Merry Christmas, Atlantians!
This is a fragment of what was supposed to be a much longer fic, but I accidentally deleted the file, and I apologize for that. However, I rewrote this scene because I really, really want this to happen in tonight's episode.
Enjoy!

Jason was not alone.

He wasn't entirely sure of how he knew it, but there was something about the eery calm in the forest that filled him with unease. Though weary at first, he had quickly learned to trust these strange instincts that had guided him since his arrival in Atlantis, and so he slowed his pace and attempted to quiet his breathing.

What had he been thinking? In his panic and haste to get Ariadne out of the palace and his elation at the success of his plan, he hadn't even considered what would happen afterwards. "Hide in the forest," he'd said. "I'll find you as soon as I can." But that was the problem, wasn't it? He hadn't thought. He'd been so focused on his own emotions and distracting the guards so the princess could escape that he'd quite forgotten just how big the Atlantian forest was. He couldn't remember the exact location of the clearing he was supposed to go to; how the hell was he going to find Ariadne? He was a skilled hunter, but even he had his limits.

And his wound wasn't helping.

Even though his instincts were all but screaming at him, telling him that there was danger, that he should hide, he had to stop. With a trembling hand, he gently prodded at the wound, but quickly stopped as he let out an involuntary hiss. This was bad. It wasn't bleeding, but every step he took made the barely healed skin stretch painfully. Though the palace guards were a bit useless at times, they certainly knew how to shoot.

His strength failed him for a moment and he had to lean against a tree. He slowly slid down until he was sitting on the cold ground, cursing everything that he could think of. And by 'everything', he meant those damned Gods who had done nothing but make his life a lot harder than it should be. He had always considered himself and atheist, but he couldn't deny that there was some higher power at work in Atlantis, and that said higher power seemed to hold a grudge against him.

He was about to start another round of vicious swearing when he heard them.

Footsteps.

'Shit, shit, shit,' he thought eloquently.

They were very quiet, practically inaudible, but Jason's senses had improved along with his newly found abilities to do somersaults, backflips and the like. These were the footsteps of a hunter: careful, quiet, calculated. With some horror, Jason realized that he was no longer the hunter.

He was the hunted.

And the steps were getting closer.

He barely had time to reach for his sword and stand up before the hunter attacked.

Clash!

The force of the impact threw him back against the tree, but he didn't feel any pain. He lunged at his opponent, intending to disarm him, but found that his attack was blocked with ease. His shock paralyzed him for a few milliseconds, which almost cost him dearly as he was forced to duck to avoid being beheaded. Those milliseconds, however, allowed him to identify his opponent.

Heptarian.

With renewed strength, his wound forgotten as adrenaline pumped through his veins, he attacked again. And Heptarian blocked again. This went on for some time, both men alternating between attack and defense, the sound of clashing steel and ragged breathing filling their ears. Once or twice, Jason came close to victory, his sword slicing through Heptarian's clothes, though not his skin. But he had beaten Heptarian before, and he could do it again.

Clash! He managed to make Heptarian lose his balance and used his weight to drive the other man's blade back, back, back... and yet he still couldn't disarm him. But he was so close...

"Heptarian distracts and then he makes his move," he had told Pythagoras once. "If I can avoid falling into that trap..."

He was so focused on winning that he forgot those words. He was so lost in thoughts of victory that he did not notice the calculative gleam in Heptarian's eyes as he observed him, nor the small smirk of victory as he finally found Jason's weak spot.

Heptarian struck, as quick as a snake, the flat of his blade hitting the exact spot where the younger man had been shot. Jason staggered. Heptarian lunged. With a gasp of pain, Jason went down and found himself completely immobilized in a matter of seconds, Heptarian straddling him. He couldn't move his arms or legs. Struggling would be futile.

He could see the bloodlust in Heptarian's eyes, and it didn't surprise him; the man had wanted to kill him ever since they had first met, that day in the market. The blade was pressed against his throat, the steel icy cold, and Jason wondered why he wasn't dead yet. Knowing Heptarian, however, he suspected that it would be foolish to wish for a quick death. The man wanted to kill him, but his hatred would ensure that he suffered for as long as was possible until the end.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant and mocking as possible. Maybe, if he made Heptarian angry enough, his death would be quicker. It was worth a try.

Heptarian dug the sword deeper into his skin. Jason could feel a light trickle of blood flowing down his neck.

And yet Heptarian did nothing. He was staring at Jason with what could only be described as disgust, apparently struggling with his own thoughts.

'Probably can't decide what to cut off first,' Jason thought. He hoped he didn't look as sick as he felt.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Heptarian seemed to come to a decision. "Where is Ariadne?" His voice was laced with contempt.

That caught Jason off guard. "I don't -"

"Do not take me for a fool, Jason," Heptarian snarled. "We both know it was you who freed her, so where. Is. She?" With each word, he sunk the knife a little deeper into Jason's flesh.

Jason said nothing. He would never betray Ariadne in that way, not even to save his own life. He knew she would rather die than let Heptarian, of all people, take her back to the palace.

It was obvious that Heptarian had to stop himself from gutting him right there and then. Instead, he simply took out a small knife, leaving the sword out of Jason's reach, and began to drag the tip down Jason's chest, tearing his tunic. The cuts weren't deep, but wherever the knife went, white-hot pain followed.

Jason's breathing quickened, and Heptarian smirked. By the Gods, the man was insane. He had seen traces of it before, but now that he could clearly see the carelessness with which he carved into Jason's skin, the fascination with which he observed the blood and Jason's reactions... 'Sick, twisted bastard,' he thought, wanting to throw up. And to think that Ariadne almost married him... The thought of him with her almost drove him mad with rage. He tried to struggle, but Heptarian slapped him with his free hand. Jason coughed, tasting his own blood in his mouth.

"One last chance, Jason," Heptarian said softly. "Where is she?"

Jason intended to keep quiet, but the knife was still slicing into his skin, getting closer and closer to his nipple. Heptarian's intentions were clear, so, in an attempt to gain some time, he blurted out the first thing he could think of: "Why are you alone?"

The knife stopped.

Heptarian tensed.

'Jackpot,' Jason thought triumphantly, though slightly surprised. This was clearly a delicate subject.

"Where are your guards? Too scared to go into the big, dark forest?" Mockery would earn him a one-way ticket to the Underworld, but it might just make Heptarian kill him faster. "Or perhaps you -"

Before he could continue, however, the knife was at his throat and Heptarian's eyes gleamed dangerously. "Be quiet."

"Or what? You'll kill me? Then you'll never know where Ariadne is."

Heptarian's grip on the knife was so tight his knuckles had turned white. "You will not tell me, regardless of what I do." He looked more irate than ever as he said those words. Was Jason's refusal to break that infuriating to him?

"Then why am I still alive?" The question left his lips before he thought it through.

Heptarian hesitated, and Jason was reminded of the Pankration. Their positions had been reversed then, with Jason being the one who had held Heptarian's life in his hands. And he had spared him, not out of the goodness of his heart, for he sometimes desired nothing more than to end Heptarian's life, but because he hadn't wanted to be like him. To be a monster.

Now it was Heptarian who held the knife, and he was hesitating.

Why?

"Our debt," he said finally, almost spitting out the words.

"What?"

"In the Pankration, you..." Every word seemed to cost him a great effort. "You spared my life. I would dishonor Poseidon if I were to take yours now."

Maybe the Gods weren't so bad after all. For the first time in his life, he was grateful for the devotion and faith the Atlantians had in them.

"But you can't let me go," Jason said, understanding his dilemma. There was an easy way for Heptarian to get around that problem, though: He could order one of the guards to execute him. But he couldn't because he was on his own now, which still didn't make sense, unless... unless... no...

"They don't know you're here," he realized. "That's why you're alone, isn't it?" But why? It didn't make any sense. Why would Palos' second-in-command sneak out and search for Ariadne on his own?

Heptarian's jaw clenched, and that was all Jason needed to confirm that he was right. Surprise and confusion loosened his tongue and he found himself asking: "Does Pasiphae know?" Perhaps this was some scheme that the two of them had planned out.

"She knows nothing," said Heptarian. He was watching Jason carefully, considering. "You are not the only one who cares for Ariadne's wellbeing, Jason."

Jason gave a hollow laugh. "You, care for Ariadne? I honestly doubt that." The man was a cold-hearted killer, a lunatic. The thought that he could feel anything for Ariadne was preposterous.

"Believe what you will."

"You can't expect me to believe that Pasiphae's lapdog cares for Ariadne."

"I am not her lapdog," Heptarian snarled. Jason might have imagined it, but he thought he heard a trace of despair in his voice.

It was then that he remembered the Queen was Heptarian's aunt. From what Ariadne had told him, they had both arrived in Atlantis some fifteen years ago, and that it was rare to see one without the other. Heptarian must have been no more than a boy then. He wondered if the man before him had always been like that; if it was possible to be born so evil. Perhaps it had been Pasiphae's doing. Perhaps he was no more than a pawn in her games, just like Minos.

Perhaps.

"Why are you here?" he asked quietly. To take Ariadne back? To kill her himself?

"To help Ariadne."

"How?"

"That," Heptarian hissed, "is none of your concern."

"And you expect me to help you find her, just like that? You expect me to trust you?" He was incredulous.

Heptarian took a deep breath, steeling himself. "I do not expect to gain your trust, nor do I want or need it. It does not shame me to admit that I want nothing more than to kill you now." He eyed Jason with contempt. "But I ask you to believe the honesty of my words. I do not wish to see Ariadne harmed."

Perhaps he was telling the truth. Perhaps he did care. Perhaps, perhaps. There were too many questions that needed answers, but Jason had wasted enough time already and the clock was ticking. How long until the guards arrived in the forest? This wasn't the time to debate on where Heptarian's loyalties lay. He had to get Ariadne somewhere safe.

Even if it meant trusting his enemy.

"Fine, I'll take you to her."

And with those words, they formed their fragile alliance.

Heptarian nodded and got off him, quickly picking up his weapons. He did not offer Jason any kind of help as the younger man groaned and coughed, finally feeling the severity of his wounds. Not that Jason expected help, anyway.

Just before they set off, he gave one final warning:

"If you betray us, I'll kill you."

Heptarian smirked.

"You can try."

Please review if you enjoyed it!