Title: Eight Words
Rating: PG, almost G
Pairing: Barney/Robin
Setting: Eh, i think anywhere after the first episode of season 4 makes sense, AU for season 4 fin
Word count: About 1,500 words
Summary: With those eight words, everything broke and everything came back together again...
A/N: First fic, un-edited and kind of weird...
"I'm really sorry, Barney, this was a mistake" were eight words he never wanted to hear from her. It wasn't supposed to end this way, at least not in his head. He didn't want to think anymore, breathe anymore, feel anymore…
The first thing he did when she broke up with him was get on a flight to Los Angeles, getting as far away from anything that reminded him of her without leaving the country (leaving the country would remind him of how Canada was outside the country, bringing him back to her again). He climbed on the next flight out there, with no extra clothes, no toiletries, nothing. Just him and his annoyingly broken soul.
When he got to Los Angeles, he made a beeline for the first bar in sight, not caring where it was or whether or not he had somewhere to crash for the night. All he could think was, get drunk, get drunk, get drunk. He couldn't bring himself to drink scotch; reminded him too much of her. Instead, he downed every type of alcohol other than scotch until he couldn't see straight.
Sure his friends called, but after the ringing became annoying, he turned off his phone for the first time in months. Work and friends didn't matter right now. He just wanted to stop thinking of her.
He couldn't remember what went wrong. For him, everything had been perfect between them up until the point when there was nothing between them anymore. It was like a dream, one he never seemed to wake up from. Their friends knew about the relationship, of course (they were never too keen on the idea of subtle): Lily approved, hated the casualness; Ted was okay with it, apparently completely and utterly over Robin by that point; Marshall became weirdly protective. He'd never been happier in his whole life. Only, he didn't tell her that, or act like it. He knew her well enough to know that she didn't want the expectations of liking him more, being a better girlfriend. He just kept it the way she wanted at first: a casual, fun relationship that was all sex no pressure. He was fine with that; it was better than nothing.
Of course, he also knew that it was more than he ever expected. The sex was amazing and the chemistry between them both in and out of bed was definitely something to write home about (not that he would...that would be just awkward). Years of being friends beforehand really made a difference. They knew each other's quirks, what each other liked, disliked; how each other would act in a certain situation. It was months of having sex, playing laser tag and smoking cigars- what more could a man want?
Eventually, though, it had become unintentionally serious. It had started out as an innocent second one-night stand (this one with Ted's inadvertent permission), grown into a casual sex-buddies agreement and then, almost as if overnight, bloomed into a relationship. Her stuff started slowly seeping into his apartment: things like her clothing in his closet, her makeup and toothbrush in the bathroom, a second towel. It was so gradual and subtle that he didn't even notice half of her things. They had just blended in with the other things he was so used to, in the same category as his Clonetrooper or the shelves of porn.
She started staying over more and more, too. He started staying over more and more at her apartment too, sneaking out in the mornings to avoid the awkward conversations with Ted that were sure to happen if he didn't. Breakfast (or some weird hybrid of breakfast dinner because of her weird schedule) also became a staple in their relationship. It got to the point where he felt wrong eating in the mornings without her there.
When he finally noticed the changes in their relationship, he knew it was time for a talk. But because they were who they were, it was inevitable that they would drag it on until it was far too late in their semi-committed relationship for it to not have consequences. If he had to guess, the avoidance of that issue was the spark to the downfall of the relationship.
He just had to get over this and be awesome again, he thought as he stared miserably at the glass of wine in front of him (the bartender had cut him off of hard liquor after his sixth shot of vodka). He'd done it before, why can't he do it again?
Looking up, he noticed the bartener's glare; last call had been twenty minutes ago. Wobbling, he got up from the barstool and made his way slowly to the streets. He had spotted a small motel a block away from the bar. He'd crash there for tonight, worry about it tomorrow. Future Barney could take care of it. Present Barney only needed to worry about getting over the girl he loved.
When he woke up the next morning in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, he panicked for a second, worried about where she was. Only, a few seconds later, his face fell as he remembered the events of the night before. She wasn't in the room with him, never was. Gathering his thoughts, he made his way to the airport again, getting on the next flight back to New York. Straying away from awesomeness for one day was good enough- any longer and he had to fear never getting back to normal levels of awesome.
New York felt different. It was always the city of new dreams and beginnings, especially for him. New York was home to him, always had been, but now, it was a little sadder, a little more alien. When he got to the door of his apartment, he took a deep breath before opening it, preparing himself for the onslaught of memories that would inevitable greet him behind the door.
The first thing he spotted was a sweater of hers draped over the kitchen counter, probably accidentally left there the night before the breakup. Controlling the twinge in his heart, he moved quickly through the aparment, dumping anything and everything that reminded him of her (books, towels, clothes, secret box of kinky stuff hidden under the bed) unceremoniously into a duffel bag. It had to be done fast, before the memories and reminders tore his heart apart and left him a broken shell of a man.
He was going to be awesome again, no matter what. He was going to get through this; it wasn't as if he'd loved her that much (yeah, right).
Moving towards the door, he grasped the duffel bag in one hand, determined to put it into a box and mail it to her, rather than attempt to face her a mere 16 hours after it ended. He opened the door of his aparment almost violently, with a look of scary, detatched determination on his face. It was going to be okay, it had to be. But as the door fully opened, the expression of resolve slid off of his face, suddenly replaced with one of a mix between anguish and surprise.
There she was, standing there in front of his aparment, with red eyes and a tired appearance. They both stood frozen, staring at each other for a while. She looked like she was regretting ever showing up at his doorway. His grasp on the duffel bag slipped, causing it to thump loudly on the floor.
It was silent for a beat, then, simultaneously, they both blurted out, "You look like hell." His eyes widened as she turned bright red and they looked away abruptly.
He recovered first. "What are you doing here, Robin?" he asked in a whisper, his voice raspy and raw.
She flinched at his voice, averting her eyes, then replied with the same eight words that he never wanted to hear from her again. "I'm really sorry, Barney, this was a mistake."
Only this time, it was different.