Chapter Text
It’s not that time actually slows down when faced with impending death. It’s simply that the brain makes more memories of that time, grasping and saving what it perceives as its last moments of life.
That is why, in the seconds immediately following the initial, monumental crack of the explosion, Robert has the time to wonder what on earth that sound could have been. There is time to be more confused than afraid. To wonder why the windows are rattling in their frames and why he smells smoke. He takes the time to hear the splintering groan of hundred-year-old support beams breaking apart. To look upwards at the ceiling as it comes crashing down upon him.
And he has the time, as his consciousness fades for the first time, to imprint to his memory the wish that he could have seen Aaron smile at him just one more time.
*
Aaron stands stock still in the yard of the garage for several long seconds, socket wrench loose in this hand and heart pounding, as he tries to make sense of that monstrous sound.
“What the bloody hell?” Cain asks, coming up behind him.
Aaron simply shakes his head, his senses still keenly focused. It’s only when he hears the screams and the first waft of acrid smoke meets his nose that he looks back at his uncle, wearing a matching determined look, and runs to the street.
It is easy enough to follow the chaos.
The pub is in ruins. Its roof is partially collapsed in on itself, some of the grey stone facade having crumbled inwards. All the windows on the front of the building have exploded with smoke and dust billowing out of the gaping holes left behind.
Aaron doesn’t even think. He just presses through the gathering crowd, hurrying towards the devastated building.
Someone grabs his arm as they brush past each other. It’s Eric, his face streaked with soot. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To help!” Aaron says, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. He watches as Cain, undeterred by a meddling neighbor, disappears inside the front door.
“Wait for the first responders, lad.”
“No way. My mum’s in there,” Aaron snaps, ripping his arm away.
Stepping over the rubble that once was the front entry to the pub, Aaron stumbles into David. There is a line of blood trailing down his cheek from a cut over his eye and he’s supporting a limping Vic, who clutches her wrist to her chest at an unnatural angle.
“There’s more people inside,” David says. His breath is ragged but he otherwise seems alright.
“Have you seen my mum?” Aaron asks. David shakes his head. Victoria stares past him as if he isn’t even there, eyes stunned and blank. “Vic?” He shouts, and her eyes regain their focus. “Have you seen Chas?” Aaron repeats again slowly.
“I- I don’t know,” She finally manages.
Aaron squeezes her shoulder gently, sharing a look with David that begs him to take care of her.
He unzips his coveralls, tying the sleeves around his waist, and tucks his nose and mouth under the collar of his tee-shirt
He had expected more panic. Instead there is an unnatural quiet of the aftershock. There is stillness in the destruction, dust settling, ash wafting.
“Mum?” He calls out, as his eyes try to adjust to the eerie, murky light. “Chas!” he yells again, a hysterical edge creeping into his voice. Any number of horrific scenarios play out in his mind as he makes his way further inside, stepping carefully over felled sheet rock and destroyed furniture.
The long bar still stands, though it is badly damaged. Aaron stumbles towards it, catching himself on the edge. Looking over the top, he can just see the top of his uncle’s head, crouched on the floor holding the hand of an impossibly still Diane. Her body is contorted, laid between broken bits of pint glasses and splintered wood. A giant blood stain spreads from her ribs to her waist.
“Is she…?” Aaron gasps. Cain looks up at him, eyes dire, mouth set in a pained line. It takes him a moment before he nods.
Aaron presses the back of his hand to his mouth. Disbelief and horror and the grim severity of what is actually happening jumbling up his thoughts.
Outside, the sound of far off police cars, fire engines and ambulances begin to wail and swell.
“You stay with her. I’ll keep looking.”
*
When Robert wakes again it is to immeasurable pain. The kind so all-consuming it is impossible to tell where in his body the pain stems from as every inch of him, inside and out feels like the raw end of a nerve exposed to a flame.
He is tries to move. But he can’t. He’s trapped, buried in close darkness, the debris heavy on his chest.
There are voices nearby, but not near enough to notice him. He reaches with his hand, his fingers, hoping any microscopic move might be enough to catch someone’s eye. He tries desperately to force a sound out of his lungs.
But nothing comes. There is only darkness as his mind slips away once more.
*
Just as Aaron passes through the kitchen into the hall beyond, he sees Chas emerge from the sitting room.
“Aaron, love!”
The door is off it’s hinges, and she must brace herself against the door jam, taking a wide step over the charred door. She stumbles, her ever impractical high-heeled boots teetering on uneven ground.
Aaron catches her, pulling her into a fierce hug. “Are you alright?” He holds her out at arm's length, looking her over. There is blood over her eyebrow and she’s trembling like a leaf.
“What’s happening?”
“I dunno,” Aaron says. “But you need to get out of here.”
“Not without you!”
An ominous groaning sound forms in the ceiling somewhere over their head. Aaron spins around, watching as a portion of the sitting room ceiling gives way. With a burst of electrical wires snapping, followed by the crack of a building meant to withstand the test of time, insulation and dust plummet to the floor.
And that is when something catches Aaron’s eye. Something that looks far too perfect in this scene of utter ruin. Something that has no business being in his home at all.
Aaron spins Chas around, pointing her in the right direction. “Get out of here,” he orders.
“No, Aaron! It’s not safe in here.”
“I need to look for something.”
“What could you possibly…”
“Just go!” He yells, giving her a shove to further emphasize his point.
With her gone, Aaron turns back around. A sudden clarity fills his mind as he focuses his complete attention on the conspicuous object.
Robert’s watch - that showy expensive thing Chrisse had given him for his birthday - still encircling the wrist of the man who wore it, the knuckles bloodied, fingers limp, sticking out from under a massive pile of wreckage.
*
Aaron drops to his knees and immediately begins pushing debris away from where he assumes Robert must be.
“Robert,” Aaron says. It sounds like a reprimand one might give to a misbehaving dog. How dare he be here? How dare he be caught up in this mayhem too?
There is a heavy wooden beam fallen across him, resting dangerously near his head. Aaron lifts it away, the wood feeling light in his adrenaline-strong arms.
“Come on, Robert,” he says but this time it is a plea.
Only once Robert is out from under all the devastation, can Aaron truly process what has happened. Robert is motionless. His lips and cheeks are colorless, covered in a fine layer of dust. One of his legs is tucked awkwardly beneath the other and there is a massive gash across his head, leaving his blond hair caked with blood.
Aaron, sits back on his heels and passes his hand over his face. He thinks of Diane’s lifeless body and can’t help but make a similar comparison to how Robert looks.
“What are you even doing back here, eh, mate?” He whispers, breath shuddering and hands hovering over his body. He’s afraid to touch Robert incase it causes more injury. Afraid he’ll reach out and touch to find him lifeless and cold.
He can hear the fire crew and paramedics shouting orders to each other outside. Little good they will do for Diane, Aaron thinks and he refuses to let Robert be counted alongside her, a casualty to tragedy.
More gently than he has perhaps ever done anything in his life, Aaron leans over Robert’s body and lowers his head to his chest. He’s prepared to hear nothing but a hollow emptiness.
And for a moment, he does.
A sob bubbles up out of his mouth as he clutches at the collar of Robert’s shirt.
But then, painfully slow, almost as if it’s trying to remember how, Aaron hears a heartbeat. He listens again, waiting several interminable seconds, before hearing another thud bump up against his chest cavity.
He’s still alive.
Acting on pure instinct, Aaron slips his arms underneath Robert’s limp body. With a determined groan, he stands, cradling the larger man in his arms.
As quickly as he is able, he makes for the closest exit near the foot of the stairs. He kicks down the door, its wood brittle and cracked from the concussion of the blast. Emerging outside, he finds himself half a block away from all of the commotion and all of the help. The fire crew and paramedics rush in the front door, while nearly all the village seems gathered about the other entrance.
“Help me, please!” Aaron screams, still holding Robert’s body in his arms. “Anyone! Help!”
It’s Chas who hears his calls for help, her mother’s ears able to pick his voice out from the crowd. She gets the attention of two medics who rush down the street towards him.
As he watches them run down the street, relief takes the place of panic. He lays Robert’s body on the ground, settling his head down last like you would a sleeping baby. “Hang in there, Robert,” He whispers, fingertips brushing over Robert’s jaw as he does. “For me.”
*
He cannot bring himself to open his eyes but he can sense brightness beyond his eyelids. The weight is gone from his chest. His body is numb from the pain.
There is someone beside him. Someone whispering in his ear. Touching him gently.
He knows that voice. He knows hope.
He knows Aaron.