Barney's question hit Robin like a punch to the gut. His coat slid from her legs to pool on the step below. She grabbed for the coat, then draped it over her knees once again, the lining cool now against her skin. It wasn't the same. "I can't answer that right now." She worried her lower lip between her teeth. "You have a baby and I'm not her mother." Do you even have any idea how much that hurts? That question, she bit back. He wasn't ready to hear that from her now, maybe never would be. She sure as hell wasn't ready to say it. "Some stranger whose name you don't even use in conversation had a part of you growing inside her in a way that I never could. Never can. That's a lot to process."

"I know it is." Barney scuffed one shoe against the stone step. "I screwed up, Robin. I screwed up bad. I never should have agreed to the divorce. I never should have filed the papers. I never should have signed them. I sure as hell never should have tried going back to being the guy I was before I knew you."

Breath sagged from Robin's lungs. She retrieved the wrap that had fallen behind her and draped it over her shoulders. She didn't ask for his help this time, only pressed a knuckle to the corner of one eye and grabbed for the nearest paper napkin.

Seamus, you left us far too soon. "When I thought I couldn't possibly hurt you any more than I already had, I found a new way to do exactly that. There's no way I can expect you to forgive me for any of those things, let alone ask for another chance, but I do still love you. I am still in love with you. I always will be."

Robin's equilibrium failed her. She grasped the edge of the stone step with both hands and leaned against the steady support of the railing. To hear Barney actually say those words, see him look at her that way, the same way he had at the wedding, at both weddings; that was more than she was prepared to take. This was Barney, real Barney. Her Barney, raw and pure and vulnerable, his heart on a platter for her to do with as she would. One foot spasmed, the urge to run overruled by her desire to hold onto as much of his presence as she could.

"Would you please say something? If we can't happen anymore," he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I get that."

"Barney." His name came easily enough. It belonged on her tongue, every day. He looked up at that, brows lifted at the inner corners, the lines about his mouth deep and straight. Only the barest shadow of beard showed beneath his fair skin, a sure sign of a straight razor shave. This evening meant more to him than he was willing to say in words. That wasn't his way. This was. The tux he didn't wear in Vancouver. A Viking funeral for a pocket square. Hot dogs on a stranger's stoop. Robin forced the words past the lump in her throat. "I still love you."

He bloomed at her confession, hope lighting in his eyes for only a second before it dimmed. "But you don't know if you can love Ellie."

"I don't even know her." I don't know if I want to. But she'd have to, to be with Barney. She knew that, the fact of the matter plain as black on white. "She's a part of you, right? How can I not want a part of you?"

"Because the other part is some bimbo I picked up when I remembered August has thirty one days."

There it was. "I am a horrible, horrible person." Robin dropped her face into her hands.

In a flash, Barney's arm settled about her shoulders. "No. No, you're not."

She tipped her head back and blinked. Pushed her hair out of her eyes. Drew air deep into her lungs before she could even look at him. "I'm mad at a baby for existing. How is that not horrible?"

"You're not the only one ever to be in that position." His head dropped, eyes focused on his hands. Two fingers of his right hand worried at his naked ring finger. "I never planned on having kids in the first place, especially not as a single father in my forties. That was never part of the plan. By the time Ellie is ready for college, she'll be the one changing my diapers. How is that even fair to her?"

"That's not going to happen." That lost look that came over him, that would be the end of her. "You'll hire some hot nurse whose bra size is bigger than her IQ to do that."

Barney's hands unclenched. He looked up. "I don't think people with double digit IQs get to be nurses, and I will thank you not to be sexist. Not all nurses are female, you know. Felipe in pediatrics is a godsend."

A lump rose in her throat. Tell him to go, the fear urged her. She could shut this down now, send him out of her life forever, for good this time, but a life without him in it, that couldn't be good at all. "You love Ellie." All she could manage was a hoarse whisper. It was enough.

"I do." Those words again, plain and heartfelt. "I also love you. I hope you can see that, too."

Her head dipped once. She did, and the pain of exactly how much tore at her. "If it were only you and me, knowing what to do would be easy. Putting another person into the equation, especially a really tiny person, that," she ran her tongue over her lower lip, "that complicates things."

"What," Barney's thumb swept over his ring finger once before he shoved both hands in his pockets, "would you do if it were only the two of us?"

Take you home and never let you go again was the first thing that came to mind, but she couldn't say it. "I think you know the answer to that."

"I know what I'd like it to be." That lopsided smile, the lift of one brow, had her almost undone. Almost. This was why she hadn't wanted to be alone with him. Why she shouldn't be. Why she had to be. Barney moved the cardboard box with their food to the next step up and closed the space between them, his leg pressing against hers. "If you tell me to walk away now, I will. At least I'll know I tried."

Barney Stinson always gets the yes. Once upon a time, he'd have declared that, she'd have laughed, and the only question they'd have to settle was her place or his. "You don't have to try."

"Yes," he said, "I do. Letting you down the way I did is one of the greatest regrets of my life. The greatest. I'm not sorry Ellie exists, but I am sorry she isn't yours."

Time stopped. The ground shifted. The streetlights swirled and blurred. Robin clutched the wrap around her shoulders so tightly that the beads dug into her flesh. "What are you saying?" She couldn't have heard him right. He couldn't have said what she thought.

"I'm saying I wish Ellie was yours. I pretended she was, the first couple of days I had her home." His gaze held her, steady and direct. "That was the only way I could keep it together, by telling myself you were in the next room. Taking a nap. At work. On assignment. Visting family in Canada. I know, lame, but that's what I had to do to get through it. Thought I should be honest about that."

Robin picked up her bottle. Empty. She tipped it to her mouth anyway. She needed the time more than she needed the drink. "I'm not anybody's mother."

"I know. I'm not asking you to be, but Ellie is a part of my life, and that's not likely to change. I'm asking you," His keys jingled in his pocket. "I'm asking you to go out with me again. I can't promise any Viking funerals next time, and I do have a baby and I am probably the last person on earth you should even consider getting involved with, but I am still asking."