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[goodoldnick]

There was no reason he should be nervous.  No good reason, anyway.  Nick had been through a lot today, between getting blown up and nearly drowning and waking up on an island apparently out of space and time.  Why should he be afraid to see Glen Bateman?

Because I don't believe it really can be Glen Bateman.  Not the one from Boulder, the one I know

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[intrinsicworth]

Glen was writing. It was a new venture, something he'd spoken of at length with Scott. Both men had some great ambitions but Scott was the writer. It had been a long time since Glen had written anything publishable. That lack of literature was something that had worked against him more than once in applying for a professorship at a bigger university. He'd sat down that morning and written the first few pages, pleased with how freely it was coming. But it was time for a break, and he heard Kojak barking outside, probably begging to be let in.

Glen stopped and his forehead wrinkled. No, that wasn't right. Someone must have been outside.

Glen got up from where he'd been sitting for the past few hours. His tired body creaked in places as made his way to the door. Opening it he was met with the sight of Kojak smothering some poor man. "Kojak! Kojak! Off now. Get off that man!" Glen shouted before he noticed it. The eyepatch and the blond hair. "My god," Glen said in an unaccustomed show of faith.

[goodoldnick]

Kojak sprang instantly from licking Nick's face to answer a call Nick couldn't hear. The two opposite ends of auditory talent, right there.

Nick looked where Kojak had run off to and his blood turned momentarily to battery acid. It was their Glen, or at least a very good imitation. Nick stood up and brushed himself off. It was damn hard not to run to Glen and give him a life-endangering hug after the day he'd had, but Nick wanted to be sure.

[intrinsicworth]

Kojak heeled near Glen, but sat barely suppressing his excitement at Nick's appearance.

For Glen's part, he was astounded. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He was momentarily struck dumb, a fact that would catch up with his brain later.

"Nick?" Glen finally managed to choke out. "Nick..." Glen had turned white with shock. He knew the rules of the place, but that didn't make seeing Nick any less remarkable.

Glen stepped towards his friend as a joyful smile spread over his features. He reached up and put his hands firmly on either side of Nick's face, gently shaking his hands. "Nick! I can't believe it, but I must believe it. You're here! You're here." He let's go of Nick dropping one hand to his side, and bringing the other to his own face as he shakes his head, almost laughing with the joy and disbelief of it all.

[goodoldnick]

Nick had borrowed a pen and sheet of paper from Scott, folding it so he could write without bracing it on something.

[How is this possible, Glen?]

It was all he could think to ask, and a pretty good litmus test for a true Glen Bateman. He'd have a theory, and Glen was never too shell-shocked to talk theory with Nick, no matter what happened.

[intrinsicworth]

"Well you know how the saying goes, knowledge, which is to say truth, is power. And if I had a true answer to that question Nick, well I would be a very powerful man on this island. No one seems to know for certain. You've met others...?" He asked, mostly rhetorically. If Nick had found him, Glen doubted that he'd just shown up on his doorstep. Most likely someone had shown him the way. Lisey maybe, or even Sandor who was a more helpful and considerate fellow than he wanted to let on.

"My own arrival here was no less than a miracle to me, and you know that I don't hold with that sort of nonesense. This isn't heaven or any such thing if you hadn't gotten that memo," Glen raised a bushy eyebrow at Nick. "Magic seems to be the only explanation that anyone can settle on, and I hold no better with that than with miracles as you know. As for my own theory," Glen said, predictably getting around to it, "Well let's just say I'm working on it. Folk around here don't much like questioning things. They'd rather get on with their lives.