They'd had tea. Tea and scones. Tea and sodding scones, for smeg's sake. Scones. Tea. Lister couldn't get over it; it was too absurd. Not that everyone except him hadn't seemed to have enjoyed a marvelous time. Kochanski, Kryten, even Cat - who had, incredibly, cut his mid-afternoon snooze short for this - had fawned and gushed over the person they thought had honored them with a visit. And everything had been so lovely and scrumptious and tea and scones and sodding one lump or two; how he'd hated every fucking minute of it - wasn't it wonderful? He'd felt like he was in another dimension already, one where everyone was happy but him.

Later, seated on Ace's cot (yes, Ace; he certainly wasn't Rimmer anymore, by any stretch of the imagination), he wondered at the relative softness of it compared to what he had imagined Rimmer would have wanted for himself. It was the only place for him to sit in this craft, which had only barely been built for one person. It really was amazing what they'd managed to fit into this small ship, though, Lister had to admit. There were boxes neatly filled with what he vaguely recognized as Rimmer's books and music, and hence did not feel the need to investigate further. He'd once given into his curiosity, back on the Dwarf, and leafed through an entire volume of "Hypnosis for Fun and Profit;" he had lost his appetite for a full half-hour. Years of bunking with the man had given Lister an almost pathological fear of Hammond organs, so the music discs were no great temptation, either. There was a small rack of clothing in the back, where two or three spare bacofoil suits hung, neatly pressed, but no ironed underwear hung next to them. It made Lister feel almost uncomfortable - but then again, most things in this cramped space did.

The landing boys (some of whom were girls, but who was counting?) were delighted to see Ace, and bantered with him heartily as he took the craft down. He felt a great relief at being able to talk freely and meaninglessly with them, after the long, agonizing trip of pointedly not talking to the person in the back. What was there to say? He felt almost jubilant, and tried to pretend it was all due to taking the DJ ship in for a landing. It was a lovely piece of work, responding precisely to the gentlest touch on the controls. "Hang on..." he called to the back of the ship, bringing it in for a decent enough landing. Calling back reminded him that he had said nothing else throughout the trip to who was back there, and his jubilation stepped down several notches.

The cot smelled acutely of Rimmer, who still, apparently, wore that appalling after-shave. Where did he get it from? Was there a secret stash somewhere? Lister had half a mind to search for it and dump it out the first air-lock they passed on the base, but other things were occupying his mind at the moment. Like the fact that these were the sheets that rubbed up against Rimmer's body every night, and maybe other times, when he brought girls back here - which Lister supposed he must. Did he sleep naked? Did he lie here alone, mulling over sexual exploits, doing what men generally do when horny and alone? Would a hologram doing that leave traces on the sheets? It was stupid to think this way, stupid to make himself more turned on that he already was, but he just couldn't get away from it. He felt a trace of shame, then annoyance at feeling ashamed, which was, in turn, overtaken by a new bout of horniness when he heard a soft sigh from the cockpit. Lister was turning into a mess of neurotic frustration; smeg it all, he was becoming Rimmer, just as Rimmer had become Ace. His stomach jolted as they landed, for reasons unconnected to the smoothness of said landing.

"I told them to let Spanners know I was coming - with a friend."

"Yeah?" Lister mumbled. He stroked the blankets on the cot.

Rimmer coughed. "Indeedy..." His voice trailed off. A friend. How hopelessly adolescent that sounded, on level with 'sleep-over.' As if the discomfort were a miasma that would disperse with a little air circulation, he popped the cockpit hatch and took a deep breath. He cleared his throat, putting on the persona of Ace for the benefit of the technicians who were walking towards the sleek marvel that was the DJ ship. He very pointedly did not look at Lister as he unhooked his crash belt. That would not help him be Ace.

Lister's heart broke all over again as Ace took over, leaving Rimmer smeg knew where. Lister got up, reluctantly, wanting to linger and wallow in that nest of frustration just a little while longer. Man, what was wrong with him?

Rimmer exited the ship, not looking back. He hopped to the ground with aplomb, putting on a bit of a show. Lister felt oddly proud of this, for about two seconds. Rimmer was not his to be proud of.

The fact that Lister made a rather impressive exit himself didn't register with anyone but Rimmer, who tried very hard to ignore it. He shook hands enthusiastically with a few crewpeople, distributing convincing flattery like largesse. He'd gotten very good at this. But the crewpeople all had busy schedules, and he finally had to turn back to Lister, not meeting the other man's eyes. Lister was not the last man alive, in this dimension; people in a variety of shapes, sizes, and colors bustled about all around. But this did not explain Lister's unusual passivity and quiet. He had never been this subdued, even back on Red Dwarf, over three million years ago. "Up for a walk?" Rimmer asked.

This meant more time; a further delay of their inevitable separation, probably for good this time. Lister nodded.

"This way, then..." Rimmer strode out of the hanger and walked towards Spanners's quarters, hoping to god that he would not get lost and look like a twit in front of Lister. His ego was in a precarious enough place already with respect to the other man. Lister followed, still displaying that atypically subdued manner.

While he did not normally get claustrophobic in spaces as large as this, Lister felt like the walls were closing in on him. It did not feel quite like claustrophobia, anyway; he was simply not happy. Rimmer started to nanner on pointlessly about things he had done since leaving Starbug; strange stories that Lister did not follow. He merely listened, keeping his eyes on Rimmer.

Rimmer did not exactly get lost, but took two significant wrong turns, so they walked for at least half an hour. Rimmer grew increasingly nervous at Lister's silence. He talked more rapidly to make up for it, and his voice kept slipping back into his own voice, the nasal buzz that was somehow the polar opposite of Ace's suave tones.

The rise and fall out of Rimmer's natural register was soothing, almost musical. Lister listened to it, ignoring the actual words. They weren't important anyway; you could tell that from the tone.

Rimmer stopped at the correct door, eventually, with relief. "Here we are."

This was too soon. Soon they would leave, and then... "Right."

Rimmer hit the door chime and stepped back, crossing his arms defensively. His finger had barely left the button when the door slid back to reveal a questioning, eager face. "Spanners!" Rimmer said, with excessive heartiness.

On seeing the two of them, Spanners's face erupted into a huge smile. He knew he'd been right, of course, but there was still such a delightful relief in knowing. He looked towards the man standing next to Ace, all curiosity.

Lister was somewhat taken aback at this alternate version of himself, who seemed to think he was capable of growing decent-looking facial hair. Lister had given that up long ago, but then again, this... him... seemed to be rather younger.

"You owe me... whatever it is you bet, old chum," Rimmer continued. His eyes flicked back between Lister and Spanners, taking in their obvious, superficial differences with interest. The small age gap. Spanners's neatly trimmed hair and moustache. Lister's tattered leather jacket. Spanners's spit-polished boots.

Spanners looked from Lister to Rimmer and back again, his face falling. "You mean..." He could not quite believe it. "But then why?"

Lister followed Spanners's facial movements, utterly lost. It appeared not to be a good day for making sense, generally speaking.

Rimmer raised an eyebrow. "He wanted to meet you." He continued to look back and forth, amazed at the more subtle differences that, somehow, only highlighted their likenesses. Spanners's sharper jawline. His slightly darker skin.

"Ah." Spanners sighed deeply. This Ace certainly did have issues. Even now, the two of then clearly hadn't talked, really talked. But they'd come here. Maybe there was some hope after all.

Realizing that he'd been standing this entire time with his mouth gaping, staring dumbly, Lister felt he had to weigh in. "Er. Hiya."

Rimmer stepped back, very quietly and slowly, looking at them. Even their mannerisms were slightly off from each other. Lister seemed to slouch, even when standing to attention, walking with a slight swagger. He had a flowing, relaxed way of moving that made watching him feel like you were seeing some sort of complicated dance performance. Spanners stood ramrod-straight, his movements precise, but awkward, as though he were forcing them. And yet their facial expressions were mirror images of each other; their openness, the expressiveness of their full lips.

The three of them stood there, for a few befuddled moments, just taking one another in. Finally, Spanners, used as he was to dragging himself out of reveries, came back to reality. "Oh, wait, where are my manners; come on in!"

Rimmer coughed. "Oh. You two have a lot to catch up on, I'm sure. I should leave you..."

No, Rimmer couldn't leave now, Lister fretted. He'd leave soon enough and be gone forever. "No. That's no trouble..." he looked at Spanners, trying to signal this, hoping this other him was close enough to him in spirit to read his mind.

Spanners saw the look, and breathed a mental sigh of relief. Yes, everything was all right with the world after all. It just needed some adjustments. And what did mechanics do, after all, but adjust things that needed fixing? "Oh, I'm sure we've got nothing to hide from you, Ace old pal!"

Rimmer frowned very deeply. He could not take two Listers at once, himself sitting like an incorrectly placed comma between the one he loved and the one who had loved another version of him. "It's no trouble for me, really." It would be a great deal of trouble for me to stay, he added silently.

Spanners licked his lips, and Lister, knowing what he'd be thinking when looking at Rimmer and licking his lips like that, felt an odd stab of jealousy.

"Look, either ya both should come in, or I'm coming out." Spanners gave a laugh that contained no humor. "We can't be standing here like this!"

Lister looked to Rimmer just as Rimmer's eyes flicked to Lister. The hologram immediately stared at his boots. To hell with it, Lister thought. He walked into the room. Spanners stepped aside to let him through, and looked expectantly at Rimmer.

Rimmer knew, somehow, that Spanners would run after him and make a scene if he walked away, in order to embarrass him into the room. It was the kind of thing that Lister would do, after all, he told himself. He walked in with great reluctance. Spanners grazed his side as he entered, and Rimmer put a few strides between them. He leaned against a wall very pointedly, crossing his arms. Spanners used his well-honed self-control for all it was worth to keep from chuckling; Ace's posture was just so overdone, so transparent!

Lister looked for a place to sit down, mostly because he wasn't sure how long he could deal with standing up. He felt as though all the energy in his body had been sucked out of him. Somehow, Spanners seemed to sense this, and indicated his bunk, which was neat to the point that Lister hesitated for a moment before disturbing those pristine sheets. It made him a little uneasy that a version of him, alternate or not, could live like this.

Spanners regarded both men, resisting the urge to just smack their heads together and leave them in here to sort things out. Impulsiveness never solved anything. "Does he know?" he asked, wanting to get to the point.

"About Ace? Yeah, I know," Lister replied, shifting a little on the uncomfortably clean bed.

Rimmer watched them, his forehead slightly furrowed. The same smegging short-fingered hands, with the same too-short nails.

Spanners looked at Lister, his eyes widening. "So you know..." he looked at Lister, "And yet you...?" He stopped, shaking his head. He'd been hoping that had been the problem, but apparently not. That they were both lovesick for one another was obvious, so what on Earth, Io, or Mimas was stopping them?

What were all these pointless, prying personal questions? Lister hadn't come here to be poked at by alternate versions of himself! "What's this about?" he asked, angrily.

For smeg's sake. Rimmer was not there to hash over this topic. It was as dead as... Arnold J. Rimmer. "He's in love with Kriss Kochanski," he said, more loudly than either of the Listers had spoken. "He's loved her since before I died."

Both turned, as one, to Rimmer. "What?" they asked, in horrified stereo.

"And now, he's got her," Rimmer finished.

"Rimmer, what are you on about?" Lister asked.

"He is?" Spanners asked, incredulous.

"No, I'm smegging not!" Lister yelled. He added, more quietly, "Not anymore." He glanced at Rimmer. "Not that it matters."

Not in love with her? This was taking the bull smeg too far, Rimmer fumed. "Did you stop loving her before or after you got her shirt off?" he asked, acidly.

How long could one night of drunken smeg-ups haunt him, Lister fretted, in despair. Well, one such night had stranded him on Mimas without his passport. He'd take years of that cruddy existence on Mimas, living out of a luggage locker, over this, though. He shook his head. "Look, I told you, nothing happened!" Spanners watched the two, bewilderment showing plainly on his face.

"In a room with your clothes off is not 'nothing,' where I come from."

"We got drunk, she came on to me, I didn't know..." Lister ran his fingers through his hair. One night. One sodding night they do this, not that this had been anything more than vaguely unsatisfying groping and fondling, and it had to be the same night Rimmer decides to show his face again. "You weren't there!" Rimmer's attitude was starting to get to him. The smegging space hero clearly didn't want him, but he didn't want Lister to be with Kochanski either? Was somehow offended by the fact that Lister hadn't spent the entire rest of his life pining away for a man who didn't love him and was probably gone forever?

The silly adolescent wordplay was grating on his nerves. Especially in light of the fact that Lister had never made any blasted secret of how much he adored Kochanski. "Going on and on about wanting her hologram instead of me is not 'nothing.'"

Spanners leaned against the wall, pondering. Something was happening now, and he didn't want to stop it.

"Even the bloody Psirens knew!" Rimmer yelled, thinking of Starbug, of one grainy, Psiren-simulated image of that woman, of Lister's plaintive, hurt cry, 'Kochanski!' He had been ready to throw his life away on the possibility it was real, a possibility lower than the chance of finding a simple cup of coffee in Seattle. "They knew what you want."

"Good for them," Lister grumbled. "I sure didn't." When had he stopped obsessing about Kochanski? When had his muddled, confused feelings for two dead people, only one of whom was still around, dissolved into the clear, warm glow he felt right now? Only today?

"It's hard, isn't it?" Spanners asked. Lister had almost forgotten about him.

"What do you mean?" Lister asked.

"Ready to risk your life for her..." Rimmer grated, ignoring Spanners. "The rest of ours, too."

Spanners, in turn, ignored him, speaking to Lister. "Took me a long time to figure out what my feelings for him were. But I did."

Lister nodded. "Fat lot of good it did me, though, once I did." Had it been when he'd turned around, his trousers around his ankles, Krissie hovering behind him, and seen who was standing in front of him? Or had it been when he'd seen what Rimmer used to be like, back in that cruddy prison? No matter. No matter now.

Rimmer started to chew on his lip, fuming. Damn Kochanski. Damn Lister. Damn him. But most of all, damn Spanners, for making him rehash all of this. Did he want Rimmer to suffer for what happened to his Ace? It wasn't Rimmer's smegging fault!

Lister stood, his voice desperate "Why are we even here? Rimmer doesn't want me; why'd he drag me here?" He turned to Spanners. "Look, I appreciate you sending him back to me. I really do. I'd have given anything just to see him again, and I got to. So thank you for that." He gave a faint smile.

Rimmer felt the corners of his mouth stretching down to his knees. Too thick, Davey-boy. Layin' it on too thick.

"Whatever else... That's not your fault," Lister continued. Rimmer huffed a breath out of his nose, irate. Whose fault was it, then?

Taking in the figure of the absolutely miserable looking older version of himself standing there, his face scrunched up from keeping back emotions, which Spanners normally did so well - and so, he would guess, did this Dave, too - Spanners moved forward, drawing this other Dave into a hug. He said nothing as the other man finally allowed himself to collapse into tears; just held him, keeping him safe.

Rimmer watched this display, his lip twisting. What the smegging hell did Lister have to be upset about? He kept himself propped against the wall, gripping his upper arms very firmly.

"It's all right," Spanners said, quietly, stroking Lister's back, giving Rimmer a meaningful look over Lister's shoulder. See him, he tried to signal. Get it, you stubborn bastard! Get how much he loves you! Rimmer glared at him. Ah well, he was Rimmer, after all. Spanners turned back to Lister, gently saying in his general direction; "He still doesn't understand."

"No, I understand perfectly." Every trace of Ace was gone from Rimmer's demeanor. This was about him, about Arn. "I don't want him." He pushed himself off of the wall, and took two steps towards the pair of bloody, meddling, insincere Listers, fuming.

Someone's arms were around him, was all Lister knew. Arms, and sometimes voices, saying things that didn't matter. Rationality was beyond him now; he'd felt too much, taken too much in, fecking processed enough about himself for a lifetime. He'd never broken down as hard as this, not even when he lost his first girlfriend. That had been hard enough; he'd locked himself in his room for weeks, writing emotional pseudo-gothic poetry and not eating. Finally, after days without proper sleep, he'd become convinced he was already dead, and had tried to walk through the wall into the bathroom, promptly concussing himself and landing himself more days in bed. But he'd been 14 at the time, and she'd been living down the street from him, and had stopped in for a quick snog and grope a few weeks later. This wasn't like that.

"I can't afford to bloody want him!" Rimmer yelled at both of them, almost spitting. "Monday, he loves Kochanski. Cannot bloody shut up about how he wants Fiji and sheep and cows and two sodding babies named Jim and Bexley." There came faint, choking, sobbing noises from Lister's direction, and Rimmer yelled more loudly to drown out the vary faint voice in him that suggested that they might not be unimportant. "Tuesday - what, he wakes up and wants me? So he makes me leave?" He took a deep breath, needing a great deal of air to keep this volume up. "Wednesday, he brings over Kochanski from another fecking dimension. Pawing her on her bunk. Thursday - oh, we were drunk, it was nothing, I guess I want you instead?"

"And when did you realize you loved him, Arn?" It was Spanners's voice, identical to Lister's, but clearly separate, in some way or another, in Rimmer's mind.

Rimmer choked, his own voice lifting into a register that was far too high to satisfy his fury. "Who is he going to want on Friday, eh? It sure as smegging hell won't be me!"

"Easy thing for you, was it?" Spanners asked, knowing the answer. "Just something you knew all along, I expect."

"Who the smeg knows when," Rimmer choked, feeling defeated. They hadn't listened. They didn't care. "It doesn't damn well matter, does it?"

Suddenly, words with actual meaning reached through Lister's cocoon of detachment. A wet, ruffled face stuck up from Spanners's embrace. "You... what?" His voice had all the qualities of wet paper.

"He loves you," Spanners replied, quietly, giving it time to sink in.

"Of course I smegging love him!" Rimmer yelled. Did neither of them listen? "That's not the point!" He swung around to face the wall.

The world came into focus again, and Lister turned around, breaking Spanners's embrace, his face a mask of incomprehension. He must of misunderstood. "You love me?"

"What is the point, then?" Spanners asked.

"What he wants," Rimmer grated. "I'm not going to fecking sleep with him today and have him get bored... tomorrow, next week, a month or two. It doesn't matter. He'll change his mind, eventually," Rimmer choked, all of the times Lister had tossed him aside like a used appliance crashing down on him, "he always does."

What he wanted? What Lister wanted? Holy sodding smeg, how could this not be clear to Rimmer by now? "Arn, I was lost without you! Years I was alone! Years! And yer gonna hold it against me that one night, one smegging night, I missed you so much I didn't know what I was doing, and ended up trying to make it with someone who fecking hates my guts!" He was almost shouting. And yet... Rimmer had said he loved him. Rimmer. Loved him. The words kept buzzing around his skull and interfering with other thoughts.

Rimmer could not look at him, look at his damned insincere face. "Just one night? Not bloody likely. How long did you want Kris? And you're telling me that's all gone, just like that?"

Lister tore at his hair. How many girlfriends had he had? He'd lost count. Did they count against him too? Why this weird obsession with Kris? What, a corner of his mind chuckled irreverently, like the weird obsession with her you had? Lister told it to kindly shut the smeg up. "Kris is dead! Dead, dead; gone forever dead; the kind you don't wake up from. Yer not. And I love you. You. Not her. You!" He sighed and stepped back, drained. "Why do I even bother..." Spanners put an arm around him, but Lister pushed him away. He needed to get out of here before he disintegrated completely.

Rimmer tried to glance back, but still could not bring himself to look at Lister. Yes, dead. They had both died on that ship. "No, I'm not. Just half-dead. Not quite me, not quite Ace."

"We know. We don't care," Spanners replied, quietly. Lister looked at him. Those eyes...

Rimmer found he could not look at Spanners, either. What the hell was wrong? They were people, just people. Sacks of carbon and oxygen and lies. He looked at each one out of the corner of his eye, half-turned.

Neither Lister nor Spanners knew how all this multiple dimension stuff worked. It wasn't that it was beyond them; they had just never felt the need to investigate it further. All they knew is that it seemed to be a fact, and that was all that mattered. And so they didn't really question how it was possible that, in the moment their not-wholly-identical eyes met, lightning bolts seemed to shoot through their brains, and they knew. "Look," Lister said, abruptly calm and composed. "This is really quite simple."

"Either you want him..." Spanners said, in exactly the same voice.

Lister continued, without a pause. "Or you don't. Either way..."

"You make a choice," Spanners finished. Both Listers looked to Rimmer, that unity which had connected them in ways they could not begin to imagine (nor much cared to) simmering between them, faintly visible, like hot air.

Rimmer turned towards them fully, his eyes wide. This harmony... it was insane, wrong. They were similar, but not the same person; there was no explanation for this. The voices, their accents almost identical, only the faintest of distinctions between them, speaking like one. He opened his mouth, and could not find a single sound to put in it.

"Now," Lister stated, firmly.

"Because this," Spanners continued.

"Can't go," Lister added.

"On," they both concluded. There was a faint crackle, as though of static.

Rimmer leaned back against wall, his mouth still slightly open, feeling shell-shocked. He licked his lips, looking from one to the other, seeing the same determined expression on the faces that had, after all, only superficial differences.

They spoke in unison, now. Walking, moving, thinking as one. It was, Lister reflected, not quite like being one person, one entity, but rather two people connected entirely, completely in sync. "He..." "I..." "Loves you." "Love you." They both stopped, mouths open, glancing at one another. Whatever had melded them together had passed, but something lingered, like the faint smoky smell that clings to the clothes in a smoker's closet.

Rimmer looked at them, each in turn, studying their open faces, looking for... something. Hell, he had no idea what. He had never been able to read Lister. What made him think that reading two at once would make it possible? He spoke, quietly, almost desperately, the only thing he could think of. "Of course I want to - want him. But..." he sighed.

Spanners began to speak, but seeing Lister open his mouth, yielded to him. "But?"

Rimmer's mouth worked, but nothing came out. Both Listers were walking towards him, determination on their faces. They were holding hands now, through some sort of unspoken agreement. "Where does it go?" he croaked, finally. "What does it mean?"

Spanners smiled. "Where do you want it to go?"

"What do you want it to mean?" Lister asked.

"Does it matter?" Spanners added. They were only an arm's length away, now.

Rimmer shook his head, bemused by the surreality of the entire scene. "I've spent so long convincing myself it would go nowhere," he said, harshly, "and meant nothing."

Spanners spoke from Rimmer's left "Ace... Arn..."

"I'm not your Ace," Rimmer said quietly, almost automatically.

Lister, on the right side of Rimmer, whispered, "Stop thinking so much." A faint smile touched his features, and he brushed his lips against Rimmer's cheek. He knew. He'd seen through Spanner's eyes, felt with his emotions, remembered his memories. He's seen himself and this Rimmer, this Arn, through those filters, and there was no hesitation in him now. Nothing could stop this.

"I can't help it," Rimmer muttered, looking from one to the other, desperately looking for differences, something to ground him in reality amid this unreality of dual Lister. The faintly darker skin of Spanners, which concealed a few scattered pock-scars that Lister lacked. The slightly greenish hazel of his eyes, the solid brown of Lister's.

Spanners breathed into Rimmer's left ear. "We know." His own doubts, to the degree that he had any, had vanished when he'd seen this Ace through Lister's eyes, and felt him with that Lister's heart.

Lister murmured, "That's OK," into his right. "Just relax, man." His lips formed a more solid kiss on Rimmer's cheek, and Rimmer's entire body started to shiver. Spanners snaked an arm around Lister as if to calm him. He felt like part of his own body.

Rimmer tried to back away, but he was already pressed to the wall. Lister's proximity was having an effect that his rationality could only resist for so long. "I can't be," he swallowed and licked his lips, "screwed and left by... even one Lister."

Lister breathed, "You won't be." Leave Rimmer? Impossible. Even if he'd wanted to.

Rimmer closed his eyes, hoping that the inability to see them might, somehow, help alleviate this confusion and fear. Fear? What kind of Space Adventurer was he? A petrified one, a mocking voice in the back of his head supplied.

"Ain't no way I'm ever leaving you," Lister finished. Rimmer could not stop shivering. Lister brushed his lips towards Rimmer's lips, Spanners all the while caressing Lister's back, breathing softly into Rimmer's ear. The closeness of Rimmer, the almost-touch was driving them both far past plain old "turned on".

Rimmer was confused and dazed by the two Listers. He reached one very unsteady hand toward Lister's hip, touching it gently. His Lister. They were not the same. This one... was different. He could feel it.

It wasn't so much the fact that Rimmer was touching him, or that it was Rimmer touching him, which made Lister move his hip upwards to try to increase the pressure of that contact. It was all of it; the longing, the dreamt-of possibilities, the undreamt-of ones - those in particular... Still feeling echoes of that bond with Lister, and urged on by the similarity of this person to his Ace, Spanners put a hand lightly on Rimmer's arm.

Rimmer flinched at the hand of the copy, the duplicate, the one that was not, as his mind was frantically reminding him, his Lister. He gripped that hip more firmly, eyes still closed.

That strange connection reformed as the eyes of both David Listers, nicknamed and not, met. To Rimmer, the effect was downright eerie, but to Lister and Spanners, it was like suddenly realizing you had a second body and a second brain. Although not, perhaps, as hellishly frightening as that would surely be. A thought passed instantaneously between them; they licked their lips and looked towards Rimmer, whose eyes were tightly closed. Spanners caressed Rimmer's arm lightly, wondering if it was him or Lister doing it.

Rimmer sighed at the hand on his arm. He knew, without looking, that it was Spanners, something in the feel of the man, and it disturbed him to his core that he could sense Lister - his Lister - so well.

"Arn..." Lister whispered.

"What?" Rimmer gasped, smelling the cigarette smoke on his breath.

"Look at me," Lister finished.

Rimmer opened his eyes, his tendency to obey orders when his own motivation was lacking betraying him. He looked at Lister, that fear that he did not understand stirring within. Both Daves were close, now, and he could not help seeing that Spanners was staring at him as intensely as Lister, both expressions wanting, in slightly different ways. Rimmer could not breathe. He did not trust himself to move at all.

Lister tried to make his eyes signal "I love you", then slowly moved towards Spanners, as in a synchronized ballet. The two Listers' lips met, their eyes never leaving Rimmer; falling into one another, tongues lashing against tongues, slowly, sensually. We are one, they thought. We love you. Rimmer couldn't hear them, but it felt right to have thought the words. The kiss woke something in both of them; a lust that had, up until then, been just barely kept under control by Lister, and was now sensed by Spanners as though it were his own. Lister leaned into Rimmer's touch on his hip, while Spanners tightened his touch on Rimmer's arm; both men feeling the actions of the other, wanting to draw Rimmer into the kiss, knowing that wasn't possible.

Rimmer wanted to struggle out of the grip on his arm, but that was more movement than he trusted himself to make. His grip on Lister's hip tightened as he watched their long, agile tongues dance in and out of each other's mouths, while neither men lost eye-contact with Rimmer. He felt a vague jealousy boiling in his gut - one less sharp but more deep than the one he had felt when Lister had exited the room with Kochanski - as Lister was kissed by... Lister. This made no sense. He drew in a sharp breath as both of them moaned; their voices, stripped of their slight artificial veneer of accent, were identical.

Both Daves broke the kiss, but not eye-contact. This otherworldly bond - wherever it came from - was fading, but a haze of lust was steadily taking its place. They both tried to pull Rimmer closer, Lister with his hip, Spanners with the grip on Rimmer's arm.

There was no way they both wanted him - Arn, smeghead, Risk diary, Hammond organs. Rimmer raised his free hand, trembling, to push his wig off. This is Arn, the bastard, he said, silently. This isn't Ace. Spanners smiled as Lister closed his eyes and moaned more loudly. The noise was hypnotic, and Rimmer found himself moving towards Lister, still gripping his hip tightly. He had tried. Any lingering responsibility belonged to Lister.

As he was feeling Spanners slipping away from his mind, Lister saw the slight inclination of Rimmer's head and rushed forward, leaning into the kiss with twice the fervor of what he had just displayed with Spanners. Finally, his entire being cried out; finally. There was no room for anything else in him.

When Rimmer's lips met Lister's, something snapped, letting out all of the lust he had held pent up for - he did not want to make the calculation. He closed his eyes, opened his mouth and kissed Lister desperately, hesitation gone along with most of his rational thinking capability, his hand sliding to Lister's back.

Very much on his own now, in every way, Spanners stood back, letting them have this moment. Well. Ace always did say Spanners could fix anything. If only he could see him now!

Now that Rimmer was pressed against him, Lister couldn't help but notice that Rimmer was monstrously stiff. Jurassic Park stiff, 1950's irradiated arachnids and insectoids dimensions stiff. He must have been hard for... hours, perhaps. As if Lister hadn't been aroused enough already, this nearly made him climax then and there. Rimmer wanted him. Wanted him that badly. God, he must have wanted him when all the while on the way over; they could have, they could have - Lister explored Rimmer's mouth while laughing into it, everything falling around him, spinning, turning, being set free. He was free. Spanners laughed, as well, the two actions seeming to be one.

Hearing the same laughter from two different mouths, Rimmer was sure the joke was on him, but he could not bring himself to care. He moaned into Lister's mouth, opening his own mouth wider to allow Lister's tongue greater access, grabbing the shorter man's buttock to pull him upwards.

Feeling like an intruder, Spanners was nonetheless beyond turned on from watching this. He shouldn't be, he knew, but he was, and there was nothing he could do about it. But through what remained of what had tied him to the other Lister, he was reassured that this was all right. Perfectly all right. And deep inside him, a voice he had repressed for what felt like far too long piped up, "Well, and haven't you deserved something?"

Lister broke the kiss for a moment, needing air, breathing and laughing in bursts. If you could die from joy, this would certainly be what it was like.

Rimmer put his forehead to Lister's, raising the hand that had been holding Lister's buttock up to stroke his cheek, exploring the rather dangerous fact that he could do this. It had been too long. He had too much pent up. "Dave... god." He licked the cheek that he was not stroking. He would eat Lister alive, he knew it.

"Love you," Lister sighed.

"Smeg, I adore you," Rimmer muttered, nibbling his ear.

Spanners flitted almost nervously around the periphery. It's all right, Lister signaled again, with his eyes rather than super-sensory means this time; he reached out a hand to Spanners, who moved behind Lister, and unthinkingly, slowly, began to undress this other Lister.

Rimmer watched Spanners in mild surprise, that strange jealousy tugging at his gut. But he could not hold onto it as Lister started to pull at Rimmer's own clothes. He loosened his grip on Lister to help him. Dammit, this is where holo-clothes would come in handy, he thought as he almost ripped the jacket in his haste to get it off.

As much as he needed them gone this instant, Lister relished the delay of pleasure as the clothes needed to be negotiated off. He choked on a giggle as he refrained from helping Rimmer too much.

Rimmer tried to nibble at Lister's neck as his hands and Lister's interfered with each other, probably delaying him getting his own kit off. "I don't know what this is," he muttered into Lister's neck, "but I need it."

Spanners moved his hands to the front of Lister's trousers and started undoing the belt. Lister groaned at the prospect of what this implied, and started to fumble with Rimmer's trousers. Rimmer paused, bare to the waist, in helping Lister take the bacofoil flightsuit off, and slid his hand down Lister's stomach, into his pants, caressing Lister's hip from there.

The feel of hologrammatic hands on his own body slammed into Lister's brain, his head rolling back with a sound half-way between a squeal and a moan. "Yes... please..." So long; longing, wondering, needing. He couldn't wait any longer now.

"Yes," Rimmer growled, moving his other hand to help Lister pop the clasps on his own trousers. He kicked his boots off, muttering a curse at the annoyance of the practical details of this, all of which seemed to be serving to hold him back from his Lister.

Spanners stopped taking Lister's clothes off and crossed his arms almost protectively across Lister's chest. Rimmer pulled off his trousers and socks, leaving himself naked and very, very erect, but paused and stared at the sight of Spanners embracing Lister, possessively. He bit his lip, horniness, frustration, and that vague jealousy swirling in his viscera.

Lister, apparently not noticing this, grabbed Rimmer's buttocks, pulling him closer. He ground up against Rimmer, and Spanners took a step back to remove the top of his overalls, almost shyly. That instant reassurance from Lister in his mind was gone, and he was torn between his sense of what was right and what he desperately needed.

Rimmer took that interruption as a chance to claim Lister's sides, stroking them and slipping his hands inside of Lister's trousers as Lister whimpered. He lowered his lips over Lister's, hesitantly, still unsure of what Lister truly wanted, in his eager response to this double-sided attention.

God, yes, more, please! Lister did not hesitate; he reached up for Rimmer's lips, thinking only in emotions now, not words. On one side, he felt Rimmer suck on his lips feverishly; on the other, he felt Spanners's erection pressing into his back as his alternate held him protectively.

Rimmer ran his hands over Lister's sides, feeling that vague jealousy flirt with annoyance as he kept bumping Spanners's arms with his own. Bloody hell, if he had given in, by rights he should have Lister to himself.

This other Ace was so close. And Spanners was, after all, David Lister - by nature all impulse and curiosity, albeit kept closely in check by a super-ego he'd more or less assembled for himself without reading the instructions properly. And now, in a further expansion of a bad metaphor, the whole shoddy thing was falling apart, and he cursed himself for not having taken the extra time to figure out what that odd double-sided screw was far. He reached one hand out towards Ace's arm, wanting to caress it lightly. He did so, finally, gasping at the contact.

Rimmer shivered, but Lister was taking too much of his attention for him to worry about Spanners, provided the other man was not in his way. He pushed Lister's pants to the ground, kissing Lister's neck as Lister turned his head.

Again, the Daves locked eyes, and now nothing but looks was needed for them to communicate precisely. Lister closed his eyes; one of his hands found Spanners's hand, and they both reached down and touched Rimmer's erection together. Jubilation surged through Lister at the contact; it was like landing on a new planet. He fought the urge to plant a flag and name the gorgeous member in his hands.

Rimmer sucked in a breath at this unexpected contact, more unexpected for being two of the same-side hand, and inadvertently bit Lister's neck. "Sorry..." he muttered, licking the bite.

Lister yelped at the feel of the teeth. He ignored Rimmer's words, concentrating on caressing the head of his penis, while Spanners stroked the shaft.

Rimmer let his head fall back, and groaned "Dave," at the sterile, off-white ceiling. It didn't seem to care.

Lost in the moment, Spanners started to reply, but bit his tongue. Not your Ace. Remember? No, he could not forget that. Lister murmured pleasurably, putting his free hand up to caress Rimmer's cheek, as if to reassure himself that it was real.

"God, yes," Rimmer continued, bucking slightly into their hands. Both Daves laughed hoarsely, in a harmony Rimmer found eerie. He raised his hand to touch Lister's cheek, reassuring himself that it was his Lister he was touching.

Needing more, more still, Lister pulled Rimmer's head down and lunged into a new kiss, while stroking the head of Rimmer's erection as he knew he liked to have done to him. Spanners, his mental constructions collapsing in untidy heaps every which way, moved in to kiss Rimmer's shoulder, lightly.

Rimmer gasped into Lister's mouth, shuddering at the feel of two mouths on him. The seething jealousy was being unseated by a highly inexplicable sense of belonging, one he resisted. One Lister. His Lister. Lister began to lick Rimmer's throat. This was too much; this was too many Listers. Rimmer put his hand down, gently pulling them both of them off of him. "Not yet," he gasped.

Both Daves blinked, confused, panting in tandem.

Rimmer kissed Lister hungrily, then slid to his knees, licking Lister's chest and stomach, raking his nails slightly on the shorter man's buttocks.

This was one of the undreamed-of possibilities. In Lister's fantasies, he'd never been on the receiving end, and the unexpectedness moved him into what felt like a sensory register previously unexplored by mortal men. Lister moaned impatiently. "Want yuh..." He felt faint. Spanners shrugged out of the rest of his overalls and his boots; in just his clean white boxers, as though following some unsaid orders, he went over to support Lister, who sorely needed it.

Now that he was down there, uncertainty gripped Rimmer. Oral service had seemed like such a good idea from higher up, but he had never done it before, and confronted with the item itself - he quailed. He put his mouth around Lister's cock, but did not lick or suck. "I want you," he breathed on it. That much was certain. How was another matter altogether. He moaned in frustration, stroking Lister's inner thighs.

With Rimmer's mouth so close, practically on him, it took a Herculean effort for Lister to keep from just thrusting, but he knew he couldn't. And beyond that, seeing Rimmer's face, his lips, his mouth, all that beauty, wanting him, wanting him. "Smeg... man... I'm gonna come just by looking at ya..." He was only just joking.

Slowly, gently, and tentatively, Rimmer licked just the head. It had almost no taste - slightly musky, slightly salty, a touch bitter. It thrilled him on some indefinable level, though, to taste his Lister, and he kissed it, thrilled doubly at the whimper that emerged as he did so. He remembered something that a young blonde from the Olgerian cluster had done post-rescue and pre-return-to-her-father, and started to suck his way along the bottom of the shaft.

Spanners laughed at the sight, holding Lister tight as he whimpered. Lister wondered idly where Rimmer had learned this, coming to the conclusion that he did not want to know. Pressing his lips shut, he tried to make as little noise as possible, move as little as possible, worried that if he did, he'd come at pretty much the same instant. He wanted to scream, yell, thrash wildly, lean against the person who felt like himself now stroking up and down his sides, nuzzling against his neck from time to time. Spanners, Lister faintly remembered, his name was Spanners.

While this was more enjoyable than Rimmer had feared, it was also more stimulating than he had expected. His head was spinning. He rested his forehead against Lister's stomach, sighing agonizingly as he stroked Lister's testicles, trying to do something while he regained some semblance of his wits. He rubbed his cheek on Lister's erection, then licked it on the sides, the saliva disappearing as soon as it left his tongue.

Lister's reached both hands out to Rimmer's head, caressing it, enjoying the feel of those curls - but wondering if Rimmer realized that Lister had not had sex for years. This couldn't go on much longer; he'd already avoided coming several times now. This, too, was exciting, though; part of the whole game.

Rimmer looked up, disconcerted at how quiet Lister was. This, then, was not quite right. He licked his way back up Lister's stomach, unable to resist the feel of the other man's skin under his tongue.

One of Lister's hands ran down to Rimmer's shoulder, feeling the muscles there. He sighed quietly, whining slightly as the attention to his cock ceased. How would he survive this? Part of Lister wanted to slap Rimmer for this, part of him wanted to laugh it off, but most of him was just crying out with all his senses - more, for smeg's sake, more.

Spanners, thinking nothing in particular, watched this calmly over Lister's shoulder.

Rimmer ran his hands up and down Lister's stomach as he licked his way up to Lister's chest. The sensations from his hands and his tongue were appealingly distinct, and he relished the resilient firmness and musky saltiness that each, respectively, afforded. His tongue was unsatisfied when he reached his feet, and he stuck it in Lister's mouth to surround it with the sharp, smoky taste of Lister. He pulled the other man's buttocks towards him, pushing his thigh against Lister's erection, his own erection rubbing agonizingly against Lister's stomach.

Lister realized he should perhaps try to vocalize something of what he was feeling, but was interrupted by the tongue in his mouth. He'd think it was a rude interruption, if it hadn't been so life-affirmingly necessary. He ground back against Rimmer forcefully, leaping at this something.

Rimmer had almost forgotten that Spanners was pressed against Lister, but images of the young man kissing his Lister ran through his mind as he ran his tongue over Lister's. The seething jealousy continued to decrease, however, as Lister responded so eagerly to him.

He had to say something. Lister had to say something, or he'd surely explode, right here, right now, in one way or another. "More..." he managed to choke out, around Rimmer's tongue, "More..."

Rimmer pulled back. "What do you want?"

What a question! "God, please, anything!"

Spanners ran his hands over Lister's sides, and Rimmer, by happy accident, where Rimmer touched Lister. He was pressing up rather hard against Lister now, the echo of that 'more' in his mind, moaning in counterpoint. Through all this, Lister felt like he had four arms, all reaching out to Rimmer.

Anything - but he had not responded to the oral? And Rimmer had found he was rather enjoying that bit. Well, all he could do was try. He reached down to stroke Lister. "I want to suck you..." he choked into Lister's ear.

Then why the smegging hell did you stop, Lister wanted to yell, but not in earnest. Anything Rimmer was willing to offer him was a blessing, more than he had ever dared imagine. "Please, yes..."

Ah, this was a change. Rimmer tried more. "I want you to come in my mouth..." He bit Lister's ear, so very gently.

Words, tones, pure pleasure in themselves. Lister couldn't remember ever having wanted anything else. "Guh... Y..es..." His hips were bucking.

Rimmer's knees pointedly asked Rimmer to do this on something softer than the hard Space Corps regulation floor. He tried to pull Lister towards the bunk, wondering how he would get the man to lie back on it with Spanners glued to his rear.

Understanding, his cock and every fiber of him aching, Lister followed in a daze, pulling Spanners with him. The two Daves spread out as they moved, holding hands, Spanners following Lister like an unsteady puppy. This felt wrong, the younger Dave thought; this wasn't his place. And yet, there was an emptiness in his heart which he hadn't had time to think about yet, and he would do anything to delay dealing with it just a little while longer.

Rimmer pushed Lister backwards towards the bunk. His little speech had been intended to tease Lister, but it had awoken a feral hunger in himself.

With some reluctance, Lister let go of Spanners's hand. Spanners sighed and let him go, painfully erect, not knowing what do with it, overcome by lust and the equally strong need for this to work out right - for at least one Dave and one Ace to be happy. He stumbled after them, collapsing on his knees next to the bed, hunched over, as though this would help with the ache in his groin.

Rimmer straddled Lister as soon as he was supine, and started to suck. He could not help glancing over at Spanners, however, noting how quietly the young man had stepped back for them, yielding to them as a couple.

Rimmer turned his attention back to Lister, who was leaning back, lost in feeling, unable to articulate the onslaught of sensations and emotions, even to himself. Rimmer stroked his hips, firmly, while pulling as much of the erection into his mouth as he could, licking what did lay inside.

Spanners had caught the glance Rimmer had sent to him. He could not stand this any longer; the sight was killing him in more ways than one. He started stroking himself very slowly, leaning over the bed, resting his head on Lister's arm, watching Rimmer suck Lister, reveling in the rightness of it, while resenting the possible wrongness of his own actions. He couldn't feel Lister anymore; he didn't know what Lister wanted. And Lister had let go of his hand; he was probably no longer welcome. He should leave. But how could he?

Rimmer tried to concentrate on how different Spanners was from his Dave, tried to see him as an intruder. But he found his heart reaching out to that Dave, so like his own. He tentatively stroked Spanners's cheek with one hand. Lister's body arched under him, close to orgasm, and he tried to hum, something else that blonde had done that had felt reasonably magnificent at the time. It came out as half a groan as he ran his hand down to Spanners's shoulder, kneading it.

The touch was more than he could have hoped for, and Spanners leaned all too eagerly into it, intensifying the touching of himself. Only half-aware of what he was doing, he licked Lister's nipples, as though the other man was once again an extension of himself.

Lister flinched, his hand in Rimmer's hair, his vocal chords trying to find novel things to do with air. He knew there was something he should do at that point, something important, but his mind was filled with love and Arn and hot breath, and sensation.

Rimmer watched Spanners and Lister, his heart full of the desire for one to be his Lister, stroking Lister's hip with the hand that was not on Spanners's shoulder - on his back, now, rubbing gently. He hummed and licked, feeling Lister thrash under him - his Lister, damn it, nobody else's.

Oh, yes, Lister thought. It felt like a ridiculous understatement, but his entire universe now was sensation, not thought. "Coming... " he choked, almost crying.

Egged on by all this, Spanners leaned back into Rimmer's touch, his hands working himself feverishly now.

Lister did not want to come, did not want this to end. But as Rimmer tried to swallow more, rubbing Lister's hip firmly and affectionately, he did come, on a wave of ecstasy, bucking and thrashing on the bed, grabbing Rimmer, grabbing what he could of Spanners.

Rimmer coughed at the bitter come that flowed into his mouth. He swallowed what he could, licking the erection more gently as the shudders flowed through Lister.

Some climax had taken place - his? Lister's? It did not matter. It was a form of closure, Spanners sensed. Reaching over, he kissed Lister gently on the cheek, then on his lips, flooded with relief that wasn't entirely his own.

Rimmer licked his way up Lister, but noted with a fist-clenching surge of emptiness that his mouth was already occupied.

Sensing a mouth nearby, Lister lunged into a kiss, his hands still on Rimmer's head, the very act of which made him realized it was not Rimmer he was kissing. Needing that more than anything, he pulled upwards, wanting Rimmer close, inside him, with him, always. When Rimmer yielded easily, Lister kissed him fiercely as soon as he could, and Spanners, all inhibitions and good intentions lost at that point, licked and kissed both of their cheeks.

Rimmer kissed Lister slowly, moaning, feeling his twisted viscera start to relax again as he tasted his Lister.

Thrilling at being able to do so, Spanners caressed Rimmer's back, his other hand back on his own erection, but he did not stroke it. There just didn't seem to be any point to it. In the end, this wasn't about him. It wasn't about him at all.

Rimmer caught Spanners out of the corner of his eye. His thoughts were a twisted combination of resentment of and gratitude for Spanners, and the latter was starting to win out as Lister kissed him without reservation. Rimmer felt responsible, somehow, for Spanners. Yes, he had not chosen to be Ace. But here he was.

One of Lister's hands reached out towards Spanners, as though asking for help. Spanners looked from Lister to Rimmer, seeing the question in Rimmer's eyes, worry seeping into him again; determined not to break this, not now. Lister seemed to want to move Rimmer onto his back. Spanners wanted to help, god knows he did, and searched Ace's eyes for a sign.

Rimmer followed Lister's urging as the other man broke the kiss and started to press Rimmer onto his back. He looked directly at Spanners, for the first time since this had begun, seeing the man, finally, as just a confused, heartsore boy, trying to make good for the two of them after having lost what he had. "I know I'm not your Ace..." he said hoarsely, feeling terribly inadequate.

Spanners met his gaze, the power of speech escaping him. "Know..."

"But I owe you - so much." He touched Spanners's cheek, still grasping Lister's hip like an anchor to reality.

No, you're not mine, Spanners sighed, feeling every finger, every crease on Ace's palm. But you are Ace, through and through. I'm grateful I got to meet you.

Panting and spent, Lister nevertheless straddled Rimmer, feeling exhausted, resting his head against the hard-light chest. "Love you," he muttered into his chest. As long as he was capable of breathing, he would do this, what he'd been able to do only in his mind for oh-so long.

Rimmer stroked Lister's hair, feeling his possessiveness surge. "God, I love you." he gasped.

One of Lister's hands reached out, yet again, to Spanners, whose eyes had not left Rimmer's face, trying to drag him into the bunk, too. Spanners hesitated while Lister moved as far as he could towards the wall, tugging at Spanners's hand, glancing at Rimmer. At the look of acceptance in the latter's eyes, Spanners sighed in relief, lust, love, everything; he clambered awkwardly on top of Rimmer on the side Lister had vacated, and began almost instantly to lick Rimmer's chest, as Lister, revived, licked the other side. There was only this moment now, no before or after.

Rimmer sighed and closed his eyes, stroking Lister's hair again. Self-consciousness reared his head as Spanners began to lavish attention on his body. Lord only knew what tricks Ace had carried in his sleeve; Arn certainly did not have them.

Spanners licked Rimmer's nipples, not knowing if he had the same reaction Ace had to this. It was more moderate, he noted; Rimmer responded to being licked anywhere. Spanners found this was not a disagreeable change.

Lister licked his way down to Rimmer's stomach, sliding over and under Spanners on his way there. Both Listers reached out to grab Rimmer's erection at the same time, two minds, one thought, but separate now, too. Their hands met, and they looked at one another, smiling. They had seen one another's minds; like the bond twins were said to have between them. No, closer than that. Echoes still lingered as Lister found himself remembering having done this to a slightly different body, time and time again, in a lifetime removed in space, time and reality. And as Rimmer cried out, thrashing just a little bit, Spanners felt as though, in some small way, this was the only Arnold Rimmer he had ever been with; the only Ace he had loved.

The two Daves quickly fell into a rhythm, stroking Rimmer's penis with one hand, stroking his arms and sides with the free hand. Their lips met quite naturally, and they looked towards Rimmer as they moaned into each other's mouths. Spanners's erection hurt, but he ignored it, feeling as though he were kissing two people. Lister was still limp, despite mounting excitement. Nature had limits, after all.

Rimmer gasped at the sight and the feel. Two Listers making love to him - it threw rational thought right out of the window. He grabbed their hips, one in each hand, kneading, coming with a gasp and a wailing moan.

Both Daves were still kissing as this happened, looking deeply into Rimmer's eyes. A look of disappointment crossed Lister's face. Rimmer did not miss it. He gasped, still in the last quavers of orgasm, "That happens... two or three..." He swallowed as another shudder made him twitch, "times..."

Lister frowned, but Spanners grinned. Realization began to rise in Lister as he felt the member in his hand doing so, too. Impossible... Wasn't it? What was this - a holographic glitch?

Spanners panted, "Neat trick... isn't it?" Lister was speechless, but began to fondle the rising member again automatically.

Rimmer frowned, despite the tail-end of orgasmic ecstasy. "Trick?" he panted. He was not a smegging circus bear.

As the erection in his hand grew to firmness, Lister felt like a child who had just been informed that Christmas happens more than once a year. He'd had girlfriends with this ability, but that a man would be able to? How many blessings did one person deserve?

Rimmer threw back his head and wailed just a little bit as his erection grew back to its former size in the hands of both Daves.

Quite fired up now, Lister murmured, "Good... I wanted to taste you..." Oh, the understatement. Craved, perhaps. Required, closer still. He leaned down to Rimmer's erection, licking the head a little, wanting to go slowly, but needing to do everything right now.

All thoughts of righteous indignation fled Rimmer's mind at the warm wetness. "Ohgod," he mumbled, throwing his head back and forth. "Dave..."

Spanners followed Lister down, grinding his own painful erection against Rimmer's leg, which the latter felt with some confusion of emotion. There was that that peculiar protective affection tweaking Rimmer's soul again, spilling over to this other Dave. He raised that leg to wrap around Spanners, who responded by grinding harder, yet somehow also more gently.

Having reached his limits, Lister swallowed Rimmer's erection whole, knowing of no other way of doing it. It seemed natural. It felt like nothing else.

Rimmer shuddered, thrusting slightly. "God, Dave," he moaned. Something came out of his mouth that might have been 'smeg' or 'sweet,' but might have been 'simonize,' as well. Coherency was gone.

Lister came up for air, and Spanners took his place, licking, sucking, responding as well he could to Rimmer's thrashings.

Rimmer sighed, touching his Dave on the leg. God, he could tell the difference between their mouths on his cock. He trembled as Spanners licked it more ferociously than Lister had, not pulling it as far into his mouth.

The two Listers started to alternate licking and sucking the erection, almost fighting over it. Lister finally won out, grabbing it entirely in his mouth, sliding up and down, feeling himself, incredibly (it rarely happened that soon) becoming erect again.

Rimmer tried not to thrash and curse, not to thrust into Lister's mouth. He failed utterly; his hips almost left the bed as he swore like a rather sheltered sailor.

Delighted in this newfound way of pleasing him, Lister grabbed Rimmer's buttocks, pushing the hologram's groin into his mouth even farther. Spanners looked on in alarm, fearing that Lister would learn all too vividly that a cock can gag rather painfully. But Lister, feeling nothing but deep-seated joy merely sucked harder.

"Goh... Dave..." Rimmer grabbed Lister's wiry curls in his hands. "Coming..."

Lister murmured "Yes" around a mouthful of cock.

"My Dave..." Rimmer grunted through clenched teeth, grabbing Lister's hair hard, too hard, gasping and bucking as he came.

The climax, although expected, was, somehow, unexpected. Lister choked a little, in surprise more than discomfort, but quickly gained control again, sucking every last shiver out of Rimmer as Spanners caressed them both, quietly.

Rimmer finished riding the wave of orgasm, and forced his hands open, shocked at how tightly they had been clenched. "You... all.. right?" he muttered, running one shaking hand over Lister's cheek.

Lister laughed against Rimmer's groin. This was truly a night for stupid questions. "There's no name for what I'm feeling, but it's on the side of heaven."

Rimmer closed his eyes for a moment. So very Lister, this sappy adolescent hyperbole. "You're too much," he muttered, feeling vaguely disgusted. But only vaguely. "Maybe just enough."

Lister planted kisses all the way up to Rimmer's face. "Arn," he sighed, softly, lovingly. This was real. Real.

"Dave," Rimmer replied steadily; it was a statement of fact. He stroked Lister's cheek, then ran the hand down to the small of Lister's back, resting it there.

And there it was; Spanners was superfluous. He sighed. Superfluous in the best way possible. He started to slide quietly out of bed.

Rimmer felt the bed shift, and turned to where Spanners was exiting it. "Hey..." he said, feeling an odd sense of loss.

Lister glanced in Spanner's direction, his arms around Rimmer, not wanting to let go.

With Rimmer's face looking at him, Spanners tried to communicate some sort of 'thank you,' but what does one say? He settled for leaning down and planting a very soft kiss on Rimmer's cheek, smiling.

Rimmer felt sympathetic pain for Spanners, for the loss he must feel, just as poignant, if different in nature, from the loss Rimmer felt when Lister pushed him out of his life, so many years ago. He touched Spanners gently on the cheek, wishing he could do something. Be that Ace that Spanners needed, just for a moment.

Spanners looked from Rimmer to Lister and back. "Take care of one another," he said. As if they wouldn't, after this. Still, it was the sort of thing one said. He assumed. This had been a strange day.

Rimmer closed his eyes. The hand on Lister's back pulled him uncomfortably tight. How fragile this all was. He had Lister now, for this moment, but a moment, only, it was. He pictured Lister in Spanners's place, pining away for a man long-dead. Had he any right to pull Lister in to this?

Still erect, Spanners backed away from the bed. He felt no pain. Not in his groin. There would be time enough for that. Too much time, probably. He should clear his head, then try to sleep. Then there was his shift to be done, and then... Perhaps he had some leave coming. He didn't tend to take it out. They'd understand; the relationship hadn't been as secret as Ace had wanted it to be.

Rimmer felt his throat close. He realized he did, in a strange way, love this boy, too; this Dave who had lost his Ace, who had every right to hate and resent him, and yet who had tried so hard to help him.

Spanners began to dress, concentrating on this rather simple act, as Lister lay serenely on Rimmer's chest, dozing.

"I'm so sorry," Rimmer said, quietly. Spanners half-turned. "About... all of it."

"Why?" Spanners asked.

"Sorry that you lost him. Sorry about this... whole thing. It's taken on a life of its own, hasn't it." Rimmer looked at Lister's snoozing head. "Sorry I thought you were wrong."

Spanners smiled. "I'll accept yer condolences, but there's no apology needed," he eyed Lister, lying on Rimmer's chest with his eyes closed, "for anything."

Rimmer nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"I'm going to go for a walk; clear my head. You... Rest. You've earned it."

Rimmer closed his eyes and nodded, unable to look at the sincerity in his face any longer.

In the doorframe, Spanners stopped, looking at the tableaux before him. They'd made it. Well done them. And good luck to all the others like them, like him and Ace, out there in the multiverse. Lister snuggled closer to the man he loved, and Spanners' heart broke. He remained for a few seconds, letting it. Then, increment by tiny increment, a smile replaced his neutral frown. And he left.

Rimmer rubbed Lister's back lightly, feeling the skin and bones and musculature of the other man, feeling the heartbeat thudding through him, smelling the sour breath flowing from him. Lister lay on his chest, a man's weight of responsibility stifling Rimmer's breath. Rimmer stopped breathing, opening his eyes and looking at Lister. Spanners and Ace sat before him as a cautionary tale, of the pain that love could cause. He did not trust himself with Lister's heart.

Lister concentrated on holding Rimmer close. If he just kept holding him tight, he thought, incoherently, he might just stop him from going away. He murmured in half-sleep, "Please don't leave again." Then came an uneasy snore.

Rimmer found that he could not deny Lister anything. "Not without you," he muttered, knowing that he could no more defy Lister than defy gravity. He could not sleep. He tried to just exist, for a little while, holding that delicious man.