AN: Thank you all so much for the sweet reviews. You have no idea how much it means to me! It may sound silly but this show has taught me so much about life and love and it feels great to be able to write about it! Here's a short chapter covering season 2, chapter 3 will be longer. Hope you enjoy and all reviews will be more than appreciated. Happy reading!

MacLaren's – February 2007, 1:42 am

He doesn't know what he's looking for when he walks into MacLaren's that night, looking spiffy in a Dolce&Gabana suit of the purest black. He's never been one to have a plan, Barney Stinson always makes the magic happen, no matter the time or place; he is an unyielding, unrelenting instigator.

He doesn't expect to find her there, alone in their booth staring into the bottom of a nearly empty scotch. He takes a moment to observe, assessing the situation. Something is wrong, that much is immediately clear in the way she is hunched over her drink, completely devoid of the usual confidence that defines her in so many ways. But when it comes down to it, it is her eyes, dull and lifeless, that make him decide the night's mission. He can turn this around, he thinks; he can put the twinkle back in her eyes. If the past 2 years have proven one thing if nothing else, it is that if Barney Stinson is an instigator, Robin Scherbatsky is an accelerator. Always willing to spur him on towards a new adventure…her very own brand of trouble. If there is one thing Barney will not tolerate, it is seeing a Bro squander his or her awesomeness when the chase of a legendary night should reign supreme. He signals Wendy for another round and makes his way to her, all swagger ablaze.

"Well, well, well…Fancy seeing you here" he says casually, sliding in the seat opposite her.

"Oh, hey Barney, what's up?" She slurs, without the slightest trace of enthusiasm. Even someone lacking Barney's keen sense of observation could have known that this was far from her first scotch.

"Oh come on Scherbatsky, don't tell me you're getting wasted alone…" He is interrupted by Wendy setting two tumblers filled with Johnny Walker blue on the table. He instantly takes a sip in a sudden need of the fortifying burn down his throat.

"Besides, the Bro Code is quite clear on the matter: A Bro never lets another Bro drink alone…especially if she's hot!" He is rewarded with a soft chuckle. She always did respond well to flattery.

"I…I don't even know what I'm doing here Barney. I was over at Ted's; we stayed in, he cooked dinner for me, we watched a movie, fell asleep on the couch; the evening was pretty solid as a whole." Barney's mind could not possibly comprehend in which universe this would qualify as a solid evening. He had always thought of Robin as a kindred spirit when it came to their philosophy on commitment and her narrative makes his heart skip a beat in a mixture of fear and sadness he does his best to ignore. He suppresses the growing feeling of inadequacy, pushing it deep under the awesomeness, hiding it behind a sardonic grin.

"Well, aside from the fact that all this stuff sounds mind numbingly boring AND the obvious lack of the only couple activity I have any respect for in this story, I also can't help but notice you are sitting here, getting drunk, alone, past 1 AM, and most certainly not sleeping on the couch or partaking in whatever couply activity you claim to enjoy for Ted's benefit." He says straightforwardly, the full extent of his contempt for all things relationship dripping from his voice. His words are meant as a reminder: Robin Scherbatsky has never needed the validation of a partner to know her self-worth; she is strong and fiercely independent.

"So spill it Scherbatsky, we're bros, and as such, I always got your back." He continues, softening considerably. On any other night, she would have fought back, engaging in the witty banter that was so typically them, but tonight, the air surrounding them seems stale, without a trace of a spark. Studying her face, he sees her brow furrow, obviously debating whether or not it would be wise to open up to him.

"You know what, if anyone would get it, it would probably be you." She says matter-of-factly.

"It's just…I'm supposed to be happy aren't I? All of this: the dinners, the movies, the staying at home…I love Ted, I really do, but I've never felt less…alive. "She says, her body language communicating the confusion within, words seemingly unsuccessful at conveying the turmoil inside. "And then I started thinking, which, let's face it, is never a good thing; what if I'm just not cut out for this relationship thing?" she continues, waving her hands in increasing agitation.

"Why Robin Scherbatksy; I am both shocked and appalled, are you by any chance tedding out on me?" he speaks, his tone full of mock indignation in an attempt to lighten her mood. A part of him wishes he had in him to be more sensitive. But Ted is sensitive, and he seems to be at the root of Robin's inner crisis. Had she been looking for comfort, she wouldn't have left the apartment.

"Urgh, I'm a mess Barney." Her words linger in the air for just a second too long and the look in her blue eyes is loaded with unspoken emotion and an all too familiar expression. His grasp tightens on his glass, observing the set of her jaw as she slowly sips the amber liquid. He knows all too well what it's like to be a mess, he considers himself a leading expert in the field of camouflaging it.

"I just can't figure out why the things that are supposed to make you happy never seem to make you as happy as they should." She says with a low chuckle which betrays the seriousness behind the casual tone. He has never seen Robin Scherbatsky so defeated and he pushes the emerging sadness from his heart, instead choosing to congratulate himself on knowing all along what relationships lead to: the complete and utter annihilation of awesomeness.

A rare genuine smile escapes, which he quickly turns into one of his trademark smirks. He needs no further explanation…he understands all too well what it's like to look inside yourself and find nothing but a giant gaping hole. Barney had given up the search for happiness years ago, when he first donned the ever present suit, and chose to dedicate his life to the pursuit of awesomeness instead. His survival based on the hope that if he drowns himself in scotch and shrouds himself in the finest fabrics, the ugly truth lying beneath the wild antics and overbearing behavior will forever remain below the surface. He glances at his watch briefly and sees it is just past 2 am, how very fitting, he thinks remembering his bro's old saying. It suits him just fine; he is most certainly up to no good and the promise of trouble sends a shiver down his spine.

When he gets up and walks over to her side of the booth, his thigh pressing against hers, he does not stop to wonder whether it's the buzz from the scotch or the all too irresistible pull of trouble that makes him place a warm hand on her thigh. When she makes no attempt to break this new contact, his lips begin to form what is to known to the women of New York City as an irresistible, yet unmistakably cocky grin.

"What do you say we get outta here? I have it under good authority that this city is in need of little chaos and mayhem! Break into laser tag? Rob a liquor store? Nothing's off limits! Waddaya say Scherbatsky?" He says purposefully, full of charismatic bravado.

When she finally looks up to meet his gaze, he finds the familiar twinkle he never expected to so desperately crave when he first entered MacLaren's that night. His eyes grow a shade darker; the magnetic pull undeniably too strong for either to look away. His expression goes from boyish mischief to full on scorching flames. The sense pride swelling inside him as he sees the matching heat reflected back at him, spreading across her features like wildfire mildly surprises him but he recovers quickly and gives himself a mental high five. When it comes to metaphorical fires, Barney Stinson is a convicted arsonist; what up!

He downs what is left of his scotch, slamming the tumbler on the table exuberantly and at this very moment, he knows with absolute certainty that trouble has never tasted so sweet.