Trials 03 Torres' Trial

by Terri Zavaleta

  Torres touched her hand. "Just make sure you do it in a public

  place. I don't trust that guy alone with you---or any woman, for that

  matter."

  "Thanks---Sis," Malista said jokingly. "I will. I guess you

  didn't mean any of the things you said to make me angry?"

  "No. Of course not," Torres replied. "If I really thought you

  were using or

  manipulating Tom or Harry, you'd have known about it a long time ago.

  I don't keep things to myself very well."

  They sat and enjoyed the scenery on the holodeck for a few

  moments as they cooled off and their blood pressure returned to

  normal.

  "Aren't you supposed to be resting?" Shadow asked finally.

  "You aren't going to believe this," Torres said with a wicked

  grin. "I feel very relaxed. Fighting with you was good for me. I

  vented a lot of frustration."

  Shadow eyed her askance. "If you say so. I'm worn out. I feel

  like I just ran a marathon. I think I need a nap. Can I ask you

  something?"

  "Sure."

  "Are you really jealous of my relationship with Tom?"

  B'Elanna shifted uncomfortably. "Not really. I know he literally

  has adopted you as a sister and thinks of you that way. I think he

  misses his older sisters. I do wish he'd talk to me the way he seems

  to talk to you. He won't discuss his past, his feelings about

  anything more important than books he's read---stuff like that."

  "And when you ask---?"

  "He changes the subject---or tries to kiss me---or makes a

  stupid joke," B'Elanna confessed.

  Malista winced and nodded. "I've been doing the same thing to

  Harry. He doesn't like it either. And now Harry has started to---act

  funny. He doesn't---oh, I don't know. He watches me all the time and

  when I ask him what's wrong---he says nothing. But I don't believe

  him. Sometimes I think he's jealous---but that's silly. We settled

  that issue when we decided we'd see each other exclusively."

  "Maybe Harry just feels a little insecure. He'll get over it. I

  wouldn't worry about it. I do want to know one thing, Malista. What

  were you going to say when I asked why Tom talks to you and Harry?

  You said 'Maybe because neither Harry or I---'. What?"

  Shadow shrugged. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, B'Elanna."

  "Then tell me the truth!" she demanded impatiently.

  "Can you handle the truth?"

  "I don't know until I hear it!"

  Shadow met her eyes directly as she replied. "Neither Harry or I

  have ever rejected Tom. Like you did. In the messhall that day."

  "We didn't have---we hadn't made a commitment to each other

  then," Torres replied defensively. "You can't really say I rejected

  him. I told him I still wanted to be his friend."

  "You'd been getting closer, friendlier, even flirting with him--

  -he was beginning to trust you and open up," Malista stated. "Then

  you---without warning, as far as he was concerned---suddenly changed

  your mind. You decided you wanted to be 'just friends'. You pushed

  him away. Without a real reason. Can you wonder that he's not sure if

  he can trust you? Have you made a commitment to him now? Have you

  opened up to him? B'Elanna, you have to earn his trust all over

  again. It's going to take time."

  "And I'm not the most patient---" Torres began. "I never meant

  to hurt him. But you know what bothers me? It's not just that he

  won't talk to me---it's that he never gets---upset. I never see him

  knocked off balance. He never loses control."

  She pounded the table with her fists, attempting to vent her

  frustration. "I don't trust anyone who never loses his temper."

  "And Tom doesn't trust anyone who doesn't cry," Shadow stated

  matter-of-factly. "You two have some problems. You each want to stay

  in control of yourself, but you want the other to surrender control.

  How are you going to work it out?"

  "We can't work it out if he won't talk to me!" Torres snarled,

  leaping to her feet and beginning to pace.

  "He's afraid to talk to you," Shadow said reluctantly. She

  didn't know how much she should say---how much she could say. She was

  treading a fine line between helping a friend and betraying a

  confidence.

  "Afraid?" Torres snorted a disbelieving laugh. "Tom Paris,

  hotshot pilot? I didn't think he'd admit to being afraid of

  anything."

  The taller woman shook her head sadly. "Underneath---the real

  Tom is a sensitive man. He cares deeply and sometimes he---his

  emotions---He thinks if you see him---vulnerable---He knows about

  Klingon honor. He's afraid you'll think he's a coward or a weakling.

  He knows you've heard the rumors about him, but what if he tells you

  which ones are true? He's afraid you'll be disappointed once you get

  to know the real him---and you'll brush him off---again." Her final

  word held a shade of condemnation.

  "Before you push Tom into confiding in you, B'Elanna, you'd

  better be damned sure you can handle the truth. If you can't---leave

  him alone. Break it off now, before you both get in any deeper. I

  don't think---I don't want to know the man Tom will become if you---"

  Tears filled her eyes. "Just think carefully. I don't know how many

  more rejections Tom can deal with. There have been too many. And yes,

  he pretends he doesn't care, that it doesn't matter---that it's a

  self-fulfilling prophecy ---but he does care! He cares passionately.

  He's just learned not to show it. Because if you show people where it

  hurts, it's like painting a target on your back---it shows them just

  where to hit you to hurt you the most."

  Torres took a deep breath. Her chest felt tight---or perhaps it

  was her heart, aching for Tom Paris---and for Malista---and for

  herself---they'd all learned that lesson from painful experience.

  B'Elanna hated to think Tom thought he had to protect himself from

  her. "You two are a lot alike, aren't you?"

  "Yes. Tom reminds me of some of the Greeks in my colony. My

  father's people are emotional---men and women alike---laugh, shout---

  and cry easily---It makes them a passionate people. Some of us have

  learned to hide that passion for life---that sensitivity---to keep

  from getting hurt. " Malista's face might have been carved in stone,

  it was so lacking in expression. But, as with Tom, her eyes expressed

  the unspoken pain she felt.

  "I have to get back to work," Torres said, moving toward the

  exit as if escaping. "Thank you. I will think long and hard. I don't

  want to make another mistake."

  Malista watched her go then turned back toward the lake,

  breathing deeply and trying to regain a sense of peace as she thought

  about Harry and their relationship. 'Maybe tonight,' she told

  herself. 'Maybe tonight would be a good time to tell him---what he

  wants to know. To let him know---that I want him. That I want more

  than kisses from him. If that's what he wants, too. Maybe he can help

  me learn how to...Maybe I won't be scared with Harry. He always makes

  me feel safe. He's so reliable.'

  ***********************
<
br />   As soon as Harry Kim got off duty, he went to check on Malista

  Shadow. The computer had given her location as Holodeck 1, which was

  running the resort program. He had covered most of the resort before

  he found her. No one else was around. That was probably why she felt

  comfortable using the program and dressing appropriately. She was

  wearing a bathing suit, lying face down on a lounge chair next to the

  swimming pool. He grinned at the sight of those long, shapely, bare

  legs. He loved those legs.

  Harry started to call out to her then realized he might startle her

  as she lay basking in the holographic sunshine. He decided to wait

  till he got closer. As he neared, Freddie Bristow came out from

  behind a partition and sat down next to her on the edge of the chair.

  He began to rub oil on her bare back.

  Harry felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. Malista wasn't

  even flinching away from Freddie's touch. She'd had Harry convinced

  she was afraid to be touched in such an intimate manner. And now she

  was letting Freddie Bristow---

  Harry spun on his heel and left the holodeck. If he'd waited ten

  seconds longer, he would have felt much better and saved himself and

  everyone else a lot of heartache. Maybe.

  A half-sleeping Malista, becoming aware of the size and warmth

  of the hands on her back, abruptly awoke and sat up. Identifying

  Bristow, she shoved him off the lounge chair and darted to her feet.

  "What happened to the holographic pool boy who was doing that?" she

  demanded, snatching up her robe and slipping it on to hide her body

  from Bristow's appreciative gaze.

  "I deleted him?" Freddie returned, hauling himself to his feet

  with an

  appeasing, carefully calculated smile. He had been interested in

  Malista Shadow for weeks and had decided this was an ideal time to

  make his move. He found it impossible to believe she wasn't secretly

  delighted by his attentions. "I didn't mean to catch you by

  surprise. Why don't you lie down again? I'll rub oil on your legs."

  Malista stared at him in amused disbelief at the sheer gall of

  the man. "No, thank you. And keep your hands off!" she added

  emphatically.

  "Aw, come on, Malista," he said cajolingly. "I just want to get

  to know you better." He was tall, young, strong, and handsome. She

  couldn't possibly prefer Harry Kim who was almost three inches

  shorter than she was, and nowhere near as attractive as Freddie---in

  Freddie's opinion anyway.

  "You're incredible!" Malista announced, spinning on her heel and

  stalking away.

  Freddie pondered that for a few minutes. Was she being

  sarcastic? Or merely playing hard to get?

  ***********************

  Tom Paris was in the process of changing into his civilian

  clothes when his door chime sounded. "Come," he said as he pulled a

  blue tee-shirt over his head.

  Harry Kim stalked in and flung himself onto the recliner in

  Tom's living area. "Women!"

  Tom raised an amused eyebrow. "Are you just now figuring that

  out?"

  Harry glared at him. Stomping around in his quarters for forty-

  five minutes hadn't calmed him. If anything, his mood was worse. He

  felt ready to explode. Actually, the feeling had been building for

  days---like a bonfire being built stick by stick. Now the fuse had

  been lit.

  "What now?" Tom said, dropping easily into the arm chair

  opposite Kim.

  "Malista."

  "Oh."

  "What do you mean 'Oh'?" Kim said, somewhat belligerently.

  Tom shrugged calmly. "I don't know. What do you want me to

  mean?"

  Harry shook his head, leaned back against the headrest, and

  fixed his eyes on

  the ceiling.

  "Do you want to talk about it?"

  "Not especially."

  Paris frowned at his friend. "Then what are you doing here?"

  Harry sighed. "I don't have anyone else to talk to."

  "Then talk to me."

  Harry eyed him for a moment. "I don't know if I should."

  "Why not?" Paris said with some degree of exasperation.

  "Because I don't want to---I don't want to make you have to

  choose between Malista and me."

  Tom winced. "That bad?"

  "Yeah." Kim looked thoroughly depressed.

  "Go ahead. What did she do?"

  "She was in the resort with Freddie Bristow!" Harry exploded.

  "We're supposed to be dating each other exclusively---and there she

  was as big as life---in the resort with Freddie Bristow!"

  "Come on, Harry," Paris said placatingly. "The resort is an open

  program. Everyone comes and goes there."

  "He was rubbing oil on her back!"

  Tom winced again. "Whew," he whistled.

  "And she says she doesn't like to be touched! HA! She probably

  wouldn't even let ME do that!" Kim bounced to his feet and stood in

  front of Paris, accusingly. He seemed to be demanding an explanation.

  "Did you---ask her---"

  "No! Of course not! I left the minute I saw them!"

  "Well, then," Tom said reasonably, "you don't know if it was a

  date or just an accident that they were there together."

  "He was rubbing oil on her back!" Harry repeated forcefully and

  indignantly. "Her *naked* back!"

  "Hold it!" Paris shouted, suddenly incensed. "She was

  *NAKED*?!"

  "No! Don't be an idiot!"

  "You said she was *naked *!"

  "I did not! I said her *back* was naked---and he was rubbing oil

  on it!"

  Paris' brows met in the middle as he tried to understand. "Wait!

  So her back was naked, but the rest of her wasn't?"

  Kim threw him an exasperated glare. "She was wearing a swim

  suit!"

  The pilot relaxed back into his chair. "Oh, well, good. Well,

  what else would she be wearing at the resort? Did she look good in

  it?" He sent a wicked grin at his friend.

  "What?! Paris, of course she looked good---too good! And that

  *baktag* Bristow had his hands all over her! And she *wasn't*

  objecting!" He'd learned a few Klingon insults in his association

  with Torres.

  "Do you think he drugged her? Or got her drunk?" Paris asked,

  half seriously. He couldn't think of a more plausible explanation for

  Malista's allowing Freddie Bristow or anyone else---except maybe

  Harry---to touch her so intimately without objecting.

  "No. Even Freddie's not that desperate," Kim muttered, resuming

  his pacing.

  Paris smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Of

  course, that's it!"

  "What's it?!" Kim growled irritably.

  "If she was asleep, she might not have known it was Freddie!"

  "Who else could it be?"

  Paris stood and blocked his friend's path. "Come on, Harry. You

  know the answer to that one. Most people use the holographic people

  to apply oil and fetch towels, that kind of thing. She may have

  thought it was a hologram putting the oil on her back. She's not

  afraid of holograms. They aren't programmed to get fresh. And if they

  do, all you have to do is delete them."

  "How can I find out? If
she doesn't want--- what if she wants to

  see other people?"

  "Ask her."

  "Yeah, sure," Kim said sarcastically.

  Paris sank back into his chair. "Okay. You don't like the

  direct approach? How about casually mentioning Freddie Bristow? If

  she's been cheating on you with him, you'll get a guilt reaction.

  Malista isn't sophisticated enough to hide her feelings that well---

  yet. We're supposed to meet B'Elanna and Malista at Sandrine's for

  dinner in ten minutes anyway. Come on, Harry. What's really going on?

  I thought you settled the jealousy issue when Malista quit playing

  games with the Delaneys."

  Harry's shoulders slumped. He looked the picture of

  discouragement. "I don't know. She won't communicate with me. If I

  try to get her to talk about anything that matters, she---uh---

  distracts me."

  "How does she do that?" Paris teased, suspecting the answer.

  Harry glared at him. "You know. She starts kissing me or---

  touches me. If that doesn't work, she finds an excuse and leaves. Why

  won't she talk to me?"

  Paris shrugged uncomfortably. Harry's description was beginning

  to remind him forcefully of complaints from Torres about his own

  refusal to open up. "Maybe she's afraid. Of your reaction. You might

  not like what you hear."

  Kim frowned, deep in thought. "And she never argues!"

  "You *want* her to argue?" Paris raised an eyebrow.

  "As opposed to being a---doormat, yes!" Harry exclaimed. "She

  never gets angry or tells me no, she just leaves---she disappears.

  Even if she's in the same room---if you know what I mean. I know I

  made her mad when I tried to get her to perform at our next concert,

  but she wouldn't even admit to that. She makes up excuses. She's not

  being honest with me about her feelings. And if she's not honest

  about her feelings, how can I trust her---" He broke off. He hadn't

  gotten near the subject of what was really bothering him, but this

  was getting a little too personal and Tom was beginning to look

  extremely uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. "Oh,

  never mind. We'll work it out."

  "Sure, you will. Just be patient," Paris advised. He almost

  thanked his friend for giving him a glimpse of how B'Elanna must feel

  when he refused to share his feelings with her. But that wouldn't be

  tactful. "And don't worry about Freddie Bristow. I'm sure there's a