Jason stood at the edge of the balcony looking out over the street as he had done so many times over the last few months. The morning sun was not yet hot enough to be stifling and a soft breeze lightly ruffled his curls. He supposed that after the last few days he really ought to be trying to catch up on a little sleep but he was still just a little too awake to truly rest, although a peaceful lassitude swept over him as he stood watching the world go by; a contentment that sank deeply into him and that came from the knowledge that they had once again survived against the odds and had returned home intact at the end of it. Well, relatively intact, he reminded himself with a slight frown as his side twinged. He supposed he should get Pythagoras to look at the injury above his hip, certainly the mathematician would be cross if he didn't, but right at this moment Jason just couldn't be bothered to move. The slight burning ache died down after a minute anyway and he pushed it from his mind.

They had done it! Against all the odds they had saved Ariadne from the brazen bull and restored her to her rightful place in the Palace of Atlantis. Jason smiled softly to himself at the thought of the beautiful Princess – memories of the night he had spent in her bed (completely innocently of course – although he suspected that Minos, if God forbid he ever found out, would never believe that) swirling in his head; the warmth in her dark eyes when he had awoken to find her watching him; the determination on her face as she had insisted on treating his wound; the gentleness of her touch; the softness of her lips against his; the way the early morning sunlight had shone in her hair. She was perfect and so far out of his league that he still found it incredible that she seemed to feel the same way about him that he felt about her.

"Are you alright?"

Pythagoras' concerned voice startled Jason from his reverie. He considered the question seriously for a moment and then turned with a contented smile to face his friend.

"Yeah," he said. "I am."

Pythagoras scrutinised him with a slightly worried frown.

"I thought that you might be upset," he ventured.

Jason blinked in confusion.

"Why?" he asked. "For once everything's gone quite well. Circe and Heptarian are dead, Pasiphae's defeated, the King has recovered and Ariadne's safe… and we survived. Why would I be upset?"

"Well Minos did essentially warn you off," Pythagoras answered gently. "I know he offered you that purse of gold… and I do not think Hercules will forget that you turned it down for some time… but he also made sure that you knew that Ariadne was off limits. I do not think he would be forgiving if you attempt to go near her again."

Jason chuckled lightly.

"I never exactly expected him to welcome me with open arms," he said. "Ariadne's way out of my league… I've always known that… and I don't exactly see her every day. But, whatever her father thinks, it's how Ariadne feels that's important to me. If we're meant to be together then we'll find a way no matter what the King or anyone else thinks about it."

"The King's displeasure is not something to be trifled with," Pythagoras warned.

"I know," Jason answered. "All that matters right now though, is that Ariadne is safe. She was willing to give up her life to protect me… I won't forget that."

Pythagoras moved across the floor to stand next to his friend, resting his forearms on the edge of the balcony and looking out over the street, his posture mirroring Jason's.

"I had thought that you might have been resting as I was earlier," he said at length. "After all it has been a long few days."

"It has," Jason acknowledged. "I was a bit too awake to sleep though."

"Something troubles you?"

"No. For once everything's good. I just wasn't ready to sleep."

"Is Hercules still in bed?" Pythagoras asked.

"No," Jason answered. "He got up a while ago. He's gone out. Apparently he had to see a man about a beetle."

Pythagoras raised one eyebrow.

"A beetle," he said flatly.

"Yep," Jason responded.

"Oh Gods! Does that mean that we're going to have a house that stinks of horse dung again?" Pythagoras protested.

"We live with Hercules," Jason pointed out. "How would you know the difference?"

He caught Pythagoras' eye and they both dissolved into laughter for a moment. It felt good to relax after the stress of the recent days, Jason decided. He looked at Pythagoras and grinned broadly, draping an arm easily around his friend's shoulders.

"Feels good to be home," he said.

"It does," Pythagoras agreed. "Although we will soon need to search for work once again. Our funds are a little lower than I would like."

"I managed to tuck a few coins away after that last job," Jason responded cheerfully. "I thought we might need them to tide us over at some point. I've got them hidden."

Pythagoras grimaced.

"You had them hidden," he corrected. "I fear that if you went to look you would find your money is missing."

Jason frowned.

"Has Hercules been stealing again?" he asked.

"He prefers to think of it as borrowing," Pythagoras murmured in response.

"It's the same thing as far as he's concerned," Jason said dryly. "He never seems to manage to pay anything he 'borrows' back after all."

"No," Pythagoras agreed with wry humour. "No he does not."

Jason rolled his eyes and began to stretch, breaking off as his side twinged again. Pythagoras' eyes narrowed suspiciously but before he could comment Jason turned to face him fully.

"Changing the subject slightly I think I could probably do with your help," he said softly.

"Is this the sort of help that will require me to fetch bandages?" Pythagoras responded perceptively, his sharp eyes automatically probing his friend for injuries.

He should have done this sooner, he berated himself. Possibly as soon as they had returned to the city, but at the time Jason had been all fired up about saving Ariadne once more. The head injury he had suffered and the myriad of small cuts, scrapes and bruises that littered his exposed skin had been known quantities – things that Pythagoras felt were not especially worrying and were certainly not slowing Jason down. He was moving as easily and fluidly as ever, and had not seemed to be in any significant pain so the possibility of an unknown hidden injury had not even occurred to Pythagoras. Then, when everything was all over, he had been tired – the strain of the last few days catching up with him – and all he had wanted to do was seek his own bed, believing that both his friends would follow suit and knowing that the rest would do them all good. He pursed his lips. He knew Jason's tendency to ignore injuries if he felt the situation demanded it. He should have insisted on examining his friend earlier.

Jason started slightly. He really shouldn't be surprised at Pythagoras' intuition, he told himself. After all the man was a genius.

"Possibly," he answered. "I don't think I'm still bleeding but I could probably do with a clean bandage. I think the one I've got is probably going to be a bit grubby."

Pythagoras' eyes widened.

"What have you done?" he asked urgently. "How are you injured?"

"Arrow. Left side. Just above my hip," Jason answered. "It's not too bad to be honest but I'd like you check it if you don't mind."

"You were shot," Pythagoras said flatly. "How? When? Why did you not tell me sooner?"

"At the time I was a bit busy," Jason said. "And it really doesn't feel all that bad. It just aches a bit… and pulls when I stretch too far."

Pythagoras rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Sit down," he instructed firmly. "I will go and fetch supplies while you remove your breastplate and tunic." He paused for a moment. "Actually, why do you still have your breastplate on? We are at home and there are no enemies here."

Jason rubbed one hand along his jaw, frowning at the rough rasp of stubble – he really needed to shave again. Despite Hercules' assertion that they should grow beards and flee whenever trouble came, Jason really didn't fancy full facial hair – it would be too itchy for a start.

"I was enjoying the sunshine," he answered. "I just couldn't be bothered to summon up the energy to move and take it off."

He sat down on the edge of the table (knowing that the stools on the balcony were just a little too low for Pythagoras to be able to treat him without bending and wanting to spare his friend any discomfort because of him) and began to unlace his armour. Pythagoras turned and went back inside to gather bandages, water and several pre-prepared salves (living with Jason and Hercules had taught him the benefit of forward planning where injuries were concerned) and some healing herbs.

By the time he returned, Jason had removed his breastplate and was sitting on the table top, his legs swinging, his eyes closed and his face turned towards the sun with a peaceful expression. He had not, however, removed his tunic as instructed. Pythagoras' eyes were drawn to the fairly significant blood stain near Jason's waist on the left side of his tunic – a stain that stretched down towards the bottom hem. How had he not noticed it before?

"Most of it was hidden by my breastplate and the hilt of my sword," Jason said without opening his eyes. "Plus you had other things to think about. First we were trying to find a way to stop Circe from killing us all and then we were trying to rescue Ariadne and escape from the guards."

Pythagoras blinked. He hadn't realised he had spoken out loud. He stepped forwards and set his supplies down on the table next to Jason. Jason lazily opened his eyes to watch his friend.

"How far did the arrow go in?" Pythagoras asked as he laid a couple of strips of bandaging flat on the surface of the table and organised his supplies and equipment.

"Erm… about that far," Jason answered, holding his thumb and forefinger a couple of inches apart. "I managed to pull it out alright."

Pythagoras frowned. That was further in than he would have liked although perhaps not as far as he had feared. Still, he reflected, Jason had been lucky that it had clearly not hit anything vital. He gestured impatiently for Jason to remove his top.

"How did you come to be shot?" he asked, beginning to unwind the decidedly grubby bandage from around Jason's waist.

"I meant to kill Pasiphae," Jason said softly – reflectively. "I made it into her chambers and stood above her while she slept with my sword in my hand… but I couldn't do it." He caught Pythagoras' eyes with an almost apologetic look. "I'm not a murderer."

"I know," Pythagoras responded kindly. "Nobody ever thought you were. I know how heavily Circe's deal weighed on you but I do not believe that you have it in you to take a life in cold blood… and I mean that as a compliment."

Jason swallowed and nodded.

"I stepped back into the shadows and prepared to leave but the Queen woke up," he said. "She saw me… or at least she saw a shape in the darkness lurking near her bed… and she started to scream for the guards. I ran. I was making my way back to the courtyard to re-join you two when one of the guards appeared at the other end of the corridor I was in. He got a lucky shot in." He flicked a half-smile at Pythagoras. "I hid until he'd gone past, pulled the arrow out and made it to the rendezvous point but you and Hercules had already gone so I had to look for another way to escape. Anyway I ended up in Ariadne's chambers and she hid me. When she realised I was bleeding she insisted on dressing the wound… but it must have come open again as I escaped the Palace the next morning. I mean I knew it was probably still seeping when I got home – I could see that the stain on my shirt was a bit bigger than it had been under the edge of my breastplate – and it was a bit sore… but I didn't realise how much it had bled until we all went to bed and I took my breastplate off and found the bandage had soaked through. Only by then you'd gone to bed and I… well… I didn't want to wake you. I knew what I had to do. I knew I was going to face Circe alone… and I didn't want to risk that plan by waking you up. It would have made it harder for me to sedate you when the time came. So I just re-bandaged it myself and hoped for the best. I'd actually forgotten all about it until just now."

Pythagoras pursed his lips and shot Jason an exasperated look.

"Quite apart from the fact that you should not have sedated either Hercules or me and should in fact have woken me up when you discovered the wound was still bleeding, you should have said something while I was seeing to the cut on your arm after you defeated Circe. Any sort of injury can fester if it is not treated properly."

Jason shrugged as Pythagoras began to unwind the last layer of bandaging, pleased to note that only a little blood seemed to have seeped into the cloth.

"I really did forget about it," Jason protested mildly. "It wasn't hurting at the time."

"Hmm," Pythagoras murmured noncommittally, grabbing a damp cloth and beginning to carefully wipe away the streaks of dried blood from his friend's midriff to allow him to see the wound more clearly. "I suspect you were still somewhat excited and emotional following the confrontation with Circe and that this may have masked any pain. Does it hurt now?"

Jason shrugged again.

"A bit," he admitted. "Like I said before, it sort of aches and there's a sharp stab if I stretch too far."

Pythagoras nodded absently, his attention focussed on his friend's wound. As Jason had said, it was located low on his side, only just above his hip. Pythagoras probed the area carefully, wiping away as much of the dried blood as he could, checking for signs of infection. He was relieved to realise that the wound itself looked clean; the skin around it a normal, healthy colour when all the blood had been wiped away and cool to touch.

"Sorry," he murmured as Jason flinched, his probing fingers clearly catching an area that was a little more tender.

"It's fine," Jason answered.

"It appears clean enough," Pythagoras said softly, "and there is no sign of infection." He hesitated for a moment. "Ideally I would like to insert a stitch or two to aid in the closure," he added.

Jason pulled a face.

"Does it really need it?" he enquired. "Do you really have to?"

The idea of someone sewing him up without any form of anaesthetic was distinctly unappealing.

"No," Pythagoras answered slowly. "It would help the wound to heal more quickly and decrease the risk of you reopening it, that is all. There would also be less chance of infection." He paused for a moment, taking note of his friend's reluctance. "I have a salve that will largely numb the skin," he said softly. "There would be some discomfort but it would not be painful as such."

"You do?" Jason asked, blinking in surprise. Although he had learned over the months that Pythagoras' herbal remedies were surprisingly effective, as far as he knew there was no such thing as anaesthetic in ancient Greece – that was still many centuries away.

"Of course," Pythagoras answered as though the answer was obvious.

He was wearing his 'Jason, don't be such an idiot' expression again – the one that he got when he clearly thought Jason should know something and didn't.

"There are many herbs with numbing properties," the young genius went on. "Do you not have proper medicine where you come from?" He looked genuinely curious.

"Yes of course," Jason answered a little defensively. "It's just that I didn't know you had it here. Everything's so different here."

Pythagoras looked down. He had thought over the last few weeks that Jason had seemed more settled; that his friend had finally seemed to be completely comfortable and at ease.

"I am sorry," he said in a small voice.

"Don't be," Jason said, covering Pythagoras' pale hand with his own tanned one. He smiled. "Different isn't necessarily a bad thing. I like it here."

Pythagoras returned his smile.

"I am glad," he said gently.

"So," Jason said lightly, "are you going to practice your embroidery on me or not?"

Pythagoras huffed a quick chuckle.

"Perhaps I should embroider my name so that people would know where to return you the next time you do something foolish and get yourself knocked out?" he answered equally lightly, as he scooped some sort of salve out of a small pot and slathered it around the wound. "There," he said, wiping his hands on a cloth. "We must give that a little time to start working."

Jason grinned.

"Why your name and not Hercules'?" he asked. "It's his house after all – as he's fond of telling us."

Pythagoras raised an eyebrow, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Do you really want 'property of Hercules' written on you?" he asked. "He would take credit for everything you do."

"He already does that," Jason snorted, although the ripple of laughter in his voice and the twinkle in his eyes told Pythagoras that he was only playing.

"Indeed," Pythagoras responded. "He might take it into his head to gamble you in his next dice game as he does so often with his shirt. There are men all over this city who have tunics that used to belong to Hercules… I would not wish the same fate to befall you."

Jason giggled. There really was no other word for it, Pythagoras decided as he checked the cuts and scrapes on his friend's upper arms. It was not the sort of laugh that he would ever have expected to hear from a grown man and yet it suited Jason, he concluded.

"That would be… inconvenient," Jason agreed. He tried valiantly (and unsuccessfully) to restrain the bubble of laughter that sought to escape. The laugh turned into a faint wince, however, as Pythagoras turned his attention to the contusion at Jason's left temple, brushing his fingers against the injury.

"Sorry," the mathematician murmured again, his eyes growing sympathetic.

The bruise that was forming at his friend's temple, running up into his hairline, was truly spectacular and Pythagoras was in no doubt whatsoever that it was very sore to touch. He was actually more than a little surprised, if the truth be told, that Jason wasn't exhibiting more signs of a nasty headache. Almost absently Pythagoras scooped up another small dollop of the numbing salve and began to smooth it over the bruising, keeping his touch as light as possible as his fingers did their work.

"I would take it as a kindness, Jason, if you would attempt to refrain from further injury for the next few days at least," he said with mock sternness.

Jason's eyes went very wide and innocent looking – the ridiculous puppy dog expression that he got from time to time which always made Pythagoras chuckle. Pythagoras felt his lips twitching automatically in response and tried to school his features into a stern expression.

"I am serious, Jason," he said.

"I'll certainly try my hardest," Jason responded, his eyes dancing.

Pythagoras rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the arrow wound in his friend's side. He judged that skin would be numb enough now to attempt to stitch it without causing Jason any undue pain. Reaching down to probe the area one last time (to ensure that it really was as numb as he hoped), the mathematician's fingers accidentally trailed down Jason's side. Jason jerked slightly beneath his hand. Pythagoras stopped instantly.

"I am sorry," he apologised. "I thought that the salve would have taken effect by now."

"You're not hurting me," Jason said quickly.

"Then what is it?" Pythagoras asked with concern.

"It just tickled a bit," Jason answered.

He knew he had made a mistake the instant he saw the look of mischief that came into Pythagoras' eyes and inwardly groaned.

"You are ticklish?" the mathematician asked, clearly filing the information away for use at a further date.

"A bit," Jason admitted reluctantly. "Don't tell Hercules though," he implored.

"Why not?" Pythagoras asked as he began to ready his needle and thread.

"Well for one thing I don't think he'd ever let me hear the end of it," Jason answered, "and for another I have a feeling that he might use it against me the next time he wants something."

"So what would you agree to, to get someone to stop tickling you? Or to keep this information to themselves?" Pythagoras enquired brightly as he wiped the wound one last time.

"What do you mean?" Jason asked nervously.

"I was thinking that I might trade some household chores in return for not telling Hercules," Pythagoras answered. "The house could do with a general tidy."

Jason's eyes opened very wide.

"That's blackmail!" he exclaimed.

"Yes," Pythagoras responded, eyes dancing with mirth. "It is both mean and unscrupulous." He chuckled and laid an affectionate hand on Jason's shoulder. "Do not worry, my friend. Your secret is safe with me," he said. "Although I could use a hand around the house," he added.

His face grew serious once more.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Sure," Jason responded.

He changed his mind though as Pythagoras began the task of stitching the injury closed. The wound might be numb (a fact that Jason was very grateful for right now) but the sight of the needle dipping into and out of his skin made Jason feel distinctly queasy. He swallowed hard and looked up at the ceiling.

Pythagoras gave Jason a knowing look.

"Do you know this is the second arrow wound of yours that I have treated in a matter of months," he said lightly, trying to draw his friend's concentration away from the needle and thread. "If I might be so bold I would suggest that perhaps you and archers do not mix and you should endeavour to avoid them in the future."

Jason huffed a startled laugh.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said.

"Please do," Pythagoras said primly. "I do get so bored of having to try to put you back together again."

He grinned up at Jason.

Jason smiled back. Then he caught sight of the needle again and gulped, going slightly green. He had never really been all that fond of seeing blood or injuries to be completely honest. He looked away again quickly.

"I've been thinking about something the Oracle said," he said, looking out across the street and keeping his eyes resolutely away from what Pythagoras was doing. The salve the mathematician had used might have numbed his side but the sensation of the needle passing in and out was still disturbing and more than a little uncomfortable.

"And?" Pythagoras said, still concentrating on keeping his stitches small and even. The wound might only need a few stitches to keep it closed but he had no intention of being slapdash where his friend's health was concerned.

"It was when I went to see her before we rescued Ariadne. I wanted to thank her for everything she's done for me because I didn't know if I'd get the chance to again," Jason murmured. "She already knew that I was planning on rescuing Ariadne though."

"Well of course," Pythagoras answered bluntly. "She is the Oracle. She sees the future."

"Hmm," Jason said. "When I told her that Ariadne was willing to give up her life to protect me and that I wasn't going to let that happen… that I was going to rescue her or die trying… the Oracle smiled. She seemed pleased with me. When I asked her why, she said that there was a time when I would go to her to ask her what I should do but that now I was choosing my own path… She's right." He paused for a moment. "When I first came here everything felt so familiar and yet I knew so little about this place. I was lost and all I really wanted was someone to tell me what to do… what my purpose was… I still don't always know what I'm meant to do but you know what? It's alright because I don't need to know what the future will hold to know that this is where I belong."

Pythagoras smiled.

"I am glad you have come to call Atlantis home," he said softly. He cut the thread he was sewing with and reached into another small pot, slathering the closed wound with a salve to stave off infection. With quick fingers he laid a dressing over the top and wrapped a clean bandage around his friend's waist. "There," he said. "You are done. I will prepare a painkilling tonic later."

Jason frowned.

"It's not hurting," he protested.

"Perhaps not now," Pythagoras answered, "but I suspect it will sting somewhat once the numbness has worn away. The very act of stitching the wound will cause a little discomfort in the coming hours… although I hope that any pain will be short lived."

Jason slipped his tunic over his head and turned back to Pythagoras with a bright grin, dimples showing. He slid off the table and caught his mathematically inclined friend up in a one-armed hug. Pythagoras gave a startled squeak before responding to Jason's apparently exuberant affection with a hug of his own.

"There are still things I miss about where I used to live," Jason admitted, "and there probably always will be."

"I know," Pythagoras responded.

"But do you know what? This is home. My home. I never thought I'd say that about anywhere… never thought I'd find a place where I fit in… and it's good."

Pythagoras smiled affectionately.

"Come on," he said softly. "Let's go inside. There are things to be done… after you have caught up on some sleep that is," he added eyeing the yawn that his friend stifled.

"What sort of things?" Jason asked with a certain amount of suspicion.

"Well for a start the sheets need folding," Pythagoras answered, "and I believe that the shelves could do with a proper clean and tidy so that I can start making an inventory of our supplies. Oh, and we have washing to be done and the area around your bed is an absolute mess…"

He grinned at Jason's answering groan and could not resist reaching out to lightly tickle his friend's uninjured side, laughing as Jason squirmed and tried to put some distance between them.

"That's mean," Jason said, although the sparkle in his eyes showed he did not mind the teasing.

"Yes," Pythagoras answered. "But that is what friends are for."

"To torment me?"

"To share joys and sorrows," Pythagoras corrected, "and everything else in between."