Disclaimer: Stagate and Highlander don't belong to me...whimper.
Cursing under his breath, Methos rolled out of the bed, his hand reaching for his sword before his mind registered what had woken him.
The presence of another immortal.
A glance at the small alarm clock told him the time. Either his challenger was an insomniac or it was…
“Methos, I know you’re in there! Open up!”
“Amanda,” he groaned, stalking to the door. “It’s four o’clock in the morning. Run along and find someone else to annoy.”
“But Mac’s not in Town, and it’s an emergency,” Amanda’s voice wafted through the door, “Come on, Methos; let me in,”
Methos glared at the door, silently willing her to go away.
“Please Methos, pretty please? Methos? METHOS!”
Cursing under his breath, Methos pulled back the bolt and wrenched open the door.
“About time!” Amanda purred, brushing past, an overnight case dangling from her fingers.
“Amanda, for the first and last time, do not, I repeat, do not shout my name at the top of your voice while standing in the middle of a public hallway.”
“My, my, you are in a bother aren’t you? Relax, darling, it’s not as if you have a watcher,” Amanda drawled as she eyed the apartment, “You know, you really should do something with this place. It’s much too Spartan. How about a little rug right there beside—”
“Amanda,” Methos growled, “Please don’t tell me you barged in here in the middle of the night to give me decorating tips – and for your information, I may not have a watcher, but you do.”
“I do? I thought they’d given up. Who is it? No, let me guess. Is it that sweet little man who that always seems to be choking on his drink whenever I visit Joe’s; it is, isn’t it? I should have guessed; the tweed coat is always a dead give away. I mean, what Parisian would be caught dead in a tweed overcoat—”
“Amanda, why are you here?”
“Why, Methos, If I didn’t know any better I’d swear you weren’t happy to see me, “ Amanda said, archly, “Didn’t you miss me just a little bit?”
“Ah yes, the good old days,” Methos answered flatly, “You, Mac, and half a dozen unsavoury characters chasing us across the city. How could I forget?”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Amanda murmured, dropping her case on the floor as she draped herself on a chair. “Why are you so tetchy? All I want you to do is verify a little tale I overheard—”
Methos glanced at the hallway meaningfully. “My opening hours are nine to five—”
“About little green men masquerading as gods in Ancient Egypt,” Amanda interrupted, ignoring his pointed glare.
Methos rolled his eyes. “Listen, as much as I like these little late night chats, Amanda, I think it’s time you went home.”
“Good save,” Amanda drawled, “But I saw it.”
“Saw what, Amanda, – a flying saucer?”
“That little thing you do with your eyes when you decide you’re going to lie through your teeth.”
“I’m not lying, ” Methos snapped, “And before you say it, I didn’t do anything with my eyes.”
“Of course you didn’t, darling. It must have be a trick of the light. ”
“I’m not lying!”
“Oooh, there it is again! It’s kind of sweet, actually, sort of like a deer caught in the headlights.”
“Well, this Bambi is armed with a sword and losing the last of his patience, ”Methos countered. “Leave.”
Not until you tell me what you know.”
“Do I look like someone who reads the National Enquirer, Amanda,” Methos drawled sarcastically, “Do I have the words ‘I believe’ emblazoned across my chest? Let me spell it out for you, there is no such thing as aliens.”
“You are such a liar,” Amanda said with a knowing grin. “Nice boxers, by the way.”
Methos groaned. “Listen, I don’t know what you think you know, Amanda, but it has nothing to do with me.”
“I never said it did…though now I’m beginning to wonder,” She added slyly
“Okay, okay,” Amanda murmured, raising a placating hand. “How about this: I talk, you listen, and if I’m anywhere near the general area, you nod.”
Stifling a groan, Methos resignedly closed the door.
“That’s better.” Amanda said brightly, “I’ll begin at the beginning, shall I? Once upon a time, not so long ago, Amanda was strolling through the new Egyptian exhibit at the Louvre – have you seen it, by the way? It’s absolutely fabulous…”
Smiling smugly, Amanda leaned back in the chair as she crossed her legs. “I’ll fast forward a little, shall I,” she said archly, “Now where was I? Ah yes, as I was admiring an exquisite example of fourth dynasty grave goods, I happened to hear voices in the other room. Naturally I was surprised, so I…”
“Wait a minute,” Methos interrupted, “Why the Surprise? It’s a public building.”
“Yes, well, how about I just admit I wasn’t visiting during normal visiting hours and move right along.”
For the first time since she’d entered the apartment, Methos actually noticed what Amanda was wearing. Black turtleneck, black trousers, black beret…his eyes drifted to the overnight bag on the floor. “Oh gods, no…” he spluttered, “Please don’t tell me you’ve brought a stolen artefact from the Louvre into my apartment.”
“Well, if you insist,” she said with a shrug, “Shall I continue?”
“The abridged version, please, I don’t think I can take anymore of the details.
“As I was saying,” Amanda carried on, “They were American…or, at least, most of them were. In any case, by the time I realised they were heading in my direction, it was too late to make a clean break for it, so I pulled myself up and secured myself near the skylight - moving on,” she added hurriedly, catching the look in Methos’s eye. “ Anyway, from the moment they entered room, I knew I’d stumbled across something…out of the ordinary. The two taking point had career military written all over them, and the other two,” Amanda shrugged. “Who knows? But you should have seen the look on their faces when they stopped in front of the display case for the late predynastic period, you’d swear there was a ticking bob inside it.
“Maybe there was,” Methos muttered.
Amanda’s eyes narrowed accusingly. “You do know something!”
“You’ve better hurry up and finish the story, Amanda,” Methos said dryly, “I’m beginning to nod off.”
Amanda sighed, “Okay, okay, be like that…anyway, there I was, dangling from the ceiling, and hoping like hell none of them would look up, when one of them suddenly started lecturing the others about some obscure ancient Egyptian text that described Ra burying his disloyal son for eternity,” Amanda paused, “This is when things got a little strange, “ she admitted, her voice strained. “Apparently, this guy – I believe the others called him Daniel - was convinced that the canopic jar inside the display case actually contained Ra’s son. Not only that, but he kept on say things like ‘when Ra was on earth’ and how the other ‘Goa’uld overlords’ had wanted to overthrow him...any chance of a coffee?”
Methos grunted as he got to his feet and Amanda smiled as she trailed him into the kitchen and watched him fill the coffee pot. “At this stage, I was beginning to feel a little nervous,” she murmured. “At best I had four severely delusional people with guns underneath me, at worst…” Amanda wrinkled her nose. “Well, you can imagine what I was thinking—”
“That it was time to go straight?” Methos asked, dryly.
“Oh, you’re so witty,” drawled Amanda, leaning against the counter. “Come on, Methos, throw me a bone!”
Methos smirked silently as he poured two cups and handed her one.
Rolling her eyes, Amanda took a sip. “Alright then, what do you know about Stargates?” she demanded, “Come on, Methos, I know you know something.”
“You talk, I listen, remember?” Methos reminded her, crossing his arms, “Talk.”
“You’re just going to let me natter on, aren’t you?” she asked, flatly.
Raising an eyebrow, Methos headed back to the living room.
Amanda sighed, “Fine, be like that, “she murmured, pouting at his back, “Just tell me one thing. Is it true?”
“Is what true?” Methos said over his shoulder, his face a picture of innocence.
“The Goa’uld, the Stargate, any of it!” Amanda threw back, throwing her hands up the air in exasperation as she crossed the kitchen and leaned against the doorjamb.”
Don’t ask me,” Methos said with a shrug, “ I was passing time herding goats in Bulgaria at the time. As far as I was concerned, Egypt was a fairy tale told by passing traders.”
Amanda’s eyes narrowed as she studied his face and Methos fervently hoped his eyes weren’t doing that ‘thing’ again.
“I don’t believe you,” she said, bluntly.
Methos shrugged his shoulders as he headed for the front door. “A little piece of advice Amanda,” he said softly, Go home. If the military are involved, you’re probably better off pretending it never happened.”
“Just a nod, one nod, that’s all I’m asking for,” Amanda pleaded, taking a step into the room.
“Goodnight, Amanda.” Methos sighed as he pulled the door open, “Get some sleep, ring your fence and take a very long holiday.
With a sigh, Amanda retrieved her overnight case and followed Methos to the door. Hesitating at the door, she turned and flashed him a smile. “I’m only going to keep asking, you know,” she said, patting him on the cheek.
“Go home, Amanda, “Methos said in exasperation as he nudged her across the threshold and slammed the door. “As bad as her teacher,” he grumbled to himself, mentally counting to twenty before he heard the sharp click of Amanda’s heels strolling down the hallway.
Longingly, he looked at his bed, cursing as he realised he wasn’t sleepy anymore. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he stalked into the study and opened up his safety box. “Where the bloody hell is it?” he muttered under his breath as he rifled through the papers inside, “Ah…yes…”
Frowning, he studied the file in his hands and leafed through the photographs. He knew the ‘Stargate’ had been excavated sometime before the Second World War, and he supposed it may have subsequently come into the hands of the U.S. government, But a Stargate was useless without a dialling device and he didn’t think modern day technology was advanced enough to recreate one…and even then, the scientist in charge of the project would have to know what the Stargate was.
“Nah,” he muttered, as he looked at the photograph of the dialling device he had hidden so many years before. “Not possible.”
With delicate hands, Amanda removed her prize from the case and placed it on the sideboard. She wasn’t really sure why she did it; she’d already had a buyer lined up for the little Bast statue, but… “Oh well,” she murmured as she picked it up to have a closer look at the markings, “I suppose it’ll make a good conversation piece…hello, my little green alien, how are you today?”
FICTION : BUFFY/ANGEL
FICTION : CROSSOVER
FICTION : E-MAIL ME