Rimmer wrapped the quilt tighter around himself, slowly rocking back and forth in front of the oil drum they'd used to house a fire. They'd spent the whole first day after the crash putting together the basics for survival. Luckily for him, Kochanski had this as part of her training, so she knew all the standard procedures. They'd smashed up some old packing crates and put them in them in the barrel, making a decent-sized fire that could keep Rimmer warm for some time.

Kochanski had simulated a jacket for herself, even though she didn't technically need one. As a hologram, she couldn't feel the cold. But she thought it might help Rimmer psychologically if he felt she was sharing his pain. It worked for the first three days, but now the reality of never being rescued was beginning to set in, and he wasn't all that receptive psychologically-speaking.

"Five days…," he muttered. "They must be looking for us by now! That perpetual blizzard – you could be ten feet from us and walk straight past us…"

Kochanski sighed. She sympathized with his plight, but listening to his whining was beginning to tell on her nerves. "How much food is there?" she asked, knowing Rimmer would have done a methodical search of the wreckage.

Rimmer searched his mind, glad of the distraction from the cold. "There's half a bag of soggy smoky bacon crisps, a tin of mustard powder, a brown lemon, three water biscuits, two bottles of vinegar and a tube of Bonjella gum ointment."

Kochanski scrunched up her nose incredulously. "Gum ointment?"

"I found it in the first aid box. It's that minty flavor. Quite nice."

"It's quite nice if you smear it on your gum ulcer, Rimmer. You can hardly make a meal of that!"

"I may have to."

"Anything else?"

"Just a pot noodle. And a tin of dog food I found in the tool kit."

Kochanski shuddered. "Pot noodle… Bleh."

Rimmer was briefly reminded of Lister, but he shook the thought away. "I can't believe it's going to end like this… Frozen and starving in the midst of a winter wonderland three million years from home."

"You couldn't find any wood?"

"It's just a frozen wasteland out there. No vegetation, smeg all. God, I'm starving…"

"Eat the crisps, then."

"No."

"Rimmer, you need to eat!"

"I ate less than sixteen hours ago!"

"You had a raw sprout and a piece of gum you chiseled from under the desk!"

"God, I still can't believe I did that… It's like Robinson Crusoe camping in Father Christmas's trailer park!"

"Why won't you just eat?"

"Because I need to stick to my food schedule! If I play my cards right and only eat at the correct timetables, I can make the food last a solid three weeks if need be."

"… You are such a massive dork."

"I just need a distraction."

"Read one of your books, then. You brought plenty of them."

Rimmer looked inside his camphor wood trunk and peered at the contents. Why did everything have to remind him of food? Even the name "Harold Pinter" was making him think of food.

"I just can't right now. After I've had my next meal in the morning, I'll try."

"Well then, we have no choice. We have to talk to each other."

"Oh smeg."

"Come on! Pick a topic! How about…? I don't know… Something…"

"I don't do conversation, Kochanski. I just don't. I'm lousy at it."

"I've noticed. In the two years we've been stuck together, I've noticed."

Rimmer scowled at her as he wrapped the quilt tighter around himself. "I can't think under these conditions."

"Favorite subject in school?"

"Oh god. Small talk. We're really doing this."

"Yes, we are. Pretend we're on a first date or something."

"Perish the thought."

"Just focus on the question! Favorite subject in school! Now!"

Rimmer gritted his teeth. "I don't know!"

"Did you even go to school?!"

"Of course I did!"

"Then what? Was? Your? Fave? Or? It? Sub? Ject?!"

"I hated school with a flaming passion!" Rimmer finally bellowed. "Don't you dare make me relive that cold dank horror that pretended to be about learning! I am not going to relive all the beatings I took, all the humiliations I suffered, all the pain and fear, just so you can alleviate your smegging boredom! Ma'am!"

They both stared at each other in silence, both rather startled by the outburst. Rimmer was breathing heavily and slowly, while Kochanski looked the teensiest bit afraid. She hadn't quite expected such fury. Such anger. Such burning resentment.

It made her wonder what else was lurking beneath his neurotic surface.

"… So… not big on geography then?" she asked quietly.

Rimmer grimaced and put his face in his hands. "I used to be good at geography; back when all that was required was to color in the countries. I was always a whiz at coloring. I was top of the class. Then we had to actually start knowing things about these countries, and all of a sudden, thpppt went my grades."

Kochanski shook her head. "The average rainfall in the wetlands of Venezuela was three point four inches," she said quietly.

Rimmer's head jolted up to look at her incredulously. "… What?"

Kochanski shrugged. "Well, it is."

"Wha…? What the hell? How did you even know that?"

"I loved geography. Learning about different cultures. Different ways of living. So fascinating."

"What does the average rainfall of Venezuela have to do with different cultures?"

"Nothing! I…! Well, it just does!"

"Your head is just filled with useless knowledge, isn't it?"

"Oh, like your head is full of so much more important crap, right? The ship's inventory of pencils? All accounted for! All of James Last's greatest hits? On your mental playlist! The subtle difference between ocean gray and military gray? It's not lost on you, is it, van Gogh?"

Rimmer stood up indignantly. "Hey! Hey! Military gray is the gray of leadership, efficiency and beauty! Ocean gray is gaudy, drab and lazy. It's a sit-on-your-arse-all-day-and-do-nothing color. Not the sort of thing the proud crew of a mining ship should have to slum in."

"Really? I always thought the Space Corps should've tried more pastels…"

"Oh please. A real officer knows that military gray is for hardened space astros, and ocean gray is for hippies."

Kochanski stared at him for a long moment, a thoughtful look on her face. "Funny, isn't it? How you went from all magnificently colorful countries to deciding on which shade of gray was superior."

"So?"

"Don't you ever miss it? Color? I mean, you've been wearing that same dull beige uniform since before you went into stasis. Don't you ever wear real clothes? Normal clothes?"

Rimmer blinked. "Well, I… I dunno. I mean, I'm a technician! I have to dress in uniform."

"Why? Who's going to care? I sure as hell don't. I'm thinking of updating my wardrobe as well. I used to love wearing red. Maybe I should have Holly give me a John Lewis catalogue when we get back…"

"Miss Kochanski, I'm not about to change out of my uniform for civilian clothes! I'm dressed for action! For kicking bottom! Whenever danger rears its ugly head, you can damn well bet Arnie J will be there, ready to face it in his spiffing beige uniform!"

"As it slowly turns a dark brown color," Kochanski added.

Rimmer glared at her, but she only responded with a playful smirk. He never knew how to keep a good tirade going when she did that. Infuriating woman.

Still, it had taken his mind off food for a while.

They continued like that for a long time. While they waited for the others to rescue them, they bickered, argued and teased each other. Somehow, all the constant arguing kept them going. It was basic psychology – as long as Rimmer had conflict, it kept his mind off food. It was only when the hunger became unbearable that he would break down and eat something.

Over the next few days, however, they soon found another problem – the fire in the oil drum was weakening. They'd smashed up some crates and furniture over the past week, but they'd run out. Now they were down to just whatever they could find. Seat cushions, plastic food wrappers, and now, regrettably, most of Rimmer's belongings.

He'd fought tooth and nail, but when he saw just how low the fire was getting, he knew he had no choice. He had to do it for his very survivable. Plus, as Kochanski pointed out, he'd never actually read any of them anyway. So, after saving page sixty-one of Lolita, he burned each book, one page at a time.

By the time he'd taken a few bites of dog food, they were pretty much all the way through his little library. Then it came down to the massive amount of money he had stashed away. That had hurt as well, but again, as Kochanski had pointed out, he wouldn't be able to spend it anyway. Hardly anything left in the universe with any actual value to it. So, after having saved it for three million and ten years, it ended up being used for a rainy day after all. Rather, a snowy day – whatever.

As the last of the money was cast to the flames, Rimmer stared morosely into the barrel. Kochanski stood next to him, feeling awful about it, but knowing it had to be done.

"… It's not going to last an hour, is it?" he asked sadly.

"Better start unpacking your toy soldiers."

"No, please! Not the soldiers! I can't! I just can't!"

"Rimmer, pull yourself together! If it burns, we burn it! Your life is much more important than some silly old possessions! I mean, really, what's the point in having all these things if you're not going to be around to enjoy them anyway! At least this way you've got a fighting chance! You are more important than a bunch of worthless old stuff!"

At first, she thought his silence meant she was getting through to him, but then she noticed that he was looking at the one thing she had brought along on the trip. The one thing she couldn't bear to leave behind.

Her teddy bear, Boo-Boo.

The stuffed bear stared back at them with its marble eyes and its stitched mouth. His fluffy brown fur had faded in recent millennia, but it was still structurally sound – aided possibly by the fact that its owner couldn't touch it anymore.

It took a moment, but then Kochanski realized what Rimmer was thinking.

"Oh hell no!" she declared, running around and standing defensively in front of her beloved Boo-Boo.

"Of course!" Rimmer said triumphantly, as if she hadn't spoken. "Why didn't we think of it before? We can burn that teddy bear! It'll last for a few hours at least!"

"No! Absolutely not! I forbid it! Not my Boo-Boo!"

"Kochanski, come on! It's just a thing! Just a possession! It has no real value!"

"It has sentimental value!"

"So do my things!"

"Yeah, but that's different!"

"How?!"

"I don't care about your things! This is mine!"

"How is it any different from my soldiers? It's just a 'dumb toy', like you said!"

"Rimmer, Boo-Boo is so much more to me than that! He's been there for me through everything! Ever since I was a little girl, when my parents were away, when life got too hard! Every boyfriend that ever broke my heart – Boo-Boo was there for me! Every job I lost! Every bad grade! Every stumble in life! Boo-Boo has been the one constant in my life! When Tim dumped me, all I had was Boo-Boo to be there when I cried my eyes out! When I dumped Lister to go back to Tim, he was there for me again! He's my lifeline! And even if I can't hold him anymore, even if I can't snuggle him when I go to sleep anymore, he's still the one thing I still have in my life that hasn't betrayed me and ruined my self-worth! Please, Rimmer! Don't burn my teddy bear!"

Rimmer was taken aback by how much she had shouted, and how those shouts had dissolved into sobs as tears streamed down her face. He felt a strange swirl of emotions dance around inside of him – emotions he had never felt before. Or maybe he had, and he had just repressed them.

But then he felt a gust of cold wind that made him wrap his jacket around himself tighter. The fire flickered a bit. The money was almost burnt out. It was make or break time.

He looked her in the eye and said quietly, "We've got to."

He watched as her whole face seemed to shut off. One moment, she was still quietly crying, letting those huge golf-ball-sized tears run down her face, and the next, she was blank. Still tear-stained, but now it was as if all emotions had been shut off. It was as though he were back in school, and he'd just answered a question wrong, and the teacher was reflecting on how stupid he must be.

A few seconds later, in a tight clipped tone, she said, "Fine."

She walked away, and there was the bear, still smiling that stitched smile at him.

Rimmer swallowed hard and walked over, picking the large toy up and holding it in his arms, looking it over. It was so dumb-looking. It probably deserved to burn. And if it didn't, well, it had probably had to endure watching Lister and Kochanski have sex at several points, so it was probably scarred for life and yearned for death just to rid itself of the nightmares.

Then he realized he was anthropomorphizing a stuffed animal and felt ridiculous. It didn't feel anything. It didn't care. It was just a toy.

He threw a glance in Kochanski's direction. She wasn't even looking. She had her back to him, with her arms crossed and her head bowed. Clearly furious. Didn't want to see her prized possession get roasted alive. He felt the same about the money. The books. The soldiers. The chest.

That chest…

He shook the thoughts out of his head and walked towards the barrel. He held the bear over the flickering flame, like dumping a sack of garbage into a garbage can. He took one last look at it. One last look into those soulful marble eyes that were peering back right into his. Those eyes that suddenly looked so innocent. So sad…

He glanced at Kochanski again. Still had her back to him. Still angry.

Boo-Boo continued to look at him. Judging him now. He scowled at the bear, wishing he would just throw it in already. He had to just do it. For crying out loud, he was about to freeze to death, and here he was getting sentimental over some silly old bear. Just drop it in the fire for crying out loud.

So why wasn't he?

Well, he reasoned, it seemed a shame that it wouldn't get one last snuggle before it was reduced to ash. Maybe… if he was real quiet, Kochanski wouldn't notice… him hugging Boo-Boo goodbye.

He brought the bear closer to his face and breathed it in. It was old and musty, like an old attic. It had been sitting out for some considerable time while he'd been in stasis. But that didn't change the fact that it was warm and soft. He felt better all of a sudden. As he held it in his tight embrace, he felt like there was someone who cared in his life. Like maybe, he should've had a stuffed animal growing up. Something to hug. Sure, the nocturnal boxing gloves made him feel safe, but they didn't bring out this feeling of being… cared for.

Then he smelled the smoke of the fire, and he realized that the money was almost burned out completely. He had to add something soon, or else that would be it. Finito. That's all, folks.

He looked around the room. Maybe there was something he had missed. An old manual? An old seat cushion? Something? Anything?

Just the trunk, and what was inside the trunk. Damn.

Sighing sadly, he placed Boo-Boo on the chair and went across to the trunk. He took one last look at the first soldier he grabbed. He held it close to his face like he had with the bear. Not nearly as warm. No fuzzy emotions whatsoever. Nicely painted firewood. That's all it was.

With a heavy sigh, he chucked it in the fire, which lit up again with a flare of cinders.

Hearing the noise, Kochanski turned around. She looked confused when she saw her Boo-Boo safe and sound in the chair, and then when she saw the wooden soldier smoldering in the fire, slowly being devoured by flames, her jaw dropped. She looked at the sheepish Rimmer in shock.

"Rimmer, you…! What?! I thought… I thought that you… were going to…!"

"Yeah," Rimmer said awkwardly, holding his cold hands over the fire. "So did I."

"I… I don't know what to say!"

"Then don't say anything."

Kochanski stared at him, and then at Boo-Boo, and she wished in that moment she could scoop him up and carry him away from the flames. "You… you didn't…"

"No, I didn't. Not right now. If I have to, then I will, but for now…"

Kochanski blinked. She knew he was right. If it came down to it, he'd have to burn the bear, but the fact he hadn't done it just to put off burning his own things amazed her.

"… Why?" she asked.

For a long moment, Rimmer didn't answer, but when he did, it was quiet. "Well, I got to thinking, and it made me realize – that dumb bear of yours… Well, it's a link to the past. It means as much to you as that trunk does to me."

Kochanksi looked over at the camphor wood trunk that stood in the corner, now nearly empty. "Is it?" she asked.

"That trunk is the only thing my father ever gave me – apart from his disappointment. If that trunk ever got so much as scratched, I would be devastated."

Kochanski looked at the trunk again with newfound appreciation. As Rimmer sat down by the fire, she couldn't help but notice that he was now holding Boo-Boo rather tightly. She smothered a smile and focused on the overlooking the fire.

Thankfully, they only needed to burn a couple more soldiers before Cat and Kryten finally turned up – along with a sheepish Holly who explained that the five black holes she had seen were in fact five specs of grit on the scanner scope. They loaded the remaining soldiers and Boo-Boo into the trunk and cleared off towards the waiting Blue Midget. Kochanski was all set to begin a salvage operation of Starbug – they'd already lost one in the backwards universe. They couldn't afford to lose another.

That night, when she was safely back in her sleeping quarters, she climbed into her hologrammatic bedding. As she got settled in for the night, she was surprised to see Boo-Boo in bed with her – when logically, he should've fallen through the hologrammatic mattress. She reached out experimentally and, to her considerable delight, found she could touch him! Then, she noticed that there was a thin black 'H' stitched into his forehead. She held him close in the longest hug imaginable.

Unknown to her, in his own quarters, Rimmer had the real Boo-Boo sat next to him in bed. The bear was on standby in case of emergency.

More specifically, in case he had a nightmare and needed a good cuddle.