Fanfic: Everything Else In Between - Chapter 3

[yassandra4]

Title: Everything Else In Between (Chapter 3)
Author: Yassandra
Fandom: Atlantis
Pairing/characters: Jason & Pythagoras
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Not mine. BBC and Urban Myth Films own them.
Word count: 18969 (This chapter - 3734)
Summary: Jason never asked to be thrust into Atlantis and separated from the world he grew up in. Set adrift in a strange time and place that he doesn't understand, reality bites and bites hard. They say that grief comes in five stages. Fortunately for Jason he has Pythagoras to help him through them.

A story told through a series of conversations between two friends.

A/N Written for round five of the Small Fandoms Bang, and also for Hurt/Comfort Bingo for the 'taking care of somebody' prompt.
Please go and check out the lovely artwork by Gryphon2K here on LJ, or here on AO3, and give the artist some appreciation too :-)

This fic is set throughout the first series - I hope the time frame makes sense.

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“What’s it like? The place where you come from?”

Jason tensed at Pythagoras’ softly spoken words. He’d got away with it for too long he supposed. Sooner or later one of his friends was bound to start asking questions and he would have put money on it being Pythagoras. His younger friend was inquisitive by nature and the mystery of Jason’s origins was almost bound to set his curiosity alight.

“I am not trying to pry,” Pythagoras murmured. “If your past is something that you truly do not wish to talk about then I will not speak of it again. It is just that sometimes you say such strange things and I wondered if they were words that had meaning in your past that perhaps do not mean so much here.”

He came and stood next to Jason, leaning against the edge of the balcony (the unbroken portion of it at least) and looking out over the street.

Jason knew what he was trying to do and part of him appreciated it. He’d been angry as he’d walked home; angry at the Oracle; at the Gods; at himself. He had known what would happen and should have been able to prevent it. From the first moment he had met her he had known what Medusa’s fate would be and it was one that she had done nothing to deserve. She was innocent and he had failed her.

Kampê had even warned them about the box and he had seen for himself the way that both Pythagoras and Hercules seemed to be drawn to it; wanting to open it no matter what they had been told. Jason supposed he should wonder why he had never felt to urge to open it himself. In fact the box had made him feel cold every time he had looked at it, a deep unease that had only abated when he had put distance between himself and the accursed thing, and so he had retreated to the far side of the room – to the window where he could feel the warmth of the sun and yet still make sure than neither one of his friends ignored Kampê’s warning.

Having a copy of the box made to fool Kyros had seemed a good precaution to take. As had hiding the original in the space beneath the floor. Jason hadn’t counted on Medusa, hearing the siren song of Pandora’s Box calling to her, dragging the table aside, retrieving the box and then opening it, thus activating the curse that now afflicted her.

By the time Jason had reached the front door anger had given way to despair. What good did cursing the Gods do really? This was his fault. The knowledge that he had from his childhood – the legends of Ancient Greece that he had learned over the years – should have helped him. He should have been able to stop this; he should have been able to save Medusa from her fate.

Entering the house as quietly as he could he had made his way over to the balcony almost immediately. The fire that had happened while he and Hercules were in Hades (and Pythagoras still hadn’t said how it had happened) hadn’t been too bad in the end. Only one small section of the house had actually been damaged and Jason supposed he should be grateful that neither the bedrooms nor his own corner alcove had been touched. Still, everything stank of smoke and the charred walls and burnt furniture in that part of the room only served to remind him of their failure to save Medusa whenever he looked at it. The balcony and the fresh air it offered had seemed like a much better option.

Hercules had retreated to his room before Jason had even left the house to visit the Oracle and give her the box for safe-keeping. In his despair he had flung the accursed thing across the room and flung himself into his bedroom, barricading the door behind him. Pythagoras had, of course, immediately followed him (although what he could actually do Jason wasn’t quite sure), throwing the instruction over his shoulder to Jason to make sure Pandora’s Box was gone by the time Hercules came out again.

Jason hadn’t actually seen either one of his friends since his return from the Oracle until now and had assumed that Pythagoras would still be trying to comfort Hercules – which was as it should be. He had hoped to avoid the mathematician until he was in a bit better mood to be honest. Pythagoras had enough to deal with, handling the distraught Hercules without feeling that he needed to look after Jason too. It seemed Pythagoras had other ideas, however, and Jason would put money on the fact that his apparently random question and choice of topic of conversation was more an attempt to distract his dark haired friend from brooding than because he was genuinely interested in the answer (although undoubtedly Pythagoras was curious about Jason’s origins – he was just too polite to be truly nosy).

The clouds still rolled overhead; lightning splitting the night sky. It suited Jason’s mood perfectly.

“How’s Hercules?” he asked, ignoring Pythagoras’ question.

Pythagoras sighed. He turned his back to the street and looked back into the house, his back resting against the edge of the balcony.

“Sleeping,” he answered softly. “I made sure of it.”

“How?”

Pythagoras sighed again.

“He was distraught,” he admitted. “I have never seen him so… I cannot even think of the word to describe his state of mind. He blames himself for everything. I was afraid of what he might do in this state… so I gave him some wine that I had first drugged. I know that sleep will not truly mend anything but I suppose I hoped that it might help him to gain a little perspective – however futile my hope might be – and that by morning we might have come up with a way to give him a little hope.” He looked at Jason, his own despair at the situation they found themselves in written in his eyes. “You have found a safe place for the box?” he asked. “I do not want Hercules to see the damned thing when he awakes.”

Jason blinked in surprise. It was the closest he had ever come to hearing Pythagoras swear.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I took it to the Oracle. She will make sure that no-one can get close enough to open it again.”

“That is good,” Pythagoras said. He hesitated for a moment. “Did she have any answers to offer… any advice on what we should do next?”

Jason snorted.

“No,” he answered shortly. “She told me that I can’t undo what’s been done and that I was warned about the dangers that the box posed.”

Pythagoras drew in a sharp breath.

“I am sure that she did not intend it in the way you have taken it,” he said, although his voice lacked conviction.

“I don’t think so,” Jason retorted. “She told me that the day will come when I will have to kill Medusa.”

He broke off and looked out across the still street, studiously ignoring the newly created statues that had so recently been living and breathing people.

Pythagoras was unable to restrain his horrified gasp as he turned towards his friend, his blue eyes aghast.

“I won’t do it,” Jason went on. “I can’t. I told her so too.”

“Perhaps it would be for the best if we do not inform Hercules of this,” Pythagoras murmured. He looked sharply at Jason. “What did the Oracle say when you told her that?” he enquired.

“We didn’t exactly part on good terms,” Jason answered. “I was angry at what she was suggesting.”

“Jason what did you do?” Pythagoras asked with a certain amount of resignation.

Jason looked down at the street again.

“I cursed her,” he admitted quietly, “and I cursed her Gods.”

“Jason!” Pythagoras had never sounded more shocked.

Jason swallowed hard and turned to face his friend.

Pythagoras was staring at him in horror.

“You cannot challenge the Gods,” he said. “Even you cannot escape their will and their wrath.”

“I cannot submit to this… fate that the Oracle claims has been decided for me,” Jason answered. “This… destiny that I don’t want… and I cannot accept that it is Medusa’s fate to live as a monster… as a gorgon.” He swallowed hard again against the hard lump that seemed to have risen from his chest into his throat. “I can’t follow this path,” he almost whispered. “I can’t kill Medusa.”

“I did not imagine for a moment that you could,” Pythagoras replied comfortingly. “We will find a way around this. We will find a way to save Medusa. I have promised Hercules that I will seek a cure.”

“This is all my fault,” Jason murmured so softly that Pythagoras almost had to strain to hear him. “I should never have come here.”

He dropped his head and looked away.

Pythagoras’ eyes hardened.

“If you had never come here,” he pointed out abruptly, “I would have been dead and in the belly of the Minotaur months ago and Medusa would have become a Maenad. Is that what you would have wanted?”

“You don’t know that you would have drawn the black stone if I hadn’t been there,” Jason answered. “I went before you in the draw. You might have drawn the white one that I took.”

“And you do not know that I would not still have drawn the black stone,” Pythagoras argued. “And even if I had drawn a white one, seven unfortunates would still have been condemned to the labyrinth… and the whole thing would have been repeated the next year and the year after that and so on. Can you guarantee that I would never have drawn a black stone? Or that Hercules would not have drawn one in the future?”

“No,” Jason admitted.

“And what of Medusa?” Pythagoras went on, his voice rising sharply. “Would you have seen her become a Maenad or condemned to be killed by the satyrs?”

“Maybe it would have been better if she had become a Maenad,” Jason answered. “At least she would be happy… and she would never have been cursed.”

“You cannot see all the paths that the Fates lay out,” Pythagoras replied, his voice becoming gentle once more. “Perhaps she would still have been cursed but at a different time and in a different way. At least now she has friends who will do anything to seek a cure for her.”

“Maybe,” Jason said softly, still not looking at Pythagoras.

“Jason this is not your fault... no more than it is mine, or Medusa’s, or Hercules’ or anyone’s. You could not have foreseen Medusa finding Pandora’s Box and opening it… or the terrible curse that it would unleash.”

“I should have foreseen it though.”

“Now you are truly being ridiculous,” Pythagoras said sharply.

“The Oracle was right,” Jason responded distantly. “We were warned what the box could do… Kampê warned us before we escaped from her lair… There’s more too…”

“What?” Pythagoras asked with a troubled frown.

“When we first met Medusa…” Jason faltered for a moment before plunging on. “The Oracle warned me what her fate would be… she said that she would not be able to escape her destiny any more than I can escape mine… I knew what would become of her Pythagoras. I should have been able to stop it. I’ve failed her.”

Pythagoras sucked in a sharp breath.

“So that is how you knew not to look at her,” he murmured. He looked sharply at Jason. “I think perhaps it would be for the best if we do not tell this to Hercules either,” he added.

“Now do you see why this is all my fault?” Jason asked.

Pythagoras was silent for a long moment, trying to come up with the right words to say what he meant. He reached out and grasped Jason’s arm firmly, tugging sharply and forcing his friend to turn to face him.

“If this truly was Medusa’s fate then there was nothing you could have done to prevent it,” he said firmly. “The Fates spin a man’s moira not you or I, and even the Gods submit to them. They spin the thread of life, measure its span and cut it when it comes to an end. The Gods may alter a man’s destiny… may set him on the path of their choosing… but it is a matter for the Fates to decide where that destiny may ultimately lead and when any life must finally end. We must submit to their will and to the will of the Gods.”

“So we should just accept what’s happened to Medusa?”

“I did not say that,” Pythagoras answered primly. “If it was Medusa’s fate to be cursed then it was always going to happen. That does not mean, however, that we should not seek to undo the curse. The Oracle has seen a vision of one possible future… one in which you are forced to do the unthinkable and kill Medusa… but our choices and the choices of those around us affect the future. It is inevitable. The future is not set in stone… even if our fates are. It seems that it was Medusa’s fate to be cursed but perhaps it is ours to undo that curse and restore her.”

Jason didn’t answer. Wearily he turned away from the street and dragged the strap holding his sword in place over his head, allowing it to fall with a clatter to the floor. His breastplate followed the sword to the floor a few short moments later before he slid down to sit with his back against the wall of the window recess, as he had done on so many evenings over the past few months that he and Pythagoras had spent chatting about whatever subject took their fancy or exchanging confidences over a cup of wine.

Pythagoras tutted briefly over his friend’s untidiness before he gathered up the fallen sword and breastplate and moved them to the table that stood on their covered balcony. Turning back, he sat down opposite Jason with his back against a wooden pillar, unconsciously mimicking his friend’s posture, their feet almost touching.

Without saying anything, Jason began to untie his wrist braces, using his teeth on the recalcitrant knot on the right one before turning his attention to the left. As it came loose and dropped away, so too did the soft pad of cloth Pythagoras had given him to cover Circe’s brand (still unhealed in spite of the mathematician’s ministrations) to stop the leather of the brace from rubbing against the damaged skin and injuring it further. Pythagoras sighed and leant forwards, grasping Jason’s left arm with both his own and turning it towards the light.

“If you want evidence for how far you would have gone to save Medusa I think you need look no further than this,” he remarked softly. “The deal you made with Circe was done purely for your friends’ benefit. I am only sorry that I can do nothing to heal this wound.”

Jason swallowed hard.

“It’s alright,” he answered. “I don’t even know it’s there most of the time.”

Pythagoras snorted, clearly not believing him.

Jason looked away.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You shouldn’t be having to sit here with me. You’ve got enough to deal with.”

“What exactly do you think I have to deal with right now?” Pythagoras asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well… Hercules…”

“Is sleeping,” Pythagoras answered. He sighed. “What happened this evening… I would to Gods that it had never happened and I cannot get either the sight of those poor people turned to stone or Hercules’ expression when he realised what had happened out of my head. Believe me when I say that I need the comfort of your company every bit as much as you need mine.” He raised his eyebrows again. “And before you think it, that is not another thing for you to feel guilty about that is not your fault.”

Jason snorted and rested his head back against the wall.

“It just keeps going round in circles in my head,” he said softly. “That maybe if I’d done something differently we wouldn’t be in this position now.” He glanced at Pythagoras and then looked away again. “I think I’d just about make a deal with Hades himself if it meant that things could be different… better. When I was walking back here from the Temple I started praying to your Gods… begging them.”

“What were you asking them?” Pythagoras asked, his eyes intent.

“To make it not real,” Jason answered softly. “To turn back the clock to before all this started so that everyone I care about would be safe. To take me back to where I came from so that none of you could be caught up in my mess.”

“Is that what you really want?” Pythagoras asked, his voice hoarse as though he were trying to reign in his emotions. “To go back to where you came from?”

“Yes,” Jason replied. “No. I don’t know what I want anymore. I don’t want to leave you guys. I love Atlantis. I love my life here. I’ve never felt that I belonged anywhere as much as I do here… but life was so much simpler before I came here. Disaster didn’t seem to follow me around. I was ordinary.”

“I cannot imagine you ever being ordinary,” Pythagoras said, quirking his eyebrow. “You are different… special.”

“Not where I came from,” Jason answered. “Here it feels like we lurch from one disaster to another… and it’s my fault. I just want things to be simple again.”

Pythagoras scrambled across the floor without rising until they were sitting alongside one another. He wrapped his long arms around his knees and regarded his friend pensively.

“I understand your desire to go back in time,” he said softly. “For Medusa to be made whole and Hercules happy. If it were possible, I would make my own bargain with the Gods… but I do not think that it is a bargain that they will be willing to make.” He sighed. “If you wish to leave I will not stand in your way… although I will be sad to see you go.”

“I don’t want to leave as such,” Jason denied. “It’s just that there are times when I miss my old life… when I miss getting up in the morning and just going to work and not having to worry about someone I care for being cursed or threatened or forced into a situation they don’t want to be in… when I miss the days when I didn’t have this destiny that the Oracle keeps harping on about hanging over my head… and I really wish she’d just tell me what I’m supposed to do. All she ever says is that one day I’ll understand… that time will make it all clear. There are times when I want to throttle her when she says that.”

“Jason!” Pythagoras admonished.

Jason huffed a sound that was half laugh and half sob.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I don’t really mean it. I wouldn’t really hurt her for the world. I just don’t want to see her again. What she said… I can’t forgive her… but I still wouldn’t see her harmed. From the first moment I arrived in Atlantis she’s been there for me… like you.” He looked at Pythagoras with a half-smile, wrapping an arm around the mathematician’s thin shoulders. “No matter what messes I’ve got us into, you’ve always been there at my side. I don’t think I’d even have made it through the first week without you.”

Pythagoras blushed slightly.

“I have done nothing special,” he murmured.

“Yes you have,” Jason answered. “You took a stranger… a fugitive… into your home and made him welcome. You listen to me without judging whenever I’m complaining and try to cheer me up if I’m sad. You have shared what you have with me and never really complained no matter what I’ve done. You’re the best friend I could have… the best friend I’ve ever had. It’s like I told your brother, you’re the kindest man I’ve ever known. I don’t want to leave. I just wish things had turned out differently.”

“As do I,” Pythagoras replied leaning into Jason’s one-armed hug for a moment. Then he shook himself, seeming to draw strength from the embrace. “We will find a cure though. I have to believe that for Hercules’ sake. He will need us both to be strong now.”

Jason attempted a reassuring smile. Pythagoras was right, he decided. It would do no good to fall apart now.

“What do you need me to do?” he asked.

“What you always do,” Pythagoras answered. “Your best.” He sighed and looked towards the main body of the house. “Hercules will need us to give him hope. Tomorrow I will go to the library and begin to research the means by which Medusa might be cured. We will both need to keep a positive outlook for Hercules’ sake.”

“A positive outlook,” Jason said. “I can do that. Anything else?”

Pythagoras considered it thoughtfully.

“Well,” he said hesitantly. “I have one or two texts on medicine here that might contain some useful pointers… and I believe I have a treatise on the nature and classification of monsters… not that Medusa is a monster of course… that is… I think you know what I mean,” he finished lamely.

“Yeah,” Jason replied. “I know what you mean… probably best not to let Hercules hear you use the words ‘Medusa’ and ‘monster’ in the same sentence though.”

“Yes,” Pythagoras agreed. “If you could help me look over the texts that I already have tonight then I might have a clearer idea of the direction of my studies at the library tomorrow.”

In spite of the horror of the situation, Jason couldn’t help noticing that Pythagoras’ eyes lit up a little at the idea of research. He chuckled softly to himself and pushed himself to his feet, reaching down with one hand to help Pythagoras up.

“Come on then,” he said. “The sooner we get started the sooner you can start looking for this cure.”

Go to Chapter 4