Author's Notes: Okay, I promised this story (to whom, I don't know, but here we are) about a year ago after Back for Kochanski was finished. It's been sitting on my computer all this time, waiting for me to get out of my writer's block, but now I've finally relocated my fanficcing mojo. I just sat down and started writing a new chapter for the first time in nine months (a whole pregnacy probably passed for someone during that writer's block).

So this takes place during the fictitious Series X. Kochanski's "dead" but Holly's still here and male. Rimmer is a nanobotically-ressurected living human being. Everbody enjoy.

Three months…

It was a long walk to his destination.

Three whole months…

It was something he had to live with.

Three completely whole months…

It just wasn't fair.

It's been three completely whole months…

All that potential… All that could have been… It was all gone…

…since she died.

It just wasn't how it was meant to happen.

The doors to the Remembrance Garden slid open.

Lister, wearing his tuxedoed top and his regular clothes bottom, stared at the gravestone at the end of the walkway. He paused before he heaved a sigh and walked slowly towards it, his eyes fixated solely on the picture in the center. He could already feel the lump in his throat rising.

But he made it the whole way. He took pride in that.

He sat down cross-legged, leaning forward and placing the flowers in front of her picture. He felt his entire lower jaw waver as he stared at the picture of her.

Kristine Kochanski smiled at him cheerfully through the picture frame's glass.

It just wasn't fair.

They'd all been trying to get over it. They'd tried to get past it.

Three months didn't seem long enough to thoroughly grieve.

But Lister decided it was time. He had to get his life in order.

"Hey…," he said quietly to the photo. "We're getting better. I think we're getting better."

Silence greeted him.

She was such a good listener.

"We'll never forget you. I'll always visit you. But we need to move on. We need to be strong. We need to…"

He trailed off, staring at her photo. He felt the tears begin to stream down his face. He knew this wasn't going to be easy.

But he had to let go now.

"I'll come back next week. We'll read a book together, eh?"

She continued smiling.

Lister wiped his nose messily with his nice sleeve. He stood up and looked around quietly before readdressing her.

"I'll see ya, Krissie," he said affectionately.

And with that, his resolve firming, he turned and made the long trek down the gantry towards the doors.

Three months…

So endeth another day.

Three months…

He activated the doors and left through them as they opened.

Three months…and one day.

Rimmer smoothed out his khaki uniform as he looked at himself in the mirror. He picked up his comb and rinsed it in the sink before reapplying it to his side part. He remembered when his part was so ingrained it was gouged into his skull.

His eyes flitted over towards something being reflected in the mirror. He saw the empty bunks, and draped over the top one was a pair of discarded black trousers. He remembered asking Lister why he didn't wear the trousers with the jacket and bow tie, and Lister had said that they bunched up his love spuds.

Rimmer had let it go. His crewmate needed time to grieve.

It had been such a mindblower when they found out.

Kryten had broken the news to them all. He had said that the airlock had depressurized ninety seconds too soon, and she'd been sucked helplessly out into space.

There was nothing they could've done.

They searched for the body, but to no avail. She was gone.

So they'd had the funeral in the Remembrance Garden.

That was a little over three months ago.

But things were more or less starting to get back to normal.

Rimmer reflected how hard it was. Everyone's world had been noticeably diminished. There had only been the six of them: him, her, Lister, Kryten, Cat and Holly. They had been a unit. They had been together through a lot.

But now there were five.

And Holly wasn't exactly all there most of the time, so it was more like four and a half.

It was a pity, because they had all been getting along quite a bit better. Or at least Rimmer thought so.

But he knew they had to steel their resolve and move onwards. Things would get better. They'd find their direction again and they'd be alright.

Satisfied that his uniform looked neat and clean, he set about his daily routine. He made sure all his books were in order alphabetically. He made sure there were no crumbs on his section of the table. He made sure that his bed was made. Then he decided to check up on their supplies. He took a seat at the table, accessing the links with the ship's mainframe. He was just logging on when he heard the doors slide open.

When he looked up, he saw Lister looking rather downhearted. He was looking at the floor as he shuffled through the hatchway. He slowly removed his black jacket and then hung it up on a hook. He sat down in a chair across from Rimmer, not looking at him. He just stared at the blinking lights on the table.

Rimmer looked at him unsurely, feeling sympathy for his crewmate, but not sure of how to articulate it. He thought it best to keep quiet for now, and he tried to focus on reading the streams of green computer codes that were flying across the screen, trying to find his data for him.

They sat in silence together for several minutes. Neither one was sure what to do.

Finally, however, they heard the sound of the computer screen kicking on, and they heard a familiar London twang reverberate around the room.

"Alright, dudes?" Holly asked. He didn't exactly sound overtly cheerful. He was rather quiet, sounding as if he was concerned.

"Hey, Hol," Lister said quietly, turning slowly to look at him. "What's up?"

"I'm afraid we've got a bit of a problem."

"We're not low on hair gel again, are we?" Rimmer asked, dreading an affirmation. "I swear the Cat goes through that stuff faster than a French Border Guard with track shoes and a coupon for cigarettes."

"Nah, we're good for that. I was thinking more along the lines of something hacking its way onboard and sneaking about the air ducts and then dropping into the cargo bay."

Lister and Rimmer snapped to attention.

"What is it? Can you tell?" Lister asked, getting up and walking over towards the screen.

"My sensors can't quite reach that section of the Cargo Bay. Still, I did manage to retrieve some vid footage from the security cameras. Have a look."

Holly's image was replaced with a blurred image of a small blob making its way around a corner.

Lister squinted at it. "What do you think it is?"

Holly's image returns. "It could be anything from a large swamp rat to Shatner's toupee come to life. I'd suggest you get down there as quick as a nun's first curry."

"Right. Alert Cat and Kryten. We're on our way."

Holly nodded and vanished from his screen.

"Rimmer, come on, man. We've goin' hunting," Lister said firmly, heading for the doors.

Rimmer gulped nervously. "Right, Listy. Coming," he said, hoping he sounded remotely brave.

Lister hid a smirk at his crewmate's wavering tone as he activated the doors again and legged it down the corridor.

They made it to the Drive Room within six minutes. As they skidded inside, they found Kryten already there, and the Cat arrived moments later.

"What's the haps, buds?" he asked, straightening his dark blue jacket.

Holly's face materialized on the giant screen. "We've got an unidentified life form in the Cargo Bay," he said.

"And we've got no idea what it is," Lister added.

Kryten was studying a screen grab of the creature. He was trying to get a better look at it. Rimmer looked over his shoulder.

"You getting anything, Kryten?"

"I'm trying my best to identify it, sir, but the image is very blurred."

"Yeah, the Cargo Bay vid cams are very bad," Holly said. "They get lousy reception."

"Why doesn't anyone ever bother to replace them? The Cargo Bay strikes me as one of the most important places to have security cameras," Rimmer noted.

"You want to transverse several hundred floors to change a camera? Be my guest," Lister snorted.

"So what do we do?" Cat asked.

Lister peered at the picture himself.

"I say we grab some bazookoids and investigate," he decided. "It's small. We may be able to get it pretty easy."

"Then let us proceed with caution then, sir," Kryten advised. "We don't know what it does yet."

"Yes, how do we know there isn't a great big straw inside it that can stick out like a frog's tongue and suck out our brains?" Rimmer said, sounding like he thought this to be a very high probability.

"We'll take our chances, man. Okay?"

Lister awaited the typical "no-kay" he usually got when the old hologram Rimmer was stuck in this sort of argument. But he was relieved when he heard a rather reluctant, "Okay."

They ripped open the Munitions Cabinet (originally the broom closet), and Lister pulled out three bazookoids, tossing one to Cat and one to Rimmer. Then he reached inside and pulled out the Psi-Scan for Kryten, tossing it to him.

"Ready?" he asked, slipping the strap up and over his shoulder.

He received three nods in response.

"Then let's go to town."

They marched out the doors to face the thingy.