AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

If you missed it, I posted another chapter earlier today, so please make sure you read them both!

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

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"I'm a terrible cook," Kathryn said apologetically as she scraped fish scales off of the fish that she would later add to the pile for Carol to simply season with the replicated seasonings and put to cook on the little barbecue that Daryl had created for her out of replicated pieces. Carol's part of watching the fish until they were cooked might last a little longer than Kathryn's shared job of cleaning the fish, but it wasn't as though it was a great deal more effort.

"We're basically watching the fish while they cook," Carol said. She shrugged her shoulders and continued her messy work beside Kathryn. "It's not that hard, but I can teach you to cook."

"I didn't have time to learn before," Kathryn said. "I was going to be a Starfleet captain. I dreamed about it—forever. I was always dedicated to my studies, and we had a replicator. My mother prepared some food without a replicator, but I was truly a child of the twenty-fourth century. I always had a reason not to learn."

"And you became a Starfleet captain," Carol offered. "A very good one."

"For a short while," Kathryn said. She laughed to herself and Carol didn't believe the laugh at all. She was no psychiatrist, but she believed that Kathryn was definitely going to need time to come to terms with things. Carol and Daryl had discussed that, in some words, while they'd spent a little time holding hands across the distance between their cots and trying to fall asleep the night before.

"All things must come to an end," Carol said.

"If I can figure out how to replicate whatever is keeping us healthy here," Kathryn said, "then we could catch up to Voyager before she gets too far away."

Carol hummed.

She wasn't telling the woman, right now, that she had no intention whatsoever of crawling into the small machine that they called a shuttlecraft. It was closed-in and small. Carol found it difficult to breathe just looking at the thing.

"The planet is nice," Carol offered. "Paradise. So even if you don't find a solution…"

Kathryn laughed to herself.

"You're talking like you're already content to live here," she mused.

"My whole life has taught me that a location won't bring you happiness, Kathryn," Carol offered. "But people might. It's also taught me that happiness can be temporary, so you better hold onto it while you have it. Enjoy the hell out of every little second of it, if you can. I'm happy right now. And that's—it's not something that I always have or that I…always get to keep. So, I'm going to hold onto it. I've wasted it before. I'm not going to waste it this time."

"The planet makes you happy because it reminds you of home?" Kathryn asked.

Carol's stomach flipped and her breathing immediately picked up. She scolded herself quietly for having the reaction of a schoolgirl. Of course, she also reminded herself that, with eighty or so more years to live, she was hardly to be considered much older than a school girl by any old ways of looking at things.

"If it's not too—too ridiculous to say," Carol offered, pausing, apparently, long enough for Kathryn to feel like she needed to interject.

"Nothing's too ridiculous for you to say to me," Kathryn assured her. "I won't judge you."

"Daryl makes me happy," Carol said. "I think—he might be my home. Maybe—home isn't a place at all."

"That doesn't sound ridiculous at all," Kathryn offered. "It sounds—wonderful."

Carol put the cleaned fish to the side and took another from the pile of ones they had left to clean. She carefully scratched her nose by craning to brush it with her shoulder, wanting to avoid smearing everything from the fish all over her face.

"You could make a life here, too," Carol offered gently.

"All I know is being a captain," Kathryn said.

"That's bullshit and you know it," Carol said. She was suddenly surprised at her words and, judging from Kathryn's expression, Kathryn wasn't expecting to have Carol speak so candidly to her. "I'm sorry," Carol offered softly. "But—you had a life outside of Starfleet, Kathryn."

"Barely," Kathryn offered. "I was a Starfleet brat. My whole life has revolved around Starfleet."

"And now it doesn't," Carol said. "Now you're Kathryn Janeway—just…just that. Before the…before the plague? I was a housewife. My whole life revolved around making my abusive husband happy. And I never could make him happy. Because no matter what I did? He didn't stop beating the hell out of me because he was slightly inconvenienced by something in his existence."

"Carol—I'm sorry," Kathryn said.

"I don't want your pity," Carol said. "That's not my point. My point is that we change, Kathryn. We adapt. And maybe you thought your whole life was going to be Starfleet, but it isn't. I mean—it was. You did what you were supposed to do. You fought the good fight or whatever. You've done your duty. So—at ease, Captain."

Kathryn laughed to herself and traded a clean fish for the next one she quickly gutted.

"Are you sure you're not Starfleet?" She teased.

Carol laughed and shook her head.

"Who did you want to be, Kathryn?" Carol asked. "You said you were going to marry that man in the picture."

"Mark," Kathryn said.

"Who did you want to be when you married Mark?" Carol asked.

Kathryn sighed deeply after considering it a moment.

"A wife," she said. "A mother. And a Starfleet captain. I wanted to be it all. I don't think I knew how to be me without being Starfleet."

Carol laughed.

"Well—you can have all that if you want it. Once a day you can…give me an order or something," Carol said. "And—I'll still call you captain if it makes you feel better."

Kathryn laughed, but after a second of scraping the fish, the smile turned to a deep frown.

"If we stay here, we'll never see Earth again," Kathryn said.

"Paradise isn't so bad," Carol said softly. "Like I said—home is…a state of mind, Kathryn."

"We'll never see our families again," Kathryn said.

Carol nodded.

"It's hard," she said. "I know. I said goodbye to mine a long time ago. The real one and—to so many people I've accepted as family. Probably like you felt about your crew. But—we're not alone here. We can have a new family."

Kathryn smiled at her sincerely, though there were very clearly tears glistening in her eyes.

"I'm happy to have met you, Carol," Kathryn said. "And—I'm glad we're not alone…so we can—make a new family."

"Same," Carol offered. "Still, I know it's hard. Take your time. Just remember—there's more to you than just being a captain or just being a part of Starfleet or whatever. You're a whole person. And there's a whole lot more to you than that."

"I like the idea of that. But I'd still like to keep doing my research," Kathryn said.

"Everyone needs hobbies," Carol said, shrugging. Kathryn laughed to herself.

"And—I wouldn't mind learning to cook," Kathryn said.

Carol smiled at her.

"Now's as good a time as any to start," Carol said. "And you're already good at the hard part. You'll be making breakfast in no time."

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"You're sure it's safe?" Carol asked with a laugh when Daryl had situated both their cot mattresses onto the bed frame. The bed was made up. The blankets and pillows were piled on. It was waiting for them.

"You doubtin' the ability of both of us combined?" Daryl asked.

"I'm just asking," Carol said with a shrug.

"Chakotay's actually really fuckin' skilled at buildin' shit," Daryl said. "He said he's been buildin' structures and furniture since he could hold a hammer. He weren't lyin'. Spent two days makin' this thing. Sandin' it. Longest part was cuttin' the boards. Thank God for the replicator makin' every damn tool he could dream up."

"I never thought I'd hear you happy to have a replicator," Carol teased.

"Go ahead, woman," Daryl said, pushing her gently toward the bed. "Try it out."

Carol went and sat on the edge of the bed. The wooden frame that Daryl and Chakotay had wrestled into their bedroom didn't immediately break. It didn't even creak or wiggle. She relaxed into her position.

"Well?" Daryl asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm impressed," Carol said. "It was nice of Chakotay to help us—you know—build a bed."

"I owe him," Daryl said. "Workin' on a project."

"Another one out in the woods?" Carol asked.

Daryl hummed and laughed to himself. He took off his pajama shirt and put it on top of the dresser that had been beamed down as part of their modular home. Carol already knew what was on his mind, and she was in no mood to be coy, so she started unbuttoning her own pajama shirt. She'd really only needed the pajamas to keep her covered on the walk from the river, where they'd both chosen to bathe, back to the house.

Their to-do list was a mile long and they were constantly adding to it. There was a great deal that they needed to do to get everything set up and established so that they could settle in and live as quietly as nature would allow them all to live. They had discovered that, near their home, there lived a large amount of various kinds of birds. One kind was short, fat, and apparently unable to fly. They'd tested them, eating a small amount of the meat and waiting to see what happened, and they'd found that they were completely edible. Nobody got sick from the meat.

There were also odd rodent type creatures that reminded Carol of what might happen if tiny kangaroos and mice could mate. They were edible, and easy to snare.

In addition, they were already planning how and where to start to plant their seeds. They didn't know about the growing season, but some of the seeds were dormant—and therefore could wait until they were surer of their surroundings—while others were already germinating and needed to go into the ground. It was cool at night, but quite warm during the day. Their only hope was that it would be fine for the seeds, but they were prepared to cover them every night, if they had to, to try to save as many as they could.

With their free time, when they weren't all involved with what might end up being the difference between life and death for the whole of their very small group, they were invested in other activities. Kathryn worked with her experiments—which had not yielded any hopeful results in the past few days—and Carol helped her for company more than anything else. Daryl and Chakotay had been, without explanation, hiding in the woods and acting very secretive about their practices. Now, they all knew that they'd been building the bed frame as a surprise for Carol.

"You know—if you two keep hiding in the woods in your boys' club," Carol teased, "I'm going to start thinking there's something going on there and I'm just—getting in the way."

Daryl ignored her comment entirely and came to the bed—having already shed his pajamas and clearly without any interest in being coy—and pushed her backward as he practically crawled on top of her and over her to make his way onto the bed. She lifted herself up, as he gave her enough freedom to move, and worked her way out of everything she had left, dropping it over the side.

"It's a little cool," she said.

"We have blankets," Daryl assured her. He didn't cover her with a blanket, though. Instead, he touched her face before he kissed it.

She moved toward him and he gladly welcomed her. She tugged at the blanket and he stopped kissing her long enough to help them both under the blanket. Then he came back to her, kissing her lazily. It was clear he had no intention of rushing things—and they'd replicated tons of fuel for the lanterns to last them until they found an oil supply that would burn well, so he didn't even feel pressed to release Carol from the making out long enough for her to blow out their bedside lantern.

"So far, so good," Carol breathed out. "The bed's not falling."

"We'll test it good," Daryl teased. "Then we'll know for sure."

He dropped a hand between her legs to let her know—in case, by some chance, she wasn't able to figure things out—what he was talking about.

"What about Kathryn and Chakotay?" Carol asked. "Do you think they can hear us?"

Daryl laughed to himself.

"I don't really give a shit," he admitted. "Do you care that much?"

"I just don't know—is it rude?" Carol asked.

"Ain't rude," Daryl assured her. "If anything, it's an act of friendship. Comradery. Fuckin' support. If they can hear us, they can consider that shit inspiration."

Carol laughed.

"You're awful," she teased.

"Just too damn old to give a damn," Daryl said.

"I thought you were young now," Carol said. "I thought we both were. Practically teenagers."

Daryl hummed.

"That, too. Too damn young to give a damn. And some people need all the help they can get. Need a fuckin' nudge or—a good, hard shove."

"Not at all like us," Carol teased.

"Thank God for matin' fever," Daryl said. He covered her mouth with his own. He wanted to make it clear that he was tired of discussion. Carol returned the kiss, and she moaned her appreciation into his mouth as he squeezed her breast and teased her nipple. "Come on," Daryl said, tugging her toward him and changing his position. "Let's see how our buildin' skills hold up under pressure."