#robert akers

Bumping into an old friend at the bar proved to be a less pleasant reunion than expected. 

Whoever he was, his face had lit up upon seeing Robert standing before him. You had only found yourselves in the rundown bar to have a little drink or maybe two, and Robert had happened upon the man sitting up on a bar stool with a beer bottle in hand. 

As kindly and warmly as the man had spoken, reminiscing and laughing over memories from long before you were ever in the picture, there was no mistaking the way his eyes couldn’t help but drift to Robert’s scar. Granted, it’s difficult to miss - but the way he kept on curiously staring at it, even while he spoke about some distant childhood memories, proved to bother Robert far more than he would ever willingly admit. Even when he tried to keep up his friendly conversation it was easy for you to see the way his jaw ticked. 

When that friend departed and wished you both a good night, it left you with the impossible task of trying to calm the soldier’s nerves. Or, to have him admit that he’s even bothered in the first place. Robert is never one to be very good at hiding emotions, but he certainly is one to insist they don’t exist. 

A silence fell over him while he finished his last drink, eyes a million miles away every time you attempted to speak to him, and when you finally dragged him out of the bar the situation didn’t prove to be much better. Even after getting home, Robert doesn’t quite meet your eyes, always looking away or just past you. 

By the time you find yourselves in bed, Robert still barely speaks. A long arm is thrown around you while he lays on his back, but it’s done so lazily, as though out of a duty to hold you close before you sleep. 

Robert isn’t one to want to address his emotions. You, however, want nothing more than to do exactly that. A delicate hand against his face attempts to pull his stare towards you, but even when you turn his head in your direction, his eyes are still cast down. 

“Robert?” Your voice is low. He barely hums in acknowledgment, and still doesn’t look your way. 

You decide that you’ll have to use more than just words to get him to confess. With one hand resting flat against the skin of Robert’s stomach, you begin to pay your partner some much more direct attention.  

First, you kiss his forehead. Soft lips press to the skin carefully as though afraid he may crumble if you touch him too hard. The hand already on his face moves to cup his cheek, thumb gently stroking the damaged skin on the very side he hates the most. You know your hand’s presence there is not always a very welcome one. Below your touch is lined and scarred skin that you’ve grown to love, while he’s learned to resent it. It would be difficult to miss the way he tenses as your thumb runs over the grooves of his scars, and you can’t ignore the way he flinches when you move to kiss the weathered skin. 

Shifting down just a little finds you nuzzling into the side of his neck, kissing the sensitive skin there before you speak. The way your words vibrate against his throat makes him shudder. You can feel a low hum when you press your lips to it once more. 

“Why are you upset?”

Robert freezes at this query. It’s not difficult to tell that he had been expecting very different words to come out of you. The bob of his Adam’s apple near your mouth indicates a lingering frustration in him. 

“M’not upset.”

He says it quietly, but sternly, and it’s difficult to tell whether he says it to answer your question or to convince himself of it being a fact. 

You roll your eyes, though you know he can’t see it. Moving another few inches south finds your mouth grazing along his collarbone, hand still resting flat against his lean stomach. 

“You’re not a good liar.”

A drift to the side, and you kiss along his shoulder. Glancing up shows you that he’s watching you as you move, though you can’t quite read the expression on his tired features, and glancing down shows that his body is enjoying what you do. 

“I’m not-“

When the hand on his stomach moves further to lightly cup his bulge, Robert cuts himself off with a gasp. It doesn’t take too much to get him going - he’s already half hard and straining against his underwear just from your closeness and your lips. His breath hitches in his throat when you push down just the slightest bit harder, and he groans in protest when you withdraw the pressure completely. 

“Why are you upset?”

He sighs loudly before he continues. 

“I’m…” He swallows hard again. Robert is many things - good with his words when it comes to emotions is definitely not one of them, but in this brief moment of silence, you think you may actually be finally getting somewhere with him. It’s a very short lived hope. “I’m not. I’m not upset.”

Crossing from his shoulder to the middle of his chest, you feel the vague feeling of his heartbeat below your lips. It already thuds, and picks up quickly when you glance up at him once again. 

“Well then why are you angry?”

Staring up at him through your lashes while continuing your probe leaves him more nervous than he’d like you to believe, but you can easily feel it peeking out from within him. He doesn’t meet your eye when he responds. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Since we left the bar. Since you spoke to that guy. Something's been wrong.”

“I dunno what you're talking about.”

It’s painfully obvious that Robert knows exactly what you’re talking about, and you’re unsure as to whether it’s his pride or his ego that keeps him quiet the most. 

The hand that had provided his short lived pleasure begins to move around his front, gliding tenderly to explore the ridges of muscles and bumps of old scars. There’s a few notable ones, from years in the military and god knows what else, but you’re so used to them now that you stopped taking any notice some time ago. Tonight, you decide to make an effort to take them all in. 

The presence of these marks on his skin have always left you wondering why the ones on his face bother him so much when he already had so many to begin with. The visibility, you could understand, but his body doesn’t tense as you touch the other scars as it does when you kiss his burnt face. 

You take your time in memorising the feel of the lines that you find, lips still moving across his chest as you do it. A particularly noticeable one along his ribs makes you pause. You stop kissing along his front, and pull back just enough to eye up the raised skin your fingers have found.  

“Where did you get that one?”

“I- Uh… I don’t know.” 

Your eyes look up to find his again, and you can practically hear the way his heart rate picks up. Whatever incident gave him this scar is evidently a one he’s not proud of. 

“You’re still not a good liar, Robert. That hasn’t changed in the last five minutes.”

He closes his eyes with a slight huff. “I was… look, I was young. It’s stupid.”

“Now I'm even more curious.” 

“It’s stupid.” You can almost feel him squirm in your expectant silence. “It’s just dumb army shit.”

“And I’m still curious.”

“Fuck- okay, fine.” One of his large hands covers his face, hiding his reddening cheeks. “It’s from when I started in the army. We did a lot of stupid shit.”

You tilt your head slightly. “Go on”

“We, uh… we all got pretty drunk, one night..” His words are slightly muffled with the way he speaks them through his hand. You hold your breath while you await the rest of his story. “We were just fucking around and doing dumb shit, bored out of our fucking minds. Some idiot had a bright idea to throw knives for fun, even set up a shitty target and made it a contest. Don’t even remember what the winner was supposed to get… ” 

Robert trails off. It’s hard to tell whether he’s finding it hard to continue the story, or just hard to even remember it. 

Your fingers still skim along the line while you wait. “And? What about the scar?”

“Like I said, we were drunk. We were probably all about as stupid as each other. I got up to go get my knife back, and one of the other guys had the bright idea of taking his turn while I was standing right there in front of the target. Got a clean cut straight across my side.”

“Shit- did it hurt?”

“Don’t really remember it even happening. Just remember waking up with a killer headache and a sore side.” Then a laugh that feels out of place in this story. The memory clearly doesn’t bother him as much as it should, other than maybe just leaving him a little embarrassed. “Was probably my fault anyway for standing there.”

“That’s… definitely not your fault, Robert.” 

This statement doesn’t get any response, other than a slight shift of his broad shoulders. He clearly has his mind set on remembering this incident far more light heartedly than you feel he should. That, or this topic would broach a vulnerability he’s not quite ready to unpack. 

You only allow yourself to mull over this for a moment, before putting your mind back on your mission - if he’s already this willing to share stories, then maybe a little more affection will finally make him open up just as you wish. 

A gentle brush of your lips along the scar before you move away from it completely. Your hands slip down his sides until they reach the hem of his underwear. Sliding his boxers off of his hips is only another element to your tease. When you pull his underwear fully off and return to your position, his arms reach out for you instinctively. You smile up at him sweetly while pushing them back down to his sides. You don’t intend to give in to him just yet, to allow him to embrace you or take you or pull you in, having not yet gotten the information you’re seeking. 

Now that he’s bare, you notice his cock bobbing over his stomach, throbbing in anticipation of your next careful move. It's one he’ll have to be patient for, however. A hopeful glint in his eyes tempts you to just give up and envelop him now, but you resist this - you’re not quite done with your wandering attention yet. 

You ignore the obvious and instead kiss his hips, deciding to cross over and give each side some little attention, face passing only inches from his very evident arousal. A part of you still craves the feeling of it pushing past your lips, to take him and give him his pleasure while the salty precum hits your tongue. On a normal night you may even do just that - to cut the worship off here, and stop your continued teasing - but you have much more you want to get out of him tonight before you can do so. 

Tender hands spread his legs a little wider as you move down between them, and you find your lips drawn to the inside of his thigh. You kiss down along it, softly and lightly, dusting your lips along his skin as you gradually go lower. 

When you meet a short scar halfway down his quads, you become curious once again. 

“What about this one?”

Soft fingers tap the skin beside the scar you’ve found. His darkened eyes still watch your every move. As you stare up at him from where you are, it’s easy to see how hard he’s already gotten, but you make an effort to look past his eagerness and straight up to his face.

When he glances to the mark you’re now tracing with light fingertips, his brows furrow. 

“Haven’t I told you that story?”

You shake your head, and his lips turn down. Not in any upset, but more so in a genuine confusion. Then, he shrugs before he starts to speak. With the relaxed way in which he addresses you now, you expect the story to be lighthearted. It proves to be anything but. 

“Have had that one for a long time. Got it back in Nam. Must have been my first year there I guess.” For a moment he pauses, deciding his next words in the silence of the warm room. Still, he looks unfazed, making the rest of his story even more shocking. “Got caught off guard and got a knife to the leg. Bled pretty bad, for a while. Dunno how I even made it.”

Wide eyes stare back back up at him in horror. The way he speaks so casually of such a terrible thing shocks you, and the fact he even went through this makes your heart sink. 

“Jesus, Robert. That’s…”

Another casual shrug. “It’s fine.”

Robert insists that many things are fine when they clearly aren’t. What strikes you about this occasion is that this time, he very genuinely seems to believe it. 

One of his hands moves to run through your hair while you scan his face, slowly combing through the strands before resting on the side of your head. You lean eagerly into his touch. 

A worry and a concern for him finds you biting your lip, though his touch at least serves as some comfort. “Did you lose much blood?”

“Lots of it.” 

“Jesus.” 

Yet another shrug, this time joined by a small smile. His thumb rubs a line where it rests beside your ear. 

“Like I said, it’s fine. I mean, I’m glad I didn’t die and all that… aside from the obvious reasons. Would have been embarrassing to die a virgin.”

“That was your main concern?”

“One of them.”

He quickly picks up on your dumbfounded expression, and races to defend himself with a grin. 

“What? I must have been about 18. Not much else on my mind at the time.”

You just shake your head in response to this fact. An even heavier worry than before fills your chest, but you decide to continue all the same. If the way he’s gradually opening up to you now is anything to go by then maybe you’re on track to get him to admit his foul mood after all. 

Reversing your trail finds you returning back up towards his chest, his hand moving now to press softly against your back. You still ignore the way his eager cock throbs. Your mouth doesn’t leave his skin, open and wet and gradually making its way up his abdomen while occasionally being joined by your tongue. He always likes when it darts out against his skin. 

Lifting yourself to finally straddle his hips leaves him looking hopeful. Robert gazes up at you, evidently eager with lips parted and eyes glued to you. His hips shift slightly below you, pressing up in search of some friction, but you keep his target just out of his reach. It doesn’t please him when his rocking hips return to their position on the bed with nothing. He expects much more than what you give at this moment. 

Soft fingers trail down along one of his arms, taking in the contours of the strong bicep, tracing the veins on his forearm as you go. You glide over a small scar on the inside of it, a tiny white line you already know the origin of - a sporting injury from when he was a kid. A line with much less gravity than the others decorating his skin. All the while, his eyes still are trained on only you. 

Reaching his hand, you lift it to bring it to your face, your lips pressing to his calloused palm. From there, your trail continues up his fingers, until you finally reach the tips. Your mouth slowly surrounds one pointed one, wet and warm as it glides down along the length of it, and his hips once again push up to chase some ounce of pleasure while you do it. Still, you don’t allow him any real satisfaction just yet. 

When you reach the base of his finger you find yet another mysterious scar, lips passing over it while they take his digit in. He hums quietly when your lips meet the base. Coming back up sees Robert’s eyes close, mouth falling open when your tongue swirls around the tip, before you pull yourself away once again. 

“Where did that one come from?”

He blinks quickly, having lost his focus a little with the pleasure. “Huh?”

“On your finger” Quiet voice carries to him easily in the silent room. The only sounds are those of the two of you breathing. 

At this, Robert shakes his head with a crooked smile as though remembering some fond memory. “Five finger fillet.”

“Five- what?”

“Five finger fillet.” He raises his brow like it’s obvious. “It’s a knife game. We got bored pretty often in the army.”

“Did you do anything in the army other than play with knives?”

Robert laughs at this. “Didn’t have much other entertainment I guess.”

When you eventually let his arm fall back down onto the bed, it doesn’t stay there for long. Both hands snake up along your thighs to rest on them while he stares up at you expectantly. His hips shift yet again in search of any ounce of stimulation they can find. 

This time, you decide to allow him some of it. 

One of your hands falls down to finally wrap around him. It’s very easy to tell he’s been waiting for this, by the way his mouth falls open while rough fingertips press into your thighs. You indulge him in the feeling for just a little while, your hold on him loose while he ruts up to his own rhythm. 

But, still not giving up, you prepare to steer away from the one thing he clearly wants in favour of continuing your interrogation. Hearing stories of his scars has led you back to thinking about the one that started you on this endeavour. 

If he’s not going to give you what you want, then you have no qualms in denying him his desire too. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?”

His entire demeanour shifts immediately. The question catches him totally off guard, mouth snapping closed and body stilling beneath you. A once hopeful spark in his eyes dims quickly, and his face falls slightly. Robert clears his throat and presses his lips thinly together. 

“There’s nothing-“

“Okay.” Suddenly you loosen your grip, then let go of him completely. You sit back a little further so his hips can’t possibly find yours. “If you say so.” 

Needy hands reach out to you quickly, but you avoid his grasp. 

“No! I’m just…” His eyes drop down to his stomach, where his arousal still stands. In the dim room, you could swear that you notice him blushing. “Could you just do that again?” 

“Do what?”

“Touch me again.” Robert swallows hard in your silent stare. Just like many of his other emotions, he is far more desperate at this moment than he would probably like you to believe. “Please.”

Shaking your head quickly, you lean back just a little bit more. “Not until I know what’s wrong with you.”

Robert groans and rolls his eyes, as though in disbelief that you actually want him to speak. Still, you persevere until your stubbornness overtakes his. 

“Fuck- fine.” A heavy sigh while his eyes stare up at the ceiling, apple bobbing on his throat. It intrigues you, to have spent your evening hearing about all of his other scars, but to still have to drag any slight conversation about this one out of him. “It’s this…” A hand rises to gesture to his face. “This fucking thing.”

Playing dumb has been his favourite response of the night, so you decide to return it, but not without rewarding him slightly by resting one of your hands on his hip. He glances down at the site of your soft touch. “I don’t see anything wrong with your face.”

Yet another loud huff. “No, not just my face. You know what I mean.” 

“Not sure I do.”

“Oh for-“ His jaw tenses, and eyes squeeze shut. He raises another hand, this time much more specifically gesturing to the scars on his face. “This fucking thing. Sometimes, I almost forget just how it looks. But then people stare.”    

Soft eyes fall on his scar with a warmth. You creep your hand just an inch closer to his persistent hardness. “I stare at you all the time. You don’t get this upset about it.”

“You’re not - you don't stare at me like other people do.” Leaving a gap that prompts him to continue forces him to fill it. “Like that guy in the bar. I’ve known that guy half my fucking life. Did you see the way he stared? Like he was fucking disgusted.”

Another inch closer to his cock, and you shuffle your hips slightly closer to his too.  

You still stare down at him, now with a much softer expression, while the feather light touch of one of your fingers tracing circles on his hip makes his breath catch. “He wasn’t disgusted, love. It was just… new. You didn’t have it the last time you saw him.”

Tired eyes are trained now on your steadily approaching hand. He doesn’t pretend to ignore the way it slowly gets closer to where he wants it.  

“Spent so long chasing a freak, now I fucking am one.”

You would reprimand such a deprecating statement more harshly or bluntly if it wasn’t for the way he’s finally opening up to you. “Robert. You’re not a freak.” 

“Then what the fuck am I?”

His face falls a little after he says this, and you wonder whether he had meant for the response to sound so snappy, or if it’s simply a result of his frustration. A tension in his body, starting from his insecurity and joined by the gradually burning need built from your touch. 

“You’re a lot of things, Robert. A freak isn’t one of them.”

When this is met with silence, you take it as an improvement from his usual smart comebacks. 

Wrapping your hand around him again has him instantly rising his hips to meet your long awaited hold. A low groan is let out in relief. Leaning down, you find your front slightly closer to his. 

You bring your free hand down to rest on his chest, before moving it upwards with an achingly slow pace. When the fingers delicately brush over his neck, he squirms underneath you, and a very badly hidden gasp leaves his mouth. 

Slow strokes keep his attention on you while your hand creeps up closer to his jaw, not giving him quite as much pleasure as he would like just yet, but just enough to keep his focus. 

“I know you don’t like this scar.” One of your fingers meets the edge of the one he hates the most, just barely touching the start of the damaged skin before moving down to press flat against the bed and support yourself. “I do.”

His brows furrow, and in the low light you think his eyes almost look wet. You decide that giving him just a little more attention might help to make him feel even better. 

Soft lips meet his chest while your hand continues its slow and steady rhythm. They trace the same path as you had only moments ago, passing over his collarbone and up along his neck, until eventually they end up just below his ear, where a little line of his burn begins. 

“I remember when you first came home with this. You wouldn’t even let me look at you.” You drop down to a whisper, and you notice the way he swallows hard while your breath hits the damaged skin. “It made me so fucking sad to see you so upset, because I thought you looked so beautiful. You still do.”

No response, but you can sense there’s something on the tip of his tongue that he’s not spitting out. Maybe he’s holding on to a fear that you’ll stop your affection again if he objects. This time, you don’t deny him of his pleasure, now that he’s finally opened up and revealed his insecurity. A gnawing feeling claws in your chest at the idea of just how much he hates his new looks. 

At this thought, you double down on your adoration. 

“I remember you telling me that it makes you ugly. There’s not a single thing about you that’s ugly, Robert.” Your lips move north, beginning to tentatively kiss the side of his face, and he doesn’t flinch like he normally does at the contact there. Instead, your ear catches the sound of a very quiet whimper that he normally never gives. His eyes flutter closed as you whisper against his burnt skin, your pace still steady as he begins to get closer. “Nothing. I promise.”

Robert barely hums to acknowledge this statement, but you take is as better than his normal denial. Whispers of praise linger in the air while you continue to kiss his face. 

When he still doesn’t move away from your mouth, you start pressing wetter kisses up his cheek. Your hand tightens around him while you worship the damaged skin, and you can only hope that your objective of making him feel better about it is working. 

By the time desperate whispers start to fall out of his mouth about just how close he is, your lips are dancing erratically on the skin he once would barely let you touch. His breathy moans and bucking hips are sign enough of his imminent orgasm, and after only another moment, his head falls back into the pillow with a low groan. Robert’s eyes are screwed shut while you continue your devotion. Your mouth is softer now on his cheek while he spills out all over his stomach, spend dripping down over the fingers of your hand where it holds his throbbing cock. 

For a moment as he comes down from his high, the room falls almost totally silent. In this peaceful pause, you begin to wonder if anyone has ever taken care of him just like this. 

An adoring heart so full of love and adoration may be just what the soldier needs to help him finally come to terms with himself. 

Once more, you press your lips to the side of his face, savouring the kiss before pushing yourself away. Lifting your head to take his features in reveals a very drained Robert. When he opens his eyes to look up at you again, you find them still a little wet, but you know this is something he definitely won’t want to address. You decide that you’ve already gotten enough out of your emotional soldier for one night. 

A delicate touch to his face, and a light kiss to his parted lips before you get up to find a cloth. You take some time to take care of him further, cleaning him up carefully, and his drooping eyes take you in the entire time you do.  

When you settle in beside him, you can sense that he’s exhausted. His arms wrap around you in a very tight embrace. Your head presses to his chest, his heartbeat still thumping loudly below your ear, and you nestle in beside him comfortably. 

“Do you have any scars?”

It surprises you to hear him speak up, expecting him to be just about ready to pass out. You think over his question for a moment while you mentally map out your own marks. 

“Sure I do.”

A kiss to the top of your head. “Tell me about them.”

“I can promise you Robert, they’re not nearly as interesting as yours.”

His arms pull you in closer, and he mumbles against your hair. “I’m curious.”

“Okay… well, I’ve got a faint one on my knee. That’s from one time I fell as a kid, and…”

A routine physical exam is just another part of every day in this lab. 

The same time, the same tests, the same staff. Each one always somehow colder and less of a friendly face than the last. None ever very interested in your attempts at conversation - being in the lab is lonely, spare for Henry. And as close as you are to him, being of a similar age and harnessing the same type of capabilities, you often think another friend may be nice. The nurses never prove to be any sort of suitable companions, though.

Until today. Today turns out to be the beginning of something different. 

At first, you take very little notice of the nurse who enters the room for your exams. Initially you don’t even bother to look up from the examination table to check who it is. You do notice that he’s tall and male, but you don’t get quite a good enough look at him at first to fully register him as being someone different. 

When you do, though, it’s a very pleasant surprise. 

Eyeing the way he pulls on his white gloves, you try to remember whether you’ve ever seen this one before. His neat hair and young complexion stand out, and his appearance is certainly different to any of the other nurses you normally see. You’re sure you would remember if someone like him had come to do the poking and prodding and testing before. 

It's been a very long time since you've seen anyone like him. 

This man is not unlike Dr Brenner in his features. He's got the height of the older man too, and it makes you wonder whether Brenner may have been handsome once just like this man before you. Maybe when he was younger, more inexperienced. Less desensitised. 

The nurse before you certainly is attractive. It's not often that you get to see someone who is, and especially someone not too far your senior. A curious gaze takes in his pale features, and you wonder if he even notices your prying stare with the way his own eyes are focused on his work. You can’t help but keep your watch trained on him throughout each test. The nurses around here never normally look like that.

Once finished, his large eyes scan the page on his clipboard, and he begins to scribble the routine notes of today’s procedures. Knowing he’s probably getting set to leave, you take the opportunity to begin an eager interrogation. 

"You're new."

The nurse barely registers this, absentmindedly nodding as he makes his notes. You continue to stare. Thin lips press firmly in a line as he writes, and your mind drifts away as you consider them. It's been some time since you've even seen a man with a face worth considering, and the boredom you now face as he ignores you allows your thoughts to wander. 

Your mind drifts to old things, almost forgotten things, far from the cold sterile room and back to a time before you ever knew of daily examinations and nurses. Memories of high school, schoolgirl crushes and whispers and giggles, things from before you became a spectacle to be gawked at. 

Or at least, before science had confirmed you to be an object to be gawked at. 

The new man in front of you doesn't strike you as the type who would have gone the path of medicine, so his purpose here intrigues you. He reminds you much more of the tall strong athletes who were worshipped by half of the school. The other half either loathed them, or envied them - and you normally fell somewhere between those two. Echoes of teasing start to fill your mind. The memory of being called a "freak" by people just like him bounce around it.  

Still, such a terrible association doesn't stop you from admiring him superficially. 

You pull your mind from old teenage angst and force it back into the room, suddenly aware that the man still has not spoken. It's not unusual for the staff to not engage in idle chat, though the lack of an answer frustrates you regardless given him being a newcomer. 

"You're new." You repeat yourself, louder and a little more coldly this time. The icy tone pulls his attention to you, locking eyes for the first time since he entered the room. For a moment he just stares, before blinking quickly and turning his head back to his work. He doesn't seem to have much interest in your attempt at conversation. 

"Yeah. I am."

"Haven't they got enough nurses already?"

The man shrugs, broad shoulders shifting under his white coat. He swallows as though trying to fight back a snappy answer. "Guess they needed another one."

The lack of clarity only bothers you further. Your eyes trail down his face, down to the crisp white fabric of his uniform, fitting nicely on his straight shoulders. Definitely those of a star footballer in his day. Curiously, your eyes travel further, and it's then that you take notice of a name tag on his chest. 

"Akers." You muse over the name for a moment, debating the sound of it in your head. "Funny name. Reminds me of acorns." His still stern face doesn't seem too amused by your comparison. Though stern, it's fresh, and it's youthful, much more youthful than many of the other staff - a lack of lines raises another question for you. "How old are you?"

The silence only grows inside the room. The only change is a slight tense in his jaw. By now, you're used to your nosiness pushing buttons, should you be in the mood to press them. Even Henry sometimes snaps back at your seemingly endless questions. 

You begin to watch the way Akers's hands write on his clipboard, and can't help but take notice of the long digits holding his pen. Long, slim, and presumably skilled pale digits. At some point, he brings one to his tongue to lightly wet it before flicking over to another page, and the action makes you shift where you sit. Wandering thoughts start up before you shake them away sternly. 

It seems a few minutes in the presence of a fresh face is enough to leave your skin feeling hot. Especially a very fresh, very appealing face. 

In an attempt to distract yourself from more inappropriate things, you turn your attention to the subject of his scribbling. 

"What are you writing about?"

The answer is very likely an obvious one, considering the question has come from its very subject. Still, there's a curious part of you that wants to know what exactly it is that these people observe about you. Would they take note of only your vitals, or is there some description of the interaction too?

You dread to think what his description of your inquisition may look like. Typically you would care very little for what may be a staff member's personal opinion, though the newcomer has you more conscious. In fact, you would much rather know what his description of your appearance may look like. 

This thought gets quickly thrown out of your head along with the others, and you instead turn your focus back to his work. At this point, you're not even sure what it is that he could possibly still be writing. There's still no answer while he seemingly scribbles a novel onto the paper. 

The prolonged wait for a response only irritates you further. 

"You look young. Are you even qualified?"

Yet another shrug, though this time the vow of silence is finally broken. "Qualified enough."

You're not sure what enough means. Maybe enough has some correlation to the bruising beginning on your arms due to his rough attempt at a blood test. A lack of experience resulting in a clumsy extraction. 

You're still too stuck on finding out the man's age to dwell too long on this. "You've got my age on file. Why can't I know yours?" 

"Not allowed to give it out."

You're not sure that's true. You make a mental note to ask Henry should you get the chance to. "Are you even much older than me?"

"Sure I am." 

"How much older?"

Another silence. Time to change the angle, or at least attempt to do so. A glance down his frame reminds you of another curiosity. 

"Are you a footballer?" 

To you, the question makes sense - he certainly has the appearance of one, or at least of someone who would have made a good one. To this young nurse, the random nature of the question makes him snort. 

"Maybe." Then, a pause in his writing. A tilt of his head. A slight tug to one corner of his mouth. His expression turns slightly brighter, like this is finally a topic he would consider to be of interest. For a brief moment he appears to be considering actually speaking more than just a few syllables, before ultimately deciding the topic is harmless enough. "Used to be, before the army. No time for it now."

You sit up a little straighter, suddenly even more interested in this new arrival. The army. All of the prying you've done, and a question about football is what makes him finally reveal a minuscule snippet of who he is. 

"You're in the army?" Then, yet another curiosity strikes your excited mind, though a much more morbid one. A one of a dark nature which you take little notice of, considering the way Dr Brenner's experiments have desensitised you, and the way Henry's own past has failed to faze you. "Have you killed people?"

Briefly warm features turn back to the old stern ones once again. One long deep sigh before he turns back to the novel you're sure he's writing with a mumble of irritated clarification. "I'm an army nurse."

"An army nurse." You repeat his words slowly, sounding out the title. The occupation isn't entirely familiar to you. "So, do you-"

"We're finished for today." His clipboard is flung down on the table with much more force than you hope he truly intended, and the abruptness makes you flinch. This fact doesn't seem to bother him - he barely registers the way in which he startled you, instead moving to the landline hanging on the wall, large hand grabbing it while a low voice informs the person on the other end that the session is over. 

Whatever army training he received clearly hadn't taught him manners. The coldness in his action only reminds you further of the footballer boys you knew back in high school, though you're given little time to dwell on this before receiving a routine escort out of the examination room. 

***

A number of weeks pass until you see the new nurse again. 

In that time, you find yourself mulling over that initial interaction. In quiet moments you replay it. The way he acted, ignoring you almost totally until something he deemed to be of actual interest came up. It’s ironic that even with his rudeness, he provided you with more conversation that you normally get from any of the other nurses in the space of a week. 

You also can’t help but think back to the way his strong shoulders filled out his lab coat nicely, or how his long digits moved as he worked, but you don’t allow yourself to dwell on these thoughts for too long. Both in order to avoid the way the memory heats your skin, and to not give any ammunition to any nosy mind readers around the lab. 

But the more you push it down, the worse it gets. Every day you hope he may be your nurse again, and every day brings a disappointment that makes you ache. It’s hard to tell whether it’s due to a nosy need for more information, or due to a festering crush. Something about his stature and stubborn nature has left you hungry for more. 

There’s a fizzy feeling in your chest when the day finally comes for him to examine you once again. It comes without warning, many weeks after your first meeting, and you can’t hide a small smile when he’s the one to walk in the door. The only acknowledgement he gives you is a thin-lipped smile, more in the general direction of the examination table you find yourself on rather than really at you, and even without reading any minds you can tell that it's forced. He only locks eyes with you briefly before turning straight to his work.

Clearly, he is in no mood for conversation again today. You, however, are, and intend to make it. 

"Nice to see you again."

You speak up while he gathers his equipment. White gloves are pulled on as he meets your words with nothing but a quiet mhmm, with no attempt to turn around and acknowledge you fully. You try to squash down the mild feeling of rejection. 

Last time, pushing and prodding eventually got you some snippets of information. It took some time for him to warm up. You hope to discover even more this time around. 

"Mr Army Nurse? Did you hear me?"

Silence. 

"Footballer. Are you going to speak to me today?"

Nothing. 

"Acorns?"

At this he whips around, one brow raised with his mouth shut tight. Cold eyes stare at you with an irritated glare. 

Clearly, he doesn't seem a fan of your very endearing nickname. 

A quiet huff sees him turning back to the table before him, checking his tools and preparing them for your tests. You watch as long fingers fiddle with the items, and with his back turned, you indulge yourself a little more in your ogling. Doing so leaves you far too distracted to notice him muttering some curse low under his breath. 

Judging from his mood, you wonder if he dreaded having to come to see you again. He seems to be gathering his items quickly as though wanting to get this done with. This thought doesn't halt your curiosity in the slightest. 

"You've been gone for weeks."

This stills his rushed movements. His back is still hunched while both hands now press flat down on the table, fingertips pushing firmly against the surface as though trying to press down his frustration. 

"I don't work here." He doesn't move from his position as he speaks, nor does he turn his head to address you. "Army just has me filling in."

Slowly, you nod. You suppose it makes sense. The lab has been increasingly busy, with some of the children in it becoming increasingly strong.

"But why this lab? It's so..." your words fail you, trailing off as you attempt to conjure them. Despite spending a good chunk of your life in the place, it's still difficult to even describe it or its purpose. 

A part of you hopes he may finish this sentence for you, though of course no continuation comes. Yet another long pause makes you aware that you'll have to do it yourself. 

"You know, since we're all... we all have..." his head tilts as you speak. A thought dawns on you, that maybe his position as a very occasional worker caused them to tell him very little of the building's purpose. "What is this lab for?"

"I don't know." His answer seems like a genuine one. Finally he turns to face you, though only to begin your physical checks. By the look of his tools he seems to be beginning with a blood test. "I get brought in to take blood and do exams. Basic nurse stuff. They don't tell me much."

Nodding slowly, you let this thought settle for a moment in your mind. The lab is clearly trying to hide its true purpose. You wonder why they haven’t told him a thing - you could control your powers just fine, holding age and experience on your side, but what if one of the children lashed out? The regular nurses know exactly what their powers are, and know that signing up for this work is dangerous. The poor army nurse was forced into this place without even a proper warning against its residents.  

You decide that’s not something for you to get bogged down about, though the thought unsettles you all the same. 

The feeling of cold gloves on your forearm brings you back into the room. You watch as he tries to find the right spot, long fingers trailing along your skin a few times in an attempt to find the vein, though it takes him far longer than it should. There’s something oddly endearing about his inability to manage what you feel should be basic. At this point, having seen the procedure done so many times, you reckon you could conduct your own blood tests if you had to. 

After a minute of pale digits tapping along your skin, you decide it may be best to speak up before he begins his clueless stabbing.

"This," you point to a spot on your forearm that you now know off by heart. "Is where they normally put it. You took a while to find it last time."

A low unintelligible grumble is all you hear as he starts prodding at your arm again. It's hard to say how many needles you've had jabbed into your skin at this point. Some of the staff are gentle, with delicate, skilled hands and quick, painless insertions. The rest are rough and prod at your skin like a pin cushion. 

Akers seemed much more like the latter during his last attempt to draw blood. You don’t intend to be left with quite as many bruises this time. 

Sure enough, he finds the vein much easier after forgoing his pride in order to take your instruction. 

“Have you done many blood tests before?”

It strikes you that it may sound rude to ask this, but it’s a very genuine curiosity. You’re not sure what training goes into becoming a nurse, less sure of what goes into becoming an army one, and even less so of what exactly is the difference. 

This finally garners an answer, although a very defensive one. “Sure I have.”

You bite back a smart remark about how you find that hard to believe. A part of you also considers the possibility of offering an apology for your assumption, though you’re not sure it’s something he would hold much regard for. 

Instead, you opt to keep the questions flowing as he continues to draw your blood. 

“If you’re in the army, then why are you… here?”

He stays seated where he is, large body dwarfing the small stool he’s found himself perched on, and meets your eyes with a raised brow and a shrug. “Told you. Don’t know.”

“No, I mean… why aren’t you out somewhere else. Somewhere, I don’t know…”

“Somewhere where there’s a fight?”

You nod, and he scoffs. 

“Wish I knew.” It’s a quiet mumble. You take note of the spite in his words. This certainly doesn’t seem to be the type of place he had dreamed of ending up. 

“They don’t tell you why they put you here?” A short shake of his head. Frowning, you tilt your own. "Is this what you really want to do?" 

This time, there's a pause in his movements. His eyes flick up to yours before he forces them straight back down to the task at hand, removing the needle and dabbing at the dot of blood that forms on your skin. He busies himself with sorting a vial. 

You don't think he intends to respond for a moment, until another shake of his head comes with a very quiet "no". This hesitation intrigues you, and makes you wonder whether you may have stabbed a sore spot. 

"What do you want to do?"

His brows pull together tightly in the silence that follows. His reluctance to provide any form of an answer only makes you more curious. 

Though you feel as though you may as well be talking to the wall, you continue. 

"Do you want to fight? In the army?"

This is met with a shrug. In the way his shoulders shift, you sense he is trying to act more nonchalant than he feels. Finally he speaks. 

"Wouldn't mind it."

Why he would even want to fight is something you don't understand. 

You suppose he has the right personality for it - quiet and seemingly stubborn. Someone who even an expert would find it difficult to get any form of information out of. 

With that and the way he takes blood tests as though he's stabbing a fearsome foe, you think maybe the front lines may be the very place for him after all. More suited to such rough and careless fingers. 

"You would make a good soldier. Very stern. Very..." He raises a brow as you ponder your next words. Moving closer, his hand presses to your arm again when he notices another drop of blood form, dabbing your gradually heating skin gently. Allowing your eyes to lower and watch him work forces you to take a deep breath before you speak. Even if the digits are concealed by his gloves. "Very strong."

A much more genuine smile pulls at his features now. It's one that you decide suits him. Just as was the case the last time you saw him, it seems that the easiest conversations to have with him are the ones based on his interests. 

They make him seem just the slightest bit more human. 

The smile is slightly wider when you look up at him again. 

"You think so?" 

"Definitely. That's why I asked you about football. You just look like someone who might play, because... well, you look very strong."

The smile now spreading definitely is a real one. This time, he doesn't initially respond, though seemingly not out of annoyance - it appears to be more to do with the red tint slowly starting to dust his cheeks. It seems as though your compliments have been the hammer to finally break through one of his rock hard layers. 

“Thanks. You’re very…” his eyes scan your face, your plain clothes, your buzzed hair. Searching for any unique feature he could mention. He comes up with none. “Very chatty.”

The laugh that bursts out of you is loud. At least this is one statement you know to be true. 

The rest of the conversation fizzles out much more naturally than your last one. This time, he doesn’t slam any clipboards down. He doesn’t come close to pulling the phone off of the wall in his rush to leave the room as he had done before. If anything, he moves more slowly, seemingly enjoying whatever other idle chit chat you use to fill the time at the end of the examination, as though the conversation has helped to get something off of his chest which had been mildly festering in it. 

Though unsure if it could just be down to your imagination, you think you notice that he may even be writing his notes just the slightest bit slower this time around. A hopeful part of you thinks that today he may have even enjoyed himself. 

***

The final time you meet this nurse, he smiles just the slightest bit more warmly when he enters the sterile room. It’s better than his last greeting, and makes you feel more assured in his presence. The routine remains the same: preparing equipment, getting his gloves on, taking your bloods. All of it soundtracked by another series of questions from you. 

This time, however, there's a very important piece of information that he decides to offer up without any push. With the rest of the conversation consisting of nothing more notable, he seems to decide to keep the biggest piece of information until last. 

"Probably not gonna be back here again. They're talking about sending me to Nam soon."

While you’re not sure what Nam is, the idea of him not coming back twists something deep in your stomach, disappointment coursing through it in the wake of what had been a very pleasant interaction. Contrastingly, the relief in him as he says this is hard to miss, as though speaking it aloud has helped to make it feel real. Whatever Nam is, it seems to be something worth getting excited about. 

He's writing slowly on his clipboard when you respond. "Nam?"

"Yeah? Nam." Akers looks at you as though he thinks you may be stupid, as though trying to understand how you could possibly not understand this term. Then after a moment, he registers your confusion. It seems he's forgotten where you've spent the last number of years, or perhaps it's his lack of awareness of the truth in your situation. "Vietnam. With everything going on, they should have sent me over by now."

It takes you a moment to process what he’s saying, but when you do you feel your heart sink down through your chest. It drops down to join a pit growing in your stomach. "So you're... going? Like, for good?"

Akers nods slowly, signing off the last of his notes and placing his clipboard down softly. You recognise this as a sign that the session is about to end.

A smirk on his lips gives you the feeling he may not be quite as disappointed in his departure as you are.  "Not gonna miss me, are you?”

The question catches you slightly off guard, especially with the teasing tone and the very slight suggestion sitting somewhere in it, and you shift where you are as you consider it. 

Would he find it strange if you did?

It’s not as though you’ve known him for very long, though in the time that you have, he has only just started to seem like potential good company. Probing him with your light hearted interrogations have proven to be a far more entertaining use of your time than the usual silence experienced during these examinations. 

Swallowing hard squashes down your disappointment only slightly. Certainly not enough to hide it altogether. Regardless, you do your best to keep your response light hearted, not wanting to show him how you had only just started to feel. 

"I won't miss the bruising."

Akers enjoys this answer. There’s a relief in knowing your false demeanor has been believed. A cheerful grin spreads on his face that you had not yet gotten to see, and by the sounds of it, may not see again. 

After this, the conversation fizzles out as it usually does, though it takes much more out of you to force an interest in silly chat. The disappointment still lingers through it all while the idea of him leaving dwells on your mind. The more you process his departure, the worse the inevitably of it feels. 

This meeting finishes with a promise that he’ll be back, hopefully soon, and that you may see him again before he gets sent to Nam. 

But, of course, you never do. 

***

Hawkins, November 1986

It’s been a very long time since you’ve set foot on that old lab, and even longer since you’ve seen the handsome army nurse. 

Henry has been gone for years at this point. You had tried to lay low and move on, get far away from the town you were once seen as a freak in, and push on to try to live with some semblance of normality. For a while it was nice - but the guilt of knowing Henry was out there somewhere had slowly eaten you over time. Endless possibilities of where the hell he may have ended up often swirled in your mind.  

As soon as you heard of the murders in Hawkins, you knew it was him, and you knew you had no choice but to go back there. 

Getting into the town had been difficult, taking both a physical and mental toll on your body and mind. Avoiding the omnipresent military had been tricky, especially with them seemingly occupying every corner you turned, but you managed to move past their barricades eventually. That had almost been the easy part in comparison to having to see this town once again. The whole place holds memories - high school problems and teenage angst, as well as the darker side of your experiments and testing.

Still, as much as it hurt to see this place again, you had forced yourself to move past it in your search for your very strong brother. And to find him, you had to find the one person you knew for sure would still be left around. 

Finding El and her friends was certainly a help in your hunt for Henry. It didn’t even take very long to do so with your powers, seeing her and tracking her down easily. 

She knew you - or at the very least, recognised you from the lab - and having someone who understood her powers in the way that you did had helped you to gain the whole group’s trust quicker than you expected. Falling in with their plans and gathering information they already held was a blessing for your search. 

Without them, there was no way you could have ever ended up on the right track alone. They knew all about the military’s schedules, their routes and routines, and they knew how to get into the dank dark place where they were sure they would find Henry. 

Even if that wasn’t exactly what they called him. 

They had a much better idea of how to navigate the horrid place than you could ever figure out alone. Years of experience sat pricelessly on their side. They know where to go, and the best ways to get there. You’re lucky one day to overhear them talking about how “he” could be in the military base, and from then on you set it as your main destination. Your primary objective, to find your way there with or without the rest of the crew. 

One day, you finally find your chance to break away from their plans. To separate yourself from the group without giving any indication of your direction. You don’t even fully remember what your instruction from them had been, or why you had even come down here in the first place on this day, but once you come close to that military base you decide that these facts don’t matter. 

A part of you felt some slight guilt in leaving them all in order to head out towards the base alone, though you’re sure they’ll survive without you. They have so far. The guilt feels a little less heavy when you remind yourself of your much more important task, and especially when you think of the person you’re coming closer to finding. 

With the group long behind you, you set your sights on the only thing that currently matters, and weave your way through the shadowed woods on your route. Aching feet navigate carefully over the uneven ground, eyes trained on the military base straight ahead.

All of the years of wishing and wondering have led up to this. The closer you get, the more your heart thumps, until excitement sees anxious hands fiddling with the sleeves of your shirt. Butterflies turn into wasps in your stomach as the reality gradually dawns on you. Now that you’re this close to the base, this close to finding him, you become quickly aware that there may soon be no turning back. 

Sharp eyes remain vigilant as you near the perimeter. You scan around, searching for any way in you could possibly manage to use, and for any possible blind spot to the multitude of military lurking around. To your disappointment, you seem to find none, and for a moment you just stay where you are and contemplate your next move. 

From this far back, you think you may be safe from their view - until a shout in the darkness makes it clear that your luck has finally run out. 

"Hey!"

It feels like the wind is knocked out of you at the realisation that you've been spotted. Your head spins and lands on the figure of a tall soldier in the distance, making his way to you from the direction of the base. 

Just the sight of him, gun in hand, is enough to send you running. 

The uneven ground had been much easier to traverse at a steady stroll. At this flat out sprint, panicked feet covering as much ground as they possibly can, you run the very real risk of catching your foot and falling like easy prey. The idea of allowing yourself to be so easily caught after coming this far pushes some extra force through your already tired limbs. 

This doesn’t matter, though. Whether you trip up or not, long legs close the gap much faster than yours could ever widen it. 

Reaching a thicker section of the woods refuels your hope, if only slightly. Twisting in between thick trees and heavy branches makes you think that you may have a good chance to finally lose him, if you could only break his sight. Looking back for only a moment is enough to know that he flickers in and out of view while trying to traverse this heavy forest, and you wonder if you could use those brief gaps in vision to your advantage. 

If you don’t find a way to lose him now, you don’t think you ever will. 

Ducking out of view, you scramble to find the nearest place possible to hide. Tucking in behind a fallen tree trunk is your only viable option, and you hope he’ll run straight past and keep going. With any luck, it will at least stall his hunt, if only for a few seconds. 

The bang of thunder overhead does very little to calm your nerves, tired body only trembling more with every clap. For a moment you wonder if your plan has worked, until the sound of the damp ground underfoot somehow nearby lets you know that he's still close. Holding your breath proves hard after the chase. 

Just as you begin to think it may finally be time to make an escape - the very soldier you've been avoiding steps straight into view. 

And when he does, you don't believe it. 

At first you think the exhaustion has finally gotten to your head, but it only takes a look to know this is real. 

It's him. Instantly recognisable, even after time has weathered him, though seemingly only slightly. 

The army nurse. The footballer. 

Akers. 

A flashlight in your face leaves you blinded for a moment, shaking hands shooting up to shield your eyes from the intrusive light. 

You hope he won't know you. That he won't recognise you now that your hair has grown and your skin has aged. 

If only you could be so lucky. 

You shrink, body curling around itself in a pointless attempt to hide from his ice cold stare. His expression shifts as his eyes take you in - moving between confusion, accusation, and disbelief, but never settling on just one. 

Footsteps begin to approach from somewhere behind him, alerting you to the fact that he's absolutely not alone. "Find anything, lieutenant?"

Lieutenant? Certainly sounds better than army nurse, maybe even better than Acorns. Certainly also sounds as though he finally got to be a soldier after all. 

Sounds even more like he is someone you should have done a much better job of avoiding out here. 

The pause that follows the other soldier's call feels like an eternity - an infinite length of time spent staring back up at the man before you. For a moment, you wonder if he'll even respond. He never did like to answer your questions - maybe he won't answer this one. A stupidly hopeful part of you wonders if he may tell them he found nothing, and head back on his way. 

"Found something alright..." it's barely above a whisper. Your heart still drops though you know they can't hear him. You're not sure whether he's speaking to himself, or to you, knowing that the other soldiers are too far behind to hear his murmur. An even lower tone of what sounds more like a growl coming from the man before you runs a chill down your spine. "A nosy little shit."

There's no gentleness in the way he grabs you - not that he ever had a softness to him in the first place. A rough hand hoists you straight up onto your feet, pulling you after him and towards the men who had followed behind. 

The grip his large hand holds on your arm is crushing. You're sure you'll be left with bruises just as you were by him in the past, though this time without any needles needed.

"Shoulda known back then you were nothing but a freak," his words are venom through gritted teeth, and they sting like a bite. The horrible name brings back awful memories, and your stomach turns as he continues. “Was too young and dumb to know any better. No wonder you were so fucking nosy."

It’s not very often that you find yourself speechless, though this has left you truly stumped. You're not even sure where to start with a response. He probably won’t even listen if you give one. 

Before you can even get a word in edgeways, Akers barks to the nearest soldier. The subject makes your heart drop. 

Finding yourself in Robert’s arms, tangled up as you chased release in his lap had served as a very effective distraction to everything going on around you. Unfortunately, it had proven to be an extremely short-lived one. 

Once recovered from his high, it didn’t take long for the lieutenant to put his mind straight back onto business. You barely had yourself dressed when he took the lead in moving out of the trailer, gesturing for you to follow along. A scramble to get yourself covered saw you running along to find his side, not forgetting to pick up Hop’s gifted pistol before you left. 

Though you were unsure where Hop and El were headed, Robert seemed to know all too well. The things El had seen in his head seemed to have been enough for him to deduce their destination. At first, it was like following a bloodhound after a scent - he knew exactly the way to go without so much as a look around. It made you wonder just how much time he had spent down here.  

Along the way, you had hoped your influence would change his tired mind. His tired, and admittedly satisfied mind. Foolishly so, you had made some attempt at reasoning, huffing out words to try to sway him from his mission while attempting to keep up with his much longer stride. Robert didn’t seem to need to watch his footing as much as you did. His thick boots stomped confidently on the uneven ground. 

There had been some hesitation when you had tried to change his mind. Some consideration. A mull over your words as you had asked him to leave everyone be, and in some moments you became hopeful that his mind wouldn’t circle back once again to what seemed to be the most important thing in it. It didn’t take long, however, to discover just how headstrong Robert really was, and there seemed to be no convincing him no matter what you did. 

A mild feeling of potentially being used began to niggle in the back of your head, though focusing on not tripping yourself up on the unfamiliar ground helped somewhat to ignore it. It hurt, knowing that even wrapping yourself in his arms wasn’t enough to influence him. The feeling of his spend still dripping from your heat while striding by his side only drove this painful point home further. 

Once you reached the outskirts of your destination, a new anxiety rose from within you. An even newer uncertainty than the one already festering. A fear of not knowing what was going to happen now that you would return to your opposing sides. 

“Don’t think your friends will be happy to see you with me. Not sure mine would be either.” Robert had muttered the very obvious, stopping to turn to you once the lab was in view. “I don’t want to leave you, but… I can’t bring you in there with me. Find somewhere safe, and hide. I’ll try to find you as soon as I can.”

At least his words were some indication that there was more than just his mission on his mind. 

You wondered if the promise was one he was sure he could keep, or a one he was only hoping he could. Like the promise he made about coming back to your apartment. A hard swallow and a nod had confirmed your hesitant agreement, while nerves made your hand wrap tighter around the pistol still in it.

After that, a commotion coming from the base was enough to pull him straight back into his work once again. Robert pulled you in for a very rushed embrace before a quick apology and a reminder to hide. That was the last you heard from him before he took off running. 

Clearly, he had gotten to the rank of lieutenant for many reasons. Determination certainly seemed to be one of them. Distractions didn’t seem to have too heavy of an influence, and you wondered if his training included wearing blinkers to focus on his work when it came to avoiding any love interests. 

***

After that, the last time you saw Robert was while he was curled up on the floor of Kay’s lab. Discarded to the ground after Hop had ultimately managed to best him. 

You shouldn’t have been inside of the lab in the first place, but you’d be damned if you were going to wait outside like a spare tool while the others all worked. Despite heavy fear, a potentially overconfident part of you decided to defy Robert’s orders, finding your way in behind him rather than hiding. 

Sneaking into the lab had been much easier than it should have been.

With an indecisive mind you watched Robert enter the base through the side gate, before impulse decided to follow him. You watched his figure rush further away until you felt he was far enough, before slipping in through the very same entrance. Slipping in the gate just before it shut had almost sent you to a heart attack. You don’t know what he may have done or said if he had seen you. 

You were thankful that every soldier was too preoccupied to notice your attempt at getting through the base - they appeared to be too concerned with Robert’s return, or too busy with whatever commotion was seemingly going on inside. By the fact that this seemed to be El and Hop’s location, you had a feeling that the source of the commotion was a familiar one to you. 

The emptiness only made the place seem more eerie, and the walk inside felt more creepy than it did safe. The pistol Hop had left you with had remained ready in your hand the whole way, though you felt a relief in having not needed it. 

By the time you had made it into the lab, it was clear that Hop and Robert had already found each other. They were far too busy throwing each other around the room to even notice you, and the dark lighting certainly helped. Ducking out of sight had made you feel like a coward, though there was very little else you could do. Getting in between them would have been suicide. 

Desperation to help had almost crippled you. A guilty need to help Robert, rather than the very people whose side you should be on, though you knew that doing so would turn Hop and El against you instantly. The fight was one you had tried to avoid seeing, busying yourself with staying hidden and staring at the wall until they may need you, though the scene is still burned into your memory all the same. Robert’s screams of pain still echo in your ears. The sizzle of his skin after Hop hit him with god knows what remains ingrained in your mind, and you wonder if you’ll ever forget those sounds. 

Robert had survived the brawl, sure - and though this should be a relief, this fact only leaves you more on edge. Knowing now that his sole mission is to actively hunt the very people you’ve found yourself in the company of is a fact you still can't seem to get a hold of. 

You had only gotten one brief look at his unmoving figure before the rest had whisked you straight out of the lab. There was very little time to explain how you had managed to get to the lab, especially while avoiding mentioning Robert being the one to get you there, and even less time for Hop and El to explain the brand new addition of Kali. A brief introduction was all they managed before the four of you found yourselves speeding out of there. 

So much of the following hours turned into a mixed up blur. Ending up in a dirty old church, finding your way out of the upside down, and reuniting with the others - it should have left you filled with relief. Instead, your mind couldn’t get out of the confusion and uncertainty it still seemed to be overflowing with. There was only one person consistently filling it. 

Even now hours later, as you move with Hop, El and Kali through the halls of the old Hawkins lab, a knot in your stomach twists and turns relentlessly. Knowing that Robert is actively hunting your friends was already upsetting. Knowing that he is likely very actively hunting you now too, now that you are guilty by association, unsettles you even further. When his hands had been all over you earlier, this had not exactly been how you had expected the rest of your day to go. Was it even still the same day? You’re already far too worked up and exhausted to even know. 

Through it all, you still can’t quite bring yourself to stop feeling something for him. You wish that you could understand why. Maybe the memory of him being inside of you only hours ago had some part to play in this, or the fading smell of him still lingering on your skin. 

Already pounding, your aching mind can’t help but get stuck on him. It has been since you met him. Now, the warm thoughts are replaced, though not yet fully disappeared. This constant paranoia of knowing he may be on his hunt has you looking over your shoulder as you move through the old lab. Hopper is leading the way to the room where you’ll apparently find a tank for El. Though no one seems to be around, there’s a feeling of being watched that you can’t quite shake no matter how hard you try, or how much you attempt to distract yourself. 

***

The moment Murray had alerted you all to the military’s arrival, your heart had sank. Thoughts of how they had found you all, and who had found you all, had swirled around your mind. It had taken a lot of energy to resist the urge to grab a hold of the walkie talkie and ask Murray if he was there. Though Murray wouldn’t even know who exactly he was. 

Before Murray’s announcement and right after getting out of the tank, El had looked at you strangely. Like she had found out something new. A tilt of her head and a tightly knitted brow had suggested some suspicion. It had worried you. Before the crackle of the walkie talkie coming to life, there had been a moment where you were sure she was going to ask you something, though the question was forcibly put straight on hold. 

Even as you move quickly now through the halls, whenever you catch her eye, she still stares at you strangely. Only after a while do you notice that Kali is beginning to look at you the same. 

It unsettles you. What had she seen inside that tank? Out of everyone, there was very little about you that could have been of any interest to this entire mission. You’ve had very little part in all of this. None of your actions, nor your memories could possibly be of any slight interest to her, and they would surely be of even less interest to Kali. 

One thing does suddenly pop out in your thinking, and the idea only worries you further. Could she have seen your memories of Robert?

You almost stop dead when that realisation hits. What if she had snooped around your head the same way she had done to his?

There’s no time to dwell on any of this, and even less time to make sense of it. Hopper leads the way as soldiers' orders begin to echo off of the white covered walls of the lab. You can hear them somewhere overhead, on one of the many floors above you, though you wish you couldn't. All you can do is follow Hop and hope you don't meet them. 

Through the various calls from the floor above, Robert's voice stands out amongst the many. There's no mistaking it. The voice that had whispered sweet promises to you only hours ago. Would he have ever bothered to keep them? Right now, you don't know. You start to think not. Maybe you would still be hiding in those woods, awaiting his return if you hadn’t disobeyed him. Your nails dig into your palms as you move, jaw tightening as you attempt to force yourself to ignore this newly uncertain feeling. To ignore him.

Tired feet continue to run while your exhausted mind remains stuck on him. There’s some strange form of irony you can’t help but find in it all. Enough so that if your life wasn’t very possibly on the line in this moment, you may even consider it funny. Something cruelly ironic about returning to the town you had run away from in the past, only to find yourself very literally running from a man you had found in it, and had only just started to trust. 

This thought is quickly forgotten as you find your feet tripping while you run, and have to straighten yourself so as to not tumble. A shaky breath pushes you on, and you continue sprinting through the halls. 

Just as Hop leads you all up one staircase, the shine of flashlights from the floor above sends you all spinning back around in the other direction. Down another hallway, yet another new one, another covered in that bright white shit that every room is somehow plastered with. You don't even know what it is - in your time on earth and very limited time in the upside down, you've never seen a material like it. The air in here feels thicker, somehow heavier than before as it enters your lungs, though you’re sure it’s only your own terrified mind causing it to feel that way. 

Rushed steps bring the four of you barely a couple of feet down this hall before the sounds of El and Kali in agony suddenly stop you in your tracks. Spinning around, you see them both dropping down, hunched on the floor, hands flat against either side of their heads in some attempt to block out that painful noise. The soldiers could be on top of you all at any moment - the thought of getting caught out right now sends your system into a panic, and you swallow hard as your nails just dig in harder to your palms. 

It feels useless, you feel useless, unable to do anything but just stand and stare, until Hop pipes up. 

"We need to go- I'll take El, come on." His order is a clear one. Within a second, Hop throws El right over his shoulder as if the action costs him nothing. There's an expectancy in his gaze, and a reluctance in yours. You can't carry anyone as easily as that. 

"But Hop, I can't- she can't walk, I can't carry-" 

"I don't care how you do it, just do it."  

A shaky breath fills your chest before you tear your eyes from his. Hop starts his way down the hallway, reminding you that this situation is urgent, as though you're not overwhelmingly aware of that already. The soldiers are silent now. This only adds to your panic. They’re on the prowl. Shaking hands help Kali up as best you can, pulling one of her arms over your shoulders, grabbing onto her as tight as you can in an effort to support her at your side. 

Hop is off like a bolt the moment you have Kali up. Following him does not prove easy. You're much slower, and scared, though you trail behind him all the same. The task is difficult, frustratingly so, and a part of you wishes you had never bothered to leave your apartment in the first place. 

Your night would have turned out much better if Robert had just stayed there with you when you had asked him to. 

The memory of his warm touch sends a shudder straight through you. Not long ago you were wrapped up in his arms. Now, you're zipping through hallways, trying to escape while he's actively chasing you down. Robert had never felt intimidating or threatening to you before, but the thought of the Lieutenant now stalking the halls shoots adrenaline through your veins like a drug. Every time you think of him, your stomach only twists more. 

Another groan from Kali reminds you of your current urgency. You try to breathe deeply as you attempt to support as much of her as you can. 

"C'mon," you're not even sure if Kali can hear your feeble encouragement, with the way her face is scrunched up in pain as you move further down the hall. You're practically dragging her, her feet trailing along the smooth floor. The further you go, the quicker your heart races, and you only hope the sound doesn’t echo off the cold walls. "Nearly there, c'mon..."

You're not even sure where there is. There's no telling how far you'll have to go to get away from whatever it is that causes this pain for both girls. Whatever the hell the military is using, it's strong, and as far as you are concerned, it's bullshit.

With El still thrown over his shoulder, Hop turns quickly to look at your weak attempt of helping. The ex-chief doesn’t even try to hide his disapproval. 

"Come on," Hop's encouragement is a little less gentle than yours had been, the words hissed out. After a moment of watching you drag Kali along, he huffs. "Sit her against the wall. I'll go put El down somewhere safe. You go stay with El, I'll come back for her."

You want to refuse - leaving Kali alone in this hall could be dangerous, even if you'll only be a few steps away - though you know such a resistance would be pointless. By now you've come to the conclusion that it's much easier to agree with Hop than to not.

"I'm sorry," gently as you can, you ease the still hurting Kali to the floor. You hear Hop's footsteps rush down the hall, searching for a safe space to put El. You know that if you don't follow him now, he'll be scarier to deal with than the actual military. Scarier than Robert, the predator on his hunt. "Hop is coming. Just wait. Wait here. Ok?"

Kali doesn't respond. She doesn't seem to even register you speaking. Her now free hands have gone straight back to clasping either side of her head, eyes screwed shut in a very unsuccessful attempt to ease her discomfort. A guilt bubbles inside you as you begin to walk away from her, and you can only hope that Hop is quick. 

It doesn't take long to find the room he's stowed El in, the poor girl hunched against the wall just like Kali had been outside. Hop barely acknowledges you when you arrive. He passes you in the doorway with barely a glance. There's an unspoken understanding that you should just shut up and look out for El, and so you defeatedly decide to do just that. There's no point in arguing with Hop, and especially not when El is in danger. You have no choice now but to throw yourself down like the spare tool you had avoided being. 

Then, just moments after Hop has left and just as you've thrown yourself down next to El, the sudden sound of gunshots echo through the halls. Reflex makes you cover your own ears at the noise. Tired eyes widen as your racing mind attempts to calm itself, though such an effort is wasted. Clearly, someone has found Hop and Kali, and they don't seem to want to play clean. You shut your eyes as the bullets continue to rain, trying to ignore the tremble coursing through every bone in your body. 

After a moment, everything stills. The guns no longer fire. The only voice you can hear is a faint whisper of Hop's, though you can't make out what he's saying. It’s reassuring when you notice he doesn't sound pained. Maybe his firing had been in defence, and maybe he's won. It's just a relief to know the gunshots didn't take him. You hope his low words are spoken to Kali, and only Kali. 

Then just as you’ve allowed yourself to relax just slighty, there’s a grunt, and a sound like someone falling to the floor. Your body tenses again when your ear picks up a different voice.  

A very different voice you know too well. 

"And I got you."

Robert's voice is unmistakable. You're frozen where you are when you hear it, back pressed flush against the wall right behind you. There's almost a satisfaction woven through his words, as though he's proud of all that's happening. 

As though the predator has just found one part of his prey. 

In the short time you've known him, you've never seen Robert angry. You’ve seen him kind. Gentle. Aroused, and then determined. Not at all how he's acting out here - furious and threatening. 

It's reasonable to assume that he'll be pissed, after the way he's been tied up and beaten, and you bite your cheek as you think of how badly he'll want revenge now that Hop is apparently at his mercy. You dread to think just how badly Hop was hit. 

As desperately as you want to call out, to intervene or to calm him, you know you'll only make the whole thing worse. Robert is pissed, Hop is pissed - and the older man still doesn't even know that you know Robert, the very person hunting his adopted daughter down. Confessing this fact right now may not be the smartest idea in the world. 

Lost in thought, you hadn't noticed how panicked you've quickly become. Your chest heaves as though you've just ran a marathon, and your heart certainly feels like it too. Sweat starts at the back of your neck, and your lips harshly quiver. Blinking quickly, you attempt to still your already shaking limbs, trembling knees coming up to press to your chest with your arms wrapped tight around them. Staying here makes you feel like a sitting duck, though you know you have no choice. 

It all makes you feel useless, to be stuck in this room while god knows what is happening out there. As difficult as it may be, you know that you have to be careful, and you absolutely have to focus. It would be no use letting the military find El all because your mind was too caught up in the memories of the handsome soldier - especially when that very same man is the very one hunting her down. 

You jump as you hear another body hit the floor, and bite your lip to hold back a gasp. Now, you can make out the sound of Kali groaning in pain. Robert's voice finds your ears again straight after. 

"Tell me where the other freak is. Or this one dies right here, right now."

Your already racing heart picks up even more, thumping impossibly fast in your chest while the blood rushes in your ears. You don't even know Robert well enough to know if that's a threat he'll follow through with, though you pray that based on the very little you apparently do know of him, it's not. 

"I don't know what you're talking about. It's just us!" Hopper's voice offers you some relief in knowing he's ok, though it's short lived. His attempt to reason gets him nowhere. 

Your heart drops at the sound of another gunshot, though you feel a strange relief when Robert's voice follows it. The gun wasn't aimed at him. Your heart sinks to the floor as you notice how much you care about that, and even further as you wonder who it was aimed for. 

"You think I'm playing a game here? Where is she?!"

The last part is almost a roar, and you can hear his voice clearly from down the hall as though he had yelled the words right beside you. 

As though spurred on by the argument, El suddenly shifts beside you. Before you've even processed her movement she's clawed herself up, clearly determined and using every bit of energy she can, gripping on to any surface available in an attempt to make her way down the hall. Her sudden determination only serves to make you feel even weaker, curled up in your corner in fear. 

"El, s-stop-" 

You stretch your still shaking legs straight, shifting where you sit as you watch her. She doesn't listen. It's clearly taking everything inside her to even stand, let alone to move, and you're not even sure she can hear you in the first place. Trembling limbs take her slowly out of the room, and you scramble to your feet to try to help her. 

If she won't listen to you and stop, then you know you have no choice but to follow. You do just that, moving up beside her and pulling one of her arms over your shoulders just like you had done for Kali. 

Everything inside you is telling you not to keep going as you move down the hall. You know there could be soldiers anywhere. Your stomach twists yet again, and bile threatens to rise up your throat. Every step towards the room where Robert has Hop and Kali only makes your heart thump louder. It takes some focus to not let your shaking limbs drop El. 

You're not even the one with the worst end of the deal here, yet you still want to cry. It's all so much, too much, and all you can think of is being back in your apartment with Robert once again. Your eyes prickle as you think about this, about how easy it had seemed. Before either of you knew of this shit. Before you got pulled directly into this shit. Even finding pleasure with him in that dingy old trailer was a million times better than any of this.  

A realisation hits that you still want him in the same way you did. Guilt is very quick to follow that notion. 

At this thought, the tears that had threatened to pour begin to do just that. With your arms supporting El, you can't even wipe them away. All you can do is let them stream. Teeth begin to chatter as your shoulders shake. You want to rewind time - whether it’s to when you had him pressed against you, or before you even knew him, you’re not totally even sure. 

"One last chance." That painfully familiar voice fills your ears once again, closer now than before and even more unsettling. For a moment the sound of him makes you wonder if you're still stuck in a memory, and not this horrid reality. "Where is she?"

There's a pause. A pregnant one, a silence filling the room as Hop comes up with a response. You know he would never tell them where El is, and you would be hopeful that he would never tell them where you are either. 

Not that it matters, now that you’re helping El to reveal yourselves to him anyway. 

"Go to hell."

Hop is always a man of his word for the ones he loves. Of course he wouldn't give you or El's location up. Even if El is apparently prepared to do just that.  

"Ok then."

You remember Kali, and Robert's seemingly promising threat against her. The certainty in Robert's statement makes you feel sick. Is he following through on that threat? 

The sudden silence is worse than the previous angry words. El picks up her pace beside you, at least as much as she can, still whining in pain as she desperately scrambles to get to the room. This interaction you've both been eavesdropping on while making your way up the hall has clearly distressed her just as much as it has you. 

You're finally almost to the door when a deafening bang fills the air, and it takes you a moment to realise what just caused it. An explosion from the room just ahead. It's the loudest sound you've ever heard. The both of you freeze side by side, ears ringing, and you can just about make out the sound of glass smashing and bodies falling in the room just steps ahead of you. 

What the hell just happened? 

You dread to think of what caused that bang, or who may be injured because of it. There’s barely a moment to consider this before you notice a weight suddenly disappear from your shoulders. El perks up beside you - whatever that blast was, it was all that was needed to finally get rid of her kryptonite. She moves freely now. Without a second thought or look behind she starts again towards the room. 

You briefly wonder if her stubborn nature comes from Hop. 

You can’t fully consider this in the panic. All you can do is follow helplessly behind her. She reaches the door just a moment before you do. You can barely even process the scene when you get there. 

All you can process is chaos - soldiers scrambling to their feet, glass shattered everywhere, and Kali staring up at you from the floor in the middle of it all. You only have a second to register her, and Hop - who seems to be ok, but Kali certainly doesn't. She still looks as though she's aching even with the kryptonite now gone, face scrunched up as she looks at you, and your eyes are drawn to a slowly forming pool of blood just below her. Your knees feel just a little bit weaker at the sight of it. 

You pray that that came from the blast, and not from the man you know most likely caused it. 

In mere seconds, El has the necks of every soldier in the room snapped cleanly, each one dropping to the tile floor in sequence. In the very little you know of her, you've never known her to be so violent. Every soldier drops, except for the one who has just turned where he stands in order to survey the intruding attacker, blue eyes opening widely as they find yours and pierce through them. Eyes you had stared deeply into while in his flush embrace not long ago. 

It’s so hard to fully register what you see as you look at him. You thought you had seen Robert angry earlier. When Hopper had tied him up and interrogated him, you thought that his raised voice and rough words were as far as his rage would go. The fight afterwards certainly can’t have helped, and you gasp when you eventually notice a large wound covering much of the side of his face. Surely a souvenir from Hopper - it’s fresh enough to be from the blast. It looks like it aches, and the skin around it stretches as his expression twists into one between disappointment and fury. 

The switch in Robert’s demeanor heavily unsettles you. In a way, it even disturbs you. A small part of you wonders if his anger is worsened by the way you defied his earlier orders. Had you hidden somewhere safe just as he had asked, then you may not have been forced to face off like this. 

You wonder if a trick of the light is to blame for the faint softness that he still seems to look at you with, even through the rage. Though hard to pick up, there’s a vague sense of regret hidden somewhere behind his expression. Even a slight sense of want, buried deep now within his stony exterior. 

Despite that, even from where you remain stuck in the doorway, you can practically feel his blood boiling beneath the surface. His head tilts as he continues to take you in. 

“Picked your side, huh?” 

Robert's gaze is trained on you as he growls, barely regarding El initially, too focused on your presence in this godforsaken place. A hundred answers flash through you, not a single one sensible in your panicked mind. You're frozen in place as you hold his stare, teeth finding the inside of your cheek and nervously chewing it once again. 

Trying to respond to such a question in this awful position feels impossible, though it feels much more like a statement from him than an ask. Instead, you find yourself remaining involuntarily mute. 

After what feels like an eternity’s worth of seconds pass, Robert snaps out of his trance and finally fully registers El beside you. He raises his gun out of instinct but, as fast as he is, El is quicker. She always is. One hand raised in front of her keeps Robert held firmly in place, eyes now wide and lip faintly quivering as he becomes frozen under her power. 

Like a fish out of water, your mouth opens to speak, but quickly snaps shut. Still no answers come to your tongue. It's like some strange kind of nightmare, one in which you cannot speak and you cannot move. You have to force with all your will to make your terrified body do either. There's not much use in reasoning with El, especially considering the fire you can very clearly see coursing through her, though you attempt to all the same. 

"El, leave him-"

You watch in horror as his hand begins moving, turning his gun so that it begins to point to his chin. There's no way of him fighting against it under El’s influence. Out of the corner of your eye, Kali still stares at you. Were you not so panicked, you might notice the slight twitch of her fingers at her side, like a sorcerer quietly casting a spell. 

"El, please just let me-"

Pleading will evidently get you nowhere. The gun still continues its path. 

"El-"

The gun keeps turning. You want to move, either to help Robert or to push El down, but your feet are so stuck in place that you almost wonder if that white shit has sealed itself around them. 

"El, please-"

Robert’s whole body is trembling. It's obvious that he's trying to fight with everything in him to not let her do this. To not let himself do this. A panicked, misty eyed glance in your direction is the last look he gives you. 

You know well enough that there's no way of fighting once El has control. 

A whisper draws your attention to El as the gun inches closer to Robert's chin, though you can barely hear her words as she speaks them, drowned out by ringing ears and a million thoughts scrambling in your head. 

"I can see his thoughts… about how much he thought he could trust you."

One big bang before he drops to the ground, and you do so almost in unison. Knees hit the cold white tile as his back slams against it, lifeless body splayed out while the blood begins to pour. 

You feel like you may puke. 

You do. 

You start calling his name out, screaming it out as though he'll be able to respond to it. It doesn't register to you that he won't. You can't even hear it yourself, ears still buzzing from the shot, your heart pounding in them like a jackhammer.

Hands and knees scramble across the floor to claw your way to his side, strings of curses flowing out in between your sobs. You're sure you pick up some glass on your hands as you move, but there isn't a single fibre in your body that could care right now. Every part of you that worries what the others may think has disappeared too. 

A trembling hand on either side of his face turns it towards your own. Paler than usual and completely still. Devoid of any life, though full of it moments ago. His empty blue eyes don't return your desperate gaze.

You press your ear to his chest for a heartbeat, but all you hear is your own pulse throbbing in your head. Robert's chest is silent. So painfully silent, as thought there was never any life in it at all. Defeated and in denial, you allow yourself to collapse on top of him, hands still feebly holding his face and your head still pressed to his chest as a sob tears through you. It's too late now to care about anyone watching. About anyone seeing you thrown across him in despair. About anyone seeing you care about him.  

Whether they knew about the two of you or not, it clearly would have never mattered in the end. 

What feels like forever passes exactly like that. In reality, it’s only a few quiet moments. Moments spent with your heaving body still thrown over him, making some meek attempt to decide what the hell you’re supposed to do now. 

Then suddenly, you blink, and he's back. Still standing. Still alive. The absence of his body below you almost feels lonely, though not for very long. Robert stares at you from the centre of the room as he had done before, though now with an expression like a man who just got a personal visit from the grim reaper himself. 

The bodies of his men are still scattered all around you. It takes you a moment to notice that they’re the only other bodies inside the room. 

Hop, El, Kali - all three have disappeared. Into thin air, you think initially, until the thumping in your ears gives way to allow you to hear rushed footsteps further down the hall. A part of you wonders if you should follow, though you’re smart enough to know that there’s a reason you were left where you are.  

When you piece the puzzle together, you remember the brief explanation you were given of Kali’s power. With the strange and suspicious looks she and El had been giving you all throughout the lab, it all suddenly begins to click. Somewhere, in some part of the dark void El had gone to in that tank, she had seen some sort of evidence of your feelings for Robert. 

You feel uncomfortable at the thought that she may have seen more than just your feelings. 

A sudden tension fills you as you realise you may have just been used as a form of bait - a distraction to keep the scary army man from hurting any of the others. You would think it to be a betrayal, had you not so desperately and guiltily wanted to get back to Robert all along, and had it not seemingly worked in everyone’s favour. 

Much closer footsteps snap you out of your detective moment. Only now do you register Robert standing much closer, and you’re forced to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. This close, you can make out the wound much better - it’s a burn, a very deep one, and the thought of such pain sends a shiver running through you. It was clearly barely cleaned before he was sent straight out on his hunt yet again. You find it hard to take your eyes off of it. 

Robert’s expression suggests that he doesn’t enjoy you inspecting it. 

“I don’t know what the fuck that was, or how the fuck I just-” Died? - you finish his sentence mentally. Robert still stares at you, jaw tense as his eyes turn glassy. You notice a tremble return to his lip. His stress suggests he just saw some version of the same vision you did. “Tell me where they’re gone, and while we follow them you’re gonna explain what the hell just happened.” 

Swallowing hard, you do your best to put on a brave face and nod. Instead, your eyes sting yet again as you register the situation. As you register what you would swear you just experienced, was it not for the fact of Robert standing very much alive before you. 

“I-I don’t know what just…” You trail off, and expect your useless response to leave him angrier, but you can’t force out much more just yet. All it does is have the opposite effect. Blue eyes soften at the sight of your own welling up. Robert’s own body betrays him, shoulders dropping as his jaw softens. You bring a shaking hand to cover your face, and his brow scrunches at the sight. 

Robert doesn’t know what to do, and you can tell. His large hands fiddle on either side of him. He opens his mouth, words now coming a little softer so as to not poke at you, though you barely let him get them out. “Did you see-“

“You just fucking died!” A sob shakes your body, and you stop making any attempt to gather yourself. You’re so overtired, so overwhelmed, so sick of holding things back. This seems to have been enough to push you finally over the edge. You give up on that attempt of a brave face. “I just saw you! I-I just saw you shoot yourself!”

Watching his stiff body fall was like a reality check in the harshest possible form. 

His iron exterior finally snaps. Long arms betray his cold front even further by finding themselves around you. It’s not the first time he’s seen you cry, though this is the first time you’ve felt his body shake along with yours. You think you hear him sniffle. You’re very sure you hear him sob, though it’s hard to tell when his arms wrap around you even tighter, pressing your wet face to his chest. 

It takes some time for either of you to feel capable of even speaking. Even longer to feel like you can move. By the time you attempt to follow the others, you’re certain Robert isn’t even following them on his hunt anymore. It seems more like the reality of losing every one of his men has hit him, driven home even harder by the reality of almost losing himself. He takes much more care when walking alongside you now, far more concerned than before with making sure that you’re alright beside him. 

The shell of a solider now seems much more focused on getting the two of you home.