Title: Far Away From Here

Chapter: Three

Fandom: Alexander (historical)

Rating: PG-13 this chapter. Will rise by final.

Summary: That famous quarrel with Craterus, and Hephaestion's summary decision to return to Macedon.

A/N: OC alert. Please tell me your thoughts.

Dedicated to: Everyone who has so very kindly added me to their favourites list- for 'Far Away From Here.' It gives me the warm fuzzies, so thank you too: Fanfic Lover 4evr，Lorien Lupin，Queendel，Shadowed Eternity，Winterlove4，chibisanzo，magikphoenix，

Thanks for reviews to: Mariana, candise, angstman, Yolass, Coral Dawn, Arlad, Lize, Queendel, Moon71, Wolf-Bitc- sunny-seid-up, chibisanzo, Trust-No-One, khepri2. Very pleased at the response- thanks awfully!

Hephaestion gazed at Alexander, his mouth a thin hard line. "Then," he said clearly. "You will indeed have to put me in chains. I am no chattel nor woman to be so disposed of, and I will be damned to Tartarus before I take that from you. I've given you everything. My bloody self respect, my love, my entire life to your service. I entrusted my honour to you, and you trod it under foot as you would something vile. For Athena's sake," as always in his anger, Hephaestion's accent was getting stronger, "I've just told you why I did what I did. He drew his sword first, what in the pantheon was I supposed to do? Decline? Step backwards, and say 'so sorry I can't fight you like a man, the king might be angry.' I'm not a dog Alexander, I'm not a cur that will come licking to its masters hand after a whipping." He was breathing with difficulty now, his breath short as it sometimes was after protracted exercise or arguments. "You gave me an ultimatum. Stay by your side, and live by your rules. Well I'll be damned if I do that."

Alexander was furious himself, a rage that had made lesser men tremble before his very gaze. "If that is the way you want it to be, then that is the way it will be damn you. Leave, and I'll drag you back myself." A small detached part of his mind was utterly horrified by what he was saying, but his rage overwhelmed any of the reasonableness that he usually possessed. "I don't care if you hate me for it. I refuse to treat you differently from any other man in the army. From this time forth if you leave, you are a deserter, and will be given the usual punishment. Understood?"

Hephaestion's face was white, but his jaw was set. "Just try it Alexander," he hissed. "I'll stay all right. So much as speak to me though, and I'll carve your face off inch by inch. Touch me and Prometheus would be begging for mercy from what I'll do to you."

"Certainly," snarled Alexander. "Those terms are gladly accepted." Without a backward glance, he strode from the tent. If he had looked backwards he'd have seen Hephaestion collapse on the ground, clawing for breath, choking as his lungs tried to draw in air. Nothing could emerge from his mouth, except a pathetic strangled squeak, and a sudden terror flooded through him. He was going to die like this, he was going to choke to death on the ground. The thought so convulsed him, that his efforts to draw in breath were twice as hard, and half as successful. Someone came into the room. It was one of the camp followers, a slender woman named Leora, who after her husband- who had been one of Hephaestion's soldiers died, Hephaestion had taken under his protection, her swelling waistline the only thing her husband had left to her. He had given her a present of money, and she had arrived to thank him. Her dark eyes took in the situation swiftly, and immediately she called for Timonus who was only a little way off, telling him to get a bowl of steaming hot water instantly.

While she waited for the water, she knelt beside Hephaestion, trying in vain to get his attention. She gathered him to her, he was still a little younger than her, and rocked him as she would a babe, crooning nonsense words, attempting to still his breathing until it matched her regular pace. Urgently she told him, "take shallow breaths not deep. You can breathe, but panicking makes it worse." Her words finally seemed to penetrate his terror, and he tried what she had suggested, gradually calming down. Timonus appeared with the water, his eyes widening in fear, as he saw his lord being cradled on the ground. Leora gestured sharply. "You're his page aren't you?" she said, and without waiting for answer, ordered him to find some oils. When hastily he brought her some bathing oils, she looked professionally through them, putting a couple of droplets of an astringent one into the water. "Get the doctor," she commanded, and so shocked was Timonus that he didn't dispute the order from a woman, but scurried off. Leora held Hephaestion with gentle hands, moving the basin so he breathed in the fumes. Gradually he relaxed, and his breathing steadied.

"What happened?" he asked, bemused by the sudden turn of events, and sitting up suddenly. He was lying in Leora's lap, after an experience that felt like dying. He steadied himself with one hand, praying that Alexander hadn't seen his ignominious fall.

"You had difficulty breathing," was the soothing reply. "The doctor is coming soon." She blushed, as she said softly. "I'm very sorry, if I did wrong sir."

Hephaestion said wryly. "If you did do wrong, then I am very glad of it. How did you know what to do?"

"I had a brother who suffered from it for many years as a child. Even when he grew older, he still needed help when an attack came, though there is little more that can be done in such a circumstance." She stood, skirts rustling, lending her frail arm to help Hephaestion rise to sit on the bed.

"You are not trained in medicine then?" Hephaestion enquired, as with swift sure hands she propped up pillows behind him, with casual efficiency. She was not a woman on whom pregnancy sat well. Where some woman bloomed, indeed practically glowed with happiness and health, she was thin apart from the thickened waistline, and worn looking, lines prematurely etched into her face, her dark brown hair greasy, and two brittle nails had broken from the effort of lifting Hephaestion. In health she would have been pretty, in pregnancy she was old before her time, and a frown from many cares had settled on her forehead. Even so, she looked maternal in a way that Hephaestion's mother, much as he had loved her, never had. This woman looked sensible, the sort of person who could clean up vomit, if she really had to.

She shook her head in slight amusement. "My lord I am a woman. What knowledge I have of the healing arts came merely from watching my father a physician. I cannot read nor write," she confessed quietly. "But I manage well enough. When I return to Macedon, I will return to my family." She winced when she said this, and despite himself Hephaestion felt sympathy. To return a widow, with a child and no source of income would not be an easy thing to do.

The doctor bustled into the room at that moment, a man in his late thirties, and an impatient manner that could remarkably soften into gentleness. After a few curt questions he nodded at Leora. "Well done," he spat out the words as though they were distasteful. She nodded, slightly alarmed by him. She made her salutations to Hephaestion, and left swiftly. As the doctor told him to avoid stressful situations, and to burn a candle which he would provide at nights if he felt as though an attack might happen, he thought through the germ of an idea.

"Do you need an assistant?" he asked.

A snort was his first reply. "I need as many assistants as I can get." With his customary rudeness, he followed that up, "those boys serving as pages, would be much more useful learning medicine, than prancing around fetching wine. That Timonus of yours would probably be useful." He trailed off, eyes narrowing.

Hephaestion laughed at the idea. "Good luck with that. I think Timonus would keel over at the sight of a man's innards. A strong stomach is not one of his attributes. No I was thinking of that woman Leora..." he got no further.

"Are you actually suggesting I let a woman act as my assistant? She would be nothing but a hindrance, with a brain too small to be useful, and a belly too big to work around. A woman tending men, why she'd faint, or complain of the smells. I hope you were joking."

Hephaestion shrugged, a small movement of his shoulders. "Well as far as I can see it kills two birds with one stone. She's sensible, old enough to be mature and discreet, and with a child she'd be immune from gossip, especially if I put her into your care." He nodded. "You can choose whether you set her work, or if she merely stays in the room." Looking at the doctor, who was just about ready to explode, he added politely. "I will of course compensate you in this matter."

At this the doctor's wrath overflowed. "The very idea," he thundered. "I won't accept money for looking after a woman. Think of the whispers it would cause. She may stay with me, if you want, but under no circumstances is she acting as my assistant. Women don't have the sense of a goose, and I make almost no exceptions to that rule. They are all troublemakers and I make no exception to that rule." In high dudgeon, he removed himself forthwith from the tent, leaving Hephaestion laughing quietly. For all his bluster the doctor was kindly, and Hephaestion had an idea that perhaps Leora would be soon elevated into being cared for by a husband, as he believed was really necessary for a woman. As an afterthought, he reminded himself to tell Leora of the new arrangements.

Lying back, he breathed in deeply. The subsequent events had driven his meeting with Alexander right out of head, and now he was calm and unpreoccupied they returned. Along with his rage. Remembering what the doctor had said, he tried to ignore the boiling emotion and steady his breaths. So. He hadn't expected the affair to have reached that conclusion quite as stiffly, and he groaned as he turned his aching head. In the God's names why couldn't he have kept his temper for once, and not tossed out such a devastating ultimatum of his own, one that as soon as he had uttered it, he wished he hadn't. With anger now dwindling, and his sight returning clearer, he profoundly wished he could change time. His eyes felt hot and heavy, and he bent his head into his hand, wishing he could let the tears flow. Maybe his head wouldn't ache so much then. But his eyes stayed resolutely dry, and the only answer came to him. He was going to just have to make the best of it.

When a little time had passed, he levered himself upright, and slowly looked at his right hand. Alexander had given him a ring, years ago when they had first confessed love, a simple gold ring that weighed heavily in the hand, one given to Alexander by his mother, and Hephaestion had never taken it off since, though he had many times castigated himself for such weakness in failing to remove it, as though he were a sentimental girl in need of tokens to prove love. He hesitated, then started to worm the ring off his finger. When it was almost off, he stopped and looked at it, with a tumult of feelings inside him. Then with a small gesture that he despised, almost as much as the sentiment behind it, he thrust it back onto his hand. There had been love. On his side there was still love. With Alexander, only Alexander knew.

Timonus entered the tent, looking slightly confused. "My lord Craterus asks permission to speak to you my lord," he said. Hephaestion nodded, and the older man made his way into the tent. He looked ill at ease, even amongst the Spartan surroundings, as though he would rather be outside with more space to stretch his admittedly big body. Next to him Hephaestion was slender as a whippet, Craterus looking the ideal of the soldier, though he had premature grey in his hair, and his left hand had been badly set after a wound, leaving one finger permanently bent. They sat awkwardly, neither knowing what on earth to say first. Hephaestion was puzzled. He associated his disgrace with this man, and his feelings towards him were not polite or even tolerant at the moment, though usually they worked fairly well together.

Craterus started with his customary bluntness, the trait that made him so loved by his troops, who equated lack of subtlety with lack of guile, and were thoroughly wrong. Craterus was no simple fool. "I want to apologise." Hephaestion felt his temper rise at those words. If the fool had kept his mouth shut to begin with, none of this would have happened, but with all his Greek politeness, he nodded, and looked as though he was listening equably. Craterus continued. "If you wish me to Hephaestion, I will apologise publicly in front of the army. I feel it is the least I can offer after such an incident." Words seemed to fail him, and shrugging awkwardly he thrust out a big hand, offering it to Hephaestion, as though in peace. With little hesitation, Hephaestion shook it briefly and firmly.

"I accept your apology," he said. "It was probably my fault as well, I don't really respond well in fights. Apologizing in front of the army won't do anything except lower your stock with them. They'll think it was forced from you by Alexander. I appreciate the offer all the same, but it would appear there is no need for us both to have to eat humble pie."

Craterus smiled, a brief genuine smile. "I have a bit of a temper as you know," he said deprecatingly, ducking his head.

"In that we are well matched," Hephaestion said drily.

"I noticed," was the response. "I do things I regret sometimes in anger, and that was one of them. It was a foolish matter, not worth the time and energy, we spent on it. But that was not just what I came to talk to you about. I heard a rumour that you were planning to return to Macedon, and I wanted to ask you not to."

Hephaestion could not prevent one eyebrow from shooting up. "That rumour went round fast," he commented carefully. "I had indeed planned on returning to Macedon, but was convinced to remain." He was amused that it was Craterus who had come to ask him to stay. Before the argument, they had got on about as well as could be expected from two ambitious men, who though they shared similar goals, had totally different methods of accomplishing them. For all that Craterus had been one of the more trustworthy people that Hephaestion had known. He had the ability to speak his mind, which thrashed out problems wonderfully, even if on the rare occasion it turned a situation to blows. It would appear that Craterus felt the same way about Hephaestion's role in the command structure, if this apology was anything to judge by. He turned round, and poured two glasses of unmixed wine, handing one to Craterus. "To Alexander," he said ironically, and the other man unaware of the sarcasm drank deeply to the toast.

Third chapter finished! Now comes the most difficult and delicate portion of this chapter. Is Leora a Mary Sue? I gave myself a little challenge to create an OC female character, who was not a Mary Sue, and with hope I succeeded. Anyhow hit me with the truth!

I also took a rather different view, in that Craterus and Hephaestion's argument was based on a disagreement to do with the army, rather than a personal insult contest, though a few personal insults were thrown.

Reviews welcome!

A.W.