Story: Family Ties - spoilers for The Beginning

[kronette.livejournal.com]

Family Ties
by kronette
Just a little something I whipped up during a chat with veronica_rich last night.
Spoilers for The Beginning

Lister slowly opened his eyes as Rimmer's tone changed in his running commentary about his new dad. Lister was glad for him; really. The Rimmer family had to be the most fucked-up bunch of people ever to grace Io.

Every time Rimmer had told him a family story in the past, he'd died a little inside. No child – no one – should be forced to stay in an environment like that. It broke his heart hearing how little Rimmer's family seemed to care for him, and his father's last message put any doubts to rest; the Rimmers were horrible people.

His gaze focused on Rimmer, talking and waving his hands enthusiastically. Rimmer's excitement used to be reserved for Morris Dancing, Hammond organs, telegraph poles and the occasional Renaissance Art book. Now, his eyes were snapping, his mouth turned up in a smile even as he talked, and he was animated, full of energy.

Lister forced himself to sit up, his hand gone numb from where he'd propped his head up from the table. His own smile matched Rimmer's as the hologram finally took a breath. "That's really great, Rimmer," he enthused, meaning every syllable.

"Isn't it, though?" Rimmer answered as he sat across from Lister, practically bouncing in his chair. "I mean, to find out all these years later that I'm not a Rimmer at all! Howard isn't my brother; he's my half-brother. So are Frank and John. I never have to live up to their standards, because I'm a Pinegar!"

Rimmer's smile was so wide, so happy, that Lister couldn't bring himself to burst his bubble. Learning who your real dad is doesn't change who you are, it just changes your perception of who you are. He should know; he was both son and dad to himself.

Lister hedged, "Do you really want to change your name, Rimmer? It would mean a lot of paperwork. And you'd have to make new nametags and sew them into your clothes."

Rimmer waved a hand dismissively. "That's the old Rimmer. Arnold Pinegar doesn't worry about that smeg. In fact," he got up, went into his locker, and began chucking things onto the table. His Morris Dancer Weekly magazines. His photo albums of telegraph poles. Scrapbooks full of newspaper clippings of his brothers, with their faces replaced by Rimmer's. "You can tell Kryten to take this to the waste disposal unit next time he's in to clean."

Lister stared in shock at the heap of Rimmer's life and began to worry. "Rimmer, do you honestly not like this stuff anymore?"

A shadow of doubt crossed Rimmer's expression. "I do love the music. And my dancing has never been better, thanks to those articles." He eyed the telegraph pole photo album wistfully and sighed. "Smeg."

Lister chuckled and put an arm around Rimmer's shoulders. "You are who you are, Rimmer, even if you're a Pinegar. Now that you're able to see some of Dennis' traits in you, you can choose to nurture them if you want. So you got your love of timetables from Dennis?" he prodded gently, trying to draw Rimmer back from the slightly confused air that hung about him.

"Not the timetables; the art," Rimmer answered distractedly, then perked back up. "I loved coloring maps in geography. I love the structure and the organization of timetables. Dennis kept our lawn immaculate; the bushes and trees were trimmed closer than a marine buzz cut. Never a flower out of place; never a blade of grass on the path. He was proud of his work, even if Fath- if Mr. Rimmer never was." Rimmer sobered. "Father was never proud of me, but Dennis helped me when the other kids would beat me up, or my brothers buried me in the sand. He would give me little pep talks, encourage me to stand up for myself. I wish I'd listened to him more. I might be a different man today."

Lister took in the hangdog expression and gently turned Rimmer's face toward him. He stroked his palm along Rimmer's cheek and said softly, "If you had listened to him, you wouldn't be here today. You never would have joined JMC without your father's pushing, and where would I be, eh?" Rimmer searched his face for something; he kept his expression open and honest, letting Rimmer see just how much he meant to him. "I need you here, Rimmer. I'm glad you're here, no matter who fathered you."

His eyes closed again, this time as Rimmer kissed him.

The End

Comments

[janamelie.livejournal.com]

This is so sweet. I think you strike the right balance between Rimmer's happiness at having a new father and acknowledging that he's still a product of his upbringing. What made you choose Pinegar? ;)

If I can offer a minor Britpick (I know he's from Io, but you know what I mean), Rimmer wouldn't use the word "sidewalks". In the context of a garden, we'd say "paths" or "pathways". :)

[kronette.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

Honestly, I went to a British surname database and scrolled down to find one that wasn't too standard but wasn't Dungo (that HAD to be a nickname).

If I can offer a minor Britpick (I know he's from Io, but you know what I mean), Rimmer wouldn't use the word "sidewalks". In the context of a garden, we'd say "paths" or "pathways". :)

I don't know what you mean *whistles innocently*

[janamelie.livejournal.com]

That was a quick edit. ;)

[kronette.livejournal.com]

Fastest fingers in the west! Vero and I are just about at the same place in our stories; figuring out the boys' relationship. They are two very smegged up lads. *shakes head*

[janamelie.livejournal.com]

Can't wait for both stories. :D