It's not the same without him. Too quiet, mellow with a touch of melancholy. Laughter a little forced. Sad smiles and an empty space where his chair should have been.

None of it makes sense, the reaction she got or the story he told. More questions than answers she knows but doesn't care to admit. She can't shake the feeling that something is missing. "Let me ask you something, Ted. Why are you so much madder at Barney than me?"

Coddling and condescension and a glimmer of pity when they mention his name. As if she's the victim. As if she hadn't wanted it too.

Always there when she needs him. Safe in his arms, solid and steady, she's never alone. She lost it for one night. In one night, he lost everything. It doesn't make sense. It should be her instead.

"You know, I think I'd actually prefer it if you were mad at me. This is too weird."

"I'm not mad at anybody. I've forgiven you and I've outgrown Barney as a friend. It's that simple." But it isn't. All Ted saw was the betrayal, not what happened next.

Shot glass and a half empty bottle, slumped over the bar with his head in his hands. Alcohol brings out the truth in his eyes and his pain still follows her everywhere, filling the empty space where his chair should have been.