Authors Note: Thanks everyone for reading this fic! I just can't watch the show at the moment and you all know why - but writing this has been my saving grace! And if you think I'm being too hard on Aaron, remember this is from Robert's thoroughly depressed POV. I've also really enjoyed re-watching the old episodes of Emmerdale Farm on YouTube and baby Robert or Bobby as he was called for a bit back then. Le sigh! I think Bobby would suit Robert much more.

Anyway, on with the story! I legit cried when writing this chapter! Please let me know what you think and if you want me to write scenes with Rob or (Bobby) interacting with someone, let me know!

Enjoy! And don't forget to review! x

Chapter 2 – Into The Flames

"Come on, come on you bastard!" Robert growled, poking his key into the stiff lock. He thumped his shoulder against the stubborn door.

Once.

Twice.

On his third attempt, the door gave way, flinging open and dragging him into the house. He caught his balance, stumbling against the wall.

It was the smell. That was the first thing that smacked him full on in the face, that damp, musty stench, seeping into the back of his throat. Robert coughed through the burning sensation, throwing an arm over his nose.

He crossed the threshold, kicking the door shut behind him and sliding the two bolts across it.

Alone. At last.

He took a tentative step into the house. It was as if he'd stepped back in time. Tiny slices of of daylight, streamed through the cracks in the window. A battered sofa and two large armchairs sat in the middle of the room, underneath a moth eaten dust cover. Robert hesitated, watching the pinpricks of dust, dancing in the light. He wondered whether he should take the boards off the windows, start working on getting the place up to scratch. But right now, his heart felt too heavy. He wanted nothing more than to drag that battered old sofa toward the fireplace and get to work on those bottles of Jack Daniels rattling around in his bag.

Robert sauntered into the kitchen area, a smile playing about his lips. The long kitchen table with the bench seats was still there. The wood was chewed up and sprinkled with dust. The stove was still in tact, the gas cooker a little charred around the edges. Oh how many times had he hung around this very kitchen, leaning against the doorframe, watching his grandmother's kettle whistling on that stove, whilst his father and Uncle Joe bickered over footpaths and milking cows?

How simple it all was.

Heart thumping, Robert climbed the rickety staircase to his parents old room. He didn't know what to expect, pushing open the flimsy door. A large bed sat against the wall. A low wooden beam stretched across the ceiling. Robert ducked as he entered the room, resting his arms on the beam, just like he'd seen his Dad do, hundreds of times in his memories. He stared at the bed… was that it? Was he born there?

He felt it again. That tug in his gut, in his heart. Telling him, this was where he belonged. He was loved in this house. This house was a home, a proper one. He had people in his life, looking out for and looking after him.

With his broken heart feeling a little lighter, Robert whipped off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and started to clean up a little. He ripped off the dust cover, patted down the couch and chairs, gave the kitchen a thorough wipe down and poured himself a stiff mug of whiskey. He leaned against the fireplace, gazing at the house, slowly coming back to life.

Robert was seven years old, when he had last set foot here and had few precious memories of the place. And a great deal of those few memories were of his father and Uncle Joe, nestled comfortably in those chairs, sipping a glass of scotch whilst chatting about their day. It had become a ritual of theirs. So much so, when his Uncle Joe had died, his Dad kept vigil all night, a glass of scotch in his hand and the bottle balancing on the coffin. Robert furrowed his brow, thinking about all the rituals he and Andy used to have. The milkshakes at the diner after school and then later, sneaking their Dad's beer from the fridge and sharing a can in the barn. Tears pricked his eyes. How he wished he could snatch it all back! All the hate, the hurt and pain that coursed between them over the years. How many times had Andy reached out to him with an olive branch? And Robert just shoved it back in his face. Why?

Robert always wanted what his father and Uncle Joe had had. A stable, Sugden brotherly bond. Jackie was gone. Tommy Merrick, his maternal half-brother was off in Scotland somewhere with his half-sister Sandie and they hadn't spoken in twenty-odd years.

Andy was his brother. The one who shared his room, his toys, his later memories, everything.

Of course they made up before Andy had left, but it just made the situation worse. Another brother was gone. And was probably never coming back.

Pushing the dark thoughts away from his mind, he tossed a couple of logs into the fireplace and struck a match. Immediately, his mind wandered toward his mother Sarah, as he threw the flickering match onto the logs. The flames crackled boldly, coughing up sparks, spitting ashes onto the worn floor. Warmth filtered from the fireplace, spreading around the cold, stale room.

Fire always intrigued and terrified Robert. Ever since that God awful night when his mother burnt to death in that barn, her piercing screams of agony and her last ever word "Jaaaaaack!" still haunted his nightmares. He had been a boy of fourteen, standing by helplessly as his whole world was quite literally engulfed in flames. Someone – he couldn't remember who exactly – but somebody had told him that he was very lucky to have had two mothers in his life.

Robert chuckled bitterly, reaching for his mug and taking a long sip of whiskey, enjoying the burning liquid trickling down his throat. Oh yes, he was very lucky! How many people had he called 'mother' in his life?

One he called 'Birth mother' who had carried him in her body for nine months and then brought him into this world, but died when he was just four months old. One he called 'Mum' who voluntarily raised and loved him as if he were her own and then died so cruelly, when he was still so young. And one he called 'Stepmum' who had married his father and was now tied to him because of a 'promise I made Jack.'

Robert loved Diane very much, of course he did. And he knew that she had been beside herself with worry when he got shot. But he couldn't help but wonder about this mysterious promise and why it extended to him… when his Dad had made it perfectly clear that he was washing his hands off him. His mother Sarah had always taken his side. During the most heated rows between himself and his Dad, it was his Mum that always defended him.

A piece of him also died that night in the barn fire. His Dad knew it. His Gran knew it. Even Andy knew it.

Little Bobby Sugden... became just Robert Sugden. And he was never the same again.

Whenever he saw a harmless fire, like this one, he wanted to believe his mother was there, watching over him. Talking to him. Reassuring him in that soothing voice, that everything was going to be okay as she cuddled him on her lap.

A tear slipped down his cheek.

"Hiya Mum." Robert whispered into the flames, "Look at your boy now. Look at what a mess he is."

He sniffed. Wiping his nose with his sleeve, he took another long sip of whiskey. "You know… Mum… when I was up in that bedroom earlier, I remembered something. I couldn't have been more than six. Gran had just told me about my real Mummy, the one who gave birth to me. And I came running to you and Dad in the bedroom and you just pulled me onto the bed, cuddled me close and told me that my real Mummy had gone to Heaven… and you were there to love and look after me, for her. You didn't have to. But you did. And God, I love you for that. You taught me about that kind of selflessness and free love. Love you can choose. That I could love Andy as my brother. His kids as my niece and nephew. You know, I took on someone as a stepson and tried to give him my love but erm… yeah it didn't work out. Because er… well because…" His lips trembled, more tears threatening to spill. "You see I did choose to love someone Mum. I chose to love him freely. And I chose to love his family, his sister as my own. Because you taught me that you can do that – you can choose your family and who you love! So why have I messed everything up? And why am I finding it so hard to cough up any kind of love for my own kid? Mum… I really wish you… I wish you could've met him. I can't say his name. It's er… it's too hard. But you know. I know you do. And I know you wouldn't have judged me. You would've calmed Dad down. You would've been on my side. I could really do with someone on my side, just for onc -"

The tears tore from his throat, he crumbled to the floor, palms pressed against his eyes. His sobs echoed around the empty house. Robert curled up in a ball by the fire, allowing it's warmth to wash over him. No one was there to offer him any other comfort, except the ghosts of the people who had come and gone.

Eventually his tears ran dry. He had nothing left. In fact, he could quite happily stay like this. He'd be found, weeks later, sprawled on the cold, hard floor, starved or frozen to death.

A muffled sound outside, of a car crunching on gravel, caught his attention. He lifted his head off the floor, listening carefully, his cheeks stained with salty tracks.

A door slammed.

Robert's heartbeat accelerated, his throat running dry. No. He wasn't ready for company. Not yet.

He knew he'd have to face them sooner or later –

The front door hammered three times.

Robert sighed, letting his head fall onto his arm.

"Robert!" Victoria yelled from outside, "Rob! Rob! What are you doing in there? Open the door, please!"

He didn't budge.

"Come on Pet." Diane said softly, "We're not going to ask why you're back here, we just want to know you're okay."

Robert huffed in irriation. Didn't they read his text? What part of 'I want to be left alone,' did they not understand? They seemed to understand it when he needed them the most. In fact, they were usually very good at backing off and leaving him alone.

"Love, we know you're in there. Your car's parked in the driveway and we can see smoke coming out of the chimney!" Diane hollered.

Robert mumbled to himself, "There. You know I'm okay, now please go away."

"At least just – open a window or something!" Victoria yelled, desperation rife in her voice. "Let us know you're alive yeah!"

Robert felt a twinge of guilt. She genuinely was worried about him. He didn't want to cause anymore panic or upset in their lives.

"Vic. Ask him if he needs anything."

Robert's stomach plummeted.

Aaron! He was here!

Robert glanced curiously at the fire, still dancing brightly. "Mum…?"

"You ask him." Came Victoria's sharp response.

"Just ask him will ya?"

"No, you do it! Go on. Ask him. He might actually open the door for you!"

"She's right." Diane said, slightly hopeful, "If you talk to him, he might let us all in."

Robert held his breath, waiting to hear it… just waiting to hear the voice he had missed with every fibre of his being. He longed to hear that voice, laced with concern. No sarcasm, anger or hateful threats. Even just a modicum of worry on Aaron's behalf about Robert's dispositon would be enough at this point. If he heard it, if Aaron just whispered to him, he'll crawl across the hard floor on his elbows and open that damn door!

There was a couple of seconds of silence. Then…

"Forget it."

What?

Forget it?

So that's how much he meant to him right now is it? He could be dead for all they know and Aaron's answer is 'Forget it.'

Robert curled his fingers into a fist, anger swelling within him. So. After months of ignoring him, hurling insults, cold shouldering him and parading a new guy around, Aaron decides to come to his home, his space, and kick him further?

No.

"Yeah. That's your motto isn't it? Forget it." Victoria hissed. Robert felt a prickle of pride for his little sister. "Ugh, I could thump you right now! We don't know what's going on in that head of his! You're the only one who can help him and you won't!"

"Vic – I can't -"

"No it's not 'can't' you won't! Ugh, just go away Aaron. Leave me alone, let me help my brother by myself!" She pounded on the door again, "Robert! Open up, now!"

"Oh, because you've done a great job helping him so far haven't you?" Aaron snarled.

Robert lifted himself off the floor, his head spinning.

"You what?"

"What the hell were you doing eh, when all of this was kicking off?"

"Please you two!" Diane begged, "This really isn't helping Robert -"

"You were too busy fussing over that mad cow, moving her into your house and becoming her bezzie mate when the whole time she was playing your brother and laughing at you!"

"She was laughing at all of us Aaron, not just Victoria!" Diane injerjected.

"How dare you!" Victoria spat, "Seriously Aaron, how dare you!"

"Victoria -"

"No Diane, he needs telling! First, you beat someone up, get sent down, hooked on drugs, say some vile things to Robert when he was the only one keeping things going - for you! Then he has a moment of weakness and that cow takes advantage of him!"

Robert dragged himself to the staircase, hands clamped over his ears. He didn't want to hear anymore of this, it was bad enough living through it the first time.

"Then he really needed you Aaron!" Victoria cried, "He needed you to be the strong one for a change! But you chucked him out, cut him off and left him out shivering in the cold!"

"Shut up." Aaron's tight voice carried a thin, veiled threat.

Robert closed his eyes. He knew that voice only too well. How many times had it been directed at him? How many times had he been humiliated by that voice? Bearing his soul, only to be shot down, again and again?

Luckily for him now, he was within his fortress. Protected by the walls of his family's house. For the first time in months, he actually felt safe.

Except they were out there, spoiling it.

"I was there for him!" Victoria screeched, her voice thick with suppressed tears, "I was there to pick him up when you dragged him out of the closet and outed him in front of everyone, humiliating him in the place he grew up in!"

"Victoria that's enough pet -"

"And I was there for him when you kept on pushing and pushing and pushing him away! But you've pushed him too far! And he'll never come back from this now -!"

"Listen, you shut your mouth right now or -!"

"Or what? You'll hit me too?"

"Stop it!" Diane shrieked, "Listen to you two! He'll never open the door now will he? Not with you both sniping at each other! Just go home the pair of you! I can't stand the sight of you!"

"No... Diane I'm staying, I have to help him - I - I have to make it right." Victoria whimpered.

"No love. You don't see it do you? Either of you. Both of you, so wrapped up in your own petty need to shift the blame onto each other, you can't see it!"

"See what?" Aaron asked, his voice suddenly timid.

"A person can only take so much." Diane said, her tone shaking in worry. "And for Robert... this is the final straw. He's broken. And he won't let us fix him."

"Now you get it." Robert whispered. He stomped up the creaking staircase, a bottle of whiskey still swinging from his fingertips.

to be continued...