[Red Dwarf - fic] A Spinning Fan - Part 09 - WIP (discontinued)

Lister/Rimmer, PG.
One day Lister woke up in a psychiatric ward and a doctor told him it was all a dream brought on by excessive drinking.
Written August 7, 2006 by Zekkass.

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Breakfast was a much less hurried affair, and the cafeteria was not as crowded. However, when Lister went through the food-line, this time there were lunch ladies manning the dishes.

“Hi!” chirped Kochanski, when Lister got up to her. “How’s reality, cutie?” Lister dropped his tray into the pancakes.

“Reality?” He asked. She had to be kidding. This wasn’t reality. At least, not his reality.

She smiled at him and gently picked up the tray. “It’s okay. You don’t have to answer. How are you coping with your roommates?”

“They’re fine.” Lister took the tray back and put on some pancakes. “I’m fine, and I’m sure your reality is fine.”

“My reality?” She asked, confused.

Before he could answer, not-Hollister pushed the line on. Lister could only shrug at her and head for his seat.

---

Dwayne had already taken the same seat he had yesterday, so Lister assumed he was to sit at that table again. Bill wasn’t around, though. Thankfully, neither was Nelson. At the thought of Nelson, Lister smiled to himself. That had been another close encounter, but then again, who could resist laughing at such a name? Not he!

“’morning.” Dwayne looked up.

“What are you doing here?”

“Eating.” Lister sat down and put syrup on his pancakes. “Or am I not allowed to do that?”

“Hey! What’s with the attitude?”

“What attitude?”

“That one you got now!”

“What the smeg-?” Where was Dwayne? This wasn’t the same guy Lister had been talking to this morning. Unless…What had Rimmer said? No, Dwayne wasn’t sane. Lister put it all together. “Cat?”

“That’s me!” Cat/Dwayne grinned, and this time Lister noticed the lack of feline teeth. What was it about Cat that brought those out, even when he didn’t have them?

“Then…where’s Dwayne?”

“Busy.” Cat went back to eating his food.

Lister prodded his pancakes. He was hungry, but he didn’t really feel like eating, now.

---

Half an hour later, Lister was still prodding his pancakes. He didn’t want to go back to the bunkroom, and he didn’t want to go exploring. Instead, he just sat back and watched the people.

It hurt, to see Petersen walking around like everything was normal, and to see Selby talking with Kochanski. It hurt, when he knew that they were dead, and that these people were not the crewmates and drinking buddies he remembered. It hurt, to see them do something that screamed not-Petersen/Selby/whoever-they-were to Lister, and to have no one stop them.

What would one say to someone who was acting wrong? ‘Stop, you’re out of character?’ Lister didn’t know. He had almost run to Petersen, when he had first seen him walk in, but his last shreds of common sense had stopped him. This Petersen wouldn’t know him. Still, he wanted to run over and talk to them and - make them be right.

He was considering returning to the bunkroom when Rimmer walked in.

---

When Rimmer finally made it through the line, he sat across from Lister and automatically stopped Cat from throwing oatmeal at Hollister.

“’morning.”

“Good morning!” Lister winced. Rimmer was waaay too cheery for mornings, in any universe. “How was breakfast?”

“Fine.” Lister prodded his pancakes again.

“Good!” Rimmer, again, wasn’t eating much. All he had was a bowl of oatmeal and two slices of toast. (And a cup of tea.) Lister thought about it, then decided not to ask. “Have they noticed you yet?”

“What?”

“The rest of them.” Rimmer waved his hand vaguely at the rest of the cafeteria. “Have they said hello or anything?”

“Just Kochanski…”

“Degenerates. You’re new around here. Ah, give them time. Newcomers never go long without a proper greetings.” Rimmer shuddered. “I’d suggest that you try to stay out of sight.”

Lister raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

A moment passed, then Rimmer asked, “Was Dwayne behaving himself?”

“Oh, yeah. Cat’s fine.” Lister said. “He hasn’t thrown any food, if that’s what you mean.”

“Cat?”

“He’s not Dwayne.”

“I know what you mean.” Rimmer nodded. “Good name for him. It came from your ‘memories’, right?”

“Yeah.”

Rimmer shrugged. He wasn’t going to argue about reality this early in the morning. At least, not until after his morning tea.

Cat tried to throw food at various peoples throughout the dinner, but Rimmer seemed to know how to stop him. No one came by the table, and Lister didn’t complain.

After another ten minutes of watching people eat, Lister had had enough. “Rimmer, I’m going back to the bunkroom.”

“Bunkroom?”

“The room where we stay.”

“Oh. See you back shortly, then.”

Lister took his tray up, waved goodbye to Kochanski, and went back to the bunkroom.

---

As soon as Lister left, Rimmer tapped Cat on the shoulder. “Dwayne.”

Cat was gone, instantly replaced by Dwayne. “Yeah?”

“Finish up quickly. We need to talk.”

Dwayne nodded, and they took up their trays and left the lunch-room.

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