"He could have talked to me," B'Elanna said tentatively. "I wanted him to."
"He's afraid---if he tells you the truth about his feelings, about his past, you might think he's a weakling or a coward," Malista said quietly. "After all, you believed the rumors about his sex life. Why wouldn't you believe the stories that branded him a coward?"
Torres was dismayed that Tom had so little trust in her friendship. "I wouldn't---he isn't a coward. He's volunteered for suicide missions, put his life at risk for me---for others, the ship---he has to know he's shown me---everyone---he's not a coward."
"Believe me, sometimes it's easier to take a chance on dying than to go on living. Especially if you don't think you matter. I'm not saying he has a death wish. But if you've been told for years that you don't matter, that you don't measure up? Believe me---being dead might seem better than living as damaged goods---having to live
with the guilt of being the one who survived---when others didn't."
B'Elanna felt a chill run up her spine as she saw the haunted look in Shadow's eyes. She stood to leave. "I've got to get back to---I have some work to do." As she neared the door, she paused. "By the way, the reason I came by---I wanted to tell you there are bets being placed on which of us would win if we fought over Paris."
"Really?" Shadow quirked an eyebrow. "And what are the odds?"
"I didn't bother to ask. I came to tell you that as far as I'm concerned, it isn't going to happen." Torres glared up at the taller woman scornfully. "I wouldn't fight for a man who wants another woman."
"He doesn't want me, Torres," Malista repeated tiredly. "I'm no threat."
"He's never let me as close to the real Paris as you apparently got on the holodeck!" It was both an accusation and a confession.
"He called me B'Ella."
"What?" Torres breath suddenly caught in her throat. The simple statement froze her in her tracks as she tried to sort out the implications. It was his name for her. His private name for her---from an old Earth language. It meant beautiful.
"We were relaxing on the lake shore. He was tired from lack of sleep. We were talking for a long time. He called me B'Ella---more than once. He didn't even realize he was doing it." Malista stared down at Torres intensely. "And I don't think B'Ella sounds very much like Malista."
"No, it doesn't," B'Elanna said solemnly. The door slid open and she stepped into the corridor. "I know it's not easy for you to talk to people. Why---why did you tell me? All this?"
"I thought you should know. I didn't do it for you. I did it for him," Shadow said bluntly. "He's my friend. Just my friend. My friend, Tom---not Paris."
Torres nodded slowly, understanding. "Thank you, Malista."
"You're welcome, B'Elanna."
***********************
Chakotay was one of the first to arrive at Sandrine's that evening. Tom came in alone and Chakotay waved him over. "Can I buy you a drink?"
Tom smiled at him suspiciously. "Uh-huh. To do what do I owe this honor? Or shall I guess?"
"Sit down, Paris." Chakotay had meditated to prepare for this, but somehow Tom's manner always managed to annoy him. He reminded himself that this was professional, not personal.
Paris slouched easily into the chair opposite Chakotay's, waving a hand at Sandrine to order his usual drink. His expression was polite but noncommittal. "You rang?"
The commander waited till Tom had his drink in hand. "Paris, I don't want you to think I'm interfering in your personal life---"
"But you're going to interfere in my personal life," the lieutenant finished sardonically. "I think you've done enough of that."
Chakotay stared at him. "Would you care to elaborate on that?"
Paris treated him to a smirk. "Sure, Commander. Like you didn't tell B'Elanna she shouldn't have anything to do with me. I know you don't like me. Fine. You don't have to. No hard feelings---"
The first officer sighed impatiently. "Paris, come off it! I didn't have anything to do with Torres' decision. Your problems with her are of your own making. That's not what I wanted to talk about."
Tom pulled himself up straight in the chair. "Then I'm sorry, Commander, but I'm afraid you've lost me. What did you want to talk about? Or should I say whom?"
"Malista Shadow."
"Ah! I should have known. Your little protégé has already warned me off Malista. What is it? A conspiracy? To protect the women of the U.S.S. Voyager from that devil Tom Paris?" The sarcasm disturbed his mask of cool indifference. Tom raised his hands and wiggled his
fingers. "Ooh! Mercy! What will that terrible Paris do to that poor woman!"
The lieutenant stood, leaning forward, he rested his hands on the table in front of Chakotay. In a conspiratorial whisper, he confided, "Actually, Commander, you got me! I'm a Bluebeard! I keep their bodies locked in a small closet behind Neelix's pantry! Excuse me. I'm off duty now. I want to play some pool."
Chakotay watched the younger man amble across the room. 'Well,' he thought, 'that could have gone better.' His timing was off. He should never have approached Tom here at Sandrine's after a long duty shift. Maybe he could try again some other time. Or maybe not.
***********************
After his conversation with Chakotay, Paris was in a reckless mood. He didn't feel very sociable. Harry was practicing for some concert with Nicoletti. B'Elanna had given up coming to Sandrine's and she wasn't speaking to him anyway. He concentrated on the holographic characters since they were so much easier to deal with than real people. They, at least, didn't have mood swings.
It was getting late when Malista Shadow finally made her obligatory appearance. She stopped at the bar, collected a drink, then went to her customary table. She was getting more socially adept. She nodded a greeting to each person who met her eyes. At least now she was noticing there were other people present.
Tom waited. This time she'd have to make the first move. And if she didn't? Fine. He wasn't in the mood to cheer someone else up right now. He had just picked up his fourth glass of syntheholic wine when she caught his
eye. She waved him to her table. Here was progress! It was the first time he joined her at her invitation. He sat down and regarded her with a small smile. He didn't speak.
She looked back. She didn't speak. Their eyes smiled at each other. Their faces remained expressionless. It was an undeclared contest. Paris sipped his wine and made a moue of distaste. Shadow raised an eyebrow. Paris raised both eyebrows and waggled them. Shadow frowned and stuck her lower lip out at him. Paris stuck his tongue out at her. Shadow crossed her eyes. Paris crossed his eyes
and blew her a kiss. She crossed her eyes, sucked in her cheeks, and made a fish mouth.
Paris felt his face began to crack in a smile. His blue eyes danced. He grinned at her. She let the corners of her mouth rise slightly. He kept grinning. Her smile broke free. She put up a hand as if to hide it. He snatched her hand and held it. She froze at his touch. "Your smile is beautiful. Let people see it," he chided gently, releasing her.
She dropped her eyes modestly. But the smile was still there.
"You know that wasn't really a fair contest. You've had a lot more practice at nonverbal communication," Tom complained with an exaggerated whine.
She rolled her eyes. "Tough. Who promised you fair?"
Tom threw his hand over his heart and fell back in his chair dramatically. "Geez! I can die happy now! She spoke more than two words to me! And in public!"
"You idiot!"
"Oh, no! Back to that again?" Many eyes were drawn by curiosity to the antics at the corner table. They ignored the crowd's reaction to their mischievous teasing. "Okay, let's get back to identifying the crew."
She frowned her confusion.
"Come on, Malista! You remember. I'm Scaramouche---?"
She shook her head. "No, Harlequin."
"That's right. I don't wear black. Now let's go down the crew list and assign each one a character," Paris suggested, his mind already racing through the
literary characters he knew. "For example, Neelix?"
"Micawber."
Tom laughed. "Very good. That bubbling optimism. Who else have you got?"
Malista thought for a moment. "Tuvok?"
"How about Hephaestus?"
"No puns!" she said sternly, her green eyes still twinkling nonetheless.
"You're tough," Paris accused. "Okay, who do you have for Tuvok?"
"Cerberus."
"The watchdog? Perfect. How about Harry? Sancho Panza?"
"Sir Galahad."
"More like Gawaine."
"The Loathely Lady?"
"That's the story I had in mind," Paris agreed. "What about Kes?"
"Demeter."
"Too obvious. What about the captain? I was thinking of Medusa."
Malista's eyebrows shot up. She thought for a moment and said, "I give up. Why?"
"She has a paralyzing effect when she gives you that certain look," Tom offered.
Malista shook her head. "I must not have seen that look. No. Not Medusa. I haven't thought of one for her yet. But I will."
Paris noticed B'Elanna's arrival. She didn't stay. She just walked in, looked around as if searching for someone and left. "How about Torres? Cressid?" he suggested, a slight bitterness in his tone.
"Columbine," Malista corrected.
Paris shook his head. "I don't think so. Moving on, what about Joe Carey?"
"Sisyphus."
Paris burst out laughing at the mental picture that formed of Carey endlessly repairing the warp coils only to have another one blow a leak.
The others at Sandrine's watched and wondered for several hours. Snippets of the conversation overheard in passing made absolutely no sense, but the two participants seemed to understand and enjoy the repartee. Malista was actually smiling now and then. It looked like the odds in the betting were about to change.
Again.
***********************
After his disastrous attempt to reason with Tom Paris at Sandrine's, Chakotay returned to his quarters. He had replicated a cup of tea and was sitting down with a padd to look over some reports when his door signal sounded. "Come."
B'Elanna Torres walked in, for once not in a rush. "Chakotay, can I talk to you?"
He gestured toward the seat at a ninety degree angle to his. "Would you like some tea? Some refreshments?"
"No, I'm not hungry." She sat and fumed in silence for a few moments.
"B'Elanna?"
"What?" she snapped.
"You said you wanted to talk?" Chakotay asked mildly. "In case you haven't noticed, you aren't."
She thrust her fingers into her hair. "I don't know if this is a good idea."
Chakotay waited.
"In the mess hall, when we talked---you said you didn't think I should throw away a relationship because of fear."
"I remember."
"Did I do that?" Her eyes met his in a plea for reassurance.
"What do you think?"
"Don't do that!" she yelled, jumping to her feet. "If I wanted to know what I think, I could have this conversation with a mirror!"
"B'Elanna---"
"And don't tell me you can't make decisions for me! I'm not asking you to. I just want to know if you think I was wrong to break things off with Tom. Did I do it because I was scared? Because I was jealous? Do I want him now because someone else might? And if he really cared for me, would he have someone new this soon?" Torres was flinging herself up and down the length of the room as she spoke,
giving him no opportunity to answer. She finally paused for breath and turned to glare at him. "Well, are you going to answer me?"
Chakotay gestured to the chair again. Torres reluctantly seated herself. "B'Elanna, if I could answer those questions for you, I would. Let me ask you a question and you say the first thing that comes into your mind---don't think about it. All right?"
Torres reluctantly nodded her agreement. She'd talked to herself till she was dizzy. Maybe this would help.
Chakotay held her hands between his own and brown eyes met brown eyes unflinchingly. "B'Elanna, do you care for Tom Paris?"
"Of course. He's my friend." Her eyes darted away from his to gaze at his wall hanging.
The first officer knew she'd evaded so he rephrased the question. "Do you love him?"
"I don't know. He's attractive. He's been good to me---
supportive. He saved my life. More than once. Love him? I could---I think---maybe---in the future? When I know him better." Her uncharacteristic hesitation infuriated her. "Why can't I make a decision?"
"Not every decision has to be made right now," Chakotay chided. "B'Elanna, you made a mistake in refusing to see Tom. If you care for him and think you might want a closer relationship in the future, you shouldn't have run from it."
"Why did I? I don't understand myself."
"You said it a moment ago. You were afraid and you were jealous. Are you still? Because if you are, there's no point in trying to revive the relationship."
Chakotay couldn't believe he was matchmaking for Paris and Torres. Yet he wanted Torres to be happy. If Paris could make her happy, the gods knew how, then he
would give them his blessing. "You said he was always flirting. Have you changed your mind?"
"Not exactly. I did some research though," she admitted.
"Research? What kind of research?"
Torres flushed as she confessed, "I asked around about Tom's behavior---just girl talk, you know."
"I'm sure that was interesting." Chakotay was positive that was an understatement. He fought to keep his thoughts from showing on his face.
"In a way. You remember I said Tom was flirting with Diane Russell? The librarian?" Chakotay nodded so she continued. "It turns out he's been playing matchmaker for her and Dalby."
"Dalby?" Chakotay was amazed. Talk about opposites attracting. A lion and a mouse.
"I know. I can't see those two together either. Evidently, Tom noticed they were attracted to each other and made it his business to get them together at Sandrine's. It's seems to be some kind of hobby with Tom to pair people off. I found out that he sent Janine Lamont
after Ethan Simms. He told her Ethan was never going to go beyond anonymous love letters if she didn't give him a clear signal---like tackling him and kissing him." Torres had to smile. She could hear Paris saying it, and it was so true. Ethan wasn't confident enough to make the first move.
"What about Malista? What about other women? You said you weren't sure you could trust him. Can you deal with that?"
She couldn't meet his eyes. She studied the painting on his wall. "I don't think he's quite the playboy everyone thinks. You aren't going to believe this. I know I didn't at first. You know he chased Susan Nicoletti for six months? He never caught her. She says it was just a game. He flirted with her because she played hard to get. Neither one of them took it seriously. And the Delaneys? Same
story. With everyone he's seen on the ship. He flirts---he's a great kisser---they all say that," she snapped irritably. "But it never went further than kissing and necking. And Megan Delaney, for one, wanted it to."
Chakotay couldn't hide his surprise. "So where do all these stories about Paris' reputation as a lady killer come from? Has Paris been lying?"
"*He* never told those stories. Of course, he didn't deny them either. I don't know. He doesn't seem to be the man he pretends to be. Maybe the stories got started because he flirts---or because he's so good-looking. Because people are jealous. Just gossip, I guess. The same kind of gossip that gets spread about me. And you. And
everyone else."
"So?"
Talking to herself as much as to him, Torres thought about her conclusions. "So. Can I trust him? I don't know. Do I want to? Yes. Do I still have a chance? I don't know. Do you think he's in love with Malista?"
"I don't know. I don't think so," the first officer said. "In some ways, they're alike. She says they're friends. Do you believe Tom can be just a friend with
an attractive woman?"
Torres looked at him indignantly. "Of course. I can be friends with men without it being anything else."
"Then you've decided you'd like to mend fences with him?"
"Mend fences?"
"Repair the damage to your relationship," he explained.
"Yes. I want our friendship," Torres concluded, feeling a sense of peace that had been missing for some time. "He hides in the open. He never seriously let me in except when we were Vidiian prisoners. I want to see behind his mask. I want to find out if I could fall in love with him."
"How are you going to tell him?"
She scowled as she tried to think of a plan of action. "Now that's a good question."
***********************
There was more time for gossip right now and the grapevine was busy. Voyager was in orbit around an uninhabited planet that promised rich food supplies. While food-gathering teams were working on the planet, Captain Janeway decided to use the downtime to do a complete
check of ship's systems and catch up on minor maintenance and repair tasks that had been neglected due to their low priority. To do this, she put everyone to work on double shifts. No one was expecting trouble.
Tom Paris was under the helm console, doing a routine
maintenance check. He was adjusting the third power coupling when a shock of electricity and a bright blue flame jumped out searing his left hand. "OW!" He reflexively rolled away, afraid more bursts of
power might be forthcoming.
"Tom! Are you all right?" It was the captain, kneeling at his side and inspecting the injury.
"What happened?" Harry Kim asked, looking up from his own readings in concern.
Paris bit his lip and took a moment to make sure his voice was under control before responding. "Power coupling blew. It's just a burn. But it shouldn't have shorted like that!"
"You didn't---" Kim began, only to stop short at the dirty look Paris threw his way. Of course, Paris wouldn't make an amateur's mistake like crossing the power source with a conductive material.
Trials 01 Tom's Trail Page 5