"The ghost of the Wichita Lineman
May. 8th, 2012 04:59 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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reddwarfslashThe Ghost of the Wichita Lineman
Listy/Rimsy
Red Dwarf Altiverse
Rated NC17 for cursing.
Synopsis: A ghost comes aboard Red Dwarf, and says he’s the lineman of the county. What the hell is he talking about, and why is Lister the only one that can see him? Song fic, I warned you, now you’re stuck here.
A/N: The Wichita lineman was always played in my grandma’s house. So, I guess this is dedicated to her and Glen Campbell. Part 2 of a 6 part song arc, which is six songs in total. Also, there are sections "borrowed" from other fics I've read, but I can't remember them or the writers now. If you read through this and find a piece of your work here, let me know, with the name of the fic, and I will make sure I credit you. Thank you!! Veronica Rich, thank you for the idea her fic gave me for the robotic therapist. Her link is here http://veronica-rich.livejournal.com/53
Lister was enjoying his downtime with Rimmer. He thought how weird that sounded. They had been together for months, but he had not given himself up completely as Rimmer had done. He couldn’t see himself sucking a dick, and defiantly could not see himself getting fucked. It was too much like submitting. And that was just not him. True, he was an enlightened 23rd century bloke, but he wasn’t that enlightened. Not yet, anyway. True he had kissed a few blokes, Peterson included. True he’d been jerked off by a bloke, and true he’d even let an ex – girlfriend take his black cherry but in his defense, he liked to experience new things, and it had gotten him laid twice that night, but it was after all a dildo, NOT a real DICK attached to a real body.
He had entertained the thought. But for what ever reason the Rimmer in his mind ALWAYS wound up with a dick that would belong on the Statue of Liberty, if she were a he. And it had come up in bed, with him saying he had the screaming shits. Rimmer bought it that time, but Lister knew he couldn’t use that excuse forever.
It just so happened that during their last derelict raid they had come across a machine that was a psychologist in up times, and a juke box in downtime. They brought it onboard, and it started itself up. It went through several hiccups and exhaled dark gas, but, it started up.
“Greetings or salutations. I am crx17bry, but you may call me Rodger. What are your names so I may commit them to my memory banks?
Lister introduced himself, Rimmer, Cat, and Kryten.
“I have recorded the names David Lister, Arnold Judas Rimmer, Cat, and android Kryten. What do you wish of me? I can perform many functions, such as psychology, doctor, scientist, lie detector, police officer, teacher, repair technician, dream recorder and analyst, priest, as well as juke box, but I’m afraid my carriage is stuck and will only allow me play two songs, ‘The Wichita Lineman’ or ‘Galveston’ both by Glen Campbell. So, who’s first?”
The men looked around at each other, all were lost.
“I am programmed to shut down after all life has been deceased, and to restart when touched by a person who needs me. I am only here to help, nothing more, nothing less,” said Rodger.
“Ok, so say one of us did touch you, surely you know who that person is, and what he needs,” said Kryten. “Otherwise, well it would make you obsolete, correct?”
“Correct. While everyone that has touched me has had information fed into me,” said Rodger.
“Such as?” said Rimmer.
“Such as your characteristics, past crimes, dreams, nightmares, how old were you when you achieved your first orgasm, who you were thinking of and the like,” concluded Rodger.
“These items were lifted from each of your lives, and were used to make a profile for each of you. You, Kryten, for example, killed the crew of the Nova 5, killed one Kristine Kochanski, since you are an android and are not equipped with a penis attachment, you’ve never actually had sex, but since you have a groinal attachment, you have had like intercourse with the toaster, the blender, the coffee maker, and one front loading washer, all while thinking of one David Lister, and disliking one Arnold Judas Rimmer, who happens to be involved with one David Lister, correct? I can go into further details, if need be.”
“No, that’s, that’s embarrassing enough,” said Kryten, before erupting into tears.
“Kryters, calm down mate. I’m not embarrassed,” said Lister. “In fact, I find it flattering.”
“You’re lying!!” said Kryten in his trademark high screeched wail.
“No I’m not, mate. I would have been so into you, if either I was a android, or if you were human again.”
“You’re lying again!!” wailed Kryten.
“I’m not, Kryten!”
“Yes you are!”
“No I’m not,” said Dave.
“You, you promise,” asked Kryten, sniffling like a lost and distraut child.
“Promise, mate,” said Lister.
It appeared that Kryten was drying up, but 30 seconds later, he started crying again.
“You’re lying again!!!”
“Lister, just stop. That bog bot will just keep crying. Just give up! God knows I already have,” said Rimmer.
“I can see why you despise Aronld Judas Rimmer,” said Rodger. “So shall I set our appointment for later, Mr. Lister? Shall we say 8:30 tonight?”
“Now, wait just a smeg-“
“As I mentioned before, I only came on line to assist you. None of what we discuss will be revealed to anyone without your permission,” said Rodger.
“You swear?” asked Lister.
“Cross my circuits and hope to fry,” said Rodger.
“Alright, 8:30 tonight,” said Lister, who found himself hoping that the machine did manage to cross its circuits and fry itself.
In their quarters, Lister was pacing a hole in the floor, while Rimmer was resting on their shared bed. The old Rimmer would have made a wise crack, and as easy as the set up was, Rimmer wouldn’t let himself return to his old self.
The love that they shared wouldn’t let himself crack a joke at his Lister’s expense.
“Listy, would you stop pacing? You’re making me dizzy,” said Rimmer.
“Rimsy, why does it say I need counseling? It makes me feel like I’m about to go insane,” said Lister.
“Listy, look where we are. We’re stuck in space, without a pair of worry balls between us,” said Rimmer.
Lister sat down, but perked up at the sound of ‘balls’.
“N… no… we can’t now, we’ll never… finish… in… oh smegging smeg!!” said Rimmer, who was not putting up a fight, much. Lister usually got his way when it came down to sex, and while Rimmer was distracted by what Lister’s oh so talented tongue was doing just then, he hadn’t forgotten why Lister was paying him such wonderful attention in the first place.
“Listy, oh my God on Io, don’t stop, DON”T STOP, you big, strong strapping lad, don’t stop!!” exhaled Rimmer, and was glad when Lister didn’t.
There went his shirt over his head, there went his trousers, boxers and boots off his feet. He was naked in a matter of seconds, and soon after, so was Lister. Soon, time passed no morals to Rimmer as Lister slid almost effortlessly into him.
20 minutes later---------------------------------
It was 8:45 and Rodger was rather impatient. He wanted to find Lister, drag him for under Rimmer, for that’s where he knew he was, grab him by the throat, drag him kicking and screaming down the hall in this private room, and make him talk. But he wouldn’t have to, because Lister walked in at that moment. Add to the fact that Rodger had no legs, and you can see how that made it very hard to do.
“Sorry I’m late, I was, uh helping Rimmer to…”
“Your cock,” answered Rodger. “Yes, I know. In this first session, we’ll start by getting to know each other. Even though it was you’re touch that awoke me, and I was able to gather some information to begin to create a profile, it’s only partially complete. I need you to touch me again to complete that profile. Come on then, I don’t bite, much. Ha, ha, ha, ha!”
Lister placed his finger on Rodger’s head. Within seconds, Rodger had compiled all the information that was David Lister, completing his profile.
“Now, let’s see, David, you were abandoned as a baby, by a Kristine Kochanski no less, and yourself, well, I see a problem already, taken in by your grandmom, raised by her until her death, which rocked you to the core, you lost your virginity on a golf course to a girl almost twice your age, worked as a trolley parker, where you met another girl, who was married, and her husband threw you in the trunk of his car naked, and released you in the middle of a play. You then signed up to work aboard The Red Dwarf, a mining vessel, with a ship’s computer with an I.Q. of 6000, or 6000 physical education teachers, stayed consistently drunk with someone named Peterson and Chen. You met a…”
“Krissy,” said Lister, who appeared to be hurt. And it did hurt to remember her,with that pinball smile. But, he was with Rimmer, his Rimmer. And that’s what mattered, his Rimmer.
“But, we’re not here to talk about Kristine, let’s talk about Rimmer. In your profile, there are extensive notes about him. As I understand it, you two have had love/hate relationship. Let’s discuss that, shall we?” asked Rodger.
“Can we take a break? I need a bevy,” said Lister.
“Of course. Shall I play some music?” asked Rodger.
“Sure, mate. Play ‘The Wichita Lineman’,” said Lister.
“No problem,” said Rodger. The music started, and as hauntingly beautiful as it was sung, it had an echo to it. Lister turned to Rodger, prepairing to slap him, but something made him stop cold. It wasn’t the fact all colour had drained from the room, or the fact that the room dropped in temperature. It wasn’t even how the lights flashing on Rodger stopped. It was Glen Campbell. A dead Glen Campbell. And, he was singing. Giving Lister an unplugged show!
‘I am a lineman for the county, and I drive the main road, searchin’ in the sun for another overload. I hear you singing in the wire, I can hear you through the line, and the Wichita Lineman is still on the line.’
‘I know I need a small vacation, but it don’t look like rain, and if it snows that stretch down south won’t ever stand the strain, and I need you more than want you, and I want you for all time, and the Wichita Lineman is still on the line.’
Lister couldn’t believe his eyes or ears. It was Glen Campbell, playing live for him.
“You sound as smegging perfect as you used to in me gran’s kitchen.”
“Thank you,” said Glen.
“I’ve got one question, just what the smeg was a lineman?”
Glen smiled. “A lineman was a person who delt with live wires. An electrician. I couldn’t sing ‘I am an electrician for the county.’ It doesn’t roll off the tongue, you know.”
“Well, why didn’t you just say power man?”
“Again, it doesn’t roll off the tongue. Remember, this is country, old country of the 50’s. People wanted songs that were easy to remember Easy to sing.” He strummed his guitar.
“Music was different back then. It was real, it came from the heart. From the soul. There was a lot to write about. If you got into music, either you were in love, or you had a story to share. You used to love music. It used to make up ¼ of you. Now there’s no music at all. What happened?”
Lister chuckled snidely, and said one word, “Life.”
“Aren’t you by any chance curious how I knew that about you?” asked Glen.
Lister shrugged, then asked “What are you anyway? Are you a ghost? Because we already have one of those already.”
Glen chuckled and said ”Yes I am, but I’m a special ghost. I was sent to help you with your problem with Rimmer.”
“But I have no problems with Rimmer! We are together, everything’s perfect. What more could I ask for?” asked Lister.
“The one thing you want, well two things you haven’t shared with Arnold, and you know what they are, and more importantly, why you can’t share them,” said Glen. “But, I should let you get back to your councilor. I can only stop time for a small window, and time is about up. No one else can see me, nor can you talk about me to anyone. It’s kinda like the Justice Field. And I’m sure you remember that.”
Lister nodded, because he did, and had the burn marks to remember it by.
“So we’re clear and copasetic? Good. So see ya around, pal,” said Glen. Suddenly, all the ship’s lighting, and color came back to everything. And he remembered his need for a bevy.
Lister’s brain couldn’t, no wouldn’t wrap around the preconceived notion that somewhere in that big universe that God was actually pulling for him to get through this… whatever the smeg it was that was stopping him from experiencing all that was Rimmer.
“Why in the smeg…” was all he could say.
He went to get himself a lager, opened it, and swallowed half the can’s contents. With a loud belch, he returned to Rodger.
He sat in his chair across from Rodger. It was their fourth session. And Rodger suggested he bring Rimmer. So he did. And Glen appeared to him on five occasions. Each time, they talked about things he didn’t feel comfortable telling Rodger. He loved Rimmer, but he couldn’t figure out where this fear came from.
“Tell him. He’ll understand, trust me,” said Glen. “Have faith in him. For only God Himself know when was the last time someone actually loved and trusted him enough to believe in him.”
Lister decided he would man up and tell him his greatest fear.
“I will be quiet, and won’t say a word unless prompted to,” said Rodger.
Lister took Rimmer’s hand, and took a large breath, and began.
“Rimsy, you know I love you, but I’ve gotta tell you sumthin.”
“Listy, are you going to tell me you’re cheating on me with, with Kryten? I know it wouldn’t be Cat. The thought of you and him, eeww,” he says with a shudder. “But you having a go with the whiney bog bot-“
Lister silenced his the only way he knew how, with a kiss. Moments later, Rimmer was dazed by the kiss he just received. And for once, he was quiet. Satisfied, Lister continued.
“You remembered when we were in bed, back when our relationship started, an’ you asked me when would it be your turn to bugger me, and that you wanted ta do it then, an I said I’ve got the sceamin’ shits?”
Rimmer had this dazed look on his face, the look of a man that had just had the snog of his life.
“Yeah, I remember saying somethin like that…” said Rimmer, with a goofy look on his face.
“Smeg, I shoulda snogged ‘im years ago,” laughed Lister.
He tried something else. “Rimsy, Kryten found a puncture repair kit. You can patch up Ingrid!”
That didn’t work. So he tried blowing in his ear. That sort of worked, but not in the way Lister was hoping for, not that he was complaining any, as Rimmer kissed him deeply. He would have been stripping his an Rimmer’s clothes off, but he had eyes in the room, Rodger’s and more importantly, Glen. That thought snapped him out of the well of want and need he was free falling in.
“Rimsy, oh smegging hell, where did you learn that? Rimsy, you stud of a man, don’t… stop. Don’t, stop, baby, please stop. Rimsy, stop, please stop.” ‘Smeg me, what am I saying? Smeg that feels good! Oh, got to get him to stop. What can I do?’
“Cat’s here, naked with a naked Kryten! And he’s back with his double Polaroid mo… mmmff!” said Lister as he fell out of his chair.
Rimmer was on his feet, looking around for a naked Kryten and Cat with his double Polaroid! He looked around, and saw only Lister. He gave a sigh of relief.
“Listy, why are you trying to trick me? You are trying to break up with me!!” said Rimmer, still unaware that the news he was dreading, wasn’t that type of news at all.
“Rimmah, dammit, I’M TRYIN’ TA SAY SOMETHIN’ HERE, IF YOU’LL JUST SHUT THE SMEG UP AN’ LISTEN!!” screamed Lister. Why couldn’t they just go back to the making out part?
“Rimsy, listen to me. I’m not breaking up with you! I’m sorta happy with the way things are. I’m happy wit’ you, it’s meself I’m not so happy with.”
Rimmer looked up, tears fresh in his eyes, but not falling.
Lister continued. “The reason I’m not happy with meself is I haven’t been honest wit’ ya. I lied to ya, an’ Im sorry.”
Now Rimmer took an interest. “What did you lie about?”
Lister took a deep breath, and told Rimmer what’s been going on with him, his uncertainties with letting Rimmer bugger him.
“Its like every time I see it in me head, everything’s goin’ right, then you drop yer kit, an’ suddenly I’m gonna be buggered by a Rimmer wit’ a Kin’ Kong dick!! An’ while me ex buggered me wit a dildo, that wasn’t tha’ same thin’ as you wit’ Kin’ Kong’ dong!!”
Lister sighed. He usually knew what to do when faced with a problem. But this was a issue of humongous proportions. And it killed him to know no solution for it.
But Rimmer had a solution.
“Listy, you know that’s not the case. I mean, I appreciate the thought, and the vote of confidence, but you know you’re way bigger than me. But, you know, we could start small. We could use my pinky, to start with, and work our way up to the size of my… unit.”
Lister smiled. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Rimmer looked and said, “Because you’re a gimboild.” Then he smiled and continued, “But you’re my gimboild. And don’t you forget it.”
Lister giggled. “I won’t, as long as you’re there to remind me.”
That was seven years ago. Rimmer and Lister are still very much in love, and are happily married. I finally got to used my priesthood for something. Now, if only I can find me a ‘Rimsy.'
The second in the song fic gallery. I'm trying to work my way into a real sex scene for our boys, but every time I try, I feel like I'm getting raped anally. Maybe my next fic :p
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