"Oh, my poor, aching vertebrae…" Pete made an exaggerated display of stooping over, one hand braced against his back. "Oh, the agony! All because Myka had to be a nitpicky perfectionist..."

"Alright, fine. Tacos. But only if you quit whining." Pete straightened quickly, his goofy grin now a blank look of denial.

"I don't whine." He said, turning to head back to the office. Myka fell into step beside him.

"Yes you do."

"What? When have I ever whined?"

"When haven't you whined?"

"Really, I don't think I've ever complained about anything…"

Their voices faded, swallowed by the endless rows of odds and ends in the vast interior of the Warehouse. They were well out of earshot by the time the familiar sound of marble scraping wood filled the aisle, and neither of them saw as a long-dormant figure began to stir.

XXXX

There ya have it folks! I'm sure you can guess who the 'long-dormant figure' is. ;) Hope you all enjoyed it! Even if you didn't, feel free to drop a review! Oh, and STAY TUNED! Because in the next chapter, things start to get a bit strange...