AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

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

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"You're sure it's safe?" Daryl asked. He knew that the doctor was annoyed with him, and he knew that he'd already asked the question once before, but seeing him arranging tools and materials, the purposes of which Daryl couldn't even begin to imagine, on a little table next to Carol was starting to make him nervous.

There was a curtain surrounding them for privacy, Carol was dressed in a hospital gown and a blanket was draped over her so that her whole middle was visible to everyone. And this was starting to feel like something that simply made Daryl uncomfortable and worried.

"I'm certain it's as safe as it can be, Daryl," the doctor said, his programming finally reminding him that Daryl would rather not spend the entire day being referred to as "Mr. Dixon."

"Yeah, but as safe as it can be don't necessarily mean it's safe. I mean—anything is as safe as it can be. Maybe you got some odds?"

"Daryl…" Carol said. From the bed where she seemed entirely relaxed, no matter how much preparation the doctor engaged in.

"There is approximately a two percent chance that anything could go wrong," the doctor said, "which would result in some sort of damage to either Carol or your baby. Is that specific enough to help calm your concerns."

"Two percent is still somethin'-could-happen percent," Daryl said.

"Carol has the same chance of stepping outside of sickbay and—and being attacked by a Bolian rajinherck—none of which are on board the ship. Very little in the world is impossible, even if it's highly unlikely."

Daryl furrowed his brow at the doctor.

"Yeah well, I don't know what the hell that thing you just mentioned is," Daryl said. "But I know this matters to me."

It was Kes that approached him, then, all smiles and looking like she intended to sprinkle him with fairy dust and happy flakes. She didn't sprinkle anything on him. Instead, she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"The doctor is very concerned about the future of the little ones on Voyager," Kes said. "And he would never act in a way that's not best for his patients. I think what he's trying to say is that—there are risks to everything we do, but these aren't significant enough to worry about."

"That's exactly what he's trying to say, Daryl," Carol offered. "Come here. Hold my hand."

Daryl had promised her he'd be there to do just that. He broke away from Kes and took Carol's hand.

"You OK?" He asked. "You scared?"

Carol smiled at him and shook her head.

"I'm not scared at all. I'm—thrilled. We're making sure our family can grow, Daryl. If that's what we want."

"That's precisely what you're doing," the doctor said. "I think we're ready to begin. Whenever you're ready, Carol…"

"Does it hurt?" Daryl asked. Carol hadn't even asked the question. It had been the least of her concerns. She'd simply wanted to know if it would hurt the baby and, hearing that it wouldn't, she'd seemed content to ask no more questions.

"It won't hurt at all," the doctor assured Daryl, turning his head to assure Carol, as well. "There may be some cramping afterward, but we'll be prescribing you a gentle muscle relaxer to keep that from being problematic or even too uncomfortable."

"That won't hurt the baby?" Carol asked.

"The cramping shouldn't be severe enough to be problematic," the doctor said. "The medicine should keep any cramping under control, and isn't harmful to the fetus—the baby. The worst you may experience is some possible mild discomfort, of which your baby will be unaware."

"I'm getting nervous now," Carol admitted.

"You sure you wanna do it?" Daryl asked. "You don't gotta, OK?"

"I'm sure," Carol said. "We won't have to worry. It'll be there whenever we're ready—if we're ready…"

"So long as you're sure," Daryl said.

"I'm sure," Carol said with a laugh. "I'm just—nervous."

"There's no need to be nervous," Kes assured her. The little Ocampa had a sweet voice and Daryl thought it was a good idea to have her in sickbay. Something about her very tone made things better. "Just relax." Kes picked up a hypospray from the collection of items on the tray. "This will help you relax. Everything's perfectly safe for your baby. I promise."

"What is that?" Daryl asked.

"It's a light sedative," the doctor said. "Carol, you'll still be conscious. It will only help to ensure that everyone—mama and baby, both—is relaxed throughout the procedure."

"Will you tell me what you're doing?" Carol asked.

It clearly didn't take long for the sedative to hit Carol's bloodstream. She closed her eyes, a moment, like she might actually simply take a nap. Daryl didn't assume it was a terrible thing if she decided to do just that. She opened her eyes, though, and watched the screen where an image appeared after the doctor rested a disc on her stomach.

"You can see—if I move this," the doctor said, "then I can see your baby. You see it, there?"

Carol sat up and smiled at the image. Daryl thought it looked remarkably like an alien, but he wasn't going to point that out at this particular moment.

"Is it OK?"

"Baby Dixon's heartbeat is strong," Kes answered, studying the information on the side of the image. Daryl assumed it did something like read the baby's vitals. "The computer registers you at just two days short of eleven weeks. Baby Dixon's weight is about .2 ounces, and the baby is about 1.7 inches in length."

"That good?" Daryl asked.

"The baby is a little underweight," the doctor offered.

"But that's nothing to worry about," Kes said. "And it's nothing that can't be remedied. Right, Doctor?"

"Of course, it can be remedied," the doctor said, almost sounding indignant. "I'm going to move the sensor again. Our focus, at this moment, is this area. You can see—here and here—that this sensor allows me to see your ovaries. I can increase the magnification—like this—and I'm able to see your ova. Using this tool, I will transfer them into the cryo-canister. Then, once Daryl has contributed his spermatozoa, the cannister will be frozen until you decide to combine the elements to create an embryo. The others will be held in stasis until you're ready for them. May I begin?"

"Please," Carol breathed out. Daryl could see that her eyelids were heavy, and her hand hung heavy in his. He appreciated, though, that she was entirely relaxed.

"It don't hurt?" Daryl asked Carol as the doctor started. Daryl watched the screen, and he could see something happening, though he didn't know what.

"It feels—fuzzy," Carol said.

The doctor seemed amused, and Kes laughed quietly.

"All the descriptions stated that, if the female of any species undergoing the transfer felt anything at all, it would be sensation like when you're coming out of the transporter," Kes offered.

"That's it," Carol said with a smile. She looked at Daryl and shook her head. "Don't look so worried, Daryl. It's like if your foot was asleep and waking up. Except—it's not my foot. It doesn't hurt. It just feels…"

"Fuzzy," Daryl offered. Carol smiled sincerely, and he was pretty sure that the sedative was making her feel fuzzy, if nothing else was. He squeezed her hand in his and she gently squeezed him back.

"How many goes in there?" Daryl asked, gesturing toward the small container that would hold everything for their future use.

"There are different sized cryo-canisters," the doctor offered. "Voyager's computers only had tested schematics for producing one size, so that's the size we're using. This one holds fifteen ova."

"So that's like—that's what? How many babies is that?" Daryl asked.

"It's potentially fifteen babies," the doctor offered.

"Fifteen?" Daryl looked at Carol. She looked just fine. Just as pleased as punch. She was smiling to herself, her arm thrown back behind her head. She was watching the doctor work without a single concern. It was the most at peace Daryl had seen her in a while. "You might wanna—put some of those back. I don't think we need…I think fifteen might be a few too many."

Carol laughed.

"They wouldn't all make it, Daryl," Carol said. "It's like—you know some of them won't, right?"

"That is correct," the doctor said. "It is highly unlikely for all fifteen to produce successful pregnancies."

"So, you get extra, Daryl, to make sure that some of them have a chance to make it. I knew a little something about fertilization treatments in our world, Doctor. Out of those—I could probably only maybe get pregnant…what…one time? Two?"

"Strictly speaking, there is the potential for fifteen pregnancies," the doctor said, seemingly enjoying his work and the opportunity to teach them something. "That would be assuming that all fertilization and implantation was successful. Over the years, especially since your time, before the Millennium Plague, the medical community has made great strides in fertilization. This is particularly owing to the extensive amount of work done to help our cross-species couples reproduce. Through that work, we've achieved a method of fertilizing same-species eggs that results in almost perfect results. Of course, in the earliest years, even though the fertilization process was almost perfect, the implantation process was a great deal trickier. Again, that's when the work of those who dedicated themselves to cross-species fertilization really came in handy. We have produced medications, now, that almost guarantee implantation."

"And that means what?" Daryl asked.

"It means that—given the current health of Carol's ova and your spermatozoa…"

"Could you not say that word no more?" Daryl interjected.

"I'm sorry? What word would that be?"

"The sperm word, OK? Could we just not talk about it? I really don't like that word."

"What word would you prefer?"

"I don't give a shit what you call it," Daryl said. "Just—not that word. I don't like the sound of it. And, to be perfectly frank, I know what the hell you're expecting to get from me, and just hearin' anybody say that word has me creating my own damn statistics that it's like a thousand times less likely to happen."

Carol snorted. At least he could give her that. Kes looked amused, as well, and her face ran red. Daryl assumed that Ocampas were enough like humans that they blushed. The doctor—probably because he was a hologram—was nonplussed.

"My apologies, Daryl. Perhaps we can find vocabulary that makes you more comfortable," he offered. "I was going to say that, given the current health of Carol's ova and your…contribution to the birth of your future children…and considering the normal rate of success we have with same species fertilization, I would predict that you could expect twelve or thirteen successful pregnancies from what we gather today. That is, of course, not factoring in any other conditions which may change those odds."

"You wantin' that many?" Daryl asked Carol.

"No," Carol said, drawing the word out and shaking her head. "No. No. Not—not twelve or thirteen."

"The unused ova and…other things…will remain in stasis," the doctor said.

"And then what?" Daryl asked.

"You can use them or discard them," the doctor said. "As you wish. They belong to you."

"Just throw our kids away?" Daryl asked.

Carol tugged at his fingers.

"It's no different than—when I have a period and it just means that wasn't a baby or when…you…and there's no baby," Carol said. She laughed to herself. "We're not mixing the ingredients up yet."

"Correct," the doctor agreed. "Nor will we mix anything until you're ready." He started putting things away on his little tray. "The collection is complete. Carol, how are you feeling?"

"I feel fine," Carol said. "Better than fine. I'm—actually feeling really good."

"That's the drugs," Daryl offered.

"Is that all?" Carol asked, sitting up just enough to look around her.

"Your part is complete," the doctor assured her. Kes took the little canister and walked off, clearly taking it somewhere for safe keeping. "We'll hold the ova in stasis for you until you're ready for them. Once Daryl has—made his contribution—then we'll place that in stasis, as well, in the same cryo-canister so that nothing can be confused in any way."

"Is my baby OK?" Carol asked.

The doctor moved the disc, bringing into focus the image that they'd seen before. Carol smiled and squeezed Daryl's hand.

"Baby Dixon appears to be the least concerned of all the Dixons, at the moment," the doctor said. Daryl smiled to himself. The hologram's programming, according to B'Elanna was adaptive and ever-changing. He was beginning to develop more and more of a sense of humor. Either that, or Daryl was simply adjusting to him.

The doctor loaded another hypospray and pressed it to Carol's neck. She didn't ask what it was, and she didn't seem concerned. She trusted him. That much was evident. She was also at least a little hypnotized by the fact that he hadn't taken away the image of their little one which seemed to float contentedly in nothing, according to the image, while it's little fluttering heart beat wildly.

"This is a preemptive measure," the doctor said. "The muscle relaxer should keep you from cramping and, in the case that you do experience cramping, it should keep it to a minimum. I'd like you to use it for forty-eight hours at eight-hour intervals."

"I understand," Carol said. "Do I need to do anything else?"

"You should have no problems," the doctor said. "And you have no restrictions beyond normal restrictions that I have given you for a woman in your condition. Nothing should cause you or your baby any distress. My only recommendation, perhaps, is that you allow Daryl to help you back to your quarters—partly because I believe it would benefit him to help you in some way, and partly because I would not wish for you to fall and potentially injure yourself or your baby. The combination of sedatives in your system may make you less than sure-footed for at least a little while longer.

"Thank you, Doctor," Carol said.

"I should remind you of one thing," the doctor said. "This procedure did not, in any way, remove all of your ova. That means that, after your baby is born, you will still be fertile. You'll need to decide how you want to proceed with fertility blockers. Your frozen ova are there for you, if you should like to control the process of fertilization and implantation, but you should be aware that you'll still be capable of natural and spontaneous gestation."

"In other words, you're sayin' accidents can still happen," Daryl offered.

"Precisely," the doctor said.

"If we're picking words we don't like," Carol offered, "that's one that I don't like."

The doctor removed the disc and went about cleaning up his area. Since they were free to go, other than Carol requiring Daryl's support while she got over feeling extra-relaxed, Daryl helped Carol sit up and supported her on the biobed. Kes had slipped back into the curtained space to take a few items for the doctor, and she'd replaced what she'd taken with Carol's clothes so that Daryl could help her start to dress. Thankfully, Carol had chosen a light dress—something easy to get in and out of—for this trip to sickbay.

"What word do you like better?" Daryl asked. "We didn't mean for you to get pregnant."

"Surprise," Carol said, a hint of pouting to her tone. "Blessing. Miracle. But not an accident."

Daryl could see that her earlier happiness was replaced by something a great deal heavier, and he didn't want that. He paused in helping her dress and caught her face in his hand.

"I like that," he told her, holding her eyes. "All those words. They're all right. They all explain our baby."

She smiled softly at him, and he kissed her gently.

The doctor cleared his throat, drawing their attention and purposefully reminding him that they weren't alone. He shook an opaque container at Daryl.

"Whenever you're ready, Daryl, you can bring this and Kes can add it to the cryo-canister."

Daryl felt heat rise up in his face, and he cleared his own throat.

"Yeah, thanks. And—uh—thanks for taking care of Carol and…the baby. Hell—and all of 'em, I guess."

"My pleasure," the doctor said with a smile. "Carol—here's your hypospray. You shouldn't have more than very mild discomfort. Nothing more than you would experience during menstruation. Anything more than that, and you should let me know."

"I will," Carol said. "Thank you, Doctor."

The doctor excused himself, and Daryl helped Carol get into her clothes. When he helped her stand up, she rocked a little on her feet, and he held her to make sure she wasn't going to topple in one direction or another.

"You good?" Daryl asked, slipping the hypospray into one pocket and the cup into another. "I got you. I'ma make sure you don't fall, but we can wait a minute if you need to. You OK?"

Carol smiled at him.

"I'm…amazing," she offered. She laughed to herself, like she was genuinely delighted by her own words. "Come on, Daryl. Let's go…round up your spermatozoa."

"I'm warnin' you," Daryl said, laughing to himself at how loopy she was with her bloodstream full of the doctor's drugs. "I hate that word, woman."

She laughed at him.

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry, Pookie. I couldn't resist."

"It's OK," he assured her, wrapping his arm around her and getting a comfortable hold on her before he took a step and let her begin the process of getting her sea legs through the happy fog of the sedatives. "You about the only person that can make it sound decent. Come on—don't get in too big a hurry. We got all damn day to stroll back to our quarters, and you know I love an excuse to hold onto you like this."