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Chapter Text

Prologue

The sun beat relentlessly down on him as he staggered onwards, every tortured step drawing him closer to home. The cuts had stopped bleeding a while ago – around about the same time he had stopped sweating – and he wondered fuzzily if that was something he should worry about. Stopping for a minute to try to get his bearings, he ran his tongue over his cracked and bleeding lips, desperately trying to get some moisture to them, before wrapping his arms more tightly about himself to shield his already damaged ribs from any more harm and setting off again with a gait that was half limp and half stagger. He no longer knew how long he had been walking since he had escaped – it might have been days – but one thought dominated his confused mind – the need to get home. So barefoot, bleeding and wearing clothes that might better be called rags he dragged himself on towards his goal.

By the time he reached the woods, his vision was once again greying at the edges, but he forced himself to continue, knowing that if he stopped he might not start again. There was no one to rescue him this time, no concerned friend to pull him back to safety – he had only himself to rely on. At least the woods were cooler and as he stumbled down a bank he realised there was a stream at the bottom. Falling to his knees, he lapped desperately at the clear water, slurping greedily. After days of no food and little water, what he managed to consume sat nauseatingly heavily on his empty stomach and it was all he could do not to be sick as his vision greyed even more.

Forcing himself to his feet, he stumbled on, dragging his left leg painfully, and trying to simply focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Catching his foot on a root he crashed to the ground again. By now he had lost count of the number of times he had fallen but, even as he longed to stay lying on the cool earth, a thought flashed through his mind – get up or die. He had come too far to fail so close to Atlantis so he pushed up from the ground again and with one last supreme effort turned his weary body towards home.

It was dark by the time he reached the city and very few people were out on the streets. His mind had shut down to the point where he could only think of getting back to the safety of the house and he scarcely registered what was going on around him, blissfully unaware of the shocked gasps from those people that saw his ragged and battered appearance. Finally the house was in front of him and he dragged himself up the stairs. A wave of dizziness hit him and he braced himself on the door frame before forcing his arm up to paw at the door – too hurt and exhausted even to knock. The door opened and he caught the warm and comforting smells of home and saw the shocked face of one of his friends before his knees finally gave way and darkness claimed him for its own at last.

Chapter Text

Three Weeks Earlier

If he was honest with himself Jason had felt grumpy and out of sorts all week. Not knowing their place or purpose in the world could drag a person down in the end and the Oracle's vague foreshadowings of glory did little to cheer him. Having snapped at Pythagoras for the third time that day he had felt it prudent to take a walk to try to clear his head. It hadn't really helped however and he found himself finding fault with everything around him – from the fruit on the market stalls, to the dust in the street. Even the hot, dry air seemed to offend him by its very stillness. What he wouldn't give for hint of breeze right now, or, better yet, some good old fashioned English rain! Instead all there was was heat and dust, and his tunic stuck to him uncomfortably as he wandered listlessly through the streets. Pulling the rough homespun material away from his overheated skin he wondered again why the ancient Greeks couldn't have discovered t-shirt material. He stopped and closed his eyes as a wave of homesickness briefly overcame him. Of course that was what this was really about. Put simply he was missing the world he had grown up in and nothing in Atlantis would manage to please him until he could shake off the feeling. He sighed. It had been unfair of him to take out his own bad mood on Pythagoras – especially as the young man had shown him nothing but kindness from the moment he had quite literally crashed into the mathematicians life. Well there was nothing for it but to apologise and to try to behave if not more cheerfully then certainly in a more civilised manner.

Making his way up the steps to the house he paused outside the door as he heard raised voices inside. Pythagoras and Hercules appeared to be having an argument. While it was not unusual to hear them bickering (or to join in – normally on Pythagoras' side), he couldn't recall hearing them actually have a serious argument before. He waited, listening for a few moments.

Pythagoras was cross. His work wasn't going the way it should, Jason had chosen to take his own bad mood out on him over something remarkably trivial and, to cap it all, Hercules had eaten the last food in the house and clearly expected him to provide more having gambled away the last of their shared funds. Well enough was enough! He was tired of being taken for granted by his house mates (although to be absolutely fair he had to admit that Jason didn't normally do that) and when Hercules came in he turned to give the big man a piece of his mind. It definitely didn't help that Hercules had been drinking again and had found the money for the fresh jar of wine he was carrying – which he had almost certainly taken from the food fund. Pythagoras saw red.

Hercules, however, was completely oblivious to the enraged look the young mathematician was giving him.

"What's for supper?" he asked.

"Oh I don't know," came the dangerously low reply, "how about air stew? Or maybe you'd prefer some imaginary pie?"

"Are you trying to tell me we've got no food?" the large man asked, beginning to raise his voice.

"Yes, Hercules." Pythagoras snapped. "That's exactly what I'm telling you."

"Well why not?"

"Because you ate the last of it this morning. You left the rest of us with three black olives. Three! For the whole day!"

"Why didn't you go and get more food then?" Hercules was shouting now – as he usually did when he was hungry and no food was immediately forthcoming.

Pythagoras finally lost it.

"Because you took all our money," he roared. "And what you haven't gambled away, you've spent on wine."

Hercules' frown deepened.

"There always used to be more food than this in the house."

"That was when there were only two of us living here. There are three now and no matter how much you stretch it the amount of food for two will not feed three for the same length of time."

"Well it was your idea..."

"Don't say it! Don't even think it! Can you honestly tell me that you would prefer it if Jason hadn't come? If he hadn't been here you'd have been lion food, I'd be Minotaur food and Medusa would never have come to Atlantis."

"No, I wouldn't change anything." Hercules deflated slightly. "But he could get a job," he added hotly, his voice rising again.

"So could you," retorted the young blond. "Besides Jason could find trouble in an empty room without trying, and you know he can still be a bit ignorant at times about Atlantis and our customs. I sometimes think he wouldn't last a day without one of us to help him."

He stopped, thinking for a minute that he had heard a sound on the stairs. As quickly as it had come his anger drained away, leaving him tired.

"Look," he said quietly, "until we can get some money we'll have to try to cut back a bit. I think there might be a little bread left in the cupboard – but it's likely to be a bit stale. I'll go out in the morning and see what I can get."

Hercules nodded.

"Well you may not have been completely wrong about me and the food. I may have been a bit selfish. You're a good friend – maybe better than I deserve. I'll see what I can do about finding us some more work tomorrow."

He wandered into his room, leaving Pythagoras alone with his thoughts.

They always said that eavesdroppers never hear any good of themselves, but Jason had never really thought it was true before. Slipping back into the street he walked quickly away, hurt by what he had heard. He hadn't meant to bring trouble into his friends lives – if he was honest he'd never really thought about how much trouble had come to them in his wake – and he knew he didn't always know everything about this world but he did try to fit in. In fact he probably tried harder to fit in here than he had anywhere before. He sighed. Back in his own world he had never fully fit in. A largely friendless and motherless child he had become first a socially awkward teenager, and then a bit of a loner as an adult. Thanks to his father's stories he had always preferred the past or the sea to modern technology and consequently didn't really fit in with his media obsessed peers. In fact most of his friends had been much older then him – friends of his father's really who had got used to having him around over the years. The friends he had made here in Atlantis were probably the best he'd ever had and to hear what they said about him...

He sighed again and turned into a taverna, hoping that tonight wasn't a curfew night. Maybe Pythagoras was right in thinking he couldn't cope on his own – it was just that, even after living in Atlantis for a few months now, he still wasn't fully used to the idea of having a curfew. Sitting down at a table, he patted his pockets hopefully, looking for a few coins to buy himself a drink and drown his sorrows. Unfortunately, but not unexpectedly, his pockets were empty and he began to rise from the seat when he felt a hand on his shoulder pushing him back down, even as a drink appeared in front of him. He looked up to see the largest man he had ever seen standing beside him. The man nodded towards a figure in front of him. Jason looked back down and saw a genial and prosperous looking older man had sat down next to him. The man smiled.

"I believe I have the honour of speaking to the man who killed the Minotaur," he said.

Jason watched him warily, casting a quick, surreptitious glance at the giant alongside him.

"Oh don't look so worried," the man said. "I have a proposition for you."

When Pythagoras awoke the sun was well and truly risen. Making his way into the main room he stopped in surprise. Jason was humming happily to himself – which was certainly an improvement on his mood from the rest of the week – and packing a blanket into a bag. He turned and smiled at Pythagoras. The mathematician returned the smile warily.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"I've got a job," the brunette answered.

"Doing what?"

"I was approached by a rich merchant last night. He wants a porter to travel with him to Helios, fetch and carry, wait around until he's finished his business and then come back to Atlantis with him."

"Jason..."

"We need the money, Pythagoras. Don't try to deny it. Someone's got to keep Hercules in food. It'll be an easy job with reasonable pay."

"Who is this merchant."

"He said his name was Dakos. I'm going to meet him in a few minutes."

Pythagoras looked at his friend seriously. To his surprise he realised that Jason was preparing to leave wearing only his tunic and trousers.

"You're not taking your breastplate?" he asked, knowing that his friend rarely went outside Atlantis without it.

"Dakos thought it would be less intimidating for his business associates if I didn't" Jason answered, frowning. To tell the truth he wasn't really all that comfortable with the idea but it was a stipulation of the job.

"I really think you should take it," Pythagoras fretted.

"Relax," Jason responded, "you worry too much. I'm not going to get into any trouble working as a porter. I'll be gone for two weeks – three at the most." He stopped in the doorway and looked back at Pythagoras with one of his trademark bright grins. "Trust me," he said.

Chapter Text

It was funny, Pythagoras mused, how quickly you could get used to having someone around. He and Hercules had led fairly quiet lives, and then Jason had quite literally landed on their doorstep – well balcony to be absolutely accurate – and life had never really been the same again – there was certainly a lot more excitement than there used to be.

He smiled softly to himself, thinking how glad he would be when they were all home again. With Hercules spending most of his time with Medusa and Jason away, the house had seemed distinctly lacking in life and colour lately. Not that he was objecting to having time to himself to work, but after three weeks he was feeling a little lonely.

He frowned as it crossed his mind that Jason had said he would be gone for three weeks at the most – and that date had passed yesterday. While Pythagoras knew his friend could look after himself, he couldn't help but worry. It wasn't that Jason ever went looking for trouble – things just seemed to have a way of happening to him and his lack of knowledge of the customs of Atlantis meant that he didn't always understand the implications of his actions. The bull leaping had been a good example of that. He had never blamed Jason for the predicament that they had found themselves in, but the reality was that even the youngest child in Atlantis would know better than to cross Poseidon's servant. Pythagoras smiled to himself. He knew that Hercules thought he himself was innocent but there were times when he felt that Jason had all the worldliness of a two year old.

He sighed. In reality he knew he was being a little unfair to his friend. Jason was a genuinely good and kind person, who would do anything for his friends – even if it meant risking his own life.

A light breeze drifted through the window, causing him to shiver and pull his outer robe around him a little more tightly. Looking up he was startled to see that the sun was setting in a blaze of orange fire, lighting the sky with gold and pink and mauve and shades he couldn't even name, and the night was drawing in. He squinted back at his parchment. The light was fading fast and soon it would be too dark to see the equations and triangles he had drawn. Perhaps making dinner would be a better option. Hercules should be home soon – as long as he was not detained by Medusa or a jar of wine – and he would be grumpy without food. Of course that led to another question – should he cook a stew for two or three? If Jason did by some chance make it home tonight he would be likely to be hungry, tired and in need of a good meal. But if he didn't it would be a waste of food (although with Hercules around no food was likely to go to uneaten) – and they had precious little to spare. Pythagoras glanced out the window at the gathering darkness again. Jason was unlikely to arrive this late in the day – it was more likely that the merchant he was working for would be setting up camp for the night – and if he did come Pythagoras was sure he could rustle up something fairly quickly. Decision made he lit the candles and lamps and set to work preparing dinner, humming contentedly to himself as he chopped vegetables and herbs for a stew. He would never admit it to his friends for fear that they would laugh, but he found cooking very comforting – the routine actions appealed to his logical mind.

The fire lit and the stew pot set on it, he turned his mind back to his beloved triangles, sitting down at the table and once more picking up his parchment. No matter how much he looked at it, however, he just couldn't force himself to concentrate. The air was getting heavy and close and he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that a storm was brewing.

A strange scratching noise at the door startled him. It sounded almost as if an animal was outside. Pythagoras stared at it uneasily, his breath coming faster and everything else in the room receding into the background. With growing concern he considered his options. He could stay sitting here, growing increasingly panicked until Hercules came home and laughed at him for his childish fears – or he could open the door and face whatever was on the other side. That was obviously the more risky option but, as there really was unlikely to be any danger, possibly the preferable one as it would save him an evening of worry.

He walked to the door and yanked it open, prepared to face whatever was on the other side. For a moment his brain froze in shock and he could feel his eyes widening as he looked at his friend, who stood leaning heavily on the door frame. Jason looked truly awful, his hair matted with blood and the rags he wore doing little to conceal his other injuries. He was covered in dust and blood and sweat. Pythagoras' brain unfroze just in time to see Jason's legs give way and he darted forward to catch the brunette as he dropped to the floor. With shaking fingers he searched for a pulse – half convinced from his friend's stillness and pallor that he would not find one. The pulse was weak and fast and did little to quiet the blonde's concern. He bit his lip, knowing that he would need light and space to work if Jason was to be saved. Gathering all his strength, he wrapped his thin arms around his friend and started to drag him across the floor to the table. He wasn't yet sure where he would find the strength from to get Jason onto the surface of the table as the man was tall, muscular and, more importantly, unconscious and therefore a dead weight – but he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

It had been a good day and an even better evening. Hercules smiled to himself and slipped his arm around Medusa's slender shoulders. As they reached the outer door of the house he stopped.

"Will you come up?" he asked.

"Hercules! What sort of girl do you think I am?" Medusa admonished – albeit with a smile.

"I didn't mean to imply... I just meant..."

Medusa grinned openly.

"I know," she said and put her arms around the big man's neck to hug him. Hercules beamed. In his eyes Medusa was the most beautiful creature that had ever been and part of him couldn't believe his luck that she seemed to share his feelings. As he watched her face changed into an expression of growing horror as her eyes focused on something over his shoulder.

"Hercules," she said, her voice suddenly deadly serious.

Hercules turned to see what she was looking at. His stomach dropped as he saw the fresh blood liberally smeared on the outer door and door frame. Pushing Medusa behind him – but knowing it was pointless to tell her to stay on the street – he made his way inside and up the stairs, the feeling of sick dread growing as he saw the bloody hand prints that marked the wall all the way up. Pausing for a moment at the top of the stairs, and almost absently noting that there was yet more blood on the door frame here as well, he burst through the door in a rush, yelling for Pythagoras as he did. His heart froze at the sight before him and only Medusa's horrified gasp stopped his brain from shutting down altogether.

Pythagoras sat on the floor with a frighteningly still but very familiar brunette figure in his arms. He looked up at Hercules and Medusa with distraught eyes.

"Help me," he commanded. "I can't get him up on the table."

Hercules was at his side in an instant and between the two of them they manhandled their unconscious friend up onto the table that Medusa swept clear. Without needing to be asked Hercules fetched a small bench and set it down near the head of the table. Pythagoras frowned, his mind assessing the situation.

"I need hot water and bandages," he said. As Medusa hurried out the door to fetch water in some hastily gathered jugs, he turned to Hercules. "We'll need honey, mint and coriander to start with," he added.

With trembling but gentle hands and a sharp knife the blonde started to remove the ragged remains of Jason's tunic, hissing with sympathy at the injuries he saw underneath. Between the three of them they washed their friend and started to dress the wounds. Most of the cuts were fairly superficial but there was a gash on one forearm that seemed badly infected and a deep knife wound below the ribcage that started to bleed again as it was cleaned. Pythagoras sighed as he liberally smeared the cuts with honey before binding them. The ribcage itself was black and purple with bruising and several of the ribs were obviously broken. By the time they had worked their way down to Jason's feet Pythagoras felt decidedly sick. The right foot was a mess of cuts from walking miles barefoot, each one needing careful cleaning to remove the dirt and gravel. The left foot, however, had been crushed and was a horror story of broken bones and bloody wounds. It required careful manipulations of the delicate bones to get them back into place, before splinting and binding. Although Pythagoras knew he should be concerned that his friend had shown no sign of waking yet, he found himself perversely glad that Jason had remained unconscious as resetting his foot would have caused him a world of pain.

The blonde sighed and stepped away from the table at last to wash his hands, stained with his friend's blood.

"He'll be alright now?" Hercules asked.

Pythagoras closed his eyes for a moment before answering.

"I don't know," he said. "He's very weak and his fever is very high. Where his ribs are broken... he might be bleeding inside and I wouldn't know it until it's too late."

Medusa turned away from them, her lips set in a thin determined line, and started to sponge water through Jason's matted dark hair.

"What are you doing?" Pythagoras asked.

"It will be nicer for him to be clean and comfortable when he wakes up," she answered, never pausing from rinsing the brown curls.

"I've just said that I'm not sure he'll..."

"This is Jason," Medusa retorted. "Beating the odds seems to be one of his specialities."

Try though he might, Pythagoras could think of no way to respond to this other than to silently hope she was right.

It was late, very late. They had moved Jason to his own bed some time earlier, and although it only needed one of them to stay awake and watch their friend, none of them felt inclined to go to bed yet. Suddenly a movement came from the bed which sent Pythagoras hurrying to his friend's side. Jason hung over the side of the bed retching pitifully into a bowl Hercules hurriedly thrust into the young mathematician's hands. The blonde was aware of Medusa by his side, murmuring comforting nonsense as she ran her hands soothingly through the damp dark curls. At last the heaves subsided and Jason sank back bonelessly onto the bed. Pythagoras went to stand to dispose of the bowl when he felt a weak touch on his arm, plucking at his sleeve. He turned back to figure on the bed in concern, carefully setting the bowl on the floor as he did so.

"Home?" The voice was weak and childlike and so unlike anything that he had ever heard from his friend that the blonde mathematician felt his guts twist. He caught the brunette's hand in his own, looked into the fever bright hazel eyes and tried to smile reassuringly, although he was afraid that it probably looked more like a grimace.

"Yes, Jason," he answered. "You're home. You're safe."

Chapter Text

He crouches in the darkness. Huddled in a corner with a growing sense of terror at a nameless fear. Something was out there, waiting for him. His breathing quickens and he can hear the sound harshly in his own ears. He knows that he has to be quiet, to keep absolutely still, so that the nameless thing that is lurking in the shadows won't find him. His breathing refuses to co-operate no matter what he does – coming in harsh bursts, louder than ever. He shifts quietly in the blackness, wishing for some light to see what was coming for him, at the same time as knowing that the darkness is his closest ally – if he cannot see them then they cannot see him.

Hard hands, some holding sharp knives, come out of the darkness and grab at him; clawing and ripping at clothes and skin alike, and he is hoisted, chained by his wrists to a high hook and left to dangle – the tips of his toes just touching the floor. They leave him hanging there in the darkness all alone; leave him for the nameless terror to find. And it seems as if he's always been alone, never had anyone else.

Then it is there. Hot breath on the back of his neck, searing him, burning him from the inside out and he cannot help but cry out in fear and pain, knowing that if he could see in the blackness all that would be left of himself would be a burned out husk. Nothing worth saving.

The voice that answers his cries is soft and gentle – so heart-achingly familiar that he instinctively reaches out to it even though he cannot quite put a name or a face to it. A feather light touch strokes across his forehead, followed by something wet cooling his burning skin. The voice soothes him all the while like a balm on his tortured soul – and he wants to tell the person that it isn't worth it, that he isn't worth it but his energy is spent and he cannot seem to form the words. Flailing he grabs a hand in the darkness and clings to it like he's drowning all over again.

"It's alright, Jason," the voice says, calming him. "Go to sleep. It will all be better when you wake up."

Allowing himself to be comforted, he sinks back into a dreamless sleep, and the cycle begins once more.

The first light of dawn crept grey and featureless over the roofs of the city as Pythagoras stood on the balcony trying to get some air. A light breeze ruffled his blonde curls into a fluffy halo as he raised his tired face and briefly closed his eyes. Sunrise couldn't be far away, bringing with it light and colour and all the promise that a new day could give. He felt his spirits lift. His mother had always told him that hope returned to men with every sunrise and he had never quite been able to let go of this childlike belief no matter what he had seen and done. Hercules might laugh at him but for Pythagoras every new day was a new chance and brought with it renewed hope and belief.

Hearing a soft moan behind him, the mathematician turned and made his way back inside and over to the alcove that had once been a storage area and now served as Jason's bedroom. His dark haired friend tossed uneasily on the bed, caught in the grip of a fevered dream. Pythagoras grimaced in sympathy – he knew from experience that the nightmares that accompanied a high fever were some of the worst that a person could have. After three days Jason still looked pretty awful – pale and drawn, his face flushed with fever and a few errant curls sticking to his forehead where he was sweating. One of his friends had sat with him at all times since he had come home – trading off with each other in order to get a few short hours sleep when they could. His fever and delirium were still both very high and it galled Pythagoras that all they could really do was try to keep him as cool as they could and try to soothe him when the nightmares got too bad – apart from that they would have to wait until his fever broke.

The blonde sat down on a stool alongside the bed and rubbed his gritty eyes – gods he was tired! Not that he would do anything differently if he had the chance – apart from possibly tying his friend to a chair to stop him taking the job that had been the start of all this. He reached into a bowl of water at his side for a cloth, wrung it out and carefully started to mop his friends forehead, hoping that a change would come soon.

Hercules winced at the pitiful cries coming from his friend. He might not admit it, even to himself, but he had grown very fond of both the boys he lived with. And they were both still boys, young enough to be his sons when you got right down to it – not that he would ever admit that he was less than youthful himself. He frowned. Both he and Pythagoras had known from quite early on that Jason was special, even if the boy didn't always seem to know it himself, so to see him like this was dreadful. He looked across at the alcove. Pythagoras was trying to calm their friend, but it was obvious that the dark haired lad was having none of it, crying out pitifully for his father. He sounded like a lost child and his cries were getting more frantic all the time.

Hercules strode across to the bed.

"It's alright son," he said. "I'm right here."

Pythagoras looked up at him sharply.

"Dad?" Jason was suddenly calmer. "I've missed you so much."

Hercules closed his eyes – the boy still sounded so much like a lost child that his heart ached. He crouched down beside the bed and grasped one of the flailing hands in his own, while using his other hand to gently brush the sweaty curls back from the hot forehead.

"Sleep now, Jason," he said. "I'll be right here when you wake up."

Jason relaxed back peacefully and drifted away from them again.

"What did you pretend to be his father for?" Pythagoras hissed.

"It calmed him down didn't it?"

"But you lied."

Hercules almost smiled.

"It gave him peace," he said.

He was back in the sub again with the glass imploding on him. Even as he shielded his eyes he felt the water rushing in, pulling at him, filling his ears with a roaring sound. He held his breath for as long as he could, lungs bursting and head pounding from the pressure. Logically he knew that he would be dead long before any rescue could come. He struggled to free himself from the twisted remains of the sub but the water kept pulling him back. He knew he was drowning even as he tried to struggle towards a surface that he couldn't even see. He was going to die...

Gasping, Jason suddenly came back to consciousness. Even in the aftermath of the dream it was hard to shake the feeling that he was drowning and he swallowed hard, trying to calm his erratic breathing. He slowly opened his eyes and let the room come back into focus. He was home, in his own bed, in the house he shared in Atlantis. He was safe. He swallowed again still feeling the lingering effects of panic.

"Shh. It's alright Jason. Just go back to sleep." The voice was decidedly feminine and quite familiar. Jason turned slightly towards it.

"Medusa?" he asked, unsure why the woman Hercules loved was sitting by his bed. His voice sounded rough and weak to his own ears.

Medusa looked at him properly and smiled, her joy written on her face. The young man in front of her looked pale and weak but the hazel eyes were lucid and clear of fever. She ghosted a soft hand across his face to assure herself of the fact that his fever had finally broken.

"Welcome back," she said simply.

Jason frowned in confusion.

"What?" he asked.

"You've been very ill," Medusa answered. "But I think you might just be alright now. Would you like a drink?" On receiving an answering nod, she reached down beside herself and picked up a drinking cup. Carefully slipping her arm beneath her friend's shoulders, she helped him to sit and drink, before gently settling him back down again and brushing the dark curls away from his eyes. She was more than a little startled to discover both how weak Jason was at the moment and how maternal she felt. She smiled down at him as he closed his eyes, unable to stay awake any longer, and settled herself back into a more comfortable position on the stool, as exhaustion claimed the young man and he drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

The first thing Pythagoras noticed upon opening his eyes was how quiet the house was. He lay still for a moment trying to reconcile the lack of sound with the usual bustle which invaded the house. On any normal day he would wake to hear Jason quietly trotting around their home – sometimes he was sure that his friend never slept because he always seemed to be awake – preparing his breakfast, picking up crockery or even sharpening his sword on one memorable occasion – although he hadn't done it again that early in the morning; apparently being shouted at by a semi-hungover Hercules for making "that infernal racket" had been enough to stop a repeat performance. Pythagoras smiled at the memory before the reason for the quiet hit him like a ton of rock. He sighed. What he wouldn't give to hear Jason's sword being sharpened right now, and to know that everything was normal – well as normal as you got in a house where, at various times, they'd been arrested, chased by Maenads, hunted by Furies (and he still felt more than a little guilty for that one) and one of them had spent time as a pig!

He slipped out of bed and stretched, trying to shake off the fuzzy, just-got-up feeling that came from having too little sleep recently. He shouldn't have been sleeping at all but Medusa had chased him off to bed last night when he had fallen asleep at the table for the third time (the woman was lethal with a broom!). She had promised to wake him if he was needed in the night – so the fact that she hadn't could only be viewed as a good thing – at least that was what Pythagoras hoped.

He straightened his tunic and ran a hand through his rumpled hair, trying to tame the wild blonde curls into some semblance of order, before pulling the curtain that separated his room from the rest of the house aside, and stepping out onto the main room. The sight that greeted him made him stop. Instead of being at their friend's side as he expected, Medusa was quietly preparing breakfast, humming softly to herself under her breath. She turned as she realised Pythagoras was behind her and smiled so brightly it was like the sun coming up – her joy written clearly in her eyes. She put the bowl she was holding down on the table and came towards the mathematician with her hands outstretched.

"He woke up in the night," she said simply.

Pythagoras had no need to ask who he was. He cast a quick glance towards the bed in the alcove before turning back to the girl.

"Was he... I mean did he... I mean... oh gods." He struggled to string a coherent sentence together as relief coursed through him, releasing the tension he had been feeling for days.

Fortunately Medusa seemed to know exactly what he was trying to say.

"Jason was fine," she smiled. "Tired and weak as a newborn kitten, but completely with me. The fever has almost gone. He's sleeping peacefully right now."

Pythagoras stumbled towards the table and sat down heavily on a stool.

"Thank the gods," he breathed.

Medusa came over and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Pythagoras slid his own arms around her waist and looked up at her, his smile so wide it threatened to split his face in two. Just at this moment Hercules wandered sleepily out of his bedroom, yawning and scratching an armpit. He stopped and stared in confusion at his girlfriend locked in an embrace with his house mate.

"What's going on?" he asked.

The second time Jason woke up it was late morning and the sounds from the bustling streets below were providing the normal background soundtrack which permeated the house on a daily basis. He lay still for some time blinking sleepily at the spread of light on the ceiling, trying to work out why he was so tired and why everything seemed to hurt. After a while he turned his head to look into the main room. Pythagoras was sitting at the table with his back to him, working industriously, his various parchments spread out in front of him. Jason smiled fondly at his friend's back and relaxed back into the bed, feeling strangely comfortable in spite of his various aches and pains. It felt good to be home – although he couldn't for the moment recall where he had been.

Pythagoras had been deeply engrossed in his work for a while. Hercules had left some time earlier to walk Medusa to work. Gradually the feeling of being watched crept over him and he rolled his shoulders uneasily. He eventually slowly turned to look around the room, blue eyes widening in surprise as they met the tired hazel eyes of his friend. He smiled and stood so suddenly that the stool fell over. Hurrying across the room, he sat himself down on the edge of Jason's bed, reaching out with one hand to feel his friend's forehead, while his other hand caught the brunette's wrist and started to feel his pulse.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Jason winced as he tried to move in the bed.

"Like Hercules is sitting on my chest," he answered quietly.

Pythagoras smiled even more. His friend's voice had been weak – little more than a whisper – but he sounded like himself again.

"Yes, well. You have a few broken ribs so I'm not really surprised."

"What happened?"

The blonde frowned.

"I was rather hoping you could tell me that," he said.

Jason closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them wide as his memories started to return. His breathing quickened and his hands started working at the edge of the blanket, pulling at the loose threads almost desperately. Pythagoras watched helplessly as his friend started to lose what little colour he had, obviously on the verge of a full blown panic attack. That was something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

"It's alright," he soothed. "We don't have to talk about it now. You don't even need to think about it. Just rest."

For a few minutes it seemed that his comforting was destined to fail, as Jason's breathing grew more erratic and his eyes darted around the room without really seeing what was there. Eventually though he started to calm down, collapsing bonelessly back onto the mattress and closing his eyes. He blinked sleepily at Pythagoras – what little energy he had was already spent. The blonde smiled reassuringly as he stood and made his way to the table, and poured out some liquid into a cup. He made his way back over to Jason and sat down again.

"You need to drink this," he said. "It will help with the pain. Afterwards you might want to try eating something – are you hungry?"

Jason shrugged.

"Not really."

"Perhaps some milk then."

Pythagoras helped the brunette into a sitting position, noting the winces that the young man tried hard to hide, and handed Jason the cup, steadying it when he found that Jason was struggling to hold it still. Jason grimaced at the bitter taste of the tonic but swallowed it down before Pythagoras settled him back onto the pillows. He sighed.

"What's wrong with me?" he asked.

"Apart from the broken ribs," the mathematician answered, "you've got some cuts and bruises – lots of cuts and bruises – and several of the bones in your left foot were broken – it looked like your foot had been crushed. I don't think you're going to be running around for a while..."

"Medusa said I'd been ill."

"Mmmm. Yes. Very ill in fact. You'd lost a lot of blood and several of the cuts were quite badly infected. You scared us all." He looked down at his hands, lost in thought.

"Thank you."

Pythagoras looked up again, slightly startled at the raw gratitude he heard in his friend's voice.

"For what?" he asked.

"For caring," came the response. "I'm not really used to people caring that much."

Pythagoras looked hard at Jason. The brunette had turned away slightly as if he was embarrassed by his own admission. He was really curious and wanted to ask what Jason meant but decided that it was a conversation that could wait for another time when he saw just how close to sleep his friend was.

"Right," he said brightly. "I'll get you some milk."

He slipped a spoonful of honey into the milk, reasoning that it couldn't hurt. Having helped Jason to drink this as well, he settled his friend back into the bed and pulled up the covers, smoothing the dark curls back from his forehead as he did so. Jason was asleep almost as soon as he lay back down.

Pythagoras smiled softly and returned to the table and his beloved equations.

Medusa bit her lip as she looked around the palace kitchen. Everyone else had gone for the night but she had tucked herself into an alcove, staying out of sight until they had all gone. She had loudly bid everyone farewell earlier – had let them think she had left already. She made her way over to the cupboard where the scraps left over from cooking were stored and laid out her shawl, filling it with produce. If she were caught stealing from the palace kitchens... well the punishment didn't bear thinking about! She sighed. She was a clever girl and knew that Jason would need good food to help him get better – and the boys were not well off at the best of times. A little risk on her part would be worth it in the long run, she reasoned. She knotted the corners of her shawl together and made her way to the door, looking around a little nervously as she did so.

The corridors on the way to the servants entrance were deserted at this time of night, and the excessive quiet made Medusa even more nervous. She was nearly at the servants door now and started to hurry, keen to get out of the palace.

"What are you doing?" The voice startled her so much that she dropped her bundle, various foodstuffs escaping and rolling across the floor. She turned in terror and found herself facing the Princess Ariadne.

"I asked you a question," Ariadne said firmly.

Medusa was nearly in tears.

"Please, My Lady, it's not what it looks like."

"It looks like you were stealing food from the kitchen. Do you have any idea what would happen if you were caught?"

"Yes... no... I wasn't really stealing, My Lady. They are just some leftovers that the head cook would have thrown out in the morning."

"And you thought that leftovers were worth risking everything for? Are you that hungry Medusa?" Ariadne's tone was as kind as always.

"No," Medusa answered. "They were for my friend. He was hurt and has been very ill. I just wanted to help."

"Friend? What friend?" the Princess asked sharply.

"Jason."

Ariadne's beautiful face paled noticeably and she grabbed Medusa's arm.

"Is he alright?" she asked urgently.

"He will be. He's getting better already," the other woman answered.

Ariadne nodded. She bent and picked up Medusa's shawl, handing it to the girl.

"Go quickly. But this cannot happen again, Medusa. It is too risky for you."

Medusa nodded gratefully and hurried off, feeling the Princess' gaze on her back all the way to the exit.

The cell wall was cool to touch in the stifling heat. He lay, tethered like an animal by means of a collar and rope, tied to a stake, shivering in the darkness. They no longer bothered watching him closely, assuming that he was too weak to escape – that his will was too far broken. He hadn't spoken for days, had retreated into some dark corner of his own mind – his captors knew that death couldn't be too far off now and were sorry; the boy had been so deliciously stubborn.

He struggled to rise even as the cell door was flung open and the worst of his tormentors swaggered in – more beast than man. Hard hands grabbed his shoulders, nails biting into the soft skin viciously, as his captor drew his lips back from his broken teeth in a snarl.

"Time to make you scream."

Closing his eyes, he lashed out desperately and felt his hand connect hard with something soft.

Jason woke up suddenly with a scream still dying on his lips. Momentarily unable to reconcile the difference between the dream and waking, he screwed his eyes tightly shut and brought his hands up to cover his face. As reality kicked in he felt soft, slender hands gently grasping his shoulders and heard muted cursing in the background.

"He hit me," a deep voice rumbled, before continuing with a steady stream of curses. It took Jason a minute to identify the gruff tone as Hercules.

"Well you shouldn't have tried to wake him like that." The second voice was lighter, more reasonable and much, much closer. It must be Pythagoras holding him then.

Jason allowed his hands to fall away from his face and opened his eyes, looking up at the ceiling as he tried to get his heart rate back under control.

"Are you alright?" Pythagoras looked concerned. "You looked like you were having a nightmare."

Jason nodded and swallowed, unable to form words for the moment. His eyes darted around the room until they landed on Hercules who was clutching his nose and staring back at him.

"Did I do that?" Jason asked. "I am so sorry."

Hercules noted the distress in the young man's voice. Realising the boy was close to tears, he let his hand drop and bit back the curses that were still on the tip of his tongue.

"It's fine," he rumbled. "Just surprised me is all. At least I know not to wake you like that again."

He produced a deck of cards from his pocket.

"Do you play cards?" he asked, smiling as Jason nodded. "How about a hand?"

Jason grinned suddenly, although his friends both noted that it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Bring it on," he said.

Pythagoras stepped away from the bed. While he knew that sooner or later they would need to have a serious conversation about what Jason had been through and about what was troubling him, now was not the time. He looked back at his two friends, already engrossed in their game, and smiled. He grabbed his cloak from a peg on the wall and stepped outside to get some air.

Chapter Text

In the two days since she had caught Medusa stealing leftovers from the kitchen, Ariadne had slowly worked herself up into a frenzy of worry. In public she was still every inch the ideal Atlantean princess – cool, reserved, perfect, a true goddess on earth – but in private she was sick with anxiety. Only her resolve to never allow Pasiphae to see her upset or afraid again stopped the mask from slipping in public. Things would be different if Korinna was still alive, she would have a friend who she could confide all her worries to, and who she could use as an intermediary – could send out to check that Jason really was alright. But Korinna was dead – Pasiphae had seen to that – and Ariadne's hatred for her stepmother flared a little more at the thought. Of course she did have Ione now and the girl had done absolutely nothing to make Ariadne distrust her but she simply didn't know her well enough to truly confide in her yet. So she sat alone in her room, picking at a bowl of fruit that had been left for her, and tried to come up with ways to ease her own mind.

"Are you unwell My Lady?" Ione's smooth voice startled her from her thoughts.

"No. I am quite well."

"You've hardly touched your breakfast. I will send for the physician at once."

Ariadne frowned.

"As I told you, Ione, I am well... I was simply thinking," she said firmly.

Ione smiled a little weakly – so far she had failed in her role to gain Ariadne's trust but perhaps this was her opening.

"My Lady," she started. "I know I have not been in your service for long but I would like to think... that is I had hoped to believe... that a level of friendship had built up between us. I just wanted you to know that you can tell me anything... I hope you will learn to confide in me."

Ariadne half smiled. She did like the girl but did not believe she knew her well enough yet to fully trust her.

"I was thinking of Korinna." It was not an out and out lie.

Ione stiffened.

"My Lady... I realise that your former servant betrayed the trust of the royal family but I do not want that to affect how you think of me."

Ariadne frowned.

"Korinna would never betray me," she stated coldly. "I am going to the Temple now. I may be some time."

With that she swept out of the room, her back stiff. Ione grimaced at her own mistake. She would have to be more careful in the future if she wanted to gain her mistress' trust.

Jason was miserable. Purely, completely and utterly miserable. Everything hurt – hurt a lot more than he was willing to admit – and, while Pythagoras' concoctions did help to take the edge off the pain, they did nothing for the continual bone deep aching that seemed to be his constant companion. He attempted to shift awkwardly in the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position to ease the ache that was currently flaring in his back.

That was another thing – when had it become so hard to move? Even lifting himself up the bed tired him out completely and sitting up unaided left him feeling dizzy and sick. Most of the time it felt like his body was made of lead. In reality, Jason understood that he had been dangerously ill – the other three had impressed that upon him – and that it would take him some time to get back to normal, but he was thoroughly frustrated at feeling so weak all the time. He suppressed a sigh, knowing that it would bring Pythagoras to his side instantly and not wanting to interrupt the man's breakfast – better that he think Jason was still asleep, he was already skin and bones without having another meal interrupted without good reason.

Of course he would heal a lot quicker if he slept more, but the constant aching did not make sleep easy – and when it did come, so did the nightmares. He shuddered, trying to stop his hands from shaking at the thought. He knew Pythagoras wanted him to talk about what happened, wanted to understand. But he couldn't, just couldn't; couldn't burden his friend like that; couldn't face what had happened in the waking world. So instead he faced it in his dreams – dreams that seemed to be getting worse with each passing day.

The combination of pain, weakness and exhaustion were making him snappy, mood deteriorating regularly and rapidly. Jason didn't want to snap at his friends, didn't want to be rude to them, to drive them away, but he didn't seem to be able to help himself at the moment. He sighed, frustrated.

Pythagoras was up and at his side in an instant and Jason fought the irrational urge to roll his eyes.

"Are you alright?" the blonde asked. "Are you in any pain?"

"Fine," Jason answered, shortly. "Just getting comfortable." He turned his head to face the wall, missing the look of surprised hurt that flashed across Pythagoras' eyes.

As Ariadne wandered the corridors of the palace aimlessly, her mind turned once again to Jason – not that it had ever really left him if she were honest with herself. There had to be a way to check for herself that he really was alright. She paused to let two servants walk past, both carrying platters of food, and suddenly it hit her. The princess smiled to herself. She knew the perfect way in which she could help and could make sure for herself that Jason was getting better as Medusa had said. Turning on her heel, she hurried off down another corridor, not quite running. Rounding a corner she nearly walked straight into her father and Pasiphae coming in the other direction.

"Ariadne," Pasiphae said in the hatefully suspicious tone she often used with her stepdaughter, "where are you going in such a hurry?"

"I was on my way to the kitchens," the girl answered with as much civility as she could muster.

"The kitchens," scoffed the Queen, "and what could possibly take you there? If you wanted food you should have sent your maid."

Ariadne's mind raced, searching for an excuse, even as she kept her face completely impassive.

"I wished to make an offering. A gift to the priests at the temple. I want them to pray for all those I love," she said.

Minos smiled fondly at his daughter.

"You are as kind and generous as you are beautiful," he said, enveloping Ariadne in a hug. "The people will love you all the more for it. As do I." He turned to the Queen. "Come, let us leave Ariadne to her devotions."

"Yes My Lord," Pasiphae answered, casting another suspicious look at Ariadne.

The girl sighed once they had gone. She was growing increasingly concerned about her father. Minos had never been a particularly robust looking man but lately he seemed increasingly tired and appeared almost haggard. Ariadne knew that he was being plagued by headaches, even though he had chosen not to tell her about them – the palace was a breeding ground for gossip so it was only natural that the news of the King's poor health should reach his daughter's ears no matter how much he tried to spare her from anxiety. Ariadne sighed again. It seemed she had more than one person to worry about at the moment. Mentally she shook herself. Standing around moping in a corridor wasn't helping anyone, and while there might be little she could do to assist her father, she could certainly try to help Jason.

Arriving in the kitchen, she was struck by the sheer hubbub and amount of bustling activity she saw. For a moment Ariadne stopped in the doorway, letting the glorious smells of cooking food wash over her, almost too shy to interrupt the activity. She knew that as princess she had every right to be there, and yet it seemed wrong for her to be disrupting the work that was going on – everyone seemed far too busy to deal with her. Finally the head cook looked up and saw her, eyes widening in surprise. She came forward, obviously concerned to find a member of the royal family in her kitchen.

"Is something wrong My Lady?" she asked, worried. "Was your breakfast unsatisfactory?" She frowned, unable to think of any other reason why the Princess Ariadne would be in her kitchen, and already mentally working out who had made the girl's breakfast and who would need to be punished.

"No. Everything was more than satisfactory. Breakfast was as good as always," Ariadne sought to put the woman at her ease.

"Then to what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"I wish to make a gift to the priests at the Temple. I require a basket of food – meat, bread, fruits, chicken, herbs and spices – and anything else you can think of."

The cook nearly sighed. As if she didn't have enough to do without catering to the whims of the girl.

"I will arrange for it to be sent, My Lady," she said tonelessly.

"No," Ariadne responded sharply. "The gift is to be a personal one and I wish to deliver it myself."

She stood her ground and waited as the basket was prepared. Once she had it in hand, she made her way back to her chambers to collect a cloak, feeling irrationally grateful that Ione appeared to have left to go about her other duties – while she had no need to explain herself to her maid, Ariadne wanted to leave as quickly and quietly as possible.

Once through the private door into the Temple, she sought out the head priest, finding him at his devotions near the main alter. She waited for him to pause before making her presence known.

Melas turned and saw the Princess in the shadow of one of the great pillars. Smilingly he made his way over to her. Over the years he had developed a genuine fondness for the girl. Drawing close he saw the strain on her face – saw the lines of worry etched around the eyes.

"What is wrong, My Lady?" he asked.

Ariadne looked at him and tried to smile.

"I need your help, Melas," she said.

Pythagoras frowned at the equation he was trying to work on. None of the numbers seemed to be adding up properly and he couldn't seem to concentrate no matter how hard he tried. He knew the reason of course. The reason was about the same height as he was, with brown curly hair and usually an easy going smile. He sighed. The more time went on the more worried he was becoming. He knew that Jason was still unwell, that he needed time to heal, to regain his strength. The problem was that Pythagoras also knew that in order to do that he needed to eat well and get plenty of rest – neither of which he seemed to be doing. The blonde shook his head. Jason was scarcely eating enough to keep a bird alive and they were all well aware that he was not really sleeping – the dark smudges under his eyes seemed to get darker and deeper each day. Part of the problem had to be that he was in pain (although getting Jason to admit to that was nigh on impossible – he was just too stubborn for his own good) but it was also fairly obvious that he was suffering from horrendous nightmares every time he closed his eyes. Unfortunately he was unwilling (or perhaps unable, Pythagoras thought) to talk about it with anyone. The combination of exhaustion and pain were making the brunette increasingly short tempered and he was starting to take it out on everyone around him. This was not the Jason that Pythagoras knew. He seemed to be sinking into a very dark place and try as he might the blonde simply didn't know how to help his friend get out of it.

Pythagoras looked up from the table as a door closed softly behind him. Hercules padded across the room moving remarkably quietly for such a large man.

"Is he asleep?" he asked gruffly, nodding towards the bed that stood in the corner alcove.

Pythagoras glanced across the room before turning back towards his older companion.

"Probably not," he admitted softly. "I just wish I knew how to help."

Before Hercules could respond there was a knock at the door. He ambled over and opened it, half expecting to see Medusa on the other side. It therefore came as something of a shock to find that the person on the other side of the door was actually Princess Ariadne, heavily swathed in a cloak and carrying a basket of food. Pythagoras hurried forward to greet her, while Hercules got over his shock and started eyeing the basket hungrily.

"I cannot stay long," Ariadne began, "but I just wanted to see how Jason was. Medusa told me he had been hurt and ill."

"Come in," Pythagoras smiled, as he ushered the girl through the door. "He will be happy to see you."

"How is he?" The princess asked.

"Grumpy," Hercules responded, earning himself an annoyed look from Pythagoras.

"Hercules," the blonde scolded. He turned back to Ariadne. "He is tired and weak and in some pain," he stated. "Jason is getting a little better every day, it is just that at the moment he is a little..."

"Grumpy," Hercules interrupted unhelpfully.

Pythagoras gave a long suffering sigh and shook his head. He smiled at Ariadne.

"I am sure a visit from you will cheer him up."

Ariadne cast a longing glance towards the still figure on the bed, lying with his back towards them.

"I do not want to wake him," she said.

"Nonsense," Pythagoras responded. "I highly doubt Jason is really sleeping, what with the noise Hercules was making." He received an incredulous look from the large man. "Besides I think it would do him good to see you."

Ariadne smiled softly and turned to place the basket she was carrying on the table.

"I told Medusa that she could not take leftovers from the kitchen," she began in response to Pythagoras' quizzical look. "If she were caught she would be declared a thief. The guards would brand her and cut off her hand. It was far too dangerous for her. I, however, am a princess of Atlantis," she smiled a little smugly, "and no-one would deny my request for a basket of food. As far everyone is aware I wished to make a gift to the priests at the Temple. If anyone asks, Melas will tell them he particularly enjoyed the pie."

"Pie? There's pie?" Hercules rumbled, reaching for the basket. Pythagoras swatted his hands away and rolled his eyes.

"She didn't bring it to feed you," he said sharply.

Ariadne tried not to laugh at their antics. Having made sure the food was safe from his ever hungry friend, Pythagoras made his way over to the alcove in the corner, motioning Ariadne to come with him. He was a little surprised to discover that Jason was for once actually asleep, although it was only a light doze and appeared to be far from easy. Gently he shook his friend awake and informed him that the Princess was visiting. Jason reacted immediately, rolling onto his back and looking at Ariadne, his eyes wide in surprise.

For her part, Ariadne was shocked, although she tried hard to keep it from showing on her face. The young man before her was far from his usual self, and she took in the pale, drawn face and the dull eyes, deeply and darkly ringed, with growing horror. It was obvious that Jason had been very ill and was nowhere near well yet.

"I came to see how you are," she whispered.

"I'm fine," Jason responded. If he hadn't looked so dreadful, Ariadne would have laughed at the blatant lie – it was quite touching really that he was such a terrible liar. As if to prove his point, Jason pushed himself into a sitting position as quickly as he could. He immediately regretted it as the room span and tilted alarmingly, grey encroaching on the edges of his vision, and the stab wound below his ribcage pulled painfully. He couldn't help the groan of pain that escaped from his lips as he fought down waves of nausea, and would have fallen back onto the bed if it hadn't been for Pythagoras' surprisingly strong arm wrapping itself around his shoulders keeping him upright. The mathematician reached for the pillows with practised ease and propped his dark haired friend into a sitting position before reaching for the pain killing tonic he knew Jason needed. As Ariadne watched, Jason drank the tonic he was given, wrinkling his nose at the bitter taste, before resting his head back against the pillows, eyes closed and breathing heavily.

"Yes I can see you are fine," Ariadne said sarcastically.

Jason opened his eyes to look at her, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Sorry," he said. "I moved a bit quick."

As the girl sat down on the edge of the bed, Pythagoras moved back to the table to give the couple some privacy, although he did watch them surreptitiously. It was obvious that Ariadne's visit was indeed doing his friend some good. He had more colour in his face than at any time since he had returned to them and he smiled more frequently, although Pythagoras couldn't help noticing that the smile seemed hollow and brittle, and in no way reached his eyes. The blonde sighed. Obviously they still had some way to go.

He was once again hanging by his wrists from a hook in the ceiling, the darkness pressing all around him, smothering him. The knife cuts stung viciously, bleeding sluggishly, running in rivulets towards the floor, and every bruise throbbed and ached. His head lolled on his shoulders as he lacked the strength to raise it, every beating he had endured leaving him weak and exhausted. A sudden flare of light in the darkness stabbed his eyes and blinded him temporarily, and he squinted his eyes closed, trying to move his head away. Eventually the light coalesced into a candle and two figures stepped out of the darkness. His eyes opened wide in surprise and he couldn't help the smile that rose to his lips at the sight of his two friends. They had come to save him at last.

Gradually he became aware that they had stopped a few yards in front of him and were staring at him coldly.

"Help me," he begged.

"Why would we help you?" Hercules rumbled. "Why would anyone ever want to help you?"

He shrank back as far as he could, hurt beyond belief by the cruel words.

"Because you're my friends," he answered in a broken tone.

"Friends?" the big man laughed. "Who would want to be friends with you?"

He bit his lip, tears coursing down his cheeks.

"Pythagoras?" he asked the blonde.

"We are not your friends," the blonde hissed. "Why would we be? You can find trouble in an empty room. You would not last a day without one of us to hold your hand. We will be glad to be rid of you." Pythagoras' eyes flashed angrily.

He flinched as the blonde stepped forward, knife glinting in his hand, and started to scream as his friend plunged it into his abdomen.

Pythagoras flinched at the scream that ripped from his sleeping friend's throat. Although Ariadne's visit had cheered his friend up for a brief time, his mood over the three days that followed had grown increasingly worse – as had the nightmares that seemed to plague him. Pythagoras darted over to the bed just as Jason started to wake, tangled hopelessly in the sheets. Gently he caught the brunette's shoulders in a soft grip, making sure to stay back out of punching range – Jason sometimes hit out as he woke up, which Hercules had learned the hard way.

"It's alright," he soothed, "it's just me." If anything that seemed to make the brunette more agitated and Pythagoras frowned in confusion.

"Get away from me," Jason hissed, obviously not quite awake yet.

Pythagoras flinched at the rage in Jason's voice.

"It's just me," he repeated. "I'm your friend, remember?"

"You're not my friend," Jason growled. "I don't have friends."

Pythagoras let his hands drop to his sides, unsure how to deal with this situation. Eventually Jason seemed to wake fully, face relaxing as his hand came up to his forehead. Once he was fully aware Pythagoras decided it was time to try to get him to talk.

"That seemed like a pretty bad nightmare," he started, gently.

He was disappointed when the only reaction from his friend was a lacklustre and non-committal shrug.

"It might do you good to talk about it," he continued.

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Jason, I just want to help." Pythagoras was pleading now. "What do you want me to do?"

"What do I want?" Jason's voice was bitter. "I want to wake up from this dream in my own bed at home. I want to have never come to Atlantis. I want to watch bad telly with a cup of tea. Can you do any of that for me Pythagoras?" His voice was growing increasingly loud with each statement, face angry. "But what I want most of all is for you to just leave me alone!" He turned to face the wall, already ashamed of his outburst, but still irrationally angry at the blonde.

Pythagoras shot backwards, eyes filling with tears. He had never heard Jason speak that way to anyone, had never heard that level of suppressed rage in his friend's voice, and had certainly never expected to have it levelled at him. He fought back the urge to cry, convinced that Jason hated him, although he didn't know why. He turned and stumbled towards the table, half blind, and ran straight into Medusa. He didn't know when the girl had arrived, but it was obvious from the look on her face that she had heard everything that had just been said.

"He hates me," the blonde stated in a broken whisper.

"No he doesn't," Medusa responded, slipping her arm around his thin shoulders. "He's not himself and you know it." Her eyes hardened briefly as she looked at Jason, before softening as she turned back to Pythagoras. "Go and join Hercules at the tavern. I think you could do with getting out of the house for a bit."

"I should stay," the blonde murmured.

"I am perfectly capable of doing everything that needs to be done here," Medusa said firmly. "Go."

Allowing himself to be guided to the door, Pythagoras paused to grab his cloak and level another teary eyed glance towards the alcove, before being propelled outside by a very determined Medusa.

The girl watched him leave before turning back to the room, folding her arms with her lips fixed in a thin line as she mentally prepared for the confrontation she was about to have.

Chapter Text

Medusa was beyond angry. She knew as well as any of them that Jason was hurt, was ill, in pain and deeply troubled; was not himself. But that still didn't give him the right to lash out at the people who cared for him. She couldn't get the image of Pythagoras' tear filled blue eyes out of her mind and knew, as she had known the instant she had overheard what Jason had said, that she had to act. Whatever was bothering the brunette lad, it could not be allowed to fester any longer. This was one particular demon that needed to be dragged into the light and dealt with before it destroyed Jason; before it destroyed the relationships he had with his friends – friendships that had always seemed to mean so much to him. And if it cost her her own friendship with Jason, it was a price that Medusa was willing to pay for the sake of his sanity and happiness. She stepped forward resolutely, never taking her eyes from the figure on the bed. Frowning, her eyes narrowed as she took a good long look at the boy, taking in how thin he had become in such a short time, how tired he looked, how rigidly he held himself – deep anger warring with even deeper pain and sadness written in every line of his body. Yes it was past time to act.

"How dare you," she said, voice throbbing with anger and emotion.

Jason started and rolled onto his back, eyes betraying his shock at seeing her there. He had presumed he was alone; had presumed he had finally succeeded in driving Pythagoras away – his heart clenched briefly at the thought – Pythagoras had been his first friend in Atlantis (the first real friend he had ever had if he was brutally honest) and the thought of losing him was almost unbearable – even if it would be his own fault that it happened.

"How dare you," Medusa repeated. "How dare you speak to him like that. He has done nothing but care for you. Done nothing but worry about you. And you treat him like that? What gives you the right to think you can speak to him that way?"

She felt a brief flare of satisfaction at the flicker of shame she saw dart across her friend's eyes. Although it was gone in an instant, his face hardening with anger, it meant that perhaps Jason was not quite as lost to them as she had begun to fear.

"I never asked him to worry," he muttered.

"Didn't ask him to... Of course he worries. We all worry. We are your friends!"

"No," Jason answered hotly. "I don't have friends." The anger seemed to drain out of him suddenly. "I've never had friends," he finished sadly.

"If you truly believe that then you really are an idiot," Medusa stated. "Pythagoras loves you. They both do. And yet you seem to think it is acceptable to treat them both badly. To lash out at them. To hurt them. I will not stand for it, Jason. I will not see you hurt them like that."

Jason frowned.

"I would never hurt either of them," he said.

"You already have," Medusa answered angrily. "Are you really that self-centred that you can not see what you are doing to them? Neither Pythagoras nor Hercules have slept properly since you came home. They were both terrified that you were going to die. We never left you alone for a minute. Most of the time one of them sat here just holding your hand because there was nothing else they could do. And now you snap at them. Take your own frustrations out on them. If you really can't see what you are doing to them then you are not the person I thought you were, Jason. I never thought you would be that selfish."

With that she turned on her heel and marched out of the door, leaving Jason alone with his thoughts.

For a long while he lay staring at the ceiling, thoroughly ashamed of himself. Medusa was right of course. He had selfishly been allowing himself to wallow in self-pity; had taken out his own anger on his friends; had said things he didn't mean even as he said them. Before this he had always tried to be unselfish, to put the needs of his friends before his own – but he had spectacularly failed this time. The way he had been behaving over the last few days he would not blame his friends if they never spoke to him again – although the thought of that made his lower lip tremble. All he could do now was try to make amends and lying here feeling sorry for himself wasn't going to help matters any. Cautiously he pushed himself up in the bed and was pleased to note that it was a little easier than it had been the day before and that the room did not spin as much as it had been doing. Pushing the blanket back he sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose in disgust at the acrid mixture of stale sweat and sickness that emanated from his own skin. Well that at least was something he could fix! Taking care not to move too quickly, Jason swung his legs over the side of the bed and paused for a while, perched on the edge of the bed, trying to get his balance. Once he was sure that he was not in any immediate danger of passing out, he carefully levered himself up from the bed, using the wooden pillar at the foot of his bed for support, and stood, balancing on his good foot. It was immediately apparent that he had not been out of bed in over a week. The room tilted and span and black spots danced across his vision as he closed his eyes against the dizziness that threatened to send him crashing to the floor, even as he forced down the waves of nausea that crashed into him. It briefly crossed his mind that perhaps this had not been the best idea he had ever had and that Pythagoras was almost certainly going to tell him off when he came home. He almost smiled at the thought. Resolutely pushing down the nausea and dizziness, Jason started to hop across the room, moving mainly by sheer stubborn determination, as he aimed towards the pitcher of water he could see on the table on the balcony.

Even in the middle of the day the tavern was dark and smoky, and smelled of stale wine and sweat. Pythagoras wrinkled his nose in disgust at the stench. If he was honest with himself he'd always loathed the smell of the tavern – the smell of drunken men – it reminded him too much of his father; brought back too many bad memories. Not that he'd ever let Hercules know that of course – telling the big man would only make him feel guilty and Pythagoras would never want to make his friend feel bad in that way. So he sat, trying not to breathe in the fumes and nursing the same cup of wine that he'd had ever since he had arrived, shaking and almost in tears, and Hercules had taken one look at him and pushed him gently down onto a bench, pressing the cup into Pythagoras' hand as he did. They hadn't really spoken since – Pythagoras too caught up in his own misery and Hercules too worried about both his friends for meaningful conversation.

"I don't know what I did wrong," Pythagoras said numbly, finally breaking the silence.

Hercules sighed and placed a comforting hand over the mathematician's.

"I don't think you did anything," he rumbled. "He's just in a dark place right now."

"You were not there, Hercules. I really think he hates me, but I don't know why."

"Jason is angry at the world right now. You just happened to be there at the wrong time. That's all."

"I am not sure that is all," Pythagoras answered sadly.

Neither of them had noticed Medusa slip into the tavern and come to stand behind them, listening to what they were saying. Now she came forward, mouth set in determination.

"Jason doesn't hate you, Pythagoras," she said firmly. "Although he may not be too fond of me at the moment."

"Why?" the blonde asked.

"Because I told him some things I'm not sure he really wanted to hear," came the response.

"What do you mean?"

Medusa grimaced, unable to bring herself to smile.

"I may have shouted at him," she admitted, "but he was losing himself and I didn't know how else to snap him out of it. I only hope it worked."

Pythagoras sighed, put down his cup and began to rise. Before he could truly stand Hercules placed one meaty hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down onto the bench.

"I should get back," the blonde fretted, trying to shake off his friend's hand.

"Sit down and finish your drink," Hercules was adamant.

"But Jason..."

"Will still be there when we get home. It might do him good to have a little time to himself."

"He's right," added Medusa, when it looked like Pythagoras was still going to argue. "Jason needs to sort his head out and I don't think he can do it if we are crowding him."

"Do you really think it will be that easy?"

"No," the girl admitted. "I think whatever happened to him while he was away has shattered him," she sighed. "He's lost in the dark. I just wish he would let us help."

"That boy is just too stubborn," Hercules grumbled.

Medusa smiled.

"That may be to our advantage."

"How?" Pythagoras asked.

"If he was stubborn enough to survive and to get home, then he's stubborn enough to fight his way back to us. I just hope I've given him enough of a push in the right direction."

It was nearly dusk by the time they left the tavern and returned home, the setting sun casting long shadows across the city. Pythagoras had spent the time alternating between mild fretting and outright panic, much to the frustration of his two companions. As they reached the edge of the marketplace he could wait no longer and darted on ahead, weaving in and out of the market stalls and trying to avoid the vendors who were just closing up for the night. A couple of near misses and one stumble later (really it shouldn't be that hard to avoid tripping over his own feet!) he reached the outer door of the house and paused to catch his breath. Smoothing down his tunic and running a hand through his ruffled blonde hair, he tried to make some attempt to make it look like he hadn't rushed back in a flurry of anxiety and mounted the stairs. As he reached the top he took a deep breath, still trying to convince himself that everything would be alright and that one of his best friends really did still like him, and stepped through the doorway into the kitchen. He glanced across at the alcove expecting to see Jason still on the bed and quite possibly with his back turned as he had been for the last few days. He was horrified to see that the bed was empty, fear gripping his stomach at the thought that his friend had once again disappeared. A soft noise from the balcony made him turn and it was with a growing sense of both relief and anger that he saw Jason sitting on a stool, leaning heavily against the table, basking in the glow of the last rays of the setting sun, his eyes closed. Pythagoras crossed the room in a few short strides.

"What in the name of the gods do you think you are doing out of bed?" he asked testily.

Jason's eyes snapped open almost comically and he had the good grace to look both embarrassed and guilty.

"I... urm...," he stammered.

"It's not enough that you leave for three weeks, come back in a truly awful state and worry me half to death," Pythagoras ranted, on a roll now, "but now you decide to get up when you should still be in bed and there is no one here to help you. What if you had fallen? Your body is still weak, Jason. You are not really strong enough to be getting up on your own. And the gods know you are not getting enough food or enough sleep! Are you deliberately trying to take years off my life?"

He was stopped mid-rant by a gentle hand grasping his arm. He looked down into the earnest and contrite hazel eyes of his friend and felt his anger draining away.

"I'm sorry," Jason said. "I didn't mean to make you worry. I know I've been acting like a brat for the last few days. I don't really mean to be selfish."

"What is 'a brat'?" the blonde asked.

Jason looked down uncomfortably, shifting awkwardly on the stool.

"A badly behaved child," he mumbled. He looked up again, turning the full force of his puppy eyed look on his friend, and Pythagoras felt the last of his anger and frustration leave. "What I said to you before was unforgivable," Jason continued. "I was frustrated and tired and feeling sorry for myself, and I took it out on you. It was wrong of me and I am sorry," he turned towards the door as Hercules and Medusa finally came in. "It took a very sensible friend to make me realise that I can't wallow in self-pity forever," he half smiled at the girl.

Medusa returned his smile.

"I shouldn't have got cross at you," she said.

"No," Jason responded. "It was what I needed."

"That still does not explain what you are doing out of bed," Pythagoras complained.

Jason looked awkward again.

"I can't stay in bed forever," he said. "Besides I smell worse than Hercules."

"Oi," the burly man shot back, "why is it always me?"

Pythagoras rolled his eyes.

"As I think I have said before, that is a question we ask ourselves every morning," he smiled to take the sting out of his words.

"I saw the jug on the table and thought I could have a bit of a wash," Jason continued, "but when I finally got here it was empty and I didn't have the energy to move anywhere else."

Pythagoras smiled again.

"Alright," he said. "Let me get some water warmed up so you can have a proper wash. I need to change your bandages and check your wounds again anyway."

"I suppose that is my cue to go and fetch some more water," Hercules moaned, even as he collected some jugs and lumbered towards the door.

"And I will start supper," Medusa stated, turning towards the kitchen.

Hurrying about the house, Pythagoras quickly gathered bandages, healing herbs, a couple of blankets and a fresh tunic for Jason. Returning to the balcony he fixed the blankets across the doorway, effectively screening the area from sight.

"I thought you would like a little more privacy," he said in answer to Jason's quizzical look.

He stepped back through the screen again and was pleased to discover that Medusa had already placed a pan of water onto the fire to heat up. Taking care not to spill any water, he filled a large bowl and pitcher, carrying them back to the balcony in two trips, pausing to collect some cloths on the way back. Jason, he noted with some satisfaction, had not attempted to move from the stool. The brunette looked up at Pythagoras as he came back in and attempted to smile, albeit a little wanly.

"Right," Pythagoras said brightly, "let's see how you are healing." With gentle hands he unwound the bandages from around Jason's torso and ran his hands lightly down his friend's sides, noting with pleasure that many of the cuts and bruises that had marked the brunette's skin were already almost healed. "Your ribs are healing well," he smiled, "and I think I will be able to remove these stitches in a week or so," he added as he carefully probed the stab wound in Jason's abdomen.

Jason looked down at the wound, his eyes distant and lost. Pythagoras continued assessing his friend, unaware that Jason seemed to once again be retreating into his own head and the bad memories it contained. The infected cut on the brunette's arm was still a little inflamed and warm to touch but it too seemed to be healing well.

"The infection has almost gone," the blonde stated. "Now let me have a look at your foot." He looked up and was suddenly aware of the blank horror in his friend's eyes. "Jason?" he said, touching the boy's arm gently. That warm, friendly hand seemed to ground Jason – to bring him back to reality – and he shuddered, before looking at Pythagoras, his hazel eyes huge.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Jason answered. "Just bad memories."

"It might help to talk about them," Pythagoras said softly.

"I know... I will tell you... I just can't... not yet anyway."

The blonde genius smiled sadly.

"Alright," he said. "I will not push you. Just know that whatever happens I will always support you."

Jason looked affectionately at his friend.

"What did I ever do to deserve you, Pythagoras?" he asked.

"Fell onto my balcony I think," Pythagoras answered with levity, "and I was left wondering what to do with a fugitive on the verge of a panic attack!"

Jason snorted and smiled, and Pythagoras felt a hard knot that he had not even been aware existed unclenching in his stomach. For the first time in days the smile had reached Jason's eyes. It was, to be sure, a fragile smile and looked like it could be easily fractured, but it was real and Pythagoras felt his own face lighting up in response. He looked back down at what he had been doing.

"The bones in your foot are beginning to set," he said as he started to re-wrap and re-splint the limb. "But you must not under any circumstances put any weight on it yet." He smiled, pleased with what he had seen so far, and turned to the bowl on the table, wetting and wringing out a wash cloth.

Jason was somewhat embarrassed to discover that he needed Pythagoras' help to wash. The blonde, however, seemed to take it all in his stride.

"Do not worry," he said on seeing the embarrassed flush on Jason's cheeks. "If our positions were reversed you would do the same for me, would you not?"

"Of course," Jason answered instantly.

"Then allow me to help you now. I will think no less of you for needing help."

Jason couldn't help but groan slightly as the mathematician touched his aching shoulders. It was followed almost immediately by a sigh of contentment as the hot cloth started to ease his aching muscles. Pythagoras frowned.

"Are you in pain?" he asked.

"It's nothing," Jason responded. "I'm just aching a bit."

"Why did you not tell me?"

Jason sighed.

"I ache all over most of the time," he admitted. "I'm getting used to it now."

Pythagoras' frown deepened.

"You should have told me," he said. "There are ways we could have relieved any aches you have. I do not want to see you in any pain."

Without another word he left the balcony, returning with a small bottle in his hands. Pouring a little of the contents into his hands, he began to gently massage his friend's shoulders and upper back, carefully easing out any knots he found with his thumbs. As Jason began to relax into his touch he smiled softly.

"The oil contains soothing herbs," he explained. "They should ease your muscles. And of course hot compresses can work wonders." He smiled again as he finished. "Next time just tell me."

He wiped his hands on a cloth and helped Jason put on the fresh tunic, before taking the blankets down from the opening. Medusa and Hercules were talking quietly by the fire as the girl stirred the cooking pot. Pythagoras turned back to Jason.

"Are you ready to go back to bed?" he asked.

"Not yet. Please?" Jason answered beseechingly, once again turning the full force of his puppy eyed look on Pythagoras. The mathematician idly wondered if Jason knew just how devastatingly effective that look actually was, even as he found himself giving in to his friend.

"Alright," he said looking around. Moving quickly, Pythagoras gathered up the pillows from both his own bed and Jason's before making his way back to the balcony, stopping on the way to get Hercules. Once he was back by the table he smiled at Jason.

"Hercules, I need you to help Jason stand up for a moment," he said.

"Right," Hercules responded, and slipped his arm around Jason's shoulders, hoisting the boy up before he could even think of arguing that he didn't need help. Pythagoras pulled the stool close to the wall and smiled encouragingly at Hercules, who deposited Jason on it without needing to be told. Pythagoras tucked the pillows around his brunette friend, reserving one which he placed upon a stool and gently lifted Jason's bad foot to rest on it. Jason sighed in relief as he relaxed back against the soft pillows, then started in surprise as Hercules dropped a blanket onto his lap, tucking it around his legs efficiently, and placed another around his shoulders.

"It'll get chilly now the sun's going down," the big man rumbled, "and I'm not having you taking sick again because you haven't the sense to keep warm."

Jason frowned slightly.

"I'm not an invalid," he complained.

"Actually, Jason," Medusa said in her blunt way, "that's exactly what you are right now. So stop complaining and let yourself be looked after."

Jason bit his lip.

"I'm not used to anyone wanting to look after me," he explained softly, blushing.

In the face of the brunette's awkwardness, Pythagoras decided it was time for a change of subject.

"I meant to ask before, what is tea?"

Jason looked confused.

"What?" he asked.

"You said earlier that you wanted a cup of tea and I wondered what it was."

"Oh," Jason said. "It's not important. It's just a drink from where I grew up. You take leaves from the tea plant and pour hot water on them and let them infuse. Then you add milk and sugar. Some people like it without but I've always liked sweet things," he laughed a little. "It doesn't really matter though. I don't think you'd have anything like it here."

Pythagoras smiled softly.

"Perhaps not," he agreed. As he moved away from the balcony, Hercules pulled the table over towards the wall and sat himself down on a stool.

"Tell me," he asked Jason, "did I ever tell you about the time I wrestled a pack of rabid wolves for the sake of a merchant's sick daughter?"

Pythagoras exchanged a tolerant look with Medusa as he let Hercules' voice drift into the background. He went to the small kitchen and began grinding a mixture of herbs and spices in a pestle, before adding them to a small pot of milk which he placed over the fire to warm.

"Hercules, that is not true," Jason's voice cut through Pythagoras' thoughts.

"I'll have you know that it is completely true," the older man stated.

He was answered by three disbelieving looks.

"It's almost completely true," he insisted. "Anyway back to my story..."

Pythagoras tuned him out again as he took the milk from the fire before it could bubble over and scorch, and poured it into a cup, adding a few more spices and a generous dollop of honey. Stirring the whole concoction, he stepped back to the table and placed the cup in front of a startled Jason.

"It's not your tea," he explained, "but I thought... well anyway..."

Jason smiled at him and took a long sip. As the sweet and spicy flavour exploded in his mouth he froze and looked down at the cup, his eyes suddenly distant.

"I know this," he said quietly. "My father used to make this for me as a treat. He'd make it whenever I was sick or had a nightmare. I haven't had it for twenty years – not since he disappeared."

Pythagoras frowned.

"You must have been very young when he disappeared then," he said.

"Five," Jason responded subconsciously playing with his necklace.

"That must have been hard on your mother," remarked Medusa as she brought a steaming pan of chicken soup to the table.

"Not really," Jason replied. "I was always told she died just after I was born."

"I am truly sorry," Pythagoras said sympathetically.

"It's alright," the response was soft and sad. "You can't really miss what you've never had can you?"

"Let's eat before it gets cold," interjected Hercules.

The others rolled their eyes at the somewhat predictable statement from the big man. Nevertheless Medusa started to serve the soup.

Supper was a jolly affair, buoyed along by Hercules' tall tales. Jason managed to eat about half of what he had been given before putting the spoon down and looking at Medusa apologetically.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's really nice. It's just that I'm not really all that hungry."

Medusa exchanged a look with both Pythagoras and Hercules.

"Do not worry, Jason," Pythagoras said. "You have managed to eat more tonight than you have in several days. It will take time for you to regain your appetite."

The brunette smiled at him and relaxed back onto the pillows as Hercules launched into another tale of his heroism, feeling comfortable and contented. Before long his eyes began to grow heavy and he found himself having difficulty keeping track of the conversation.

Pythagoras was about to launch into an explanation of why Hercules' latest story could simply not be true when he felt a sudden weight on his shoulder. Looking down he discovered that Jason had gone to sleep against him. Smiling to himself, he adjusted the brunette so that he was in a more comfortable position, his head resting on the mathematician's shoulder, before narrowing his eyes and looking up at Hercules.

"Don't say a word," he admonished, pointing a finger at his burly friend.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Hercules answered defensively, although his eyes were alight with amusement and Pythagoras was under no illusion that he would be teased unmercifully at a later date.

"He can't sleep there," Medusa interjected sensibly.

"I know," agreed Pythagoras. He softly called Jason's name and shook his friend's shoulder gently. The only response he received was a small sound of discontentment from Jason, followed by the brunette nuzzling his face deeper into the blonde's shoulder. Hercules grinned openly in the face of Pythagoras' helplessness and even Medusa looked amused. The big man got to his feet and came around the table. Still smiling he slipped Jason's free arm around his own neck and, placing one arm around the boy's back and the other under his knees, lifted him up as though he was no heavier than a child. Somehow it always surprised Pythagoras when Hercules showed his true strength – even though he knew his burly friend was actually immensely strong it was easy to forget in the face of Hercules' tall tales, drunkenness and gambling.

"We need to get some weight back on him," the big man remarked. "He's all skin and bone."

Carefully he carried Jason back to the alcove and gently placed him on the bed, taking care not to wake the young man. He pulled the blanket up over his sleeping friend and smoothed out any creases before brushing the dark curls back from Jason's forehead affectionately. Turning he looked at Pythagoras challengingly, as if daring the young genius to say something. Pythagoras turned back to his drink with a smile, wisely choosing to hold his tongue.

The next morning, Pythagoras was working on a particularly tricky equation when a sound behind him startled him. He turned to see Jason leaning heavily against the pillar at the foot of his bed, balanced on one foot. He knew his friend had woken screaming several times during the night and if anything the brunette looked even more tired than he had yesterday. Before he could say anything Jason spoke.

"I can't go on like this," he said, exhaustion dripping from his voice.

Pythagoras' heart sank.

"I know," he answered softly.

Jason closed his eyes briefly, seeming to steel himself.

"Alright," he said. "I think I need to tell you what happened now."

Chapter Text

Pythagoras looked long and hard at his friend. He attempted to smile reassuringly, hoping that it did not come out as a grimace.

"Alright," he said, coming forwards towards the brunette. "I said I would not push you, but if you are ready to tell me what happened then I am more than ready to listen. Whatever happened – whatever you have been through – know that I will never judge you. You are my friend and will always have my support."

Jason nodded, then swayed and closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness hit him, swallowing hard against the sickness that soured his stomach. Gentle hands firmly grasped his shoulders and eased him back down to sit on the bed. Opening his eyes he saw the concerned blue eyes of Pythagoras looking back at him, worry and tension written on his face as he crouched beside the bed, hands never leaving Jason's shoulders.

"Sorry," Jason mumbled, embarrassed.

"Are you alright?" Pythagoras asked.

"Yeah. I just get a bit dizzy when I stand up."

Pythagoras raised an eyebrow.

"And that is why you should not be trying to get out of bed on your own," he admonished. "I know it is frustrating, Jason, but you really do need to rest and regain your strength. Gaining some weight again would not hurt either."

Jason rolled his eyes.

"You know you're going to make someone a great mother one day," he said, smiling.

Pythagoras frowned.

"You know I am right," he said.

Jason looked around the room.

"Where's Hercules?"

"At the market," the blonde responded. "Why?"

Jason favoured him with a fragile smile.

"We should wait for him," he said.

"Why?" Pythagoras asked again.

"Because I'm not sure I'll be able to tell this story more that once," Jason answered, swallowing hard.

Pythagoras nodded, looking shrewdly at his friend and noting the slight tremors that Jason seemed unaware of. He stepped away from the bed as the brunette slowly swung his legs back in, obviously trying to make himself more comfortable, although his eyes betrayed the fact that he was miles away. Pythagoras moved to the table and began to cut a slice of bread, spreading it thickly with honey as he recalled Jason's comment about liking sweet things from the night before. He tried not to worry too much but the truth was that he was well aware that Jason's story was likely to be extremely unpleasant, and he could not help but be concerned when he thought about how telling it might affect his friend. Still it had to be better than the situation they were in at the moment – at least if he knew the truth he could try to find a way to help the brunette, even if it was just by being there for him. The door banged open behind him, startling him out of his thoughts, and he turned to see Hercules striding into the room carrying what appeared to be several long poles and pieces of driftwood and a small piece of sheepskin. Pythagoras frowned in confusion.

"That is not the bread and milk I asked you to fetch," he pointed out.

Hercules laughed and clapped the mathematician on the shoulder, nearly sending him to his knees.

"Ah, yes, my friend. But you do not know of the piece of good fortune that I had," he answered.

Pythagoras closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

"Have you been drinking?" he hissed.

"I'll have you know that I am completely sober," Hercules answered.

Pythagoras just looked hard at him.

"Almost completely sober," the big man amended. "I met Medusa in the market fetching some things for the palace kitchens. She informed me that Princess Ariadne had instructed her to make up a basket of food to take as an offering to the Temple. She should be along with it any time now."

"That still does not explain the wood," the blonde argued, slightly mollified by Hercules' explanation.

Hercules looked uncomfortable.

"I just thought...," he paused awkwardly. "Jason's not really going to be back on his feet for a while..."

"No," Pythagoras agreed.

"Well he'll need a crutch to get around won't he," Hercules finished.

The mathematician smiled affectionately.

"Yes," he paused. "You are a good man, Hercules."

"How is he today, anyway?" Hercules asked, trying to change the subject.

"Tired. Hurting. Afraid... He is finally ready to tell us what happened."

"Are we ready to hear it though?" Hercules sighed, his face uncharacteristically serious.

"We have to be," Pythagoras answered with equal seriousness.

Hercules nodded his agreement, before standing to answer a soft knock at the door.

"Medusa," he smiled.

"Hercules. May I come in?"

As the burly man stepped aside, the girl entered the room and placed a full basket on the table. Pythagoras breathed in an enticing aroma emanating from the basket and looked at Medusa quizzically.

"Spiced honey cakes," she answered his unspoken question. "They will still be warm. Jason did say he liked sweet things didn't he?"

At Pythagoras' answering nod, she smiled.

"There is also bread, milk, cheese, meat, olives and oil in there. Oh, and a couple of pies. Princess Ariadne was most insistent that there should be pies," she smiled again. "I made up the basket myself." She looked around at the serious faces. "What's going on?" she asked, smile dropping.

"Jason wants to talk to us," Hercules rumbled.

"What about?"

"He wants to tell us what happened," Pythagoras answered, taking a warm cake and placing it on a plate. Quickly and quietly he made his way to the corner alcove and stopped, looking at his friend.

Jason was leaning back against the wall, staring out of the window at the bright day with unseeing eyes. A soft noise from Pythagoras brought him back to himself and he turned and smiled wanly at the mathematician, raising an eyebrow at the plate in the blonde's hands.

"You need to eat," Pythagoras stated firmly, pressing the still warm cake upon his friend.

It was all Jason could do not to grimace. Bad memories tugged at the edges of his consciousness and fear at the thought of having to relive them had settled like a stone in his stomach, robbing him of what little appetite he had had to start with. Still he didn't want to offend his friend. Pythagoras had been so kind to him ever since he had arrived in Atlantis and he felt he owed it to the young genius to at least try to do as he asked. Taking the plate from the mathematician, he started to listlessly pick at the warm cake.

"The idea is to eat it not play with it," rumbled Hercules.

Jason looked up, startled, to see the big man leaning nonchalantly against the pillar at the end of his bed, Medusa standing next to him, her hands clasped in front of her. He swallowed hard.

"Okay," he croaked looking back at the quietly waiting Pythagoras. "Alright. I'll tell you what happened."

Four and a Half Weeks Earlier

As he exited the house, Jason felt the smile dropping from his face. He sighed. It still stung to recall what Pythagoras had said to Hercules the night before no matter how much he tried to persuade himself that the words had been said in the heat of an argument and had not been truly meant. Still it would not hurt to get out of his friends hair for a while and the gods knew that the money he could earn from this job would definitely come in useful. Hoisting his bag higher onto his shoulder, he slipped out into the street unaware that Pythagoras was watching him go with some concern from the balcony overhead.

The taverna where Jason was to meet Dakos was deserted and dark at this time of day – it was too early even for the drunks – most of whom would still be sleeping off the effects of last night's drinking – either in the comfort of their own beds or in a gutter somewhere. The young man stepped through the doorway and squinted, trying to adjust his eyes to the darkened room after the bright sunshine outside.

"Hello," he called softly.

As his eyes adjusted, he could see the merchant and his bodyguard at the far end of the room deep in conversation. Dakos handed a small pouch to the giant and turned away as the man left through a back door, eyes hooded and lips pulled back into a feral sneer. He looked so different from the person Jason had met the night before that it was all the young man could do not to turn and run back home as fast as he could. As Dakos saw the brunette his face morphed back into that of a genial and prosperous merchant and he came forward.

"You're late," he said sharply.

"I'm sorry," Jason answered. "I thought we agreed one hour after sunrise."

"Well you're later than I would have liked." The man's face relaxed into a smile and his voice took on a more friendly note. "No matter. There is no harm done." He sighed. "I am very much afraid that there has been a change of plan. You and I will still be joining the caravan to Helios this morning, but I have had to send Aegon to Pathmos on urgent business. I myself will be joining him there as soon as my business in Helios is concluded and we have returned safely to Atlantis." He smiled at Jason, but it was in no way a truly friendly smile and the young man struggled to keep from visibly shuddering. "You have travelled to Helios before?"

Jason nodded, remembering the journey he and his friends had made with Nilas' caravan just a few short weeks before.

"Yes," he answered.

"Good," Dakos said. "Then you will know what to expect. We must leave to join the caravan. My belongings are over there," he nodded to a darkened corner of the bar.

Jason turned, frowning, uneasy, and collected the merchant's luggage. There were two leather bags and a box, awkward but not heavy, and he paused, adjusting the load in his arms, before following Dakos out into the street. Trotting to keep up with the stride of the merchant, he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that he was being watched. He stopped, ostensibly to adjust the load in his arms again, but in reality so that he could surreptitiously look around himself, trying to pinpoint where the uneasy feeling was coming from.

"Keep up boy," Dakos called impatiently over his shoulder.

With one last look around, Jason set off again, still worried. Suddenly this job did not seem as easy as it had appeared to be the night before and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong no matter how hard he tried.

Pythagoras stared in exasperation at his friend.

"So if you were that worried why did you continue?" he asked sharply.

Jason looked down at his hands.

"Because no matter how much you stretch it the amount of food for two will not feed three for the same length of time," he mumbled.

On hearing his own words from so many weeks ago, Pythagoras exchanged a horrified look with Hercules before turning back to the brunette, his distress written on his face.

"The night before you left, when Hercules and I were arguing, I thought I heard a noise on the stairs," he said, his tone anguished. "That was you. You heard every word I said."

Jason continued to look at his hands, confirming Pythagoras' suspicions by his silence. The mathematician sat down on the edge of the bed and caught one of the tanned hands in his own pale ones.

"Jason I am so sorry," he said. "I was angry at Hercules and had had a bad day. I did not mean half of what I said in the heat of the moment."

"What you said was true though wasn't it," Jason answered sadly. "I have made your lives harder by being here."

Pythagoras swallowed past the sudden lump that formed in his throat.

"I would not change a thing," he said earnestly. "You are good and kind and honourable. And more importantly you are my friend! Besides, at least half of our misadventures are the fault of Hercules not you."

"Oi," the big man said.

Pythagoras smiled up at him with affection, before turning back to Jason.

"You should not have taken a job you were worried about," he said seriously.

Jason shrugged.

"It wasn't bad at first," he answered. "We crossed the desert easily – at least compared to last time. Didn't even see a single bandit. And once we were out of Atlantis Dakos relaxed. Treated me more like a companion than a porter. Certainly never treated me as if I was a servant. In the evenings he'd tell me stories about the gods, or legends he'd heard, or about the places he'd visited. I actually quite liked him."

Three and a Half Weeks Earlier

Jason was bored. Completely bored. Things might have been different if he had had Pythagoras and Hercules to explore Helios with. As it was he had been relegated to sitting still in stuffy rooms listening to Dakos conduct business (and it wasn't as if he'd ever been good with meetings in his life before Atlantis – had always struggled to keep still and pay attention – and sometimes just to stay awake) or to wandering the sun-bleached streets alone and listless, trying not to get lost in the rabbit warren that was Helios. So it came as some relief when Dakos told him that their business had been successfully concluded and they would be returning to Atlantis in the morning. The merchant was in surprisingly good spirits that evening. Apparently his business had gone better than expected and he had made a handsome profit, the small box that Jason had carried to Helios for him and had transported back and forth to the various meetings now heavy with gold. He smiled almost affectionately at the young man and informed him that there might even be a bonus when they got back to Atlantis – as long as they got back safely.

The first two days of the journey back across the desert had been as uneventful as the journey out. The caravan they were travelling with had stopped for the first night at the cave where the Furies had so nearly claimed Pythagoras. Jason shivered slightly at the memory. It was the following night, when they were staying in the cave dedicated to the shrine of the Furies that disaster struck. Having bedded down for the night, Jason was roughly awoken to find a sword point at his throat with a toothless bandit leering down at him from the other end of it. The other members of the caravan had already been captured; the watchman already dead. They were herded deeper into the cave and surrounded by armed men. What was surprising was that all of them apparently still had their belongings and the men seemed to be content to leave it that way, making no move to rob the people they had just captured. In fact they seemed to be waiting for something or someone. Even as the thought crossed Jason's mind a small vicious looking man in brightly coloured robes entered and stopped, looking at the group as a predator might look at its prey.

"My friends," he said in a quiet sibilant voice. "It would appear that you are in something of a situation here. One of you has something I want. One of you is a thief. I have searched for this... item... for many years. And I will have it!"

He came forward and started to examine each of them in turn.

"What is it that you want," Callimachus the caravan leader asked, fearfully.

"A small item. Just a little thing. A ring. That is all. Just a ring. It once belonged to the King of Lydia and was stolen from his palace years ago. It has passed through many hands since. Has been stolen many times. And now I have it on good authority that someone in this caravan knows where it is. Someone is a thief." He gave a reptilian smile. "Tell me who the thief is. Tell me what I want to know and I will let you all go with your lives and property intact – all except the thief. I wish to have a... discussion... with him about the whereabouts of the ring."

"How do we know we can trust you," Callimachus asked.

"You don't," the leader responded, "but I am good for my word and I swear I will allow you to leave unmolested and unharmed. I wish only to find the Ring of Gyges. Nothing more."

"The Ring of Gyges?" scoffed Hercules. "Are you sure that's what he said?"

Jason gave him a sour look.

"I don't think I'm likely to forget it in a hurry," he answered with some asperity. "Why?"

"The Ring of Gyges is just a story, Jason," Pythagoras said reasonably. "It was supposed to grant the wearer invisibility. But if there ever was such a ring it disappeared hundreds of years ago."

"I know what they said," Jason responded stubbornly. "It might just be a story but it's what they said they were looking for."

Pythagoras patted his hand reassuringly.

"I do not doubt that," he said. "Now what happened next?"

As the bandit leader stalked around his group of captives, Dakos the merchant came to a decision. He looked speculatively at the short man and muttered a brief prayer to the gods that he'd had the foresight to slip that jewel into the lad Jason's coin purse earlier. He stepped forward.

"My Lord," he began unctuously, "I have reason to believe that you are correct. There is indeed a thief among us," he smiled in an ingratiating manner.

The leader stopped.

"Go on old man."

Dakos took a deep breath.

"Earlier, while he believed I was sleeping, I saw my porter take a jewel from my belongings. I believe you will find it on him if you search him. I was going to allow him to think he had got away with the theft and then turn him over to the authorities when we arrived back in Atlantis, but in light of all you have said..."

Jason was incensed.

"That's a lie," he shouted.

The leader of the bandits turned towards Jason, reminding him of nothing so much as a snake.

"It should be fairly easy to prove or disprove," he said smoothly.

"My Lord," Dakos interjected, "I also believe I saw the boy hiding something at the stables before we left Atlantis. My eyes are not as good as they used to be but I believe I saw a flash of gold. I believe that if you question him you may find that is where your ring is hidden."

"He's lying," Jason responded hotly.

"Search him," the leader instructed three of his men.

While two of them pinned the young man's arms, the third reached for his coin pouch and tipped it out. Nestled amongst the meagre coins was a brilliant and large ruby. Jason stared at it, his heart sinking. He had no idea how the gem came to be in his possession but he knew it had sealed his fate. The bandit leader smiled viciously.

"It would appear that I have indeed found my thief," he said coldly. He turned towards the rest of the group. "You are free to go. Collect your things and be on your way before I change my mind." He turned back to Jason as the young man began to struggle against his captors. "We have much to discuss," he said and nodded at one of his men, standing behind the boy.

Jason fought to free himself from the iron-hard grasp of his captors until a sudden sharp blow across the back of his head stilled his struggles and brought instant unconsciousness.

Hercules swore.

"You were set up," he said.

"No... whatever gave you that idea," Jason responded sarcastically. He flushed with embarrassment at an admonishing look from Medusa. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Apology accepted," Hercules rumbled.

When Jason awoke the first thing he was aware of was that he was most definitely no longer in the cave of the Furies. For a start there was no statue, no shrine, and for seconds he was pretty sure that the Furies' cave didn't have rings attached to the wall and a hook dangling from the ceiling. Someone had removed his sandals, perhaps trying to ensure that he would not get far if by some miracle he did manage to escape. He attempted to rub his aching head, but found his hands were bound. Trying to pull his muddled thoughts back into some semblance of order, he shivered as the biting cold finally seeped through, chilling him to the bone. While this was obviously a cave, the presence of a door across the entrance told him that the cave had been used and altered by men – turned into some kind of cell. Before he could summon up the energy to investigate further the door banged open and the bandit leader swaggered in, flanked by three or four enormous and cruel looking men. The leader walked over to Jason and smiled in his reptilian way.

"My name is Galanus," he said. "What is yours?"

Jason remained stubbornly silent, looking up at the man with fury.

"No matter," Galanus smirked. "You will tell me soon enough."

He snapped his fingers and two of his henchmen grabbed Jason and hoisted him up so that his bound hands dangled from the hook in the ceiling, shoulders stretching painfully above his head, his toes barely touching the floor. One of the others came forward then, a vicious looking monster with broken teeth who smiled at the thought of what was to come. He punched Jason hard in the stomach, hitting him repeatedly, trying to beat him into submission.

"I ask again," Galanus said, "what is your name?"

Jason bit down hard on his own tongue to keep himself from crying out, refusing to give this man any satisfaction.

Galanus smiled at his henchmen.

"Call me when he is ready to talk," he said.

The thugs crowded around Jason, taking it in turns to beat him as he hung defenceless. As Galanus reached the door the first screams were ripped from the boy and he smiled with pleasure.

Jason looked between his friends, noticing how visibly upset all three were.

"Do you want me to go on?" he asked in a small voice.

Pythagoras took a deep breath and nodded, patting Jason's hand reassuringly.

He'd lost track of how long the beating had gone on. All he knew was that he hurt all over – bruises already turning black all over his arms and torso. He was fairly certain several ribs had been fractured and it hurt to breathe too deeply. At some point his captors had brought out their knives, inflicting cuts over his arms, chest and back. None of them were deep enough to do any serious damage – they were designed to hurt as much as possible while still keeping him alive for as long as his captors needed him – and they bled sluggishly, soaking his ruined tunic and leaving his skin slick with his own blood. Galanus had returned halfway through the torture session, obviously tired of waiting for Jason to break down, and had started questioning him again – where was the ring of Gyges; what was his name. Jason had no answer to the first question – although he doubted he would have told Galanus even if he had known – and he wasn't going to give the man the satisfaction of seeing him broken by answering the second. As the torture continued he wondered, not for the first time, whether his own stubborn nature was going to get him killed this time. Then as suddenly as it had began everything stopped. He was dragged down from the hook and left on the floor of the cell as the men filed out. The door slammed and he heard the turn of a key in a lock.

Now he crouched in the darkness by the door waiting for someone to come back. This time he would be ready for them; would be ready to make an attempt to escape. The door sprang open and he waited to see who would come through it; waited to make his move. There was only one guard carrying a cup of water and a hunk of bread. Jason almost smiled and sprang into action, hooking the rope that bound his hands around the man's neck. Once he was sure the guard was unconscious, he cautiously stepped through the door, looking around for further threats.

He was almost outside when they caught up with him, hard hands grabbing at him from out of the darkness. He bit and kicked and fought as best he could, feeling them ripping at him, catching clothes and skin alike with their knives and nails. Finally, when they had him completely subdued, they dragged him back to the cell where Galanus awaited him.

"It appears our little friend does not like our hospitality," Galanus almost purred. He looked at Jason coldly. "We will have to see what we can do to prevent you trying to leave us again."

He picked up a hammer and hefted it a few times as his men pinned Jason to the floor, watching the boy's eyes grow wide with fear. Smilingly he swung it repeatedly at Jason's foot, never breaking his rhythm even as the young man's howls of agony filled the room.

A firm hand grasping his knee gently brought Jason back to reality. As he became more aware of his surroundings he realised that he was shaking, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. He looked up shakily to see Hercules looking back at him, his broad face concerned.

"Back with us now?" the burly man asked.

Jason nodded, beyond speech for the moment as he tried to get his erratic breathing back under control. He half turned as he felt a warm weight at his back and discovered that Pythagoras had slipped around behind him and was holding him gently, his back pressed to the mathematician's chest.

"You were shivering," the blonde explained, as he rubbed his hands comfortingly up and down Jason's bare arms.

The brunette sighed and took a deep breath before plunging back into his tale.

Two Weeks Earlier

The cell wall was cool to touch in the stifling heat. Jason lay, tethered like an animal by means of a collar and rope, tied to a stake, shivering in the darkness. He had been tied like that ever since he had tried to escape. Galanus knew it was unlikely the boy would try to escape again with his foot badly broken but the collar would serve to break his will a little more. As far as Jason could tell he had been held for about ten days now, beaten and tortured every day. He no longer even dreamed of being rescued. Even if his friends knew where he was he doubted they would be able to get past the guards; doubted that he would have the strength for much longer to leave even if they did. He knew without doubt that several of his ribs were broken – had been re-broken by further beatings even as they tried to heal – and his left foot was a misshapen mess of agony that lanced through him every time he moved. He also knew that several of the knife cuts were infected and were likely to only get worse as time went on. The guards no longer bothered watching him closely, assuming that he was too weak to escape – that his will was too far broken. He hadn't spoken for days – throat raw and voice made hoarse by days of screaming – had retreated into some dark corner of his own mind – his captors knew that death couldn't be too far off now and were sorry; the boy had been so deliciously stubborn. Even after everything he had been through he had told them nothing – not even his own name.

Jason struggled to rise even as the cell door was flung open and the worst of his tormentors swaggered in – more beast than man. He was alone, the other guards having found better things to do than to torment an apparently half dead and broken boy. Hard hands grabbed Jason's shoulders, nails biting into the soft skin viciously, as his captor drew his lips back from his broken teeth in a snarl.

"Time to make you scream."

The brunette clutched the shard of sharp stone he had found on the floor of the cell in his hand, knowing that this might be his last chance. The man dragged him to his feet by his hair, kicking him brutally in the knee when he was halfway up and laughing as the boy fell forwards. Never relinquishing his hold, he withdrew a ragged edged knife from his belt and held it up where the young man could see it.

"See this, boy?" he asked. "You won't be so pretty when it's finished with you. Not so pretty at all." He smirked viciously. "But first I want to see if you can still bleed."

Dropping the knife out of Jason's line of sight, he plunged it deep into the lad's abdomen, moving it from side to side to cause more pain. He would have to work quickly. Galanus was out with the other men at the moment leaving this one alone to guard the captive and he would not take to kindly to anyone damaging his "pet" without permission. Jason's eyes widened as the knife was withdrawn, fresh blood running freely down his stomach, although he made no sound – much to the disappointment of his tormentor. Suddenly, he brought his hand up and drove the stone shard deep into his captor's eye, gagging as he felt the eyeball give way. The man screamed like a stuck pig as he fell to the floor, dragging the young man down on top of him. Jason leant forwards, burying his right forearm in the man's throat and leaning his entire weight on it. It was all over remarkably quickly. Jason rolled off his now dead companion and lay for a while, panting on the floor. It came to him that if he was going to escape he had better get on with it, so he sat up and began to search the dead man's body, trying to avoid looking at the ruined eye as he did. On finding a key he unlocked the collar around his neck and, picking up the knife still slick with his own blood, stood up. As his broken foot touched the floor he let out a low keening noise – a feral, animal sound – but forced himself to stay standing, knowing that there would be no other chance of escape and no one else to save him. Slowly, steadily, half limping and half staggering, he dragged himself towards the door and freedom.

Jason swallowed hard and looked around at his friends.

"I don't remember all that much after I escaped," he admitted. "I could see some rocks in the distance that I thought I recognised – they look a bit like an eagle if you turn your head to the side and squint – and I knew that Atlantis was about half a day's ride from them. As near as I can tell I was walking for about four days," he paused. "When I got to Telapius Gate the guard tried to stop me – I think he might even have been trying to help me – but all I could think about was getting home."

Pythagoras moved back around in front of him, his blue eyes compassionate.

"The worst thing is," Jason continued, "that they're still there whenever I close my eyes. Beating me. Tormenting me. And sometimes, when I first wake up, I can't tell what's real and what's the dream. And I think I'm still there – that I'm only dreaming about being home," he paused again. "And sometimes in my dreams they leave me there in the darkness, hanging from that hook, waiting to die. But the worst times of all, you come," he looked at Pythagoras. "You and Hercules are there and I think you've come to save me. But you don't. You tell me that I'm not worth saving. That I was never really your friend. And I know it's not true but it always feels so real," he finished in a broken whisper.

Pythagoras closed his eyes in pain, before pulling his friend into a gentle embrace, mindful of broken ribs and bruised flesh – healing but not yet healed. For a moment he thought that Jason would resist, but then felt a pair of arms snake around his waist. Jason dropped his head forward to rest on Pythagoras' shoulder and the mathematician felt the shoulder of his tunic growing increasingly wet as his friend was racked with silent sobs. Knowing that this was the release that Jason needed he didn't say a word, just held the brunette securely, lithe fingers tracing soothing patterns on his friend's back. Eventually the silent tears stopped and he felt Jason's breathing even out, becoming deep and slow. Gently he eased his now sleeping friend back onto the bed and covered him with a blanket before turning towards where the other two waited, tears in his eyes.

It was night time when Pythagoras stepped back into the main room of the house to find Hercules whittling at one of the poles he had brought in earlier – hacking at it almost angrily. He had escorted a crying Medusa home sometime earlier, leaving her with the promise that he would send for her the instant she was needed. He looked up at the blonde mathematician, face hard.

"How is he?" he asked.

Pythagoras sighed.

"Still sleeping," he admitted gratefully. "He has a slight fever, although I suppose that is only to be expected – today has taken a lot out of him."

If anything Hercules' look got bleaker. He shook his head slowly.

"How in the name of the god's did he survive," he asked, not really expecting any answer. "Not just when he was prisoner, but a four day walk when he was that badly injured with no food and water?"

"He is Jason," Pythagoras said, not having any other answer. "He is special." His blue eyes hardened. "That man, Dakos, must have known what would happen to Jason. I just wish there was some way we could make him pay."

Hercules nodded.

"First we need to find him."

"And how do you propose to do that?"

"Just leave that to me," Hercules answered seriously.

Chapter Text

Pythagoras pushed himself up from the floor and stretched, working out the kinks in his back and shoulders as he went. He smiled softly as he looked down at Jason, still sleeping, his face young and peaceful. It had not been strictly necessary for Pythagoras to spend the night on the floor alongside his friend but after the revelations of yesterday he had found himself unable to sleep in his own bed – tossing and turning for what seemed like hours until he had finally given up and gone to check on Jason – worried that the strain of the day would have caused his friend further distress. As it was the brunette had slept more soundly than he had in days – there had been one occasion when he had begun to whimper but Pythagoras had been there instantly and had managed to soothe him back into peaceful sleep before the nightmare had really had a chance to take hold.

Working quickly but quietly, the blonde gathered up his blankets and pillow from the floor, intending to return them to his room before there was any chance of Hercules being awake. It wasn't so much that he thought the big man would object to his sleeping arrangements, it was more that he didn't want to open himself up to the playful mocking that would inevitably follow – Hercules had often teased him unmercifully in the past about his 'overly caring' nature.

Stepping into the kitchen, Pythagoras froze, his jaw dropping in a very unbecoming manner as he saw what was in front of him. Sleeping at the kitchen table, his head pillowed on his arms, was Hercules. As Pythagoras watched, the big man woke up and stretched, looking sheepishly at the mathematician.

"Morning," he muttered.

Pythagoras stood there with his mouth open, trying to get his brain and his tongue to work in conjunction with one another and to come out with something more meaningful than a squeak. Hercules raised an eyebrow.

"You do know there are better ways of catching flies?" he asked.

Pythagoras shut his mouth with a snap.

"What are you doing?" he finally blurted.

If anything Hercules looked even more sheepish than before.

"Ah," the big man said. "Well... I... urm... had to come and get some... cats."

"Cats... really?"

"Yes! I needed some cats."

Pythagoras smiled wryly.

"So you were not checking that Jason was alright then?" he asked with amusement.

Hercules looked embarrassed.

"Of course not!" he protested.

"And you were not worried about him at all..."

"No," Hercules scoffed, perhaps a little too forcefully.

Pythagoras sat down beside his burly friend on the bench, arms still full of blankets, and looked at him with amusement out of the corner of his eye.

"So he's alright then?" Hercules was clearly aiming for nonchalance in his tone – and failing utterly.

"Yes," responded the mathematician. "He has slept peacefully and his temperature is back to normal – as I said last night I believe it was the strain of yesterday that gave him the slight fever."

Hercules' sigh of relief was audible. He tried to cover it by clearing his throat loudly. Pythagoras smiled, which turned into a huge yawn.

"Looks like Jason's not the only one who needs to rest," the big man said, raising an eyebrow.

"I am fine."

"Go to bed, Pythagoras," Hercules said firmly. "I'm guessing you didn't get all that much sleep lying on the floor."

"Hercules I am not tired," answered Pythagoras. The alert effect he was aiming for was, however, somewhat marred by his second huge yawn.

"I can see how 'not tired' you are. Go to bed. The sun is not even up yet. Jason is fine and I'll wake you if I need you."

"Really Hercules," Pythagoras started again.

Hercules raised his eyebrow even further.

"Pythagoras," he rumbled dangerously. "Bed! Now!"

Pythagoras, knowing he was beaten – and fearing that Hercules might simply resort to putting him over his shoulder and carrying him to bed as he had done once before when he had felt the mathematician needed to sleep – beat a hasty retreat to his room. Despite his protestations of not being tired, he was asleep almost as soon as he laid down.

Bright sunshine pouring in through the window and landing fully on his face finally woke Jason. He squinted against the light, moving his head to one side to try to get the sun out of his eyes. Lying still, he recalled what had happened the day before and discovered that, aside from a lingering headache, he felt a lot better than he had in days – his heart felt lighter somehow. Stretching gently, he rolled over to face the main room and lay quietly watching the comings and goings of his friends without alerting them to the fact he was awake. There was something very relaxing – very comforting – about watching his two friends bustle around their home. Pythagoras moved lightly, lithely, as he prepared breakfast, occasionally ducking backwards to avoid one of Hercules' flailing hands as the big man tried to make a point, or slapping a meaty hand away as it tried to steal some food. Hercules, on the other hand, bustled in his larger than life manner, trying to help himself to Pythagoras' breakfast without being noticed. Their conversation was muted and just beyond the range of Jason's hearing as they clearly tried to avoid waking their housemate. Eventually a comment from Hercules resulted in an eye roll and a sharply delivered retort from Pythagoras, which in turn made the big man throw his hands in the air in disgust and retreat into his bedroom, banging the door – albeit very gently – as he went. Jason tried and failed to suppress a giggle at their antics. Pythagoras looked up at the noise and smiled as his blue eyes met the amused hazel ones of his friend. He came forward, still smiling, although his eyes were searching – appraising.

"How long have you been awake?" he asked.

"A while," Jason admitted. "I was just too comfortable to move."

"How are you feeling today?"

Jason gave his blonde friend an almost shy smile.

"A lot better," he said. "I mean... I've got a slight headache but that's probably just because I got worked up yesterday."

"So you would feel up to getting up for breakfast then?" Pythagoras asked.

"Can I?" the brunette responded, sitting up quickly and looking so hopeful that the blonde mathematician was both delighted and amused. "But I thought you said I shouldn't get up."

"No, I said you should not get up alone," Pythagoras clarified. "But since I am here to help you I can see no reason why you should not stay up for a while." He smiled and produced a pair of home made crutches from behind the pillar. "You will need to learn how to use these of course."

"That's alright," Jason answered eagerly. "I already know how... I broke my ankle a couple of years ago."

Pythagoras raised one eyebrow but chose not to say anything, storing the information away. It was rare that Jason let anything slip about his life before his arrival in Atlantis – although he had said more in the last few days than he ever had before – and Pythagoras found himself being intrigued by his sometimes strange friend, eagerly drinking in any scraps of information Jason chose to reveal.

Under Pythagoras' watchful gaze Jason carefully manoeuvred himself to the side of the bed and swung his legs over the side. He paused for a moment before levering himself up into a standing position, once again grabbing the pillar for support. Pythagoras hovered nervously, watching Jason struggling to get his balance as a wave of light-headedness briefly struck him. Quickly he stepped in to his friend's side, slipping an arm around Jason's waist to brace him if necessary. He smiled a little weakly as Jason regained his equilibrium and handed him the crutches.

"Just make sure you have your balance before you tried to move," he admonished.

Jason shot him a look before making his way unsteadily across the room. By the time they made it to the kitchen table he was distinctly out of breath and longing to sit down. Without needing to be asked, Pythagoras hooked a stool with one ankle and pulled it behind the brunette. Jason flopped down onto it gratefully and smiled wryly up at his friend.

"Thanks," he said. "That was a bit harder than I thought it would be."

Pythagoras frowned in concern and bit his lip.

"I am a little concerned that you cannot stand without feeling faint," he began.

Jason rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"It's only because I've been lying in bed for so long," he argued. "I'm still a bit sore and a bit tired... but I really do feel better than I did."

Before Pythagoras could respond, Hercules wandered out of his bedroom. Seeing the two boys at the table he stopped and smiled slightly.

"You're looking better... not well but definitely better," he told Jason as he made his way over to the table.

Jason nodded.

"I feel better," he answered giving Hercules another of his almost shy smiles.

The appearance of a small plate in front of him made the brunette look up in time to see Pythagoras gathering various foods for breakfast and setting them out on the table. Task accomplished the blonde turned and picked up another stool, setting it down next to Jason and lifting his broken foot onto it.

"You must keep it elevated," he explained as Jason tried to hide a wince. "It will hurt less and heal faster."

Jason exchanged a tolerantly amused look with Hercules at Pythagoras' mother hen routine. Without another word the mathematician sat down and picked up a plate, determined to take advantage of the unusually large amount of food before Hercules managed to eat it all. For his part the large man rubbed his hands together with glee before setting about filling his plate. Jason smiled softly and sat back watching the two of them for a few moments until he felt Pythagoras' concerned gaze burning into him. Before the young genius could say anything, the brunette helped himself to a few grapes and a very small piece of cheese, placing them onto the plate Pythagoras had put in front of him. He was startled when a meaty hand deposited a cake and a chunk of bread on his plate before pushing a pot of honey towards him. He looked up to see Hercules watching him, his broad face more serious than Jason had ever seen it before.

"Eat," the big man growled.

Jason pulled a face.

"I'm not really that hungry," he started.

"Eat," Hercules repeated sternly. "Your clothes are hanging off you and he's sitting there getting more and more worried about you," he added, nodding towards Pythagoras. "Peaky and gaunt doesn't suit you, Jason,"

"He is right," Pythagoras said, softly. "You are too pale and too thin... and I am worried."

Jason frowned. He genuinely wasn't very hungry but the last thing he wanted to do was to make his friends worry about him. They had done more than enough for him since his arrival in Atlantis and he hated the thought of either of them being upset on his behalf. Trying to smile he picked up the cake that Hercules had thrust at him and started to nibble the edge. He had to admit that it did taste very good.

Pythagoras looked relieved at his acquiescence and Hercules appeared to be pleased, nodding before attacking his breakfast with gusto.

"Medusa's finest," Hercules said, nodding towards the cake that Jason was slowly working his way through. "She made them specially."

"Why?" Jason asked around a mouthful of cake, coming perilously close to spraying his friend with crumbs. "Sorry," he apologised, swallowing.

Hercules waved off the apology with one hand as he reached for more cheese with the other.

"The other night you told me that you had always liked sweet things," Pythagoras answered Jason's question softly. "Medusa overheard and thought that you might like some sweet cakes."

"But she didn't have to... I mean I didn't want... I didn't expect," Jason floundered, looking somewhat dumbfounded.

Pythagoras looked at him seriously. He hesitated for a second, knowing that he was going to be taking a risk given Jason's usual reticence when it came to his past, before ploughing on with what he intended to say.

"You are really not used to people being kind to you are you," he stated.

Jason looked mildly uncomfortable.

"It's not that anyone's ever been particularly unkind," he admitted, looking down at the table. "It's more that no-one's ever really cared."

"You have no family at all?" Pythagoras asked.

"Nah. No family. No real friends. I've always been a bit of a loner."

Hercules frowned.

"This conversation's getting a bit too serious for the breakfast table," he remarked, draining his cup. He pointed at Jason. "You keep eating," he admonished. "Have I ever told you about the time I acquired the girdle of the Amazon Queen?"

"Do you mean stole?" Jason asked.

"Oh Gods not this again," muttered Pythagoras.

Hercules gave them both a wounded look. Before he could respond, Pythagoras turned back to Jason.

"You said you broke your ankle a couple of years ago. How?" he asked a little desperately.

Jason almost laughed at the mathematician's transparent attempt to avoid yet another one of Hercules' tall tales but decided that he would indulge his friend for now.

"Actually it was a bit embarrassing," he admitted, smiling. "I used to live by the sea. In this tiny house that my father used to own on the cliffs overlooking this little fishing port. Anyway I've never really been all that comfortable with other people – never really fit in," he looked away quickly as he saw Pythagoras watching him, "so I used to wander off on my own a lot..."

"Because of course you never do that now," Hercules interjected.

Jason gave him a sour look.

"I'm not that bad," he protested, then blushed slightly at the identical looks of scepticism he received from his friends.

Hercules raised an eyebrow.

"And just how would you define good?" he asked.

"Hercules!" Pythagoras admonished lightly. "Go on," he added, turning back to Jason.

"There was this place I used to go to think. It was on the cliffs... well when I say on the cliffs... it was sort of half way up the cliff face. It was quiet and no-one ever bothered me there," Jason paused. "Anyway this one day I was having a really bad day and I knew it was stupid – it'd been raining for days and that always made the cliffs more dangerous – but I had to get away. So I went out to the cliffs and I was about half way up to the ledge I liked when there was a rock fall... and I kind of fell with it. Broke my ankle when I landed on another ledge near the bottom – at least it wasn't my neck I suppose. It turned out I'd been spotted by these people who were walking on the beach. They went and got help. The tide was coming in by that time so they had to get a rescue boat out to come and get me. Everyone made such a fuss... I swear I've never been so embarrassed."

Pythagoras smiled affectionately.

"You know there are times when I am surprised that you have managed to survive this long," he remarked.

"Why?" asked Jason, taking a small bite of his bread and honey – much to the pleasure of his two companions.

"Because you do seem to have a natural talent for attracting trouble," the young genius stated.

Jason looked abashed.

"Sorry," he muttered, once again feeling incredibly guilty about all the problems he seemed to cause his friends.

"Nonsense," Pythagoras responded, taking the brunette's hand. "I would not change a thing. At least I am in no danger of being bored any more."

"Unlike the rest of us whenever you decide to regale us with stories of your triangles," Hercules added, earning a death glare – well at least a slightly peeved look – from the blonde.

"Triangles are very interesting," he asserted.

"Of course they are," the big man answered sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. He stood up and stretched. "Well I am off out. I have things to do," he exchanged a significant look with Pythagoras. "And you are going back to bed once you have finished your breakfast," he added, pointing a finger at a startled Jason.

"Hercules I am not tired," Jason started, unconsciously mimicking the conversation the big man had had with Pythagoras earlier in the day. Even as he said it a wave of weariness overtook him – a fact which he tried hard to hide from his friends.

Hercules raised an eyebrow.

"The more you rest the quicker you will get better," he stated sternly. "You'll thank me for it later. Besides, if you rest now we will let you stay up for longer at supper time," he added with an indulgent smile.

Jason rolled his eyes.

"Yes Dad," he said semi-sarcastically.

Hercules stopped and stared at him in surprise. Jason looked down at the table, a faint blush appearing on his cheekbones. The big man narrowed his eyes and nodded to himself before exchanging one more meaningful look with Pythagoras. With one final glance at the two boys, he turned and left the house, mind firmly on his self-imposed mission.

The next couple days were both trying and frustrating for all three friends. Hercules had so far been unable to obtain any news of the merchant, Dakos, and was growing irritable as a result. He and Pythagoras conversed in clandestine whispers, trying to avoid Jason knowing what they were planning at all costs. It wasn't that they liked keeping things from him, Pythagoras mused to himself as he sat at the table absently drawing triangles, it was more that they were worried what his reaction would be. No matter how much he tried to act normally, the horrific experience he had been through had left their young friend emotionally fragile and neither of them wanted to risk hurting him in any way. Hercules had hardly been home in the last two days and had gone off that morning planning to speak to another couple of 'contacts'. The first of these, a slimy individual named Alektryon, had a decidedly dark reputation and Pythagoras couldn't help worrying about his burly friend as he doodled repetitively. The second, on the other hand, Meriones, was a bluff, good-natured drunk, in some ways very like Hercules himself – although it had to be said that his drinking habits made Hercules look like something of an amateur. Pythagoras was almost more worried about Hercules visiting Meriones than he was about Alektryon, knowing that if the two men got into a drinking contest again – as they seemed to do whenever they met – Hercules would be unlikely to return that night – would be unlikely to be able to stand by the end of it.

On a more positive note the young genius was pleased to see Jason growing a little stronger with each day that passed. While nightmares did still plague him they appeared to be nowhere near as horrific as they had been and he slept much more soundly than before. The dark rings around his eyes were beginning to fade and he seemed more at peace with himself than before. He was also beginning to show signs of regaining some of the weight he had lost – a fact which pleased his friends no end – although his appetite was still poor. Perhaps the most promising sign that he was starting to get back to normal, however, was the fact that he was beginning to become frustrated with the gentle restraints his friends put on him to try to keep him from over exerting himself. Pythagoras smiled. It appeared that patience was not one of Jason's strong points. For a normally highly active and agile young man, being confined to the house was highly irritating – a fact which he was becoming increasingly vocal about. Pythagoras had firmly vetoed the idea of the brunette going out, however, telling Jason that he had to stay indoors at least until he could cross the room without having to sit down at the end. Jason, for his part, had seemed inclined to argue until Hercules had threatened to sit on him to make sure he stayed put, informing the young man in his brutally direct manner that he would behave himself and stay indoors until they told him otherwise.

Pythagoras sighed. His own frustrations over the last few days stemmed largely from the fact that he was unable to help Hercules discover the information that they both so desperately wanted to know. He was not by nature a vengeful person but only the gods would be able to help Dakos if he ever got his hands on him! The problem was, however, that his talents bent more towards the direction of research than coercing information out of people in backstreet taverns. He felt so very useless right now. Suddenly a thought occurred to him. All of this had stemmed from the fact that the men who captured Jason had believed he had the ring of Gyges. Perhaps it would be worth his while to do a little research there. It might help them to understand what they were dealing with. He smiled. Yes, he might be unable to help Hercules search for the merchant but he could certainly start planning their next moves once the big man had found him, and a little research now could help them no end in the long run.

Decision made Pythagoras caught up his cloak, fully intending to go to the library and search for any references to the ring. He paused and glanced towards the alcove where Jason was peacefully slumbering. Despite his protestations to the contrary the young man was still tiring extremely easily and spending a significant amount of time sleeping. Pythagoras debated whether to leave a note for his friends telling them where he had gone, but ultimately decided that he would be likely to return before either Hercules came back or Jason woke up. Keeping his movements as quiet as possible, he left the house, gently closing the door behind him.

So it was that Jason woke up to find himself alone in the house some time later. He frowned. Being alone was not necessarily a good thing at the moment. Too many dark thoughts and bad memories swirled around in his head in moments of quiet, leading him into a very dark place and he had almost come to rely on the presence of his friends to pull him out of it before he sunk too far. Not that he would ever tell them that of course.

Feeling thirsty he levered himself up from the bed and grabbed the crutches that rested against the post. Now that the dizziness which had plagued him at first was receding he was much more stable when using the crutches and no longer felt like he was likely to fall at any moment – not that he would ever tell his friends that either – Pythagoras was already too much of a mother hen. He had to admit that he was grateful for the kindness Pythagoras, Hercules and Medusa had shown him but he would be a lot more grateful if they would just stop nagging. All they ever seemed to want him to do was eat or sleep and while deep down he accepted that they were in all probability correct, it didn't mean he had to be happy about it. He frowned again. All he really wanted to do at the moment was go and get some fresh air – he just wasn't built to stay in the house all the time – but the other's wouldn't hear of it. Finally making it to the table, he reached for the jar of milk and realised it was empty. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps he could just pop down to the agora and get some more. The fact that Pythagoras' cloak was gone meant that the mathematician was likely to be gone for a little while and Hercules had hardly been home in days. It wasn't as if he would have very far to go to get the milk and he could easily be back before either one of his friends. If he could do this they would have no reason not to let him go out again. Jason smiled. After all what harm could it do?

Chapter Text

Hercules stepped through the doorway into the dimly lit tavern interior and breathed in the oh so familiar scents. If his mission weren't so serious he would have smiled. For many years the tavern had been his true home – his house being somewhere he went back to occasionally to eat and sleep. All that had changed when first Pythagoras had moved in and then, several years later, Jason had arrived. Both boys had innocently insinuated themselves into his life – had slotted in to places in his heart that he hadn't even known were empty until they had been filled. Much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, the idea of life without either of his boys had become unthinkable. Paradoxically they made him feel both young again and older than ever with their bright youthful ways. His cold lonely house had become a warm and bright home. Hercules smiled inwardly. The two boys were so very different and yet, in some ways, so very much alike. They both hid secrets a little too well for the big man's comfort. No one looking at Pythagoras would dream of his dark past. The blonde mathematician was studious and logical, but open and friendly and, in some ways, so very, very innocent. His big heart could never turn away a creature in trouble, whether it be the broken winged bird he had tried to nurse back to health (and mourned when it died) or the dark haired fugitive that had landed on the balcony and burst so spectacularly into both their lives. Jason, on the other hand, remained something of an enigma. The boy was brave and heroic, but could be surprisingly sensitive and perceptive – always ready to listen to others troubles with a friendly ear – and to jump into action to help at a moments notice. He was exasperatingly headstrong, impulsive and stubborn – an impulsiveness born of his youth Hercules thought – with an open easy-going smile that appeared often. But sometimes, when he thought no-one was looking, Hercules would catch him staring out across the city pensively, or watching a family that he saw in the street with such sadness in his eyes that it made the big man's heart ache to see it. It had come as no real surprise to Hercules to discover that Jason had been orphaned at a young age – that he was all alone in the world – and he wondered how much of that easy-going smile was a defence that Jason hid behind. It was true, it had to be said, that the boy was, in his own way, as unworldly and innocent as Pythagoras – his kind heart leading him into trouble that a less naïve person might avoid. The big man grimaced to himself. He had come to regard it as his job – his duty – to preserve the innocence of both his boys for as long as possible; to place himself as a buffer between them and the rest of the world. That, of course, was what had brought him to this particular tavern at this particular time. To a certain extent Jason's naivety had led them into the situation they were in now. Hercules had frequently been known to take jobs from rich merchants – but never ones he had only just met in a tavern and never without knowing something about them first. He frowned. What made his blood boil was that the merchant, Dakos, had taken advantage of the boy's naivety and, through his actions, had sought to condemn the lad to a truly awful fate. He could not be allowed to get away with it. With renewed purpose, Hercules stepped forwards towards a table in a dimly lit corner.

The man seated at the table was tall and rail thin. His skin was as pale as the underbellies of the fish that Hercules sometimes saw being gutted at the docks, his head was sparsely covered with greying sandy hair and his mouth was sensuous. Hercules shuddered inwardly. The man's eyes were cold, hard and flat and his smile was reptilian – the sort of smile Hercules imagined a snake might give just before it bit someone. His name was Alektryon and he had a dark reputation. Rumour had it that he had a preference for young men – the younger the better – not that Hercules objected to that in principle. His motto had always been live and let live and it wasn't as if he hadn't experimented with many different things himself in his youth – although he couldn't really understand why someone would want the angles and hard muscles of a man when they could have the curves and softness of a lovely young woman. But it was said that Alektryon did not always bother whether or not the boy he chose was willing – in fact it was rumoured that the more one of his conquests struggled the more he liked it. Hercules shuddered again. He did not really relish the idea of doing business with Alektryon but the man did have contacts all over the city and often knew secrets and information before anyone else – he could prove to be useful whether Hercules liked it or not.

"Hercules," Alektryon said in his peculiarly high pitched lisp. "Sit down and have drink with me."

"I'm not here for pleasure," the big man rumbled.

Alektryon pouted.

"So few people want to stay and drink with me," he said.

"I wonder why that is," Hercules responded sardonically.

"You wound me. What is it that has brought you to my door?"

"Information."

"Ah but what information do you seek, I wonder," Alektryon said, his eyes knowing. "Could it be anything to do with that delicious dark haired boy who lives with you?"

"What do you know about Jason?" Hercules asked, his face stony.

The thin man smiled nastily.

"Only that he returned to Atlantis nearly two weeks ago and that those who saw him said that he looked half dead – that he may even be dead by now – although I doubt it... you would not be here if the boy was not still alive. You must know though that information costs money."

Hercules glowered at the man as he passed a gold coin across the table.

"I want to know where the merchant, Dakos, can be found."

Alektryon caught up the gold coin and bit it.

"Sorry," he apologised insincerely in response to Hercules' raised eyebrow, "you can never be too careful these days and you must admit that you are a man with a reputation for having many debts. Why do you wish to find the merchant?"

"He owes me money," Hercules responded coldly.

"I find that very hard to believe," Alektryon said with another reptilian smile, "but no matter. I do not need to know why you wish him found." He sighed. "I know the man of whom you speak. I have not heard that he is in Atlantis, however. He has conducted no business here in weeks."

Hercules growled in frustration at another dead end. He pushed himself up from the bench, turning to leave when a limp hand grasping his wrist made him stop and look down.

"I cannot fault your taste, Hercules," Alektryon said. "The two boys you live with are truly delicious. The blonde... so delicate and innocent. And the brunette... yum, yum... If you ever tire of either of them be sure to let me know. I would be pleased to take either one of them off your hands. Educating either of them would be an unrivalled pleasure."

Hercules felt his blood run cold. Moving with truly incredible speed for a man his size, he launched himself across the table and pinned Alektryon to the floor, his knife coming up to the man's throat almost before he was aware that he had taken it out of its sheath.

"If you touch either of those boys," he said in a terrifyingly quiet voice, "if you so much as look in their direction... if I ever hear you've even breathed near them... I will make sure that you will never go near another boy again," he dropped the knife until it rested against Alektryon's trousers. "I won't kill you... I won't be that kind. Do we understand one another?"

At Alektryon's answering nod, Hercules stood up. Looking back down at the man he spat derisively, before turning and making his way out of the tavern. Once outside he stumbled over to a fountain and sat down on the edge, stomach churning at the suggestions Alektryon had made. Eyes closed, he sat there for a while trying to quell the nausea he felt and to still his shaking hands. Eventually he calmed down and stood ready to begin the search for Dakos once again.

It was a lot later than Pythagoras had intended when he left the library. He had simply got so caught up in his research that he had completely lost track of the passage of time – something that happened all too often when he was working. He smiled to himself. It had not been a fruitless search, however, and he had come away with a much better understanding of the history of the ring of Gyges and with more leads to follow next time. All in all he was rather pleased with himself. It did briefly cross his mind that Jason was in all probability awake by now and might be wondering where he was, but he felt secure in the knowledge that his friend understood by now the need to rest and recover and would therefore stay indoors as he had been told.

He entered the marketplace almost absently, his mind still on other things.

"Pythagoras," Medusa's light voice ringing out in greeting across the agora startled him out of his reverie just in time to prevent him from walking straight into a stall of exquisite (and expensive) pottery. He turned as the girl trotted over to him, basket on her arm.

"Medusa," Pythagoras greeted her with genuine pleasure.

"You look happy," Medusa smiled brightly at him as they resumed walking.

"I am," the blonde responded. "I am just returning from the library."

"Ah," Medusa tried to feign an interest. "How is Hercules? I have hardly seen him in the last two days. I'm beginning to think he is no longer interested in me," she added smiling, her eyes dancing with laughter showing that she did not seriously mean it.

"He has been... busy," Pythagoras struggled to find an excuse.

"Doing what?"

"Erm..."

"Pythagoras," Medusa said warningly.

"Yes... of course," the mathematician gave in. "He has been searching for the merchant Dakos."

Medusa grabbed his arm urgently, face suddenly deadly serious.

"Why?" she asked. "Why would he do that?"

Pythagoras frowned.

"What he did, Medusa... what he did to Jason... we could not let him get away with it."

"So you want revenge," Medusa stated biting her lip.

"Yes... No... Maybe?" Pythagoras looked wretched. "It's not revenge I want. It's justice."

"I understand," Medusa said. "If there is anything I can do to help – anything at all – promise me you will let me know."

Pythagoras smiled.

"I promise," he said.

"How does Jason feel about this?" Medusa asked. When Pythagoras failed to answer she stopped and grabbed his arm again. "You have talked to him about this haven't you? He does know what you are planning?"

"Jason has other things that he should be thinking about," the blonde answered firmly. "He needs to take the time to recover properly. Not to be trying to gallivant off in search of the merchant. He needs to rest and regain his strength. He has not even been out of the house yet – we have not let him. He simply is not strong enough. Hercules impressed that upon him yesterday."

"Do you mean threatened him?" Medusa asked with wry amusement.

"He was certainly... forceful."

"Well it clearly worked well," Medusa stated, pointing towards a stall on the far side of the agora.

Pythagoras followed her finger. His mouth dropped open in a surprised 'oh' as he saw a very familiar brunette figure speaking to a merchant.

"I'm going to kill him," he breathed even as he started down the street.

On the other side of the square, Jason smiled at the merchant and tried to hitch the satchel he was carrying on his shoulder – the strap running crossways over his chest so that the main body of the bag rested on his hip – around to the front of his body without overbalancing. He was blissfully unaware of the doom that was rapidly approaching him in the form of an enraged mathematician. The journey from the house had taken longer than he had thought it would and had been far more tiring. Having slid down the stairs on his bum, he had had to rest for several minutes to get his breath back before starting the short journey to fetch milk. Even then he had had to stop several times on the way to rest, leaning up against a wall or on the edge of a fountain as weariness washed over him. When had the marketplace become so large? This was normally a journey he would make in no time at all, running down from the house milk jug in hand. He sighed. Still at least he was here now – out of breath and slightly dizzy from exertion it had to be said – but still here.

"What'll it be?" Egina the milk seller asked. She was a kindly middle aged woman who had taken a bit of a shine to Jason in the months he had been in Atlantis and always greeted him with a smile and a kind word whenever he came to fetch milk. In some ways he reminded her of her son – although that good-for-nothing was currently pickling what little was left of his brains in alcohol in Pathmos with never a thought for his poor old mother!

Jason tried to shift the bag round a little more until he could get the amphora out of it without letting go of his crutches. He suddenly felt very vulnerable and more than a little unstable with so many people pushing past each other in the bustling square. Egina saw his predicament and reached into the bag for him, withdrawing the amphora with a smile.

"Fill it up?" she asked. She had wondered where the boy had been for the last few weeks. Looking at him now she frowned. He didn't look like he was in any fit state to be let out on his own.

Jason nodded, smiling his thanks.

Egina carefully filled the amphora and stoppered it, placing it back into the bag on the lad's shoulder and taking the money he awkwardly proffered, still trying to keep the crutch under his arm even as he reached his hand forward.

Task accomplished Jason sighed in relief. At least he could go home now. Perhaps Pythagoras had been right when he had said that it was too soon for him to be going out. He was quite frankly exhausted and his foot and side were throbbing. Suddenly a hand caught his arm roughly, nearly pulling him off balance and just like that the world shut down around him. The sights and sounds of the agora disappeared to be replaced by the horror of his prison cell and the laughter of his captors. He let out a feral keen of terror as his breath started to come in short gasps and he bit down on his lip so hard that he could taste blood in his own mouth.

Pythagoras felt his anger turning to horror as he clasped his friend's arm. He had not thought that Jason would react so violently to being grabbed like that. He had crossed the agora in a state of righteous anger, knowing that there was no way Jason should be out of the house and intending to give the brunette a piece of his mind. Instead the instant he grabbed Jason's arm the brunette had vanished inside his own head; had started having a flashback that was clearly terrifying him – and was now apparently in the grip of a serious panic attack – hyperventilating with all colour drained from his face. Pythagoras slid an arm around Jason's waist, gently rubbing his friend's arm with the other hand. He was aware that Medusa had come up beside him, face a picture of worry, but was somewhat surprised to see a vaguely familiar middle-aged woman on Jason's other side, murmuring soothing words to the brunette lad. She was the milk seller if he wasn't mistaken – although her name escaped him for the moment.

As Jason gradually returned to the present Pythagoras risked a tentative smile.

"Are you alright now?" he asked softly.

Jason nodded dumbly and leant into his friend, tired beyond belief. As he became more aware of his surroundings he realised that a small crowd had gathered around them, witnessing his mini-meltdown, making him blush in sudden horrified embarrassment.

"None of that now lad," Egina said kindly. "Any fool can see you've not been well." She looked around him towards Pythagoras. "You'll take him home?"

Pythagoras nodded.

"As soon as we can get through," he said.

Egina smiled.

"Leave that to me," she assured the mathematician. She turned to the crowd and hitched up her ample bosom. "Right you lot," she shouted, "unless you're all here to buy milk or cheese I want you to leave the front of my stall before I call the guards and have you all arrested for loitering. You're stopping my customers from getting through."

As the crowd cleared she winked conspiratorially at Pythagoras, smiling the whole time. The blonde mathematician smiled back gratefully before steering a weary Jason over to a fountain and helping him to sit down on the edge. He sat down beside his friend in silence, knowing that he needed to have words with the brunette but unable to summon up his former ire. He was saved from speaking by Medusa.

"Will you two be alright?" she asked. "I should really be getting back to work – I was only sent out to buy some more cheese – but if you need me..."

"We'll be fine," Jason said numbly, fatigue dripping from his words. He smiled wanly at the girl. "Sorry about what happened back there."

Medusa patted his hand gently.

"Don't worry," she reassured him. "Just as long as you are alright. Tell Hercules I will come after work tomorrow."

She threaded her way back through the square, pausing to look back over her shoulder and give the two boys a little wave when she got to the far side.

Once she had gone Pythagoras turned to Jason. Before he could speak the brunette looked at him pleadingly.

"Can we go home?" he almost begged. "You can shout at me all you like when we get there but I just want to go home now."

Pythagoras looked at him seriously and nodded.

"Of course," he said and stood, taking the bag off Jason's shoulder before turning and helping his friend to his feet.

Together they made their way slowly through the streets towards home, stopping frequently for Jason to get his breath back. By the time they reached the outer door of the house it was apparent that he was almost ready to drop from exhaustion. Pythagoras eyed the stairs with dismay, wondering how on earth he was going to help Jason get back up them. Seeing him looking in consternation the brunette smiled tiredly.

"I am not quite sure how we are going to do this," the mathematician admitted.

"Same way I came down," Jason answered sitting down on the stairs. "I bunny hopped on my bum." He smiled again. "It's what I did when I broke my ankle too. I mean I could use the crutches... but this'll probably be easier right now."

Pythagoras watched him start up the stairs using his arms and good leg to push himself up almost in disbelief. Part of him wanted to scream at his friend for being so stubborn – and yet being stubborn was part of what made him Jason and was in all probability what had kept him alive when he had been held prisoner. Pythagoras settled for shaking his head in exasperation before trotting up the stairs after his friend, Jason's crutches tucked under his arm. At the top he helped his friend to stand shakily and watched as he made his unsteady way across the main room of their house, flopping down onto his bed with an audible sigh of relief and covering his face with his hands.

"You were right," Jason muttered before Pythagoras could say anything. "I shouldn't have gone out."

The mathematician attempted to smile as he sat down on the edge of the bed next to the brunette.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked softly watching as Jason pinched the bridge of his nose with a noticeable grimace.

"My side and my foot are throbbing... and my head's pounding," Jason admitted quietly.

Pythagoras frowned and went back into the main room, returning with a cup of water which appeared to have herbs mixed in. He handed it to his friend without a word and watched as Jason drank it in silence.

"That should help with the headache," the blonde said finally. He hesitated for a moment before ploughing on. "What were you doing out there?"

Jason breathed a short laugh and then wished he hadn't as he raised one hand to his aching head.

"We ran out of milk," he said, "and I thought I could nip down and get some more. I don't remember the agora being that far away though."

"It is not," Pythagoras answered raising an eyebrow, "but it might seem that way to someone who cannot even cross the room without becoming tired."

"I know, I know," Jason admitted. "I am sorry. I wasn't really thinking. I'll try to listen to you a bit more." He paused, a panicked look flashing across his eyes. "You won't tell Hercules will you?"

Pythagoras grinned openly at Jason's obvious fear at the thought of their burly friend's reaction to his escapade.

"Not this time," he reassured the brunette, patting his hand. "I don't think he needs to know – as long as you don't do anything like this again." His grin widened at Jason's obvious sigh of relief.

"Thanks. I promise I won't do it again," Jason said, his eyelids beginning to droop.

"Get some rest," Pythagoras ordered and stood with one final friendly pat to Jason's shoulder, moving back into the main room thoughts already turning to the plans he was making.

Hercules was still trying to shake off the horror of his meeting with Alektryon as he made his way into another tavern. This meeting promised to be far more pleasurable as he was going to visit his old friend Meriones. He smiled. In better circumstances there would be nothing he would like better than to sit and spend the evening drinking and catching up with a friend he hadn't seen for some time. With a start he realised that it must be more than six months since he had visited Meriones – where had the time gone? Of course he knew where it had gone; it had gone on evenings spent walking with Medusa, enjoying the first flourishings of the love he had believed was forever beyond his reach; had gone on days spent on wild adventures with the two boys – the sort of adventures he had dreamed of in his youth; had gone on evenings spent around the supper table or at the tavern, bantering back and forth, teasing one another; and he would not change any of it for the world – would not swap one second of his new life for any amount of time in the old one. Not that there weren't evenings he disappeared to the tavern of course – it was just that they no longer consumed his thoughts.

The tavern was beginning to fill as the day came to an end, workers wandering in to quench their thirst after a hard day. Hercules pushed and elbowed his way determinedly across the room, making for the loudest and most boisterous table. As he neared the table he stopped, thinking hard about the purpose of his visit.

"Hercules! My friend! Come, sit, drink!" The voice that rang out was loud and jolly. Hercules found himself smiling in spite of the seriousness of his self-imposed mission.

Meriones was an enormous, bluff, larger-than-life man, whose jolly personality and extreme drinking habits belied a whip-sharp mind. As Hercules sat down he rumbled a laugh, huge black beard wagging in his amusement.

"Meriones," Hercules greeted him as they clasped arms. "It's been too long."

"That it has, my friend. That it has. Come, we will get drunk together and serenade the beautiful women of Atlantis."

Hercules grimaced.

"There is nothing I would like more," he said. "But I'm not here to get drunk... I need your help."

Meriones leant forwards, his big face solemn.

"Anything for an old friend," he said sincerely. "What is it that you need?"

Hercules hesitated for a moment.

"I need to find the merchant, Dakos," he said.

"Why?" his friend asked.

"Because he hurt someone I am fond of," Hercules admitted.

Meriones looked at him shrewdly.

"And does the boy know that you are fond of him?" he asked.

"How did you know..."

Meriones laughed.

"There is not much that goes on in this city that I am not aware of," he said. "The two boys who share your house are your friends – perhaps they even feel a little like your sons at times – and one of them has been hurt."

"Yes," Hercules nodded with a sigh.

"He was hurt badly, your boy?"

"He nearly died."

Meriones nodded seriously.

"Then I would help you even if you were not my friend." He paused. "The merchant you are seeking is to be found lodging in an inn to the south of the Sacred Way. He arrived nearly three weeks ago and has not left his room since – all meals are sent up to him. I believe he is awaiting the return of his bodyguard... Since he has stayed in his room for so long perhaps he is unaware that your boy has survived. Perhaps you could use this to your advantage."

Hercules felt relief wash over him and he reached for a cup, drinking deeply of the wine inside. As he reached for the jug to refill it Meriones grabbed his wrist forcefully.

"Be careful of that one, Hercules," he said, his face deadly serious. "He is dangerous."

"Under the circumstances," Hercules answered equally solemnly, "so am I."

Night had long since fallen when Hercules stumbled up the stairs and into his house. Pythagoras looked up from the parchment he was straining to read in the dim lamplight and frowned.

"You're late," he said coolly, "and you're drunk."

"I may have had one or two drinks in celebration," Hercules stated loudly.

"You found him," Pythagoras breathed.

"The merchant Dakos is staying in an inn to the south of the Sacred Way," the big man said.

"Keep your voice down, for goodness sake," Pythagoras hissed, casting a nervous glance towards the alcove in the corner where Jason was apparently sleeping soundly.

"We've got him, Pythagoras," Hercules was almost crowing.

"Shh," the mathematician tried to calm his bulky friend down. "I wonder if it's the tavern where Jason had to go to meet him the day he left," he mused.

"Does it matter?"

"Hercules, keep your voice down! We are trying not to let Jason know what we are doing, remember?"

"It's fine. He's asleep," the big man rumbled.

"And we should be too. Come on let's go to bed. We can discuss our next move in the morning."

Pythagoras put out the lamp and gently guided Hercules to his room before making his way to his own bed, unaware of a pair of hazel eyes burning brightly in the darkness.

Jason lay in the darkness for some time thinking about what he had overheard. He felt angry and hurt and betrayed by his friends, even though he knew that they probably had his best interests at heart. How could they keep something like this from him? It was obvious now that Hercules had been out searching for Dakos and that the two of them were planning some sort of revenge on the man. Jason found that he couldn't fault their idea but couldn't quite believe that they had intended not to tell him about it. He sighed softly. He appreciated the effort but Dakos was his demon and it ought to be down to him to deal with the situation. Knowing that his friends would never agree to let him sort things out his own way – would never even agree to let him help them – he came to a decision. Reaching down under the bed he fished around for a while until his fingers touched his breastplate. It felt strange to be putting it on after so many weeks and as he tried to lace it he nearly cried out at the pressure it was putting on his healing ribs. Frowning he loosened the laces slightly before reaching back down to find his sword which he slung across his chest, trying to keep it from making a clatter. As quietly as possible he levered himself to his feet and picked up his crutches, before moving carefully across the room to the door. In the doorway he cast one last regretful look back into the house before slipping out into the night.

The soft sound of the door shutting woke Pythagoras from a troubled sleep. Unable to work out what had woken him he lay trying to get his tangled thoughts into some semblance of order, before rolling over and trying to go back to sleep. He tossed and turned for quite some time, his mind unable to shut down enough to allow him to fall asleep again. Finally, with one last despairing thump of the pillow, he got up, intent on finding a drink of water in the hope that it would encourage peaceful sleep to come. As he crossed the room he looked back at the corner alcove almost out of habit. The bed was empty. Pythagoras froze, heart plummeting as his mind took in what his eyes were seeing. With a strangled cry he turned and burst into Hercules' room, grabbing the big man by the shoulders and trying to shake him awake.

"Hercules!" he all but shouted, slapping his big friend across the face. "Wake up!"

The big man awoke, muttering curses about disrespectful mathematician's who should know better than to wake him up in the middle of the night.

"It's Jason," Pythagoras panicked, wringing his hands together pitifully. "He's gone... and so is his sword."

Chapter Text

Hercules blinked up at Pythagoras in confusion.

"What do you mean Jason's gone?" he asked, mind still fuddled by sleep.

"I mean he is not in the house," Pythagoras said with exaggerated patience, still tugging at Hercules' arm to try to get him up quicker.

Hercules rolled out of bed and pushed himself up of the floor, stumbling towards the main room with his sandals in hand and the blonde mathematician shepherding him along from behind. Finally the urgency of what Pythagoras was telling him filtered through his sleep addled brain and he stopped dead. Pythagoras walked straight into the back of him with an audible 'oof'.

"What are you stopping for?" the young genius asked in exasperation.

Hercules turned towards him slowly.

"You mean to tell me that Jason has gone off alone in the middle of the night? In the dark? In the cold? After we explicitly told him to stay indoors? He can hardly walk and he goes and does something like this!"

Pythagoras sighed.

"I think he probably heard us earlier. I think he may have gone after the merchant. He has taken his sword."

Hercules gaped at him.

"In the state he's in? What is that boy thinking!" he growled, worry increasing his anger.

Pythagoras sat to pull on his sandals before pulling his cloak on over his head. There was a definite chill breeze in the air tonight that even crept through the shutters of the house. He shivered slightly and settled the cloak a little more firmly about himself.

"He promised me he would not do this again," he murmured to himself.

Unfortunately Hercules had much better hearing than the young mathematician had credited him with.

"What do you mean he promised you he wouldn't do this again?" the big man asked deceptively calmly, even as he grabbed his own cloak and his sword.

Pythagoras panicked slightly. After all he had assured Jason that he would not tell their burly friend what had happened that afternoon.

"Ah... urm... well," he stammered.

"Pythagoras," Hercules growled dangerously.

"Yes... well... you see I may possibly have found Jason at the agora this afternoon," the blonde admitted, blushing slightly.

"How in the name of all that's holy did he manage to sneak out past you?" Hercules asked.

"Well you see there was something I needed to look at in the library..." Pythagoras trailed off.

"And you didn't think to tell me this earlier?" the big man asked angrily.

"Jason asked me not to."

"What? And you agreed!"

"Hercules we don't have time for this now. We need to find Jason," Pythagoras stated, his sense of urgency making his tone sharp.

Hercules restrained himself from throttling Pythagoras and took a deep breath. He nodded sharply.

"Right," he agreed. "Don't think we're finished with this conversation though boy," he added levelling a meaty finger at the mathematician.

Pythagoras sighed. He had weathered the storm of Hercules' anger before and no doubt would again, but it didn't mean he had to like it. Crossing quickly to the door, he raced down the stairs and out into the street, Hercules in tow. Once they were outside he paused.

"If Jason heard what we said and is going looking for the merchant, he will be heading for the Sacred Way," he said quietly.

"That's if he heard what we said," Hercules responded.

"Why else would he have taken his sword?" Pythagoras asked, exasperated.

"The Sacred Way it is then," Hercules agreed. "Come on we have to find him."

Together they ran off down the street, making for the Sacred Way, hopefully to find their wayward young friend.

The agora was almost eerily quiet as Jason crossed it for the second time that day. The empty market stalls were washed pale in the moonlight – the bare bones of the city showing now that the day had ended and the streets were deserted – even the resident drunks having found somewhere else to go to at this late hour. In the distance a bell tolled and a goat bleated in response. A bitter chill blew through the deserted market square, stirring up the dust and detritus of the city. It caught at Jason's bare arms and made him shiver, his skin chilled icy cold. He stopped at the fountain on the far side of the square and sat down on the edge, sighing. What was he doing out here? He had left the house determined to face down Dakos himself, angry at his friends for keeping something so important from him. Yet deep down he knew there was no way he could do this on his own; knew he would not make it as far as the Sacred Way without help. God he was so tired right now that he could cry. He had left the house wanting to prove something – if only to himself – but now in the cold and dark streets all he wanted was to be back in the warmth and safety of his home and to know that his friends were sleeping in the other rooms, there for company and comfort if he needed it. He ran a hand through his wild dark curls and then dropped his face into his hands, utterly miserable.

Gradually he became aware that there was someone sitting alongside him. Two people, he amended, one on either side. Gently but insistently his hands were tugged away from his face and he looked up to see the exasperated but concerned blue eyes of Pythagoras looking back at him.

"I'm sorry," Jason almost whispered.

Pythagoras shook his head slowly, unable to maintain his anger in the face of his friend's obvious misery.

Hercules watched them both with mixed emotions unsure whether he wanted to sit on the dark haired young man alongside him to prevent him from wandering off again, or spank the living daylights out of him for scaring them, or even just pull him into a giant hug. He was almost incandescent with anger at the boy's reckless disregard for his own health and well-being and he fully intended to let Jason know that as soon as they got home. He had watched Pythagoras' panic growing as they had raced through the streets and, although he still harboured some anger towards the mathematician for keeping Jason's earlier escapade from him, he was not about to let the brunette get away with scaring the blonde like that. He refused to admit, even to himself, that he could still feel the tendrils of fear that had gripped his own heart as they had searched for the boy – fear spawned by the knowledge that anyone or anything could have found and harmed Jason in the darkness and that the boy was at present in no shape to defend himself.

"Come on," the big man barked. "Let's get you home." With one hand firmly gripping his wayward charges arm, he pulled the boy to his feet, making sure he was balanced on his crutches before they moved off anywhere. In silence the three of them started towards home.

If any of them had hoped that the walk home would calm Hercules down or blunt his anger in any way they were sadly mistaken. The journey had taken longer than he would have liked as they had to go at Jason's pace – which at present made a snail look a bit quick – and had to keep stopping for the lad to have a rest. So it was that Hercules entered the house with a hand wrapped firmly around an arm of each of the boys, almost dragging them in, although being careful not to pull Jason off balance – the last thing any of them needed was the young man falling and doing himself any more damage. Still seething he unceremoniously dumped both boys on the bench next to the table and turned to light the lamps. Pythagoras made to stand in order to help him.

"Sit down," Hercules growled.

"I was just..."

"Pythagoras," the big man rumbled dangerously. Lamps lit he looked at his two young companions stonily. Pythagoras was looking back at him anxiously, teeth worrying at his thumbnail nervously. Jason on the other hand was looking at the floor, arms folded, looking like nothing so much as a sulky, though guilty, teenager.

"Now I want to know right now what's been going on around here today and one of you two is going to tell me." Hercules said. "You start," he added pointing at Pythagoras, "because I'm too angry to deal with you right now." He turned his finger on Jason.

Pythagoras took a deep breath before he began.

"Well the thing is... urm... I was... it was like this..." he stammered.

Hercules raised an eyebrow.

"I said talk not babble," he barked.

"Yes. Of course." Pythagoras sighed. "I was frustrated at not being able to help you. And then it came to me... I might not be able to help search for the merchant but I might be able to research the ring of Gyges. I thought it might help us in some way to know a little more about it. Jason was asleep so I thought I could go to the library and do some research. I thought I would be back before he woke up. Only once I was at the library..."

"You lost track of time like you always do and took longer than you intended to," Hercules finished for him.

"Yes," answered Pythagoras. "On my way back I met Medusa in the agora and then we saw Jason on the other side of the square. I was angry and I went over and grabbed his arm but he panicked..."

"I wasn't that bad," Jason interrupted.

"You were having a full blown hyperventilating panic attack in the middle of the street," the blonde retorted.

Jason looked back down at his hands as Hercules turned to him with an eyebrow raised.

"I just had a bit of a flashback," the brunette muttered. "It wasn't that big a deal."

"You could have fooled me," Pythagoras snapped. "Anyway, once he calmed down we came home. He asked me not to say anything to you and I agreed. I did not think it would hurt anything to not tell you. And you did promise me you would not do anything like that again," he added turning to Jason with an accusatory look.

"I know. I'm sorry," Jason whispered miserably.

"What were you doing in the market in the first place?" Hercules asked, his face still bleak.

"We were out of milk," Jason answered. "I didn't think it was that far to the agora."

"That's the problem," Hercules stated, his temper starting to rise again. "You didn't think! You never think! You just jump in with both feet and never think of the consequences. There was a reason that we told you not to go out. We weren't keeping you indoors for fun. Do you have any idea of how close you came to dying? Of how ill you've actually been? This is not a game, Jason."

"I know it's not," Jason retorted, his own temper rising. "What happened was horrible. But it's me it happened to. You both keep treating me like I'm some fragile piece of pottery but I'm not. I'm still me. I'm still Jason. I'm not going to fall apart the first time one of you says something you think I don't want to hear. And don't you think it's a bit hypocritical of you to be lecturing me on consequences? I don't see you holding back whenever you want something."

"This isn't about me," Hercules shouted. "Even forgetting this afternoon's idiocy, what in the name of the gods did you think you were doing out there tonight? Do you have any idea how scared he was?" He gestured towards Pythagoras. "How he felt when he found your bed was empty? How much he was panicking when he woke me up?" He took a deep breath to try to calm himself.

Jason looked at the floor. Hercules had never seen him look so young and lost and guilty. It made the big man feel older than ever.

"I heard you talking," Jason said quietly. "You weren't even going to tell me that you were looking for Dakos were you?"

"No," Pythagoras chimed in.

"Why not?"

"Because we were worried about you doing something stupid like this," Hercules answered hotly. "You can't even stand properly let alone fight if it came to it. What exactly did you think you were going to do if you faced the man?"

"I don't know," Jason responded. "But he's my demon to face. If I don't do this myself... if I don't stand up to him... then he's won – they've won."

Hercules shook his head thoroughly exasperated by the boy. Looking closely he realised that Jason was shivering slightly, although he was obviously trying to hide it. The burly man reached out a hand and touched the young man's arm, almost hissing at how icy cold his skin felt. Clearly Jason was chilled to the bone. Hercules pushed back from the table and disappeared into his own room, returning a moment later with a blanket which he unceremoniously wrapped around the boy's shoulders – gentle hands belying his angry face.

"That's another thing," he growled, "you know well enough that you should not get too cold and yet you go out on one of the coldest nights of the year so far without so much as a cloak!"

"I don't have a cloak," Jason answered.

"That is beside the point!" Hercules roared. "I swear to the gods, Jason, that if you don't start doing as you're told I'm going to tie you to that damned bed to stop you leaving again!"

He knew as soon as he said it that he may have gone too far. The look of utter terror that flashed across Jason's face at the thought of being tied up was almost enough to break the big man's heart. And he nearly apologised as he saw tears springing up in the lad's hazel eyes. Then he thought of what might have happened to the boy if Dakos or worse yet Alektryon had got to him first tonight and his heart clenched in fear, anger rising once again.

Pythagoras had been getting more and more agitated as the conversation had gone on. Now he stepped in, trying to soothe Hercules before he said anything he would truly regret. He gently grabbed the big man's arm.

"Hercules, it's alright," the blonde said softly. "Nothing happened. Jason is here and he is fine."

Hercules shook himself free from Pythagoras and looked at the mathematician incredulously.

"I can't get over how naïve you both are," he yelled. "Do you have any idea what could have happened if someone else had found him before we did tonight?" He looked at the matching looks of confusion on both the boys faces and nearly growled in frustration. "What if he had been attacked? He couldn't have protected himself." Suddenly weary he passed one meaty hand over his face and sat back down on a stool, drained.

"Hercules..." Pythagoras started.

"Just go to bed both of you," Hercules snapped. "I'm too angry to talk to either of you any more tonight."

"Hercules..." the mathematician tried again.

"Go," Hercules roared.

Once the boys had gone, the big man poured himself a cup of wine and sat nursing it in the semi-darkness, brooding. He knew that neither of the boys had truly understood the reasons for his anger – had known how truly terrified he had been. He sighed. Yes Jason had been foolish to go out like he did but Pythagoras was right in that no real harm had been done. But it could have. All it would have taken would have been one unsavoury character to have found the boy before they did and he could have been lost to them forever. Hercules closed his eyes. These two boys would be the death of him he was sure of it.

Standing up he started to make his way back to his room to try and get some sleep – although in truth sleeping was the last thing he thought he would be able to do tonight. On the way he thought better of it and instead went to check on Jason, more than a little worried that the turmoil of the day and night would have brought his nightmares back in full force. Slipping over to the bed he noticed that the lad was still shivering slightly, although the extra blanket was discarded on the floor. Hercules rolled his eyes and picked it up, smoothing it out over the boy gently. His hand hovered for a moment over the top of the tousled brown curls and he smiled slightly.

"Sleep well lad," he said softly, before turning and making his way to his own bed.

The sun was well and truly up when a subdued Jason emerged into the main room the next morning and slowly made his way over to the table where his two house-mates were having breakfast. Looking at the boy Hercules inwardly winced. It was painfully obvious that he had not slept well and he was paler than ever, exhaustion clinging to him like a blanket. He made no effort to get himself any food and sat in silence looking at his hands. Pythagoras bit his lip and exchanged a deeply worried look with Hercules before fixing a plate of breakfast for his friend and placing it in front of him. Jason listlessly pushed the food around his plate.

"I'm sorry," the young man said numbly, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence. "If you can give me a few days to get sorted I'll be out of your hair."

His two companions exchanged a confused look.

"What are you talking about?" Pythagoras said worriedly, his heart sinking.

Jason did not look up.

"I've caused you nothing but trouble since I came to Atlantis. I can't keep messing your lives up like that. I'll find somewhere else to go."

Hercules sighed. He had known for a long time that on a good day Jason's sense of self-worth was low and that his self-confidence was poor at the best of times – and this was most definitely not the best of times – but he hadn't quite realised how easily they could be broken. Time for some damage limitation then.

"Whoever said anything about you leaving?" he rumbled.

Jason looked up, confusion written in his eyes. It made both his friends hearts ache to see it.

"You were so angry," he almost whispered. "I didn't think you'd want me around any more."

"Well you thought wrong," Hercules stated firmly but kindly. "You made a mistake and I was angry. But it's over now."

"Besides," Pythagoras answered lightly, "Hercules gets angry with me whenever he is hungry or drunk – which is very frequently. But I am still here."

Jason smiled tentatively. He turned to Pythagoras.

"I'm sorry I broke my promise," he said. "I wasn't thinking."

"Do not worry," the mathematician answered, wrapping an arm around the too thin shoulders. "There was no harm done. You do need to start trusting us though."

"I trust you with my life," Jason protested.

"But you do not trust the fact that we will always be here for you and will always help you."

"People change," Jason mumbled. "They leave."

Pythagoras looked upset.

"We will not leave," he asserted.

"Everyone says that," Jason said, almost inaudibly.

"But I mean it," the blonde said firmly. "You are stuck with me. With both of us," he added as Hercules nodded his agreement. "But please, on this one thing, trust that I actually know better than you? I think we can all agree that my knowledge of anatomy is probably superior."

"He does know a lot about physiciany things," Hercules interjected.

Pythagoras rolled his eyes at the use of the phrase 'physiciany things' – only Hercules would believe that it was a real word!

"All I ask is that you do not over-exert yourself at the moment... and that means no going out until I decide you are well enough."

Jason nodded his acceptance, still a little subdued.

"I still wish I could deal with Dakos myself though," he said a little sadly. "It feels like I'm letting him win."

"There might be ways you can help," Pythagoras said thoughtfully. "Just as long as you don't try to do this all by yourself." He turned to Hercules. "You never told me exactly what you had found out."

Hercules outlined the conversation he had had with Meriones for them, embellishing it appropriately in true Hercules style. Pythagoras sat back, a look of deep concentration on his face. Suddenly he beamed.

"Meriones said that Dakos may not know Jason is alive right?" he asked.

"That's what I said," Hercules responded.

"Then I am beginning to get an idea," the young genius stated. He turned back to Jason. "I think I know how we can get to him," he said. "It's going to hinge on you... and we are going to need help."

Chapter Text

"I don't like it," Hercules informed Pythagoras firmly, all but slamming a jug down on the table in his agitation.

The blonde mathematician sighed in exasperation. This was a conversation they had already had several times that morning – ever since Pythagoras had explained his idea for making Dakos pay.

"I know," he answered, "but it is the only plan we have. If you can think of something better then I will gladly listen to it."

Hercules glowered at him.

"Fine," he growled, "I'll talk to Meriones later. But do you actually think he's in any fit state to be doing this?" he added gesturing towards the balcony where their brunette companion had retreated after breakfast.

"No," Pythagoras admitted, "but I think he needs to do this. And would you rather risk him trying to go off on his own again? Besides even with Meriones' help – if he does agree to help – it will still take a couple of days for us to set everything up. That will at least give Jason a little more time."

Out on the balcony Jason rolled his eyes. If his friends didn't want him to hear what they were saying they really ought to learn to keep their voices down, he mused. He had come out onto the balcony a little while earlier to try to sort out his own jumbled thoughts. Much as he wanted to concentrate on Pythagoras' plan and his own need to deal with the merchant himself, his mind kept drifting back to the conversation he had had with his housemates earlier. Part of him simply could not understand why his friends still wanted him around after all the trouble he had caused over the months. He had been so sure that they would want him to leave after last night's argument and had barely slept all night thinking about it. Hercules had been so angry at him and he had to admit that the big man had probably had some justification for it, and yet this morning it was almost as if last night hadn't happened. Jason was utterly confused. He sighed.

"Are you alright?"

Jason nearly jumped out of his skin. He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he had completely failed to hear Pythagoras come out to join him on the balcony.

"Yes," he answered, perhaps a bit too quickly.

Pythagoras regarded his friend seriously. Jason still seemed a bit subdued, his arms wrapped defensively around his middle, almost hugging himself. It was not the posture of someone who was particularly happy. The mathematician bit his lip and sat down beside his friend.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Jason cringed inwardly. He had hoped to have a little more time to pull himself together before speaking to either of his friends. Pythagoras in particular was likely to ask questions that he wasn't sure he wanted to answer.

"Of course," he scoffed trying to plaster the lopsided smile he usually hid behind in place. Fortunately he was saved from further questioning by the arrival of Hercules. The big man ambled out to the balcony with a cup of wine in one hand and a small bunch of grapes in the other.

"You didn't eat breakfast," he boomed, presenting Jason with the grapes.

"Hercules, I..." Jason began.

"The next words out of your mouth had better be 'thank you Hercules for being so thoughtful'," the big man said warningly. "Don't even try to tell me you're not hungry."

Jason sighed and rolled his eyes again. The truth was that his stomach had been in knots ever since last night and eating was the last thing he felt like doing. Still he didn't want to risk offending Hercules and having the big man finally washing his hands of him. Reluctantly he pulled a grape off the bunch and popped it into his mouth trying not to grimace as his stomach soured and twisted even further. Hercules scrutinised him and then nodded in satisfaction at his capitulation.

"Eat all of them," he admonished, "and we'll say no more about breakfast."

"What are you doing out here anyway?" Pythagoras asked.

"I needed to think," Jason shrugged. "Besides I was a bit cold and I figured the sun might warm me up."

Pythagoras frowned. The day was swelteringly hot.

"Cold?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Jason responded. "I was cold all night – never really got warmed up after we got home. I'm warmer now though."

Hercules nodded thoughtfully.

"You need a bit more meat on your bones. Then you wouldn't feel the cold so much," he said solemnly. "That goes for both of you," he added gesturing towards Pythagoras.

"Me? What did I do?" the mathematician asked.

"You're too skinny the pair of you," Hercules stated gruffly looking between his companions.

The two boys exchanged an amused look before turning back to the big man.

"I'm just saying it wouldn't hurt either of you to be a bit fatter," Hercules said.

Pythagoras rolled his eyes, wisely choosing not to point out that there was rarely any extra food in the house with Hercules around. He turned towards Jason, an expectant look on his face.

"So what were you thinking about?" the blonde asked. He felt rather than saw Jason tense and a dozen questions sprang to his inquisitive mind.

"Nothing in particular," Jason answered, aiming for nonchalance and failing miserably.

Pythagoras raised an eyebrow and exchanged a meaningful look with Hercules.

"For a man not thinking about anything in particular you certainly seemed to be lost in thought," the big man said lightly.

Jason looked at him sharply. Hercules returned his gaze steadily until the young man flushed slightly and looked down at his hands feeling inexplicably abashed.

"I meant to ask earlier why you felt you should leave," Pythagoras said suddenly.

Jason shrugged.

"It seemed like the right thing to do at the time," he answered non-committally, hoping that Pythagoras would accept his answer at face value and drop the subject before they came too close to things he really didn't want to talk about.

Pythagoras frowned in confusion.

"I don't understand," he admitted.

"I think I do," Hercules rumbled almost angrily, looking hard at the boy. "Tell me," he added, "has anyone in your life ever actually stuck around for any length of time?"

Jason looked at the floor and shook his head mutely.

"So every time someone got angry at you they sent you away?" the big man pressed.

"It wasn't their fault," the boy all but whispered, not lifting his eyes from the floor, "I've never been the easiest person to deal with."

Pythagoras looked at his friend with a growing feeling of distress. Unable to restrain himself he slipped his arm around Jason's shoulders and squeezed tightly, hoping that the brunette would understand everything he couldn't manage to say as he tried to swallow past the lump that had suddenly grown in his throat. Jason looked up, startled at the touch. The look of horrified sympathy he saw in Pythagoras' blue eyes broke through the last of his defences and to his own horror he found himself perilously close to bursting into tears.

"Could we talk about something else please?" he all but begged, making one last ditch attempt to regain control of himself.

Pythagoras nodded and tried to smile, although he did not remove his arm from around Jason.

"Of course," he said.

Hercules turned away from them to look out over the street as he drained the cup in his hand. He was angry; angry with everyone who had ever hurt either of his boys. If he could get his hands on them now... He sighed, knowing that he could never change what had happened in either lad's past. What he could do, however, was get his hands on the damned merchant and when he did by the Gods he was going to make the man pay for everything he had done. Turning back towards the room, the big man found Jason watching him nervously and realised that with the boy's somewhat fragile emotional state he would have to temper his anger. Seeing that Jason had still not really eaten anything, Hercules looked pointedly at the grapes still clutched in the young man's hand. Jason followed his gaze and sighed, although he did start to slowly eat. His burly friend smiled.

"Right I'm off to negotiate with Meriones," he said.

"Try not to get too drunk," Pythagoras said, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm surprised at you, Pythagoras. What would lead you to say such a thing?"

"The time you went to see Meriones and got so drunk you ended up naked on the roof," the mathematician shuddered.

"Or the time you fell in the fountain," Jason added, eyes alight with mischief. He took the last grape on the bunch and started to chew it slowly.

"The time we found you passed out in the goat pen..."

"Or the time you ended up sleeping it off under a rubbish heap..."

"Yes, yes," Hercules interrupted. "I have absolutely no intention of getting drunk today, however."

He was met by identical sceptical look from both his housemates.

"I'm not," he insisted.

The two boys grinned at each other. Hercules rolled his eyes at their banter, as Jason tried to stifle a yawn.

"How much sleep did you get last night?" the big man asked looking at the young man thoughtfully.

"Not much," Jason admitted, fighting down a wave of weariness.

"Time you had a nap then," Hercules proclaimed firmly. "You'll feel a lot better for it."

Jason smiled at his bulky friend's concern and nodded, too tired to argue for once. He pushed himself up and grabbed his crutches, hobbling over to his bedroom. As he entered the alcove he paused and looked back over his shoulder at his two friends, smiling and blinking sleepily.

"Goodnight," he said.

"Sleep well my friend," Pythagoras answered as he moved into the kitchen area and started to tidy up, mind already on other things.

Hercules paused in the doorway and looked back at the two boys before slipping out of the door to make the journey to see Meriones. He smiled. It was time to put an end to all this; time to start putting it all behind them.

Slipping once more into the cool darkness of the tavern, Hercules struggled to believe that it was less than a day since he had last been to see Meriones – so much seemed to have happened since then. In the middle of the working day there were few people gracing the bar with their presence but as expected Meriones was in his usual corner, conducting business and drinking in equal amounts. Hercules had to admit he was a little hazy on the details of what exactly Meriones did for a living. He certainly seemed to have a vast network of contacts and people who worked for him in a varying number of capacities. Whatever it was that he did, however, he was quite obviously extremely successful at it. He sat now surveying the room much as a king might survey his domain, a flagon of wine in one hand as he gave orders and did deals, gesticulating wildly with his free hand. As Hercules approached the table he looked up and beamed, standing and opening his arms expansively.

"Meriones," Hercules greeted his friend, reaching out and taking the other man's arm in a friendly clasp.

"Hercules," Meriones once again sounded genuinely pleased to see him. "You are visiting me twice in as many days. Can we get drunk together this time?"

Hercules sighed.

"There would be nothing I would like better," he said, "but I need your help again."

Meriones sat down, frowning slightly, and motioned with his hand for Hercules to do the same. With a negligent flip of his wrist he sent his underlings away, ensuring that he would have privacy to talk to his friend.

"What is it?" he asked.

"The merchant, Dakos," Hercules admitted. "I wish to teach him a lesson he will never forget."

"You want revenge for your boy," Meriones stated, probing Hercules with his eyes.

"I want justice," Hercules answered. "Dakos betrayed Jason; set him up to take the blame for his own crimes; left the boy to be tortured and killed. I cannot let him get away with it."

Meriones sighed.

"I cannot blame you," he admitted. "I think perhaps I would do the same if it were a friend of mine – especially a friend I was very fond of. But the merchant will not be easy to trap. He is wily and cunning. He is likely to be dangerous if you back him into a corner. He also has the biggest bodyguard you will ever see... although he has not been in Atlantis for many weeks. If you are going to strike it must be soon before the merchant has the chance to leave again – and before his bodyguard comes back."

"I know," Hercules said. "We have a plan. My friend Pythagoras thinks it will work. But we cannot put it into action alone. Dakos seemed to know who Jason was before he employed him, so he may recognise either Pythagoras or me as well. We need people he will not recognise. With your network of contacts... that is I hoped..."

Meriones reached out and grabbed Hercules' hand.

"How can I help, my friend?" he asked earnestly.

Pythagoras looked up from his work as the door of the house banged open and Hercules barged his way into the room. At least his bulky friend could still stand up, the mathematician noted clinically – which was generally somewhat unusual when he returned from visiting Meriones. In fact the big man seemed to be more or less sober – well more sober than usual anyway. The blonde looked at his friend quizzically.

"Meriones will help," Hercules boomed. "He's going to come around in a little while to work out the final details. He even offered the services of a couple of his lads to help us."

Pythagoras frowned.

"What does he want in return?" he asked slightly suspiciously.

"Nothing," Hercules answered. "We are old friends him and me – go back years. Grew up in the same streets. Of course he's been a bit more successful with money than me... but us hero types don't bother with financial matters."

Pythagoras restrained himself from laughing at Hercules' blatant untruth.

"Besides," the big man added, "he's never been all that fond of double-crossers. Meriones might be a lot of things but he does prize loyalty and friendship."

The blonde nodded.

"That is good," he said pleased that his plan was going well so far. He turned at a soft noise behind him and seeing Jason slowly making his way across the room towards them smiled in greeting. The brunette lad dropped down onto the bench next to him still blinking sleepily.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Hercules' friend, Meriones, has agreed to help us," Pythagoras told him. "He is coming over to see us later."

Jason grunted in response, not quite awake yet.

"Which reminds me," Pythagoras suddenly said, turning back towards Hercules, "Medusa asked us yesterday to tell you she would be coming over to visit as soon as she finishes work today." He paused, thinking. "She should be here soon," he finished brightly.

"Oh, why didn't you tell me sooner," Hercules said with barely concealed panic as he rushed into his room to try to smarten himself up.

Pythagoras grinned openly as he looked after the big man before turning and sharing a fondly amused look with Jason. Shaking his head he began to tidy away his parchments neatly. A gentle hand on his arm stopped him and he turned back to see Jason peering at one of the scrolls with a puzzled expression.

"That doesn't look like your usual work," the brunette commented.

Pythagoras smiled.

"It is not. I made some notes on what I had learned about the Ring of Gyges," he admitted.

"And?" Jason asked.

"And what?" Pythagoras was confused.

Jason resisted the urge to roll his eyes and slap his friend around the head.

"What did you find out about it?"

"Oh." Pythagoras sat back down at the bench, his face automatically dropping into the expression that Jason had privately dubbed his 'school teacher' look. "Well. A lot of what is written may well only be stories," he admitted, "even the existence of the Ring is a matter of some dispute."

"It's a fairy story that we tell children," Hercules interjected from inside his room.

"It is indeed a story that we are told as children," Pythagoras said apologetically.

"Well I haven't heard it," Jason said. "You both seem to forget that I didn't grow up in Atlantis."

"Of course," Pythagoras said. "The story goes that many years ago there lived a King of Lydia called Candaules who had a very beautiful wife, Tudo. There was a shepherd named Gyges who worked for the King, looking after his flocks and reporting back to the palace about the sheep. He wanted more than to just be a shepherd and fell in love with the Queen. One day when he was tending to his flock there was an earthquake while he was out in the fields and he noticed that a new cave had opened up in the rock face. Overcome with curiosity he went to investigate and discovered that the cave was actually a tomb. The tomb contained a bronze horse, which in turn held the remains of a man – some say a giant. The corpse had a golden ring on one of its fingers. Gyges took the ring as his own. He found that when he put it on he became invisible to all around him. He realised that this was his chance. The next time he visited the palace to make his report he put on the ring and while wearing it killed the King and seduced the Queen, taking control of the palace. To atone for what he had done he sent gifts to the Oracle at Delphi who declared that he was the true ruler of Lydia."

The mathematician paused and looked at his friend. Jason was listening with rapt attention, hazel eyes huge.

"It may just be a story," Pythagoras admitted. "No-one really knows for sure and certainly no-one knows what definitely happened to the ring. There have been rumours for years that it was stolen – that it has been stolen many times since the days of Gyges."

"It's no more than a bedtime story," Hercules asserted entering the room again, sniffing experimentally at his armpits and trying to straighten his hair.

"Ah but is it?" Pythagoras asked. "Many have written about it's magical properties. Many claim to have seen it."

They were saved from further argument by an insistent knock at the door. Hercules hurried over to open it, smiling broadly. On the other side of the door was Medusa. As she saw Hercules her face lit up with a brilliant smile.

"Hercules," she said warmly.

"Welcome my love," the big man responded, raising her hand to his lips. "I am very pleased to see you."

"I was beginning to think you no longer cared," Medusa said, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Never!" Hercules asserted. "For you are everything to me."

Medusa laughed lightly and stepped around him into the room. She smiled happily at Pythagoras then turned towards Jason, her eyes searching.

"You look better," she noted.

"I'm fine," the boy answered. He smiled at her sceptical look. "Well I'm getting there," he amended.

Medusa patted him on the shoulder before turning towards the fire.

"What would we like for supper?" she wondered.

"You do not have to do that," Pythagoras protested. "You have spent all day cooking and I am capable of providing supper for us all."

"Nonsense," Medusa stated. "I would enjoy it. Besides, Hercules can help me."

"Who me?" the big man asked.

"Yes," said Medusa firmly.

Hercules rolled his eyes but did as he was told, bending down to tend to the fire. Pythagoras smiled at the way Hercules and Medusa moved around each other – it was all so domestic; all so right; they seemed to fit with one another in ways that he had never seen Hercules achieve with anyone else. Gathering his parchments, he took them back into his room and returned with what appeared to be a small wooden box under his arm. He set it down on the table and opened it out to reveal that it was actually a painted board containing counters.

"It is a game called Tilia," he smiled in answer to Jason's questioning look. "I thought perhaps we could play... that is if you would like to learn. I rarely get the chance – Hercules prefers knucklebones or dice games."

"It looks a bit like backgammon," Jason murmured to himself.

"What is backgammon?" Pythagoras asked curiously.

"Just a game from where I grew up," the brunette answered, slightly guardedly. "It doesn't matter. Are you going to teach me how to play then?"

A short time later, Medusa looked up from her cooking to see the two boys deeply engrossed in their game. She smiled softly. A sudden knock at the door made them all jump slightly.

"That must be Meriones," Hercules proclaimed, rubbing his hands together as he made his way to the door and pulled it open.

"Hercules," Meriones boomed in his jolly manner. "I brought wine!"

Hercules grinned widely as he took the flagon from his friend and ushered the enormous man into the room.

"Pythagoras," Meriones greeted the mathematician, "it has been a very long time. And you must be Jason," he added turning to the young man.

"Hello," Jason responded slightly awkwardly.

"I know you," Meriones' eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "You are the young man who beat the Lord Heptarian in the Pankration." A whole world of contempt laced his voice when he said Heptarian's name.

"I didn't actually win," Jason said quietly.

"You did not lose either. And anyone who manages to beat that arrogant fool cannot be bad."

"You are not fond of Heptarian then?" Pythagoras asked.

Meriones made an indelicate sound.

"He should have been drowned at birth," he said. "Any man who kills purely for pleasure is not worth my time. He struts around the streets abusing anyone who he imagines has insulted him – or just because he can. That is not a man."

"You'll get on well with Jason then," Hercules said. "He punched Heptarian the first time they met. Before he even knew who he was."

Meriones roared with laughter, his black beard waggling.

"I think you and I will be friends," he stated looking towards the brunette boy. "Come you must tell me the story." He sat himself down on a bench opposite Jason and helped himself to a cup of wine. As he did, Medusa came over to the table with a pan of food. Meriones looked at her appreciatively as Pythagoras hurried to fetch dishes and spoons.

"Who is this vision of beauty?" Meriones asked.

"This is Medusa, my beloved," Hercules answered putting an arm around the girl's waist possessively.

Meriones took Medusa's hand and kissed it charmingly.

"My dear," he said suavely, "if you ever tire of this old rogue..."

Hercules frowned.

"So," Pythagoras interjected quickly, seeing his burly friend start to glower, "you are willing to help us against Dakos."

"Eat first. Talk business later," Meriones answered, helping himself to a large portion of supper.

After they had all eaten their fill of Medusa's excellent food while Hercules and Meriones regaled them with tall tales of their misspent youths, Jason looked searchingly at Hercules' friend.

"Why are you willing to help us?" he asked pointedly.

Meriones sighed.

"You do not know me lad," he answered softly. "I am a legitimate businessman. I am also a liar, a drunkard, a cheat and a thief. But I have never betrayed anyone – never double-crossed anyone – and I despise people that do. The merchant is scum. Dangerous scum. And the sooner the city is rid of him the better for all of us. Besides, Hercules is an old friend. We go back too many years to count. And whatever else I am – whatever else I do – I value my friends. I will always try to help them when I can. He came and asked for my help," he nodded towards Hercules. "It will be my pleasure to be able to give it."

"What do you think of our plan?" Pythagoras asked.

"I think your plan is a good one," the enormous man said. "Although I think I may be able to make it a little better. The owner of the tavern where the merchant is staying is a business associate of mine. He owes me a few favours. I should be able to enlist his help with no trouble. I will also bring along a few of my boys for assistance."

"The only problem I can see is how we get to the Sacred Way," Hercules commented.

"You really mean how I get to the Sacred Way, don't you?" Jason sighed, rolling his eyes.

Hercules look unabashed.

"Well you're not going to be able to walk that far at the moment," he pointed out.

Much to his annoyance Jason couldn't really disagree with the big man given how tired just walking the couple of streets to the agora had made him yesterday. He sighed again in frustration.

"I think I may be able to help there too," Meriones said. "The nature of my business arrangement with the owner of the tavern involves the supply of fine wine to the establishment. I have carts travelling there at various times of day during the week. I will arrange for a delivery to take place tomorrow evening. All you need do is hitch a ride on the cart."

Pythagoras sighed with relief as the final problem he had been grappling with fell into place and smiled brightly as he realised that his plan actually looked like it was going to work. Meriones beamed at his palpable relief and produced a set of knucklebones from a pouch at his waist. He turned to Hercules.

"Care for a little wager?" he asked.

It was later, much later, when Hercules and Meriones stumbled out onto the balcony together, both a little worse for drink. The two boys and Medusa were still playing with Meriones' set of knucklebones at the table, talking and laughing loudly. It had not really come as a surprise that Jason had been good at a game which involved speed and dexterity, but what had surprised everyone was how equally skilled Pythagoras had proved to be given his apparent clumsiness normally. Hercules looked back at them fondly.

"Why are you really helping us?" he asked Meriones, for once managing to keep his voice quiet so that the occupants of the main room would not hear him.

Meriones looked at him acutely.

"I told the truth earlier," he said. "I do not like bullies or betrayers. The merchant is both. Believe me Hercules I do not wish such a man to be walking the streets of Atlantis much less doing business here. Plus you are my friend." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he looked back towards the kitchen area. "I like both those boys very much I think," he added.

Hercules smiled softly.

"They are both very easy to like," he said seriously.

"Your Jason is not as well as he is trying to pretend," Meriones commented.

"No."

"He will be the weak link in our chain," the enormous man noted. "Will he be able to hold up?"

Hercules laughed mirthlessly.

"You don't know Jason," he said. "He is the most stubborn, headstrong boy I have ever met. He'd sooner die than give in. He'll hold up if it kills him."

Meriones half smiled.

"Then, my friend," he said, "tomorrow we will make the merchant pay."

Chapter Text

Pythagoras paced the floor uneasily, biting his lower lip. Hercules had disappeared several hours earlier to meet Meriones who had gone to negotiate with the owner of the tavern where the merchant, Dakos, was staying. The big man should have been back by now, Pythagoras thought as he walked repetitively up and down the main room of the house. Being the one left behind to wait was hard – he didn't think his friends would ever really know how hard it actually was – when all his mind could do was conjure up all sorts of disastrous scenarios. He stopped and sighed, running a frustrated hand through his blonde curls. At the best of times he was a worrier and there was still so much that could go wrong with what they were planning. Even his beloved triangles had not managed to distract him as they usually did and he had found himself gazing at the scrolls with increasing vexation, unable to focus on the lines and angles written on the page. He resisted the urge to curse loudly, casting a concerned look towards Jason's bedroom, almost irrationally afraid that the intensity of his thinking would have disturbed his friend. That was another thing that was worrying him. Immediately after breakfast he had suggested that Jason should try to get as much rest as possible during the day in preparation for what was sure to be a stressful and tiring evening and night. Pythagoras had prepared himself for a fight with his headstrong brunette friend, marshalling his arguments in advance. He had been more than a little taken off guard when Jason had meekly acquiesced to his suggestion and had to all appearances spent most of the day dozing on his bed. Pythagoras was instantly worried. It was simply not in Jason's nature to be so submissive and the mathematician found himself considering all sorts of wild possibilities as to why his friend had given in without a fight. This was after all the same boy who had hurled himself into a pit full of satyrs for the sake of a girl who, at the time, he did not even know. Jason's casual disregard for his own well-being was something that gave Pythagoras sleepless nights on a regular basis – sometimes he worried that his strange dark haired friend had a death wish – although in the cold light of day he accepted that that was not the case. The mathematician sighed again and resumed his pacing, arms flailing wildly as he gesticulated to himself.

In his room, Jason sighed silently. Pythagoras was going to wear a groove in the floor if he didn't stop pacing soon. The repetitive sound of soft sandals marching up and down was almost enough to make the young man get up and shout at his friend – if only to make him sit down for a while – but it was a bit too much like effort for him to do that. So instead he lay still, pretending to sleep and listening to the blonde's pacing. If Jason were being completely honest, he would have to admit that he wasn't feeling particularly well today. He had awoken with a headache and a slightly sore throat that had got increasingly worse as the day had progressed, and he had no real energy at all. The fact that he was still feeling cold even though he knew the day was hot and was aching all over had convinced him that he probably had a slight fever. He was, to put it bluntly, feeling absolutely ghastly and had been almost relieved when Pythagoras had suggested tactfully that he might want to spend the best part of the day in bed. Not that he had been able to sleep, though – his mind was too busy thinking about what lay in store that evening to truly allow him to relax. Jason sighed again. He had caught the worried look Pythagoras had flashed in his direction when he has given in to the mathematician's suggestion. With a start he realised that the blonde had expected him to argue and was now likely to be worrying about the ease with which he had given in. The problem was that he had not had the energy to formulate any sort of argument. He had pushed himself too hard over the last couple of days. His injury and illness had weakened his immune system and in all likelihood he had picked up a chill going out in the cold air the other night. Jason was very aware of the fact that he should let his friends know how rough he was feeling but knew that they would never let him carry on with the plan if they knew – and he could not let that happen. Any delay now might mean that they could not go through with the plan at all. Everything was set up for tonight. Besides which Dakos' bodyguard could return to Atlantis any day now and if he did their plan would be impossible. The truth was that Jason needed this more than he could say; needed to regain some control over his own life; needed to prove to the merchant (and to himself) that he had ultimately not been defeated – had not been destroyed by what had happened. He could almost guarantee that when they found out he was unwell, Hercules would shout at him again and Pythagoras would give him a long-suffering look that was a peculiar mix of concern and exasperation – the look that he gave whenever he felt Jason was doing something particularly stupid or worrying – but he could not stop now. When tonight was all over – when Dakos was successfully dealt with – then he would be able to allow himself to rest.

Jason lay still for a while longer, watching the shadows lengthening on the wall. Finally, unable to take the sound of Pythagoras' pacing aggravating his headache any more, he pushed himself up from the bed and made his way over to the table in the kitchen area. It was probably time for him to start getting ready anyway. Pythagoras would undoubtedly want him to eat something before they left – although the queasiness that seemed to have settled in his stomach and the soreness in his throat made the thought of eating less than desirable.

Pythagoras smiled wanly and sat down opposite him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Jason shrugged and attempted to smile.

"Alright," he lied, almost wincing at how scratchy his own voice sounded. He reached for a cup of water as Pythagoras shot him a concerned look. "I'm sorry I think I have something stuck in my throat."

The mathematician stared at him unconvinced, looking more worried than ever, his eyes narrowing. Jason forced another smile as he took a sip of water, resisting the urge to sigh in relief as the cool liquid soothed his throat. It was important to convince Pythagoras that he was as well as he could be given the circumstances, although he was not entirely sure how long he would be able to keep up the pretence. Finally the blonde looked away, apparently satisfied that Jason was not lying to him. The brunette felt a pang of guilt at the thought of deceiving his friend this way.

"Are you hungry?" Pythagoras asked turning to fetch the pot of leftover lentil stew from last night that had been warming on the fire.

Jason nodded, trying to ignore the way his stomach lurched painfully at the thought of food.

Pythagoras slopped a small amount of stew into a bowl and placed it in front of his friend, carefully watching the dark haired young man's reaction. He was only too aware that Jason was once again trying to hide something from him – sometimes his friend was just too transparent. The mathematician was endlessly grateful for the fact that the brunette was such a terrible liar – rivalling Hercules himself in his lack of ability to create a convincing story or tell an untruth – because it did make it easier to keep an eye on his well-being in the long run. He smiled reassuringly, hoping that Jason was merely trying to hide his nerves about tonight's endeavour from him and not something more serious. At least he would know now to keep a very close eye on his friend – not that he wouldn't have done that anyway given Jason's current state of health.

As the bowl was placed in front of him, Jason found himself staring at it half helplessly. Eating really was the very last thing he felt like doing at the moment, and yet he didn't want to raise Pythagoras' suspicions by refusing. Slowly he picked up a spoon and raised a small amount to his mouth, desperately trying not to let anything show on his face as his stomach rolled rebelliously. He forced himself to eat half the bowl before deciding that he would risk being sick if he ate any more. Putting the spoon down, he looked at his blonde companion.

"I can't eat any more," he admitted. "Sorry. Nerves I guess."

Pythagoras nodded sympathetically.

"I know what you mean," he said. "I am worried. Hercules should have returned by now."

"I'm sure he'll be back soon," Jason answered reassuringly, happy that the conversation was once again on safe ground and diverted away from any possible discussion of his own health or lack of it.

"Do you really think so?"

"Yeah. You know Hercules. He's probably just got caught up... they were going to meet in a tavern after all."

Pythagoras couldn't help the incredulous snort of laughter that escaped him. He raised an eyebrow and tried to hold Jason's eyes for a minute, before they both dissolved into helpless giggles – the unexpected laughter a welcome distraction from the tension they were both feeling.

Closing the door softly behind him, Hercules turned quietly and looked at the two boys snorting with laughter at he didn't know what – and didn't think he wanted to know honestly. He shook his head at the pair, eyes softening with warm affection.

"I can't leave you two on your own for five minutes can I?" he asked.

"Hercules!" Pythagoras exclaimed, coming to his feet in an instant. "Did everything go well? Will the landlord help? Are we ready?"

Hercules held his hand up to stall the barrage of questions from the young genius.

"Have I ever let you down?" he asked

"Yes!" the two boys answered at the same time.

"Frequently," Pythagoras added.

The big man clasped one meaty hand over his heart.

"I'm hurt by your lack of faith," he said. "I'll have you know that everything is ready for us. Meriones is in the tavern already and his delivery cart will meet us at the corner shortly. If you're ready, that is," he addressed his last statement to Jason.

The dark haired boy pulled himself up from the table, grabbing his crutches.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he answered.

Pythagoras grabbed his cloak and put it around his friend's shoulders, determined that Jason would not get cold this time. He fussed around a little, straightening out the folds of the cloak, much to Jason's annoyance and Hercules' amusement. The big man nodded gently.

"Alright then," he said. "Let's end this."

Meriones sat in a semi-dark corner of the tavern watching the stairs that led from the rooms on the upper level. At a table somewhat nearer to the stairs a couple of his lads sat enjoying a drink at their bosses expense. Meriones had picked the men he had brought with him carefully. Both were on the right side of large and both were completely trustworthy – could be trusted not to breathe a word of what they were going to do tonight to anyone. He smiled to himself. A sudden movement on the stairs caught the huge man's attention. Someone was coming down into the bar. Meriones cast a look at the landlord who stood behind the bar polishing cups. The landlord nodded surreptitiously. Meriones smiled again, wolfishly. So the man on the stairs was the merchant then. It was time to move into action.

Moving more quickly and silently than anyone would have believed possible for such a large man, Meriones slid across the room, nodding to his boys as he passed, and took up his position behind Dakos, a flagon of wine in his hand.

"We had an agreement," the merchant pointed an accusing finger at the landlord. "You were to provide meals for me in my rooms so that I did not have to come down amongst this riff-raff." His tone was annoyed, although Meriones noted that the voice was well modulated – the cultured voice of a man used to getting his own way.

"Of course," the landlord agreed. "We have provided your meals in this way every day since you arrival."

"Then why has my supper not arrived this evening?" Dakos asked. "It is over an hour late and I have been forced to come in search of it."

Meriones smiled to himself, pleased that the landlord had done what was requested of him. The plan that the young mathematician had devised relied on getting the merchant out of his rooms for a while and this had seemed like the most effective way to the enormous man.

"Forgive me good master," the landlord said unctuously. "As you can see we are very busy tonight. The girl must have forgotten. I will see that she is properly punished and that your meal is prepared and delivered as asked. In the meantime would you accept a flagon of wine on the house as recompense for your trouble?"

The merchant seemed to consider, his face still contorted angrily.

"Very well," he said finally. "See that it is delivered to my rooms."

As he turned to leave Meriones sprang into action. Lurching forward as though he had been barged into by someone behind him, he sloshed his flagon of wine over the front of the merchant's robe. Dakos sprang back, nearly backing in to the bar.

"You clumsy oaf!" he growled angrily, his voice no longer so cultured. "Look at the mess you have made."

Meriones bowed.

"A thousand pardons good sir," he uttered smoothly. "Forgive my clumsiness. Allow me to buy you a drink by way of apology."

"I think not," Dakos said, trying to push past.

Meriones smiled in an apparently friendly manner.

"Where are my manners?" he asked rhetorically. "Forgive me. My name is Meriones. I am a merchant and businessman. Please, tell me how I can make amends for my inexcusable ineptitude."

Dakos stilled instantly.

"You are Meriones?" he asked. "I have heard of you. I am a merchant myself, although I come from Kos. I have been visiting your great city for some months and I am keen to expand my dealings here. I have heard from many people that Meriones is the man I must do business with if I wish to trade extensively in Atlantis. Perhaps it was the fates that brought us together tonight." He smiled ingratiatingly.

Meriones laughed and clapped him on one shoulder, nearly driving Dakos to his knees with the force of the blow.

"Come," he said. "Join my friends and I. We will drink together tonight and talk of many things. Tomorrow, if the gods allow, we will do business."

He steered Dakos towards the table where his two men sat, making sure that the merchant was sitting with his back to the stairs, and began to pour wine for the four of them, waiting patiently to put the next stage of the plan into action.

The evening air seemed colder than ever to Jason as he and his two friends stood at the corner awaiting Meriones' delivery cart. He shivered involuntarily and pulled Pythagoras' borrowed cloak around himself a little more tightly. The stall that Hercules had positioned them near sold fish during the day and the floor underneath it was covered with rotting fish guts not yet swept away; the air thick with the overwhelming sweet stench of decay. Jason found the smell almost overpowering, making his guts churn even more, forcing him to fight down the vomit that rose in his throat. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, muttering a quick prayer to whatever gods might be listening that he would be able to keep the contents of his stomach where they belonged – at least until Dakos was dealt with. Opening his eyes again, he found Pythagoras watching him worriedly while Hercules looked on speculatively.

"It's not too late to back out," the big man rumbled. "If you don't feel up to this..."

He was cut off by a sharp wave of Jason's hand.

"I'm fine," the dark haired young man lied quickly. "I'm just a bit on edge is all."

"Jason..." Pythagoras began. He was cut off from any further discussion by the arrival of the wine delivery cart.

Jason stepped forward and pulled himself up onto the bed of the cart, settling himself down amongst the wine flagons. His two friends exchanged a concerned look before joining him.

As the cart set off, Jason was forced to admit to himself that the swaying motion was doing little to help his queasiness, and he found himself swallowing down bile on more than one occasion. Pythagoras once again eyed him worriedly. Jason forced a grin and was rewarded by the notable lessening of tension in the blonde's shoulders.

Eventually the wagon stopped outside the back entrance to a tavern in the streets to the south of the Sacred Way. Hercules and Pythagoras both jumped down from the back of the cart immediately – the large man going to greet the landlord who had just appeared in the doorway, while the mathematician started to help the carter unload some of the flagons of wine. Jason stayed still for a few moments, trying to make sure that he had control of his stomach before he moved. Sliding himself to the edge of the backboard he sat for a while listening to the conversation between Hercules and the landlord.

"They are all inside," the landlord told Hercules in a low conspiratorial tone. "Meriones and his boys have the merchant at a table drinking with them."

"Will we be able to get past them?" Pythagoras asked, coming forward to join the conversation.

"Yes," the landlord confirmed. "They have made sure the merchant has his back to the stairs. As long as you are quiet there should be no problem."

Hercules nodded.

"Good," he said. He turned and offered a hand to Jason. The brunette grabbed the big man's forearm with his hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet, ignoring the wave of light-headedness that washed over him at the sudden movement. He took his crutches back from Pythagoras and smiled brightly at his friends.

"Right," he said. "Let's go."

Dakos was enjoying himself. This great drunken fool was the famous Meriones? He almost spat derisively. Ever since he had arrived in Atlantis for the first time some four months ago the merchants he dealt with had been telling him that to expand his operations he needed to deal with Meriones – needed to come to some accommodation with the man. They spoke of the businessman in almost reverential tones. Now having met him, Dakos had to wonder why. Meriones was clearly an idiot – a bluff drunken idiot – who would be ripe for the picking. All Dakos would have to do would be to make the man believe that he was his friend and he could bleed him dry without the fool ever realising what he had done. He thanked his lucky stars that he had chosen Atlantis to trade in – the city had been far luckier for him than he could have hoped in his wildest dreams. The only dark spot on the horizon was the continued absence of Aegon. His erstwhile bodyguard should have returned to Atlantis before he himself had got back from Helios and he had been back for nearly three weeks. The only conclusion that he could draw was that Aegon had finally decided to double-cross him – had stolen the items he had been sent to Pathmos with (or more likely the money that he had sold them for). Ah well, he would deal with his former associate at his leisure – would make an example of him so that the world knew that you did not betray Dakos and get away with it. The irony of his own thoughts did not even occur to the man.

Meriones smiled to himself. The merchant was puffed up with his own importance and believed himself to be far more clever and cunning than he actually was. It was amusing to watch him, knowing that he believed Meriones to be a complete idiot. It was a part the enormous man had played to his own advantage many times in the past. A movement by the stairs caught his eye and he returned Hercules' smile with a barely perceptible nod as he watched his friend guide his two younger companions up the stairs. Meriones' eyes narrowed slightly. The boy Jason still worried him. Watching him now, the huge man couldn't help noticing that the lad looked paler than yesterday and there was a slight hesitation in his movements that spoke of pain and exhaustion. Still, if Hercules believed that Jason could hold up his end of the plan, Meriones was willing to believe him. Despite his friend's propensity for tall tales Meriones would trust Hercules with his life if it came down to it. He smiled brightly at his companions. Time to put phase two into action.

"So tell me," he asked, turning towards Dakos, "what brought you to our glorious city in the first place?"

"I had heard it was a good place to trade," the merchant answered smoothly. "That there were plenty of opportunities for... profit"

Meriones laughed.

"There are always opportunities for profit," he rumbled. "You remind me of someone I used to know... what was his name now... ah yes I remember... Cleodaeos. I wonder whatever happened to him..."

"Went mad," Gelo, Meriones' right hand man, stated knowledgeably, taking his cue. "Thought he was being hunted by a ghost... most ridiculous thing I ever heard."

"I don't know," Kerkyon, Meriones' other man, said thoughtfully. "They do say that there are spirits that walk."

"Who are they when they're at home?" Gelo scoffed. "Ghosts and spirits are just stories to frighten the simple minded – never thought you were that much of an idiot though. I've never met anyone that's seen a ghost and I don't think you have either."

"I'm not going to argue, friend," Kerkyon answered mildly, "but I still think there's more to these stories than meets the eye. My father used to tell me that there were restless spirits that walk the earth – those that have died before their time, or have died a violent death, or were unburied. He said that they haunt those that were responsible for what happened to them – especially those that have no grave. That they cannot find peace in the afterlife until the wrongs done to them have been righted and that they will wreak vengeance until that happens."

"Your father also told you that your pet piggy flew away though, didn't he? And in actual fact you'd eaten him for supper."

As the two continued to argue back and forth, Meriones caught Dakos' attention.

"They can go on like this all night," he said gesturing towards the two men. As the merchant turned to look at the two, the giant man smoothly slipped a small bottle out of his robes and poured the contents into Dakos' cup, filling it with wine before the man turned back. This was his own contribution to the plan – and one he had not felt the need to inform Hercules about. It was a simple hallucinogenic draught that would make the merchant more susceptible to the suggestions they were going to put into his mind tonight.

"A toast," Meriones said raising his cup. "To friends old and new." He smiled as he watched his three companions raising their own cups, draining them in one go. Now it was simply a matter of waiting for the drug to take effect. He drained his own cup.

"Now how would you feel about a game of dice?" he asked.

Chapter Text

The room that the merchant Dakos had taken at the inn was simpler than Pythagoras had been expecting but his belongings were far more opulent. Richly coloured and embroidered silks peeked out from inside an ornately carved and inlaid wooden chest in one corner and other clearly expensive belongings were dotted about the otherwise fairly plain room. As Hercules leant against the wall near the door and started to sharpen a knife and Jason plonked himself down at the table in the corner, the mathematician began to pace about the room, too full of nervous energy to settle. As he stooped to examine a decorated casket Pythagoras' sleeve caught on a beautiful candle holder and sent it crashing towards the floor. With a speed normally more reminiscent of Jason he reached out and caught the edge of it before it could fall too far, juggling it awkwardly before finally getting it into his hands. It was with some pride that he replaced the candle holder back on the small shelf and turned back to his companions keen to see whether they has seen his success. He was disappointed to find Jason was staring into space, mind apparently turned inwards once again, his hands unconsciously playing with his necklace which, Pythagoras noted with some surprise, he had taken off and was winding around his fingers. The young genius frowned. To his knowledge his friend had only ever removed the scrap of metal and leather when he had briefly given it to Ariadne during the Pankration. Somehow Jason didn't look right without it. The blonde looked towards Hercules to find the big man watching him sardonically.

"You're not supposed to be playing with Dakos' things," Hercules noted.

"I wasn't," Pythagoras protested.

Jason nearly growled with frustration at their sniping. If he had thought he felt fairly awful before it was nothing to how he was feeling now. His stomach churned and throat burned. Every joint ached and he had a blistering headache. Silently he prayed that the merchant would appear soon because he knew that he would not last much longer; would not be able to hide his illness from his friends; would not have the strength left to finish this. He sighed silently. His foot was hurting again too – probably because he felt so damned tired and downright ill he thought – the throbbing providing an unwelcome counterpoint to the pounding of his head. He fought to stifle a cough that threatened to bubble up from his chest and was gratified to successfully achieve this. He really needed to focus right now – a thing made more difficult by his headache – and the constant pacing of Pythagoras combined with the grating noise of Hercules sharpening his knife were not helping; were making his head throb even more; were setting his teeth on edge.

"Shouldn't you be looking for somewhere to hide?" Jason muttered, not even bothering to keep the irritation out of his voice.

Pythagoras blinked in surprise at his tone.

"Oh," he answered, "Perhaps we could hide under the bed."

Jason looked incredulously from Pythagoras to the small, low cot against the wall and then back again. He resisted the urge to either drop his face into his hands or perhaps smack the mathematician around the head. For someone who was supposed to be a genius Pythagoras could be frighteningly dense at times.

"I'm not sure you'll both fit under there," the brunette pointed out. "If it was you and me maybe, but I'm not sure about you and Hercules."

"Oi," Hercules responded without any real rancour. "I'm not fat, I'm big boned!"

His two companions grinned at each other at his somewhat predictable response.

"Well maybe Hercules could hide on the far side of the cupboard then," Pythagoras said sensibly.

A sudden noise on the stairs outside sent both Hercules and Pythagoras scuttling for cover. Jason closed his eyes and swallowed, trying not to wince at the soreness in his throat. Opening his eyes again, he took a deep breath to try to settle his nerves. All they could do now was await the arrival of Dakos.

Dakos stumbled up the stairs blearily, trying and failing to focus his eyes. He wasn't quite sure when the time had got away from him or when he had apparently consumed so much alcohol that he couldn't even see straight. He tripped over his own feet twice on the stairs, catching himself both times on his hands, pushing himself up and trying desperately to walk in a straight line. Still, he had been lucky at dice – had left the bar with plenty of money in his purse – and had a firm agreement from Meriones that they would meet again in the morning to discuss business. The fool wouldn't know what hit him. All in all it had been a very successful, albeit unexpected, evening and he found himself almost grateful to the tardy serving girl who had failed to bring his meal to his room earlier. Not that his gratitude would stop him from accepting the free flagon of wine that the landlord had offered in compensation for the girl's mistake, however – nor would it stop him trying to ring further concessions out of the man in the morning.

From the main bar Meriones watched the merchant mount the stairs, stumbling as he went, with increasing amusement. The drug he had slipped into the man's drink was clearly taking effect already. He smiled to himself. Dakos was puffed up with his own pride and sense of good fortune – something that Meriones and his boys had fostered even further by quite deliberately losing almost every round of dice to the man – he had been set up for the fall perfectly. The huge man laughed silently to himself. He had not had this much fun in years. Now all he had to do was wait a little while before going up to the rooms to see that the final stage of the plan was put into good effect.

Dakos finally reached the top of the stairs and fumbled for a while at the door to his room. Somehow he couldn't seem to get his hands working in co-ordination with his eyes and brain. Eventually the door sprang open and he almost fell into the room. Pulling himself up on a piece of furniture, he turned and pawed at the door, making several unsuccessful attempts to get it closed before finally succeeding. He turned back to face the room, blinking owlishly. Someone was sitting at the table in the corner. Dakos squinted muzzily, aware that he should be concerned that there was another person in his room but unable to remember why. As his vision cleared slightly, he felt his blood run cold. He knew the boy that was sitting there; he knew he was dead.

"You," he gasped in horror.

The boy in the corner stayed silent, watching the merchant with burning eyes. Dakos looked again. There was no mistake. The figure was pale and gaunt and unearthly looking, and the merchant was suddenly in no doubt that he was in the presence of a restless spirit – a spirit whose sole purpose was apparently to haunt him. He scrambled backwards, the blood draining from his face as he scrabbled behind him for the door latch.

"You cannot be here," Dakos said desperately, his breath coming in short gasps. "You cannot be real. You are not real. You are not real."

He turned to the door, clawing at it in his panic. As he did, Hercules emerged from behind the cupboard, a large metal dish in his hand, which he used to clobber the merchant over the back of the head, stepping backwards out of the way as the man fell unconscious to the floor. Jason frowned. He had never quite worked out how there always managed to be a large metal dish on hand whenever Hercules needed to knock someone out but under the circumstances he wasn't going to complain. Pythagoras emerged from under the bed, smiling and rubbing his hands together.

"Right then," he said brightly. "Everything is going according to plan." He crossed the floor and crouched down to check on the merchant. "Did you have to hit him so hard?" he asked Hercules, frowning. "The idea was to stun him for a while not to knock him out to the point where he will not wake up for hours."

"He was going to get away," Hercules defended himself. "There wasn't time for anything else."

The big man opened the door and whistled. A few moments later Meriones entered.

"Gelo and Kerkyon are waiting with the cart below the window," the enormous man said.

Hercules nodded.

"Help me with him then," he answered, starting to heft the merchant up and across the room.

With plenty of huffing and straining (and the odd curse word thrown in) the two large men lowered the unconscious body of the merchant through the window and down into the cart below. Hercules turned, still panting slightly and made his way out to help Meriones' two men secure the merchant in the cart. Pythagoras moved to join him but paused in the doorway.

"Are you coming?" he asked Jason.

"Go ahead I'll join you in a minute," the brunette answered, smiling. As the mathematician left, the smile drained from Jason's face and he slumped slightly in his seat – almost wilting towards the table. The sooner this night was over the better. A noise from the window made him look up and he was startled to see that Meriones was still in the room watching him shrewdly as he crossed the small space to join the boy.

"You are not well," the huge man noted.

"No," Jason admitted.

"You have not told your friends."

Jason smiled wryly.

"They would worry too much," he said.

"They will be angry," Meriones stated flatly. He reached out a hand and touched the young man's arm, frowning at the heat he felt radiating back. "You should not be here. You should be in bed."

"I know," Jason answered softly but firmly, "and the sooner we finish this the sooner I can get to bed."

Meriones nodded.

"Alright," he said as he gave the lad a hand to get to his feet, helping him to cross the room and descend the stairs, making their way to the back door where the others waited in the cart.

As the cart rumbled through the largely deserted streets of Atlantis, Pythagoras tried to peer at Jason worriedly. The night was cloudless and dark, the odd torch lighting the entrance to a tavern or lamp in the window of a house the only things that punctured the inky blackness. The pervading gloom frustrated the mathematician's efforts to gauge his friend's condition visually and all he could really see of the brunette was a huddled shape curled up against the back of the seats. The brief flares of light that did manage to illuminate the wagon scarcely helped – they flashed by too quickly for Pythagoras to get more than a glimpse of his friend. He tried to shift a little closer to Jason but the press of bodies in the cart made this impossible. Whilst the flagons of wine that the wagon had transported to the tavern had been left behind, it now carried empty wine jars – stacked haphazardly around the cart's occupants – and the addition of Meriones and his two men, plus the unconscious Dakos, made the cart cramped and the journey uncomfortable, the horse plodding along slowly, straining under the additional weight it was pulling. Pythagoras sighed crossly. He very much needed to see Jason right now – could not shake the fear that something was wrong with his friend. Jason had seemed off before they had left the house this evening and it had only got worse once they had got to the tavern. He had been wincing and rubbing his forehead when he thought no-one was looking, and was as pale as the ghost they had asked him to pretend to be. The mathematician bit his lip. He should never have allowed the brunette to leave the house tonight; should never have allowed this to go ahead. Every so often he noticed Meriones, sitting up front next to the carter, turning around and trying to look at Jason too – and wondered what had passed between the two at the tavern after he and Hercules had left the room. His concern intensified.

Jason passed the cart journey almost in a haze. He could feel Pythagoras trying to look at him - caught glimpses of concerned blue eyes whenever they went under a torch – and knew he should be trying harder to convince his friend that he was fine. He had almost reached the end of his strength, however – was almost at the point where there was no way he would be able to maintain the pretence that nothing was wrong – and there was still so much to do tonight. He curled in on himself a little tighter, allowing his mind to drift through hazy dreams, half-asleep, trying to conserve as much of his energy as was left as possible. He knew Meriones was turning to look at him occasionally and knew that that would worry Pythagoras even more, but there was nothing he could do about it at this point. He had been honest when he had told Meriones that he knew he should be in bed – in fact there was nothing he would like more at this precise moment than to rest his aching body on a soft mattress (or at least on what passed for soft in Atlantis) – but until the plan was complete he could not afford to falter. The brunette lad stiffened as he felt another cough threaten to bubble up from his chest and ruthlessly fought the urge to let it out – knowing that if he started he would be unable to stop. Meriones had been right. Both Pythagoras and Hercules were going to be cross with him when – and by this point he was willing to acknowledge to himself that it was a when and not an if – they found out he was ill again or at least how ill he suspected he actually was. He sighed.

Hercules looked out at the inky black night, his thoughts bleak, turning every so often to make sure the merchant who lay alongside him was still unconscious. Pythagoras had been right. He had hit the man harder than was strictly necessary but when the moment had come he had been unable to fully contain his anger. He had also perhaps been a little less careful than he could have been when he had lowered the merchant through the window and into the cart but he felt that he did have some justification. This was the man who was ultimately responsible for everything that had happened to Jason; who was responsible for the hell that the lad had gone through; who had caused all the fear and worry and pain that both his boys had suffered over the last few weeks (the one on behalf of the other). The big man had been forced to watch as Jason had fought for his life; as the lad had struggled through pain and fear each day; as Pythagoras had grown pale and tired with anxiety, his worry written permanently on his face – and by the Gods he was going to make the man pay! Hercules was not by nature a vengeful man but in this case he felt he could make an exception. He looked at Dakos' prone body again with barely concealed hatred, before turning back to look out at the streets. He frowned as his thoughts turned once again to his two boys. Contrary to popular opinion, Hercules was not completely stupid and was far more aware of the needs and emotions of the two lads than either of them actually realised. He knew full well that Pythagoras was riddled with worry once again – both about the success of tonight's plan and about Jason's well-being – and that Jason was trying to hide something from them both again. Really it was getting to be a bit too much of a habit for Hercules' liking. Sooner or later he thought he might have to sit the dark haired lad down and have a long and very serious talk about keeping secrets – particularly secrets that could be detrimental to his health – from his friends. Hercules sighed. That was not a conversation he could see going particularly well – Jason was apparently open and friendly (at least to a point) but there was also something very guarded about his nature – he had just a few too many defensive walls – and was likely to react badly to any perceived attack on those defences. The big man was startled out of his thoughts as the cart juddered to a stop. They had arrived at their destination.

At a sign from Meriones, Gelo and Kerkyon jumped down from the back of the wagon and hoisted Dakos up between them, carrying him through a door that their enormous employer had opened for them. The small warehouse they stepped into was even darker than the streets outside. Meriones made his way over to a small table in the centre of the room by memory rather than sight and carefully lit a small lantern. As Hercules looked around he saw that the room was largely empty. He turned towards his giant friend with an eyebrow raised.

"It is a new acquisition," Meriones answered his unasked question modestly. "Soon it will be full of the finest wines from around the Aegean, fabrics from Phoenicia and spices from Persia."

"All obtained legally of course," Pythagoras murmured.

Meriones rumbled with laughter.

"Let's just say that I would prefer it if the city guards continued to believe that this warehouse was empty," he said. "I pay enough tax on wine into King Minos' coffers as it is."

Jason, meanwhile, had made his way over to a large crate in the corner and pulled himself up onto it, removing the cloak that Pythagoras had loaned him and tucking it out of sight behind himself as he had done in Dakos' room as well. His crutches he carefully slid to the floor alongside the crate, hoping that they would not be noticed. Half drowsing, the brunette lad let his head rest back against the wall as he listened to the conversation of the others. Hercules slipped over to him softly, frowning. The young man had been too quiet all evening – although the big man supposed that that could be the result of nerves.

"If you want to have a bit of a nap I'll wake you when he starts to come round," he said gruffly but quietly, so that no-one but Jason could hear him.

He was rewarded by a grateful look from the dark haired lad followed by a quick, almost unnoticeable nod. The big man smiled slightly as Jason's eyes slipped closed – the boy was clearly very tired.

At the table, Meriones lifted the merchant's head and peeled back an eyelid, looking clinically at the eye that was revealed. Nodding to himself he allowed the man's head to drop back onto his arms that were resting on the table and turned to pick up a cup of water. Reaching under his robes again, he removed the small bottle, unstoppered it and added another dose of the hallucinogen it contained to the cup, swirling it around to mix it.

"A simple drug," he said in answer to Pythagoras' quizzical look. "It will not harm him but will make him very suggestible. He is far more likely to accept anything we tell him under the influence of this and when it wears off he will continue to believe everything that he thinks has happened tonight."

Pythagoras nodded. He did not like to ask where Meriones had obtained such a drug or what he normally used it for, but he was not unhappy with its use tonight.

Hercules crossed the room again and joined the mathematician, sitting down on the steps that led from the street into the room. He stared hard at Dakos. Now all they could do was wait for the merchant to awaken.

Consciousness was not kind in returning to Dakos. His head ached abominably and his mouth felt parched – as though he had swallowed a mouthful of sawdust. More concerning, however, was the fact that he had absolutely no idea where he was or how he managed to get there. Warily he looked around himself as he blinked blearily and tried to focus his fuzzy vision.

"Ah my friend," a jolly voice boomed, making him wince at the volume. "I worried you were not going to wake."

"What's going on?" Dakos asked sullenly. "Where am I? What have you done with me?"

Meriones came from behind him and sat down at the table. He looked puzzled.

"Done with you?" he asked. "I have not done anything with you. You had a little too much to drink and returned to your chambers. Once you had left the bar I realised that you had left your coin purse behind. My man went to your room to return it. He came back to fetch me saying that you were raving about a spirit haunting you. Kerkyon was truly worried about you, my friend. He said you seemed to be out of your mind. I returned with him to your chambers and found that you were indeed screaming and raving about a ghost. You passed out. I had my men bring you here because I did not think you would want the whole of Atlantis discussing your behaviour – it could prove... unfortunate... in your future business dealings."

Dakos passed a hand over his face.

"I remember the spirit," he admitted. "It was horrible."

"It was no spirit," Gelo interjected suddenly. "You were drunk and had listened a bit too much to Kerkyon's ridiculous stories."

"I suppose you might be right," the merchant conceded.

Meriones smiled kindly.

"Have some water," he encouraged. "It will help you to clear your head."

Dakos sighed and took the proffered cup, draining it in one go. He looked around the room more earnestly. Suddenly his eyes caught on something in the corner and he squinted, trying to make out what he was seeing. He started, horror growing.

"No, no, no, no, no!" he exclaimed in terror as the figure came in to focus. He clutched the arm of the man nearest to him, who just happened to be Meriones. "Can't you see it?" he implored.

Meriones turned to see what Dakos was looking at. He turned back to the man, face puzzled.

"See what?" he asked.

"The boy," Dakos responded in agitation, eyes wide and terrified.

"The boy?" the enormous man repeated. "What boy?"

"In the corner."

"My friend," Meriones said, "there is nothing but a crate in that corner."

"You cannot see him," Dakos whispered. "Then he really is not real – he really is haunting me."

"What are you talking about?" Gelo asked irritably. "I thought this man was supposed to be a sensible businessman," he added turning towards Meriones. "He's as mad as old Cleodaeos was. Throw him out and have done with it."

"Gelo!" Meriones admonished. "We have all shared wine together and swapped stories. The least we can do is listen to Dakos' story now." He turned to the merchant expectantly.

Dakos swallowed hard.

"Many months ago I acquired an... item... of great worth. There were many people who sought this item – who would pay handsomely to acquire it. I believed that there was a fine profit to be made from it's sale," he paused, swallowing hard again and casting another fearful look into the corner.

"I'm guessing you didn't obtain this item legally," Gelo said sharply.

"No," the merchant agreed. "I heard of it's whereabouts by accident. It was in the possession of an old woman – had been kept by her family for years. It was not hard to deceive her. I posed as a long lost relative. Flattered her while my man, Aegon, slipped into her house and robbed her of it."

"You tricked and robbed an old woman?" Kerkyon asked, unable to keep the disgust out of his voice.

Dakos snorted derisively.

"She was old and poor. What possible use could she have for such a treasure?" he asked. "That is beside the point, however. Many months later I discovered by accident that there was another searching for the item I had acquired. He was a man of dark reputation; a man who delighted in blood and torture. He had searched for this item for many years and had found out that I had... obtained... it from the old woman and that I had travelled to Atlantis – although he did not yet know who I actually was."

"What's all this got to do with you seeing things?" Gelo asked roughly. He turned to Meriones. "This is a fine fantasy he's creating but I say let's get rid of him and get back to business."

"I was just getting to that," Dakos snapped irritably. "Some weeks ago I had need to leave Atlantis for a while. To travel to Helios on business. I was warned by an... associate... that the man – Galanus – searching for me had found out that I had need to go to Helios for a time and that I would then be returning to Atlantis. My trip could not be delayed but I had no desire to risk myself at the hands of this man. My contact led me to believe that Galanus still knew nothing about me save for the fact that I would be travelling to and from Helios at a certain time. My contact had been told that Galanus was, in his own twisted way, an honourable man. He had informed his men that once he had found his 'thief' anyone found in his company would be let go. Imagine my dilemma, my friends. My business in Helios could not be delayed but I knew that if I left Atlantis I would be invariably risking my life. I had to find a way out; had to provide Galanus with an alternative; with someone other than myself to focus on." he paused again.

"Go on," Meriones said softly.

"It was then that I encountered a piece of good fortune," the merchant admitted. "It was the night before I was due to leave for Helios and I still had not found anyone suitable to use as a scapegoat. Aegon and I were in the tavern talking to some other merchant's about my upcoming trip to Helios and my need for a new porter and how I had as yet not found anyone I was happy with. I told the men in the bar that I needed a decent, honest, relatively strong lad who would not back away and run at the first sign of trouble. There was a boy sitting alone in the corner of the room – he had just come in but from the way he was patting himself down it did not look like he had the money to buy himself a drink. One of the other merchant's pointed him out to me and told me that he was the young man who had killed the Minotaur. It seemed almost too good to be true. The boy fulfilled everything I required and was clearly short of money. I went over to his table and, with Aegon's help, persuaded him to stay and share a drink with me." He sighed almost reflectively. "It was all too easy. The boy was young and naïve. He took everything I told him at face value and accepted the job eagerly. He told me his name was Jason."

Still sitting on the steps Hercules growled almost inaudibly. A firm hand on his arm restrained him gently and he turned to look at his companion. Pythagoras' face was set with grim determination, his eyes unusually hard. Hercules nodded his acknowledgement. The merchant was as yet unaware of their presence and it was better to keep it that way – at least for the time being. They turned back once again to listen to Dakos telling his tale.

"The journey to Helios was easy," the merchant said. "I had sent Aegon to Pathmos on business. He was to sell the item I had acquired to a business associate there and then return to Atlantis as quickly as possible to await my return. I believe he has betrayed me and run off with the money. As soon as I have leisure I will be tracking him down and dealing with him. Anyway, that is beside the point. I slipped a jewel into Jason's coin pouch so that it would be easier to convince Galanus that the boy was the thief if we were attacked on the outward journey. I removed it once we arrived in Helios. It was simplicity itself. The boy was too trusting," he paused again. "Actually I liked him," he admitted slowly. "He was friendly and polite and did everything I asked without question. In the evenings he would tell me how he had arrived in Atlantis – a stranger in a strange land – and about how his two friends had taken him in. He talked about them a lot. I think he cared for them a great deal. In return I told him stories of the lands I had visited; of the gods; of the old legends. He seemed to love stories. He would sit there and listen for hours with those wide dark eyes. I began to wish that Galanus would not find us; would not attack the caravan on the way back to Atlantis." Dakos sighed. "I still slipped the jewel back into the boy's coin pouch as we left Helios though," he admitted. "We were two days into the journey back to Atlantis – had settled down for the night – were all asleep – when Galanus struck. I followed my plan. I betrayed the boy. Gave him to Galanus knowing that the man would stop at nothing to get what he wanted from the lad – and it was information that Jason simply did not have. I knew he would be tortured to death. But it was him or me and I had to save my own skin whatever the cost. And now he haunts me. Follows me. His ghost was there in my room tonight and it is here now. Not speaking. Just watching me with those burning eyes," his voice rose once again in panic.

"It is no ghost," Gelo insisted. "It is only your conscience."

"I feel no remorse for what I did," Dakos snapped at him. "It was either the boy or me. I cannot regret an action that saved my life."

Meriones struggled to keep his face impassive as he fought down the waves of anger and disgust that threatened to overwhelm him. The merchant was amoral; a disgusting creature not worthy of his pity. He was also clearly terrified. It was time to finish this – time to put an end to the man's actions.

"It seems you do indeed have a problem," he said, nodding. "I believe you are being haunted by this poor restless spirit. And I do not think he will be content to just watch you forever. He will follow you; torment you; and sooner or later cause harm to you. You must find a way to appease his spirit."

"How?" the merchant asked desperately.

"I do not know," Meriones shrugged.

"I think I might know of a way," Kerkyon started slowly. "You must appease the goddess of the crossroads, Hekate. You must implore her to intercede on your behalf. But what you have done... she is not likely to look upon you favourably."

"Then I am doomed," Dakos said in despair.

"Perhaps not," Meriones said thoughtfully. "There is a place I have heard of..."

"Where?"

"Samothrake. I believe that to appease the goddess - to ask her to intercede on your behalf - you must travel to the Temple of the Great Gods. You must give up your worldly possessions and become an initiate of the Samothracean Mysteries. Only then can you be absolved of your sins."

"Give up all my possessions?" Dakos asked incredulously. "You must be mad."

"If you do not do this I fear it is your destiny to be destroyed by this spirit," Meriones stated earnestly. "Come, we will help you." He turned at the sound of a noise from the stairs. "Ah Hercules. Pythagoras. It is late for you to be visiting me. What can I do to help you?"

Hercules stalked across the room, barely containing his rage. Pythagoras, on the other hand, allowed his face to drop into an open and apparently guileless smile.

"The frankincense you employed us to guard is safely on it's way to Athens," he said lightly. "We came to let you know... and to get paid."

Meriones smiled.

"Of course, of course," he said starting to count out some money.

Dakos had shrunk back from the two approaching men. Meriones turned to him in apparent surprise.

"Is there a problem?" he asked solicitously. "These are two men who have worked for me in the past. It is a little business that I will soon have dealt with."

"Hercules and Pythagoras," Dakos whispered to himself. "Those were the names of the Jason's friends."

"You know Jason?" Hercules growled. "Our friend," he clarified in response to Meriones' ostensibly quizzical look. "He went away to work for a merchant more than a month ago and disappeared. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?" he asked the terrified Dakos threateningly.

"Hercules," Meriones gently remonstrated. "Dakos is an acquaintance of mine. A guest in my property. You must treat him with respect."

"You know what happened to him don't you?" Hercules loomed over the merchant, allowing some of the rage he felt to bleed through into his voice. "Where is he?"

"I did not harm the boy," Dakos said desperately. "His fate was not in my hands..."

Hercules roared in anger as he punched the merchant full in the face. Dakos fell backwards to the floor, stool tipping over, and tried to scramble away from the enraged wrestler.

"Help me," he implored Kerkyon, the closest man to him.

"I'm going to kill him," Hercules yelled, drawing his knife from its sheath and advancing on the merchant.

Gelo and Meriones stepped in quickly and disarmed the burly man, holding him back seemingly with difficulty.

Dakos looked between the furious Hercules and Jason silently staring at him from the corner, his terror growing.

"Help me," he said again. "Get me away from him. I'll give you everything I have – just help me to be free from this. Help me to get away. I want to be initiated in those mysteries you were talking about." He withdrew his heavy purse from his belt and threw it on the table. "It's all yours," he reiterated.

Meriones flicked his eyes at Kerkyon, nodding slightly. Kerkyon nodded his blonde head in response and clobbered Dakos over the head with the butt of his knife, adding an extra blow almost clinically to make sure that the merchant stayed unconscious. Hercules, released from his two 'captors' walked over and kicked the man solidly in the ribs.

"That's for Jason," he said. He added a second kick. "That's for Pythagoras." He kicked the prone merchant a third time. "And that one's for me," he added, spitting on the unconscious man for good measure before stalking away.

Kerkyon and Gelo lifted the merchant between them.

"You know what to do?" Meriones asked.

"Yes," Kerkyon said laconically. "We'll take him to the docks and I'll escort him to Samothrake. When he wakes up I'll tell him that he fainted again... I should be back here in a week or so," he turned to Gelo. "Just make sure there's a flagon waiting with my name on it."

Meriones laughed and clapped his man on the shoulder. As they left he picked up Dakos' heavy purse, examining the contents.

"Gods, I haven't enjoyed myself this much in years!" the enormous man stated expansively. He smirked suddenly. "I will 'dispose' of the contents of his room – I should make a reasonable profit from most of his possessions – and this should more than cover what you should have been paid for the journey to Helios," he added, hefting the purse as he looked over at Jason.

The brunette boy nodded vaguely at him. He had been struggling to keep track of the conversation for a while and was glad that his part of the plan, important as it had been, had not involved anything more than sitting in silence and staring hard at Dakos. Jason finally allowed the cough that had been building in his chest to escape, thin shoulders shaking as it racked his frame.

"Can we go home now?" he croaked hoarsely, as he slipped off the crate and stood, swaying slightly.

Both Meriones and Pythagoras started towards him, worry written all over the blonde mathematician's face.

"Pythagoras?" Jason said vacantly. "I really don't feel very well."

As Pythagoras reached him, his eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled to the floor.

Chapter Text

Invictus (Latin): Undefeated, unbroken

As Jason collapsed, Pythagoras reached out to catch him, ice cold fear gripping his heart. Quick as he was though, Meriones was quicker. He caught the boy before he could hit the floor and swept him up, moving towards the table where the lamp would give more light with the brunette in his arms. With a gentleness that was unexpected given his size, he lowered the lad to the floor, resting the dark curly head on to the waiting Hercules' knees as Pythagoras hurried back across the room to examine his friend.

"What's the matter with him?" Hercules asked, unable to keep his worry out of his eyes.

"I don't know yet," Pythagoras snapped in response, his own concern making his tone sharper than he intended.

Hercules raised an eyebrow and lifted his hands in a conciliatory gesture of surrender. Pythagoras bit his lip guiltily, even as he continued to visually assess Jason – he had not intended to take his worry out on Hercules, knowing that the big man would be as concerned as he was, whether he chose to show it or not. The mathematician frowned. His dark haired friend had lost all colour – even his lips seemed bloodless – leaving his complexion almost grey as opposed to the healthy golden tone he normally had. The only colour in his face at all was the blush of fever that ran along his cheekbones. Pythagoras placed an assessing hand on Jason's forehead to confirm his suspicions, almost immediately withdrawing it and hissing at the heat he felt coming off his friend in waves. The blonde reached out and grasped the brunette's wrist firmly, feeling for a pulse that he almost clinically noted was just a bit too fast, even as he listened to his friend's slightly laboured, raspy breathing. He sighed and shook his head, sitting back on his heels. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that Jason had known he was ill before he had ever left the house that evening and he fully intended to have words with the brunette about it just as soon as Jason was aware enough to understand how angry Pythagoras was right now. He was angry at Jason for not telling him, of course, but he was also angry at himself for not noticing just how sick his friend actually was – it should never have got so far as Jason collapsing. However irrational the thought was, the blonde could not help thinking that somehow he could have stopped this from happening.

"Pythagoras," Hercules' voice was soft but held an unaccustomed note of command, "tell me what's wrong."

Pythagoras sighed again.

"Hopefully just a bad chill mixed with exhaustion," he said. "He's run himself into the ground – overexerted himself far too much over the last few days."

"Hopefully?"

"I will not know anything definitely until Jason wakes up," Pythagoras answered irritably. "He has a fever – that much is obvious – and his breathing sounds a little wheezy. But as for the rest, I will not be able to tell you any more until I can ask him how he is feeling." He paused and suddenly hit the ground with the palm of his hand. "This is all my fault!" he said desperately. "We should never have let him go through with this. We should have stopped him. I knew he was trying to hide something from me before we ever left the house."

"And you think we could have stopped him?" Hercules asked incredulously. "Jason is the most stubborn, headstrong boy I have ever met! He was going to go through with this no matter what." He paused, unconsciously carding a hand through the messy dark curls on his knee as he reached out and caught Pythagoras' wrist with his free hand. "This isn't your fault," he told the young genius comfortingly, knowing full well that the boy would be in full blown self-recrimination mode. "We both knew something was wrong – he was just too quiet all evening – but Jason is very good at keeping secrets. A bit too good in fact," he said looking hard at the brunette.

"You're going to shout at him when he wakes up aren't you?" Pythagoras asked with a wan smile.

"Yes," Hercules answered honestly. "He needs to learn to trust us – to be more open with us. If he'd told us he wasn't feeling well then we could have helped him and you wouldn't be worrying yourself sick now."

Pythagoras felt his lips twitching. Hercules would never admit that he was just as worried about Jason as the blonde was. If the situation had been less serious, the big man's denials would be amusing. He was pulled out of his thoughts by the re-arrival of Meriones. The enormous man had been gone from the room for the last few minutes, although neither Hercules nor Pythagoras had noticed his absence – both had been a little too wrapped up with concern for their friend. He moved back across the room remarkably silently for such a large man carrying a cloak and a blanket that he had obtained from somewhere. The blanket he draped gently over Jason's still frame and the cloak he balled up to form a pillow which he placed beneath the brunette's head, lifting him carefully off Hercules' knees. He smiled a little at his old friend as he did so and motioned for Hercules to follow him to the steps even as Pythagoras moved to sit beside Jason, one hand brushing his tumbled brown curls away from his eyes.

"The cart that brought us here is currently en route to the docks, taking Dakos to his new home," Meriones said. "I did not think you would want to wait for it to come back so I have arranged for another wagon to arrive in a few minutes to take you home." He turned and looked at the two boys. "I told your Jason he should be in bed earlier," he added.

"You knew he was ill then," Hercules frowned.

"I told you yesterday he was not as well as he was trying to pretend," Meriones answered. "Earlier, at the tavern, he admitted to me that he was not well and that he knew he should be in bed and resting. But I do not think anything or anyone could have stopped him going through with what we have done tonight. He needed it too much."

"I know," Hercules sighed. He ran a weary hand over his face. "Thank you for everything you have done for us."

Meriones smiled.

"It has been my pleasure old friend," he said.

Before he even opened his eyes, Jason knew he was at home. The smell of Pythagoras' spices, the soft rumble of Hercules' voice, the warmth of the blankets and the ghost of a soft hand against his own hot face combined to give him a feeling of peace and contentment. Without even being aware of it, he relaxed into the gentle touch, nuzzling slightly in an unconscious search for more comfort. The hand stilled and drew away suddenly, as though startled. Jason made a quiet disgruntled noise, missing the comfort it provided already, and the hand was returned, petting his hair gently, running its fingers through his curls.

"Time to wake up, Jason," a quiet voice encouraged. "That's it. Open your eyes for me."

Still dazed and only really semi-conscious at best, Jason thought the voice probably belonged to Pythagoras – it was far too light and far to gentle to be Hercules. He couldn't quite work out why Pythagoras was trying to wake him up though. He was warm and comfortable and his eyelids felt like they had heavy weights attached to them. No, waking up was the last thing he really felt like doing. He grumbled wordlessly and scrunched his eyes more tightly shut.

"No," Pythagoras admonished. "No going back to sleep yet. You need to wake up for me."

Somehow Jason got the feeling that Pythagoras was going to keep nagging at him until he got what he wanted. He started to swim back up towards wakefulness. As consciousness returned so did his headache – pounding relentlessly inside his skull and pulling him unceremoniously into full awareness.

"Urgh," he groaned. "What happened?"

"Before or after you fainted like a girl?" Hercules' voice growled loudly – oh so loudly – from somewhere near the foot of the bed. Jason hissed with pain, lifting one hand to massage his throbbing temples without actually opening his eyes.

"You were sick and did not tell us and collapsed," Pythagoras murmured quietly. Even he sounded colder than usual.

Jason cracked his eyelids open and risked a look at the mathematician, peering at him through slitted eyes. Pythagoras looked furious and Jason winced inwardly, knowing that he was in more trouble than he had imagined he would be.

"Erm... sorry," he ventured, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper.

Pythagoras raised one eyebrow, face not softening at all.

"You're going to yell at me aren't you," Jason said, sickness and exhaustion making him sound much more vulnerable than either of his friends would have thought possible.

Pythagoras sighed gently and sat down on the side of the bed.

"No," he said. "We are not going to yell at you."

"Speak for yourself," Hercules interjected albeit more quietly than the last time he had spoken.

"Hercules!" Pythagoras admonished softly. He turned back to Jason. "We are not going to yell at you," he said again. "At least not until your headache is better," he added quirking a slight smile.

Somehow that failed to reassure Jason.

"Why did you not say you were feeling unwell?" the mathematician asked.

"Would you have let me go on with the plan if I had?" Jason responded, his sore throat making his voice husky.

"No," Pythagoras admitted. "I would have insisted that you stayed in bed and plied you with whatever remedies you needed to make you feel better."

"Exactly," Jason said. "Tonight was our only chance to take Dakos down. He would have got away with everything."

"Then you should have let him," Hercules responded sharply. "Or you should have trusted us to come up with another way." He came over to the other side of the bed, crouching down beside it. "He was worrying about you even before you collapsed," the big man gestured towards Pythagoras. "You scared the life out of him."

Jason bit his lip. All his emotions were swirling inside him – built up over the course of the evening – and were compounded by how ill he felt. He was perilously close to tears.

"I'm sorry," he said again in a small voice. "I thought I would be alright. I wasn't feeling well all day but I thought I would be able to last until everything was all over... I was going to tell you, honestly. I was just going to wait until we had got home again."

"Well that's alright then," Hercules said sarcastically. He noticed the dark haired lad wincing again at the volume and made a conscious effort to moderate his tone in deference to the boy's clearly pounding headache. "Just as long as you thought you would be alright! Never mind the fact that you were so ill you collapsed or that it could have happened at any time. It could have happened when the merchant was still there and then where would we be? Did you ever think of that?"

His anger was palpable and tore into Jason like a knife. Unable to stop himself, too ill to dissemble or attempt to hide his feelings, the boy's shoulders started to shake as he sobbed silently into his pillow, his jumbled emotions finally getting the better of him. Hercules instantly felt wretched. Angry as he was he certainly hadn't intended to upset the lad this much. In fact he had half expected Jason to react with anger of his own or to make a snarky sarcastic comment. This did not seem like the Jason he knew. But then, he reflected, until the last few weeks he had never dealt with an exhausted, emotionally fragile, sick Jason before. And he was still sick, Hercules reminded himself. Perhaps a more gentle approach was needed until the boy was well enough to deal with the full version of the lecture he was planning. Jason needed to understand that he could not, should not, be keeping secrets that might affect his own health and well-being from his friends, but right now he was not in any fit state to deal with that sort of discussion. Hercules reached out one meaty hand and patted the shaking shoulder gently, frowning at the sharpness of the shoulder-blade he could feel poking through the skin. The boy really did need to regain weight.

Jason wanted to stop crying, he really did. Breaking down in front of his friends was just about the last thing he would ever want to do. But somehow, now that it had happened, he couldn't seem to stop. Everything that had happened over the last few weeks – all the pain and the fear and the sorrow – came pouring out of him in one go. Then, almost inevitably, his sobbing turned to coughing – great tearing coughs that made him feel like he was being turned inside out and left his chest hurting as he struggled to breathe. He curled in on himself, tucking into a ball as the coughing fit showed no signs of subsiding. Dimly he was aware of gentle but insistent hands pulling him out of his foetal position and rubbing firm circles on his back, trying to ease his breathing. By the time the fit ended he was utterly drained and collapsed back onto the mattress with his eyes closed. The bed dipped beside him again and a damp cloth started to wipe his face, wonderfully cool on his feverish skin. It felt so good that Jason couldn't help the soft satisfied sigh that escaped him. He opened his eyes and looked tiredly at Pythagoras as the mathematician soaked and wrung out the cloth once more, folding it and placing it on Jason's forehead.

"I need you to tell me how you are feeling," the mathematician said earnestly, "and I need you to be honest. There are things I can give you to make you feel better, but only if you let me. Only if you tell me what is wrong."

Jason weakly tried to smile.

"I think I've probably got the flu," he admitted.

"What is 'the flu'?" Pythagoras asked curiously.

"Of course," Jason said hoarsely, almost to himself, "you wouldn't know it as that. It's just what they call it where I come from... I'm not sure what name you'd use here. It's like a really bad chill... only worse. Not as bad as pneumonia or anything... just makes you feel rotten." He was aware he was babbling, but his brain to mouth filter seemed to be missing all of a sudden.

"Jason," Pythagoras interrupted patiently, "just tell me how you are feeling."

"Everything hurts," the brunette croaked. "All my joints ache, my throat feels like I've tried to swallow some broken pottery, I feel a bit like I'm going to heave up, I'm dizzy and I'm hot and cold at the same time."

"So," Pythagoras said ticking each item off on his fingers, "aching muscles and joints, sore throat, nausea, dizziness, cough, fever and a severe headache. Is that all?"

Jason nodded and immediately wished he hadn't – his head was throbbing so badly that any movement really was a bad idea.

Pythagoras moved over to the table, muttering to himself as he gathered various herbs – grinding some and chopping others. Eventually he came back with a cup in hand. He smiled.

"This should take away the worst of the pain and nausea," he said firmly, "and it has honey in it to soothe your throat."

Jason drank it gratefully. Anything that made him feel a little less awful would be very welcome right now. Pythagoras looked appraisingly at his friend, taking in the fever flushed cheeks and the way his dark curls clung to his clammy forehead. The hazel eyes were suspiciously bright and slightly hazy, although still containing the hint of pain, more noticeable in the lines that radiated around them where Jason was squinting slightly. The mathematician also noted the rattling of his friend's breathing and frowned slightly. That was the thing that worried him the most. Nodding to himself, he disappeared to his bedroom and returned quickly with his pillows.

"Sitting up will be better for your chest," he said firmly. Hercules looked across at him, eyes narrowing, before getting up and leaving, coming back with his own pillow.

"Might as well have you comfortable," he told Jason gruffly, gently helping the lad to sit forward as Pythagoras propped the pillows behind their friend.

Jason relaxed back against the pillows suddenly feeling ridiculously comfortable. He knew that his bed was not that soft – certainly not as soft as the bed he had slept in before coming to Atlantis – and yet at this precise moment he didn't think he had ever felt anything quite so nice or cosy. The care shown by his two friends left a warm glow inside him regardless of how ill he otherwise felt, and he let his eyes drift shut once again – allowing healing sleep to claim him.

Pythagoras smiled as he saw Jason drift off once again and motioned to Hercules to step away from the bed. On quiet feet they made their way to the balcony where they could talk softly without disturbing the slumbering brunette. The dawn was just breaking – the start of a new day.

"He'll be alright now?" Hercules asked gesturing towards the corner alcove.

"I hope so," Pythagoras responded. "I think it is only a very bad chill – this 'flu' that he was talking about. My only concern is that it should not develop into peripneumonia. His body is too run down at the moment to fight that off."

Hercules frowned.

"Is that likely?"

"Probably not," Pythagoras conceded. "As long as we make sure he rests and is kept out of any drafts. He must not overexert himself until he is well."

A soft knock at the door startled them both. Pythagoras hurried over to open it, casting an almost fearful look towards Jason's bed, afraid that the noise would have woken his friend. He was relieved to note that Jason was still sleeping peacefully and deeply, exhaustion having finally got the better of him. Opening the door the mathematician was surprised to find Medusa on the other side given the extremely early hour. Putting one finger to his lips to warn the girl to be quiet, he ushered her over to the balcony where Hercules waited.

"I couldn't wait any longer," Medusa said urgently. "I had to know that everything went alright. Did it?"

Pythagoras smiled softly.

"Yes and no," he told the confused girl.

"Sorry?" Medusa asked.

"Dakos is safely on his way to Samothrake, we have a decent purse-full of gold and Meriones has the rest of the merchant's possessions," Hercules told her.

"It went well then," Medusa stated.

"Hmm," Pythagoras answered. "The only problem is that Jason pushed himself too hard and has made himself ill again. I think he probably picked up a slight chill the other night. But because he is so run down and has been overexerting himself so much it has developed into a worse fever. He should be alright in a few days – as long as he rests enough – but he is likely to feel absolutely wretched for a while."

Medusa looked at the blonde seriously, noting how tired he appeared to be. She smiled and took his arm gently.

"Since neither of you got any sleep last night, why don't you both go to bed? I will stay and look after Jason while you sleep," she said firmly.

"You don't have to do that," Hercules protested. "Besides, don't you have to go to work?"

Medusa smiled again.

"It is my day off," she told them both. "Now no more arguments. I am staying and you are both sleeping and that is that."

Pythagoras suddenly found he did not have the energy to argue with her. He crossed to the table in the kitchen and picked up a small vial.

"If Jason wakes make sure he takes this," he told the girl, "and if he worsens wake me."

Medusa nodded and guided both men towards their bedrooms, before turning back to the bed in the corner and her quiet vigil once more.

Pythagoras frowned as he watched his dark haired friend try to find a more comfortable position in the bed, his body obviously aching badly again. Three days had passed since they had dealt with Dakos and Jason was still obviously not very well, although he didn't complain. A dry, hacking cough tended to keep him awake at nights, although he tried hard to stifle it wherever possible so that his friends would not have their own rest disturbed, and his temperature had remained stubbornly high – not high enough to be truly worrying but enough to drain the boy utterly and make him completely miserable. It was perhaps testament to how awful he was feeling that he had so far made no attempt to get out of bed. If Pythagoras was honest he had been expecting to have that particular battle with the brunette since day one and the fact that his friend had essentially remained completely docile worried him slightly. His frown deepened.

Jason sighed softly. He could feel Pythagoras' eyes on him again and knew his friend was worrying. Sometimes the mathematician was very transparent. In actual fact he was feeling a little better than he had over the last couple of days but still felt pretty rotten. He was just so tired but the combination of a dry cough and badly aching joints did little to help him rest. He sighed again. He had always hated having the flu, even when he had lived in a world where there was paracetamol and ibuprofen and all those other wonderful things to help the aches go away and to soothe his cough – and right now he missed television. In his former life he hadn't watched much telly but whenever he was sick it tended to be what he turned to – he would curl up with a warm mug of tea or some chicken soup from a can and watch really bad daytime telly – the sort of thing that required no concentration but could entertain him and take his mind away from how he was feeling.

It was odd, he mused. He'd never really missed the things from his former life all that much before – had been content with all the things he had gained by coming to Atlantis; had revelled in the delight of having real friends – of having company to save him from his previously lonely existence. Looking up he saw Pythagoras trotting around the table slicing and grinding herbs and stifled the urge to groan out loud. That meant it was nearly time for one of the mathematician's tonics. It wasn't that they tasted bad necessarily (although some of them were genuinely vile), it was more that coughing had stripped his already tender throat raw and swallowing anything was painful. Jason was trying very hard not to complain though – he friends were already so good to him. In truth he had never realised how nice it felt to be cared about – to be looked after – and he found himself almost insanely grateful to all three of them.

Pythagoras crossed the room quickly, cup in hand. He paused by the pillar at the end of Jason's bed and looked seriously at his friend, taking in the way his sweat dampened tunic stuck to his fevered body and the way he shifted uncomfortably in the bed. He knew from personal experience that the itchy feeling from drying sweat that accompanied a high temperature was distinctly unpleasant, and certainly wouldn't be helping Jason to feel better. Smiling he stepped over to his friend's bed and sat down.

Jason eyed the cup in the mathematicians hand suspiciously.

"You want me to drink that don't you," he croaked huskily.

Pythagoras nearly winced in sympathy. He had absolutely no doubt that his friend's throat was incredibly painful given the scratchiness of his voice. He nodded.

"I promise it will make you feel better," he said. "If nothing else it is cool enough to soothe your throat."

Jason smiled softly at Pythagoras and took the cup, sipping the contents slowly and trying not to sigh as the cool liquid slipped down. The blonde had been right – it did soothe his throat somewhat.

"Jason," Pythagoras hesitated slightly before continuing. "Would you like to get up today?"

The brunette seemed to think about it for a moment or two.

"Would you mind too much if I didn't," he answered regretfully. "I'm really tired."

Pythagoras nodded.

"Perhaps just for a few minutes then," he said. "I would like to change your bedding and I thought you might want a wash."

"Are you trying to tell me I smell?" Jason asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, no, of course not," Pythagoras floundered. "I simply thought that you might enjoy a cool wash. And it cannot be pleasant to lie in a hot sticky bed. I did not mean," he paused as he caught the mischievous glint in his friend's hazel eyes. "I believe you know what I meant," he finished firmly.

Jason could not resist a low chuckle at the blonde's babbling. Pythagoras smiled brightly in response. It was good to hear Jason laugh again even if it was at his own expense. Moving slowly but surely he helped the brunette to get up and move to the table, setting him up with a bowl of cool water, a wash-cloth and a towel, before turning back to strip the bed of its used sheets. Task accomplished and new sheets in place, he turned back to the table with a fresh tunic in his hands. At the table, Jason sighed softly as the damp cloth started to cool his overheated skin. Pythagoras had been right once again – this was making him feel much better. Wordlessly he took the clean tunic from his friend and slipped it over his head, already much more comfortable than he had been just a few minutes before. Slowly, slightly unsteadily, Jason made his way back to the bed. He was unable to contain his sigh of relief as he slipped into the bed, relishing the cool fresh feeling of the clean sheets against his skin, and the soft mattress cradled his aching back. He lay there for a few minutes, contented and comfortable, letting his mind drift. He was startled out of his thoughts when Pythagoras returned with another cup in his hand.

"Another remedy?" Jason couldn't stop himself from asking, trying not to sound like he was whining.

"No," Pythagoras smiled. "I think you will like this a lot more."

With a sigh, Jason pushed himself up in the bed and took the cup. He frowned at the familiar spicy/sweet smell that came from the cup before smiling, brow clearing, as he recognised the scent of the spiced milk drink his father used to make.

"You seemed to enjoy it so much the other night," Pythagoras said by way of explanation, sounding almost unsure of himself. "I thought you might like..." he trailed off as Jason started to drink deeply, smiling as the warm liquid slid soothingly down his throat.

The mathematician made to stand but was restrained by a soft hand on his arm.

"You really are the kindest man I've ever met," Jason stated firmly.

Pythagoras blushed and looked at the floor.

"This may not come out quite right," the brunette continued, "but what I mean is... I know I've been a pain in the backside for the last few weeks. And I don't always listen when I should. And I'm stubborn. And I'm not good at doing what I'm told. And I sometimes don't tell you things that I really should tell you... but I wanted to say thank you. I know I need to thank Hercules and Medusa too... and Meriones... I never expected anyone to care about me... I've always had to look after myself and I never realised it could be so nice to have someone who wanted to look after me... well three people I suppose. So thanks... for caring; for not giving up on me..." he broke off, embarrassed, and looked down at his hands.

Pythagoras patted his shoulder, unable to speak past the lump in his own throat, and feeling the desire to throw his arms around his friend. He attempted a watery smile as Jason looked up.

"You are welcome, my friend," he managed.

Jason smiled back.

"I don't suppose you fancy playing that game you taught me the other night?" he asked.

"Tilia? Of course." Pythagoras hurried off to fetch the game from his room. Quickly he set the board up on a stool between them and when Hercules returned from visiting Medusa he found them both deeply engrossed in their game.

Three Weeks Later

Jason smiled to himself as he sat on the balcony watching Pythagoras working at the kitchen table. It was early in the morning, although he had already been up for several hours – rising in time to watch the sun rise over the roofs of Atlantis. Hercules was in all probability still in bed – he had been out visiting Meriones the night before and neither of the young men he lived with had waited up for him, correctly surmising that the big man would be coming home very late and very drunk – that is if he managed to make it home at all. As if Jason thinking about him had summoned him, Hercules stumbled out of his room on cue, obviously extremely hung over. Ignoring the busily scribbling Pythagoras, he made his way to the balcony and grabbed a wine flagon from the table, shaking it hopefully, then turning it upside down. It was empty.

"Perfect," he muttered dropping it back onto the table. He turned slightly and squinted at his dark haired companion. "What's got you so cheerful?" he asked.

Jason shrugged.

"Just thinking," he answered.

"About what?" Hercules asked sitting down on a stool.

"It really is finally all over isn't it?"

Hercules looked at the boy seriously. Jason finally looked better than he had at any point since he had come home – finally looked like himself again. He had lost the pallid, gaunt look and had regained much of the weight he had lost – although both his friends still nagged him about eating enough and getting enough rest at times. Pythagoras had removed the splints around his foot a few days earlier – leaving only a light bandage in place for support – and he was down to only using a crutch when he was tired or when he left the house (and that was only because his friends absolutely insisted upon it). Better yet, his nightmares seemed to be receding, only coming occasionally. Hercules smiled. Jason was right. It was finally all over.

"Yeah," he said. "It is."

Jason smiled again and got up, limping heavily across to the kitchen table. He lifted up an amphora from where it sat and shook it experimentally, frowning as he realised it was empty.

"We need milk," he said.

"And bread," Pythagoras added absently, not looking up from his work.

Jason sighed and reached for his crutch.

"Anyone fancy coming with me?" he asked, knowing full well that neither of his friends were quite ready to let him go out alone yet.

The agora was already busy even this early in the day, and Jason was grateful both for the support his crutch gave him and for the presence of his friends keeping too many people from barging into him as he limped down the street. Stopping in front of the milk seller's stall, he smiled at the motherly woman, handing the milk jug over to be filled and scrabbling in his money pouch for the necessary coins.

"Fill it up?" the woman asked.

"Please," Jason responded. Further down the street he could see Hercules arguing with a merchant over a loaf of bread. His smile widened in amusement before he turned back to face Egina. The woman scrutinised him seriously and smiled, pleased to see that the lad appeared much healthier than the last time she had seen him three weeks earlier.

"You look better lad," she said.

"I am. Thank you," the young man answered. Before he could take the milk jug back from her a pale hand grabbed it. Egina glanced across and saw the blonde boy she had seen with the dark haired lad on previous occasions. Idly she wondered if they were just friends or brothers – they certainly seemed to act like it. The brunette smiled at her again and rolled his eyes good naturedly.

"Are you two finished," a voice interjected, making both young men turn.

Egina frowned. She had seen this older man with the two boys before and had been waiting to see him again. She had something that she wanted to say to the man.

"Just what did you think you were doing letting this boy out on his own before?" she asked sharply. "Last time he was here he looked like a good stiff breeze would knock him over! He clearly wasn't well and you sent him out to fetch milk."

Hercules looked comically astounded and affronted.

"Me?" he said. "What makes you think I sent him anywhere?"

Pythagoras touched Jason's arm and pulled him gently away as the big man continued to argue with the milk seller.

"I think perhaps we should leave them to it," he said. "I do not think that this will end well."

Jason laughed his agreement and they made their way off down the street together towards home, the mathematician's arm slung lightly around his friend's shoulders. No matter what the future might hold for them, for now life was good.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.