A/N: Jamaica meaning Jamaica, Queens.
He calls her from the subway, having given up on Ted long ago. She rescues him, running with Marshall towards the W because it's like 2 in the morning and the W is shady in the day.
"They took my medal," he grumbles as she and Marshall struggle to lift his weight.
"Who?"
"These kids from Jamaica."
"Dude," Marshall intones. "Jamaica? You should be lucky they didn't kill you." He leans a little more on Robin, but they're heading towards the cab and they're almost there.
"Are you feeling okay?" Robin asks.
"Yeah, dude," Marshall adds. "I'm sorry. I didn't think this would happen, but you were the one who wanted to finish!"
"Almost there," Robin pants, beginning to groan under his weight.
He sighs, looks off to the side. "Thanks, guys."
Later, Marshall bails and Robin and his doorman have to get him up to his apartment. His arms are starting to hurt from being supported, but he shuts up because it can't be half of what they're feeling for supporting him. Thank God his building has elevators.
By the time, they plop him down on the sofa, the doorman pops out with a nod of the head and Robin sits down next to him, grasping for a bottle of water.
"There's a secret stash of groceries behind the fridge," he says. "And if you tell Lily, I'll kill you as soon as I get feeling in my legs again."
She chuckles, grabs a huge bottle of Gatorade and heads back to the sofa. She hands it to him and he opens it without breaking a sweat, handing it back. He takes a long swig. She caps it, sets it on the floor. "Will you be okay?" He nods.
(She doesn't leave that night, but they don't tell anyone.)