A/N I have to say I was a bit disappointed by the lack of reviews for the last chapter - was it that bad?
All in all it's been a good week though - my Atlantis DVD arrived on Monday and I've even managed to persuade my husband to watch it (turns out he had a look while I was at work and quite enjoyed it!)
I'm not totally satisfied with this chapter and I know Jason is acting out of character here but please bare with me - it is necessary.
Once again please review.
In the two days since she had caught Medusa stealing leftovers from the kitchen, Ariadne had slowly worked herself up into a frenzy of worry. In public she was still every inch the ideal Atlantean princess – cool, reserved, perfect, a true goddess on earth – but in private she was sick with anxiety. Only her resolve to never allow Pasiphae to see her upset or afraid again stopped the mask from slipping in public. Things would be different if Korinna was still alive, she would have a friend who she could confide all her worries to, and who she could use as an intermediary – could send out to check that Jason really was alright. But Korinna was dead – Pasiphae had seen to that – and Ariadne's hatred for her stepmother flared a little more at the thought. Of course she did have Ione now and the girl had done absolutely nothing to make Ariadne distrust her but she simply didn't know her well enough to truly confide in her yet. So she sat alone in her room, picking at a bowl of fruit that had been left for her, and tried to come up with ways to ease her own mind.
"Are you unwell My Lady?" Ione's smooth voice startled her from her thoughts.
"No. I am quite well."
"You've hardly touched your breakfast. I will send for the physician at once."
Ariadne frowned.
"As I told you, Ione, I am well... I was simply thinking," she said firmly.
Ione smiled a little weakly – so far she had failed in her role to gain Ariadne's trust but perhaps this was her opening.
"My Lady," she started. "I know I have not been in your service for long but I would like to think... that is I had hoped to believe... that a level of friendship had built up between us. I just wanted you to know that you can tell me anything... I hope you will learn to confide in me."
Ariadne half smiled. She did like the girl but did not believe she knew her well enough yet to fully trust her.
"I was thinking of Korinna." It was not an out and out lie.
Ione stiffened.
"My Lady... I realise that your former servant betrayed the trust of the royal family but I do not want that to affect how you think of me."
Ariadne frowned.
"Korinna would never betray me," she stated coldly. "I am going to the Temple now. I may be some time."
With that she swept out of the room, her back stiff. Ione grimaced at her own mistake. She would have to be more careful in the future if she wanted to gain her mistress' trust.
Jason was miserable. Purely, completely and utterly miserable. Everything hurt – hurt a lot more than he was willing to admit – and, while Pythagoras' concoctions did help to take the edge off the pain, they did nothing for the continual bone deep aching that seemed to be his constant companion. He attempted to shift awkwardly in the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position to ease the ache that was currently flaring in his back.
That was another thing – when had it become so hard to move? Even lifting himself up the bed tired him out completely and sitting up unaided left him feeling dizzy and sick. Most of the time it felt like his body was made of lead. In reality, Jason understood that he had been dangerously ill – the other three had impressed that upon him – and that it would take him some time to get back to normal, but he was thoroughly frustrated at feeling so weak all the time. He suppressed a sigh, knowing that it would bring Pythagoras to his side instantly and not wanting to interrupt the man's breakfast – better that he think Jason was still asleep, he was already skin and bones without having another meal interrupted without good reason.
Of course he would heal a lot quicker if he slept more, but the constant aching did not make sleep easy – and when it did come, so did the nightmares. He shuddered, trying to stop his hands from shaking at the thought. He knew Pythagoras wanted him to talk about what happened, wanted to understand. But he couldn't, just couldn't; couldn't burden his friend like that; couldn't face what had happened in the waking world. So instead he faced it in his dreams – dreams that seemed to be getting worse with each passing day.
The combination of pain, weakness and exhaustion were making him snappy, mood deteriorating regularly and rapidly. Jason didn't want to snap at his friends, didn't want to be rude to them, to drive them away, but he didn't seem to be able to help himself at the moment. He sighed, frustrated.
Pythagoras was up and at his side in an instant and Jason fought the irrational urge to roll his eyes.
"Are you alright?" the blonde asked. "Are you in any pain?"
"Fine," Jason answered, shortly. "Just getting comfortable." He turned his head to face the wall, missing the look of surprised hurt that flashed across Pythagoras' eyes.
As Ariadne wandered the corridors of the palace aimlessly, her mind turned once again to Jason – not that it had ever really left him if she were honest with herself. There had to be a way to check for herself that he really was alright. She paused to let two servants walk past, both carrying platters of food, and suddenly it hit her. The princess smiled to herself. She knew the perfect way in which she could help and could make sure for herself that Jason was getting better as Medusa had said. Turning on her heel, she hurried off down another corridor, not quite running. Rounding a corner she nearly walked straight into her father and Pasiphae coming in the other direction.
"Ariadne," Pasiphae said in the hatefully suspicious tone she often used with her stepdaughter, "where are you going in such a hurry?"
"I was on my way to the kitchens," the girl answered with as much civility as she could muster.
"The kitchens," scoffed the Queen, "and what could possibly take you there? If you wanted food you should have sent your maid."
Ariadne's mind raced, searching for an excuse, even as she kept her face completely impassive.
"I wished to make an offering. A gift to the priests at the temple. I want them to pray for all those I love," she said.
Minos smiled fondly at his daughter.
"You are as kind and generous as you are beautiful," he said, enveloping Ariadne in a hug. "The people will love you all the more for it. As do I." He turned to the Queen. "Come, let us leave Ariadne to her devotions."
"Yes My Lord," Pasiphae answered, casting another suspicious look at Ariadne.
The girl sighed once they had gone. She was growing increasingly concerned about her father. Minos had never been a particularly robust looking man but lately he seemed increasingly tired and appeared almost haggard. Ariadne knew that he was being plagued by headaches, even though he had chosen not to tell her about them – the palace was a breeding ground for gossip so it was only natural that the news of the King's poor health should reach his daughter's ears no matter how much he tried to spare her from anxiety. Ariadne sighed again. It seemed she had more than one person to worry about at the moment. Mentally she shook herself. Standing around moping in a corridor wasn't helping anyone, and while there might be little she could do to assist her father, she could certainly try to help Jason.
Arriving in the kitchen, she was struck by the sheer hubbub and amount of bustling activity she saw. For a moment Ariadne stopped in the doorway, letting the glorious smells of cooking food wash over her, almost too shy to interrupt the activity. She knew that as princess she had every right to be there, and yet it seemed wrong for her to be disrupting the work that was going on – everyone seemed far too busy to deal with her. Finally the head cook looked up and saw her, eyes widening in surprise. She came forward, obviously concerned to find a member of the royal family in her kitchen.
"Is something wrong My Lady?" she asked, worried. "Was your breakfast unsatisfactory?" She frowned, unable to think of any other reason why the Princess Ariadne would be in her kitchen, and already mentally working out who had made the girl's breakfast and who would need to be punished.
"No. Everything was more than satisfactory. Breakfast was as good as always," Ariadne sought to put the woman at her ease.
"Then to what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?"
"I wish to make a gift to the priests at the Temple. I require a basket of food – meat, bread, fruits, chicken, herbs and spices – and anything else you can think of."
The cook nearly sighed. As if she didn't have enough to do without catering to the whims of the girl.
"I will arrange for it to be sent, My Lady," she said tonelessly.
"No," Ariadne responded sharply. "The gift is to be a personal one and I wish to deliver it myself."
She stood her ground and waited as the basket was prepared. Once she had it in hand, she made her way back to her chambers to collect a cloak, feeling irrationally grateful that Ione appeared to have left to go about her other duties – while she had no need to explain herself to her maid, Ariadne wanted to leave as quickly and quietly as possible.
Once through the private door into the Temple, she sought out the head priest, finding him at his devotions near the main alter. She waited for him to pause before making her presence known.
Melas turned and saw the Princess in the shadow of one of the great pillars. Smilingly he made his way over to her. Over the years he had developed a genuine fondness for the girl. Drawing close he saw the strain on her face – saw the lines of worry etched around the eyes.
"What is wrong, My Lady?" he asked.
Ariadne looked at him and tried to smile.
"I need your help, Melas," she said.
Pythagoras frowned at the equation he was trying to work on. None of the numbers seemed to be adding up properly and he couldn't seem to concentrate no matter how hard he tried. He knew the reason of course. The reason was about the same height as he was, with brown curly hair and usually an easy going smile. He sighed. The more time went on the more worried he was becoming. He knew that Jason was still unwell, that he needed time to heal, to regain his strength. The problem was that Pythagoras also knew that in order to do that he needed to eat well and get plenty of rest – neither of which he seemed to be doing. The blonde shook his head. Jason was scarcely eating enough to keep a bird alive and they were all well aware that he was not really sleeping – the dark smudges under his eyes seemed to get darker and deeper each day. Part of the problem had to be that he was in pain (although getting Jason to admit to that was nigh on impossible – he was just too stubborn for his own good) but it was also fairly obvious that he was suffering from horrendous nightmares every time he closed his eyes. Unfortunately he was unwilling (or perhaps unable, Pythagoras thought) to talk about it with anyone. The combination of exhaustion and pain were making the brunette increasingly short tempered and he was starting to take it out on everyone around him. This was not the Jason that Pythagoras knew. He seemed to be sinking into a very dark place and try as he might the blonde simply didn't know how to help his friend get out of it.
Pythagoras looked up from the table as a door closed softly behind him. Hercules padded across the room moving remarkably quietly for such a large man.
"Is he asleep?" he asked gruffly, nodding towards the bed that stood in the corner alcove.
Pythagoras glanced across the room before turning back towards his older companion.
"Probably not," he admitted softly. "I just wish I knew how to help."
Before Hercules could respond there was a knock at the door. He ambled over and opened it, half expecting to see Medusa on the other side. It therefore came as something of a shock to find that the person on the other side of the door was actually Princess Ariadne, heavily swathed in a cloak and carrying a basket of food. Pythagoras hurried forward to greet her, while Hercules got over his shock and started eyeing the basket hungrily.
"I cannot stay long," Ariadne began, "but I just wanted to see how Jason was. Medusa told me he had been hurt and ill."
"Come in," Pythagoras smiled, as he ushered the girl through the door. "He will be happy to see you."
"How is he?" The princess asked.
"Grumpy," Hercules responded, earning himself an annoyed look from Pythagoras.
"Hercules," the blonde scolded. He turned back to Ariadne. "He is tired and weak and in some pain," he stated. "Jason is getting a little better every day, it is just that at the moment he is a little..."
"Grumpy," Hercules interrupted unhelpfully.
Pythagoras gave a long suffering sigh and shook his head. He smiled at Ariadne.
"I am sure a visit from you will cheer him up."
Ariadne cast a longing glance towards the still figure on the bed, lying with his back towards them.
"I do not want to wake him," she said.
"Nonsense," Pythagoras responded. "I highly doubt Jason is really sleeping, what with the noise Hercules was making." He received an incredulous look from the large man. "Besides I think it would do him good to see you."
Ariadne smiled softly and turned to place the basket she was carrying on the table.
"I told Medusa that she could not take leftovers from the kitchen," she began in response to Pythagoras' quizzical look. "If she were caught she would be declared a thief. The guards would brand her and cut off her hand. It was far too dangerous for her. I, however, am a princess of Atlantis," she smiled a little smugly, "and no-one would deny my request for a basket of food. As far everyone is aware I wished to make a gift to the priests at the Temple. If anyone asks, Melas will tell them he particularly enjoyed the pie."
"Pie? There's pie?" Hercules rumbled, reaching for the basket. Pythagoras swatted his hands away and rolled his eyes.
"She didn't bring it to feed you," he said sharply.
Ariadne tried not to laugh at their antics. Having made sure the food was safe from his ever hungry friend, Pythagoras made his way over to the alcove in the corner, motioning Ariadne to come with him. He was a little surprised to discover that Jason was for once actually asleep, although it was only a light doze and appeared to be far from easy. Gently he shook his friend awake and informed him that the Princess was visiting. Jason reacted immediately, rolling onto his back and looking at Ariadne, his eyes wide in surprise.
For her part, Ariadne was shocked, although she tried hard to keep it from showing on her face. The young man before her was far from his usual self, and she took in the pale, drawn face and the dull eyes, deeply and darkly ringed, with growing horror. It was obvious that Jason had been very ill and was nowhere near well yet.
"I came to see how you are," she whispered.
"I'm fine," Jason responded. If he hadn't looked so dreadful, Ariadne would have laughed at the blatant lie – it was quite touching really that he was such a terrible liar. As if to prove his point, Jason pushed himself into a sitting position as quickly as he could. He immediately regretted it as the room span and tilted alarmingly, grey encroaching on the edges of his vision, and the stab wound below his ribcage pulled painfully. He couldn't help the groan of pain that escaped from his lips as he fought down waves of nausea, and would have fallen back onto the bed if it hadn't been for Pythagoras' surprisingly strong arm wrapping itself around his shoulders keeping him upright. The mathematician reached for the pillows with practised ease and propped his dark haired friend into a sitting position before reaching for the pain killing tonic he knew Jason needed. As Ariadne watched, Jason drank the tonic he was given, wrinkling his nose at the bitter taste, before resting his head back against the pillows, eyes closed and breathing heavily.
"Yes I can see you are fine," Ariadne said sarcastically.
Jason opened his eyes to look at her, the ghost of a smile on his lips.
"Sorry," he said. "I moved a bit quick."
As the girl sat down on the edge of the bed, Pythagoras moved back to the table to give the couple some privacy, although he did watch them surreptitiously. It was obvious that Ariadne's visit was indeed doing his friend some good. He had more colour in his face than at any time since he had returned to them and he smiled more frequently, although Pythagoras couldn't help noticing that the smile seemed hollow and brittle, and in no way reached his eyes. The blonde sighed. Obviously they still had some way to go.
He was once again hanging by his wrists from a hook in the ceiling, the darkness pressing all around him, smothering him. The knife cuts stung viciously, bleeding sluggishly, running in rivulets towards the floor, and every bruise throbbed and ached. His head lolled on his shoulders as he lacked the strength to raise it, every beating he had endured leaving him weak and exhausted. A sudden flare of light in the darkness stabbed his eyes and blinded him temporarily, and he squinted his eyes closed, trying to move his head away. Eventually the light coalesced into a candle and two figures stepped out of the darkness. His eyes opened wide in surprise and he couldn't help the smile that rose to his lips at the sight of his two friends. They had come to save him at last.
Gradually he became aware that they had stopped a few yards in front of him and were staring at him coldly.
"Help me," he begged.
"Why would we help you?" Hercules rumbled. "Why would anyone ever want to help you?"
He shrank back as far as he could, hurt beyond belief by the cruel words.
"Because you're my friends," he answered in a broken tone.
"Friends?" the big man laughed. "Who would want to be friends with you?"
He bit his lip, tears coursing down his cheeks.
"Pythagoras?" he asked the blonde.
"We are not your friends," the blonde hissed. "Why would we be? You can find trouble in an empty room. You would not last a day without one of us to hold your hand. We will be glad to be rid of you." Pythagoras' eyes flashed angrily.
He flinched as the blonde stepped forward, knife glinting in his hand, and started to scream as his friend plunged it into his abdomen.
Pythagoras flinched at the scream that ripped from his sleeping friend's throat. Although Ariadne's visit had cheered his friend up for a brief time, his mood over the three days that followed had grown increasingly worse – as had the nightmares that seemed to plague him. Pythagoras darted over to the bed just as Jason started to wake, tangled hopelessly in the sheets. Gently he caught the brunette's shoulders in a soft grip, making sure to stay back out of punching range – Jason sometimes hit out as he woke up, which Hercules had learned the hard way.
"It's alright," he soothed, "it's just me." If anything that seemed to make the brunette more agitated and Pythagoras frowned in confusion.
"Get away from me," Jason hissed, obviously not quite awake yet.
Pythagoras flinched at the rage in Jason's voice.
"It's just me," he repeated. "I'm your friend, remember?"
"You're not my friend," Jason growled. "I don't have friends."
Pythagoras let his hands drop to his sides, unsure how to deal with this situation. Eventually Jason seemed to wake fully, face relaxing as his hand came up to his forehead. Once he was fully aware Pythagoras decided it was time to try to get him to talk.
"That seemed like a pretty bad nightmare," he started, gently.
He was disappointed when the only reaction from his friend was a lacklustre and non-committal shrug.
"It might do you good to talk about it," he continued.
"There's nothing to talk about."
"Jason, I just want to help." Pythagoras was pleading now. "What do you want me to do?"
"What do I want?" Jason's voice was bitter. "I want to wake up from this dream in my own bed at home. I want to have never come to Atlantis. I want to watch bad telly with a cup of tea. Can you do any of that for me Pythagoras?" His voice was growing increasingly loud with each statement, face angry. "But what I want most of all is for you to just leave me alone!" He turned to face the wall, already ashamed of his outburst, but still irrationally angry at the blonde.
Pythagoras shot backwards, eyes filling with tears. He had never heard Jason speak that way to anyone, had never heard that level of suppressed rage in his friend's voice, and had certainly never expected to have it levelled at him. He fought back the urge to cry, convinced that Jason hated him, although he didn't know why. He turned and stumbled towards the table, half blind, and ran straight into Medusa. He didn't know when the girl had arrived, but it was obvious from the look on her face that she had heard everything that had just been said.
"He hates me," the blonde stated in a broken whisper.
"No he doesn't," Medusa responded, slipping her arm around his thin shoulders. "He's not himself and you know it." Her eyes hardened briefly as she looked at Jason, before softening as she turned back to Pythagoras. "Go and join Hercules at the tavern. I think you could do with getting out of the house for a bit."
"I should stay," the blonde murmured.
"I am perfectly capable of doing everything that needs to be done here," Medusa said firmly. "Go."
Allowing himself to be guided to the door, Pythagoras paused to grab his cloak and level another teary eyed glance towards the alcove, before being propelled outside by a very determined Medusa.
The girl watched him leave before turning back to the room, folding her arms with her lips fixed in a thin line as she mentally prepared for the confrontation she was about to have.