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reddwarfslash Title: Star
Pairing: None, Rimmer Angst Fic. All Rimmer/Pairings implied though.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own Red Dwarf, or any of the characters thereof.
Spoilers: Post-SMAC
Beta: None yet. Let me know if you wanna Beta.
Notes: Have not slept, thought of this while washing hands. Took 30min-1hour. Horribly written, a Beta would be most welcome.
Pairing: None, Rimmer Angst Fic. All Rimmer/Pairings implied though.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own Red Dwarf, or any of the characters thereof.
Spoilers: Post-SMAC
Beta: None yet. Let me know if you wanna Beta.
Notes: Have not slept, thought of this while washing hands. Took 30min-1hour. Horribly written, a Beta would be most welcome.
One hundred years. Rimmer has been Ace now for a century. It seemed like an amazing feat. As far as he knew, no other Ace had lived as long. Rimmer now understood why the original Ace looked at him in disgust when they first met. To Ace, meeting Rimmer, was like Rimmer meeting his double. The other was disgusting and a reminder of what he was or could have been.
Rimmer had mastered being Ace. He mastered the walk, the talk, the hair. He’d long gotten over that his partners would shout Ace’s name as they climaxed. But he wasn’t Ace. Deep down in his simulated bones, Rimmer knew he wasn’t Ace.
He still had his cowardice. He could rescue thousands of princesses, save hundreds of planets, and defeat hoards of enemies, but before he’d run in, gun’s ablaze, he’d hesitate. That hesitation has kept him alive all these years.
So, if he wasn’t really Ace, then why did he continue bringing that dead smeghead all this glory? The answer was simple. Even though Rimmer knew he’d never see any of them again, he had to prove them wrong. That he was more than a waste in existence.
For thirty-one years of his life everyone had held him back, told him he would never amount to anything.
His father was never proud.
His mother never looked at him the way she looked at John, Frank, or Howard.
His brothers bullied him relentlessly.
Porky Roebuck tried to eat him.
None of his girlfriends were faithful…or plentiful.
The captain never gave him a chance.
Lister hummed and pestered him.
And Yvonne McGruder didn’t remember him.
Then he died. And Cat and Kryten were added to the mix of people who held him back.
Cat would talk down to Rimmer, and join Lister in his bullying.
Kryten was only programmed to be somewhat decent to him, but Rimmer knew the mechanoid hated him.
Only Nirvanah Crane loved him. And he resented her for it. At first he was touched, but then he realized that if she never pitied him, he would have never felt guilty and resigned his post on the Holoship.
Now it’s been a hundred years. A part of him knew that even though he rescued thousands of princesses, saved hundreds of planets he would still be “Smeghead”, “Arsehole”, or “Bonehead” in their eyes. The fact that his old nickname still bothered him made Rimmer pleased. He was still himself. He wasn’t Ace.
The truth was that he knew he’d never see any of them again. He’s met countless Lister’s, Kryten’s, Cat’s, even Kochanski’s. He’s slept with most of them. None of them were “his”. Rimmer didn’t mind. By now Lister and the others were dead. Even if he found a way back to prove to everyone that he succeeded as Ace, they were gone.
It had to be chance that Rimmer met him. But Rimmer somehow ended up meeting the very Lister that the “Original” Ace knew. He had to be the one to tell the man that his Ace was dead. Spanners, as he insisted on being called, crumpled on the floor, broken, and cried. Then he hugged Rimmer and asked “Just for tonight?” desperation in his eyes. Spanners clearly missed Ace more than he could ever say, Rimmer complied despite knowing better.
His Lister, after all, told him to go. Asked him if he’d break the chain, not die, and what, be Ace forever? And he did. Rimmer did both. He was tired.
A century had made Rimmer less bitter. He spent many years saving lives and seeing things that would have given him nightmares. But he kept on being Ace. Many nights he thought to himself, he could have stayed.
Now, he was all alone.
Arnold Rimmer let out a long held in sigh as he gazed at the stars all around him. They were old, like him, and just like him, many of them had died long ago and now were nothing but remnants light.
Rimmer had mastered being Ace. He mastered the walk, the talk, the hair. He’d long gotten over that his partners would shout Ace’s name as they climaxed. But he wasn’t Ace. Deep down in his simulated bones, Rimmer knew he wasn’t Ace.
He still had his cowardice. He could rescue thousands of princesses, save hundreds of planets, and defeat hoards of enemies, but before he’d run in, gun’s ablaze, he’d hesitate. That hesitation has kept him alive all these years.
So, if he wasn’t really Ace, then why did he continue bringing that dead smeghead all this glory? The answer was simple. Even though Rimmer knew he’d never see any of them again, he had to prove them wrong. That he was more than a waste in existence.
For thirty-one years of his life everyone had held him back, told him he would never amount to anything.
His father was never proud.
His mother never looked at him the way she looked at John, Frank, or Howard.
His brothers bullied him relentlessly.
Porky Roebuck tried to eat him.
None of his girlfriends were faithful…or plentiful.
The captain never gave him a chance.
Lister hummed and pestered him.
And Yvonne McGruder didn’t remember him.
Then he died. And Cat and Kryten were added to the mix of people who held him back.
Cat would talk down to Rimmer, and join Lister in his bullying.
Kryten was only programmed to be somewhat decent to him, but Rimmer knew the mechanoid hated him.
Only Nirvanah Crane loved him. And he resented her for it. At first he was touched, but then he realized that if she never pitied him, he would have never felt guilty and resigned his post on the Holoship.
Now it’s been a hundred years. A part of him knew that even though he rescued thousands of princesses, saved hundreds of planets he would still be “Smeghead”, “Arsehole”, or “Bonehead” in their eyes. The fact that his old nickname still bothered him made Rimmer pleased. He was still himself. He wasn’t Ace.
The truth was that he knew he’d never see any of them again. He’s met countless Lister’s, Kryten’s, Cat’s, even Kochanski’s. He’s slept with most of them. None of them were “his”. Rimmer didn’t mind. By now Lister and the others were dead. Even if he found a way back to prove to everyone that he succeeded as Ace, they were gone.
It had to be chance that Rimmer met him. But Rimmer somehow ended up meeting the very Lister that the “Original” Ace knew. He had to be the one to tell the man that his Ace was dead. Spanners, as he insisted on being called, crumpled on the floor, broken, and cried. Then he hugged Rimmer and asked “Just for tonight?” desperation in his eyes. Spanners clearly missed Ace more than he could ever say, Rimmer complied despite knowing better.
His Lister, after all, told him to go. Asked him if he’d break the chain, not die, and what, be Ace forever? And he did. Rimmer did both. He was tired.
A century had made Rimmer less bitter. He spent many years saving lives and seeing things that would have given him nightmares. But he kept on being Ace. Many nights he thought to himself, he could have stayed.
Now, he was all alone.
Arnold Rimmer let out a long held in sigh as he gazed at the stars all around him. They were old, like him, and just like him, many of them had died long ago and now were nothing but remnants light.
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Date: 2010-10-05 11:41 pm (UTC)(And thanks, Again, I was half-asleep when I wrote this. I'll make edits this weekend.)