Marry me a little, love me just enough/Cry but not too often, play but not too rough/Keep a tender distance so we'll both be free/That's the way it ought to be...

~Marry Me A Little from Company by Stephen Sondheim

At some point she really needed to figure out the leaving thing. She had done it enough that by now it was second nature, yet every single time it hurt like hell. Casey Bloom knew that it shouldn't hurt her, that it was the mark of a terrible con person when you started feeling bad for the people you were conning, but she couldn't help it. Every single time she played a part, befriended a person with ulterior motives in mind, she left a small part of herself behind.

She looked up at the apartment she was descending from. In a couple of hours, the man living there would wake up with no memory of the previous night and blame it on the booze he had consumed. If she was lucky, he wouldn't remember she had been there at all, and he would blame his somewhat lighter wallet on a drinking binge. If she wasn't, he might report something to the cops and the word would get around about a thief playing Brooklyn. Then, she would have to lay low for a little bit with her uncle. That was a worst case scenario, naturally, but Bloom usually didn't mind as long as she gave him a little warning.

Casey touched down on the pavement gently from the fire escape. Slowly, she began to walk away into the Brooklyn lights, not looking back behind her. She never looked back while walking away from a job if she could help it, choosing to reconsider things in the safety of her apartment where she couldn't be judged by the rest of the world. It was just safer that way.

That simple refrain, her daily mantra, was depressing. It was her excuse for never calling back the men she actually tried to date occasionally, choosing the safety of secrecy over opening up to someone. It was for the best, she told herself. After all, if she opened up, she ran the risk of being arrested. She had conned enough men and done enough jobs over the years that she knew NYPD had to be looking for her on some level. For all she knew, the Feds were on her trail. All right, that was a little self-centered, but still.

Sometimes, when it was dark outside and she sat on the roof watching the stars from the roof of her apartment, she would let herself dream for a few minutes of a man who would love her just enough to make her feel appreciated. Love her in a way that she wouldn't feel alone again, and yet she would feel as free as ever. She wasn't looking for a permanent settlement, for a happy ever after that everyone else was chasing after. She was looking for someone who was just as scared of commitment as she was, someone to take the leap with. And for a few minutes, she could truly believe that there was a man out there, somewhere in the bright lights and the chaos of New York that could give her just enough of what she needed.

But inevitably, she would wake up from that dream and accept it. Accept that her lot in life, her guaranteed lot in life was one of loneliness. She'd chosen the life of a conman, although to an extent she figured it had chosen her. After all, with a father like hers...well, what other option did she have, once she knew? Bloom was worried for her, concerned that she was going down a road he had barely pulled off from. She tried to convince him she was fine, giving him one of her trademark grins and blowing it off as just the jealousy of an ex-con at a current con in the height of the ultimate game. But part of her was jealous right back at him, jealous of his perfect life with his gorgeous wife Penelope and their two kids in a house outside of the city with a goddamn front lawn and the azaleas he was always bragging about. What would she give for a life like that, for a life without the lies? A large part of her really didn't want to answer that question as she wandered the Brooklyn streets...

23######

Somehow, Ted Mosby found himself in Brooklyn. He really wasn't sure how he had pulled that off, and if he was being honest he didn't give a damn. Things couldn't possibly get any worse than he felt at the moment. Once again, everything was changing for his group of friends. Barney and Robin, three weeks after getting back together as a couple, had just announced their engagement. Lilly and Marshall were thrilled, of course. Any other night Ted would have been thrilled too. But he had just gone through another nasty breakup with another girlfriend, making his dream of settling down that much farther away from reality. In the beginning of his time in New York, he had been so optimistic that he would find the one, get married, and design half a dozen buildings. So far, he was one-half for three. Granted, he had landed on the cover of a major architecture magazine. But he felt like he was spinning in second gear, watching all of his friends go flying ahead of him down the road towards the finish line. Hell, Barney was getting married.

Maybe it was the celebratory champagne that they had consumed at Maclaren's. Maybe it was his frustration at the universe and his miniscule place therein. Whatever the reason, Ted wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. When the man with a hood jumped in front of him and pointed a gun at him demanding his wallet, Ted froze up. This really could not be happening to him, he decided. Maybe it was a bad dream.

Obviously, his hesitation didn't help things. The man with the gun, desperation written in his face, started yelling and waving the gun around. Ted reached into his pocket for his wallet, only to spook his assailant, who clearly thought he was going for a gun. Things were close to disastrous, and Ted was out of ideas.

The man whacked him hard upside the head. As Ted slid into unconsciousness, he swore he heard someone yell something. But it was so far off, he couldn't make any sense of it. Damn, his head hurt...

When he came to a few minutes later, a woman was bandaging his head injury. Ted tried to sit up, only to have his body reject that idea. "Calm down, buddy," the woman said quickly, seeing his movement. "You might have a concussion here. Take it slow, all right?" Ted tried to mumble something, and she laughed. It was a nice laugh, his subconscious decided. It sounded pretty and genuine.

"Where...am I?" he said finally. The woman looked him over one last time as she tied the final bandage, then stepped into the streetlight. Ted looked at her and felt something twinge in his body. She was strikingly beautiful with short black hair and a thin face. She wore red Nike high-tops, and had on jeans and a basic stripped t-shirt that was slightly stained with blood. His blood, Ted realized, and he groaned again. The woman sat down next to him quickly.

"You're in Brooklyn, pal." she told him. "Little Poland, to be exact. Beautiful little neighborhood, ja?" Ted made a face, and she gently touched his forehead. "Maybe you should get this checked out. The guy hit you pretty hard."

"Why did you help me?" Ted asked, confused. "I mean, who gets involved with a mugging?"

For a moment, his mysterious rescuer was silent. Then, she looked at him with big green eyes. "Let's just say I needed to clear my karmic slate, if you will." Quietly, she looked at her watch. "Damn, it's late. You want me to call you a cab?"

Ted shook his head, wincing at the pain. "I'll call a friend of mine," he told her. "But thank you...what was your name?"

Their eyes met, and Ted felt something strange and exciting, like a spark that he had missed for a while. "Casey Bloom," she told him finally. "What's yours, Manhattan?"

How she knew what borough he was from, Ted didn't know. Part of him really wanted to ask, but a larger part was more concerned with his head. "Ted Mosby," he told her. "Thank you for helping me out, Casey."

She smiled at him quietly. Then, she turned to leave. Quietly, she looked at him one more time. "Keep your eyes open, Mosby. You never know what might happen out here," Within seconds, she was gone.

Ted sighed and called Marshall, praying he would pick up even though it was 2 AM. It had really been a long night...