A/N Written for round five of the Small Fandoms Bang, and also for Hurt/Comfort Bingo for the 'taking care of somebody' prompt.
Please go and check out the lovely artwork for this fic by Gryph on Live Journal or on AO3, and give the artist some appreciation too :-)
This fic is set throughout the first series - I hope the time frame makes sense.
This was without doubt the longest and most detailed dream that Jason had ever had. Because it had to be a dream, right? There was no way whatsoever that this could be reality! What was it he had said to Pythagoras? Either I'm dreaming… or I'm hallucinating… or I'm dead. It really had to be one of the three – and of the three options he was really hoping for it being a dream (because the idea that he was hallucinating was not an attractive one and the final option didn't really bear thinking about).
"Are you alright?"
Pythagoras had crept up behind him on the balcony without him really being aware of his presence.
"Yes," Jason answered shortly, not really in the mood to talk to anyone – especially someone who was quite clearly a figment of his overactive imagination; a creation of his subconscious; an impossible imagining borne of electrical impulses within his sleeping brain (although why he had given this creation the name Pythagoras was anybody's guess – after all he had never really been all that fond of maths in school).
It was night time. Jason had killed the Minotaur this morning (not that he had really killed the Minotaur of course – what with this being a dream and all) and in the hours that had followed he had allowed himself to be swept along by the euphoria and adrenaline of it all. Now though reality was biting and biting hard as all the turmoil of the last few days crept up on him and threatened to drive him under.
This could not be real – he could not allow it to be real – because if it was then it meant that he really was trapped thousands of years in the past (or in a parallel universe because he really wasn't sure which it was that his mind had conjured), separated from everything he had ever known and with no way of getting back. No, the whole thing was clearly impossible and the sooner he woke up from this dream the better it would be.
"You seem troubled," Pythagoras pointed out gently. "I know we have not known each other for very long but with everything that has happened I would like to believe that you felt you could talk to me. We all need someone to talk to now and again."
Jason snorted – a sharp, bitter sound.
"You have no idea," he said.
"No," Pythagoras said calmly, coming to stand alongside him. "I do not. I cannot help you if you are not willing to let me. You have done so much for me… for all of us. I would like to have the opportunity to repay you. I, above all people, owe you so much."
"You owe me nothing," Jason protested. "You saved my life and offered me somewhere to stay. Opened your home to a complete stranger. I've never met anyone so kind and welcoming."
"I did nothing that I would not do again," Pythagoras answered with a soft smile. "And since you offered your life for mine as a sacrifice and saved us all in such a spectacular fashion in the labyrinth, I would suggest that we call it even. Now what troubles you my friend?"
"How can you call me friend when you don't even know me?"
Pythagoras felt a surge of sorrow at the ache he heard in his companion's voice. Whatever was troubling Jason he suspected that it ran deep. The young mathematician was a healer to the tips of his fingers and desperately wanted the chance to fix whatever was wrong with Jason right now. He had always hated seeing anyone around him being hurt or sad. Gently he placed his hand on his new friend's arm, trying to get Jason to turn away from the street view and look at him so that he could embrace his friend properly. Pythagoras had always been a firm believer in the school of thought which said that many problems and sorrows could be banished by a good hug.
"It is true that I do not know you well yet," Pythagoras said softly, "but I do know that you are a good man and one whom I would like to believe I can count amongst my friends… and I would like the chance to get to know you a little better."
Jason looked down at the hand on his arm and swallowed hard. Pythagoras' touch was warm, his fingers curling around Jason's forearm, the skin on his palm rougher than Jason would have expected. If this was indeed a dream, then why was he putting so much detail into it? Why had he created the little mole to the left of Pythagoras' nose? The pattern of veins that decorated the back of the mathematician's hands? The thin leather bracelet that encircled Pythagoras' right wrist? Surely his sleeping mind wouldn't have gone into that much depth when creating this scenario?
He closed his eyes and felt again the searing hot breath of the Minotaur on his face; tasted the salt that had encrusted his lips as he had woken up in the surf; felt the sun beating down, touching and warming his skin with its dry heat; heard the monotonous drumbeat that had led the sacrifices through the city on their way to the labyrinth; smelt the sharp tang of the spices from the market that had hit him when he had first entered the city, mixing with the hot smell of dust and people and the sweet scent of exotic perfumes to create a unique and heady mixture unlike anything he had ever smelt before.
It felt so real – and that was the problem. Much as he had never felt like he'd fitted in back in England – had always felt a bit like a square peg trying to force himself into a round hole – it was still all he had ever known; had still been the place where he had believed he had belonged. But if the Oracle was to be believed (and if he accepted this was all real) the reason he had never fitted in before was because he had really belonged here and not there.
He knew so little of this place though and what he had learned didn't exactly endear him towards the society he found himself in. After all what decent, right-thinking person would accept the idea of seven people being sacrificed every year? How could everyone have accepted it as simply a matter of fact? Pythagoras had spoken so calmly of the seemingly generally held belief that Poseidon would destroy the city and everyone in it unless he was appeased. If someone who appeared to be as sensible and intelligent as Pythagoras believed that so utterly, what did that suggest about the rest of the population? Jason couldn't quite comprehend the depth of faith that Pythagoras must have to be able to accept something so completely hideous as a fact of life.
It probably didn't help that (for perhaps obvious reasons) Jason did not believe in the Gods of the Ancient Greek pantheon; had no faith in their supposed powers at all. In a world that seemed to be dominated by superstition and a certain fatalism – a willingness to accept that every man's fate was determined by the Gods – how likely was it that he would fit in any better than he had where he had grown up?
"This can't be real," he muttered to himself.
"What cannot be real?" Pythagoras enquired gently.
"Any of it," Jason snapped. "You; Hercules; this place… none of it."
He tore his arm from Pythagoras' grasp and turned his back on his companion, breathing hard.
"Jason," Pythagoras began. "I do not understand what you mean when you say that none of this can be real and I am concerned that you might be delirious."
Jason barked a short, bitter laugh. He really needed to wake up now, he decided. Suddenly irrationally angry at himself – at his mind – for conjuring up this quite frankly ridiculous scenario he found himself in, he punched the wall of the small house hard. The sudden flare of sharp pain from his knuckles shocked him to a standstill. It had hurt. If this was really a dream it shouldn't have hurt; he shouldn't have been able to feel anything. Sure the arrow in his upper arm had hurt the day before yesterday (was it really only the day before yesterday that he had arrived here?) but this was somehow different; this was pain that he had caused himself. He had half expected any attempt to harm himself would result in him waking in his own bed at home, but it hadn't – it had hurt and he had not woken up.
He turned to face Pythagoras with a growing feeling of horror.
"That hurt," he said, sounding almost surprised.
"Yes I would expect that it did," Pythagoras answered, hands reaching forwards to try to grab Jason's hand and inspect it for any damage. He was beginning to think that his new friend – however brave and heroic he might be – was not quite right in the head; was not quite normal.
"You don't understand," Jason responded in a half-broken whisper. "If this was really a dream it wouldn't hurt." He looked around himself, eyes lost. "I don't understand," he murmured sadly. "It has to be a dream. I have to be dreaming… but why would I put so much detail into a dream?" He reached out and touched Pythagoras' fluffy curls. "Why would I have imagined how your hair would feel? Or the smell in the Minotaur's cave?" He dropped his hand down to the mathematician's thin chest and left it there for a minute, feeling the steady thrum of Pythagoras' heartbeat beneath his palm. "Why would I have dreamed up your heart beating?"
"You would not," Pythagoras said. "And you did not. I do not know why you believe anything to the contrary but you are not dreaming Jason."
"But it has to be a dream," Jason answered plaintively. "You don't understand," he repeated.
"I do not understand what?" Pythagoras asked gently.
"You can't possibly know… I just wanted to find out what had happened to my father. Nothing more than that. I needed to know. One minute I'm in the sub, searching for him, and the next there was this bright light in the water and then I was waking up on the beach… and I'm in Atlantis," Jason looked desperately at Pythagoras. "I'm in Atlantis. I'm in Ancient Greece… and everyone I've ever loved… everything I've ever known… it's all gone… and I don't even know how I got here so I certainly don't know how to get back… So you see this has to be a dream because if it isn't then I've lost everything."
Pythagoras brought his hands up and covered Jason's hand, still firmly planted on the mathematician's chest.
"You have us," he said softly. "I know that perhaps it cannot make up for what you have left behind but perhaps you would allow me… allow Hercules and I… and our home to act as a substitute until you can return to where you came from… if you want to of course." He hesitated. "Perhaps the Oracle might have news of your home and how you might return there."
"I don't think Hercules would like me moving in permanently," Jason responded. "He had enough trouble with me staying for a couple of nights."
"Leave Hercules to me," Pythagoras said. "I do not think he will mind though. Not now. Not after everything we have been through together in the last few days. His bark has always been worse than his bite but he is in his own way a loyal friend. You will have a place to stay here for as long as you might wish it."
Jason tried to turn away again, looking to Pythagoras' eyes like a man about to cry. Pythagoras frowned and grabbed his new friend's arm again, pulling Jason in for a hug before he could pull away, feeling the harshness of his breathing.
"I do not understand more than half of what you are saying," Pythagoras admitted, "but I do understand that you are lost and a long way from home." He hesitated. "I was not born in Atlantis," he said. "When I first came here I was only sixteen and knew no-one. All I had was the clothes I stood up in and one small bag, which was soon taken from me by men of few scruples. I know what it is to believe you have lost everything. This place… this city… may not be what you are used to but maybe you can still be happy here… at least until you find your way back to your own home."
Jason allowed himself to soak up the affection Pythagoras was offering. Dream or not it was nice.
"I told you I didn't really know where my home was," he murmured.
"You did," Pythagoras agreed, still not letting him go; still wrapping him in a gentle embrace. "You said that you had never truly felt like you had fitted in where you came from."
"No," Jason said. "I didn't fit in. I've spent my life looking away; looking towards the horizon and dreaming about what was on the other side of it; searching for something… more than what I had; never being quite satisfied with my life."
"And now you are here," Pythagoras said softly. "Perhaps this is a sign from the Gods. Perhaps this is the chance for you to make a fresh start somewhere where you could possibly fit in. After all Atlantis is a large city and we have people from all walks of life within our walls."
"I don't know anything about this place," Jason protested, "or your Gods." He ignored the faint gasp from Pythagoras. "How can I fit in in a place I know so little about? I don't know what I should do. Should I be trying to go back to where I come from or should I stay and try to be happy here?"
"You have people who care for you where you come from?" Pythagoras asked. "You have family who will be awaiting your return?"
"No," Jason answered quietly. "There's no-one. My father was my only family… and I don't really have friends."
"I am your friend," Pythagoras responded instantly with a gentle smile. Then he sobered. "It is a frightening thing… to turn your back on everything you have known before and start again. Today has been difficult… emotional… for all of us. Sleep tonight and I promise that things will not seem so bleak in the morning." He drew back and looked appraisingly at Jason. "It does us no good to live in the past… or in the future. All we have is the here and now, so we may as well enjoy it while it lasts."
Jason huffed a sound that seemed to be halfway between a laugh and a sob, although the corners of his mouth turned up a little. Pythagoras gave his own encouraging smile.
"Any more words of wisdom for me?" Jason asked.
"Yes actually," Pythagoras replied.
"What are they?"
"Only this. Tonight we should not give ourselves to maudlin thoughts. Tonight we should celebrate. We have good food and good wine. Come inside and let good company chase away the darkness for a little while."
"What are we celebrating?" Jason asked.
Pythagoras smiled as his apparently genuine confusion.
"The day is over and we have all survived it. I think that is more than enough reason to celebrate don't you?" he said. "And more than that Minos was right. Atlantis will never have to send seven citizens as tribute to the Minotaur again thanks to you. That particular horror has been banished forever and it is all your doing. If that does not deserve a small celebration I do not know what does." He looked impishly at Jason. "Besides, Hercules has been using his new found fame to obtain wine and pies from the merchants at the agora. We should go in before he decides to finish them all on his own. I fear that that much wine would not be good for his health."
"Agora?" Jason asked.
"It is the marketplace," Pythagoras said. "It would appear that the citizens of Atlantis are most grateful to be rid of the Minotaur and wished to offer their thanks in the form of food and wine. Hercules is ecstatic."
"They didn't need to do that," Jason muttered.
"No they did not," Pythagoras answered with a smile, "but they wanted to. I am sure it will not last but it would seem a shame not to take advantage or to allow the food to go to waste."
He moved around until he was alongside his companion and slung a friendly arm around Jason's neck.
"Come on," he said. "Let us go inside while there is still some food left. We will drink a toast to our own good fortune and survival."
Jason half smiled and nodded.
"Alright," he agreed.
As they left the balcony and re-entered the house, Jason gave one last glance over his shoulder towards the darkened street. This might be reality as Pythagoras had said or it might still turn out to be a dream. But if it was a dream then at least it was not an unpleasant one. For the first time since returning from killing the Minotaur, Jason allowed himself to relax. He was warm and safe, there was food and wine waiting for him and Pythagoras was offering friendship. For now, that was more than good enough.