Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

TORRES' TRIALS
by TerriTrek

Chief Engineer B'Elanna Torres of the Federation Starship Voyager was not in a very good mood. She wasn't even sure she'd recognize a good mood. It had been over six weeks since she'd had one that lasted more than twenty minutes. That was when she'd decided to stop seeing Tom Paris socially. Though they'd since mutually decided that had been a mistake, things still weren't quite the same as before.

She peered through a microscope at a burned, melted piece of material and muttered several Klingon curses and epithets under her breath. It was at times like these she was glad that no one else in Engineering spoke Klingon. That meant she didn't have to censor herself.

"There's nothing left to look at!" she grumbled, sitting back in her chair.

Lieutenant Joe Carey looked up from his work at a nearby console, unsure if she was addressing him or continuing her monologue.

She waved a hand at him. "Nothing. I can't tell a thing from looking at the power couplings after they've fused. We're no closer to solving this than we were two weeks ago."

The problem had first come to their attention with a minor disaster. From evidence pieced together by Carey, a power coupling had fused, causing a short which caused a power converter to overload which in turn ignited a plasma leak---all of which resulted in a hull breach in Cargo Bay 1---resulting in injury to Crewman Gerron, Crewman Shadow, and Lieutenant Tom Paris, and causing the death of Crewman Niko Dishon. Since that time, power couplings all over the ship had been giving up the ghost at a higher rate than was normal for obsolescence to be a factor.

Two weeks later, B'Elanna Torres and her crew were no closer to solving the riddle. It annoyed her. And her frustration with being unable to resolve the problem, resulted in her bad mood. She sighed deeply. Her mind had been hashing and rehashing every possible technical foul-up that could cause failure or overload in the power couplings. She was fresh out of ideas. So was the rest of her staff.

She glanced carelessly at the chronometer, then snapped to attention. She had a date with Tom Paris in less than thirty minutes. She'd gotten busy and lost track of time---as usual. "Carey, think of something! The power couplings are critical!"

"Working on it, Lieutenant," her chief assistant replied calmly, used to such outbursts by now. He returned his attention to his own station.

She dashed out of Engineering, heading straight for her quarters. She could use a little relaxation with the charming helmsman of Voyager. Kahless knew she needed to get her mind off those lousy power couplings! And her relationship with Tom was the only positive note in the last six weeks. They were growing closer, getting to know each other beyond the superficial. Or at least she hoped they were.

Sometimes she felt that Tom was holding her at arm's length, letting her get only so close---but not too close. Except physically. Physically, they were very affectionate with each other. And very compatible. Though they hadn't taken the physical side of their relationship too far. Each of them was half afraid to become intimate---it would change their relationship irrevocably.

Torres wasn't sure how to interpret his behavior. It was as if Tom was distancing himself from her emotionally, but wanted her physically close. Sometimes she even felt he was using displays of affection to distract her---to keep her from getting too close emotionally.

The idea bothered her. Maybe she should talk to him about it? Again.

**********

Walter Baxter was standing outside Cargo Bay One looking distressed when Ensign George Natwick came striding by on his way to work out in the gym. Baxter needed advice from someone and Natwick was the only one in sight. Slight help was better than no help at all. "George! I need to ask you something."

"What?"

"Listen, I know you're kind of a friend of hers so you might know---."

"Get to the point, Baxter. I want to work out before I start my new class this evening," Natwick growled, restlessly flicking his towel at the wall.

"Well, Malista Shadow came into the Cargo Bay a little while ago, and she seemed to be fine. She was working on a cargo lifter one minute, the next minute I turn around and she's sitting on the floor crying. I don't know what to do. I tried to talk to her, but she just ignored me. Who should I call? Sickbay? Commander Chakotay? He's been counseling her. The captain? Who should I call?"

"Baxter, you just don't have a clue. Don't you listen to the ship's gossip? It's Beta shift right? He should be off duty by now." Natwick slapped his commbadge. "Ensign Natwick to Ensign Kim."

"Kim here. Go ahead." From the background noise, Harry Kim was in the turbolift.

"Kim, you're needed in Cargo Bay One. As soon as possible."

"Needed for what?"

Natwick replied, "Malista's down here and pretty upset according to Baxter."

"Be right there! Kim out." He must have rerouted the turbolift. He was at the Cargo Bay doors in less than two minutes.

Baxter and Natwick were still standing in the corridor. Natwick handed Kim a box of tissues he'd procured from a nearby storage facility. "You'll probably need these, little one," he said and walked away with his usual strut.

"Thanks, George!" Kim stared with surprise at the tissues. Just when he was ready to write Natwick off as a Neanderthal, insensitive jerk---he'd do something thoughtful---then he'd ruin it by taking a potshot at Kim. Who could figure this guy out? Aw, who wanted to!?

Harry brushed by Baxter and into the Cargo Bay. He found Malista sitting cross-legged on the floor near the outside bulkhead. She was rocking back and forth, her face covered by her hands, as she cried silently, sobs racking her body. She was facing the patched place on the bulkhead. The exact place where a hull breach had caused the death of her best friend, Niko Dishon, and had almost killed Malista, Tom Paris, and Gerron.

"Malista," he said softly, to announce his presence and avoid startling her. She didn't respond. Harry let himself down on the floor next to her, slipping his arm around her back. As soon as he touched her, she threw her arms around him and rested her head on his chest as she sobbed. The hand on her back patted gently. With the other hand, he presented the box of tissues. She seized a few and began mopping her face and blowing her nose.

After a few minutes of this, the tears slowed to a trickle. She tried hiding her face behind her shoulder-length hair. "I must l-l-look awful," she stuttered soggily. "And I g-g-got your uniform all w-w-wet!"

"That's okay. Now, want to talk about it?" Harry said calmly.

She closed her eyes. "Not really. I think---it all just caught up with me. Niko--- I don't think I even cried for him before. When I came in here---"

"The first time since the accident?" Kim prompted gently.

"Yes. I know it's been almost two months---"

"Time doesn't matter when it comes to grieving," he said. "A lot of people can't or don't react at the time of the death. They're in shock or having to cope with other things. When you lose someone you care about---any little thing can remind you---and all of a sudden, you feel just as bad as when it first happened."

She blinked up at him, her dark green eyes glistening like rain-drenched leaves. "How did you know?"

He smiled faintly. "I've been through it myself. When my grandmother died. She was very special to me. Two years after her funeral, I walked into a bakery and caught the scent of gingerbread---and I wanted to cry because I knew she'd---that's when I finally realized--- she was really gone. She wouldn't be making gingerbread men with me any more." His own eyes were filling with tears. One spilled over and trickled down his cheek.

Malista caught it on her finger and wiped it away. "Thanks, Harry. I appreciate your sharing that with me. I'm glad I'm not the only one with delayed reactions."

"It takes time," Harry said. He almost smiled as she made an impatient noise. "I know. You've heard that from Tom---and Chakotay---and B'Elanna---and me---but that doesn't make it less true. There's some truth to the saying that time heals all wounds. Just take your time. You've had a lot of adjustments to make. But remember, you don't have to face everything on your own. I'm here if you need me. Tom will help you---whether you want him to or not, since he's appointed himself your older brother. And if you need a woman's touch, B'Elanna or Captain Janeway or Kes would lend you an ear. Just stay away from the Delaneys and their advice," Kim warned mockingly.

He hadn't been happy with the Delaneys since they had aided and abetted Malista in a plan to drive him insane with jealousy---and done a damned good job of it, too. He got up and helped her to her feet.

"Oh, gosh. What did Baxter tell you when he called you?" she asked, suddenly realizing from her stiffness how long she must have been sitting there.

"I think you scared Baxter," Harry teased, slipping his arm around her back as they walked toward the exit. "Actually, he didn't call me. Natwick did."

"George Natwick?" She was dumbfounded.

Harry held up the box of tissues. "He even provided these. There's evidently more to the man than just muscles. You know, I think he really likes you." He watched carefully for her reaction. He knew it was silly for him to feel---jealous--- but---somehow he couldn't help it. It wasn't the first time he'd felt jealous of this woman. He'd never been this jealous or possessive with Libby. He was beginning to wonder what was wrong with him.

Malista's eyebrows rose then fell into a frown. "If George Natwick likes me, he has a funny way of showing it. First he scares me out of my mind, then he tries to embarrass me to death at that party---I don't think so, Harry." She almost never contradicted Harry. Somehow it made him feel better. She looked down self-consciously as they passed Baxter on their way out into the corridor. Harry smiled at the man, grateful that he'd been concerned enough for Malista to seek help.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked as they turned around the corner.

"To my quarters," Malista said. "I have to---clean up. I'm not going to be seen in public looking like this."

Harry studied her expression suspiciously. "How do I know this isn't part of some nefarious plan to get me alone? In your quarters? Alone?"

"You said alone twice," Malista pointed out.

"I was using repetition for emphasis," Kim explained kindly. Tom Paris' sense of humor was definitely rubbing off on him.

"Oh."

"Well?"

"Well, what?" she asked.

"Well, is this part of some nefarious plan to get me alone in your quarters so you can take advantage of me?" Harry elucidated.

She wrinkled her nose at him. "No."

"Why not?" he demanded, trying to look crushed.

She checked the chronometer on her wrist. "Because we're supposed to meet Tom and B'Elanna in fifteen minutes."

"No nefarious plan?" Harry said with exaggerated disappointment.

"No. Not in only fifteen minutes," she added. "My nefarious plans usually take several hours to play themselves out."

Harry perked up. "Really?"

Malista entered the key code to her quarters. "Why don't you go get out of uniform and meet me back here in ten minutes?"

"But when---?"

"After dinner?" She smiled at him mischievously. "Once we leave Tom and B'Elanna to their own devices, we can continue with life lesson number---three?"

"Oh, yes! Ten minutes, ma'am!" Harry dashed out of sight.

Malista looked once more at her chronometer. "Yikes!" She dashed for the shower.

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

Tom Paris was exactly on time---as usual. B'Elanna Torres was running late---as usual. She greeted him at the door of her quarters wearing her maroon robe, hair brush in hand. "I'll just be a minute. Come in and sit down," she said quickly, as she retreated to her dressing area.

Tom noticed with amusement that she was barefoot. She had cute toes. He wondered idly if she ever painted her toenails. He strolled in, taking his time as he toured her living area with his eyes. True, he'd been in her cabin before---a month or so ago, but without B'Elanna's nearness to distract him, he was capable of noticing more details. A stone statue on the table---that was new. He sat on the couch and examined it more closely. Some kind of predatory bird. The carving was exquisitely detailed in blue Alatiran marble. The feathers looked as if they would be soft to the touch, the eyes of the bird alert---quite an accomplishment for the artist. "Where did you get this?" he called out.

"What?" she answered, her voice slightly breathless as she searched frantically for her other shoe under her bed.

"The carving of the bird," he specified. "It's beautiful."

"Oh, it was a birthday gift from Chakotay. It's an eagle, a Terran bird."

Now he remembered. He'd overheard Chakotay talking with Janeway about his gift for B'Elanna, but he didn't remember seeing it before. It must have been longer than he'd thought since he'd been in her cabin. "Did he replicate it?"

She appeared in the doorway, every hair in place, wearing a red vee-necked tee-shirt, matching casual slacks, and sandals. "No, he replicated the marble then did the carving himself."

"You look---great," Paris said, running his eyes over her. He looked back at the carving wistfully. He should have known that anything Chakotay did for B'Elanna would be a work of art---or a labor of love? "It must have taken him a long time. I wish I had some artistic ability like that."

She came forward and stood beside him. "Did you ever try it?"

His eyes darkened, as if a half-forgotten memory was pulling at him mentally. "No, I never tried carving. I did try drawing---" He stopped and she could almost see him change gears---to stop himself from sharing something hurtful. "Somehow, my teachers didn't appreciate my drawings of nudes!" he joked. "Especially since one or two of them were my models---without their knowledge or consent, of course! What I hadn't actually seen---I made up."

She thumped his arm. "And how old were you?"

He frowned thoughtfully. "Ten? Maybe twelve."

"You started early," Torres commented. She swallowed her disappointment at the sudden turn of the conversation. She'd thought for just an instant that he might actually tell her something---personal. But he seemed determined to keep her at a distance---figuratively, if not literally.

"Let's just say I was inspired," Tom said with a smile.

It was what Torres privately referred to as Smile Number Two. Polite, friendly, but with no real warmth---and it didn't go beyond his lips to the rest of his face. She stifled a sigh of impatience. She hated this retreat that he made whenever she got close to the real Tom Paris. She didn't know how much longer she could pretend she didn't notice. Or even if she should keep up the pretense. How long would they have to know each other before he would open up?

Paris could tell she was getting impatient. He didn't know why. "Are you ready?"

She nodded without speaking. He looped her arm through his and they headed for Sandrine's.

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

Harry and Malista were twenty minutes late. The moment they arrived they could tell: There was trouble in Paradise. The tension in the air was a tangible, living thing that wrapped its coils around Kim and Shadow as they approached the table in Sandrine's.

Tom was smiling---his cool, 'who, me?' smile. Smile Number Three. B'Elanna was staring into the depths of the drink on the table before her. She was not smiling---at all.

"B'Elanna? Come on, it was a joke," Tom said coaxingly. She didn't answer or look up. Giving up momentarily, he turned to greet the newcomers. "Hi, Harry. Malista."

"Tom, B'Elanna," Kim said cautiously. "Sorry we're late."

Torres lifted her gaze, keeping her eyes on Kim and Shadow, ignoring Paris' presence. "Some kind of emergency?" the chief engineer asked. She'd assigned Shadow to repair a cargo lifter and hadn't seen her since the end of the shift.

Malista squirmed self-consciously as she seated herself. She avoided everyone's eyes, by looking around for the holographic Sandrine to order a drink. "Not really. I got the lifter fixed. It was another power coupling problem."

Paris looked at Harry Kim. Malista looked upset. Harry shook his head slightly. Tom decided to let it drop. If it was something he needed to know, Harry would tell him later.

Torres let out a hiss under her breath, distracted by the words 'power couplings'. "Another one? What is going on with those things?! We've checked the parts, we've checked the replicator, we've checked and rechecked the coupling connectors in the consoles and the power sources---what is going on?"

Harry shrugged.

Malista frowned thoughtfully. "I wonder---"

"What?" B'Elanna pounced, ready for any new idea for dealing with the ongoing crisis that haunted even her dreams.

Malista shook her head with a rueful smile. "No, never mind. It's too simple---I'm sure someone thought of it already." Harry and B'Elanna were engineering wizards---surely her own idea was a waste of their time.

"Sometimes the simplest solutions get overlooked," Harry said. "What's your idea?"

"B'Elanna, like you said we checked the couplings in place in the system, right?" she verified shyly.

Torres nodded encouragingly.

"We checked the replicator to see if it was working efficiently?"

"Of course."

"Well," Malista offered tentatively, "did anyone---check the replicator matrix?"

"What?" Paris asked for clarification. He didn't know much about how replicators actually worked---he'd never been interested enough to learn since it didn't have anything to do with propulsion or navigation.

B'Elanna and Harry quickly jumped on Malista's suggestion. "You mean the power coupling model might have a flaw?" Torres said. She slammed her fist down on the table. She couldn't believe she'd overlooked the possibility. It was so simple---she'd been looking for a complex problem---not a basic, amateurish mistake!

"A microfracture wouldn't show up in the finished product unless you used a high power of magnitude---" Harry began.

"Which we didn't bother to use until after the power couplings fused!" Torres added.

"And at that point, the microfracture would be lost amid the other damage done when the coupling fused," Shadow finished.

The three engineering types were going over the possibilities in their heads. Paris looked at each thoughtful face bemusedly. "Why do I suddenly feel superfluous?"

"What?" Harry asked, absent-mindedly.

"Let's go find out!" Torres bounced to her feet and charged out of the holodeck, followed in quick succession by Shadow and Kim.

Paris was left sitting all alone at the table for four. "Was it something I said?" he called after them, only half-kidding.

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

B'Elanna Torres couldn't bear to look the captain in the eyes as she gave her report at the senior staff meeting. "Malista was right. When Engineering noticed the depleted supply of power couplings available, we began using the replicator to create replacements. Unfortunately," she squirmed in her chair as she continued, "no one thought to check the coupling that was used as the model for the replication process. We just assumed it was unflawed. Microfractures are almost unheard of when dealing with birullian alloys. So the matrix for the replication was flawed and that meant---"

"That every time a new power coupling was replicated, the flaw was duplicated as well," Harry Kim completed her thought.

"And now?" Janeway prompted.

"Now," Torres said grimly, "we have to find a source of birullian so we can manufacture our own replacements. Which isn't likely. Or we have to find one unflawed power coupling and use it for the replicator matrix. And, we have to replace every power coupling we've changed out in the past six months---which is when the original stock was depleted."

Tom whistled at the size of the job before them. The power couplings were incorporated into every major system in the ship and were essential in delivering power safely to the consoles.

Janeway raised an eyebrow at her helm officer. "Exactly, Mr. Paris. Lieutenant Torres, I would like you to work with Commander Chakotay on a revised duty roster to handle the increased workload."

"We may want to shift all Maintenance and Repair crew to two shifts, rather than three," Chakotay suggested. "That would minimize down time and increase the number of personnel available. We could also arrange to recruit personnel from other departments to assist on a temporary basis."

Janeway nodded her approval of that suggestion. "Just be sure they're trained in safety protocols. We need to get this work done as quickly as possible, but we don't want any accidents. And by the way, B'Elanna, tell Malista that was good detective work."

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

Malista finally got off duty after twelve straight of hours of climbing in, out, around, and through the consoles and Jefferies tubes in Engineering which had been the first priority. She wanted nothing more than to relax so she went by her quarters and changed out of her uniform into a long white skirt and green peasant blouse. She picked up her datapadd. Harry Kim was still on the bridge, so she went to Sandrine's alone. She was so proud of herself that she could do that now. She didn't need an escort to protect her. It might sound like a strange thing to be proud of, but only to someone who didn't know how withdrawn and socially inept she'd been just a few months before.

Tom Paris was there alone. The holocharacters were his only companions. His expression suddenly changed from melancholy to polite friendliness as he heard her approach. "Hi, Malista. Want to learn to play pool?"

She looked him over carefully, without speaking, trying to decide what to say.

His smile dropped away. "No?"

She gazed at him, wide-eyed. "What did you do?" she finally asked.

He flinched guiltily, but caught himself and donned his mask of casual unconcern as he returned his attention to his next shot. He drew back the cue---and immediately scratched. "Nothing. Exactly."

"Uh-huh," she muttered skeptically.

His blue eyes met her green ones. "What did she say?" He tried to sound indifferent, but couldn't quite bring it off. He reached into the pocket and fished the cue ball out of the pocket.

"Nothing. But I could tell when Harry and I joined you last night that something was wrong. And she wasn't in a very good mood today," Malista retorted, seating herself on a bar stool. She waited patiently for him to finish racking the balls once more.

Paris shrugged. "She's just upset about the power coupling situation. It's a lot more work. And it makes her madder because it's work that should be unnecessary. And she's furious she didn't think of it sooner."

"Funny. I'd think she'd feel better now that she's identified the problem."

He turned, planted his cue stick on the floor, and leaned on it. "You mean since you identified the problem?"

Malista frowned. "You think she's upset because I figured it out---before she did? Come on, Tom! B'Elanna isn't like that!"

"Yeah?" He gave her a cynical smirk, the provoking one that made people want to smack it off his face. Torres would have called it Smile Number One.

She got to her feet impatiently. "If you don't want to talk about it---fine! Just don't make things up! I'm not in the mood! I don't need this!" Malista Shadow spun on her heel and started out of Sandrine's.

"Malista! Wait!" Tom leaned back against the pool table.

She paused at the door without turning.

"Come back here," Tom said. "Please?"

She revolved slowly to face him. "What's going on, Tom?" she asked calmly.

"You want to sit down? And have a drink?"

"Not particularly. Why was B'Elanna so mad when Harry and I got here last night?" Malista insisted, coming to stand in front of him so she could study his face.

Tom sighed heavily. "Ah, I just made a stupid joke---it wasn't a big deal. She didn't think it was funny, I guess."

"What kind of joke?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Paris pondered the odds of evading the question. He darted a glance at his 'little sister'. No way. It was one of the reasons he liked her. She didn't let him get away with anything. He took a quick look around the room. "Computer, delete all the holodeck characters."

The other occupants of the bar disappeared giving them privacy. Malista raised her eyebrows, crossed her arms, and waited.

Paris sighed again. He laid his pool cue down and hoisted himself up to sit on the edge of the pool table. He patted the space next to him. Malista followed his lead. "B'Elanna asked me about Rickie."

"Your holographic---friend?"

"Yeah," he said, staring at the floor. "She asked me why I deleted her."

"And you said---" Shadow prompted.

"I said," Tom replied with a reminiscent wince, "that I got tired of her."

Malista frowned and moaned. "Tom! Do you know how that sounded---"

"Not at the time," he said defensively. "I wasn't thinking of how she would interpret it. I just wanted a quick excuse. Besides, I'm not going to get tired of B'Elanna! I'm not fickle! I don't care what people say about me!" His blue eyes searched her face for a sign that she believed him. "Whether I knew it or not, I've been looking for B'Elanna Torres my whole life! Do you really think I want to mess it up? Now? When things are finally starting to go my way?"

She smiled at him tenderly. "No, of course not," she replied gently. She took his hand and held it. "Was that the only thing? I wouldn't think B'Elanna would get that mad about---just that."

"No," Tom replied reluctantly. "She says I won't talk to her."

"You talk to her all the time."

"That's exactly what I said!" He threw her an exasperated look. "Don't play dumb, Malista. You know what I mean. She says I won't talk to her about---stuff like feelings." It didn't seem to occur to him that he'd just admitted that he had been playing dumb with Torres.

"And do you?"

"Yes---no! I don't know!" He threw up his hands and jumped off the table to amble towards the bar, as if he were too restless to stay still.

"That's a pretty comprehensive answer." She slid down and followed him.

He rummaged behind the bar until he found the bottle he was looking for. "You want some brandy?"

"Synthehol?" She asked cautiously. Her first and only hangover had taught her the hazards of ingesting real alcoholic beverages. She wouldn't repeat that mistake.

He snickered as he recalled the effect of the native beverage from their shore leave on Dynos Six, 'the Blue' as the Voyager crew had dubbed it. Malista, Jenny Delaney, and B'Elanna among others had drunk deeply and suffered greatly as a result. "Of course, it's synthehol. I don't do the real stuff any more either."

"Why not?"

"What do you mean, 'why not'?" He frowned at her. "You're starting to sound like B'Ella. There doesn't have to be a reason for everything!"

"Oops. Sorry. I was just making conversation," she said lightly. "Did I step on a sore spot?"

"She keeps---pushing," he said, filling his glass. "I don't know---what she wants me to say."

"Welcome to the club," Malista said tiredly. She rested her elbow on the bar and cradled her chin in her palm.

Paris looked into her eyes and noticed the sadness. "What's the matter? Is it Harry?"

She shook her head. "Not exactly. Sometimes. Yes---no, maybe it's me." She broke off in confusion.

Paris smiled wryly, but there was no sparkle in his eyes. "I see I'm not the only one who's mastered the art of the comprehensive answer. Maybe it's a family trait. Would you like to settle on one choice? Is it Harry?"

"Relationships are hard. Especially when you've never had one before. And he keeps pushing---in a nice way. It's that I don't know how much I should tell him. Or what," Malista stated. "I don't want to talk about me right now. And Tom?" She made sure she had his full attention before she continued. "Don't use me---or Harry---or our relationship---as an excuse to avoid B'Elanna. Spend some time alone with her. Talk to her. The two of you care about each other. You can find a way to get past your differences."

Shifting uncomfortably, Tom resorted to a stab at humor. "Hey, I'm supposed to be giving you advice, Sis! Not the other way around. Why don't you take your own advice?"

She refused to smile. "Tom?" Her green eyes were very wide, her expression easy to read.

He studied his brandy solemnly. "Yes?"

"If I can help?" She left it there, not knowing what to say---or if she'd said too much already.

He took her hand and squeezed it. His eyes never left his glass. "I know. You too. If I can help---Let me know."

They stayed there for a few minutes, just holding hands, each lost in thought.

"Tom?"

"Yes?"

"You want to help me with a holoprogram I've been working on?"

"Sure, what is it?"

Malista smiled at him shyly. "Harry keeps asking about my family. I thought I could show him---and get a new exercise program for my workouts."

Tom took the datapadd and studied the program. "Hmm," he murmured. "This looks interesting. A surprise for Harry?" He flashed a wicked grin her way.

She nodded.

"Then lets make this as near perfect as possible. Just a few finishing touches," Paris suggested. He began to tap on the padd controls. "The small details make it real."

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

After an exhaustive search and examination, Torres had located an intact, unflawed power coupling in a secondary backup system She immediately assigned a crew to work full-time on replicating new parts for the repair teams to install. With additional personnel, some of them inexperienced, she had to reassign teams so that each had one repair tech and one less experienced assistant from another department.

She called Malista Shadow aside for a quick conference. "Malista, Sue Nicoletti is going to partner with Gerron. I'm thinking of letting you work with Chell. Is that okay with you?" Torres was studying her intently, watching for a reaction.

Shadow smiled faintly, appreciating her chief's concern and thoughtfulness in consulting her before making the assignment. "It's okay, Lieutenant. I'm not---I like Chell. He doesn't make me---nervous." She'd gotten to know him better in her self-defense class. He was a very non-threatening person.

B'Elanna smiled her relief. Chakotay had asked her to team Malista with women until she overcame her fear of men. But with Engineering so short-handed ---she was glad Malista was making progress in becoming socialized. "Chell follows directions fairly well---if he doesn't talk your ears off," Torres commented, rolling her eyes.

Malista almost giggled. "I don't mind. If he does all the talking, people don't notice how quiet I am." She sobered for a moment. "Lieutenant, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Were you upset---that I was the one---No, never mind," Shadow said rapidly. "It's a silly question."

Torres frowned at her. "That you were the one? To what? Oh, you mean that you figured out what the problem was?" She snorted. "No! I was just glad someone did, before I lost it and broke somebody's nose! For some reason, the captain frowns on nose-breaking as motivational behavior." She grinned for a moment, then sobered. "I simply can't believe no one thought of looking at the replicator matrix sooner. It was just such a silly mistake! Of course, the state that Engineering has been in since we got the ship back from the Kazon---Why? Did you think I was upset?"

Shadow shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I'm glad you aren't."

Torres' eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Someone told you that I was, right? Can I guess who?"

Malista fidgeted. "I asked him why you were upset at Sandrine's the other night."

Torres inhaled with a hiss of annoyance. "That Paris! Don't believe a word he says, Malista! No one should. He was throwing you off his trail. He just didn't want to admit that he made a mistake. It's not your problem."

"If there's anything I can do---" the taller woman offered tentatively, not sure she wanted to find herself between B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris in a personal dispute. In addition to being her immediate superior, Torres was her friend. Actually, her first female friend. And Tom was her self-appointed older brother. She cared about both of them.

"No. I'll handle this. Don't worry about it. You just keep Chell's hands as busy as his mouth," Torres directed. She watched as the repair teams dispersed throughout the ship. Her scowl was motivation enough to get them moving quickly, if for no other reason than to get away from the chief engineer's watchful eyes.

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

The Bolian was good company--- for those who didn't mind listening to long and rambling stories about people they didn't know, in places they'd never been, doing things they'd never heard of before. Since he was panting with exertion, his monologue began to wind down as they finally reached their goal in Jefferies tube seven, deck five, section 23F. It was a power junction for several main systems and, therefore, a high priority for replacement parts.

Chell noticed that Malista was half-humming, half-singing to herself as she climbed. "You have a nice voice, Malista. Do you sing?"

Malista ignored the question. She'd found that worked better with Chell than trying to change the subject. She opened the panel and assessed the situation with a tricorder. "Chell, get the replacements ready. I can see two couplings that show signs of cracking. There's a lot of power running through this junction and the one above us. We need to take the power offline." She slapped her commbadge. "Crewman Shadow to Operations."

"Kim here. Go ahead."

Shadow tried to suppress the smile that always appeared when she heard that particular voice. She didn't want Chell to think she was just plain sappy about Ensign Kim. Though she was. "Ensign, we need to take power offline at junction seven five in order to replace the power couplings. Shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes."

"Negative," Kim replied sharply. "That would cause a temporary power loss to the shields. We've just entered an asteroid field. We need the shields to deflect debris. We should be clear of the asteroid field in---" There was a momentary pause as he checked with the helm officer. "We'll be clear in ten minutes. Stand by."

"Standing by," Shadow replied. She gazed at the Bolian and sighed. "Hurry up and wait!"

"Standard problem," Chell said sympathetically. "Did I ever tell you about the Maquis raid planned for the Darien Colony? We were supposed to---"

"Wait!" Malista said, frowning as she studied the panel. "This coupling isn't going to last ten minutes. Chell, give me a replacement!"

"What?" he muttered, even as he handed the part to her. "You can't replace a coupling with the power on. You'll fry yourself."

The tip of Malista's tongue made an appearance as she concentrated on moving her fingers in and around the active circuits to the vulnerable coupling. "You can if you're v---e---r---y careful---or very good! And I'm both."

Chell held his breath, speechless for once as he watched her delicately reach past the circuitry that was audibly humming with the power surging through it.

"Ta-da! Got it!" She flashed a grin at him. Her grin faded quickly. "Do you smell something? What's that buzzing noise?" It was coming from above their position, from the next section of the Jefferies tube. "Chell, move! Get out of here!"

"What noise--- " Chell began, as he obediently started climbing down the access crawlway ladder.

"Hurry!" she shouted. Malista lunged upward striving to reach the controls that would seal the hatch to the next compartment of the Jefferies tube. "There's another---" Her fingers brushed the hatch controls, but it was a split second too late.

The shock wave from the explosion threw Chell backwards and down the access tube, leaving him semiconscious in the corridor below. Malista was thrown down the same path, but somehow her left arm and leg caught on the ladder, leaving her dangling upside down six feet above the deck, her uniform smoldering the length of her side. Sparks and debris continued to rain down on them both.

Internal sensors broadcast the alarm to the Operations Console immediately. "Captain," Kim snapped, "We have an emergency between decks seven and eight. Explosion in the Jefferies tube. Shields are holding."

Even as the ensign reported, another commbadge was heard. "Crewman Gerron to the bridge. Two injured. Crewmen Shadow and Chell have been beamed directly to Sickbay. We have a damage control party in place. We'll report our findings as soon as possible."

"How severe are their injuries?" Kim rapped out. That shouldn't have been his next question, but the captain chose to overlook his slight lapse in Starfleet professionalism under the circumstances.

"It looked like Malista took the brunt of the explosion. Chell didn't seem to be badly hurt," Gerron reported. "We've got the system locked down and are now assessing the damage. I'll get back to you. Gerron out." The young Bajoran sounded agitated. He was almost shouting to be heard over the background noise of the repair teams and the hissing of fire suppression systems.

Janeway met Kim's distraught brown eyes, but spoke to her helmsman. "Mr. Paris, let me know the minute we're clear of the asteroid field."

"Yes, ma'am." Paris' reply lacked its usual insouciant note. "Clear in two minutes." His rigid posture telegraphed his tension.

They were the slowest two minutes Harry Kim had ever experienced. He didn't think he even remembered to breathe as he forced himself to focus on the console and controls before him, carrying out his assigned duties. He caught himself fidgeting and consciously forced himself to stand still. "Damage report is in, Captain. Gerron says Mal---the repair team activated the hatch sealing mechanism before the explosion. The hatchway was partially closed so the damage was limited to deck five, tube seven, section 23G. Light damage to 23H. Some debris in 23A-F."

Chakotay checked his own readouts. "I'm glad they reacted quickly, if we'd lost power in 23F---"

"We'd have lost the shields and Voyager would have been smashed to a paste by these glorified rocks," Paris supplied grimly. His fingers danced over the controls as he maneuvered the ship. "Clear of the asteroid field, Captain. Resuming normal flight pattern," he reported. He spun in his chair, his blue eyes making the plea he couldn't bring himself to verbalize.

Janeway nodded. "Mr. Paris, why don't you go to Sickbay and check on the injured? You can be my representative." Without turning, she added, "And Mr. Kim can represent Commander Chakotay."

"Thank you, Captain," the two young men said in unison. They beat a hasty retreat to the turbolift as relief personnel slid into their positions.

Janeway seated herself and found Chakotay smiling at her. "Was there something you wanted to say, Commander?" she asked casually, picking up her data padd.

Chakotay's brown eyes twinkled, though his expression remained deadpan. "No, Captain. It's a good thing to delegate non-critical duties to junior officers. I'm sure you learned that at Starfleet Academy." Then he added, sotto voce, "You old softy."

Kathryn shot a quick glance around the bridge. No one was watching. She darted her tongue out at her first officer, and resumed her usual professional demeanor in less than a heartbeat.

Caught off guard, Chakotay burst out laughing. The other bridge officers glanced at him curiously. He just shrugged and settled back into his chair, shaking his head as he checked his console readings. The captain, demurely studying the padd, ignored his strange behavior as if she hadn't noticed. The bridge crew returned their attention to their duties with slightly puzzled frowns.

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

Chell was awake and sitting up on the biobed. He was suffering from bruises and cuts. His eyes were fixed on the surgical bay which was temporarily out of sight behind a privacy screen. The doctor and Kes were busily working on Malista there.

Kes stepped out and pushed the screen out of the way. Malista was dressed in a Sickbay gown, lying unconscious on the biobed. Her singed and burned uniform lay in a heap on the floor. The right side of her body and face showed burn damage. Her left arm was lying at an awkward angle. The doctor meticulously straightened her left leg and ran an osteoregenerator over it.

Harry Kim stopped a few feet from the bed, staring at Malista Shadow's injuries with distress.

Paris asked politely, "Doctor? Could we have a report?"

The Doctor frowned in concentration as he worked on his patient. "The burns are superficial. The dermal regenerator will be able to repair the damage within a few hours. The more serious injuries are the concussion---she suffered a blow to the head---the dislocated shoulder and the broken tibia. She should recover consciousness any time. She will require several hours, possibly days of recovery time. *If* she follows the proper treatment regimen! I have come to expect a lack of cooperation from this crew," the Doctor complained.

He finished with Shadow's leg and turned his attention to the burns that ran down the left side of her face and down her side, almost to her waist. He handed the osteoregenerator to Kes, who began working on Malista's arm and shoulder.

Tom Paris sighed with relief and turned to the Bolian. "Chell? What happened?"

The Bolian shook his head. "Malista spotted a few bad power couplings. We were waiting for the ship to clear the asteroid field so we could shut down the power in that section. Then she heard a noise from the next section of the Jefferies tube---I didn't hear anything!---and she told me to get out! I started down the ladder, but she didn't follow me! She went up! I don't know why!" He studied his erstwhile teammate with concern, wondering if he could have done anything to help her.

"She tried to close the hatch to contain the explosion," Harry Kim explained glumly. He was watching every move made by Kes and the Doctor as if his attention was necessary to Malista's recovery. "She didn't quite make it. The hatch didn't seal completely. She should have just gotten out of there!"

"It would have been worse if she hadn't tried," Paris insisted. "They would have taken the full force of the explosion!"

"She almost got herself killed!" Kim muttered through gritted teeth. "And it's my fault!"

"How could it be your fault?" Paris demanded.

"I had them standby. They were waiting because I wouldn't let them shut off the power in that section. I should have rerouted the power. I could have done that. It wouldn't have taken very long. Then they wouldn't have been---"

Paris grabbed his friend's shoulder and gave it a shake. "Harry, you don't know that! It was an accident! You heard Chell. The explosion occurred above them---not in their section!"

Harry shook his head. Kes finished her task and stepped away from the biobed, studying Ensign Kim with concern in her eyes. Harry darted toward the biobed as Malista moaned. Paris followed him, prepared to pull him out of the doctor's way if necessary.

Her eyes opened slowly. The first image she saw was the doctor's frowning visage about four inches from her face. "Oh, no!" she groaned. "Not you again!" She tensed and tried to move away from his hand.

The doctor shot an indignant glance in Tom's direction. "Mr. Paris, have you been coaching her? That's exactly what you said when you regained consciousness after your 'para-skiing' mishap on the holodeck!" He put a hand to her right shoulder to press her back against the bed, then gently tilted her head into position so he could continue the dermal regeneration on her face. "Lie still, Ms. Shadow."

She looked past him, saw Tom and Harry, and her body relaxed visibly, reassured by their presence. "Chell? Is he okay?" she asked anxiously.

The Bolian moved into her line of sight. "Hello!" He raised his hand, wiggling his fingers. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she muttered. She was uncomfortable with the Doctor's nearness. She knew he was just a hologram, but still---

Harry stepped forward, dodged around the doctor and the approaching Kes and took her right hand in his. "Malista, I'm sorry. I should have rerouted the power so you could shut it down."

She frowned her puzzlement. "What? What does that have to do---"

"Nothing. This is not the time, Harry," Paris said, tugging Harry's arm to pull him out of the way as the doctor moved around the bed to get a better angle. "We came to check on you. Now that we know you're going to be okay, we'd better get back to the bridge."

Harry was staring at Malista's injuries, feeling guilt-ridden and anxious.

"The bridge, Harry!" Tom repeated. "We have to get back to the bridge."

"Mr. Kim," the doctor said over his shoulder, "This will take some time and it will take more time than necessary if you continue to provide a distraction."

Harry gazed at Tom blankly. He turned back to her. "Malista---"

She hissed an indrawn breath with pain as the doctor repositioned her burned face so he could reach the skin under her jaw line for treatment. She tried to smile at Harry, but tears were filling her eyes. "Not now, Harry. Please. I'll talk to you later."

"Come on, Harry. Let the doctor do his job," Paris said, tugging Kim's arm once more. This time the ensign allowed himself to be dragged toward the exit.

"I'll be back as soon as I get off shift," Harry called. "Call me if you need anything!"

The door slid shut behind the duo. The doctor shook his head. He eyed Malista dubiously as she twitched nervously away from his hand again. "Crewman Shadow, please stay still! Regenerating burn tissue is a delicate business and while I am an excellent doctor, even I cannot be expected to heal you without pain---if you insist on squirming! I remind you that I am a hologram. I have no prurient interest in touching you."

"Doctor!" Kes chided. She needed to review the meaning of the word 'tact' with him once more. Surely one of the forty-seven doctors who'd contributed to his programming was familiar with the concept, although it wasn't evident in his bedside manner.

Malista met the doctor's eyes. Actually, his brusqueness reassured her. He might not be human, but he had kind eyes. "Sorry. I'll try to stay still."

"I know," Chell exclaimed. "I'll talk to her so she'll have 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 other's 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 distilled in bright blue eyes.

"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 you 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. She was on her best behavior. She'd hardly ever spoken to the captain.

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! Would 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. I think you're overdoing it. You should take a couple of hours off and do something relaxing---"

"Captain, there is so much to do---"

Icy gray eyes cut her off. "Are you telling me, Lieutenant, that your department is run so inefficiently that they can't function without your supervision for two hours?"

"No, Captain," Torres gulped, suppressing an urge to howl with frustration.

"Then I suggest you find something relaxing to do---or just get some sleep," Janeway turned her attention back to her souvlaki, dismissing the younger woman with a nod of her head.

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

Chief Engineer B'Elanna Torres was---upset. Which as the EMH had once said was a relative term when referring to the half Klingon officer. Her mood was somewhere between irritated and aggravated. She knew she was tired. She knew she'd been touchy---and hard to get along with---for days. She didn't want to analyze why. But having been ordered to take two hours off, she found herself at a loss to know what to do with the time.

She had too much nervous energy coursing through her body to relax enough to sleep. Perhaps a workout on the holodeck? She arrived at holodeck one and checked its status. A program was running, but there was no privacy lock in place. She decided to find out who was running the program called Lake Como.

Malista Shadow was seated in the shade of the tall tree near the picnic table. She ignored Torres' arrival. Her pensive eyes were fixed on the small boats far out on the surface of the lake.

Torres sat down on the bench. "I've been ordered to relax. For two hours."

Malista cocked an eyebrow at her. It seemed she had returned to her silent persona---the one that didn't speak---or spoke in two word sentences.

"If you don't want to talk---" Torres began, thinking she would offer to leave, but not knowing where she would go if she did.

Malista shrugged. "Do you?"

Torres sighed. She ran her fingers through her hair and made an effort to force her body to relax. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so---snappish with you in the mess hall. Your relationship with Harry is none of my business."

Shadow nodded. It implied acceptance of the apology.

"Why don't you just tell Harry he's making you crazy?" Torres burst out. "Sorry. Tell me to butt out."

"I can't."

"What?"

Malista sighed forlornly. "I seem to have trouble telling anyone anything. How do you do it?"

"How do I do what?" She settled into place, turning all of her attention to the woman in front of her.

"Tell people what you think. Argue with them. Tell them off! How do you argue with them without losing your temper?" Shadow's eyes were filled with sadness and a shade of anger.

"You're kidding, right?" Torres snorted.

Shadow shook her head.

"I lose my temper all the time," the engineer exploded. "I have to fight for control---what has this got to do with you?"

Shadow tore her eyes away and stared at the horizon once more. "I'm afraid to lose my temper. I don't argue. I try to change the subject or distract him or I just leave. I think it bothers Harry. He's been---different lately. And he won't tell me what's wrong."

"Afraid? What are you afraid of?" Torres asked gently.

"I'm afraid I'll---" Malista's voice broke as her green eyes filled with tears. She drew her knees up and dropped her head on them.

Torres dropped to the ground and sat next to her, leaning against the tree beside her friend. "What? It's okay, Malista. You can tell me."

Shadow looked up, her eyes glistening. "I'm afraid I'll hurt someone."

Torres stared at her. "You mean like when I broke Carey's nose? You think you'll lose your temper and belt Harry?" It had never occurred to her that Harry Kim could provoke that kind of anger---Tom, yes. But Harry? He was so---normal. But then B'Elanna wasn't interested in Harry romantically. That could make a difference.

A weak smile tugged at her lips. "No. Yes. Sometimes. Oh, geez, I can't even talk. I'm back to giving comprehensive answers."

Torres didn't understand the reference so she ignored it. "Malista, you aren't the type. You might get mad and throw things---lots of women do, human or Klingon. But you would never hurt Harry. Or Tom. Or anyone, if you ask me."

"How do you learn to control your temper? To be sure you won't lose control?"

Torres shrugged. "Practice. Besides, getting angry is normal. You yell, you argue, you do some name-calling---you walk out---or you settle it. There's nothing intrinsically wrong with losing your temper."

"B'Elanna," she said in carefully measured tones, "the last time I lost my temper---" She stopped to swallow the lump in her throat. "I went berserk---and I killed four Cardassians." She dropped her face down on her knees again. Her breathing was ragged.

The ugly words lay there for a few moments like a lump of mud flung down on the deck between them.

Torres clenched her jaw. She wasn't a counselor. She felt inadequate to give advice to anyone. How did she get herself into these situations? By being a friend. She cleared her throat and hoped she could find the right words. "Malista, the Maquis were at war with the Cardassians. It was war! And you killed the men who raped you and killed your friends. Don't expect me to be grief-stricken for them. You did what you had to do." She tentatively stretched out an arm and squeezed Shadow's shoulder with her hand, imitating a gesture Janeway had made familiar.

"Did you ever kill anyone, B'Elanna?" The muttered question was almost
unheard.

Torres tensed. "Yes."

"In hand to hand combat?"

"Yes."

Shadow peered up at Torres' tight expression. "Can I assume that whoever it was---he was fighting back?"

Torres nodded slowly. She hated to think about this. She hated to talk about this. She hated the way it made her feel. With absolute clarity, she could remember every aspect---as if it were playing out on a screen before her. The color of the blood, the look on his face---the smells, the sounds, the feel of the blood splashing on her skin, the bitter taste of bile in her throat. Each one of her five senses had registered the event in excruciating detail. She'd probably have nightmares tonight. As she did every time the incident was brought to mind.

Malista's tears finally spilled over. "The Cardassians I killed---were all unconscious. Niko killed one and we had knocked out the other four---with phasers on stun---and one of them with a rifle butt. I didn't have to kill them. They were lying there helpless---and I murdered them. And the scariest thing---" She broke off and wiped her eyes with her hands. "I enjoyed it. I reveled in it. I was totally out of control---and I stabbed them over and over and I was so glad they were dead and that I was the one who killed them and I just kept stabbing them over and over---"

B'Elanna shook her shoulder to break the litany. "Malista, you had just seen them kill three of your friends---beat them to death slowly. They raped you and tortured you. Of course, you were glad to see them dead! You'd be crazy if you weren't. You were in shock. That's why you lost control. I would probably have done exactly the same thing. Anyone might have."

Shadow stared at Torres, trying to see if she was sincere. "I've never told anyone about this. Niko was there. He knew. But I never told anyone."

"Maybe you should talk to Chakotay about this," Torres suggested. "Or Harry."

Shadow's head swung in instant rejection of that idea. "I can't talk to Harry about this."

"Why not? He's a good friend and a good listener. It might help."

Malista shook her head. "He wouldn't understand. He's straight out of the Academy. He's never even seen combat like the Maquis experienced. He's never--- murdered anyone. He doesn't know what it's like---and I don't want him to know. To have to know. He wouldn't want to---I slaughtered four---do you think Harry---I couldn't. I don't want to see--the look that would be in his eyes. He'd--never want to kiss me or--"

Torres fidgeted impatiently. She didn't know what to say. It was true that Harry Kim was inexperienced and had no first hand knowledge of the ugliness of war. She wasn't sure how he would react to such ugliness either, but she knew silence wasn't the answer. The truth couldn't be evaded forever. "You can't know that unless you tell him."

"I can't! I won't risk losing him!"

"Is that why you won't argue with him? Won't tell him how you feel? Because you're afraid?" B'Elanna sneered. "Could you tell Tom?" She jumped to her feet and swung to confront the taller woman. Anger was something Torres did know something about. Maybe a demonstration---

"What?" Malista scrambled to her feet defensively, studying Torres puzzledly.

"I said you could tell Tom! You and Tom spend a whole lot of time talking, don't you?" the chief engineer accused, arms akimbo.

"Yes. Sometimes we talk. Why?"

"About your pasts?" It sounded like an indictment.

Malista frowned down at the shorter woman. "Yes. Why? Does it bother you? You know there's nothing going on between me and Tom. He's like a brother to me. Are you jealous?" she asked incredulously. She was beginning to be irritated by the Klingon's belligerent manner.

"Jealous?" Torres said, raising her voice. "Why should I be jealous? Of you?" She gibed, running her eyes up and down Malista's long, curvaceous body disdainfully.

"You sound jealous to me," Shadow said softly, a spark of anger lighting her eyes.

"He talks to you---he talks to Harry. Why won't he talk to me?" Torres demanded.

Malista turned and started to walk away toward the lake shore.

Torres snatched at her arm and spun her around. "Answer me! I finally got him to stop making a joke every five minutes, but he still won't talk to me! I'm beginning to think he was never serious about me in the first place. He clams up if I ask about his past---or about his feelings. Why does he talk to you and Harry and not to me?"

Shadow's green eyes were hard. "Maybe because neither Harry or I have ever---" She broke off as she tried to get control of her anger. She didn't want to say anything to hurt B'Elanna.

Torres pulled on her arm. "Finish it! What were you going to say?"

"Let go of my arm." It was quiet, but definitely not a suggestion.

The chief engineer tightened her grip. "Not until you tell me what I want to know."

Malista resisted, pulling her arm forcefully out of B'Elanna's grip and turning away again. She started walking toward the exit.

"Oh, that's what you're good at, right? Shoot a little dart out and then run away before you have to face the consequences," Torres taunted.

Shadow stiffened and stopped in her tracks. She revolved slowly, deliberately. "What do you want from me?"

"The truth would be nice. Come on, Shadow! How many people do you think you can fool with this act of yours? You act like you're scared to get all the men to feel protective! Then you lure them into your trap. You've got half the men on the ship jumping through hoops. Were Tom and Harry a bigger challenge? Or is it that you want both of them? You want to see if you can come between them? That's it, isn't it?" Torres accused, striding forward to put herself right in Shadow's face once more.

"No." Malista's face had become an expressionless mask, only her green eyes showed that spark of anger was still burning, glowing more brightly.

"You may have the men fooled, but you can't fool me! How many men do you want? Harry? Tom? All of them? Are you going to work your way through the whole ship? Trying to beat the Delaneys' record? I'll give you credit for one thing---you've really got Tom fooled. But then he does all his thinking with his hormones. A pity his pretty head is so empty!" A bark of laughter escaped Torres.

Malista clenched her fists at her side. "He's not a fool. He's a very intelligent man. You're the fool if you can't see beyond his good looks. I would never do anything to hurt Tom. And you'd better not either." The words were forced from between clenched teeth.

"Or what?" B'Elanna said defiantly. "I'll admit Tom's decorative. He's good company, but what woman in her right mind would take him seriously? He's a flirt, a womanizer---he'd probably jump in bed with anyone---even you! Maybe he already has!"

"No! I can't believe you're saying these things! What's the matter with you? Tom cares about you!" Malista's voice was rising, her dispassionate mask melting in the heat of the angry flush of color staining her neck and face.

"Oh, sure---today! And what about Harry?" Torres continued, provokingly, stepping back. "Does he like it when you follow him around like a puppy dog? Maybe that's the only kind of relationship he can handle. He's not real bright either, is he? I could teach him a thing or two about women---" She ran her hand down her body suggestively. "Maybe I should do him a favor. Of course, he might not hold up---physically. He's not very strong---even for a human. But what's a broken bone or two among friends?"

"You stay away from Harry!" Malista shouted, moving closer to Torres and leaning down to get right in the shorter woman's face. "I don't know how you could have fooled Tom and Harry into thinking you were their friend---but I'm going to warn them about you! And if you get near either one of them, if you hurt them---you won't a have a hair left on your head, you Klingon witch! And to hell with Starfleet protocols!"

All the apparent anger suddenly dropped away from Torres' face. She smiled smugly and started to applaud. Malista backed off, totally confused.

"Did you lose your temper somewhere, Malista? I think I found it," Torres commented wryly. "Damn, it takes a lot to get under that thick skin of yours!"

"You---you did that deliberately?" Shadow was trembling from reaction, her body not sure how to shift from fierce anger to relief in such a short period of time.

Torres took her arm gently and guided her back to the picnic table, seating both of them on the bench. "You lost your temper and you didn't hurt me, did you? It was something you needed to know. You really have a long fuse. I was running out of ideas for insults."

Malista ran shaking fingers through her hair. "I can't believe you did that. How could you take a chance---I might have hurt you!"

Torres shook her head. " You might be bigger than me, but I don't fight fair---and my Klingon half gives me an edge. But I wasn't worried about it. I told you---you aren't the type."

"But I wanted to hit you---especially when you said that about Harry!"

"But you didn't," B'Elanna reminded her. "Kahless knows, I gave you enough provocation. Malista, you need to learn to channel your anger. Sometimes just yelling is enough to take the edge off. Sometimes physical activity helps. Like throwing things---hopefully not punches---or exercising. Running or swimming or something tiring."

Shadow smiled weakly. "B'Elanna, you are really something."

"Yeah, I am," the chief engineer replied with a smug smile. "Any other questions before we conclude our lesson on controlling anger?"

"Just one. When you have to fight, how do you keep from getting carried away---from going berserk?" Malista dropped her eyes to the ground.

Torres thought that one over for a moment. "I don't know if I have a good answer for that one---but I think I know someone who would. George Natwick."

"Natwick?" Shadow's tone telegraphed her surprise.

"He teaches self-defense. Part of that is learning to control fear and anger and keep them out of the way when you're in a combat situation," Torres explained. She grinned. "I know. Nitwit Natwick is a jerk---with women. But he's good at his job or Tuvok would have had his head on a plate months ago."

"Maybe I'll find him and ask his advice," Shadow said slowly.

Torres touched her hand. "Just make sure you do it in a public place. I don't trust that guy alone with you---or any woman, for that matter."

"Thanks---Sis," Malista said jokingly. "I will. I guess you didn't mean any of the things you said to make me angry?"

"No. Of course not," Torres replied. "If I really thought you were using or manipulating Tom or Harry, you'd have known about it a long time ago. I don't keep things to myself very well."

They sat and enjoyed the scenery on the holodeck for a few moments as they cooled off and their blood pressure returned to normal.

"Aren't you supposed to be resting?" Shadow asked finally.

"You aren't going to believe this," Torres said with a wicked grin. "I feel very relaxed. Fighting with you was good for me. I vented a lot of frustration."

Shadow eyed her askance. "If you say so. I'm worn out. I feel like I just ran a marathon. I think I need a nap. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Are you really jealous of my relationship with Tom?"

B'Elanna shifted uncomfortably. "Not really. I know he literally has adopted you as a sister and thinks of you that way. I think he misses his older sisters. I do wish he'd talk to me the way he seems to talk to you. He won't discuss his past, his feelings about anything more important than books he's read---stuff like that."

"And when you ask---?"

"He changes the subject---or tries to kiss me---or makes a stupid joke," B'Elanna confessed.

Malista winced and nodded. "I've been doing the same thing to Harry. He doesn't like it either. And now Harry has started to---act funny. He doesn't---oh, I don't know. He watches me all the time and when I ask him what's wrong---he says nothing. But I don't believe him. Sometimes I think he's jealous---but that's silly. We settled that issue when we decided we'd see each other exclusively."

"Maybe Harry just feels a little insecure. He'll get over it. I wouldn't worry about it. I do want to know one thing, Malista. What were you going to say when I asked why Tom talks to you and Harry? You said 'Maybe because neither Harry or I---'. What?"

Shadow shrugged. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, B'Elanna."

"Then tell me the truth!" she demanded impatiently.

"Can you handle the truth?"

"I don't know until I hear it!"

Shadow met her eyes directly as she replied. "Neither Harry or I have ever rejected Tom. Like you did. In the messhall that day."

"We didn't have---we hadn't made a commitment to each other then," Torres replied defensively. "You can't really say I rejected him. I told him I still wanted to be his friend."

"You'd been getting closer, friendlier, even flirting with him---he was beginning to trust you and open up," Malista stated. "Then you---without warning, as far as he was concerned---suddenly changed your mind. You decided you wanted to be 'just friends'. You pushed him away. Without a real reason. Can you wonder that he's not sure if he can trust you? Have you made a commitment to him now? Have you opened up to him? B'Elanna, you have to earn his trust all over again. It's going to take time."

"And I'm not the most patient---" Torres began. "I never meant to hurt him. But you know what bothers me? It's not just that he won't talk to me---it's that he never gets---upset. I never see him knocked off balance. He never loses control." She pounded the table with her fists, attempting to vent her frustration. "I don't trust anyone who never loses his temper."

"And Tom doesn't trust anyone who doesn't cry," Shadow stated matter-of-factly. "You two have some problems. You each want to stay in control of yourself, but you want the other to surrender control. How are you going to work it out?"

"We can't work it out if he won't talk to me!" Torres snarled, leaping to her feet and beginning to pace.

"He's afraid to talk to you," Shadow said reluctantly. She didn't know how much she should say---how much she could say. She was treading a fine line between helping a friend and betraying a confidence.

"Afraid?" Torres snorted a disbelieving laugh. "Tom Paris, hotshot pilot? I didn't think he'd admit to being afraid of anything."

The taller woman shook her head sadly. "Underneath---the real Tom is a sensitive man. He cares deeply and sometimes he---his emotions---He thinks if you see him---vulnerable---He knows about Klingon honor. He's afraid you'll think he's a coward or a weakling. He knows you've heard the rumors about him, but what if he tells you which ones are true? He's afraid you'll be disappointed once you get to know the real him---and you'll brush him off---again." Her final word held a shade of condemnation.

"Before you push Tom into confiding in you, B'Elanna, you'd better be damned sure you can handle the truth. If you can't---leave him alone. Break it off now, before you both get in any deeper. I don't think---I don't want to know the man Tom will become if you---" Tears filled her eyes. "Just think carefully. I don't know how many more rejections Tom can deal with. There have been too many. And yes, he pretends he doesn't care, that it doesn't matter---that it's a self-fulfilling prophecy ---but he does care! He cares passionately. He's just learned not to show it. Because if you show people where it hurts, it's like painting a target on your back---it shows them just where to hit you to hurt you the most."

Torres took a deep breath. Her chest felt tight---or perhaps it was her heart, aching for Tom Paris---and for Malista---and for herself---they'd all learned that lesson from painful experience. B'Elanna hated to think Tom thought he had to protect himself from her. "You two are a lot alike, aren't you?"

"Yes. Tom reminds me of some of the Greeks in my colony. My father's people are emotional---men and women alike---laugh, shout---and cry easily---It makes them a passionate people. Some of us have learned to hide that passion for life---that sensitivity---to keep from getting hurt. " Malista's face might have been carved in stone, it was so lacking in expression. But, as with Tom, her eyes expressed the unspoken pain she felt.

"I have to get back to work," Torres said, moving toward the exit as if escaping. "Thank you. I will think long and hard. I don't want to make another mistake."

Malista watched her go then turned back toward the lake, breathing deeply and trying to regain a sense of peace as she thought about Harry and their relationship. 'Maybe tonight,' she told herself. 'Maybe tonight would be a good time to tell him---what he wants to know. To let him know---that I want him. That I want more than kisses from him. If that's what he wants, too. Maybe he can help me learn how to...Maybe I won't be scared with Harry. He always makes me feel safe. He's so reliable.'

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