Without You, I'm Nothing, an alexander fanfic

"Without You, I'm Nothing"

A fifty-third fic by Iorhael

Summary: Alexander on the brink of death. Slash. A/H.Beta: Bunny

Rated: PG

Hurt. Pain. Wound.

Lost. Forsaken. Lost.

Hurt.

Numb.

Acc –

Numb.

Accept –

Numb.

Ah. How hard it was – to get to it.

Acceptance.

"Alexander? Come to me, child."

Dazed, bleary eyes met those of the aged witch doctor. There was no grasp in those pale blue eyes of the King of Macedonia. There were only labored breaths and a soft wheeze as parched lips parted.

"Heph?"

"Ssh."

"… There's nothing wrong with passion betwixt two men as long as love is also there. Love, not lust. Neither is it desire to confound one over the other."

Aristotle paced slowly amongst the ruins and his students down in Mieza, here in one of the most startling and lush parts of Macedonia. The wise man spoke in his gentle voice, eyes sometimes gazing pensively into the sky. Meaningful, albeit quiet, exchanges between his two pupils were lost on him.

Small smiles adorned both faces of Alexander and Hephaestion as the unspoken conversation took place between them. They knew their mentor was referring to them and they lovingly sent their gratitude toward him through the connection their hearts were forming right now. Nothing seemed able to end the lingering looks the two exchanged, until both felt warmth running down their spines. Their cheeks flushed, the young Prince and his slightly older companion cast their eyes down.

Spasms wrecked the entire body of Alexander and all came alive surrounding him. The witch doctor swayed a small golden beaker above him, strewing sweet-smelling, healing vapor all over his King, while several handmaids immediately traded one cold compress for a new one.

Alexander was searingly hot. Sweat broke through his pores; his eyes had dulled considerably. No one knew exactly what had befallen him, and the healer could do nothing but try to lessen his suffering. Had he been poisoned like his lover, Hephaestion?

Smooth, velvety fingers ran over shapely chin and went up to strong jaw. The clear light brown eyes were filled despair. The face tilted and their eyes met, both heavy with despair, yet glimmering with love and passion.

The other's eyes smiled knowingly.

"You understand why I had to do this, do you not, my love?" asked Alexander softly, taking Hephaestion on his feet. "I need Roxanne, but not as you imagine. My heart will still be yours."

A drop of pearly fluid made its way from the corner of Hephaestion's eye, ran down along the edge of his nose. A brush of callused thumbs over his cheeks soothed him. His breath fluttered as he replied.

"I never doubt that, Alexander. For you are my Achilles."

Unbeknownst to Hephaestion, the mention of the name made Alexander pull away. The dark-haired Macedonian gasped as the King's hands fell away from his face. Alexander strode from the room, and out of Hephaestion's reach. He did not know it was fear that was bubbling inside Alexander's head.

Hephaestion could only stare down, scrutinize the dark mahogany slabs of wood beneath his feet. He just finally remembered what happened with Achilles and Patroclus, and he could only whisper his regret. He couldn't quiet the sense of trepidation that hovered over him.

His feet jerked as if the owner were trying to lash out and kick toward those around him. No one dared to stand close to him there, at the foot of the bed. Instead, they stood several steps away. Those who did venture close slumped over Alexander's body, wailing and lamenting over the worsening of his condition.

Someone reached for the now still feet and cried.

"They aren't as hot! He might be recovering."

The witch doctor tilted sideways, brows knitting.

He said, after thinking for a while, as if to himself, "His body is refocusing on more critical matters. Feet are less important in this case for they are situated far from the heart and other vitals. All the warmth is centered in the upper part of his body."

The others turned to him, and some obviously had qualms about his rationale. The feet were too still. Too cold.

Philotas was becoming more and more exasperating. There were confessions – not evidence – thatHephaestion, Craterus, and Coenus had gathered, but that did little to satisfy Alexander. The execution was still carried out, nevertheless, for Alexander could not relax with the threat of subversion still hanging over the sky of his empire.

It was quite easy for Alexander to avoid his subordinates' disapproving looks while they were in the meeting chamber, but he found that the same look from his lover in their bedroom was far harder to face. He knew Hephaestion would never show his discontent before the others, but he certainly would let Alexander know about it once they were alone. It had happened more often of late that Hephaestion would look at him this way, with a furrowed brow, and dark, disappointed eyes, and his queries greeted with silence. All of them made his blood boil, and he almost rose to leave the room, to go to Roxanne instead.

"Don't, Alexander," said Hephaestion, his voice soft. "Please stay."

Alexander forced himself to stay calm and sat back on the edge of the bed. "I will, Hephaestion. Just, don't be angry with me anymore. You must know my reasons for the execution. Accept them."

Hephaestion swallowed. "I wish I never proposed that interrogation. Then I would never have gotten the confession that led to his death."

Alexander's eyes were lit. He fixed them on Hephaestion's, so fiercely that the dark-haired man was forced to look down. "You did that upon my order!" exclaimed Alexander in disbelief. "It was not like you had any choice at all. I would have asked the others had you demurred. I would have done it myself!"

Alexander thumped his feet as he stood up. He could not believe it! Conspiracy against him was unforgivable. He could not believe that Hephaestion was not on his side in this matter.

"Do you know something, Hephaestion?" Alexander narrowed his eyes into slits as he brought his face closer to Hephaestion's. "Without me, you're nothing. Don't you forget that."

The eyes that had been closed too long all of a sudden were thrown open, eliciting gasps from everyone present. Roxanne shoved forward, sending aside the healer that was in her way, and grasped, cupped Alexander's face in her palms. Her wet kisses smeared all over her husband's face, wet both by her saliva and tears.

"My love. My beloved, my love," she murmured over and over, heedless of people's stares, when her mouth was not busy smacking Alexander's cheeks, brow, nose, and chin with her lips. She was almost oblivious to the lack of life in Alexander's eyes should she not lift her face to again whisper worshiping accounts.

"Alexander… Alexander?" Roxanne staggered back at the sight of cold, dead light in those eyes, seeing neither her nor anything before them. The Princess' mouth went open, a trail of dribble dangling between that and Alexander's jaw, the last place that she kissed just now. Shaking, Roxanne raised a hand and covered her mouth, stunned.

She was just about to turn to the witch doctor when there was a sound – a sound – from Alexander's direction, when all she thought was that he had died.

"Leave me… leave me!"

And his hands were flailing. Anger and despair mixed in one, if Roxanne would stay, in those movement and eyes, now.

"You! You're all traitors – Philotas! Parmenion!" Alexander's head jerked to the side, still gawking, still enraged.

"Father…" There was a soft sob this time. "I hate you! I love you… No, I hate you!"

There was a sharp stab in Roxanne's heart as she listened to this. Had they all come now – to take Alexander away from her? She shifted toward the bed again but a pair of strong hands fastened around her upper arms. Her gaze met the healer's determined one. He shook his head. No. Let Alexander leave in peace. Now.

But he was not in peace, yet. The sobs wrecked the man violently before a mutter escaped his parched lips.

"… thought you left me. Hephaestion…"

They were finally gone. His foes. His rivals. His father. They would never bother him again. He would never be bothered again. What bad deeds they had intended to do to him would fade into the wind. He minded nothing, no one. Save one.

Hephaestion had held true to his promise. He was awaiting him here, at the gate of death, like Patroclus to Achilles. He was standing here, beauty unrivalled amongst the splendor of the afterlife. The fairness of his flowing dark hair and the expression of serenity on his face blended gently with the vast green meadow and the blue sky surrounding him.

Alexander stood in awe. He knew he had finally reached home. He was complete. How wrong he had been, before. But now he realized.

"Without you, I'm nothing."

fin