This is a Jason chapter so, you know, some self pity and brooding.
Chapter 8
Awareness came suddenly to Jason. He shifted in his sleep and there was a flare of pain in his shoulder so bright that for a few seconds he couldn't breath. It was like being knifed all over again. It was a disorienting way to wake up. Still half in a dream he wasn't sure what was happening, where he was.
His eyes opened to darkness and his brain was slow to engage. Struggling to catch his breath he worked to get his bearings, but his line of sight was annoyingly narrow, lying on his stomach, and it was that as much as anything that moved his thoughts into alignment. Hercules had laid him in this position. They were sheltering in the forest. And night was still upon them.
The pillows underneath him had shifted and he felt the unevenness of the ground at his ribs. He had no idea if he had been asleep for a few minutes or a few hours, he wasn't good at reading the night. The fire still burned but it was low, mostly glowing embers, although emitting enough light that he could see Ariadne around it, looking peaceful in sleep and beautifully hardy, lying on the ground like it gave her no trouble. It made him smile and swelled his heart. She was so lacking in pretension, graceful in any setting, he loved her for so many reasons.
He debated with himself whether to do the easy thing and lie still, or do the hard thing and sit up. It wasn't really a tough decision, he wasn't entirely comfortable and he didn't like how narrow his aspect was.
He flattened his right hand against the earth and pushed against it, raising himself slowly to get his knees underneath him and carefully twisted until he was sitting cross-legged. An angry growl rolled from his throat as he clutched his left arm tight at the bicep and pushed it hard against his chest trying to stop movement under the surface, twitching and misfiring that bloody hurt, that took long moments of absolute stillness to calm.
Twenty-four hours of recuperation had done little for him, he still felt frustratingly unwell, lightheaded and weak and there was a burn in his shoulder that just wouldn't quit. He probably needed to sling his left arm, it was only vaguely responsive and when it flopped around at the whim of gravity it pulled against the wound in a way that made his eyes water. But already he knew that he wouldn't, restraining his arm would mess with his balance and in a fight would be like a hit me here sign.
He tried not to think about a fight. If soldiers were to appear in the camp right now he would be a disaster, fumbling around and moving at half speed, Ariadne would have to save herself. The thought really bothered him. He pressed fingers into his eyes and tried to quell niggling feelings of inadequacy, that he was a liability at the moment. It's only been a day he consoled himself. Only a day since a dagger sliced through you. Things would improve, strength would return. He knew it to be true, he knew that his incompetence was only temporary, but still it couldn't quite balm the sting of being dead weight.
He dropped the hand from his face and surveyed the area. A cursory glance around the campsite revealed no sign of Hercules, not even discarded bedding, and a voice inside said he waited for you to fall asleep then returned to the city for Pythagoras. And he found the thought annoying but not angering. Jason could understand Hercules need to find Pythagoras. Positions reversed he probably would have done the same. There was something about Pythagoras that brought out protectiveness, maybe it was the slight figure, or the gentle nature.
As much as Jason loved his mathematical friend he sometimes regretted landing on his balcony and inviting violence and danger upon him. Pythagoras was a sensitive soul, ill suited to peril, but he endured it willingly for the sake of his friends, he was fiercely loyal and deeply caring. Whenever Jason dwelled on it, it broke his heart a little, that his friend was living so far wide of his comfort zone. He deserved a life more suited to his personality, staid and safe. He deserved to be geeking out over triangles and equations, and sometimes Jason could almost see it, Pythagoras hunched over a scroll shouting Eureka (no wait, that was the guy in the bath, Archimedes), jubilant over a discovery that would immortalise him. It had to be coming. History required it. But when? With all the turmoil in their lives, when would Pythagoras get the chance to concentrate on what he loved?
Jason sighed into the night. The fire was on the verge of burning out and he pushed himself to his feet, groaning inwardly at his unsteadiness. His left side was a lot heavier than his right and he had to physically adjust his shoulders to it, press his hand against his left collarbone to shift it back, then make an effort not to let it slip down into a hunch. When his posture seemed right he went over to the nearby pile of twigs and bent at the knees, keeping his upper body rigid and straight, to grab as much wood as his right hand would hold, moved to the fire and dropped the twigs with barely a crouch, which scattered them wider than was efficient but good enough as far as he was concerned.
Now that he was up and moving he wanted to stay that way for a while, mostly to prove to himself that he could. He walked over to Ariadne and gazed at her fondly, tilting his head, wanting to stroke her hair or kiss her forehead but not wanting to bend to do it. Just looking at her gave him some calm, some resolve. She was so beautiful. He could lose himself in that face, memorizing and appreciating every inch. His fiancée. It still seemed strange. He wondered if he would ever get used to thinking of Ariadne that way, as the woman he would marry rather than just the woman he loved. He couldn't quite get his head around it, the permanence and commitment.
After a minute he shifted away, in the direction of Atlantis, the city pulling at him even from afar. He searched for a break in the foliage that would allow him to view the buildings, his home, moving gradually further from the camp to find a vantage point and found instead the unmistakable figure of Hercules outlined by the moonlight, staring thoughtfully into the distance with his arms folded across his chest.
"You're still here," Jason said as he drew near, and felt dizzy with the relief. Thank God.
"Did you think I wouldn't be?" Hercules answered.
"Well… yes."
Hercules grunted. "I've been standing here for hours trying to decide whether I should go back to Atlantis and find Pythagoras. I still don't know what to do."
Jason hummed his understanding.
"Do you think he's alright?"
"Yes, I do," Jason returned immediately, genuinely. Of the three of them, Pythagoras was the most considered about risk and safety. He wouldn't be reckless with it.
Hercules expelled a breath. "He shouldn't be on his own," he muttered. "You are better on your own than he is. And you're not that great."
Jason smiled lightly and could have pointed out that he had been on his own a long time before he met his friends, but left it unsaid. "He's fine," he reassured and felt in his heart that it was true.
Hercules dipped his head and it looked like silent agreement but the furrow in his brow betrayed his continuing worry. He drew in a breath and deliberately shifted his focus to Jason, "So, walking around huh? Fun for you?"
"Loads," Jason returned drily.
Hercules raised a hand to pat him on the shoulder, then thought better of it and let the arm fall. "Only you could recover so quickly from an injury that would have killed most men."
Jason wrinkled his face and considered Hercules had a generous view of recovered.
Whether he could read Jason's expression or took his cue from the lack of agreement, Hercules amended, "Yes, I know, you are hardly healed. But I am not in fear of your life, which is a relief because without Pythagoras here…" Hercules turned his face back to the city, eyes going soft at the name. "It's nice not to have that worry."
Different responses ticked through Jason's mind, from the honest (you seem to underestimate how terrible I'm feeling), to the dishonest (I am feeling so much better) to the sarcastic (take more than a knife a few inches above the heart to stop me), none of which came easily to his tongue. They weren't really talking about him anyway it was Pythagoras that hung heavily between them so he let the subject drop.
Atlantis was a dark looming mound dotted by torchlight in the distance. Jason gazed at it and felt the wash of awe that still hit him sometimes when he considered that he was viewing Atlantis. It was such a beautiful place, unique in so many ways, the modern world had no idea what it was missing.
"The city looks peaceful," he said. "You can't even tell from here that it's been invaded."
"It's not on fire, if that's what you mean."
Yes, Jason realized, that was what he meant. The last time Pasiphae had tried to wrest control of the city flames had danced doggedly through the nights and smoke had hung heavily in the air for days. It had looked like a city at war. Now it looked traitorously like a city at peace.
"It probably suits us that the city is calm, with Pythagoras still in there," Hercules pointed out.
Jason nodded his agreement but still felt a sting of disappointment that the citizens had so readily accepted the overthrow of their queen.
"We had best get back to Ariadne," Hercules said, and extended his arm in invitation to lean on. Jason paused for a beat, his instinct to decline and be self sufficient, but he overrode the hesitation because really, who was he trying to impress? Not Hercules, who had seen him rough more times than he cared to think about. He inched closer to his friend, stretched his arm across Hercules neck and wilted against the ample shoulder, while Hercules slung his arm around his back, low so that his hand was resting at his waist, nowhere near the wound. Jason exhaled lightly. Being supported was starting to feel depressingly comfortable and familiar. He rested his head against Hercules shoulder for just a moment to collect himself, gather some strength.
"You okay?" Hercules asked.
"Hmm," Jason answered because- yes and no. Probably as okay as he could be having recently had a dagger skewer him. It was strange the way a wound to his chest affected his whole body, made his legs feel weak, made his head ache, drained him of energy.
They carefully made their way back to camp, Hercules considerate in his pace and quiet, without his usual conversation. Jason wasn't sure if it was because he was tired or still thinking of Pythagoras.
From a distance they could see someone standing by the campfire. Jason squinted for recognition; it was hard to tell if it was Ariadne silhouetted by the low flames when she was wearing the oversized tunic, it hid her distinctive figure.
As they drew closer Hercules muttered, "Who is that?"
"I can't tell," Jason returned tightly.
Hercules unwound his arm from around Jason's back, looked at him questioningly and Jason urged, "Yes, go."
The big man loped on ahead and it was strange to Jason, being left behind, it was usually he who took the lead, confronted the danger. He watched with his heart in his throat as Hercules barreled into the camp without fear or caution, his only thought to confront the intruder and protect the queen, and wondered if it was how his friends felt when he scouted ahead. It wasn't pleasant, the sensation that he was too far away to help if Hercules needed it.
Hercules stopped before the stranger, tilted his head to the side, and wrapped him in a firm embrace.
Pythagoras.
Jason dropped his head to his chest and released a whoosh of air. It never felt right when the three of them weren't together and the relief at Pythagoras being safely returned was almost crushing. He shuffled his way to the camp and when he got there felt like he had run a marathon, ridiculously and unaccountably exhausted. Pythagoras's face lit up at the sight of him and it caused Jason's throat to constrict because he had missed his friend, worried about him just as much as Hercules.
Pythagoras wound careful arms around his neck and pulled him gently close. "You look awful," he whispered into Jason's ear, making him breathe a laugh. "You should not be moving around."
Jason could only nod his agreement as he drew away and the shine of unshed tears in the mathematicians eyes was reflected in the heat behind his own but both of them wore a warm smile.
"Come and sit down," Hercules rumbled. "Tell us everything. How did you get out of the city?"
Pythagoras glanced over his shoulder. "I am actually not alone. I escaped with an old friend." He glanced backward again and nodded his head and from the concealment of shrubbery a figure emerged and walked toward them.
"Miras?" Jason quietly exclaimed. He took quick steps toward the man, his lips curved up, held out his right hand to shake and drew the man close when he took it, but couldn't use his other arm to clap him on the back as he would have liked. "What…?"
Miras lips twitched self-consciously. "I know. Last person you expected to see."
Jason shook his head in bewilderment as they moved toward Hercules and Pythagoras. Hercules shook the man's hand with less enthusiasm, a suspicious look in his eye.
"Miras and I crossed paths in the city," Pythagoras supplied.
"Apparently I am a wanted man. Pythagoras saved me from being tossed into a cell." Miras was humorless in his explanation.
Jason jiggered his head and blinked long. "How? What did you do?"
"Only what anyone would have done," Pythagoras returned blandly, but averted his eyes and looked guilty, like maybe he had done something his friends were going to be unhappy about.
"Which was what?" Hercules asked pointedly.
"Miras was in trouble so I helped him."
Jason cocked an eyebrow at the vague response and got the feeling they should change the subject. Pythagoras was pretty well attuned to Hercules' moods and if he thought his adventure in the city was a subject to be avoided then Jason couldn't help but agree, especially when Hercules was unslept and possibly not in a reasonable frame of mind.
From the corner of his eye he noticed Ariadne stir and quietly sit up, awoken by the sound of voices. It was the perfect way to divert attention.
Pythagoras leaned closer to Jason, tipped his head toward the queen and said, "I have not told Miras yet."
Miras regarded the men uncertainly, not sure where the conversation had turned.
With a light smile, Jason swept his hand in the direction of Ariadne and said, "Miras, may I present her royal highness, Queen Ariadne."
The man turned around and his mouth dropped open as he blinked at the woman, almost unrecognizable in a man's attire, her long hair tousled and untidy but her beautiful face unmistakable. He swung his head sharply toward Jason and exhaled, "You…" Then he remembered himself, dropped to one knee, fisted a hand over his heart and bowed his head. "Your majesty. It is my honor."
Ariadne rose, carded hands through her long hair, gave it a twist to keep it out of her face, and looked more at Jason than Miras, a small smile on her lips that he couldn't help but return. She took the few steps to join the group. "Please rise," she said with formality. Her eyes alighted on Pythagoras and she threw her arms around him, formality quickly dropped. "You made it," she cried in delight. "I thought that you would. You should have heard these two, all doom and gloom, they had no faith." As she drew back, her forehead creased and she touched a finger lightly to his cheek. "What happened? Did you meet with trouble?"
"What?" Hercules said under his breath, studying his friend with sudden interest, noticing the swollen cheek for the first time. Pythagoras turned his head away.
"I'm afraid that was me," Miras offered innocently.
Hercules went still. "What do you mean? Did you hit him?"
"He didn't know who I was," Pythagoras said quickly.
Oh boy, Jason thought. Pythagoras just as good as admitted that Miras had hit him. He wished his brainy friend was better at dissembling. After all the worry, the helpless fretting Hercules had done, to find out that Pythagoras had met with rough treatment in his absence was going to cut deep. And to have the perpetrator within reach meant he wouldn't have an opportunity to calmly consider his response.
Hercules eyes flattened, became diamond hard, his strong muscled arm shot out and grabbed hold of the shirt at Miras' chest, taking him by surprise.
"It was an accident," Pythagoras soothed, placing a restraining hand against the burly chest. "Miras thought I was the enemy. I was dressed as Colchean."
Jason caught hold of Ariadne's hand, entwined their fingers and pulled her to him, stepping them a few paces back because he could see what might occur, could see the stony threat in Hercules face, that the atmosphere had shifted.
Miras' expression was blank, aware of his misstep but unapologetic, unflinching. And that was not going to help.
The big man's flint eyes didn't shift, unmoved by Pythagoras' explanation. "Did you hit this gentle, skinny man?"
Jason had no idea how to calm Hercules, what he might say or do to defuse the situation, he wasn't really a calming influence, he was more of the call to arms-we need to do something dangerous influence, so he left it to Pythagoras to handle.
"He thought I was Colchean," Pythagoras protested, exasperated and a little desperate. "He thought I was about to arrest him."
"I did," Miras reluctantly admitted and Hercules swept Pythagoras out of the way and smacked his fist into the man's jaw. Miras staggered back a few steps, clapped a hand to his chin.
"Hercules!" Pythagoras yelled and moved in front of his friend, placing two hands on his chest.
Hercules made no move to hit Miras again, one punch was all he intended. He pointed at the man and said, "Now we're even,"
"He saved me," Pythagoras exclaimed and clicked his tongue. "As we escaped the city he saved my life. What is wrong with you?"
Miras gritted his teeth, the hand at his side balled into a fist and he took quick dangerous steps toward Hercules. Pythagoras met him with a restraining hand and said evenly, "It's over. Let it be over."
The combatants glared at each other with Pythagoras standing in between. Tension was thick. Both men looked like they would happily trade a few more blows until Hercules turned on his heel and stormed into the darkness. Pythagoras followed, skipping behind to keep pace, talking softly, trying to instill sense and reason.
Jason exhaled a pent up breath, wound his arm around Ariadne's shoulders and pulled her close enough to lay a quick kiss on her forehead. She was trembling, shaken by the unexpected violence and he tightened his embrace, holding her snugly against his chest.
"Hercules is a little overprotective," Jason offered, as if it needed to be said.
"So I see. I hope I never hurt Pythagoras," Ariadne said quietly.
"I hope I never do either," Jason agreed.
"What should we do about Miras?" Her eyes went to the man, who still had a hand clasped to his jaw.
"He'll be fine. There won't be any hard feelings." I hope. Jason pulled away from Ariadne, her arms reluctant to release him and he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully as he moved to the struck man, considering what he might say to to soothe his justified indignation and anger.
"That was unfortunate," Jason said, and made a face at himself for such an inadequate opening.
"I should keep moving," Miras curtly returned.
"No, don't. Not yet anyway. Don't take any notice of Hercules, he can be a..." He was going to say hothead but changed his mind at the last minute because hitting Miras had come from a place of love, from Hercules boundless care and concern for Pythagoras, he didn't want to criticize it. "...fierce friend. Quite a good friend to have actually. He'll cool down. And I am pleased to see you. Despite the circumstances."
Miras flicked a dark glance at him and Jason clarified, "I mean, you know, hiding out in the forest, with the deposed Queen and the city in turmoil."
The man inclined his head, flicked a glance in the direction of Ariadne, who was studying them with her arms crossed a few feet away, then back to Jason. "Yes, it is a shame we couldn't renew our acquaintance in better circumstances. It appears Pasiphae will allow us no peace."
"So it would appear." Tension crept into Jason's stance, just the mention of Pasiphae prodded his anger. "She won't be long in Atlantis if we have anything to say about it. We intend to take back the city, and we could certainly use a good man like you, if you felt minded to join us."
Miras's gaze darted uncertainly in the direction that Hercules had taken.
"There won't be any further trouble," Jason assured, and knew it to be true. Hercules wasn't the sort to hold a grudge. Not for long, anyway.
A wave of heat abruptly swept through Jason, his vision wavered and it was a physical reminder that his health was scratchy. He really needed to sit down, all the moving around had wrung him out, but he didn't want to appear weak and warred with himself about doing it.
"I don't know." Miras tipped his head. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I have a brother in Thrace and I was considering..."
The rest of Miras's words were lost to a buzzing in Jason's ears. He cast his eyes to the ground, took controlled breaths to press down whatever was rising and worked to keep his expression neutral while he bargained with himself internally - five more minutes. Keep it together for five more minutes, then you can sit down.
A hand rested against his chest. It startled Jason and he raised his head to discover the meaning. Miras was peering at him closely with a knitted brow. "What's wrong? Are you ill?"
"No." Jason coughed his embarrassment and figured he must have zoned out. "No. Sorry. I, uh, I have a- It's just a- sore shoulder." He flapped at it vaguely and wasn't sure why he was so flustered, why an injury felt like a personal failing.
"I see," Miras returned and flicked his eyes past Jason, like he wasn't sure what to do, looking toward Ariadne for help. He kept his hand flattened against the cloak which Jason found unnecessary and a little invasive.
"Everything alright?" Ariadne asked, coming to stand beside the men and frowning at the hand propping up Jason.
"Jason was just telling me that he has a sore shoulder," Miras supplied and the words were loaded with suspicion.
"Yes," Ariadne returned, her gaze coolly assessing the wounded man. "Quite a serious injury I'm afraid." She turned a sweet smile on Miras. "Would be so kind as to get Pythagoras for me?"
"No, don't," Jason countermanded and gave Ariadne a meaningful glare. Pythagoras would be all worried and full of questions (What are you feeling? Where does it hurt?) and he was fine, just a little overextended. All he needed was to sit.
She ignored him, kept her attention on Miras, mouth tightening slightly at the disagreement. Miras bounced his eyes between the two of them and in a competition for authority between him and Ariadne, Jason realised she would always win, she outranked him every time. Miras hesitantly removed his hand from Jason's chest, bowed his head quickly to the queen and headed in the direction Hercules and Pythagoras had ventured.
"Perhaps you should sit down," Ariadne suggested, rounding on him.
"Perhaps I should," he readily agreed, trying to sound flippant and composed but undermined by his knees starting to give.
Ariadne knotted her hand into the front of his cloak, jammed her shoulder under his good arm and eased him to a sit. It was super awkward. Jason choked back his groans, kept the hissed breaths to a minimum and really wished it was Hercules beside him and not Ariadne. In fact, he wished no one was beside him, because he was quite capable of sitting down unaided. Now, with Ariadne helping him like he was an invalid, he was feeling all kinds of feeble and weak, he could hardly look at her. He sat with his knees drawn to his chest and fixed his gaze at the fire.
Ariadne deposited herself in front of him, her back to the flames and stretched out her legs. After an uncomfortable silence she dug her toes into Jason's hip and said, "You are being ridiculous."
"I'm just sitting here," he returned mildly. He still couldn't look at her.
"I know you are hurt. It is not a secret. I was there when it happened, so I really know. You don't even know how much I know." She paused, and puckered her brow at the convolution. Jason glanced sideways at her and found the face adorable. Then thought wait, what don't I know? "Could you just let me help you without getting all," she flicked her wrist, "mopey and quiet about it?"
Mopey and quiet? As he turned over the accusation in his mind, she shifted onto her hands and knees, edged closer and pressed tentative lips to his. His mouth automatically responded, without thought or consideration, he wasn't sure what he was feeling right now but he always wanted to kiss her.
She drew back with a light smile and a sparkle to her dark eyes. "I am beginning to understand how complicated you are. I haven't seen you unwell before and it has revealed a whole different side to you. I'm pretty sure I was better at recuperation."
Jason parted his lips and was stuck on how to respond. She was giving him a kind scolding and he didn't know whether to be defensive or make light of it. He really wasn't in the right frame of mind to be puzzling over the relationship.
Ariadne changed position, moved behind him and pulled at the back of the cloak, forcing him to recline into her waiting arms. His head rested against her chest, her arms encircled him in an extended embrace. It was pretty nice. Even if he was feeling a bit dominated. But it also made him really tired. He was laying down and his brain was suggesting that perhaps he might like to get some sleep.
"You will never get better if you keep moving around." Soft fingers absently brushed the curls on his forehead to the side.
"I'm not moving now," he returned lightly. His line of sight was weird. Fixed against her body he was staring into the distance and all he could see was darkness or tree trunks. It was uninspiring and didn't help the tired. He let his weighted eyelids fall shut.
The back of her fingers traced a line down his face following the curve from his forehead to his jaw, over and over. It provided a welcome distraction to the ache of his shoulder. "We need to move on," he said and didn't form the words right, they ran lazily together. He got the feeling he was saying it more to himself than Ariadne anyway. We need to move on, so you need to pull yourself together.
"When we are ready," Ariadne replied quietly.
He started drifting. The repetition of her strokes, the softness of her fingers sent him to the edge of wakefulness. He was vaguely aware when Pythagoras knelt beside him and put a hand to his forehead, then his cheek. There was a pull at the neck of the cloak as his friend tried to examine his shoulder and then frustrated noises because there wasn't enough give in the material to allow him to see.
Warm and comfortable in Ariadne's arms, Jason was content to let Pythagoras do as he pleased. So long as he didn't have to move he was good.
