Paris' form of address. "Why didn't you ask her?"
"I did!"
"You asked her why she never got angry?"
"No," he said hesitantly. "I sort of hinted around."
"Argh!" she shouted, bouncing to her feet and beginning to pace.
She'd reached the limits of her patience. "How can two people be so
stupid!!!!" It sounded like a war cry.
"Me and Malista?" he asked resignedly.
"No! You and me!" she retorted.
"What? Why are you stupid?" Harry gazed up at her in
befuddlement.
"I've been doing the same thing with Tom," she announced. "I
wanted him to talk to me---so I either interrogated him till he ran
and I got mad at him---or I 'hinted around' then got mad at him
because he didn't get the hints! Fortunately, I haven't gone quite as
far as you did in my stupidity! Or he's a little less vulnerable than
Malista---or better at deflecting my anger. He should be. He's had
enough practice."
"So what do we do now?" Harry said dejectedly.
"Tell me something, Harry. Have you ever seen Tom lose his
temper?" She couldn't resist the temptation.
"No. Why?"
"Never?"
He frowned at her. "What do you mean? Oh, he gets upset,
angry--- when he's irritated, he smirks, and gets louder. I can't say
I've really seen him *lose* his temper," Harry said. "I think he
worries about losing control."
Torres raised an ironic brow. "Sound familiar?"
Harry closed his eyes and collapsed back on the couch.
"Malista. I expected her to react the way you do---not the way Tom
does. If I can understand Tom, why didn't I understand Malista?"
"Good question. They have a lot in common. Your hormones
probably interfered where Malista was concerned. But let's get back
on the subject. We were discussing the things you said to her---we've
covered suicide and anger. Now, tell me why you were jealous and
accused her of using you for sex! I thought you offered to teach her
about sex! When you were stranded together on Dynos Six?"
"I did---but maybe I didn't know---didn't think---what the
consequences would be," he mumbled. He opened his eyes and stared at
the ceiling.
"What consequences? I thought you two were---getting along fine!
She was always kissing you and---was that the problem? You didn't
like the public displays of affection? You decided you didn't want
her after all? She wasn't a good student?" She goaded him
deliberately.
He sat straight up and glared at her. "NO! The problem is she
was a very good student---I'm just a lousy teacher!" The moment the
words escaped him, he turned away from her, breathing hard as he
tried to get his fury and chagrin under control.
B'Elanna subsided, thoughtfully massaging her temples as she
tried to think of what to say to that admission. "Harry," she began
tentatively. She reached out to touch his shoulder, but he jerked
away from her hand.
"You can see why I couldn't talk to Tom about this!" His voice
was choked. "Malista is totally inexperienced! She was starting to
trust me. To---want me---at least it seemed like it. I couldn't
decide if she really wanted ME---or if she was just---curious. And if
we did try---What if I---what if she didn't---I'm not very
experienced myself. What if I did something---What if I made it
*worse* for her?"
'Oh, Kahless,' Torres thought, 'why did I ever start this
conversation?
I know a Klingon's life is meaningless without challenges---but this?
Is this some kind of test? A warrior's trial?'
She took a deep breath. "Harry, if you care about her---and she
cares about you---the two of you will---find a way to make it work."
She rolled her eyes at the inadequacy of her own words. "You need to
talk---to her! And as for talking to Tom---I think you might be
underestimating him. He'd never hurt you by making jokes about---
about something like this. If you had questions about---sex---I'm
sure Tom would do his best to give you good advice---Tom wants you
both to be happy. Or you could try talking to the doctor---no, maybe
Harry's shoulders straightened. He turned slowly to meet her
eyes. "Do you think she would---Would Malista even listen to an
apology?"
Torres sent him an encouraging smile. "I think so. You won't
know until you try. She still cares for you. I know that much. She's
very confused and hurt right now. You need to be honest with her. If
you start by telling her how you feel, she might be willing to tell
you what you want to know."
'Thank you, Chakotay,' she thought fervently as she recycled to Harry
the advice the first officer had given her.
Harry's expression lightened, his dark eyes glinting with hope.
"Thanks, B'Elanna. You're a good friend."
She got to her feet. "Well, I think you have enough to think
about---and I need to start following my own advice. I'll see you
tomorrow."
He gave her a quick hug before walking her to his door. "I'm
going to think of a special apology for Malista. I can't stand
another day of this---silence."
"Good for you!" she said. When the door slid closed, she headed
back to Sandrine's to find Tom. Malista and Harry would have to work
out their own problems. She was through playing Miss Fixit---except
in Engineering, of course. She wanted to have a talk with Tom. A long
talk---so maybe not tonight---but soon.
***********************
Looking forward to a long, cool drink and a chance to finally
relax, B'Elanna walked into Sandrine's and a solid wave of
apprehension and avid curiosity radiating from those present hit her
in the face like the slap of a wet towel.
Torres was beginning to feel she was definitely being tested---and if
she could identify who was behind the conspiracy to try her patience
with one trial after another---they wouldn't live long enough to
correlate the data.
All eyes were fixed on the Delaneys' table. Tom Paris and
Malista Shadow were sitting there. Tom got to his feet, his usual
fluid grace missing, his body taut as a bowstring. His attention was
fixed on Jenny Delaney. The redhead was tossing her hair back and
glaring up at him defiantly. Megan looked dismayed.
Torres looked at Malista for her reaction. The younger girl seemed to
have crumpled in on herself. She was hunched in her chair, arms
wrapped around her midsection, cringing as if she'd received a
painful blow. Her eyes were wide open---and horrified.
B'Elanna scowled fiercely. There went all hope for a peaceful
drink! She shoved her way through the onlookers and marched up to
Tom's side in time to hear Jenny remark, "I didn't make it up, Tom!
As a friend, I thought you'd want to know! I'm just telling you what
everyone's saying!"
Torres touched Tom's forearm and was surprised when he flinched
slightly. "Just what is everyone saying, Jenny?" she asked, with a
fierce glower at the redhead.
Tom looked down a
t B'Elanna. His blue eyes were opaque, a cold
cadet blue. "It seems that we've---the three of us---" he indicated
himself, Shadow, and Torres, "have been seen leaving the holodeck in
our robes. Five times in the last two weeks."
Torres didn't get it. "So what?" She glanced at Malista.
The younger woman looked up at her with stricken eyes. Tears
brimmed in her eyes. "I'm sorry, B'Elanna. I didn't know---I never
thought---Oh! I can't believe ---I'm so sorry!" She jumped to her
feet and ran for the exit, pushing her way through the crowd that had
gathered.
Unnoticed in the confusion, Ensign George Natwick followed her.
Furious, and having no other target, Torres started for Jenny
Delaney. "What did you say, Delaney?"
Tom snaked an arm around her waist and, using his strength and
B'Elanna's momentum, spun her in a circle away from her target,
holding her tightly against his body and putting himself between
Torres and the Delaneys. She snarled up at him, but didn't try to
pull away. She wouldn't risk hurting Tom to get to Jenny. It wasn't
worth it.
"It's gossip, B'Ella. Hitting Jenny won't change anything," Tom
said bleakly.
"And like she said, she didn't start the story---she was just letting
me know it was being said."
Megan Delaney had the good sense to grab her sister and
disappear into the crowd while Paris was distracting Torres.
"What gossip?" B'Elanna demanded, searching his eyes for a hint
of feeling.
Paris jerked a hand toward the gathering of spectators watching
with avid interest. "Let's talk somewhere else?" Without waiting for
an answer or even looking at her, he loosened his grip on her and
turned them toward the exit. The crowd parted to let them through.
***********************
Natwick didn't have to go far to find Malista Shadow. She hadn't
made it past the Observation Lounge, two doors down from the
holodeck. She had collapsed on the couch against the wall, her arms
wrapped around her waist. She was rocking back and forth, tears
silently streaming down her face. Natwick had never in his entire
Starfleet career felt so helpless. This was something strength,
training, and skill couldn't fix. She looked---desperately,
frantically unhappy. She was mumbling something under her breath. He
couldn't make out the words.
"Malista?"
She didn't respond. If anything, the mumbling increased in
volume. Natwick could at least tell that she wasn't speaking in
Standard. He would guess it was Greek. He would have felt more at
ease if it had sounded like cursing. It sounded like a mournful
litany. He moved away from the door and eased himself down onto the
couch next to her. She ignored him.
"Malista," he said, a little more loudly. Still no reaction---so
he touched her shoulder.
She jerked to sudden awareness and frantically scrambled away
from him as far as she could. The arm of the couch stopped her mid-
flight as she crashed into it with her side. The impact seemed to jar
her from her trance. Her green eyes lit on him with recognition.
"George?" she whispered huskily.
"Yeah. Are you okay?" His brow furrowed with concern as he took
in her chalky complexion, the feverish brightness of her eyes.
"George," she said again, this time with a hint of relief. She
strove to smile politely, but failed miserably. "Did you hear what
they said?"
"No. What did they say?" He was relieved she was talking to him.
He had an idea what she was upset about---he did hear most of the
ship's gossip. He didn't understand why a few stupid comments would
upset her to this degree.
She bit her lip---hard---not for the first time. A drop of blood
appeared.
"Malista!" George took her hand in his and shook it. "Don't!
You're hurting yourself!"
She gazed at him blankly. He touched a finger to her lower lip,
wiping the blood away. He showed the splotch to her. "Oh," she
sighed. She shook her head, tossing her hair back over her shoulder,
bunching it with one hand, then releasing it as if she didn't know
what to do with it.
"What's wrong?" he asked quietly, taking her hand in his. Few
people would have recognized him in this frame of mind. Compassion
was not a word associated with Ensign George Natwick.
Her voice was thick, her eyes dropped, as she said, "The gossips
say that Tom and B'Elanna and I---that we're having an affair! The
three of us!"
"And are you?" He'd heard of stranger things. At least these
three were all human. The idea of a trio didn't shock him.
It obviously did shock her. "No!" She snatched her hand away
from him. "We were using my exercise program---we wear tights---
that's why we always wear robes when we leave the holodeck! We
aren't---we never---Tom is like a brother---I never---" she
spluttered.
"Calm down," he requested impassively. His lack of emotional
response reassured her somehow. "People talk. On this ship, there's
not much else to do. You know it's not true---so what do you care
what the dimwits say?"
She thought about that for a moment. "But it's not true. They
shouldn't--- they don't even know---"
"Malista, you're a very private person, right?"
She nodded, her eyes huge as she gazed at him---as if she were
drowning and he were offering a life-saving rope.
"It makes you uncomfortable for people to talk about you?"
She nodded again.
"Well, you can't stop them from talking. Get used to it. Is that
really what you're worried about?" He frowned at her, sensing there
was another layer to her anxiety.
"I don't want this---talk---to hurt Tom---or Ha---B'Elanna!" she
blurted.
"Why should it?"
Her eyes widened even further. He hadn't thought it possible.
"But, George, he's---she's a very jealous person! She isn't going to
like people saying things like ---about Tom---You know he---" She let
a gesture finish the sentence. "She'll be very angry!"
He noticed her slips and permitted himself a small smile.
"Malista, you're forgetting---she knows the truth. If there's nothing
going on with you three---"
"There isn't!" she insisted vehemently.
He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Okay. Then she
knows it. She won't be mad at you."
She drove her fingers into her hair and pulled at the coronet of
flowers till it came loose then threw the flowers onto the table
nearby. "Why am I so stupid? Every time I get close to someone they
get hurt! Tom and B'Elanna were just being kind---being my friends---
and look what it got them! The scandal of the ship! I can't be
friends with them any more! Everyone's whispering and sneaking
looks---oh, damn it! Why didn't I just die at Huldon III? It would
have saved everyone so much trouble!" She didn't cry. Her tears
seemed to have dried up. The look of quiet desperation was back. Her
eyes were wild.
It made Natwick u
neasy. Counseling was not his area of
expertise, but he knew he should try to turn her thoughts to
something positive. "There are a lot of people who'd be very unhappy
if you had. Like Tom Paris. B'Elanna Torres." He hesitated, then
added, "Harry Kim."
At the mention of the Ensign's name, she covered her face with
her hands. "Oh, George, I made such a mess of everything. Poor Harry.
I expected too much of him. I can't---I couldn't--- maybe if I had---
And now this rumor---He'll think Tom--- his best friend---if I could
stop the rumors---I could save their friendship---but how?" She
broke off in confusion, lost in thought for several moments.
Natwick cleared his throat. "Malista, if there's anything I can
do to help---?" He stopped. He didn't know what he expected her to
say---but it certainly wasn't what she did say.
"George," she said, slowly dropping her hands from her face and
tilting her head to slide a considering look in his direction.
That glint in her eyes made him nervous. His palms started to
sweat. He'd never seen that particular look in a woman's eyes before.
He didn't know what it meant.
She gathered all her courage and knelt on the couch next to him.
Her hands came out to grip his muscular upper arms. "George, you're
something of a ladies' man, aren't you?"
His eyes narrowed warily. "Yeah, sort of. Some women think so,"
he drawled. "Why?"
"I want you to do me a favor," she said, peering into his eyes
with intensity. She slid her hands from his arms, up his shoulders,
and around his neck.
"What kind of favor?" he asked suspiciously.
She smiled---a Mona Lisa smile, mysterious---seductive. "I've
never had sex---made love with anyone. I want you---to teach me how
to make love to a man."
Ensign George Natwick gulped.
***********************
Tom Paris kept a firm hold on B'Elanna Torres' waist as he all
but hauled her along, forcing her to step quickly to keep up with his
long, ground-eating strides. Though he was taking her with him, she
wasn't sure he knew she was there. Usually so polite and considerate,
he didn't seem to notice it was an effort for her to match his pace.
She'd never seen him so---upset. She wondered if this was how he
looked when he was angry.
When he moved, he usually reminded her of a dancer---all smooth,