A/N Thank you all for the wonderful reviews - I was so excited to get so many of them!
Well here we are at the final chapter - I hope it doesn't disappoint.
For one last time, please review.
Special thanks to Polly for all the support and advice you've given me over the last few weeks.
Invictus (Latin): Undefeated, unbroken
As Jason collapsed, Pythagoras reached out to catch him, ice cold fear gripping his heart. Quick as he was though, Meriones was quicker. He caught the boy before he could hit the floor and swept him up, moving towards the table where the lamp would give more light with the brunette in his arms. With a gentleness that was unexpected given his size, he lowered the lad to the floor, resting the dark curly head on to the waiting Hercules' knees as Pythagoras hurried back across the room to examine his friend.
"What's the matter with him?" Hercules asked, unable to keep his worry out of his eyes.
"I don't know yet," Pythagoras snapped in response, his own concern making his tone sharper than he intended.
Hercules raised an eyebrow and lifted his hands in a conciliatory gesture of surrender. Pythagoras bit his lip guiltily, even as he continued to visually assess Jason – he had not intended to take his worry out on Hercules, knowing that the big man would be as concerned as he was, whether he chose to show it or not. The mathematician frowned. His dark haired friend had lost all colour – even his lips seemed bloodless – leaving his complexion almost grey as opposed to the healthy golden tone he normally had. The only colour in his face at all was the blush of fever that ran along his cheekbones. Pythagoras placed an assessing hand on Jason's forehead to confirm his suspicions, almost immediately withdrawing it and hissing at the heat he felt coming off his friend in waves. The blonde reached out and grasped the brunette's wrist firmly, feeling for a pulse that he almost clinically noted was just a bit too fast, even as he listened to his friend's slightly laboured, raspy breathing. He sighed and shook his head, sitting back on his heels. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that Jason had known he was ill before he had ever left the house that evening and he fully intended to have words with the brunette about it just as soon as Jason was aware enough to understand how angry Pythagoras was right now. He was angry at Jason for not telling him, of course, but he was also angry at himself for not noticing just how sick his friend actually was – it should never have got so far as Jason collapsing. However irrational the thought was, the blonde could not help thinking that somehow he could have stopped this from happening.
"Pythagoras," Hercules' voice was soft but held an unaccustomed note of command, "tell me what's wrong."
Pythagoras sighed again.
"Hopefully just a bad chill mixed with exhaustion," he said. "He's run himself into the ground – overexerted himself far too much over the last few days."
"Hopefully?"
"I will not know anything definitely until Jason wakes up," Pythagoras answered irritably. "He has a fever – that much is obvious – and his breathing sounds a little wheezy. But as for the rest, I will not be able to tell you any more until I can ask him how he is feeling." He paused and suddenly hit the ground with the palm of his hand. "This is all my fault!" he said desperately. "We should never have let him go through with this. We should have stopped him. I knew he was trying to hide something from me before we ever left the house."
"And you think we could have stopped him?" Hercules asked incredulously. "Jason is the most stubborn, headstrong boy I have ever met! He was going to go through with this no matter what." He paused, unconsciously carding a hand through the messy dark curls on his knee as he reached out and caught Pythagoras' wrist with his free hand. "This isn't your fault," he told the young genius comfortingly, knowing full well that the boy would be in full blown self-recrimination mode. "We both knew something was wrong – he was just too quiet all evening – but Jason is very good at keeping secrets. A bit too good in fact," he said looking hard at the brunette.
"You're going to shout at him when he wakes up aren't you?" Pythagoras asked with a wan smile.
"Yes," Hercules answered honestly. "He needs to learn to trust us – to be more open with us. If he'd told us he wasn't feeling well then we could have helped him and you wouldn't be worrying yourself sick now."
Pythagoras felt his lips twitching. Hercules would never admit that he was just as worried about Jason as the blonde was. If the situation had been less serious, the big man's denials would be amusing. He was pulled out of his thoughts by the re-arrival of Meriones. The enormous man had been gone from the room for the last few minutes, although neither Hercules nor Pythagoras had noticed his absence – both had been a little too wrapped up with concern for their friend. He moved back across the room remarkably silently for such a large man carrying a cloak and a blanket that he had obtained from somewhere. The blanket he draped gently over Jason's still frame and the cloak he balled up to form a pillow which he placed beneath the brunette's head, lifting him carefully off Hercules' knees. He smiled a little at his old friend as he did so and motioned for Hercules to follow him to the steps even as Pythagoras moved to sit beside Jason, one hand brushing his tumbled brown curls away from his eyes.
"The cart that brought us here is currently en route to the docks, taking Dakos to his new home," Meriones said. "I did not think you would want to wait for it to come back so I have arranged for another wagon to arrive in a few minutes to take you home." He turned and looked at the two boys. "I told your Jason he should be in bed earlier," he added.
"You knew he was ill then," Hercules frowned.
"I told you yesterday he was not as well as he was trying to pretend," Meriones answered. "Earlier, at the tavern, he admitted to me that he was not well and that he knew he should be in bed and resting. But I do not think anything or anyone could have stopped him going through with what we have done tonight. He needed it too much."
"I know," Hercules sighed. He ran a weary hand over his face. "Thank you for everything you have done for us."
Meriones smiled.
"It has been my pleasure old friend," he said.
Before he even opened his eyes, Jason knew he was at home. The smell of Pythagoras' spices, the soft rumble of Hercules' voice, the warmth of the blankets and the ghost of a soft hand against his own hot face combined to give him a feeling of peace and contentment. Without even being aware of it, he relaxed into the gentle touch, nuzzling slightly in an unconscious search for more comfort. The hand stilled and drew away suddenly, as though startled. Jason made a quiet disgruntled noise, missing the comfort it provided already, and the hand was returned, petting his hair gently, running its fingers through his curls.
"Time to wake up, Jason," a quiet voice encouraged. "That's it. Open your eyes for me."
Still dazed and only really semi-conscious at best, Jason thought the voice probably belonged to Pythagoras – it was far too light and far to gentle to be Hercules. He couldn't quite work out why Pythagoras was trying to wake him up though. He was warm and comfortable and his eyelids felt like they had heavy weights attached to them. No, waking up was the last thing he really felt like doing. He grumbled wordlessly and scrunched his eyes more tightly shut.
"No," Pythagoras admonished. "No going back to sleep yet. You need to wake up for me."
Somehow Jason got the feeling that Pythagoras was going to keep nagging at him until he got what he wanted. He started to swim back up towards wakefulness. As consciousness returned so did his headache – pounding relentlessly inside his skull and pulling him unceremoniously into full awareness.
"Urgh," he groaned. "What happened?"
"Before or after you fainted like a girl?" Hercules' voice growled loudly – oh so loudly – from somewhere near the foot of the bed. Jason hissed with pain, lifting one hand to massage his throbbing temples without actually opening his eyes.
"You were sick and did not tell us and collapsed," Pythagoras murmured quietly. Even he sounded colder than usual.
Jason cracked his eyelids open and risked a look at the mathematician, peering at him through slitted eyes. Pythagoras looked furious and Jason winced inwardly, knowing that he was in more trouble than he had imagined he would be.
"Erm... sorry," he ventured, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper.
Pythagoras raised one eyebrow, face not softening at all.
"You're going to yell at me aren't you," Jason said, sickness and exhaustion making him sound much more vulnerable than either of his friends would have thought possible.
Pythagoras sighed gently and sat down on the side of the bed.
"No," he said. "We are not going to yell at you."
"Speak for yourself," Hercules interjected albeit more quietly than the last time he had spoken.
"Hercules!" Pythagoras admonished softly. He turned back to Jason. "We are not going to yell at you," he said again. "At least not until your headache is better," he added quirking a slight smile.
Somehow that failed to reassure Jason.
"Why did you not say you were feeling unwell?" the mathematician asked.
"Would you have let me go on with the plan if I had?" Jason responded, his sore throat making his voice husky.
"No," Pythagoras admitted. "I would have insisted that you stayed in bed and plied you with whatever remedies you needed to make you feel better."
"Exactly," Jason said. "Tonight was our only chance to take Dakos down. He would have got away with everything."
"Then you should have let him," Hercules responded sharply. "Or you should have trusted us to come up with another way." He came over to the other side of the bed, crouching down beside it. "He was worrying about you even before you collapsed," the big man gestured towards Pythagoras. "You scared the life out of him."
Jason bit his lip. All his emotions were swirling inside him – built up over the course of the evening – and were compounded by how ill he felt. He was perilously close to tears.
"I'm sorry," he said again in a small voice. "I thought I would be alright. I wasn't feeling well all day but I thought I would be able to last until everything was all over... I was going to tell you, honestly. I was just going to wait until we had got home again."
"Well that's alright then," Hercules said sarcastically. He noticed the dark haired lad wincing again at the volume and made a conscious effort to moderate his tone in deference to the boy's clearly pounding headache. "Just as long as you thought you would be alright! Never mind the fact that you were so ill you collapsed or that it could have happened at any time. It could have happened when the merchant was still there and then where would we be? Did you ever think of that?"
His anger was palpable and tore into Jason like a knife. Unable to stop himself, too ill to dissemble or attempt to hide his feelings, the boy's shoulders started to shake as he sobbed silently into his pillow, his jumbled emotions finally getting the better of him. Hercules instantly felt wretched. Angry as he was he certainly hadn't intended to upset the lad this much. In fact he had half expected Jason to react with anger of his own or to make a snarky sarcastic comment. This did not seem like the Jason he knew. But then, he reflected, until the last few weeks he had never dealt with an exhausted, emotionally fragile, sick Jason before. And he was still sick, Hercules reminded himself. Perhaps a more gentle approach was needed until the boy was well enough to deal with the full version of the lecture he was planning. Jason needed to understand that he could not, should not, be keeping secrets that might affect his own health and well-being from his friends, but right now he was not in any fit state to deal with that sort of discussion. Hercules reached out one meaty hand and patted the shaking shoulder gently, frowning at the sharpness of the shoulder-blade he could feel poking through the skin. The boy really did need to regain weight.
Jason wanted to stop crying, he really did. Breaking down in front of his friends was just about the last thing he would ever want to do. But somehow, now that it had happened, he couldn't seem to stop. Everything that had happened over the last few weeks – all the pain and the fear and the sorrow – came pouring out of him in one go. Then, almost inevitably, his sobbing turned to coughing – great tearing coughs that made him feel like he was being turned inside out and left his chest hurting as he struggled to breathe. He curled in on himself, tucking into a ball as the coughing fit showed no signs of subsiding. Dimly he was aware of gentle but insistent hands pulling him out of his foetal position and rubbing firm circles on his back, trying to ease his breathing. By the time the fit ended he was utterly drained and collapsed back onto the mattress with his eyes closed. The bed dipped beside him again and a damp cloth started to wipe his face, wonderfully cool on his feverish skin. It felt so good that Jason couldn't help the soft satisfied sigh that escaped him. He opened his eyes and looked tiredly at Pythagoras as the mathematician soaked and wrung out the cloth once more, folding it and placing it on Jason's forehead.
"I need you to tell me how you are feeling," the mathematician said earnestly, "and I need you to be honest. There are things I can give you to make you feel better, but only if you let me. Only if you tell me what is wrong."
Jason weakly tried to smile.
"I think I've probably got the flu," he admitted.
"What is 'the flu'?" Pythagoras asked curiously.
"Of course," Jason said hoarsely, almost to himself, "you wouldn't know it as that. It's just what they call it where I come from... I'm not sure what name you'd use here. It's like a really bad chill... only worse. Not as bad as pneumonia or anything... just makes you feel rotten." He was aware he was babbling, but his brain to mouth filter seemed to be missing all of a sudden.
"Jason," Pythagoras interrupted patiently, "just tell me how you are feeling."
"Everything hurts," the brunette croaked. "All my joints ache, my throat feels like I've tried to swallow some broken pottery, I feel a bit like I'm going to heave up, I'm dizzy and I'm hot and cold at the same time."
"So," Pythagoras said ticking each item off on his fingers, "aching muscles and joints, sore throat, nausea, dizziness, cough, fever and a severe headache. Is that all?"
Jason nodded and immediately wished he hadn't – his head was throbbing so badly that any movement really was a bad idea.
Pythagoras moved over to the table, muttering to himself as he gathered various herbs – grinding some and chopping others. Eventually he came back with a cup in hand. He smiled.
"This should take away the worst of the pain and nausea," he said firmly, "and it has honey in it to soothe your throat."
Jason drank it gratefully. Anything that made him feel a little less awful would be very welcome right now. Pythagoras looked appraisingly at his friend, taking in the fever flushed cheeks and the way his dark curls clung to his clammy forehead. The hazel eyes were suspiciously bright and slightly hazy, although still containing the hint of pain, more noticeable in the lines that radiated around them where Jason was squinting slightly. The mathematician also noted the rattling of his friend's breathing and frowned slightly. That was the thing that worried him the most. Nodding to himself, he disappeared to his bedroom and returned quickly with his pillows.
"Sitting up will be better for your chest," he said firmly. Hercules looked across at him, eyes narrowing, before getting up and leaving, coming back with his own pillow.
"Might as well have you comfortable," he told Jason gruffly, gently helping the lad to sit forward as Pythagoras propped the pillows behind their friend.
Jason relaxed back against the pillows suddenly feeling ridiculously comfortable. He knew that his bed was not that soft – certainly not as soft as the bed he had slept in before coming to Atlantis – and yet at this precise moment he didn't think he had ever felt anything quite so nice or cosy. The care shown by his two friends left a warm glow inside him regardless of how ill he otherwise felt, and he let his eyes drift shut once again – allowing healing sleep to claim him.
Pythagoras smiled as he saw Jason drift off once again and motioned to Hercules to step away from the bed. On quiet feet they made their way to the balcony where they could talk softly without disturbing the slumbering brunette. The dawn was just breaking – the start of a new day.
"He'll be alright now?" Hercules asked gesturing towards the corner alcove.
"I hope so," Pythagoras responded. "I think it is only a very bad chill – this 'flu' that he was talking about. My only concern is that it should not develop into peripneumonia. His body is too run down at the moment to fight that off."
Hercules frowned.
"Is that likely?"
"Probably not," Pythagoras conceded. "As long as we make sure he rests and is kept out of any drafts. He must not overexert himself until he is well."
A soft knock at the door startled them both. Pythagoras hurried over to open it, casting an almost fearful look towards Jason's bed, afraid that the noise would have woken his friend. He was relieved to note that Jason was still sleeping peacefully and deeply, exhaustion having finally got the better of him. Opening the door the mathematician was surprised to find Medusa on the other side given the extremely early hour. Putting one finger to his lips to warn the girl to be quiet, he ushered her over to the balcony where Hercules waited.
"I couldn't wait any longer," Medusa said urgently. "I had to know that everything went alright. Did it?"
Pythagoras smiled softly.
"Yes and no," he told the confused girl.
"Sorry?" Medusa asked.
"Dakos is safely on his way to Samothrake, we have a decent purse-full of gold and Meriones has the rest of the merchant's possessions," Hercules told her.
"It went well then," Medusa stated.
"Hmm," Pythagoras answered. "The only problem is that Jason pushed himself too hard and has made himself ill again. I think he probably picked up a slight chill the other night. But because he is so run down and has been overexerting himself so much it has developed into a worse fever. He should be alright in a few days – as long as he rests enough – but he is likely to feel absolutely wretched for a while."
Medusa looked at the blonde seriously, noting how tired he appeared to be. She smiled and took his arm gently.
"Since neither of you got any sleep last night, why don't you both go to bed? I will stay and look after Jason while you sleep," she said firmly.
"You don't have to do that," Hercules protested. "Besides, don't you have to go to work?"
Medusa smiled again.
"It is my day off," she told them both. "Now no more arguments. I am staying and you are both sleeping and that is that."
Pythagoras suddenly found he did not have the energy to argue with her. He crossed to the table in the kitchen and picked up a small vial.
"If Jason wakes make sure he takes this," he told the girl, "and if he worsens wake me."
Medusa nodded and guided both men towards their bedrooms, before turning back to the bed in the corner and her quiet vigil once more.
Pythagoras frowned as he watched his dark haired friend try to find a more comfortable position in the bed, his body obviously aching badly again. Three days had passed since they had dealt with Dakos and Jason was still obviously not very well, although he didn't complain. A dry, hacking cough tended to keep him awake at nights, although he tried hard to stifle it wherever possible so that his friends would not have their own rest disturbed, and his temperature had remained stubbornly high – not high enough to be truly worrying but enough to drain the boy utterly and make him completely miserable. It was perhaps testament to how awful he was feeling that he had so far made no attempt to get out of bed. If Pythagoras was honest he had been expecting to have that particular battle with the brunette since day one and the fact that his friend had essentially remained completely docile worried him slightly. His frown deepened.
Jason sighed softly. He could feel Pythagoras' eyes on him again and knew his friend was worrying. Sometimes the mathematician was very transparent. In actual fact he was feeling a little better than he had over the last couple of days but still felt pretty rotten. He was just so tired but the combination of a dry cough and badly aching joints did little to help him rest. He sighed again. He had always hated having the flu, even when he had lived in a world where there was paracetamol and ibuprofen and all those other wonderful things to help the aches go away and to soothe his cough – and right now he missed television. In his former life he hadn't watched much telly but whenever he was sick it tended to be what he turned to – he would curl up with a warm mug of tea or some chicken soup from a can and watch really bad daytime telly – the sort of thing that required no concentration but could entertain him and take his mind away from how he was feeling.
It was odd, he mused. He'd never really missed the things from his former life all that much before – had been content with all the things he had gained by coming to Atlantis; had revelled in the delight of having real friends – of having company to save him from his previously lonely existence. Looking up he saw Pythagoras trotting around the table slicing and grinding herbs and stifled the urge to groan out loud. That meant it was nearly time for one of the mathematician's tonics. It wasn't that they tasted bad necessarily (although some of them were genuinely vile), it was more that coughing had stripped his already tender throat raw and swallowing anything was painful. Jason was trying very hard not to complain though – he friends were already so good to him. In truth he had never realised how nice it felt to be cared about – to be looked after – and he found himself almost insanely grateful to all three of them.
Pythagoras crossed the room quickly, cup in hand. He paused by the pillar at the end of Jason's bed and looked seriously at his friend, taking in the way his sweat dampened tunic stuck to his fevered body and the way he shifted uncomfortably in the bed. He knew from personal experience that the itchy feeling from drying sweat that accompanied a high temperature was distinctly unpleasant, and certainly wouldn't be helping Jason to feel better. Smiling he stepped over to his friend's bed and sat down.
Jason eyed the cup in the mathematicians hand suspiciously.
"You want me to drink that don't you," he croaked huskily.
Pythagoras nearly winced in sympathy. He had absolutely no doubt that his friend's throat was incredibly painful given the scratchiness of his voice. He nodded.
"I promise it will make you feel better," he said. "If nothing else it is cool enough to soothe your throat."
Jason smiled softly at Pythagoras and took the cup, sipping the contents slowly and trying not to sigh as the cool liquid slipped down. The blonde had been right – it did soothe his throat somewhat.
"Jason," Pythagoras hesitated slightly before continuing. "Would you like to get up today?"
The brunette seemed to think about it for a moment or two.
"Would you mind too much if I didn't," he answered regretfully. "I'm really tired."
Pythagoras nodded.
"Perhaps just for a few minutes then," he said. "I would like to change your bedding and I thought you might want a wash."
"Are you trying to tell me I smell?" Jason asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No, no, of course not," Pythagoras floundered. "I simply thought that you might enjoy a cool wash. And it cannot be pleasant to lie in a hot sticky bed. I did not mean," he paused as he caught the mischievous glint in his friend's hazel eyes. "I believe you know what I meant," he finished firmly.
Jason could not resist a low chuckle at the blonde's babbling. Pythagoras smiled brightly in response. It was good to hear Jason laugh again even if it was at his own expense. Moving slowly but surely he helped the brunette to get up and move to the table, setting him up with a bowl of cool water, a wash-cloth and a towel, before turning back to strip the bed of its used sheets. Task accomplished and new sheets in place, he turned back to the table with a fresh tunic in his hands. At the table, Jason sighed softly as the damp cloth started to cool his overheated skin. Pythagoras had been right once again – this was making him feel much better. Wordlessly he took the clean tunic from his friend and slipped it over his head, already much more comfortable than he had been just a few minutes before. Slowly, slightly unsteadily, Jason made his way back to the bed. He was unable to contain his sigh of relief as he slipped into the bed, relishing the cool fresh feeling of the clean sheets against his skin, and the soft mattress cradled his aching back. He lay there for a few minutes, contented and comfortable, letting his mind drift. He was startled out of his thoughts when Pythagoras returned with another cup in his hand.
"Another remedy?" Jason couldn't stop himself from asking, trying not to sound like he was whining.
"No," Pythagoras smiled. "I think you will like this a lot more."
With a sigh, Jason pushed himself up in the bed and took the cup. He frowned at the familiar spicy/sweet smell that came from the cup before smiling, brow clearing, as he recognised the scent of the spiced milk drink his father used to make.
"You seemed to enjoy it so much the other night," Pythagoras said by way of explanation, sounding almost unsure of himself. "I thought you might like..." he trailed off as Jason started to drink deeply, smiling as the warm liquid slid soothingly down his throat.
The mathematician made to stand but was restrained by a soft hand on his arm.
"You really are the kindest man I've ever met," Jason stated firmly.
Pythagoras blushed and looked at the floor.
"This may not come out quite right," the brunette continued, "but what I mean is... I know I've been a pain in the backside for the last few weeks. And I don't always listen when I should. And I'm stubborn. And I'm not good at doing what I'm told. And I sometimes don't tell you things that I really should tell you... but I wanted to say thank you. I know I need to thank Hercules and Medusa too... and Meriones... I never expected anyone to care about me... I've always had to look after myself and I never realised it could be so nice to have someone who wanted to look after me... well three people I suppose. So thanks... for caring; for not giving up on me..." he broke off, embarrassed, and looked down at his hands.
Pythagoras patted his shoulder, unable to speak past the lump in his own throat, and feeling the desire to throw his arms around his friend. He attempted a watery smile as Jason looked up.
"You are welcome, my friend," he managed.
Jason smiled back.
"I don't suppose you fancy playing that game you taught me the other night?" he asked.
"Tilia? Of course." Pythagoras hurried off to fetch the game from his room. Quickly he set the board up on a stool between them and when Hercules returned from visiting Medusa he found them both deeply engrossed in their game.
Three Weeks Later
Jason smiled to himself as he sat on the balcony watching Pythagoras working at the kitchen table. It was early in the morning, although he had already been up for several hours – rising in time to watch the sun rise over the roofs of Atlantis. Hercules was in all probability still in bed – he had been out visiting Meriones the night before and neither of the young men he lived with had waited up for him, correctly surmising that the big man would be coming home very late and very drunk – that is if he managed to make it home at all. As if Jason thinking about him had summoned him, Hercules stumbled out of his room on cue, obviously extremely hung over. Ignoring the busily scribbling Pythagoras, he made his way to the balcony and grabbed a wine flagon from the table, shaking it hopefully, then turning it upside down. It was empty.
"Perfect," he muttered dropping it back onto the table. He turned slightly and squinted at his dark haired companion. "What's got you so cheerful?" he asked.
Jason shrugged.
"Just thinking," he answered.
"About what?" Hercules asked sitting down on a stool.
"It really is finally all over isn't it?"
Hercules looked at the boy seriously. Jason finally looked better than he had at any point since he had come home – finally looked like himself again. He had lost the pallid, gaunt look and had regained much of the weight he had lost – although both his friends still nagged him about eating enough and getting enough rest at times. Pythagoras had removed the splints around his foot a few days earlier – leaving only a light bandage in place for support – and he was down to only using a crutch when he was tired or when he left the house (and that was only because his friends absolutely insisted upon it). Better yet, his nightmares seemed to be receding, only coming occasionally. Hercules smiled. Jason was right. It was finally all over.
"Yeah," he said. "It is."
Jason smiled again and got up, limping heavily across to the kitchen table. He lifted up an amphora from where it sat and shook it experimentally, frowning as he realised it was empty.
"We need milk," he said.
"And bread," Pythagoras added absently, not looking up from his work.
Jason sighed and reached for his crutch.
"Anyone fancy coming with me?" he asked, knowing full well that neither of his friends were quite ready to let him go out alone yet.
The agora was already busy even this early in the day, and Jason was grateful both for the support his crutch gave him and for the presence of his friends keeping too many people from barging into him as he limped down the street. Stopping in front of the milk seller's stall, he smiled at the motherly woman, handing the milk jug over to be filled and scrabbling in his money pouch for the necessary coins.
"Fill it up?" the woman asked.
"Please," Jason responded. Further down the street he could see Hercules arguing with a merchant over a loaf of bread. His smile widened in amusement before he turned back to face Egina. The woman scrutinised him seriously and smiled, pleased to see that the lad appeared much healthier than the last time she had seen him three weeks earlier.
"You look better lad," she said.
"I am. Thank you," the young man answered. Before he could take the milk jug back from her a pale hand grabbed it. Egina glanced across and saw the blonde boy she had seen with the dark haired lad on previous occasions. Idly she wondered if they were just friends or brothers – they certainly seemed to act like it. The brunette smiled at her again and rolled his eyes good naturedly.
"Are you two finished," a voice interjected, making both young men turn.
Egina frowned. She had seen this older man with the two boys before and had been waiting to see him again. She had something that she wanted to say to the man.
"Just what did you think you were doing letting this boy out on his own before?" she asked sharply. "Last time he was here he looked like a good stiff breeze would knock him over! He clearly wasn't well and you sent him out to fetch milk."
Hercules looked comically astounded and affronted.
"Me?" he said. "What makes you think I sent him anywhere?"
Pythagoras touched Jason's arm and pulled him gently away as the big man continued to argue with the milk seller.
"I think perhaps we should leave them to it," he said. "I do not think that this will end well."
Jason laughed his agreement and they made their way off down the street together towards home, the mathematician's arm slung lightly around his friend's shoulders. No matter what the future might hold for them, for now life was good.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
A/N So that's it then. That's Invictus. Thank you all for coming along for the ride. I hope you enjoyed it and I'll see you next time!