Kristine Kochanski awoke from a rather disturbing dream. The specifics started to dissolve almost immediately, but she still attempted to drowsily sort through them, poking lethargically into ever-darkening corners. She hadn't seen him in… she didn't know anymore. It must have been years. She'd stopped caring about keeping track a few months in. There was no one to discuss important dates with, no one with whom to celebrate holidays. There was no variation from day to day, each day running into the next in an unending, unchanging haze. What day was it? Was it Tuesday? Did it matter?

She sat up in bed, brushing knotted hair back from her face and rubbing hands over her sleep-filled eyes. The tiny, sparse room stared back at her. She really ought to have brought more of her things, she thought for the thousandth time. Metal walls, metal floor, metal bunk, too-thin mattress, metal shower of all God-forsaken things (when would the designers put in baths, for heaven's sake?), a handful of clothes shoved into the miniscule closet in a panicked rush, a photo of her parents, of the… crew…., and her faithful stuffed bear Boo-Boo. Even less than she'd had on Starbug, and she hadn't exactly packed for that trip, had she?

It was always very depressing looking at her meager collection of items, so instead she turned to the bizarre dream still niggling at her thoughts. It brought up all sorts of strange feelings, but it was new and it distracted her, so she embraced it. In it, Lister had learned she hadn't really died. The thought stopped her heart as a cold wave of panic crept up from her stomach into her throat. He couldn't have, could he? Kryten had promised when he caught her leaving that he wouldn't tell him. He glared at her with the most withering, spiteful look she'd ever seen on a robot and informed her that Mister Lister was better off never knowing just what a cruel, spiteful thing she'd done in leaving him without even so much as a note. He sniffed like an affronted woman, and she'd looked at him in confusion before continuing her frantic "packing."

When she thought about it, Kryten was really the last member of the crew she'd hoped to have compose her final memory, but then again, he was also the best one to have had there. He could keep a secret (couldn't he?) when it came to sparing Lister's feelings. Rimmer would rub it in instantly, and Cat would forget he was supposed to be keeping something secret and blurt it out with the insensitivity appropriate to a narcissistic race. Lister… well, it wouldn't do to have Lister there.

She shuddered. Then, with a self-pitying sigh, she collapsed back onto her pillow. She winced when her head struck the bottom of the bunk through the thin material. Bloody Blue Midgets.

The rest of the dream was very strange, but almost completely dissolved in her memory now. Something about traveling back to Earth and meeting small children and finding an alternate version of her. Funny how dreams make perfect sense when you're having them. But still, something stuck out. Some sense that maybe one of the characters had said something wrong about her. Or maybe they hadn't and she was just confused. It was before her morning coffee, after all.

But still, she ought to know. Better than some figment of her dream, anyway. Didn't she know better than anybody why she ran?

She hadn't left because she hated Lister, couldn't stand to be around him anymore. It wasn't because she just desperately missed her Lister. She hadn't even thought when she'd done it. For the first time in her life, she just picked up and ran without thinking it through in the first place. She must have spent too much time around Rimmer.

What would her parents think? What would her perfect, cyber-school friends think if they'd been programmed to be able to think anything that made her unhappy? She knew what the members of her old retro-punk group would say. They would say it was the perfect rebellion against class society.

She shook the tangled mane from her face and dragged herself out of bed, taking the few steps necessary to enter the cockpit. Collapsing into her chair, she examined the sensors: looking for her old ship and, as an afterthought, Red Dwarf. She wasn't really certain which one she hoped to run into anymore.

She hadn't run because she hated Lister. She hadn't run because she missed her Dave. She ran to what was safe because she was afraid.

She ran from Lister …

…because she was afraid she was falling in love with him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Just something a little different from the prevailing (and probably correct) view of why Kochanski left because I felt our Lister deserved a little break sometimes. I may also turn this into the first chapter of a story someday, but I wouldn't hold your breath waiting. Knowing me, it will take a very long time.