Fragments of the Reclaimer

This Might Be Love

Aria stayed in the sleeping quarters on Starbug until they got back to Red Dwarf, after which she promptly and silently went off to her new quarters two doors down from Rimmer and Lister's.

Rimmer had been through the whole of the ship twice looking for her. He didn't think to go to her quarters until Kryten suggested it. Rimmer walked up to the door. He was immensely nervous, mainly because he was scared she'd hit him again. He took a deep breath, and just as he was about to knock she opened the door. They stared at each other; an awkward and painful silence fell.

Eventually, Rimmer said, "Hello."

She leaned up against the door frame, glaring at him.

Her silent treatment made him feel uneasy. He stammered his words at first. "I-I just... wanted to see if you were alright," He waited for her to respond but she was still quiet. "Krytens making pizza. He promised he won't use space weevil as a topping." Still nothing — he thought the mention of space weevil would get her to crack. "Oh for God's sake, say something already!"

She shrugged her shoulders and walked back inside. "Honestly, I'm still cross with you for calling me a bitch queen from hell."

He entered the room after her. "That? Really? That was a lot less than what you've—"

She shot him a dirty look, and he quickly shut his mouth. "You're right, though," she admitted as she nervously played with the strap of her vortex manipulator. "I should've been more considerate."

He could have conceded to overreacting — but that wasn't who he was. He placed his clasped hands behind his back, sticking out his chest, looking smug, relishing in her admission that he was right. "Yes, you should have been." he said, followed up with a satisfied smirk.

She blinked rapidly in disbelief of how one man can be so puffed up. She had to remember who it was she was talking to — Arnold Judas Rimmer, the man who despite rolling a two and a one seven times in a row still couldn't say he lost a game of Mineopoly.

"You know, I gave you a chance to apologise. I should've figured you wouldn't."

"Indeed. In fact, I think it's you who should be apologising, for hitting a senior officer."

"Senior officer?" She paused to keep herself from exploding into a fit of anger once again. It was hard not to around this smeghead. "Rimmer, you're the second technician!"

"I'm still your superior, Harkness. Now then..." He gave an authoritative clear of his throat, whipped out his note pad, opened it and began writing her up. "Assaulting a senior officer..."

"You are infuriating, you know that?" 

"Insulting a senior officer; speaking ill of the dead..."

"You know what your problem is?"

He looked up, pursing his lips for a moment while he thought of a witty response — he had none. To be honest, he wasn't sure he could answer; his list of problems was long and complicated.

"You're a git."

With a flick of his pen, he began scribbling again. "Make that two counts of insulting a senior officer," He tapped his note pad with his pen. He checked his wrist watch. "Three times in as many minutes. You'll beat Lister at this rate." With a turn of the heels, he left, still smug and self-righteous.

Her nose twitched with indignation. "Arnold Judas Rimmer!" she barked out, stopping him in his tracks.

He whirled back around. Annoyance rolled around inside him like a ball of furious energy. "Don't middle name me, missy! You sound just like my mother."