Trials 01 Tom's Trail

by Terri Zavaleta

  She was trembling, shaking so hard Paris was surprised she could stand. Suddenly a transporter beam activated with pinpoint accuracy taking the wine glass and the knife. "No!" she screamed. "No! Please!" Whimpering, she fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around

  her waist.

  In a split second Paris was up the hill, knelt and locked her in his arms. He pressed her sobbing face into his shoulder and let her cry as they rocked back and forth. He cried with her. "Malista, we couldn't let you do this. You're my friend. I don't have very many. I don't want to lose you. We'll help you deal with this. We'll get you

  counseling and treatment. Voyager is our family now. We are not damaged goods." He repeated the last two phrases over and over as she began to calm down. "Voyager is our family. We are not damaged goods."

  Chakotay came up the hill more slowly. When her sobs had abated, he reached down to help the two of them get to their feet. "Transporter room two, three to beam directly to Sickbay."

  ***********************

  Paris and Chakotay were waiting in the doctor's office while the Doc and Kes undressed and sedated Malista Shadow. Tom leaned against the glass partition, feeling physically and emotionally depleted. He didn't have the energy to move---or to think. One arm cradled his

  aching ribs and his breathing was ragged.

  Chakotay took in his pallor. "Paris, why don't you sit down? Before you fall down."

  The lieutenant looked him in the eye. Enunciating exaggeratedly, he said, "My name---is Tom."

  Chakotay nodded and almost smiled. "Okay---Tom, sit down." He pulled a chair over and placed it behind the pilot. He waited till Tom had slowly collapsed before asking, "So how did you know?"

  "Funny. I was going to ask you the same question," Paris replied.

  "Did you mean it? You thought about suicide yourself?" Chakotay asked, not really expecting an answer.

  "Yes," Tom replied indifferently. He was so emotionally drained, he felt apathetic. "Three times. When my mother died. Just before I joined the Maquis. And when I went to prison."

  "What stopped you?" Chakotay wanted to understand.

  Paris shrugged. "I could hear my father saying it was the coward's way out. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being right again---and having the last word. And somehow, each time, at the last minute---I just couldn't. Maybe I read too many poems and stories. I always found a tiny seed of hope that somehow things could change.

  That my life could count for something---with someone."

  "No one helped you?"

  Paris looked up to find Chakotay's eyes filled with concern---and something else he couldn't identify. "I didn't act or look like I needed help. On the surface. They accepted me at face value. I didn't let anyone get close. No one cared enough to try very hard. That's why I had to help Malista. Even before I realized what I recognized

  in her, I knew I couldn't just stand by and watch her struggle."

  Torres and Kim burst into Sickbay and joined them in the office.

  "Who had the idea to use the transporter?" Chakotay asked.

  Torres stood behind Paris' chair and began gently kneading the knots from his shoulders. "I thought of using it. Harry worked out how to set the parameters."

  "Which isn't easy with small inanimate objects that are being moved around," Kim added. "Sorry it took so long."

  "I'm just glad it worked."

  "Tom, how did you know she was going to kill herself?" Torres asked.

  So how did I know?" Paris gazed tiredly at nothing. "The farewell dinner, the way she said good-bye when we left her quarters, she let me hug her---mostly the look in her eyes. And like I told her, I'd seen that look before. More than once. How did you know, Chakotay?" He leaned back into B'Elanna's massage and tried not to purr his pleasure in her touch and the warmth of contact. He'd never

  realized how comforting another's touch could be. Especially when it was someone you cared for.

  "The same things mostly. Training at Starfleet Academy. Some of the things she said about her relationship with Dishon. I knew there was something I didn't like about the way she reacted. She was too calm. Suicides may be depressed and acting out, but once they've reached the decision, they usually seem calm and normal. I didn't

  figure it out till about thirty minutes ago," Chakotay admitted.

  "What happens now?" Kim asked.

  "Counseling. If she's willing she can work with me or the doctor---or Tom," Chakotay said.

  It sounded like a compliment. That caught Paris' attention. "I'm not a counselor."

  "You did an excellent job tonight," the first officer replied. "But on second thought it might not be a good idea. You wouldn't want her to become dependent on you. She shouldn't exchange Dishon for you as someone to live for. The captain and I will discuss her treatment with the doctor. For now, Malista is sedated and the doctor will

  monitor her closely."

  Kim and Torres helped Paris out of his chair and slipped their arms around him. "Guys! I can walk!" he protested weakly, more out of habit than honest conviction.

  "Shut up, Tom!" his friends said in unison.

  Chakotay looked amused. "You better get the hotshot to bed. He looks ready to fold. And you two better get some sleep. You have about four hours till you report for duty. Tom can sleep late since he's still on medical leave."

  They were at Tom's door, when B'Elanna suddenly commented, "Chakotay called you Tom. He never calls you Tom."

  "Yeah, well---"

  "What did you do?" she demanded suspiciously.

  "I told him---my name is Tom."

  ***********************

  Tom Paris, completely healed and healthy, had returned to Holodeck One and his Lake Como program. He'd made a few alterations. Now there was a picnic table next to the lake and on it a basket containing his favorite replicated foods. There was a lacy tablecloth and a branch of candles to provide a romantic glow.

  He paced nervously waiting for B'Elanna to arrive for their first date. Their first real date. He couldn't believe she'd actually agreed to meet him here. Without Harry. Or Nicoletti. Or anyone else. Just the two of them. She said she wanted to talk. So did he. He was watching the boats on the lake when he heard the door.

  "Computer, put a privacy lock on Holodeck One till further notice. Authorization Torres Kappa Delta Pi."

  Tom turned to look at her and froze in his tracks. She was walking toward him wearing the red dress he'd given her for her birthday. The one she'd tucked away in the bottom of her dresser. His eyes widened as she drew closer and he stared at the lovely image before him.

  The dress was a form-fitting, sequined sleeveless sheath of a deep red that dramatically highlighted B'Elanna's exotic beauty. It stopped just above her ankles with a slit up the side almost halfway up her right thigh to give her freedom of movement. Every curve and line of her body was molded and flattered by the lines of the dress.

  She had swept her hair up on top of her head, leaving the long expanse of bare skin from neck to shoulder exposed and tempting. To complete the outfit, she had added red sandals with three inch heels and ruby dangle earrings. She'd never felt more attractive or womanly in her life. The sight of Paris gaping at her increased her pleasure

  and she smiled at him seductively. "Well, are you going to say anything?"

  He never thought he'd actually get to see her wear the dress. He couldn't believe how incredibly beautiful she was and how much he enjoyed seeing her in the dress he'd chosen for her. His mouth opened then closed. He didn't know what to say. His silent, approving stare, gave way to a brilliant smile. "Wow!" he finally choked out.

  B'Elanna was amused by his loss of poise. She'd wanted to knock him off his feet---and she'd succeeded. "Wow?" she repeated. "Tom, if that's all you have to say, this is going to be a short evening."

  He shook himself, blinked a few times, and tried again. "B'Elanna, you look---I can't believe---I mean I knew you would look beautiful, but---Wow!" He made an effort to regain
his composure. "I mean, you look lovely. You are absolutely dazzling in red. Especially that red. Dress, I mean."

  She came forward and took his arm. "You're babbling," she said sweetly.

  He smiled down at her. "Yeah. I tend to do that in the presence of ravishing women. Would you like to sit down? If I'd known you were going to wear that, I'd have worn something more---formal." He glanced down at the long-sleeved silk shirt and navy trousers disparagingly.

  "You look fine," she purred. "Better than fine." He always looked well-dressed, almost elegant in anything he wore, even his uniform. With his looks and style, he could have been a model for a catalogvid. She wondered if he realized the sapphire blue of his shirt echoed the blue of his eyes and the effect that was having on her breathing.

  The conversation came to a slightly awkward halt as he seated her and poured the champagne. He reached into the basket and set the food out on the table. They nibbled desultorily, occasionally sipping the champagne. They stared at each other admiringly for a few silent moments.

  Torres caught herself staring at his lips and wondering what it would be like to kiss him. She'd heard enough comments from others about what a wonderful kisser he was. She wanted to find out for herself. But not right now. She took a deep breath. "So? Let's talk."

  "About what?"

  "Anything. Everything. We have time."

  "Can I tell you again how beautiful you are?" he said, smiling tenderly.

  She could feel herself blushing. "Thank you, Tom. And thank you for this wonderful dress."

  "I never thought you'd wear it for me," he confided. "I thought you'd think that I thought--" He stopped, trying for a light touch. "This will get confusing if I keep it up."

  She smiled at him. "What's new? Why did you give me this dress for my birthday, Tom? It's not exactly my usual style."

  His smile was fading. "I don't want to ruin this evening. Maybe I'd better not answer."

  She looked at him doubtfully. "I'll probably get angrier with the answers I imagine. Tell me. Why did you?"

  He was tempted to make up something that would satisfy her curiosity, but decided she deserved his honesty. "Because I like you. Because I thought you would look---like you look right now. Because Starfleet uniforms are not very feminine, and somehow---I got the idea

  that you didn't think you were pretty. I wanted you to see yourself the way I see you," he answered softly.

  She knew he was thinking of the time they were prisoners in the Vidiian mining colony. She'd told him how as a child she'd tried to hide her ridged forehead. How she'd tried to look human. Since then she'd avoided talking with him or anyone else about the trauma of being split into her Klingon and human selves. She reached across the

  table and took his hand in hers. "Thank you, Tom. For the gift of the dress. For the way you helped me with the Vidiians and--everything. I never said it before. I didn't want to admit how much your encouragement meant to me." She waited, almost wincing, for him to crack a joke. The mood was getting too serious. He wouldn't let it last.

  He squeezed her hand. "I'm glad I was there with you." That was all. No joke, no smart remark. Kahless! His eyes seemed even bluer when he was serious.

  "Tom, can I ask you something? When I was human---just human--- did you think I was pretty?" She waited, holding her breath for his answer.She'd always wondered what she'd look like as a full human. She'd never

  expected to find out.

  He seemed to be struggling with an answer. "Bella, I don't know how to explain this. The human B'Elanna was lovely. The Klingon B'Elanna was wildly attractive. But neither one of them made me feel the way you do. I know it probably doesn't make sense. You're all the same person---sort of. But if all three of you, the human you, the

  Klingon you, and the you---I mean the real you, were all members of this crew, I think I'd still want you---the real you." Paris looked as confused as his words had become. "I'm sorry. Did I answer the question?"

  "Yes. You did," Torres replied, her smile mixed with tears. "Tom, I want to be honest with you. More honest than I was in the mess hall that day." She didn't have to be more specific. They both knew the day she meant. "I don't know if I'm ready for a---relationship. I don't want you to get the idea that because I'm here, because I'm wearing this dress, it means that I intend to---Oh, Kahless! I don't know how to say this without sounding arrogant or

  stupid!"

  "It's okay, B'Elanna." He reached out and cupped her jaw in his long slender fingers, gently caressing the softness of her cheek with his thumb. "We don't have to rush into an affair or a relationship---or whatever you want to call it. We have time. I want you to understand---I don't have romantic feelings for any woman except you.

  I know my reputation---"

  "Don't, Tom. I know there's a lot of gossip. You don't have to explain."

  "Bella, I tend to be a friendly guy. Some women misinterpret that friendliness. I'll admit I haven't always been careful about making it clear where I stand. But honestly, females have been chasing me since I was four years old! Sometimes I didn't run away very fast. Sometimes I used my looks and charm to get what I wanted or needed. But I tried never to hurt anyone," he said earnestly. "I

  know we aren't ready to make promises to each other. We really don't know each other that well. But we can take our time. There's no hurry. I don't want to rush you or hurt you. But, please, don't ever send me away again. I think I can take anything but that."

  She nodded, rubbing her cheek into his palm, delighting in the strength and warmth of his hand and long slender fingers. She sat back in her chair and smiled at him. "I think we should stop the heavy discussions for now. Can we talk about other things?"

  "Like what?"

  "Shoes and ships and sealing wax? Of cabbages and kings?" B'Elanna suggested with a grin.

  "And why the sea is boiling hot---and whether pigs have wings?" Paris was delighted. "You never told me you were a fan of Lewis Carroll!"

  "You never told me you were either. My dad left behind a collection of ancient children's literature when he left."

  "Have you read....?" The conversation went on for hours.

  According to the ship's grapevine, Torres and Paris were on Holodeck One for five hours. She was wearing a red hot, lust-inspiring dress. He was wearing a cool sapphire blue lust-inspiring shirt and navy pants. Witnesses reported Lieutenant Paris escorted Lieutenant Torres to her quarters and they were seen kissing---a seven on a one to ten scale according to one source, a nine according

  to another. He did not enter her quarters. They were both tired, but in a good mood when they reported for duty the next day. The gamblers involved in the betting pool went completely nuts.

  The End