Torres, purely out of sexual curiosity.
He knew---because he'd had to pick them up off the floor after
B'Elanna had expressed her lack of interest with her fists or feet.
Thankfully, she'd eventually learned to turn down any offers without
resorting to physical violence. He'd also put a stop to the
propositions by letting his disapproval be known among the Maquis.
His protective attitude had led many people to misinterpret his own
relationship with Torres, but he'd ignored the gossip, knowing very
well that there was nothing he could do to put a stop to it. He was
aware that B'Elanna had developed something of a crush on him for a
while, but she'd gotten over it.
The beginning of the end of the crush had been when the Vidiians
had split her into her human and Klingon halves---and Tom Paris had
been there to comfort and assist her. She never had confided in him
very much about that experience---just an occasional comment on how
Paris had helped her, tried to help Durst. But since that time the
relationship between the first officer and chief engineer had been
purely based on friendship and a shared past history.
Chakotay gave her a conciliatory smile. "You've made progress
since the last time we talked. Now, at least you're sure he does care
about you. How do you feel about him?"
She threw herself back into the chair for the fourth time. "Oh,
Chakotay," she sighed. "He's so---" She hesitated as she tried to
think of the best way of describing him. Her whole face lit up. "He
makes me feel more at ease with myself. And when he kisses me---" She
sighed again, this time with a reminiscent smile. She hugged herself,
rubbing her hands up and down her arms.
"I take it that's positive?" His dimple peeked out as he tried
to hide his amusement at her unexpected attack of speechlessness.
She flashed a grin at him. "He makes me feel---beautiful.
Special. Warm. Accepted. I've never felt like this before in my
entire life---But I don't know if I make him feel the same way. I
know I don't intimidate him. He's not afraid of my temper. But he
hides from me. I want to know how he feels. How can I get him to open
up?"
Chakotay considered that for a moment. "Have you thought of
setting the example?"
"What?"
"If you want him to open up and share his feelings with you,
maybe you should share your feelings with him first."
"I couldn't do that."
"Why not?"
"Because what if---what if he didn't like what he heard?"
Chakotay frowned at her. "Excuse me, isn't that what you said
he's afraid of? That you won't like what you hear?"
"Yes, but that's different," she protested, dismayed to hear a
whining note entering her voice.
"Why? B'Elanna, you want him to take all the risks emotionally?
He's supposed to open up to you---while you protect yourself?"
"No! That's not it---" she protested, but stopped herself. "Yes,
it is. That's exactly it. So you think if I open up to him, he'll
feel---he'll trust me enough to open up to me, too?"
"There are no guarantees. But I'm sure it would help."
She nodded thoughtfully and subsided into silence.
A few minutes passed. Chakotay finally interrupted her train of
thought. "B'Elanna, while you're here, can I ask you a question?"
She came back from the far place to which she'd traveled
mentally. "Sure."
Her brown eyes focused on him.
"What happened with Harry and Malista?"
She eyed him with amusement. "Let's see, that makes thirty-
three."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You're the thirty-third person to ask me that question. Today,"
she added. "Why do you want to know? As Malista's counselor? Or as
First Officer?"
"Either or both. The situation is beginning to affect ship's
morale. I'm surprised Neelix---"
Torres held up a hand. "Too late. Neelix already tried his hand
at morale boosting."
Chakotay passed a hand over his face, momentarily hiding his
eyes. "Oh, no.
Do I want to hear this?"
"No---o---o," she drawled, sprawling in the chair and getting
comfortable. "But you'll probably hear about it soon. So I might as
well tell you. Neelix sat down with Harry at lunch today and tried to
get him to talk about it."
"And what was Harry's reaction?"
"Let's put it this way, what would your reaction be if Neelix
offered to play matchmaker for you and the Captain?" She hid a smile
behind her hand at the curt, intimidating look the first officer sent
sizzling across the room. "Yeah. That's what I thought. Harry held
onto his temper by a micron, ordered Neelix to leave him alone, and
stalked out of the mess hall. Kes talked Neelix out of approaching
Malista. For which we should all be grateful. She wouldn't get mad.
She'd probably burst into tears. Which would upset Tom. And then I'd
have to smack Neelix."
Chakotay decided to ignore her insolence and get back on the
subject. "But what did Harry and Malista fight about? What caused the
split?"
B'Elanna shrugged. "I'm not sure. They aren't talking---to
anyone. Malista might talk to Tom about it eventually, but she even
told him to stay out of it. She doesn't want this to---interfere in
our friendship with Harry. She wants the impossible. Harry won't talk
to Tom or anyone else about what happened. It's awkward just being in
the same room with him. He's shut us out."
"You don't have a clue?"
"No. The only thing I can think of---is jealousy. She'd
mentioned that Harry had been acting funny and watching her all the
time. Then Freddie Bristow made a pass at her. But Harry knew she
hadn't invited that. How could he possibly be jealous? It doesn't
make any sense. She never even knew anyone else existed---not once
she had Harry."
Chakotay frowned. "Jealousy isn't rational. It stems from
insecurity. There doesn't have to be a real basis for its existence."
"How could Harry possibly feel insecure? She was always hanging
on his every word and adoring him with her eyes! She practically
climbed in his pocket at Sandrine's that night. He'd have to be blind
and stupid not to realize she cared about him!" Torres was
exasperated with both her friends.
"Maybe she never told him. Actions can tell you a lot---but when
it comes right down to it---most people need to hear the words,"
Chakotay stated quietly.
"Yeah. Well, thanks, Chakotay. I'll see you later." She bounced
to her feet and charged out the door in her typical impetuous manner,
giving him no time to ask more questions.
Chakotay thought for a moment then slapped his commbadge.
"Chakotay to Captain Janeway."
"Janeway here."
"Captain, I've finished my session with Torres. If you'd like to
finish those reports---"
"I'll be right there."
***********************
Tom landed flat on his back in the center of the net for the
fifth time in
twenty minutes. The fun had gone out of falling---
somewhere around the third time.
"What did I do wrong now?" he yelped plaintively.
Hanging upside down by the knees from the trapeze, Malista shook
with laughter. "You aren't concentrating, Tom! You have to pay
attention. I told you it's all in the timing!"
"Hey! Why don't you let me be the catcher?"
"Because *I* don't want to fall!"
"What a lousy thing to say!" he retorted. "True---but totally
unnecessary to say out loud. Come down here! I think half an hour is
enough of a workout. How's your shoulder?"
"It's fine." She pulled herself up to sit on the trapeze and
peered down at him. "Well, if you want me to come down, you have to
get out of the net."
"Why? There's plenty of room." He paused and studied his
surroundings. "Is it my imagination, or did this net grow since last
time we were here?"
"No, it's bigger. About fifty percent bigger. But you still have
to move, because if I jump down, I'll either squash you or you'll
probably bounce out! You think you can land on your feet instead of
your head?"
"I'm going, I'm going," he grumbled, rolling to the edge of the
net and dismounting. He waited till she'd bounced down and helped her
off the edge. He got her robe and held it as she put it on. He
slipped his own robe on and belted it. The perspiration raised by
exertion was cooling on his body and it would be easy to catch a
chill. They sat down on a bench near the ringside.
"Why is the net bigger?" he asked, squinting as he stared at it.
Malista shrugged. "I thought you made it bigger---because you
keep falling. If you didn't---Oh! B'Elanna must have made it bigger."
"Why would she do that?" Paris inquired, frowning.
Shadow socked his arm. "Because*you* keep falling, Tom. She's
being protective. And surprisingly diplomatic."
"Oh," he said, comprehension dawning. There was a pause. "So how
are you doing?"
"Fine. How are you?"
"Fine."
There was a momentary silence.
"Now that we've finished lying to each other, how are you
really?" Tom asked, studying her profile.
She pushed the sawdust with her left big toe, forming little
piles on the floor in front of them. "I've been better," she finally
replied, a sob shaking her voice.
He slipped his arm around her and pulled her head down to his
shoulder. "Computer, save and end program. Run program Paris 4,
subroutine 6."
The holodeck shimmered around them. The circus tent disappeared
and was replaced by Lake Como. It was a special place for them---the
place where they'd first forged the bonds of their friendship. It was
sunset and Tom and Malista were seated on the bench next to the
picnic table with a view of the lake before them. It was very
peaceful.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Tom asked, careful not to sound
insistent.
"Have you talked to Harry?"
"Don't answer a question with a question," he instructed.
"Why not? You do it all the time."
"I'm your older brother. You're supposed to do as I say---not as
I do," Tom replied virtuously.
"Yeah, right," she replied in a watery voice. She left her head
on his shoulder as if she derived some comfort from his touch. "But
have you talked to Harry? As a friend?"
"No."
"Oh, Tom." She tilted her face to look at him. "He's your best
friend. I told you I didn't want---"
"It's not your fault. I tried to talk to him---once. I haven't
chased him down because I don't know what to say. He's been avoiding
me anyway. He doesn't want to talk to me. Do you want to talk about
it?"
"You aren't going to let go of this, are you?"
Tom waved an admonishing finger at her. "See, you did it again!"
"Did what?"
"Answered a question with a question. No. I'm not going to let
it go. Talk to me." Her head rested on his shoulder, his head rested
atop hers, their arms around each other, and they watched the sunset
for a few minutes. "Computer, put a privacy lock on this holodeck."
"Acknowledged. Privacy lock is in place."
"Now, Sis. What happened?"
"It's funny. I've thought about it. I'm still not sure," she
replied. "I thought everything was---fine. Then we got back to my
quarters and he---no, that's not true. He'd been acting funny for
days. Not himself. But if I asked him what was wrong, he said
'Nothing'. At Sandrine's that night---he was---Oh, I don't know. Did
he seem all right to you?"
"Well," Paris said hesitantly. "Before we came to meet you, he
was upset about the incident with Freddie Bristow."
"I hadn't even told him about---"
"He saw it. He went to the resort and saw Freddie rubbing oil on
your back," Paris explained.
"Oh. But why---"
"He left as soon as he saw you two together."
"So he didn't see me knock Freddie down and tell him to keep his
hands off of me?"
"Did you do that?" Tom said, sounding delighted. "I wish I could
have seen that. How did Freddie take it?"
"With his ego, he barely noticed," Malista muttered. "You just
wish I'd decked him because he went after B'Elanna."
"True." He didn't sound the least bit apologetic.
"So Harry didn't know if I'd invited Freddie's attention? Was
that why---but when you got to Sandrine's I told everybody what
happened. Didn't he believe me?"
she asked plaintively.
"He probably wanted to. Maybe he wanted to believe it so much he
couldn't."
She blinked at him curiously.
He waved a hand to dismiss it. "It's a guy thing. So is that
what the fight was about? Freddie Bristow?" Paris inquired.
"No. I told you---I'm not even sure. It seemed to just---flare
up. He didn't want to---He didn't want me to kiss him. I thought he
liked kissing me. He seemed to before. He said he wanted to talk.
Then he started ---ranting about other men---men plural---not just
Freddie---and the accident---"
"The accident? Was he still blaming himself?"
"No. As a matter of fact," she said then stopped, reconsidering
the wisdom of telling Tom the whole truth.
"What?"
"No, you'll get mad." She looked away from him.
"Come on."
"No."
"Malista?" he drawled coaxingly.
"Promise not to get mad?"
Tom snorted. "Too late. I'm already mad at him. For hurting you.
And for shutting me out."
"Tom, it's not all his fault. It takes two to make a fight, you
know."
"Tell me what he said about the accident."
She sighed and sat upright, pulling away from his encircling
arm. She stood and strolled down to the water's edge. Paris followed
her. "He asked me---if I was trying to get myself killed. He thought
maybe it wasn't an accident at all---that it might have been a---
another suicide attempt."
"What?" Paris exploded.
She winced at his loudness and laid a hand
on his arm. "Tom.
Calm down."
"How could he think that---much less say it?! Has he lost his
mind? What other pearls of stupidity did he have to offer?"
"Tom, I'm not going to tell you anything until you calm down.
And promise not to say anything to anyone else about this---
especially not Harry!" Malista tugged on his forearm and gazed up at
him insistently through tear-drenched dark green eyes.
Paris took hold of his emotions and reined them in. She didn't
need him to fight her battles for her. Not right now. She needed him
to listen. So he would listen and keep quiet---if it choked him.
"Okay. I'm sorry. What else did he say?"
"There was something about Freddie. I think he was still
jealous. And when I said Freddie wasn't important---he asked about---
other men." She paused to see if another outburst was forthcoming.
When Tom clenched his jaw silently, she went on. "Then he said I was
using him---to get experience sexually---because he was---safe? And
he said Libby never tried to make him jealous---and I told him to get
out!" She lost her battle to suppress her tears. They rolled freely
down her cheeks.
Tom's arms came around her and pressed her cheek against his
shoulder as she wept. He shook his head. "I can't believe it. That
doesn't sound like Harry."
"That's what I thought," Malista choked. "He was acting like a
totally different person. I didn't know what to do---I didn't know
what to say. I was so angry I couldn't talk. I couldn't find the
words---I must have done something. I'm just too stupid to know what
I did that made Harry so---so crazy."
Tom seized her forearms and gave her a little shake. "Stop that.
You're not stupid! Don't take the blame for this."
"Who should I blame? Harry? He's the normal one, remember? I
must have done something. How did I make him crazy?"
"I think he did it to himself," Tom said, uncertainly.
"Yeah, right." She drew a tissue from the pocket of her robe,
mopped her face and blew her nose. "That's likely."
"Well, what now?" Tom took her hand and led her back to the
bench.
"Nothing. It's over. Maybe in time---things will settle down and
we can be polite to each other---be friendly again. Right now---I
just can't. It hurts so much to see him. I can't even say hello."
Tom frowned. "And what are you going to do? Date someone else?"
She shook her head tiredly. "I'm not interested. Not now. Maybe
Trials 03 Torres' Trial Page 12