(A/N: I know this one doesn't have as much action as the previous chapter, but variety is the spice of life, and in any case I'm content with how it turned out.

You're probably going to be wondering where Heavy's accent is in this. If he's with his daughter, they would be speaking Russian, so there would be no need to write the accent. Not to mention I imagine Heavy would be a lot more articulate in his first language)

Like Father Like Daughter
By Space Toaster

Chapter Two – Sofya

Heavy was a lot more intelligent than he appeared to be. On the outside he appeared as a large, slow-witted mountain of a man. The kind of man who wrestles bears for fun and builds log cabins with his bare hands. While he did build the house he was living in and he had wrestled a bear cub once in his boyhood, Heavy was not slow-witted. He surprised others with his intelligence and sensitivity.

There were a lot of women in his life. There was his mother and his sisters, but three more had joined him in the past fourteen years. First, there was Sascha, his beloved minigun that he built himself. Then there was his wife Yelena, who was surprisingly welcoming of his emotional attachment to a weapon, if only because he had yet to neglect her. Not too long after they married, the third came along and it was amazing Heavy had enough room in his heart for all of them.

Heavy was enchanted by his daughter from the very beginning. Sofya started as a tiny baby, and held in his large hands she looked even tinier. He bragged to everyone about how cute, smart or strong she was, whether they wanted to know or not. When she started to walk and talk early, no one was safe from the joy of her proud father.

She grew fast, so fast that Yelena began buying clothes for her a couple sizes too big, unable to tell when she would outgrow them. It made Yelena worry that Sofya would be teased. She wasn't a skinny girl, having a somewhat bulky frame like her father. At twelve she hit a growth spurt that made her the tallest girl in her class, taller than even some of the boys. Sometimes she came home crying from being taunted by her classmates, whom Heavy often wanted to kill or at least maim.

Such feelings came about one day when he was reading in the living room. Yelena was out visiting a friend and wouldn't be back for a while. He hadn't seen Sofya, now thirteen, since breakfast; she was keeping to herself a lot lately. She always came straight home after school and never brought friends to visit. In fact, he wasn't sure if she ever mentioned any friends. It worried him, to a point where he couldn't pay attention to his book.

He almost hadn't noticed she entered the room until she called her cat Pasha over. She could move very quietly for a big girl. He watched her scoop up the cat and sit down on the sofa by his armchair. "Hello Sofi."

"Hello..."

Heavy immediately recognized her tone of voice and closed his book.

"Who made you sad?" He began to rise from his seat, already planning the pummeling (or verbal abuse) of the young man who dared to hurt his little devushka's feelings. He bet it was that little runt Ivan who was always giving her a hard time-

But Sofya shook her head. "Nobody."

He frowned, sinking back into his chair. "Oh…then what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"It doesn't sound like nothing's wrong."

She paused, still looking down at the cat in her arms. "…How come I'm not pretty?"

Heavy blinked, certainly not expecting to hear that. She was tall for her age, with light blond hair and blue eyes. She looked a lot like her mother, although she did have her father's cheekbones. She was anything but 'not pretty.' "You are pretty, Sofi."

She shook her head, gaze still directed at the cat. "No I'm not."

He stared at her for a while before he patted his knee. "Come, sit."

Sofya looked up and sighed. "Papaaa, I'm too old for that."

"Don't be silly, you're never too old to sit and talk with your Papa." He replied, patting his knee again.

She put down the cat and left her seat to perch on his knee. He wrapped a large arm around her shoulders.

"What makes you say you're not pretty?"

Sofya looked down and twiddled her fingers. "Because I'm not…I'm bigger and taller than all the other girls. The other girls are smaller, and pretty. The boys don't point and laugh at them or make fun of them for wearing sweaters two sizes too big. They don't get called fat or ugly either."

Heavy was going to murder those boys. Rather, he wished he could if it would help. He knew he couldn't always protect her from the cruel people in the world, as much as he wanted to.

"You are different from the other girls, but that doesn't mean you're ugly. And this teasing…I can't promise it will go away completely, but it will get better. One day when they finally grow up they will see how special you are and wish they were nicer to you. Do you understand, moĭ zaĭchik?"

Sofya nodded, looking down at her lap. "I guess so…but why do they have to be so mean?"

"Maybe they feel insecure, or maybe they just have nothing better to do. It doesn't matter. What matters is that you don't listen to them. …But if one of them touches you, you tell me so I can break his neck."

"Papaaaaa…"

Heavy laughed and patted her back. "I'm only joking." He actually wasn't joking, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. "And there is one more thing you need to know."

"What?"

He smiled and hugged her close. "You're not pretty, you're beautiful."

(A/N: devushka – girl

moĭ zaĭchik – my bunny)