Title: Blind Silence
Author: Qaddafi the Ripper
Summary: Despair during the Illyrian exile.
Notes: Written for florachan, who specifically requested for Alexander and Hephaistion to be alone in Illyria.

Alexander was being too quiet. For someone who liked to talk, to Hephaistion most of all, he said far too little, near silent since they'd left Epiros. Together they traversed a landscape conquered by winter, dead to life, dead to color, and dead to sound. The world seemed to be an endless expanse of white drapped in haphazard piles. Any animals that might have lived here had left for the winter or were in hibernation, and silence hung over the world palpably.

It was perhaps the most nerve-wracking experience of Hephaistion's life. He'd thought Charoneia, his first great battle, was a terrifying, if exhillarating, experiance. And it had been, but it had lasted mere hours that seemed a vague, blood soaked memory now. This silent, white expanse was like something from a nightmare. Would if never end? Could they truly find people in this country, and would they be poeple who would welcome two poor refugees around their fire? He thought sometimes, when the sun shone down and blinded him with light and he could hear nothing but the sound of his horse laborously tredding through snowdrifts, that perhaps he had already died and the gods had consigned him to some mad dream in Hades. A mad dream of endless exile for failing somehow, where Alexander seemed so close, but was in truth far away, out of Hephaistion's reach.

The world was a lonely place, when a man has nothing but himself, his horse, and a friend who'd chosen to go mute. Hephaistion wished Alexander had let some of their other friends accompany him on this trek as well. Most of the others would have been willing, without Alexander even having to ask. But Alexander had been impatient to depart, and within hours of leaving Philip's wedding he'd left with only Olympias and Hephaistion for company. The early part of their journey wasn't something Hephaistion wanted to remember; Olympias had never liked him much. At best, she'd snubbed him, and at worst she insulted him, although never in Alexander's hearing. Had their situation been any less precocious, Hephaistion might have found it amusing that Olympias couldn't put aside her jealousy that Alexander wouldn't go anywhere without Hephaistion. And while he never felt any fondness for the queen either, he could at least be grateful that she was considerate enough not to act spiteful towards him in front of Alexander. The spite she constantly dropped on Philip during the trip was more than sufficient.

That early part of the journey to Epiros seemed easy compared with where he was now. Anything was better than this graveyard of noise, eternally white, confusing his senses and driving him mad. He spoke, if only to know that he could still speak, praying that Alexander wasn't some figment of imagination and would answer him. "It's getting late. We should start looking for a place to spend the night."

Alexander's brow drew down in a scowl and his lips tightened. His eyes roamed the barren countryside for a cave, a group of trees, anything, but he didn't speak. Hephaistion resisted the urge to cry out against his silence, to beg for a word, any word, but he didn't. He too turned to look for a warm place to spend the night, as his body told him he was indeed still alive but if he didn't find a warm place, he wouldn't be for long.

As the sky began to turn to the brilliant colors of dusk, they finally found a small cave that was barely big enough to hold both them and their horses. Hephaistion started a fire while Alexander saw to their horses. It took forever to get the fire started since all the wood he could find was damp from snow. There would be no dinner tonight; they'd caught a rabbit yesterday but had finished eating it this morning. There'd been no sign of anything to hunt all day and he could only hope they found something tomorrow.

He shivered and began to strip off his damp clothes. Alexander came back from where the horses stood at the mouth of the cave. He handed Hephaistion one of the blankets they wrapped carefully every morning. The blanket wasn't nearly warm enough to keep the cold out, but at least it was dry. Hephaistion wrapped it around his chilled body and crouched next to the fire. When Alexander stripped off his own damp garmets to place them near the fire, Hephaistion didn't bother watching. The first night after leaving Epiros, he'd offered to share his body heat with Alexander, but his friend would have none of it.

Perhaps, since leaving Macedon, speech wasn't the only thing Alexander had lost interest in.

He had tried talking about it to Alexander many times, but he always met with silence. The rational part of his mind told him that Alexander would talk about it when he was ready to, and not before. His rational side also said Alexander's snubbing was merely because Alexander was still smarting over his fight with Philip, not because of any lack on Hephaistion's part. But how long would it take Alexander to be ready to talk to him? It had already been over a month. Resigned by now to another night of cold and quiet, he lay down as close to the fire as he dared and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep. He heard Alexander lie down not too far from him. Sleep should have come easily, but as the days bewitched him into a sort of madness, the nights drew him into a dark despair. Was it because of his own situation and his own longing to be back home with nothing changed, or did he feel merely an echo of Alexander's hurt?

A cold hand slipping beneath his blanket to touch his arm brought his eyes open and face turned to Alexander. The look his friend turned to him held the unvoiced pain and anger it had held since that night at the king's wedding, but now it held desparation and fear too. "What is it?" Hephasition asked softly, afraid to speak loudly lest he break the spell.

"Will you leave?" Alexander asked just as softly, his voice somewhat hoarse from disuse.

Hephaistion reached up and placed his equally cold hand over Alexander's. "Why would I?" he murmured.

"You don't want to be here," Alexander replied, not looking at him. "I can tell." Hephaistion tighted his hold on Alexander's hand. "You don't have to stay," Alexander continued in a rush. "If you left and went back now, I'm sure Father wouldn't do anything to you."

Hephaistion stood up and Alexander looked up at him, fear that Hephaistion would leave plain in his face. But Hephaistion pulled the blanket back from Alexander and slid under it, pulling his own over the top to cover them both. He wrapped his arms around Alexander, starting to feel the first hint of warmth in what seemed like forever. "I'm not leaving," he said. "You need me here, even if you say you don't. And I want to be here."

Alexander's arms slipped around Hephaistion in turn. "Thank you," he whispered and fell silent again. Hephaistion lay his head down on the golden pillow of Alexander's hair and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep. The situation hadn't really changed: they were still alone, cold, and hungry in a bitter land that would blind them again come morning. But he could hope the silence wouldn't haunt him anymore. He had Alexander in his arms again, and that meant the world couldn't be completely wrong.

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