Trials 01 Tom's Trail

  TRIALS 1: TOM'S TRIALS

  By Terri Zavaleta

  DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the show, the characters, and the best parts of the known world. This story and Shadow and Dishon are mine. Ethan Simms, Janine Lamont, and Mikel Hudson are inventions of the P/T Collective. This is intended for fan enjoyment since there are not enough stories to satisfy the Voyager-hungry fans. This is for fun, not profit. Please give credit where credit is due. I did the work. Feedback is greatly appreciated. Without it, most authors don't know what they're doing right!

  SYNOPSIS: Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres are getting set to begin a closer relationship. Suddenly Torres changes her mind, leaving Paris at loose ends. He befriends a friendless young woman---then Torres changes her mind again. Maybe.

  This story takes place sometime after Blood Fever and assumes Kes and Neelix haven't broken up yet. (Possibly an alternate timeline?)

  TRIALS 1: Tom's Trials

  While striding down the corridor, Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres and Ensign Ethan Simms were conferring on modifications made to the transporter and how Security procedures would be affected. As they rounded the corner near Holodeck 2, both screeched to a halt, the conversation dying at once.

  There, leaning against the wall next to the holodeck entrance, was Lieutenant Tom Paris embracing another woman---a small blonde woman---Ensign Janine Lamont. Her head was resting on his chest. His head was bent over hers.

  For a millisecond, Torres thought she had been stabbed through the heart by a Klingon d'k tahg, the pain she felt was that sharp. She had always thought the term 'heartache' was a figurative term. She now knew for a fact it wasn't. Next to her, she was vaguely aware of Simms'

  grunt of surprise---shock---whatever. She darted a glimpse at him and saw he seemed as stunned and hurt as she felt.

  The feeling lasted for about a split second. In that moment, she glanced back at Paris and he raised his head. The expression on his face was not that of a guilty man caught in the act---it was the panic-stricken look of a man who saw rescue on the way. Silently, he mouthed the word "Help!"

  Totally bewildered and off-balance from the strong emotions seesawing within, Torres took a tentative step closer and observed more carefully. Lamont wasn't hugging Paris as much as clinging to him as she---sobbed. She was crying as if her heart was breaking. Paris telegraphed his sense of helplessness with his widened blue eyes and the somewhat tentative manner in which he was patting Lamont's back.

  Torres' eyes narrowed. 'What did you do?' her expression said as clearly as if she had spoken the words aloud. Tom somehow managed to look outraged, innocent, and defenseless all at the same time.

  Ethan Simms took a step forward. He looked angry. Torres restrained him with an arm across his chest and a shake of her head. She gestured for him to go back around the corner, waited for him to comply, then followed ignoring Paris' look of pleading.

  As soon as they were out of sight she raised her voice slightly, "Ethan, what do you think we should do about the transporter modifications?"

  Simms looked at her, bewildered.

  She thumped his arm. He stammered, "I don't know, Lieutenant. What do you think?" It was tentative, but it served the purpose.

  Having given ample evidence of their approach, they rounded the corner. Lamont had straightened and was making an effort to hide the traces of tears and act as if nothing was wrong. "Excuse me, Lieutenant Paris," she blurted and practically ran down the corridor.

  Paris looked totally relieved. "Thanks, B'Elanna!"

  "What did you do to her?" Surprisingly the question was rapped out by Ethan Simms, not B'Elanna Torres. The rush of anger sent his blood pressure rocketing and reddened the young man's skin from his neck to the roots of his dark auburn hair.

  Paris, a little taken aback by the ferocity in his tone, answered soothingly. "Nothing. I swear." He noticed the answer didn't satisfy either party so he continued. "We'd just finished her piloting lesson in the shuttle simulation. I noticed she seemed a little down, so I asked if something was wrong. She muttered something about anonymous love letters she's been getting, then she

  burst into tears. I didn't know what to do. I'm not good with women in tears," he confided to B'Elanna.

  Ethan paled as quickly as he'd blushed. "She was upset about the letters?" His voice sounded strangled.

  Paris mulled it over. "Actually, I'm not sure I understood exactly what she said. I think she asked if I wrote them or knew who did. When I told her I didn't, she said something about they were so sweet. That's when she started crying. Does that make any sense to you, B'Elanna?"

  "No," Torres answered sharply. "And I don't have time to talk about it!" She took off as if launched, heading for the turbolift.

  Paris watched her go, then turned to Simms bemusedly. "Women! What's she upset about?"

  "I wouldn't know, sir!" Ethan sneered sarcastically, then took off after the Chief Engineer.

  Paris ran his fingers through his blonde hair, tousling it into a disarray of curls. "Now what is he mad about? Geez, Paris, you have a natural talent for aggravating people. Men, women, ensigns, lieutenants! Well, I guess it's only fair that you should be an equal

  opportunity annoyer!" He decided to return to his quarters and read a book---before he got everyone on the ship ticked off at him. Some days it just didn't pay to get out of bed.

  ***********************

  Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres was trying to pretend Lieutenant Tom Paris was invisible. She had been doing it throughout her duty period. Right now it was more difficult since the handsome, six feet, three inches tall man was standing directly across the table from her holding two cups of raktajino. She buried her nose in her datapadd

  and refused to look up or speak.

  Undaunted, Tom sat down in the chair opposite hers and slid one cup across the table. "Just the way you like it, ma'am."

  There was an uncomfortable pause.

  "B'Elanna? Could you at least tell me what I did? I'd like to know what I'm apologizing for. It generally helps with the wording."

  He set his own cup down, untasted. And waited, his cornflower blue eyes pleading his case silently and effectively.

  After a moment, B'Elanna put down the datapadd. She wrapped her hands around her cup as if seeking its warmth, and seemed to find its contents so fascinating she couldn't take her eyes off it. She flicked a quick glance at Paris. He was searching her expression hopefully for a positive reaction. He looked serious for a change---and vulnerable. B'Elanna hesitated, trying to think how she wanted to

  phrase her response.

  The pause stretched on---just too long. Paris' mouth twisted wryly before he managed to shape it into his careless smile. "Well, I never force my attentions on a lady," he said and started to stand, trying for nonchalance.

  "Tom!" Torres whispered urgently, grabbing his wrist. "Sit down."

  His expression remained carefully neutral with a hint of a smile---it reminded her of when she had first seen him in the Ocampa tunnels---trying not to show Harry Kim how worried he'd been at the younger man's disappearance. He was very good at hiding his feelings. But she knew she'd hurt him---mostly with her sudden silence. He was waiting---and she still wasn't sure what she wanted to say. "I'm

  sorry, Tom. I haven't been fair to you." She ground to a halt.

  His eyes softened. He reached across the table and touched her hand. "What is it, B'Elanna? What did I do? I honestly don't know what I did to upset you."

  "I know you don't. It's not you, Tom. It's me!" She drew her hand away from his and clasped her cup, staring at it so she wouldn't have to meet his eyes.

  Paris tried to mask the hurt he felt at her rejection of his touch. He'd had conversations that started like
this before. It *never* turned out well. It usually ended with 'Can't we just be friends?' He felt a chill run up his spine and caress the base of his skull. "I don't understand. What's wrong?"

  Torres licked her dry lips. "This morning---" She stopped again.

  Paris raised his brows and leaned closer, almost as if to pull the words out of her. "This morning?" He frowned. "You mean---you *can't* mean that business with Ensign Lamont?"

  Torres nodded.

  "B'Elanna, I didn't ask her to cry all over me---and you do know that I'm not the one sending her love notes?"

  "I know that. I guess I knew that---it's just---" Torres couldn't believe how hard it was for her just to tell him the truth. She took a deep breath. "The truth is---this morning when I saw you with Lamont---I thought---at first, I thought you were kissing her!"

  "Kissing her?!" Paris was genuinely astonished. "I hardly know her!"

  "That's not exactly a prerequisite, Paris!" Torres snarled. "Besides, she's a short blonde---"

  "What has that got to do with anything?" he protested.

  "I thought at first it was Kes," she muttered.

  "Kes?" Paris repeated, and then as the light dawned, "Kes! Oh, I see. I think. I think I see. You heard about me saying I thought I was in love with Kes. But that's not true, B'Elanna. I find Kes attractive---but I'm not in love with her."

  "That's not what you told Harry," Torres retorted.

  "Remind me to kill Harry later," Paris said, rubbing his forehead. He gazed into Torres' eyes. "B'Elanna, Kes is attractive. But I think the reason I---the reason I tried to talk myself into believing it was something more than friendship is because---" Tom raked his fingers through his hair as he tried to think of the right words. "Because I envied Neelix. You've seen the way Kes looks at

  him. I look at him---I see a short, round, funny---looking guy. She looks at him---it's like he's the strongest, bravest, hero in the galaxy. I think I really just wanted somebody---anybody to look at me like that. I just wanted---want---a relationship with someone who

  knows me---the real me---and loves me anyway."

  Torres could hardly breathe. She had never expected Tom to be so direct or so open. It just made it harder for her to say what she wanted---no, needed to say. "Tom, I know that we've been through a lot together recently, and it may have caused us to feel things that---that we're not really ready to deal with."

  "What are you saying, B'Elanna?" He didn't want to ask, but he had to know.

  "I'm saying that maybe danger and propinquity and overactive hormones have caused us to---misjudge our feelings---maybe we're rushing into a relationship we---neither one of us is ready for." She met his gaze directly. Trying not to let her voice get out of control, she spoke in measured tones, "We haven't made any commitment to each other. I think maybe we should back off for a while---and not see so much of each other---socially, I mean---one on one. We can still be friends."

  His withdrawal back into his public persona of carefree charm was visible and as obvious as if he stood and drew it on like a coat---or a suit of armor. "If that's what you want," he said carelessly. Then he stood and walked away without a backward glance.

  B'Elanna watched till the doors slid closed behind him. "Damn!"

  ***********************

  Harry Kim had to ask the computer to locate Lieutenant Tom Paris. He was surprised to hear that Paris was in the ship's gym. He was worried and even more surprised when he finally located his friend.

  Paris was exercising intensely on an airdyne bike, his arms pushing with tremendous exertion on the handles while his feet pumped furiously to keep up with his demands. His face was red with exertion, sweat was dripping from his face and body in rivulets, and his royal blue tank top and shorts were almost navy in color from the

  dampness they'd absorbed. His total concentration seemed to be on the gauge indicating speed and duration. He didn't show any signs of slowing down or stopping either, though his breathing was becoming ragged.

  "Hi," Harry said, approaching the front of the bike so he could see Paris' face.

  Paris flickered a glance at him then returned his attention to the gauge. "I don't want to talk about it, Harry," he growled emphatically.

  Harry tried to look innocent---not much of a stretch for him. "I don't know what you mean. Are you all right? How long have you been---exercising?"

  "Not long enough." Paris could hardly speak. It took too much breath.

  "Tom, you look terrible. You need to cool down."

  "I know what I need. I need to be left alone." But as exhaustion began to overtake him physically, he was involuntarily beginning to slow down his frenzied assault on the machine. As he slowed his pace, he gazed at Harry. "Gossip sure travels fast. How did you find out?"

  Kim was reluctant to answer. He could tell Paris was in pain whether he wanted to discuss it or not, and he didn't want to worsen a bad situation. "Kes. She was worried about you---about both of you---she heard---Something she heard made her think it might be her

  fault."

  Tom exploded off the bike, leaving the wheel turning and marched toward the padded wall of the gym. "Damn!" He hit the pad with his fist---so hard, his arm bounced back. He leaned his head on his other arm against the wall and tried to slow his breathing. "I hope you told her it had nothing to do with her."

  Harry drew closer. He wanted to comfort Paris, but didn't know what to say or do. "I told her. I don't know if she believed me."

  Tom spun and leaned his back against the wall, looking at Kim for probably the first time without the slightest hint of a smile. "I do this every time. It happens every single time. Why do I keep trying? Everyone who gets near me gets hurt. Even Kes." The redness

  was starting to fade, leaving Tom almost ashy looking. His jaw clenched tightly. "B'Elanna---Kes---I just can't win. Maybe you'd better just keep your distance, Harry. Akritiria was bad enough. God knows what kind of mess I'll get you into next." He started to walk away.

  Kim grabbed his shoulder. "Tom. Maybe B'Elanna meant what she said. Maybe she's scared and she just needs a little more time. Don't give up!"

  Paris jerked away from him. "Oh, I'm sure she did mean it. She needs more time. There's *always* going to be an excuse. Face it, Harry, I just didn't measure up---*again*. I think it's more than time to stop putting myself on the target range. I left myself wide open for her to take a shot. I won't be available for that kind of hurt or rejection any more. Why try to be taken seriously? No one's interested in a serious Tom Paris. They want Tom Paris the clown---the funny man---the flirt---the life of the party. No one's interested in the real me. From now on, that's what they want---that's what they'll get! I can play that game. Hell, I've been doing it all my life! What's another seventy years?"

  Harry watched helplessly as his exhausted best friend stumbled into the corridor. "Damn!"

  ***********************

  The senior staff meeting was winding down. As usual, after dealing with the business at hand, Captain Janeway offered, "That's all I have. Does anyone have anything else we need to discuss?"

  Chakotay cleared his throat and nodded. He seemed reluctant to speak.

  "Yes, Commander?"

  "About the promotion lists, you wanted us to prepare---"

  Chakotay hesitated as he scrolled through the padd before him on the briefing room table.

  Janeway raised an eyebrow. "Is there a problem?"

  Chakotay glanced from Lt. Tuvok to Lt. Torres, then returned his gaze to the captain. "Yes, Captain. You could say that."

  "Well?"

  Paris and Kim didn't know what was going on. They seemed to be out of the loop, but this promised to be interesting. At least, Tom thought, there's *one* problem on the ship that has nothing to do with me.

  Chakotay punched a few buttons and brought up a picture of a crewmember on the computer screen. "This is Crewman Shadow, formerly of my Maquis crew. She's been recommended for promotion by her supervising senior officers."

  Th
e display showed a young woman with an absolute lack of expression that seemed almost Vulcan. She was human, average-looking, very tall, with extremely short black hair, tanned skin, high cheekbones, and dark green eyes.

  Janeway began to look a little impatient, but also puzzled. "She doesn't look familiar to me." That would be a source of irritation to her since the captain made a special effort to know every member of the crew by name. She'd visited every department during every shift assignment at some time in the last six months. "So what's the

  problem? If she's doing well enough to be recommended for promotion by her supervisor---?"

  "By *both* her supervisors," Chakotay clarified. "While going through the list of suggested promotions, I discovered that Crewman Shadow was working Beta Shift in Maintenance and Repair under Lt. Torres. In addition, she's been working Gamma shift as a Security Officer under Lt. Tuvok's supervision."

  "She's been pulling double-duty? No wonder I haven't seen her around!" Paris interjected. "When does she sleep?"

  "Presumably during Alpha Shift, Lieutenant," Tuvok replied dryly, ignoring the exasperated glance the pilot shot at him, with the ease of long practice.

  "How long has this been going on?" Janeway demanded.

  Chakotay shrugged. "Since the Maquis first came aboard and joined the crew. Malista tends to be---very quiet. She blends into the background as much as possible. It's easy for her to be unnoticed. That was one of her values in the Maquis. She was an information gatherer among other things."

  "How could she get away with this for so long?" Harry Kim wonderedaloud, anticipating Janeway's next question. "Her name should have shown up on the daily reports in each division."

  Torres looked uncomfortable. "She must have altered the reports."

  "Not necessarily," Paris disagreed, carefully not looking at Torres. He kept his eyes on Janeway. "If she avoided signing reports, her name might not appear. If her work was good, but nothing outstanding occurred on her watch, her name might not appear. The fields she chose don't overlap in responsibilities so the supervisors