Hephaistion strode out of Alexander's tent, trying hard to control the hammering of his heart.

Only two steps later realised he was forgetting something. Rain. He glanced over his shoulder with a sudden rush of panic as he didn't see his horse, turned around quickly, but Alexander's guards were standing stiffly, staring ahead of themselves. "Where did you take my horse?"

"We had our orders."

Hephaistion's mouth opened, ready to retort with a snarl, but he reconsidered and just sucked his lungs full of air. It's too late! It was clear Alexander had planned to take away everything he had. From the moment he got here.

I have myself. That's more than he can say.

He backed away, then resolutely turned his back to everything that he would now for once and for all leave behind. He swallowed away the sudden lump in his throat. Farewell, Rain, my companion… It took all his strength to keep his head up high as he stalked away.

But the sun was bright and too light for his eyes. He ignored the dull ache in his heart, ignored the people around, and slowly bowed his head.

They couldn't take the tent then. He wouldn't mind to sleep out in the open, or rather, he'd survive… But it might just be one hardship too much for Bagoas. If the young man found no will to go on, Hephaistion was not sure what to do.

It wasn't hard to turn invisible until he reached what may be his last clear destination.

Bagoas was waiting for him in front of the tent. Something seemed to be different about him, but hadn't everything changed? It wasn't so strange the Persian would feel it before he really knew it, after the conversation he had shared with Ptolemy earlier.

Hephaistion approached him with hurried steps. "We're leaving. Alexander took Rain so we can only take a minimum of our possessions… we'll have to leave the tent. Come, will you help me?"

Bagoas was still eyeing him strangely, and Hephaistion halted and threw him a quizzical glance. He almost expected the other to speak.

And he did.

"I'm going back to Alksander."

It was spoken with a calm confidence that Hephaistion hadn't ever heard before in the frail voice.

For a moment, he just stared, then new anguish swept through him. "No you're not!" he snapped. "I have just seen Alexander, he doesn't want us here any longer." He hoped with all his frustrated heart the young man wouldn't put up a struggle as he had done times before. The desire to return to Alexander surfaced every now and then in Bagoas' mind, and every time it did, his annoyance grew deeper. Get a grip, boy, because you're really a boy no longer. Stand strong, and become the man no one thinks you'll ever be.

Bagoas looked him in the eye, his expression calm and deadly serious. "I'm going back to Alksander," he repeated, and after a hesitant silence: "Come with me to him. Go back to Alksander."

It took all of Hephaistion's effort to bite back his irritation. "We're not going back to Alexander, it'll be both our deaths! I know he is important to you, but the Alexander you know is no longer there. Get it out of your head. You'll have to go with me."

"No!" Bagoas raised his voice but it still sounded admirably calm. "I will not leave Alksander. You cannot take me, I choose myself. I will go to him alone." His eyes dropped down to the dusty ground.

Hephaistion stood frozen as he felt the world slip through his fingers. He stared at the top of Bagoas' head, the dark hair that was finally gleaming again, as in the times the Persian had been Alexander's… If he has ever been anything else.

The desert was left behind, gone, and along with it, everything.

With a straight face brushed past the other, pushed the tent flap aside. There were only few things he could take. Water skin, food, weapons… what more? First goal was to just – get out of here. Then he'd try to find some village, somewhere… Find some work, buy himself some time to find out what he wanted from now on. Learn their language. Get killed trying. Get out of here.

"Hephaistion…"

His head snapped up at the face in the tent opening.

"I believe your fate is with Alexander as well. I have to tell you, if you cannot see it yourself."

Those words were everything he didn't need to hear.

Anger, mixed with deep frustration, welled up inside of him, and harsh and hurtful words burned on his lips. "Don't dare tell me to choose the coward's way out as you do. Leave!"

My fate is no longer that of he who was once called Hephaistion! Alexander killed Hephaistion with his own hands. All that's left is me… left unbroken. There must be a life without Alexander.

Bagoas was gone now. Had run back to his king, after everything he done for the boy. My last favour to you, Alexander, he thought bitterly. With all his strength he numbed his heart as one, disobedient tear left his eye.

Glancing around one last time, he closed his bag and determinedly picked it up.

The calm and relaxed murmur of voices and sounds around him almost seemed a mockery of all that had happened in the past. Hephaistion strode through the camp he was leaving behind, meeting the eyes of those who seemed familiar, even if all they did was look away. Determined not to flee, as Alexander wanted him to.

As more and more faces passed, and his heart grew heavier with each step, he had to ignore the urge to glance over his shoulder. He had the strange feeling - or was it hope? – that someone was coming after him, to say goodbye, tell him to come back, or whatever. He didn't know what would upset him more… That there was no one, that he was truly alone and forgotten, or that perhaps there was someone. Whoever it was. He unconsciously quickened his pace.

It was only a few minutes later, when he had reached the river, that he suddenly heard them behind him. Hooves.

A brown steed came speeding toward him, and he had no doubt that the rider was indeed coming for him – the man raised one hand in greeting. Hephaistion raised a hand to his brow to shield his eyes from the sun.

Only on the last moment, as the other dropped to the ground, he recognized the rider as Ptolemy.

A sudden realisation made Hephaistion see that he was not quite sure he wanted to hear what the other had to say. It would only make things harder.

For doubt nagged at him. Perhaps I'm not meant to leave after all.

He should be relieved that he had finally freed himself, yet what he felt was reluctance. Reluctance to fight for a new future, reluctance to leave everything behind. Despite all. No matter how sure he knew there was nothing else for him now… How easily would Ptolemy be able to sway him, if that was his plan?

"Hephaistion," the other's deep voice addressed him. His grey eyes were clouded, his mouth grim.

Hephaistion didn't answer, unsure of what to say.

Ptolemy sighed, then reached forward and clasped an arm around his shoulders. The dark-haired nearly recoiled, but the other's grip was firm. "Good luck. I hope your future brings you more than Alexander would ever give you."

He was released. Confused, Hephaistion didn't utter a word until the other had already mounted his horse with a much practised leap.

"I tried, but there was no hope!" he pleaded, shocked by the emotion in his own voice.

The grey eyes looked down at him sombrely. "I understand. Good luck, my friend."

Ptolemy raised his hand in a gesture of goodbye, and Hephaistion did the same, battling his emotions. Goodbye.

He would follow the path next to the river, upwards. The whole army had spread along its left bank, but the edge of the camp had to be near. His eyes were still focused in a blind stare on where Ptolemy had head off to, but the trees, growing gratefully near the large stream, already shielded the leaving general from view.

Hephaistion turned back to where the path was heading, and took the next step.