A/N Sorry this update has taken so long - too many stories and plotlines rolling around in my head! I struggled with this chapter so I hope it's ok.
Thank you all for the reviews - please continue :)
The first thing Pythagoras noticed upon opening his eyes was how quiet the house was. He lay still for a moment trying to reconcile the lack of sound with the usual bustle which invaded the house. On any normal day he would wake to hear Jason quietly trotting around their home – sometimes he was sure that his friend never slept because he always seemed to be awake – preparing his breakfast, picking up crockery or even sharpening his sword on one memorable occasion – although he hadn't done it again that early in the morning; apparently being shouted at by a semi-hungover Hercules for making "that infernal racket" had been enough to stop a repeat performance. Pythagoras smiled at the memory before the reason for the quiet hit him like a ton of rock. He sighed. What he wouldn't give to hear Jason's sword being sharpened right now, and to know that everything was normal – well as normal as you got in a house where, at various times, they'd been arrested, chased by Maenads, hunted by Furies (and he still felt more than a little guilty for that one) and one of them had spent time as a pig!
He slipped out of bed and stretched, trying to shake off the fuzzy, just-got-up feeling that came from having too little sleep recently. He shouldn't have been sleeping at all but Medusa had chased him off to bed last night when he had fallen asleep at the table for the third time (the woman was lethal with a broom!). She had promised to wake him if he was needed in the night – so the fact that she hadn't could only be viewed as a good thing – at least that was what Pythagoras hoped.
He straightened his tunic and ran a hand through his rumpled hair, trying to tame the wild blonde curls into some semblance of order, before pulling the curtain that separated his room from the rest of the house aside, and stepping out onto the main room. The sight that greeted him made him stop. Instead of being at their friend's side as he expected, Medusa was quietly preparing breakfast, humming softly to herself under her breath. She turned as she realised Pythagoras was behind her and smiled so brightly it was like the sun coming up – her joy written clearly in her eyes. She put the bowl she was holding down on the table and came towards the mathematician with her hands outstretched.
"He woke up in the night," she said simply.
Pythagoras had no need to ask who he was. He cast a quick glance towards the bed in the alcove before turning back to the girl.
"Was he... I mean did he... I mean... oh gods." He struggled to string a coherent sentence together as relief coursed through him, releasing the tension he had been feeling for days.
Fortunately Medusa seemed to know exactly what he was trying to say.
"Jason was fine," she smiled. "Tired and weak as a newborn kitten, but completely with me. The fever has almost gone. He's sleeping peacefully right now."
Pythagoras stumbled towards the table and sat down heavily on a stool.
"Thank the gods," he breathed.
Medusa came over and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Pythagoras slid his own arms around her waist and looked up at her, his smile so wide it threatened to split his face in two. Just at this moment Hercules wandered sleepily out of his bedroom, yawning and scratching an armpit. He stopped and stared in confusion at his girlfriend locked in an embrace with his house mate.
"What's going on?" he asked.
The second time Jason woke up it was late morning and the sounds from the bustling streets below were providing the normal background soundtrack which permeated the house on a daily basis. He lay still for some time blinking sleepily at the spread of light on the ceiling, trying to work out why he was so tired and why everything seemed to hurt. After a while he turned his head to look into the main room. Pythagoras was sitting at the table with his back to him, working industriously, his various parchments spread out in front of him. Jason smiled fondly at his friend's back and relaxed back into the bed, feeling strangely comfortable in spite of his various aches and pains. It felt good to be home – although he couldn't for the moment recall where he had been.
Pythagoras had been deeply engrossed in his work for a while. Hercules had left some time earlier to walk Medusa to work. Gradually the feeling of being watched crept over him and he rolled his shoulders uneasily. He eventually slowly turned to look around the room, blue eyes widening in surprise as they met the tired hazel eyes of his friend. He smiled and stood so suddenly that the stool fell over. Hurrying across the room, he sat himself down on the edge of Jason's bed, reaching out with one hand to feel his friend's forehead, while his other hand caught the brunette's wrist and started to feel his pulse.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
Jason winced as he tried to move in the bed.
"Like Hercules is sitting on my chest," he answered quietly.
Pythagoras smiled even more. His friend's voice had been weak – little more than a whisper – but he sounded like himself again.
"Yes, well. You have a few broken ribs so I'm not really surprised."
"What happened?"
The blonde frowned.
"I was rather hoping you could tell me that," he said.
Jason closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them wide as his memories started to return. His breathing quickened and his hands started working at the edge of the blanket, pulling at the loose threads almost desperately. Pythagoras watched helplessly as his friend started to lose what little colour he had, obviously on the verge of a full blown panic attack. That was something he wanted to avoid at all costs.
"It's alright," he soothed. "We don't have to talk about it now. You don't even need to think about it. Just rest."
For a few minutes it seemed that his comforting was destined to fail, as Jason's breathing grew more erratic and his eyes darted around the room without really seeing what was there. Eventually though he started to calm down, collapsing bonelessly back onto the mattress and closing his eyes. He blinked sleepily at Pythagoras – what little energy he had was already spent. The blonde smiled reassuringly as he stood and made his way to the table, and poured out some liquid into a cup. He made his way back over to Jason and sat down again.
"You need to drink this," he said. "It will help with the pain. Afterwards you might want to try eating something – are you hungry?"
Jason shrugged.
"Not really."
"Perhaps some milk then."
Pythagoras helped the brunette into a sitting position, noting the winces that the young man tried hard to hide, and handed Jason the cup, steadying it when he found that Jason was struggling to hold it still. Jason grimaced at the bitter taste of the tonic but swallowed it down before Pythagoras settled him back onto the pillows. He sighed.
"What's wrong with me?" he asked.
"Apart from the broken ribs," the mathematician answered, "you've got some cuts and bruises – lots of cuts and bruises – and several of the bones in your left foot were broken – it looked like your foot had been crushed. I don't think you're going to be running around for a while..."
"Medusa said I'd been ill."
"Mmmm. Yes. Very ill in fact. You'd lost a lot of blood and several of the cuts were quite badly infected. You scared us all." He looked down at his hands, lost in thought.
"Thank you."
Pythagoras looked up again, slightly startled at the raw gratitude he heard in his friend's voice.
"For what?" he asked.
"For caring," came the response. "I'm not really used to people caring that much."
Pythagoras looked hard at Jason. The brunette had turned away slightly as if he was embarrassed by his own admission. He was really curious and wanted to ask what Jason meant but decided that it was a conversation that could wait for another time when he saw just how close to sleep his friend was.
"Right," he said brightly. "I'll get you some milk."
He slipped a spoonful of honey into the milk, reasoning that it couldn't hurt. Having helped Jason to drink this as well, he settled his friend back into the bed and pulled up the covers, smoothing the dark curls back from his forehead as he did so. Jason was asleep almost as soon as he lay back down.
Pythagoras smiled softly and returned to the table and his beloved equations.
Medusa bit her lip as she looked around the palace kitchen. Everyone else had gone for the night but she had tucked herself into an alcove, staying out of sight until they had all gone. She had loudly bid everyone farewell earlier – had let them think she had left already. She made her way over to the cupboard where the scraps left over from cooking were stored and laid out her shawl, filling it with produce. If she were caught stealing from the palace kitchens... well the punishment didn't bear thinking about! She sighed. She was a clever girl and knew that Jason would need good food to help him get better – and the boys were not well off at the best of times. A little risk on her part would be worth it in the long run, she reasoned. She knotted the corners of her shawl together and made her way to the door, looking around a little nervously as she did so.
The corridors on the way to the servants entrance were deserted at this time of night, and the excessive quiet made Medusa even more nervous. She was nearly at the servants door now and started to hurry, keen to get out of the palace.
"What are you doing?" The voice startled her so much that she dropped her bundle, various foodstuffs escaping and rolling across the floor. She turned in terror and found herself facing the Princess Ariadne.
"I asked you a question," Ariadne said firmly.
Medusa was nearly in tears.
"Please, My Lady, it's not what it looks like."
"It looks like you were stealing food from the kitchen. Do you have any idea what would happen if you were caught?"
"Yes... no... I wasn't really stealing, My Lady. They are just some leftovers that the head cook would have thrown out in the morning."
"And you thought that leftovers were worth risking everything for? Are you that hungry Medusa?" Ariadne's tone was as kind as always.
"No," Medusa answered. "They were for my friend. He was hurt and has been very ill. I just wanted to help."
"Friend? What friend?" the Princess asked sharply.
"Jason."
Ariadne's beautiful face paled noticeably and she grabbed Medusa's arm.
"Is he alright?" she asked urgently.
"He will be. He's getting better already," the other woman answered.
Ariadne nodded. She bent and picked up Medusa's shawl, handing it to the girl.
"Go quickly. But this cannot happen again, Medusa. It is too risky for you."
Medusa nodded gratefully and hurried off, feeling the Princess' gaze on her back all the way to the exit.
The cell wall was cool to touch in the stifling heat. He lay, tethered like an animal by means of a collar and rope, tied to a stake, shivering in the darkness. They no longer bothered watching him closely, assuming that he was too weak to escape – that his will was too far broken. He hadn't spoken for days, had retreated into some dark corner of his own mind – his captors knew that death couldn't be too far off now and were sorry; the boy had been so deliciously stubborn.
He struggled to rise even as the cell door was flung open and the worst of his tormentors swaggered in – more beast than man. Hard hands grabbed his shoulders, nails biting into the soft skin viciously, as his captor drew his lips back from his broken teeth in a snarl.
"Time to make you scream."
Closing his eyes, he lashed out desperately and felt his hand connect hard with something soft.
Jason woke up suddenly with a scream still dying on his lips. Momentarily unable to reconcile the difference between the dream and waking, he screwed his eyes tightly shut and brought his hands up to cover his face. As reality kicked in he felt soft, slender hands gently grasping his shoulders and heard muted cursing in the background.
"He hit me," a deep voice rumbled, before continuing with a steady stream of curses. It took Jason a minute to identify the gruff tone as Hercules.
"Well you shouldn't have tried to wake him like that." The second voice was lighter, more reasonable and much, much closer. It must be Pythagoras holding him then.
Jason allowed his hands to fall away from his face and opened his eyes, looking up at the ceiling as he tried to get his heart rate back under control.
"Are you alright?" Pythagoras looked concerned. "You looked like you were having a nightmare."
Jason nodded and swallowed, unable to form words for the moment. His eyes darted around the room until they landed on Hercules who was clutching his nose and staring back at him.
"Did I do that?" Jason asked. "I am so sorry."
Hercules noted the distress in the young man's voice. Realising the boy was close to tears, he let his hand drop and bit back the curses that were still on the tip of his tongue.
"It's fine," he rumbled. "Just surprised me is all. At least I know not to wake you like that again."
He produced a deck of cards from his pocket.
"Do you play cards?" he asked, smiling as Jason nodded. "How about a hand?"
Jason grinned suddenly, although his friends both noted that it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Bring it on," he said.
Pythagoras stepped away from the bed. While he knew that sooner or later they would need to have a serious conversation about what Jason had been through and about what was troubling him, now was not the time. He looked back at his two friends, already engrossed in their game, and smiled. He grabbed his cloak from a peg on the wall and stepped outside to get some air.