Disclaimer: all characters belong to Grant Naylor productions and the BBC.
Ace moved closer to Lister, and Lister tweaked a fold of the blanket aside so that the other man could get a better view of its contents. When Ace reached in and touched a tiny hand, the baby fisted it around his finger, and a Pavlovian jealousy shot briefly through Rimmer. Even when he gave himself an inward dressing down, and reminded his computer-recreated lizard brain that he was hard light now and could touch anything that Ace could, it didn't entirely fade. The shiny-suited git just made him feel inadequate and probably always would.
"He's yours, isn't he?" Ace said. "Yours and Arnie's."
Lister nodded. "Finally had a dekko at my medical files. Said my biology never reverted after the twins were born and I could still get pregnant. So I used the sperm bank." He glanced at Rimmer, something indefinable in his face. "I decided I could have a kid for both of us."
Rimmer frowned at Ace, something occurring to him. "How did you know it was a boy?" he said.
"Me and this little man here have met a few times before." Ace allowed his finger to be held for a moment longer before gently extracting it. A wry smile tugged at his mouth as he looked down at the baby. "It was good seeing you again, Michael."
"He exists in other universes too?" Lister asked, excitedly.
"A lot more of them than you'd think, Skipper. Sometimes Kristine Kochanski's his mother. Sometimes it's Yvonne McGruder. Sometimes you or Arnie found a way to become a father on your own. Have to say this is the first one I've seen where the two of you got together on it."
Rimmer cleared his throat. Stepping forward decisively, he held out his arms. Lister willingly shifted Michael over to him, and his son snuffled and sneezed, and looked up at him with his bunkmate's eyes. Lister. Lister and him. How could it be, that they were blended together in this baby? It was a smegging miracle.
"You're a lucky guy, Arnie," Ace said. "You've got something that I'll never have. A family."
Rimmer's gaze followed the man as he turned away. Something moved inside him. Not sympathy. More like a sort of twisted empathy. It moved, was there, was gone, leaving him a little confused. Just for a minute, it had seemed as though Ace was the inadequate one.
