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Rimmer couldn't believe what was happening. Lister, Kryten, and the Cat were actually hugging him. At first he had suspected their motives, thinking either that they were trying to shame him into handing himself over to the Unspeakable One or that they had all suddenly gone stark raving mad. But this felt genuine. Lister was smiling at him and saying that he loved him. The combination of those words and that smile caused Rimmer to melt inside. A smile crept across his face as he relaxed into the hug, savoring the moment. "God," he murmured half to himself. This is sheer heaven!
Holly's voice interrupted the posse as she directed them all to the cockpit to check out what was happening outside. Rimmer didn't want the hug to end, but he followed the others as they trooped into the cockpit. As they watched the battle going on outside, Rimmer basked in the warmth of feeling loved and wanted. It was a novel experience for him, but one that he definitely enjoyed. He glanced over at Lister, who had taken a seat at the controls as Holly informed them that they were almost clear for takeoff. The hologram felt a deep upwelling of emotion as he scrutinized his roommate. Lister's words echoed in Rimmer's mind: I love you, man. I really, really love you. Those words were priceless to Rimmer, who had wished for a long time that he and Lister could at least be friends. That was all he had realistically let himself hope for—just being tolerated. He didn't feel worthy of being loved, so he was willing to settle for any scrap of affection that came his way. But if Lister loved him, maybe he wasn't such a hopeless case after all.
Granted, Lister hadn't actually been looking him in the eye when he said those words, but that didn't mean anything, did it? Come to think of it, Lister had been looking more toward Kryten than at him. But that could be explained by embarrassment, couldn't it? Like Lister said, it wasn't easy for guys to tell each other their true feelings.
The seeds of doubts had been sown in Rimmer's mind, though. He desperately wanted the past few minutes to have been real, but he didn't have enough self-confidence to truly believe it. Against his better judgment, which told him to leave well enough alone, Rimmer asked for confirmation of his crewmates' feelings. Because his nascent sense of self-worth was still wobbly, his question came out stressing the negative: "All that hugging stuff back there. It was just a way of escaping, wasn't it? I mean, you didn't really feel that deep down I'm an OK sort of bloke; that I'm not such a bad old stick once you get to know me. You didn't really mean any of that, did you?" The others exchanged glances. Rimmer figuratively held his breath, hoping that the needed confirmation would be given.
The chorused "No" that answered him was psychologically devastating. The cruel pattern that seemed to make up his life had repeated itself once again: He'd let himself hope that he could find some measure of happiness, only to have that hope brutally murdered. He closed his eyes to shut out the sight of the grinning faces of the crewmates who he had grown to like and, in Lister's case, perhaps even to love. The emotional pain felt worse than anything he'd been threatened with on that damn moon. The hologram's arms tightened around himself as if he were trying to reassure himself or to shield himself from further pain. He had to get out of there, fast, before he lost it in front of the others. He couldn't bear to let them know how much he was hurting. "Just as I thought," he managed to say with a facsimile of cheerfulness. "You're all goits." With that, he turned and left the cockpit, heading for the safety of the engine room.
Lister laughed at hearing the expected insult from Rimmer. Everything was back to normal, it seemed. That was definitely a relief—he'd been worried about Rimmer there for a while. But if the hologram was in a good enough mood to insult them, he must be doing OK. He turned back to the controls to give his full attention to piloting Starbug.
The trip back to Red Dwarf didn't take long. Lister looked for Rimmer as the crew disembarked, but didn't see him. Lister felt a flicker of concern, but then told himself that Rimmer must simply have left Starbug faster than the rest of them. Just to be sure, though, he went back into the Bug and checked the sleeping quarters. Empty. "Rimmer?" he yelled as he headed back to the exit hatch. "You here?" Silence. Lister looked around the empty space vehicle and shrugged. I must've been right the first time—he just beat us to the punch gettin' outta here. Must've wanted to get as far away from that moon as he could as fast as possible. Can't say I blame him....His mind's an awfully dark place! Lister's stomach growled as he left the landing bay, so he turned his thoughts to searching for food rather than for Rimmer. After all, Rimmer knew how to take care of himself, and he probably just wanted to be left alone.
Back in Starbug's engine room, Rimmer listened to the sound of Lister's footsteps receding into the distance. The hologram was seated on the floor with his back to the wall and his knees drawn up to his chest, with his arms tightly wrapped around them. He rested his head on his knees and sighed deeply.
He had given in to a brief spasm of crying when he first reached the sanctuary of the engine room, but he had quickly managed to get the tears under control. Crying was something that his father had always derided as "unmanly," and Father made sure that no son of his ever dared to cry when he was around to stop it. As a result, Arnold Rimmer had learned at an early age to hide all his emotions or, if they managed to burst through his defenses, to quickly clamp down on them and overcome them—at least on the surface. Deep down, it always still hurt.
Just like it hurt now.
He had always known that he wasn't a popular person—people seemed to make a point of informing him of that fact—but he had thought that after all this time together, his crewmates might have begun to accept him and maybe even like him just a smidgen. But no, they hated him. And he hated himself, so that made it unanimous.
Being chained up and practically naked in that dungeon had brought back vivid memories of his coerced encounters with Todhunter. That would have been upsetting enough in itself, but the fear of being tortured and of being abandoned by the others had kicked his anxiety into overdrive. The rejection by Lister had been the final blow that led to his current deep despair.
I bet that smug goit Ace Rimmer would have known how to escape from that dungeon, Rimmer thought. And if he didn't, the others would have gladly done anything for him—especially Lister. The quick, enthusiastic friendship that had sprung up between Lister and Ace rankled Rimmer. He would never admit it to Lister—or to himself, for that matter—but he was jealous. He yearned for that kind of warm relationship with his roommate.
The thought of Ace Rimmer magnified his feelings of inadequacy. How could he ever compete against Ace? He was more annoyingly perfect than his three brothers had been, and Rimmer had never stood a chance of being noticed in their presence. Ace was brave, intelligent, friendly, handsome, successful—everything Rimmer most definitely was not. Rimmer sighed again as he compared Lister's reaction to Ace and to himself. Ace had immediately become Lister's best buddy. He, on the other hand, was constantly reminded that Lister would prefer if he were dead. Words from the past echoed in his mind: I really, really hate you, Rimmer... Drop dead, Rimmer...
Perhaps he should do Lister and the others a favor and comply with their wishes. They always seemed to want to turn him off—it was their first solution to any problem. Well, maybe it could solve his problems too. Life seemed empty and hopeless, and the thought of an eternity of loneliness unbearable. Everything seemed black to Rimmer, as if all color and warmth had been drained from the universe. He couldn't find the will to keep on going. It was hard enough being a hologram and having such an existentially ambiguous "life" without the added burden of being utterly without hope.
But how can I shut myself off? he wondered. I can't touch my light bee or my personality disk. God, what a pathetic excuse for a man I am—I can't even kill myself without someone helping. That thought got his mind working: The skutters! They'd probably be thrilled to help rid the universe of Arnold J. Rimmer. He could get two skutters to go to the Holographic Simulation Suite with him and then order them to crush his light bee and his personality disk simultaneously. That would work. And then I'd be free from pain forever.
His mind made up, Rimmer unfolded himself from the floor and went to search for the skutters.
After polishing off a vindaloo, Lister went to the sleeping quarters expecting to find Rimmer and try to persuade him to join in the poker game tonight. When he discovered that Rimmer wasn't in their room, Lister began growing concerned. He headed for the observatory, which was where Rimmer usually could be found when he needed to think or was feeling blue. But the observatory was empty too.
His concern was rapidly escalating into alarm. He ducked into the room nearest the observatory and called for Holly. Her expressionless face appeared on the viewscreen.
"What's up, Dave?"
"Where's Rimmer? Have you seen him lately?"
Holly bristled. "What am I, a glorified search engine? How come you never ask anyone else to find things for you?"
"Because you're better at it than the others are," Lister said in a placating tone.
"Oh. That's all right, then."
"So?" Lister prompted.
"So what?"
"So where's Rimmer?" an exasperated Lister said, trying not to lose his temper.
"He's in the Hologram Simulation Suite. Uh oh—you might want to get there right away. I don't like the look of things there."
Lister didn't waste any time asking further questions. He covered the distance to the Hologram Simulation Suite in record time.
As Lister burst into the room, Rimmer had just finished uttering the word "Three." The scene seemed to burn itself into Lister's brain in a flash: Rimmer was kneeling on the floor facing a skutter, which had its claw extended toward his chest. Another skutter was hovering over the holographic projection box labeled "Rimmer, Arnold J." Rimmer looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. Lister only had time to see the utter despair stamped on the hologram's face before his image flickered and was gone. The skutter on the floor had pulled Rimmer's light bee out of the image field and shut it off, while the other skutter had pulled the personality disk out of the projection box.
"Nooo!" Lister yelled frantically. "Stop! Don't crush him!" He ran toward the skutter holding Rimmer's light bee. "Let me have that! And put that disk back in the box!" he commanded the other skutter.
The skutters obeyed. Lister held the light bee in his hands and examined it closely while he gasped for air and tried to get his heart to stop pounding. "Hol? Is Rimmer gonna be OK?"
Holly appeared and checked the holographic simulation programs. "Yeah. Electronically, at least. There's no damage to his systems."
Thank God, Lister thought. That was way too close. He was shocked that Rimmer had tried to kill himself—the hologram had always been adamant about not being turned off even for a short while. I guess he was more psychologically fragile after his experiences on the psi-moon than we thought. Kryten did say he was in grave danger. Smeg! We probably pushed him over the edge with that "group hug" bit. Now what do I do? Well, apologizing to him would be a start, I guess.
"Holly, let Kryten and Cat know that the poker game is off for tonight, and that I'm in the Copacabana but don't want to be disturbed. That includes you, Hol. I need to talk to Rimmer, alone. Just make sure that there's a large supply of holographic whiskey on hand at the bar first. Oh, and keep mum about what just happened here, will ya?"
"Sure, Dave."
Determined that this time Rimmer would have to sit and talk with him, Lister carried the light bee to the Copacabana and locked the doors. He approached the bar and noticed with approval that there were four bottles of holographic whiskey there—more than enough to get Rimmer soused.
"OK, Rimmer," murmured Lister, "here we go. I really hope you'll listen to me." He turned the light bee on and tossed it into the air, keeping his fingers crossed that Rimmer would come back on line intact.
Rimmer's image reformed without a hitch. The hologram looked momentarily confused as he tried to figure out where he was and how he got there. He looked at Lister and then turned away, embarrassed and unsure of what to say. Damn! I even failed at suicide! What a useless waste of energy I am.
"Wait," Lister said pleadingly, reaching out a hand to catch Rimmer by the arm and stop him from leaving. Of course, the hand went right through Rimmer's arm, but the tone of voice succeeded in stopping him. The hologram turned around to face Lister, raising an eyebrow in inquiry. Lister noticed the dried tear tracks on Rimmer's face and felt like an even lower heel than he had before.
"Rimmer, man, I'm really, really sorry about what happened back on Starbug. I didn't stop to think that it wasn't the greatest time to make a joke at your expense."
"You never stop to think, Lister."
"Yeah, I know. So let's take some time now and have a drink together, eh? What d'you say to some whiskey?
"I guess I could be persuaded to have a drink," said Rimmer warily. He wasn't quite sure what Lister was up to, and was afraid to trust this apparent display of friendship. The two men sat at the bar, side by side. Lister had snagged some lager for himself, and Rimmer poured out some holographic whiskey.
"Cheers, man," Lister toasted.
Rimmer silently lifted his glass, but didn't return the toast.
"Um, I don't really know where to begin," Lister confessed. "I'm sorry about what we said. We really do care about you. Well, who knows if Cat feels anything for anybody but himself and his suits, but that's just the way Cat is."
"You have a very strange way of showing your caring," Rimmer said acerbically, pouring himself another shot of whiskey.
"We wouldn't have bothered trying to rescue you from that monster if we didn't care," Lister pointed out.
Rimmer grunted an acknowledgment. There was silence for a moment or two while both men sat and drank, each lost in his own thoughts.
Lister was the first to break the silence. "Why didja want to kill yourself?" he asked quietly.
"Go ask Kryten. He'll be happy to provide you with the complete list," Rimmer said bitterly. "I think he summed up my miserable existence pretty well." His hand shook as he raised the glass to his lips.
Lister noticed the shaking and knew he needed to tread warily. What I wouldn't do to have a good shrink on board right now! But there was just him, and he needed to help his friend. "Yeah, but you've always known all those things about yourself—and most of them aren't your fault. You've always had the strength to keep on going despite all the shit that other people have dumped on you. So why give up now?"
The drinks had begun to affect Rimmer, who was easily intoxicated. He swayed slightly on the barstool as he turned to look Lister in the eyes. "You really want to know?" Lister nodded. "Part of it's because being chained up on that moon brought back—" Rimmer cut himself off abruptly, shaking his head. "No, forget I said that. The main reason is because for once in my life I had heard those three impossible words—'I love you'—and really thought they were true. No one has ever said that to me before and actually meant it. Usually they just say it so they can laugh at me when I'm such a schmuck as to believe it for a moment." Rimmer turned away to pour himself another drink. "Just like you did," he murmured almost inaudibly as he tossed down the shot.
"You've gotta be pulling my leg," protested Lister. "I mean, no one ever said that to you? Surely your mum—"
Rimmer cut him off: "Nope. Never. It was like I didn't even exist at home—like I was some unwanted stranger who just turned up on the threshold and was rude enough not to leave."
Lister could empathize with that feeling, having been abandoned at birth. Still, he thought to himself, at least I had me stepdad and gran. They loved me. Out loud, he said, "Yeah, I can see how what we did must've felt pretty awful to you. I'm really sorry."
"Duzzn't matter," slurred Rimmer. "I'm used to it."
Lister fumbled for something comforting to say that might make up for the damage he had done. He hesitated, unsure of how Rimmer would react, then decided that he had to say it: "I do love you, Rimmer—in a friendship kind of way, I mean, not..." he trailed off, embarrassed.
"Not what?" Rimmer asked, not quite following Lister's train of thought.
"Not like I want to shag you or anything like that," Lister hastily said. As if to contradict these words, his mind's eye conjured up the picture of a practically naked, oiled Rimmer as he had appeared in the dungeon, with the muscles in his outstretched arms glistening in the torchlight. He certainly had looked shaggable then! The thought made his cock twitch. Uh-oh, I'd better be careful. I don't want Rimmer to think I'm lusting after him. After whatever Todhunter did to him, he probably would never want to even think of having sex with a guy. For that matter, why am I thinking about having sex with a guy? I must be drunker than I thought!
"Oh," was all Rimmer could say in reply. His mind was whirling. Lister did love him? It was too good to be true. Therefore, it couldn't be true. Q.E.D. "You don't have to lie to me, Lister," he said after a moment in a choked voice. "We're not on that moon any more."
"No, we're not, which means I have no reason to lie to you," Lister pointed out in a sincere voice. "I'm not kiddin' around. I love you as a friend."
Rimmer looked down at his hands, which were clasped around the shot glass as if he were holding on for dear life. His shoulders shook as he tried to hold back the sobs and the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.
"Let yourself go, man. Go ahead and cry," Lister urged him. "You'll feel better."
"I—I can't," stammered Rimmer in a voice barely above a whisper.
"Sure ya can. It's just me here—you know, the guy who cries at sappy movies no matter how many times he's seen 'em?"
That caused Rimmer's mouth to twitch into the semblance of a smile. "Yeah. I know." Silent tears were running down his face.
God, I wish we were back on that moon right now, Lister thought. It would be worth the risk to be able to hug Rimmer again. He really needs it, and I can't even touch him...
Rimmer wiped his sleeve across his streaming eyes and tried to get control of himself. He wanted to tell Lister that he loved him too, but his fears held him back. He reached for another drink, hoping that it would give him the courage to speak, but the alcohol he had already consumed caught up with him and caused him to pass out, slumping over the bar in mid-reach.
Lister smiled at him indulgently and shook his head. It didn't take much to make Rimmer drunk. I just hope he'll remember what I said—and believe it! I don't think I could bear it if he killed himself, especially if I was the cause. Well, I'd better get him to bed.
"Sorry for the invasion, big man," he said out loud to Rimmer as he reached into the hologram's chest. "But I need to get yer light bee so I can carry you back to bed. I promise I'll take care of you."
Lister cradled the light bee gently in his hands as if he were carrying the most precious and fragile crystal ever made. When he reached their quarters, he placed the light bee carefully on the lower bunk and turned it back on. Rimmer appeared on the bed, still out of it.
As Lister got ready to turn in for the night, Rimmer opened his eyes and gazed blearily at his surroundings. Seeing Lister, he blinked and tried to remember what it was he had so urgently wanted to tell him. His brain was too fuzzy for much coherent thought to be occurring. Before his eyes drooped again in sleep, Rimmer managed to connect a few neurons so that he could speak semi-intelligently. "Thanks, Listy," he said in a quiet voice.
"Any time, Rimsy," Lister replied, although he knew Rimmer couldn't hear him. He moved close to the bed and gazed at the hologram, drinking in the sight of him and feeling a profound sense of relief that Rimmer was still alive and whole. "I'm sorry I hurt you so badly," Lister whispered, stroking his hand down Rimmer's cheek and trying not to disrupt the illusion of touching him. "From now on, I'll be watching over you, mate." Humming the tune to himself, Lister pulled a chair close to the bed and settled in to watch over his friend's sleep.