Chapter Text
“Jason?”
The pounding in his head was unbelievable.
“Can you open your eyes.”
Hammers were beating his brain, concentrating on a point at the back of his head. With his eyes squeezed shut the sunlight was still too bright, the back of his lids were an explosion of colour and there was no way was he going to open them. He groaned his refusal and brought a clumsy hand to his face, smacking himself as he splayed fingers across his features, desperate to find pressure points that might alleviate the pain.
“Perhaps we should just carry him,” the voice said, steady but tinged with concern.
There was an affirming hum from nearby.
The prospect of being forcibly moved was alarming, a monumentally bad idea and gave him no choice but to reply. “Don’t.” The word echoed in his skull and made him gasp, made him press his fingers harder against his temples. “God,” he moaned, irritated and deep in misery.
“Jason, we must return to camp. We cannot linger in the forest, I fear for our companions.”
The argument was unpersuasive. The words were somewhat lost in the white noise of his brain but he understood the sentiment and was not at all inclined to shift. In time, he thought vaguely. Later.
“I have willow bark at the camp. As soon as we return I can make a potion that will relieve your aches.”
That was actually tempting. Who knew what willow bark was? Or how effective it might be? But he was willing to try anything, swallow anything, if it offered the possibility of quieting his loud brain.
“Ok,” he breathed with reluctance. “Just - give me a minute.” Awareness and movement was going to require some care.
He slowly opened his eyes beneath his fingers, adjusted to the sliver of sun and gradually shifted his hand away, squinting at the onslaught of light. Lying on his back, looking toward the sky, the canopy of trees in his vision swayed lightly and it was hideously unbalancing, it made him swallow hard and quickly drag his gaze down, to the man crouched beside him, pale and skinny, fluffy blonde hair above blue worried eyes.
“There you are,” the man greeted in relief. “I was starting to think we would have to drag you into camp unconscious.” His eyebrows twitched. “And I can only imagine how Ariadne would react to that. It would not have been ideal.”
Jason regarded the man blankly, the conversation moving too fast, an overload of information that his abused mind couldn't follow.
“Jason?” The man peered closer. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” he returned mildly, still puzzling over the words, and the familiarity in the tone. Trying to place the face. Trying to align his thoughts.
“You look-,” the man creased his brow. “You look lost. Do you know what happened?”
Jason narrowed his eyes as he tried to force his mind to order, settle the whirl of thoughts, but they stubbornly refused to be settled, and knowledge stayed just beyond his reach. His memory felt close, like at any moment everything would click into place, but he couldn’t quite get there.
“I don’t remember,” he replied slowly.
As he shifted carefully to sit, the blond man offered, “You were attacked by bandits. I am afraid Hercules and I were slightly behind so you faced six of them alone. I don't know how many times I have said it Jason but we need to stay together and this is why. You may be a skilled fighter but no one man can overcome a violent horde. You are lucky you were not killed before we joined the fight. I think you forget how important you are.”
It meant nothing to Jason. He listened to the rebuke in a haze of confusion, slid his eyes around searching for verification of a fight, or of a horde, something to jog his memory but the surrounds didn't support the story, the area was tranquil, no one was threatening, and he had the feeling that he was mishearing or misunderstanding, it made no sense.
“Ok Pythagoras,” the big man interjected. “The massive hangover will be punishment enough for the boy, he doesn't need a lecture as well. Let's move before the bandits recover their senses and come looking for us.”
“Pythagoras?” Jason echoed, with the first welcome spark of recognition. “Like the triangle guy?”
The look of disbelief on the blond man’s face made Jason doubt his conclusion. He wasn't sure what had made him blurt it. Some innate instinct. That apparently was wrong.
“No, sorry, my mistake,” he back pedaled, feeling foolish, a flush rising in his cheeks.
The blond man studied him intently, his expression unreadable. “Do you know who I am?”
Jason swallowed and eyed the man apologetically. Clearly it was a leading question, and the answer was supposed to be obvious. “Pythagoras?” There was no confidence in the answer.
“Oh no,” Pythagoras muttered. “You don't, do you?” He gestured behind to the larger man. “Do you know who he is?”
Jason cast reluctant eyes to the second man, not sure why he might be more recognizable than the first and studied him for a moment trying to find clues to his identity. Big man, stout, thinning on top, older than the first by about a decade. He offered an awkward smile and there was a flash of something in Jason’s mind, a flutter of familiarity but it passed too quickly.
Jason averted his gaze self-consciously. “No, I’m sorry, I don't. I'm sure it will come but I'm-” he wagged fingers at his head, “having trouble thinking at the moment.”
The men gaped at each other in disbelief. A silence descended that Jason found uncomfortable and somehow accusatory. “When the head clears-“ he fumbled, “it should, you know, be fine.”
“What do you think?” Hercules directed to Pythagoras.
“I don't know.” Pythagoras ran a hand across his jaw. “Should we wait?” He cast troubled eyes at the big man. “Perhaps he just needs a few minutes to recover himself.”
“Perhaps,” Hercules agreed, not sounding hopeful.
“We cannot take him back to the camp like this,” Pythagoras stated. “What will the queen say?”
Again the conversation was moving too quickly for Jason. He puzzled over the clues, camp – queen – forest, and couldn't make the pieces fit.
“Can you just tell me what's going on,” Jason demanded impatiently. “Where are we? What are we doing here?”
“Think hard Jason,” the blond man urged. “Look closely at our faces. You must remember.”
It was easier said than done. Concentrating was a challenge. The thrum in his head was a distraction. And he didn't have a grounding point. He was looking at two unfamiliar faces, in an unfamiliar surrounding and he felt kind of adrift. He needed a starting point, he needed to find something familiar and build on it, but everything in his mind was vague and half known. He examined his companions, examined the surrounds, examined himself and after a few minutes, with his companions staring at him hopefully, he could only shrug helplessly.
“Should I hit him on the head again,” Hercules ventured.
“No!” Pythagoras and Jason simultaneously answered, with matching outrage.
Hercules raised his hands submissively. “I’m just saying… Knock him on the head and it may get the senses flowing.”
“Or it may kill him,” Pythagoras returned witheringly.
Hercules huffed out a breath. “A light tap. Don't be so dramatic.”
“Still no,” Pythagoras dismissed and shifted his attention to Jason, studying him closely for a quiet moment. “Do you remember Atlantis?”
Jason knitted his brow. “The lost city?”
Pythagoras blinked his surprise. “I believe we have already had this conversation. How can a city be lost? Are you going to tell me about a sub?”
“There's a sub?” Jason glanced around in confusion. “Is that how we got here?”
“What about your wife?” Hercules cut in. “Surely you must remember her.”
Jason's eyes rounded. “My wife?”
“The Queen of Atlantis,” Hercules prompted. “The most desirable woman in Greece.”
Jason palmed his forehead and closed his eyes, feeling ill.
“That's enough,” Pythagoras said glumly. “It is not helping. Let's just get him back to camp, perhaps the familiar faces might return his memory. Or maybe the oracle can offer a cure.”