AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

We'll have a very short time jump coming up (with anything important filled in) so we can keep moving forward! You can get an idea, though, about where J/C and Caryl are so far (at least, I hope you can), and you can probably see how our new unofficial crewmembers of Voyager will be settling in.

Now, I think, it's time to start seeing life "progressing" on Voyager. (Just a reminder to those who watch Voyager, I'll be playing real fast and loose with the show progression/episodes/etc. I'm using some things, but most of this is just my imagination.)

I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think!

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Chakotay worried that Daryl might be entirely exhausted before his day had officially begun. The physicals had consisted mostly of some questions and some relatively non-invasive medical treatment. Still, Daryl had been clearly torn between his desire to be something of a gentleman with a "ladies first" attitude, and his desire to inspect and approve everything before the EMH even got close to Carol. In the end, Daryl had gone first, and it was only once he was satisfied that nothing heinous would occur that Carol took her turn with the doctor.

Chakotay could understand his concerns, though.

Chakotay had never been in love—at least not before.

He had entertained women in life, of course. He'd had a few passing and short-lived romances. He'd never been in love, though. Not before.

Mostly he'd lived with his anger. He'd lived with his disgust at the cruelty and injustice in the world. He'd courted the idea of revenge for everything he ever thought needed to be avenged.

It was difficult to love when everything inside you was churning with an anger that was just barely kept under control.

All that had changed the day a viewscreen had brought Kathryn Janeway into his life. She represented much of what had made him angry, really, and he should have hated her, perhaps. The first few days they'd known each other, he'd told himself that his lack of hatred toward her was borne of the fact that they were trapped together and needed to make the best of a bad situation. He told himself that his respect for her was borne from the fact that she was striving to be fair to all of them—even though the Maquis were technically her prisoners. He'd done his best to ignore the electricity that crackled through his body any time she drew near to him.

Now he no longer lied to himself. There was no need to tell himself make believe stories about his feelings. He was very much in touch with himself—and his spirit guides—and his feelings for Kathryn Janeway couldn't remain hidden too long—at least not from himself.

She'd taken him into her confidence fairly soon after they'd met. She'd trusted him as a friend and first officer. She'd let, for one evening, her guard down long enough to very briefly to admit that she was as human as everyone else aboard the ship. Though she kept the proverbial stiff upper lip for the good of everyone aboard Voyager, she had feelings beneath the surface that she tried to keep carefully concealed. Chakotay understood, better than most, about concealing feelings—though he had found a calm in Kathryn Janeway's presence that he had rarely known in his life before seeing her. She'd lamented, to him and in private, the loss of a life that she'd loved and a future that she'd dreamed of—even counted on. She had been sparse in her details, but she'd let him in on enough to make it clear that he'd been privy, if only for a moment, to some of the deeper parts of the woman.

She had accepted his comfort, though she hadn't asked for it. The only thing she'd asked for was that he call her Kathryn. Just that once. Just for a moment. Just while they were alone and she was needing to peel back the bandages and nurse the wounds she'd only nursed in private—just while she was allowing him to be an audience to her suffering. She had wanted the comfort of hearing her name said with some measure of affection.

And it had tasted so sweet on Chakotay's tongue that nothing else had satisfied his cravings for three days afterwards. He'd said her name, to himself and in private, in his quarters many times since. Only once or twice, only when he was absolutely sure she needed it, and only when they were entirely without witnesses, he allowed himself to say her name to her face.

She would never know that he said it alone.

She would never know that he dreamed of saying it with the same casual comfort that Daryl used to say Carol's name every chance he got.

Chakotay understood Daryl's need to protect Carol from anything that might prove dangerous—even though, as Kathryn had said, Carol seemed confident in her surroundings and more than capable of taking care of herself, at least as much as anyone else was—because he felt the same.

Kathryn Janeway didn't need Chakotay's protection. She didn't need anyone's protection. She certainly didn't require the chivalrous attitude of a man willing to die for her.

But Chakotay would have died for her, without regret and without hesitation.

So, he understood Daryl's need to make sure that nothing was threatening Carol. He also understood the warning in Daryl's eyes as he observed what was taking place around him.

Chakotay's gut told him that Daryl knew what it was like, too, to live with an anger that had spent most of his life boiling just beneath his surface and, perhaps, he knew what it was like to find the one thing that somehow calmed that boiling.

It made Chakotay hopeful, too, that Daryl would eventually come to understand the Chief Engineer he'd be working with after breakfast.

"So, these Klingons fight with everyone?" Carol asked, chewing through her breakfast casserole with more contentment than Daryl showed over the meal.

"Yes and no," Chakotay said. "They're a warring species and, historically, they were enemies of the Federation. There's a treaty between the Klingons and the Federation now. Of course, there are still certain Klingons that are problematic in the Alpha Quadrant. As a species, they're still a warrior species. As such, they tend to be…" He hesitated to find something that would make clear what he was trying to say without painting Klingons in a terribly unflattering light. "Hot-headed," he offered finally.

Carol laughed. He only had to look at her for her to sense his question. She shrugged.

"Being hot-headed is hardly some kind of horrible crime," Carol said. "Unless things have really changed a lot in the past—three hundred years or whatever."

"A lot has changed," Chakotay offered. "I don't expect you to understand all that's taken place in the years since the Millennium Plague. Suffice it to say, simply, that the world that you knew desperately sought peace and tranquility in the wake of so much violence and destruction. The new leaders wanted a world where their children and grandchildren would never need to know the amount of death and destruction that they'd known."

"And the whole world sang some Kum-bah-yah shit together?" Daryl asked. He'd suddenly found a certain zeal for his breakfast casserole, and he spoke around a mouthful of it. Chakotay forced himself to hold his features steady and not to offer a bit of disgust at his lack of table manners.

Daryl was also enjoying his coffee—as long as Neelix didn't tell him that the pot it had been poured from was replicated.

Chakotay laughed at the sincerity of the question, though, because he understood all the feeling that was disguised behind it.

"Not at all," Chakotay offered. "There's been nothing but conflicts and wars since your time. We continue to want peace and tranquility, but…"

"But that ain't who the hell we are as humans," Daryl offered.

"Or as many other species," Chakotay said. "It would seem. In fact, humans are some of the more docile species we've encountered. Many others cause a great deal more conflict than humans do—at least these days."

"Like these Klingons?" Carol asked.

"Like the Klingons have," Chakotay said. "Some people still have a very negative reaction to Klingons—even those who want peace. And they can be somewhat prejudiced against the species. It makes it difficult for Klingons who are seeking to be seen as more than a stereotype, I supposed."

"Your engineer person…" Daryl said.

Chakotay didn't know if it was a question or the lost beginning to a statement. It didn't matter. Daryl was already eating again, and he showed no interest in returning to his words.

"B'Elanna is half-human and half-Klingon," Chakotay said. "And, like most individuals, she'd prefer not to be judged by that."

Daryl hummed.

"Don't wanna be judged by where the hell you come from," he said with a laugh. He shrugged his shoulders. "Guess not too damn much has changed in a few hundred years after all."

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"Would you like to stop staring sometime soon?" B'Elanna asked.

She was showing a good bit of restraint—likely because Kathryn had already asked her to do so, and B'Elanna liked Kathryn a great deal more than she'd originally suspected she might and, therefore, wanted to make her happy. Still, it was clear that she was not entirely thrilled with everything she'd been asked to do.

"Sorry," Daryl said. He seemed to genuinely mean the apology, as well, but his eyes only flicked away from B'Elanna a moment before they returned to settle on her again.

Chakotay cleared his throat loudly to draw the attention of the half-Klingon that had served under him for years and had been, as well, someone he considered a close friend.

"We have to remember that Daryl is from a pre-Warp time," Chakotay said.

"So I've been reminded three times this morning," B'Elanna said with as much feigned lightness as she could muster.

"He's never heard of a Klingon until breakfast," Chakotay offered. "Your mother's whole species is new to him."

B'Elanna gritted her teeth and offered Chakotay a smile that he knew to be entirely artificial.

"And if he doesn't stop staring at me," B'Elanna said, "he's going to have a very intimate understanding of Klingons."

Chakotay lowered his brows at her in warning. She understood. He wanted her to behave. Kathryn wanted her to behave. If she reacted violently—especially when she wasn't being threatened and was hardly being inconvenienced—she would absolutely be marched to Kathryn's ready room for a long conversation, and a suitable dressing down, over her behavior.

She didn't want that.

Her features softened and she growled.

Daryl laughed.

In all his life, Chakotay had never known anyone so utterly un-bothered by Klingons. Maybe it was because he knew nothing of the species, but Daryl seemed intrigued by B'Elanna and not at all threatened by her.

"What the hell you so damned irritable for?" Daryl asked. "I haven't done a fucking thing to you."

"You're staring at me!" B'Elanna said loudly.

Chakotay glanced around. The engineering crew—B'Elanna's crew—was hard at work. If they weren't hard at work, they were at least all wise enough to pretend to be temporarily deaf. They were removed from the heart of things, since Chakotay had drawn B'Elanna to the side for introductions, but they weren't far enough removed for him to believe that nobody going on about their tasks could hear what was taking place.

"I'm sorry," Daryl offered, again, sincerely. "It's just you got the…" He gestured to his own forehead.

"Is he serious?" B'Elanna asked, directing her question toward Chakotay.

"Hey—you might be pissed 'cause I'm lookin' at your face," Daryl said, "but I could be pissed that you won't even talk to me like I'm a human being. So, don't act like you the only damned one around here that's got any business bein' pissed off!"

The amount of restraint B'Elanna showed was a tribute to her dedication to having a good report with her captain. Every single muscle in her body visibly tensed, though, and Chakotay was certain that she was having visions of finding out if she was capable of hurling the man across engineering.

"OK—I'll say it directly to you," she said, after composing herself for a moment. "Stop staring at my ridges."

"If I can ask one question—I swear I won't stare no more," Daryl offered.

B'Elanna looked at Chakotay and Chakotay shrugged.

"The only way we grow in understanding is through asking questions," he offered.

B'Elanna relaxed a little. She relaxed a little more as she seemed to consider it. Maybe she was realizing that Daryl was, in fact, not attempting to insult her in any way. He'd neither said nor done a single thing that could even be considered insulting.

"What do you want to know?" B'Elanna asked, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

Daryl visibly relaxed and his stare softened to simply appear like he was trying to hold B'Elanna's eyes. He nodded his head gently.

"Is it bone or cartilage?" He asked.

B'Elanna seemed genuinely taken aback. She stared at him, a moment, and then dropped her arms.

Chakotay bit the inside of his mouth to keep from showing any reaction at all.

B'Elanna hadn't been asked a lot of genuine questions in her life. Maybe she only needed something like that to be reminded that Daryl had no prejudices against her. His only question was one of curiosity and an attempt to simply know more.

B'Elanna relaxed, though it was clear she was still a bit defensive. She stammered, a second, before she confidently responded to the question.

"It's bone," she said.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"That's pretty badass," he offered.

The slightest hint of a smile flickered across B'Elanna's lips. She wouldn't let it stay there, though, and it was gone before it had hardly fully blossomed.

"What makes you think you belong in engineering?" B'Elanna asked. "Do you even know what a warp core is? Impulse engines?"

Daryl shrugged.

"Not exactly," Daryl said. "But I've done a fair amount of tinkering with different engines before. And I learn quick."

B'Elanna looked at Chakotay and raised her eyebrows.

"I'm supposed to use someone who's tinkered with engines three hundred years ago and learns 'quick'?" B'Elanna asked.

Daryl bristled slightly at her tone.

"Hey," he said. "You don't judge me for grammar and shit—for who I am and where I come from—and I won't judge you for what I know about your species? Deal?"

Chakotay smiled to himself.

"I think everything's going to work out fine here," he said. "But—if you need me, just give me a call. Either one of you. Daryl knows how to work his combadge."

Chakotay laughed to himself as he walked away to check on other things around the ship and to give Daryl and B'Elanna the chance to get to know one another and negotiate their differences without an audience.

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AN: Just a word to everyone, but this isn't going to be super slow-burn for anyone. I'm more interested in the after effects than the slow burn. I hope that I've at least made it a little clear that there's been some burning before the story started.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think!