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The first hit comes before Robert even knows what's happening. It’s quick and sharp and exactly what he'd expect from Kev. His cheek stings, but it’s not just the physical burn that makes him feel like he’s suffocating. It’s the fact that Kev- the man who promised he’d never, could never, not to him- did this.
And somehow, he’s not surprised. Not really.
It should be a shock- that Kev, the man who’s saved him, who’s promised to protect him from everything, would do this.
But it's not. And maybe it should worry Robert, that he's not shocked by it, but he guesses deep down he just always knew it would come.
But he's actually not sure why it’s taken this long. Maybe it’s because he’s always been useful. Always been pliable. Always been the one Kev could lean on. But things are different now. They're not inside anymore.
They're in the real world, in Emmerdale of all places. And of course, there's the Aaron of it all.
Aaron, who for six miserable years represented everything Robert wanted, everything he lost, and everything he couldn't have.
But now they're both in the same village again, and Aaron is a possibility again- but only if he didn't go through with the vow renewal, he said. And who is Robert if not someone who gives up on everything- including his own safety- for the mere possibility of having Aaron Dingle in his arms?
But Robert's a coward. Called Kev, told him he can't go through with the renewal, that his heart isn't in it (yes, he had to burrow Victoria's words for this one). Couldn't bring himself to do it face to face.
He should have expected Kev to show him in Keepers. He should have expected the hit.
He probably deserved it anyway.
After everything Kev has done for him, that's how he repays him?
Kev thinks so too.
“You think you can just call me and- what? Back out?” His voice is low and dangerous. Robert opens his mouth, but the words catch in his throat. He wants to explain, wants to say it’s not about him, it’s not about them, but Kev doesn’t care about explanations. He’s too close, too fast, too angry. The space between them shrinks until Robert feels it in his chest, in his stomach, the same tight, familiar pull he thought he’d left behind in prison.
Then Kev’s hand is there again. Fast, sudden, and it hits Robert’s cheek for the second time.
Robert’s back hits the wall behind him, breath hitching, and he looks at Kev, trying to reconcile the man in front of him with the man who saved him in prison.
“Kev…” His voice is small, almost swallowed by the tension, but Kev isn’t done. His eyes are stormy, his jaw tight, and every part of him radiates the anger Robert’s used to- but this time, it's directed at him.
Robert wants to shrink away, to curl in on himself, but there’s nowhere to go.
His fingers brush against his face, almost as though he can’t believe it’s happening. As if the pain is some kind of dream that he’ll wake up from in a second.
But there’s no waking up. Not now.
Kev’s eyes are cold, distant, like a switch has flipped inside him.
Robert doesn't dare blink.
“You think I’d let you just… just leave me? Just like that?” Kev’s voice cracks slightly, and for a second, Robert sees the rawness beneath the fury. The man he grew to love. But that glimpse doesn’t last. Kev steps closer, and the heat of him presses into Robert like a physical force.
“I- I didn’t-” Robert starts, but Kev cuts him off with a sharp move of his hand that leaves Robert's other cheek aching too.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Kev says, voice low. “You’re mine. You belong to me.”
Robert recoils from the words, mine, flinches as Kev’s fingers dig into his jaw, forcing their eyes to meet.
“I saved you.” Kev says. “You would be dead now without me. I’ve always had your back. Every. Single. Time. And you-” he squeezes Robert's jaw so hard it makes him wince. “You think you can leave? Choose someone else over me? Because this is what it's about, isn't it? About him?”
The mention of Aaron, even indirectly, sends electricity through Robert's chest. The thought of Aaron is like a beacon, flickering weakly in the distance. It’s a dangerous thought, a cruel one. He can almost feel the pull of it, the possibility of something better, something real. But how can he ever have that? How can he ever have Aaron when he’s like this? When he’s so damaged?
He doesn't reply. Doesn't deny it. Doesn't confirm it. Doesn't fight it. Doesn’t move. There’s a terrifying clarity in this: the way pain sharpens everything. It’s familiar, this dance. Prison taught him how to take a beating: chin tucked, breath shallow, muscles coiled tight as wire.
He's ready for it when a fist meets his lips. Then his eyes.
Robert's head snaps sideways against the wall as Kev's knuckles collide with his temple, again and again, relentlessly.
Robert feels tears sting his eyes, not just from the pain, but also from Kev’s words. He's right. Kev has done so much for him. He saved Robert's life, protected him, was by his side when no one else was, and now… now he failed Kev. Betrayed him.
“Kev.” He tries to say, his voice coming out as barely a whisper. “I- Kev, I'm sorry, I didn't-”
“You didn't what?!” Kev yells, punches the wall Robert is leaning on.
Robert swallows hard, trying to steady himself, trying to find words that might soothe, explain, plead.
But nothing comes out.
His heart hammers. Confused, guilty, terrified. Every part of him screams to run, to hide, to disappear. But he’s frozen, trapped under the weight of Kev’s anger and the weight of his own guilt.
The next blow lands hard on his ribs.
Robert gasps. He curls instinctively, shoulders hunching forward as Kev’s fist drives deeper- brutally punching the air from his lungs. Pain blooms hot and immediate. His vision blurs at the edges.
This is ownership. A collar tightening. Kev’s breath hits his ear, hot and ragged.
I belong to him, the thought echoes, shameful. It coils in his gut alongside the nausea rising from the punches. He always knew the price, didn't he? Safety traded for surrender.
"Look at me!" Kev snarls, grabbing a fistful of hair, yanking Robert’s head back. Through watering eyes, he sees Kev’s face- distorted, unfamiliar. Gone is the man who shared smuggled biscuits under scratchy prison blankets. This is the predator Robert saw tear through other inmates, the one he’d been grateful was on his side.
Robert’s lip splits wider as Kev shakes him, the motion jarring his skull. Blood trickles warm down his chin. He tries to speak- an apology, a plea, anything- but his throat locks tight. Words fail him.
Coward, his own mind hisses. You deserve this. The guilt is worse than the fist cracking against his jaw again. He swallows blood.
His knees buckle. He slides down the wall, a puppet with cut strings. The cool floor presses against his cheek, a stark contrast to the fire burning across his face and ribs.
He tries to push himself up, but Kev’s boot lands squarely between his shoulder blades. The force drives the air from his lungs in a choked gasp
He spits- a thick glob landing on Robert’s face. "Pathetic.” Kev breathes, the word dripping with disgust.
The kick to Robert's head isn't a surprise. Neither is the one to his ribs.
Robert can feel himself slipping in the way he learned to do in prison, can feel himself dissociating, floating away from his body, from the pain.
The room spins around him, his vision fading in and out, each breath shallow and ragged. He’s barely aware of the blood trickling down his chin anymore. The cold floor beneath him is strangely grounding, but it does nothing to ease the fire burning inside him. Every nerve in his body screams at him to get up, to fight back, but there’s nothing. Not anymore.
Kev’s boot presses harder into his back, and Robert gasps, struggling to breathe as the weight becomes unbearable. He wants to scream, to beg for mercy, but the words are stuck.
A part of him wonders if he could somehow fix it. Maybe if he says the right thing, if he apologizes enough, if he promises to stay- if he does everything Kev expects, maybe he'll stop.
Kev spits again, and Robert can feel the heat of it against his skin. Robert’s chest burns, his ribs screaming. He’s not sure how much more he can take. He’s barely holding onto consciousness, but he doesn’t want to pass out, because if he does, he’ll miss whatever comes next, he'll never know, and he needs to, needs to keep whatever little control he has left.
“I gave you everything. Everything, Robert. And you-” Kev’s voice is cold and quiet in the way Robert only ever heard him use for the people who hurt Robert. Now he's using it as he's hurting Robert. Isn't it funny, how being outside changes so much?
The boot comes down again, and Robert’s vision blurs. His body aches from the inside out.
The next kick hits him in the ribs again, the pain sharp. He chokes out a wheeze, and something sharp digs into his chest. He can’t breathe. He's slipping away, like he’s being erased from the world Kev built around him.
Kev’s hand grabs his collar, yanking him up. Their faces are inches apart. The smell of sweat fills Robert’s senses. “You’re mine, Robert. Do you hear me? Mine!”
Robert nods slightly, almost against his will. His chest heaves, his muscles tight, yet a small, terrified part of him feels the truth of those words. Kev saved him so many times. Kev owns him. Robert was stupid to think outside could change that.
“You can't just walk away from me!” Kev screams, letting Robert drop back to the floor with a loud thud. Robert's head feels like it's about to split open. “And for him?! You'll think he'll still want you? After everything? He doesn't know what happened in there! What you did! He'll never want you when he finds out, no one will!”
And Kev is right, isn't he?
Aaron doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what prison made of Robert, what he had to do to survive, the things he swore he’d never speak aloud. He doesn’t know about the debt, about the ways Robert paid for protection when there was nothing else left to give.
If he knew, he'd be disgusted with Robert. Just like he deserves.
Maybe this beating is just another thing Robert deserves.
For what he let happen. For everything he did. For all the hands that would map out his body- on the best of days, leaving bruises, and on the worst…
And Aaron-
Aaron doesn't have room in his life for what Robert turned out to be. The filth, the guilt, the things he can’t wash off.
Robert barely has time to recover from the hurtful words before the kicking resumes.
Robert swallows. Swallowing blood, swallowing fear, swallowing the lump of guilt lodged in his throat.
Then Kev's face is right in front of him, angry and full of hatred. “This is your fault. I can't believe you made me do this to ya. You know I never wanted to hurt you, but you- you don't make it easy, do you?”
Robert can’t speak. He wants to. Wants to say something, anything, to make it stop, to fix it, but the words are stuck. His mind is spinning, the sharp sting everywhere in his body a stark contrast to the numbing sense of panic that’s settling over him. He feels like he’s drowning.
And then Kev is gone, leaving Robert alone on the floor.
Alone and full of bruises- a map of punishment and ownership etched into his skin.
He should get up. Should move, should escape, but his entire body hurts and he's not sure he can move. And there’s a part of him that’s terrified of what will happen when he does. Terrified of how the world will treat him when he’s not hidden behind Kev’s shadow anymore.
He's not sure how long he's been laying on the cold floor, mind a haze.
Maybe minutes, maybe hours, maybe even days. He doesn’t feel time the way he’s supposed to. It’s like time is slipping through his fingers, just like Aaron did, and he’s too numb to grab hold of it. His body aches, his vision swims, but he can’t seem to make his mind focus long enough to care. The pain has become a part of him.
He could stay here. On the floor. He could disappear into the cold, let the pain take over. Maybe that would be easier.
But then someone is there, standing right above him, a face is looking directly at him.
Robert can't fully make out the face and his heart painfully twists in his chest for a second when he thinks Kev might have come back, maybe to make sure he's finished.
A voice cuts through his panic, through the fog in his mind.
“Robert?”
And Robert knows that voice. That beautiful voice. His favorite voice.
Aaron. It’s Aaron.
Knowing it's Aaron makes it easier for his eyes to focus on the face in front of him, the face he spent six years dreaming of nothing but them.
But Aaron's face now is different than it always looked in Robert's mind: it's wide, worried, searching and terrified. An expression Aaron should never wear- but doesn't make him any less beautiful, because that's something nothing in the world has a power to do.
Robert wants to look away, but his body can’t obey. He’s stuck, pinned to the ground, stuck between wanting to reach out and wanting to crawl into a hole and disappear forever.
Aaron kneels down beside Robert, his hands hovering as though unsure whether to touch him or pull away.
“Robert?” Aaron repeats, voice full of concern, like he repeated the name a thousand times already. The somewhat still functioning part of Robert's brain supplies it's possible he has, considering Robert didn't even hear him coming in.
“A’ron.” Is all he manages to rasp out.
A relieved smile crosses Aaron's face. Finally- the smile of Robert's dreams. “Yes, hey. It's me. Just me.”
Robert's head is spinning, and his chest feels like it’s on fire. His body aches in ways that make it hard to remember what it was like to feel anything other than pain. But Aaron is right here and that makes breathing a little bit easier.
Except-
“What... what are you doing here?” The words come out wrong, slurred.
Aaron’s eyes are still just as wide, and his relieved smile falters now. “I... I came to find you. Vic didn't know where you were, no one knew where you were, and neither you nor Kev showed up for the renewal. I told Vic you might still be here and that I'll come check on you, but… What happened? Who did this to you?”
The last part doesn't really sound like a question, it's said as if Aaron knows the answer already, and he probably does.
Robert squeezes his eyes shut. “Told ‘im I couldn't go through with it.”
“Kev?” There's a dangerous edge creeping into Aaron's voice. “Kev did this to you?” He sounds angry, unbelievably so, Robert notes, but not surprised. What does it say that neither of them is surprised at this turn of events?
Robert doesn’t answer Aaron, can’t answer him. There’s nothing left inside him but a hollow ache, and the fear that if he speaks, if he tries to explain, it’ll only make things worse.
“Hey.” Aaron's voice comes out softer this time. “Look at me. Please.”
Reluctantly, slowly, Robert opens his eyes. He immediately wishes he hadn't.
Aaron's face is too open, too kind, too worried.
Robert can't stand it, knows he doesn't deserve it.
His chest tightens. He’s struggling to breathe, the words caught in his throat, but when Aaron’s hand hovers just an inch from his face, Robert flinches instinctively.
Aaron catches the movement, his eyes flashing, but he doesn't seem mad like Robert expects him to be. He just holds up his hands. “No touching. See?”
Robert nods, shame creeping in on him. He can't believe he's just laying there, letting his ex husband treat him like some child. Kev was right, he is pathetic.
“Can you tell me exactly where you're injured, please?”
Robert’s vision is blurry, but through the haze, he can still make out the fear in Aaron’s eyes, the desperation. It’s enough to make his chest ache, to make him want to crawl into Aaron's arms and let the world fade away.
But instead, Robert shakes his head, a weak, shuddering motion.
Aaron sighs. “Please, Rob. It's important. I want to call an ambulance and I should know what to say to them-”
Robert makes a sound and Aaron looks at him alarmed. “Don't call ‘em. Please. Was my fault, anyway.”
And if Aaron looked angry and scared before, it's nothing compared to the absolute mix of fury and heartbreak taking over his face now.
“No. No, Robert.” His voice cracks, so un-Aaron like. Robert hates it, and hates even more that he's the cause of it. “You- this isn’t your fault. Not in a million years. It's his fault, only his.”
Robert shakes his head, feels tears in his eyes that he refuses to let fall. He doesn’t want them, doesn’t want Aaron to see him like this, vulnerable and weak.
“You didn’t deserve this.” Aaron keeps going. “No one deserves this.”
“I do.” Robert's voice breaks, his breath hitching as he tries to form the words. “You shouldn’t be here. I don't deserve your help. Just deserve this.”
“Please stop saying that.” Aaron's voice sounds thick with tears but Robert doesn't get it. Robert knows what he's saying is true, so why is it making Aaron cry?
“Go.” Robert whispers, his voice hoarse, barely audible. “Please, just go.”
Aaron’s expression hardens, confusion mixing with hurt, but he doesn’t move. “I’m not leaving you, Robert. Not ever, but especially not like this. You shouldn't be alone right now.”
But even if Aaron is telling the truth, even if he isn’t leaving, Robert is already too far gone to let himself be saved.
Not that it matters. Aaron isn't telling the truth anyway, not when he says not ever because he can't promise that. If he finds out…
“Even if you won't let me call help, please let me take care of you? I'll clean you up and wash you, yeah? Get you nice and warm.”
The words sound nice and promising but Robert's brain is already far far away, the injuries all over his body finally reminding him they're there. Everything aches. His head hurts. He just wants to sleep.
So he says as much.
The look he gets in return is nothing but pure panic. “Robert, no. No, don’t fall asleep. Keep those pretty eyes of yours open for me, yeah?"
Aaron’s hands hover over him, like he wants nothing more than to touch but is still unsure if he's allowed to.
Robert wants to reach out. To assure Aaron it's ok. He's Aaron's in all the ways that really matters after all, his heart is Aaron's and Aaron's only. But the words are tangled in his throat, too thick with guilt and shame to speak, and now sleep is clogging it too.
“I don’t deserve you.” he whispers at the end, completely different from what he was planning on staying but still just as true.
Aaron shakes his head. “Don’t say that, okay? You do. I promise you do.”
But Robert doesn't believe him. He can’t. Not when he’s a map of bruises, not when he’s stained with his past, not when his body belongs to someone else.
And Aaron doesn't know that. Doesn’t know how much Robert has given up of himself just to survive, just to make it through.
Robert feels like he’s sinking deeper into himself, his body screaming with pain.
He never wanted to bring Aaron into this mess.
He wants to apologize, wants to beg Aaron to leave him alone, to stop seeing him like this, but instead, he just shakes his head weakly.
“Don’t do this. Don’t pull away from me now. I’m not going anywhere. And you sure as hell don’t get to tell me I’m not allowed to care about you.”
Robert closes his eyes as the pain in his head gets sharper. “Kev cares about me.”
He opens his eyes a bit, takes a tiny peek and sees Aaron's face doing something incredibly complicated. “That doesn't really seem like care.”
“I said- my fault. It's only because of what I did. Shouldn't have. Let him down and he's done so much for me… I'm a horrible person.”
“No, no, Robert, no. Okay? Just- no. You're an amazing person I promise you, you are.” And those are definitely tears in Aaron's voice now.
He gets closer to Robert, holds up a hand, eyes questioning and he seems relieved when Robert nods. He puts his hand to Robert's cheek, and the touch is soft and gentle and everything Robert believes he doesn't deserve anymore.
The gentle touch is a contrast to the bruises that mar his skin. Robert’s eyes flicker closed again, and for a moment, it feels like the world might slip away with him into unconsciousness.
The pain is almost too much to bear, but Aaron’s touch might just be the best thing he ever felt and it's grounding him to a world he doesn't want to be in.
Tears are streaming down Aaron's face and Robert wants to reach out and wipe them, but his hands are just as useless as the rest of his body. As him.
“I drove him to do it.” The words fall from Robert's lips without meaning to.
Aaron's caressing his cheek now. “He doesn't seem like a person who'll be forced to beat someone up.”
Robert swallows. “You don’t know him like I do.”
“Thank god for that.”
Robert lets out a small laugh and even though the action hurts, it's worth it for the smile on Aaron's face.
“How can you be so sure I didn't deserve it?” He asks quietly.
“Because I know you, Robert. There's nothing you could possibly do to deserve it.”
And that’s the part that cuts the deepest. Because Aaron does.
Aaron always has.
They haven't seen each other in six years and still, Aaron knows him like no one else.
Robert's brain is mush, so gathering his thoughts and turning them into coherent words is nearly impossible. Eventually, he manages to breath out a cautious but hopeful: "love me still?"
Aaron's expression is pained, and his voice is broken when he replies: "Always, Rob. Always." He presses his forehead against Robert's shoulder.
"Oh." Robert sounds awed even to his own ears. "Love you. So much."
Aaron's voice is nearing on a sob. "I know, Rob. Stay awake for me?”
Robert does.