Disclaimer: Sorry, they're not mine; I just like to play with them...
A/N : The alternative dimension theory has been done to death by those greater and better than me, but nonetheless, here goes. It will help if you've read Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers, but I don't think it's essential.
Arnold Rimmer stared glumly out of the window of the hopper as it bounced down the busy Mimas street. He was beginning a month's enforced sick leave, ordered by his doctor back on Red Dwarf, all because he'd had a bit of an episode during his last exam. He'd written 'I am a fish' all over his answer sheet and then collapsed. Diagnosis – stress; prescription – one month's R and R on the nearby moon.
Rimmer was depressed. Not so much because of the incident in question, but because of having to spend the time off here. Rimmer didn't like Mimas. It was dirty and crowded and always swamped with rowdy people on shore leave. Given the choice he would have preferred to stay on Red Dwarf and simply spend his sick leave reading in his bunk, or brushing up on his Esperanto; but the doctor had been insistent. A complete change of scenery was necessary if Rimmer were to disengage from the stresses of work and make a proper recovery.
So, here he was. Hopping through the grimy throng on his way to the garish tourist hotel where he'd be spending the next four weeks.
His room was everything he'd expected. Cheap and cheerful from the light-fittings to the carpet, but clean and fairly comfortable. He unpacked his one small bag; hanging up his clothes in the empty wardrobe, setting out a few toiletries in the cramped bathroom and finally, placing a book on the bedside table. And that was it. There was nothing else for him to do. He lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Four weeks of this.
Bars and clubs weren't his thing and, even if they had been, he had nobody to go with. Mimas was decidedly low on museums and libraries; or anything of an educational manner actually. The place was too busy and frankly too ugly to enjoy a walk through the city. Rimmer was stranded, with nowhere to go and nobody to talk to.
Despondent, he picked up his book and decided to do some reading before dinner. It wasn't the sort of book he normally read, but given the circumstances he'd decided to allow himself the indulgence. He'd picked it up at the shuttle port where nobody he knew would see him buying it. It was a grey book, not very thick, and on the cover was a black and white photograph of two bare-chested men kissing.
Rimmer had known he was gay since the age of ten and – at least he suspected – so had his family and schoolmates. His family had never spoken of it out loud; to acknowledge such a thing would have been too hideous and shameful for them. But he had seen it in their eyes – the suspicion and disgust at what their son could be. He had done his best to prove them wrong. He had dated women, even brought them home on occasion but it had been no use. They had known, just as he had known, that it was a front and nothing more.
Even to this day the shame of it crippled him. Despite the fact he never planned to see his parents again, he still hid his sexuality from the world. He continued to try – and fail – to date women. He had never shared so much as a kiss with another man; not a brush of fingers or a lingering look. He played out his fantasies in his head, resigned to the fact that was all they'd ever be.