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**
**
Upon realising that he might very well die again, Rimmer wasn’t so surprised actually.
It was just his luck, and his luck was always rotten. Of course he’d die twice. Maybe three times. Maybe even four. God, the universe had a rotten sense of humour when it came to Arnold Judas Rimmer, didn’t it?
“A holovirus?” he repeated the words with an indignant squeak.
“Yes, Arnold,” said the balding head of the deadpan computer, who already looked bored of the concept entirely.
“Is there anything we can do, Holly?” said Lister.
Lister stood there in his smeggy clothes, chewing his lip with a pensive expression. If Rimmer was trying to kid himself (which he often did), he’d think that Lister actually cared about the situation.
Rimmer didn’t know why he was trying to kid himself about that. But maybe when you’d just been told you’d been infected with some weird ‘holo-virus’, and might only have a few hours to ‘live’, knowing someone actually cared might have been a vague comfort, he supposed.
Didn’t have to be Dave Lister, obviously. Could have been anyone.
If Holly could’ve shrugged, he would have done.
“I need to run some scans through the hologram simulation suite. Should be able to figure somethin’ out in a jiffy.”
Rimmer was not consoled. He rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips. He turned away.
“Fan-smegging-tastic. I’ve only been a hologram for three smegging years and now I’m dying. Again.”
“You’re not dying,” Lister told him. He looked exasperated. The cheek of the smegger.
“Yes I am,” Rimmer snapped.
“You’re not. Cos you’re already dead.”
That was a fair point. Rimmer pulled a face anyway.
“Yes, but I’ll…I’ll cease to exist. That’s basically dying.”
Lister seemed to consider that rather more seriously.
“Mm. Suppose so.” he looked back at Holly. “Holly? Would Rimmer actually cease to exist? Couldn’t you just…reboot him or something?”
Holly shook his head. “No. the virus is designed to destroy the hologrammatic data relating to that particular person’s file. If that data is destroyed...well, there’s nothing left to reboot, is there?”
Rimmer paled a bit. He turned his glare back to Lister.
“See? I’ll be smegging dead. Dead dead!”
Lister rolled his eyes. “We’ll figure it out, Rimmer. Don’t get your keks in a twist.”
*
*
They were still figuring it out about five hours later.
Rimmer had decided to sit down, partly because he kept doing this weird glitch that gave him that sensation you get when you miss a couple of steps. But also because his vision kept turning static and fuzzy. He hadn’t told Lister this, but it probably didn’t matter.
Lister was currently standing in the bunkroom door way. He was frowning, and every now and then his face would go fuzzy and black and white, and his jaw would disconnect from his head, or his dreadlocks would wander over to the other side of the room.
Rimmer had to blink or close his eyes, before the surreal visual righted itself again.
“You alright?” Lister asked him. He was still standing in the bunkroom entrance, with his disconnected jaw and wandering dreadlocks.
“...yes,” Rimmer told him, through teeth that felt gritted.
“You look awful, man.”
“Oh, thanks.”
Lister walked into the room. His locks thankfully rejoined his head again.
“Look, Holly’s still trying to figure somethin’ out. He said he’s found the virus, just needs to try an’ contain it. Or somethin’ like that.”
He slouched against the wall and lit a cigarette.
“Great,” Rimmer said.
He rubbed his temples and slouched uncharacteristically forwards at his study desk.
The pink glow of his reading light was usually comforting. At least it had been in his ‘life'. When he’d actually been alive. It’d been a calming glow that'd helped him escape into the world of intricately painted revision timetables. All before the blind panic that came with realising he’d spent way too long on intricately painted revision timetables.
He rubbed his temples again, before cradling his head in his hands.
“Why do I have to die again? It isn’t fair.”
“You’re not gonna die,” Lister told him at once. “Holly’s figuring it out right now.”
Rimmer opened his eyes. He watched with contempt as a plume of smoke snaked through the air, towards him.
“You actually think that fruit-loop computer can help?”
“Sure he can. He’s figured out loads of things, ain’t he?”
Rimmer was skeptical, as he was skeptical of most people and things. He raised a brow at Lister and shook his head.
“Flukes, all of them. He’s just jammy like that.”
Lister shrugged, exhaling another wisp of smoke. “Well. It’ll be another fluke then.”
Rimmer observed Lister with a mite of suspicion. It occurred to him that Lister was probably trying to make him feel better. Or ‘reassure’ him, as some people, people who could be known as ‘good’ people, liked to do.
Or maybe people who were friends liked to do.
Rimmer didn’t like to entertain that thought. It wasn’t exactly because he didn’t like the idea of being Lister’s ‘friend’, either.
It was more that he didn’t like the idea that Lister was just a good person, and he’d do that for anyone at all anyway.
Rimmer didn’t want to disappoint himself with the idea that Lister didn’t actually like him at all.
So he just didn’t think about it. Not usually.
Now he blinked, slowly. The glitchy line of Lister’s jaw was being weird again. And his dreadlocks were beginning to wander.
“...Rimmer?” Lister was saying. “You alright?”
Rimmer blinked again. Usually it worked. Usually it cleared the fuzzy glitchy vision that invaded his eyeballs. Now it wasn’t.
“I’m dandy,” he said anyway. Something quivered in his voice though. His hands on the table were becoming white-knuckled.
He closed his eyes, because it was better than looking at Lister’s body turning into little fragmenting squares of flesh. Better and far less horrifying, actually.
“Rimmer?”
Lister sounded like he was stuck in a huge metal barrel. Voice all distorted and echoing and hurting Rimmer’s ears.
Rimmer wanted to scowl. Instead he said;
“Lister? Can holograms throw up?”
“Eh?”
*
*
Rimmer didn’t throw up. At least he didn’t remember doing that.
But the next thing he knew was that he was staring at the very familiar and strangely comforting underside of Lister’s bunk.
He was lying in his own bunk, and then the very familiar and also strangely comforting sight of Lister’s face came into his view.
Lister was looking at him too closely. He was so close that Rimmer could see the lines on his lips. He could see the flecks in his rather dark eyes. He could see the shadow of stubble on his jaw that indicated he should have a shave. But that wasn’t so terrible. At least Lister’s jaw wasn’t dislocating from Lister’s head anymore.
Rimmer smiled, very relieved about that.
When it came down to it, Lister actually had a very alright sort of face. Rimmer didn’t know if he’d call it handsome, but he could see why people were attracted to it. He could see why people fell for it.
It was charming and amiable and kind.
It was everything that Rimmer’s sharp and anxiety-ridden face wasn’t.
“..Rimmer, you alright?” Lister was asking him.
“I’m fine,” Rimmer said, still smiling. He felt awful. He felt like his head might explode. But Lister didn’t need to know about that. “What happened?”
“You went all funny, so Holly rebooted you on the bed.”
“‘All funny’?” Rimmer tried to sit up. Bad mistake.
The entire bunkroom seemed to sway, and Lister swayed with it.
Rimmer groaned and reached out a hand, trying to anchor himself to Lister’s hand, just because it was there. Of course his own hand moved straight through it instead.
He flopped back down on the bed.
“S’alright,” Lister said. “Just stay still. Must be the virus.”
Of course it’s the smegging virus, you goit. Rimmer said, in his swaying mind.
His fingers curled tightly into his palms.
At this angle, because Lister hadn’t moved his own hand away, it almost looked as if they were holding hands.
“Hah. That’s funny,” Rimmer mumbled.
“What is?”
“Nothing.”
Lister looked more concerned than confused. “Erm. Holly said he’s managed to isolate the virus in the suite. So as soon as he’s figured out how to shut it down, you should be back to normal. Whatever that is.”
His mouth flashed, one of those grins that was cheeky and endearing to some people. People like Kochanski, probably.
Rimmer wasn’t Kochanski.
He wasn’t some people, either.
But right now he was rather glad that Lister was grinning at him like that. He was rather glad that Lister was very close. He was rather glad that when he looked from this weird angle, and squinted a bit, it seemed like he and Lister might actually be holding hands.
That was a funny thought. Probably a bit weird and wrong, as well.
His head felt funny. Like blocks were being hammered into his skull.
“...Lister,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Am I weird?”
Lister’s grin quivered, then seemed to stretch a bit. “Yeah. Very very weird, Rimmer.”
“Oh.”
Rimmer wasn’t sure why he’d even asked. He felt weirder for asking it, honestly. He closed his eyes.
“You’re weird,” Lister carried on. But his voice was quieter. Maybe kinder. “But that’s okay. I’m weird. Cat’s weird. Holly’s weird. We’re all smegging weird.”
Rimmer swallowed. He didn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t.
He was afraid of losing the picture of Lister in his mind’s eye right now. Because Lister was looking at him with kind eyes. He was looking at him as if he liked him, and that look matched the words he was telling him right now.
It was perfect. He really didn’t want to ruin it.
“Okay,” Rimmer heard himself say.
His voice felt brittle. He didn’t know why. Probably the virus.
“Thanks, Lister.”
He didn’t know why he said that either. Probably the virus too.
“S’alright,” Lister still sounded kind. He didn’t sound like he was weirded out by anything. That any of this was weird at all.
Was it weird? Rimmer didn’t know anymore. His head was still hurting and he was afraid to open his eyes. Perhaps he’d never open his eyes again.
“Lister…”
“Yeah?”
“I’m smegging scared.”
“I know.”
Something shifted. Lister probably shifted, because Rimmer definitely hadn’t moved, and there was nobody else here. Made sense it was Lister, then.
But Rimmer couldn’t open his eyes to find out. He was too scared and overwhelmed and embarrassed.
Lister had moved and left him and Rimmer was so ashamed.
So pathetic and afraid and sick and sick of himself.
“Lister, I’m-”
“S’alright, Rimmer,” said Lister.
He sounded much closer.
So much closer.
Rimmer opened his eyes.
Lister’s entire body was lying on the bunk bed, on Rimmer’s bunk bed. Right next to Rimmer. Right against him.
Parts of Rimmer's body fuzzed through Lister's body. Rimmer didn’t really feel the sensation, but observing it made him imagine he could. He could pretend to feel Lister’s arm against his own. Or Lister’s hip against his own. Or Lister’s leg flopped over his own leg. He could see all of these things.
He could almost feel them too.
Lister was watching him steadily. His face was still very kind.
“S’alright, Rimmer,” Lister said again. “Holly’s fixing it, yeah?”
Rimmer stared at him.
His heart, or whatever passed for his heart, felt like it was moving from chest to throat. It was in his mouth. It was pounding a beat so cliche as to feel deafening in his ears.
He almost couldn't hear his own very dull reply;
“Yes. Okay, Lister.”
He wanted to say something else. He wanted to do something else. But whatever ‘something else’ was did not process properly in his brain. That was probably the virus’s fault.
The same reason it was the virus’s fault that he couldn’t tell Lister to get the smeg out of his bed, right this instant.
He smiled feebly. Yes, that was the virus’s fault too.
Lister smiled back. “Be strong, big man.”
He was teasing Rimmer. And Rimmer didn’t really mind at all.
Also the virus’s fault.
Rimmer smiled a bit more. He was so glad Lister was here.
He was so smegging glad.
“Thanks, Lister.”
Yes, everything was the virus's fault.
*
*
A little while later, Holly blipped onto the vid screen. He sounded very smug.
“Smashed it, didn’t I? Virus eliminated.”
“Thanks, Hol,” Lister said.
He was still lying on the bunk bed, watching Rimmer.
“Yeah. Thanks, Hol,” said Rimmer.
He was still lying on the bunk bed too, watching Lister.
He’d move in a little bit. There wasn’t any rush at all really.
He was probably in recovery mode, anyway. Couldn’t move very easily or think very clearly just yet.
Or maybe he’d just made that up.
Lister smiled at him.
Rimmer smiled back.
Yes, he was definitely still in recovery mode.
**
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