When Arnold Rimmer left to become Ace, life went on for the crew - Kochanski arrived, Rimmer grew a backbone far away from Starbug and Lister had THAT DREAM. Months later, the new Ace arrives back on Starbug for a flying visit only to find that things are rather different to how he left them, including himself. Also, why is Lister acting so smegging awkward all of a sudden?!

Rated T for now, possibly to be upgraded at a later date; slashiness is likely to ensue, so steer clear if you're not down with the guy love. It'll probably only be a little ficlet, a few chapters at most, but reviews are enocuraged and appreciated!

He knew it wasn't likely that this was the best idea he'd ever had in his life, but after what felt like years of being the ultimate hero of the universe – and yes, someone had called him that and, yes, he had gleefully revisited the moment on multiple occasions when alone and able to have some time to himself – Ace Rimmer felt it was high time he took that first step forwards and meet the old team as the new man he was. Or, in the very least, the man he had been trying to become.

As he prepared to phase, an odd jolt of nerves shooting through him at the mere idea of what he was about to do, he took a moment to reflect upon the time spent apart from them. He still wasn't quite sure of his new identity, the man known to everyone as 'Ace Rimmer – what a guy!' and had, in rare moments of nostalgia, wished just once to hear someone call him Arnold, Arn, Arnie or (and it pained him to even consider it) a right royal smeghead. He smiled slightly to himself as he pulled his jacket to fit perfectly against his frame, remembering how it had felt to leave Starbug the first time as an arrogant, smarmy coward and appear elsewhere as a man renowned for his chivalry, generosity of spirit and all-round ladies man... it had been a startling change, one he'd had to adapt to with barely a moment's notice. Funnily enough, once he'd got the accent sorted – something that came as naturally as breathing now – everything had seemed to fall into place and cemented, with alarming clarity, the notion that he was reborn and could never go back. Arnold was dead: Ace lived on.

Patting the back of his wig one last time, he forced a nod, the words that he wasn't too sure he truly meant falling from his lips.

"All right. I'm ready."

And, just like that, he was home. No, wait... he couldn't think like that anymore, it wasn't his home any more than a planet a thousand light-years away was home – it had to be a flying visit, a brief interlude that he could look back on with fond memories and nothing more. The minute he started to call Starbug home was the minute he would return to the man of limited substance that he had been before. Regardless of the fact that he had been born as Arnold, he had to accept that by becoming Ace he was essentially changing his entire lifeline. Probably his lifespan, too.

He took it in slowly, the familiar surroundings more welcoming to him than he had expected. It was still in startling disarray, objects thrown haphazardly around the corridor for people to trip over as soon as an emergency presented itself; a tiny smile twitched upon his lips as he came across a pair of boots that could only belong to Lister, unlaced and in blatant need of being thrown out into the depth of space but, then, they wouldn't be Lister's if they looked brand new. It felt oddly soothing to know that things had not changed so much as he had somehow expected, that it was exactly as he had left it -

But, no. That was wrong. Ace's eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the sight of the shoes next to Lister's, looking as shiny and well-kept as Lister's looked in disrepair and, quite frankly, an experiment in bacteria. Unless Kryten or – slightly more likely – Cat had decided to take up cross-dressing, the red patent pumps were a clear indicator that somewhere along the line during the space of time he had been away, a woman had moved into Starbug and was now comfortable enough to cast her shoes aside next to Lister's.

Against Lister's.

The tiny forming of a knot began to take shape in Rimmer's stomach.

Forcing himself to move on, he stepped through the doors and into the control room; again he felt it wash over him, the warm sensation of being somewhere he had always been accepted (even if he hadn't always been wanted) coinciding with the threads of anticipation he had experienced before phasing. He cast his eyes around the room, drinking in every detail in the way he had not had time to do when he'd left all that time ago, breathing in the musty air and letting it fill his lungs to bursting point. He advanced slowly, wondering at the silence, wandering down memory lane as easily as if he were still marooned in the vessel with the others.

Rimmer's mind flitted back to the pair of pumps in the corridor. Of course. It could never be as it was again.

Then again, he mused, letting his fingers brush idly over the chair he had once sat in himself, it didn't necessarily mean that the visitor was staying forever as he had once imagined would be his own past, present and future; perhaps this woman had been rescued by the group on a salvage mission, picked up and offered a bed until returning her to her home planet or place of existence – surely that was more likely than them taking on a new crew member? Not that it would be so surprising if they had recruited someone new as they had always worked so well as a four (or at least as well as four people as different as chalk, cheese, night and day could work well together) and so perhaps, he allowed, this woman was there to stay.

He hoped she was old.

As Ace passed through the door leading towards the living quarters he rolled his eyes, wondering in exasperation at their lack of security – the door was wedged open with shoe for goodness sake, another one of Lister's if the smell was anything to go by. He gently kicked aside an empty cigarette packet with the toe of his boot before doubling back to pick it up, turning it over in his hands and simultaneously feeling warmth and derision, a feeling he had become well-accustomed to in the later days of being with the crew. Keeping a hold of the cardboard and continuing his journey, he soon found himself standing in front of the kitchen area doors – sound drifted through, the deep and courteous tones of Kryten mixed with the American, slightly nasal twang of Cat. He waited for a few more moments, trying to sift through the voices until he could hear a lazy Liverpudlian drone but failed to find one; instead he was greeted by an unmistakeably feminine voice, well-spoken and with a clear but understated thread of condescension. Hesitation leaking all too easily into his veins, he leaned in towards the door, trying to hear what she was saying so that he could grasp the mood of the situation within before entering as Ace.

"...wrong, Kryten, it's not what I was brought up to do."

"I just can't understand it, I simply cannot fathom how an individual could be so unable to grasp a simple concept! I of course wish to respect your own opinions, but here on this ship we do things a certain way and this is something I cannot compromise on!"

Rimmer's eyebrow raised of its own accord, intrigued. The female voice sighed.

"Is it really that important to you? It tastes the same either way."

Kryten's own voice was clearly beyond grumpy. "You're wrong, Miss Kochanski, completely and utterly incorrect! Forgive me for saying so, but the very idea that ketchup tastes the same unrefrigerated as it does refrigerated is just beyond me! It's like the salad cream all over again, and I'm just not sure how much more of this I can take!"

The strangest twist of jealousy, the very last emotion he had expected to feel whilst being back; Kochanski? Kristine Kochanski? The woman Lister had lusted after for years despite having barely said two words to her? The woman that he himself had refused to allow Lister to see as a replacement to his own Hologram? She was the one that had replaced him now?

It made perfect sense. Stupid, perfect, womanly, replacementy sense.

"Come on Acey boy," he muttered to himself, the accent he had taken on as the hero giving him a slight boost of courage, "no point hanging on out here like a sissy. Get in there."

No sooner had he spoken, the door flew open – "Do what you want, Kryten, for – oh!" - and he found himself faced with her, perfect hair, flawless skin and head to toe in red material almost as shiny as his own outfit. They stared at one another, mutual curiosity abound, until suddenly her face lit up with an alarmingly friendly smile, eyes glittering with recognition; he found himself leaning back ever so slightly at the warmth that radiated from her, a strange bubble of unease in his stomach as she spoke.

"Ace Rimmer! What a long time it's been since I've seen you!"

His mouth dropped open in surprise, barely able to match up the words to her meaning... so, clearly she had met him previously. Which could only mean one thing.

She was very much alive.

Her smile turned slightly quizzical as he failed to respond; with a jerk, he brought himself back to the present and forced a jovial smile.

"Kristine, my god you're a sight for sore eyes. How on earth have you been, you beautiful creature?" Rimmer cringed inwardly at his enthusiasm, hoping he hadn't overdone it and that she wouldn't think he was the completely inappropriate arse as he now felt; he watched, distinctly uncomfortable, as a slight flush worked its way into her cheeks at the Ace Rimmer sexual magnetism he was still so unused to giving off.

"I've been... well, I'm here, so clearly things aren't as they should be." Her voice became quiet, confidential. "Life has taken quite a turn for me as I'm sure you can tell. I hardly planned on dimension jumping."

Dimension jumping... so she was a Kristine from a parallel universe, a Kochanski that had survived the radiation leak and was very much as real as he was not. It explained a lot, though it did nothing to make him feel any more at ease. He'd have to play along as if it made sense rather than ask the questions that were crowding his mind and making him feel much more like Arnold at a time when he had to be as close to the Ace Rimmer he had replaced as possible.

"Of course, of course; terrible business, I'm sure. So sorry to hear you're in a bad place, but at least you're in the capable hands of this crew, eh? Best place to be, top notch company!"

She cast a gaze back to the two men in the room behind her, her nose wrinkling slightly in a way that – had she not been who she was – would have been incredibly endearing.

"Hmm, well, each to their own opinion but in the very least it's a relief to still be alive." She moved to the side as Kryten approached, his hands up in a welcoming gesture as he looked with blatant pleasure at their uninvited guest; quickly she said, "No doubt I'm not the only one pleased to see you here..."

"Mr. Ace sir! What a wonderful surprise, I had no idea you were here!" Kryten reached out, shaking Rimmer's hand with such joy that Ace couldn't help but grin at the mechanoid as he gripped the hand offered with matched strength. "Mr. Lister hadn't told me you were coming – is there a problem?"

Of course he would assume that – why else would the universal epitome of heroism have appeared with no good reason? Ace shook his head, patting his old crewmate's arm and attempting to inject as much confidence as possible into his voice as he responded. "No problem whatsoever, Kryters, just thought I'd pop in and see my old friends. I see you've kept the place in spotless order as always, you're an inspiration to mechanoids everywhere."

"Oh, sir, no need to lie – the place is a complete mess! If I had known you were coming -"

"Nonsense, no need to trouble yourself!"

Cat appeared in the door frame, his pointed teeth glimmering as he offered Ace a wide smile. "Heeey, good lookin', what're you doing here? I would've dressed up a little more if someone had told me you'd be stopping by!"

"Cat, you handsome son of a gun, you're looking sharper than ever! I can see you got to the stylist I set you up with...?" Rimmer inwardly congratulated himself on remembering the final words the previous Ace had said to the vain man, grasping the carefully groomed hand offered to him and squeezing it tightly. "With hair as smooth as that that you'd put a silkworm out of business!"

Reaching up and patting said hair with a self-satisfied smile, Cat nodded. "You know what I always say, buddy – if you've got it, flaunt it! And you know I've got it! Aint my problem that no one else here has my timeless sense of style!"

Ace boomed out a short laugh, clapping Cat on the back. "You said it, fella. Good to see you, good to see you!"

Having watched the three of them get reacquainted, Kochanski inserted herself back into the conversation, placing her hand lightly on his forearm. "Are you staying for dinner, Ace?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose -"

"Nonsense, sir!" Kryten interrupted, gesturing towards the room with an almost desperate air. "It's been a long time since I've had an excuse to make an effort, and now that you're here I'm going to take it with both hands! Please, come and sit down, let me make you a drink of something hot."

The next few hours passed far more easily than Rimmer was expecting. Once he had settled into his alter-ego and the others were clearly convinced of his identity he found himself regaling them the stories of his adventures, proudly speaking of the daring destruction of his adversaries with a wonderfully hazy sense of jubilation; never had he imagined he would be able to truthfully speak of his bravery to these people and have them believe him instantaneously. All those years of hugely embellishing his successes – not that there were many of them – were suddenly blown away in he light of his very real journey as Ace Rimmer. For the first time since he had taken on the responsibility of the previous owner of the name, he felt as if it belonged to him completely. He looked upon the awed faces of Kryten, Cat and Kochanski and knew he had changed for the better, knew that whatever he had been before was nothing compared to what he was now.

It was a glorious feeling.

"It's a shame Dave isn't here to hear all this," Kochanski said with a wide smile, taking a sip of water. "You know how much he always admired you."

He instantly knew she was referring to her Dave who, after a few of Kochanski's own stories, he now was aware was the Hologram he himself had been to Lister – well, with a few obvious differences. Where Kristine and her Lister had become romantically involved, he could only just barely say that he and his version of Lister were something akin to friends... though whether that was really true he didn't know. The eulogy Lister had given at his own funeral had clearly stated that they were indeed friends, but it still was something he couldn't quite admit to, especially after so much time away from the technician.

"Damn shame," he said, holding up his own glass of scotch and raising it in honour of the man she so obviously pined for. "I would've liked to have seen him for myself." Taking a drink alongside the others, he felt it was finally time to bring it up, finally time to ask the question he'd wanted to ask since arriving. "So, speaking of which, where's your Dave?" He directed the question towards Kryten, trying as hard as he could to sound casual. "Out cavorting with the ladies?"

He couldn't fail to notice Kochanski stiffen slightly at his words, looking at him with an almost stern glaze as Kryten replied, "Well, sir, I can only assume that he's in his bunk. He's been immersed recently in reading Mr. Rimmer's old diaries."

Now it was his turn to stiffen. "He's been reading my diaries?"

They all stared at him. Oh hell, he'd slipped up a little too easily there. "Begging your pardon sir, I was referring to the deceased Mr. Rimmer's diaries. I wasn't aware that you'd written any, but I'm sure they're absolutely fascinating."

"Right you are, Kryters. I must admit, I'm not the kind to reflect on my sort of lifestyle -" which was a complete lie, he often found himself jotting down the basic details of each adventure of an evening, " - but every now and then one has the urge to, uh, look back at the details with a sense of... hoping to learn something." He was stumbling and he knew it, caught in the crossfire of his own stupidity. "Never mind that, though – maybe I should drop in on the guy, see what the best third technician in space has been doing whilst I've been gone."

Kryten stood instantly, tucking his chair under the table. "Of course, I should have offered earlier. Let me escort you to his room -"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Rimmer quickly interjected, putting his hand out to stop the mechanoid and standing up with a forced careless smile. "I know my way around well enough!"

"Well, if you're sure, sir!"

"Certainly," he reassured, picking up his glass to take with him. "I know you'll want to get on with making those dumplings I've heard so much about."

Flashing one last winning smile at the group and hoping they wouldn't discuss the whole awkward diary issue once he had left, he backed out of the kitchen and started to make his way down to where his old room had been; he breathed out a heavy sigh of relief, only realising as he came to stand opposite the door that in the last thirty seconds he had felt more under pressure than he had since he'd last left the spacecraft to become his opposite... god, that was all too close a shave. He could have given it all away, disappointed all of them in one ridiculous sweep...

And now he was about to face the one person who knew exactly who he was. The smeg-up wouldn't have surprised Lister at all.

Taking in a deep breath, he reached up and rapped his knuckles lightly against the door. Slight movement met his ears, before -

"Smeggin' hell. Unlock!"

The door slid open unceremoniously, revealing a scene that was so familiar it momentarily depleted Rimmer of oxygen: nothing had changed, not one thing. Possessions littered the room, socks and pants discarded in corners; Lister's guitar lazed against the corner of the bottom bunk, dusty but well-used, a couple of plectrums scattered haphazardly beside it as if the owner had not long been playing on the wretched thing. Ace felt his stomach swoop as he took in the sight of his old bunk, the bedding unchanged, so conspicuously untouched by anyone since he had 'died'... had it been Lister's decision to leave it this way? He was, admittedly, surprised that Kochanski was not living in here, his expectations of the two's relationship clearly much mistaken. The alleviation of he envy he had been fighting since first glimpsing Kristine's pumps in the corridor was almost worrying.

And there he was, his old bunkmate, laid out on his own messy bed holding a notebook so close to his face that Rimmer was surprised he could read it at all. He recognised the leather-bound book as his first diary written since becoming a hard-light Hologram, stuffed full of clippings and articles about people with his own first and/or last name – god, he had been embarrassingly sad, hadn't he? Though he knew taking on a personality that was not technically his own wasn't quite as impressive as being that man all along, seeing the newspaper pieces poking out of the pages made him cringe at the visual reminder of who he had been and how little he had thought of himself, so much so that he had clung onto the great things that others holding his name had done.

Lister did not look up, obviously immersed. "Is dinner ready?"

Ace cleared his throat; his voice came out as a rumble, almost unrecognisable as he adjusted to using his old voice. "Hello, Listy."

Lister's response, when it came, was not what Rimmer had expected; a smile, perhaps, Lister leaping from the bed to give him a slap on the back, even a hug, sure, but as Lister dropped the diary on his face and jerked upright to meet Rimmer's warm gaze, the look of horror that spread across his features was enough to make Ace's body freeze with uncertainty. The two of them stared at each other for almost five whole seconds, Lister's mouth working furiously as his mind hastened to catch up with what he was seeing... Rimmer couldn't understand it, couldn't fathom why the man was looking so hideously alarmed at his entrance. Were his diaries that bad a read? Should he have not come here?

He had to break the silence, so awkward as it was. "Enjoying the invasion of my privacy?"

"I... what are you doing here?" Lister sounded almost breathless, confusion tweaking at his usually warm timbre.

Rimmer frowned. "Should I leave...?"

"No, no!" The third technician threw the diary down, shifting so that his legs hung from the bunk bed but not climbing down; something about his hesitation made Ace's head swim. "I just didn't... who invited you here?"

Ace's frown deepened. "Well, nobody, I just decided to drop in for a flying visit. Is that a problem?"

Lister shook his head, though the slightly troubled glaze to his eyes contradicted his next words. "No, of course not, it's... it's good to see you, man. It's just a little unexpected, that's all."

"Don't tell me you would've changed into something more presentable," Rimmer joked, forcing for the third time that day a smile that did not quite fit with how he was feeling. "Cat's already changed his suit twice since I got here!"

Looking at him strangely, Lister did not return the smile. "You've already seen the others? You've seen..." A look of realisation followed by an awkward deviation of his gaze, away from his old room mate. "You've seen our new crew-member then."

Suddenly awkward himself, particularly with the distance between them, Rimmer took a few steps forward. He did not fail to notice Lister shifting backwards across his bed, further from him. His chest tightened. "She's quite a woman."

"That's one way of putting it."

Bewilderment flickered across Ace's face, overwhelmingly concerned by Lister's tone. "You don't like her? That's quite a chance of tune, don't you think?"

Shrugging as if it meant nothing, Lister began to pick at his trousers in a gesture that Rimmer recognised as discomfort. He took another step forward, deciding to change the subject – Kochanski was clearly off-limits.

"So, is it a good read?"

Lister looked up. "What?"

"My diary. Are you finding it... illuminating?"

For the first time since Rimmer had entered the room, the ghost of a smile flitted across Lister's lips. "It's a good exercise in reminding me what a smeghead you are." He checked himself, shaking his head slightly. "Sorry. Were."

Encouraged by the smile, Ace took a quick sip of his drink before responding with a laugh. "Trust me, my transformation is hardly complete. I'm still the smeghead you knew and hated, no matter how many damsels in distress I save."

"There a lot of them, are there?"

"Not so many that I've lost track, but not so few that I'm without company of an evening." Ace stopped, wishing for an unknown reason that he had not made this allusion to his sex life. "What I mean is -"

"Don't try and take it back now," Lister interrupted with another small smile. "I would've thought you'd be dying to tell me about your most recent conquests."

"Believe me, it's not as many as I'd like to pretend. There seems something almost... morally delinquent about shagging someone who hours before was at their most vulnerable."

Again Lister seemed somewhat confused, tilting his head to the side as he allowed his gaze to meet Rimmer's again. "Says the man who had sex with Yvonne McGruder when she was barely conscious!"

"Yes, well..." It was suddenly awkward again. "I wasn't exactly the most morally reputable man back then, was I? Believe it or not, I have changed." Seeing Lister's eyes narrow slightly, Ace took another step forward, intent on convincing his old crew-mate of the truth of his words. "Really, Lister. I'm not who I used to be."

He followed the movement of Lister's hand as it reached down to pluck the diary from its place beside his leg; the man raised it into the air, making a point. "I know. I can tell."

Was that disappointment Rimmer could hear? Surely not. "Listen, Listy... Dave..." The name felt bizarre on his tongue, foreign. "I want to thank you for that."

"For what? Reading your diary?"

Ace let out a short laugh, his thumb absent-mindedly sliding along the rim of his glass as he shook his head. "No, not for that – not that it matters if you read them or not. They're Arnold's, after all, and... well, he's not coming back to claim them."

Something in Lister's gaze tightened. He'd said something wrong. Quickly, Rimmer intercepted the moment and continued with what he'd originally planned to say.

"What I mean to say is... thank you for what you did. When I... when he died. Encouraging me to do this. For giving me the strength to take on this responsibility, I can't ever thank you enough. You did me a great service that day."

Lister shrugged again, his fingers tracing over the leather on the journal. "It's no problem, man. Anyone in my shoes would've done the same."

Without even thinking it through, Rimmer found himself closing the distance between the two of them until he was standing next to the bed, as close as he had been to Lister since he had hugged him on the day he had been speaking of. He had to do this right, say it right so that Lister truly understood.

"Anyone may have indeed, but... what I mean is..." He braced himself, determined not to let the old coward in him get the upper hand. "Lister, what I mean is that I'm glad it was you. I'm glad it was you that had the faith in me enough to show me what I could become."

For a moment it seemed that Dave would not respond, his body reacting as it had done before and leaning away from the closeness – had Rimmer made a mistake? Was his belief that he had once been the closest thing Lister had to a friend, in fact, completely incorrect? They had hugged before, touched before, been in close quarters for years, so what was different now? Why did Lister seem intent on keeping his distance?

But, just as Ace was considering moving back to his place by the door, Lister slowly leaned back into the position as before, leaning even further forward as he came rest with his forearms on his thighs; he looked at Rimmer with perhaps a fraction of the warmth that he had looked upon the man all those months ago as they'd bid each other goodbye, a half-smile turning the edges of his lips up as he nodded once.

"Yeah. I'm glad too, Rimmer man. Really."

The two of them looked at each other for a moment, a warm flood of relief surging through Ace at this apparent return to normalcy. Maybe he had had it all wrong.

Lister spoke again. "And I'm glad you're happy. You deserve to be happy now."

...do I?

"Thanks, Listy," he said quietly, raising his glass in a one-man toast and taking a sip, looking away from Lister as he did so. "And what about you, are you happy? Kochanski's back, Starbug is as it ever was, you have this room all to yourself..." He grinned, surprised at his desperation that Lister agree that all was as it should be. "It must be as you want it?"

The look Lister gave him was unreadable. "It sounds that way, doesn't it?"

Alarm bells rang in Rimmer's head; he was well aware that Lister had not answered his question and, when combined with the strained awkwardness of their conversation and the odd feeling that somewhere along the way he had missed something of great importance, he was convinced that he had a lot more to find out before he could leave. "Listy..."

"Let's go to the kitchen, yeah?" Lister suddenly said, hopping down from his bunk and quickly moving away from Rimmer and towards a pile of clothes thrown helplessly in the far left-hand corner of the room; he did not meet Rimmer's eyes. "You go on ahead and I'll get changed. Kryten will kill me if I turn up for dinner with the great Ace Rimmer in this t-shirt."

Something in his tone warned Rimmer not to pursue both the question unanswered and the almost mocking tone in which he had said Rimmer's new identity, and for now – because it would be revisited later and he would get an answer out of the third techie – he allowed it to slide.

"All right. I'll see you in there?"

Lister did not turn, seemingly intent on rifling through the pile of clothes. "Sure."

Rimmer slowly turned and left the room, once more wondering if he had made a huge mistake in returning here.