Fic: Red Dwarf: Someone to Watch Over You
Title: “Someone to Watch Over You”
Writers: metalkatt and veronica_rich
Rating: NC-17 overall
Chars: Lister/Rimmer, Cat, Kryten, Kochanski 2.0, Holly, Ocs
Disclaimer: Boy, we wish we did, but we don’t own them. Property of Grant Naylor, BBC, the entirety of the UK, God, Zeus, Buddha, Vishnu, Ra - but not our property.
Summary: Ace Rimmer may have waited too long to go home again, but with some help, he might just get the happy ending none of his predecessors did. Set in and after Series 8
A/N: Thanks to the dedicated betas who went above and beyond to read through this monster, which is in excess of 70,000 words, and make suggestions - missflibble, cheezdanish, and kahvi. Any mistakes or errors are still our own.
Feedback and concrit: Yes, please!
For the first time in his very long life, Arnold Rimmer was beginning to feel some sympathy for his parents. Normally, when he worked with groups of more than one or two people, the Wildfire was safely nestled elsewhere until or unless she was needed to swing out and save the day.
"Move your elbow, Dormouse Cheeks!"
"Get your smeggin' knee out of my back, then!"
"Yes, Mr. Rochester, I'd love to go on a walk with you and get away from the rabble."
The AR machines had worked - to a point. They were restricted to games that didn't require much motion, which didn't sit well with the guys. More than once, Rimmer had been tempted to turn around and tell them to knock it the smeg off, or he was taking them back to die, but he couldn't quite make himself issue that harsh a threat just yet. Though, the way they were going on, it might not be long before he could.
One of his biggest pet peeves had developed in the form of people who adamantly refused to understand that he couldn't go ripping barriers between dimensions willy nilly; there were specific points at which he could cross without doing considerable damage to the multiverse, not to mention the Wildfire, specific points that would be easy to pierce and easy to heal, and sometimes, it took a bit of travel to get there. He considered shutting off his hearing, but knew that if something truly dangerous were approaching, he'd need to be able to hear the Cat screech about whatever it was he was smelling. "How many jumps left, Nona-love?" he murmured very softly.
"Four," she displayed on the console, pulling up a multidimensional map. "About twelve hours between each one, not counting planet leave, which we'd better do after the next jump in two hours."
"Honestly, it's like shuttling a bunch of bloody kids."
"There's GONNA be blood, you don't let us out soon," the Cat called out from the back. Damn the felinoid's superior hearing! "Monkey Boy here won't stop smacking into me."
Unable to take it any longer, Lister waited for a point to sneak away and move up the small, narrow corridor toward the cockpit. He couldn’t get in the pilot's seat, and he wasn't a long way from the rest of them, but that was okay - it was a bubble of peace, at least. Quietly, he settled himself in the corridor a couple of feet behind the pilot, crossing his legs and settling his head back against the wall.
After two minutes, he finally released a long-held breath. "Smeeeeeeeeggggg," he whispered. It felt good. "Smeeeegggggg ... smeeeeeggggg ..." He did this a few times, like a mantra, eyes closed, trying to recover his equilibrium for at least a little while.
"I liked the Ohm song better," Rimmer remarked, offhanded, listening in.
Lister started to laugh; loudly, until he figured out the two in the back might catch on that he'd yellow-bellied away from their little hell. He quieted; surely the laugh should be over with by now - except, he kept seeing himself, his younger self, in his mind's eye, and all he could think was how ridiculous he'd looked and sounded. He stopped laughing, cleared his throat ... and chant-sang, softly, "Ohmmmm ... Ohmmmm."
And promptly went off into another fit of quiet laughter, snorting instead of giggling aloud this time.
"We've only got two hours, and then we'll find a planet and camp down for the night, turn Kryten back on and let him stretch his cables out." Rimmer shifted in his seat, trying to unclench the muscles of his back. His bee simulated the effects of being human as well as the abilities. "It won't be too much longer, and we'll be there."
Lister shook his head after his laughter had finally subsided, feeling exhausted and refreshed all at once. "I don't get it," he said. "I love 'em both, but ... if I ever volunteer to stay in a tiny space with the two of them for that long ever again, I want you to whack me with a wrench, or something. And I mean EVER." How could two good friends become so smegging annoying after just a few days? he wondered. You knew things were bad when you were crawling off to sit near any Rimmer to get a break.
Rimmer had flashbacks to the time he'd trapped them all in quarantine, and the mess that had turned into, and snickered softly. "Well, you know how it is when you're shoved in with folks and no hope of escape. I have some plush penguin puppets in a box for when I save children; I could get one out and glare at you with it if it'd make you feel better."
It had been so out of nowhere that it caught Lister broadside. "What did you say?"
"That was your dimension, wasn't it?" Rimmer swallowed, eyes going wide as he tried to think of a proper cover. "Or, was that just a fever dream?" He belatedly remembered his earlier remark. “Like the Ohm song?”
"It was like it at the time." He'd quickly remembered that the Ace program absorbed these bits of memories. "Actually, it's a little like quarantine now, back there. I had to leave before I decked the Cat."
"Probably no different than my brief thoughts of opening the airlock and flushing you all out into space," Rimmer admitted on a sigh. "Then, I remind myself why we're doing this, and do the adult equivalent of begging Nona to know if we're there yet."
Lister was slowly getting used to Ace acting like a human being instead of Captain Planet - and realized it wasn't half bad. It was almost like Rimmer had acted at times when he wasn't being a complete nut and was, well, just normal. Something occurred to him. "I don't know if you're supposed to thank space heroes, but this is a really nice thing you're doing, Ace." He hit a little pause before the name, having to correct himself not to say "Rimmer" by reflex. "Getting us back to the Dwarf. Putting up with all of us on your ship." He paused for effect. "Even if you did kill Starbug." He strove for a light tone.
"Not many people say it like that and mean it like that," Rimmer mused. "Means a lot to hear it sincerely and not just in the 'Oh, Ace, please take me now!" He paused, pondering a moment. "You're welcome, Listy."
Lister was getting used to the random bits of Rimmer emerging from this programming. That Fiona was something else, keeping track of all his old events - at first, Lister had been uneasy hearing shadows of Rimmer in there. He felt guilty for how he'd made the hologram leave. But if he was still somewhere in there for the future Aces ... well, maybe it wasn't so bad after all. Putting his hands briefly to his face, he realized he was about to cry, and there wasn't even a movie in sight. Instead, he breathed deeply a few times, quietly, and chased away the melancholy. No use getting into this here; he would wait until he got back to the Dwarf, some beer and private quarters, and have a drink to his weird, smegging old bastard of a friend.
Likely dead now.
Meanwhile, Rimmer bit his lip, pondering how to phrase a question that had been bugging him for awhile, one he'd rather ask privately. "Lister?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you think there'd be room on the Dwarf for five of us? I've been considering retirement, at least temporary retirement, for a few years now ... And, we seemed to do well together before. All of us, I mean. In the Tank."
"Well, God, Ace, that ship's big enough for the population of Liverpool." He blew out a breath. "Sure. I mean, that'd be great, yeah!" He thought about how this wasn't the Rimmer he'd left behind a few years ago - but it was the Rimmer he'd spent the better part of a year getting to know, and he wasn't so bad at all. "What about your ship, though?"
"She's been after me for some downtime so she can clean her caches, perhaps update some of her programs. She's been going for a few thousand years, and wants a rest. I can rather understand her."
"So ..." You'd just stay a while? Go off at some point again when the wanderlust or need for accolades catches your fancy? That made Lister think. "Y'know ... things aren't always peaceful with the group of us. I mean, you realize if you spend time day in and day out with other people, they're going to yell at you, and find fault, and want to kick your arse every so often, yeah? I don't know if you're up to it, frankly. You did a good acting job on the Dwarf all those months, but you're a naturally pleasant sort. You sure 'too much togetherness,' as Gran used to say, wouldn't wear on you after a while?"
Rimmer was tired of pretending, tired of being someone he was not. He wanted to go home, to let himself be himself again. "I could always go on vacation down to the diesel decks. The ship is as big as a city; if we didn't want to be near each other, we wouldn't have to be." He sighed. "I'm tired of being a 'hero;' I've been at it for so damn long. I want a home." His tone wistful, it was as close to an admission as he could get at the moment.
He felt sorry for the guy, suddenly. Lister thought if he had access to go anywhere he wanted, in a ship like this, he'd head straight for ... He furrowed his brow and thought that over. Fiji. Earth. Pinball smile. That had been his default setting for many years. He realized, though, that it was all sort of hazy - he hadn't seen the first two in forever, and this wasn't his Kris. She's my bleedin' mother, he reminded himself, something he tried not to think of often. Or at least egg donor.
How could he not automatically think of Fiji and oceans and sand? Or rather, how could he think of them and not automatically see a white-skirted figure waving at him anymore? "Ask the others," Lister finally said. "I don't think anyone'll object. I've certainly no issue with it."
"I'll wait a bit after we get there to bring it up. I'm sure everyone will scurry off to different corners of the ship for some alone time."
"If the Cat keeps spending so much time in the middle of the Bennett sisters, he's going to need alone time, a steady stream of cold water, and fresh towels every six hours," Lister grumbled. "Not to mention a light bee to do it all with, since I'm pretty sure Kris is close to punching his timecard."
"He better not get that on my sheets," Rimmer grumped. "That's expensive cotton!"
"Aww, c'mon, Ace." Lister pulled a sly tone, needling. "I'm sure the thread-count troops've seen plenty of action already."
"There's a reason for the detergent in the linen cupboard."
"I think your sheets are safe. Besides, the Cat prefers his 'alone time' in a much more cramped space. That's practically gargantuan back there, for him."
"That's a relief," Rimmer sighed. "You know … I rather enjoy these sorts of missions where I'm not obligated to have sex with anyone. It's quite a refreshing change."
"As I said: Don't get in the Cat's way for a couple of days, and your streak might stay ended." They both fell silent after that, Lister focusing on his game and his thoughts, and Rimmer on his piloting - and his thoughts.
Within the promised two hours, they arrived at the jump coordinates, and Rimmer began the startup of the dimension drive. "All right, everyone, hold on,” he called through the tiny ship’s mike system. “We're about to cross dimensions.”
He was becoming used to it, feeling himself stretch, then squish, and hearing the voice of his counterpart in that dimension, indistinct, but extant as they passed the barrier. But if being squeezed like a citrus could be an Olympic sport, Lister felt sure he'd border on the gold. He had to clap a hand to his mouth and bang his head back against the wall, give himself some other pain to focus on, to keep from vaulting up the contents of his stomach after they went through. He made a gagging sound as he swallowed desperately, trying to shut out a retching in the back that told him somebody else hadn't been so lucky.
Rimmer winced and punched in the course for the plotted planet, pushing the Wildfire's engines to get them there just that little bit faster. The sour scent of bile would just make everyone crankier, and he swore to do some sort of wash in whatever stream, river, or lake they happened to land beside.
Writers: metalkatt and veronica_rich
Rating: NC-17 overall
Chars: Lister/Rimmer, Cat, Kryten, Kochanski 2.0, Holly, Ocs
Disclaimer: Boy, we wish we did, but we don’t own them. Property of Grant Naylor, BBC, the entirety of the UK, God, Zeus, Buddha, Vishnu, Ra - but not our property.
Summary: Ace Rimmer may have waited too long to go home again, but with some help, he might just get the happy ending none of his predecessors did. Set in and after Series 8
A/N: Thanks to the dedicated betas who went above and beyond to read through this monster, which is in excess of 70,000 words, and make suggestions - missflibble, cheezdanish, and kahvi. Any mistakes or errors are still our own.
Feedback and concrit: Yes, please!
For the first time in his very long life, Arnold Rimmer was beginning to feel some sympathy for his parents. Normally, when he worked with groups of more than one or two people, the Wildfire was safely nestled elsewhere until or unless she was needed to swing out and save the day.
"Move your elbow, Dormouse Cheeks!"
"Get your smeggin' knee out of my back, then!"
"Yes, Mr. Rochester, I'd love to go on a walk with you and get away from the rabble."
The AR machines had worked - to a point. They were restricted to games that didn't require much motion, which didn't sit well with the guys. More than once, Rimmer had been tempted to turn around and tell them to knock it the smeg off, or he was taking them back to die, but he couldn't quite make himself issue that harsh a threat just yet. Though, the way they were going on, it might not be long before he could.
One of his biggest pet peeves had developed in the form of people who adamantly refused to understand that he couldn't go ripping barriers between dimensions willy nilly; there were specific points at which he could cross without doing considerable damage to the multiverse, not to mention the Wildfire, specific points that would be easy to pierce and easy to heal, and sometimes, it took a bit of travel to get there. He considered shutting off his hearing, but knew that if something truly dangerous were approaching, he'd need to be able to hear the Cat screech about whatever it was he was smelling. "How many jumps left, Nona-love?" he murmured very softly.
"Four," she displayed on the console, pulling up a multidimensional map. "About twelve hours between each one, not counting planet leave, which we'd better do after the next jump in two hours."
"Honestly, it's like shuttling a bunch of bloody kids."
"There's GONNA be blood, you don't let us out soon," the Cat called out from the back. Damn the felinoid's superior hearing! "Monkey Boy here won't stop smacking into me."
Unable to take it any longer, Lister waited for a point to sneak away and move up the small, narrow corridor toward the cockpit. He couldn’t get in the pilot's seat, and he wasn't a long way from the rest of them, but that was okay - it was a bubble of peace, at least. Quietly, he settled himself in the corridor a couple of feet behind the pilot, crossing his legs and settling his head back against the wall.
After two minutes, he finally released a long-held breath. "Smeeeeeeeeggggg," he whispered. It felt good. "Smeeeegggggg ... smeeeeeggggg ..." He did this a few times, like a mantra, eyes closed, trying to recover his equilibrium for at least a little while.
"I liked the Ohm song better," Rimmer remarked, offhanded, listening in.
Lister started to laugh; loudly, until he figured out the two in the back might catch on that he'd yellow-bellied away from their little hell. He quieted; surely the laugh should be over with by now - except, he kept seeing himself, his younger self, in his mind's eye, and all he could think was how ridiculous he'd looked and sounded. He stopped laughing, cleared his throat ... and chant-sang, softly, "Ohmmmm ... Ohmmmm."
And promptly went off into another fit of quiet laughter, snorting instead of giggling aloud this time.
"We've only got two hours, and then we'll find a planet and camp down for the night, turn Kryten back on and let him stretch his cables out." Rimmer shifted in his seat, trying to unclench the muscles of his back. His bee simulated the effects of being human as well as the abilities. "It won't be too much longer, and we'll be there."
Lister shook his head after his laughter had finally subsided, feeling exhausted and refreshed all at once. "I don't get it," he said. "I love 'em both, but ... if I ever volunteer to stay in a tiny space with the two of them for that long ever again, I want you to whack me with a wrench, or something. And I mean EVER." How could two good friends become so smegging annoying after just a few days? he wondered. You knew things were bad when you were crawling off to sit near any Rimmer to get a break.
Rimmer had flashbacks to the time he'd trapped them all in quarantine, and the mess that had turned into, and snickered softly. "Well, you know how it is when you're shoved in with folks and no hope of escape. I have some plush penguin puppets in a box for when I save children; I could get one out and glare at you with it if it'd make you feel better."
It had been so out of nowhere that it caught Lister broadside. "What did you say?"
"That was your dimension, wasn't it?" Rimmer swallowed, eyes going wide as he tried to think of a proper cover. "Or, was that just a fever dream?" He belatedly remembered his earlier remark. “Like the Ohm song?”
"It was like it at the time." He'd quickly remembered that the Ace program absorbed these bits of memories. "Actually, it's a little like quarantine now, back there. I had to leave before I decked the Cat."
"Probably no different than my brief thoughts of opening the airlock and flushing you all out into space," Rimmer admitted on a sigh. "Then, I remind myself why we're doing this, and do the adult equivalent of begging Nona to know if we're there yet."
Lister was slowly getting used to Ace acting like a human being instead of Captain Planet - and realized it wasn't half bad. It was almost like Rimmer had acted at times when he wasn't being a complete nut and was, well, just normal. Something occurred to him. "I don't know if you're supposed to thank space heroes, but this is a really nice thing you're doing, Ace." He hit a little pause before the name, having to correct himself not to say "Rimmer" by reflex. "Getting us back to the Dwarf. Putting up with all of us on your ship." He paused for effect. "Even if you did kill Starbug." He strove for a light tone.
"Not many people say it like that and mean it like that," Rimmer mused. "Means a lot to hear it sincerely and not just in the 'Oh, Ace, please take me now!" He paused, pondering a moment. "You're welcome, Listy."
Lister was getting used to the random bits of Rimmer emerging from this programming. That Fiona was something else, keeping track of all his old events - at first, Lister had been uneasy hearing shadows of Rimmer in there. He felt guilty for how he'd made the hologram leave. But if he was still somewhere in there for the future Aces ... well, maybe it wasn't so bad after all. Putting his hands briefly to his face, he realized he was about to cry, and there wasn't even a movie in sight. Instead, he breathed deeply a few times, quietly, and chased away the melancholy. No use getting into this here; he would wait until he got back to the Dwarf, some beer and private quarters, and have a drink to his weird, smegging old bastard of a friend.
Likely dead now.
Meanwhile, Rimmer bit his lip, pondering how to phrase a question that had been bugging him for awhile, one he'd rather ask privately. "Lister?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you think there'd be room on the Dwarf for five of us? I've been considering retirement, at least temporary retirement, for a few years now ... And, we seemed to do well together before. All of us, I mean. In the Tank."
"Well, God, Ace, that ship's big enough for the population of Liverpool." He blew out a breath. "Sure. I mean, that'd be great, yeah!" He thought about how this wasn't the Rimmer he'd left behind a few years ago - but it was the Rimmer he'd spent the better part of a year getting to know, and he wasn't so bad at all. "What about your ship, though?"
"She's been after me for some downtime so she can clean her caches, perhaps update some of her programs. She's been going for a few thousand years, and wants a rest. I can rather understand her."
"So ..." You'd just stay a while? Go off at some point again when the wanderlust or need for accolades catches your fancy? That made Lister think. "Y'know ... things aren't always peaceful with the group of us. I mean, you realize if you spend time day in and day out with other people, they're going to yell at you, and find fault, and want to kick your arse every so often, yeah? I don't know if you're up to it, frankly. You did a good acting job on the Dwarf all those months, but you're a naturally pleasant sort. You sure 'too much togetherness,' as Gran used to say, wouldn't wear on you after a while?"
Rimmer was tired of pretending, tired of being someone he was not. He wanted to go home, to let himself be himself again. "I could always go on vacation down to the diesel decks. The ship is as big as a city; if we didn't want to be near each other, we wouldn't have to be." He sighed. "I'm tired of being a 'hero;' I've been at it for so damn long. I want a home." His tone wistful, it was as close to an admission as he could get at the moment.
He felt sorry for the guy, suddenly. Lister thought if he had access to go anywhere he wanted, in a ship like this, he'd head straight for ... He furrowed his brow and thought that over. Fiji. Earth. Pinball smile. That had been his default setting for many years. He realized, though, that it was all sort of hazy - he hadn't seen the first two in forever, and this wasn't his Kris. She's my bleedin' mother, he reminded himself, something he tried not to think of often. Or at least egg donor.
How could he not automatically think of Fiji and oceans and sand? Or rather, how could he think of them and not automatically see a white-skirted figure waving at him anymore? "Ask the others," Lister finally said. "I don't think anyone'll object. I've certainly no issue with it."
"I'll wait a bit after we get there to bring it up. I'm sure everyone will scurry off to different corners of the ship for some alone time."
"If the Cat keeps spending so much time in the middle of the Bennett sisters, he's going to need alone time, a steady stream of cold water, and fresh towels every six hours," Lister grumbled. "Not to mention a light bee to do it all with, since I'm pretty sure Kris is close to punching his timecard."
"He better not get that on my sheets," Rimmer grumped. "That's expensive cotton!"
"Aww, c'mon, Ace." Lister pulled a sly tone, needling. "I'm sure the thread-count troops've seen plenty of action already."
"There's a reason for the detergent in the linen cupboard."
"I think your sheets are safe. Besides, the Cat prefers his 'alone time' in a much more cramped space. That's practically gargantuan back there, for him."
"That's a relief," Rimmer sighed. "You know … I rather enjoy these sorts of missions where I'm not obligated to have sex with anyone. It's quite a refreshing change."
"As I said: Don't get in the Cat's way for a couple of days, and your streak might stay ended." They both fell silent after that, Lister focusing on his game and his thoughts, and Rimmer on his piloting - and his thoughts.
Within the promised two hours, they arrived at the jump coordinates, and Rimmer began the startup of the dimension drive. "All right, everyone, hold on,” he called through the tiny ship’s mike system. “We're about to cross dimensions.”
He was becoming used to it, feeling himself stretch, then squish, and hearing the voice of his counterpart in that dimension, indistinct, but extant as they passed the barrier. But if being squeezed like a citrus could be an Olympic sport, Lister felt sure he'd border on the gold. He had to clap a hand to his mouth and bang his head back against the wall, give himself some other pain to focus on, to keep from vaulting up the contents of his stomach after they went through. He made a gagging sound as he swallowed desperately, trying to shut out a retching in the back that told him somebody else hadn't been so lucky.
Rimmer winced and punched in the course for the plotted planet, pushing the Wildfire's engines to get them there just that little bit faster. The sour scent of bile would just make everyone crankier, and he swore to do some sort of wash in whatever stream, river, or lake they happened to land beside.