[ Dear Diary ]
Dear Diary
Claudia Donovan
Warehouse 13
1500 words (without lyrics)
Dear, dear diary, I want to tell my secrets
‘Cause you're the only one that I know who'll keep them
Claudia Donovan stared at the familiar white ceiling of Mellinger Psychiatric Care Center. She’d surrendered everything when she’d arrived on their doorstep. They’d taken one look at her and ushered her inside… welcomed her back.
Of course, she knew how bad she’d looked. The bus driver-an old man who’d worn a fedora and thick glasses-had refused to simply let her off on the street corner all alone. He’d gotten the address of Mellinger from her and driven her straight to the door, even accompanied her. Claudia wondered if she’d looked that bad. Then again, she hadn’t eaten since that morning. She’d worked through lunch and then been too eager to run by the time dinner came around. Then she’d been stuck on a bus for hours. Not that she could have eaten anyway. Her stomach had felt too tight to even think about food.
Even now, having eaten the processed crap Mellinger called breakfast, she felt sick. But if she threw up, they might put her on more pills or a higher level of observation.
The only good thing about being back here was that she hadn’t had to think about what was and wasn’t appropriate. After she’d given up her backpack with her books, B-dazzled headband with flashlight, tennis shoes, and belt, she’d been allowed to go into her room and scream. She’d cried herself to sleep, possibly helped by the pills the nurse had brought her. Now she was rested and fed, but she didn’t feel any better.
Dear, dear diary, I want to tell my secrets
I know you'll keep them, and this is what I've done
I've been a bad, bad girl for so long
I don't know how to change what went wrong
She rolled over on the bed and curled up again. The nurses had offered her phone privileges, but she didn’t have anyone to call. By now, they would all know what she had done. She didn’t even know how MacPherson had done it, but the others would know the basics. They’d know she was the mole-the traitor. Somehow, she’d helped MacPherson get artifacts.
Myka and Pete would be furious at her. Artie would hate her. None of them would want to see her again. She wondered how long it would be before Mrs. Frederic found her and injected her. After all, it had to be done. She had to either die or be banished from the Warehouse. Just like MacPherson.
But she’d apologized. It wouldn’t count for anything, and she knew it, but it meant something to her. She’d written to Artie, left the note on his bed in Leena’s. She’d told him what Mrs. Frederic had told her. That her name and picture was on the digital recorder of every artifact that had been stolen. She swore in the letter that she didn’t know how MacPherson had done it, but she’d explained that she’d left so she couldn’t be used against them-against him further.
He wouldn’t believe it. Claudia knew that. But she hoped that somewhere deep inside Artie would know she’d never do anything to hurt him. Not intentionally.
Daddy's little girl when he went away
What did it teach me? That love leaves
Dear, dear diary, I want to tell my secrets
‘Cause you're the only one that I know who'll keep them
Eventually, Joshua would find out.
She’d called him on the bus and gotten his voicemail. Not surprising, she felt. It had been late. She’d told him that she’d left the Warehouse but that she was safe. She’d told him not to worry about her, that she could take care of herself.
Eventually, she’d have to tell him everything.
She’d told him that Professor Reynolds was James MacPherson. She’d warned him of that, just in case that bastard tried to go after him. Tried to use him.
It wasn’t much, but it was all she could do protect him at this point. Hopefully, even with what MacPherson had done through her, even with what she’d unknowingly done, Artie would still protect Joshua. Hopefully he wouldn’t think that any of this was Joshua’s doing. Artie would know better than that.
He’d blame her, rightfully so, but he wouldn’t blame Joshua.
Dear, dear diary, I want to tell my secrets
I know you'll keep them, and this is what I've done
I've been down every road you could go
I made some bad choices as you know
Claudia wiped her eyes as she sat up, but more tears fell. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried like this.
No. That was wrong. She could. The last time she’d cried like this had been when Joshua had vanished. It was the same feeling. The same weight pressed against her chest, threatened to choke her. The same sense of aloneness made her shake and hug her knees to her chest. She wanted to tell someone, wanted to lay out everything. She wanted to talk about Pete and Myka and Artie and the Warehouse and MacPherson, but she knew better.
Here, they’d only up her meds if she talked about anything like that. They’d think she was delusional again, creating a fantasy world. She’d already taken to stashing the pills they gave her under the loose floorboard she’d found last time. Maybe, she considered, if she took them, she could convince herself that Warehouse 13 was just in her imagination. Maybe she could numb herself to the past so much that it didn’t feel real. Maybe then she could at least act like she could get on with her life.
Alone.
She’d always prided herself on how well she’d done on her own, how she hadn’t needed anyone after Joshua’s death. Now she’d finally settled in, found herself a home-a family-and it had vanished without warning. Because of her.
Seems I have the whole world cradled in my hands
But it’s just like me not to understand
Dear, dear diary, I want to tell my secrets
‘Cause you're the only one that I know who'll keep them
She gave up trying to get up. She didn’t have it in her. With a sigh, Claudia half threw herself back on the bed and curled up once again, tugging the blankets close.
They were rigid and smelled of strong detergent. Not like the soft, lightly scented covers on her bed at Leena’s. The mattress was a lot less firm than hers. Not that the bed was hers anymore. What she’d left behind would probably be destroyed or examined for evidence of MacPherson’s tampering. She didn’t hold a grudge. They had to make sure MacPherson didn’t still have an in. That was the same reason she was sure they’d come for her.
And when they did, she’d accept whatever fate they chose for her. Hopefully, only the Regents or Mrs. Frederick would carry it out. She didn’t want to have to even try and look Artie in the eye.
Even as more tears welled up, another feeling bubbled to the surface-fury.
How dare MacPherson use her. He’d hurt Joshua-given him the compass, pointed him in Artie’s direction, put him in harm’s way. Then he’d hurt Artie-run a sword through his chest. Then… then he’d taken her home and her family from her. He’d stripped her of the happiness she’d finally let herself feel, ripped her out of the one place she’d felt like she’d belonged.
She wanted to kill him. Or die trying. He’d made her betray the people and place she cared most about in the world. She hoped Artie would kill him. Add in an extra bit of pain for her, for everything she’d lost.
Dear, dear diary, I want to tell my secrets
I've been a bad, bad girl
I learned my lessons
I turned myself around
Claudia wiped her eyes and sat up when she heard a knock at the door. She wouldn’t let the nurses see her crying, even if she couldn’t hide the fact that she had been doing so. They didn’t have to see the actual tears.
“Claudia?” A man’s voice came from the other side of the door.
“Dr. Ross,” she answered.
He took it as an invitation to come in, and she swung her legs over the side of the bed. A short, skinny nurse followed him. She was new, hired within the last nine months. She hadn’t been here during Claudia’s last stay.
Dr. Ross smiled at her. “How are you feeling?”
Claudia shrugged. “Like crap.”
“You had a long day yesterday. Are you ready to talk about it?”
“Not… not yet,” she replied. She still didn’t know what she was going to tell him.
He sighed. “We’ll need to talk soon.”
“After lunch?”
“Okay, Claudia. After lunch,” he agreed. He and the nurse let themselves out, and Claudia sighed.
It had to be a bad sign, she thought, that the doctor knew her well enough to let her barter for when he’d start actually treating her.
I've got a guardian angel tattooed on my shoulder
She's been watching over me
Dear, dear diary, I want to tell my secrets
‘Cause you're the only one that I know who'll keep them
No matter what she told him, though, it wouldn’t be the truth. She wouldn’t betray the Warehouse more than she already had. She wouldn’t tell… a civilian… about what she’d done, about where she’d worked. He wouldn’t believe her, but it was the principle of the matter. Plus she didn’t feel like listening to him try and interpret her “delusions” and tell her why she was “imagining” what she was.
Though he wondered what explanation he’d come up with for Alice or the Tesla or Sylvia Plath’s typewriter.
But she’d already hurt the Warehouse enough without meaning to. She wouldn’t intentionally talk about it now. She’d protect it, even if she’d already created a massive security breach. The least she could do was keep her mouth shut now.
And she knew one thing for certain. Despite what had happened, despite what she had done, despite what the team had to think of her, despite what might happen to her-the Warehouse was and would always be her home.
Dear, dear diary, I want to tell my secrets
I've been a bad, bad girl
Claudia Donovan
Warehouse 13
1500 words (without lyrics)
Dear, dear diary, I want to tell my secrets
‘Cause you're the only one that I know who'll keep them
Claudia Donovan stared at the familiar white ceiling of Mellinger Psychiatric Care Center. She’d surrendered everything when she’d arrived on their doorstep. They’d taken one look at her and ushered her inside… welcomed her back.
Of course, she knew how bad she’d looked. The bus driver-an old man who’d worn a fedora and thick glasses-had refused to simply let her off on the street corner all alone. He’d gotten the address of Mellinger from her and driven her straight to the door, even accompanied her. Claudia wondered if she’d looked that bad. Then again, she hadn’t eaten since that morning. She’d worked through lunch and then been too eager to run by the time dinner came around. Then she’d been stuck on a bus for hours. Not that she could have eaten anyway. Her stomach had felt too tight to even think about food.
Even now, having eaten the processed crap Mellinger called breakfast, she felt sick. But if she threw up, they might put her on more pills or a higher level of observation.
The only good thing about being back here was that she hadn’t had to think about what was and wasn’t appropriate. After she’d given up her backpack with her books, B-dazzled headband with flashlight, tennis shoes, and belt, she’d been allowed to go into her room and scream. She’d cried herself to sleep, possibly helped by the pills the nurse had brought her. Now she was rested and fed, but she didn’t feel any better.
Dear, dear diary, I want to tell my secrets
I know you'll keep them, and this is what I've done
I've been a bad, bad girl for so long
I don't know how to change what went wrong
She rolled over on the bed and curled up again. The nurses had offered her phone privileges, but she didn’t have anyone to call. By now, they would all know what she had done. She didn’t even know how MacPherson had done it, but the others would know the basics. They’d know she was the mole-the traitor. Somehow, she’d helped MacPherson get artifacts.
Myka and Pete would be furious at her. Artie would hate her. None of them would want to see her again. She wondered how long it would be before Mrs. Frederic found her and injected her. After all, it had to be done. She had to either die or be banished from the Warehouse. Just like MacPherson.
But she’d apologized. It wouldn’t count for anything, and she knew it, but it meant something to her. She’d written to Artie, left the note on his bed in Leena’s. She’d told him what Mrs. Frederic had told her. That her name and picture was on the digital recorder of every artifact that had been stolen. She swore in the letter that she didn’t know how MacPherson had done it, but she’d explained that she’d left so she couldn’t be used against them-against him further.
He wouldn’t believe it. Claudia knew that. But she hoped that somewhere deep inside Artie would know she’d never do anything to hurt him. Not intentionally.
Daddy's little girl when he went away
What did it teach me? That love leaves
Dear, dear diary, I want to tell my secrets
‘Cause you're the only one that I know who'll keep them
Eventually, Joshua would find out.
She’d called him on the bus and gotten his voicemail. Not surprising, she felt. It had been late. She’d told him that she’d left the Warehouse but that she was safe. She’d told him not to worry about her, that she could take care of herself.
Eventually, she’d have to tell him everything.
She’d told him that Professor Reynolds was James MacPherson. She’d warned him of that, just in case that bastard tried to go after him. Tried to use him.
It wasn’t much, but it was all she could do protect him at this point. Hopefully, even with what MacPherson had done through her, even with what she’d unknowingly done, Artie would still protect Joshua. Hopefully he wouldn’t think that any of this was Joshua’s doing. Artie would know better than that.
He’d blame her, rightfully so, but he wouldn’t blame Joshua.
Dear, dear diary, I want to tell my secrets
I know you'll keep them, and this is what I've done
I've been down every road you could go
I made some bad choices as you know
Claudia wiped her eyes as she sat up, but more tears fell. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried like this.
No. That was wrong. She could. The last time she’d cried like this had been when Joshua had vanished. It was the same feeling. The same weight pressed against her chest, threatened to choke her. The same sense of aloneness made her shake and hug her knees to her chest. She wanted to tell someone, wanted to lay out everything. She wanted to talk about Pete and Myka and Artie and the Warehouse and MacPherson, but she knew better.
Here, they’d only up her meds if she talked about anything like that. They’d think she was delusional again, creating a fantasy world. She’d already taken to stashing the pills they gave her under the loose floorboard she’d found last time. Maybe, she considered, if she took them, she could convince herself that Warehouse 13 was just in her imagination. Maybe she could numb herself to the past so much that it didn’t feel real. Maybe then she could at least act like she could get on with her life.
Alone.
She’d always prided herself on how well she’d done on her own, how she hadn’t needed anyone after Joshua’s death. Now she’d finally settled in, found herself a home-a family-and it had vanished without warning. Because of her.
Seems I have the whole world cradled in my hands
But it’s just like me not to understand
Dear, dear diary, I want to tell my secrets
‘Cause you're the only one that I know who'll keep them
She gave up trying to get up. She didn’t have it in her. With a sigh, Claudia half threw herself back on the bed and curled up once again, tugging the blankets close.
They were rigid and smelled of strong detergent. Not like the soft, lightly scented covers on her bed at Leena’s. The mattress was a lot less firm than hers. Not that the bed was hers anymore. What she’d left behind would probably be destroyed or examined for evidence of MacPherson’s tampering. She didn’t hold a grudge. They had to make sure MacPherson didn’t still have an in. That was the same reason she was sure they’d come for her.
And when they did, she’d accept whatever fate they chose for her. Hopefully, only the Regents or Mrs. Frederick would carry it out. She didn’t want to have to even try and look Artie in the eye.
Even as more tears welled up, another feeling bubbled to the surface-fury.
How dare MacPherson use her. He’d hurt Joshua-given him the compass, pointed him in Artie’s direction, put him in harm’s way. Then he’d hurt Artie-run a sword through his chest. Then… then he’d taken her home and her family from her. He’d stripped her of the happiness she’d finally let herself feel, ripped her out of the one place she’d felt like she’d belonged.
She wanted to kill him. Or die trying. He’d made her betray the people and place she cared most about in the world. She hoped Artie would kill him. Add in an extra bit of pain for her, for everything she’d lost.
Dear, dear diary, I want to tell my secrets
I've been a bad, bad girl
I learned my lessons
I turned myself around
Claudia wiped her eyes and sat up when she heard a knock at the door. She wouldn’t let the nurses see her crying, even if she couldn’t hide the fact that she had been doing so. They didn’t have to see the actual tears.
“Claudia?” A man’s voice came from the other side of the door.
“Dr. Ross,” she answered.
He took it as an invitation to come in, and she swung her legs over the side of the bed. A short, skinny nurse followed him. She was new, hired within the last nine months. She hadn’t been here during Claudia’s last stay.
Dr. Ross smiled at her. “How are you feeling?”
Claudia shrugged. “Like crap.”
“You had a long day yesterday. Are you ready to talk about it?”
“Not… not yet,” she replied. She still didn’t know what she was going to tell him.
He sighed. “We’ll need to talk soon.”
“After lunch?”
“Okay, Claudia. After lunch,” he agreed. He and the nurse let themselves out, and Claudia sighed.
It had to be a bad sign, she thought, that the doctor knew her well enough to let her barter for when he’d start actually treating her.
I've got a guardian angel tattooed on my shoulder
She's been watching over me
Dear, dear diary, I want to tell my secrets
‘Cause you're the only one that I know who'll keep them
No matter what she told him, though, it wouldn’t be the truth. She wouldn’t betray the Warehouse more than she already had. She wouldn’t tell… a civilian… about what she’d done, about where she’d worked. He wouldn’t believe her, but it was the principle of the matter. Plus she didn’t feel like listening to him try and interpret her “delusions” and tell her why she was “imagining” what she was.
Though he wondered what explanation he’d come up with for Alice or the Tesla or Sylvia Plath’s typewriter.
But she’d already hurt the Warehouse enough without meaning to. She wouldn’t intentionally talk about it now. She’d protect it, even if she’d already created a massive security breach. The least she could do was keep her mouth shut now.
And she knew one thing for certain. Despite what had happened, despite what she had done, despite what the team had to think of her, despite what might happen to her-the Warehouse was and would always be her home.
Dear, dear diary, I want to tell my secrets
I've been a bad, bad girl