The Persian Campaign Chapter 11: Back in Babylon, an alexander fanfic

Title: "The Persian Campaign"

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 11, "Back in Babylon"

A/N: Once again, thanks for the reviews. Vania, I corrected the error in chapter 9, and thank you so much for mentioning it! So if you are on my alert list, and got an alert for Ch9, sorry –I had to delete it to edit it because that's the only way I know how to do it as of yet! Was going to wait to see what people thought of chapter ten, but the Muse won't leave me alone, so here goes another chapter. Enjoy!

He held his hand tightly, and hadn't let go in the last three days. Many things were changing around the palace. The investigation of the poisonings of both Alexander and Hephaestion were underway. However they were now led by Cassander, who was even in his weakened state not afraid to use his fists to interrogate those that offended him. They were still getting little in the way of results, but Alexander had urged everyone to be careful. He on the other hand had not left Hephaestion's side in three days, not to eat, command others, or even relieve himself. He couldn't leave his side. Cassander had made his swear he would not leave, for Hephaestion could not awaken alone.

It was strange. Alexander wondered when Cassander had come to care so much for Hephaestion. He never had as a child, and even as an adult had still constantly bickered with him. They had both been at each other's throats the last time that Alexander could remember. Then, next thing he knew, they were in love with one another. It was love, he knew. It was not like the love that he shared with Hephaestion, where their souls were bound, and they could not live without the other. It was something different, a more distant love, but one that had comforted the both of them when Alexander had begun to loose his mind with fever. Still, he could not recall seeing it before, and there it had been.

Alexander glanced up as Bagoas silently entered the room. He looked at Alexander, asking him with his eyes if there was anything that his king needed. Alexander shook his head and just like that the boy was gone. Alexander then went back to staring at the sleeping vision of Hephaestion. He wondered why he'd not yet woken, when Alexander had not been able to sleep. A trusted Macedonian doctor had told him that it was a different poison, mixed differently with Hephaestion's blood, but it had not been in his wine. It hadn't been in anything he'd ingested or it would have shown on his throat. Something else had been used to poison him.

Cassander had immediately suggested that it was the blade that had cut his arm, which was at the time being reopened, and then sterilized. The doctor had agreed with Cassander's observation and Cassander had immediately fled the room. Alexander knew that he was dangerous. He knew that Cassander would likely kill the person that had done it. The worst thing about it was that Alexander didn't care. The bastard that had done this to Hephaestion deserved to die. That was exactly what he got too.

Bagoas had entered the room yesterday morning, just before the sun was in the middle of the sky, and had told Alexander that Cleitus demanded to speak with him. Alexander wanted to tell Cleitus to leave. Yet he would not be dismissed so easily and he barged into the room. He had taken Alexander to the balcony, since he knew that Alexander would refuse to leave Hephaestion's side, and had pointed to the center of a market. Alexander saw forthwith what had upset Cleitus so. Cassander had found the two trees in the center of the market and had townsmen help him tie the Persian that had cut Hephaestion to both trees. His right arm and let to one tree, left leg and arm to the other, and both trees had been tied close together. Cleitus told Alexander that Cassander had lost his mind and was not listening to anyone.

Alexander watched as Cassander had taken the same dagger that had been poisoned, and used to cut Hephaestion, and torturously cut the Persian's tongue from his mouth. The man screamed, then made a serious of other sounds as Cassander raised the blade to the rope that had tied the trees together. If cut, the trees would pull apart, tearing the man in half with them. Cleitus still told Alexander that this could not be done. He told Alexander it could cause revolts. It would loose him face with the Persians. He also said again that Cassander was being disobedient, and was acting like he'd lost his mind, and Cleitus wondered if he too had been poisoned.

He hadn't been though. Alexander knew that well enough. He watched with his arms crossed, as Hephaestion placed what he could only guess was a candle under the rope. Cassander then calmly sat down in front of the man and watched as the flame began to burn the rope. The man screamed, pleaded for his life, but Cassander only stared mutely at him. Alexander was mute as well. When the rope burned through the trees flew away from one another and the man's arms and legs were ripped from his body. Just like that he was executed.

Cleitus was furious. Alexander on the other hand did not mind the way that Cassander had handled the situation. Cassander continued to sit, staring at his masterpiece, and Alexander went back to Hephaestion's side. The man deserved it. He took Hephaestion's hand and glared up at Cleitus when he continued to speak. Cleitus got the idea and left the room in a slight huff. He'd go himself and try to speak some kind of sense into Cassander before he slaughtered every other Persian that had been there the day Hephaestion was injured. At this point he was sure that Cassander was already planning that.

Alexander stared at Hephaestion now. He'd not moved in the slightest from the first time he'd been set down on the bed. Alexander rubbed his thumb over the back of Hephaestion's palm and continued to stare at him. He looked so peaceful when he slept. His lips pouted slightly, making him look all the more innocent. Alexander had never thought of him as a man, and had never thought of him as a boy. He'd thought of him, when he saw him slept, as a dream. At times he'd reach out and touch him, as he did now to his cheek, to see if he were real. Most of the time he'd wind up waking Hephaestion, who would smile before opening his eyes, and say sweet words to him. But this time he did not wake. He did not even appear to notice.

After tracing the lines of his face Alexander withdrew his hand and put it over the one already covering Hephaestion's hand. He sighed and bent his head, resting it upon his hand, and let his eyes well with tears. He then began to cry again as he had so many times in the last three days. If Hephaestion woke he knew that he would loose him, for there was nothing that would convince Hephaestion to forgive him, and this he knew. Yet while Hephaestion slept he was lost to him all the same. At least if he were awake, and well, Alexander would be able to stare at him from time to time when Hephaestion would be forced to stand in a room with him.

He cried desperately, holding Hephaestion's hand, which even now gave him strength. There was one thing that held him together in this world and he was letting it slip away from him. Once he'd realized that he wanted it back it was too late. Hephaestion would never again be his. But now he was still slipping away, and it wasn't into the arms of another, but into a world of blackness that no one could bring him back from. Alexander looked up, tears streaming down his face, hoping that perhaps he would look up and be caught off guard by those cerulean depths that he loved so much.

"Alexander," Cassander said quietly as he entered the room. Alexander looked up, and softened his look. Cassander was the only other that was welcome in this room. Cassander was the one that had protected Hephaestion, from him, from all others, and even from the Persian rain and an infection, which was also laced with a poisoning. Cassander came into the room further and then took a seat on the opposite side of the bed. He sat, stared at Hephaestion, but did not reach out to take his hand. Alexander would not have minded, but knew that out of respect for him, Cassander didn't. Alexander also noticed the dried smeared blood on his throat and on his chifton. Cassander sat back, putting a hand on the side of his face, and propped himself up with an elbow.

Cassander had been informed of Alexander's poisoning. Not only had Alexander apologized to him, but also he'd given a dagger to him, which he'd hoped Cassander would use against him. Cassander took it, then shook his head before turning and walking away. Others had told Cassander of how terrible Alexander felt about what he had done. Cassander had spoken of his beating to no other though. He'd also not said whether or not he'd forgiven Alexander. Deep down, Alexander knew that he had, but didn't want it to be so. Cassander deserved the right to hate him for as long as he lived. He should have the right to kill him. Yet he didn't use that right.

Alexander did not know what to say to Cassander in this silence. He felt like he should say something but could not figure out what to say. Everything felt too simple. He could not apologize again without making Cassander feel obligated to accept, or without making himself look needy, pleading for an apology he did not deserve. Nor could he simply speak of the weather, or even of Hephaestion. After more silence Cassander glanced over at Alexander and noticed his unease. Alexander noticed that Cassander had no problem sitting in complete silence, but was glad when he found out that he knew, and all the more glad when Cassander spoke even though his words would have perhaps taken others aback.

"I killed Tyeras," Cassander said, referring to another guard that was on the Persian force. He was one of the men that had been on the balcony days ago. Tyeras was the man that had hit Hephaestion on the back of the head, causing him to loose consciousness. Alexander didn't say anything immediately but Cassander continued in the same nonchalant tone. "It took him a long time to bleed out. I don't think I cut through the vein."

Alexander glanced up. He stared at Cassander for a moment. This was more of the Cassander that he remembered, the hardened side, not the tender side he'd seen around Hephaestion. Cassander didn't meet hi gaze though. He continued to stare at the sleeping Hephaestion. He'd come and gone in the last three days. But he was trying to give Alexander his time alone with him. He understood that their two souls were calling out for one another. He knew all too well that the love he shared with Hephaestion was not the love that Hephaestion and Alexander shared. It was love, but not the same, and not as strong. Alexander's love would be what brought Hephaestion back from his sleep, not his, and that didn't bother him. Nothing bothered him as long as Hephaestion woke.

"Does Cleitus know," Alexander asked after a moment. Cassander merely nodded. He didn't take his eyes from Hephaestion. Alexander knew that the hatred Cassander now had for him was deep. So deep, Cassander couldn't even look at him. It was deserved though, but he wished that Cassander would look at him, but knew that he wouldn't for years perhaps –if ever.

"I think I'm going to kill Uryin next," Cassander casually said as he rubbed his temple with the hand that he leaned against. Alexander stared at him, and he knew that he did. He didn't have to explain, but had nothing else to say. "He was there, and I don't like his beard."

"You're going to kill him because you don't like his beard," Alexander asked, slightly appalled at the suggestion of it. He knew that Uryin had kicked Cassander, giving the final blow that had sunk him into unconsciousness, but didn't think he needed to die. A lashing was one thing, but death was far more permanent.

"Perhaps," Cassander answered. There was a hint of insanity in his voice. Alexander had the same feelings he did. They both wanted to protect Hephaestion and both wanted to make sure that there would be no others to try their tricks with poisons. But Alexander didn't want to start killing everyone in sight that was a Persian. Cassander had admitted to Ptolemy that he found all of them suspicious. Alexander didn't like the fact that Cassander was not willing to adjust to change, but knew that he was getting more answers than any other had, so he couldn't deny him the power he had now. One of those powers included the right to kill those that needed to be killed as he saw fit.

"Have you slept," Alexander asked, not wanting to talk about death at the moment. He looked at Hephaestion. Still no movement. He continued to rub his thumb at the back of his palm, waiting for him to awaken. Cassander stared at Hephaestion as well but seemed to be staring through him, lost in some thought, or perhaps in some plan he was working on. Likely a list of the Persians he would kill Alexander figured.

"Have you?"

They both had not slept then. Alexander had stayed up with Hephaestion. His eyes were red, blackened underneath now, but he couldn't sleep. He had to be there when Hephaestion awoke. Cassander had not slept for the same reason. He was either killing men on the behalf of Hephaestion, or sitting with him, avoiding Alexander the best he could while he did so. Suddenly Hephaestion began to cough, ending the silence, but then fell back against the pillows in sleep again. Alexander had moved closer, hoping this time he would awake, but Cassander had not moved. Hephaestion did not awaken.

"You should read to him," Cassander said softly as the silence filled the room again. Alexander looked over at him. Without looking back Cassander elaborated, the same soft and rather tender tone. He wasn't really speaking to Alexander. He was just speaking it seemed as he stared at Hephaestion, but Alexander still listened. "He likes the work of Aristotle, and Homer, and he loves the stars…"

Cassander didn't continue. It was as if when the thoughts faded from his mind so did his speech. He let his eyes begin to close but quickly opened them. He was growing tired and knew that if he didn't get up and move he'd try to fall to sleep. So he stood and put a hand on Hephaestion's forehead. He left it there for a moment before turning and leaving the room. He said nothing to Alexander as he left, and the king said nothing to him. Alone again Alexander stared at Hephaestion.

"Oh he's fine," Olympias told her crying son as she put her hand on Hephaestion's forehead. The boy slept soundly but his fever was still there. It was already lessening though. Olympias could only smile when she glanced over at Alexander who was crying as a young child would if they thought their best friend and soul companion was dying.

"Are you sure," asked the twelve year old Alexander. He came closer, looked at Hephaestion, and then turned again. It was foolish to be crying, but he worried for him. The doctors wouldn't even come to see him because Philip had told them not to bother. He said the boy just had a cold and not to worry. Really, he didn't want to worry. He wanted to get drunk and go see if there were any new sheep in the field, as his mother put it.

"Yes," Olympias said as she placed Hephaestion's hand over his chest. She'd been checking the flowing of his blood, which was as she suspected fine. She ran a hand over her cheek as she stood. Hephaestion too was like a son to her, and as Alexander said, he was also Alexander. "It is nothing to worry about. He is already getting better. He just needs to drink plenty of cool water, have some warm broth, a little more sleep and things will be back to normal."

"What about him getting sick?"

"His stomach was trying to get rid of the sickness," she assured him. Alexander had almost had a heart attack when Hephaestion had vomited. He was already worried but the act had thrown him into a hypersensitive mode. As soon as Hephaestion rested he'd run to her rooms to come to get her. He made it sound as if Hephaestion had vomited his entrails out his mouth, and his eyes were hanging from the sockets, and his body was warmer than fire. Olympias had known it was nothing that bad though. Yet Alexander had been crying and pleading with her so of course she put down her needlework and came.

"He'll get well soon?"

"I assure you that he is fine," she stated once more. "Do you know what you can do to make him feel better while he sleeps?"

"Pray?"

"No, the gods already can tell by your tears that you care greatly for him," she said as she put a hand on his cheek. "He was a gift to you, from those gods that smile down at you. They won't take him from you unless you give them reason to. Do you understand that?"

"Yes. But what should I do."

Olympias smiled and removed her hand from the side of his face. She then motioned for him to sit at Hephaestion's side as she had just done. Alexander sat and looked at his sick friend. He didn't know that it was a simple flu that he too would get. They would both get it more than once. It was a childhood experience that all went through. But still, he worried for Hephaestion.

"Read to him," Olympias said. "You both enjoy the story of Achilles. Whisper that softly to him as he speaks. It will soothe his mind, and calm you as well. Before you know it he will awaken."

"What if I finish the story?"

"Start another. Make one of your own if you have to. Tell him what you plan to do when you rule Macedonia. But make sure you say it softly, like the wind, otherwise it will not help him."

"Okay," Alexander said as he wiped his tears away. His mother left the room and he stared down at Hephaestion. Slowly, he began to retell Hephaestion the story of Achilles. As he did, he thought about what his story would be like, and what Hephaestion's part in that tale would be.

Alexander continued to hold his hand. He let the tears that were still blurring his vision fall. Then, since he did not feel like telling him the story of Achilles again, began to weave a wonderful tale. He made sure to whisper it as the wind would, speaking softly, but pleading for Hephaestion to waken.