#robert au

[4threset]

more idlings from my villain Robert AU..... He has the presence of a haunted abandoned city. Am I making sense. Is this thing on? Does anyone see the vision? This man is haunted.

[justanoutlawfic]

You know, the more I think about it...

No matter how fucked up George was, Robert had no right to kidnap James. Especially since it was just to prove a point that he wasn’t a drunken mess. George was James’ father. We all acknowledge that Emma had zero right to try to take Henry from Regina. So, I’m not sure why I tried to justify Robert trying to take James. I can’t anymore. It was wrong. You were wrong good sir.

Killian was still wrong to kill him, but I actually don’t blame George trying to kill the man that was trying to kidnap his son...

[4threset]

been thinking a lot about a personal Villain Robert AU....

[robert-armstrong-blog]

To The Rescue | AU Drabble

After a forty-six hours from hell and then some, Rob was finally settling down in the common room of the fire station, content to doze off his last two hours of his shift. From the moment he had walked into the firehouse Tuesday morning the alarms were blaring. Kitchen fire over on Jefferson, a gas leak on Maddison. He wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t thrilling, but forty-six hours on his feet left the giant sore and aching, itching to just crawl into the mattress waiting for him at home.

Blue-gray orbs became hidden by fluttering lids, Rob drifting off into a slight snooze. No more than ten seconds after the fact did the sirens start ringing, jolting him out of his daze and up like a startled cat. He hit his head on a rather low lying beam and with a slew of muttered curse the burly man made his way back to the lobby to await orders.

Hotel on Fifth, alarm went off. No contact yet but better to be safe than sorry.

In carefully practiced methodic movements, Rob put on every piece of protective gear, from under garments to boots to coat before jumping on the back of the fire engine red truck, lights and sirens already begingin to blare. Years on the force has dulled his hearing, the obnoxiously loud siren ringing close to his ear sounding nothing more than a dull chime to him at that point. 

The ride was quick and smooth, so smooth in fact Rob could feel his eyelids slipping shut again with the gentle rocking of the truck. All tiredness sapped away however when the hotel came into view and with it, the telltale wave of heat that came with a gas fire. 

Kitchen line, small explosion, no one hurt.

Looking even more like the gentle giant he was often called, Rob hurried off the truck and into the blaze making sure no one was really inside. It was his turn for recon that shift. The others would handle the fire while he scoped the inside and gave the all clear. Black smog was every where, coming at him in hard waves and he could hear his even calculated breaths through the mask.

All the way through the kitchen he looked, thankfully finding no one around.

Rob opened the door to exit when something made him turn, a gut feeling that told him he had missed something. Careful he lumbered back in, the heat growing with a vengeance, if anything or god forbid anyone was still in there, it would be a miracle for them be alright. The giant searched, lifting tables, moving burning chairs, the air so thick with black smoke he couldn't see his hands in front of him. After a few moments he called it quits, chalking up his bad feeling to an upset stomach or something. 

That's when he saw her.

Under one of the cabinets and curled into herself was the body of a tiny maid. She could've been a child by how small she seemed. Rob raced over to her, heart in his throat, knowing before he event bent down to retrieve her that she was gone. Even if he wouldn't let himself think it, the back of his mind knew it to be true. Robert had to crouch low to be able to reach where the small woman was hidden, and he gently reached under to pull her out. She came with no purchase, a pile of small bones as lifeless as a ragdoll. From her hiding place she had saved herself from too many burns, but smoke inhalation and heat- she stood no chance.

Rob cradled her to his chest, cocooning himself around her, not letting any more heat or smoke to touch her precious form. Even before they had made it out his gray eyes had stormed over, moisture filling as the consequences of his actions came through. He had failed her. He had one job and one job only, to fight fires, to rescue the innocents and he had failed.

She was dead.

Gently placing her lifeless body on one of the stretchers he watched, never leaving her side as they tried to work on her. It was no use. Even as they bagged her body to be sent to the morgue, Rob stood there, like a watch dog looking after its owner, waiting for his next command. The scene had been cleared, the smoldering remains of the hotel getting it's last hose down when Rob finally moved. He was a man in a trance. Every step was labored and hard, as if sandbags had been laid on his already too heavy feet.

He took the last truck to the station, methodically stripped off his gear and went home, not uttering a word to a soul. In his apartment he bolted the door from the inside, knowing that even with Chucks spare key he wouldn't be able to get inside. With that he pulled a bottle of whiskey, entered his bedroom, and locked the door.

It was a few hours later than his phone rang, the bright shining face of his best friend lighting up the screen. With a click the giant sent it to voicemail, turning off his phone to have to keep from seeing the face of a man who thought him a hero. He wasn't a hero, not even close.

Three days, four bottles of whiskey later, Rob finally emerged from his room. He left only left for three things, more whiskey, to quit his job, and more whiskey.

The man had fallen into a guilt induced bender filled with nothing but booze and infomercials. He had stopped eating, showering, becoming a ghost of a gentle giant he once was. Robert had cut off all ties with everyone, never spoke to the chief or Charles again. He had missed the court hearing for the kids, and lost them. Ignored the eviction notices shoved under his door.

Robert had become gaunt, almost unnatural looking. Such a tall man who's muscles had simply melted off his flesh in sadness. But he didn't care. He had killed her. Had lost that poor girl to a fire and it was his fault. He didn't deserve love, or compassion or glory. He was basically an accessory to murder. Rob had taken an oath, sworn over a bible to help, protect and serve, and he had failed.

A morning a few months after the incident Rob uncorked his umpteenth bottle of whiskey, but instead of bringing the bottle to his lips he let the amber liquid fall to the floor. All around him he poured, let the poison soak up into the carpet and onto his pants. Tossing the bottle away he fished for a lighter in his pocket, the cool burn of the metal burning his fingers. He welcomed it.

Clicking the lighter on he stared at the small flame, and with a flick of his wrist he let it go. Heat, flame, hot and unbearable sparked before him. But all Robert saw in that moment was the girls face dancing in the flames, small and beautiful, releasing him from his guilt, from everything.

In the end, she rescued him.