Trials 01 Tom's Trail

by Terri Zavaleta

  "I didn't mean to," B'Elanna said in a small voice. "I was trying to protect myself."

  "Well, you did that," Kim said. He shook his head. He didn't know what else to say. Those two would have to work it out. He'd probably said too much already. Tom would be furious if he knew Harry discussed him with B'Elanna. He couldn't help but be a little angry that she had hurt Tom, but he didn't want to lose her friendship either. "As for Malista---trust Tom. He knows what it's like to be

  hurt. That's probably why he's taking an interest in her. To help her. I don't know if you've noticed, but he does that a lot. He probably should apply for posting as Ship's Counselor. See you later."

  Torres jumped to her feet and charged back down to Engineering. There had to be something else that needed fine-tuning. Her temper and quick mouth had made a mess of her life once more. She didn't know what her next move should be. Maybe she should just do nothing. At least she couldn't cause any more hurt to herself or others by

  doing nothing. Malista had the right idea---non-involvement.

  ***********************

  Torres wasn't the only one watching Paris and Shadow. They were the main item of discussion among the ship gossips during the daily routine. Speculation concerning Paris and Torres lost its impetus. The new teaming of Paris with Shadow gave rise to a betting pool, carefully hidden from the parties involved as well as from Lieutenant

  Torres. The main bets concerned when and if Paris would score with Shadow. Side bets were also set up. Two different ones were placed on how long it would take Torres to go after Paris. For reconciliation? Or mayhem? Or would she go after Shadow? That one didn't receive much action, but did provoke some heated discussions---especially in the

  Engineering section, where it originated.

  After leaving Harry and B'Elanna in the mess hall, Tom was on his way to the holodecks when he met Malista Shadow in the corridor. "Hello. On your way to Sandrine's for more riotous living?" He smiled, but his heart wasn't in it. He was paler than normal, dark circles were beginning to appear under his eyes as stress, unhappiness, and insomnia caught up with him. One of the curses of

  fair skin. Everyone could tell when you weren't getting enough sleep.

  She noticed. She tilted her head as she studied him. "Not necessarily."

  "Holodeck one is free. Would you like to join me for an evening on Lake Como?" he suggested tentatively. He made a sweeping bow as he had at Sandrine's when claiming to be Harlequin.

  Malista surprised him by curtsying as she replied, "Why not?"

  Paris gave the command to begin the program and they entered. It was a beautiful setting. The lake was huge with boats of every size sailing across it in the distance. The ground was covered with a thick carpet of grass between flower beds that colored the landscape like a rainbow. The sky was a light purple, flecked with gold and orange rays as the sun had begun to set. The air was warm, scented

  with flowers, and stirred as if a slight breeze were passing by. A hundred yards away a small band in a gazebo could be heard playing soft music. A large plaid blanket was spread on the grass near the lake's edge at the best possible vantage point for viewing the sunset.

  He let her seat herself on the blanket. He'd noticed by observation that she didn't seem to like to be touched, so he didn't offer a hand. He sprawled on the blanket three feet away, close enough to talk, but not close enough to invade her personal space. He propped his elbow on the ground, resting his head in his hand.

  Malista seemed to be drinking in the atmosphere. She clasped her arms around her upraised knees. "Good job, Lieutenant."

  "Hey! That was three words!" Paris teased indignantly.

  "Occasionally," she said solemnly, "I'm allowed to say more than two."

  "But not in public?" he asked quizzically.

  She sighed. "It just encourages people to talk to you."

  "And that's a bad thing?"

  "It can be." Silence fell between them as they listened to the music and watched the colors of the sky changing. It was peaceful. Neither felt a need to fill the silence with conversation. After about fifteen minutes, Shadow's curiosity got the better of her.

  "Isn't this sunset taking a long time?"

  "You caught me. I like sunsets. So I programmed the computer to attenuate the time. So how are you doing? Have you adjusted to working just one shift?" Paris thought he'd introduced a perfectly good conversational gambit.

  She didn't play along. "Do you want to talk about it?"

  "Talk about what?"

  She sent him a sidelong glance. "Why you asked me to join you. The reason you're here instead of Sandrine's. The problem with Torres. Caldik Prime."

  "So you heard about that?"

  "Small ship."

  "Do you want to talk about Huldon III?" Tom asked, eyebrows up.

  "No. So you heard about that?"

  "Just after I joined the Maquis---and before I was given my first assignment and subsequently arrested. I'm sorry."

  Malista shrugged. "Pick a topic."

  "How about none of the above?" Tom quipped.

  "No problem." She turned her face back up to the sky. "And you don't have to entertain me."

  "That's a nice change---for me. To be honest," Paris said quietly, "it was an impulse---asking you, I mean. I thought you might enjoy it. It's restful here. No ulterior motive. I promise."

  "I know."

  "You know what?"

  "I know you don't have designs on my body," Malista replied emotionlessly.

  "How do you know?"

  "Well, do you?" She looked at him, impatient with his slowness of wit.

  "No, but how did *you* know? I thought it was taken for granted by everyone on board that sex is the only thing other than piloting that I'm interested in," Paris said scornfully.

  She raised her eyebrows. "Only someone who doesn't know you would think that. Is that what the fight was about?"

  "What fight?"

  "The one between you and Torres."

  Paris looked uncomfortable. "There wasn't a fight."

  "Okay." They sat in silence for a while.

  Tom felt a need to talk. Harry was too close to the situation. His other friend, B'Elanna---he couldn't talk to her. She *was* the problem. There was no one else he could talk to so he'd bottled everything up inside. The pressure was beginning to tell on him. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to have another woman's opinion. "Malista?"

  "Yes?"

  "Tom. My name is Tom," he corrected. One of the things that made him crazy was that Torres almost always called him Paris, which wasn't his favorite name. It reminded him of his father---and other things he didn't want to think about.

  "Yes, Tom?"

  "There wasn't really a fight---"

  As they talked, they made themselves comfortable, stretching out on the blanket, side by side facing each other. The conversation went on for hours jumping from one subject to another, covering a great deal of ground. Some of it was surprisingly common ground. At some point in their twilight discussion, they fell asleep.

  The sun had completely set and the boats on the lake were carrying lights when Tom suddenly awoke. He couldn't believe he'd drowsed off in the peaceful quiet of the holodeck. As he sat up, he looked at Malista. She was still asleep. 'Real exciting date, Tom,' he thought. "Computer, what's ship's time?"

  "The time is 2300."

  The sound of the computer's voice awakened Malista. She sat up, rubbing her eyes and yawning. "What happened? Oh, did we fall asleep?"

  "Yeah. I must be more tired than I thought. I'm sorry, Malista."

  "It's not your fault, Tom. I haven't been sleeping well lately either. It must have caught up with me. I have to go get ready for my shift." She got to her feet and they started toward the exit.

  "I'll walk you to your quarters," Tom offered.

  "That's not necessary."

  "Computer, end program. Don't be silly. A gentleman always sees a lady home. By the way, I've been meaning to ask, what does Malista
mean?"

  "In Greek it means 'yes, indeed'."

  Tom sniggered. "I bet that got you in trouble at school."

  "Behave."

  ***********************

  No matter how discreet the behavior, the ship's grapevine usually had the news within twenty-four hours. The fact that Shadow and Paris had spent six hours alone in Holodeck One made the rounds much more quickly. Though no one knew for sure what had gone on, there was a great deal of speculation which provided an outlet for the imagination. This situation was getting better than a holonovel.

  ***********************

  Chakotay couldn't ignore what was happening. He felt a certain degree of obligation as First Officer to address personnel problems as soon as he became aware of them. That was what he told himself when he found Malista Shadow in the mess hall during her lunch break. She was, of course, sitting alone, her back to the wall farthest from the entrance. Chakotay got a tray and approached. "Malista, may I join you?"

  She nodded, eyeing him speculatively. She waited till he'd seated himself and taken his first bite before she spoke. "Something wrong?" It was almost as if she had been expecting him.

  "That's what I was going to ask you," the first officer commented. "I wanted to see how you're adjusting---" Shadow made a sound that was a cross between a sniff and a snort. Chakotay raised his eyebrows at her. "You don't believe me?"

  The corners of her mouth barely turned up. "Come on. I'm not stupid. I know you're worried about me. I'm not Lon Suder. Let me assure you, I don't plan to go nuts and start killing crewmen." It was the longest speech Chakotay had ever heard from her.

  "I didn't think you would." Chakotay paused for a moment to reconsider what he wanted to say. "Let's just say, I'm concerned that you still haven't made many friends."

  "How many friends do I need?" She gazed at him impassively and tiredly. "You're worried about Tom Paris," she accused.

  Chakotay hadn't been prepared for this kind of bluntness. He should have known. She was a direct person---when she spoke at all. "Yes," he admitted. "Do I need to be?"

  "No." Malista seemed to feel the one word answer was

  sufficient.

  He didn't. "Why not?"

  Malista shook her head. "I don't think you'd understand, Commander."

  "Why not?" Chakotay repeated.

  "You don't understand Tom. You underestimate him. Why would you understand our friendship?"

  "Try me."

  "No." It was a flat refusal. She got to her feet, took her tray back to the kitchen, and exited without a backward glance.

  Chakotay frowned. If she wouldn't talk---well, there was someone else involved. Maybe Paris would tell him what was going on. Maybe.

  ***********************

  The ship's gossips were having a field day with the story of Paris and Shadow staying in the holodeck alone for six hours. At least six variations were being circulated, some wilder than others. If the truth had been known, it wouldn't have been believed. It just didn't make a very good story if all Paris and Shadow had done was talk. It was bad enough that there were witnesses to attest that Paris had not entered Shadow's quarters or collected a parting kiss. The side bets concerning Lieutenant Torres'

  reaction suddenly drew more interest. Especially when the gossips learned that Torres visited Shadow in her quarters.

  Torres knew Malista from serving with her in the Maquis. She had never had much to do with her since Shadow and Dishon were a duo that didn't interact much with the others on the ship. Apart from a professional association, she had never spoken more than a few sentences to her. B'Elanna had heard the rumor about Shadow's date with Paris on the holodeck. That was what made her to decide to talk

  to Malista herself. Not that she knew what she wanted to say.

  The hallway was deserted as Torres hit the door signal of Shadow's quarters. The signal to enter came. She stepped through the doors. Malista was sitting cross-legged on the couch, her knitting creating some kind of pink material. "Am I interrupting?" Torres asked politely.

  Amusement flashed through Malista's eyes. "Lieutenant Torres, I suppose I should have expected to see you. Come in. Have a seat."

  Having seated herself, B'Elanna found herself uneasily aware that she didn't know what to say about Tom without sounding like a jealous fool. So she stalled. "What are you making?"

  Malista held up the material so she could see it better. "A baby blanket for Kim Wildman. Samantha said she needed another."

  "That's nice of you." Torres cast her eyes around the room searching for another topic. The room was quiet for what seemed like minutes. The silence was not a comfortable one---at least on Torres' part. Shadow kept knitting.

  Torres watched her.

  "Did you want something in particular, Lieutenant?" Malista finallyasked. Green eyes met brown eyes.

  "Yes. I wanted to tell you---Argh! This is ridiculous!" Torres jumped to her feet. She could never express herself without moving around. She slapped her forehead ridges, angry at herself. "Why am I here?"

  Shadow answered the rhetorical question coolly. "Because you're an idiot."

  "What!" Torres spun, her fury now had a new target.

  The other woman's impassivity was unshakable. "You just may be a bigger idiot than he is. But I'm not sure yet."

  "He?" B'Elanna attempted to pretend she didn't know exactly who Shadow meant. "Do you mean Paris?"

  "Tom. His name is Tom," Shadow specified. She eyed the chief engineer speculatively. "Why are you here? Did you come to warn me that Tom has nefarious intentions to seduce and abandon me?"

  "I figure you probably know that already---from firsthand experience," Torres accused.

  Malista blinked slowly at her, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Really?"

  Torres heard the shrewishness of her own voice and wished she could call the words back. This wasn't what it was about. She wasn't jealous. She couldn't be. She was concerned that Paris would take advantage of Shadow. Or that Shadow might take advantage of Paris. He was hurt and on the rebound. That made him vulnerable. It was concern

  that motivated her. Concern for a friend. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that!"

  "No offense taken." Shadow shook her head. "B'Elanna, you're operating under a false assumption. Tom is my friend---that's all he wants to be."

  "That's what he says!" Torres accused.

  "No. That's what he needs. He's lonely."

  "Lonely? Tom Paris? Ha!" Torres snorted. "He's always surrounded by people---mostly women---flirting, joking, and partying!" She flopped down into the chair again, flinging one leg over the arm. She was ready and ripe for a rip-roaring argument, having made a list of all Paris' faults to reinforce her rationale for not getting involved with him.

  Malista didn't play fair. No matter how excited or loud Torres got, Shadow stayed detached and cool. "Have you ever heard of being lonely in a crowd?"

  That gave B'Elanna pause. She'd experienced that herself. "But he's very popular!"

  "Who does he spend most of his time with? Until lately it was you and Harry. Then you said you didn't want to see him. So he was left with Harry---except Harry's trying to stay neutral and divide his spare time between you, Tom, and his music. Kes is busy in Sickbay. Neelix is tied to he mess hall. So he's on his own---or at

  Sandrine's."

  Torres wasn't ready to give in yet. "He's made lots of friends."

  "Friendly acquaintances. Real friends are harder to come by. How many friends do you have? Close friends? I have two now. Tom is one of them." Malista put her knitting aside and gave all her attention to Torres.

  "You've forgotten---some people have long memories. They won't let him live down his past. It takes a special kind of courage to go on trying when so many would like to see you fail. Maybe fifty of the crew are willing to be friendly with Tom Paris. The rest of them---Maquis and Starfleet---are either indifferent or actively resent and

  dislike him. Most of them don't show it overtly. They ju
st talk about him behind his back. Those who are open about it only take their little digs at Tom when no one else can hear them. And Tom never reports them for insubordination."

  "Why not?"

  "He's given up on changing their minds. He's tired of trying to prove himself to others---even the ones he doesn't care about. The ones who won't take him seriously."

  "He's always joking. He doesn't take anything seriously. How could I---you---any woman expect him to take me---her seriously?" Torres was so caught up in her dilemma, she'd forgotten who she was talking to and why she had come.

  "Lieutenant, Tom and I are a lot alike. Life has bruised us, beaten us up, and damned near killed us. People who were supposed to love and support us---didn't." Malista spoke earnestly, convincingly. "We coped differently. I stayed sane by withdrawing. He stayed sane by pretending it

  didn't matter. That he could make it on his own. But being alone isn't really his style. He jokes to keep people at a distance---the same reason he flirts. It lets him stay in control. It lets him walk away when he can't handle the way people treat him. And above all, it lets him keep his pride. If he pretends it doesn't hurt, the person who hurts him doesn't get the satisfaction of knowing he succeeded. Did you know Tom plays the piano?"

  She didn't pause for an answer. "No, I'm sure you didn't. He hasn't told anyone because he can't read music. He taught himself. He plays by ear and he doesn't know the classical music that Harry enjoys. Tom doesn't want Harry to think less of him so he keeps it to himself and only plays in the holodeck after everyone else leaves."

  Torres sensed the truth in her words. She could feel tears brimming in her eyes. "How do you know? Are you so close to him that he's shared his feelings and secrets with you? He never told me---"

  "He's not comfortable enough to be himself in public. Were you ever alone with him? In a private place? Where other people wouldn't be listening? I was. In Holodeck One. We talked, Torres. That's all."