FicWad

Rimmer shifted uneasily in the pilot's seat. The Dimension Jump ship was small, and the cockpit likewise had no passenger's seat; Lister sat on the small bed just behind the cockpit. It had proven very useful for shagging the lovely young women he rescued, but there were any number of levels on which he did not want to think about Lister back there. The hairs on the back of his neck were on end.

"Computer," he asked, just to say something, "are you sure this is the right dimension?"

"Yes, Ace, love," she replied. "A tear of that magnitude leaves a trace that lasts for millennia. This happens to be the dimension that the Ace who recruited you was from."

"Ah, that will make explanations easier," Rimmer said, with relief.

"It will make them 298% more difficult," the Computer purred in response.

"Why?"

"Approaching Starbug," she said, ignoring his question. Rimmer twisted his lip, but before he could protest, she added, "Opening communication channels."

"Howdy, fellahs!" Rimmer said, forcing his voice to express a heartiness he did not feel. "Have a visitor here for you!" Said visitor stayed oddly quiet, seated in the back - just as he had done throughout the trip. Well, oddly quiet for my Lister, Rimmer reflected. Maybe this Lister knew when to shut up.

A small party waited for them in the landing bay. Kryten was the same dull plastisteel that Rimmer's Kryten was, and Lister a similar rasta-braided, grotty-jumpsuited bum. Cat was immaculately dressed and stood off, aloof; it would be a strange dimension indeed where both of those did not apply to Cat. A woman stood with them; she seemed a bit like Rimmer's vague memories of Kochanski, but taller, slenderer, and with an archly superior expression that, with all her faults, the Kochanski that Rimmer remembered had lacked. But from the way he alternate Lister stepped forward and gripped Rimmer's arm before he popped the cockpit hatch, Rimmer guessed that it was, indeed, the alternate Kochanski in question. /Good/, he thought. /Let's take her or leave her, and call this mission done/.

Kryten grasped Rimmer's right hand with both of his own almost before Rimmer emerged from the cockpit. "Mister Ace, sir! So magnificent to see you again! A delight, a delight!" He pumped Rimmer's hand up and down, his angular face trying to beam and failing.

Cat swaggered over and raised his eyebrows in greeting. "Hey, Ace baby! Lookin' goooood!" He flicked a rough cat-tongue over his fangs as he ran one finger along his own jawline. Rimmer swallowed his disgust and used his free left hand to clap Cat on the shoulder. He told Cat and Kryten how lovely they were and assured them of how pleased he was to see them, and disengaged himself from them, turning slightly back towards his ship.

The alternate Lister stood in the hatchway, half-out of the ship. Rimmer looked over at where this dimension's Lister and the wayward Kochanski stood. Lister's mouth was slightly open and his eyebrows were slightly raised; he glanced back and forth between the alternate Lister and Rimmer. Kochanski's face, however, took the cake, and Rimmer tried to puzzle out what expressions were flitting across it. Fear, apprehension, excitement, hope, dread, and a little bit of lust made cameos as she stared at the alternate Lister. After the second cycle, the alternate Lister stepped out of the ship, as gingerly as if he were stepping onto eggs. "Kris?" he asked, quietly.

That word seemed to trigger something in Kochanski. "Dave!" she cried, taking the few paces between them at a dead sprint and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Oh, Dave, I missed you so much!" she said into that neck, the words muffled. That Lister was running his hands up and down her back, rocking her, stroking her hair; as far as Rimmer could tell, running the gamut of romantic clichés that come with a long-awaited reunion. His eyes were glassy with tears.

Rimmer sighed and turned to this dimension's Lister, who had stopped looking at the other Lister and was staring at Rimmer intently. "Rimmer, man," he asked, quietly, "is that you?"

"Of..." Rimmer choked on his own nasal voice. He glanced over at Kryten and Cat, but the former was rubbing his hands and smiling as he watched the two lovers cuddle, and Cat had curled up on a stack of boxes for a nap. Neither had noticed his slip. "Of course it's me, Dave!" Rimmer said, in the correct voice this time.

"Oh, good!" Lister grinned. The grin slipped slightly after a second. "It's just - I saw the ship coming back, and I worried that you were coming back because you were..." his voice trailed off.

"Oh, no; I'm fine, shipshape!" Rimmer said heartily. "Just came to take care of these two lovebirds." He swallowed down another dose of bile.

Lister opened his mouth, but before anything could come out of it, the other Lister spoke. Both turned to him. "Hey!" he said, breaking his hug with Kochanski, but holding her close by the waist. She rested her head slightly on his chest, a giddy smile on her face. "You're really - wonderful, you guys. Thank you for saving the woman I love, and keeping her safe for me." His grin spilled into a ludicrous extreme of inanity for a moment before he swallowed and continued. "I'm the luckiest guy in the universe - any of the universes."

"This calls for a celebration!" Kryten said, rubbing his hands together. "Tea in the midsection?"

"We really should be going..." Rimmer said, glancing at the couple. He did not relish the thought of a flight with them in the back, but anticipation would only make it worse.

"Neh, man, let's have a cuppa tea and catch up a bit!" the alternate Lister said, slapping Rimmer on the back as he walked by. He and Kochanski followed as Kryten lead the way towards the midsection; Cat woke as abruptly as he had fallen asleep and danced after them, beckoning imperiously for Rimmer and Lister to follow. Rimmer started to do just that - he could certainly do with a cup of tea - but he halted as Lister grabbed his sleeve.

"Hey," Lister said, glancing down the corridor at where the others had gone, "it's... it's really great to see you, man. Really... great."

"Yes, you said," Rimmer replied, pulling his sleeve out of Lister's grip pointedly.

Lister swallowed, licked his lips, and look down. "It's just that..." He looked up again, meeting Rimmer's eyes. "Well, I've been thinking about what I've done, and it wasn't kind. It wasn't right of me to push you into this Ace thing. It should have been your choice. If you're enjoying it, well and good, but if not - there's always a place for you, here."

It clicked into place. "I'm not the Rimmer you 'pushed in'," Rimmer sniffed, letting go of the Ace voice. "He was the one just before me. And I'm quite happy with being Ace, thank you very much." He had excitement and admiration and girls wanting to pull the good bits of him out and suck on them. Why the smeg would he want to go back to fecking Starbug? To bickering, squalid quarters, tea bags that had been used far too often and made a weak, bitter faux tea, too often with no milk or sugar to put in it?

Lister's eyes widened. "Oh, eh... er..." He stuttered to a halt and bit his lip. He reached up and turned Rimmer's head slightly, looking searchingly at the right side of his face.

Rimmer grabbed the hand and pulled it away. "What the smeg are you doing?"

"Nothing. I... well... what happened to the old Rimmer?"

"He's dead, what else?" Rimmer snapped. Ire bubbled up inside of him. He did not need to be reminded of where this job was leading by smegging Lister. He spun on one gold boot-toe and strode up the corridor towards the midsection.


Tea was impossible. Rimmer had to be bloody smegging polite to every single one of those bastards. The Lister he had brought and his Kochanski, who were staring into each other's eyes nauseatingly and saying vapid things to the rest of the crew. Kryten, who seemed distracted by the two, and stirred Rimmer's too-weak tea with his groinal attachment. Cat, who kept telling Rimmer that he looked awesome while wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Fortunately, this dimension's Lister hardly spoke at all; he looked down at his tea and gnawed at his lip.

As the tea came to an end, far too late to suit Rimmer, Lister finally showed signs of life. He stood along with the rest, took a deep breath, and said, loudly enough to drown out the buzz of farewells, "I'd like to come with yeh when yeh drop the two of them off, righ'?" His accent was noticeably thicker, almost as if he had been drinking - but even if his tea had been laced, he had just stared at it.

I'm not a blasted taxi service! Rimmer bit that comment back. "Er, not sure that's such a good idea, Davey-boy. Tight quarters, and all."

"I don't mind." Maybe he didn't, but the alternate Lister and Kochanski both looked at him with expressions that indicated that they did. Rimmer was right there with them.

"Oh, Dave," Kochanski said, "really, it'll be a dull trip. Just drop us off, bye! Nothing to see, re..."

"I want to see the graveyard!" Lister barked, his fists clenching and unclenching. He tossed his gaze between the couple and Rimmer, his eyes wide and slightly manic. Rimmer licked his lips and tried to think of something to say.

"Well... I think..." the alternate Lister said, looking soulfully at Kochanski. Rimmer knew what they were thinking. They were thinking that they had their happiness, so why shouldn't this Lister have something? /Because I don't smegging want him to/, Rimmer fumed. He was going to have to do some fast talking to keep this melancholy bugger of a Lister off of his ship. He did not want to see the graveyard again, and he most certainly did not want to have a mopey Lister with him if he did! Rimmer cleared his throat and prepared to fast-talk.


The problem with that strategy, Rimmer mused, was that he was never good at fast-talking. Or any kind of talking, for that matter. The unwanted guest shifted on the bed in the back. /Well, at least he has elbow room/, Rimmer mused. They had been crushed like sardines in the back on the first run - which might have worked out well for the Lister now alone in the back, but the alternate Lister had pointedly put himself in the middle, the unofficial filling of the dimensional alternate sandwich.

The homecoming on the alternate Red Dwarf had been, if such a thing were possible, even more galling than the farewell on Starbug. They had been dragged to tea again; Kryten was even more solicitous, and Cat even more cool and suggestive. Kochanski and the alternate Lister had cuddled and beamed twice as sickeningly, and this Lister had moped even more disconsolately. Rimmer's Ace voice and Ace patience were rubbed raw. The persona was difficult enough to keep up around female pulchritude; it was damn near impossible to keep up around people he knew far too well and liked far too little.

At least the tea had been strong, and there had been milk and sugar.

It was all almost over. Rimmer took a deep sigh of relief. He had contemplated drugging this Lister, or whacking him over the head, and just dropping him off unconscious at Starbug, but he had no drugs on hand and no idea of how to hit someone in such a way as to knock him out. So he grudgingly told the Computer to take them to the graveyard. At least, he contemplated as they Jumped, he no longer had to keep the Ace persona up. Not around this Lister.

The sight of pulsating ring of light bees made Rimmer's mouth run dry. His composure flew to dimensions unknown. His hands, slick with sudden sweat, slipped off of the joystick. This was his future. Millions, billions of him, all of them trying out the Ace mantle, all of them dead as smegging doornails. He was headed there, sooner or later. Maybe sooner. It suddenly occurred to him that he had not asked the previous Ace how long he had held the job. Was this position one to hold for centuries, decades, weeks?

Days?

Hours?

Rimmer almost jumped out of the chair as a hand on his shoulder interrupted his ruminations. Oh, yes, he had not announced their arrival to Lister. But the pulsing red light must have filtered back to the bed nook, and Lister stood behind Rimmer, his hand on the hologram's shoulder.

They sat there for a period of time Rimmer could not count. Ten minutes later, an hour later - who cared? - Lister swallowed and spoke, his voice harsh. "Which one is he? My Rimmer?"

"How the smeg should I know?" Rimmer muttered.

Another pause, perhaps long, perhaps very long, passed. Lister's hand shook slightly as it rested on Rimmer's shoulder. "I... I missed 'im," he sighed.

"Smeg that," Rimmer snapped, remembering what the other Rimmer had told him. He was a git, yes, but he was /him/, and Rimmer felt some affinity. "You tossed him away."

Lister's hand shook more. He raised the other hand to his eyes and wiped them, quickly, then sniffled the snot out of his nose. "I though' that's wha' he wan'ed." His accent was even thicker, and Rimmer was beginning to have a hard time understanding him.

"What else did he have?" Rimmer replied, understanding all too well. Yes, Lister had been a grotty bum, but hadn't they formed - some kind of friendship? Had this Lister and Rimmer? No, no, you don't do things like that to friends. "He had sod-all with you. He said you drop-kicked him out of the airlock." The hand lifted off of his shoulder, and Rimmer could hear Lister's muffled sobs, but smeg it all, the man deserved it. Rimmer wanted to hurt him as much as his Lister had. As much as - from the look on that other Rimmer's face, before he died - this Lister had hurt that previous Rimmer. To smegging hell with all Listers. Bastards, every one. Rimmer grabbed the joystick tightly and gritted his teeth.

Lister suddenly punched Rimmer in the shoulder and spun, rubbing his eyes. "Smeg yeh. Yeh don'... smeggin' un'ers'an'." Rimmer turned, and Lister caught his eyes over the gloved hand that was pressed to his mouth and nose. "I..." Lister pulled himself upright, coughed slightly, and spoke more clearly, not breaking eye contact. "I loved my Rimmer, smeg you. I did. Don' give me this smeg about how I pushed him away! I wanted.... I wanted what was best for /him/. He understood that, didn't he? Didn't..." Lister trailed off as Rimmer shook his head, slowly.

A growl started deep in Lister's throat, and before Rimmer could react, Lister was on his lap, legs dangling awkwardly off to either side of the chair. He grabbed Rimmer's cheeks in his hands and pressed his lips to the hologram's, running his tongue over Rimmer's lips.

Rimmer was startled, and he knew that he was disgusted - after all, he was not smegging gay, and this was /Lister/, after all. But if he wasn't, why did he pause, grabbing Lister's soft, firm hips in his hands and rubbing them slightly, before pushing the man off of him? No matter. No matter. "He didn't understand smeg-all," Rimmer gasped, holding Lister at arms' length, "and neither do I. I'm not your Rimmer!"

Lister staggered back, bumping the console, his eyes wide. He caromed off of the console towards the back of the cockpit, where Rimmer heard him collapse on the bed and start to sob into the pillow.

/Smeg/, Rimmer thought. He was a space hero, wasn't he? He was supposed to help people in need, be kind and magnanimous. That was the tradeoff for the attention and the sex. He wasn't holding up his end. But damn it, this was not his /fault/! He had tried to get Lister to stay behind. And he sure as smeg hadn't made any choices for this Lister, back when he kicked his Rimmer out!

The Computer's lights blipped at him almost accusingly. /It doesn't matter/, they seemed to say. /This is just your job/.

Rimmer unstrapped himself from the pilot's seat, stood with a sigh, and walked back to the bed, where Lister huddled, still shaking. My job/, he thought, bending down to kiss Lister, opening his mouth to let the man's tongue slither into it, running his hands up and down Lister's back. /Whatta guy, whatta guy, whatta guy, he repeated to himself as he lay on the cot and pulled Lister on top of him, the words losing all meaning in repetition. They formed a monotone mantra in the back of his mind as he let Lister kiss his face and lick his ear and neck, a tempo that he followed as he pulled open Lister's pants and stroked the man's erection firmly, just as he had often done to himself, pumping hard to make Lister come as quickly as possible. Lister did, finally, come with a moan and a shuddering sigh, and a near-incomprehensible gasp of, "Sorry, sorry," leaving a glop of semen that stained Rimmer's flightsuit. Rimmer patted Lister's back awkwardly to that same beat as the man put his head into the join of Rimmer's neck and shoulder and proceed to soak Rimmer's skin with sobs.

Rimmer sighed and wondered what those words meant, as they repeated over and over in his mind to the beat of a billion pulsing red lights.