Trials 04 Shadow's Trial

by Terri Zavaleta

  about it?"

  "We try to make her feel safe and secure," Chakotay replied. "We try

  to get her to talk about what's going on so we'll know what to do."

  "She must let go of the past," the doctor said emphatically. "Whatever

  problem or problems she is dealing with presently, its severity has

  its roots in her past. The walls must come down."

  "What you're saying is: the harder she tries to keep everything pushed

  into a corner of her mind, the more the pressure is building up?"

  Paris speculated.

  "Correct. Something is going to give way. The repressed emotions must

  find a healthy outlet before an emotional breakdown occurs. If that

  happens, she could become a danger to herself or others," the doctor

  concluded.

  Paris' voice was choked. "Suicide?"

  "Possibly. Though I don't think so. She has moved past that stage.

  There is a possibility that she may express her rage through violence

  directed at others."

  Paris shook his head. "No. I don't believe that. Not Malista. She

  wouldn't hurt anyone."

  "Unless she's cornered," Chakotay muttered. As the lieutenant's eyes

  flashed to him, he continued in a conciliatory tone. "Anyone will

  fight when cornered. As she did on Huldon III."

  "That's different," Paris protested, his mouth suddenly dry. "Those

  were different circumstances. She's safe on Voyager. No one is going

  to hurt her."

  "Are you sure?" Chakotay argued. "She's been awfully upset and

  defensive for someone who feels safe. She's been acting like someone

  who's being persecuted. If someone is pushing her into a corner, she

  may lash out. With serious consequences for everyone involved. If she

  can't handle whatever it is by herself, she needs to confide in one of

  us so we can take appropriate action."

  "So what are we supposed to do? Should Harry or I try to be with her

  all the time? How do we *make* her feel safe? How do we get her to

  confide in us?" The lieutenant was on his feet now. He couldn't sit

  still and deal with the churning agitation he felt in the depths of

  his stomach.

  "Paris, calm down," Chakotay chided. His brown eyes had grown cold

  even as the younger man's eyes began to burn as a blue hot flame.

  Anger? Or fear? "I know you're concerned----"

  "I can't deal with this, Commander! I'm not a doctor or a counselor!

  I'm just a damned good pilot!" He placed his hands flat on the table

  and leaned on them to keep them from shaking as he confronted the

  first officer. "Flying. That's what I'm good at. When it comes to

  emotions---I'm in over my head here! Can't you talk to her? You're the

  first officer. It's your job--"

  "You mean *you* don't want the responsibility!" Chakotay flashed back

  at the taller man. "Well, tough!! Because want it or not---the

  responsibility is yours, Paris! You were quick to call a life boon

  when you saved my life in the Ocampan cave! You said I owed you my

  life. But you never heard of the other side of that coin, did you?

  Haven't you heard that if you save someone's life, you become

  responsible for that person and everything he or she does!? Well, you

  saved Malista's life---and now you have to accept the responsibility

  for---"

  "Of course, I don't want that kind of responsibility! In case you

  haven't noticed, I don't do feelings well, Commander! I'm not good at

  this! And who are you to talk about dodging responsibility? She was

  under your command on your ship for two years! What did you ever do to

  help her? She's been here on this ship for three years---you're the

  first officer! You're in charge of the duty roster and you didn't even

  know she was working double shifts! Yeah, you were doing your part!"

  Tom lashed out.

  Chakotay's features hardened, but he refused to recoil from the truth

  or to make excuses for his failures. "You're right."

  Paris was taken aback by the first officer's honesty and lack of

  hostility. He dropped back into his chair and stared at the older man.

  The commander continued, his jaw clenched so tightly it was hard to

  know how he could formulate words at all. "I did fail her. I thought

  that Dishon had everything in hand. I only made a half-hearted attempt

  to ask her if she was okay. I let her get away with stone-walling me.

  I didn't really reach out to her. After Huldon III, I was too busy

  being a Maquis leader, planning raids. Even on my ship, I just left it

  all to Dishon. On the surface, everything looked fine. I told myself

  that she was just a private person. That her personal life was none of

  my business. On a small ship like that. Can you imagine? That's

  probably why she doesn't trust me enough to confide in me fully as her

  counselor." The first officer suddenly looked defeated and depressed

  as his eyes met the pilot's unflinchingly.

  "Chakotay," Paris began, not knowing what he was going to say until

  the words came out of his mouth. "You can't help someone who doesn't

  want to be helped. If she'd ever asked you---"

  "She didn't have to ask *you*," Chakotay replied harshly. "You

  volunteered. You reached out to her. And I tried to warn you away from

  her because I thought you were playing games. And you saved her life.

  You saw the warning signs I was blind to. I owe you an apology,

  Paris---Tom. I know if you confront Malista, you'll wind up paying an

  emotional price. I'm sorry. But I don't think anyone else on this ship

  has a better chance of getting her to open up."

  "I got into a relationship with her as a friend. Just a friend! I

  didn't expect to have to deal with something like this! What am I

  supposed to do?!" His last words were almost a plea. Catching himself,

  hearing his own words and his agitated tone, he stood, stalked away,

  and leaned against the wall with his arms folded tightly across his

  heaving chest as he fought to regain his composure and emotional

  balance.

  The doctor's gaze had been bouncing between the two men as if watching

  a hoverball being slammed back and forth. Silence fell as both

  Chakotay and Paris tried to get themselves under control and decide

  where to go from this point. Unpalatable truths had been spoken and

  hung in the air like an unpleasant odor.

  The first officer was the first to speak. "Paris---Tom. Sit down.

  Please," he added when it appeared the young man was going to pretend

  deafness, or possibly leave. "I'm sorry. This is not easy for any of

  us. I know when you befriended Malista, you had no idea what you were

  getting into. You couldn't know how desperately she needed your

  friendship, or how much she was going to come to depend on you. On us.

  I care about her myself and would help her if I could, but she's

  already made it clear that she won't tell me everything. I don't know

  why. Maybe I remind her too much of her father. You may be the *only*

  one who can reach her. Get her to open up and let go of whatever it is

  she's holding onto. But I promise you, you aren't in this alone. The

  doctor and I will help all we can in letting you know what to expect.

  We all need
to work together."

  "Damn," Paris muttered almost inaudibly. "That's exactly what B'Elanna

  said." He slunk over to the table and reseated himself without looking

  up.

  Chakotay raised one eyebrow. "Really?"

  Tom nodded. "She also said Malista's problems aren't my fault and I'm

  not responsible for solving her problems for her. Not all by myself,

  anyway."

  "*I* could have told you that," the doctor stated. He didn't

  understand why the lieutenant and the commander shared a chuff of

  laughter at his remark, but he was pleased the emotional outbursts had

  been dealt with so they could move on to more practical

  considerations. "Now," he went on, "Shall we discuss our methodology?

  In therapy, it's sometimes referred to as 'Let's get naked together'

  ---"

  "I'm not getting NAKED with my SISTER!" Tom refuted reflexively and

  adamantly.

  The doctor rolled his eyes. "Figuratively, not literally, Lieutenant.

  It's a metaphorical expression. It means you share your pain, which

  lets her know that she is not unique in her suffering. Therefore, she

  feels more comfortable and shares her pain. The common ground you find

  provides a basis for discussion. Many support groups are founded on

  this principle."

  "I don't know if I can do that. I wouldn't know what to say," he

  mumbled, feeling his inadequacies sharply.

  Chakotay interceded again. "Tom, whatever it is that you've been doing

  has obviously been working. You might have to drop some of your own

  defenses and let her see your pain before she'll share hers with you.

  And that's going to hurt you. I'm sorry for that. But I think your

  instincts have served you well in helping her so far. Don't start

  second guessing yourself. You'll handle each problem as it comes up.

  You can't plan exactly what you're going to say, because you don't

  know what she's going to say. Think of what you would want someone to

  say to you---what *you* would need to hear. Trust your instincts."

  Paris swallowed hard and nodded, somewhat reassured by the first

  officer's confidence in him.

  The doctor cleared his throat to regain their attention once more.

  "Now, shall we discuss other methodologies?"

  *************************************

  "He said what?" Harry huffed with disbelief.

  Tom sighed. "He said Malista feels insecure because you're not----"

  "Not dominating enough?" Kim shouted. "I don't believe this! This is

  the 24th century! What's the matter with you? I don't want to---"

  "Harry, he didn't mean you have to treat her like a slave!" Tom

  interjected.

  "Then what did he mean?!" the ensign demanded.

  "Maybe I chose the wrong word," Tom sighed. Harry's reaction didn't

  surprise him. Not much. Actually, not at all. "What he means is, that

  Malista has been feeling insecure about her relationship with

  you---you do remember what insecure feels like, don't you, Harry?" He

  couldn't resist the sly dig.

  Kim dropped dejectedly into the armchair opposite Paris. "This is all

  my fault, isn't it? Because I got jealous and insecure because of

  Freddie Bristow and went nuts and----"

  "That's only part of it," his friend said soothingly. "She has a lot

  of emotional issues to work out. The Doc and Chakotay and I discussed

  your role in helping her. What we came up with is that you're doing a

  great job as it is---just by being yourself. I told you that before.

  You're a great guy and you've been very good for Malista."

  "If I'm doing so great, why is she so scared when I'm not with her?

  Why won't she talk to me? How can I make her feel more secure?"

  Harry's brown eyes were pleading with him.

  'As if *I* have all the answers,' Tom thought. 'What did I do to

  deserve this?'

  He took a deep breath and fought off a minor panic attack of his own.

  "Harry, Chakotay thinks it might help if you---acted more proprietary

  with Malista. Not domineering. More like assertive. Just---I don't

  know. Possessive?"

  "Possessive? I thought that's what started this whole thing! I got

  jealous and possessive!"

  "No, Harry. Not necessarily jealous. Not like you don't trust her. Not

  accusatory. She's always far too ready to take the blame for anything

  and everything as it is," Tom complained, wishing he could make Harry

  understand. "Okay, make it proprietary. Act more proprietary."

  "What's the difference?" Kim asked plaintively.

  "Proprietary means---well, more like 'You are my woman!'," Paris

  replied. "You know. With people you don't know, or aren't interested

  in, you behave very politely. You don't try to tell them what to do

  because you don't care what they do. It's sort of that idea. She needs

  to know you care about her. She has to see a difference in the way you

  treat her---and the way you treat every other woman on the ship."

  Harry gazed back at him blankly. "What? I'm too polite? Is that what

  you---"

  Tom sighed. "Okay. For example: the way you treat B'Elanna. You're

  B'Elanna's friend, but you don't tell her what to do, not just because

  you'd fear for your life, but because it isn't your place to

  interfere. But with Malista, she's given you that right---the right to

  offer an opinion or disapprove. So just do it. Encourage her to argue

  with you. You know, get her opinions and make sure she knows she

  doesn't always have to agree with you. Boss her around a little, but

  lovingly! And don't push too hard."

  "Libby would never have---"

  Paris flinched and winced with melodramatic exaggeration.

  "I know," Kim said. "I shouldn't bring up her name. But if I'd tried

  to treat Libby as 'my woman', she'd have had a fit!"

  Though he'd never say a word to Harry about it, Tom had always had a

  sneaking suspicion that Harry's relationship with the other girl

  wouldn't have survived Harry's maturation process. From what Tom had

  read between the lines when Harry had talked about her, Libby sounded

  like a controlling wench. She was the one who'd begun making plans for

  their future together. As Kim had matured and become more

  self-confident, she would have had a harder time getting her own way.

  But of course, Harry didn't want to hear that. Certainly not now.

  "Libby was a very secure young lady from what you've told me. Malista

  isn't. She needs some reassurance that you're sincere. When she's

  convinced you really care about her and she feels more self-confident,

  you can ease off on the proprietary stuff---if you want. For now, you

  want to make sure she knows you're committed to her. And you expect

  that commitment from her." He studied Kim's reaction carefully. "You

  *are* committed to her, aren't you, Harry?"

  "Of course, I am!" the ensign snapped exasperatedly. "I told Malista I

  wasn't going to walk away from her. I told her the night we kissed and

  made up that I thought I was falling in love with her. I wouldn't lead

  her on if I wasn't serious. Why would you even ask such a question?"

  The pilot exhaled noisily, a sigh of relief. "The doctor said that

  maybe Malista needs more th
an---words. A tangible sign or symbol." He

  waited hopefully for Harry to pick up on the broad hint.

  Kim's eyes narrowed at him suspiciously. "More than words? Like what?"

  Tom gave up. If Harry didn't get that rather unsubtle hint, he

  obviously wasn't thinking along the same lines. Paris didn't want to

  push his best friend into a commitment he wasn't ready to make. It

  would just end in disaster.

  Tom tried a smile. It was a weak attempt. "You know what they say,

  Harry. Actions speak louder than words. Just try to act like Malista

  is your choice. Let her know that. In public. In front of other

  people. That you care about her and will take care of her. If you make

  her feel like she's been *claimed* by you, she may begin to believe

  it's true. And then maybe she'll feel safe enough to tell you what's

  been bothering her."

  Harry had the definite feeling he'd missed a cue somewhere. "Tom---"

  The lieutenant got to his feet, faking an energy he didn't feel and

  hoping to effect a quick exit. "Harry, how would you like to try a

  couple of my private holoprograms. I brought this one----"

  *************************************

  Harry couldn't believe Tom had loaned him this holodeck program. It

  was one of his favorites and he usually kept them private. But then,

  Tom wanted Malista to be happy and relaxed. If this program could

  manage to relax the perpetual motion B'Elanna for more than thirty

  minutes, then it should work for the much more easy-going Malista.