Title: "Cassander's Campaign"

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 7, "Trying to Return"

A/N: Summer 329 BC. Cassander has been away for some time now and is on his way back to Hephaestion. This chapter chronicles what both went through during the time apart. As for Alexander, we either hate him or love him. The happy halfway line really is being pushed. Let me know what you think though! Thank you for reading and understanding the pause in updates.

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Hephaestion sat, staring at his folded hands on his lap. He kept his eyes cast down, unwilling to look at Alexander even as he spoke. There was nothing left for him here, especially with Cassander gone. After a moment he glanced in the king's general direction as he spoke. Alexander had been waiting for him to look at him for some time. Now that he had that look, he did not want it. Hephaestion only glared at him and went back to staring at his hands. The meeting was dismissed, but not after Alexander called for Hephaestion to stay. Ptolemy cast an understanding glance at Hephaestion. It meant that all he had to do was scream and then Ptolemy would come. Hephaestion waved him away with a hand though, assuring him that he would not need him.

Alexander sat for a moment, drinking from his goblet. He stared at Hephaestion all the while, until his eyes began to cloud with tears. Finally he blinked and let a tear fall. Hephaestion looked up, as if he had heard it, and looked at him. Alexander shook his head, putting the glass down, and then let tears fall –all the while trying to wipe them away. It took all of his strength to sit without reaching out and touching him as Hephaestion came a knelt beside him. Hephaestion reached up and kindly wiped the tears from his eyes, even though he still held contempt for him, and even though he did not love him as he did. Yet still he felt as if perhaps these tears were partially his fault. Hephaestion sat before him, wiping the tears from his eyes, and Alexander bent forward and wrapped his arms around him.

"I'm so sorry," Alexander told him as he held him, crying. Hephaestion would have wrapped his arms around him in the old days. He would have dried his eyes, soothed his soul, and then made sweet love to him. Yet things were different now. Instead Hephaestion pulled away from him, standing, and then made his way back to the other side of the makeshift tent. Alexander called out to him, and he stopped. Hephaestion turned even though it pained him, making a knot in his stomach.

"What," Hephaestion asked. He did not know how to reply to him any other way. Alexander looked up at him, pained. Hephaestion did not try to be calmer. Alexander had wronged him, but their relationship aside, he'd wronged Cassander. Cassander was out there somewhere, on his way back to wherever they were now in the Hindu Kush. Hephaestion didn't even try to recall the names anymore. There was but one name constantly on his lips. And it was no longer Alexander's, which was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

"Phae," Alexander pleaded with him, no longer caring that Hephaestion had told him never to call him such again. Hephaestion glared but Alexander continued. "I sent him because I knew that I was loosing you!"

"Well," he said coldly. "You lost me either way."

"Don't say that."

"Alexander," Hephaestion said as he slid down onto a seat. He sighed, looking away. He then turned his gaze back to Alexander. "Ours was a fated tale from the beginning. You knew it, I knew it, so why do you fight for it now?"

"Because I haven't stopped loving you! I never did Hephaestion and I know that you may have some feelings for Cassander. But he is not I and I know that it is I that you love. It has always been us Hephaestion, for we are one. You can stay with Cassander for the rest of your life but he'll never give you what we had."

Hephaestion laughed. "What we had? What are you speaking of? Us before you tried to rape me or after?"

"I didn't mean that!"

"Of course not. Convenient how every time you do something there is either poison or wine involved. Alexander, listen to me, I no longer blame you. Yet I can never again love you as I did. I've moved on. Why can't you accept what I have, for you are a greater part of the problem."

"Cassander," Alexander argued, "is the one that seduced you!"

"For how long are you going to blame him," Hephaestion asked as he stood and left Alexander. He did not see the tears that continued to stream from Alexander's eyes. He set his forehead on the table and cried for some time. He did not know what to say to Hephaestion. This had just seemed to upset him more. What could he tell him to make him see that he wanted him back, more than he wanted the entire world? Nothing would help though, would it? Instead he stood and retreated back to his tent where Bagoas waited for him. The Persian stood, hands clasped behind his back, eyes cast down at the ground. He waited for his instructions.

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Cassander felt the cut on his hand as he gripped the reins. He glanced down, opening his palm so that he could see it. He likely needed stitches, for it still bled, the open wound. Cassander did not wish to think about it though. He just wanted to get to the camp, which he was assured by scouts was not far from here. He closed his hand over the reins once more and kicked his horse into a faster walk. The animal was not as anxious as he was though. He would have rather continued at this leisurely pace for some time but Cassander would have none of it. As he rode, he reflected on the things that had happened, and the important things in life.

There had been too much death on this campaign. He himself had killed many. There was even still a dried streak of blood on his cheek, and his hair was matted with tangles and blood. He did not want to take the time to stop and bathe though. He just wanted to get back to Hephaestion. Hephaestion was the only thing he'd fought for, killing young boys no older than twelve. Yet if he did not kill them they would surely kill him. Then he'd never see those cerulean eyes he yearned for again. That made every death worth it in his mind.

Hephaestion. Just thinking his name gave him a sense of security. He desired to be with him once more. He wanted to hold him and whisper in his ear that he loved him. He had only memories here with him now, and a ring on his left hand, a small silver band that Hephaestion had given to him. He stared down at it now, wondering if blood had spilt onto it. He lifted his hand and looked at the back of his palm, at the silver band that shone in the sunlight. Luckily it seemed fine though. He gripped the reins once more and wondered why it was taking so long. He should have been there by now. Just as he was beginning to think he would never reach Hephaestion, he saw the smoke of the camp. Never before had the canvas tents looked so beautiful.

He stopped and dismounted, so tired he almost couldn't stand. He saw men coming, but not the one that he wanted to see. After some moments he saw Hephaestion. He tried to hold back from running to him and throwing his arms around him. Instead he gave him a smile and went to his tent while one was prepared for him. Hephaestion did not come to him for some time. He tried to keep it less than obvious. When he came though, Cassander was lying on the bed, his body aching from the ride. Hephaestion smiled and shut the flap of the tent. He held a basin of warm water and cloths in his hands.

"You could have bathed," he told Cassander playfully. "I'm starting to think you're loosing your charm."

"Did you miss me," Cassander asked as Hephaestion motioned for him to take a seat. Cassander did, sitting down, and glancing over his shoulder as Hephaestion began to strip him of his upper clothing. He then took a wet cloth and began to wipe the blood and dirt away from Cassander's shoulder. Even the simple contact forced Cassander's head back and his mouth open slightly as he let out a breath of air he'd been saving since he left. Hephaestion leaned down, placing a hand on his cheek, and met his lips. He kissed him softly and then pulled away and went back to his work.

"A very silly question," Hephaestion confirmed as he began to wet Cassander's hair. He washed the blood away and then took a comb from the dresser. Slowly he worked on the knots and tangles in his hair. Cassander on the other hand closed his eyes and drifted away. He was soon asleep, even though Hephaestion continued to tug at his hair. Hephaestion smiled down at him, knowing that it had taken him some time to get back to him. And he'd likely not rested for hours. It was clear to see that he hadn't done much bathing before his return. Hephaestion did not mind though. He liked running his fingers through his hair, touching him lightly, even if the other did not feel it the touches brought shiver to his own spine. Just as he was finishing bathing and combing through Cassander's hair, Cassander stirred. He tilted his head back, looking at Hephaestion, and smiled slightly.

"I missed you," he said.

"I missed you as well," Hephaestion said as he set the comb back down. He placed a hand on Cassander's cheek, lingering there for a moment, but then turned. There was no kiss of passion. There were no more words of longing nor of hope. Cassander watched for a moment as Hephaestion turned his back and folded his arms over his chest. Cassander's smile fell into a frown and he glanced down, turning his head so he no longer had to look at Hephaestion's back. He stared down, knowing that the demise had begun. It pained him yet he knew their love was as fated as the love of Alexander and Hephaestion, and of Achilles and Patroclaus, and Paris and Helen.

"You should have said it before I returned," Cassander whispered. Hephaestion turned and Cassander only heard him doing so. Cassander did not turn though. Hence he did not see the stab of pain on Hephaestion's face. Instead Cassander stood, taking a folded piece of parchment from a pocket at his side, and tossed it onto the bed. He left then, redressing as he left the tent, not even saying a goodbye. The worst thing of all, was Hephaestion did not run after him. Instead he stood, completely dumbfounded, and stared at the folded parchment on his bed.

Hephaestion took a step closer to the bed. He picked up the parchment and unfolded it. The words were blurred. Clearly the letter had been folded over more than once. The ink was wet with, tears, he supposed. Hephaestion sat, slumping down on the bed, and began to read the letter. He quickly folded it, knowing what it was, and set it next to him on the bed. What is said he did not read past the first line, where he knew what it was that Cassander wanted him to know. He already knew what he though, but this change in his own mood had nothing to do with Alexander. It had to do with him. Sometimes, Cassander could take the simplest things, and turn it into this. It was his right. Yet Hephaestion wanted him to know that he'd not lost him again to Alexander, like he thought. He was loosing him to something far greater than a man. Hephaestion was being tugged at by something else, not love, but an illness only he knew he was slowly claiming him.