ext_3665 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
zekkass.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
reddwarfslash2006-10-13 04:18 am
zekkass.livejournal.com) wrote in reddwarfslash2006-10-13 04:18 am
[FIC] Flicker Rain - Part 02 of 03.
Title: Flicker Rain - Part 02 of 03.
Characters: Lister/Rimmer.
Rating: PG
Summary: Sitting in the rain.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Note: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
day221b, set somewhere in VI. This is the second part of the h/c fic I promised you ages and ages and ages ago. Enjoy!
---
You are not surprised by everyone’s reactions. By now, you could probably give your crewmates their lines, as the patterns that you all have fallen in are old, old hat.
Except for Kryten. You don’t know how Kryten works, anymore. Sometimes you think he hates Rimmer, and sometimes you think he cares. You do not know which is which, anymore, and so you pretend all is as it was, a lifetime ago. He doesn’t seem to notice, and Rimmer hates him regardless of what he does.
Sometimes you are surprised that you are the only one who notices these things.
---
“Rimmer.” He glances up at you, scared but angry. Kryten has examined him several times, and the only thing he will confirm is that Rimmer’s light-bee is failing.
There is no sympathy, from anyone. Cat is celebrating, Kryten is off somewhere, probably doing laundry, and you – you are trying to talk to him.
“Go away, smeghead.”
You don’t.
His glance becomes a glare, and he stands, shakily. “Go. Away.”
“Your light-bee giving you trouble?” You examine his room, not used to the uniform-blandness of the décor, the not-lived-in look. Rimmer marches over to you, and every time his foot hits the floor, it flickers. There haven’t been any full-body flickers since the rain, but these minor ones worry you – you will maintain this flippancy, if only for his sake.
“Get out, Lister! Leave me alone, for once, you smegging goited git!” His voice reaches a squeak, but not quite a yell. He’s scared, and his feet keep disappearing. You don’t move, except to look at his face, instead of his feet.
You’re scared, too, you realize. Rimmer is disappearing before your eyes, and despite all of the hatred between you two, you don’t want him to die. Once, you would have gladly let this happen, but not now. “What can I do to fix this?” You ask quietly.
He recoils, and with a soft whoosh of air he’s soft-light again. The flickers stop, oddly enough, but you catch a flash of disgust as he adjusts. “Bloody thing won’t…” He mutters before realizing that you’re still there.
“Won’t what, Rimmer? Wash itself?” Bad joke, bad timing, bad everything. His nostrils flare, and there is almost a retort, before another flicker catches him. This one is a bad one, and his light-bee drops to the floor before he can scramble to his feet and out of the floor.
“Here to make fun of me, eh Listy? Watch the dead man die?” He reacts with habit, insult for insult, bitterness clear in his voice.
“No, Rimmer!” You have had enough. “I’m here to help, you smeghead. Honest.” He snorts, not believing a word. “What can I do to fix this?”
“Nothing, Lister. I’m dead, and it’s catching up with me. Unless you can repair light-bees, I’m as dead as the Cat’s sense of fashion.”
You don’t believe that. At all. Rimmer will survive, even if fate has to twist itself into knots to fix Rimmer.
“Rimmer.” You want to reach out and grasp his shoulders, but the red uniform presents it’s classic ‘do-not-touch’ warning, so you settle for holding your hands out slightly. “You aren’t going to die again.”
“Don’t you ever listen?” Rimmer shrieked. “I just said I was going to die, and there’s nothing you can do to fix that, Lister. I’m dead!”
“You won’t.” You cross your arms. “I won’t let you.”
“What? You won’t let me die? How?” Rimmer laughed hollowly. “I’m surprised you even care.”
You are surprised. Since when do you care about this abusive smegger? Perhaps you’ve been stranded here for too long, perhaps you’ve been with him too long. You don’t know, but you do care about him.
Before you can think of something to say, the light-bee flips Rimmer blue again, and he screams as the solidity settles in – as a soft-light, he had accidentally backed into his desk. You would think that the light-bee would guard itself against this, but it is breaking down. You do the only thing you can: you step forwards, grab Rimmer, and pull. He is still shrieking in pain, but he lets himself be pulled out of his desk.
“Smeg smeg smeg smeg..” You repeat to yourself, over and over again. Rimmer collapses against you, when he’s free, still shuddering in pain – blue sparks flit around his backside, but nothing happens. It looks like he’s had his backside amputated, without any blood – just blue.
Just blue.
---
When the pain subsides, before he pulls himself away from you, you feel it. He doesn’t notice your discovery, and you don’t say anything – it’s just the contact, after the pain. If he feels anything, it is hate. (or denial, but Rimmer lives in Egypt, you think.)
You are long used to not reacting to this.
---
Rimmer chases you out, and you finally go. The door to your quarters slides shut with a bang, and you lean against it, oddly exhausted.
Soon, you will talk to Kryten about this. Soon, you will make Cat stop celebrating. Soon, you will figure out how to fix Rimmer.
For now, just a moment to think, and to deny everything. You have stopped dreaming of Earth, or England, of Kochanski.
Instead, you dream of Red Dwarf, Rimmer, room to get away from your crewmates. But small steps, small dreams. Soon, you will fix Rimmer, and figure out why fate is acting against him. Soon, the Starbug will get itself off of this planet, with its constant rain. (Rain, you think absently, did that cause the breakdown? You don’t know, but getting Kryten to examine the rain just got added to your mental to-do list.)
As soon as those are accomplished, you will let yourself dream of home.
Wherever that is.
---
Characters: Lister/Rimmer.
Rating: PG
Summary: Sitting in the rain.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Note: Written for
day221b, set somewhere in VI. This is the second part of the h/c fic I promised you ages and ages and ages ago. Enjoy!---
You are not surprised by everyone’s reactions. By now, you could probably give your crewmates their lines, as the patterns that you all have fallen in are old, old hat.
Except for Kryten. You don’t know how Kryten works, anymore. Sometimes you think he hates Rimmer, and sometimes you think he cares. You do not know which is which, anymore, and so you pretend all is as it was, a lifetime ago. He doesn’t seem to notice, and Rimmer hates him regardless of what he does.
Sometimes you are surprised that you are the only one who notices these things.
---
“Rimmer.” He glances up at you, scared but angry. Kryten has examined him several times, and the only thing he will confirm is that Rimmer’s light-bee is failing.
There is no sympathy, from anyone. Cat is celebrating, Kryten is off somewhere, probably doing laundry, and you – you are trying to talk to him.
“Go away, smeghead.”
You don’t.
His glance becomes a glare, and he stands, shakily. “Go. Away.”
“Your light-bee giving you trouble?” You examine his room, not used to the uniform-blandness of the décor, the not-lived-in look. Rimmer marches over to you, and every time his foot hits the floor, it flickers. There haven’t been any full-body flickers since the rain, but these minor ones worry you – you will maintain this flippancy, if only for his sake.
“Get out, Lister! Leave me alone, for once, you smegging goited git!” His voice reaches a squeak, but not quite a yell. He’s scared, and his feet keep disappearing. You don’t move, except to look at his face, instead of his feet.
You’re scared, too, you realize. Rimmer is disappearing before your eyes, and despite all of the hatred between you two, you don’t want him to die. Once, you would have gladly let this happen, but not now. “What can I do to fix this?” You ask quietly.
He recoils, and with a soft whoosh of air he’s soft-light again. The flickers stop, oddly enough, but you catch a flash of disgust as he adjusts. “Bloody thing won’t…” He mutters before realizing that you’re still there.
“Won’t what, Rimmer? Wash itself?” Bad joke, bad timing, bad everything. His nostrils flare, and there is almost a retort, before another flicker catches him. This one is a bad one, and his light-bee drops to the floor before he can scramble to his feet and out of the floor.
“Here to make fun of me, eh Listy? Watch the dead man die?” He reacts with habit, insult for insult, bitterness clear in his voice.
“No, Rimmer!” You have had enough. “I’m here to help, you smeghead. Honest.” He snorts, not believing a word. “What can I do to fix this?”
“Nothing, Lister. I’m dead, and it’s catching up with me. Unless you can repair light-bees, I’m as dead as the Cat’s sense of fashion.”
You don’t believe that. At all. Rimmer will survive, even if fate has to twist itself into knots to fix Rimmer.
“Rimmer.” You want to reach out and grasp his shoulders, but the red uniform presents it’s classic ‘do-not-touch’ warning, so you settle for holding your hands out slightly. “You aren’t going to die again.”
“Don’t you ever listen?” Rimmer shrieked. “I just said I was going to die, and there’s nothing you can do to fix that, Lister. I’m dead!”
“You won’t.” You cross your arms. “I won’t let you.”
“What? You won’t let me die? How?” Rimmer laughed hollowly. “I’m surprised you even care.”
You are surprised. Since when do you care about this abusive smegger? Perhaps you’ve been stranded here for too long, perhaps you’ve been with him too long. You don’t know, but you do care about him.
Before you can think of something to say, the light-bee flips Rimmer blue again, and he screams as the solidity settles in – as a soft-light, he had accidentally backed into his desk. You would think that the light-bee would guard itself against this, but it is breaking down. You do the only thing you can: you step forwards, grab Rimmer, and pull. He is still shrieking in pain, but he lets himself be pulled out of his desk.
“Smeg smeg smeg smeg..” You repeat to yourself, over and over again. Rimmer collapses against you, when he’s free, still shuddering in pain – blue sparks flit around his backside, but nothing happens. It looks like he’s had his backside amputated, without any blood – just blue.
Just blue.
---
When the pain subsides, before he pulls himself away from you, you feel it. He doesn’t notice your discovery, and you don’t say anything – it’s just the contact, after the pain. If he feels anything, it is hate. (or denial, but Rimmer lives in Egypt, you think.)
You are long used to not reacting to this.
---
Rimmer chases you out, and you finally go. The door to your quarters slides shut with a bang, and you lean against it, oddly exhausted.
Soon, you will talk to Kryten about this. Soon, you will make Cat stop celebrating. Soon, you will figure out how to fix Rimmer.
For now, just a moment to think, and to deny everything. You have stopped dreaming of Earth, or England, of Kochanski.
Instead, you dream of Red Dwarf, Rimmer, room to get away from your crewmates. But small steps, small dreams. Soon, you will fix Rimmer, and figure out why fate is acting against him. Soon, the Starbug will get itself off of this planet, with its constant rain. (Rain, you think absently, did that cause the breakdown? You don’t know, but getting Kryten to examine the rain just got added to your mental to-do list.)
As soon as those are accomplished, you will let yourself dream of home.
Wherever that is.
---
no subject
I think this part was especially well written.
no subject
Thanks!
no subject
no subject
Thanks!
no subject
The eerieness of Kryten's not-being-quite right; and Lister being the only one to notice. If Rimmer were himself, he'd probably be on it, but he isn't - Lister must feel so alone.
"Watch the dead man die?” and I’m dead, and it’s catching up with me. - Excellent lines.
Rimmer backing into his desk and re-forming with it inside... Urg. It's one of those things that have always played at the back of my mind. What if he does that?
It looks like he’s had his backside amputated, without any blood – just blue.
Just blue.
Excellent writing.
no subject
Lister must feel so alone.
Season VI both pulled the entire crew apart, while cramming them together. The oddest of dynamics really did form from that - a veterankindof thing, as they survived Simulants and whatnot, and the focussed hatred, from the tensions of day-to-day life. (Remember Quarantine? VI is that on a bigger scale.)
Thank you!
no subject
This fic is wonderful! Beautiful. I do hope you finish this. It's fantastic!
no subject
I will finish this, and it's next up on the list, as soon as the Halloween crush is over.
Thanks!