A/N: I must say, I've been having some problems dealing with what happened in Something Old, the way the writers kept treating T/R as if they're endgame just bothers me to no end. And as if that weren't enough, there was no followup whatsoever as they just went from having Robin crying in the park to her being blissful with Barney in the season finale, and that just didn't add up. Hence the need to write something to fill the gap between the two episodes. I also thought a talk was much needed between the two of them, since that's also something that's sadly been missing this season. So yeah, this is basically me trying to make sense of all the nonsense that's been going on on the show.

She knows some part of her body is forcing her to dig deeper, to try harder. She can't say, she thinks, if it's her brain or her heart.

She hates that that's even a question.

She hates that he's not there.

Her face is covered in dirt, sweat tracing her forehead, and she calls Ted. She calls Ted and he comes right to her, and in that moment she doesn't want to focus on the fact that it's not right. That there should be more important things in his life than Robin Scherbatsky, and somehow it feels like there is none. So she just goes with it, feeling his reassuring presence right next to her, digging, just like she is, fighting, struggling to find something that doesn't belong to him.

That doesn't belong to them.

Still, he's there, and she has spent too much time facing things on her own, years of well-built independence and strength that she can feel crumbling to pieces right there, right in that second, as her tears keep streaming down her muddy cheeks. She feels like she's become such a cliché – soaked to the bone as the raindrops mingle with her tears – blurting out her feelings, talking about signs and fate and destiny and all of those things in which she never really believed.

In the end, though, she doesn't let it come to her – it's more of a decision than a realization. She decides, because this way she can still feel in control.

And she decides that it's her heart. The part of herself driving this whole thing, it's her heart, boldly triumphing over everything her brain has ever achieved.

She hates failing like this.

Ted eventually helps her up, and she's still shaking as she holds her empty little red box in her hands. He tells her to talk things through with Barney, and she just nods, uncertain.

"Promise me."

She does.

But then he's not home yet, and she's dripping wet and her shoes are leaving muddy footprints on the floor. The apartment feels kind of empty, and she thinks she's not really ready for confrontation. They have a history, her and Barney, a history of fighting and smashing plates and giving each other up, a history she has found herself dreading to repeat. So she hops in the shower, her clothes left scattered on the floor, the hot water helping her clear her mind. It's nothing, she thinks, absolutely nothing worth bothering him with.

She finds him standing in the middle of the living room as she comes out the bathroom, taking in the messy floor with a puzzled look on his face and the familiar red box in his hand.

"What happened?" he shakes his head slightly, a confused half-smile in place as his eyes search for hers.

She hesitates for a moment, because she could tell him.

"It's nothing," she finds herself say instead, smiling tightly as she reaches for the red box, gently taking it from his hand and giving him a light kiss.

Their eyes meet, and right then she notices.

He isn't buying it.

"Your dad told me you were in the park today," he states matter-of-factly.

She snorts, bitterly laughing. "I'm surprised he remembers that much."

"What happened?" he asks for the second time, and there's something about the way he says it, about the genuine concern in his voice which he's clearly trying to mask, that somehow makes her realize this isn't fair to him. That this isn't fair to either of them.

So she cracks. Her words are tentative at first, but Barney is patient as she cautiously tells him about the locket, about how her father left her once again when she needed him the most, about how this time, she felt like he wasn't the only one neglecting her.

She stops then, because she can see the hurt in his eyes, distress painted all over him while he passes his hand over his face.

She tries to recover. "I mean, I didn't – I don't mean you're like him, it's just..."

"You needed me."

She pauses. "Yeah, I did."

"But you didn't tell me." It comes out dangerously close to an accusation, and she looks directly into his eyes.

"I called you, Barney!"

"Telling me what, that it wasn't important? I may know magic but I still don't know how to read minds, Scherbatsky." He's being smug, and she hates it. Because someone else knew.

"Well, it clearly wasn't a problem for Ted!" She retorts, and when she looks at Barney again, she knows it's a mistake. "I called him," she explains, clearing up the silent confusion hidden behind his questioning frown.

There's a small, incredulous chuckle.

A pause.

And then it's like opening a Pandora box.

"Well that's just great. I just can't win, can I?"

"Oh come on, you know that's not true!"

And it isn't. But as he tells her about his little dispute with Ted, about how he was convinced he was at a point where he could comfortably claim to know her better than anyone else, she has to admit she understands where he's coming from.

She just had no idea her words were like throwing salt on an open wound.

"I'm your fiancé! We're getting married in a little more than a week and I have no clue as to what's going on in your mind, Robin! Does it really bother you when I talk about other women? Because I promise you those are just meaningless jokes!"

She sighs. "I don't need you to promise me that. Look," she says as a frantic Barney sits next to her on the couch. "When I told you about how I didn't want you to change, I meant it. I know idiotic remarks are just part of who you are, and I'm – well, I'm marrying those idiotic remarks." She pauses, enjoys his tentative half-smile.

"So... Ted wasn't right?"

His eyes are hopeful and she's a little taken aback by his genuine tone of surprise, by the vulnerability seeping through the cracks of that cocky exterior he had so meticulously perfected.

"He wasn't," she finally reassures him. "But the thing is, Barney, this wedding stuff – it's getting to me. And I don't know if I can handle it with you being so – distant. And you were out playing laser tag with my father, I mean, what's up with that? Is this a new thing?"

He scrunches his face, looking almost insulted by her assumption. "No it's not! I knew how much it meant to you for him to accept me, I just figured that was the right thing to do." He puts his hand on her knee, strokes it with his thumb. "I'm sorry," he wholeheartedly says. "I had no idea, I - " he sighs. "I know I'm not good at this, Robin. But I am trying."

She smiles at him, his sincere words bringing her the comfort she was seeking that very same morning, giving her the resolution her heart was desperately longing for.

Turns out, maybe she doesn't need her locket at all.

Maybe, just maybe, those answers weren't to be found at the bottom of a little red box.

"And between you and me," he continues, "I don't know how you got that awesome at laser tag, because honestly Robin, the guy kind of sucks."

She laughs, silently thanking him for his ability to always bring in comic relief. "Yeah... I didn't get that from him."

"I know!" He laughs too, then he gets serious again. "What I'm saying is... I need you to tell me these things, all right? I can't have Ted be there for you when I'm not. Please let me in on the emotional stuff." It sounds like a question, almost a plea.

She takes his hand, smiles at the thought of something from the past.

"Does that mean you still want the trouble?"

He chuckles.

"I sure do."