Lex woke to the feel of the sun warming his skin. He still sat at his
computer desk, his body tucked into itself on the chair, aching from the
discomfort of sleeping whilst upright. It seemed too regular a routine
already, and yet it had only been two weeks. A fortnight of confinement and
isolation, brought about by a lifetime of secrets and sins. Lex sighed and
raised his hands to his face, rubbing his forehead in frustration, catching
the blink from the answering machine out of the corner of his eye.
Frowning, he wondered why he would have a message. Everyone still thought
he was happily enjoying his honeymoon, and the bliss that accompanied
marriage. he could think of no one that would contact him. Curious, he
pressed the playback button, and listened intently.
"You have one new message, Mr. Luthor." Silently, he cursed himself for having everything personalised. Just the sound of his own name made him wince. He drifted into memory again. the day of the wedding, seeming so long ago, now fresh in his mind. The joy he had felt when he had seen Helen walking down the aisle to him. The elation he had felt as she had uttered those two words that had ultimately changed his life.
"I do."
Two little words that meant more to him than anything ever had... The knowledge, that embedded in that statement was another, declaring that someone wanted to be with him, someone wanted to love him, amazed the young man. He had never thought that he would marry, and certainly not marry for love; reciprocated at that. Of course that was before her; before his Helen... not that she was ever really his in the first place.
The last words of the message broke him from his reverie.
".recent change of status. I'm sure you are aware of what it is that I am referring to. I would prefer to discuss this in person. Please contact me at your earliest convenience."
The machine relayed the caller ID to him in a monotonous tone. His brow furrowed in confusion, wondering if this was some scam of his father's, a trick to find out whether his plans with Helen had worked. He played back the message again. The man certainly didn't sound threatening, or as if whatever information he had was possible blackmailing material. God knew he'd had enough experience to tell when that was the case. Besides, he assumed that Helen had already told the senior Luthor what had occurred the afternoon of their wedding day, so there would be no reason for his father to send someone else to check. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry. He'd just make sure to be prepared when he arranged to meet Mr. Pierson, and the easiest way to ensure that he was prepared was to be in control of the circumstances under which their meeting took place. He glanced at the clock on the mantle; eleven thirty. he picked up the phone and dialled the number relayed to him by the machine.
---
Methos picked up the phone after two rings. He wasn't given the chance to speak first.
"Adam Pierson?"
"This is he."
"Lex Luthor."
The slight tension-filled pause didn't go unnoticed by Methos. He went to speak but was interrupted.
"Your message intrigued me. I have nothing scheduled for today. I'll expect you at the mansion this afternoon. I'm presuming you don't need directions."
Methos stared at the phone as if it was unfamiliar. He caught his confusion, shook his head, and placed the phone back on the hook. Of course he understood that Lex had been through an ordeal, but not knowing the details made it near impossible for Methos to judge the situation. It amused him how the young man had addressed him. With purely formal conversation, much like one would find in a business deal. He was obviously prepared for the worst, Methos thought to himself.
He glanced at the clock. Two hours to get to Smallville, roughly; that gave him enough time to wash up and sort out some paperwork before he drove to meet Lex. He walked to the bathroom and started the shower. He stripped quickly, and after checking the water temperature, stepped under the spray. As he ducked his head under the warm spray, the sluice caressed his body, travelling the planes of his flesh, bringing back long-hidden memories.
//Tibet - 852 BC
The hot scorch of the midday sun on bare flesh was painful. Water splashed from above, caressing skin and flesh, relieving torment for a short time, before aches and pains became too much. The sting of grief, though, does not compare. Tears welled in Methos' eyes as he hauled another casket of water towards the monastery; sand from the path attaching itself to the sheen of sweat, apparent on his skin. Ruth had died not so long ago, leaving him no purpose, no life. Yet now he lived out of promise to her, promise to make his immortality worthwhile. His mind weighed heavily on her death, expected as it was. Grief and loss could've turned him to stone. It was for her he continued, for her he remained. Learning, studying, hoping to better himself; because of a promise to a woman who saw the best in him.//
Methos sighed. So it was Ruth that haunted him today, with her tall, slim physique, her crystal blue eyes, and her unconditional love.
Atonement, he decided, was a bitch from hell.
He got out of the shower after washing quickly, the suds somewhat cleansing him. He wrapped a towel round his middle and grabbed another to dry his hair, towelling it off as he strode to the kitchen to get a drink. He contemplated a glass of wine, and decided against it, settling for some juice instead. Drinking it quickly, he placed the empty glass on the side, and went to his bedroom. The light of day filtered in through the Venetian blinds, and he sighed, as he scanned the room, noting how empty it felt. For all his comfort in his new apartment, this room was the only one that didn't feel like his own. There was no sign of it having been slept in, which of course, there wouldn't be, because he'd spent his nights on the sofa, falling asleep listening to music, or just by generally thinking too much. Lex Luthor was a powerful man, and his father. Methos didn't even want to think about the infamous Lionel Luthor.
Sighing, he stood and dressed. Casual but comfortable was best, he decided, so he donned a pair of black trousers, and a decent shirt. The last thing he wanted was to give the impression of the meeting being business, though of course, it would be what Lex would be expecting. If anything it was far from business. Methos wondered how the young immortal would react when he was told what he was; did he even know that he was, well, dead? Shuddering at the thought, Methos ran his fingers through his hair, which was now only slightly damp. He moved back into the main room, took the files from the table, and placed them in his bag, which he slung over his shoulder. He grabbed his keys from the mantle, and left for the trip to Smallville.
"You have one new message, Mr. Luthor." Silently, he cursed himself for having everything personalised. Just the sound of his own name made him wince. He drifted into memory again. the day of the wedding, seeming so long ago, now fresh in his mind. The joy he had felt when he had seen Helen walking down the aisle to him. The elation he had felt as she had uttered those two words that had ultimately changed his life.
"I do."
Two little words that meant more to him than anything ever had... The knowledge, that embedded in that statement was another, declaring that someone wanted to be with him, someone wanted to love him, amazed the young man. He had never thought that he would marry, and certainly not marry for love; reciprocated at that. Of course that was before her; before his Helen... not that she was ever really his in the first place.
The last words of the message broke him from his reverie.
".recent change of status. I'm sure you are aware of what it is that I am referring to. I would prefer to discuss this in person. Please contact me at your earliest convenience."
The machine relayed the caller ID to him in a monotonous tone. His brow furrowed in confusion, wondering if this was some scam of his father's, a trick to find out whether his plans with Helen had worked. He played back the message again. The man certainly didn't sound threatening, or as if whatever information he had was possible blackmailing material. God knew he'd had enough experience to tell when that was the case. Besides, he assumed that Helen had already told the senior Luthor what had occurred the afternoon of their wedding day, so there would be no reason for his father to send someone else to check. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry. He'd just make sure to be prepared when he arranged to meet Mr. Pierson, and the easiest way to ensure that he was prepared was to be in control of the circumstances under which their meeting took place. He glanced at the clock on the mantle; eleven thirty. he picked up the phone and dialled the number relayed to him by the machine.
---
Methos picked up the phone after two rings. He wasn't given the chance to speak first.
"Adam Pierson?"
"This is he."
"Lex Luthor."
The slight tension-filled pause didn't go unnoticed by Methos. He went to speak but was interrupted.
"Your message intrigued me. I have nothing scheduled for today. I'll expect you at the mansion this afternoon. I'm presuming you don't need directions."
Methos stared at the phone as if it was unfamiliar. He caught his confusion, shook his head, and placed the phone back on the hook. Of course he understood that Lex had been through an ordeal, but not knowing the details made it near impossible for Methos to judge the situation. It amused him how the young man had addressed him. With purely formal conversation, much like one would find in a business deal. He was obviously prepared for the worst, Methos thought to himself.
He glanced at the clock. Two hours to get to Smallville, roughly; that gave him enough time to wash up and sort out some paperwork before he drove to meet Lex. He walked to the bathroom and started the shower. He stripped quickly, and after checking the water temperature, stepped under the spray. As he ducked his head under the warm spray, the sluice caressed his body, travelling the planes of his flesh, bringing back long-hidden memories.
//Tibet - 852 BC
The hot scorch of the midday sun on bare flesh was painful. Water splashed from above, caressing skin and flesh, relieving torment for a short time, before aches and pains became too much. The sting of grief, though, does not compare. Tears welled in Methos' eyes as he hauled another casket of water towards the monastery; sand from the path attaching itself to the sheen of sweat, apparent on his skin. Ruth had died not so long ago, leaving him no purpose, no life. Yet now he lived out of promise to her, promise to make his immortality worthwhile. His mind weighed heavily on her death, expected as it was. Grief and loss could've turned him to stone. It was for her he continued, for her he remained. Learning, studying, hoping to better himself; because of a promise to a woman who saw the best in him.//
Methos sighed. So it was Ruth that haunted him today, with her tall, slim physique, her crystal blue eyes, and her unconditional love.
Atonement, he decided, was a bitch from hell.
He got out of the shower after washing quickly, the suds somewhat cleansing him. He wrapped a towel round his middle and grabbed another to dry his hair, towelling it off as he strode to the kitchen to get a drink. He contemplated a glass of wine, and decided against it, settling for some juice instead. Drinking it quickly, he placed the empty glass on the side, and went to his bedroom. The light of day filtered in through the Venetian blinds, and he sighed, as he scanned the room, noting how empty it felt. For all his comfort in his new apartment, this room was the only one that didn't feel like his own. There was no sign of it having been slept in, which of course, there wouldn't be, because he'd spent his nights on the sofa, falling asleep listening to music, or just by generally thinking too much. Lex Luthor was a powerful man, and his father. Methos didn't even want to think about the infamous Lionel Luthor.
Sighing, he stood and dressed. Casual but comfortable was best, he decided, so he donned a pair of black trousers, and a decent shirt. The last thing he wanted was to give the impression of the meeting being business, though of course, it would be what Lex would be expecting. If anything it was far from business. Methos wondered how the young immortal would react when he was told what he was; did he even know that he was, well, dead? Shuddering at the thought, Methos ran his fingers through his hair, which was now only slightly damp. He moved back into the main room, took the files from the table, and placed them in his bag, which he slung over his shoulder. He grabbed his keys from the mantle, and left for the trip to Smallville.