Battle for the Hindu Kush Chapter 5: The Aftermath Ptolemy's View, an alexander fanfic

Title: "Battle for the Hindu Kush"

Author: Baliansword

Rating: T for Teen

Chapter: 5 of 9, "The Aftermath"

Pairings: Alexander / Hephaestion

Summary: Following the movie, what happens during and after the infamous battle for the Hindu Kush, with extra history hopefully thrown in. It shall present four different views, or angles, of this battle. It will end with Alexander's decision to return home.

Warnings: Mild language, sexual content, and violent battle scenes.

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone that has reviewed. I appreciate all of your comments, etc. I know I am terrible about replying to them, but please know, you are all great influences on my work.

Dedication: HavenRain, who is a fan.

H/N: This takes place during the battle for the Hindu Kush. If you are following the movie, it is the battle with the elephants.

The aftermath of the battle is written, years later, by Ptolemy….

The years have not taken away from what was seen after the battle. There are memories in this old mind, memories that I'm sure I would not wish to see as vividly as I can still see the Hindu battlefield, that are nebulous. The Hindu has never been a vision to fade though. I remember Cadmus, what I saw, when finally I regained my wits. It was the worst of the battles, no matter what that brute Cassander says from his throne on Macedonia. The battle for the Hindu Kush was the worst of them all.

The aftermath, as seen by Ptolemy…

Ptolemy wiped the blood away from his eyes with the back of his hand. This did not help, for the most part, but instead made it worse. Dirt that was on the back of his hand, little bits of sand, were rubbed into his already irritated eyes. He cursed and lifted a canteen of water. Throwing his head back, he doused his face with water, aiming for his pained eyes. He blinked and let the sand and blood run from his eyes. Blinking a few more times, he opened his eyes, and stared at what was around him. Never before had he seen such a battlefield.

He had seen blood on the fields before, but this was something different. Before, the blood did not sink deeply, just sat on the top of dirt and sand. However, this was different. The blood pooled on the ground, for there was so much blood, it could not all sink into the soil. Ptolemy turned around, in a full circle, to see if it were this terrible everywhere. Yes, in fact, it was. The bloodstained ground was not the only horror he saw, either. There were also dead bodies littering the field. Some lay peacefully, as if perhaps the men had merely fallen asleep and never again woken. It was not these corpses that Ptolemy could not bear to look at. It was, instead, the ones that were in worse shape.

Twisted bodies lay across the field in all directions. Arms and legs were bent in completely unnatural positions. Broken bones jutted out of torsos, hips, legs, arms. Even skulls could be seen, hanging out of deep head wounds, or skulls crushed from the feet of elephants. Ptolemy tried to look away, to avoid such sights, but they were everywhere. He saw corpses that were missing heads, missing arms and legs, and even missing a lower or upper half. Eyes were missing from some heads, and some were already being pecked at by large black birds. It was brutal. This was no battle, not like the others. This had come to the point of slaughter.

"Ptolemy," a voice called out, pulling him away from his spell. Ptolemy glanced over his shoulder. He saw Cassander, who was as cover in blood and muck as he. However, Cassander did not seem as disturbed by their surroundings. Instead, he seemed rather content, as everything that had been needed to be done had been done. Ptolemy turned and reached out, and for no reason at all, wrapped his arms around Cassander. He needed the comfort. He was glad, even though it was not a feeling he'd often felt in times like these, that he had Cassander near him. He had a friend, one that had along with him survived. Cassander did not move for a moment, and then laughed as Ptolemy drew away from him.

"An interesting greeting," Cassander said as he reached up and pulled a matted lock of his own hair away from his face. It was going to be hard to wash all of the blood out. No doubt, it would take a few soakings. There were also pieces of twigs and leaves in his hair. Ptolemy found some joy in this, again for no reason, yet knew his own hair likely looked this way.

"Alexander," Ptolemy then asked.

"Medics are still tending to him," Cassander said. He glanced around, as if to see if any others could overhear the conversation. "There are plenty of men dying while they try to save a king that would take his own life. He was a fool, once more. This time fate just caught up with him I suppose."

"They expect him to live," the other asked, his expression worried now. He was scared, not only for himself, but for everyone. Without Alexander they had nothing, apart from what he knew would come. The empire would be gifted to Hephaestion, since Alexander had no heir, and they all knew Hephaestion's heart. He did not want an empire. He wanted Alexander, to spend his life with, and to love. Without Alexander, they would sit upon valuable land, but never touch it again. Perhaps Hephaestion would not even protect it defensively.

"Yes," Cassander quickly replied.

"What of Hephaestion, I have not seen him. He is no doubt at Alexander's side, am I correct?"

"Yes," Cassander said with a laugh, yet it was a laugh filled with sorrow. He even averted his eyes for a moment and stared at the ground. He then looked up again at Ptolemy and nodded. "He is at Alexander's side, yet, he is not at his side in the manner which we would expect."

"By the gods, how is he?"

"It was hard to tell which looked worse. Alexander, of course, bordered death. Hephaestion straddled the land of the living and the dead with him. From what has been said, and it is not much at the moment, they both look as if they could recover. Alexander has always been strong when wounded, and Philip expects that he will pull through fine. His lung will never be as strong, and he'll need to rest for some time. He won't be able to fight as well as normal, and in fact, Philip says he recommends he never fights again. Hephaestion, on the other hand, is a different story. He always has been though. He's weaker, damn Athenian breeding if you ask me, but he loves Alexander. He is trying to pull through for him, even if his body is unaware of it."

"If we lose one, we lose them both."

"One would think. Hephaestion has lost a great deal of blood though. He is pale, even now. Philip worries for him. It will be a matter of days before any complications will arise. He appears stable at the moment; however, he could soon become worse. Philip worries for him."

"Then we should pray for them."

"I already have," admitted Cassander. "I've prayed to any god I can think of. I have even prayed to Persian gods, even the barbarian gods of the Bactrians. I've made up gods to pray to in the last ten minutes I believe. If there is but one god listening, they have heard me, and I have prayed for us all."

"I did not know you believed in the gods."

"I don't," Cassander said as he began to walk away, as if he had other things to tend to. "But, perhaps they believe in Alexander."

Ptolemy watched as Cassander walked away. He felt as if there was something left unsaid, but could not think of it. Instead of calling out to Cassander, he said nothing. Instead, he decided to make his way to the medics' tent. It was time that he check on the condition of his king and friend.

The aftermath of the battle is written, years later, by Ptolemy….

Yes, Cadmus, there was something that needed to be said there. I needed to tell Cassander that he was not the only one that questioned these quests. I needed to tell him that I cared whether he lived or died, for no other had. When we were young, we believed glory was everything. But for the first time, Cassander saw what loss was. It was not in the horse that he killed, but instead, in Hephaestion's eyes. We all knew Hephaestion had power over Alexander, but we never knew that he had power over us all.

The rest of us did not show emotions. We hid them in any way that we could. Hephaestion, even if he tried, could not. His eyes gave everything away. It was only on that fateful day that Cassander recognized this. When he had knelt before Hephaestion, and this I only learned years later, he did not see just Hephaestion. He saw all of the passion that had once burned in him, along with other emotions he thought he had forgotten and lived without. He had them though, and pain, fear, and worry were some of these emotions.

Yes, I should have told him that I cared. Perhaps he would not be as he is now if I had done so. In truth, I did care if he lived or died in battle. I cared if any of my companions lived or died. If there is one thing I regret about that day, it was that I never spoke such words to Cassander. I fear he did not know this. Even today, he does not know that his life is worth something, even if only to me. Still, he has worth, even if it was never spoken to him.

A/N: I must first say that the writings of Ptolemy in this story are a work of fiction. I wrote them, not Ptolemy. I hope I've not confused anyone. Also, I again must thank my reviewers. I am not trying to make anyone cry, really! Lastly, go ahead and review if you have time, and let me know what you think!