Chapter Text
I don’t know where I start
or where it is that you end
where do I begin?
It’s early when Aaron pulls into the Hotten General’s car park, blinking the tiredness away as he finds a decent spot close to the entrance. He grabs his wallet and his phone, and reaches for a thermos he has tossed into the passenger's seat earlier, its weight warm and comforting in his hand. After weeks of alternating between shitty cafeteria coffee and even shittier wending machine coffee, he has started preparing his own.
Seventeen days. It’s been seventeen days of early morning drives to the hospital before going back for his shift at the scrapyard. Then, on most days, another visit in the evening, not really caring about the hours written in the hospital’s rulebook. With everything that went down, with the investigation and media attention, the clerks at registration and nurses let them go in without a comment, just sometimes throwing them a curious glance or a compassionate smile. Them, being half of the village at this point.
Aaron nods at the young woman sitting behind the registration desk when he catches her gaze, and she smiles at him. Tilly, he remembers, heading for the staircase. He used to think it was such a cliché, remembering the names of the hospital staff, something straight out of the movies. And yet, here he is.
He reaches the second floor and walks down the corridor, stopping by the now familiar door and knocking gently before pushing it ajar, just a little.
“Are you decent?”
“I know you’re desperate to see me naked.” comes the voice from inside, and Aaron smiles against the pressure in his chest, and walks in.
“Clocked me like always.” he says, dropping on a chair standing by the bed, "How are you feeling?”
“Eeh.” Mack shrugs, and then winces, “Breathless. Breathtaking. You came right on time, they’re going to wheel me out for some chest x-rays soon.”
“But you’re better, right?” Aaron presses, worry tingling in his throat, and Mack’s teasing smile softens.
“I’m fine, taking everything into account.” Mack gestures down his body, and Aaron silently lists the number of injuries one of the doctors recited on that horrific evening seventeen days ago. A broken leg. A couple of cracked ribs. Right lung, punctured. Possible internal bleeding.
“They might actually let me out soon.” Mack says, and it’s so relieving, to see him in good spirits, despite everything, “I feel sorry for the nurses, they will for sure weep, mourning my absence.”
“Oh, we’re crying already.” they both turn towards the door, towards an elderly nurse - Maria, Aaron remembers, with silvery hair and a lovely accent - who approaches the bed with an amused smile, “But we’re on a schedule, love.” she then glances at Aaron, her smile turning softer, and Aaron’s heart picks up at a faster pace, anxiety flowing through him.
“It’s been a calm night.” she says, knowing Aaron would understand; and he does, and breathing feels easier than just a second ago.
“Thanks.” Aaron says, squeezing Mack’s shoulders gently, “Text me or call if anything, yeah? I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” Mack nods, and then swallows hard, his expression falling a little as he looks down at his hands, “Say hi to him from me.”
It’s so unbelievably hard to smile, but Aaron does, for his best friend’s sake and all he has been through.
“Of course I will.”
Back in the corridor, Aaron stops for a moment, leaning against the wall and taking a couple of small sips from his thermos, the liquid still hot on his tongue. He’s been following the same routine for the past seventeen days, and yet it doesn’t get easier. If anything, the heaviness that he is carrying in his chest only seems more suffocating each time he slowly moves down the corridor again, until he's stopping in front of another door that he doesn’t have to knock to.
It’s quiet. The curtains are open, and the window is cracked ajar, letting some of the fresh autumn air in, an unmistakable sign that Maria has been here already, always insisting that it’s important to let nature in, even if for only half an hour. And it shapes to be a nice day indeed, that kind of late September morning when there are, miraculously, only a couple of clouds scattered over the blue expanse of the sky, already colourful leaves shimmering in the sun. The sun, that is currently falling through the window, dancing in the golden hair splayed on a pillow.
Robert looks so small like that, fragile under the white sheets, and it actually causes Aaron physical pain to see him like that. Vulnerable and unmoved and asleep, always asleep.
His throat tightens, and his eyes start to burn, and it’s just a matter of moments when a couple of tears run down his cheeks, and he wipes them away with the back of his hand. Aaron can’t allow himself to break down, because if he did, he would kneel right here and sob until he feels numb.
“Hi, Robert.” he mutters, grasping the hem of the blanket and pulling it up higher, just in case the air turned out too chilly for him. Robert hates being cold.
“Mack says hi too. I think you really impressed him. Saving his life and all.” he has no idea why he’s even trying to joke, his voice coming out wet and ugly, “It would be really nice if you stopped being stubborn and woke up, you know.”
Aaron is trying not to think about what the doctor said back then, his expression professional and eyes compassionate.
No, he can’t think about it.
“I’m sorry.” Aaron whispers, brushing his fingertips alongside Robert’s cheekbone. And then, he spins on his heel and basically runs away, coffee rising bitterly in his throat as grief and regret suffocate him.
The work is tiring and stretching into eternity, and by the end of the shift Aaron is on his last legs, so he goes straight home.
Right. Home.
Aaron couldn't bring himself to go back to the flat he and John used to share, the place turned upside down by the police, the memories haunting the walls that have never seen more bare. He didn't want to go to his mum either, her watery gaze and words a proof of love and sadness that he couldn't handle in the long run.
Finding the new place was a stroke of luck he didn't believe he deserved. Around two years back, one wealthy-looking man from Manchester started building a cottage on the very edge of the village, in a little bit of a distance from everyone else. He seemed polite and kept to himself, and villagers watched him with mellow curiosity. The building finished a couple of months back, a cozy-looking house that begged to be moved into. But instead of a family with kids bringing their stuff, the man appeared by himself in the pub just a few weeks ago, quiet and hollow-eyed, asking politely if he could put on an ad about a cottage to rent. It stayed empty until Aaron called him, and he was moving in on the next day.
It's a nice space, without obnoxious colours on the walls and with furniture that seem a bit above IKEA level, but they're not pompous. There are big windows letting in a lot of light and a view of a still uncared garden. It seems like a place that was created with love and abandoned with heartbreak, and maybe that's why the rent is so low. Maybe it was supposed to be a home, and ended up being just a painful reminder of what's no more.
Aaron shakes his head, as if that could physically help him get rid of thoughts like that. In an attempt to push them away, he puts some music on and sets on unpacking the rest of his stuff. He hasn't brought much, plenty left behind the locked door of the flat, but he can't bring himself to go back just yet.
He unpacks two bags of clothes, finding a bundle of cutlery he has been looking for tucked in between his joggers. Then, he reaches for an only half filled box containing just a couple of books, some photos, little souvenirs collected over the years. He puts them on the shelves, hoping it would make him feel a bit more cheerful at some point.
But then he turns around, his gaze landing on one more unpacked bag resting in the corner, and just like that, his chest feels too full, his heart like a bird trying to get out of its cage.
Aaron grabs his jacket, getting out of the door and away from temptation and feelings that are too much already.
It has been too much for far too long.
The air is cold in a true autumn fashion when he stumbles outside, breathing in greedily. His feet carry him into the village and towards the pub, and his mind betrays him, trying to take him to the memories that he isn't strong enough to handle right now.
Like the time he came to comfort Robert, made love to him, and called it a mistake.
His throat is aching, and his mouth is sour when he pushes the door to the pub open. It's quieter than it used to be, but it has been this way since everything went down. Since it was proven that Robert was right since the very beginning. Since Mack was found broken and bruised, and since Robert hasn't opened his eyes.
Chas hands him a pint without asking, her eyes even bigger than usual in her pale face.
“How are you, love?” she asks oh so gently, and Aaron can barely find it in himself to smile at her.
“I'm fine.” he says, like he always does, and like always, she doesn't believe him, a quiet understanding, “I went to the hospital today.” he adds, and she sighs tiredly, but without any disdain. She has become more mellow since John's exposure, but all of that has affected most of the villagers. They all used to trust John so much, watching him with starry eyes. They laughed at Mack’s distaste towards him and made Robert feel like he was crazy.
“Of course you did.” his mum says softly, leaning on the counter towards him a little, “How are they?”
It's actually touching, the plural form. It's just still upsetting that she only cares now.
“Mack is looking good. Has charmed all the nurses already. Might not be in the market for long if Charity decides she wants to divorce him still.” Aaron cringes at his own comment, because it's nasty, and it's too soon, and who he is to blame other people for their complicated relationships?
“And how's Robert?” she says his name in a certain way, not quite hostile, not quite fond. But she witnessed Aaron's breakdown at the hospital, and held him in her arms without a flinch when he sobbed against her shoulder, feverish and broken and so, so in love.
“No updates.” the words crunch like glass in his mouth, and he takes a long sip of his beer, the cold liquid soothing his aching throat.
He can't remember the last time he felt okay. When it was easy to breathe.
“He's strong.” she says, covering his hand with hers, “He’s going to be alright.”
“Mum…”
“Love, he…” she hesitates, but her expression is honest when she meets his gaze, “He's so many things I don't like. But he's not…” she smiles at him, weak and helpless, and Aaron just puts his palm on top of hers.
He then proceeds on having one or rather a couple too many, and he ends up stumbling through the back, blindly feeling his way to the couch and drunkenly hoping for sleep to be merciful this time, and offer him a dreamless night.
John’s voice message is so odd, Aaron feels chills running down his spine. Things have been tense, ever since that Harry situation, since Vic seemed to be done with Robert.
Since they kissed and made love, and since Aaron tried to run away…
A flash of light in between the trees and muffled screams of pain, and Aaron is running, running towards the quarry, and he isn’t sure how he knows he needs to be there, but he knows, he knows…
Flashes to Charity’s face, distressed that Mack has been gone, and she has no idea where he is, and she knows it’s hard, but he wouldn’t disappear like that, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t...
Mack, lying on the ground, his arms wrapped around his torso, his leg twisted in a way that makes Aaron sick.
Robert, struggling under John, whose teeth are bared and whose face is almost unrecognizable. But it changes when he sees Aaron, and he smiles almost lovingly, grabbing Robert by the hair and yanking him to his knees.
Robert’s face, panicked and broken, his eyes wide and searching for Aaron, and, and…
“We could have been so good, Aaron.” John says softly, before picking up a piece of pipe resting beside him, and smashing the back of Robert’s head with it.
Aaron wakes up with a gasp and a need to throw up.
He manages to get to the bathroom just in time, retching violently until it hurts, until there are tears stinging in the corners of his eyes. His legs are weak and wobbly when he stands up, and he forces himself into a shower, brushing his teeth under the stream, already knowing that he will have to text Vinny and take a day off again.
They come every night, these dreams. Memories of that fated day when the remains of the world Aaron was trying to hold on to crumbled into pieces. The result of their naivety, of their bad choices, of John being a villain, of none of them believing Robert. Of Robert trying so hard to protect them all despite everything and despite them all, and ending up being hurt the most.
Aaron is feeling sick again, but his stomach is empty and tight, so he only leans his forehead against the tiles, breathing greedily though his open mouth. Once he feels a tad better, he puts on some clean clothes he keeps here just in case, and staggers into the kitchen where he makes himself a strong and sweet brew, and types a message to Vinny that he knows is pathetic.
He’s putting his phone back in his pocket when it rings, and he freezes mid-movement when he sees Vic’s name on the screen.
“What’s happened?” he blurts the moment he brings the phone to his ear, his body feeling like it doesn’t belong to him, irrational fear overwhelming him.
“He’s awake, I just got the call.” Vic basically sobs, “I called the taxi already, if you want to come, you can ju-”
“I’m coming.” Aaron wheezes, his chest feeling too small all of a sudden, “Will be there in a moment.”
His fingers are shaking as he collects his keys and wallet and phone, and his hangover is gone the moment he steps outside, his body tight and mind circling around Vic’s words, that Robert is awake, he’s actually awake.
They cling to each other in the back of the taxi, Vic babbling and Aaron letting her hold his hands, her words flowing through him, because he can only think of Robert, of what is he going to tell him, how is he going to apologize. If he’s going to be forgiven.
The medical staff smiles at them in that gentle yet professional way when they pass them by, but no one stops them until they’re almost at the door to Robert’s room, and then Maria sweeps in gently, blocking the entrance but not in an intimidating way.
“You can see him, of course.” she says before any of them can open their mouth, “But we’re waiting for doctor Mulligan to come, too. Robert is a bit confused.” she tells them, and Aaron can’t really breathe properly, his chest feeling swollen and his ribs aching, “Please, be very gentle with him until the doctor arrives, is that okay? And I will come with you, because-”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Vic mumbles, basically pushing her way past, and Aaron follows her, lightheaded and jittery and unable to think straight.
But there he is, propped gently against the pillows, tired and beautiful, and Aaron loves him so much he wants to scream. But he can’t.
It hurts.
“Rob.” Vic sobs, running to Robert’s side and clutching his hand, and Aaron just finds himself frozen by the foot of the bed, his knuckles white against the hem of his jacket.
He’s awake. He looks groggy and exhausted to the bone, but he’s awake.
“I’m here.” he mumbles, and even though his voice is rough and raw now, it just might be the most beautiful sound Aaron has ever heard, “But-” Robert blinks heavily, and when he shifts his gaze to Aaron, his expression brightens up with a sweet, sleepy smile, “Hi.”
“Hi.” Aaron breathes out, happiness finally crawling up his spine, but then Robert’s expression changes, and he narrows his eyes in such visible confusion, Aaron feels the cold fingers of anxiety grabbing at his insides again.
“Okay.” Robert closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them, they’re shimmering with tears, and his chest raises unevenly with his now short breaths, “How much time?”
“What do you mean?” Vic chokes out, and Aaron’s brain starts to catch up and no, no, it can’t be-
“You both look stunning, but not in the way I remember you.” Robert says hoarsely, and there’s a pit in Aaron’s chest, hollow and dark and maybe hopeless, “So, how much time.” it’s not a question, and there’s an edge in his voice, like he’s holding back from screaming. And so does Aaron.
“We’re still waiting for the doctor.” Aaron almost forgot about Maria until she spoke, coming over to check Robert’s IV and smiling at him gently, although Aaron can see the worry lines around her mouth, “But what year is it, love? What’s the last day you remember?”
Robert blinks slowly, and his eyes skip to Aaron.
He seems so confused. And yet, he seems so in love, like he said he would always be, and Aaron has never wanted to hug him more.
“Well.” Robert says, and Aaron can see how he’s trying to be brave, “I guess it’s not Christmas 2017 anymore, isn’t it?”