Cracks 02 Clear as Mud Read online

  Part 11

  B'Elanna Torres was later getting to the mess hall than she had planned. She had told Harry she would be there an hour ago. She hoped he had waited for her, but she wouldn't mind going back to her quarter's and getting some sleep. She heard voices inside before she even opened the door. *Everyone off duty must be here,* she thought as she began searching the room for Harry. She saw him talking with Tom Paris at the other end of the room. Although she didn't relish an encounter with Tom at the moment, she picked her way through the crowd and tapped Harry on the shoulder. "I see you didn't give up on me," she smirked, "I got caught in Engineering." "I figured you were working on something. I've been all over the ship today fixing miscellaneous malfunctions. After yesterday, I can only imagine what your department looked like," Harry said as he moved over one seat to let B'Elanna sit down. "Carey and Hogan did a good job keeping things above water while I was stuck in the holodeck, but they made a mess trying to keep power up. You wouldn't believe what I had to re-route today. All that on top of staying up all night with Lieutenant Browning keeping the matter/anti- matter containment field stable...manually! And everyone wants to know when the main power grid is coming back on-line. As if I've been sitting around doing nothing! We're lucky to have life-support operational, and with the system wide glitches, I thought preventing an explosion was a priority. After that, we had to make sure we had shields and weapons. If they think I can just snap my fingers and it will all magically work, they can kiss my..." She stopped mid-sentence. Both Tom and Harry were staring at her with a look that was half comical, half defensive on their faces. "Anyway, enough of how my day was. Did you find out what exactly was wrong with the holodeck, Harry? The mud was still in my uniform when I went to wash it this morning." "I've been so busy with repairs around the ship, I haven't been able to look into it fully. I think the electromagnetic field caused more than one program to run at once. The computer tried to compensate for the surges and keep with the original program. As to why certain glitches showed up, who knows? They were all things that dealt with other programs." "Well, I can say this much," Tom said while trying to hide the sarcasm in his voice, "it was one hell of a ride, but it's too bad they're not operating now, which is exactly why everyone is crowded into the mess hall instead of enjoying a drink and a game of pool at Sandrine's." For a few tension filled, awkward seconds, nobody spoke. "Well, I can see that Harry has planned a little chat with you. I'll leave," Tom said, getting up. "Goodnight, Tom. Don't forget that you're helping me with the conduits in Shuttle Bay 2 tomorrow morning." "I won't forget, Harry," Tom called over his shoulder. Harry turned his attention to B'Elanna. She was avoiding his gaze by looking into her coffee cup and swirling it around as if there were grounds in the bottom of the cup. "Aren't you just a little curious as to why I wanted to talk with you, B'Elanna?" Still wondering what was wrong with Tom, she set her cup down and looked him straight in the eye. "Not really." She paused looking first in one eye, then the other. "Should I be?" Her upper lip curled slightly when she spoke to him. B'Elanna had a way of making people feel nervous around her. Harry had learned that she did this unintentionally at times. This wasn't one of those times. "Look, don't get defensive, B'Elanna. I consider you and Tom my best friends on board, and something has changed since that Borg thing. Both of you have been acting strangely. Tom will be talking and stop in the middle of a thought and not realize he's doing it. You stare into space with that 'concentrating' look of yours, but don't remember what you were thinking about when I ask. At least that's what both of you say. I'm just concerned, that's all. I have two theories, and I hope only one of them is true." "What's that supposed to mean? You mean you hope one of them is true? You want something to be wrong with us?" Her anger was increasing and she was having trouble keeping her voice to a normal level. Making that statement about being 'best friends' could only mean that he wanted to butt into her life. "Not wrong, just different." He hesitated, and looked down at the table for a moment. "One theory is that something happened to you that the Borg didn't tell us. Maybe it's residual memories of the Collective or something. Tom is pretty vague about it. As for the other theory...well, I'm trying to figure out the best way to bring this up. I thought it would be easier to bring it up with Tom than you, but he practically jumped down my throat. Even so, I still feel I'm right. Besides, both theories could be true and unrelated, or related, or not true, or half true..." Her anger calmed a bit when she realized she was making him nervous. Interrupting his dialogue, B'Elanna said, still irritated, "Fine, Harry. Go ahead, I promise not to knock you flat on the floor or throw you across the room." She calmed down and smiled at him. "Just remember that I can do it, okay?" He smiled back and would have laughed if he weren't so nervous. "Are you and Tom...? Well, what I mean to say is, if you, or rather, has Tom...? No, I don't mean that, but are you...?" *Ah, hell!* Harry thought. *I'm stumbling like an idiot.* "If you and Tom were to become involved, romantically speaking, you guys would tell me, wouldn't you?" *That sounded ridiculous.* B'Elanna stared at Harry with a very blank look on her face. He couldn't read it at all. Then she abruptly stood up and left the room. *She didn't stomp out, like she does when she is really angry, or march out, like she does when she is marginally upset. She didn't swagger out, like she does when she is in a good mood, she simply walked out. Now what the hell was that all about?* Harry thought. Back in his quarters, Harry started to realize that her reaction to his question wasn't all that strange, considering Tom's reaction. Now that certainly WAS strange. Tom had come by his work station just as he was about to go off-duty, which was pretty usual because they often ate dinner together. Harry had asked him if he was feeling strange lately. Tom had said that he was having some strange dreams that he thought were from the mini-assimilation with the Borg, but that they weren't threatening or anything. In fact, he had said that they were usually rather calming dreams, and that he'd remember bits and pieces of them when he was awake, like his sudden realization about the Vyarri. Harry didn't usually mince words with Tom, so he had asked outright, "Do you and B'Elanna have something going on?" Tom had stopped in the middle of the corridor. "What do you mean 'going on'?" "It's just that the two of you have been acting funny around each other. I thought maybe you were trying not to let anyone know that you were becoming involved." Harry had continued walking towards the mess hall. He was 45 minutes late to meet up with B'Elanna and he didn't want to wait until tomorrow to talk to her. Maybe he would get the two of them to admit it together. Tom had remained silent until they sat down. When Harry had finished getting his food, Tom had put his elbows on the table with his hands laying out straight in front of him. "Get one thing straight, Harry. B'Elanna isn't someone who has casual affairs. Since, apparently, that's all everyone thinks I have, we wouldn't be well suited, would we? B'Elanna is stubborn and angry most of the time. Do I strike you as the kind of person who would forsake all others for a woman like that?" *Where in the world is this coming from?* Harry had thought. *Tom must be more serious about her than I thought.* "Another thing," Tom had said , "she can't stand to be in the same room with me lately, and frankly, that's a relief. She's definitely not interested." Then Harry thought he heard Tom mutter something like "It must have just been hormones." Then there was the tap on his shoulder, and B'Elanna had joined them. Tom had barely been civil from that point on, and he had left abruptly. B'Elanna's response was either normal because it was just as puzzling as Tom's response, or they were both plain crazy. B'Elanna was walking down the corridor and turning the corner to her quarters when her face came in contact with a broad chest. "Another crewman who doesn't watch where she's going," Chakotay said. "It's becoming a problem, I think." "What?" she asked almost incoherently. "Never mind." He shrugged it off. "I was coming to see you. Do you have time to talk for a bit?" B'Elanna knew that she had avoided this talk with Chakotay long enough. Ever since the experiment with the Borg, he had wanted to talk with her. He wouldn't be put off any longer, especially after the developments of the
last couple of days. "Sure, but not too long. I'm exhausted." She punched in her security code and they walked into her quarters. She normally felt comfortable talking to Chakotay -- she usually sought him out for advice -- but she didn't want to discuss this Paris thing with him, or Harry, or anyone else. She had a hunch, though, that this was why Chakotay had asked to see her. He knew. "How are things in Engineering?" Chakotay stalled. "I assume everything important is back on line?" "More or less," B'Elanna replied. "I just gave the captain my report." She paused. "Do you want to read it?" "Not really," he grinned. "B'Elanna, how are you feeling? You've seemed a little, well, preoccupied. Everyone is concerned--" "Look," she interrupted. "You don't need to worry. Nothing's going on with him. I have everything under control. The whole crew is jumping to conclusions about us, but..." She paused from her tirade, frowning at Chakotay's utterly confused expression. She went to the replicator -- after the last two days, she was in serious need of a drink. Chakotay shook his head when she offered to get him something, so she punched up a single for herself. Chakotay watched as she stalked to a seat and sank into it. "How's the ankle doing?" "Fine, now; the doctor waved his magic wand at me and made it all better." "I heard Lieutenant Paris helped you get to sickbay," he commented, and watched with fascination as she actually blushed. "He was going there too, anyway; he was...being considerate." "Paris, considerate? Now that's a strange thought." His voice was unusually acid, even given the subject, and she looked at him curiously. "You're not still upset about the things he did when he was pretending to be a misfit?" Chakotay raised his eyebrows at her. "He made a fool out of me, repeatedly, in front of the people I'm supposed to command. Shouldn't I be upset?" "Nobody thought you were a fool, Chakotay. They thought he was a jerk, instead," she pointed out. Her mouth tightened, remembering. *And of course, nobody tried to find out what was wrong, not even Harry. True, nothing HAD been wrong; it had all been an act. But what if it hadn't been? You and I were the only ones who even asked, and you only cared because his performance was slipping. Even our "morale officer" only got into it when he thought Tom was about to leave.* B'Elanna remembered how she'd felt when that announcement had been made -- a tight, cold ache inside that she hadn't wanted to acknowledge, much less think about. When Paris had beamed off the ship, she'd been -- *hiding, B'Elanna, admit it* -- in Engineering, not wanting to see him leave; afraid that if she went to say good-bye her self-control would break and betray her. She shook herself out of the thought. *Pay attention to the present, Torres, not the past.* "But that's not what I meant," she continued aloud. "He was under orders when he did those things. It wasn't fair of Janeway and Tuvok not to let you in on it, but you should take that up with them. Not Paris." Chakotay started to retort, then sighed. "How did we get on this topic? I didn't come in here to talk about me. B'Elanna, how are you doing?" "I -- fine. Just fine." But the words came too fast, too jerkily; even a stranger could have heard the lie in them. "No side effects from the assimilation?" he asked quietly, watching her with calm dark eyes. B'Elanna looked down. She couldn't very well deny that one -- not after today. Harry had been the one to suggest that Tom's unexplainable memories of their enemy might be knowledge gained from the Borg. When the idea had been tested by displaying a visual of the ship on a viewscreen in Engineering, B'Elanna's reaction had been all they'd needed to confirm the theory -- and firmly establish that there had, indeed, been side effects from the assimilation. "Yes," she admitted. "Just occasional fragments of -- something. Never anything I recognize or can even see very clearly. Today was the first time anything distinct came through, and I doubt it would have happened if I hadn't been directly confronted with the thing I was remembering." Chakotay asked her a few more questions -- were the memories ever disturbing, did they distract her from her duties, et cetera, -- and finally made her swear a solemn oath that she would ask somebody for help if she felt there was the slightest cause for concern. "Now," he said, leaning forward in his chair. "What else?" "What -- makes you think there's something else?" He just looked at her, and she sighed. *I really should know better; he knows me too well.* "I've been having dreams about the assimilation, too," she confessed. She clasped her hands together tightly, a nervous gesture. "But I don't want to talk about them. They're...personal." "Not even with me?" "Not even with you." "THAT personal. I see." He shifted in his chair, studying her. "Do they involve Tom Paris?" *Much too well.* "Yes," she muttered. *I am NOT going to blush.* "B'Elanna." He took a deep breath, and when he spoke he sounded as if it was an effort to keep his voice calm. "What is going on with the two of you?" All the frustration and fear -- and joy -- seemed to coil up inside her, and for a moment she physically couldn't speak. "I don't know," she said finally. "But he looks at me sometimes like nobody ever has, including Javier." *And including you.* She bit her lip and continued. "And when I kiss him, it feels like there's an anti-matter reaction inside of me." "Can you trust him?" "Chakotay, he's our pilot. We trust him with our lives in every battle." "It's not his skills I doubt, B'Elanna. It's his heart." She swallowed, hard. "Who said hearts have anything to do with it?" she demanded. "Or that I need your permission even if they do?" "B'Elanna." Chakotay's voice was gentle, reproving, and she dropped her eyes. "Look, I just don't want you to get hurt -- again." B'Elanna went stiff in her chair, and she started to snap out a furious response -- but then she met Chakotay's eyes, and recognized the genuine concern in them. She sighed, and the anger drained out of her. Of course Chakotay was worried about her -- he was the only one on Voyager who knew about her humiliating experience with Javier. She'd told him about it one night when she was mortally depressed and had far too much to drink. She remembered how comforting Chakotay had been, and how angry on her behalf, and how much she'd needed that. "You're a wonderful woman, B'Elanna. Any smart man should be proud to have you as a partner -- I just don't know that Paris is a smart man." She winced. "I...don't know that he is either," she admitted. *So how dumb am I, for wanting him?* Then B'Elanna felt a hint of mischief stir inside her. "ANY smart man?" she asked with a straight face. "Does that include you?" Chakotay's eyes widened in shock, and -- was that a touch of panic? If not, it was the closest she'd ever seen him come to it. "I -- B'Elanna, I didn't mean--" B'Elanna had to laugh; it wasn't often she could catch him so off- balance. "It's all right, Chakotay. I was joking. You're my dear friend, but you're also my commander. And anyway, you're so damned irritatingly CALM all the time -- it'd drive me crazy inside of two weeks." She smiled, and meant it. She HAD been attracted to Chakotay, once -- but in only in a secret, half-guilty way, and after that wretched alien had given the fantasy concrete form, it had died a quiet death. Partly it had been the embarrassment she'd felt over abandoning her duties for the dream Chakotay. But also, when she'd been forced to truly examine her feelings, they hadn't held up. Her attraction to Chakotay had been born of pure loneliness and the deep respect in which she held him -- she hadn't really wanted HIM, only what he represented -- someone she could safely love. *Besides,* she thought wryly, *I know who HE'S interested in, and it's not me!* She shook her head. "Chakotay, is that all? Because I'd really like to get some sleep." "All right," Chakotay acquiesced, getting up and heading for the door. "Just remember what I said, B'Elanna." Her smile disappeared, and she nodded gravely. "I will," she said softly. If he heard anything unusual in her voice, he didn't show it as he went out. She sat there for a long time after he left, remembering Javier. The sharply handsome face, the coal-black hair and liquid ebony eyes, the smile that had lit her world like sunlight, moonlight, and starlight all combined. The feel of their linked hands, of his lips on hers, of his body so near to her own. And -- the most painful memory of all -- the joy, bright as fire, at finally being accepted, being truly wanted. The joy that had blinded her to all common sense, had made her forget that this romance was far too good to be true. Until the day she'd found him with Carlota -- delicate, blond, brainless Carlota -- and he'd finally told her the truth, utterly indifferent to her feelings. *"You actually thought I was
serious, Torres?...had a bet on with Sandro...wanted to see if it was true what they say about Klingons...just a game, Chica, that's all...."* She'd stood there, mouth hanging open like an idiot, blank with shock and unwilling to believe what she was hearing. Laughing, he'd dismissed her completely and turned back to Carlota -- a mistake; with the laughter came comprehension, and with comprehension came rage. Her fists had silenced the laughter, and his handsome face was no longer so handsome by the time his friends had managed to drag her off of him. White-faced, she'd shaken off the hands on her and stalked back to her mother's house, and there, alone in her room, she'd cried the tears she'd refused to shed in public. A week later, she'd applied to Starfleet, and within a month she was gone. But the emotional damage had already been done. At eighteen, she'd had no experience with romance; there'd never before been anyone who was interested in her. Javier had been her first. She hadn't loved him, but for a brief time she'd trusted him and cared for him. Discovering that he had never cared for her -- never really wanted her at all -- had left deep emotional wounds that had never healed completely. He'd been her last, as well, for after having been burned so badly she'd never dared to try again. *And now?* Now there was Paris. Paris, who at worst was a cowardly, lying traitor, and who at best was an arrogant, irresponsible hotshot. Paris, who'd held her gently as she slept, and never tried to take advantage; who'd invaded her dreams; who'd kissed her as though his life depended on it. Paris, who'd called up feelings in her far stronger than those she'd experienced for Javier -- feelings that left her more terrified than any Cardassian warship. *How could I open up to him? How could I trust him?* *Just a game, Chica.* Javier's words sounded again in her head. And again -- but this time it was Paris' voice, in his most mocking tones. *Just a game, B'Elanna.* Over and over the phrase repeated, voices mixing and swirling in her head until she couldn't tell one from the other. *Oh gods!* "Just a game," she whispered, and closed her burning eyes. *No. No. I can't risk this.* *Risk? Isn't that what you want, what you are? Part of being Maquis, part of being yourself?* *Not like this, not with him. The stakes are too high. Love hurts too much to take any chances. And Chakotay's right; I can't trust him. No, from now on I'll stay as far away from Paris as duty will allow.* A sensible, intelligent decision. But one that gave her no satisfaction. Part of her wanted to take something and smash it, but she couldn't summon up the energy. *What makes me think he's even really interested? So we kissed a couple times; so what? We were under stress and stuck together, and Paris has overactive hormones anyway. But we're not on the holodeck or in a Borg cell now. Why should he care about me when he can chase the Delaney sisters around the ship?* A small voice inside her protested that she was being unfair, but she was in no mood to listen it. She opened her eyes and rose wearily from her chair, glancing around her quarters once more before she went to bed. Not long after his talk with B'Elanna, Chakotay decided to seek out Tom Paris, to have a little 'chat'. "Computer, Where is Lieutenant Paris?" "Lieutenant Paris is in the mess hall." Without thinking twice, the commander headed in that direction.