A/N Thank you all for the brilliant reviews. And special thanks to Polly for the wonderful PM chats. Please keep reviewing.
Anyway, shall we get on with this?
Medusa was beyond angry. She knew as well as any of them that Jason was hurt, was ill, in pain and deeply troubled; was not himself. But that still didn't give him the right to lash out at the people who cared for him. She couldn't get the image of Pythagoras' tear filled blue eyes out of her mind and knew, as she had known the instant she had overheard what Jason had said, that she had to act. Whatever was bothering the brunette lad, it could not be allowed to fester any longer. This was one particular demon that needed to be dragged into the light and dealt with before it destroyed Jason; before it destroyed the relationships he had with his friends – friendships that had always seemed to mean so much to him. And if it cost her her own friendship with Jason, it was a price that Medusa was willing to pay for the sake of his sanity and happiness. She stepped forward resolutely, never taking her eyes from the figure on the bed. Frowning, her eyes narrowed as she took a good long look at the boy, taking in how thin he had become in such a short time, how tired he looked, how rigidly he held himself – deep anger warring with even deeper pain and sadness written in every line of his body. Yes it was past time to act.
"How dare you," she said, voice throbbing with anger and emotion.
Jason started and rolled onto his back, eyes betraying his shock at seeing her there. He had presumed he was alone; had presumed he had finally succeeded in driving Pythagoras away – his heart clenched briefly at the thought – Pythagoras had been his first friend in Atlantis (the first real friend he had ever had if he was brutally honest) and the thought of losing him was almost unbearable – even if it would be his own fault that it happened.
"How dare you," Medusa repeated. "How dare you speak to him like that. He has done nothing but care for you. Done nothing but worry about you. And you treat him like that? What gives you the right to think you can speak to him that way?"
She felt a brief flare of satisfaction at the flicker of shame she saw dart across her friend's eyes. Although it was gone in an instant, his face hardening with anger, it meant that perhaps Jason was not quite as lost to them as she had begun to fear.
"I never asked him to worry," he muttered.
"Didn't ask him to... Of course he worries. We all worry. We are your friends!"
"No," Jason answered hotly. "I don't have friends." The anger seemed to drain out of him suddenly. "I've never had friends," he finished sadly.
"If you truly believe that then you really are an idiot," Medusa stated. "Pythagoras loves you. They both do. And yet you seem to think it is acceptable to treat them both badly. To lash out at them. To hurt them. I will not stand for it, Jason. I will not see you hurt them like that."
Jason frowned.
"I would never hurt either of them," he said.
"You already have," Medusa answered angrily. "Are you really that self-centred that you can not see what you are doing to them? Neither Pythagoras nor Hercules have slept properly since you came home. They were both terrified that you were going to die. We never left you alone for a minute. Most of the time one of them sat here just holding your hand because there was nothing else they could do. And now you snap at them. Take your own frustrations out on them. If you really can't see what you are doing to them then you are not the person I thought you were, Jason. I never thought you would be that selfish."
With that she turned on her heel and marched out of the door, leaving Jason alone with his thoughts.
For a long while he lay staring at the ceiling, thoroughly ashamed of himself. Medusa was right of course. He had selfishly been allowing himself to wallow in self-pity; had taken out his own anger on his friends; had said things he didn't mean even as he said them. Before this he had always tried to be unselfish, to put the needs of his friends before his own – but he had spectacularly failed this time. The way he had been behaving over the last few days he would not blame his friends if they never spoke to him again – although the thought of that made his lower lip tremble. All he could do now was try to make amends and lying here feeling sorry for himself wasn't going to help matters any. Cautiously he pushed himself up in the bed and was pleased to note that it was a little easier than it had been the day before and that the room did not spin as much as it had been doing. Pushing the blanket back he sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose in disgust at the acrid mixture of stale sweat and sickness that emanated from his own skin. Well that at least was something he could fix! Taking care not to move too quickly, Jason swung his legs over the side of the bed and paused for a while, perched on the edge of the bed, trying to get his balance. Once he was sure that he was not in any immediate danger of passing out, he carefully levered himself up from the bed, using the wooden pillar at the foot of his bed for support, and stood, balancing on his good foot. It was immediately apparent that he had not been out of bed in over a week. The room tilted and span and black spots danced across his vision as he closed his eyes against the dizziness that threatened to send him crashing to the floor, even as he forced down the waves of nausea that crashed into him. It briefly crossed his mind that perhaps this had not been the best idea he had ever had and that Pythagoras was almost certainly going to tell him off when he came home. He almost smiled at the thought. Resolutely pushing down the nausea and dizziness, Jason started to hop across the room, moving mainly by sheer stubborn determination, as he aimed towards the pitcher of water he could see on the table on the balcony.
Even in the middle of the day the tavern was dark and smoky, and smelled of stale wine and sweat. Pythagoras wrinkled his nose in disgust at the stench. If he was honest with himself he'd always loathed the smell of the tavern – the smell of drunken men – it reminded him too much of his father; brought back too many bad memories. Not that he'd ever let Hercules know that of course – telling the big man would only make him feel guilty and Pythagoras would never want to make his friend feel bad in that way. So he sat, trying not to breathe in the fumes and nursing the same cup of wine that he'd had ever since he had arrived, shaking and almost in tears, and Hercules had taken one look at him and pushed him gently down onto a bench, pressing the cup into Pythagoras' hand as he did. They hadn't really spoken since – Pythagoras too caught up in his own misery and Hercules too worried about both his friends for meaningful conversation.
"I don't know what I did wrong," Pythagoras said numbly, finally breaking the silence.
Hercules sighed and placed a comforting hand over the mathematician's.
"I don't think you did anything," he rumbled. "He's just in a dark place right now."
"You were not there, Hercules. I really think he hates me, but I don't know why."
"Jason is angry at the world right now. You just happened to be there at the wrong time. That's all."
"I am not sure that is all," Pythagoras answered sadly.
Neither of them had noticed Medusa slip into the tavern and come to stand behind them, listening to what they were saying. Now she came forward, mouth set in determination.
"Jason doesn't hate you, Pythagoras," she said firmly. "Although he may not be too fond of me at the moment."
"Why?" the blonde asked.
"Because I told him some things I'm not sure he really wanted to hear," came the response.
"What do you mean?"
Medusa grimaced, unable to bring herself to smile.
"I may have shouted at him," she admitted, "but he was losing himself and I didn't know how else to snap him out of it. I only hope it worked."
Pythagoras sighed, put down his cup and began to rise. Before he could truly stand Hercules placed one meaty hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down onto the bench.
"I should get back," the blonde fretted, trying to shake off his friend's hand.
"Sit down and finish your drink," Hercules was adamant.
"But Jason..."
"Will still be there when we get home. It might do him good to have a little time to himself."
"He's right," added Medusa, when it looked like Pythagoras was still going to argue. "Jason needs to sort his head out and I don't think he can do it if we are crowding him."
"Do you really think it will be that easy?"
"No," the girl admitted. "I think whatever happened to him while he was away has shattered him," she sighed. "He's lost in the dark. I just wish he would let us help."
"That boy is just too stubborn," Hercules grumbled.
Medusa smiled.
"That may be to our advantage."
"How?" Pythagoras asked.
"If he was stubborn enough to survive and to get home, then he's stubborn enough to fight his way back to us. I just hope I've given him enough of a push in the right direction."
It was nearly dusk by the time they left the tavern and returned home, the setting sun casting long shadows across the city. Pythagoras had spent the time alternating between mild fretting and outright panic, much to the frustration of his two companions. As they reached the edge of the marketplace he could wait no longer and darted on ahead, weaving in and out of the market stalls and trying to avoid the vendors who were just closing up for the night. A couple of near misses and one stumble later (really it shouldn't be that hard to avoid tripping over his own feet!) he reached the outer door of the house and paused to catch his breath. Smoothing down his tunic and running a hand through his ruffled blonde hair, he tried to make some attempt to make it look like he hadn't rushed back in a flurry of anxiety and mounted the stairs. As he reached the top he took a deep breath, still trying to convince himself that everything would be alright and that one of his best friends really did still like him, and stepped through the doorway into the kitchen. He glanced across at the alcove expecting to see Jason still on the bed and quite possibly with his back turned as he had been for the last few days. He was horrified to see that the bed was empty, fear gripping his stomach at the thought that his friend had once again disappeared. A soft noise from the balcony made him turn and it was with a growing sense of both relief and anger that he saw Jason sitting on a stool, leaning heavily against the table, basking in the glow of the last rays of the setting sun, his eyes closed. Pythagoras crossed the room in a few short strides.
"What in the name of the gods do you think you are doing out of bed?" he asked testily.
Jason's eyes snapped open almost comically and he had the good grace to look both embarrassed and guilty.
"I... urm...," he stammered.
"It's not enough that you leave for three weeks, come back in a truly awful state and worry me half to death," Pythagoras ranted, on a roll now, "but now you decide to get up when you should still be in bed and there is no one here to help you. What if you had fallen? Your body is still weak, Jason. You are not really strong enough to be getting up on your own. And the gods know you are not getting enough food or enough sleep! Are you deliberately trying to take years off my life?"
He was stopped mid-rant by a gentle hand grasping his arm. He looked down into the earnest and contrite hazel eyes of his friend and felt his anger draining away.
"I'm sorry," Jason said. "I didn't mean to make you worry. I know I've been acting like a brat for the last few days. I don't really mean to be selfish."
"What is 'a brat'?" the blonde asked.
Jason looked down uncomfortably, shifting awkwardly on the stool.
"A badly behaved child," he mumbled. He looked up again, turning the full force of his puppy eyed look on his friend, and Pythagoras felt the last of his anger and frustration leave. "What I said to you before was unforgivable," Jason continued. "I was frustrated and tired and feeling sorry for myself, and I took it out on you. It was wrong of me and I am sorry," he turned towards the door as Hercules and Medusa finally came in. "It took a very sensible friend to make me realise that I can't wallow in self-pity forever," he half smiled at the girl.
Medusa returned his smile.
"I shouldn't have got cross at you," she said.
"No," Jason responded. "It was what I needed."
"That still does not explain what you are doing out of bed," Pythagoras complained.
Jason looked awkward again.
"I can't stay in bed forever," he said. "Besides I smell worse than Hercules."
"Oi," the burly man shot back, "why is it always me?"
Pythagoras rolled his eyes.
"As I think I have said before, that is a question we ask ourselves every morning," he smiled to take the sting out of his words.
"I saw the jug on the table and thought I could have a bit of a wash," Jason continued, "but when I finally got here it was empty and I didn't have the energy to move anywhere else."
Pythagoras smiled again.
"Alright," he said. "Let me get some water warmed up so you can have a proper wash. I need to change your bandages and check your wounds again anyway."
"I suppose that is my cue to go and fetch some more water," Hercules moaned, even as he collected some jugs and lumbered towards the door.
"And I will start supper," Medusa stated, turning towards the kitchen.
Hurrying about the house, Pythagoras quickly gathered bandages, healing herbs, a couple of blankets and a fresh tunic for Jason. Returning to the balcony he fixed the blankets across the doorway, effectively screening the area from sight.
"I thought you would like a little more privacy," he said in answer to Jason's quizzical look.
He stepped back through the screen again and was pleased to discover that Medusa had already placed a pan of water onto the fire to heat up. Taking care not to spill any water, he filled a large bowl and pitcher, carrying them back to the balcony in two trips, pausing to collect some cloths on the way back. Jason, he noted with some satisfaction, had not attempted to move from the stool. The brunette looked up at Pythagoras as he came back in and attempted to smile, albeit a little wanly.
"Right," Pythagoras said brightly, "let's see how you are healing." With gentle hands he unwound the bandages from around Jason's torso and ran his hands lightly down his friend's sides, noting with pleasure that many of the cuts and bruises that had marked the brunette's skin were already almost healed. "Your ribs are healing well," he smiled, "and I think I will be able to remove these stitches in a week or so," he added as he carefully probed the stab wound in Jason's abdomen.
Jason looked down at the wound, his eyes distant and lost. Pythagoras continued assessing his friend, unaware that Jason seemed to once again be retreating into his own head and the bad memories it contained. The infected cut on the brunette's arm was still a little inflamed and warm to touch but it too seemed to be healing well.
"The infection has almost gone," the blonde stated. "Now let me have a look at your foot." He looked up and was suddenly aware of the blank horror in his friend's eyes. "Jason?" he said, touching the boy's arm gently. That warm, friendly hand seemed to ground Jason – to bring him back to reality – and he shuddered, before looking at Pythagoras, his hazel eyes huge.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah," Jason answered. "Just bad memories."
"It might help to talk about them," Pythagoras said softly.
"I know... I will tell you... I just can't... not yet anyway."
The blonde genius smiled sadly.
"Alright," he said. "I will not push you. Just know that whatever happens I will always support you."
Jason looked affectionately at his friend.
"What did I ever do to deserve you, Pythagoras?" he asked.
"Fell onto my balcony I think," Pythagoras answered with levity, "and I was left wondering what to do with a fugitive on the verge of a panic attack!"
Jason snorted and smiled, and Pythagoras felt a hard knot that he had not even been aware existed unclenching in his stomach. For the first time in days the smile had reached Jason's eyes. It was, to be sure, a fragile smile and looked like it could be easily fractured, but it was real and Pythagoras felt his own face lighting up in response. He looked back down at what he had been doing.
"The bones in your foot are beginning to set," he said as he started to re-wrap and re-splint the limb. "But you must not under any circumstances put any weight on it yet." He smiled, pleased with what he had seen so far, and turned to the bowl on the table, wetting and wringing out a wash cloth.
Jason was somewhat embarrassed to discover that he needed Pythagoras' help to wash. The blonde, however, seemed to take it all in his stride.
"Do not worry," he said on seeing the embarrassed flush on Jason's cheeks. "If our positions were reversed you would do the same for me, would you not?"
"Of course," Jason answered instantly.
"Then allow me to help you now. I will think no less of you for needing help."
Jason couldn't help but groan slightly as the mathematician touched his aching shoulders. It was followed almost immediately by a sigh of contentment as the hot cloth started to ease his aching muscles. Pythagoras frowned.
"Are you in pain?" he asked.
"It's nothing," Jason responded. "I'm just aching a bit."
"Why did you not tell me?"
Jason sighed.
"I ache all over most of the time," he admitted. "I'm getting used to it now."
Pythagoras' frown deepened.
"You should have told me," he said. "There are ways we could have relieved any aches you have. I do not want to see you in any pain."
Without another word he left the balcony, returning with a small bottle in his hands. Pouring a little of the contents into his hands, he began to gently massage his friend's shoulders and upper back, carefully easing out any knots he found with his thumbs. As Jason began to relax into his touch he smiled softly.
"The oil contains soothing herbs," he explained. "They should ease your muscles. And of course hot compresses can work wonders." He smiled again as he finished. "Next time just tell me."
He wiped his hands on a cloth and helped Jason put on the fresh tunic, before taking the blankets down from the opening. Medusa and Hercules were talking quietly by the fire as the girl stirred the cooking pot. Pythagoras turned back to Jason.
"Are you ready to go back to bed?" he asked.
"Not yet. Please?" Jason answered beseechingly, once again turning the full force of his puppy eyed look on Pythagoras. The mathematician idly wondered if Jason knew just how devastatingly effective that look actually was, even as he found himself giving in to his friend.
"Alright," he said looking around. Moving quickly, Pythagoras gathered up the pillows from both his own bed and Jason's before making his way back to the balcony, stopping on the way to get Hercules. Once he was back by the table he smiled at Jason.
"Hercules, I need you to help Jason stand up for a moment," he said.
"Right," Hercules responded, and slipped his arm around Jason's shoulders, hoisting the boy up before he could even think of arguing that he didn't need help. Pythagoras pulled the stool close to the wall and smiled encouragingly at Hercules, who deposited Jason on it without needing to be told. Pythagoras tucked the pillows around his brunette friend, reserving one which he placed upon a stool and gently lifted Jason's bad foot to rest on it. Jason sighed in relief as he relaxed back against the soft pillows, then started in surprise as Hercules dropped a blanket onto his lap, tucking it around his legs efficiently, and placed another around his shoulders.
"It'll get chilly now the sun's going down," the big man rumbled, "and I'm not having you taking sick again because you haven't the sense to keep warm."
Jason frowned slightly.
"I'm not an invalid," he complained.
"Actually, Jason," Medusa said in her blunt way, "that's exactly what you are right now. So stop complaining and let yourself be looked after."
Jason bit his lip.
"I'm not used to anyone wanting to look after me," he explained softly, blushing.
In the face of the brunette's awkwardness, Pythagoras decided it was time for a change of subject.
"I meant to ask before, what is tea?"
Jason looked confused.
"What?" he asked.
"You said earlier that you wanted a cup of tea and I wondered what it was."
"Oh," Jason said. "It's not important. It's just a drink from where I grew up. You take leaves from the tea plant and pour hot water on them and let them infuse. Then you add milk and sugar. Some people like it without but I've always liked sweet things," he laughed a little. "It doesn't really matter though. I don't think you'd have anything like it here."
Pythagoras smiled softly.
"Perhaps not," he agreed. As he moved away from the balcony, Hercules pulled the table over towards the wall and sat himself down on a stool.
"Tell me," he asked Jason, "did I ever tell you about the time I wrestled a pack of rabid wolves for the sake of a merchant's sick daughter?"
Pythagoras exchanged a tolerant look with Medusa as he let Hercules' voice drift into the background. He went to the small kitchen and began grinding a mixture of herbs and spices in a pestle, before adding them to a small pot of milk which he placed over the fire to warm.
"Hercules, that is not true," Jason's voice cut through Pythagoras' thoughts.
"I'll have you know that it is completely true," the older man stated.
He was answered by three disbelieving looks.
"It's almost completely true," he insisted. "Anyway back to my story..."
Pythagoras tuned him out again as he took the milk from the fire before it could bubble over and scorch, and poured it into a cup, adding a few more spices and a generous dollop of honey. Stirring the whole concoction, he stepped back to the table and placed the cup in front of a startled Jason.
"It's not your tea," he explained, "but I thought... well anyway..."
Jason smiled at him and took a long sip. As the sweet and spicy flavour exploded in his mouth he froze and looked down at the cup, his eyes suddenly distant.
"I know this," he said quietly. "My father used to make this for me as a treat. He'd make it whenever I was sick or had a nightmare. I haven't had it for twenty years – not since he disappeared."
Pythagoras frowned.
"You must have been very young when he disappeared then," he said.
"Five," Jason responded subconsciously playing with his necklace.
"That must have been hard on your mother," remarked Medusa as she brought a steaming pan of chicken soup to the table.
"Not really," Jason replied. "I was always told she died just after I was born."
"I am truly sorry," Pythagoras said sympathetically.
"It's alright," the response was soft and sad. "You can't really miss what you've never had can you?"
"Let's eat before it gets cold," interjected Hercules.
The others rolled their eyes at the somewhat predictable statement from the big man. Nevertheless Medusa started to serve the soup.
Supper was a jolly affair, buoyed along by Hercules' tall tales. Jason managed to eat about half of what he had been given before putting the spoon down and looking at Medusa apologetically.
"I'm sorry," he said. "It's really nice. It's just that I'm not really all that hungry."
Medusa exchanged a look with both Pythagoras and Hercules.
"Do not worry, Jason," Pythagoras said. "You have managed to eat more tonight than you have in several days. It will take time for you to regain your appetite."
The brunette smiled at him and relaxed back onto the pillows as Hercules launched into another tale of his heroism, feeling comfortable and contented. Before long his eyes began to grow heavy and he found himself having difficulty keeping track of the conversation.
Pythagoras was about to launch into an explanation of why Hercules' latest story could simply not be true when he felt a sudden weight on his shoulder. Looking down he discovered that Jason had gone to sleep against him. Smiling to himself, he adjusted the brunette so that he was in a more comfortable position, his head resting on the mathematician's shoulder, before narrowing his eyes and looking up at Hercules.
"Don't say a word," he admonished, pointing a finger at his burly friend.
"I wouldn't dream of it," Hercules answered defensively, although his eyes were alight with amusement and Pythagoras was under no illusion that he would be teased unmercifully at a later date.
"He can't sleep there," Medusa interjected sensibly.
"I know," agreed Pythagoras. He softly called Jason's name and shook his friend's shoulder gently. The only response he received was a small sound of discontentment from Jason, followed by the brunette nuzzling his face deeper into the blonde's shoulder. Hercules grinned openly in the face of Pythagoras' helplessness and even Medusa looked amused. The big man got to his feet and came around the table. Still smiling he slipped Jason's free arm around his own neck and, placing one arm around the boy's back and the other under his knees, lifted him up as though he was no heavier than a child. Somehow it always surprised Pythagoras when Hercules showed his true strength – even though he knew his burly friend was actually immensely strong it was easy to forget in the face of Hercules' tall tales, drunkenness and gambling.
"We need to get some weight back on him," the big man remarked. "He's all skin and bone."
Carefully he carried Jason back to the alcove and gently placed him on the bed, taking care not to wake the young man. He pulled the blanket up over his sleeping friend and smoothed out any creases before brushing the dark curls back from Jason's forehead affectionately. Turning he looked at Pythagoras challengingly, as if daring the young genius to say something. Pythagoras turned back to his drink with a smile, wisely choosing to hold his tongue.
The next morning, Pythagoras was working on a particularly tricky equation when a sound behind him startled him. He turned to see Jason leaning heavily against the pillar at the foot of his bed, balanced on one foot. He knew his friend had woken screaming several times during the night and if anything the brunette looked even more tired than he had yesterday. Before he could say anything Jason spoke.
"I can't go on like this," he said, exhaustion dripping from his voice.
Pythagoras' heart sank.
"I know," he answered softly.
Jason closed his eyes briefly, seeming to steel himself.
"Alright," he said. "I think I need to tell you what happened now."