Trials 03 Torres' Trial

by Terri Zavaleta

  out of bed---I called home---to talk to my father---"

  "Malista," Harry interrupted, his heart was aching at seeing her

  pain. He hovered behind her chair, his hand outstretched toward her

  shoulder---then he let it drop to his side, afraid she would shrug it

  away---or recoil in distaste from his touch.

  "Let me finish! I asked my father if I could come home. He

  wanted to know why---and when I told him---he said---" A sob escaped

  her. "He said I had no home there any more. I had made my bed---and I

  could lie in it with the Maquis scum I had chosen over my own

  family." She coughed to clear her throat. "Then---Niko died. And

  Tom convinced me that I could start a new life here on Voyager---with

  the crew as my family---Harry, I've lost too many people. I can't

  play games with relationships. I don't think I could take another

  loss. It almost killed me to lose you once---I couldn't do it again.

  So, please, if you aren't sure---don't---just don't---" Her voice

  failed her. She stretched her arm out on the desk and lay her head

  down atop her forearm.

  When Harry could trust himself to speak, he blurted, "I am sure.

  I'm sure

  I want to try again, Malista. I'm sorry I hurt you---and myself by

  walking away. I won't do that again. I want a relationship with you-

  --if you'll give me another chance. I think I'm falling in love with

  you!" For a long moment, she didn't move or speak. Maybe she didn't

  feel the same way. Maybe he'd really blown it---forever.

  She sighed as she straightened in the chair, struggling to

  regain her composure. She didn't know what to say. What if he hadn't

  heard the rumor? And he found out after they made up? What if he

  found about George? If he was jealous before, without reason---how

  much worse would it be if he thought he did have a reason. He'd think

  she lied---

  She couldn't go through the process of losing him again. She

  hadn't recovered from the grief of losing him the first time. But he

  sounded sincere. "Why tonight, Harry? Why did you choose tonight of

  all nights to come apologize?"

  Silence.

  She waited.

  He cleared his throat. "I talked to B'Elanna tonight and she

  helped me think a little more clearly about what I wanted. And how

  stupid I was not to talk to you about the way I felt---the things

  that were worrying me. Then when I was on my way here to talk to you,

  I---ran into George Natwick."

  Malista felt the blood freezing in her veins. She covered her

  face with both hands, mumbling, "Oh, Merde! He told you! I can't

  believe he *told* you!" Her humiliation was now complete.

  "He didn't tell me anything, Malista," Harry corrected, upset

  that he'd managed to distress her further. "He just said for me to

  come and apologize to you---tonight---before you did some other

  stupid thing to make me happy. When he said you were trying to make

  me happy, I thought maybe---there was a chance---that you still

  cared! What stupid thing did you do, Malista? What was he talking

  about?"

  "STUPID!" she shrieked, leaping to her feet. "He said it was

  stupid! That overgrown, muscle-bou---" Her diatribe stopped in mid-

  syllable as she whirled to confront Harry and got a good look at him

  for the first time. Her eyes dilated their full width. "*Harry*!" she

  exclaimed, horrified. "What happened to your face?"

  Harry was frozen in place by surprise, hope, and happiness at

  her reaction. She still cared about him. He hadn't killed all her

  feelings for him with his asinine insecurity.

  She rushed toward him, her hand outstretched to lightly touch

  his face, tipping it up towards the light so she could get a better

  look. The cut above his eye had bled continuously, leaving a trail

  down the length of his face and neck, soaking into the collar of his

  shirt. The right side of his jaw was rapidly turning blue, as was his

  swollen lower lip. She winced sympathetically. No wonder his speech

  sounded slurred. "Harry," she whispered, "why aren't you in Sickbay?"

  "It was more important that I come talk to you," he said gently.

  Taking advantage of her nearness, he slipped his arm around her waist

  and tried to pull her closer. "What happened to your lip?" He

  frowned as he noted her lower lip was puffy and had been bleeding.

  "I bit my lip. It doesn't matter." She caressed the uninjured

  side of his face. "Oh, your poor face! My poor Dark Angel! Darling,

  does it hurt very much?" She stiffened with outrage. "Who *did* this?

  Did Tom---"

  Harry, who'd been enjoying her commiseration and touch, had

  hoped they could spend a little more time talking and making up while

  she tended his wounds ---before it occurred to her to ask who'd

  inflicted them---and why. "No! Of course it wasn't Tom!"

  Her hands tightened on his shoulders. "Then who?" Her eyes

  narrowed to slits. "George? George Natwick did this?" She didn't

  wait for Kim's nod of confirmation before she whirled out of his

  arms. "He tells you I'M doing STUPID things---and then he HITS YOU! I

  am going to beat that man senseless and drag him down to the brig by

  his heels!" She looked ferocious, like a Valkyrie in one of his

  medieval literature holoprograms. He was glad she was on his side.

  A smile tugged at his lips and he groaned at the pull of the

  sore spot.

  She was at his side again instantly, all her concern for him.

  "Harry, you need to go to Sickbay." She cupped his chin in her palm.

  "Malista," he said. She looked into his dark eyes. This time he

  let his eyes do the smiling and kept his mouth still. "You don't have

  to get George. Tom already did. Simms and Hudson took Natwick to the

  brig. Before I came here."

  "Good. Then there's no reason we can't go to Sickbay right now!"

  she insisted, tugging at him to get him moving.

  "I don't think I have the strength to walk that far," he said

  plaintively.

  Her stricken green eyes flew to his.

  "Unless you give me a kiss first," he finished.

  "Since we both have sore lips---" She gave him a warning smile,

  but dipped her head to carefully brush her lips against the left side

  of his mouth. "That's about as good as we can do right now," she

  sighed. "Until we get you taken care of in Sickbay."

  "Sickbay, Sickbay. I never knew you were such a nag," he

  protested, as she linked their arms and escorted him out to the

  corridor. "But I think I like it."

  "There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Harry. And

  vice versa. Promise me one thing?" she asked seriously. He nodded

  carefully. "No more games. You can talk to me about anything---no

  matter how---embarrassing. And I'll talk to you. Any time. Because I

  think I'm falling in love with you, too."

  He began walking twice as fast. "Come on. Let's get to Sickbay.

  I want to have my lip and yours taken care of, so I can kiss you

  properly!"

  She laughed and matched his pace.

  ***********************

  Sickbay was rather crowded when they arrived. The doctor was

&nb
sp; attending to Freddie Bristow, who was lying on the biobed in the

  surgical bay. Lieutenants Tuvok, Torres, and Paris were standing near

  the doctor's office dispassionately and unsympathetically observing

  Freddie's moans, groans, and flinches as he submitted to treatment.

  Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay were near the Sickbay

  entrance speaking in quiet tones to Kes who seemed to be giving them

  a report. Near the wall, Ensigns Hudson and Simms, looking suitably

  menacing, were guarding their new prisoner.

  Harry and Malista entered, looked around, and found an empty

  biobed to sit on as they waited for the doctor to be free.

  "I feel really dumb, Mik," Ethan Simms complained under his

  breath. He shot a sidewise glance at the prisoner and shook his head.

  "I feel like a---hulking brute."

  Mikel rolled his eyes and looked at his partner, over their

  prisoner's head.

  "It's the job, Ethe. You arrest the guilty party---whether you feel

  dumb or not."

  Their petite prisoner craned her neck and gazed from one to the

  other with defiant brown eyes. "Oh, both of you be quiet! If Security

  would keep that menace, Bristow, from pestering everyone with his

  hormone overload, this would never have happened!"

  Ethan flinched from the scathing tone he'd never expected to

  hear from Diane Russell, the ship's librarian. She was usually the

  shyest, quietest---well, not any more!

  Crewman Dalby charged into Sickbay and came right to their

  prisoner. "Diane! Are you all right?"

  "I told you I could take care of myself, Aron," she sniffed

  indignantly. "Why do you think I took that self-defense course?"

  Dalby beamed at her proudly. "Did you break his jaw?"

  "No, fortunately, she did not," Commander Chakotay replied. He'd

  finished his conference with the captain, spoken to the doctor, and

  was now ready to deal with the---criminal in this case. He had to

  work hard to keep a straight face. It made him look sterner than

  usual. "Mr. Bristow is not seriously injured. His nose is broken and

  he's suffering from---multiple contusions to---various parts of his

  body." He cleared his throat. He didn't choose to be more specific.

  It would have made it harder to keep from laughing.

  "Does she have to go to the brig?" Dalby asked anxiously.

  Diane didn't seem overly concerned by the prospect. She was

  still seething with anger at Freddie Bristow's refusal to believe

  that 'No' meant 'NO!'---not 'maybe'. She was none too happy with the

  security team who'd placed her under arrest either. She glowered at

  her guards as if tempted to demonstrate her self-defense expertise on

  them as well.

  While Russell hadn't exactly resisted arrest, she'd come close

  to it. They'd been grateful for the presence of Lieutenants Paris and

  Torres, who'd persuaded her it would only postpone the inevitable if

  she didn't accompany the Security team--- peacefully. Hudson and

  Simms again exchanged nervous looks over her head. It would be

  difficult for them to find the will to defend themselves if attacked-

  --by this small woman. Not to mention that no matter what the outcome

  they would feel humiliated.

  Chakotay bit the inside of his cheek to stifle a chuckle. Ethan

  and Mikel were extremely easy to read. "Actually, I think we've come

  to an agreement---if you don't press charges for sexual harassment,

  Mr. Bristow will not press charges against you for assault."

  Dalby started to roar a protest, but halted without a word when

  Diane held up her dainty hand. She frowned sternly up at the first

  officer with her 'librarian look'---the one that made people lower

  their voices automatically when they entered her milieu. "Will that

  include a promise that Mr. Bristow will leave me alone in the

  future?"

  Chakotay nodded. "Of course." He whispered conspiratorially, "

  I think, Diane, that when you threw him against the wall, it may

  have knocked some sense into him. If that didn't do it, the kick to

  the---ribs---when he was on the floor finally convinced him. I think

  he's sure this time that you honestly aren't interested in him

  romantically."

  "Then I'm dismissed?" she asked snippily.

  The commander nodded. Mikel and Ethan tensed as she glowered at

  them once more before flouncing out of Sickbay with a beaming Dalby

  on her heels.

  Mikel shuddered and shook his head. "Aron Dalby must have it bad!"

  Ethan nodded sagely. "I can't believe Aron Dalby---and Diane

  Russell."

  Chakotay grinned at Simms. "And how is Janine Lamont doing this

  days, Ethan?"

  Simms blushed furiously. "Aw, c'mon!"

  The first officer took pity on him. "You two are dismissed."

  Hudson and Simms left to go back to the Security section---until

  they received another call. Or until their shift ended. Whichever

  came first. Usually the graveyard duty shift was much quieter. Maybe

  there was a full moon---somewhere.

  Captain Janeway was inspecting Harry's bruises. Chakotay went

  to join her.

  He noticed that Malista Shadow was sitting next to the ensign on the

  biobed, her arms wrapped around him protectively. Harry was holding

  onto her for dear life, looking more alive and alert than he had in

  weeks---in spite of his injuries.

  Paris and Torres drifted over to the impromptu meeting as well.

  "Well, Harry? Well, Sis?"

  "We're officially back together again," Harry announced, looking

  to her for

  affirmation. She smiled bashfully and ducked her hot face into his

  neck. His shy

  sweetheart would never feel comfortable with being the center of

  attention. That was all right with him. He didn't like it much

  himself. "And this time," he added, "we're staying together!" His arm

  tightened around her. She squeezed him tightly in silent agreement.

  "That's wonderful, Mr. Kim," Janeway said with a cool smile.

  "Now can we discuss how you come to be in Sickbay?"

  "Mr. Natwick is in the brig for inflicting Mr. Kim's injuries,

  Captain," Lieutenant Tuvok reported. "Ensigns Simms and Hudson

  are waiting for statements from Ensign Kim and Lieutenants Paris and

  Torres in order to complete the incident report."

  Harry Kim and Tom Paris exchanged speaking looks. "Uh, well---."

  Harry began.

  "Leave him in the brig to rot," Malista growled under her

  breath, tenderly stroking Harry's throat with one hand.

  "It wouldn't hurt him a bit," Torres agreed mercilessly. If

  Natwick had hurt Tom, she would have been the first to vote to eject

  the man out an airlock.

  Janeway raised an eyebrow at Chakotay.

  He shrugged. He didn't know how George Natwick hadn't gotten

  involved in this affair either. Or why Malista and B'Elanna would

  feel such antagonism for him.

  Paris tried to mollify Torres, drawing her aside and leaving

  Kim to deal with Shadow. "Come on, B'Ella! George isn't such a bad

  guy! He didn't hurt Harry much---" He could tell that line of

  reasoning wasn't going over well so he abandoned it in less than a


  heartbeat. "B'Ella, if he hadn't---made a fool of himself--- those

  two might have dragged their heels for weeks before they kissed and

  made up!" That was a telling argument. Paris had no grudge against

  Natwick. He'd actually done them all a favor by facilitating Kim and

  Shadow's reconciliation. Besides, who wanted to spend time in the

  Security Office filling out reports?

  "I was getting awfully tired of talking to everyone about their

  problems," she admitted, for Tom's ears alone. She grimaced. "Oh, who

  cares about George Natwick? He can live for all I care," she said

  generously.

  Harry had come to the same conclusion as Paris. If George hadn't

  hit him and aroused Malista's sympathy for Harry's injuries---it

  might have taken hours to get to the kissing and making up part. With

  a little persuasion and, to be honest, the shameless use of his

  injuries to garner sympathy, Kim brought Malista around to the same

  viewpoint. His most telling argument was that George had wanted

  Malista---and didn't get her. Kim told her that was punishment

  enough---for any man. That piece of romantic nonsense was enough to

  melt her opposition to setting the ensign free. She told Harry she

  would leave it up to him.

  She'd think of another way to get even with Natwick---herself.

  George had not only rejected her---never mind, that she was glad he

  had---but he had *hit* Harry! Her friend, Jenny Delaney, would help

  her think of something appropriate. Harry just didn't understand.

  Revenge was a moral imperative. Especially for a Greek.

  Cheerfully unaware of the plots hatching in his quiet beloved's

  head, Kim turned back to his senior officers. "What happens to

  Natwick if I don't press charges?"

  "Mr. Natwick will be released," Tuvok stated. "However, there is

  still the matter of Mr. Paris' assault on Mr. Natwick."

  B'Elanna thrust herself in front of Tom, ready to protest but

  was stayed by Captain Janeway's uplifted palm. "I think that since

  Mr. Paris was trying to restrain Mr. Natwick from assaulting Mr. Kim,

  his actions were justified. Has Mr. Natwick expressed any interest in

  filing counter-charges against Mr. Paris?"

  "No, Captain," Tuvok replied. "His only apparent interest is in

  persuading Mr. Paris to instruct him in the use of the grappling hold

  used to subdue him."

  "You have to admire a man who's single-minded about improving