Kinetosis

by yassandra

Within two days of setting off on the Argo Icarus had decided that he hated boats.

A/N Well I'm here with yet another one-shot... and a complaint - why is there no Icarus in the named Atlantis characters on this site? Despite the fact that this is basically an Icarus and Jason story (mainly Icarus) I couldn't tag him as a character because there is no character tag! Seems like a bit of an oversight to me...

Anyway, this story has been written for Round 7 of Hurt/Comfort Bingo on Live Journal and fills the prompt "Motion Sickness" on my bingo card. I hope you enjoy reading it :-)

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Within two days of setting off on the Argo Icarus had decided that he hated boats. The constant rocking made his head spin and his stomach churn and he had spent most of those two days hanging over the side rail and throwing up.

Most of his companions weren't much better to be honest. Ariadne, pale and wan, had retreated into the cabin she was sharing with her new husband shortly after the voyage had begun and had hardly been seen over the past two days. Hercules, on the other hand, had made sure that everyone knew just how bad he was feeling. He alternated between loudly bemoaning the fact that he felt too unwell too eat (which in itself was a rare event) and lying on his bunk moaning audibly. Icarus wasn't entirely sure where Cassandra had gone – he caught glimpses of her flitting about the boat from time to time but as a whole she spent so little time in the company of the others that it was almost impossible to tell how she was feeling and whether this voyage was affecting her in the same way that it seemed to be affecting the rest of them. Pythagoras had been all too much in evidence, however. Despite the fact that he seemed to vary between stark white and a frightening shade of green, he had spent most of the voyage so far moving between his companions, trying to provide comfort and a remedy (largely ineffectual so far it has to be said) for the ever present sickness.

They were all so ill that Icarus could almost believe they have been poisoned, and of course as soon as the thought occurred to him it had taken root. What if Pasiphae had found a way of poisoning them? What if she had managed to get someone to poison their food before they left port? It was a ridiculous thought, Icarus knew it deep down – there was no way that Pasiphae could have known where they had gone in the immediate aftermath of their flight from Atlantis, much less got an assassin to them before they boarded the Argo. Besides which, Icarus suspected that if Pasiphae were to send an assassin they would have used a far deadlier poison than one whose only effect seems to be to make them all be sick.

The only member of the group who had fled Atlantis who seemed to be unaffected by the motion of the boat was Jason. It was typical, Icarus thought sourly. Jason seemed to manage to glide through most situations untouched; to lead some sort of charmed life. Perhaps he was being a little unfair. He knew from things that Pythagoras said that Jason sustained injuries on a fairly regular basis after all.

In truth, Icarus was honest enough with himself to admit that he was a little jealous of Jason and the hold he seemed to have over the others – particularly Pythagoras – and that his current feelings stemmed partially from that and partially from how dreadful he was feeling.

He didn't actually know what to make of Jason most of the time. The man seemed to veer between frighteningly intense (as he had been the night when they had freed the prisoners from below the arena and Icarus had betrayed them once again – he still hated to think of that even if Pythagoras had ultimately forgiven him) and a kind of grim taciturnity. In fact, Icarus wasn't sure he'd ever seen Jason actually smile – wasn't sure that the man knew how – although Pythagoras had told him sadly that Jason hadn't always been this way.

Once upon a time (according to the mathematician) Jason had been good company; always laughing and smiling; always cheerful and making jokes – usually at Hercules' expense. Pythagoras had told Icarus that Jason had always been steadfast and loyal – keen to help his friends no matter what – but the grimness that now marked his mood most of the time hadn't been there. It was as though the weight of the destiny that the Oracle (the old one not Cassandra) had laid across his shoulders had gradually crushed all the joy out of his spirit, Pythagoras had said (although he had also said that there were times when you could still see flashes of the old Jason – enough to give his younger friend hope that the young man he had come to care about so deeply as a member of his family was still in there somewhere).

Icarus wasn't sure about any of that to be honest. He had never actually seen Jason in any other way than he currently was – overly serious at the best of times and downright moody at the worst.

In the wake of their flight from Atlantis with the full extent of Icarus' betrayal laid bare before them, Icarus had expected to be treated with scorn; to be mistrusted and shunned. He had decided in advance that it wouldn't matter to him as long as he had Pythagoras' full forgiveness (and the passion he had felt in their kiss had assured him that Pythagoras had most definitely forgiven him even if trust would take a little longer in coming). Hercules had not disappointed him in this. He had been every bit as loud and vocal and mistrusting as Icarus had expected him to be and he was glad to see it to be honest; was glad to know that Hercules cared so much about Pythagoras.

The Queen, on the other hand, had been as kind as she could be under the circumstances. Although Icarus could read the mistrust in her eyes (and fully understood it), she had never spoken to him with anything less than friendship in her voice; had tried to ensure that he was included in all conversations and consulted in all group decisions in spite of Hercules trying to cut him out wherever possible. While he was grateful to her for it, in some ways it actually made him feel worse; he had ultimately betrayed Ariadne just as much as he had betrayed any one of the others (and there was a very ugly word that men used for people who betrayed the crown) and he really didn't deserve her kindness; it made him feel even more guilty than he had before – his shame sitting uneasily in his stomach like a hard knot every time he thought about what he had done.

It didn't matter in the end why he had committed his acts of treachery, just that he had and they all knew it. The dreadful thing was that deep down Icarus knew that he would do the same again if the circumstances were the same; he wouldn't betray Pythagoras again if there was any way around it but he would give up the others in a heartbeat if it meant that his father would be saved. It gave him nightmares and the lack of sleep wasn't helping with the seasickness to be honest. Icarus sighed.

Without meaning to, his thoughts circled back once again to the apparent leader of their little 'quest'. Whilst Hercules had been openly scornful of Icarus and Ariadne had been deliberately kind, Jason had been… well… nothing to be honest. He had barely seemed to register Icarus' presence most of the time – hadn't really spoken to him at all – and when he did look at Icarus his expression might best be described as unreadable.

Icarus wasn't sure how he felt about that. He had expected Jason to be as angry with him as Hercules clearly was; knew only too well that Hercules was only tolerating his presence for Pythagoras' sake. He had expected to be taken on one side by both of the mathematician's friends and threatened not to hurt Pythagoras again (and knew that as soon as he was feeling well enough Hercules was likely to do just that). Jason's apparent indifference therefore seemed a little odd and Icarus couldn't help but worry that it meant that he really didn't care all that much for Pythagoras or Pythagoras' feelings at all.

He sighed again. There he went again, leaping to conclusions that were maybe a bit unfair. In all honesty Jason really hadn't spoken that much to anyone in the days since they escaped Atlantis, not even Ariadne – and she was his wife! He just seemed so damned focussed on finding a ship to take them to Colchis and destroying the golden fleece that according to Cassandra was the source of Pasiphae's powers that everything else was unimportant to him. It galled Icarus a little that everyone else seemed to simply fall in behind Jason without a second thought; as though his decisions were the only ones that mattered. Jason had announced he was going to Colchis and there was never any question that Hercules and Pythagoras might not be going with him – and where Pythagoras went, Icarus was damned well going to make sure he went too. There had been a short debate over whether the Queen was going to go with them (and Icarus had to give Jason credit for wanting to keep Ariadne safe even if he was cross that Pythagoras could be placed into danger without a second thought) but Ariadne had ended that one by simply telling her husband that she was going and there was nothing he could do to stop her.

He was sitting on deck, tucked under the high prow of the ship, trying to keep out of the crew's way. Everyone seemed so busy and Icarus felt more than a little useless. He had ventured up here earlier when he had realised that the stale air below decks was making him feel more ill than ever, hoping that the fresh sea air would help his stomach to settle. So far it hadn't worked. He felt tired, weak, sore and generally completely out of sorts; sick to the point where he was struggling to keep even water down.

Why had they even come on this Gods forsaken boat? Why did they have to be the ones to travel to Colchis to try to defeat Pasiphae? What was it that Pythagoras had told him Hercules had said? That a man should know when he was defeated? Apparently that didn't apply if your name was Jason. They all had deep misgivings about what they were doing and Icarus thought that they all secretly believed that they were going to their deaths; that this was a suicide mission. Yet here they all were, following someone who might be a madman (because surely no-one in their right mind would choose to travel to Colchis no matter how noble the cause) on a seemingly hopeless mission.

Icarus growled at himself. His thoughts had circled unbidden back to Jason once again. This apparent obsession he had developed with the man had to stop. If it didn't then he would end up becoming increasingly resentful – and resentment had never really been in Icarus' nature.

The Argo rolled as a large wave swelled underneath her and Icarus' stomach rolled with it. He scrambled to his feet and lurched over to the rail unsteadily, leaning over the side and retching helplessly; heaving up a mixture of water and bitter bile that was all that was left in his stomach. His hair hung in his eyes but he couldn't seem to pause from retching to get it out of the way. Gods but he felt wretched!

Footsteps approached behind him. Icarus registered them tiredly but didn't turn. It must be Pythagoras, he decided, coming to make sure that he was alright in spite of his own sickness. Hands gently gathered his hair from either side of his face and pulled it back, catching it carefully into one hand as the other came to rest on his back, rubbing circles comfortingly.

"It's alright," a voice murmured. "Get it all out. You'll be better soon."

It was not the voice that Icarus was expecting; was not Pythagoras. Before his mind could register his surprise, however, the ship lurched again and he was thrown into another helpless round of heaving.

Eventually the immediate sickness passed. Icarus remained hanging limply over the rail unable to summon up the energy to move. At some point his eyes had slid shut of their own accord and he found that he felt a little less dizzy with them closed. Firm but gentle hands lifted him up off the rail and guided his faltering steps until he found that he was sitting once more against the side of the ship.

"Deep breaths," his companion advised. "In through your nose and out through your mouth."

Icarus did as he was bidden, more because it actually seemed to be working and making him feel a little bit better than anything else. Finally, when he was sure that he had got his stomach back under control for the time being, he opened his eyes.

Jason was sitting on his heels, crouched with one hand resting lightly on Icarus' shoulder, his expression earnest. Icarus flushed with embarrassment and looked down. It was one thing for Pythagoras to see him at his weakest but quite another for any of his other companions to see him in this state. Given his past, he desperately wanted to prove himself useful – to become a valued member of the company – so that they could all (hopefully) forget his past betrayals, but at the moment he felt helpless and hopeless; weak and pathetic and horribly unwell.

It probably didn't help that it was Jason that had found him like this either. Icarus was willing to admit to being a little jealous of Jason but more than that he was really pretty much in awe of him. This was the man who had slain the Minotaur after all; hero of the arena on at least three occasions; beloved by the Queen, by the people of Atlantis (most of the time at least) and most importantly loved by Pythagoras (although Icarus knew that it was not romantic love and felt no jealousy over that). Jason was a hero in the true sense of the word and everything he did seemed important; larger than life. It all made Icarus feel more than a little inadequate.

"Here," Jason said softly, producing a water skin from somewhere behind his back.

Icarus glanced up briefly, shook his head and looked away again.

"I'll just bring it back up," he grumbled.

"Possibly," Jason acknowledged, "but it will take the nasty taste out of your mouth. Besides, you don't want to get dehydrated… Pythagoras wouldn't be very happy if you did."

Jason was probably right. Pythagoras really wouldn't be too happy if Icarus made himself more ill by refusing to drink. He took the offered skin and unstoppered the neck, raising it to his mouth with little enthusiasm.

"Take small sips," his companion advised. "They'll sit in your stomach better."

Icarus frowned deeply but did as Jason suggested. Lowering the water skin, he glared at the other young man, feeling decidedly grumpy and out of sorts.

"It's just not fair," he grumbled.

Jason looked a little confused.

"What isn't fair?" he asked.

"You," Icarus snapped back. "The rest of us are horribly sick and you don't even seem to be affected. Is it some kind of magic? Because you're touched by the Gods?"

Jason looked startled. Then to Icarus' surprise he actually chuckled.

"No," he answered with amusement. "Just experience."

Icarus stared at him in confusion, startled by his sudden good humour.

Jason laughed again.

"I grew up around boats," he clarified. "The man who helped to bring me up was captain of his own boat. I couldn't have been more than eight or nine the first time he took me out on it… and you wouldn't believe how sick I was that first time."

"Really?" Icarus asked sceptically.

"Really," Jason confirmed. "We set sail and we hadn't even got out of the harbour before I threw up all over his feet... and it wasn't as if the sea was particularly rough." He smiled softly; his eyes lost in distant memory. "I thought he'd never take me out on the boat again."

Icarus watched him, intrigued. He didn't think he'd ever seen Jason so animated, or cheerful for that matter. Was this Pythagoras' Jason he wondered? Was this the version of the man that his lover cared about so much?

Jason shifted awkwardly under Icarus' scrutiny, an unreadable expression flashing across his eyes.

"What?" he asked defensively.

"I'm sorry," Icarus murmured. "It's just that I don't think I have ever seen you so relaxed… or in such a good mood. From what I have seen you are usually so… serious."

Jason frowned.

"Do I really seem that grumpy to you?" he asked.

Icarus hesitated, not wanting to offend his companion when he seemed to be in such a rare good mood.

"I would not use the word grumpy," he answered slowly. "We are not well acquainted but it would seem to me that you are terribly intense at times and somewhat grim… taciturn. Until today I had never seen you smile. I had begun to believe that you did not know how."

Jason sighed.

"There hasn't exactly been much to smile about lately," he pointed out.

"No," Icarus agreed. "There has not. Sometimes it seems to me that life has grown worse and worse since King Minos died and Queen Ariadne took the throne. I have wondered whether it would not have been better if the Queen had not taken the throne at all." He stopped, eyes widening as he remembered suddenly that he was talking to Ariadne's husband. "I am sorry," he added quickly. "I meant no offence. I was not thinking."

"It's fine," Jason replied quietly. "There have been times when I've thought the same. When we rescued Ariadne from the brazen bull, there was a moment in the forest where we talked about running away together; living a simple life… it could have been nice… but Pasiphae would never have let us be and Ariadne could never have abandoned her people. It was all academic in the end anyway. Ariadne was recaptured and then Minos recovered… for a time at least." He paused and sighed again. "It wouldn't have worked," he admitted. "Ariadne couldn't bring herself to leave the city to Pasiphae's tender mercies and I have been told that it's my destiny to save the city and its people… repeatedly told. If I fail, it's Atlantis that will suffer and I don't think I could live with myself if I knew I hadn't done everything I could."

Icarus swallowed and looked away again.

Jason sighed again.

"Icarus, why are you always so nervous around me?" he asked.

"I don't know what you mean," Icarus protested.

"Oh I think you do," Jason responded with a knowing half-smile. "Ever since we left Atlantis you've been on edge. You're a little bit like it around everyone… well, except Pythagoras… but you're worse around me. You look at me like I'm a snake about to strike. I promise I don't bite."

Icarus shifted awkwardly.

"You are the rightful heir to Atlantis," he replied. "The true King… representative of the Gods on Earth… Poseidon's son. To speak to you as an equal… even to look you directly in the eyes without permission… it is an offence against our laws; an offence against the Gods themselves. King Minos had men executed for less."

"I'm not Minos," Jason pointed out dryly. "Although I seem to remember running afoul of that particular idiotic law myself."

Icarus blinked in surprise.

"You did?" he asked.

"Pythagoras never told you that we ended up in the bull court?" Jason asked.

"He may have mentioned something," Icarus answered, "but he never gave me any details and I was not in the city at the time."

"I hadn't been in Atlantis long," Jason said. "I ran across Heptarian. He was hitting an old man who'd done nothing wrong… so I might possibly have punched him."

"You punched the Lord Heptarian?" Icarus asked incredulously. "And you're still alive?"

"In my defence I didn't actually know who he was," Jason answered. "Although I think I'd still have hit him even if I had," he added after a moment. "Anyway… he had all of us arrested and dragged before the King in chains. He started lying about what happened… and I might have lost my temper and shouted a bit… Minos was going to have me executed on the spot for daring to raise my voice to him but Hercules spoke out for me. He reminded the King that he had said he owed us a debt for killing the Minotaur… so we were sentenced to the bull court instead."

He looked acutely at Icarus.

"All this is rather beside the point though," he pointed out. "I'm not a King and as long as Pasiphae sits on the throne in Atlantis I never will be. You know all that. So why are you really nervous around me?"

"I betrayed you," Icarus stated awkwardly, looking down at the deck.

"That is true," Jason responded. "But that goes for all of us… and I think you probably betrayed yourself most of all."

Icarus frowned and looked up at him.

"What do you mean?" he demanded.

"How did it make you feel?" Jason asked. "Passing on information about us to the Colchians?"

"Horrible," Icarus admitted. "It hurt to know that I was betraying Pythagoras like that. It made me feel sick."

Jason nodded.

"And now you are being eaten up by guilt," he said softly. "What you did was wrong… but I do understand it. You did it for love of your father… because you couldn't bear to lose him. I know what it feels like to be willing to do anything to save those you love."

"You wouldn't have done it though," Icarus replied. "You wouldn't have sold out one person for the sake of another."

"Perhaps," Jason answered, "and perhaps not. I've never been in that precise situation." He chuckled. "Actually I'd probably have rushed in to try to save whoever it was and ended up being arrested too. Hercules always says that I don't use my brain… he's been known to say that I don't have one." He kept his tone light but Icarus could still hear the underlying hurt in his voice.

"I'm sure he didn't mean it," he found himself saying.

"He did at the time," Jason said shortly.

"I'm sorry," Icarus replied quietly.

"Don't worry," Jason answered. "What happened between me and Hercules happened between me and Hercules. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I have everything to be sorry for," Icarus retorted, looking up at his companion. "I thought I had no choice."

"We all have choices Icarus. The trick is to try to make the right one."

"Pythagoras said something similar," Icarus murmured. He swallowed hard. "I don't think he will ever really forgive me."

Jason huffed a faint laugh.

"He already has," he replied. "Pythagoras couldn't hold a grudge to save his own life. Now you need to forgive yourself."

"I don't deserve forgiveness."

Jason sighed.

"When we re-entered the city we went to the Temple to speak with Goran and Melas," he said. "I'm sure Pythagoras told you that Melas had betrayed us all… and many lives had been lost because of it. He told Ariadne that he knew what he had done was unforgivable and begged her pardon. She said, "There must be forgiveness if there is to be peace. We should all strive to put the past behind us." Wise woman… my wife." He looked meaningfully at Icarus.

"You really think it's as simple as that?" Icarus asked.

"No," Jason replied. "I don't… but everyone will forgive you in the end… even Hercules will eventually. After all, we've all done things in our lives that we're not proud of; things that seem unforgiveable… but just because you're forgiven doesn't mean that it will be easy to trust you again Icarus. What you did… I may understand it and I may even be able to forgive it but I don't know if I can trust you yet."

"I understand," Icarus answered, "and for what it's worth I am sorry."

"I know," Jason answered. He sighed again. "I still don't think you're being entirely honest with me though."

Icarus shifted uncomfortably.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"If you were simply nervous because of what you did to save your father, you would be as uncomfortable around the others as you are around me," Jason pointed out. "You're not completely comfortable around the others but you don't look at them as though you expect them to attack you at any moment either. It's just me that you look at like that. I don't know what I've done to make you feel that way but whatever it is I'm sorry."

Icarus frowned. Then the Argo crested another wave and lurched unexpectedly and he found himself swallowing hard to try to keep down the water he had drunk a few moments earlier.

"Deep breaths," he heard Jason murmur, "and try keeping your eyes on the horizon… it sometimes helps."

Once Icarus felt he had his stomach back under control and the immediate nausea and dizziness had passed (looking at the horizon actually had helped a little – much as he was loath to admit it), he bit his lip and looked back at his companion.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"Doing what?" Jason replied.

"Trying to help me," Icarus answered.

Jason looked genuinely confused for a moment.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked. "Pythagoras is busy and you looked awful so I thought I'd follow you up here."

"But you don't even like me," Icarus blurted.

He flushed a deep red and looked down at the deck, although he raised his eyes again a moment later when he found that looking down made him dizzier than ever. That was not something he had intended to say; had not wanted to admit to his insecurities to anyone – not even Pythagoras.

Jason looked stunned. Then he sighed deeply.

"Budge up," he said, sliding round to sit alongside Icarus.

After a long moment of silence, he sighed again.

"Icarus, I'm sorry," he said. "I never meant to make you think I didn't like you. The last few months have been… well… awful really. There have been times when it's felt like we've just lurched from one disaster to the next. We've spent so much time sleeping on the ground that it actually feels odd to sleep in a bed. Now that Pasiphae's taken over Atlantis again… well… I'm not entirely sure how things could be worse. I'm not sure why you thought I didn't like you but I guess I've been a bit preoccupied because of it all and missed something. Mind you, Pythagoras would say I miss things even when I am paying attention."

"Since we left Atlantis I think you've said all of three words to me," Icarus replied. "Until now that is. Even before that, whenever we've met you've just sort of grunted at me and spoken to Pythagoras or Hercules."

He was more than a little startled to see Jason catch his lip between his teeth and look down at the deck awkwardly.

"I'm sorry," Jason murmured again. "I didn't mean to be rude… and not really speaking to you was rude. It's just… I'm not always very good at talking to people." He offered Icarus an apologetic half-smile but his eyes betrayed him, remaining faintly distressed. "I'm told I'm not too bad at making speeches but I'm not always good at talking to the people next to me… especially the people that might matter. Socially awkward, one of my teachers used to say. I have this tendency – if it's someone that really matters – to say something stupid and mess everything up," he huffed an uncomfortable laugh. "And Pythagoras had talked so much about you… you were obviously important to him and I didn't want to screw up. The first time we met it was just easier to let Pythagoras and Hercules do all the talking… that way I couldn't put my foot in it or anything."

"You were nervous about meeting me?" Icarus asked incredulously.

"A bit," Jason admitted. "Pythagoras made you sound so special… and I didn't want to… well…" he paused. "Pythagoras' feelings mean a lot to me. I know that people haven't always been kind to him and I want him to be happy. He deserves to be happy… and I think you have the potential to make him very happy." He paused again and looked seriously at Icarus. "That being said," he added, "if you ever hurt him again – the way you hurt him when he realised you'd betrayed him – I will take you somewhere private and start cutting off bits of your anatomy… Am I making myself clear?"

Icarus gulped at the suddenly hard look in his companion's eyes.

"Completely," he said. "I have to admit that I thought it would be Hercules giving me the 'if you hurt him' talk," he added.

Jason smiled pleasantly.

"Just think of Hercules and me as a particularly unpleasant tag-team where Pythagoras' happiness is concerned," he said brightly.

"A 'tag-team'?" Icarus asked with confusion.

Jason instantly looked uncomfortable again.

"It's just a phrase from where I come from," he answered evasively. "All I mean is that Hercules and I will always work together to stop anyone from hurting Pythagoras."

"I'm not going to hurt him," Icarus protested.

"Good," Jason retorted. "Then we won't have a problem." He lapsed into silence again for a moment.

"I can't believe you were actually worried about meeting me," Icarus burst out.

Jason shrugged.

"Like I said, I'm not always good with strangers," he muttered. "I should have made an effort to speak to you after that though. I knew Pythagoras thought a lot of you. It was just that afterwards life seemed to get away from me. Everything went wrong so quickly and I had a lot on my mind. I am sorry. Really I am. I certainly never meant to make you think I didn't like you or that I disapproved or whatever." He hesitated for a second before ploughing on. "Actually, if I'm honest, I didn't think you really liked me either."

Icarus licked his lips nervously.

"I didn't," he admitted.

"Oh," Jason replied with a slightly sad half-smile.

"I mean, I didn't actually dislike you… I just didn't know you," Icarus babbled, trying to find the words to explain himself. "I mean…" he stopped and took a deep breath. "I don't really know you," he said. "Not enough to know how I feel about you or anything. Not enough to know whether I like you or not… Besides… I guess I've always been a bit jealous to be honest."

Jason blinked in surprise.

"Of me?" he asked incredulously. "Why?"

"Because everyone just goes along with you without a question," Icarus replied, unable to keep the slightly bitter note out of his voice. "Because everyone loves you."

"That's really not true," Jason interrupted. "At least half the time I'm a fugitive."

"Exactly," Icarus answered, "and you drag Hercules and Pythagoras with you whether you mean to or not. The rest of us too now I suppose… They love you. He loves you."

"Pythagoras?" Jason asked.

At Icarus' answering nod he swallowed hard.

"Icarus you do know that Pythagoras and I aren't… that neither of us are interested... that I don't…" he floundered.

"Of course I do," Icarus answered flatly, "but he would still follow you through fire if you asked."

"I wouldn't ask," Jason replied.

"You wouldn't have to… he'd do it anyway."

Icarus rested his head back against the side of the ship, swallowing down the bile that rose in his throat as the Argo crested another wave and his stomach lurched in response. He forced himself to keep his eyes on the horizon and to take deep, slow breaths as had been suggested by his companion and was surprised at how quickly his stomach settled back down.

"That really works, you know?" he said. "The deep breaths and the keeping your eyes on the horizon thing."

"You don't have to sound so surprised." Jason sounded slightly amused.

Icarus bit his lip.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Don't worry about it. I don't always know what I'm talking about," Jason replied with a chuckle. "Apparently the depth of my ignorance and stupidity never fails to amaze Hercules." His tone was faintly ironic.

"I don't think you're stupid," Icarus murmured earnestly. "You didn't grow up in Atlantis, did you?"

"No," Jason answered.

"And is it far from here? The place where you grew up?"

Jason snorted.

"You couldn't even begin to imagine how far," he said softly.

"Well there you go then," Icarus responded. "How can you be expected to know everything about Atlantis? It's not stupidity… it's lack of opportunity."

"Do you think you could explain that to Hercules?" Jason replied with a laugh. "I swear he thinks I was dropped on my head as a baby or something."

They lapsed into a silence that was surprisingly comfortable for a moment. Icarus glanced sidelong at his companion. It was surprising how young Jason looked when he was relaxed (not that he remembered ever seeing him look relaxed before). For the first time it occurred to Icarus that Jason really couldn't be any older than he was himself.

"So," Icarus said, after a moment, "any more tips to stop me being so sick? And come to that, why haven't you shared this with the others?"

Jason grimaced.

"Ariadne isn't really talking to me properly at the moment," he confessed. "Hercules is feeling too sorry for himself to listen to anyone and Pythagoras has been too busy to talk to."

"Ariadne isn't really talking to you? Why?"

Jason grimaced again.

"Long story," he muttered. "It seems that she and I are only too good at hurting each other just at the times when we should be happy. This time it's all on me. It's my fault… Anyway she's spent most of this journey trying to sleep. Like you, she's feeling unwell and I think she's hoping that she can sleep through the worst of it."

"I suppose that's worth a try," Icarus said softly. "Seriously though, is there anything else that might help? You said that you were sick the first time you went on a boat but you're clearly not sick now. So how do you stop it happening?"

"It's mainly just getting used to the motion of the boat," Jason replied. "A couple more days and you'll be fine."

"If we're still alive by then," Icarus muttered morosely. "Hercules seems to think we'll all be dead in the next day or so. He keeps telling Pythagoras that he's sure he's dying."

Jason offered him a bright, slightly lop-sided grin.

"Hercules is a drama queen," he answered. "Honestly, you'll all be fine. You just need to ride it out for now."

"I hope you're right because right now I hate this boat," Icarus grumbled.

"Being up here in the fresh air should help a bit," Jason went on. "And looking at a fixed thing like the horizon is always good. When you look at anything on the ship itself… well, it will be moving and that won't help you at all. If anything it will make you dizzier and make you feel even more sick. Chewing something sometimes helps too."

Icarus pulled a face.

"I don't think I could face eating," he said. "I'm having enough difficulty keeping water down."

"Actually, lining your stomach with something like a bit of plain bread might be a good idea," Jason disagreed. "But if you really can't face it, then just chewing something for a while and then spitting it out can help… or so I've been told. Mac, the man with the boat that help to bring me up, always swore by ginger. Never tried it myself but I'm told it works for some people. Helps to settle the stomach or something. Pythagoras might have some in his bag. I know he stocked up on medical bits before we left the harbour."

"I shall ask him," Icarus replied. "Anything is worth a try at this point."

Jason hesitated for a moment.

"There's one other thing you could try," he murmured. "It's something that's always worked for me… although I know it doesn't work for everyone."

"What?" Icarus asked, intrigued.

"It will probably be easier if I show you rather than just trying to explain," Jason answered.

He reached out and caught hold of Icarus' wrist. Icarus, startled by the sudden touch, began to pull his hand away almost automatically.

"Trust me," Jason said softly, his expression earnest and his eyes almost pleading.

Icarus swallowed hard and stilled his hand. He licked his lips nervously.

"We're all going to have to learn to trust one another on this journey, aren't we?" he said carefully. "You're trying to trust me in spite of what I did. The least I can do is try to trust you in return."

"Thank you," Jason replied gently.

He carefully turned Icarus' hand over so that his wrist was pointing upwards and carefully unlaced his wrist brace, removing it and setting it down on the deck. Then Jason rested his own fingers on Icarus' wrist, thumb and little finger curled into his palm, and began to press down on the spot where his third finger lay.

"What are you doing?" Icarus asked.

"Everyone has a pressure point about three fingers width down from the wrist crease, right in the centre of the wrist," Jason murmured. "Some people find that if you apply pressure there it can reduce nausea… me included."

"And that's all there is to it?"

"Pretty much, yes. You can do it to yourself, now that you know where it is… or slip a small round pebble or a bead, if you can get one, inside your wrist brace when you lace it up. That will work better actually because the pressure will be more constant."

Icarus couldn't resist peering at Jason's left wrist brace to see if he could detect the outline of either a pebble or bead.

Jason chuckled.

"I only used one for the first day out from the port," he said. "Just until I got used to the motion of the ship again."

"And it really worked," Icarus breathed. "You didn't seem unwell at all."

Jason chuckled again but didn't speak. He reached into a small pouch at his belt and removed a small and perfectly round pebble. With deft fingers, he rested it on the point on Icarus' wrist where he had been pressing and picked up Icarus' wrist brace from the deck, carefully sliding it around the other young man's wrist so as not to dislodge the pebble and lacing it firmly but not too tightly.

"Pressing on the pressure point might not work for you but it has to be worth a try, doesn't it?" he said softly.

"Like I said, anything is worth a try at this point," Icarus answered.

"I'd better go and see if Ariadne's awake," Jason said, beginning to push himself to his feet. "Besides, I think there's someone searching for you."

He nodded towards the door that marked the entrance to the lower decks where Pythagoras was currently standing, peering around himself looking for his lover.

Icarus stood up. As Jason moved to leave, Icarus reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Jason," he said. "Thank you." He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. "I think we got started on the wrong foot… that we misunderstood each other," he said carefully, "and I think that maybe we ought to get to know one another a little better… now that we're travelling companions and everything. Could we start again please?"

Jason offered him a full on smile, dimples making an appearance.

"A new beginning?" he asked. "Yeah, I think I'd like that."

He shared a smile and a wrist clasp with Icarus as Pythagoras came to join them.

"I'd better go," he said, moving away towards the doorway.

Pythagoras frowned.

"Is everything alright?" he asked Icarus.

"Yes," Icarus answered. "Yes, everything's fine."

Pythagoras studied his face.

"You look a little better," he observed.

"I feel a little better," Icarus replied. "Jason was giving me a few tips. Did you know he grew up on and around boats?"

Pythagoras' frown deepened.

"Jason doesn't talk about his life before arriving in Atlantis," he said. "I have never heard him speak of his childhood at all."

Icarus blinked in surprise.

"Oh," he said. "I'm sorry. I asked Jason whether it was down to magic – the fact that he hasn't been affected like the rest of us; whether it was because he's touched by the Gods. Only he laughed – I don't think I've ever heard him laugh before… I'm not even sure I'd ever even seen him smile – and told me no; that it was only down to experience because he grew up around boats."

"It is alright," Pythagoras hurried to reassure him. "It is simply a little unexpected. Jason is usually so reticent when it comes to talking about himself – particularly with those he does not know well – and in the last few months he has been growing more distant; more closed off. It saddens me to see it."

"I know," Icarus answered softly.

"It was good to see the two of you getting on so well," Pythagoras continued. He hesitated for a moment. "I have always felt that there was a barrier between you; that you did not like one another – although I did not know why."

Icarus licked his lips.

"It seems that there was a misunderstanding between Jason and I from the start," he replied. "The first time you introduced me to Jason he didn't say a word to me and I presumed that he didn't like me; that he disapproved… Only it turns out that he was nervous about meeting me at first and then got too caught up with everything else since King Minos died… and because I thought he didn't like me I perhaps didn't try to be as friendly as I normally would and Jason took that to mean that I didn't like him."

"And the misunderstanding is resolved now?" Pythagoras asked. "From what I could see when I came out on deck you seemed relaxed enough with one another." He hesitated again. "I am pleased to see it actually. It was not pleasant to think that two of the three people I love most in this world were uncomfortable or at odds with one another."

Icarus frowned.

"I'm sorry. I don't ever want to do anything to hurt you again."

"I know," Pythagoras replied simply with a gentle smile. "As I said, I am glad to see you and Jason getting on so well."

"We are both going to try to start again with one another." Icarus paused. "It probably didn't help that I've always been both a little bit jealous and more than a little in awe of Jason," he confessed. "I mean he's a hero; the sort the poets sing of. How many times has he conquered the arena? Two? Three? I was there at the coronation games. I arrived in time to sit at the back in the final. I heard the crowd roaring for him. Who wouldn't be in awe of that?"

"Icarus," Pythagoras began.

"But today I realised something," Icarus continued, ignoring the interruption. "Today I realised that actually Jason's not really any different to me. He's just an ordinary guy in an extraordinary situation and he's just trying to get through each day the same way the rest of us are. I mean… well I don't mean ordinary in terms of the things he can do because killing the Minotaur was something pretty special… and watching him fight in the arena was pretty spectacular too… but I guess that today I realised Jason can be a bit of an idiot the same as I can… and he's nowhere near as serious as he seems at times."

"No," Pythagoras agreed. "He is not. When we are not running for our lives or the city is not at stake – rare though those occasions might be these days – and Jason is completely relaxed, he actually has a decidedly mischievous sense of humour… usually at Hercules' expense. I have to admit that everything has been so serious lately – and Jason has been so grim and tense – that I miss his playful side." He smiled softly. "We would join forces to gently tease Hercules."

"Sounds like fun," Icarus said, his eyes beginning to twinkle.

Pythagoras gave him a long look.

"What are you thinking about?" he enquired suspiciously.

"Nothing," Icarus answered innocently. "I was merely wondering whether we might indulge in a little light hearted fun while we are aboard this accursed ship since we don't seem to be in any danger at the moment… once we are all well again that is. I used to be quite good at pranks."

"Oh Gods," Pythagoras groaned. "What have I started."

The Argo crested another wave. As it did, Icarus kept his eyes resolutely on the horizon and was gratified to discover that he did not instantly feel nauseous.

Pythagoras, on the other hand, went a sickly green colour and swallowed convulsively.

"Look at the horizon whenever the ship rolls," Icarus suggested. "It really seems to help. Jason said it was because everything on the ship was moving but the horizon is fixed. He said that looking at a fixed point will stop you feeling as sick."

Pythagoras nodded and then looked like he wished he hadn't.

"What else did he say?" he asked.

Icarus grinned.

"Do you have any ginger?" he asked.