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Robert is slowly getting used to his weekly calls with Victoria. Would still prefer having her here with him, but he understands why she had to leave and it's not like it's forever.
It’s never at a set time. She rings when she can, usually when Harry’s finally asleep, her voice quieter than it used to be, careful not to disturb the life she's building there.
Harry doesn’t really understand why they had to go, of course. Just that they did, and now this is home for a while. Vic does her best to keep things normal for him, to make it seem like an adventure instead of an escape.
Robert gets updates in pieces; stories about the beach, about the heat, about Harry running himself ragged. It’s not the same as being there, not even close, but it’s something.
He misses having him around, but Vic keeps telling him how good Portugal is to him, to both of them, and it eases something in his chest each time she says it.
The call comes later than usual tonight, Vic sounding tired but more than happy.
There’s a bit of back and forth about nothing in particular before Vic asks Robert's new favorite question. “How’s the farm doing?”
It's a bit strange how giddy that question makes him, how much he enjoys talking about the farm now, how it became such a large part of his life.
He gives her a quick rundown about his early morning, about running after the sheep, about Matty helping out.
“It’s not falling apart, so that’s something, right?” Robert finishes, grinning .
Victoria snorts. “Is that your sales pitch?”
“What do you want me to say? That it’s thriving? It’s a farm, Vic, not a five star hotel.”
“You’ve got a way with words, haven’t you?” Vic laughs. “Seriously though, sounds like it's going well.”
It is, is the thing. It's going well, really well even.
A decade ago, six years ago before prison and even a year ago when he just got out, Robert wouldn't have believed it if someone told him he'd end up here, and especially not that he'd enjoy it so much.
He’d have laughed, or walked off, or picked a fight just to prove the point.
It was the last thing he wanted when he was a kid, couldn't have imagined anything worse. But it's different now, after spending so many years inside a cramped cell, with walls too close and air too stale, threatening to choke him. Now, it feels freeing, being outside all day with the sky stretching wide overhead and the earth beneath his boots.
The work is hard, relentless sometimes, but it fills the hours instead of dragging through them. Gives his hands something to do, his head something to focus on that isn’t counting time or replaying mistakes.
He’d hated this place as a kid, yeah, but back then, it wasn’t his choice. Now, every blister, every sunburn, every damn splinter feels like something he owns.
No one’s dragging him into it, no one telling him this is just what a Sugden does, end of story. He chose to be here. Chose to stay. And after years of locked doors and counted hours, that choice feels like something solid under his feet.
“I'm really glad things are going well, Rob.” Vic says, and she sounds so genuine. Robert can't wait for her and Harry to get back to Emmerdale, to have them both be a part of this new life he's building. “Dad would be so proud.”
Robert's breath catches.
There are a lot of pictures on Robert's and Aaron's fridge, their attempt at making this place their own. Pictures from a lifetime ago, all smiles and freedom, everything they should have had forever but lost because of Robert, an attempt to mimic what they used to be, a curated collection of happiness, as if the photos alone could stitch their lives back together.
Amongst all those pictures there's one of Jack Sugden, looking right at the camera, smiling.
Robert doesn't know why that picture is there, why he put it there, and Aaron was bewildered the first time Robert put it up, still doesn't seem to understand and how could he when Robert himself doesn't?
Maybe it's the fact he's here now. Not wanting to be a farmer was his first crime in his father's eyes, yet that's exactly what he ended up being, unable to escape the cruel cycle of fate.
It’s stupid, really. It’s just a photo. Paper and ink and someone else’s memory of a man who isn’t even in the room anymore.
But he still put it there.
Like some part of him wanted it in the middle of everything. Right in the centre of their life. Right where it can’t be ignored.
Like he wanted Jack to see it. Robert where Jack always wanted him to end up.
Except, not exactly.
He wonders if the spirit of Jack might be living here, if it might be able to see through the picture, if it sees him and Aaron moving around each other in the kitchen, shoulders brushing, exchanging lazy kisses.
If Jack can see all of it, Robert wonders what he must be thinking. If he saw it all these decades ago, Robert wonders if his dad would have even wanted him to be a farmer in the first place, if he knew he would end up doing it with another man.
Robert realizes he's been quiet too long when he hears Vic saying his name, sounding worried. "Rob? You still there?”
Robert blinks, the kitchen snapping back into focus around him.
“Yeah,” he says. “Still here.”
“You went quiet,” he can hear the frown in her voice now. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he says, the word still sitting heavy in his stomach.
Proud.
It twists something in his chest, drags up something old and sour before he can stop it.
Fifteen. Mud on his boots, heart in his throat, thinking, just for a second, that maybe-
“Robert?”
Robert's hand tightens around the phone. He can feel it, that familiar disconnect between what's real and what's spiraling in his head that he's been feeling more often than not since getting out of prison. It started even before he got released if he's being honest with himself, the only way to get through the day to lose track of it, to stop existing for a moment. To split himself off from his own thoughts, to pretend he wasn't there at all. Some habits are hard to break, and he's starting to think this one might never leave him.
The photo on the fridge taunts him from the corner of his vision; that damned smile, frozen in time, oblivious to the wreckage left in its wake.
“Yeah,” Robert manages to rasp out. “I heard you.”
Victoria doesn't reply immediately. He can picture her, head tilted, that look she gets when she knows he’s not saying everything. “Is it something I said?”
Robert lets out a slow breath, dragging a hand down his face. "No,” he says, doesn't sound convincing to his own ears. Doesn't really sound like himself to his own ears, even though he knows it was him that talked. "Yeah. Maybe.”
There’s a small shift on the other end of the line, like Vic’s sitting up a bit straighter, properly listening now. "What did I say?”
Robert’s eyes flick back to the fridge before he can stop himself.
It’s been years, decades. It shouldn’t still have this kind of hold on him.
And yet-
The farm. The house. The life Robert is building for himself and Aaron, their family.
All of it wouldn't look right to his father, would it?
It should.
Robert Sugden, back where he belongs. Doing what he’s supposed to. Finally.
It should be enough.
It wouldn’t be enough. It was never going to be enough.
Not like that.
Not with him.
Not when Jack Sugden took his belt to him, made him purple and blue, carving queer into his bones. Like it was something rancid, something shameful, something that couldn’t coexist with the Sugden name, the Sugden land, the Sugden legacy.
Robert is building a new Sugden legacy now. Trying to, at least.
"-ob? Rob? Robert?” Victoria sounds frantic now, and Robert can't be sure how many times she said his name.
Robert blinks again, harder this time, trying to force himself back into the room.
"I'm okay,” he says weakly. "Just… thinking.”
"About?” It's clear by her voice she's still worried about him, doesn't believe he's okay for a second, probably two seconds away from messaging Aaron to check on him if she hasn't already.
"Just leave it Vic, yeah?” He knows her better than that, knows she won't.
Victoria exhales sharply. "Don't do that," she says. "Don't shut me out. Not when I can't see you and can't do anything about it.”
He wants to challenge her, tells her to come back and say it to his face, ask why she left him if she supposedly loves and cares so much.
Doesn't really have the right to with what he did six years ago.
"Is it…” her face is careful, hesitant. "Is it because of what I said about dad? That he'll be proud?”
Robert's throat tightens. He doesn't want to lie to Vic, definitely doesn't want to tell the truth about this.
"Because, you know, he would be. I know you didn't always get along, but he'd be dead proud of ya. I'm sure.”
Robert closes his eyes, can't do this.
He never wanted to ruin Vic's view of their father, wanted to be strong enough to protect her from the vile truth. But prison had changed him, weakened him, and maybe he's not as good at keeping secrets as he used to be.
"He really, really wouldn't be.” He says, tries to sound as flat and unbothered as possible. He's pretty sure his voice doesn't shake.
"What- Rob, course he would be! What are you talking about?”
"Vic, please-”
"No, I know you two fought a lot, but you're his son! He'd be so proud of everything you've done here, with the farm-”
A decade ago, when Robert was dragged out of the closet with kicking and screaming, had tried to claw his way back in with sharp nails and the familiarity of lies and manipulation, Vic had told him something similar.
Coming out must be hard, especially for the son of a farmer, but dad would have understood, and he would have been proud, she said.
Robert had felt the shame thrumming in his veins, the phantom pains of Jack's belt on his back and had quietly said don't.
His response this time is far from quiet.
"No, Vic, he wouldn't be. He could never be proud of my job on the farm because I'm doing it with another man.” He spits out.
Victoria goes completely silent on the other end of the line.
Robert regrets it instantly.
He stares at the floor, jaw tight, like he can somehow reel the words back in if he just clamps down hard enough.
"Vic…” he starts, but he doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say. Sorry? Forget it? Pretend that wasn’t real?
Her voice, when it comes, is softer than before. Careful. "Rob… Robert, what do you mean? What do you mean by that?”
"Nothing, okay? I don't know why I said that.”
"Robert, please.” She presses, and he always did have a soft spot for his little sister.
Robert closes his eyes. "Do you… well, no. You were about seven at the time. I doubt you'll remember him.”
"Tom.” Even after all these years, Robert still can't talk about him without feeling like he's done something wrong. "He worked at the farm. I was about fifteen. He- I liked him.”
Victoria doesn't say anything, waiting for him to continue. Robert doesn't know whether to be grateful.
"He liked me too,” Robert adds. "We- nothing really happened. Not properly. Just… yeah. It was about to. And then-” he lets out a short, humourless breath. "And then dad walked in.”
Victoria's breath hitches on the other end of the line. Robert can practically hear the pieces clicking together in her head. "He…he knew you were-”
"He went mad,” Robert goes on, unable to stop now. "Sacked him on the spot. Didn’t even- just- gone. And then-” a sound that might be a laugh escapes Robert, but no, it's too ugly and rotten to be that. "Leathered me.”
He cuts himself off, jaw tightening.
"Anyway,” he says, voice bitter. "That was that.”
There's a strangled noise from Victoria's end. "Rob-” she's clearly crying. He made her cry.
He shouldn't have told her.
"I'm sorry,” he says, miserable.
"Robert, no.” She sounds horrified. "Don’t you dare apologise. You've got nothing to apologize for.”
Robert winces. "Vic, I-”
"No,” she cuts in, voice shaking now but still holding firm. "No, you don’t need to be sorry for that. Not for what he did, and not for telling me about it.”
Robert exhales shakily, not sure how to respond.
"I’m just-” Vic sniffles. "I’m trying to catch up, alright? You’ve been carrying this around on your own for years, and I’m only just hearing it now. Why didn't you tell me before?”
"I didn't want to change the way you see him. He was your dad.” He admits. And then, the deepest fear- "besides, would you have believed me anyway?”
"Robert,” and if he thought she sounded devastated before, it's nothing compared to how she sounds now. "Robert, yes. Of course I would have.”
She sounds so sure of it, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Robert thinks he might cry.
"Does Aaron know?” She asks.
At least that question is easy to answer.
"Yes.” The first and only time, up until now he supposes, Robert felt safe enough to tell someone, didn't feel like he was going to be judged or punished and be called a liar. “I told him when we got engaged. The first time. He was… he was really good about it. Amazing, even.”
"Good,” Vic says, finally sounding something other than sad, Robert pretty sure he can detect a smile in her voice. "You shouldn’t be on your own with stuff like that.”
Robert huffs out a quiet breath at that, doesn't like how wet it sounds. “Yeah, yeah, turns out bottling things up isn’t exactly a winning strategy. Who knew. My specialty, though.”
Vic lets out a small, watery laugh. “You? Bad at talking about your feelings? I’m shocked.”
“Hey, I’ve just had a very emotional breakthrough, don’t ruin it.”
“Right, sorry,” she says, playing along, though her voice is still thick from crying. “We’ll schedule the next one for… what, 2035?”
“Sounds about right.”
"I just-” Vic starts, then pauses. "I need you to hear this, alright?”
Robert frowns slightly. "Go on.”
"He was wrong,” she says. "Dad. For what he did. And I don’t care what he said or what he thought- he doesn’t get to define you like that.”
Robert isn't entirely sure how long after that he stays on call with Victoria, not sure how long until he stops crying, until she stops reassuring him.
But by the end of it, he thinks he might believe her.
Robert finds Aaron already in bed, a small smile on his face when he sees Robert walks into their bedroom.
“Hey,” Aaron says and Robert leans in, giving him a small kiss, still getting used to the fact he's allowed to do that again. “How was your call with Vic?”
He asks it every time, but there's something off about the way his voice sounds now.
Robert quirks an eyebrow. “You know something.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Aaron.”
Aaron sighs. “Vic might have texted.”
Robert had a feeling she would. “What did she say?”
“Not much. Just that you had a rough call and might need me, but never ask for it yourself. That part I could gather myself.” Aaron shrugs. “Didn’t give me the details.”
Robert doesn't know if to be grateful for that or not. He's glad Victoria left the choice in his hands, but he doesn't really want to go through talking about it again.
Aaron knows, though. He knows and he understands him.
“Yeah,” Robert swallows, settling next to Aaron on the bed. “We, uh. We talked about dad. And about… I told her about…”
He trails off, but he can tell the moment Aaron gets him, his expression shifting immediately. “Oh, Robert. God. I'm so proud of you.”
Robert can feel his face heating up. “It's nothing.”
Aaron shifts closer, his hand finding Robert’s knee under the duvet. “It’s not nothing,” he says quietly. “You know it’s not.” His thumb rubs slow circles against Robert’s leg, grounding him. “How’d she take it?”
"Better than I thought." He admits.
Aaron hums, fingers still tracing idle patterns against Robert’s skin. “She’s your sister,” he says, like that explains everything. Maybe it does.
Robert shifts. “Aaron-” he's not sure how to ask for what he wants, what he needs, just looks at Aaron pleadingly and hopes he understands. He always had an uncanny ability to read Robert. It goes both ways, really.
Aaron does, immediately, opens his arms and lets Robert fall into him, melt into him.
“Can I ask for something?” Robert murmurs into the crook of Aaron's neck.
“Anything,” Aaron says, and there's so much devotion in his voice Robert could really believe he means it, that Aaron would burn the world down if Robert asked him to. Robert would do the same for him, so it only makes sense.
For now, though, he only needs one thing.
“I think we should take my dad's picture off the fridge.”