Chapter Text
TRIALS FOUR: Shadow's Trials, Part One
*************
It was the day after the night that, thanks to Ensign Ethan Simms, came to be known as Full Moon Night---though the term was actually meaningless on a starship traveling through space. That didn't matter. Everyone knew exactly what he meant.
The Security Officer had dubbed the preceding evening with this title because of the sudden rash of wildly inappropriate and otherwise fascinating behaviors that had gone on---the kind of behaviors that on Earth used to be blamed on the presence of a full moon.
These behaviors had resulted in Ethan and his partner, Mikel Hudson, being responsible for taking several crewmen into custody at the very beginning of their usually quiet third shift duty period with charges and counter-charges being tossed back and forth among the participants. Several crewmembers had also been seen coming and going from Sickbay under suspicious and/or noteworthy circumstances which added to fuel to the rapidly spreading flames of gossip.
The ship's grapevine had never been presented simultaneously with so many juicy tidbits to mull over. First, there was the whole Malista Shadow/Harry Kim situation. It seemed that, contrary to the odds in the betting pool, Shadow and Kim were back together again and seemed closer than ever which pleased some and displeased others who'd taken an interest.
In addition, it appeared that there was no truth to one of the wilder rumors---that Tom Paris had caused the rift in his best friend's relationship by attempting to start his own harem---beginning by recruiting Malista Shadow and B'Elanna Torres.
The trio of Shadow, Torres, and Paris had been exercising on the holodeck---not engaging in sexual games. It was a circus program and they intended to demonstrate their new acrobatic skills at the next ship's talent show. They'd been wearing robes when entering and leaving the holodeck because they were wearing tight, revealing costumes appropriate to the setting and physical activities. Many people salivated at the thought---but refused to specify which member of the trio they were fantasizing about---if they weren't envisioning any combination or all three.
The juiciest item of interest concerning the reconciliation dealt with the involvement of Ensign George Natwick. The original rumor was that the ensign had made an unwelcome move on Malista and that Harry Kim had come to her rescue---only to be beaten into unconsciousness by Natwick, who was in turn beaten into unconsciousness by Lt. Tom Paris.
The source of this particular bit of reporting, known for flights of fancy, was immediately discredited by other witnesses who stated that Natwick went looking for Kim, rather than the other way around, and that at the time Malista was nowhere in view. It was also hard to credit that George Natwick, the massively muscle-bound Security Officer who taught self-defense classes, had been beaten into unconsciousness by anyone! Much less that the easy-going Tom Paris had done so---unassisted.
Another twist on the story was that Natwick had attacked Kim at the request of Malista Shadow, who had subsequently been attacked herself by B'Elanna Torres in retaliation and that both women had wound up in Sickbay. Yet another version had the self-defense instructor attacking Tom Paris---no reason given---and being subdued by Malista, B'Elanna, and Harry who all ended up in Sickbay. This one was so farfetched it merited little attention and got no betting action at all.
When the facts, according to the arresting officers, Mikel Hudson and Ethan Simms came out, the story was much less interesting, but still provided a lot of room for speculation for the bored crew of Voyager.
When, why, and how had George Natwick gotten involved? What had he been doing alone with Malista in her quarters for approximately forty-five minutes? Where there was smoke, there was sure to be fire. Something must have been going on! Why else had he left her quarters and gone looking for Harry Kim apparently with murder on his mind? And now that Harry Kim and Malista Shadow were a couple once more, what about George Natwick?
How in the name of Titan's ten moons had Tom Paris (of all people!) managed to not only pin Natwick, but subdue him, until his arrest? And emerge unscathed from the encounter? The pilot was known for being quick with a quip---not with his fists. Still, there was speculation that he might have learned a few tricks in prison. Which provoked a whole other topic of debate.
Another item of much discussion was the arrest of the ship's librarian, Diane Russell on charges of assault. The idea of the shy, tiny woman knocking Freddie Bristow down (and adding insult to injury by kicking him) was so amusing that it was almost impossible to believe. It seemed so out of character, that many talebearers insisted that she had taken the blame for Aron Dalby, the hot-headed former Maquis and the new love of her life.
Neither Aron nor Diane would comment and Freddie Bristow had decided to maintain an uncharacteristically low profile. He couldn't be found off duty, and was all but unapproachable on duty. He was, however, noticeably subdued and not interested in the pursuit of the fairer sex at this time. The gamblers began a pool on when he would begin a new chase---and who his next amorous target would be. They had to have something to bet on!
*************
"Everyone's staring," Malista hissed under her breath. She'd tried to avoid the messhall completely for breakfast that morning, but Harry had insisted that they'd done nothing wrong and to hide away from public view would just cause the speculation to increase in geometric proportions.
"Don't look at them," Harry said with an amused smile. It felt strange to be the bold one of a pair. He was usually the quiet one who followed. He tugged on her hand, drawing her closer and slipping his arm around her waist. "Just look at me."
She followed his instructions and found her green eyes ensnared in his dancing dark ones. He was smiling at her. Her own nervous expression melted into a smile. She'd rather look at him than anything or anyone else on the ship anyway. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she trusted him to lead them to the table where Tom and B'Elanna were waiting.
He made it without a misstep---almost a miracle, considering he wasn't watching where he was going. She was so beautiful he found it hard to take his eyes off her. And never more than when she smiled just for him. Of course, it wasn't terribly surprising that he didn't trip. It's impossible to trip---when you're walking on air.
Kathryn Janeway smiled indulgently at the pair, before turning her attention back to her badly needed coffee. Chakotay raised an inquiring eyebrow in her direction. They both had gone a little short on sleep last night. It had been the beginning of the third shift when they'd been called to Sickbay and then to the brig in order to deal with the---consequences---of Full Moon Night, which had taken some time as well.
"Yes, Commander?" the captain said dreamily as she savored her morning caffeine fix. Her expression was that of deep satisfaction. Her coffee was her one real indulgence and she tended to make it last as long as possible.
"Nothing, Captain. Just thinking---how long do you think the peace will last this time?" His brown eyes were twinkling, though he kept a straight face. Her appreciation of coffee had an almost sensual affect on her. He half expected her to purr after each sip.
She suppressed a smile. "Until the next full moon?"
"Or until the next romance goes awry?" Chakotay added, nodding toward the isolated corner table.
Freddie Bristow was trying to blend into the wall as he manfully struggled to eat his breakfast while pretending he didn't know that many of room's occupants were staring at him---and that those who weren't staring were talking about him. The young man was in for a rough few days. His physical bruises had been healed in Sickbay last night, but the embarrassment of the emotional beating he'd taken had, temporarily at least, subdued his youthful exuberance and egocentrism.
The captain hastily set down her coffee cup, before a tremble of laughter could cause a spill. "Do you think he's finally learned a lesson? Or do you need to schedule him for some counseling?"
Chakotay's face took on a pained expression. "Captain, perhaps at the next friendly planet we find, we could attempt to recruit a qualified ship's counselor?"
She raised an eyebrow at him. With a sigh, she drained the last drop of coffee from her cup and studied its emptiness pensively, almost mournfully.
"Would you like another cup of coffee, Captain?" Chakotay teased.
She sent him a reproachful glance as she got to her feet. "Don't tempt me, Commander."
"With coffee?" he asked, a shade too innocently, his dimples deepening.
She narrowed her eyes at him as if sighting him with a weapon. "Let's get to the bridge."
He got to his feet and followed her without another word. His eyes, though, brimmed with mischief---and something warmer.
************************
It was a very long duty shift for those who'd stayed up till the early hours of the morning. B'Elanna Torres was not the type to be pumped for information or teased so she was left in peace to pursue her stated goal of making the Engineering Department one hundred percent efficient.
Harry Kim and Tom Paris spent their shift on the bridge under the watchful eyes of the captain, the first officer, or both, so there was no opportunity for others to get at them in order to seek facts or express opinions.
Malista Shadow, on the other hand, was assigned to Maintenance and Repair and, therefore, was out and about the ship carrying out her duties---which made her the most obvious source of information. And the most obvious target for the innuendoes, prying questions, and unsought advice offered by other crewmembers. It was unfortunate that she was also the least prepared of the foursome for dealing with that kind of public pressure. Some questions were idle curiosity, not meant to be taken as unkindly. Others were direct, pointed, and malicious.
She didn't know what to say. She wasn't assertive enough to confront them and tell them to leave her alone. So she tried ignoring them, hoping if they got no response they'd leave her alone. She withdrew---mentally and emotionally, when a physical retreat was impossible.
Approaching her immediate supervisor, Malista waited to be noticed and then spoke. "Lt. Torres? I finished the realignment of the forward sensor arrays. Could I have my next assignment now?"
The half Klingon looked up quickly, mildly startled and concerned. The formality in the young woman's manner didn't surprise Torres. They were on duty. It was the usual professional approach. What caught Torres off guard was Crewman Shadow's total neutrality.
Crewman Shadow was no longer smiling as she had been at breakfast. In fact, Crewman Shadow had no expression at all. The carefully blank look that was turned toward the Chief Engineer reminded Torres forcefully of the defensive Malista that she'd hoped had been banished for good. "What's wrong?" B'Elanna snapped.
Shadow stared at her dispassionately. "Nothing, Lieutenant. Could I have my next assignment, please? I don't mind working alone," she added, hoping she wasn't being too pushy and that Torres would take the hint. Malista had never been so conscious as she was at this moment of the difference in rank and the fact that this woman was her immediate supervisor. She didn't want the chief to think she was trying to take advantage of their off-duty friendship.
B'Elanna frowned at her. She growled under her breath as she noticed the two of them were attracting stares from others in the section who'd just 'happened' to wander into the area at this particular time. The growl startled Malista into widening her eyes, but she remained silent.
"Are the idiots getting to you?" Torres said, more loudly than necessary.
There was a sudden flurry of movement as everyone within earshot quickly got busy and pretended deafness. No one wanted to draw the chief's wrath down on his or her head. She'd been in a good mood all morning. The staff preferred for her to stay that way. It made life in Engineering less nerve-wracking.
Torres continued to meet Shadow's eyes unflinchingly, demanding a response. "Well?"
The taller woman swallowed hard. "It's just---everyone's staring. And asking questions." For someone who had managed to remain practically invisible among the Voyager crew for three years, the sudden interest in her every move was difficult to deal with. She could count the number of her friends on her fingers and have a few left over. It was unnerving to think everyone on the ship was talking about her, watching her. It made her extremely self-conscious.
B'Elanna scowled. No one had bothered her with such silliness. Of course, it didn't occur to her that no one would dare. Shaking her head, she checked her datapadd for the status of repairs. "Okay, Malista. Go to Shuttlebay One and go over the power coupling relays in the shuttles. They were low priority since we haven't been using them. And don't forget to inspect the couplings in the consoles there."
Shadow nodded with a hint of a grateful smile. "We've almost finished with the power coupling replacements?" she ventured.
"Yes," Torres replied vehemently. "I think we'll be through by end of Beta shift tomorrow. And Kahless knows, it's taken long enough!" She waved a hand in dismissal and returned her attention to her console. Just the words 'power couplings' were enough to cause her to grimace. Replacing the defective parts had been a massive undertaking.
Malista picked up her tool kit and some replacement power couplings and went to Shuttlebay One---where only two crewmen were on duty---and they would be too busy to talk to her. She knew that Torres had just done her a favor. She appreciated it very much. Malista was able to stay out of sight, and hopefully out of mind, for the remainder of her shift.
*************
It took some persuasion to lure Malista to the holodeck later that evening, but Tom insisted they all had something to celebrate. He used his brotherly powers of persuasion---in other words, he complained, whined, and tried to make her feel guilty for turning down his invitation until she gave in. She had a sneaking suspicion that B'Elanna had told him she was upset by the public attention she was receiving.
Shadow decided Tom wanted the ship's gossips to get used to seeing the four of them together and get it out of their systems. Malista did manage to choose a corner table and deliberately sat with her back to most of the crowd. After an hour, she was finally beginning to relax and look around the club to see what everyone else was doing that evening.
Jenny and Megan Delaney approached their table. Tom stiffened. Last night, he'd almost lost his temper when Jenny had told him and Malista about the rumors concerning their relationship. Earlier in the day he had apologized to her for his brusqueness the night before. Now he was wary of Jenny's occasional tactlessness, afraid she would be careless of Malista's vulnerability.
B'Elanna placed a restraining, reassuring hand on Tom's wrist, but eyed the twins suspiciously herself. They weren't by any means her favorite people. Harry took Malista's hand in his and rubbed his thumb across the base of hers soothingly.
"Malista---" the twins said in unison. They stopped and exchanged a glance. Jenny continued alone. "We wanted to apologize for hurting your feelings last night. We thought you should know about the gossip, but we didn't mean to---"
"It's all right, Jenny. Megan. I shouldn't be so---sensitive."
Harry squeezed her hand in a show of support. He'd heard the rumor himself a few days before it had come to the ears of Malista, Tom, and B'Elanna. He'd had sharp words with the 'friend' who'd told him that Tom was engaged in a three-cornered affair with Malista and B'Elanna, and asked if that was why Harry was no longer friends with any of them. Last night, after being dismissed from Sickbay, Harry had spent a couple of hours reassuring Malista that he hadn't believed a word of it---or been hurt by the talk which seemed to be her major concern at that time.
"Could we talk to you a minute? In private?" Megan added. The twins considered Malista a friend and were relieved she was prepared to forgive them.
"Sure." With an apologetic glance at her companions, Shadow got to her feet and followed the two Starfleet officers to a deserted corner of the bar. The watching eyes of other crew members made note of their progress.
The Delaney twins always attracted attention, in part because of their remarkable good looks. The long copper-red hair and lovely features would have been attractive on any woman. But when there were two? Sensory overload.
It was almost impossible to tell which was which this evening. For a change, they had dressed identically, wearing violet blouses and navy slacks. Their hair style was the same and even their expressions were similar. They were both determined to help Malista Shadow. They'd unintentionally been responsible for causing her pain when she'd been nothing but a friend to them. They couldn't live with that on their consciences.
As soon as the three had settled onto the barstools, Megan whispered, "What did George Natwick do?"
Shadow stiffened. "Why? What did you hear this time?" Her face gave nothing away.
The sisters exchanged glances again. Their communication with each other bordered on telepathic. They often didn't need words at all. "We heard he followed you when you left the holodeck---and then the two of you went to your quarters."
"And he stayed there for forty-five minutes. Then he went looking for Harry Kim and tried to take his head off with one punch!"
"And Tom stopped him and he was arrested and then you and Harry showed up together in Sickbay thirty minutes later. And no one pressed charges for anything so he was released," Jenny finished the synopsis in a rush as her breath ran out.
Shadow eyed them appraisingly. "That's all?"
"You don't want to hear the details, trust me," Megan said, laying a hand on the taller woman's arm.
Malista sighed. "No, I suppose I don't."
"So exactly what did George do? Did he get out of line like he did at the Cinco de Mayo party?" Jenny demanded.
Malista licked her lips, which felt suddenly dry. "Why do you want to know?"
Jenny and Megan traded indignant looks. "Because if he did, we want to help you get even with him!" they chorused.
"I warned him after that dance that he'd better leave you alone or we'd make him sorry," Megan added.
Shadow was moved by their championship, but not sure how much she wanted to confide in her friends. The Delaneys were not known for their discretion. The three of them had become friends when the twins had taken her under their wings and done their best to teach her how to flirt and socialize with men.
"Malista, did he---hurt you?" Jenny asked. "I know you might not want to tell Harry---"
"No!" she protested. "George didn't---he didn't---" She gulped. "I did." She winced at the painfully embarrassing memory.
Megan and Jenny stared at her.
Lowering her voice to a whisper, Shadow leaned closer. "I tried to seduce him. I wanted him to teach me---you know."
Jenny and Megan stared at her.
Malista shifted uncomfortably. "It was all right---at first. But after a while--- when he was--- uh, kissing me and...I called him---Harry."
The twins flinched. "Oooh," they groaned in unison, wearing identical expressions of dismay. "Major mistake."
The other woman nodded. "Tell me about it," she moaned. "That ruined the mood---and George told me no."
"He didn't---" said Jenny.
"He wouldn't---" Megan said.
They thought that over for a moment as Malista fanned herself with a napkin, trying to cool off her blushing cheeks. She couldn't meet their eyes.
"That rat!" Jenny seethed.
"What?" That was not the reaction Shadow had expected. She blinked in confusion.
"He rejected you!" Megan exclaimed indignantly.
Malista frowned. "Well, actually, I'm kind of glad he did. I don't think Harry would have liked it if----"
"And he hit Harry!" Megan added, knowing that would be a sore point for her friend.
That comment relit the smoldering embers of Shadow's anger. "That's true. He did. And George promised not to tell anyone what happened---but he told Harry I was doing stupid things!"
"That man is such a VOLE!" Jenny declared vehemently.
"And he HIT Harry!" Malista reiterated, getting into the mood now. She could have forgiven Natwick for telling Harry to go to her---it had sped their reconciliation. But no one was allowed to hurt Harry! Not and get away with it!
"You have to get even with him," Megan announced.
"Revenge is a moral imperative," Malista agreed. "But how?"
Megan and Malista looked at Jenny who had fallen silent. Her eyes were narrowed and her mouth pursed as she pondered the form of revenge that would fit the crime. A wicked smile slowly crept across her whole face. "Oh, I have the best idea."
With some trepidation, Shadow asked, "What do you think I should do?"
"We, Malista. We are going to get Natwick," Delaney corrected.
"Jenny, remember, he sort of did me a favor---I don't want to hurt him! He could have taken advantage---"
"Oh, posh!" the redhead said scornfully. "We won't really hurt him. The best revenge is the one where they're hoisted on their own Picard."
Megan's expression went blank. Malista took a split second to process that remark then said, "I think the expression is 'hoist on his own petard'."
Jenny focused on the brunette's face. "What? That doesn't make sense. What's a petard? It makes sense if it's Picard. You know, like the captain of the Enterprise. He's not big, but believe me, he's tough! If you made him mad, he would hoist your---forget it! It doesn't matter. Computer, location of Ensign Natwick?"
"Ensign Natwick is in Holodeck One."
The trio spun and looked around Sandrine's. Sure enough. There he was. Natwick was sitting alone at a table on the opposite side of the room. They hadn't noticed him. He was glaring at the beer in his hand with a sullen expression that didn't welcome anyone to join him.
"Oh, good," Jenny purred. "We'll start tonight."
"Start what?" Malista asked cautiously.
"Megan, remember what we did to Darok Pahkt at the Academy?" Her twin nodded. Jenny continued, "You don't have to do a thing, Malista. Megan and I will take care of everything."
"Somehow I don't feel reassured by that, Jenny. What are you going to do?"
Megan smiled. "Don't worry about it, Malista. You can trust Jenny."
"I can trust Jenny to do what? I don't want George seriously hurt---physically or emotionally. And I don't want to be responsible for anyone else winding up in the brig!" Shadow protested.
The Delaney sisters each patted one of her hands soothingly. "We owe you one. And Delaneys always pay their debts. Don't worry about it, Malista. All you have to do," Jenny explained, "is smile."
"Smile?"
"Yes," the elder twin replied. "Megan and I are going over to talk to Natwick and when he looks your way, I want you to smile at him."
"Just smile?" she repeated dubiously.
"Your sweetest smile," Megan corrected. "And if he asks you if you're out to get him, you deny it. With a smile. An icky sweet smile. Smile every single time you see him."
"I don't understand." Malista eyed the pair indecisively. "You promise you won't do anything---rash?"
Jenny and Megan batted their violet eyes at their tall friend. "Would we do that?" they chorused.
"Yes!" Shadow exclaimed. "That's why I'm worried about it!"
Megan pouted. "Darn, Jenny! She knows us pretty well."
"Oh, come on, Malista! The best revenge is when you make them do it to themselves. We work best behind the scenes. We can be insidious."
"Like with Freddie Bristow," Megan sighed contentedly.
Malista's green eyes widened. "Freddie Bristow? You set him up? Is that why Diane Russell---"
Two enigmatic smiles beamed her way. "Just smile sweetly every time you catch George looking at you. That's all you have to do," Jenny instructed.
With an uncertain frown, Malista nodded and returned to her table.
"What did they want?" Tom demanded as soon as Malista was in earshot.
"To apologize," Shadow answered, reseating herself between Harry and B'Elanna.
"They did that while you were sitting here," he argued.
"Tom," his 'sister' said calmly, looking directly across the table and catching his eyes with a compelling stare.
"What?" he muttered defensively.
"Stop it. I know you got upset with them last night---"
Torres snorted. "That's an understatement!" It had been the first time she'd seen Tom get close to really losing his temper---a cold state of fury. The thought of his transformation from easy-going charmer to icily furious terror still chilled her blood.
Paris grimaced at her before returning his attention to his 'little sister'. "I don't like the way---"
"They're my friends, Tom." Malista seemed to feel that settled the matter. She held his eyes with her own until he gave in with a sigh.
Harry said nothing, but shifted uneasily in his seat. He wasn't terribly comfortable with the idea of Malista associating with the Delaneys either. The twins had actively encouraged her to date other men, causing Harry to suffer agonies of jealousy. And they had persuaded Malista to wear skimpy outfits! Not that Harry minded when they were worn for his viewing alone, but.....
Paris opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and closed it again. "Okay. But don't expect me to like it when someone hurts you," he said finally. His eyes drifted toward Harry Kim purposefully. "When anyone hurts you."
The ensign met his best friend's eyes squarely. "I don't plan on hurting her again, Tom. Or letting anyone else hurt her either."
B'Elanna Torres clicked her tongue. "Both of you are getting carried away with this topic of conversation. Malista is a big girl. She can take care of herself."
"That's right. I can. From now on, I intend to handle my own problems. So now, can we please change the subject?" Malista pleaded, shooting a distressed glance from one man to the other.
"Okay," Paris said with a teasing smile. "As soon as you tell me what the Delaneys really wanted!" There was a hint of implacability in his eyes that made Malista wonder how anyone could fail to see the steel core of determination behind the surface patina of cordial charm.
Malista lifted her chin defiantly. "They're going to help me get even with George Natwick."
Harry and Tom traded glances. "I thought we settled this last night---" Kim began.
"Good," B'Elanna stated firmly. "Natwick's an even bigger pig than you used to be, Paris!" She smiled to take the sting out of the remark.
Tom gave up and shrugged. He didn't particularly like Natwick himself. He didn't feel any urge to warn or defend him. "Well, if anyone can take him down a peg, it's the Delaney twins. They make a fine art of it. Trust me, Harry, you NEVER want to get either one of them mad at you, much less both of them."
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Tom frowned him down. Protecting George Natwick wasn't worth risking upsetting Malista and B'Elanna. The Delaneys wouldn't do any permanent damage---except maybe to Natwick's ego. Besides, they could manage to keep themselves out of the brig while exacting their revenge. Probably. Most likely. Well, maybe. If Jenny didn't get carried away. This time.
Shadow glanced toward Natwick's table. Jenny and Megan were seated there on either side of him, talking away earnestly. He looked across the room at her. Malista obediently smiled as sweetly as she knew how---until a frowning Harry Kim slid his arm around her waist and turned her to face him. "What are you doing?"
"Following directions," she said innocently. "Jenny said all I had to do was smile at George. So I did."
"I'd rather you kept your smiles for me," Kim grumbled unhappily, only half joking.
"You're the reason I can smile," she whispered, her green eyes studying his face as if to memorize each feature.
Harry started to lean in for a kiss, but stopped when Tom cleared his throat. "We need to talk about these Public Displays of Affection, Mr. Kim. PDA's are non-regulation," he complained with brotherly disapproval. "And that's my sister you're mauling."
"Mauling?" Malista exclaimed. She made a face at Tom. "Don't exaggerate. And mind your own business."
"You're a fine one to talk, Mr. Paris!" Kim retorted, his eyes going to Tom's arm which was around B'Elanna's waist, his hand absent-mindedly caressing the curve of her hip.
"I think you're both in need of help," Torres commented, catching Tom's hand with her own and placing it on the table. "Mental help."
Malista gazed idly around the holodeck. Commander Chakotay entered Sandrine's and crossed her line of sight as he went to the bar to get a drink.
"Oberon," Malista Shadow announced with a satisfied smile, directing the remark to Paris with the waggle of one eyebrow.
"Oberon?" Harry Kim said disconcertedly. His inquiring look at B'Elanna Torres showed she was just as perplexed.
Tom Paris, on the other hand, was frowning. He followed Malista's look and ran a skeptical eye over the first officer. "Oberon? Naw, I don't see it. He's three feet too tall, for one thing."
"I'm not talking about a physical resemblance, although," Malista paused, "maybe the part about the angelic face is on target."
Tom rolled his eyes dramatically. "I think you've got angels on the brain, Sis. You're seeing them everywhere. First me, then Harry---now Chakotay?" he added dubiously. "Angelic? With a tattoo?" He exaggeratedly shuddered his distaste for the idea.
"What are you two talking about?" Torres demanded.
"Sorry, B'Elanna. It's just a game Tom and I were playing when we first met. We were trying to match each crewmember up with a literary figure. We didn't make it through the whole list yet," Shadow explained.
Harry grinned. "Yeah, I'm Gawaine." He squeezed Malista's hand.
Torres tilted her head to one side curiously. "I take it that's a compliment? Who's Gawaine?"
"King Arthur's nephew and a Knight of the Round Table," Harry replied. He'd had to do a database search to refresh his memory, but he didn't plan to admit to that.
"And who am I?" the half-Klingon inquired pointedly.
As he recalled the answer to her question, Tom's eyes widened and he stared at Malista, stalling for time. "Sis? Did we think of one for B'Ella?" He shook his head subtly.
"Actually, you thought of two," she remarked with mock innocence, batting her long black eyelashes at him.
Tom narrowed his eyes at her lack of cooperation. "Oh, yeah? I don't remember---and you'd better not either!"
She lifted her chin at him mutinously. "Why not?"
"Because if you do---I'll tell Harry---the truth !" he threatened in an ominous whisper.
Harry and B'Elanna exchanged patient looks. They had no idea what Tom was talking about---but that had never stopped him before, or even slowed him down that they'd noticed.
Malista tried to look properly horrified. "The truth? Oh, Tom, you wouldn't?!"
"Oh, wouldn't I?" Tom chuckled evilly, rubbing his hands together, and twirling an imaginary mustache. "Harry, you wouldn't believe the names this woman was calling you---just yesterday!"
Malista's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as she fought a grin. "You are such a liar!" she accused. "Don't listen to him, Harry! He's the one who was calling you names!"
Tom looked indignant. "I did not! She was so mad at you she even started going through the alphabet! A for Aldebaran Serpent---OW!" He jumped as Torres elbowed his ribs---again. "B'Elanna! Ribs are bones! Bones crack and break, you know?" he whined.
"Big baby," she sniffed. "Stop changing the subject and answer the question. Who did you come up with for me? Or should I ask?" The last question was directed at Shadow. "The Dragon Lady of K'ruth BoTaz?"
"Didn't think of that one." Tom pretended to be considering the legendary witch-like character of Klingon folklore.
Malista smiled gently. "Well, when he was mad at you---"
"Malista!" Tom protested. He reflexively snapped his arms down to protect his ribs and flinched away as Torres turned a threatening scowl towards him.
"I guess that one didn't count," Shadow concluded, sharing a smile with Harry as she relented. "We finally decided that since Tom is Harlequin, you must be Columbine."
"Who?" Torres attention shot back to Malista.
"On Earth, in the theater, there are certain traditional characters. Harlequin was a comedic character that wore multi-colored tights---lots of bright colors. Columbine was the dancer that was Harlequin's sweetheart," Malista explained. "And you move very gracefully---like a dancer."
B'Elanna nodded, unsure how to respond. She didn't deal with compliments well, but Tom had persuaded her that it was rude to argue when she was given one. She seemed to be considering the idea. After a moment, she said, "Okay. I'll accept that for now. Tom is a clown. That sounds about right." A hint of mischief danced in her brown eyes. "I'm a dancer. Harry is a knight in shining armor. What about you, Malista?"
"Hey, that's right, Sis!" Paris exclaimed. "We never got one for you!"
She raised an eyebrow at him. "I thought I was Madame DeFarge." She made knitting motions with her hands. "Guillotine!" she cackled, sounding like an old crone.
Tom sent her a disapproving frown. "That was a joke. Hmm. I'll have to give this one some thought. What do you think, Harry? What literary figure does Malista remind you of?"
"Aphrodite?" he offered, covering Malista's hand with his own as he gazed at her face with a gentle smile. "She's Greek---and beautiful," Harry elaborated.
She could feel herself blushing furiously. "Harry!"
Kim appreciated her modesty, especially since Malista snuggled up against him to hide her burning face in his neck. She was making a habit of that. One that he actively approved of. He kissed her cheek since it was within reach. He loved those high cheekbones.
"Naw," Tom drawled disparagingly. "Malista's got arms."
Harry and B'Elanna traded puzzled frowns. Shadow sat up and grimaced at him, sighing with exasperation. "Tom, that's Venus---the Venus de Milo," she elaborated to Harry, who nodded. Given that hint, he recognized the reference.
"Everyone knows that Venus and Aphrodite are the same person," Paris objected.
"Oh, come on! You couldn't tell that to the Romans and Greeks! Forget that. I don't want to argue," Malista demurred, eager to turn the conversation away from herself. "But just think about this one---if Chakotay is Oberon---does that mean Captain Janeway is Titania?" she inquired just a trace too innocently and bit her lip to contain her smile.
Tom, who had just sipped his syntheholic beer, choked and spluttered into his mug. He rapidly set the drink down and coughed to clear his throat. B'Elanna 'helpfully' slapped him between the shoulders, almost laying him out across the table in the process. He shot a reproachful look her way.
"What's so funny?" Shadow asked artlessly. "It seems reasonable to me."
"I was just thinking," Tom panted, "of Midsummer Night's Dream. If Janeway is Titania---How about Neelix as---"
"Bottom," Shadow supplied in unison with Tom, then dissolved in giggles. She leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table and hiding her face in her hands as she tried to regain control---and get that image out of her mind.
Harry placed a hand on her back and patted it gently. He missed the allusion, but beamed a smile at her. It was a relief to be with her and to see her happy again.
"He already has the mane," Tom spluttered, holding his ribs as he wheezed.
"Oh!" gasped Malista. "Don't tell Neelix! You'd hurt his feelings!"
"And with those ears---Tuvok as Robin Goodfellow!" They met each other's eyes and shook with laughter again.
Torres was shaking her head. Paris could get so silly sometimes---and now he had a partner in silliness. She didn't know what the two of them were going on about, but she was glad Tom was having fun. The last two weeks had been stressful for all four of them and strained their friendship with Harry almost to the breaking point.
Harry and B'Elanna waited patiently until the other two recaptured their control. It took a few minutes. But they now had an inkling of how Tom had felt when the two of them had frequently gone off on conversational tangents about engineering problems---leaving Tom to sit on the sidelines until he could rejoin the discussion when it returned to less esoteric subjects.
Malista finally straightened, wiping tears from her cheeks with her index fingers. "Well," she said, "at least Titania is better than your first suggestion for Captain Janeway."
"What did he say?" Harry asked curiously.
"Medusa!" Malista announced scathingly.
"Now that's an interesting comparison, Mr. Paris," said Kathryn Janeway dryly. She had approached unnoticed and was standing two feet behind Harry and Malista, hands on her hips. "Would you like to explain the similarity?"
Tom Paris could have kept it under control---maybe---if not for the look of absolute horror on Malista's face. Shadow didn't know the captain well and didn't recognize the teasing note in her voice. She was afraid she'd just gotten herself and her 'big brother' into deep, deep---trouble.
Malista threw a frantic, contrite look at Tom, her mind racing as she tried to frame an acceptable apology. The pilot burst into helpless laughter, waving a hand at Janeway to indicate she should join them.
Janeway walked around the table to stand next to Paris, shaking her head as she raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. Kim jumped to his feet with alacrity and pulled an empty chair over for her. She seated herself between Paris and Kim and waited politely for Tom to be able to speak again.
Torres grinned. She could tell the captain was in a playful mood and ready to twist the knife. She and Tom were well-matched in wit and humor and it was always amusing to watch them square off.
When Harry reseated himself, he gave his attention to reassuring Malista with a smile that the captain wasn't really upset.
"Medusa?" the captain inquired softly and deliberately.
Tom sobered. "It was meant as a compliment, Captain," he said earnestly. His most ingratiating smile---had no effect.
"Oh, I'm sure it was." Her expression was totally deadpan. She nodded slowly, one hand reaching up to her red brown tresses. "I never thought my hair was particularly snake-like, Mr. Paris. Or was the reference to other aspects of my physical appearance?"
"No, ma'am!" Tom snapped formally. "The reference had to do with---The Look---Captain Janeway, ma'am!" He was suddenly a caricature of the model junior officer addressing his captain. The only thing Tom didn't do was stand to attention.
"The Look?" she repeated, imitating his emphasis. "Elaborate, Lieutenant." She raised one eloquent eyebrow. This was bound to be good. Tom's blue eyes were sparkling.
"Captain," Malista began hesitantly, but stopped when Harry squeezed her hand and Janeway shook her head slightly.
"He got himself into this, Crewman Shadow, let him dig his own way out," the captain advised kindly.
Torres made digging motions behind Tom's back, indicating the hole was getting deeper. Kim grinned. Shadow tried to hide her anxiety. She was still somewhat in awe of the captain. She had only spoken to her once before in an off duty situation. Now she had insulted her to her face!
Paris ostentatiously ignored the other three, all his attention centered on the captain. He gave her his most sincerely, honest expression. He overdid it perfectly, with the ease of long practice. "Captain, as you well know, The Look is a skill taught in Starfleet Command Training to ensure instant obedience to every order. Or another way to describe it---"
He almost lost his composure again as his sense of humor tried to escape, but he choked it into submission, and continued in 'lecture' mode. "The Look, when properly given---in the excellent and exemplary manner in which you perform it---is capable of freezing a man in his tracks---and causing his blood to run backwards in his veins! That is what brought the Medusa reference to mind, Captain Janeway, ma'am!"
Janeway mouth twitched as she fought off a smile. "The Look---as you call it---doesn't seem to have a noticeable effect on you, Lieutenant," she said speculatively.
Paris nodded sagely. "Well, Captain, you could say I have built up a certain tolerance for The Look---an immunity---due to my family background. With all those Admirals and Captains running loose at family reunions...."
"Running loose? That sounds disrespectful to me, Lieutenant," Janeway commented.
"Sorry, Captain." The scapegrace grin was back. "The Medusa thing---it's part of a game."
"Would someone like to explain the rules of the game to me?" she asked.
"We're identifying the crew with literary figures," Tom explained.
"So I'm---Medusa?" Kathryn mused.
"Actually, Captain, we'd just decided you were Titania," Torres interjected. "Whoever that is. And Neelix is Bottom." She was pleased, but amazed when Janeway laughed. Evidently the captain caught the reference. Torres decided she needed to spend less time reading technical manuals and more time on literature.
"We thought of it because Malista proposed Chakotay as Oberon," Harry explained.
"Really?" Janeway asked, seeming intrigued by the notion. She sat forward and gazed at Shadow curiously. "What made you think of that?"
Malista kept her gaze fixed on the table. "I-I was thinking of---he---Oberon was supposed to have the gift of insight---into men's thoughts. As a counselor, he sort of shows that he does and he---"
"Has an 'angelic' face," Torres finished, with a smirk. All five of them ostentatiously turned to stare with exaggerated interest at the Commander who was standing at the bar conversing with Tuvok.
Chakotay noticed. He resisted the spontaneous urge to check the condition of his uniform, and raised an eyebrow, tilting his head inquiringly.
The captain waved a dismissive hand, so the first officer turned his attention back to his conversation with the Vulcan. He made a mental note to ask her later what was going on and why he was suddenly the object of attention.
"Angelic?" Janeway murmured. "That isn't the word that I would have used to describe him."
"Really?" Tom said impudently. "What word---would you use, Captain?"
"Actually, I used the word bear-like." She speared him with her gray eyes.
Unfazed, Tom quirked an amused eyebrow at her. "As in grizzly---or as in teddy?"
She sent a quelling glance in his direction and promptly changed the subject. "Who else have we decided on? And who's left? Are you writing these down?"
When the captain played a game, she entered into it wholeheartedly. The others enjoyed her joining in and none of them noticed how subdued Malista Shadow had become. She was experienced at fading into the background. All it took was smiling, nodding, and murmuring agreement often enough to keep others from noticing she wasn't really participating. Saying nothing was often the easiest way to avoid saying the wrong thing.
*****************
After a morning of working on the aft sensor arrays, Lt. Susan Nicoletti accompanied Crewman Malista Shadow to the Security Office during their lunch break. Malista had asked Ensign George Natwick for workout programs for practicing her self-defense training. She'd hesitated to pick them up as promised because she felt awkward about facing him again alone.
Nicoletti, her occasional partner in working Maintenance, had volunteered to go with her. She didn't trust George Natwick as far as she could throw the warp core and she wanted to be sure he wouldn't try anything. There were several good reasons why Nicoletti was occasionally referred to as Mama Bear, though never to her face.
Natwick looked up from his terminal as they walked in and stood before his desk. His eyes made a quick inspection of Shadow and her attitude.
Malista remembered Jenny Delaney's orders and smiled sweetly at him.
His eyes narrowed. "Can I help you?" His voice was totally professional, but his intent was hard to read. He never took his eyes off Malista Shadow and ignored Sue Nicoletti as if she were invisible.
"Yes, Ensign. You told me you had some self-defense workouts that I could borrow for use in the holodeck." Her tone was thoroughly business-like.
He stared at her for a moment. "Oh. Yeah, uh, sure. Let me find them," he faltered. He began to paw through the desk drawer and produced three data crystals. He got to his feet and extended them toward Malista. As he dropped the crystals into her palm, his hand brushed hers and he captured her hand for a moment. "Are you all right?" he said in an undertone, ignoring Nicoletti's frowning surveillance. His brown eyes scanned her face as if trying to see beyond her polite mask of professionalism.
Shadow tugged her hand free. "I'm fine, Ensign Natwick," she replied evenly. "Thank you. Is there anything I need to know about the programs?"
He seemed to shake himself out of a light trance and dropped his eyes to the desk. "The numbers of each program indicate the difficulty level. One is the beginner program. As the numbers increase, so does the difficulty of the simulation---number of opponents, types of weapons---that kind of thing."
Malista felt a wisp of her black hair escaping its anchor and reached up to push it back into place. Natwick's eyes darted to her hand and traced its movement, almost as if he expected her to pull a weapon on him. Shadow darted a glance at Nicoletti.
Sue shrugged. She didn't know why the Security Officer seemed so edgy.
Natwick reseated himself behind the desk, still staring at the women suspiciously. "Let me know if you need help with the programs."
"I will. Thank you." Shadow turned to leave, but halted when he said her name.
"Malista? I'm sorry about---you know."
Her spine stiffened. She cast a look at him over her shoulder, but didn't turn. "What? For hitting Harry?" she asked scathingly.
Natwick scowled. "He had that coming for the way he treated you. No, I meant---" His brown eyes went to Nicoletti again. "I meant I was sorry I said anything to him. I didn't intend to hit him. I was a little off balance emotionally at the time. When I saw him, I just---lost my temper. Something I haven't done in a long time. I didn't really intend to hurt him. I'm sorry. No hard feelings?"
Nicoletti was watching the exchange impassively, but her mind was spinning. If she didn't know better, she would think George Natwick had serious feelings for Malista Shadow---but was also afraid of her for some reason. Or at least concerned about her reaction to his behavior. That was a first. When not on duty, Natwick was known for going his own way, without regard for anyone's feelings or opinions. His was the original lone wolf personality.
Malista, remembering Jenny Delaney's instructions, smiled as sweetly as she could manage. "Of course not, George. Why would there be any hard feelings?" The words were innocently spoken, but coupled with that smile---rang false in Natwick's ears. As they were meant to, though Malista wasn't really aware of that.
As the door slid closed behind Nicoletti and Shadow, the ensign began to analyze the possible plans of attack Malista might use to take her revenge on him. Without trying hard, he'd come up with twenty-five different scenarios before the end of his shift.
*****************
B'Elanna studied her surroundings. "This is it?" she asked sharply.
"Not exactly," Tom replied.
She watched as he lazily leaned forward with an outstretched hand and switched on the---What was it he'd called it? Oh, yes. A radio. Some idiot started crooning stupid questions. 'Are the stars out tonight? I don't know if it's cloudy or bright---'
B'Elanna reached out and snapped the radio off.
"What did you do that for?" Paris complained.
"It was ridiculous. Of course the stars are out. They're always out. If he'd look up, he'd see them---"
The lieutenant slapped his forehead with the heel of his hand. "B'Elanna, it's a song! Not a science class!" He sighed deeply. "Come on. Lean back. Relax." He dropped his hand on her shoulder and pulled her back against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.
"And do what?" she asked impatiently. "What kind of program is this?"
Tom fought off another sigh. He'd bet a week's worth of replicator rations that the Doc hadn't had this much trouble with Denara Pel. "It's a leisure program, B'Elanna. You don't have to fight anyone, or scale anything, or chase something around in circles. You just sit here in this wonderful classic 1957 Chevy and look at the stars. And listen to some mellow music. Or enjoy the view of the colony below. Or---cuddle a little. Or a lot. Don't you ever just sit still and do absolutely nothing?"
She pulled away from him and stared at him. It was not a happy stare.
He decided his words were getting in the way more than they were helping. He tried letting his eyes speak for him. His blue eyes had a way with words. When his mouth didn't interfere. After a moment, she relaxed against him again, turning to rest her back against his muscular chest, her head lying on his shoulder.
"All right, I'll try your leisure program." She paused. She tilted her head to look up at him, "But it's going to get boring, if this is all there is to it----"
He fastened his lips onto hers. Her objections melted away in the sizzling sensations aroused by his kiss.
Oxygen deprivation forced a brief intermission.
"There is something to be said for relaxing," she purred. "Turn the music back on."
He obeyed.
"Now kiss me, Lieutenant Paris." Her smile was predatory.
"Yes, ma'am!" He obeyed. With enthusiasm.
******************
Every day it seemed to get worse. The comments, the sly digs, the looks---especially the looks. Conversations stopped abruptly or made sudden detours in topic when she came into view. Malista was beginning to dread getting out of bed and reporting for duty. She felt half of the Alpha shift had nothing better to do than to try to pump her for information about her relationships with Harry Kim, Tom Paris, and B'Elanna Torres. Those who weren't curious, were judgmental and wanted her to feel the weight of their disapproval.
She hadn't had to deal with so much attention since---since Huldon III. At that time, she'd been so physically and mentally traumatized that she'd hardly noticed the stares and whispers. And when she had been in a condition to do so, Niko Dishon had been there to run interference. She missed Niko and mourned his death. They hadn't had much in common, but he'd always been there. For five years, he'd protected her, shielded her, and even fought for her---to keep other people away. To keep other people from hurting her.
It seemed that everywhere she went, someone was talking about her. She would walk into a room or out of the turbolift and everyone would stare. She didn't know what to do when that happened, so she tried to pretend she didn't see them, didn't hear them. She didn't answer their greetings, didn't speak to anyone. She stopped wearing makeup on duty and screwed her shoulder-length hair into an unflattering bun on the nape of her neck, trying to make herself as unattractive as possible, hoping to avoid attention.
It didn't work. She didn't need makeup to draw attention to her good features. With her hair pulled back, her classical bone structure and wonderful pale gold skin were more easily admired. She tried her best to disappear into the crowd and go unnoticed but, for the first time in her life, she couldn't achieve anonymity simply by wishing for it.
*****************
"I can't believe her attitude!" The exclamation came to Tom Paris' ears as he rounded the corner of the corridor on his way to Engineering. The unseen speaker was working in the Jefferies tube that he was passing.
"Since when does being with the Senior staff give you the right to put on airs? She won't even speak to us common people any more. Who does she think she is? Some kind of princess?" The complainer went on, encouraged by a mumble from her companion. "Well, I can tell you I'm not going to speak to her either. She thinks she's fooling anyone? She's sleeping her way to the top. Everyone knows that."
Tom directed a scornful glance at the hatch as he passed by. He detested gossips. If he'd thought it would do any good, he would confront them. But he'd learned from bitter experience that a confrontation just gave them more ammunition to lob---and sometimes a new target. He wondered idly who they could be talking about.
Senior staff? The only women on the Senior staff were Captain Janeway, B'Elanna Torres, and Kes. It couldn't be Janeway. She was the top of the chain of command---no reason to 'sleep her way to the top'. Kes? Some people didn't like her because they found her telepathic abilities frightening, but---no, he didn't think it could be her. B'Elanna? Most people gossiped about her temper, not her private life. And anyway, her relationship with him wouldn't help her gain a promotion. It didn't add up.
Paris shrugged. Some people could find insult in any behavior. Maybe B'Elanna or Kes had ticked someone off. A little gossip wouldn't do any harm. He decided to ignore it.
If he'd lingered a little longer, he would have solved the mystery of the identity of the object of discussion. The second person in the access crawl way finally gave his opinion. "I think she's intimidating. She towers over me and the way she looks at me with those cold green eyes---I've seen warmer expressions on statues!"
His partner laughed as they went back to work. "Well, if Harry Kim wants to cuddle up to an overgrown marble sculpture---it's his loss. Now if he wants a real woman---"
"You'd volunteer for that duty? I knew you were interested in him for yourself."
**************************
Torres was nowhere in sight when Tom Paris entered Engineering. He caught the eye of the nearest engineer and asked for her. Susan Nicoletti pointed up to the second level. Paris thanked her and started for the lift. A sudden flurry of loud Klingon epithets drifted downward from above---not falling gently on anyone's ears. Tom's eyebrows rose and he hurried to the lift. Now he knew why everyone else in the department had found work to do on the lower level.
She was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the open access panel in the bulkhead. When he got closer to the source, he could identify the epithets as being directed at a recalcitrant lubricant container that was oozing slimy liquid all over the chief engineer's hands. It was quite evident from the appearance of the container that ---probably in a fit of pique---she had squeezed it much too tightly, forgetting the strength her Klingon heritage afforded her. The seams had burst.
Hearing his footsteps, she turned a glare in his direction. "Don't-you-dare-laugh!" she rapped out vehemently. She felt self-conscious, inept, and embarrassed to have him or anyone else see her make such a silly, clumsy mistake. She was just glad that no one else was working in the area.
Widening his eyes as much as possible, Paris shook his head silently. He saw a cleansing towel resting on a table nearby and handed it to her without comment. He deftly scooped up the container and placed it in a small trash receptacle---without getting a speck of lubricant on himself, of course.
Torres thought it was resoundingly unfair that Tom Paris always looked so perfectly groomed and elegant. And even when he
didn't, he always looked good. At times, she felt like a disheveled mess standing next to him. Slightly mollified by the lack of teasing, she wiped her hands clean.
When she finished, he extended a hand towards her. Eyes slightly narrowed, she placed her small hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet. "Well?" She was certain he wouldn't be able to resist a comment. She was braced for it.
He crooked a long, slender finger at her.
She frowned and took a step closer. "What? Have you lost your voice? The ship couldn't get that lucky."
His brow wrinkled in a distressed expression. At times he looked about four years old. This was one of those times. His blue eyes looked---piteous.
"Tom, what's the matter?" She was beginning to be concerned.
His eyes darted around to be sure they were alone. He crooked his finger at her again. She took another step closer and stretched on tiptoe to incline her ear to catch his whisper, "I think I hurt myself."
She stared at him, brown eyes rounding. "What? How?"
He leaned closer and whispered even more quietly, "You told me not to laugh. I think I hurt myself trying not to." He put a small whimper in his words.
For a split millisecond---she bought it. Then his meaning sank in. He began to chuckle at the expression on her face as she stepped back and clenched her fists. She could feel herself flushing as her temper swiftly soared. "You---!" She couldn't think of an epithet strong enough. She took a swing at him.
Tom was no fool. He was ready for her reaction. He ducked back---just enough so that her fist missed his jaw by a centimeter. "Now, Torres, watch your temper!" he said soothingly.
She advanced on him, still glaring. He stopped retreating---for good reason. His back was to the wall. Torres couldn't believe he was still grinning---Smile Number Seven---the goofy grin that said his sense of humor had been unexpectedly tickled.
She was almost nose to nose with him. He still hadn't lost that grin. She was trying to hold onto her annoyance, but that grin and those admiring blue eyes were getting to her. "What are you smirking at, Helmboy?" she snarled.
"You. You look cute when you're dirty, B'Elanna," he said simply. There was no retreat, no hiding in his expression. He reached out a tentative hand to wipe a small splotch of lubricant from her cheek.
"Klingons do NOT look cute," Torres stated emphatically, trying not to let him see how thoroughly the compliment disarmed her. Or the effect his slightest touch had on her equilibrium.
He shook his head slightly. "Maybe Klingons don't---but you do." He suddenly looked thoughtful. "Remind me to introduce you to my mud pie program. It could be fun. Childish, but fun. And you'd look---cute." Now Smile Number Five took over---the wicked smile that invited you to follow him right into mischief.
"Cute?" she repeated.
His eyes surveyed the room once more. They were out of sight, if not out of hearing of the others in Engineering. He leaned forward and brushed a teasingly light kiss across her lips. "Definitely cute."
"I'm not playing in any mud, Paris!"
"Too bad. Wiggling your bare toes in the mud is a lot of fun." He waggled his eyebrows at her. "And cleaning up afterwards---"
"Did you come up here to make me lose my temper? Or was there a reason that you came to Engineering?" She felt better. It was nice to know she couldn't intimidate Tom or scare him away with her flash of temperament. It made her feel more secure in their---friendship.
"Actually, I wanted to help you check the navigational deflector. It's begun giving false readings or producing some kind of echo effect....."
They settled down to work.
**************************
Chakotay checked his chronometer again. She was definitely late. This was a first. Since he'd begun counseling sessions with Malista Shadow, she'd always been prompt. He slapped at his commbadge. "Commander Chakotay to Crewman Shadow."
There was a pause--just a bit longer than usual---then the reply. "Shadow here."
"Crewman, did you forget your appointment with me?" the first officer asked patiently.
"No, sir," she replied rapidly. "I'm on my way. I'm---running a little behind schedule. Sorry."
"Chakotay out." He frowned thoughtfully as he seated himself at his desk.
It had been almost a week since Malista had met with him. He hoped she would be more forthcoming this time. He'd had the feeling at their last session that she wasn't being totally honest with him.
They seemed to have hit a roadblock of some kind in her counseling sessions. He couldn't help her if she wouldn't cooperate. He busied himself with a personnel report as he waited for her arrival.
About twenty minutes later, more than thirty minutes late for her appointment, Malista Shadow entered Chakotay's office. She was in uniform and still carrying her toolkit.
Chakotay glanced up and studied her appearance. There were signs that the young woman was tired---the faintest hint of purplish semicircles under her eyes, her hair escaping from the loose ponytail lying on her back. She was good at hiding her feelings. If he hadn't known her for years, he would have missed the signs himself. She also seemed on edge as she made her way to the seat across from him.
"Malista," he said by way of greeting. He waited. Patience was a definite virtue for a counselor.
She attempted a smile, but it wasn't convincing. "Commander, I apologize. I got busy repairing a---" She hesitated. Frowning, she went on, "I'm sorry. My mind just went blank---oh, a computer relay in the ship's library. Russell's had several problems with the consoles. We're trying to adapt to some of the new replacement parts we got on Dynos Six. I seem to have been spending a lot of my shift there lately. I, uh, lost track of time."
Chakotay nodded silently. He waited.
His silence increased her nervousness. "Was there something in particular that you wanted to talk to me about today, Commander?" She forced herself to sit back in the chair, striving to appear relaxed and at ease.
The first officer's silence stretched on. He watched as she began to drum her fingers on the arm of the chair---only to stop abruptly when she noticed what she was doing. She flashed a look at him as if caught in an indiscretion, then caught her lower lip between her teeth and began to gnaw on it. "Chakotay?" The word was almost a plea.
Finally. She was ready to drop the facade. "Malista, what's going on?"
She slumped forward, resting her hands on the edge of the desk. "Oh, Chakotay," she sighed wearily. She raised her eyes to meet his. Tears began to gather, but she blinked rapidly to hold them at bay.
"Is it Harry?" The first officer deliberately chose the least likely problem. He wanted to get her started talking, hoping that once started she would continue.
She shook her head, chewing her lower lip once more. She took a deep breath. "Harry is---the best thing that ever happened to me. He's just so---" Words seemed to fail her.
"So he's not the reason you look worn out? The reason you were late today? The reason you look so miserable?" the first officer prodded.
"No. It's just that when---since Harry and I made up," she said unhappily, "a lot of people have been---commenting. They're talking about us----about me."
"And what are they saying?"
"Gossip. I don't know. I don't want to know!" she wailed. "Half the time they stop talking when I get close enough to hear them."
"Then how do you know they're talking about you?"
She tossed him an exasperated frown and jumped to her feet, beginning to move restlessly around the room. "The way they look at me. Everywhere I go---they stare. They don't talk to me. They just---watch me. Like I should be on a slide under a microscope! And the ones who do talk to me---talk AT me!"
"How many people are we talking about? The whole crew?"
"What? What does that matter?" She was puzzled and angry at the same time.
"I'm trying to get an idea of the extent of the problem," he explained softly.
"You think I'm lying?" she accused.
He shook his head. "I didn't say that. Until recently, you've kept yourself fairly isolated. Now that you're begun interacting socially with the crew, you should expect to feel a certain lack of privacy. I think you might be exaggerating..."
"I am not! Chakotay, you don't know---the things they say---"
"Why do you listen?" he asked reasonably. "Do you value their opinions?"
She stopped in her tracks and pivoted slowly to face him. She leaned her fists on his desk and leaned down to push her face within six inches of his. "No. I just want to be left alone. I want everybody to leave me alone! I want everybody to mind his or her own business. What do you expect me to do? You and Captain Janeway ordered me to socialize! So I socialized! Now I'm tired of it!"
Chakotay raised his eyebrows, and still in his quiet voice, replied, "You're going to be on this ship for a very long time, Malista. Part of being a member of the Voyager family is taking the bad along with the good. It's a small community---so we take care of each other. But because it's a small community, we also know each other's business. And sometimes that can cause some pain and a lack of privacy. Most of these people are well-meaning. Give it time. The furor will die down. They'll find something else to talk about."
She straightened and moved away from him to the center of the room. Her eyes closed as she tried to gather her thoughts. "Okay. Fine. So I'll get used to it. Is that what you're telling me?" She came back to her chair and sank into it, elbows resting on her knees, head in her hands.
"In a way. You need to develop a thicker skin. Maturity comes when you realize you can't please everyone. You have to pick and choose those you want to please and you should start with yourself." He didn't think she was listening so he tried a different tack. "Do you have too much time on your hands?"
Her head jerked up at that. He could have sworn he detected a twinge of apprehension. "What do you mean?"
He folded his arms and watched her silently for a moment. She began to fidget. "I simply meant that you had been working two shifts for some time. Now that you're working only one---" His dark eyes zeroed in on her. "I thought you might have more free time than you want."
"Why? What do you think I should be doing with my extra time?"
"Giving Neelix cooking lessons?" She grinned at that. Chakotay raised his hands, palms up. "I thought you might like to take another class. Maybe do some cross-training. Have you thought about that?"
She sank back in the chair and eyed the ceiling for a moment. "I wondered about maybe---do you think the doctor would train me as a field medic?"
Chakotay nodded. "I think that can be arranged. May I ask why?"
"Sometimes Sickbay gets really busy. And if Tom can't be spared from the bridge, it's just Kes and the Doctor---and if the computer went down----" She made a gesture with her hand. "I just thought I could be useful. My father said I wasn't smart enough for medical school, but maybe I could at least learn first aid. Or I'm big for a woman and I'm strong. I could help the injured get to Sickbay."
The first officer was perturbed to read between the lines and see the lack of self-esteem underlying her low expectations of herself. "I'll talk to the doctor about arranging your lessons. Malista, is something else bothering you? Something other than curiosity and gossip?" He was picking up on something he couldn't identify---a source of uneasiness in her that set off a small sensor alert in his mind.
She folded her arms across her chest, a defensive gesture she seemed to have picked up from Tom Paris. "What makes you ask?"
"Malista, you're supposed to be telling me what's bothering you," the first officer chided gently. "That's the purpose of these counseling sessions."
"You told me I needed to learn to handle my own problems," she reminded him. "That's what I'm trying to do. You told me I needed to become independent and self-sufficient---not depend on someone else to rescue me or protect me all the time. Are you trying to take Niko's place now?"
"Malista---" Chakotay broke off, pausing to rethink his words. He hated having them quoted back at him out of context. "There's a difference in becoming too dependent on others and being too independent to ask for help when you need it. Everyone needs help occasionally. I just meant you shouldn't make a habit of it."
She was gnawing on her lower lip again, a sure sign of anxiety or distress. She nodded.
"Do you have a problem you need help with?" he asked after giving her a moment to think it over.
She shook her head. "No. Not now. I'm not sure. Maybe." She almost smiled. "Great. I'm back to comprehensive answers." She ignored his questioning look at that comment. "Chakotay, let me think about it. Maybe I'm blowing the whole thing out of proportion. If I find I need help---I'll let you know."
Chakotay wasn't satisfied. He could tell there was something serious bothering her, but evidently she wasn't ready to discuss it. "All right, Malista. See you next week? Same time?"
A glint of mischief peeked out of her green eyes. "No. Next week, I'll be on time. I swear."
He smiled.
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