A/N So here we are at the final chapter! Thank you all so much for coming on this ride with me and for all the lovely reviews.

Right so now here comes the serious bit: This chapter contains subjects which some people may find difficult or triggering. It is dark and contains a discussion that some may not like. If you don't like this sort of thing or are disturbed by the darker subject matter then please do not read.

For one last time I'm going to beg for reviews... please, please, pretty please!

By the time Jason made it back into the kitchen dressed in dry, if not entirely warm, clothing, Hercules had already returned from his own room. The big man sat near the fire with his hands outstretched, clearly trying to warm himself up. As Jason crossed the room Pythagoras moved towards their older friend with a steaming cup of something in his hands which he handed to the burly wrestler with a smile. Hercules took it and sniffed it, his own smile becoming positively blissful as he savoured the scent of whatever was in the cup. Pythagoras rolled his eyes in a friendly teasing manner and moved away, handing another steaming cup to Meriones as he passed. Then he returned to the kitchen table and carefully picked up a small pot, dividing its steaming contents between two more drinking vessels. Jason slowly approached the table, his feet seeming to grow heavier with every step. Meriones turned and saw him and smiled widely, his hand outstretched welcomingly.

"Come my friend," he said expansively. "The day has grown colder. Warm yourself by the fire and we will sit and talk of many things."

Jason nodded but made no attempt to speak, his mouth and throat suddenly parched. Forgoing the stools and benches near the table he moved over to the fire and sat down on the floor alongside Hercules, his head almost touching the big man's knee and stared into the flames as though they contained the answers to all of life's secrets.

If Hercules was in any way surprised at Jason's close proximity to him he gave no indication. Without saying a word he took a long sip of his drink clearly relishing the flavour of the contents and dropped his other hand to rest lightly on the back of the young man's neck, his thumb rubbing small circles rhythmically and soothingly. Jason looked up at him and smiled before returning to his contemplation of the flames.

Pythagoras walked purposefully over to join them. Pausing for a moment he cleared his throat meaningfully, smiling as Jason looked up and handing him a cup before placing his own drink down and joining Jason on the floor, his one leg curled under himself and his other knee drawn up, his long arms wrapped around it loosely.

"The others have warm spiced wine but I thought that you might prefer that," he said nodding to the cup in Jason's hand.

Jason sniffed the cup, drawing in the scent of the spiced milk drink that always evoked memories of his Dad and the happy home life that he scarcely remembered, lost as it was in the hazy mists of time and memory. He smiled softly, gratefully. Somehow Pythagoras always knew when he needed this; always knew when the comfort of pleasant memories would be most appreciated. He took a good long sip and sighed appreciatively, the warmth of the fire and the milky drink beginning to thaw him out at last. Actually it was making him rather drowsy he noted, mentally shaking himself. There would be time enough to relax later. First he owed his friends an explanation for his behaviour earlier. He needed to tell them the truth. Jason bit his lip. He still wasn't entirely confident of their reactions when he finally told them what had happened, but the Oracle had been right: he did need to learn to trust them.

He sat still for a long moment, fingers laced around the warm cup, looking for answers – looking for courage – in the flames. Finally he put the cup down with a sigh and half turned to face his friends.

"I owe you all an explanation," he said quietly.

"No," Pythagoras disagreed, his own cup discarded alongside himself as he moved into a position where he could give comfort and support if it was needed. "You owe us nothing. I think, however, you might just owe it to yourself. You owe yourself the chance to move on." He reached out and placed a gentle hand over Jason's. "What troubles you my friend? I would like to think that we are close enough that you could tell us anything without fear."

Jason closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. When he opened them again he found Pythagoras looking straight back at him his own blue eyes full of love and understanding. Jason flinched and half turned back to the fire. It would be easier to tell his story to the flames he decided. Then he wouldn't have to see the compassion dying on Pythagoras' face and being replaced by the disgust and loathing that he still feared his tale might evoke were his friends not to react in the way that he hoped.

Pythagoras frowned at that little flinch, a little hurt by Jason's reaction although he tried hard not to show it, knowing that whatever was to follow was likely to be painfully hard for his friend. He edged a little closer and tightened his grip on Jason's hand.

"There's a story," Jason began, "a part of my past… It's something that I don't want to talk about… don't want to think about… I thought I'd buried it years ago; that I'd managed to forget; to move on. Only… over the last few weeks… ever since Alektryon… it keeps coming back to haunt me." He paused and licked his suddenly dry lips. "I really don't want to tell you this story," he admitted quietly.

"Why not?" Pythagoras asked gently.

"Because I don't want you to see me the way that I see me," Jason stated. "I'm scared that you'll hate me when I'm done. That you'll see me for what I am; that you'll see how disgusting I am and that I'll lose all this." He gestured vaguely around himself with his hand.

Pythagoras sighed, hating how vulnerable his friend sounded – how much like a lost and hurt child – and hating the way that Jason's softly spoken words sounded less like the beginning of a story and more like the start of a confession. He scrambled over to Jason, knowing full well that he was invading his friend's personal space but not wanting to give the other young man chance to pull back into himself again. He put his arm around Jason's shoulders pulling him into a friendly and loving hug.

"I know what it is to have a past that you try to bury," he admitted. "To have a secret that you pray will never see the light of day again. To be afraid to face what is behind you and to fear the reactions of your friends should they ever find out. I have always known, I think, that there was a darkness in your past; a darkness that rivalled my own. I have always seen the ways that you and I are alike."

"How?" Jason asked.

"Because like attracts like," Pythagoras said simply. "We are damaged creatures you and I. But Jason it does no good to run from the past forever – I learned that and I think deep down that you know it too. Whatever happened, whatever you have done or think you have done, we are your friends. We will not leave and we will not judge."

"How can you say that without knowing what happened?" Jason asked.

"Because someone who was wiser than he knew once told me that this is what friends are for: to save you." The young blonde gave his friend's shoulders one last squeeze and then pulled away, allowing Jason the space to begin telling his story.

Jason drew in a shaky breath. He looked deep into the fire for a moment and sighed.

"I was fifteen," he began. "No… that's wrong… I need to start before that… I need to go back to the beginning."

There was a long pause before the young man began again.

"My Dad disappeared when I was five," Jason said. "I've already told you that. I didn't have any other family. I was always told that my mother died just after I was born and my father never spoke about any other family. Never told anyone about where we came from or anything. When he left the powers that be tried to find out if I had any other family left but they couldn't find anyone. No aunts or uncles, cousins or grandparents. It was almost like Dad and I had just appeared out of nowhere. In the end they decided that there wasn't any other family to look after me."

He paused and took a sip of his drink.

"My Dad's friend Mac wanted to take me," he said. "Wanted to look after me… but he wasn't allowed to. He was a single man and he was out at sea for half of every year and the authorities didn't think that that was suitable for looking after a young child. So they took me on themselves. There are houses you see… places for children who don't have any family or who can't live with their families for whatever reason… or aren't really wanted. They're called children's homes back where I come from. Only there aren't that many and there are always more children than they have room for so sometimes you get farmed out to foster parents; to other families to be looked after. And most of them are nice people… you get the odd one that isn't… I've had my share of them… but mostly they're really nice. I mean they get paid to look after foster children but it's not a lot… just covers food and clothes and other expenses really," he trailed off.

"So you had these 'foster parents'?" Hercules asked.

"Yeah," Jason answered. "Lots of them. You see you don't always stay with the same people for very long. Sometimes there's an emergency and they have to move you in a hurry or sometimes it just doesn't work out… you don't get on with the people they put you with… but sometimes if you're really lucky you find a family that wants to keep you forever… or at least for a long time."

"But that never happened to you," Hercules rumbled. "You never found a permanent family."

"Nah," Jason admitted. "There was this one couple. Alexander and Chloe. I was seven when I went to them. I'd just come out of a really bad placement and they needed to find me somewhere to go in a hurry. It wasn't supposed to be for long. Just an emergency placement really until something else came up. Chloe always said that the authorities told her that I needed something a bit special too… that I needed a bit more looking after – after the last place. She was lovely. She used to laugh a lot; was always smiling. She loved music and dancing and chamomile tea."

Jason paused, his eyes soft and reflective and a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he remembered.

"She didn't care that I left my bag packed in the corner for months just in case they moved me again or that I didn't say a word to her or Alexander for a couple of weeks." Jason didn't notice the way his friends started in surprise at this admission or the way they exchanged significant looks. He was too caught up right now in his own memories. "Alexander was quieter. He was a lot like you in a lot of ways," he looked at Pythagoras. "Anyway I ended up staying with them for nearly three years. It would have been longer but they had to move away to look after Chloe's sick mother and the authorities wouldn't let them take me out of the area. They wanted to. They talked about me living with them permanently. About adopting me… but it wasn't allowed in the end. So I went back to the children's home. I was in and out a lot for a few years. Never really managed to settle with anyone else." He trailed off into silence again.

"Why not?" Pythagoras asked.

"I wasn't the easiest child to get on with," Jason admitted. "Most of my foster parents were good people – kind people – but I've always been a bit difficult. Some of them tried really hard but I've never been very good at letting people in; at trusting them. I was always told I was a bit odd, a bit too serious, a bit too intense, a bit too obsessed with finding out what happened to my Dad, a bit too…"

"Shy?" Meriones interjected.

Jason looked startled.

"Why do you say that?" he asked.

Meriones smiled comfortably.

"You are still a little shy as an adult so I can only imagine what you were like as a child."

"Maybe," Jason said. "I never quite fit in where I came from. I was never quite normal. Here I'm normal… I like being normal." He paused. "I learned early on how to fade into the background; how to never let myself stand out; how to be forgettable and how be unseen. Because if people couldn't see me…"

"Then they could not hurt you," Pythagoras finished.

"Something like that," Jason said looking down at his hands in vague embarrassment. "Sooner or later my foster parents would have to admit that they just couldn't get on with me, or didn't understand me, or I'd do something to make them angry and then back I'd go. I was ten when they took me away from Chloe and Alex and I got bounced around so much over the next five years or so that I lost count of the number of times I moved. There were always good reasons for sending me back to the children's home but in the end it was really always because I just wasn't good enough; just didn't fit in."

He stared at the fire for a minute and took another long sip of his drink, noting that it was almost finished.

"By the time I was fifteen I'd started to run a bit wild… nothing too bad… just staying out after the curfew I'd been given… having a couple of drinks now and then even though it was illegal…" he scratched behind one ear, a little shamefaced. "There was a bit of graffiti here and there too… I mean I never got arrested or anything… never actually got caught… but I suppose I was rebelling a bit. Talking back to my foster parents, deliberately winding them up… you know, typical "teenage brat needs a kick up the backside" sort of stuff. I was pushing them and I knew it." He looked down at the ground again.

"Why?" Pythagoras asked.

"I suppose I wanted someone to care enough to stop me," Jason answered. "It was all a bit childish really. I was so used to people not caring… to having to look after myself and I was so sick of it. I just wanted someone to notice and to act on it. My foster parents were good people but they'd only ever had little girls before, never a boy and never one quite so old. They didn't really know how to handle me. They were kind of straight laced and they set me a curfew and everything but I just used to ignore it. I'd stay out two or three hours after I was supposed to be home just to see how they'd react. It was always the same as well. I'd finally drag myself home to find that my foster mother had taken herself off to bed – usually with a "headache" – and my foster father would be waiting to give me the same old lecture about doing what I was told. I'd stand and listen to him for a bit and then I'd stomp off upstairs, making as much noise as I could, and the whole game would start again the next day." He worried at his lip. "I knew that sooner or later they'd send me back," he confessed, "and I just wanted them to get on and do it; to get it all over and done with."

Hercules had closed his eyes, listening to Jason in silence. He could well imagine how the lad had been acting at the time and it made his heart ache to hear it. How had these people who had been supposed to care for the boy not seen his behaviour for what it was: the cry of a lonely child desperate for someone to show that they cared? He opened his eyes and looked straight at the young man. Jason was an adult now and clearly had been for several years and yet Hercules couldn't shake the feeling that right at this moment he was seeing a much younger and much more vulnerable version of his friend.

"And did they?" he asked gently. "Send you back I mean."

Jason smiled almost bitterly. It was an expression that didn't suit him.

"Yeah," he said. "In the end I caused too much trouble… I was too much trouble." He sighed. "Every time I went to a new foster home I always knew it would end up with them sending me back… and yet I always hoped it would be different; that one day I'd find somewhere to stay for good."

Pythagoras placed a warm hand over Jason's.

"You did," he said earnestly.

Jason smiled and patted the thin hand affectionately.

"Yeah. I know," he said softly. "It just took me a bit longer than most people. When I was sent back that time it was harder though. I don't really know why it was harder but that's how it felt. It felt like everyone had finally given up on me. I'd been back at the home for a month or two when this guy started to come around… I mean he had permission and everything. He had some kind of important job to do with money. He never did say exactly what he did for a living… but he was some kind of official. And he said he wanted to help the children in the home… to give them a bit of a treat and maybe a bit of a start in life. His name was Hector and he seemed really nice. He'd come around and bring all of us little presents. Never anything too expensive but little things we might not have had otherwise. And sometimes he'd take a group out… to the beach or to the swimming baths… you know, for a treat." Jason swallowed. "After a while he started to be really nice to me. Taking me out to places on my own – just him and me. He'd buy me things too… and he'd tell me that he thought I was bright and that I could go far; that all I needed was someone to look after me; to help me. And he'd say that he wanted to do that."

He fell silent again and stared into the fire, not meeting anyone else's eyes.

"I was lonely," he admitted, "and he was kind. I never even thought he might want something in return… stupid of me really. It was my own fault."

"Jason what did he do?" Pythagoras asked his blood running cold.

"It was winter," Jason answered, his voice becoming almost numb and detached, "and it was raining. It had got dark early. Hector had picked me up like he always did… he used to take me out a couple of times a week… and he'd taken me to the swimming baths. When we came out it was still raining and he asked me if I'd like something to eat – just a snack or something. I was a bit hungry from the exercise so I said yes. Then he told me that he knew this really good little place to eat that was near the baths and that he knew a shortcut. So we go down this dark little passage around the back of the baths and come out onto some waste ground. I asked him what was going on and where we were going. He grabbed hold of my wrist and pulled me towards him and started telling me that I was pretty. Such a pretty boy, he said. He started stroking the side of my face and there was this odd look in his eyes that I'd never seen before. I told him to stop messing about… but he didn't. He kept grabbing at me and telling me that I was special; that he was going to take care of me." He trailed off once more, chest tightening as the memories came thick and fast.

"Breathe," Pythagoras instructed firmly, gently rubbing Jason's back until he was calmer once more, only pulling away again when he was sure his friend was not about to descend into another panic attack.

"What happened?" Hercules asked, his voice as hard and brittle as glass.

"It doesn't matter," Jason murmured.

"Yes it does," Hercules insisted. "What did he do Jason?"

"You already know," Jason flared, suddenly inexplicably angry at being made to relive this. "Why do you need me to say it?"

"Jason," Hercules said firmly enunciating every word very clearly. "What. Did. He. Do?"

Through the tumult of his memories Jason heard the underlying anger in his older friend's voice. In his current state he was unable to distinguish the fact that it was not actually aimed at him. It shattered what little self-confidence he had managed to drag together and sent his heart plummeting. Not daring to look up and face his friends, desperately fearing what he would see on their faces, he curled in on himself and stared at the floor.

"I broke away from him and ran back to the alley," he said in a small voice. "Part of me still thought Hector was messing around but I didn't like it. He chased me into the alley and caught me… got me pinned face first against a wall. I kept telling him to stop but he wouldn't. I tried to push him off but he was bigger than me… I was a bit scrawny back then."

"What did he do?" Hercules asked for a third time.

Jason swallowed the bile that was rising in his throat.

"I don't really remember," he said hoarsely.

"Yes you do," Hercules stated. "What did he do?"

"He had me pinned against the wall and he kept fondling me," Jason answered his voice growing ever more detached as he lost himself in the memory of that night. "I couldn't seem to get him off me. And he kept telling me how special I was; how pretty. It was still raining. Isn't it funny the things that you remember even after all these years? It was raining and the rain kept running down the back of my neck and it was cold and it tickled."

"What did he do?"

"He forced me to… he wanted…" Jason's breath was coming in ever more desperate gasps, ragged and rasping. "He raped me," he said numbly.

As the full impact of what he had admitted hit him, Jason launched himself up onto his knees bile rising into his mouth and acid burning the back of his throat as his stomach twisted and cramped. A hand shoved a large bowl under his nose just in time as he vomited everything that he had eaten or drunk in the past few hours.

As the conversation had progressed and as it had become increasingly apparent which direction Jason's story was headed in, Meriones, realising how the lad might react to finally facing the memory he had been running from for so long, had slipped back to the kitchen cupboards unnoticed by any of the others and had retrieved the large bowl which he now thrust in front of Jason just in time.

With his stomach now completely empty, Jason continued to dry heave painfully over the bowl for some minutes, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as agonising cramps continued to grip his abdomen. His vision tunnelled and his head swam alarmingly as his breath came in ragged pants in between the heaves. He was unaware at first of the firm hands grasping his shoulders, keeping him from falling or of the soft words of comfort being murmured into his ear, as a gentle hand rubbed up and down his back. Finally the cramps subsided and he collapsed back against something solid but warm. As the iron band of tightness that seemed to have clutched his chest eased off and he became more aware of his surroundings he was embarrassed to discover that the solid piece of furniture he had thought he was leaning against was in fact Hercules' broad chest.

The big man had slipped down to the floor as Jason broke and had slid in behind the young man, holding him safe and secure, rubbing the lad's back with one rough, callused hand. Pythagoras came around from the front and tried to calm and comfort Jason with words while his hands ran up and down his friend's arms as a physical way of reassuring him.

Exhausted and shattered Jason looked up into the young mathematician's face, terrified of what he would find there. All the fight had drained from him and he half lay against his bulkier friend, limp and sapped of all energy. If his friends really did want him to leave once he finally finished his story then he would not fight them; if they were disgusted by him then he would not – could not – argue.

Pythagoras looked back at him, his gaze unwavering and his blue eyes filled with boundless love, understanding and sorrow. Jason stared at him in confusion, unable to process what he was seeing. He risked a glance back over his shoulder at Hercules and saw the same expression on his older friend's face. He frowned. Why weren't they repulsed by him? He didn't understand.

"You never told anyone did you?" Pythagoras asked.

Jason shook his head, still beyond speech at the moment.

"Why not?" the young genius asked.

As he spoke Meriones came forwards again with a cup of cold water poured from a pitcher on the table. He handed it to Jason who took it wordlessly, looking up at the giant with grateful eyes. The young man took a sip and swilled it around his mouth, spitting into the rancid bowl. Then he took another, longer sip which he swallowed, sighing in relief as the cool liquid soothed the burning in the back of his throat. The water tasted wonderfully sweet after the disgusting combination of vomit and bile which coated his teeth and tongue. He blinked tiredly at Pythagoras, knowing that the mathematician deserved an answer to his question.

"He said that no-one would believe me," Jason murmured huskily. "After it was over he seemed surprised that I was upset. He was angry at me for struggling. Said that I'd led him on. That I'd made him believe I wanted it… Maybe I did. I don't know. I just… I didn't mean to lead him on… to give him that sort of idea… I don't really know what I did to make him think that. He said it was all my fault." He closed his eyes and swallowed convulsively. "He was right," he admitted. "It was my fault. I should have seen what was coming. I should have known better. I did know better. I knew not to trust people – not to let anyone get close – and I still let it happen. I should have fought more. After it was all over I was just so ashamed and guilty… and I felt so dirty. No matter what happened I couldn't get clean again. And I couldn't tell anyone. Couldn't let them see. He said that if I told anyone then everyone would know. Everyone would know how shameful and dirty and disgusting I was; how I led him on."

"This was never your fault," Hercules growled. "You were not responsible for what that evil, sick freak did to you. He knew what he was going to do from the first moment he walked into that house where you were living. He planned it and he led you up to it. This was organised from the start. He came to that house planning on finding a young boy to use. The fact that it was you and not another lad was incidental. You never led him on, even by accident – you never had to."

"He was still right though," Jason said, exhaustion dripping from every word, "there would have been no point in me telling anyone. No one would ever have thought I was telling the truth anyway. He was a pillar of the community; a well-known local figure who was going out of his way to help those less fortunate than himself. And I was a difficult, unwanted teenager, known for not being able to settle down and for not getting on with people. Who would ever have believed the likes of me?"

"I believe you," Hercules answered softly.

Jason shuddered against him, the last tension leaving him. Somehow, despite everything he had feared, his friends still cared. They were not repulsed by him and they didn't want him to leave. In spite of all the adventures and dangers that the three of them had faced together that had still been Jason's worst fear. Relief warred with shame and, unable to control his emotions, tears began to slip down his face.

Pythagoras, looking almost on the verge of tears himself, came forwards again and tugged Jason gently away from Hercules, pulling him into his own embrace and doing what he did best: comforting. He held Jason securely against his shoulder, patting and petting the still damp dark curls and drawing soothing patterns on his friend's back as his mouth poured a steady stream of reassuring words into Jason's ear until his tears had passed.

"I don't understand," Jason murmured. "I'm dirty; tainted. Why can't you see that? Why don't you want me to leave?"

Pythagoras paused a moment and swallowed, thinking carefully about his next words; knowing the impact that they could potentially have.

"Because you are my friend," he said. "I do not see someone who is dirty or repellent in any way. I see the bravest, strongest person I know. I see someone who has survived everything that life has thrown at him; has survived true darkness and horror; and in spite of all that is still the noblest, most selfless person I have ever met." He paused and sighed. "I do not see someone who in your words is "tainted" or "disgusting". I see a friend that I love. I see the friend who I am in awe of."

"How can you say that?" Jason asked brokenly. "I'm not someone to look up to."

"Jason you have taken whatever blows that life has thrown your way and picked yourself up off the floor every time," Pythagoras murmured, resuming tracing patterns on his friend's upper back. "You did not allow what happened to you change who you are. You did not become bitter or cold. You are a good man."

"He's right," Hercules added. "Whatever happened in the past is in the past. It's not who you are now. And I think we've got to know each other well enough in the time you've been here for us to have worked out what sort of person you are."

Jason raised his head tiredly from Pythagoras' shoulder and looked at his older friend.

"How did you know?" he asked. "How did you know what had happened?"

Hercules sighed.

"I didn't know the details," he admitted. "I only really had suspicions. The way you've been since Alektryon… the way you reacted when I asked you if anything like that had happened before… what happened earlier with that merchant only confirmed things really." He paused. "I should have realised it earlier though. You practically told us on the night that Alektryon attacked you."

Jason frowned.

"What do you mean?" Jason asked.

"You said that it wasn't as if it was the first time you'd been propositioned… only you hadn't just been propositioned last time. I should have picked up on what you were saying at the time – what you were trying to tell us whether you realised it or not. I'm sorry it took me so long to put it all together."

"I wouldn't have told you anything even if you had picked up on it," Jason responded.

"Maybe not," Hercules acknowledged, "but I don't think you'd have directly lied if I had asked you outright. Deflected the truth maybe; tried to change the subject or used your anger towards me to provoke an argument and avoid the conversation; but not lied." He looked seriously at Jason. "That's one thing you're not," he said. "A liar. You keep a lot of secrets that you shouldn't and evade the truth when you should tell it, but you're not a good liar and I don't think you could actually look me in the eyes and tell a bare faced lie."

Jason sighed, too shattered to argue, and laid his head back on Pythagoras' shoulder drawing comfort from his friend's unwavering support.

Hercules looked at the young mathematician and nodded, carefully sliding out from behind Jason and pushing himself to his feet.

Moving quickly and quietly Hercules made his way into Jason's room. He rolled his eyes in amused affection at the sight of the pile of wet clothes kicked into the corner and paused to pick them up, laying them out to dry on top of the chest in the corner. With a smile he turned down the sheets on the bed, making sure that there was a warm fur ready to lay out on top, retrieved Jason's kitten from the window seat in the living room and deposited her on the bed.

Satisfied that his preparations were as good as he could make them he made his way back into the kitchen. He had known that Jason was shattered after their conversation in the garden and could only be even more tired now – probably bordering on the edge of dropping from sheer exhaustion. It was time to persuade him to get a little sleep. Hercules firmly believed that the lad would feel better for it, although he knew that it would not fix everything – not by a long shot. Still they knew the worst now – his worst fears had indeed been confirmed – and they could work with it; work together to help Jason move past this.

Moving forwards he looked over at the two lads sitting by the fire, watched over by a protective Meriones. Jason was already half dozing on Pythagoras' shoulder, the mathematician's arm still wrapped securely around his friend. Hercules smiled. Somehow he didn't think it would be too difficult to persuade his dark haired friend to take a nap. The lad was actually charmingly docile when he was a little sleepy. As long as he wasn't too tired, the burly wrestler thought ruefully. Then he had a tendency to act like a grumpy toddler.

Moving forwards again the big man exchanged a look with Pythagoras, each knowing through long association what the other was thinking. Walking over Hercules crouched down in front of the two young men and, with a nod to Pythagoras, reached out a hand and gently touched Jason's shoulder.

"Come on," he said kindly but firmly. "You're tired. I think you could probably do with a nap."

Jason nodded sleepily. He let himself be pulled to his feet and stumbled over towards the bedroom guided by Hercules' warm and steady hand in the middle of his back. It was funny, he mused, after everything that had happened, everything that he had said, you would have thought that he would have been uncomfortable with being touched – particularly if that touch came from an older man – and yet he felt absolutely safe and secure with Hercules; the big wrestler would never consciously hurt him and would protect him from harm wherever possible.

Hercules smiled softly to himself as he watched Jason slip under the bedclothes. The young man really was as drowsy as the wrestler had suspected he might be and would undoubtedly be asleep within a matter of minutes. He carefully shook out the fur cover and laid it over the top of his friend, smoothing it down gently, and watched Isosceles crawl up the bed and snuggle into the lad's side, providing her own warm, furry, purring comfort blanket.

As Jason's breathing evened out into the soft rhythm of sleep, Hercules reached down with one meaty hand and gently, oh so gently, brushed the slightly too long curls back away from his eyes. It was probably past time for the lad to get a haircut the big man decided but that was really rather up to Jason. If he wanted to look like a bandit or a ruffian that was his business. And yet the big man could not help the surge of protectiveness towards his young companion. By the gods the boy looked young when he slept. Perhaps it would do no harm to lightly suggest (just suggest mind you – he refused to accept the idea that he might ever nag) that a haircut might be in order… and some food… and definitely an alteration to Jason's sleeping patterns… and some new winter clothes while he was at it… and…

Hercules shook his head ruefully. When exactly had he turned into his father? And when exactly had his friends become more than that? Had almost become his adopted children by default. It was more complicated than that, he knew – and he really had no right to treat either of the boys as anything other than just friends – and yet here he was tucking one of them into bed and worrying about whether the boy was warm enough. He smiled and lowered himself to the floor. There was a chance that after the story he had told, Jason might have nightmares as a result of the resurfacing memories and Hercules was not going to let him face them alone. It was what any good friend would do he told himself, resolutely ignoring the little voice from inside that told him that it was actually what any good father would do.

A sound from the doorway made him look up. Pythagoras slipped into the room on silent feet, a pair of cups in his hands, and came to join his old friend beside the bed. Hercules gratefully took the spiced wine that the mathematician proffered and slipped an arm around the young man's thin shoulders. Pythagoras leaned into him for a moment, still appearing on the verge of tears. Hercules let him rest against his broad shoulder willingly providing the silent companionship that Pythagoras clearly needed. The day had been hard for all of them. The big man rested back against the wall, one lad secure in his arms and the other slumbering peacefully on the bed, and closed his eyes. The storm was passing, he noted almost absently as a distant rumble of thunder sounded, both outside and inside. Now it was time for healing to begin.

The day of Cureotis, the last day of the festival of Apatouria, had dawned bright and clear. The heavy storm of the previous day had long since passed, the final rumblings fading away in the night. While Atlantis never truly became cold as winter progressed, severe storms would rack the coastline and the wind that lashed the streets at those times could be bitter. Pythagoras sighed as he looked up from the food he was preparing. Those storms, which had already begun to appear infrequently, would only grow worse over the next few months both in terms of severity and frequency until spring began to arrive.

The young mathematician had to admit that he didn't really like winter. It was a lean time when work and therefore food became less. Now more than ever he was glad that he had set aside some of the money that Jason had given him for the household bills from his job at the docks. Meriones had quietly informed Hercules and Pythagoras that the harbour master, Perdikkas, had told him that there would still be a job available for their friend at the docks if he wanted it, albeit on a casual basis now that the regular worker he had been covering for was back at work. He hadn't told Jason himself yet though, correctly feeling that the young man was not yet ready to even think about returning to work and knowing that Jason would only try to push himself if he knew.

Actually since the revelations of yesterday Jason had seemed a lot calmer than Pythagoras would have expected. He had slept for several hours, clearly exhausted by his own emotional turmoil. When he had woken up he had seemed quiet and introspective – something that Pythagoras supposed was only to be expected – and that had carried on into today as well. Jason obviously needed time to adjust and to come to terms with everything that had happened yesterday. At least he had told them the worst of his secrets though; had faced his past and realised they would not think any less of him for it. That was important. Pythagoras started to hum softly to himself as he prepared the meal. It might take some time but they did see to be on the right path now at least.

As though thinking about him had summoned him, Jason drifted into the room deep in thought. In his hand he carried a small cloth wrapped bundle that immediately piqued his brilliant friend's curiosity. Pythagoras had seen him with this bundle several times over the last day or so but had yet to discover its contents.

"Something smells good," Jason remarked, wandering over to the fire and picking up the spoon to stir the pot.

Pythagoras smiled. If it had been Hercules he would have felt the need to grab the spoon from his friend's hands knowing that the big man's idea of stirring supper was to eat most of it in the name of "testing the quality". Jason on the other hand could at least be trusted not to do that.

"Today is the day of Cureotis," Pythagoras said, "when young men are presented by their fathers to the phratria and become citizens of Atlantis. Whilst there is no-one in this house – or indeed of my acquaintance – that will be going through the ceremonies I thought it would be nice if we all shared a special meal. It will not be quite the feast that we shared two days ago on Dorpeia – there will not be the rituals associated with it for a start – but I still felt that there was much to be thankful for and that it would be pleasant to enjoy a good meal in good company."

Jason smiled.

"Yeah, you're right," he said. "There is a lot to be thankful for." He glanced down at the bundle in his hands. "I'd better go and finish a couple of things before we eat then."

Now Pythagoras' curiosity was really aroused. He stopped chopping vegetables and gave Jason his full attention, the knife still in his hand but completely forgotten.

"What "things" do you need to finish?" He asked, trying to appear casual.

Jason chuckled lightly, knowing that he had managed to fire his friend's inquisitive nature. What he was doing was really no great secret but he still wasn't going to spoil the surprise by letting things slip until he was ready.

"Have you never heard that curiosity killed the cat?" he teased.

Pythagoras looked bewildered.

"Which cat?" he asked. "And how could they have been killed by curiosity? Really Jason that does not make sense."

Jason grinned openly at Pythagoras' confusion. It was always fun when his logical friend failed to understand one of his sayings – Pythagoras always managed to look so sweetly befuddled. He chuckled again and clapped the young genius lightly on the shoulder.

"It's just a saying," he said lightly as he slipped away before his friend could realise he had gone.

Dinner that evening was light and cheerful. If Pythagoras closed his eyes he could almost imagine that they were sitting around the table at home – albeit with Meriones with them – the atmosphere was so comfortable and familiar. Meal over they lingered over cups of good wine and slices of juicy and succulent fruit that Pythagoras had reserved for dessert as Hercules told tall tales of his heroism or romantic conquests – tales that were added to occasionally by one of his three friends with a sarcastic comment here or there.

"So I broke into her room," Hercules said. "She was a lovely girl… with just the hint of a squint… made lovely pies."

"And of course that had no bearing on the depth of your affection," Pythagoras murmured.

"You wound me Pythagoras," Hercules said with one hand to his chest in an affronted manner. "I'll have you know that I cared deeply for Dorothea." He paused before plunging back into his story. "Anyway, as I was leaving her a token of my affection she woke up and started screaming… you've never heard such a noise."

"I'm not surprised if she woke up and found you looming over her," Jason interrupted with his eyebrow raised.

"She was clearly terrified," Hercules continued, completely ignoring Jason's comment, "and her cries woke the whole household. Her father was a terrible man… fearsome… and very jealous of his daughter's chastity. I tried to explain that I was merely leaving her a token of my feelings… something for her to remember forever… but that just seemed to make things worse. He released the dogs and I ran and I ran. They were fast… fast as Arion…"

"Arion?" Jason murmured to Pythagoras.

"The divinely-bred, immortal and eternally swift horse. A child of Poseidon. So fast that no mere man or beast could catch him unless he wished it," Pythagoras answered.

Hercules shot them an exasperated look, mildly annoyed that his story had been interrupted again.

"They chased me for miles but I was too quick for them and got away," he boasted.

"Really?" Jason asked.

"Yes really!" Hercules responded. "When I was your age no man on the field or in the arena could run faster…"

"Yes, yes," Pythagoras interjected. "Or jump higher. We know. You have told us."

"Frequently," added Jason.

Hercules looked mildly put out as his two younger companions teased him. Meriones watched them in amusement, noting how easily they all seemed to slip back into the light banter.

"So what happened," he asked, toying with his wine cup.

Hercules sighed.

"Her father decided it was time to return to Thebes the next day," he admitted. "Apparently he felt that Atlantis was too depraved for his innocent daughter."

"Atlantis was too depraved or you were?" Pythagoras asked.

Jason dropped his head forwards to look at the table – the way he often did when he was trying to control his laughter. Hercules smiled affectionately. It was good to see his young friend in such a happy and relaxed mood after all the trauma of the last few weeks. Realistically they all knew that it would not be that simple, that there would probably still be bad days when Jason disappeared back into his own head or had black moods, but at least life seemed to be beginning to get back on track. The big man was startled when Jason looked back up and stared straight at him, all traces of humour now gone.

Jason looked around the table and swallowed, suddenly intensely nervous. He cleared his throat and took a sip of wine to moisten his unexpectedly dry mouth.

"This is probably going to come out all wrong," he muttered quietly, "but I'm going to say it anyway." He paused and swallowed again, smiling a little bashfully at his friends. "I was talking to Pythagoras a couple of days ago and he asked if there was anything like Apatouria where I come from."

"That is right," Pythagoras encouraged him, "and you told me that the nearest thing you had was your 'Father's Day'."

"Yeah," Jason agreed. "Anyway it sort of got me thinking. I mean… on Father's Day we give presents to our Dads." He stood up and came around the table to the startled Hercules. "I know you're not my father… and I'm not really looking for a Dad… I think I'm probably a bit old for that now… but anyway I suppose I just wanted to say thanks for putting up with me and for looking after me over the last couple of weeks… I mean I know I need to thank you all… and I guess I can never thank any of you enough but… what I mean is… you were there when I did need a Dad… when I needed someone to give me a hug and tell me everything was going to be alright… and you never gave up on me no matter what… and I appreciate it… so I wanted to give you this," he held out a small leather pouch shyly, "just to say thanks I guess." He looked at the floor in embarrassment, shifting awkwardly on the spot.

Hercules took the pouch carefully, almost reverently, and tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, suddenly unable to speak. He unknotted the top carefully and gently shook out the contents into his hand. There resting on his palm were a set on knucklebones inexpertly carved from wood and decorated with brightly coloured painted patterns. He stared at them for a minute.

"You made these?" he asked thickly.

"Yes," Jason answered softly, clearly abashed. "They're a bit rough… sorry. It was probably stupid of me… I know they're not that good but…"

"They're perfect," Hercules said gruffly, his voice full of emotion, as he pulled the young man into a firm hug. "Thank you."

Jason returned Hercules' hug and let his head drop onto the big man's shoulder.

"Can we go home soon?" he asked. He turned to Meriones with a slight frown. "I mean you've been fantastic and this place has been a haven. It gave me peace when that was what I needed so very much. And I don't want to seem ungrateful but it feels like it's time to go home now."

Meriones smiled.

"If it feels like it is time to go home then it most definitely is, my friend," he said. "It has been my pleasure to give what aid I could. There will always be a bed for you here should you need it but for now you must return to where you belong."

Hercules smiled softly.

"It is time to go home," he said. "For all of us." He reached out his free hand to Pythagoras, his smile widening as the young mathematician joined his friends. "We'll go home in the morning," he promised.

With a couple of brief words and a swift exchange of coins Hercules collected a loaf of bread from the bakery stall and trotted off down the street towards home. Coming around the corner he felt a hand on his shoulder as Pythagoras joined him. The young mathematician smiled, tucking his own purchases of vegetables and fruit under his arm. Both friends turned in response to a called greeting. Jason trotted over to them with the milk jug and a cloth wrapped cheese that Hercules immediately started eyeing greedily.

"What's that?" Pythagoras asked.

"Cheese, I think," Jason responded. "A present from Egina."

He was rewarded by blank looks from both of his companions.

"The milk seller," he clarified with an eye roll. "Apparently she doesn't like it when she doesn't see me for a while… that and she thought I looked like I needed feeding up," he added uncomfortably.

"I keep telling you that you need to eat more," Hercules grinned openly.

"Nagging me you mean," Jason retorted.

"I do not nag," Hercules growled. "I simply put my point across firmly. I'm only…"

"Nagging," the two boys interrupted as one.

Hercules rolled his eyes. In reality he was fairly pleased. It was true that even after two weeks at home Jason was still perhaps a little quieter than either of his friends were used to and most definitely a little thinner than Hercules liked to see, but he was slowly getting back to normal. He was sticking a little closer to home than he usually did and did not venture far on his own yet – in fact today marked the first time he had volunteered to go to the busiest part of the agora on his own, pointing out that it would save them time if they split up to do the shopping. The fact that he had wanted to do this was a very good sign as far as his friends were concerned that the young man they had both befriended all those months before – had come to know and love – was gradually recovering from his problems. He had even suggested that in a few days he might go down to the docks and see about getting his job back.

Hercules smiled and placed a light and friendly arm around the lad's shoulders.

"Well if you've both quite finished making baseless insinuations about me I think we should get this food home," he declared. "There are things that I am supposed to be doing and places that I'm supposed to be."

"And which tavern would these "things" be in?" Pythagoras asked with some asperity.

"You wound me Pythagoras," Hercules answered. "What could make you think such a thing?"

As the three men bantered back and forth, Pasiphae stood in the shadows of a recessed doorway, wrapped in a thick cloak and watching her son with a longing expression that the world would never be allowed to see, until he turned another corner and was lost from sight in the Atlantian crowd. He was thinner than he had been the last time she had seen him and seemed quieter than she would have expected. Perhaps food had been scarce lately? And yet neither of his friends appeared to have lost weight. Then there was his mysterious absence from the city for so long. The only conclusion that Pasiphae could draw was that Jason had been unwell. Her heart clenched briefly at the idea of the boy being ill without her even knowing about it. Soon things would be different she promised herself. Soon she would begin to make the moves that she needed to, to ensure Minos' eventual acceptance of the lad. Soon Jason would be by her side and no one would take him away from her again. Soon her own grip on power, through her son and Minos' brat Ariadne, would be assured.

Pasiphae smiled wolfishly. Soon Jason would know who he really was and nothing would ever be the same again.

So that's the end then... for now at least. I hope I'll see you all again next time around. Time for a new story to begin...