AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

For those of you who don't know me/my writing (if this is your first story, welcome!), I focus on the main characters, but I do include "supporting cast" for my stories. Please be aware of that. Other characters will play parts throughout the story.

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

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"So, this is what a Klingon looks like," Daryl mused.

He walked around the Klingon and it snarled at him. He jumped. He hadn't expected it to do that just yet. B'Elanna laughed quietly, and he forgave her the laughter at his expense.

"It's in selection mode," B'Elanna said. "He can't do anything but go through some pre-set motions. It's just for choosing opponents. Besides—safety protocols are on and functioning."

"The hell does that mean?" Daryl asked, finishing his walk around the Klingon male and coming back to stand near B'Elanna.

"Safety protocols mean that nothing in the holodeck can hurt you," B'Elanna said. "It's like a three-dimensional game, but you can't be truly injured in any way."

"Does that mean I can't learn to fight with 'em?" Daryl asked.

"It just means that it'll be like training and not like high stakes combat," B'Elanna said. She smiled at him. "And with a little Dixon on the way, I think Carol would prefer it if I didn't put you in any games where you're at risk of being disemboweled."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Touché, Klingon," he teased. "I'd hate to lose your ass in a world full of Walkers, too, when the time comes, so it's probably for the better. This asshole—he look like your old man?"

"My old man?" She asked.

"Your old man," Daryl repeated. "Your father. You know."

B'Elanna frowned, and Daryl wondered if he'd said something wrong. The frown didn't fade entirely, but B'Elanna lightened a little.

"My father was human," B'Elanna said. "My mother's a Klingon. Computer—load Program Opponent KAF02."

There was a beep from the computer and the angry male Klingon that Daryl had circled vanished. He was immediately replaced by a female of the same species.

"This your Ma?" Daryl asked.

"My mother is a Klingon," B'Elanna said, "but not this Klingon. I just—randomly generated figures."

"I guess you don't wanna fight your parents," Daryl offered.

"I wouldn't necessarily say that," B'Elanna said. "But I come here to…escape?"

Daryl nodded at her and circled the female Klingon. He didn't jump, this time, when she growled at him and somewhat lunged in his direction as a threat.

"Can you put the other one back? For if we're gonna fight?" Daryl asked.

B'Elanna smiled. There was some mischief there. Daryl already knew she was going to give him hell, and he was already excited about it. B'Elanna knew how to dish it out, but she also knew how to take it, and that was refreshing. She clearly appreciated, too, that Daryl didn't back away even when she simply needed to blow off steam. This wasn't about blowing off steam, though. This was simply friendly teasing, and Daryl was more than prepared to handle that.

"A female warrior's too much for a cowboy like you?" She teased.

"I don't like hittin' women," Daryl said. "Kind of—a thing I got."

"If you're determined to travel the universe fighting Klingons," B'Elanna offered, "or any aliens, really, then that's a thing you might want to get over. Most females aren't going to be holding back just because of their biological sex."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Don't I know it," he said. "Dedicated my life to one damn female that would kill you as soon as look at you if she didn't see some other way around it. I didn't say I wouldn't hit women—not if there's no avoiding it—just that I'd rather not. So, for the sake of learnin' to fight a Klingon, I'd prefer it if you put the other one back. Besides—if I can beat him, I can beat her, right?"

B'Elanna hummed to herself.

"Computer—reload previous opponent," she commanded. The computer complied immediately. Daryl stepped away from the simulation and lit a cigarette for himself. He put some distance between himself and B'Elanna to try to be polite, in case she was bothered before the filters cleared the air, but she stepped close to him, clearly unbothered. "Klingon males are traditionally stronger, physically, but Klingon females to tend to be the more vicious and cunning warriors."

Daryl smiled to himself.

"Ain't that the same no matter the species?" He asked. B'Elanna arched an eyebrow at him in question. "Everybody who knows shit about animals knows that—there ain't a damn thing fiercer, in any species, than a mother defendin' her young. And, in a lot of species, the second most ferocious thing is a female that's defendin' her mate or her clan or whatever."

"Are you suggesting that Klingons are animals?" B'Elanna challenged. It wasn't sincere. Daryl could see exactly what it was. He'd refused to fight her, when they'd first come in the holodeck, as his first opponent. Now she wanted to do a little verbal sparring since he wouldn't accept a training weapon from her to go straight for her literal throat.

"I'm suggestin' we all animals," Daryl said. "Listen—there's no damn need in me hidin' it, or playin' coy, or whatever the hell you wanna call it. I told you already that I love Carol. Hell—I'm glad to finally be able to say it. I love her so much that…so much that it scares me. It's scared me for a long ass time. But—Carol? She's sweet. Soft. Friendly. Every damn thing you want her to be. And she'll be that. Anything and everything you want her to be. But she'll also rip your throat out if she don't see no other way around. So—don't be fooled, and don't back her up against no wall." He shook his head at her. "Especially not now. After everything she's lost before?"

"What happened?" B'Elanna asked. "Out there? To you. To both of you."

Daryl shook his head.

"You don't got time for that shit if we're gonna do some fightin' before your next shift starts. Suffice it to say that we both lost everything and everyone we ever gave a shit about. Only good thing that come outta the plague was findin' each other," Daryl said. "Hell—it weren't like neither one of us went into it with a whole lot, but anything we had, we lost. Carol's been through four kids. She loved 'em and she lost 'em in some of the ugliest damn ways your nightmares could make you think of. That livin' hell y'all call the Millennium Plague took all of 'em—one way or another." He walked over to one of the receptacles that functioned like trash cans that, oddly enough, never had to be emptied. B'Elanna had explained to him that, essentially, absolutely everything was recycled these days. He dropped the cigarette into the receptacle. "That shit can't happen again. She don't lose this one. We don't lose this one."

"Hey—you've got a whole crew on your side now," B'Elanna offered, her tone softer than before. She smirked, though, making it clear that she intended only to be compassionate, but not to drastically change her behavior. "Even a half-Klingon, if that's worth anything."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Worth at least somethin'," he offered.

"Honestly, though," B'Elanna said, her facial expression and change of tone shifting to something more sincere, "I think—it's wonderful." Daryl only had to make a face at her for her to clarify what she meant. "The way you clearly feel about Carol. The way she must feel about you, too, but…just that you see her for exactly what she is. You can say that—she might be a lot to handle, but you're happy with that. You support the existence of that part of her."

"More'n support it," Daryl said. "It's what the hell she had to do to survive. I wanted her to survive."

B'Elanna nodded.

"My point is—that's the way it should be," B'Elanna said. She looked back over her shoulder at the Klingon suspended in something of a shining beam of light while he hovered in some kind of select mode. He was a program—something pretend—and, as such, he didn't have the sentience to know that he wasn't real. He went through the motions he'd been programmed to perform while trapped there, waiting to be chosen. B'Elanna watched him a second before looking back at Daryl. "My father left when I was young," she said. "He said—it was too much. Living with my mother and I. Living with two Klingon women—it was too much."

Daryl's stomach twisted.

He wasn't that great with comforting people. He tried. And, certainly, the time he'd spent in what he now knew would be called the Millennium Plague had taught him a little more about comforting people than he'd learned growing up. The only thing he really had to draw from, when it came to figuring out what to say to somebody, was to imagine what he would want to hear—or maybe what he wished that someone had said to him when he'd needed similar comfort.

It was clear that, for the sake of his friendship with B'Elanna, he was going to have to say something. She was putting this out there for him as an offering, of sorts. Luckily, this was an area where he felt he had something to draw on.

"That don't mean shit about you," Daryl said. "Or your Ma. If he left—it don't mean that you were too much. Means—he weren't enough." A hint of a smile played at B'Elanna's lips. "You know—Tom saw you fightin' with Vorik," Daryl offered. "And I just gotta say that…I don't see him shyin' away none because of it."

"We're just—friends," B'Elanna offered. Daryl laughed to himself.

"You and me are just friends," Daryl responded. "Tom? If you just friends, it's 'cause you decided that's what you want. That's all I'ma say. But—just 'cause your old man was an asshole? That don't mean that there's anything wrong with you."

"You sound like the authority on assholes," B'Elanna teased after a sigh.

"My old man was an asshole, too," Daryl said. "It took Carol to make me realize that—it weren't about me. Not really."

"He left?" B'Elanna asked.

Daryl shook his head.

"Mostly he just taught me that, sometimes, there's worse things than leavin'," Daryl offered. B'Elanna gave him a somber expression.

"I'm sorry," she offered.

"Don't be," Daryl said.

"Don't bullshit me and tell me you're over it," B'Elanna said sharply and quickly. "I know that—it doesn't go away."

"You right," Daryl said. "It don't. But rather than think about what kinda fuckin' shit show my life's been up until now? I wanna focus on—what the hell's comin'." He shrugged his shoulders. "I've got Carol. We've got a kid that's, for fuckin' real, on the way right now. Like the little thing has a heartbeat and everything. Shit—I guess, it don't go away. You're right about that. But, maybe it just don't matter. And—hell—maybe the asshole done somethin' decent with his life, because he sure as shit taught me what the hell kinda—Daddy I wanna be, and what the hell I don't wanna be, too."

"You're going to be a wonderful Daddy," B'Elanna offered.

Daryl felt his face flush warm. Those words were better than any comfort she could try to offer him over his asshole old man or the nightmare that had been his life up to now.

"Thanks," he offered sincerely. "Maybe you remind Carol of that if she ever gets to doubtin' it," he teased.

B'Elanna laughed to herself.

"I'll remember to mention it when I go for lunch," she said. "Along with my congratulations—just in case."

"You gonna teach me how to fight Klingons? So, I can get around to helpin' you rig up a program for your boyfriend that you're determined to keep sayin' is just a friend?" Daryl asked.

"Don't you dare," B'Elanna said, pointing her finger at Daryl. He smiled to himself.

"I don't make promises I can't keep," Daryl said.

"I'll take a bat'leth after you," B'Elanna warned, barely able to contain the smile that she was doing her best to hide under the ferocious Klingon countenance that she could pull off well—at least when she was sincere.

Daryl hummed at her.

"Then you better hurry up an' teach me how to fight Klingons," Daryl said. "So, I know I got a fightin' chance."