After Argentina
A/N: I have to admit this is really nothing exceptional... It's just pure-fluff and a little, tiny winy "what-if". I'm only adding it because I feel there aren't enough Himym stories getting out these days... Still, I hope you'll enjoy it!
I have another story prepared, but it's a long one, and I'm not even halfway into writing it... So I'm not sure I'll post it yet, though I think it's far better than this small piece :)
Please, please, please review... Especially to give constructive criticism, I desperately need it!
"And that's it. There's nothing else to say." Barney lifted his head up, his eyes brushing over Ted and Tracy's faces, to the window and the outside world. There wasn't much to look at; Ted's garden was a mess, and not a pretty one. Years of abandonment had left it wild and scrawny, as though the forest behind the fence was beginning here. Still, it was so much better than looking into his friends' disappointed faces.
He felt a small hand on his arm, and he glanced sideways to Tracy. She squeezed his arm, her mouth tightening and loosening,as if she were at a loss for words. He felt a jolt in his stomach; it was to be expected, but he wasn't quite prepared for the lost and disappointed look in her eyes. He looked away as she swallowed, her eyebrow frowning and her eyes dampening a little. He knew the bus bench girl would not support him in this.
There was a shuffling noise on his right, and he looked around to see Ted sitting there, his mouth agape, a hand moving across his face, to fist in his hair.
"You guys are getting a divorce?" he moaned. "For real?"
"Yeah," Barney whispered. There was a silence for a second, till Ted groaned:
"F*cking hell... Barney... You and Robin are breaking up?" There was pain and urgency in his eyes as he lifted his head to looked Barney, his eyes bearing right into his friends'.
"That's..." Ted's head dipped down and back up in one swift movement. "That's just not possible. How come we never heard a word of this?"
"I'm telling you now." Barney's lips thinned. Was that Ted's only problem?
"No!" Ted had let another groan, his head shaking once but his eyes never leaving Barney's. "I mean, how come we never knew you guys weren't – doing well? I mean – Barney, how sudden is this? When did you guy's decide on this?"
"Four days ago, in Argentina," he mumbled. His throat was suddenly tight. He didn't really want to think of Argentina. He didn't want to think at all. His eyes fixed on the room around.
He was sitting on the Mosbys' black-lethered and old fashioned couch, his back to the wood-paneled wall he and his friends had tried destroying, years back to now. Tracy and Ted were sitting in front of him, Tracy in an armchair, bent forward so that her hand could reach Barney's, and Ted on the living room's table. There was no one else in the large room; both Penny and Luke were in bed.
Ted's eyes were still wide and fixed on Barney's. "Is this a... Rushed decision?" he asked, carefully. Barney could see where this was going, and he wasn't in the mood. All he wanted was comfort, a hug from Tracy, soothing words for Ted. If he had wanted harsh treatment and a life-changing, eyes-opening discussion, he would have gone to Marshall and Lily.
"No," he said, "it's not. Not really," he amended. "Robin and I have had, like, big issues for the latest months."
"How many months?" Ted whispered, and the sound of his voice made Barney look back up to him, studying him. Ted's hair was ruffled, messy and almost dirty, and his eyes were bagged and rimmed with red. The look on his face was almost painful to watch.
He didn't look bad; he just looked old, and disabused. Tired and distraught. Stupid, he thought to himself, as reality kicked back in, hard. He'd known it, but somehow chose to ignore it; Ted and Tracy were the last person on earth he should have come to with his problems.
Stupid, he thought again, resisting the urge to kick himself in the shins. He was so the worst best friend ever.
He should have gone to Marshall and Lily first, no matter how much they would have tried to interfere in this. Ted had so much enough to deal with as it was, he thought, and his mouth quivered.
"Before Christmas, maybe even before that," he whispered. "I'm sorry, guys, I shouldn't bother you with all this." There were sudden whispers of 'of-course-not's ' and 'oh-come-on' and 'Barney, bro'... He felt Tracy's hand tighten in his sleeve again, as she stood up. He looked at her.
"Barney... Of course you should bother us with this." He face was scrunched up unhappily. "You should have come to us months ago. You know we're here if you need us!" She fixed her black hair behind her ear, and ran a hand up and down his shoulder. "We're always here for you. You know it."
He pressed his lips together, unsure of how to answer this. Tracy led a hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing it. "I'm going to make us some tea," she said. "I'll be right back."
She leaned down and softly planted a kiss on Barney's cheek, smiled softly to both him and her husband and left the room. Barney's insides were falling and flying and jittering; he missed this, all of it, so much. The attention, the friendship, the familiarity. How on earth could Robin not want to stay in New York?
His eyes filled somehow and his throat scorched ablaze. He dipped his head. He was getting divorce... And Tracy had cancer.
Cancer.
He shook his head slightly, opened and closed his eyes, glanced up at Ted, who was looking at him. He swallowed.
"Look, Barney... I know you don't want to hear this, but I need to ask you this anyway. You do know, don't you, that a divorce means you can't be together... Ever? That you and Robin will be officially and effectively over for good once those papers are signed?"
Who did Ted think he was, an idiot? He hummed in agreement, keeping his head down, his gaze averted. He did not want to answer vocally, and didn't want to think about it.
"Seriously, bro! Look, I know it'll sound mad, and unrealistic, and very, very cliché but... If something happened to you – or, God forbid, something happened to her – would you want this divorce to be the last memory you two had together?"
Barney frowned, his mouth twitching, and looked down to the unbuttoned hems of his suit. He sat straight up and pulled at his sleeves, arms crossed, trying to get back his composure. His throat felt very, very tight, his eyes were somehow watery – he would always cry so easily – and he hated it. "God forbid something happening to her, but not me, huh?" he mumbled. Ted gave an exasperated sight.
"Barney... Not funny, bro. Answer the question."
He looked back up. Ted's hair was ruffled, but not in his usual cool-hair-style, but in a messy way, as though he had just ran his hand in it multiple times. He should've gone to Marshall and Lily, he realised again. Ted really really had enough to deal with as it was. Guilt nagged at his stomach, adding up to the drowning sadness he already felt.
"Nobody would want that to be their last memory as a couple. Nobody wants to get divorced, Ted, it usually just has to happen."
"Well, then... Would you want this to be the last thing you two build together? Would you want the last moment the two of you ever shared to be bitter and sad like this?" Barney pressed his lips together and cocked his head, looking downwards, to the sofa's scrawny feet. Something was building up in his chest, and he could feel his throat burning, his eyes swelling. He bit his lips and suddenly raised his head again, hissing: "Well, what do you want me to do about it?"
Ted's mouth opened and closed, set in a thin and sad line, then opened up once more, but Barney cut through before he could speak. His voice was not angry, but shaking in intensity.
"This is happening, Ted. We're getting divorced. It's a decision we both made, something we both agreed was for the best. I never said I liked it, and even if I didn't want this to happen, there's nothing I could do to stop it from happening." His throat was killing him; he closed his eyes and held a hand up to them, rubbing them softly and hiding their view from Ted. God, did his throat hurt.
He swallowed once or twice, before whispering: "Just... What -what the hell do you want me to do about it?"
He had meant to leave the question hanging, unanswered, for there was no answer to give. So he was surprised to hear Ted's chair rasp against the floor as his friend got closer to him, laid a hand on his knee, and whispered softly: "Just give her a call. Tell her how you feel."
Barney's jaw clenched.
"This is how I feel, Ted. I want... I want this. New York. Stability. A job. No more arguing. Making my own decisions. We both agreed we wanted a separation. A... Divorce."
He gave a long, hissing breath, and another, before risking looking at his friend. Ted's eyes were dark and rimmed with fatigue, and his hair was matted with threads of white. Yet his whole attention was fixed on Barney, and he found a certain reassurance in this. In the way Ted's were gleaming, soft, dark and familiar at the same time.
"Buddy... Robin loves you, I'm sure of it. Heck, I know it. I would have to be blind and deaf not to know it." Barney's eyebrows twitched, but Ted settled a hand on his shoulder, a little smile on his face. "I was in love with her for years, Barney, and I knew how she looked at you, and I know how she still does. Both you and her are my best friends; I know you guys inside-out." In Robin's case, literally, Barney would have liked to say, and give Ted a high five, but he couldn't muster the energy. "You guys shouldn't just give up at each other this easily. Just give her a call, bro."
Barney's eyebrows lifted upwards almost automatically, his eyes starring vacantly in front of him. A tiny scoff dangling from his lips."Just call her?" he mumbled, "Like, out of the blue?"
Ted's head dipped slightly forward in an encouraging nod. Barney closed his eyes again, averted them away from his friend, painfully swallowed. Shook his head to the side. "Nuh-uh, bro. Not gonna happen. Not ever gonna happen."
He looked at his best friend, and shook his head again, this time more vigorously. "I'm not calling her, Ted. There's nothing to say. We're getting divorced. I'm never talking to my wife again."
He had meant to leave this hanging and leave the room at that. Stand up and perhaps go home, perhaps join Tracy in the kitchen, perhaps sneak up and kiss his niece and nephew good night... But a glance at Ted stopped him. His friend was looking at him silently, his mouth set in a thin line, his eyes bearing into his, contemplative and judgmental. Defying him silently. I'm never talking to my wife again.
Barney glanced back down.
A few months later, it would struck Barney that Ted always knew the right thing to say, even if it were only in their own private, secret silent-conversations.
It was kind of weird how he did know his friends, backwards and forwards and so forth.
A/N: There may be a second part... I'll have to rewrite it though, and it's an old and lame draft, so no promises!