something to distract her." He beamed a smile at the trio in the
surgical bay as he volunteered.
With a very human expression, the doctor rolled his eyes in
exasperation. "Of course, Mr. Chell," he replied sarcastically.
"That's exactly what every Sickbay requires---a monologist!"
Malista and Kes met each others eyes and tried to stifle the
urge to giggle.
***********************
Tom Paris went to Engineering to find B'Elanna Torres. She
hadn't shown up for dinner in the messhall at their usual time. She
was working busily and didn't see him arrive. He walked up behind
her and tapped her shoulder. She spun and assumed a defensive posture
as if he'd pulled a knife. He threw his hands up in surrender. "Easy,
B'Elanna. It's just me. You're late for dinner. Six hours late." He
tried a smile.
Torres labeled it Smile Number Four---polite, friendly, slightly
concerned---it reached his eyes, but didn't convey his feelings very
well. She sniffed and moved past him to another console. "I don't
have time for dinner, Paris. With Malista and Chell injured, that's
one less team working on those vole-loving, Ferengi-kissing---power
couplings!" she growled emphatically. She stayed on the move, making
adjustments and taking readings on a tricorder.
Tom took a deep breath and stayed polite and friendly as he
trailed after her. 'Paris'---so they were back to that, were they?
"I could bring you something to eat," he volunteered. "Did you
eat lunch, by the way?" He hadn't seen her all day. He'd been
surprised how much he'd missed just seeing her around even if they
had no time to talk.
"I don't remember," she said, darting around him once more to
another section of Engineering. She still wouldn't look at him.
Tom could feel his jaw clenching, but made an effort to relax.
"B'Elanna?"
She strode past him again, ignoring him.
Paris gazed around at the Engineering section. No one else was
in sight. "You know for being the center of all this frenzied
activity, there aren't many people around here," he commented
sardonically. He leaned against the wall and watched her scurrying
from control panel to console and back again.
That got her attention. "They're in the Jefferies tubes," she
snapped.
"Uh-huh." Pure skepticism.
"They are!"
"B'Elanna, Gamma shift just started. It's 2400." There was the
challenge.
"So?" she snarled, slamming the tricorder down on the console
and giving him a defiant glare.
"So Chakotay reworked the duty roster to put the teams on Alpha
and Beta shifts. There's only a skeleton crew working right now," Tom
said calmly. "So--- would you like to tell me why you didn't show up
for dinner? We had plans."
"Yeah, well," she muttered. "Maybe---I got tired---of our
plans." She flopped into a chair and studied the tricorder readings.
Tom immediately recognized the reference. "B'Ella, I didn't mean
it. I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd take it so seriously. I was just
joking about Rickie." He straightened and came toward her. "I
apologize. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." There was no trace
of the smart mouthed joker who'd enraged her.
Her brown eyes met his solemnly. "So---why *did* you delete
Rickie?"
'There's no way she'll let this go,' he thought. He braced
himself and decided honesty was the only option left to him.
"Because---I was interested in you---and I knew you didn't like her.
I thought you---I hoped you'd take it as a sign that I was serious
about you. Then you didn't even notice," he said, a hint of a crooked
smile sneaking onto his lips. Smile Number Six---a true smile, given
reluctantly, his eyes revealing that he felt uncomfortable.
Those big blue eyes were so expressive. There was not a glimmer
of amusement there. This Tom Paris was being absolutely sincere. She
wondered if he knew just how many of his secrets his eyes gave away.
"I'm sorry I didn't notice, Tom." She cleared her throat. "But tell
me something?"
He nodded cautiously.
"Why did you program that character in the first place? Is she a
real person like Sandrine?"
This question was harder to answer than the first one. He should
have expected it, but he'd hoped she'd let it lie. He crossed his
arms and casually strolled back towards the wall. He needed something
to lean on. It helped when striking a careless pose---a carefully
practiced careless pose meant to convey a sense of ease. Torres got
up and followed him curiously.
"Well," he began, but stopped as he heard the beguiling tone
appearing in his voice. This was no time for his typical smooth line
of patter---she wouldn't fall for it anyway. It was just such a
habit---when people got too close. "To tell you the truth, Rickie was
kind of a compilation of several people---my first girlfriend, a
cousin of mine, and a couple of other women I knew or dated at the
Academy. I guess you could say I took the best qualities of all those
people and programmed them into Rickie. And I took her and Sandrine
everywhere I went. Put them in all my holoprograms. Adding other
characters when I felt the need."
Torres was standing three feet in front of him, examining him
carefully---as if he were an Engineering problem she was trying to
solve. "But why? Why go to all that trouble? For a holographic
program?"
He exhaled on a shaky sigh and tried to get his nonchalant grin
in place. "I needed someone to talk to." He couldn't sustain the
grin. It faltered and fell away. He examined the tips of his boots
with great care. He didn't want to see her reaction. He was afraid
she'd be smiling derisively. "You might not have noticed, but not
everyone finds me as charming as you do."
"Tom?" Her voice was uncharacteristically gentle. She stepped
forward, her fingertips brushing his chest as she placed a hand on
his forearm.
He felt tears pricking his eyes and tried to make a joke---
"Well, you know how popular I was when I first came aboard Voyager!
The Maquis wanted to kill me---and the Starfleet crew wanted to throw
me in the brig! And I've been in places where I was even *less*
popular---if you can believe that. Programming the characters in
Sandrine's ensured that I'd have someone to talk to---and since I
programmed them, they didn't have any choice but to talk to me!" He
attempted a laugh, but couldn't bring it off.
"Tom," Torres repeated, more urgently. She moved closer and
grasped his upper arms. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you. I'm sorry no
one gave you a chance. We shouldn't have---judged---"
He shrugged her arms away, and moved slowly toward the door.
"Kind of pathetic, isn't it?" he said, sniffing and clearing his
throat. "You can't get a date so you program one---so you can get an
ego boost from the admiration of a fictional character. And maybe you
can pretend you have friends and no one else will notice---that yo
u
don't. A few hundred years ago, that kind of behavior would have
gotten me locked up in a mental ward. Good thing we live in more
enlightened times, huh, B'Ella---B'Elanna?" He tried another laugh.
It was no more successful than the first attempt.
She caught his arm and pulled him to a halt. He didn't turn to
face her. He couldn't. She wrapped her arms around his waist,
pressing herself against his back as she hugged him from behind. "I'm
sorry, Tom. I didn't mean to hurt you by bringing up bad memories."
He froze for a moment, as if she'd said something unexpected. "I
know. I didn't mean to hurt you by joking around either. It's just---
I'm not used to---" One hand came up and he pinched the bridge of his
nose between his thumb and index finger, surreptitiously wiping away
traces of moisture in the corners of his eyes.
He ran his fingers through his hair. "I can't believe I'm having
trouble putting this into words. I'm not used to talking seriously --
-with anyone. Most people think of me as a court jester, the life of
the party---the flirt. No one---except Harry and Captain Janeway and
Malista---has ever been interested in a serious Tom Paris. It almost
sounds like an oxymoron, doesn't it?---serious Tom Paris. Sometimes I
can't tell which is the real me, either---the clown or the---" He
stopped, not sure what he wanted to say, or if he should say anything
further.
Torres used her strength to gently turn him in her arms so she
could rest her head on his chest. She snuggled up against his body,
tightening the hug till he responded by putting his own arms around
her and squeezing back. They just stood there holding each other---
for a long time.
***********************
Malista Shadow spent two days and nights in Sickbay. Harry Kim
was there with her for a great deal of the time---and underfoot---
until the doctor finally lost patience and limited his visits. When
Malista was released, she was placed on sick leave for three days---
under protest. The doctor had expected that. He sat her down before
releasing her and lectured her sternly about limiting her physical
activity.
"You have been seriously injured twice in less than three
months," he reminded her. "Your body has been healed of the injuries,
but bruises and the soreness that accompany muscular stress cannot be
cured instantaneously. You need to rest and give your body a chance
to recover naturally."
"But there's so much work to do in Engineering---" she began.
He stopped her by holding up his hand. "All the more reason for
you to return to duty in good health. You must take care of yourself
so you will be able to take care of the ship. Rest! Recuperate! Start
with a mild exercise program and work your way up to a more strenuous
workout. Surely, you can think of something to do with your free
time! If not, I can suggest---"
"No, thank you," she interrupted, getting to her feet. "Thank
you for all your help, Doctor. I appreciate the fine job you did
repairing me---again."
"That's what I'm programmed for," the doctor replied matter-of-
factly.
She smiled at him. He'd become a person to her during her third
unfortunate incarceration in his milieu. "And you do such a good job
of it, too," she said. She kissed his cheek, smiled at him again, and
left for her quarters.
He watched her go, his hand creeping up to touch his cheek. She
and Kes were the only humanoids who'd ever kissed him. It was an
interesting experience. He smiled to himself. At least she seemed to
have gotten over her fear of doctors---at least this doctor. Maybe
there was a paper in this. "How to Deal with Irrational Fear of
Doctors" ? Now why did the phrase "beads and rattles" come to mind?
A random memory in the engrams of his program?
***********************
Paris returned to the bridge from his lunch break with a beaming
smile. "Captain, you don't want to miss lunch today," he announced.
"It's wonderful!"
Janeway's gray eyes lit with amusement. "Now that's a comment I
haven't heard very often."
Paris slid into his chair at the helm. "That's because Malista
found something useful to do with her time off. My little sister
taught Neelix how to make---what did she call it, Harry?"
Kim had quietly trailed in behind Paris and assumed his station.
"Souvlaki."
"Really? I'm glad Malista isn't bored with her time off,"
Janeway stated. There was something sweet about the way Tom claimed
Malista as family. Those two had been good for each other. "So this
souvlaki is good?"
"Yeah," Paris said with a grin. "It's really great. The spices
are just right. And little pastries for dessert---and she actually
got Neelix to serve the pepper sauces and leola root on the side." He
chuckled. "She told him it was a Greek tradition. Maybe she can
convince him to make a habit of it."
"She should be resting," Kim muttered. "Working in the messhall
isn't---" He broke off as he became aware of the stares of Tom Paris
and Captain Janeway.
"I'm sure she won't overdo it, Mr. Kim," Janeway said
reassuringly. "Kes will keep an eye on her." She smiled.
Kim nodded and returned his attention to the Ops station.
Janeway raised her eyebrows at Paris. He shrugged carelessly.
Harry was overreacting to Malista's accident. The captain decided
that the situation would bear watching. She decided she'd check on
Shadow herself---at lunch. "Mr. Paris,
you have the bridge," she stated as she moved to the turbolift.
***********************
Malista was sharing a table with B'Elanna Torres. The chief
engineer was enjoying her meal. That was evident from the haste with
which she was clearing her plate. Malista was fiddling with a
datapadd. Neither woman was smiling but they didn't look angry with
each other. Janeway brought her tray to their table. "May I join
you?"
"Of course," Malista said, clearing a space on the table. "How
are you today, Captain?" she asked politely.
Janeway cast a whimsical eye over the pair. "Better than you
two, I think. What seems to be the problem?"
Malista gazed dolefully at Torres. Torres frowned at Malista
then both looked at Janeway. "Men!" They said in unison.
The captain raised an eyebrow as she speared her first bite of
souvlaki. "Oh," she drawled, "Them again. Are we speaking generally,
ladies? Or do you have specific members of the male gender in mind?"
Malista sighed. Torres growled wordlessly under her breath.
Both the captain's eyebrows rose. "That bad?" She was concerned
to note that Torres looked exhausted---but so tense she was almost
vibrating. She tasted the
souvlaki. She smiled. "Malista, this is wonderful. Would you like to
transfer to cook's assistant?"
Shadow shook her head. "Captain, do you understand men?"
Janeway chuckled under her breath. "To be honest, I don't think
even men understand men! W
ould you like to talk about it? I may not
have any good advice, but I could offer another opinion."
Malista hesitated. She didn't know the captain well at all. She
wasn't sure how much to say.
"Harry's driving her crazy," Torres stated bluntly. She got up
and went to get a refill on her beverage.
Janeway smiled encouragingly at Shadow.
She nodded reluctantly. "Since the accident, Harry's been---
hovering. Somehow he blames himself for it. It's irrational."
"Sometimes that's how guilt manifests itself," the captain
said. "As anxiety. Have you told him his behavior is bothering you?"
"No," she mumbled reluctantly.
"He's not going to stop until you tell him to," Torres stated
emphatically as she reseated herself. "If he's making you crazy, just
tell him to knock it off."
"I couldn't do that. I might hurt his feelings."
Janeway frowned thoughtfully. "If you don't tell him, he doesn't
know there's a problem."
"Oh, that's not all of it," the engineer snorted. "Tell her the
rest, Malista."
"The rest?" the captain inquired politely. She didn't want to
push Shadow into discussing private manners, but she was willing to
lend an ear.
The younger woman cleared her throat. "It's not anything really.
It's just---" she sighed. "Harry found out that I have some musical
ability---and he's trying to get me to perform at the next concert."
"And you don't want to?" Janeway inquired.
Shadow shook her head, her eyes downcast.
"Don't be such a mouse!" Torres exclaimed impatiently. "If you
don't want to do it, tell Harry to take a flying leap at a plasma
conduit! Can't anyone on this ship just *tell* people what they're
thinking? We aren't mind readers. You can't get mad at Harry if you
don't talk to him."
The captain frowned at B'Elanna's lack of tact and wondered what
was at the root of her outburst. It didn't sound as if Torres was
talking exclusively about Harry and Malista. "B'Elanna is right
about one thing, Malista. You do need to talk this over with Harry.
I'm sure he would never deliberately make you unhappy."
"No, ma'am, of course not," Shadow mumbled. She stumbled to her
feet. "Excuse me, I have an appointment." She darted out of the
messhall as if fleeing for her life.
Janeway assessed Torres' appearance. "B'Elanna, you look tired.
Trials 03 Torres' Trial Page 4
