Trials 04 Shadow's Trial

by Terri Zavaleta

  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,