The BLTS Archive - Paid in Full
by Jatona (zulumaid@yahoo.com)

---

Greetings!  This is the first time I have posted a story to a
newsgroup, so please - be gentle with me.

This story is one of my favorites of the few K/S stories I have
written.  Why? My inspiration comes from my love of 'past lives'.  I
have four I know I have lived - who I was, where I lived, and my
positions in those lives. I just cannot remember my names.  Someday,
when I really become good at writing, I would love to write them down
as short stories.

The main reason I wrote this story, however, was because it was FUN!

Disclaimer: I fully acknowledge that Paramount has exclusive rights to
the Star Trek universe and that all characters are the uncontested
property of Paramount television.

WARNING: This story does include sexual relationship between two
males.

---

Leonard McCoy, Chief Medical Officer of the *Enterprise*, sat before
the now dark fire shrine that had once been more a part of this room
than any other piece of furniture, and a part of the life the Vulcan
who had lived here.  Part of McCoy had no idea why he was here, yet
the other part could have recited the reasons, precisely and
logically, stilling all further queries.

Yes . . . the other part . . .

**You are suffering from a Vulcan mind-meld, Doctor** James T. Kirk
had said, a half-serious smile lighting the handsome face.

McCoy remembered his own sarcastic remark at the time; but, with the
events of the past few days . . .   This was serious work indeed.

So, here he sat, lured here by so many restless nights . . .  and a
voice . . . a very familiar voice.

"All right, whoever you are, I'm here.  What do you want?"

<>I see you still have not learned patience, Doctor.<>

"Spock?"

<>Indeed.<>

"Then . . . Jim was right!  You did meld with me?"

<>Not precisely, Doctor.  What I did was infuse you with my  katra.<>

"Your whosit?"

<>My katra . . . my living essence.  All that makes me unique unto
myself.<>

"Oh.  You mean your soul."

<>If that is what you wish to call it.<>

"But, Spock . . . why . . . why me?  I know you couldn't reach Jim,
but . . . there was Scott . . ."

<>I am well aware that Mr. Scott was near.  However, I knew that his
first concern would be with the ship.  I knew also that you would be
concerned with the wounded, and since casualties were heaviest in
Engineering, it was logical to assume that you would give it
priority.<>

A smile.  "Logical as always, Spock."  Then the import of Spock's
earliest explanation hit.  "Then--you're not dead!"

<>I believe I said that.<>

"Okay, Spock, okay.  But--I repeat--why me?"

<>You owe me a debt, Doctor.<>

"Oh?  And how do you figure that?"

<>Recollection should prove to be self-explanatory.  Empty your mind
of all thoughts - present and future.  Concentrate only on the past .
. .  let your mind float backward . . . backward . . .<>

McCoy found that he could not fight the powerful hypnosis produced by
the sudden deepness of Spock's voice.

<>Yes . . . yes . . . backward . . . back to another time . .  .
another world . . ."


A blue and white orb, set in a shimmering eternal sea of blackness
and silver, filled his mind.

<>Earth<>

Further on his mind sped, past the atmosphere, over the mountains;
like a swift horse it galloped over seas, across vast deserts and
plains, over small villages, big towns and great cities until, at
last, it came to settle . . .

<>Here<>  Spock's voice whispered to him. <>Remember<>

---

Eumenes the Greek watched the two naked figures swimming in the hidden
pool...his vantage point the sturdy ring of great trees which
encircled it, hiding it from the nearby palace.  The taller boy was
trying to push the head of the shorter one under, but his attempts
were futile, the smaller boy always moving out of range of the
reaching arms, the powerful young legs kicking water into the other's
face.

For a while this 'battle' continued, and at one point it seemed as if
the taller boy would succeed.  But suddenly, with a grace worthy of
Neptune himself, the shorter figure disappeared beneath the water,
leaving his 'hunter' momentarily bewildered.

Eumenes, however, had seen where the prey had chosen for his lair.
Despite himself he had to smile with pride at the stroke of
cleverness.  His attention was drawn back to the pool by the taller
one's voice...

"You cannot escape me, my prince," he said, as he stood with hands
planted on hips like some young God.  White teeth flashed in the
growing darkness, a loving smile curving the full lips.  "I have all
escape routes covered.  Surrender is your only course of action!"

"Nay, Hephaestion!  You have forgotten that which can sail upon the
winds!"

Hephaestion's eyes followed the voice, finally coming to rest on what
the Greek had already seen.  High upon the limb of a tree next to the
pool stood Alexander, poised like a golden bird...legs together, arms
outstretched like wings.  The smile which lit the exquisite features
and curved the perfect lips matched that of his companion below.

"So, there you are, my golden eagle," Hephaestion crooned.  He held
out an arm, the one nearest the tree, his other hand patting it
invitingly.  "Would it not be more comforting to rest upon my arm than
upon that hard wood?"

The other's smile was teasing now.  "Oh?  I had thought the place of
an eagle was in the heavens...free to soar forever."

"True.  Yet that is for eagles with claws and wings...and you possess
neither."

The smile faded but did not entirely disappear; grey eyes smoldered
with the beginning flames of passion.  "Then, O mighty one,"
Alexander called mockingly, "what have I to offer thee?"

Hunger no food could ever appease blazed in Hephaestion's eyes.  The
answer came in a husky whisper.

"Yourself."

"So be it."

As good as his word, Alexander --- fifteen-year old heir to the throne
of Macedon -- dove from the limb to land safe and sound into the
waiting arms below.  Instantly, lips met and two bodies sank slowly
into the moonlit waters of the pool.

His handsome face marked with lines of malice and envy, Eumenes was so
engrossed in the scenario that he had not heard the approach of the
prince's hunting dogs.  Having been trained that no one but their
master and his friend were allowed in this place, they swiftly
attacked.

"By Great Zeus's Beard...Wha.....!!  MERCY!!!"

"What is it?"  The commotion had brought the two boys to the surface.

The nearest guard, who had rushed after the dogs to discover what they
were after, pointed to the older man, still held fast by the strong
jaws.  "It seems, Alexander, that they have caught a spy," he replied
with suppressed amusement.

All eyes were now on the Greek.  "Indeed," Alexander  commented.
"Release!, " he commanded.  The hounds instantly obeyed.  "I feel his
discretion can be counted on."  He leaned toward the older man. "Can
it not?  Can I feel certain that neither my mother nor my father will
hear a word of what has transpired here?"

Eumenes met the penetrating grey eyes with a bold stare of his own.
"As you wish, Alexander," he replied, grudgingly.

"Excellent," Alexander nodded, approvingly.  "I really had no doubt of
it."

"Nor did I," Hephaestion put in.  "After all, I do know that the King
would not be pleased to know that his Chief Secretary was unworthy of
his trust...."  He smile, grimly, at the glowering Greek.

The older man's gaze never wavered from the young prince's face.
"Have I your leave to depart, Highness?"

Both boys nodded.

Silently, he picked himself up, dusted off his chiton, and left, the
sound of their laughter ringing in his ears. <>Laugh, Hephaestion,
while you stand in Alexander's shadow<>, he thought.  <>One day the
last laugh shall be mine!<>

---

<>Do you remember, Doctor?<>

Helpless in the grip of the katra-meld, McCoy nodded; his usually
gentle, craggy features were twisted into a mask of pain and envy.

<>Yes.  I can see that you do.  Now, you will follow my instructions
closely, for  they will insure proof of the coming exchange between
us, and you will know what to do with that proof when the time comes.
Are you prepared?<>

<>I am prepared<>

<>Upon my command, then, you will rise and prepare my computer to
record. Do you understand?<>

A nod.

<>Very well.  Proceed<>

McCoy rose, made his way to Spock's desk, unlocked the merchandise
and extracted a blank tape.  He sat at the computer terminal,
initiated the proper verbal commands, and inserted the tape.  The
room was filled, momentarily, with the whirrs and clicks of the
machine warming up and, then, with its steady hum. Satisfied, McCoy
returned to the fire shrine.

<>It's done, Spock<>

<>Good.  From hence worth, this exchange, of necessity, shall be
verbal.  I shall separate myself from you, mentally--yet you will
continue to cooperate.<>

<>In other words, it'll look like I'm having a conversation with
myself, but separate voices will be heard<>

<>Precisely, Doctor.  Let us proceed<>

To McCoy, the slight mental separation was like the feeling you get
after hanging up an old-fashioned phone after a very long
conversation - great relief; yet, he knew that other presence was
still there.

"Okay.  What now?"

Spock's voice filled the room.  "More questions, Doctor, and more
memories.  Are you ready?"

The real' McCoy wanted to say not really'; instead, he snapped,
"Let's get on with it.  I haven't got all day."

An exasperated sigh, then, "As you wish.  We shall now take up the
question of the event which exacerbated the enmity between us, and
alienated us both from Alexander.  Tell me, now, why you presumed to
lodge your people in the Guest House on the palace grounds, when you
knew, as I did, that Alexander had reserved it for Evios, the
flautist?"

An expression of contempt crossed McCoy's face.  "Was I less  than a
mere flautist to him, then?"

"You know in your heart that question is unnecessary.  I was not the
fact of what you meant to him, it was a principle.  He had reserved
this place for a guest.  You should have gone to him first to be
reminded if you had forgotten the plan..."

"I had not forgotten!"  McCoy's voice was angry now.  "My rank was
above this flautist; I should have been entitled to quarter my people
there. You, however, not Alexander, were the one who turned us out."

"True.  I turned you out; but I did it in Alexander's name.

Do you not remember the conversation with him; the one that really led
to our quarrel? Remember, Doctor..."

"Only if you'll remember your own reprimand, given by  Alexander, at
the same time."

"Justly asked."  Spock's voice, once again, took on that hypnotic
quality.  "Let us remember, then..."

---

"Alexander!"

Alexander smiled to himself as he recognized the voice. "What, I
wonder, has made the gentle bull roar this time?", he whispered to
Bagoas, his favorite courtesan.

The beautiful young Persian boy shrugged and returned his Lord's
smile.  "I know not, Al'skander, but the offense must have been great
indeed, for the roar was mighty."

Both laughed.  Unfortunately, the timing was just as Eumenes entered
the room.  The smiles on both faces faded.

"You wish to see me, Eumenes?", Alexander inquired, politely.

"I do, Alexander."  Eumenes' eyes fell, coldly, on Bagoas. "In
private," he added.

"Ask it of Bagoas.  It is his lesson you disturbed."

Eumenes was hard-pressed to control his temper.  "It is of
importance, King."  he said, formally.

Alexander sighed.  "Very well."  To Bagoas.  "Will you excuse me for a
while?  You may come back in half an hour."  He gave Bagoas' hand a
gentle, reassuring pat, after which the favored eunuch departed.
"Now," he addressed Eumenes, "what is so important that you disturb
our relaxation?"

"It is Hephaestion."

The young Macedonian was all business now.  "Oh?  And what has  he
done?"

"He has turned my people out of the Guest House without my
permission."

"In that case he did right.  And who gave YOU permission to set up
your people there in the first place?  The Guest House was reserved
for Evios the flautist, by my own word."

Eumenes was livid.  "Then he should have come to me, Alexander, and
asked ME to remove my people."

"And I tell you that your people should not have been there in the
beginning, without MY permission.  In that, Hephaestion was correct!
Was he rough with them?"

"He was; and rude, as well."

"Very well."  Alexander went to the door, whispered something to the
guard.  Moments later, the guard returned with Hephaestion in tow.
The guard was dismissed.

"Hephaestion.  I seek the truth.  Eumenes informs me you put his
people out of the Guest House."

"It is truth."

"And how did you address them?"

"I did not.  I merely had my men bodily remove them."

"You threw them out, then; onto the ground?"

Hephaestion drew himself up to his full height; his eyes spat fire at
Eumenes.  "No, King,  I did not throw them out onto the ground.  My
men escorted them into the street and told them to find other
lodgings, informing them that the Guest House was reserved by YOUR
order."

Alexander looked at Eumenes.  "This is true?"

The Greek's eyes narrowed in anger, but he knew better than to lie to
his King.  "It is."

"I see."  He rose and came to stand before them.  "Hear me now, both
of you.  Eumenes, before you presume that due to your rank you can do
as you please, do remember who commands here.  Hephaestion, if you
would command men, you must learn to address them properly.  Rudeness
is not a trait I value in those who speak in my name.  You did right
by your duty; but, remember that we are civilized men.  Is that clear
to you, as well?"  Hephaestion nodded. "Good.  You may both depart.  I
trust I will not hear of this again."  A statement, not a question.

Eumenes and Hephaestion left together.  It was fortunate that
Alexander did not see the looks exchanged between them.

Neither of them ever knew that one Persian boy did.

---

"Is your memory becoming clearer, Doctor?"

"Clear enough! ," McCoy spat.  "And yours?"  The question was
suffused with remembered humiliation.

"Clear . . . and painful.  It angered me toward Alexander for longer
than I could bear . . . "

"Of course, YOU were forgiven."

A sigh.  "Yes.  I was forgiven . . .   It would please me to remember
that day.  Shall we?"

Without waiting for a reply, the voice continued, "Summer had come to
Ekbatana.  We had ridden into the hills, fresh with summer grass and
the sweet scent of roses.  We were silent as we searched for a
secluded spot.  We knew the time had come for talking; that the
estrangement had gone on too  long . . . "

---

"Tell me what troubles you?" Alexander asked the companion who lay
next to him, staring up at the cloudless summer sky.

Hephaestion gave an exasperated sigh.  "You know very well what
troubles me."  He heard the sharpness in his own voice, yet did not
care. Up here, away from all prying eyes and duties, it was simply
Alexander and Hephaestion, not king and subject.  Suddenly he turned
onto his side, facing his friend; the handsome face was a mask of
pain.  "How could you?   How could you have degraded me so?"

"It was necessary," came the simple reply.  Alexander had been
expecting this for some time.

Hephaestion's mouth gaped in disbelief.  Often had he heard those
words connected with some misdeed that had forced his friend to
suspend a solider, or sentence someone to death.  He had never, never
expected to hear them in connection with him.  As the words sank in,
his expression changed to anger.

He sat up, letting his emotions burst forward. "So, it was necessary,
was it?  I, who have always stood at your side; I, who have killed for
you.  I, who have listened to your complaints about your mother; I,
who have ...."

"You, who have told me that what is good for one is good for  all.
You, who know, in your deepest heart, that you could not have
respected me, nor followed me again, had I reprimanded him, and not
you, as well."  Alexander sat up and leaned closer to his friend so
that they were eye to eye.  "Tell me, with all the honesty in your
soul, by the love you swear for me, that I was in error."

His companion lowered his eyes before the penetrating gaze.

"No! Look me in the face and tell me!"

**//How is it he knows me better than I know myself; or, for that
matter, that I know him better than any other?//** Bravely he met his
companion's gaze. "I cannot lie to you.  You know that well enough.
Explain this?"

Alexander reached out a hand, tenderly running it down the  other's
cheek, reveling in the sensations he observed.  "It is our destiny,"
he  replied, softly. "It has been since the beginning of time; it
shall be until its  ending.  Have you not felt it?"

**//Felt it!?  Why do you think you have been my only thought since
the day our eyes first me?//** "Yes.  I have.  My heart, my very soul
has  been imbued with it.  I... I have never really understood why,
until now.  I have never realized just how much you mean to me...
I...I used to  think it was merely loyalty, gratitude, but..."

Alexander was all attention.  He so loved it when they were alone to
talk openly.  **true friends share everything'** they had once
pledged; therefore, moments like this were precious to him.  "When did
it change?"

Hephaestion smiled, reached out and returned the caress.  "When we
watched the foxes that day, so long ago.  We were so close together,
and I held you in my arms.  I...I wanted to stay there forever, and
love  you...."  His voice broke off as a slow blush spread across his
face.

"Why, Hephaestion, did you blush?" the Macedonian teased. "Am I that
awesome a presence?  Am..."

Hephaestion decided that the time for talking was at an end.

Alexander agreed.

The rest of the day was spent in forgiveness and sweet
reaffirmations.

---

"So, that was what caused the change in him!," McCoy hissed.  "It was
noticed when the two of you finally decided to return to camp."

"Tell me, Doctor, was it our closeness that has always troubled you,
or was it only that instance?"

"You knew full well what my feelings for Alexander were.  You always
stood between us."

"Indeed.  And I have no doubt that these were the thoughts you bore
when I fell ill."

"I could endure no more.  I knew you must die."

"Of course; and with my death, you believed Alexander would turn to
you."

"Why not?  I had known him long before you arrived on the scene.  I
was with his father when he was born."

"So you have often boasted.  But you had forgotten Bagoas, then?"

"Bagoas!  Bagoas!  Damn him!  You speak his name now with reverence;
yet, I know you hated him, as I did."

"No, Doctor, not hated.  I was jealous of him.  I endured him for
Alexander's sake.  He loved the king as well as we did; for that I am
deeply grateful to him.  But, one last question, Doctor.  How did you
manage to get solid food to me?  After all, Glaukias, the
physician..."

"Glaukias was a fool!"  An ironic smile lit McCoy's face.  "Ah, but
to answer you; that was simple.  Slaves are such handy creatures to
have  at one's command.  Too bad the doctor did not live to share in
my triumph.  Shall I remember THAT event?"

Spock caught the fear and guilt in the voice.  "You have no  choice.
It is the reason for this meeting."

A defeated sigh.  "Very well.  Let's get on with it."

"Then...proceed."

McCoy closed his eyes.  Once more images filled his mind; part of him
fervently praying it was for the last time...

---

The camp seethed with the news: Hephaestion, friend and right to
Alexander, was gravely ill.  The King had summoned a renowned
physician to care for him; and, had bravely decided to go on with the
training games, leaving his friend in the capable hands of Glaukias.

Eumenes snorted.  He had first heard the news shortly after their
reprimand before the army.  He smiled as he remembered Alexander's
words: **'I order you to renounce this quarrel under pain of death.
If it breaks  out again, you will both be tried for treason.  The
proven aggressor will suffer  the usual penalty.  I shall not commute
it.'**

**//Now the lover lies near death, and the king's soul is weary from
worrying.  He needs comforting; and who, better than I, for
comfort...  for loyalty...//**

With these thoughts, he had put on his best behavior like his finest
robes.  He had gone to visit Hephaestion every day; had inquired of
the physician about his progress when the patient was asleep.  Thus he
had  learned that Hephaestion was recovering; that he might live.

**//No!  This must not be!  Not when I am so close.  He must die--
now!//**

Obsessed with these thoughts, he strode, purposefully, toward the
sickroom.  The guard greeted him at the door.

"I am sorry, Lord Eumenes, but no one but the King, and the
physician, are permitted to enter."

Eumenes' face bore the proper mask of concern.  "Has he worsened,
then?"

The young guard frowned.  "Not as bad as before, but the doctor is
with him, and does not wish for him to be disturbed.  The king has
left instructions for him to be fed only on slops, as solid food is
as bad as poisoned water or wine."

Eumenes smiled.  "Of course; of course it is.  I am certain the
doctor..."

They were interrupted by the great door opening, and Glaukias, the
physician, stepped out into the corridor.

"Theos, go down to the kitchen and tell the cooks I want the  day's
slops brought up to Hephaestion."

"Forgive me, doctor; but, I cannot leave my post."

"I will take responsibility for your absence, which should not take
long.  Hasten, now."

The young guard hurried away. "Good man," Glaukias muttered, then
noticed the other man nearby. "Eumenes, it is good of you to visit.
Might I help you?"

The Greek gave a tiny smile.  "I wondered if I might see Hephaestion?
Just for a moment, if it is allowed.  The men are concerned..."

Glaukias nodded, returning the smile.  "Of course.  He is a little
better now; however, if it seems he does not know you, he is still
weak.  I am certain your presence will be of comfort to him.  Come
in."

"I thank you."  Eumenes entered the room and moved to the patient's
bedside.  As timing, or fate, would have it, the food arrived.
Glaukias, ever cautious and dedicated to his profession, made a
thorough examination  of the broth-laden tray; he, too, was aware of
the mystique that surrounded the king and his patient.  He knew that
his own life, as much as the patient's, was at stake.

But Glaukias, for all his skills, had one very serious fault -  he was
far too trusting.

Eumenes had counted on this and, when the physician's back was
turned, he slipped as small piece of meat onto the tray beside the
bed.  He had long since thanked his gods that the patient was
slightly feverish and not fully conscious.  Again, whether it was
fate or his own good timing, his plan was running smoothly.  When the
day ended, the lover would be dead, and  Alexander, at last, within
his grasp.  It was time to leave.

"My thanks to you, Glaukiast.  Do you think the slops will  help him?"

"Oh, they should.  He will need something in his stomach that  will
stay down.  There has been little luck with that of late.  I think the
worst is past."

"Excellent!  I shall continue to petition the gods to will it  so.
Until then."  Eumenes swept from the room.

While all of this transpired, the young slave had moved to
Hephaestion's bedside, spotted the piece of meat, cut it up into
bite-sized chucks, and stirred it to the steaming bowl.  Tasting the
food, as required, he pronounced it delicious.

Glaukias, having closed the door behind Eumenes, turned back to his
patient.  With infinite care, he and the young slave raised the sick
man to a sitting position, and fed him.  Half and hour later, they
left the  room.

An hour after that, the guard outside the door heard a most horrible
cry, then.....

"ALEXANDER!"

He rushed into the room to find that Hephaestion, beloved friend of
the King, had joined the gods.  Terror giving his feet wings, he
returned to the top of the stairs.

"Summon the king!", he cried.

The cry was carried throughout the corridors where it finally reached
the outside guards, bringing Alexander on the run before the echoes
could die...

---


"Thus Alexander was driven half-mad with grief... and all because of
your envy of us... and your ego."  A long silence, then;
"Was it worth it? Did you feel any more secure in your position after
I had gone?  Did you find peace?  Were you any more loved?  Were..."

A low moan rose in McCoy's throat, swelled, until it filled the room.
"ENOUGH!  Damn you!  Enough!  Let it rest!"

A compassionate sigh.  "It will now, Leonard... so can you.  There
is just one more thing."

A great sigh of relief.  "Yes?"

"Upon my command, you will empty your mind of this conversation, shut
down my computer, and extinguish the fire shrine.  The tape we have
made here you will secure in your quarters.  You will know when the
time has come to use it.  Do you understand?"

"Gotcha, Spock."

"I shall not comment on that particular phrasing, Leonard. It is time.
Proceed."

Fifteen minutes later, Leonard McCoy left Spock's quarters
unobserved.

---
Epilogue

"Bones!"

Leonard McCoy turned to see Jim Kirk heading toward him, the long
strides filled with purpose.  McCoy smiled in greeting.

"Hiya, Jim-boy.  What's new?"

Jim Kirk returned his friend's smile.  "Shouldn't I be asking  you
that, Doctor?"  Then, seriously, "Bones, now that it's all over, I've
got to  ask -- why did you choose the danger?  I mean, you had no idea
of Vulcan customs, and T'Lar said you were not bound by them.  So,
why?"  A pause.  "And  don't hand me any bull about it being just to
save Spock's life."  This  time, along with the seriousness, the tone
carried a trace of teasing.

McCoy slapped his palm across his knee.  "Darn it, Jim, you  never let
me have any fun!"

Both men laughed, breaking some of the tension which the events of
the past few hours had placed on them.

"But, seriously.... " McCoy reached into an inside pocket of  his
jacket and extracted a tape he had been carrying -- without
questioning why - - throughout the recent events.  A voice in his mind
told him, <>Now.  This is the proper time.<>  He laid it in Jim's
hand.

"Let's just call it..... a debt paid in full."

Not waiting for a reply, Leonard McCoy, son of David and Eleanor,
walked away, very much at peace -- leaving a very puzzled, and
extremely curious, James Kirk behind.

---

The End