Trials 04 Shadow's Trial

by Terri Zavaleta

  of the lake, rearranging the mud there with the toe of her boot. It

  gave her something other than Tom to focus on.

  Paris took a deep breath that almost ended in a gasp of surprise as he

  felt those 'instincts' Chakotay had spoken of kick in. He suddenly

  knew, without knowing how he knew, that this or something like it had

  happened to Malista Shadow before.

  He stopped about six feet behind her. He didn't want to invade her

  personal space again without her permission. That didn't seem to be

  working. It was up to her to make the next move. Before he could think

  logically and argue himself out of speaking, he said the first thing

  that came into mind. "Who didn't believe you last time? Who made you

  take the blame the last time?"

  Her head snapped up, she darted a quick, disbelieving glance at him,

  then refocused on the mud. "My father. My brothers."

  "Are we talking here about Huldon III?" he calmly queried. "Or before

  that."

  "Before that," she mumbled.

  "How long before?" He moved a step closer.

  "When I was thirteen," she whispered.

  He took another step closer so he could catch her words. His hands

  automatically lifted towards her, wanting to touch, to hold, to

  comfort. He forced them back down by his sides. He could try to

  persuade her with words, but he wouldn't use physical means of

  persuasion. It would make them both too uncomfortable.

  "You were---raped---at thirteen?" he croaked, somehow ashamed, but not

  surprised, that his voice broke in his horror at the thought.

  "No," she shot back, her voice gaining in volume, as if having made

  the decision to tell him had strengthened her in some manner.

  "Not---quite."

  Her gaze trailed away to the colorful sails on the boats on the

  holographic horizon. "I started a real growth spurt when I was twelve.

  I was growing taller very quickly. And I was getting---" She made a

  helpless gesture toward her breasts.

  "You were developing?" Tom offered. He detected a little gasp of

  surprised laughter. "Hey, I had older sisters. Granted, I didn't pay

  much attention, but even I remember all the angst they went through

  when they suddenly sprouted---Never mind. You were saying?"

  "Let's just say I was beginning to look very womanly. I probably

  looked older than my age because of it," Malista speculated, not

  sounding happy about the idea. "Any way, I grew very quickly and my

  coordination wasn't really keeping up. So my father gave me permission

  to take dancing lessons. I started walking into town once a week for

  lessons from a woman who worked with our circus in the sideshow

  sometimes. She was an exotic dancer, but she'd learned all kinds of

  dancing and gymnastics and she thought lessons might help me with

  coordination, flexibility. You know."

  "I bet you were a great dancer. You still are." Once or twice, Tom had

  come to the holodeck early and caught her dancing alone as her warm-up

  for their workouts, but she'd refused to share her dancing with anyone

  and stopped as soon as anyone arrived.

  She sent a half smile over her shoulder at him. "I was enthusiastic,

  at least. I loved it. I loved music. All kinds of music. Singing was

  wonderful, but I *loved* the dancing. All kinds of dancing. It was

  almost as good as flying. When I was dancing, I felt so free! I

  wanted to learn every dance Mariza knew. I told my father I wanted to

  be a dancer when I grew up." Her face saddened.

  "Let me guess," Tom said. "He said you couldn't. Why? Did he bother to

  give you a reason?"

  She nodded. "I wasn't good enough. I was too tall. I'd never make any

  money at it. All kinds of reasons. Well, I was a good student. Mariza

  taught me everything---ballroom dancing, jazz dancing, ballet, all

  kinds of dancing from many different worlds. She taught me some

  gymnastics routines as warm-up exercises. And all kinds of dances,"

  she repeated. "Some were very athletic and acrobatic and others were

  very controlled and graceful. At the time, I just thought of the

  dances as---exercises. Fun exercises. It was a way to let me feel in

  control of my body, my muscles. I just threw myself into every dance,

  not thinking about what other people would think if they saw me."

  "Uh-oh. Do I take it she taught you some of her 'exotic' dances?" Tom

  already had a pretty good idea how her father would have reacted to

  that. Especially if Malista was wearing the appropriate costume for

  each dance.

  "Yes." A mischievous grin flashed toward him. "Did I mention Mariza

  was half Orion and half human?"

  The image that leapt to mind took Tom's breath away. "Oh, my." It was

  inadequate, but all he could manage. The temperature in the holodeck

  suddenly seemed much higher. He tugged at the v-neck of his black

  tee-shirt.

  "Yeah. That's what all the men thought. But at the time, I didn't

  think of the dances she taught me as being suggestive, or sexy. I

  mean, I was only thirteen. I hadn't even really noticed boys then. I'd

  had enough of the male of the species just dealing with my father and

  five older brothers. I was totally outnumbered after my mother died."

  She'd returned to drawing patterns in the mud with the toe of her

  boot.

  She took a deep breath. "But someone else saw me dancing. And it gave

  him ideas. He was a salesman visiting the colony. He was watching

  through the window of Mariza's studio. She caught him at it once and

  made him go away. Then a couple of days later, he followed me when I

  started home."

  Paris wanted to tell her to stop. He wanted to close his eyes so he

  wouldn't have to see the expression of pain on her face. He did

  neither. He *really* didn't want to hear this. But she needed to tell

  it, probably the first time she'd ever told it. He clamped down on his

  feelings, keeping his neutral mask in place with an effort that

  bleached his knuckles white as his hands clenched into fists.

  "Looking back, he wasn't very bright about how he--- Maybe it was his

  first time to try something like that. Or he thought I wouldn't

  object. He waited till I got outside of town and then he approached

  me. I was so stupid!" Her voice broke on a sob. "He called out to me

  and asked me to stop. And I did! Can you believe I was so *stupid*?"

  Tom took another step closer. He was within arm's reach now, waiting

  for her to turn to him. If she would. He wanted to be there to catch

  her if she fell---figuratively or literally. But, at this moment, as

  she was lost in memories of the past, he had a hunch that his touch

  wouldn't be welcomed.

  It was up to her this time. *She* had to reach out to him. If she

  would. Or could. He would be there when she was ready.

  "He kept talking about how he was lost and needed directions, while I

  stood there like an idiot and let him get close to me. Then he grabbed

  me and dragged me behind some trees off to the side of the road. He

  tried to kiss me, and he started tearing at my clothes, and I couldn't

  breathe, and he knocked me d-d-down---" The tears were runnin
g freely

  down her cheeks as she stammered to a stop. She gulped. "Then the

  next thing I knew, my brother Giorgios was pulling him off me. He and

  Stephanos and Demetrios were going into town for some supplies when

  they heard me scream. Funny, I don't even remember screaming."

  She shrugged. "Demetrios held me and helped me cover myself with his

  jacket, while Stephanos and Giorgios beat the man---half to death. I

  was afraid they weren't going to stop. I thought they were going to

  kill him. Right there. They might have, but the constable of the

  village came and arrested the man. I was screaming and crying

  hysterically. My clothes were torn, my skin was scratched from his

  nails, my nose and mouth were bleeding. The boys were all cursing and

  shouting. The man was---there was blood all over---"

  "Malista." The quiet voice called her back to the present. It was an

  effort for Paris to prevent the revulsion from showing in his voice.

  He didn't want her to think it was meant for her.

  "I don't even remember hearing about how he was punished. I didn't

  testify at the trial. No one would tell me anything. They didn't want

  to upset me." She threw off the memories as if shrugging a cape off

  her shoulders. "I used to laugh and smile at people all the time. I

  wasn't always a 'Stoneface'---an 'Ice Princess'. Until I learned what

  smiling at the wrong person could cost me."

  Tom grimaced. He hadn't realized she knew the names she was called

  behind her back. He had hoped she hadn't heard them and been hurt by

  them. "It wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."

  Her mouth twisted. "He said---I smiled at him. Demetrios told me. That

  man told the constable, that I smiled at him. That's why he--- After

  that, I never went anywhere without one or more of my brothers or my

  father. Never. And I never took another dancing lesson."

  "Your father blamed you?"

  She nodded as she raised her hands to wipe at the tears on her cheeks.

  "He said the dances were obscene. The studio shouldn't have had a

  window. That I must have done something to---to entice---to make the

  man think I would---wouldn't mind what he wanted to do to me."

  "And you believed him?"

  "Of course," she said, lifting a hand, palm upward. "He was my father.

  He wouldn't lie to me. He loved me. He wanted what was best for me."

  "No, he didn't," Paris contradicted. "He imprisoned you. How was that

  best for you?"

  "He wanted to keep me safe," she argued.

  "But he didn't teach you how to fight back? To protect yourself?"

  "No. He said that's what I have---had brothers for. And a husband when

  the time was right." She made a sound that was half laugh, half sob.

  "Little did he know, huh? That it was never going to come up? But he

  predicted it anyway! He said if I went with the Maquis that I'd regret

  it. That I'd be attacked again and my brothers wouldn't be there to

  help me. He said only sluts ran away from home. When they were in

  heat. I didn't know then what he meant, but I found out. Oh, did I

  find out." A sob tore its way free from her throat. Her hands flew to

  cover her mouth as if to suppress any others, prevent their escape.

  "It wasn't your fault!" Paris persisted.

  "I *must* have done something. I'm just so stupid---"

  "Stop that!" Paris snapped. "You are not stupid. Who told you that

  you're stupid?" She didn't answer. "Let me guess. Your father. Why?

  Did you make another career choice he didn't approve of?"

  "I wanted to be an acrobat or gymnast. He said I was too tall. Then I

  thought about being a doctor. He said I couldn't pass the entrance

  exams. That I wasn't smart enough." She still refused to look at him.

  "He was wrong. He lied to you. I've seen your test scores. The doctor

  showed me your records. Your intelligence level is above average.

  Borderline genius." There was no room for argument with the pilot's

  flat statement. "You're smart enough to do anything you want to do."

  "No, there must be a mistake. That couldn't be true. My father---"

  "He was wrong about a lot of things, Malista. He wanted you to stay

  home on the farm with him, right? So he would say anything it took to

  keep you there."

  She shook her head, fists clenching at her sides. "No. He wouldn't do

  that. He loved me. He wouldn't lie to me. He loved me!"

  "He manipulated you. He used your guilt and shame over being attacked

  to control you." Tom's voice remained level and unemotional. "Then

  when you finally rebelled against him and joined the Maquis, he

  disowned you. That's not love. That's control. You have a right to be

  angry with him. What he did was wrong."

  She began to tremble with the effort of staying on her feet. She spun

  to stare defiantly into his eyes, taking a step back to increase the

  distance between them and almost tumbling into the water.

  Paris tried to catch her, but she stumbled away from him, out of his

  reach.

  Her chin was quivering, her eyes full of tears that she refused to

  release. "Stop saying those things! You don't know what you're talking

  about! You're saying my father didn't love me! But he did! I know he

  did!"

  Tom Paris now had a new understanding of the word 'heartache'. His

  heart literally ached with sympathy for her pain. "I'm not saying he

  didn't love you, Sis. I'm saying he didn't know how. He loved the

  person he wanted you to be. But he didn't want you to grow up. He

  loved you, but *he* messed it up. His fault, not yours."

  "How would you know?" She was still resisting the truth, denying it,

  though she could see it now laid out before her as clearly as a

  starchart. She needed more from Tom Paris before she could allow

  herself to believe he spoke the truth. She needed some proof that he

  wasn't just stealing a trick from her book and telling her what she

  wanted to hear.

  "Because my father and your father probably have a lot in common," Tom

  replied sadly. It was so hard for him to talk about his father. He

  inhaled deeply, hoping he could get it out before his throat closed

  completely. "I could never please my father either. And it took me

  years to discover that it wasn't about *me*. I don't think I really

  accepted that until---until I wound up in the Delta Quadrant. With

  Captain Janeway's help and Harry's friendship and trust, I found out I

  wasn't the general screwup everyone expected me to be."

  He paused as he tried to measure just how much detail he needed to go

  into for her to understand what he meant. "My problems with my father

  were all about *his* expectations. It didn't matter what I did or how

  well I did it. He didn't want me, the real Tom Paris, as his son. He

  wanted to create me in his own image. He was so busy trying to shape

  and mold the son he wanted, he never got to know the son he actually

  had. And, who knows? He might have actually *liked* me, if he'd ever

  let me just BE me. Does that make sense?" He could detect the

  sympathy in her eyes. He'd reached her. Now if she would just apply

  what he'd said....

  "Yes, Tom, it does." For t
he first time since they'd come to the

  holodeck, she moved toward him rather than away from him.

  She placed her hand on his, then looked away at the boats so she

  wouldn't have to meet his eyes as she continued. "My father wanted me

  to become the perfect farmer's wife. Especially after my mother died.

  I took over the household duties, even though I was terrible at

  them---except for cooking. I wanted to be out in the barn, fixing the

  machinery, repairing the equipment. I always was an engineering type."

  She paused and shrugged. "If I had gone into medicine, I probably

  would have worked in the technical end. You know, inventing or

  repairing equipment. I was always persistent and curious. I wanted to

  learn how to perform every act in the circus. In addition to

  performing on the trapeze and high wire, I apprenticed with a

  different act every season. My father didn't mind that. He said it

  kept me busy and out of mischief. But I also wanted to learn the

  technical side of farming, how to work on the machinery. So I made a

  deal. My youngest brothers, Androcles and Spiro were put in charge of

  repairs but they weren't good at it or very much interested either. My

  father told them if they would just apply themselves---"

  "That sounds familiar," Tom remarked. "That's what I heard every

  single grading period. No matter how good my grades were. If I could

  get a 95, why couldn't I get 100? If I got 100 in all but one subject,

  he only noticed the one I missed. Finally, I just gave up trying so

  hard. If I wasn't going to please him anyway, I decided I should have