Author: Rothalion

Title: Lament

Genre: Angst

Summery: Hephaistion and Alexander turn a page in their relationship. If this gets dropped see my LJ.

Rating: PG-13 to be safe.

Disclaimer: History owns them. I do not think that I'm stepping on any toes here as far as plot or character. Not to my knowledge anyway. Xenos is mine.

Alexanderslogged across the camp. Three days, three days; the words repeated themselves over and over in his mind. Three days and not a word. No visit, no summons, no greeting, nothing. What was the man thinking! Gone for more than two months, in and out of skirmishes, apparently even wounded and back for at best four days yet he'd not come around. Not a word, not a message nothing. Alexander had only learned of his presence in camp by accident. A bit of loose conversation between pages. Three damn days, and rumor had it that he'd be leaving again come morning. That he'd ordered his pages to have the horses ready and a weeks supply of rations packed. A visit and yet not a word had passed between them. Alexander's foot slid a bit in the dark. He cursed the foul horse shit that had caused the misstep and scrubbed the sullied boot on a rock. Sighing he wondered why Hephaistion had re-pitched his tent so far off, off amidst his men and chastised himself for having not noticed it missing. Why would he have noticed. It isn't as though Hephaistion had been expected. He'd hardly passed by the thing in weeks.

As he neared the relocated tent he could hear the labored sound of a flute. The notes were coarse and stilted, the player obviously new to the skill. Silently Alexander pushed the tent flap back and stepped inside. Hephaistion sat, his back to the door with the instrument held to his lips. Before him, removed from its pedestal and propped on a low table, was a marble bust of Alexander, positioned as though it were an audience to the halting tune. It was a lament. Alexander observed the strange scene and listened quietly until Hephaistion set the instrument aside and drank from his wine. Hoping for an answer to his friends aloofness Alexander coughed in an effort to make his presence known.

"Why bother Alexander. After so many years together I can smell you." Alexander furrowed his brow and looked down at his fouled boot, wondering if the remark were a slight or the simple truth. Hephaistion had always claimed that he could smell him.

Alexander stepped farther into the gloom and placed a hand on Hephaistion's shoulder. The seated man flinched away and sat up straighter in his chair. A confused and hurt Alexander removed his hand.

"Didn't know you were in camp." Alexander spoke to his friend's stiff back.

"You were…engaged." Hephaistion answered in in a dry and foreign voice, without really moving. He remained mostly still only settling lazily back into the chair again, and awkwardly propping his right leg up on the table next to the bust.

"Received your letters and reports." Only a snort in response from Hephaistion at that. Then,

"They are …accurate."

"Engaged. Three days and nights worth of…engaged, Hephaistion?" Alexander was growing annoyed and tried to keep it from his voice. "You moved your tent."

" You are a quick one Alexander, but then you always were. I do not make your schedule. Do you require something more in my reports, Alexander?" Three days and nights? Yes Alexander you were. I went all three nights and all three nights you were with him.

Alexander studied Hephaistion's back and worried over his strange tone of voice. The man's tone was odd. Not angry, not apathetic, not cold just… it defied description. "The flute. I tried to teach you…but…you had no interest."

"We were just boys then. Interests come and interests go." Hephaistion surprised Alexander, by snatching up the instrument as he reached for it to admire the craftsmanship. He flinched at the protective gesture. The two had always shared everything.

"Boys…yes." Then after a pause. "You are leaving in the morning. Hephaistion… Hephaistion where is your travel chest?" He'd never taken the whole chest with him before the outposts were too unsettled.

Alexander walked away and stood in front of the spot where Hephaistion had always kept the chest. To the right of his bed, with in arms reach. The box with books, memories and personal items dear to them both.

"Hephaistion?"

"I miss it. It will travel back with me, to my timber outpost." He began to struggle through another song on his flute as though Alexander were not present.

Alexander turned and looked at his life long friend, his lover, his confessor. The face he saw was placid and calm. Lips pierced blowing a stream of controlled air into the flute. The notes were raw but they had promise Alexander thought, such promise. He headed toward the door.

"Will I see you before you leave?" He asked without turning around.

The flute was lowered and Hephaistion sighed as if in defeat. " See me? No, it will be very early. Yes, tomorrow, early. Leaving again. I have much to accomplish, no time to dally." Again a long pause. "You've your own commitments to see to tonight Alexander. Who am I to filch your precious time from those who most…well… most deserve it. No, I do not suppose you will…see me before I go. No time to waste when conquering right? I wouldn't want to disappoint."

That said he stood with a loud groan and a sharp hiss of pain. Alexander spun at the sound and watched as Hephaistion limped slowly over to his bed, placed the flute on his bedside table and began to undress. Frozen in place Alexander watched. He stared at the man he loved standing before him naked, and alone. Then gapped at the fresh gnarled pink scar as thick as his thumb that ran from Hephaistion's navel off to the right and then downward passing over his fine hip bone and down his muscled thigh before stopping at his knee. He began to move forward out of instinct, as Hephaistion opened a jar of salve and started to rub it purposefully into the long scar and then a smaller puckered one at the place where his hip joint was. It was a ragged pucker, pink and angry.

"Phai!"

Without pausing he looked up at Alexander blinked and smiled a small tight lipped smile. Alexander stood right in front of him now and he truly could smell him. His heart beat quickened and he looked away again trying to concentrate on finishing with the salve. No, he would not cave in, he'd remain strong. He 'was' going back in the morning.

"Should you be riding?" Alexander asked concern plain on his face. "Let me fetch the doctor." Again he reached out but Hephaistion backed up and painfully, using his arms for support, lowered himself onto the bed.

"No, probably shouldn't be but…no leave the doctor. I'll tend to it myself. I got the damned thing this far along just on Aristotle's words. I'll see it through."

Alexander's heart now sparked. Hephaistion's tone had lost most of its edge. "You saw no doctor for that Hephaistion! Are you mad."

"None available up there Alexander. He was killed weeks ago, I sent for another but…We are bit off the track remember?" Had he? Alexander made a mental note to send another one out to the camp in the morning.

Hephaistion leaned back lifting his stiff right leg with his hands to get it onto the bed and with another hiss of pain and a low deep throated moan he stretched out on his back, then rolled onto his left side and pulled the dense covers up and under his stubbled chin. Alexander stood and watched Hephaistion's blue eyes blink heavily before slipping closed. He envied the man's ability to just shut down and rest.

Closed, the word tore at Alexander's heart. Closed. That described Hephaistion's mood earlier. Closed. Had the book that held their tale closed as well? For a long moment he waited and watched Hephaistion's chest rise and fall with the familiar even rhythm of unfettered sleep. Turning he reached out and lifted the flute from the table. It was well made by a superior craftsman. Hephaistion demanded the best in things he loved. He let his fingers stroke the smooth wood and lifting it to his nose he smelled it. Yes, it was Hephaistion's scent. Sighing he looked back at his friend's sleeping form. He placed his fingers over the holes and fingered a song silently, the notes swimming secretly in his mind. Suddenly he stopped; Hephaistion's earlier words drowning out the pleasant tune. 'Interests come and interests go.' His hands began to tremble as he stroked the flute again before returning it to the table. He wondered if Hephaistion would be able to smell him on it when next he played it?

Alexander knew that Hephaistion would probably disapprove, at least on this night, but he reached down and stroked his cheek with the back of his fingers. Then after tucking a stray strand of brown hair back behind Hephaistion's ear he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on the stubble covered cheek. As he snugged the blankets a bit tighter around his shoulders Alexander whispered into the sleeper's ear.

"I love you Hephaistion. I do not know what I have done but I love you. Sleep well my dear friend." Dejected and confused he left the tent. He knew he would not enjoy the same comfort in his own sleep that night. He knew that he'd toss and turn and spin, his worry over Hephaistion tormenting his mind. What had he done wrong?

Back in his own tent he mutely allowed Bagoas to tend to him. The little Persian always seemed to know just what he needed, required or desired. Tonight the skittish eunuch had been casting odd glances at him. In broken Greek he'd queried as to why Alexander was sad. He truly sounded concerned as far as Alexander could tell. The boy was more observant of what went on around him than anyone Alexander had ever known. Let him sit in a meeting and he'd let you know the demeanor and true face of anybody gathered round the table. Yes he was certainly useful. Then you had to consider his other skills. Alexander flushed just pondering the boy's talents. Bagoas sensed his desire and began to pleasure him.

"No, Bagoas…ahh by the gods…not….Bagoas…not…tonight… B…" 'When,' he wondered, 'had it come to this?'

Morning came chilled, bleak and gray, plagued with rain. Hephaistion and his small troop headed out silently and without notice. He was sad. Sad and confused. He loved Alexander. But life away with just his men, his engineers and carpenters, and surveyors…that was so much more peaceful. No jealous companions, no jibes and hateful comments no need to watch his back constantly, no Alexander tearing at his heart yet remaining too distant to touch. These were his men he was returning to. He was safe with them. Hand picked for their skills at thinking, fighting, building, sapping and adapting. Yes adapt. That is what he must do. Adapt. Alexander apparently had. He'd taken the eunuch to his bed. Taken him and there was apparently more to the thing then just lust. Hephaistion was not angry about it just empty, empty and desperately lonely. Adapt. He reached around and fingered the flute safe inside his pack. He'd never even considered that kind of intimacy with anyone other than Alexander. How had his life long companion taken that step? Could he? Yes, maybe it was time. Maybe he too should move on.

As they passed out of the camp Hephaistion saw Alexander sitting on Bucephelus off to the side of the track just inside the tree line. He had a thick robe pulled up over his head but even in the dim gray light Hephaistion recognized his friend. He made no motion to him. Made no sign that he'd even spied him there. Resolutely he kneed his mount to a canter and continued away. The small knot of men with him followed suit.

Away. Away from Alexander. Hephaistion wondered why it even bothered him. The two had not been intimate in six or seven months maybe more. He'd lost track. When had the last time been? Aside from an embrace for a greeting or goodbye they had not touched one another. He'd explained it away by convincing himself that they were both just so busy. Busy at what though. Busy drifting apart, busy building a new world while theirs crumbled into ruin leaving only tears and dry ashes at their feet. Had he shed tears? Yes and they'd doused the failing embers turning them into cold and useless ash. What was a new world without Alexander? Only two words came to his mind, cold and lonely. Frankly he was tired of being cold and lonely. He was only a man after all. 'Let Alexander play at being a god.' He thought trying to bolster himself. 'Hephaistion though, me…yes I am just a man. I am only a mere man.'

Wanting to share in the rift now between them Hephaistion admitted to himself that he knew he sometimes asked too much from Alexander when it came to the physical part of their relationship. He had always been the initiator, the more physically needful of the pair. Alexander required far less of the passions of the flesh. While he relished in love he had no strong urge to display it physically. Conversely Hephaistion needed to feel, needed to be touched, and needed to touch Alexander. He desired the sensual aspect of their love. Sometimes he craved it. He knew that the love they shared went beyond the flesh, that they were bound by the love of their souls, that would never change, never wane; but still he had to 'feel' it. Just as he needed to build a bridge, to take a picture or an idea and make it real, he had to do the same with his love for Alexander. Hephaistion needed to build the passion between them, he had to know that he could drive Alexander mad with it. He longed to turn the untouchable into a tangible and tactile thing, full of smells and tastes and sounds. The same as when he went too long just killing and destroying, he would always grow depressed and would beg Alexander to let him go off somewhere and build something, let him create, to heal his soul. To stay too long without creating passion between them caused the fire in his soul to cool leaving only embers awaiting a blast of air to fuel them. There had been no blast of air as of late; not for a very long time. Maybe Alexander could go for long stretches without such physical intimacy, without needing Hephaistion's touch, but he could not. That was a fact. That was how they differed and this time it had gone on for far too long. Compound that with the scene in the tent… If he'd been weeks away he might have handled the loss better. But for the greater part of these past solitary seven or eight months, up until just two months back he'd been right there in camp. Too near the object of his desires, too close to the answer to his needs. It had begun to hurt. Truly hurt. That is why he'd chanced the week long ride back to the camp despite the newness and agony of his wound. The pain would be worth it for even a brief dip in the warm waters of Alexander's love. It wasn't to be though, he'd struggled for naught.

Cursing the rain, the chill and the pain in his leg he hunkered deeper into the folds of his robe. He'd been so stiff upon waking that he needed a leg up to mount his horse. Damned hill bandits! Swiping the rain from his eyes he sighed as he recalled his first night back in the camp. He'd headed straight for Alexander's tent. But Hearing hushed voices inside he'd paused and peered through the slit in the flap. As he watched Alexander had pulled the Persian dancer into a prolonged kiss. Hephaistion turned to go, but something held him there. Pulling the flap back slightly he watched as the two stripped off their clothes. He'd been stunned when Alexander lifted the boy, tossed him playfully onto the bed and began to paint the eunuch's lithe body with kisses as he prepared to take him. Which to Hephaistion's dismay he did, slamming into the Persian with impassioned abandon. Alexander was ravishing the slave as he'd never done to Hephaistion. He could tell that Alexander wanted the boy, desired the boy and yet for all these months…In all their long years together he'd only initiated their coupling on a few occasions and still never with the confidence or desire he'd just shown. Why? In his hurt he could only muster one reason. Alexander did not truly desire him. Sure he'd always seem to enjoy the act, to participate, to reap pleasure and release from it, but Hephaistion knew all too well that if need be Alexander could be a consummate actor. All these years he'd been fooled. Alexander had only been humoring him, participating out of duty. Locked in place by the scene before him he gasped as Alexander arched his back and came with a low growl. Lion indeed. Bagoas followed just after. He should have slipped away but fate held him still. Confused he watched expecting the eunuch to dress and retire to his pallet. What occurred next would, if the rest of the display had not already, break his heart, the heart that had just been forced to question everything about his lover that he'd always held as true. Instead of leaving, the Persian was drawn into Alexander's powerful arms and kissed passionately on his perfect lips. Hephaistion stifled a moan as the boy was further engulfed in Alexander's arms and the two drifted off to sleep entwined. Bagoas on Hephaistion's side of the bed.

The cold, wet and pained man shook the memory from his mind. Love was love, and interests change. Lust was lust but… He did not really feel jilted, but foolish. So many years together and he'd never known, never questioned Alexander's sincerity. Well now it was out and he would adapt. Yes adapt. Not out of spite but out of base need. He rode on through the rain and let the smooth sounds of a flute song sing inside his mind and chase the sadness from his heart.

Four days later he was back at his small timber cutting outpost high on the side of a heavily wooded mountain. The rain had tracked them every inch of the way back and his leg was killing him. He sat exhausted in his chair watching through half open eyes and soaking up the brazier's warmth as the pages brought his things in. The heavy ebony chest was first followed by a few other less important cases. He had no need to tell them where to place things they knew him well enough after three years service. They went about their tasks quietly and quickly. As he waited a boy came and told him that his bath was ready. A bath. Gods how he craved one.

"Tell me the water is hot, Leo. Good and hot because I cannot bear another drop of cold water!"

"Yes Hephaistion good and hot, come now, let me help you along. You shouldn't have ridden my lord, at least not so far. What drove you to it? Such foolishness!"

"Aye, I know boy but love's a fool's game son and what a fool its made of me. Besides the leg's no worse for wear its just this chill and dampness that riles it."

He allowed the lad to scrub him and wash his hair, something he rarely permitted. Anything he could do for himself he normally would. But this night he was just flat out beat. Besides it felt good. He wondered if the boy was any good at rubbing one down. No, better just to bathe and go to bed. Go to sleep and wake up long after the sun. Provided that it ever came back out.

Washed, combed, wound dressed, fed and three or four cups into his wine Hephaistion found himself unwittingly awake. Bored he took out his flute and began to practice the lament he'd come to love. His tent was warm and the shadows seemed to sway to his blossoming music. Despite the miserable trip home after an equally miserable visit he felt somehow content. As though he'd come to terms with himself. As though he'd resolved and bandaged a hurt deep within himself. The realization that what he and Alexander shared had changed no longer threatened to squeeze the life from his soul. He would grow stronger because of his hurt, he would beat it and move forward. At best, he told himself, Alexander would expect nothing less of him.

He didn't hear the swish of his tent flap, he was too focused on the notes he was playing. They'd smoothed out and softened. He'd made progress and he was proud of it. The little lament had finally begun to knit itself into the beautiful song it was meant to be. He started a bit when thick fingers covered his over the holes and followed lightly along. The brush of the intruders breath against the side of his neck warmed his gut and he flushed despite himself. The tune ended and he looked up surprisingly glad to see the man behind him, whose broad smiled mirrored his own and whose jade green eyes soothed his restless soul. Quick lips kissed his ear and the side of his neck sending chills down his spine and causing him to hunch up a bit.

"You've been practicing." The voice was deep and resonant; husky with desire.

"Yes." Again a kiss. "You should stop that. Really." Hephaistion scolded but chuckled as he did. Stop indeed. "I missed you." And it was true he had.

"Why? Figured you be busy enough." That hurt a bit. "Tell me you do not wish it and I will leave off." Another kiss on his neck. More goose bumps. "Well?" Another kiss and the man's tongue traced the throbbing vein along his arched neck "Stop? What's your wish Hephaistion?"

Wish it? No he 'needed' it. Needed it to soothe his mind and soul. Needed it to remind him that he was still able to feel. Needed it because…after seeing… Hephaistion wanted, despite the fact that it was selfish, desperately to know that he was still desirable. Silly? Yes. Vain? Yes. But right now, with the means for all of it so close, god the warm breath against his neck and the coarse rasp of stubble on his shoulder, he could only want. He could only take. He leaned his head farther back and their lips met. Their tongues twined round and round, the flute dropped to the floor.

Hephaistion shuddered at the brush of hair against his arm as the flute was retrieved from the floor and set upon the table. Strong arms wrapped round his chest and warm lips continued to attack his neck and ears. Sword strengthened hands swirled over his stomach brushing against the hardness hidden by his robe. Then the same strong arms carefully lifted him and helped him stand. The chair was pushed aside and he let himself lean back against the strong man behind him. He gasped when he felt the man's cock grind against his tail bone. The lips still teased as they began to walk locked together toward the bed.

Hephaistion turned and faced his lover. He stared into the green eyes and slowly reached up and brushed his thumb across the man's lips, and moustache, finally cupping the bearded cheek in his palm. The hair was soft, not coarse as he'd anticipated. His breath was coming in heaves and he struggled to not just throw himself at the man. Gods, how long had it been? He felt as though he'd never done any of this before. New smells, new tastes, new sensations and scars to study and feel. All too new…

"Its alright,'' The older man whispered sensing Hephaistion's hesitance. "Its alright." He took his face in his big hands and kissed him deeply. Sensuously. Hephaistion could feel the thick Sarissa born calluses on the man's hands. How could such hands play such beautiful music, on the flute and on his body? Their tongues again danced. The liquidity of the sensation weakened Hephaistion's knees. It had been too long, far too long. Gods, how he needed this!

He pulled away and sat down on the edge of the bed. Breathless he watched as the other undressed. How long had he wanted this? Since their first meeting. He couldn't lie to himself. Since he'd first come across the man playing his flute under the tree in the clearing. He'd been drawn to his strength that was mirrored by his gentleness. The man knelt in front of him and removed his sandles. His thumbs brushing against the soles of Hephaistion's feet. Then he removed his robe. Licking and kissing his chest, soothing him with gentle whispers and keen hands. 'He gentles me.' Hephaistion thought. 'The way one would a skittish horse.' Then he found himself being carefully pushed backward and down onto the bed. He tensed, he should stop. Alexander…he…they were bound…but he again writhed as the man's tongue lapped and swirled at parts of his body Alexander had never touched. Yes stop…no. He felt his legs pushed open and he tried to scoot away.

"Never?"

"No."

"Trust me."

What more could he do? He gasped as Xenos pushed into him. It was odd to be the smaller man. Odd to be taken, even if carefully. Odd the way they didn't quite fit together, a bone bumping here and an elbow jutting there. He tried not to touch the big man the way he would have touched Alexander. While his mind screamed at the pleasure of it, his sensible self noted the strangeness of this man. Then Xenos brushed against some part of him that slammed shut the doors of reason. He arched against his new lover and began to move with him, waiting for the spot to be tickled again. He was not disappointed and he came with a soundless shudder and clawed at Xenos' back when he felt him jerk and finish as well.

Hephaistion was spent. There was no other way to describe it. Mentally and physically spent. Xenos kissed and stroked him sending shivering tremors through his lanquid body. Finally he leaned over Hephaistion and parting his lips with his he kissed him again. Humming the notes to the lament into his mouth. Hephaistion grasped gently at Xenos' thick long black hair finding comfort in its softness and let his mouth be ravaged yet again.

"Sleep, little one." He finally said leaning on an elbow and staring down into Hephaistion's blue eyes. He smiled. "Sleep. Tomorrow a new song and we work at softening that scar. Sleep." He brushed his sweaty brown hair back and away from his eyes. "Do you want me to go?"

Hephaistion had to consider the question. He loved to sleep in Alexander's strong embrace, and needed arms around him tonight. But…where was the line between love and lust and want and desire. Need. That was the crux of it, wasn't it? He needed not to be alone and he had the opportunity to resolve that problem right here in his bed. Guilt?

"No, Xenos. Stay with me. Stay with me."