Paris was examining her serious face, trying to read her. "Sure, some music would be nice." He tried a smile, but couldn't quite bring it off.
"What kind of music are you in the mood for?" Kim asked, looking through Paris' computer menu for the available selections.
Paris winced as he shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. "How about some cool jazz?"
B'Elanna brought a pitcher of water and a glass and put them within easy reach on the bedside table. "Is that the kind of music you play at Sandrine's?"
He started to answer before his mind fully processed the question. "Yeah, I like---What?" He met her eyes warily. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"Play?" Harry said blankly. "Tom doesn't play an instrument." He turned to look at Tom. "Do you?"
Tom stared at B'Elanna. He didn't speak. He didn't know what to say. He didn't remember telling her---or anyone. She kept her eyes locked on his as she answered Kim. "As a matter of fact, he does, Harry. He plays the piano. After hours at Sandrine's."
Kim looked a little confused. There was more to this
conversation than the words being spoken. "Why didn't you tell me, Tom? You could join the orchestra and---"
"I don't read music, Harry. I play by ear," Tom stated, his blue eyes lifted from Torres' brown ones. He studied the ceiling with excessive care, his expression as blank as he could make it as he waited for Harry's next question or comment.
"You could learn the songs by ear, Tom," Harry said eagerly. "We could use a keyboard--"
"I don't know any classical music."
"So?" Kim studied his friend's demeanor quizzically. "You could learn it if you wanted. How many times would you need to hear it? Or if you like jazz Chell's been trying to get someone to start a jazz band. Of course, he's talking Bolian jazz, but you could---" His voice trailed off as he noticed Tom's lack of response. "Okay, if you don't like Bolian jazz---"
"Harry," Torres interrupted. "Why don't you ask Tom why he never told you he played an instrument?"
Kim could tell his friend was uncomfortable with the
conversation. "Maybe he thought I'd pester him to play with us and he didn't want to be bothered. I can be kind of a fanatic with music. Don't worry, Tom. I promise I won't nag."
Paris contemplated Kim's open expression as he reiterated, "I play by ear, Harry."
The ensign frowned. "So? Am I missing something here?"
"So you went to Juilliard!"
"And?"
"And you were some kind of prodigy."
Kim still didn't get it. He glanced at Torres. "So what? What does that have to do with---" He broke off as the light finally dawned. "Oh. I went to Juilliard. So I'm supposed to be some kind of music snob? Tom, I think it's great we have a love of music in common. Everyone's tastes are different. If you'd rather play for your own enjoyment, that's fine with me. If you want to play for a ship's performance, that's even better. I don't understand what this has to do with anything."
"I'm sorry, Harry. I should have known it wouldn't make a difference. I just hate to admit to my faults," Tom confessed.
"What fault?" Harry asked, putting his hand on Tom's shoulder. He was beginning to think Tom needed rest more than they'd thought. He didn't think Paris was reasoning too well.
"I play *by ear*." Tom repeated. He couldn't seem to make Kim understand. "My dad always said you shouldn't do something at all if you couldn't do it right."
"You don't read music because you never bothered to learn. That's not a fault. What difference does that make? At least you *have* an ear! The worst semester of my life at the Academy was the one when I had a tone-deaf roommate who insisted on whistling all the time. I wanted to murder him!" Kim laughed.
Smiling reluctantly, Paris let it go. "Never mind, Harry. We'll talk about music some other time." He started to yawn, and was caught by surprise when his intake of air became a coughing fit. He pressed his hands to his chest trying to still the sharp pain in his sternum as he coughed.
B'Elanna poured a glass of water from the pitcher on his night stand. When the coughing subsided, Harry slipped an arm beneath his shoulders to lift him to a sitting position while Torres held the glass to his lips. Paris sent her a grateful look. "Thanks."
"Do you want me to ask the doctor for something for that cough?" Kim asked.
"Hell, no! I've been at his mercy too many times lately. I seem to spend half my life in Sickbay! I don't want to see him again!" Paris complained, lying back against his pillow. "Besides it would probably be an oral medication and they always taste terrible." He made a face, sounding about four years old.
Kim couldn't resist teasing his friend. "Maybe if you were a good boy, he'd give you a lollipop!"
"You wouldn't have to see the doctor so often if you didn't take so damned many chances with your life," Torres informed Paris tartly. She was definitely not in a joking mood. She spread a blanket over his feet and pulled it up to his chest.
Paris didn't know how to reply to that so he changed the subject. "Listen, I appreciate your help, but I think I'm going to take a nap. So you two can get back to work. But if you have some time, could you do me a favor and check on Malista? With losing Dishon, she's got to be feeling---well, I can't begin to imagine how she's feeling."
"I can," Torres stated bluntly. "She's feeling exactly the way I---and Harry would be feeling if it had been you that died." She stared into Paris' eyes, hiding nothing. It was time for honesty. And it was safer with Harry present so things wouldn't get out of hand.
Paris drew in a shaky breath. "B'Elanna?" He reached out and gripped her hand, squeezing it gently, wanting to do something to take away the pain and fear he read in those dark pools of brown. Her hand tightened around his.
Kim squeezed Paris' shoulder. His expression mirrored
B'Elanna's. "I'm glad---" He was embarrassed as his voice cracked, but continued, "I'm glad you're okay, Tom. If there's anything we can do---?"
For the first time in a long time, Paris was so moved he couldn't speak. He couldn't even think of a smart remark or joke. He could feel his eyes burning as tears began to form. "Thanks. Both of you." He sniffed, hoping to keep the tears at bay. "Listen," he said, appealing to Kim, "Can we stop this before we really get mushy? I mean I'm tired and kind of shaky. I'm too glad to be alive to talk about the 'what ifs' right now."
Torres nodded solemnly. "But we will talk about this, Tom. This was an accident, but you do take too many risks with your life. And if I'm---we're going to have an interest in your life as your friends, I---we have the right to worry about you. And to try to protect you---even from yourself." Kim nodded his agreement.
Overwhelmed, Paris squeezed her hand again and closed his eyes and kept them closed. "I appreciate that. We'll talk later. Please. And don't forget Malista. If you understand how she feels, maybe you can help her deal with it." He desperately wanted to be alone right now. He had to think and he couldn't do it with Torres and Kim
hovering.
Kim gave him one final pat on the shoulder and started for the exit. Torres lifted Paris' hand to her face and rubbed her cheek against it. She kissed his palm then lay his hand on his chest. "Get some sleep, Tom. We have time to talk. Seventy years or so." She followed Kim out into the corridor. "Computer, put a privacy seal on
Lt. Paris' quarters. No incoming messages unless it has an emergency priority. Authorization Torres Kappa Delta Pi."
"Good idea," Kim commented. "Do you want to go see Malista now?"
"It will be hard, Harry."
Kim looked at her questioningly.
Torres took his arm as they started walking. She'd felt Death's icy breath brush by much too closely. She'd almost lost Tom. She'd seen Harry die once. She needed to feel close to him, too---her first Starfleet friend. "I don't know about you, but while I feel sorry that Dishon is dead---if one of them had to die, I'm glad it wasn't
Tom." Those damned tears were back---in her eyes and her voice. She darted a glance at Kim to gauge
his reaction.
He was in the same condition. His emotions were on the surface as well after the close call. "And you feel guilty for being glad? I know." He cleared his throat. "I feel the same way. Glad and guilty. It's a natural reaction."
She appreciated his support and warmth as they walked together, silently as each one tried to think of what they could possibly say to comfort Malista Shadow. Physically, she was in the same shape as Tom. Mentally and emotionally? It must be much worse.
***********************
Chakotay had steeled himself to deal with an emotional outburst. There wasn't one. When he entered Crewman Shadow's quarters, she was sitting cross-legged on a chair, knitting a small pink blanket. She invited him to sit down with a gesture. "Malista, I'm here to plan
Niko Dishon's memorial service."
She regarded him calmly. "It doesn't matter. Niko wasn't big on memorials. His favorite music tapes are in his desk in his quarters. I suppose you could play some of them. He really liked Sandrine's.
The service should be there. He had good times there."
"Would you like to say a few words?" the first officer asked, trying to read her emotionless expression.
"No." Her eyes dropped to her knitting. "I talked to Niko when he was alive. He would feel honored if you would be the one to speak. He respected the captain, but he still felt a greater loyalty to you."
Chakotay was at a loss. There were no more tears, no outward manifestation of grief. It had been only a day. Her physical condition was no better than Paris'. The bruising around her eyes and the spiderwebs of purple under her skin gave her a haunting and haunted appearance. Perhaps she was still in shock. "How are you feeling? Would you like to have someone with you? I could ask Paris---or if he's not up to it, Kes would ---"
"No!" she exploded. More calmly she continued, "No, thank you. I want to be alone. There's nothing anyone can do."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Talking won't change things."
"It might make you feel better," he suggested though he wasn't sure he believed it himself. She didn't respond. The needles clicked in her fingers, never ceasing the knitting motions. "Would you like to tell me what I should say at the memorial service? I knew Niko, but not as well as you did. Is there anything special I should say?"
That seemed to catch her attention. "He was---kind. He was my family. Tell them---he killed five Cardassians and saved my life at Huldon III. He was a brave man. He should be remembered as a hero." There were still no tears, but sadness replaced the deadness in her eyes.
Something about her words rung false. "Is that what happened?" Chakotay asked.
Her eyes flashed at him. "Tell them that."
"All right. Anything else?"
"No." The deadness had returned to her eyes and her face. "Thank you."
"If you need anything---"
"I know." She dismissed him from her mind before he was out the door.
***********************
As Chakotay walked away from Shadow's quarters, he was a little surprised to see Torres approaching with her arm linked through Kim's. Torres wasn't given to public displays of affection.
"Hi," Torres said. "We were going to see Malista. How is she?"
Chakotay looked over his shoulder at the door to her quarters. "Not good. I think you should wait a while. Maybe tomorrow after the memorial service she'll want to talk."
"We told Tom we'd try to check on her, but if you think we should leave her alone," Kim said, shrugging. "It's hard to know what to say."
Chakotay seemed disturbed. "I can't put my finger on it, but I get a bad feeling about the way she's dealing with this."
"How is she dealing with it?" Torres asked.
"She's just---she isn't. She's sitting there knitting something as if the fate of the world rests on her finishing it," the first officer replied.
"Maybe she's still in denial?" Harry suggested.
"Maybe. I'll have Kes check on her periodically. I'm surprised though at her lack of emotion. There were no tears. She didn't react the way I would expect."
The chief engineer shook his arm. "Chakotay, she's never put her emotions on display before. Everyone deals with grief in their own way. I'm sure she knows we'll be there for her. I mean if she won't talk to you, maybe she'll talk to me---or to Tom. He's her friend. She told me so."
"I still don't like it. I just can't put my finger on why. Something familiar, but just out of reach," Chakotay muttered. "It'll come to me sooner or later."
"You want to go get some Kaaba tea? Harry and I were going to have a cup then check on Paris again."
"That sounds nice. So tell me, did you get the hotshot tucked in? And did you have to stun him to do it?"
***********************
The memorial service for Niko Dishon was held at Sandrine's as per his 'family's' request. It was one of the quietest ever held on Voyager which had seen far too many similar services. Though the crew had seen death before, it had never seemed so random or so pointless as this one caused by three small malfunctions. They couldn't help
but be aware that it could have been any one of them in Dishon's place and it made them feel unsettled and insecure.
Tom Paris and Gerron escorted Malista Shadow to her seat at the front of the room and sat on either side of her. Torres sat on Paris' other side and next to Harry Kim. Chakotay kept his remarks brief and to the point, saying what Malista had requested and recounting a few other details and anecdotes about Dishon's service, both in the Maquis and on Voyager. Many people were moved to tears. Malista Shadow was not one of them. She looked frozen---as if nothing---no words, no thoughts, no one could touch
her.
When the service ended, she turned to Paris. "Tom, I'd like for you, B'Elanna, Gerron, and Chakotay to join me for lunch in my quarters."
Paris frowned concernedly. "Are you sure you feel up to entertaining?"
"I've been accumulating a lot of replicator credits working two shifts," she replied. "It's not much work. Please. I want to have a---wake of sorts. Niko would have wanted it. I have the table set up and ready. If you'll invite the others, I'll go ahead and get things started."
"Sure," Paris agreed, but for some reason he didn't feel comfortable letting her leave alone. He turned to Torres. "B'Elanna? Would you take Malista to her quarters? She wants us there for lunch.
I have to get the other guests."
B'Elanna smiled kindly at Paris then Shadow. "Of course. C'mon, we'll get ahead of the rush."
"I don't need an escort." Her protests met resistance from two pairs of eyes, one bright blue and the other dark brown. "All right." She walked out with B'Elanna, shortening her stride so she wouldn't outdistance the shorter woman.
***********************
Tom gathered the invited guests and delivered them to Shadow's quarters. It was a little crowded with the large table that had to accommodate five adults, but the food was wonderful. Malista must have done some research. Every food served was a favorite of one or more of her guests. It was an enjoyable meal though quiet, almost solemn at first. Malista started a conversation about music which eventually involved everyone, even the shy Gerron, as opinions flew
freely. With the guidance of the hostess, the discussion ranged from music to art to literature of all cultures represented at the table.
It was odd to see Malista smiling and talking just like any normal woman. Her behavior was unusual for her, but pleasant. Chakotay speculated that the shock of Dishon's death had led her to decide she should open herself up to life more.
Paris was torn between watching Malista and watching B'Elanna. He wasn't sure how B'Elanna would react if he continued his friendship with Shadow. He didn't want to jeopardize their renewed friendship. Yet he wasn't prepared to drop Shadow when she needed a friend so badly right now. He hoped B'Elanna would understand. He also hoped B'Elanna would believe his intention toward Malista had always been friendship---nothing more. He wasn't confi
dent she would,
given her reaction to seeing him with Lamont.
Torres caught Paris watching her. She read his thoughts on his face the third time she noticed how carefully he was trying to balance his attention equally between her and his hostess. She decided to reassure him.
She dropped her right hand under the tablecloth and placed her hand on his thigh and squeezed gently. That was a mistake! She almost giggled at Paris' reaction. First he jumped, then his big blue eyes stared at her in disbelief. He noticed Chakotay staring at him and quickly straightened his face, but not before giving her a warning glance that almost set her off in giggles again.
She left her hand on his leg, drawing small circles with her index finger until he seized her hand with his own and placed both their hands on the table, with his hand atop hers, holding it in place. She tried to look properly chastened, but her brown eyes twinkled at him. Of course, Chakotay noticed and raised an eyebrow.
She looked at him innocently and blinked deliberately.
The luncheon was such a success, it was hard to believe they'd come straight from a memorial service. When everyone had finished the last bite of the traditional Greek pastries served as dessert, Malista stood and raised her wine glass to offer a toast. "To Niko Dishon."
The others joined her and echoed, "Niko Dishon." Then it was time to go. Malista refused all offers of help in clearing everything away and shooed them out the door. Before he left, she gave Chakotay a data disk containing a will of sorts for the disposal of Niko's possessions. She seemed to be in good spirits and at peace.
Before they left, B'Elanna and Tom paused at the door. Tom slowly put his arms around Malista and pulled her into a hug, giving her a chance to resist if she wanted. She rested her head on his shoulder for a moment as if feeling comforted.
She pulled back and smiled. Now there were tears in her eyes. "Thank you, Tom. Thank you for being my friend. You'll never know how much it's meant."
He searched her eyes. "Are you going to be okay? I can stay---we can stay."
Trials 01 Tom's Trail Page 7