behind a tree or something and wait for someone else to do her
fighting!"
She knew she was exaggerating wildly as she spoke and waited for Paris
to contradict her so she could argue him to a standstill.
"You think she's a coward?" he asked impassively. He seemed genuinely
curious to hear her opinion. He wasn't reacting the way she'd
expected. It was throwing her off.
"I didn't say that." B'Elanna's temper had cooled to the point that
she was aware she was being unfair. "When she fought, she fought well.
She just waited too long to start. I'm sure if the danger was a real
one, she wouldn't be so hesitant," she temporized. "I don't understand
her! What's the matter with her? After what happened to her on Huldon
III, I'd think she'd be full of rage! She should be able to use it!
Tap into it to give her strength!"
"Maybe she used up all her rage---when she killed the Cardassians who
raped her," Tom ventured cautiously.
B'Elanna shrugged. "She did say she was afraid to fight. Afraid to
lose her temper. But when her own life is in danger? That's totally
unreasonable! It's irrational!!"
"On the holodeck, she knows in the back of her mind that she's not
really in danger. If the safeties are on. She didn't fight back---at
all?" Tom inquired, seeking clarification.
"Well," Torres hesitated. "She did help me when I was
outnumbered---but if I hadn't been so distracted by her failure to
act, I wouldn't have needed her help," she added defensively.
"So she fought for you, but not herself," Paris clarified, looking
thoughtful. His left hand went up to tug at his earlobe.
She nodded, not sure what he was getting at. She was surprised to feel
relatively serene. Usually when she really lost her temper as she had
this time, it would take hours---sometimes days---for her to regain
her emotional balance. She stared at Tom as she became aware of the
role he'd played. "You sneaky----"
"What did *I* do?" He was all hurt innocence now. His lower lip
almost, but not quite, coming forward in a pout.
"I don't know, but when I figure it out I'm going to---"
"B'Elanna, what are you talking about?" Paris straightened, instantly
alert. If she was going to take another swing at him, he wanted to be
ready to duck. Or grab her. Or something.
She paused for a moment to assess her own condition. "I've calmed
down."
"I noticed," he replied. His eyes were solemn, but a hint of a smile
teased at the corners of his lips.
"How did you *do* that?" she demanded.
"How did I do what?" he asked. His smile widened.
"Calm me down?!" She sounded outraged.
"I didn't calm you down. You calmed yourself down. You just needed to
vent a little. You aren't particularly angry at Malista. You're mostly
frustrated because things didn't work out the way you planned and
you're not sure why. All I did was listen."
There was something good to be said for being in a relationship with
someone less volatile than herself. Now that she thought about it, he
really *hadn't* done or said anything manipulative.
"Maybe I'm getting better at controlling my temper?" she speculated,
looking to him for confirmation.
"Maybe," he said thoughtfully. "Of course, I didn't actually go into
Engineering and conduct a body count---"
She sent him a sour look. "I yelled---but I didn't hit anyone---or
anything. This time."
"Very good. Keep it up and I'll nominate you for the Poldax Peace
Prize next year," he teased.
"Don't you *dare* make me laugh," she warned. "I'm still furious." She
wasn't. It was getting harder every moment to hold onto her
irritation.
"*Make* you laugh? Make *you* laugh?" He sounded incredulous. His
right hand flew up to cover his heart. "B'Elanna Torres, I am shocked
and appalled that you would so misread my character. I would *never*
try to 'make you' do anything you didn't want to do! That would
violate the very nature of our relationship."
"Shocked?" she repeated skeptically.
"And appalled," he added virtuously, pursing his mouth into a prim
look that was totally out of character for the roguish pilot.
Her smile was fighting to get free. "Right."
"So what are you going to do about it?" he inquired after a moment.
"Do about what?" She took another sip of her drink. This time she
enjoyed the taste.
"What are you going to do about Malista? Are you two still on speaking
terms?" He sighed sorrowfully. "I was just getting used to the four
of us being friends again."
"Don't be an idiot! Of course, we're still friends." Pause. "I hope."
"How bad did it get?" he asked with a slight wince.
"She was distracted. She wasn't paying attention. She got killed
twice---and it was her fault I was almost killed once! And the sim
only ran for thirty minutes." Torres' reply was muffled by the cup in
front of her lips. She was disgusted by the defensive whine she could
hear creeping into her words. She was gazing at her cup rather than at
Tom.
"Oh," he drawled.
That was all he said, but she could tell he was disappointed in her.
Of course, if he'd *said* any such thing, she could have argued with
him. She decided it was unfair of him not to give her the opportunity
to do so. But she magnanimously determined to forgive him anyway.
Blissfully unaware of his good fortune, Paris continued to regard her
with raised eyebrows.
"I told her she was acting like a scared teeka cat. And she accused me
of being *hostile*!" Torres was incensed as she recalled that moment.
In a way, she'd been pleased that Malista had enough intestinal
fortitude to lash out at her at all---though she hadn't done it until
she was on her way out of the holodeck and had yelled it from a safe
distance.
Tom's jaw dropped melodramatically. "You're joking! How could she
*say* such a thing!"
Her eyes narrowed and her chin came up. "I am not *hostile*!" she
seethed in an extremely hostile manner. It was the same response he'd
received from her when he'd dared to accuse her of exactly the same
thing on another occasion.
"Of course not!" Tom replied, stretching out his hand to pat her arm.
"The entire crew knows that you are the sweetest, most even-tempered,
amiable, reasonable----"
She snatched her arm away. "Paris---" she admonished. Her hands
clenched.
"Yes, my beloved B'Ella?" He batted his sandy blond eyelashes at her.
"You're laying it on with a cargo loader!" He was so outrageous. He
could defuse her anger with a blink of those blue eyes and a flash of
those white teeth. Most of the time.
With a scapegrace grin, he said, "I know. Is it working?"
She finally let her own beautiful smile escape. He was absolutely
audacious, not even pretending to be ashamed at being caught in the
act. "Yes. Keep it up. I need you to flatter me and build up my ego
until I can face apologizing to Malista for losing my temper."
"That's
my beautiful B'Ella," Tom cooed fawningly. "Did you know that
in a poll taken among the ship's crew you were voted Maquis Most
Likely To---"
He was interrupted as Harry and Malista walked into Sandrine's. Harry
was in the lead, holding Malista's hand and towing her along behind
him. She seemed reluctant and her body language screamed that she was
trying to minimize herself.
Harry, on the other hand, seemed larger and more determined. His jaw
was jutting out. Rather militantly, he approached the table, seated
Malista, and pulled out a chair for himself before speaking. "No one
is leaving this room until this thing is settled," he declared,
tossing a mutinous scowl at B'Elanna as if he expected opposition or
resistance from her.
Torres couldn't help but be impressed with his bravery. Malista had
been good for Harry Kim. A few months ago, Harry would never have been
so confrontational with the half Klingon.
"What thing?" Tom asked, blandly feigning ignorance.
"This thing between Malista and B'Elanna," Harry clarified. "Last time
the arguments got way out of hand and we all stopped communicating.
This time we're going to talk this out before it becomes a major
problem."
"Is that the way you feel, Sis?" Tom asked. He couldn't help thinking
of his conversation with the EMH. He wondered if something wasn't
simmering just below the surface of Malista's usual icy cool exterior.
Something that was bound to blow---sooner or later. He just hoped that
when it did, he'd be there to help her. To help Harry pick up the
pieces.
She looked up, her green eyes almost pleading. "I'm sorry, B'Elanna,"
she blurted. "I know I was---"
"*You're* sorry?" Harry yelped indignantly. "She yelled at you!"
"I deserved it," Shadow replied in a shaky voice, trying to mollify
him without upsetting Tom or B'Elanna. A problematic task in the best
of circumstances and totally impossible at this point in time.
"No, you didn't," Torres said, jumping in just before Harry could say
the exact same words. "I'm sorry, Malista. I shouldn't have gotten---"
She clenched her teeth and shot a defiant glance at Tom, then at
Harry---"hostile."
Tom made a visible effort. He clenched his teeth to refrain from
commenting and maintained a straight face.
Harry started to speak, but was stopped by a sudden sharp pain in his
shin. Tom had kicked him! His eyes flew toward his friend. Tom
extinguished his protest with the ice in his blue eyes and a finger
placed vertically on his lips. Harry got the message.
Shut up. Now. This is their problem. Let them handle it.
"I understand. You were frustrated because I'm so inept," Malista
replied. She looked miserable---and somehow smaller than usual as if
she were drawing herself in---to reduce the size of the target she
made as she sat there?
That impression made Torres extremely uncomfortable. She felt like a
bully. She didn't like the feeling. "You're not inept," B'Elanna
replied, her manner softening. She hadn't thought the younger woman
would take the incident so much to heart. B'Elanna wouldn't have. "You
weren't fighting back. You don't seem to have any fighting spirit.
Didn't you ever get into fights as a kid?"
"No, never," Malista replied, startled at the very idea.
"Never?" Now it was B'Elanna's turn to be astonished. "Why not?"
"Why would I?" It was as if the two women were speaking different
languages.
B'Elanna frowned and looked to Tom for help in making her point. He
shrugged and remained silent, tossing the hoverball back into her
court.
She looked back toward Malista. "Didn't any of the other kids ever
call you names? Make fun of you?"
"Yes, but I never got into any fights. My brothers did though. They
took care of me---watched out for me," Malista smiled for a moment.
The smile faded as she remembered the loss of her older brothers.
"You *never* had to fight for yourself?" Torres said once more. "I was
an only child. I was fighting other kids by the time I was five." Tom
slipped his arm around her shoulders, lending silent support. She
leaned into his touch, unconsciously nestling comfortably against his
side.
Malista looked horrified at the thought. "If I'd ever gotten in a
fight, my father would have---I would have been in big trouble. I was
my father's little princess. Girls were *not* supposed to fight---or
do a lot of other things. He had very old fashioned ideas. I never
went anywhere without at least two of my brothers escorting me." Harry
scooted his chair closer to hers and took her hand in his, stroking
her palm.
"At least you had a father around to care," Torres retorted. "Mine
left when I was five. That's one reason I got into fights. That---and
this." She rubbed her ridged forehead. Tom squeezed her shoulder. She
looked up at him smiling weakly.
"I don't know," Shadow said sadly. "It depends on if you think it's
worse to have known your father's love for sixteen years---and then
have it ripped away from you. When I joined the Maquis, he told me I
was a fool. That it wasn't our fight. The Cardassians weren't
bothering our colony. I told him I was going anyway to keep the
Cardies away from my home. He told me---that as far as he was
concerned, he no longer had a daughter."
Torres felt a shock of pity for the other woman. At least she had
grown up not expecting anything from her own father. To have it all,
and to lose it---that might indeed be more devastating. B'Elanna could
only vaguely miss the things she'd never had and wonder what might
have been. Malista, on the other hand, knew exactly what she'd lost.
"If we get home, maybe he'll have changed his mind---he must have
missed you---" B'Elanna offered the only comforting thought she could
think of. Tom knew what was coming and braced himself to hear it
again.
Malista shook her head. "No. He never changes his mind once it's made
up. After---after Huldon III, I called him. I told him what had---what
they'd done to me. I begged him to let me come home." Her voice broke.
Harry turned her toward him and let her hide her tearful face on his
shoulder. She was trembling with the effort to control herself. She
hated losing control in front of other people, even her closest
friends. This failure to control her emotions was just another failure
to add to the long list of her failures she carried in her mind.
Kim finished the story for her. "Her father told her she didn't have a
home there any more. That she had chosen the Maquis over her own
family so she could stay with them. But like Tom told you, Malista,
the Voyager crew is your family now. You belong here. With us. You
always will." He stroked and patted her back, holding her tightly
until he felt the tension in her body ease.
Torres had to swallow hard to clear the lump from her throat. She'd
had no idea. It was no wonder that at one time Shadow had considered
suicide to be easier than living in ex
ile. She gulped again. 'Klingons
don't cry,' she told herself. 'At least not in front of anyone else.'
She gazed up at Tom, communicating with him wordlessly. She didn't
know what to say. How to make them all feel better and get them back
on solid ground emotionally. That was more in his line of expertise.
Her brown eyes sent him a plea for help that he couldn't and wouldn't
ignore.
His own azure eyes were suspiciously bright, but his voice was light
and smooth as he said, "So you were your father's little princess, as
long as you did exactly what he said, right, Sis? Sounds familiar. I,
myself, was the Crown Prince and Heir Apparent of the Paris Clan. And
I said 'Crown Prince', not 'Clown Prince', Torres," he added quickly
as if anticipating a smart remark.
Shadow made an effort to pull herself together and sent a sympathetic
smile in Tom's direction. For once, Torres was happy to have Paris
inject a lighter note. So was Kim.
"The Crown Prince?" queried Harry, obligingly feeding Tom a line to
hang his tale on.
"Of course. I haven't told you the Legend of the Paris Patriarch?" He
barely waited for Harry's negative answer before beginning to weave
his spell, drawing them all in with his body language and the melodic
flow of his voice. "Once upon a time, in a quadrant far, far away,
Trials 04 Shadow's Trial Page 16