Title: "Recovery"

Author: Baliansword

Rating: T for teen

Type: One Shot

Pairings: Some Alexander and Hephaestion fluff

Warnings: None really

Summary: After becoming ill, due to a new injury, Hephaestion tends to the sick Alexander. In doing such, he realizes how much he loves him, and in such –worries for him. Very short.

A/N: Hope this reaches everyone. Let me know what you think if you have time. I've been writing more one shots as of late, but I assure you, I'll get another chapter story up when the Muse comes.

Dedication: To my Muse, who might just be a great historical figure, because he tells me so much when I sleep. (No, I am not losing my mind.)

H/N:Takes place in Persia, after a small battle/skirmish.

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Alexander lay still as Philip pulled the cloth away from his forehead and looked into his eyes once more. The physician made some muffled noise, which Alexander could not decipher, and then went on with his business. He continued to check over him and finally glanced up. He sighed, then wiped a wet rag over Alexander's forehead again. The bloodied rag was not to be used again, so the physician tossed it into a proper place. Again he glanced at the wound upon Alexander's temple. It could have been far worse; yet, it was going to cause him some pain for a few days. Even now, in dim light, the king's eyes were watering.

"I will leave this here for pain," the physician told him. He set a vile on the table next to the bed, full of a clear liquid. It was a special concoction that would taste terrible, yet would make him feel better. At least it could ease some pain. Alexander finally turned his head, seething with anger, and cursed as his vision blurred.

"Get out," the king ordered, and the physician obliged. He knew well enough what happened to those that defied Alexander. As he ushered himself out of the room, Hephaestion approached the open door. Hephaestion held the door open for the man and then entered, shutting the door behind him. Alexander had already made it clear that the only general he wanted to see was Hephaestion. Hephaestion crossed the room, concerned, and sat down next to Alexander on the bed. Gently Hephaestion reached out, placing a hand against Alexander's uninjured temple, and he then leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Then he just marveled at the wound upon his other temple for a moment. He could not have known that the injury had been so bad. As soon as Alexander had fallen, Hephaestion had covered him (along with a few other Companions), and others had rushed him away.

"By Ares," Hephaestion whispered. The skin had been split, then clearly bashed with sand as he'd fallen. It was not easy to look at, not because it was terrible, but because instead it was Alexander that received the wound. Hephaestion leaned in once more, kissing his forehead again, then looked down at him as Alexander's eyes closed. They opened, then his pupils focused and he looked at Hephaestion, and a smile came over his lips. "Oh Alexander, I am so sorry."

"No," Alexander uttered softly. "You did nothing wrong."

Hephaestion gently placed a finger near Alexander's battered temple. Alexander hissed slightly and Hephaestion immediately withdrew his hand. Again he kissed him. There was a sense of guilt that he could not get past. He felt terrible, for not being there, not protecting him as he should have. Hephaestion continued to look down at him, and he ran a hand through his hair. Alexander blinked hazily a few times before he slipped away into a deep sleep. Hephaestion did not move for a moment, fearing that he would wake him. After a moment he reached for the cloth against Alexander's forehead. Placing the cloth in the cool water by the bed, he wrung it out, then dabbed it against Alexander's temple. His poor, poor Alexander.

He worried so much for him. Today did not ease these feelings either, as Alexander had said it would. Instead, it cemented the idea that this was dangerous. Of course, he had known this, but now they seemed to be tempting fate. How many battles would it take, before the thread of Alexander's life was cut by some foreign sword? Hephaestion continued to stare down at him. Reaching out, he ran a hand over his cheek, which still was perfect from his morning shave. He was a pride of the gods, and likely did not even need it. He was so perfect. Even the gods must shudder away when they saw his beauty.

"Phae," he heard Alexander mutter in a dull whisper from his sleep after hours passed of nothing at all. Hephaestion did not mind the silence either. Just being near him, protecting him as he had always vowed to do, was enough. As Alexander whispered, Hephaestion immediately brought his eyes to Alexander. The king did nothing more but lie there, as if he were still sleeping. A smile crept over Hephaestion's lips when he realized it was just that. Alexander was merely speaking in his sleep.

"I…like it ….and you can…me there," Alexander continued. Hephaestion laughed quietly. There was no way to know what Alexander was dreaming. At least, he did not think there was a way to know. As his lover kept going, he was beginning to understand what he was speaking about. "Touch me Hephaestion… now… remember the … and it rained … and you were so perfect."

"I remember," Hephaestion whispered against Alexander's ear. Alexander did not seem to hear him. He continued to whisper things, and Hephaestion merely watched him. He reached out and clasped his hand over one of Alexander's. Yes, how could he forget anything they had ever done?

He did not want to loose him. In fact, he knew that he could not. Suddenly, the emotions of the day became too much, and before he could stop himself, he was crying softly. Alexander, he thought, I fear for you, more than you can know. I fear for you without me. There was nothing else he could think. He only wished that this recovery would be quicker.