a/n- well here's the second chapter and I still have no idea how the story will end as I'm writing as it comes to me. All I can say is that I'm trying to include Holly in it but I'm not sure which one so if anyone has any preference, tell me. This chapter actually came to me sooner than I thought it would, but what can I say, it's a very persistent plot bunny. Oh and before I forget - thanks to LittleBritainFanatic for commenting, following and adding the story as a favourite, glad you're enjoying the story! And to everyone else reading I hope you enjoy this chapter too.
DISCLAIMER- nope, still don't own RD but again if anyone would like to give the boys to me I wouldn't say no (*hint, hint*) I also don't own Dumbo, Titanic or anything else you recognise. if you are a lawyer looking for un-disclaimered fan fiction I suggest you look somewhere else then man, cos you won't find any here!
Personal disclaimer- sorry if this chapter is rubbish. I had a geology essay today and I had to look at UCAS *boring*. Also I'm part Irish and this is St Patrick's day so there are other things on my mind right now up to and including watching two of my mates get drunk and singing Oh Danny Boy whilst wrestling.
Chapter 2.
The Cat groaned as he came to, and opened one eye to check his surroundings, finding himself in the medibay with Kryten standing over him, he couldn't see Lister and so took a deep sniff, using his famous nasal talents to find Monkey Boy instead. 'He smells close, he must just be in the corner' thought Cat. Regaining awareness a little more, he tried asking for a couple of his favourite things, relishing in the fact that he was injured so they had to do everything for him. "Ffiiisshh" "mirrrrrrorrrrrr" even to himself his words sounded slurred but the look on the mechanoid's face told Cat he had been understood and Kryten went off, understanding from previous experiences Cat would not be a very good patient until his demands were met.
On the other side of the medibay, a distraught looking Lister sat at a desk, examining two fractured pieces of what looked to be scrap metal, but that been a short time ago been the physical form of Arnold J. Rimmer. Quickly growing fed up of the Cat's self-pitying moans and a comment about how "grime and dead loser don't go with my little black number with silver spangles" he placed the two parts down and smacked his hand against the desk "give it a smegging rest Cat won't you!" The Cat hissed, and sent him a glare but did so, amusing Lister who hadn't realised that instinct had been passed on from his cat Frankenstein who had had quite a temper on her when she wanted to.
Losing Rimmer, who had become a friend he supposed, had taken away his last link to the Red Dwarf crew. Looking at the hologram with his gangly 6 foot 2 frame, his stupid curly hair, his massive nostrils and the ears so big they put Dumbo's to shame had reminded him of so many nights spent making fun of him with Peterson, Chen and Selby. Without the silly smirk and the ridiculous arguments he was pretty sure he would go nuts, he needed arguments to live, and he just couldn't have that with Kryten or The Cat. Kryten just couldn't insult people and as for cat he was too stupid to insult properly- they'd just go over his head. Smeg. He needed Rimmer, smeghead and all. With a sigh he pocketed the two fragments of light bee and decided to go where he could actually think, walking past their quarters he sighed again seeing Bob, Madge and the scutter Rimmer had once called Stabbim cleaning up the charred remains of blankets, that inflatable banana, and among other things Rimmer's blow up doll, for a second a ghost of the old Dave Lister grinned, internally remarking that at least they had gone together. He also noted that his guitar had made relatively unscathed and decided to take that with him. The elevator journey up to the observation decks took a while but Lister couldn't bring himself to care, drawing in on himself and reminiscing the few truly good times the Boys from the Dwarf had had together, such as Kryten's Party.
Meanwhile Kryten had returned to the medibay juggling a large mirror and a plate with a large portion of Trout-al-a-crème. The Cat was exactly where he had left him, which didn't surprise him- the concussion should have had him down longer than it did and also-he was lazy. However it did surprise and alarm him that Mr Lister was not where he was before, the Mechanoid hoped he had not done anything rash as humanoids were prone to do when grieving. Nevertheless Kryten delivered the goods to Cat who first looked in the mirror checking himself from every angle and then declared "daaaamn, even with a cut I look sexy! Attention all lady cats dashing single sex god ready and willing!" checking on himself once more he gave a low wolf whistle. Finally placing the mirror down, he picked up the plate and started batting the fish around effectively dismissing Kryten. The Cat always took pleasure in his food and took the opportunity to sing his favourite song "I'm going to eat you little fishy, I'm going to eat you little fishy, cos I like little fish" but the normality of the foodplay didn't mean Kryten wanted to see it. He'd have trouble enough scrubbing the inevitable smears of parsley sauce of the medicomp and the other surface without having his pedantic chip kick in at the wrong time again. Last time it had taken him three weeks to fully weld his hand back together after it had been slashed to pieces for pointing out leg wax did not belong all over the screen of the navigation computer.
Lister looked out into the vast abyss of space from the safety of the Perspex observation dome. It seemed to him that this place was the only location he could talk civilly with hologram and it brought back memories. That conversation he'd had with Rimmer after the post pod arrived and he'd found out his dad was dead for one. The first time he had gone up to the observation deck after the crew died and the emptiness of the surrounding black, not as many stars as it seemed from earth, had really made the 'last man alive' bit hit home.
When the crew was alive, he'd never really spent much time up here, only venturing up once or twice when the vending machine at the top was out of fun sized chocolates or that time Petersen and the gang had got so drunk they'd waited until everyone else had left and spent the evening shouting clichés like "I'm the king of the world" and recreating that scene from titanic with the railings. He probably wouldn't have remembered it if Rimmer hadn't have showed him a video when he wrote up the report the next morning. Now the ghosts of times past played out in front of him as if imprinted onto the glass, faded but continuous in his mind's eye. He'd changed a lot since then, growing up. A few years ago the fifty pennycent admission price would have gone towards a bevvie or more likely several because space was just boring, well space, really. Now of course he didn't have to pay but he didn't mind standing up here pointing vaguely in the direction he thought the Earth might be in thinking about whether it was really still there, and whether he would get home. Slowly he walked over to the memorial he had made for the crew when he'd first accepted they were gone and knelt before it adding a new photo of a glowering individual with sticky out ears and a stupid regulation haircut before standing up and looking at it, making sure it was just right. It wasn't the most flattering picture ever, but then again it was of Rimmer so it never was going to be anyway. Lister thought back to when he had just finished the memorial 'garden' and the then soft light hologram had gone ape about the addition of a photo of him, arguing that since he was still here he didn't need to be relegated to the history books just yet.
With the picture out of the way, the pudgy scouser went over to the vending machine. "Vhat vould you like today zir?" it asked with a strong German accent. Lister had long forgotten that the machine up here was German and it stung, reminding him of yet another memory. He saw his younger self asking Rimmer what death was like and being told "death, it's like going on holiday with a group of Germans." Collecting himself before he had a chance to fall into yet another bout of very unmanly crying he answered "six cans of wicked extra strength lager mate". Of course what he actually received was six cans of JMC super strength lager which has an alcohol content equivalent to a watered down alcopop and had a kick similar to imbibing pure ethanol, but it was all that was available so there was nothing he could do about that. Sitting down on the steps he drank and cried and wished to god, strangely that he had a fried-egg-chilli-chutney sandwich.
By the time Kryten finally tracked him down and made his way to the observation dome after the stupid express lift had sent him down to the diesel decks, Lister had finished that original six, another six and was making good headway on a third, god-only-knew how. Kryten, who had still not quite got the hang of ambivalent on demand just yet wasn't sure how to express being glad that his master hadn't committed suicide like he'd seen on Androids yet ashamed at his feeling the need to get dangerously drunk. The scouser was virtually unconscious and laying in what appeared to be a very painful position, even to Kryten who didn't have any pain receptors. Preparing himself Kryten picked up Lister in a Fireman's carry, who was well past 'nicely drunk' and into the realms of completely 'pished' and moved into the express lift to get him to bed in one of the guest quarters.
Once Kryten had slightly ungracefully deposited the drunk human onto the officer's guest quarters, the first room he found where rolling out of bed would not cause him to crash into any furnishings that could cause further injury, he made sure Mr Lister would be slightly more comfortable when he woke up. First he removed the biker boots, glad he hadn't got a sense of smell as he did so and then the leather jacket and cargo trousers, leaving him in his London Jets t-shirt with the three curry stains, one custard mark and generally dirty appearance and a pair of boxer shorts that he could only guess the original colour of. Hanging the removed clothes in the cupboard across the room and spraying a liberal amount of air freshener on both shoes and outfit Kryten then looked at what else he could do to limit Lister's pain in the morning. Getting a thought, the mechanoid raided the first aid kit for extra strength aspirin and left a single dose and some water before removing the rest of the tablets not wanting to tempt fate and left the room telling one of the scutters to come and get him when the man awoke.
a/n- if you like drop a review, if you think I can do better drop a review telling me how. If you're my teacher stop being so hard on me! Flames will be used for grilling burgers. Good reviews will make me write faster.