lt_safe_house | (no subject)

Date: May 20, evening
Location: In the manor, first restaurant, then wherever it goes
Status: Public
Summary: If no one here has a spaceship, I might just as well leave again... or not...

As he finished his dinner and savoured the red wine he had ordered with it, Atlan wondered what do to with himself now. Maybe a change of plan was in order. Maybe returning to his undersea dome would be a good idea.

What? That all-too-independent part of his brain supplied sarcastically. You mean you went through all the waking up procedures just to go back to sleep?

Well, maybe not so good. Maybe teaming up with some of the others would be helpful. The whole place was set up so that anyone arriving could make up a wild tale about his origins and everyone else was apparently supposed to believe it. Oh well, that wasn't the worst kind of place for someone like him to be.

Still in thoughts, he put his utensils aside, emptied his wine, left money and a tip next to his plate and got up. He'd continue thinking on the way over to the bar.

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"That," Methos said, shaking out his hand, "Was for making us work for your insane projects, 'white-haired god'."

He said the last to sound like an ironic title.

Ever so slowly, things klicked into place. After this long a life, having photographic memory was more than helpful.

"You were one of the Egyptians," he said slowly. "And your name was..."

Methos, his extra-sense informed him.

He repeated the name out loud.

"You were a bright one. I taught you."

"You made us worship you," Methos said coldly. "You kept us like slaves to build your projects. You impersonated a god."

"I was as close to a god for you as made no difference," Atlan shot back. "You wanted to see a god, you got one. What difference did it make to you? Better to build than to die in a war."

"Ah, but I wouldn't have died," Methos said with an edge to his voice. "Did you know it? Did you know what I was? You're none of us - You have no Buzz, no Aura - What are you?"

In all his five thousand years he had not met anyone other than humans and immortals. Now, in this little town in England, he was educated about the beings living in this world that he had somehow, miraculously, managed to miss all this time. It was not the most pleasant of experiences for one like him.

"I'm a traveller through time and space," Atlan said vaguely. "And I've been looking for a way to leave this wretched planet for longer than you have been alive. Forgive me if I took drastic measures to speed on development and progress in that little Barbarian state of yours back then."

His voice was cold, dripping with sarcasm.

"That little barbarian state fed you, clothed you and generally saw to your every wishes," Methos snarled. "And what did you do in return?"

"I educated you," Atlan returned. "I have you knowledge you would have had to work for centuries to develop on your own. I brought you out of your pitiable little caves and made you somethign bigger. I sped you on on the way towards power."

He resisted the urge of reaching up and rubbing his cheek. The barbarian certainly had put a lot of enthusiasm into his slap.

"You are one arrogant, self-important son of a bitch," Methos observed icily. "We weren't looking for power. We were living in peace before you came along."

"I've been called worse," Atlan said coldly. By my own brain too boot. "If that was supposed to insult me, you need to do better. Now if you'll excuse me - I've got business to attend to."

With that, he turned and walked towards the bar without giving Methos a chance to retort.

Methos stared at the man's receding back, torn between running after him and demanding some answers to questions he hadn't even begun to ask, thorwing a dagger at him or simply ignoring him.

He settled for the latter, if only because the door to the bar fell shut behind him.