A/N: Sup, peeps! Well, I guess I really shouldn't do that yet, since this is my first fanfic ever. Seriously. Ever. I know, I'm a nerd. A nerd with awesome sunglasses. And my ego is huge. So suck it. I know I'm crazy. Don't judge.

Disclaimer: I am a crazy nerd with awesome sunglasses and a kick-ass ego. How could I possibly own How I Met Your Mother? Well, maybe the sunglasses part...

Visits

Prologue

He always came to visit her.

Even when he should've been with his family or friends or at work or at the store or eating or sleeping, even then he'd go to visit. He'd go and visit her every single day, and it didn't matter if it was raining or snowing or if it was so, so hot or so, so cold, because he'd always be there. He couldn't imagine ever being anywhere else.

When the visits first started, he'd go all day, every day, but they all told him he had to stop. Well, they didn't say it quite so cruelly; just that he should spend time with other people. He knew exactly what they meant by that, but he didn't listen. It made him angry that they'd talk like that; talk like that about her, who they knew he loves so much. Who they knew he loves the most. Over time, he pretended that he was at some girl's house (a fake girl, to be exact) or with a friend (who was, of course, in on the trickery), and he'd go and visit her. He'd say that he was spending the night with a girl but spend the night with her instead. All that his friends and family saw was that he was going to see her less and less, and that was exactly how he wanted it to look, because then they wouldn't worry about him, they would think he was getting better. They never saw it how it really was, maybe because it was far too painful for them to think of her. That must be why they hated to visit. They were afraid how much it hurt him to visit, so they tried to get him to stop, but he never did. And it was too painful for them to even try, so they couldn't ever understand why he went so much. Well, it was painful for him, but he went anyway. It hurt, it hurt so bad when he went to visit her, but he went because he loves her way, way more than it hurts him to go, so he'd go and stay to talk late into the night, and he'd never sleep or eat, he'd just talk.

But every time he went he told himself not to cry, because he had already cried so much on that day and he didn't what her to see him upset because when he was upset she got upset, and she didn't deserve to be upset. And so he didn't cry. Not once, not in front of her, or anyone else, for that matter. When he was certain he was completely and utterly alone, however, he would let a few silent tears slip out before angrily rubbing them away. Then, the anger would dissolve, and he would simply sit silently and think of her eyes and her hair and her voice and he'd almost start crying like he did on that day, and he was never going to let that happen again because no one could ever, ever see how broken he really was. So for a year, a year after it, he held in all the sadness and anger and all those tears he hated so much, he held them in, smack in the middle of that stupid, stupid ache in his heart that refused to leave him alone, the ache that he planned to lock away forever.

But things don't always go according to plan, In fact, they never do. Like the time they had decided to try spinning plates (they both knew it was a stupid idea, but what's life without adventures?), and put pillows on the ground so the plates wouldn't shatter when they inevitably fell. That was the plan, but when the plates fell they missed the pillows somehow and shattered on the floor. And the time that she had planned a surprise party for him had been a failure. The plan was obvious, the same as any surprise party: keep him away from the plans, the decorations, and the house when they were setting it up. Get him to the house when things are prepared, and most importantly, keep it a secret! It was that last part that failed. They had sent him to spend the day with a friend, who just so happened to be the worst secret-keeper on the face of the Earth. If they had known, he had thought after his friend had squealed, then maybe, just maybe, things would have gone to plan. But now, looking back, he knew something else would have gone wrong, because for some reason things never went according to plan, so he should be thankful the only thing that went wrong was his friend being a squealer. And then there was that day, her birthday, where the plan wasfor her to spend some time with some friends, and then come back home for a party. But for some reason, plans that they make always, always fail. They were in an arcade, and she stepped out to get some air. She planned to head back in after a second, but things never go according to plan. She decided to take a little walk because that's just what she liked to do when she was happy, and she planned to only walk for a little and then go back in, but things never go according to plan. Then she bumped into a stranger, and she planned to apologize and head right back into the arcade because she was nice enough to say sorry and smart enough to get away. But things never, ever go according to plan. If things did, then they'd have more plates in the kitchen and he'd be able to talk about how surprised he was at his party. If things went exactly how you planned, he wouldn't even need to bite back tears or hold in this stupid ache in his chest.

But at first, on the day his delicate plan shattered completely, things went exactly how they were supposed to. They all went to see her because it was her birthday, but soon they started to cry and he almost told them to leave because she hated seeing people cry. But he didn't so they stayed and they cried and he couldn't yell at them because she hated when they get into fights. So he bit his tongue to keep the bitter words from rolling off of it, and he stood there and told himself not to cry because they already were and he had to be strong for her. Then his mother yelled at him for not crying and being so selfish and heartless, and how she would cry if it were him. So he yelled back that she hates when we cry so he can't do it, and that she'd better leave if all she's gonna to is yell because she hated that too. Then his mother and everyone else got all quiet and stopped crying. They just stood there without saying anything and he had to resist the urge to yell at them some more because she hated awkward silences, too. But she really hated when they fought and he knew that if he yelled they'd fight, so he held it in. But when they all left he said he would stay because he drove himself here and would come home later. They all knew it was a lie, but they knew how much he loves her so they let him stay. So when they left as the sun started to set, he sat down at told her about his life like he always did, only this time he talked about of the hardships of the year, of the sorrows and his bitter, bitter tears because he just needed to get the words out, and no one listened better than her. But immediately after he felt bad and apologized that he told her such upsetting things, and started talking about good things. But good things never seemed to happen to him anymore so he talked about good things on the news. He told her about charities and miracles and real life heroes. But he never told her about crimes or criminals getting put in jail because then he'd have to tell her that he was still out there, and he'd have to say how he was sure they'd catch him soon but he knew it was a lie and he hated lying to her.

Then he reached out and laid a shaky hand on the gravestone, something he never dared to do before because he was afraid he'd start to cry, but he knew he really should touch it because she's his little sister and he loves her so much. He almost did start to cry, but he bit back the tears like he always did, and instead let a small whimper leave his throat. He felt it tighten so he swallowed and closed his eyes because he knew that if he didn't the tears would burst out and she really hates to see him upset. Then he opened his eyes and told her that she was just so beautiful, and that she was the most beautiful girl who would ever walk the Earth, and how he loved her so, so much. He closed his eyes again and tried to concentrate on the blackness there because he knew if he didn't he'd start thinking of her and then he'd start to cry. She hates it when he cries, and God Dammit, Barney Stinson does not cry!

Then he felt warmth on his cheek. It was…soothing, maybe, but the tears trying to burst out of his eyes didn't vanish. In fact, this strange warmth made them fight even harder to come out. His stomach dropped; maybe he was already crying! Tears were warm, right? God, he hasn't cried in so long, not properly, at least. But he couldn't cry, not here, not now! She hated when he cried, hated it! Crying was for later; crying was for when he was anywhere but here! In a panic, he brushed his hand against his cheek. No wetness… just… more warmth. Slowly, his eyes opened. The first thought that he properly processed was that the sun had set. The second made him recoil in shock, because the second thing was her.

She looked exactly like she had when he last saw her alive. His jaw dropped, and he reached out to touch her, to brush that dirty blond hair behind her ear just like he always had whenever he said hello or goodbye, whenever she was creeped out or happy, whenever he told her how awesome she is or how much he loves her or just how damn beautiful she really is. He wanted to do that so damn bad, but he couldn't. What if he touched her, and she went away? God knows he can't deal with that, not again, so he didn't touch her. But she had touched him… Was it worth the risk? Was touching her really worth losing her all over again? No. No, it wasn't. But he just missed her so, so much!

Then she looked at him with those eyes, those pretty blue eyes, and she smiled at him like she always did, and the tears almost came rushing out. He held them back, because she was right here, and she could not see him cry! She could never see him cry. No one could ever see him cry, because if he cried, then they'd all see how broken he still was, how broken he'd always be. But then she touched his cheek again and a tear slipped out, and it took everything he had to keep the rest in. She leaned in and whispered in his ear; "You know, it's okay to cry…" and her voice was just as sweet and gentle as it always was, and God, he missed that voice so much! He held back another wave of tears and finally processed what she had said. She said he could cry. She was okay with it. But could he cry? After all this time… all this time the only thing he put any effort into was holding back these stupid, stupid tears. So he didn't know if he could cry anymore, if all he could do was sit here and feel the tears coming but never letting them go.

Then he looked up at her and looked, he really, really looked at her, and for a second, she was all he saw. Just her, he saw her so clearly and sharply that he almost looked away. But he locked eyes with her; he looked into those pretty, pretty blue-grey eyes he thought he'd never see again, and he felt the tears coming back.

And this time, he let them out.

A/N: So, wasn't this such a happy first chapter? Yeah, there's more. I know you're sick of me already, but suck it up. You know you love me;). And if you don't I will MAKE you love me! Just kidding, you will die... Anyway, let me know if I did a good job or if there's something wrong with it that I need to fix. But there won't be. Wanna know why? Cause I'm freaking perfect, that's why! Wow, I can already feel people start to hate me and my kick-ass ego! But since most of you love me after this microscopic amount of time I've been on this site, you rock. And you get an imaginary cookie. And you get to see me beg for reviews. Please? Please? PLEEEEAAASE?

REVIEW NOW OR YOU DIE.

Anyways, see you next time, my little minions!

~CNoel