It was a beautiful morning, and perfect for a slow stroll around the park before heading back to the station and home. Pythagoras and Icarus, a little more confident in the quiet and calm of the morning, and with the lack of people except for dog-walkers and joggers, went arm-in-arm, finding themselves rather happier than they thought they could ever be so far from home.

The station was as busy as ever, and Jason shepherded them all through the crowds, and then left them on the platform before disappearing off "to buy something for Mac". Just before the train arrived he returned, a nondescript carrier bag hanging from his arm, about which he said nothing, merely herding them all onto the train and finding their seats.

He watched almost hungrily out of the window as they pulled out of London, seeing the landmarks flash by first – the Shard was at last hidden behind a tall red block of flats – then terraced houses, rows and rows of them; then suburbia – pretty houses with expansive gardens, children playing on swings or kicking a ball against the garage... Perhaps he was looking at it all through rose-tinted spectacles, but London had never been so idyllic. He didn't talk to the others, who were holding a conversation about something or other, so that he could fix the images in his mind of Britain, of his favourite places, of his memories...

Devon arrived in a flash of green, and, unexpectedly, Jason led them off the train here, saying something about afternoon tea. After a walk through a pretty village they arrived at a rose-covered little cafeteria with intricate white metal chairs on the enclosed patio, and there Jason bought everyone tea: hot, good quality tea and light scones filled to bursting with cream and jam. Hercules, Pythagoras and Icarus preferred to sit inside, but Jason led Ariadne outside, sitting her down at a table for two and pouring out her tea for her. The carrier bag on his arm was placed carefully on the floor; and just as he began to eat the sound of church bells began to resound, loud, clear and rather beautiful. He was slightly surprised, but smiled shyly and faced Ariadne, who had started at the sound of bells.

'What is it?' she asked.

'Church bells... probably a wedding,' Jason smiled, revelling in the rolling, joyous tones. He reached over the table and took her hand. 'It's quite ideal really, seeing as... Well, we got married back in your – our time, but I was thinking... It was a different wedding to the one I'm used to, and I wanted some souvenir, some memory of the future, so...' He stopped his disjointed sentences and reached into the bag, from which he drew two little black boxes. 'It's a bit belated, but... Here when there's a wedding the bride and groom get wedding rings.' And he opened the boxes to reveal two beautiful little rings, each studded with a stone – a diamond? – on which he had evidently spent a good amount of money.

Ariadne stared at the rings, not quite comprehending. Then Jason slipped one onto her finger, and one onto his. 'There. Now we're married here and in the past. Sort of.' He cast an apologetic grin at her, realising that his plan was better off unspoken, and, as the bells became louder and more glorious, and as the sun shone down on their beaming faces, he resorted just to kissing her. *

The sun was still shining when they arrived back in Cornwall, though it was beginning to sink towards the greyish horizon in a burst of colour. Jason stood a moment on the promenade, his hands going to the railing and his eyes staring out at the open sea, and then at the shingle below, in front of the sea wall, lapped at by the ceaseless motion of the waves. And at length he turned, and looked down the front, taking in the marvellously randomly coloured houses, the trees that rose up from the village and onto the cliffs. Then he sighed, not out of complete misery but out of something else, something unidentifiable – and looked then at his friends, who were scattered around a bench nearby, Pythagoras and Icarus with their arms around each other's shoulders, Ariadne talking in a low voice to Hercules, a small smile on her face as he perhaps cracked a joke or made some bluntly obvious remark. Suddenly he found the sight of them more beautiful even than his home, than anything in Britain, and decided that he could easily go back to Atlantis, could easily leave Cornwall and Mac behind, because he would be doing it for them, and they mattered more to him than anything else in the world.

The next day he was ready. The sky was cloudy but the wind out at sea perfect for going out in the Scapha, reaching the fateful place where they would find out if the portal, if it existed, was there, and if they could traverse it and return.

But before they did that, he had an early farewell to wish.

Whilst his friends were otherwise occupied, he went to Mac, who was sitting on the jetty repairing what looked like a lobster net and whistling to himself. The older man looked up at Jason's arrival and greeted him; Jason smiled and sat down beside him. For a few minutes they were silent, but not uncomfortably so, sharing in each other's company. Mac knew Jason's intentions and didn't like them much, but he appreciated Jason's story and knew that Atlantis must exist, somehow, because of how much Jason longed to go back, the passion with which he spoke of his other life in the ancient world.

'Will you miss England?' asked Mac at length, though he already knew the answer.

'Very much...' murmured Jason. 'But... Mac, I'll miss you more.'

And a tear came to Mac's eye; he set down the lobster net and threw his arms around the boy, who returned the embrace, never wanting to let go... This couldn't be the last time he would see Mac – he would make sure it wasn't. Somehow... But just in case –

'I bought you something in London,' Jason said them, disentangling himself and bringing forth the bag that he had picked up in Waterloo station. 'I'm not very good at gifts, but...'

And he handed over the present: a little leather-bound notebook in which Jason had written all of the things he could not say for fear of crying, for fear of never wanting to leave. At the end of this heartfelt missive he had written in small and hesitant letters: You know how to find me; you would be more than welcome in Atlantis if you wanted to come and join us.

Mac read all the way through the message in silence; and when he came to the end he looked up, his eyes glistening, his mouth unsure of what emotion to show.

'I shan't be coming just yet, I'm afraid,' he said with a sad smile. 'But one day... Maybe one day...'

And he wasn't saying that just to please Jason. Jason acknowledged this, and found himself thinking of the day when he would catch sight of that rugged, friendly face among the people of Atlantis...

* Atlantian Blood Liar – this is the wedding you asked for. Probably not quite what you were thinking of, but the best I could do. I hope you like it. :)

And apologies if it doesn't make a lot of sense to anyone else.