I Never Thought…
By Carrie Bassett
It was my birthday this week, so I thought that I'd share my latest depressor with you all. Many decades have passed for the Dwarfers, and things have changed a lot.
Always remember that it's never the wrong time to say, "I love you…"
******
I never thought that I would have to say goodbye.
I never thought that one day,
You wouldn't be there.
That I would never see you laugh
Or cry
Or smile
Ever again.
I never thought that one day
I would be alone.
That I would be left here with nothing
But sadness
And memories of you.
I never thought…
******
The laughter echoed around the abandoned corridors, erupting into the recycled air of the ship. Urgent footsteps thundered louder and louder, the laughter growing ever more joyous.
The laughter was shared by several happy voices.
Strangely enough, only one voice belonged to one of the five original crewmembers of the ship. If any of the original five had ever had the opportunity to gaze at the happiness and contentment that would flood their distant future together, they would have laughed at the thought.
But things can change.
And things have changed. A lot.
The laughter reached a crescendo and a small, elongated shadow inched across the deck, followed by a young, breathless figure. The figure screeched to a halt, glanced back once more and emitted a shriek of joy.
It was a young boy.
He flicked back the miniature black Rasta plaits out of his dark brown eyes and giggled happily. "Come on!" he shouted, slightly breathlessly. "Quick!"
A second set of footsteps hurried round the corner. A second child, this time a girl, skidded to a halt just beside the boy. Her cheeks were flushed redly and she took a few moments to suck in a few much-needed mouthfuls of air. She grinned happily.
"He's…just…behind…" she gasped to the boy before her. She was about to add a suggestion of where to hide, when a roar sounded just around the corner. The two children screamed in a cocktail of fear, happiness and excitement and hid hurriedly behind a drinks dispenser.
The roar sounded once again, punctuated with laughter and giggles, both young and old, and the owner of the roar ran around the corner. A small child was perched excitedly on a man's back, gripping tightly onto the padded material of the blue navigation uniform. The man span round, causing the child to laugh harder, and then eased to a halt.
Rimmer readjusted the weight of the boy on his back and bit his lip in mock puzzlement. "Hmmm…" he thought aloud, trying to wrestle back the giggling tones that threatened to escape once more. "I wonder where they could be…"
Muffled giggles sounded from behind the drinks dispenser, and Rimmer's lips cracked into a knowledgeable grin. "Oh dear…" he sighed deliberately loudly. He eased the tiny boy, who couldn't have been older than 2, off of his back and placed him gently onto the metal deck. The boy wobbled before regaining equilibrium. "I guess that two little children won't be getting any chocolate then." He grinned at the small boy by his left leg. "Me and Ben will have to share it all, won't we Ben?"
Ben gave no verbal answer, but his expression spoke volumes. His thumb was sandwiched between his grinning lips, showing off some of his tiny milk teeth. He gripped Rimmer's fingers with his own and Rimmer ruffled the boy's soft blonde hair affectionately.
Finally, the temptation got the better of the two hidden children and they jumped out from behind the tall, metallic machine. "BOO!" They shouted simultaneously.
Rimmer performed a double take worthy of any cartoon, causing the children to burst into excited giggles. "Well!" Rimmer sighed, "Who would have guessed you were there?!" He wiped the hologrammatic perspiration that had begun to settle on his forehead and exhaled deeply. "Don't you kids EVER get tired?"
A puzzled expression flashed across the small girl's features. "What about our chocolate, Uncle Arnold?" She looked at him expectantly with clear blue eyes.
Rimmer's face fell. "Ah. Well Stephanie, I don't actually…"
He stopped when he noticed the girl's reaction. Her hands had thumped emphatically on her hips, and her tiny nose had wrinkled into a scowl. He smiled warmly at the sight. "All right," he capitulated. He stroked the girl's long copper hair that she had obviously inherited from her grandmother. "I promise that I'll give you some chocolate tomorrow, okay?"
The older boy grasped onto Rimmer's hand. "And can I have some too?" He grinned, showing as much of his teeth as possible. "Pleeeaaassseee…?"
Rimmer nodded happily. He was tired, but didn't want to show this too much to the children. "Yes, Craig. You can have some too," he laughed. Wearily, he slumped down to the deck, sitting with his legs sprawled, and the children automatically copied him. Even Ben, who made sure that he was close enough to continue to hold onto Rimmer's sleeve, comfortingly.
Rimmer glanced at each of the children one by one, and he sighed contentedly. Looking after children had changed Rimmer dramatically. At last, he had been able to make up for the lost years of his childhood: the games he'd never played, the fun he'd never had. And to finally have people accept him for what he was, and not despise him in every way was priceless. Not that anyone despised him any more. The others had seen how much he had changed and how capable he was with the children, and he had finally been accepted.
"It's somebody's Bed Time soon," he announced after a moment of silence.
Remaining faithful to the conventions of this daily event, various moans, groans and protests suddenly filled the air. Stephanie rocked forward onto her hands and knees. "Do we have to?" she whined.
Rimmer raised an eyebrow. "You know that your Mum wants you all in bed by eight-thirty. It's not my decision." He had to get at least a bit strict when it came to getting the children to bed.
"Can't we stay up for a few more minutes?" Craig asked.
Rimmer shook his head. "No, Craig."
"Please?"
"No."
"Just for a bit?"
"No."
"Less than a bit?"
Rimmer couldn't help but giggle quietly. "No!" he managed eventually. He tried to wrestle back a smirk, but the children had already spotted his lapse in authority, and moved in for the kill.
They both launched into a frantic chorus of "Please? Please? Please? Please? Please?" to which Rimmer playfully responded with "No. No. No. No. No." The negotiation soon escalated into a parody, with the three of them in a tangled heap on the floor, tickling each other mercilessly and laughing hysterically. Only Ben remained out of this game, preferring to watch his sister, brother and Uncle with wide blue eyes and continue to suck on his thumb.
A less than subtle clearing of the throat stopped the strange battle, and four pairs of eyes met with a young woman standing with hands on hips. "All right," she said slowly and emphatically. "Bed Time, please." At first glance, Rimmer always thought that this was Kochanski. Her shoulder length copper hair and deep, clear eyes always reminded him of the former Navigation Officer, but his brain always corrected him before he called her "Kris". This was Julie. Her mother was…
An old aged woman shuffled purposefully beside the young woman. Her silvery hair shone in the dim lighting of the evening, secured neatly in a pale red clip. She placed a trembling, wrinkled hand on her daughter's arm, and Julie held it with her own.
The children knew better than to argue with their mother and grandmother and hauled themselves upright. Julie ruffled the boy's hair and she smiled warmly at Rimmer, who was still slumped, wearily on the floor. "Thanks, Rimmer," she sighed gratefully. "Hope they weren't too much trouble."
Rimmer shook his head. "They're never too much trouble, Julie." He grinned at Stephanie, who was holding her mother's hand. "They're always as good as gold."
Stephanie giggled.
Ben's mouth broke into a huge exhausted yawn as he gripped Rimmer's hand once more. Rimmer's brow furrowed slightly as he smiled. "I think somebody's ready for bed," he announced as he pulled himself to his feet and picked up the small boy. As Rimmer walked over to Julie, Ben held out his hands in recognition and she smiled.
"Hello there, sweetie," she cooed. "Ready for bed?"
Ben yawned again as she took him from Rimmer, sparking off a chorus of laughter from the group. "Say 'thank you' to Uncle Arnold, kids."
The children chanted their thanks and followed their mother up the corridor to the sleeping quarters, leaving Rimmer alone with Kochanski. He watched them go with great warmth in his heart, and he shook his head amiably.
"Those three are absolutely wonderful. I can't believe it's been almost two years since Ben was born."
The old woman sighed and nodded sadly.
Rimmer went to straighten his back, but a sharp pain slashed its way down the length of his spine. He winced and smiled in embarrassment. "He's a lot heavier than he looks too. He'll be just like his granddad if he carries on like that!" He chuckled to himself happily.
Kochanski didn't reflect this joy. Instead, her usual bright and sparkly eyes seemed to have faded slightly. Perhaps Rimmer had only picked up on her discomfort subconsciously the first time. But now it was a lot more obvious. "Kris?" he asked quietly. He ignored the pain in his back and locked his eyes with hers. "What is it?"
Kochanski's eyes drooped sadly, staring absently at the floor, and Rimmer allowed her the silence. "It's Lister," she croaked eventually.
An icy hand gripped Rimmer's heart as it plunged into his stomach. He swallowed carefully. "Is he ill again?" he asked quietly.
Kochanski nodded barely visibly. "Yes," she replied shakily. She fell silent once more, as if she were thinking carefully. "Rimmer…" she added.
A pause, then: "Yes?"
Kochanski didn't answer for a long, long time. Rimmer waited patiently, trying to ease the pounding in his heart. After a painful and awkward silence, she reached out with trembling fingers and grasped Rimmer's hand tightly. When her eyes met his, she noticed that she was crying.
"He's dying."
******
The room was dark; its cold, exhausted air muffled the distant hum of the ship's engines, echoing solemnly in the distance. The painful wheeze of Lister's breathing swirled deep in the depths of the room, silencing any hope that still glimmered faintly in Rimmer's heart that he would survive the night.
He desperately wanted to walk through the doorway to offer some form of consolation, but something was holding him back. It was a force far greater than sorrow. It was far more powerful than the guilt that poisoned his system or the uncertainty he held for the future.
It was the knowledge that death was inevitable. That this would be the last time…
And he was afraid.
A voice had sensed his fear and called to him softly:
"Come in."
The voice startled him slightly, and after a moment of contemplating silence, Rimmer slowly obeyed. He felt a stab in his chest as he forced his body through the doorway, holding his breath as he tried to sedate the pounding that echoed in his heart. Since dying himself, Rimmer had been able to sense death around him. And this very room was fogged with its eerie calmness.
As Rimmer's silent footsteps reached the bed, Lister's dark eyes opened slowly, sparkling in the distant light seeping in from the open doorway. As his tired, exhausted eyes gazed into Rimmer's, his lips cracked into a weary smile.
"Rimmer," he breathed.
With one word, Rimmer's dignity was lost. His eyes screwed tightly shut, desperately restraining the tears that threatened to flow. The guilt flooded his system, stabbing its way through the dark recesses of his heart. He was dead. And yet, in a way, he continued to live.
"I'm so sorry," Rimmer choked quietly. His voice cracked with guilt and misery.
Lister's glazed eyes pinched in disbelief and confusion as he stared intently at the man before him. "What for?" he whispered softly.
Rimmer sighed deeply as he reopened his eyes. His point was lost as he gazed into the depths of Lister's eyes that echoed decades of memories. He shook his head and shrugged wearily, unable to think of the right words. "Everything," he managed eventually.
Lister struggled to sit up. "You what?!" he croaked urgently, but the suddenness of his reply and his jerky movement sent his body into a violent coughing fit. His body was wracked with splutters and shivers as Rimmer watched helplessly. As the fit passed, Lister's head dropped wearily back onto the pillow and he gazed once again at Rimmer.
"If you say that again," Lister wheezed and panted, "I swear I'll punch you."
Both men chuckled softly at the irony of the words. Lister didn't have the strength to crush a paper cup, let alone cause a man any physical pain with a blow to the face. Lister's laughter subsided and his lips spread into a weak grin that trickled away slowly as the precious seconds ticked by.
"Oh Rimmer," he sighed, causing Rimmer's face to droop sadly once more. With a slow, trembling hand, Lister reached up and gently rested his fingertips on Rimmer's cheek.
Rimmer blinked hard as a jagged sigh escaped his lips. He let Lister explore his face as he watched the old man's eyes lose themselves in his eternal youth.
"I have a lovely daughter and three wonderful grandchildren. Why on Earth should you be sorry?" He shook his head. "It's because of you," Lister began quietly, "that I had the strength to do this for so long." He smiled distantly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I look at you, and I feel twenty-five again. The years just disappear out of the window and I'm back…" Lister's voice trailed off as his mind wandered into past memories.
The silence washed over Rimmer like calm music, sedating his thoughts. He simply stood and stared at the old man before him.
After a long pause, Lister sniggered as he echoed words from decades ago. "You kept your underpants on coat hangers, didn't you?" He shook his head in amiable disbelief. "You smeg head."
Something deep in Rimmer's heart flared distantly. The old feeling of their relationship echoed in nostalgia and he giggled openly at his past.
"That's rich, coming from a man whose underpants set off the sprinkler system!"
Lister's ancient body shook with laughter that cracked the dried salt tears on his face. There was no wrath in Rimmer's voice, and Lister knew this. Their shared laughter echoed into the calmness of the evening as the two men reminisced on past adventures and their ever-changing relationship with each other.
Hours passed like seconds until Lister mentioned the event that had hit them both hard:
"And then you left..."
The words stung Rimmer painfully and he squirmed uncomfortably in his seated position on the bed. "I know," he said simply.
Both men remained silent. They'd never admitted how much one had missed the other. They'd seen it as some form of weakness or flaw in their character. Or something that never needed to be said.
But people can change.
Lister opened his mouth shakily, trying to put the immensity of his feelings into the cruel limitations of language. For a moment he faltered, but then destiny kicked in.
"I…I missed you…"
A pause, and then:
"…I missed you too."
Lister chuckled distantly as his world-weary eyes locked with the man sat before him.
"Arnold Rimmer," he smiled proudly. Then added in a whisper, "My protector."
Rimmer returned the smile with a faithful glow in his eyes. He nodded subtly.
Lister's eyes then faded sadly as he glanced down at his own failing body. He sighed raggedly, trying to blink away the tears that flooded his eyes. "Will you…will you stay with me…" Lister croaked quietly. "Until I'm…"
Rimmer tried to blink away tears of his own. He gripped Lister's hand tightly, and lay down on the bed beside him. "I'm not going to leave you," he whispered.
Lister nodded as he closed his eyes. "I know," he whispered back.
******
A sudden cold shudder snuffled Rimmer into wakefulness, and his exhausted eyes eased open slowly. For a brief moment, disorientation alarmed him with the fact that he was in the wrong bed, until the memories of the night flooded back in a sudden mixture of warmth and eerie shivers. He reasoned that he must have fallen asleep talking to Lister, and he smiled tiredly at the memory. It seemed that their entire lives together had been justified all in one emotional night.
Rimmer yawned and glanced wearily at his watch. "Lister," he groaned as he stretched his back out of its tangled position on the bed. "It's three a.m." He struggled to sit up. "I'm gonna get in my own bunk, okay?" He rubbed his face with the palm of his hand.
It was only when Rimmer eased his way upright that he realised how cold he was. He shivered involuntarily. That was strange. Why did he feel cold all of a sudden?
"Lister?" he repeated. Frowning, Rimmer sat up further and stared intently at the motionless body before him. "Lister?"
The silence echoed as loud as any noise.
Rimmer's heart threatened to push up his throat and he swallowed with a dry, rasping tongue. Pushing away the fears that had begun to creep into his mind, he blinked quickly and purposefully.
He was probably sleeping. That would be why he wasn't responding...
With a trembling lip, Rimmer swallowed away the tears that threatened to choke his throat. "Lister?" he insisted.
Still, Lister gave no reply. His cold, stiff body remained still and silent.
Oh God…
A strange weight began to push down on top of Rimmer's head as the immensity of grief and sorrow filtered through his system, his hope trickling slowly and silently down the drain. As the last glimmer gurgled away into the darkness, a whispered word escaped Rimmer's lips that he had never ever voiced before:
"David…?"
Nothing. Just a deep, foreboding silence.
Rimmer's closed his eyes softly as a ragged sigh staggered through his open mouth. His shaking fingers had clasped around Lister's hand once more, only this time, the warmth and life had gone.
As his eyelids opened once more, quivering tears had welled up in his hazy, red eyes and balanced delicately in his field of vision. But they didn't flow.
The distant hum of the ship's engines echoed endlessly into infinity, as Rimmer eased his way slowly off of the bed and pulled himself uncertainly to his feet. He stood still for a long time. Simply doing nothing. Just listening…
He left the room silently.
Rimmer staggered down the dark, abandoned corridor, not knowing what else to do. His brain had begun to wander distantly, and his body had been compelled to follow. The tears still balanced teasingly in his eyes, blurring his vision as Rimmer tried to complete his thoughts in his head. But they kept stuttering. Nothing seemed real anymore.
He was…
Lister was…
******
Kochanski knew from Rimmer's vacant, confused look what had happened. She found him stumbling slowly and aimlessly down the corridor, the tears in his eyes making his dark eyes sparkle in the dim lighting of the ship.
"Rimmer?" her ancient voice croaked out.
Rimmer didn't seem to acknowledge the call verbally. Instead, his uncertain advance slowed and stopped, his eyes still regarding the floor absently. She gripped his shoulders weakly with her wrinkled trembling hands. He was shaking.
Eventually, Rimmer's blurry vision rolled upwards in the direction of the voice. His mind had obviously been trapped in the past, as at first he could not place the name of the aged stranger before him. He began to pull away, confused, but Kochanski's creaking fingers stroked his hair reassuringly. "It's okay," she soothed, "it's okay. It's me."
Rimmer's manic breathing slowed slightly as he stopped looking at the wrinkles and the liver-coloured spots on her cheeks and focused on her deep, blue eyes, which shone just as brightly as the day they had met. When he had relaxed as much as he was able, he closed his eyes and allowed a quiet, bitter sob to escape his lips.
The fresh tears rolled slowly down her face as she pulled the taller man into a delicate hug, rocking him slightly like a small child. "Shhh," she soothed, "it's okay." Kochanski could never remember how long ago the maternal instinct had kicked in. She had begun to see Rimmer as more of a son as she grew older and older.
They stood embraced in the silence, not wanting to let go, their shared grief escaping every now and then in tiny sobs. Rimmer could almost hear the creaks and groans that echoed from Kochanski's body as they held each other. She too was growing old. She was weakening by the minute, crawling closer and closer to the day when she would…
Rimmer gripped her slightly tighter as another frustrated sob escaped his dry lips.
"Granny…?" the voice cut through the silence, and the two adults slowly looked over in its direction.
Stephanie was stood in a thin cotton night-dress, grasping her white, fluffy rabbit and shivering involuntarily. She watched as her grandmother slowly turned to face her, wiping her wrinkled cheeks with her creaking fingers.
Stephanie redirected her gaze to her uncle, hoping for a more positive expression. But like her grandmother, his eyes shook with salty tears, glistening in the dim light. He looked away again, encouraging the girl to slowly join the embrace, gripping onto the sleeve of her uncle's uniform and the soft, delicate fabric of her grandmother's night-dress.
They held onto each other for protection and comfort. Not speaking a word.
Rimmer gripped the tightest.
He never wanted to let go of these people. They were his entire world.
But he knew that one day he would have to.
And it wasn't fair.
******
I never thought that I would have to say goodbye.
I never thought that one day,
You wouldn't be there.
That I would never see you laugh
Or cry
Or smile
Ever again.
I never thought that one day
I would be alone.
That I would be left here with nothing
But sadness
And memories of you.
I never thought I should take the time to say:
"I love you."
But now it's too late.
You never knew.
And never will…
By Carrie Bassett
It was my birthday this week, so I thought that I'd share my latest depressor with you all. Many decades have passed for the Dwarfers, and things have changed a lot.
Always remember that it's never the wrong time to say, "I love you…"
******
I never thought that I would have to say goodbye.
I never thought that one day,
You wouldn't be there.
That I would never see you laugh
Or cry
Or smile
Ever again.
I never thought that one day
I would be alone.
That I would be left here with nothing
But sadness
And memories of you.
I never thought…
******
The laughter echoed around the abandoned corridors, erupting into the recycled air of the ship. Urgent footsteps thundered louder and louder, the laughter growing ever more joyous.
The laughter was shared by several happy voices.
Strangely enough, only one voice belonged to one of the five original crewmembers of the ship. If any of the original five had ever had the opportunity to gaze at the happiness and contentment that would flood their distant future together, they would have laughed at the thought.
But things can change.
And things have changed. A lot.
The laughter reached a crescendo and a small, elongated shadow inched across the deck, followed by a young, breathless figure. The figure screeched to a halt, glanced back once more and emitted a shriek of joy.
It was a young boy.
He flicked back the miniature black Rasta plaits out of his dark brown eyes and giggled happily. "Come on!" he shouted, slightly breathlessly. "Quick!"
A second set of footsteps hurried round the corner. A second child, this time a girl, skidded to a halt just beside the boy. Her cheeks were flushed redly and she took a few moments to suck in a few much-needed mouthfuls of air. She grinned happily.
"He's…just…behind…" she gasped to the boy before her. She was about to add a suggestion of where to hide, when a roar sounded just around the corner. The two children screamed in a cocktail of fear, happiness and excitement and hid hurriedly behind a drinks dispenser.
The roar sounded once again, punctuated with laughter and giggles, both young and old, and the owner of the roar ran around the corner. A small child was perched excitedly on a man's back, gripping tightly onto the padded material of the blue navigation uniform. The man span round, causing the child to laugh harder, and then eased to a halt.
Rimmer readjusted the weight of the boy on his back and bit his lip in mock puzzlement. "Hmmm…" he thought aloud, trying to wrestle back the giggling tones that threatened to escape once more. "I wonder where they could be…"
Muffled giggles sounded from behind the drinks dispenser, and Rimmer's lips cracked into a knowledgeable grin. "Oh dear…" he sighed deliberately loudly. He eased the tiny boy, who couldn't have been older than 2, off of his back and placed him gently onto the metal deck. The boy wobbled before regaining equilibrium. "I guess that two little children won't be getting any chocolate then." He grinned at the small boy by his left leg. "Me and Ben will have to share it all, won't we Ben?"
Ben gave no verbal answer, but his expression spoke volumes. His thumb was sandwiched between his grinning lips, showing off some of his tiny milk teeth. He gripped Rimmer's fingers with his own and Rimmer ruffled the boy's soft blonde hair affectionately.
Finally, the temptation got the better of the two hidden children and they jumped out from behind the tall, metallic machine. "BOO!" They shouted simultaneously.
Rimmer performed a double take worthy of any cartoon, causing the children to burst into excited giggles. "Well!" Rimmer sighed, "Who would have guessed you were there?!" He wiped the hologrammatic perspiration that had begun to settle on his forehead and exhaled deeply. "Don't you kids EVER get tired?"
A puzzled expression flashed across the small girl's features. "What about our chocolate, Uncle Arnold?" She looked at him expectantly with clear blue eyes.
Rimmer's face fell. "Ah. Well Stephanie, I don't actually…"
He stopped when he noticed the girl's reaction. Her hands had thumped emphatically on her hips, and her tiny nose had wrinkled into a scowl. He smiled warmly at the sight. "All right," he capitulated. He stroked the girl's long copper hair that she had obviously inherited from her grandmother. "I promise that I'll give you some chocolate tomorrow, okay?"
The older boy grasped onto Rimmer's hand. "And can I have some too?" He grinned, showing as much of his teeth as possible. "Pleeeaaassseee…?"
Rimmer nodded happily. He was tired, but didn't want to show this too much to the children. "Yes, Craig. You can have some too," he laughed. Wearily, he slumped down to the deck, sitting with his legs sprawled, and the children automatically copied him. Even Ben, who made sure that he was close enough to continue to hold onto Rimmer's sleeve, comfortingly.
Rimmer glanced at each of the children one by one, and he sighed contentedly. Looking after children had changed Rimmer dramatically. At last, he had been able to make up for the lost years of his childhood: the games he'd never played, the fun he'd never had. And to finally have people accept him for what he was, and not despise him in every way was priceless. Not that anyone despised him any more. The others had seen how much he had changed and how capable he was with the children, and he had finally been accepted.
"It's somebody's Bed Time soon," he announced after a moment of silence.
Remaining faithful to the conventions of this daily event, various moans, groans and protests suddenly filled the air. Stephanie rocked forward onto her hands and knees. "Do we have to?" she whined.
Rimmer raised an eyebrow. "You know that your Mum wants you all in bed by eight-thirty. It's not my decision." He had to get at least a bit strict when it came to getting the children to bed.
"Can't we stay up for a few more minutes?" Craig asked.
Rimmer shook his head. "No, Craig."
"Please?"
"No."
"Just for a bit?"
"No."
"Less than a bit?"
Rimmer couldn't help but giggle quietly. "No!" he managed eventually. He tried to wrestle back a smirk, but the children had already spotted his lapse in authority, and moved in for the kill.
They both launched into a frantic chorus of "Please? Please? Please? Please? Please?" to which Rimmer playfully responded with "No. No. No. No. No." The negotiation soon escalated into a parody, with the three of them in a tangled heap on the floor, tickling each other mercilessly and laughing hysterically. Only Ben remained out of this game, preferring to watch his sister, brother and Uncle with wide blue eyes and continue to suck on his thumb.
A less than subtle clearing of the throat stopped the strange battle, and four pairs of eyes met with a young woman standing with hands on hips. "All right," she said slowly and emphatically. "Bed Time, please." At first glance, Rimmer always thought that this was Kochanski. Her shoulder length copper hair and deep, clear eyes always reminded him of the former Navigation Officer, but his brain always corrected him before he called her "Kris". This was Julie. Her mother was…
An old aged woman shuffled purposefully beside the young woman. Her silvery hair shone in the dim lighting of the evening, secured neatly in a pale red clip. She placed a trembling, wrinkled hand on her daughter's arm, and Julie held it with her own.
The children knew better than to argue with their mother and grandmother and hauled themselves upright. Julie ruffled the boy's hair and she smiled warmly at Rimmer, who was still slumped, wearily on the floor. "Thanks, Rimmer," she sighed gratefully. "Hope they weren't too much trouble."
Rimmer shook his head. "They're never too much trouble, Julie." He grinned at Stephanie, who was holding her mother's hand. "They're always as good as gold."
Stephanie giggled.
Ben's mouth broke into a huge exhausted yawn as he gripped Rimmer's hand once more. Rimmer's brow furrowed slightly as he smiled. "I think somebody's ready for bed," he announced as he pulled himself to his feet and picked up the small boy. As Rimmer walked over to Julie, Ben held out his hands in recognition and she smiled.
"Hello there, sweetie," she cooed. "Ready for bed?"
Ben yawned again as she took him from Rimmer, sparking off a chorus of laughter from the group. "Say 'thank you' to Uncle Arnold, kids."
The children chanted their thanks and followed their mother up the corridor to the sleeping quarters, leaving Rimmer alone with Kochanski. He watched them go with great warmth in his heart, and he shook his head amiably.
"Those three are absolutely wonderful. I can't believe it's been almost two years since Ben was born."
The old woman sighed and nodded sadly.
Rimmer went to straighten his back, but a sharp pain slashed its way down the length of his spine. He winced and smiled in embarrassment. "He's a lot heavier than he looks too. He'll be just like his granddad if he carries on like that!" He chuckled to himself happily.
Kochanski didn't reflect this joy. Instead, her usual bright and sparkly eyes seemed to have faded slightly. Perhaps Rimmer had only picked up on her discomfort subconsciously the first time. But now it was a lot more obvious. "Kris?" he asked quietly. He ignored the pain in his back and locked his eyes with hers. "What is it?"
Kochanski's eyes drooped sadly, staring absently at the floor, and Rimmer allowed her the silence. "It's Lister," she croaked eventually.
An icy hand gripped Rimmer's heart as it plunged into his stomach. He swallowed carefully. "Is he ill again?" he asked quietly.
Kochanski nodded barely visibly. "Yes," she replied shakily. She fell silent once more, as if she were thinking carefully. "Rimmer…" she added.
A pause, then: "Yes?"
Kochanski didn't answer for a long, long time. Rimmer waited patiently, trying to ease the pounding in his heart. After a painful and awkward silence, she reached out with trembling fingers and grasped Rimmer's hand tightly. When her eyes met his, she noticed that she was crying.
"He's dying."
******
The room was dark; its cold, exhausted air muffled the distant hum of the ship's engines, echoing solemnly in the distance. The painful wheeze of Lister's breathing swirled deep in the depths of the room, silencing any hope that still glimmered faintly in Rimmer's heart that he would survive the night.
He desperately wanted to walk through the doorway to offer some form of consolation, but something was holding him back. It was a force far greater than sorrow. It was far more powerful than the guilt that poisoned his system or the uncertainty he held for the future.
It was the knowledge that death was inevitable. That this would be the last time…
And he was afraid.
A voice had sensed his fear and called to him softly:
"Come in."
The voice startled him slightly, and after a moment of contemplating silence, Rimmer slowly obeyed. He felt a stab in his chest as he forced his body through the doorway, holding his breath as he tried to sedate the pounding that echoed in his heart. Since dying himself, Rimmer had been able to sense death around him. And this very room was fogged with its eerie calmness.
As Rimmer's silent footsteps reached the bed, Lister's dark eyes opened slowly, sparkling in the distant light seeping in from the open doorway. As his tired, exhausted eyes gazed into Rimmer's, his lips cracked into a weary smile.
"Rimmer," he breathed.
With one word, Rimmer's dignity was lost. His eyes screwed tightly shut, desperately restraining the tears that threatened to flow. The guilt flooded his system, stabbing its way through the dark recesses of his heart. He was dead. And yet, in a way, he continued to live.
"I'm so sorry," Rimmer choked quietly. His voice cracked with guilt and misery.
Lister's glazed eyes pinched in disbelief and confusion as he stared intently at the man before him. "What for?" he whispered softly.
Rimmer sighed deeply as he reopened his eyes. His point was lost as he gazed into the depths of Lister's eyes that echoed decades of memories. He shook his head and shrugged wearily, unable to think of the right words. "Everything," he managed eventually.
Lister struggled to sit up. "You what?!" he croaked urgently, but the suddenness of his reply and his jerky movement sent his body into a violent coughing fit. His body was wracked with splutters and shivers as Rimmer watched helplessly. As the fit passed, Lister's head dropped wearily back onto the pillow and he gazed once again at Rimmer.
"If you say that again," Lister wheezed and panted, "I swear I'll punch you."
Both men chuckled softly at the irony of the words. Lister didn't have the strength to crush a paper cup, let alone cause a man any physical pain with a blow to the face. Lister's laughter subsided and his lips spread into a weak grin that trickled away slowly as the precious seconds ticked by.
"Oh Rimmer," he sighed, causing Rimmer's face to droop sadly once more. With a slow, trembling hand, Lister reached up and gently rested his fingertips on Rimmer's cheek.
Rimmer blinked hard as a jagged sigh escaped his lips. He let Lister explore his face as he watched the old man's eyes lose themselves in his eternal youth.
"I have a lovely daughter and three wonderful grandchildren. Why on Earth should you be sorry?" He shook his head. "It's because of you," Lister began quietly, "that I had the strength to do this for so long." He smiled distantly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I look at you, and I feel twenty-five again. The years just disappear out of the window and I'm back…" Lister's voice trailed off as his mind wandered into past memories.
The silence washed over Rimmer like calm music, sedating his thoughts. He simply stood and stared at the old man before him.
After a long pause, Lister sniggered as he echoed words from decades ago. "You kept your underpants on coat hangers, didn't you?" He shook his head in amiable disbelief. "You smeg head."
Something deep in Rimmer's heart flared distantly. The old feeling of their relationship echoed in nostalgia and he giggled openly at his past.
"That's rich, coming from a man whose underpants set off the sprinkler system!"
Lister's ancient body shook with laughter that cracked the dried salt tears on his face. There was no wrath in Rimmer's voice, and Lister knew this. Their shared laughter echoed into the calmness of the evening as the two men reminisced on past adventures and their ever-changing relationship with each other.
Hours passed like seconds until Lister mentioned the event that had hit them both hard:
"And then you left..."
The words stung Rimmer painfully and he squirmed uncomfortably in his seated position on the bed. "I know," he said simply.
Both men remained silent. They'd never admitted how much one had missed the other. They'd seen it as some form of weakness or flaw in their character. Or something that never needed to be said.
But people can change.
Lister opened his mouth shakily, trying to put the immensity of his feelings into the cruel limitations of language. For a moment he faltered, but then destiny kicked in.
"I…I missed you…"
A pause, and then:
"…I missed you too."
Lister chuckled distantly as his world-weary eyes locked with the man sat before him.
"Arnold Rimmer," he smiled proudly. Then added in a whisper, "My protector."
Rimmer returned the smile with a faithful glow in his eyes. He nodded subtly.
Lister's eyes then faded sadly as he glanced down at his own failing body. He sighed raggedly, trying to blink away the tears that flooded his eyes. "Will you…will you stay with me…" Lister croaked quietly. "Until I'm…"
Rimmer tried to blink away tears of his own. He gripped Lister's hand tightly, and lay down on the bed beside him. "I'm not going to leave you," he whispered.
Lister nodded as he closed his eyes. "I know," he whispered back.
******
A sudden cold shudder snuffled Rimmer into wakefulness, and his exhausted eyes eased open slowly. For a brief moment, disorientation alarmed him with the fact that he was in the wrong bed, until the memories of the night flooded back in a sudden mixture of warmth and eerie shivers. He reasoned that he must have fallen asleep talking to Lister, and he smiled tiredly at the memory. It seemed that their entire lives together had been justified all in one emotional night.
Rimmer yawned and glanced wearily at his watch. "Lister," he groaned as he stretched his back out of its tangled position on the bed. "It's three a.m." He struggled to sit up. "I'm gonna get in my own bunk, okay?" He rubbed his face with the palm of his hand.
It was only when Rimmer eased his way upright that he realised how cold he was. He shivered involuntarily. That was strange. Why did he feel cold all of a sudden?
"Lister?" he repeated. Frowning, Rimmer sat up further and stared intently at the motionless body before him. "Lister?"
The silence echoed as loud as any noise.
Rimmer's heart threatened to push up his throat and he swallowed with a dry, rasping tongue. Pushing away the fears that had begun to creep into his mind, he blinked quickly and purposefully.
He was probably sleeping. That would be why he wasn't responding...
With a trembling lip, Rimmer swallowed away the tears that threatened to choke his throat. "Lister?" he insisted.
Still, Lister gave no reply. His cold, stiff body remained still and silent.
Oh God…
A strange weight began to push down on top of Rimmer's head as the immensity of grief and sorrow filtered through his system, his hope trickling slowly and silently down the drain. As the last glimmer gurgled away into the darkness, a whispered word escaped Rimmer's lips that he had never ever voiced before:
"David…?"
Nothing. Just a deep, foreboding silence.
Rimmer's closed his eyes softly as a ragged sigh staggered through his open mouth. His shaking fingers had clasped around Lister's hand once more, only this time, the warmth and life had gone.
As his eyelids opened once more, quivering tears had welled up in his hazy, red eyes and balanced delicately in his field of vision. But they didn't flow.
The distant hum of the ship's engines echoed endlessly into infinity, as Rimmer eased his way slowly off of the bed and pulled himself uncertainly to his feet. He stood still for a long time. Simply doing nothing. Just listening…
He left the room silently.
Rimmer staggered down the dark, abandoned corridor, not knowing what else to do. His brain had begun to wander distantly, and his body had been compelled to follow. The tears still balanced teasingly in his eyes, blurring his vision as Rimmer tried to complete his thoughts in his head. But they kept stuttering. Nothing seemed real anymore.
He was…
Lister was…
******
Kochanski knew from Rimmer's vacant, confused look what had happened. She found him stumbling slowly and aimlessly down the corridor, the tears in his eyes making his dark eyes sparkle in the dim lighting of the ship.
"Rimmer?" her ancient voice croaked out.
Rimmer didn't seem to acknowledge the call verbally. Instead, his uncertain advance slowed and stopped, his eyes still regarding the floor absently. She gripped his shoulders weakly with her wrinkled trembling hands. He was shaking.
Eventually, Rimmer's blurry vision rolled upwards in the direction of the voice. His mind had obviously been trapped in the past, as at first he could not place the name of the aged stranger before him. He began to pull away, confused, but Kochanski's creaking fingers stroked his hair reassuringly. "It's okay," she soothed, "it's okay. It's me."
Rimmer's manic breathing slowed slightly as he stopped looking at the wrinkles and the liver-coloured spots on her cheeks and focused on her deep, blue eyes, which shone just as brightly as the day they had met. When he had relaxed as much as he was able, he closed his eyes and allowed a quiet, bitter sob to escape his lips.
The fresh tears rolled slowly down her face as she pulled the taller man into a delicate hug, rocking him slightly like a small child. "Shhh," she soothed, "it's okay." Kochanski could never remember how long ago the maternal instinct had kicked in. She had begun to see Rimmer as more of a son as she grew older and older.
They stood embraced in the silence, not wanting to let go, their shared grief escaping every now and then in tiny sobs. Rimmer could almost hear the creaks and groans that echoed from Kochanski's body as they held each other. She too was growing old. She was weakening by the minute, crawling closer and closer to the day when she would…
Rimmer gripped her slightly tighter as another frustrated sob escaped his dry lips.
"Granny…?" the voice cut through the silence, and the two adults slowly looked over in its direction.
Stephanie was stood in a thin cotton night-dress, grasping her white, fluffy rabbit and shivering involuntarily. She watched as her grandmother slowly turned to face her, wiping her wrinkled cheeks with her creaking fingers.
Stephanie redirected her gaze to her uncle, hoping for a more positive expression. But like her grandmother, his eyes shook with salty tears, glistening in the dim light. He looked away again, encouraging the girl to slowly join the embrace, gripping onto the sleeve of her uncle's uniform and the soft, delicate fabric of her grandmother's night-dress.
They held onto each other for protection and comfort. Not speaking a word.
Rimmer gripped the tightest.
He never wanted to let go of these people. They were his entire world.
But he knew that one day he would have to.
And it wasn't fair.
******
I never thought that I would have to say goodbye.
I never thought that one day,
You wouldn't be there.
That I would never see you laugh
Or cry
Or smile
Ever again.
I never thought that one day
I would be alone.
That I would be left here with nothing
But sadness
And memories of you.
I never thought I should take the time to say:
"I love you."
But now it's too late.
You never knew.
And never will…