Late at night, at home.
"That probably wasn't actually time stopping. Everyone there except me lost fifteen minutes of their memories, but nobody noticed it. Even the surveillance footage for those fifteen minutes just happened to suffer data loss.
"I swear, none of what I'm telling you was a hallucination brought on by grief." Nick held his bandaged right hand upright before him.
Dahlia stared intently at the man before her, as though she could make out some truth in his bloodshot eyes.
"So you saw one of King Arthur's knights with your own eyes, and he took Mary's soul away?" There was still a trace of doubt in her voice.
"But that sounds more like the Grim Reaper's job."
"I don't know. Those two were all mysterious and wouldn't tell me anything, only that I'd see Aunt Mary again in three years. I hate people who talk in riddles."
Nick buried his head against her chest and held her tightly, looking utterly anguished.
Dahlia's long, nimble fingers flew over the keyboard. Only after a while did she speak. "There really is a Metropolitan Library in London, but I couldn't find anything about Warehouse 13 on Google."
"Warehouse 13 might be in the desert in South Dakota. It probably hasn't been there very long, and it might have been moved there from somewhere else. Since those two appeared together, I figure the Metropolitan Library is probably a warehouse with an earlier number."
Nick had already desperately racked his brain for memories of those two American TV shows. Of course, his explanation to Dahlia was that he had seen shows with similar premises in the other worlds he had experienced.
The premises of the two fantasy shows were somewhat similar. Whether a warehouse or a library, both could be considered containment