Robert’s death had hurt them all in different ways, but they all moved on eventually—moved forward, moved up.
He hadn’t really ever stopped thinking about Robert Robertson the Third, and he didn’t think he ever would.
There had been many lovers over the years—bad lovers, good lovers, great lovers, people Chad could see himself staying with for a long time. Once, there was even a fiancé. But none of them lasted.
They all stood in the shadow of a man Chad had never even kissed.
He’d wanted to. Fuck, he’d wanted to.
It had been a tiny spark—breathed into life that very first day when that deep voice on the comms had called him out on his bullshit—that had grown into a healthy fire over the months he knew their dry, witty dispatcher.
It hadn’t even dimmed at the revelation that Robert was Mecha Man; even as angry and betrayed as Chad felt in that moment, there was a part of him underneath it all that preened at the knowledge that they had history, that Chad was special.
Once he’d gotten over the fallout, he’d made all kinds of plans—daydreams honestly—about how he could get closer, how he could make Robert want to touch Chad as badly as Chad wanted to touch him.
He thought about all the different ways it could happen.
He pictured a fiery meeting of mouths—hot and sharp and angry—and it made his blood rush.
He pictured the slick slide of a cool tongue in his mouth, a skinny but muscled thigh between his legs, and it made his dick ache.
He pictured the soft, sweet press of dry lips against his, and it made his face flush darker than any filthy daydream ever had.
He’d decided on that last one. He swore to himself that that was the kiss he’d get—that would be his first kiss with Robert—and he spent days thinking up the perfect words to use to invite Robert out for that dinner he’d hinted at before. Alice coached him through the script he wrote until he could get the whole thing out without any insults or jeers or stray sparks falling out of his mouth, and he felt pretty fucking optimistic about his chances.
In the end, it hadn’t mattered. Chad would never get to say it to Robert. He would never get that dinner, or that soft, sweet kiss he wanted so bad.
The only time their lips had touched had been when Chase, preoccupied with chest compressions, had barked, “Somebody give him some fucking rescue breaths!”
Visi—hands soaked in Robert’s blood, trying to keep it in while staying out of Chase’s way—had looked up at Chad with wide, frantic eyes, and Chad had dropped to his knees and tried to breathe life into Robert’s lungs.
He knew, even as he did it, that it was hopeless. Malevola, their best healer, had already sat back, her hands laying still in her lap as her yellow eyes stared blankly at Robert’s face.
He knew it was hopeless, but he didn’t care. The three of them—Chase, Visi, and Chad—worked on Robert right up until the paramedics got on the scene and labelled him DOA. Dead On Arrival.
They found out later that the bullet had passed right through Robert’s heart. He was unconscious in seconds, dead in minutes. It happened really quickly.
As soon as Robert fell, what was left of the Red Ring had gone crazy—like cornered animals that knew they would die soon—and most of the team was stuck fighting them on the ground. It had taken a little less than five minutes for both Chad and Malevola to get up onto the roof, and by then it was already too late.
He’d been dead before Chad had even gotten to him.
The only people there with him when he went were Chase—who was too fast for any Red Ringer to catch—and Visi—who had apparently been on the roof when Shroud fired. Too far to stop it, close enough to have to watch it happen.
(And there had been Beef, who had curled up against his owner's cold side and whined until the moment Robert’s body was bagged and taken away, when Chase picked Robert's dog up and squeezed him and they all stood around saying nothing for a long time.)
Everyone took it hard, but it hit the four of them the worst—they were so, so close, and they still failed him.
Chase carried the weight of that failure with him until the day he died. He left Beef—just as old and gray as Chase by that point—to Chad. They’d become pretty good friends, by the end. Turns out they had a lot in common.
The biggest thing being that neither of them had ever moved on. Chase mourned Robert right up until his last breath, and Chad fully expected to do the same.
So it’s pretty fucking lucky that he’s in a really good spot to fix things right now—you know, being magically thrown thirteen years into the past and all.
In the chaos of the battle, Chad whirls around just in time to see Shroud’s mech suit plummet into the SDN building, and immediately lights up and rockets toward the roof himself, heart beating out of his chest.
This time, he’ll do everything right.
This time, Robert will live.
And this time—he falters, still a little flustered at the idea, even all these years later—maybe Chad will get that kiss.
