Fic: Love PG-13
Title: Love
Pairing: Lister/Rimmer
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own Red Dwarf, and I do not profit from this. I just do this to amuse myself.
This comes after Function and Static
“Mister Lister?”
Lister held his breath as he leaned over the hard light drive. Two small lamps illuminated the task at hand. In his left hand he held a circuit board no larger than a centimeter square between tweezers lifted from Kochanski’s makeup kit, in his right, a soldering iron with a miniature tip. He counted the notches inside of the bee and set the chip into its proper position with a tiny dot of solder, wishing that his fingers weren’t so stubby and shaky, if just for five minutes, although he’d never considered them to possess those qualities before.
“Mister Lister, Sir? Are you paying attention? You have to eat your dinner. It’s gone cold twice already.”
“In a minute, Krytes.” Lister exhaled, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t been taking in oxygen in quite some time. “I just have to finish up this bit first.” The mechanoid gave him a stern look, and set the plate of curried this-and-that beside him. Despite the questionable contents of the dish, which looked suspiciously like plant life of some sort, Lister’s stomach growled at the scent of the familiar spices. He set down the iron. “I guess it has been awhile since I sat down, hasn’t it.” He admitted, sheepishly, picking up his fork.
“Well, yes, it has been just short of two months since I’ve been able to set the table and have everyone sit down for a meal together, Sir.” Kryten replied brusquely, as he arranged the remaining plates along the far edge of the table. “Not that I mind, not at all.” He added quickly, spooning an extra helping onto Lister’s plate.
“Well, I’m tired of looking at all of this junk.” Cat declared, as he reached for a dinner roll and examined the assembled platters for the choicest morsels. “When are you going to just give up? I thought you hated the guy. How could you forget something like that? This is never going to work, but if it did, you’d be sorry ten minutes later, mark my words.”
“You know that I never hated him, not really.” Lister objected. “I mean… well, maybe once, before the accident, but he’s not that same person anymore. Hadn’t you noticed?”
Cat shrugged. “Once a smeghead, always a smeghead.” He replied, taking a bite of his roll. “You can’t go on blaming yourself for this, bud. All that guilt is messing with your mind, making you forget all the bad times. Just let it go.”
“It’s not all about guilt, okay.” Lister began, frustrated and awkward. “It’s more than that, I just need him back, can you just try to understand that?”
Cat smirked. “I can try, but it’ll take a lot of effort.”
“I hate to say it, Sir, but perhaps he does have a point. While I admire your dedication, I fear that Miss Kochanski might be giving you false hope with her diagnosis. What you are attempting has never been successfully carried out and documented.” Kryten replied.
“I have to try anyway, Kryten. It’s not about what chance I’ve got, it’s that I’ve got a chance at all, see? It’s about loyalty and love. I can’t come this far and just give up.” Lister slid his plate aside, and contemplated the curry stained blueprint under it once again.
Cat grimaced and pushed away his chair. “Ugh, don’t talk like that. Love? Man, you’ve gone totally space crazy.”
Torn between his inclination to agree with Cat’s opinion and his desire to defend Lister, Kryten drummed his fingertips on the tabletop thoughtfully. “Although my mastery of complex human emotions is somewhat limited, I believe Shakespeare himself wrote that “love is blind.” He offered. “So perhaps Mister Lister is suffering from a temporary bout of delusion. I can assure you, Sir, that he is not space crazy in the usual sense of the word.”
Cat shook his head in disbelief. “Blind? You’d need to be deaf, too, at least. What about “out of sight, out of mind?” That would be better advice.”
Lister set down the plans and sighed. “When people say that love is blind, it’s only half of the story. You might find that little things that they do that are annoying as smeg start to become endearing, because seeing or hearing whatever it is reminds you of that person, reminds you that they are there with you, that out of anywhere in the universe that they could be, you’ve got them right here, and how lucky is that when you think about it? Or, maybe you love someone so much that the small things don’t matter and you overlook them. You’re not blind, you just see that whatever the faults are, they aren’t important. Not in comparison to the rest of what else they have to offer. The truth, Kryten, is that love doesn’t make you blind. It makes you see. It makes you see the good bits hidden beneath the bad. It lets you see past the petty business to see someone for who they really are. Do you understand now?” Lister gazed imploringly at him.
“I… think so, Sir.” Kryten murmered. “Excuse me, I have to fix a plate for Miss Kochanski.” Lister watched him retreat to the kitchen, and then turned to the Cat’s now empty chair. So much for that talk, then.
He brought the laptop out of sleep mode and tested its connections with the hard light drive, placing his finger on the bee as though checking for a pulse. He smiled as he felt a reassuring current hum under his finger. “Hey there.” He began. “We’re gonna get through this. Trust me.” He said, softly. “You’re going to be all right. Just hang on, okay?” He’d noticed himself talking to the light bee more and more often these days. Part of him was beginning to believe that somewhere, somehow, it could hear and understand him, and perhaps relay his message to the man inside.
Pairing: Lister/Rimmer
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own Red Dwarf, and I do not profit from this. I just do this to amuse myself.
This comes after Function and Static
“Mister Lister?”
Lister held his breath as he leaned over the hard light drive. Two small lamps illuminated the task at hand. In his left hand he held a circuit board no larger than a centimeter square between tweezers lifted from Kochanski’s makeup kit, in his right, a soldering iron with a miniature tip. He counted the notches inside of the bee and set the chip into its proper position with a tiny dot of solder, wishing that his fingers weren’t so stubby and shaky, if just for five minutes, although he’d never considered them to possess those qualities before.
“Mister Lister, Sir? Are you paying attention? You have to eat your dinner. It’s gone cold twice already.”
“In a minute, Krytes.” Lister exhaled, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t been taking in oxygen in quite some time. “I just have to finish up this bit first.” The mechanoid gave him a stern look, and set the plate of curried this-and-that beside him. Despite the questionable contents of the dish, which looked suspiciously like plant life of some sort, Lister’s stomach growled at the scent of the familiar spices. He set down the iron. “I guess it has been awhile since I sat down, hasn’t it.” He admitted, sheepishly, picking up his fork.
“Well, yes, it has been just short of two months since I’ve been able to set the table and have everyone sit down for a meal together, Sir.” Kryten replied brusquely, as he arranged the remaining plates along the far edge of the table. “Not that I mind, not at all.” He added quickly, spooning an extra helping onto Lister’s plate.
“Well, I’m tired of looking at all of this junk.” Cat declared, as he reached for a dinner roll and examined the assembled platters for the choicest morsels. “When are you going to just give up? I thought you hated the guy. How could you forget something like that? This is never going to work, but if it did, you’d be sorry ten minutes later, mark my words.”
“You know that I never hated him, not really.” Lister objected. “I mean… well, maybe once, before the accident, but he’s not that same person anymore. Hadn’t you noticed?”
Cat shrugged. “Once a smeghead, always a smeghead.” He replied, taking a bite of his roll. “You can’t go on blaming yourself for this, bud. All that guilt is messing with your mind, making you forget all the bad times. Just let it go.”
“It’s not all about guilt, okay.” Lister began, frustrated and awkward. “It’s more than that, I just need him back, can you just try to understand that?”
Cat smirked. “I can try, but it’ll take a lot of effort.”
“I hate to say it, Sir, but perhaps he does have a point. While I admire your dedication, I fear that Miss Kochanski might be giving you false hope with her diagnosis. What you are attempting has never been successfully carried out and documented.” Kryten replied.
“I have to try anyway, Kryten. It’s not about what chance I’ve got, it’s that I’ve got a chance at all, see? It’s about loyalty and love. I can’t come this far and just give up.” Lister slid his plate aside, and contemplated the curry stained blueprint under it once again.
Cat grimaced and pushed away his chair. “Ugh, don’t talk like that. Love? Man, you’ve gone totally space crazy.”
Torn between his inclination to agree with Cat’s opinion and his desire to defend Lister, Kryten drummed his fingertips on the tabletop thoughtfully. “Although my mastery of complex human emotions is somewhat limited, I believe Shakespeare himself wrote that “love is blind.” He offered. “So perhaps Mister Lister is suffering from a temporary bout of delusion. I can assure you, Sir, that he is not space crazy in the usual sense of the word.”
Cat shook his head in disbelief. “Blind? You’d need to be deaf, too, at least. What about “out of sight, out of mind?” That would be better advice.”
Lister set down the plans and sighed. “When people say that love is blind, it’s only half of the story. You might find that little things that they do that are annoying as smeg start to become endearing, because seeing or hearing whatever it is reminds you of that person, reminds you that they are there with you, that out of anywhere in the universe that they could be, you’ve got them right here, and how lucky is that when you think about it? Or, maybe you love someone so much that the small things don’t matter and you overlook them. You’re not blind, you just see that whatever the faults are, they aren’t important. Not in comparison to the rest of what else they have to offer. The truth, Kryten, is that love doesn’t make you blind. It makes you see. It makes you see the good bits hidden beneath the bad. It lets you see past the petty business to see someone for who they really are. Do you understand now?” Lister gazed imploringly at him.
“I… think so, Sir.” Kryten murmered. “Excuse me, I have to fix a plate for Miss Kochanski.” Lister watched him retreat to the kitchen, and then turned to the Cat’s now empty chair. So much for that talk, then.
He brought the laptop out of sleep mode and tested its connections with the hard light drive, placing his finger on the bee as though checking for a pulse. He smiled as he felt a reassuring current hum under his finger. “Hey there.” He began. “We’re gonna get through this. Trust me.” He said, softly. “You’re going to be all right. Just hang on, okay?” He’d noticed himself talking to the light bee more and more often these days. Part of him was beginning to believe that somewhere, somehow, it could hear and understand him, and perhaps relay his message to the man inside.