The sea had looked flat as a mill-pond from the seafront: sparkling but barely rippling, beautiful and calm. But it had been terribly deceptive. Out here, almost a mile from the shore, the little yacht was pitching about rather more than Icarus would have liked. He knew a bit about sailing – Daedalus had gone through a boat phase at one point, trying to reach the highest possible speed by improving the efficiency and re-designing the sails – but he hadn't ever really listened properly. That was now something of a problem.

Seagulls above him seemed to mock him as he tried not to tangle himself in the assorted ropes; they swept down, gliding on the surface of the water, taking fish from the erratic spray that foamed behind him; some of them would land and swim alongside the yacht, as if to say "I'm more of a seaman than you and I don't even have a boat". Icarus scowled briefly at them but fixed his gaze quickly on the horizon, on the point for which he was heading.

Though the sea looked monotonous out here, Icarus's good memory served him well when remembering where it was they had come up. He would probably never forget the view from that very spot, when he had breached the surface with Ariadne in his arms and tried to work out what the hell was going on. Soon he would be back there and ready to return – or try to return – to Atlantis, to his home and to his father.

And he was prepared to risk anything to do so.

'Icarus!' yelled Pythagoras from the side of the motor-boat, leaning over the side, his eyes ever watching the distant yacht and the tiny figure upon it. His cry was lost to the breezes and the chopping of the motor-boat on the waves, cutting through them and making its crew feel slightly nauseous.

It was just at that moment that the dot that was Icarus moved slightly, turning perhaps; and Pythagoras knew that his eyes were on him, even though they could not see each other properly. Though they were a mile apart they could understand each other; the yacht slowed and began to bob a little.

And Icarus felt a deep-rooted regret for what he was about to do, but he would do it nonetheless.

'We're gaining on him,' called Jason from the cabin, wrenching the steering-wheel to the left so that the boat lurched wildly. And they were; within the minute they had drawn up alongside the other craft in a shower of spray, and Icarus was staring at them as if he couldn't quite believe they were there.

'Turn back, Icarus!' cried Pythagoras from the deck.

'I can't!' The young man's eyes blurred with tears, but he put it down to the salt in the air. And then: 'Come with me!'

'No, you mustn't!' Pythagoras shouted in desperation as the yacht came to a halt, and Icarus clambered to the edge, meaning to jump into the water.

'Icarus!' yelled Ariadne and Hercules in unison. Jason was trying to draw the motor-boat nearer, to reach Icarus, to get him to safety, but Icarus realised what he was doing – and hurled himself from the yacht into the sea.

'No!' cried Pythagoras, watching in sheer horror as the boy struggled a little in the waves, as if fighting with his very self; and then, just as the mathematician went for the life-ring, Icarus disappeared beneath the surface, and the sea closed over him.

And Pythagoras let out a long, low cry, and Hercules had to stop him from diving off the side himself – "You can't swim, Pythagoras!" – whilst Jason rushed from the cabin and squinted at the ever-shrinking ripples that marked where Icarus had gone under.

'I'll get him,' he murmured; and with a quick glance at the others he pulled off his shirt, thrust it towards a slightly bemused Ariadne and dived smoothly into the sea, his water-confidence much more pronounced than Icarus's had been.

Hercules clutched Pythagoras's shoulder as everything fell silent. Nobody dared to speak; they all stood waiting for Jason to surface, hoping to goodness that he wouldn't come up alone, that he would come up –

'There he is,' murmured Ariadne after a heart-stopping minute. A shadow was rising through the water; it broke the surface – it was Jason, and there in his arms was Icarus, who wasn't moving.

'The life-ring, quickly,' gasped Jason, spitting out a mouthful of water.

Hercules hurled the life-ring in his direction and Jason grabbed hold of it, using it to manoeuvre nearer to the boat; then he managed to put the unconscious Icarus over his shoulder and deftly scale the ladder on the side of the ship.

'What's... what's happened?' stammered Pythagoras.

'What I thought would happen,' Jason said shakily. 'He didn't get back to Atlantis and nearly drowned.' And he hesitated a moment, before demanding that Pythagoras fetch something warm from the cabin, so that Icarus didn't catch hypothermia; his friends jumped to the request, not quite knowing what hypothermia was but not liking the sound of it.

And when he returned Icarus was coughing and spluttering water onto the deck, revived by Jason* but not in a good state. Jason wrapped the blanket that Pythagoras had brought around Icarus.

'We should get him back to shore,' Jason said. 'Keep him warm, don't let him warm up too fast though, keep him talking if he wakes up, tell me if he gets worse.'

And after this gabbled order Jason returned to the cabin and piloted the motor-boat as fast as he possibly could back towards dry land.

Icarus recovered remarkably quickly: he had not been under for too long, and Pythagoras's care and embraces had kept him warm enough on the journey back to keep him from catching hypothermia. Nevertheless, he was more than a bit annoyed that he hadn't made it back to Atlantis.

'I should try again,' he said determinedly. 'The portal might return.'

'If there is in fact a portal,' said Jason.

'Well, how else are we supposed to get back?' asked Hercules.

'We might never get back,' Jason admitted in a low voice.

'You keep saying that. But you got to Atlantis, we got here – we should be able to get back as soon as the portal-thing's open.'

Jason hesitated for more than a second. 'Yes...'

'But you want to say goodbye to your own home properly first,' Ariadne said quietly.

Jason started. He had not voiced this before now – women were scarily good at guessing your thoughts sometimes. '...Yes. There are just a few places I want to go to – Devon, perhaps... London...'

His childhood memories were suddenly overwhelming, but he knew how his friends must be feeling. 'It sounds a bit selfish. I mean, we should get back...'

'I'm sure we can survive a short while more in the future,' Ariadne assured him, squeezing his hand.

Icarus and Pythagoras did not quite agree, but neither said anything. And at any rate, Icarus wasn't prepared to try to go alone again in a hurry.

Author's Note: Is there anything else anyone wants them to do in the future before they return? Yes, I am taking requests.

*This presumably involved artificial resuscitation – which means, as I have just realised, that Jason got to snog Icarus in this story before Pythagoras did...

(Don't worry, Pythacarus will get to snog before it's over.)