"Ace, love, wake up."

Rimmer snorted and turned on the cot in the back of the single-occupant Dimension Jump ship. He tried to get back to sleep. He was terribly tired.

"Ace, love, wake up."

The computer's sweet, sexy voice made for an eerie alarm clock. But he hadn't set her. He grumbled and stumbled across the two feet between him and the cockpit. "Whu?"

"We have received an emergency transmission from Mimas base, Dimension 486," she replied in a voice that was far too sultry for that information.

"What is it?" Rimmer asked, sitting in the pilot's seat and yawning.

"They say there is a GELF on the loose. It is a late point in a very important and expensive research project. They need it captured and returned alive."

Rimmer frowned. Something else struck him as odd, as sleep fell away from his brain. "How did they call us from a different dimension?"

"This dimension was very close to the dimension of the original Ace. The fifth Ace came from there, and retained his roots; he went back to visit often. They developed an inter-dimensional communicator."

"You never mentioned this?"

"Ace..." a grating note of frustration intruded on the computer's sultry voice, "if I told you about everything your predecessors did, the universe would end before we moved again."

Rimmer sighed. "Fine. Take us there, would you?" He closed his eyes as the familiar stomach-inverting feel of the Dimension Jump drive kicked in. He sighed and pressed his hands to his stomach. He always emerged in another dimension convinced that he had left an internal organ or two in the previous one.

"Plotting course to Mimas," the computer noted. "You should get dressed."

Rimmer headed back to the small sleeping nook. Hologrammatic clothes were all very well, but they would disappear once they left his body, and that tended to startle the rather attractive young people who had shown an interest in removing his clothes since he became Ace. Fortunately, the computer had a discreet tailor in her database. As well as a discreet hairdresser and a discreet sexual dysfunction specialist. Rimmer had pointedly disregarded the hints and visited the tailor. He now put on the fruits of the little winzed man's labor and strapped himself in.

He cleared his throat as they neared Mimas base, and dropped his voice as the computer opened communications channels. "Hey, fellas, how are those kippers coming?"


Rimmer left the containment area after having dumped the tied-up, slobbering GELF inside. He wiped a handful of slime off of his forehead, where it had been threatening to drop into his eyes, and worked up a smile for the little white-coated woman who ran towards him. "Ah, you caught him?" She ran to the reinforced window to look at the snarling, slimy creature that thrashed about inside, and the joy in the grin that spread across her face contrasted sharply with the severity of her tight bun. "Oh, wonderful!" She turned back to Ace, stuck her hand out to shake his, then pulled it back as she saw Rimmer's goop-covered one. "Thank you!"

Rimmer frowned at her, somewhat disconcerted by her obvious delight on seeing the GELF. "Erm, glad to be of help."

She started to walk down the corridor, motioning him to follow. Her stubby legs were a blur, and Rimmer had to walk rather quickly to keep up. "We are developing a whole new line of genetically engineered life forms. They will colonize space! Terraform planets too hostile for human life!"

"Very nice," Rimmer panted. He wanted nothing more than a shower and a lie-down. He did not want to run along behind a woman who was somehow more enamored of a slime-beast than of him.

"Yes," she gushed. "We're calling them the Kinitawowe."

For the first time since he had arrived, Rimmer felt a genuine smile touch his features. "Very good research. Keep it up."

The small woman finally stopped at the end of the pristine white corridor, lifted a handset that sat there, and spoke into it. "Keith? Yes? Send Spanners down here, would you?" She hung up and turned to Rimmer, and appeared surprised at something. "Spanners will take care of you - I imagine you want to clean up a bit...?"

The name tickled at the back of Rimmer's mind. He had heard it once before, he was sure - but where? He noted how the doctor was staring at him, and realized he probably was supposed to know this Spanners. "Oh, yes, bully!" he exclaimed with false heartiness. "Good old Spanners, eh?"


Spanners hurried along the corridor, annoyed to have been yanked away from his regular duties with no explanation. He did not like breaks in routine. Breaks made it harder to keep to the routine, and he had enough trouble with that as it was. He rounded the corner, and saw two figures standing at the end of the corridor. The tiny white-coated one was obviously Dr. Hargave, but the other one... rather tall... broad-shouldered... glimmering like tinfoil... Spanners slowed down.


The birdlike scientist could not be more obvious about wanting to get back to work if she were crouched in a sprinter's start. Rimmer was having no luck with small talk. Whoever Spanners was, he thought desperately, let he or she or it get here soon! He turned rather eagerly at the sound of footsteps in the echoy corridor. The figure producing that sound was short and dark, and had a open face that was instantly recognizable. "List...?" Rimmer swallowed the name down. This boy looked as young as Lister did when they first met, back in the cab on Mimas. And although time flowed oddly in dimensions relative to each other, and he might very well have gone back in time relative to his home dimension, he was fairly sure Lister had never worked at the test base. Or had a little moustache that lay across his upper lip like a torpid caterpillar. Or been that neatly turned out - ever. No, this must be a parallel to Lister, as he was to Ace. He folded his hands in front of him and tried to look dignified and in control. It would have worked better if a dollop of slime had not slid off of his hand and landed on his boot with a wet plop.

"Ace. Man." The words sounded false, Spanners knew, but he was having enough trouble just refraining from jumping the man. In an overly nonchalant tone, he went on, trying not to breathe too heavily. "Good to see ya!" He felt as though butterflies were inhabiting every nook and cranny of his body, and he shook his arms and legs a little to keep them from tickling so damn much.

"Yes," Rimmer replied, hesitantly. "Great to see you, too." He could feel his eyebrows jumping about. God, it had been years since he had seen Lister. His mind was searching for memories to compare the man in front of him to. Leaner, he decided; just a little bit. Less baby fat in the cheeks. This man stood with an almost artificial composure.

The little scientist spoke to Spanners without preamble. "Dave, take Ace to get cleaned up, there's a dear." She was clearly relieved to have the excuse to leave and get back to her business. Rimmer waved her farewell. "In a day's work, ma'am!" She paid no attention, disappearing around another corner.

Spanners watched her leave, a somewhat worried expression on his face. Rimmer looked at it curiously. Very like the Lister he knew. More like Lister than Ace was like him, he decided, in appearance, at least. Spanners followed her with his eyes until he was sure they were alone. Once they were, he looked up with joyous grin. Rimmer stepped back, startled at the sheer delight on the other man's face. He smiled wanly in response.

"Oh, God, man... I've missed you!" Spanners yipped. He threw himself around Ace, ignoring the slime that covered the man. He'd have embraced him if he'd been covered in worse things, he realized, not a little ashamed. He did try to be neat, but it was hard. And Ace had a way of making him loose any kind of control.

"Um, old matey... boy..." Rimmer stuttered. He had no idea how to process this. He held his arms out of the way as Spanners rocked slightly, his hands moving up and down Rimmer's back a little. "I'm a bit slimy, here." Spanners would be getting it all over himself.

Spanners felt swamped with emotion, enough to ignore Ace's odd behavior - which did tickle the back of his mind. He broke away, looking up with an eager grin. "Heh, yeah, I guess you are, at that."

Rimmer looked down at Spanners, confused. This was odd behavior for any form of Lister to display towards him. This was odd behavior for anyone to display towards a coworker. About the only reason for someone to display this behavior at all would be - Rimmer pushed away that train of thought. A vague sadness crept into his gut, and started negotiating a long-term lease. "Yes," he replied, heavily.

Oh right. Yes. Spanners mentally slapped himself as he realized why Ace was acting so strangely. They'd agreed to keep their relationship a secret, after all. It didn't do for Ace to be seen to have attachments, he'd said, and although they seemed to be alone, there was no reason not to be extra careful. "Well," he began. "We... we should get you somewhere else, yeah? I'm sure you'd like to clean up and that. Maybe..." he gave Ace a calculating look, trying to figure out some kind of code they would both understand, "get some rest?" When had they last been to bed together? Felt like decades.

Rimmer felt relief. That was simple and straightforward. That he could deal with. Clean up and rest. God, rest! He had been tired when he landed this morning, and had spent all day sparring with that GELF. "Yes, that would be marvelous, old chum." He hated Ace-isms, but had a good stock of them, courtesy of the computer. She had assured him that it was 'expected."

Old chum? That was an odd thing for his lover to call him, Spanners thought, but shook it off quickly. It was probably just the space heroics getting to him. They did that, quite often.

"I could use a shower," Rimmer continued, looking down at himself. His gold suit was almost all black loam and greenish slime, courtesy of wrestling the GELF in the agricultural dome. The mucosal goop choked his wig and dripped icy trails down the back of his shirt. He looked at Spanners, seeing him covered with a good dose of the slime, himself, from the hug. "Looks like you could, too."

The code had been understood! Spanners heart skipped a beat as he imagined the two of them wet and naked, washing one another clean, and then... and then all sorts of things. The showers on base were hardly intended for two people, but you could just about squeeze a person of Spanners's size in with a person of Ace's size, if you didn't mind rubbing against one another. Tightly. He nearly died from desire, only barely managing to practically moan out a "Yes..."

Rimmer paused from wringing out his sleeves when he saw Spanners's reaction. He cringed. Oh, hell. The vague sadness in his gut had invited over two friends, mortification and dread.

Spanners shook himself, realizing he was acting like an imbecile. "Erm. Come on then!" He started to lead the way, wanting to run and skip, but settling for humming very quietly, under his breath, instead.

Rimmer followed, feeling conflicted. There was no doubt, now, that Spanners thought he was some other Ace. Some other Ace who had been... involved with Spanners. But why did this Spanners not realize, from his actions, that he was not the same Ace? Perhaps... a cold anger evicted the other emotions from his gut. They stood around outside, irate and persistent. Rimmer's thoughts spun in circles as he squelched his way down the corridor behind Spanners, worrying at his lips with his teeth, spitting out the bitter slime that clung to them.

Almost dancing, wishing they could just move the station around them and end up straight in the shower, Spanners tried to make small talk about unimportant things, but Ace seemed lost in thought, his brow furrowed. In the end Spanners decided to just walk faster. It was that way with a lot of things; sometimes you just had to grit your teeth and do some honest work. Short cuts were only for lazy daydreamers, or so he'd always been told. Only quite recently had he learned to live by that maxim. Even though the route was familiar to Spanners, and usually fairly quick, it seemed to take forever. Ace made several false starts at conversation, but cut each one short by biting his lip. At a corridor junction, Spanners pointed left, just to have something to do. "It's down this way." A pointless and unnecessary gesture, as he had already started walking down that way. Besides, Ace knew the way same as him, didn't he?

Rimmer followed Spanners gamely, wishing he could think of an appropriate word to say. Small talk was all that was appropriate for out in public, and every bit of small talk that sprang to mind was hopelessly banal. "Yes, the base looks... good... you've been taking good care of it..." He cringed at how horrid it sounded.

Ace's voice was wooden, artificial and somewhat impatient. Spanners knew how he felt. "Yeah. Yeah, we... er..." He mumbled, frowning and coughing, looking from side to side. Decades, hell; it felt like centuries. Finally, mercifully, he saw the door to his quarters approaching. He rushed towards it, fumbling with the lock's key-pad, his fingers not working like they should. "Well, here we are!" Like a human whirlwind, he opened the door and sprang inside the room in one clumsily fluid motion.

Rimmer walked in after him with his fists clenched, bracing himself for the conversation they were going to have. Your lover is dead. I'm just pretending to be him. How's the weather?

Ace was walking too slowly, far too slowly! Spanners stood inside of the room, panting, slapping the Door Close switch as soon as Ace was clear of it, then lunged at him, kissing him passionately, inhibitions flying.

Rimmer had not been expecting such an action so quickly. Spanners was so like Lister, with his stubby fingers, now pressed to the small of Rimmer's back, his long, agile tongue that slid around in Rimmer's mouth, the height difference that tilted Spanners's head upwards as he stood on tiptoes. For just a moment, shivering, Rimmer kissed him back, thinking of his Lister... the Lister whose rasta plaits would be twitching down his back, who would probably taste like old cigarette butts and lager, not like fresh mint toothpaste, and who did not have a tickle of a moustache over his upper lip.

Ace raised his hand to Spanners's cheek as the other man moaned and pressed against him. Spanners needed their clothes to be off; their bodies entangled now. One second more would be too long; hell, it had already been too long, years too long.

Rimmer lifted his head, pushing back gently on Spanners. He dropped the stupid bloody Ace accent. "Dave..." he sighed, his gut clenching.

"What?" Spanners asked, confused. Ace's voice sounded odd, too nasal, too high in pitch.

Rimmer let out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes and looking away. As if this conversation was not going to be bad enough, now he would have to have it while he was painfully horny. "He never told you, did he."

Something deep inside him, the same part that would warn his ancient ancestors that man-eating predators were lurking nearby in the savannah grass, was nudging Spanners in the ribs, and he felt a certain desperation setting in. "What?!"

Rimmer could not do this while pressed up close. He pulled back and walked to the wall, putting one hand against it, needing its solidity. He put his back to it, and slid to the ground, his legs pulled up in front of him. He tried to look at Spanners's open, confused, loving face. He looked back down at his hands.

Anger and worry nudged equally at Spanners. "Ace, what is this? You're scaring me!"

"Eh.." Rimmer's voice was a hoarse whisper. He swallowed. "I'm not Ace."

Maybe it was just the usual angst that got to his lover sometimes, Spanners thought, ignoring the voice inside him insisting that it was far more than that. He got down on his knees next to Ace, and reached out to caress his face. Yes, something was clearly off; he had no idea why he hadn't sensed it before. The joy of seeing Ace again, probably. The man in front of him almost didn't look like the one who had left him; it was as though he'd been changed, somehow. How long had he been gone? Had time moved differently for him? He looked older, weary, infinitely tired. Spanners adopted a joking tone, gently joking, wanting to reassure. Who he was reassuring, he didn't quite know. Both of them, probably. "Of course you are, man."

Rimmer cringed as warm, soft fingers touched his face. He pulled away slightly. "No, I'm not. I'm a..." he hunted for words. What the smegging hell was he, after all?

All the love he had for this wonderful man threatened to strangle Spanners, as he looked on, trying to understand. He didn't know what was wrong, but they could work it out, together. "It's all right. I love you." They loved one another, and anything was possible as long as they had that.

"...replacement," Rimmer found. "Stand-in."

Spanner's brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

Rimmer blinked at Spanners's words, feeling almost physical pain. Anger was brewing in him, anger at this other Ace. He put his head back, fuming. "Your Ace is dead." He spat it out like an invective.

That face, Spanners thought, looking more intently at Ace. It did look odd. Maybe it hadn't changed, or aged prematurely. Maybe there was a much simpler explanation, a chillingly simple one. "I'd say you were lying... but I can tell." His voice was cold and dead. He touched Ace's face again, gently, tracing an outline which both was and was not familiar. "He didn't have that scar." Ace shivered at the touch, his lip shaking. "His eyes weren't as brown."

This was too much to take. This dimension's Ace had been just like the original, too much like him. Effortlessly charming, heroic, sexy. Worst, though, he had Lister. Lister hopelessly devoted to him, senselessly in love, ready to stick his tongue down Ace's throat the moment he came back from a siesta of - how many years? Rimmer leapt to his feet and strode away from Spanners. He tore off his wig and threw it on the ground. "He wasn't a smegging lot like me!"

Spanners jumped as the wig fell to the floor, not sure if he was more surprised to see Ace tear his hair off like that, or by the abruptness of the action. He leaned against the wall, half expecting it to crumble away, too; everything else seemed to be falling apart. "What..."

Rimmer folded his arms, his back to Spanners. Ace had run off without telling Spanners about the Aces. No, he had left that to Rimmer. He had left Rimmer to deal with the fallout of his little paradise turning to smeg. "Sorry," he said, quietly. He was surprised to discover that he meant it. "I'm not him. There have been - millions, I don't know how many. One of us dies, someone else steps in."

This didn't make any sense. Spanners liked things to makes sense; it helped him keep order in his life. Now all that he thought he knew with absolute certainty seemed to spin away from him helplessly, like the crew of a ship that has suddenly lost artificial gravity. And looming over all this was an overwhelming sadness; one he didn't dare analyze further. "What are you telling me?" he asked, quietly. But the words sunk in and resolved, mercilessly, forcing him to face what he already knew. "Oh smeg... Oh god..."

Rimmer could not look. He could not watch the hope and love turn to despair and disgust.

"He's dead." He should be crying. That's what you did when someone you loved was dead. He wanted to be crying. But nothing happened.

Rimmer choked on a sigh.

"He's dead," Spanners repeated, stating a fact. That was what it was; the only thing it felt like right now.

"Ye... s."

Spanners looked up steadily at the back of this Ace who was not his Ace, wondering if the wet he felt in his eyes were tears. "And now you're him, is that it?" His eyes fell to the wig with some distaste. No wonder he had looked off; that shoddy thing was nothing like his Ace's hair.

Rimmer turned around, halfway, looking at Spanners out of the corner of his eye. The man was blurry and indistinct. "No, I'm not him. I'm just - doing his job."

"Right," Spanners replied, resignedly. "I see."

Rimmer nodded, his arms folded tightly over his chest. He repeated his words from before, but a repeat did not give them any more meaning - or the ability to comfort. "I'm sorry." They were so much air.

"Don't I feel a right fool now, then," Spanners replied, flatly. "Bet this happens a lot." With so many Aces there had to be that many lovers; that many Listers, and probably more than a few other people of either sex, waiting patiently for their interdimensional hero to return with a swagger and shag them for a bit before moving on. And while this Ace had resisted his advances, who was to say what other Aces had done to other Listers that weren't really theirs to claim? He started feeling rather sick.

Rimmer's anger could not persist in the face of Spanners's hurt, his very justifiable pique. His love had been for another man, and had fled the room, leaving a cold vacuum in its wake. "I'm sorry... I really didn't know that you didn't... know."

"Should have realized. All those dimensions. Bound to be another Arnold 'Ace' Rimmer there too, right?"

Another. And another. And another. "There's so many of us..." Rimmer choked. So many of them so much more than he was. He closed his eyes.

"And how many Listers? Is there a Lister where you're from?" The thought had come to him, suddenly. Somehow, if there was, if this Ace had a Lister, if they were happy, then that would mean at least something was right in the universe.

God, no. Don't make me think about this, Rimmer thought. He did not reply.

The look on Ace's face was answer enough. But it was not the look Spanners was hoping to see. "There is, isn't there?"

Rimmer shrugged, trying not to think about tatty leather jackets, curries, cigarette smoke, rasta plaits.

That Ace did not want to talk about this was more than obvious. Not something he felt was important then. Not a priority in his life. Spanners felt anger take over him, and embraced it gratefully; he could deal with anger. It was simple, clean, to the point. He moved closer. "You have a Dave too, don't ya? And you left him?"

Rimmer's voice was flat. "He didn't love me like you loved Ace."

It was almost funny. Almost. Spanners snorted out a humorless laugh. "Is that right, then? You asked, did ya?"

"He made it clear," Rimmer spat out from between his teeth. "He once told me he loved me. Laughed about it for weeks afterwards."

Spanners studied Ace's face. He was as hard to read as his own Ace was. No, had been. He couldn't tell if this anger was sincere or not. Couldn't tell if the ridiculous words coming out of his mouth were real, or some weird way of trying to make Spanners feel better about having lost his Ace.

Rimmer turned away from this man who was Lister, but wasn't. "It's not important."

"Well." Spanners stood up straight. "Tell you what. I'm Dave Lister, too. And I loved Ace; my Ace." He studied the face in front of him for any sign of emotional change, but there was none. Determined, he went on. "But I loved everything about him. Everything. Wasn't always so good at showing it, though. I see him in you." The fretting. The uncertainty. The way he'd handled that GELF when he was showing every sign of not having slept for ages. The complete and utter inability to see what an amazing man he really was.

Passionate embraces. A soulful, sensual kiss that still tweaked Rimmer's libido. "You certainly seemed good about showing it to me," he replied harshly, glaring at the ground.

"Well, I hadn't seen you... I mean, him, for two years! Does things to a person, that." It still did, dammit. Their bodies looked nearly identical, if Spanners was any judge. And if he wasn't, he'd like to know who was.

Two years? What was two years? What about hundreds, locked in the dark? "I hadn't seen him for 600..." Rimmer shrugged, dismissing the topic. He would have kissed Lister for hours when he pulled that filthy blanket off, but the other man had stepped back, a look of vague annoyance on his face.

Spanners raised an eyebrow. "Eh?"

"Nothing." Which was all he was to Lister. "Trust me, he doesn't care."

Anger, simple, uncomplicated anger rose along with Spanners frustration. "How could he not? "He's me, ain't he?" Why was this simple concept so hard for this Ace to understand?

"Not exactly. Just like I'm not Ace." Rimmer ran his hand through his hair, pointedly. So many differences; some superficial, some not.

Spanners paused for a moment, considering those words. They didn't seem to make any more sense that what had already happened. If there was more than one Ace, then clearly, being Ace was a job. This one had said so himself, hadn't he? And if it was, what this Ace was doing right now - trying to explain, being polite and understanding when he could have just thrown Spanners out, or worse yet, taken advantage of him at his most vulnerable - well, that went above and beyond the call of duty. He picked up the wig, carefully, and handed it to Ace. "Yes, you are."

Rimmer glared at the slimy, filthy thing. "I'm not your Ace. And he's not my Lister."

Spanners nodded. "No, you're not the man who left me. And yer not mine. But yer as good an Ace as I've ever seen. And I know... Ace... " Yes, he knew Ace. Even before they'd ended up in bed together that strange, confusing, wonderful night Ace had first returned for him, they'd been friends, excellent friends despite the gap of the differences between them. Crossing that gap had not been easy, but not trying, not even thinking it was possible? How could anyone think like that? Even now, with Ace's body dead and buried - who knew where - Spanners could still feel his long, sensitive hands on him, his breath in his ear, his lips moving their way down Spanners's body, the way Ace would twitch and moan and whimper when he licked his nipples... Yes, he knew Ace. Every inch of him, body, soul and mind.

Rimmer frowned, his lip not quite steady. This friendship, in face of the love he had given his Rimmer, his Ace, was more than Rimmer expected, and so much less than he wanted. A condescending friendship. The friendship of the girls who had called him a "nice guy," back when he was alive, and gently wiggled their way out of his life as soon as they could.

Reluctantly, Spanners returned to reality, and saw that the wig was still in his hands. He offered it again, locking eyes with its fickle owner.

"Hell." Rimmer took it with a lackluster squelch. He folded his arms, with it under one elbow, and faced Spanners squarely, raising one eyebrow.

"There." Spanners could not help but smile. It was a small step, but it was something. If he could get this Ace to accept his role, to be happy; well, that was certainly something, too.

"He loved.. the old Ace, I think." Too much had been said. Rimmer had to spit out the rest, everything that had been clawing at him for so many years. The profound jealousy he felt, watching Lister and Ace touch and talk and touch... "Might have been yours."

Spanners shook his head, smiling sadly. He'd never expected Ace to be faithful. With all the possibilities out there, anyone would be tempted, and Spanners didn't want to stand in the way any potential happiness that might come Ace's way. In fact, he hadn't fully expected him to return, and every time he did, he felt like he was falling in love with the man all over again. "I wouldn't have blamed him. Turned quite a few heads, he did. But you know what?" he added, earnestly. "I didn't love him for all of that. Not for the hair or the tinfoil suit or the swagger, or the smooth talking. Not for the nutty smegging heroics."

"Not much left after that," Rimmer grated.

"I love him fer him. What he was inside, like." He pointed at Ace's chest, as though that would indicate his entire being; the sum of what he was.

"Not much in us, and I know, because I'm there." The contents of Rimmer were pettiness and meanness and unrequited affection turned to bitterness.

Spanners smiled weakly. "I see it in yer eyes." Rimmer lowered them quickly. "You've got... whatever it was he had. What made me love him. And you can't come here telling me there's a Dave Lister anywhere in the smegging multiverse that doesn't see that and want it, no matter what he tells ya!" He sounded it off quickly, a little too loud, as though he were trying to reach across dimensions to whoever this other Lister was and let him know what a fool his Arnold Rimmer was. He had to love him. It couldn't be otherwise. If he didn't, then nothing was right with the universe, and they all might as well just give up.

Rimmer blinked rapidly. This was not his Lister. This was... some smegging romantic who got his perfect love affair, and thought everyone else did, too. They don't, you bastard, he thought desperately. Not one man in a thousand gets to love someone, truly. You did. You were smegging lucky. "Whatever you say."

This wasn't enough? Even this wasn't enough? Was this Ace blind as well as stupid? Couldn't he see the love in Spanners's eyes, too strong to be held back by his long-suffered regime of self-restraint now; the love for a man who, for all intents and purposes, was the man standing here now. He shook his head in disbelief. "You really don't see it, do ya?" He moved closer still. "How beautiful you are?" Ace closed his eyes and tilted his head down. Spanners could not help himself. He planted a soft kiss on Ace's forehead. You couldn't be that close and not do that. Not if you were David Lister. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you can't see that."

Rimmer backed away, thinking of Lister's grin, his joy at Rimmer's departure. "It's... all over. He told me to go. He made his choice. And mine, too. It wasn't my idea. It wasn't my choice."

The anger had gone, leaving Spanners with nothing but a dull sort of emptiness and exhaustion. "He made yer choice?"

Rimmer opened his eyes, blinking until the blur resolved into Spanners. "I didn't want to leave, D... Li... Spanners."

Now there was a word, a concept. Spanners knew about choices. He'd made a fair few of them over the years, many of which he'd regretted. He'd chosen to give up smoking so he could save up enough money to go to flight engineering school. He'd chosen to repress his natural tendency towards sloppiness so he could graduate with honors and get the best job offers. He'd chosen not to follow Kris when she transferred to Red Dwarf a few years back, which he'd regretted like a moping dog all the way up until he'd looked into Ace's eyes and seen what he'd been missing all along. And he'd chosen to stay with Ace; to love him despite the risk of... what had just happened happening. And what he did know was this: other people couldn't make choices for you, no more than they could make your heart beat or your cells rejuvenate. He looked deeply into Ace's eyes. "Then how come ya did?"

"He wanted me to. I would have let him down. He wanted me to... go be a hero." Bitterness saturated Rimmer's voice.

Spanners looked on quietly for a while, then started to shake. The shaking increased, and an odd, twisted look came to his face. A look that was all too familiar to Rimmer. He glared at Spanners, daring him to do what Lister would do after making that face. Strange, staccato noises came out of Spanners, until he could not hold it back, and started to laugh, brashly, openly, joyfully. Rimmer turned and tossed his wig in front of the shower door in the corner. Fine. The joke was on him. He was just tired, tired and filthy; he wanted a shower and a nap. He wanted to think about nothing. He wanted this doppelganger of Lister to take his love and his sweetness and his jokes somewhere else.

"Oh smeg, sorry," Spanners gasped. "Sorry. It's just..."

Rimmer did not listen. He struggled out of his slimy coat, tossing it on top of the wig.

"That's..." Spanners laughed again. "That's exactly what happened to him and me!"

"Tired of all this stupid smegging bullshit," Rimmer muttered, pulling at his shirt.

Still laughing, shaking, perhaps mostly out of the sheer relief it gave after all this tension, Spanners finally managed to control himself. "Sorry. Didn't mean to laugh, but, well..." He shook his head. Everything about this was so absurd. He watched Rimmer toss his shirt onto the pile with a squish. "The only reason he went off to do his heroics in the first place is because he thought I wanted him to!"

Rimmer turned his head to look at Spanners, slime dripping down from face to splat on his torso. "And you sent him off for what? Laughs?"

"Because I thought that was what HE wanted! Talk about smeg soup, eh?"

Was there a Lister somewhere who did not push and pull and play with Rimmer? "None of the Listers in any dimension thinks we actually know what we want, eh?"

Spanners closed his eyes, smiling sadly. He turned his head away. "There's truth in that. Though I'd've hit ya for saying that back before me and Ace got together. But it's the truth, that is." You always made your own choices. But that didn't stop other people from forcing you into a situation where making the wrong one seemed like the only way out. He'd done that. Who knew how many other Listers had, too?

Rimmer nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Spanners looked at Ace, his head tilted. Despite the differences, him being in here right now was worse than a bad idea; that much was becoming apparent. "Listen... I've messed around with ya enough. I'll get out of yer hair. Just," he hesitated. "Think about what I said, will ya?"

Rimmer sighed. "And if he doesn't want me..."

"And what if he does want ya? If he's as daft an idiot as me, and right now he's worried sick about ya, nothing to do but worry and fret over what a fool he was to let ya go? What then, eh, Ace?" That's yer name, he thought. Yer name and yer job, no matter how you came by it. Now you have to live it.

Rimmer quirked up one corner of his mouth. "Right... and I'll bet you.. whatever the hell you people bet with around here - that he doesn't."

"Ye'll never know unless ya try." Spanners turned, about to leave. "Think about that. You'll never know".

Rimmer nodded at his feet. He unfastened his boots and toed out of them, feeling incredibly nasty - in every way.

All thoughts gone now, save for what he needed for basic operation of his body, Spanners opened the door. "Take care, man. And," he gave that slight smile again, one that made Rimmer turn back to his boots after looking up quickly, "make him proud, would ya?"

"I try," Rimmer grated, watching Spanners leave. The man seemed to take everything out of the room with him; hope, enthusiasm, affection. He pulled off his socks and trousers, then kicked the pile of clothes into the shower and turned it on. He switched to soft-light, letting the slime and dirt fall to the ground with a splat, and stepped into the stream to rinse off his light bee. He felt vastly horny, and felt equally guilty for being so horny. That was someone else's Lister, someone else's love, someone else's kiss. He stood there, watching slime run along the tile in sickening rivulets.


"This was a very bad idea." It was, Lister felt, the understatement of the century; nay, considering their situation, the last... whatever millions of years were called. He said it anyway, not finding any appropriate alternatives.

Kochanski, seated opposite him on the narrow bunk, her shirt half-way over her head in that manner which only seems practical in the heat of a sexual moment, rolled her eyes. She breathed away a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "You don't say," she groused, cradling her left wrist in her right hand. Those metal bunks were more solid than they looked, especially if you found your wrist being banged up against it by a person weighing considerably more than you did.

Noticing this, Lister winced. "Sorry."

"Not your fault." It had been, but what the hell. She just wanted this awkward conversation to be over so she could get out of here and forget this even more awkward entire incident and just hide under her bunk for the next three myrs. Unless, she frowned, that was the term for 6,022 1367 (36) x 10^23? She was always getting those two mixed up. No, wait, that one was definitely mol. Definitely. It was important she get it right, she thought, with increasing desperation, because it would look rather silly if she tried to hide for an Avogadro's Constant number of years.

"I'm not normally this clumsy..."

"Look, forget about it." Terms from chemistry and astronomy were converging in her mind, trying to form some sort of revolutionary new shame-related branch of science.

"It's just, it's been a while, and..."

"I said, let's just forget about it!"

"Right."

"Right."

The evening, Lister grumbled internally, had began so promisingly. They'd been celebrating finally being out of range of Red Dwarf, and the fact that they still had a whole crate of wine which wasn't urine re-cyc. Lister didn't like wine; it gave him a headache and made him slightly uneasy for reasons that had become blurry over the years, but at least it was alcoholic. He had no idea how many bottles worth he'd drunk by the time he and Kris had stumbled into her quarters, but he did remember muttering some pretext about wanting to see if they could do something about those pesky pipes.

His next clear memory was of Kris trying to lick his tonsils, which only served to drive home the fact she wasn't his Kris, because his Kris could hardly stick her tongue out of her own mouth. Ah, but he'd been drunk, and it had been a while, and he'd let her push him onto that neatly made, yet far too narrow mattress, and the rest had been an undignified struggle of limbs, lips (and, unfortunately, teeth), and clothing, until they'd sobered up enough to end up here, horny, forlorn and discontent.

Kochanski sighed, and looked at the man who had just proven beyond any reasonable doubt that he was most certainly not, nor could he ever be, her Dave. She couldn't help but feel sorry for him. This messy debacle had not been the fault of either of them; they'd both been looking for someone else in one another's bodies, and they hadn't found it. But at least she'd known who she was looking for. Dave... Dave had been looking for two different people and trying to imagine it was neither of them.

And so they sat there, the two of them, at a loss for words and actions both, until the uneven klaxon of what had been informally dubbed "vaguely light-taupe" alert, named after the only colored bulb they'd been able to get a hold of, sounded across the 'bug like a hallelujah of relief.


When Rimmer landed in Starbug's docking bay, only Kryten was there to greet him. While another Ace might have noticed a certain cool reserve in Kryten's manner, Rimmer, who was only used to more hostile and resentful dealings with Kryten, found the mechanoid's manner excessively fawning. Kryten grasped Rimmer's right hand in both of his, exclaiming his delight at Ace's return, asking how he was, asking what he had been doing, and asking if he would like to see Mister Lister, all without a pause for Rimmer to answer.

Rimmer finally got a word in edgewise to the effect that Kryten was a hell of a chap, and yes, thanks, he would love to see Davey-boy again. Kryten effused for another few minutes, then lead the way down to the sleeping quarters. Rimmer was surprised that Lister was not waiting at the airlock to greet him, as he had been waiting to greet the other Ace, so many years before. He was rather disgusted at the dread that was choking his throat as he and Kryten made their way down to Lister's room. Who was he; Ace Rimmer, seasoned space adventurer, or a twelve-year-old? The latter, apparently, and he just hoped that he could control his petulance when he discovered what he felt he was already well on his way to discovering - that he had been completely right, and Spanners wrong.

They stopped at Lister's room, and Rimmer bit his lip as Kryten sounded the chime. He paused, and both of them waited for an uncomfortable half-minute. "Mister Lister?" Kryten asked, glancing nervously at Rimmer as he banged on the door with one metal arm. They waited through another uneventful minute. "Oh my heavens, I have no idea where he might be!" Kryten fussed as he turned and trotted his high-kneed way down the corridor. Rimmer followed, his mind a whirl of thoughts as to where Lister might indeed be, none of them good.

"Well, no worries, Kryters, old chum," he called as he followed Kryten down the corridor, "he'll turn up soon enough." Rimmer was not, now, certain if he wanted Lister to or not. What he wanted to do was leave. Coming back had been a bad idea. Kryten mumbled absent-mindedly to himself as he paused a little way down the corridor. "Still have Cat aboard?" Rimmer asked, to fill the gap. He hoped not.

"I could have sworn he said he was going to retire," Kryten mumbled, "about the same time..." he looked up as Rimmer's question penetrated to his silicon brain. "Oh, certainly, sir!" He wondered where he had got to.

Drat, thought Rimmer. "Ah, we should give him a shout. Bet he's looking hotter than a nuclear explosion in Gambia." Kryten nodded, looking distracted, and walked down the hall more slowly, and stopped at the quarters that used to be Rimmer's. Rimmer bit his tongue in annoyance, wanting to walk right on past. But as he drew close to Kryten, the door opened, and Lister stumbled out, one hand pulling his pants up, the other trying to fasten them. "What's going on, Krytes?" he asked, breathlessly.

Rimmer stopped, suddenly, halfway hidden behind the mechanoid. More thoughts were whirling through his head, an even more confusing set than the last. Lister was in his old room. Lister was doing something that involved a lack of pants. Lister looked better than he remembered; a little older, his face more mature and serene - downright beautiful. Lister was not looking at him. Someone was emerging from behind Lister - a female someone, vaguely familiar, her hair ruffled, her top halfway off. Rimmer felt his face turn to ice.

"Oh, sir! I have the most wonderful news!" Kryten gushed, appearing, perhaps, happier than he had been when Rimmer arrived. Lister turned, slowly, to note the figure that stood off to the side and behind Kryten. His hands fell from only half-fastened pants. Gay centerfold, his mind volunteered, unhelpfully. Big Boys in Boots, it added. Apart from that, it didn't seem to be working. Kochanski stared, not seeming to notice that her top was almost off.

Rimmer tried to pull something useful out of his brain, which was a morass of repeated inflections of "smeg," "hell," bastard," "shit," and "leave." He nodded politely at the girl. Kryten stepped away, a broad grin on his angular face. Rimmer took a deep breath. Ace. Be Ace. "I don't think I've had the pleasure..." he said to the woman in a deep voice. He could not help the inflection on the last word. He stared at her; he was unsure what would happen if he looked at Lister. Starbug might melt.

Kochanski had no idea why she felt the totally irrational need to giggle uncontrollably as this person - who could be none other than the Ace Rimmer Lister had told her of - greeted her. He looked rather different than she'd expected. Lister had told her he was like Rimmer, only much better-looking, but that wasn't it, exactly. The man in front of her bore more or less exactly the same face as the man she'd once gagged at the thought of copulating with. The difference lay in the way he used those features; what sparkled behind those eyes, which, while exactly the same color as the one's she'd seen in Rimmer's snarky face, were somehow here a brilliant hazel rather than an indefinable murky brownish green. It was all an act, probably; most people as flirtatious as this were doing it on purpose, in her experience, but it was a damn fine act. She noticed her almost-off top suddenly, and pulled it back into place quickly enough to bend time. "Hi..." she mumbled, blushing slightly.

Rimmer tried to turn to Lister. He could not. He looked at a wall panel and nodded curtly at where he knew the other man must be standing. "Been a while." His mouth quirked, and he covered it by turning back to Kochanski and holding out his hand. "Ace Rimmer."

Lister breathed. That was enough of a challenge, for now. He could only stare at Rimmer, his eyes filled to the brim as a sudden understanding of his true feelings for the man hit him like the sledgehammer that Petersen had accidentally whacked him with on his first duty shift, before the higher-ups paired him with Rimmer. Rimmer, who was here now. Rimmer, who he l...

"K... Kristine. I... I mean..." Why on earth was she stuttering? She stopped doing that when she was five! "Kristine Kochanski. Charmed!"

Kochanski. It all fell into place, like the lid of a coffin falling shut. Kochanski. The word echoed in a million different inflections, all in Lister's voice. Kochanski this, Kochanski that. Future plans. Reminiscing. Regrets. How much he sodding loved that woman so. The woman standing in front of Rimmer was not exactly the same Kochanski as had served with them on Red Dwarf; she had those small oddities that come with a dimensional alternate. A little taller, face a little less angular. Probably other differences. Rimmer did not know her well enough to tell. Lister fecking well did, though, he thought. Lister had done it. He had gotten his Kochanski back. They were heading for Fiji, for Lister's dream, with his dream woman. A pointless fury was boiling in Rimmer's hologrammatic viscera. But there was no need for that; he would gain nothing from a scene. He would be gracious. He would be charming. Even if it killed him. He smiled an appealing smile, something he had been practicing for the past five years and only recently perfected, and kissed her hand. "Likewise." He cocked his head at where he had last seen Lister standing. "Lovely lady you've snagged for yourself, Davey-" he choked on the 'boy.' No, this was no boy.

Lister eyed this display with some confusion, his heart sinking as that slowly gave way to chilling realization. "Hey, listen... It's not..." He eyed Kris, not wanting to embarrass her.

The 4000 series were issued with the ability to make their eyes sparkle slightly, either in mischief or in delight. Kryten's eyes sparkled slightly - he took not a little pride in it. "Oh, yes, you haven't met Miss Kochanski. Look - why don't you get acquainted, then come up to the midsection for a nice tea with scones?" He rubbed his blocky hands together.

Scones. Lister tried to remember what that meant.

Rimmer heard Lister's voice, but could not hear words in it. All he could hear was that voice saying Kochanski, Kochanski, Kochanski, millions of times. "Sounds magnificent, Kryters. Nobody makes them like you, eh?" He released Kochanski's hand and clapped the mechanoid solidly on the shoulder. Kryten beamed.

What on Earth was Rimmer doing with Kris, Lister thought, his eyes glued to the slightly shiny man in the ridiculous clothes.

"I've heard so much about you," Kochanski gushed, disgusted with herself for falling under Ace's spell so easily, but unable not to do so all the same. Oh well, sometimes you just had to allow yourself a little fun. She wondered what he looked like under all that bacofoil.

Rimmer turned from Kryten, facing a spot halfway between the mechanoid and... Kochanski. "Ah, exaggerations. Don't believe a word Dave says about me." He almost choked on the last sentence.

Lister licked his lips, turning his head from Rimmer to Kochanski and back. Something was going on between them, no doubt, but he had no idea what. He was no better at reading Rimmer than he was Kris.

Well, Kochanski thought, looking Rimmer up and down, I'll be the judge of that, thank you very much. If his Rimmer had been even a shadow of this, she had to admit, no wonder Dave missed him so.

Kryten shook his head, clasping his hands. "Ah, no, Mister Ace is magnificent, Miss Kochanski, mum!" He nodded, looked at the motionless trio, and cleared his throat. "I'll go start the water boiling." His whistling faded as he walked down the corridor towards the midsection.

Lister felt he should contribute in some way. "Erm, yeah, he's really grand, he is. Big man. And..." he faltered, "that..."

Rimmer turned to Lister, looking at a spot half a meter over his head and frowning. "Ah, fifth wheel here; nothing could top the top-flight crew on this Bug." Yes, he had no purpose here. He had learned what he had come here to learn. That was all. Killing false hope is always a good thing. It leaves one free. Yes.

Lister looked at Rimmer desperately, trying to communicate confusion, loss, love, everything.

Kris noted the tension between the two, and her intelligence tapped her momentary infatuation with Ace on the shoulder and cleared its throat. "Oh, nonsense; I'm sure you and Dave have a lot of catching up to do - don't you, Dave?" She smiled at Lister, noting with interest the way he looked at Rimmer, his erratic breathing, the slight flush in his cheeks. Yes indeed, Ace probably was a lot like Dave's Rimmer.

Rimmer raised his eyebrow at that spot over Lister's head. "Dullsville on this end, my dear..."

His words overlapped with Lister's. "Yeah... You could say that."

Rimmer glanced back at Kris. He did not want that bloody woman to stay. He did not want to be alone with Lister. Hell, what to do? Run back to his ship. DJ out of their lives, and never come back.

Kris flashed an odd smile at each man in turn. "I'll just go up and see if Kryten needs any help, shall I?" Lister watched her go, feeling like an anchor was being taken away from him.

"I'm sure Lister would hate to be deprived of your lovely presence," Rimmer said, quailing at the almost desperate note in his voice. He sighed softly as she trotted away, laughing gently over her back. He folded his arms and looked down the corridor after her.

Too soon for it to be safe, really, Lister turned, and whispered, lovingly, softly; "Rimmer..."

Rimmer frowned deeply. Lister should know better than to speak to him like that. Those were lover's tones, not friend's tones. The man had no idea what words like that did to someone whose... simulated heart was simulating breakage.

"Arn..." Lister whispered in the same tone.

Rimmer could not take it. He spoke loudly, as if to a convention hall, in Ace's voice. "Looks like you're doing well, here." He nodded. "Lovely ship..."

The voice made, if possible, even less sense than the words it spoke, to Lister, who could only mope in confusion as Ace circled around him. Wasn't this his Rimmer? But it had to be; every single one of Lister's senses screamed that it was.

"Lovely... lady," Rimmer grated. "Just came back to make sure all was good with you."

"What?" All Lister wanted to do was leap into a bone-crushing hug, but Rimmer's manner did not invite it. Besides, he wasn't entirely sure this wasn't just another dream yet. It had the surreal qualities of a dream, that was for certain.

"Looks like it is, eh?" Dammit, he could be friendly. Matey. He worked up a smile that did not touch his eyes, and caught Lister with a completely manly clap on the shoulder. He dropped his hand immediately.

It very well could be a dream, indeed. Many of them started out like this; ambiguous banter, impersonal touches, that irresistible tension that had always existed between them, which, until now, he'd dismissed as anger. Lister looked up at Rimmer's face, overcome with emotion. If this was a dream, this was the point where the Ace mask would be dropped, and Rimmer would lean down to kiss him, and from there it could go any which way. Quite often, Lister would grab Rimmer, slamming him against the wall, tearing off his jacket, relishing the sounds of lust and wanting he'd make, reaching into those tight trousers, alternating stroking and pausing until Rimmer begged for mercy, then tearing off the trousers too, and sucking him dry. He closed his eyes, anticipating, trying to be ready for anything.

"Happy for you, Dave, really am," Rimmer forced out, just as heartily.

"Why?" Lister asked quietly, confused. He'd been bloody miserable up until now. The worst thing about prison had been the aimlessness; they'd found Red Dwarf, which had been the goal keeping him sane and motivated after Rimmer had gone, and there had been no-one for him to antagonize anymore, really, and that hadn't exactly worked out well. There had been nothing for him to look forward to anymore, hardly any reason for anything... until now. One arm lingered between the two of them, not quite reaching out to touch, still wondering what this was.

Rimmer shifted back very slightly, almost imperceptibly. He did not want to be touched. Not by Lister. "Life is good, eh?"

Lister frowned, shaking his head. Why did he keep saying that? What the hell was he implying? "What do you mean? It's been hell without you, man..." The frustration of having Rimmer so close, having finally admitted to himself, fully, how much he loved him, was beyond frustrating.

Rimmer turned again to look up the corridor towards the midsection, almost longingly. Lister was overdoing it. He did not have to pretend to such excessive affection. "Had a hell of a time without you, too," he replied, brusquely.

"I've," Lister paused, trying to phrase this correctly. "I've missed you so much..." It was almost a choke.

"I'm sure your aim will improve. With a little practice." Rimmer started to walk towards the midsection, wanting tea, wanting lots of people around, wanting things to look at and listen to that did not make him feel like a huge steaming pile of smeg. And because he could not resist a jibe, in return, and because Kochanski, that blasted woman, had her shirt yanked unceremoniously halfway over her head, sign of an overly hurried session, he added, "Practice makes perfect, Davey-boy - in everything."

What was this? Hissing, not wanting to reveal his true identity, Lister whispered "Arn! What the smeg are you on about?" He ran after him, grabbed his suit, and turned him around. Enough was enough. "What's yer smegging problem?" he asked, angry.

Touching. Grabbing. Lister truly had no idea what that did. As far as Rimmer was concerned, this conversation was over. What more was there? The tale of finding her? Plans for the future? Details of their sexual exploits? What, did he want to rub Rimmer's face in it? Laugh at him for coming back, hoping to fall to his feet and beg him to love his smeghead ex-bunkmate? Tease him for being so erect at the mere smell that this proximity of Lister afforded him that he could hold open lifts from the opposite end of the hall? Enough. Rimmer grabbed Lister's arms and flung them off. He lost his Ace voice. "My smegging problem?" he hissed.

"Yeah!"

"Keep your grotty hands off of me," Rimmer growled.

Lister's heart fell. His anger lingered. His emotions were all a jumble, and he'd never been much good at those. Not even crosswords, he thought, incoherently. "I'm... I thought..."

Rimmer counted to ten, internally. Not nearly enough. But it would do. "Look," he sighed. "We made our choices, yes? And some, a little more." You chose for me, after all, and wasn't that what I told Spanners? He should have believed me.

This was not a dream, then. This was reality; where, after all, Rimmer had never given any indication whatsoever that he even liked Lister. That's why Lister had nudged him towards being Ace in the first place; so he could go off somewhere else and have a shot of happiness. It had been so long, and he'd spent so much time trying to sort of what he felt himself, that he'd forgotten this rather, he realized now, crucial fact.

"Look, it looks like you have a lovely thing going here," Rimmer grated. Trying hard, so hard, to be polite. He waved towards the midsection, towards... that woman.

"Thing? What thing? Ain't nothing going on in this place but boredom and endless space, man." It was the truth. Yesterday they'd even tried playing the opera game. Lister had fallen asleep around the round two, when Kris and Kryten had started arguing about which key the overture to "La Boheme" was in.

Nothing? Nothing? Rimmer felt one eyebrow raise up, very high. "And shirtless women."

Smegging hell. Oh, smegging hell. "What... Kris?" He pronounced her name to rhyme with 'space weevil.'

What the smeg was Lister on? This was no way to talk about your lover. This was the way for him to talk about Lister's lover, behind both of their backs. "Yes, that lovely woman. If you want to keep her, treat her with a little more respect."

"Rimmer," Lister said, harshly, "she's not mine."

Rimmer paused and closed his eyes, forcing himself to remember the sight of Lister with Kris over his shoulder, both half-dressed, both flushed, both with kiss-swollen lips, saliva glistening in a sticky patch on the side of Lister's face. "She sure looks it."

Lister laughed hollowly. "You're the only one who thinks so. She's decked me more than once."

"Good for her," Rimmer said, twisting his hands. He was starting to have an idea of what game Lister might be playing.

Lister laughed at this, feeling the absurdity. "Look, is that it? Me and her... that's not going anywhere. Never was nowhere." He started to feel resigned.

"You use people too much," Rimmer grated. "Her for sex..." and him for what? He was playing down Kris, honestly or not, to get something out of Rimmer. He did not want to know what it was. Too many ideas were swirling around in his head, and at least one was feeding his libido pointlessly. He shook his head.

Sex with Kris! Well, he supposed you could call what they'd been doing sex, if you'd been educated at a conservative religious school in the 20th century, and didn't know where babies came from. His eyebrows shot towards the roof. "Hah! If only..." He paused, his foot in mouth. Was he determined to screw this up?

If only you were better at it, Rimmer thought. Or better prepared for me to come by. I'll drop a card, next time.

"She'd kick me in the groin if I as much as breathed on her," Lister sighed. "Tonight... Tonight was a fluke. Big mistake." Yes, timing of the fecking century, that was.

"Quite a fluke," Rimmer replied, in that same grating voice. That was not a fluke. They were both sober, or he'd eat his wig. "Look, I haven't had tea in ages." He did not want more games and heartbreak. He wanted to leave. "I just wanted to see how you're doing. You look great. Really. Great." His voice displayed a tired insincerity that he did not feel. Great? The man looked magnificent, delectable. He looked more desirable than should be strictly legal.

The ennui that had gripped him for the last few months had slipped away for a few moments, but now Lister felt it rushing back. He leaned against the wall, sliding down to sit on the newly polished floor, overcome with tiredness. "Yeah. Thanks," he replied in a sullen voice.

"One of the other Listers told me to drop by and say hi. So I did, OK? Hi. Sorry I came by at an inconvenient time. It's nice to see you. Really." Rimmer bit his tongue, very hard.

Lister had no more emotions to feel. "Well," he said flatly, "I wish I could thank him, somehow. At least..." a half-sob escaped, "at least I got to see ya again." He looked away, with nothing more to draw on. He leaned his head on his drawn-up knees. Since when did Rimmer take orders from any David Lister? Why had he come back, why now? To rub Lister's face in his own success? 'Just wanted to see if he was all right' - what garbage. Where'd he been a month ago, when they were trapped in prison, eh? Lister would have been angry if he'd had any anger left.

Rimmer released his tongue from between his teeth. "Oh, you could thank him." Yes, we could show him just how wrong he was. Bloody hopeless chirpy romantic. His eyes narrowed in a very mean expression. "I have to stop back in that dimension, anyway. I won a bet. Have to collect."

Lister could not reply. He was concentrating on not bursting into... something. He managed to look up somehow, his face flustered, his eyes watering. Rimmer was looking down at him, his face shaded from the overhead light. "Yer leaving... so soon?" Lister asked, hopelessly.

"What should I stay for?" Rimmer ground out. To watch you two moon over each other? To find out what game you're playing, what prank is in the works?

Lister closed his eyes and bit his lip. "I suppose I was hoping..." He had no hope left.

Hope. Rimmer closed his eyes and thought of hope. The hope of the sincere stare of lovely brown eyes on the psi-moon, dashed as soon as they were off. The hope of an earnest young mustached face, dashed by a flushed Lister with his pants half-on, his dream-girl over his shoulder. Rimmer sighed, very quietly, his shoulders shaking. "Bad idea," he replied, softly.

Lister's lips were tight. Tears were running down his cheeks, now. "I'm sorry, man," he muttered back.

"I am, too," Rimmer replied, as softly as before, his eyes still shut.

Lister stumbled to his feet. Rimmer opened his eyes and stepped back. "Did... Did ya mean that? About letting me come with?"

Rimmer nodded. "I could take you on a little trip to... the dimension with..." his lip quirked. "Spanners."

Lister swallowed. "Spanners? Ace's... I mean, that Ace's... The one..." he shook his head. "You know what I mean; that Spanners?"

"The one who married Kochanski?" Rimmer asked, his voice catching. "It's not exactly the same one. Just very close."

"And he told you to come here?"

"Yes." Rimmer managed to spit out.

And you listened to him? Lister gave a soft smile. Did he give lessons in Arnold Rimmer negotiation? "Then I would like to meet him. I owe him... a lot." He did. Seeing Rimmer again, no matter in what form, was... Well, it was something. He'd probably figure out what after he'd had a chance to sort himself out.

Rimmer's lip quirked slightly. A lot. For what, Rimmer did not care to know. "Then you should meet him."

'I'll get to be with Rimmer,' echoed over and over in Lister's mind. "I'd like that. Very much." He felt dead tired.

Rimmer took a deep breath and channeled Ace. "Then that's set!" he replied in that loud, confident voice. The voice that was not him.