Authors Note: This chapter contains some action sequences. I don't think they're gory or graphic at all, in fact, they might even be a little filmy. But I still apologise if they make anyone uncomfortable.

Also, just an interesting observation, I'm not sure how many people have noticed the reactions of the characters every time they get startled by something. Each one responds differently, but consistently throughout the show (see S6 "Home Wreckers" or S8 "Twelve Horny Women" as examples); Ted jumps a little, Barney and Lilly both cower away, and Robin always gets ready in some kind of a fighting stance. Like, it's her instinctive mode. So I think she would be able to kick some serious butt when required.

On a side note, I recently started watching Cobie Smulders' Stumptown, and I think she's totally bad-ass as Dex Parios. So if you guys have seen that show, then there's a chance you might like this chapter. For those who haven't, please, please, go watch it. It's the finest acting I've seen in a while. Robin might have made you laugh, but Dex will touch your soul.

Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter!


Ch 4: Highway to Hell

(AC/DC | Highway to Hell)


Robin

As Robin walked across the road with the file in her hand, she saw Patrice exit the garage from the back door and turn sharply at the corner to escape into one of the roads leading to a slightly more populated neighbourhood. Robin's pounding heart relaxed a bit at the thought that hopefully, Patrice would be able get herself and Marvin away from the danger as soon as possible.

But her relief was short-lived, as she spotted a large man run out of the under-construction building down the road and survey the surroundings. She had exactly three seconds to take in his appearance – tall, freakishly muscular with his arms covered in tattoos, a scrawny beard that made him look like a pirate and a faint scar running from his eyebrow all the way down to the cheek – before his eyes landed on her. She could see his gaze drop to the file in her hand with the big Atwood and Co. logo embossed on it, and she knew instantly that he had found his target.

Without wasting another second, Robin clutched the file close to herself and sprinted away from him, making sure she wasn't running in the direction that she'd seen Patrice go. She risked a glance behind and, sure enough, the guy was chasing right after her. Trying to push down the full-blown panic for her life, Robin attempted to plan her next steps while whizzing past nearly empty stores and blocks.

She knew that she could never outrun the big, scary man who was obviously very experienced in dealing with unwanted trespassers. But she realised that now, she could call the police. Because unlike Patrice, she wasn't sneaking around private property, and she didn't have any real, confidential documents on her.

And also, she was, evidently, in physical danger.

She saw a diner that was slightly more crowded than the rest of the shops that she had passed by and quickly shuffled inside it, making a beeline for the restrooms. Once she was inside a stall, she quickly called 911 and relayed the details about the situation, location and so on. She stayed inside the stall for another minute to calm herself.

As she opened the door of the washroom slightly, she saw the same man in the diner, his back facing Robin, while he scanned the crowd for her. Robin quickly shut the door with trembling hands, praying that she hadn't alerted him with the noise. She knew the police would take some time to get to her, and till then she had to be on the move.

For a moment, she thought all of this was just a horrible nightmare, and it would end, and she would wake up find herself in the safety of her favourite duvet – the one covered in a maple leaf design. Come on, Scherbatsky. You can do this, you've handled worse, she said looking at her reflection in the smudgy mirror. With that brief pep talk, Robin pulled her hair back into a messy pony, squared her shoulders, and peeked through the washroom door. She saw the man walk towards the glass door leading out, apparently thinking she wasn't here. She soundlessly got out of the washroom and raced towards the kitchen as quietly as her sneakers allowed, planning to get out from the back door.

Robin managed to slip out from the kitchen's exit and found herself in a deserted alley. She'd already noticed that the crowd at diner had also lessened when she'd left it, and there wasn't single soul in sight around her. Essentially, there were, as good as, no chances of Robin getting anyone's help. But she wasn't foolish enough to panic over the fact that she was all by herself in this situation.

She looked around and saw a rusty, hopefully-not-run-down Pontiac a few steps away from the metal door. She would be completely exposed if she went back to the front street, and Robin deduced that the car was her only option for a potential escape. She jogged up to the car and saw some golfing equipment in the back seats and a club laid out over the gloves compartment. Probably some rich guy obsessed with vintage cars, Robin thought as she tried to open the door.

As she'd suspected, it was locked and, much to her chagrin, she couldn't find a rock big enough to break the glass. Without wasting a second, she knocked the glass to crack it with a swift swing of her elbow, thanking her stars for wearing a relatively thick coat. Lucky for her, Robin knew how to hot-wire a car (the knowledge acquired during yet another scarring incident during her childhood) and felt her panic reduce just a bit.

Throwing her bag and the file onto the passenger seat, Robin quickly cleared the glass pieces and got into the driver's seat. She had just revved up the engine to life, when, out of nowhere, the door was jerked open, and Robin found herself staring into the eyes of her pursuer.

For a moment, she was paralysed by the fear, the noise around reducing to a low hum, and she could hear her heart racing a mile a minute. The man shot her the most sinister smile she would ever witness, and Robin could see the blood in his eyes. He grabbed Robin's wrist in a vice like grip and yanked her out of the seat. She barely had the time to react, but was able to snatch the golf club with her other hand as she was violently thrown out of the car. The force of the pull almost sent Robin crashing onto the wall across the pavement, but she managed to catch herself before the impact occurred.

She turned around to face her attacker, the club raised in front of her in her shaking hands. Robin was well aware that she didn't stand any chance in a fight against the mammoth of a man currently stalking towards her. Sure, she wasn't, in any way, a dainty damsel in distress, and sure, she was a regular at one of New York's finest gun ranges –

She had her gun.

Robin suddenly remembered that she was carrying a pistol concealed. But, as luck would have it, it was only accessible from the other side of the car, and it was inside her bag, making it impossibly difficult to get. Robin almost couldn't hold back the wry laughter at her twisted fate: she knew how to use a gun, had even brought it with her and yet, she probably wasn't going to be able to put it to any use at the time of need. Her wits and the goddamn golf club in her hands were her only allies.

But she was Robin freaking Scherbatsky, and so help her God if she was going to go down without a fight.

Robin's attacker, however, wasn't fazed as he saw her tighten her grip over the club. It was as if he was on a hunt and Robin was the hapless prey that he had cornered. Her back hit against the wall and she realised just how perfect that analogy was as he towered over her with animalistic satisfaction on his face.

"Now, now, kitty. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way," he said in that clichéd way, checking off the last box for Hollywood's typical villain, "Handover the file, and I might show you some mercy," he warned, scowling at Robin. And as much as it sounded like a dialogue straight out of an lame action flick, it still managed to scare her shitless.

"And what if I don't," Robin shot back, and swiftly bypassed him to put herself in between him and the car. She had to play her part and look determined, even though the file she had was fake and she could just give it to him and spare herself the trouble. Or else the man would know that the real documents are still out there, and that would send him on a wild chase to get them. Which could potentially put Marvin (and Patrice) in danger. Also, she knew that the cops were on their way, and she just had to buy some time until they got here.

"Well, then I'm just going to have to take it from you," he sneered, taking a step towards her.

Robin tried to curb the rising panic as he continued moving forward. Once she thought he was close enough, she swung the club, with all the strength she could muster, aiming for his arm. But he easily predicted it, dodging the blow with a smooth sidestep. He didn't strike back, however, surprising Robin. That smug smile was still plastered on his face, and that, along with his scar made him look ten times scarier. Robin tried the same move on his other arm, but the man dodged it this time as well. Once again, he didn't retaliate and simply added a mocking laugh, clearly enjoying himself. This is a game to him, Robin realised. He was going easy on her, since he obviously didn't consider her a worthy opponent.

And that insulted every part of Robin's pride. It just drove her crazy with anger and she swung the club viciously once again. This time, she aimed a lot lower, hoping to land a hit on his leg, and it somewhat worked as the man probably wasn't expecting it. He tried to swerve away from it, but the club managed to catch him on a spot right above his knee. The man bent over and let out a grunt of pain, rubbing the spot. She'd wanted to poke the bear, and she had. And now, I've made him mad, Robin realised as he straightened back up almost immediately, glaring at her with venomous eyes.

Very, very, mad.

Robin felt her mouth go dry as the man flexed his fists, his face clear of any previous smugness, and produced a Swiss army knife from his pocket. He'd made the mistake of underestimating her, but Robin knew he wasn't going to make it again.

She tried to swing the club at his knife hand, intending to make him drop the weapon, but the man caught it mid-air with his other hand and thrust it back at Robin, making the handle of the club collide with the side of her lip. The blow pushed her backwards, her leg catching on a hydrant as she stumbled, and before she knew it, Robin was sprawled across the pavement. She had managed to cushion the fall with her palms, thankfully, keeping her back and head intact, but she could taste the blood from the wound on her face as she tried to catch her breath. The club had slipped from her now-bruised hands, but it was still nearby, just within reach.

She knew if she made any move too hastily, she was just going to be subdued again, and so she waited. The man took some steps towards her while Robin continued to pretend like she was still too winded to move. Once she was sure that he was close enough, she grabbed a fistful of the gravel-and-sand mixture on the road beside her and threw it towards his face, temporarily blinding him. As he vigorously rubbed his eyes and yelled obscenities, she took the opportunity to retrieve the club and swung it towards his hunched figure once again, landing a hard blow on his shoulder.

She wasn't sure if she'd actually caused any damage, given his insanely thick muscles, but it did manage to throw him off balance, making him trip over the step at the pavement and fall face-first onto the ground. Robin quickly skirted around him, the golf club still in her hand, to get to the other side of the car. Wrenching the door open with her free hand, she grabbed her bag from the passenger seat. After a few excruciatingly long moments of desperate rummaging, Robin finally found it: her gun.

She was about to unlock the safety, when a large hand caught hold of her arm and jerked her around, making her drop the club. As the man saw what Robin had in her hand, his eyes widened in surprise and he reached for it, trying to snatch it out of her hold. But Robin was prepared for it and only tightened her grip.

Surprisingly, Robin had the upper hand as the man was using his weakened arm, his other one trying to release the blade of the knife. Probably knowing that he wasn't going to win this little tug-of-war, the man, instead, whirled his hand, loosening his grip in the process, and left the gun altogether, sending Robin crashing into the car. Unable to counter the momentum, she slammed into the side mirror of the car and heard the sickening crack of bones as it contacted her ribs. The gun had flown out of her hands, skittering far away from either of them, and Robin lost all hopes of winning this battle.

As she hobbled around to face her assailant, clutching her left side in an attempt to lessen the shooting pain, she noticed that he had gotten hold of the file. He was now looking at her with the feral amusement. He had gotten what he wanted and defeated his opponent. But of course, he wasn't going to stop there. "You know, kitty, you should have just given this to me when I asked for it. Things would have been much more painless. I wouldn't have had to… tame you," he jeered sardonically, stoking Robin's ego.

Robin clenched her jaw as a sharp spasm of pain shot up from her broken ribs. "Yeah, sure, painless for you too. I'm sure that hurts like a bitch," she sputtered despite the agony, pointing at his injured shoulder which she noticed was still stiff with pain.

"And because of that, I'm afraid I'm not going to let you go so easily," he growled, walking towards her while flicking the pocket-knife to finally release the blade.

The shink of the knife echoed through the night and for a brief moment, the world around Robin slowed down, and within the span of a second, every decision she had made on that disastrous day came back to her.

The way she had answered Patrice's call without even checking the caller ID; she would have probably just let it ring if she'd known it was Patrice. Because why, in her right mind, would she want to talk to Patrice, on her free day? But she had picked up the call, and so, here she was, staring at the blade that gleamed wickedly even in the dim surroundings, re-evaluating her sense of judgement.

She thought about her choice to help Patrice out with her problem, without even knowing what it was in the first place. It was a split-second one that Robin knew she wouldn't regret, no matter the repercussions. Because, for all her hostility towards Patrice and her general impatience with people, Robin Scherbatsky was, above all, a dependable person who would always come through. She knew what it was like to be let down, and she didn't want herself to inflict that on anyone else.

She also considered her idea to let Patrice escape with Marvin while she would (try to) take on Burly McBurlington here, alone. Again, it was an impulsive plan, but at least it would assuage Robin's conscience. She'd already endangered the kid by involving him in her matters, and she would never be able to forgive herself if anything happened to him. She needed him out of there more for her own sake than his...

And just like that, Robin's world returned to reality when she stepped on a large pebble that jostled her newly-broken ribs, the surge of pain briefly ravaging her. She could feel her heart quicken with each of the man's advancing step. But, much like her attitude towards all the challenges she had faced in her life, she was not going to give up without giving it her best.

"That won't be very helpful," Robin said, trying to sound strong while gulping down the hysteria bubbling in her throat as she eyed the knife. A strategy, although questionably sound, was forming in her mind, "I know what's in that file, and so do my colleagues back at my office. The contents will be broadcasted to the rest of the world, if they don't hear from me in the next 10 minutes."

It was a gamble, Robin knew, but it might just be able to keep her alive until the police arrived. She guessed that the guy was just a low-level thug – the bad-guy straight out of some cringy movie – simply hired as a "contingency plan" for these kinds of scenarios. She thought that he couldn't actually know what was in the documents, allowing him to be manipulated.

And she knew he had taken the bait as he stopped approaching her, his scar rippling near the eye, perhaps indicating that he was in his thoughts. And so, Robin decided to resume the ruse, "Yeah, that's right. We know about Atwood's school, and all about the –"

"Wait, you're talking about St. Ferdinand's? The one in Albuquerque?" the man asked, now scanning the tag on the file, looking genuinely confused.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's the one," Robin replied, as impassively as she could. At that point, though, she had no idea where she was going to go with her plan, since she didn't know much about the project herself. And clearly, she had been horribly mistaken to assume that this man lacked any relevant knowledge.

"Do you realise that your little exposé is going to take away the education of many poor children?" he accused, suddenly all charged up.

Robin remained quiet, maintaining a stern look on her face that effectively conveyed she was not moved by his outburst. But she was panicking internally, fearing that the guy was going to find out that she hadn't the slightest clue about what he was saying. Where are the goddamn cops, she wondered desperately, running out of moves.

"I mean, sure, they make some of the kids deliver the drugs," he started, not really addressing anyone in particular, "But they are also have real teachers, and actual classes for the them. There are facilities and proper trainers for sports and other activities, and …" he continued his rant, pacing back and forth as much as his knee allowed, but Robin was busy processing the new information.

So, apparently, the school was a front to recruit children to act as drug mules. And, to avoid raising suspicion, they also ran legitimate classes for the entire student body. This was valuable information, Robin realised. It was a good starting point to gather some concrete evidence for the actual reveal that she knew the people at WWN would have to pull off fast. Because she was sure that by now, Atwood would have found out that they're onto him and would do everything in his power to destroy all the proof. But she still didn't understand why this man was getting so defensive about the whole thing.

Unless.

"You have a kid there, don't you?" Robin asked, interrupting his tirade. She was surprised at how confident she sounded.

He blinked several times and shifted his weight from his weak leg to the other, contemplating his reply. "Y-yeah. A son. But it helps him pay the bills. He lives with his mother," he eventually told her, "And she's a bloody alcoholic," he spat, his voice filled with distaste. "They won't let me help them," he added ruefully, and Robin was momentarily struck with sympathy for the man, simply speechless at the downright absurdity of the whole situation.

She thought about whether it was pure coincidence that the very thug hired by the Atwood corporation was related to their scam in this convoluted manner. And it most likely was not, which meant this man must obviously be under coercion, "Look, we can help you. Once the truth is out, Atwood will –"

"No!" the man cut Robin off, all but yelling, "If they find out that I let you get away with this," he said, moving the file in his hand for emphasis, "They'll make us all pay for it. And I know this is the only proof you guys have and so –" and then he abruptly stopped dead.

It was too late before Robin saw that he had opened the file and was now leafing through the papers. His expression changed from despair to pure rage in a matter of seconds, realising that he had been played.

"Bloody bitch," he snarled, any hint of the previous emotion completely absent in his voice. There was a brief stretch absolute silence and Robin could hear her pulse throbbing in her ear.

And then, all of a sudden, he lunged towards Robin with a barbaric roar, wildly slashing the blade in her direction.

Her reflexes immediately took over and she managed to swerve backwards, barely missing the cut that would have spilled her guts out. The next seconds were a frenzy of thrashing limbs as the man now tried to attack her with unrestrained ferocity at having been tricked, while Robin tried her best to dodge the lethal strikes. She had her agility as a huge advantage, she came to realise, as the man's movements had become rather sluggish, given his injured knee and shoulder. And his anger had made him even more reckless, his attacks more haphazard than precise. Moreover, years of playing laser-tag with Barney had made her particularly athletic at the dodge-duck-dive routine.

But Robin knew that this wasn't a game; about 6 seconds into it, she had already gotten a nick on the side of her neck and a scraped forehead after an awkward roll on the ground. It was sheer luck that she hadn't been stabbed already. She knew was going to get tired soon and wouldn't be able to fend him off for too long, considering her own injuries.

After a particularly miraculous dodge, she spotted the golf club several feet away from the corner of her eye. She had no time to find her gun and so, she knew that if she wanted to have even a modicum of a chance at this fight, she needed that club, which was the closest thing to a weapon at that time. With that goal in mind, when the man came at her again, this time aiming to get her a little higher near her neck, Robin deftly ducked to avoid it and landed a solid kick on his injured leg, her boots making the blow much more powerful that she would have imagined.

He cursed at the pain and fell over, clutching his knee, giving her precious seconds to run to where the club was lying. She ignored the protests of her ribs as she tried to increase her pace, her vision tunnelling around the golf club. Even as she reached for it, she could hear the man closing in on her. Robin straightened up after picking the club, her back facing the man, and without any further thought, swung the club while turning herself around. She hadn't really aimed at any specific spot, but the club managed to hit the man right in the head, above his left ear, instantaneously knocking him out. She saw the man crumple to the ground, the club falling out of her quaking hands. As if on cue, she heard the distant siren of the police car, and just like that, it was over.


Robin's breath came out in ragged puffs as she stumbled away from the incapacitated man, still shaking from the hysteria of the hellish night. Her brain was still a hot mess of panic and relief and she missed the rational voice trying to remind her that she might have ended up killing the guy. She almost couldn't believe everything that had happened.

Just then, the police car entered the alley, stopping a few feet away from her. One of the officers jogged towards the man splayed on the ground, who had begun to stir lightly, while the detective approached her. Robin tried to keep her voice from shaking as she described the whole situation to him – the scam, their findings, the assault – and requested that the police department cooperate with WWN, since they were the ones who had unearthed the truth. Robin would never know how she was even coherent at that point, but she managed to answer all of the detective's questions.

She saw the officer cuff the man and drag him towards van with the paramedics, while the detective made a few calls to his seniors. He assured her that they would handle the legal part of the scandal while ensuring that WWN were the official press agents who got to make the grand reveal.

Surprisingly, the whole thing took considerably less time to be sorted. After completing the official formalities that required immediate attention and swatting away pesky paramedics, Robin requested to be excused. The detective asked her if he could help her arrange for a ride and then, droned on about the protocol for the upcoming investigation and press release. But Robin barely registered any of it, merely nodding and mumbling perfunctory responses. All she wanted was to get back home to her bed, crawl under the covers and sleep till the end of eternity.

But she had jobs to do before that. Personal and professional.

As the detective left her to wrap up the arrest, Robin found herself in a daze, the streetlights blurring around the corners, and the police siren fading away ever so slightly. It had been only a day, but, really, it felt like decade to her. She forced herself to focus and pulled out her phone from her back pocket. She saw that she had several missed calls from both Patrice and Lily, since she had turned her phone to its silent mode after calling the cops at the diner.

Her fingers trembled as she clicked on Patrice's contact and called her. Before she even had a chance to speak, Patrice had already launched her verbal missile, "Oh my God, Robin! Are you okay? I tried calling you so many times, but it just kept ringing. And I thought that something must have gone wrong and I just couldn't –"

"W-where are you? And where's Marvin?" Robin cut her off. She had to know that they were both safe.

"We're at the WWN office," she replied and Robin blew out a sigh of relief, "I had to get the documents here, so I called Lily and told her to collect Marvin from there. She just left with him," Patrice added, obviously relaxed, now that she'd heard Robin's voice.

Gathering all the strength that she could, Robin summarised the night for Patrice. The censored version, of course, just the details she needed to know – the new information about the school, the involvement of the police. She left out on the gory details of the fight. Partly because it would not do Patrice any good even if she knew about it, probably only worrying her further, and partly because Robin could barely believe it herself, and did not want to relive the terror.

Patrice listened intently and told Robin that she would handle it from there. And Robin knew she could, because, after managing her for so long at WWN, and especially after witnessing her zeal for journalism that night, Robin had no doubts about her competence. Patrice asked her if she needed to be picked up or anything, but Robin refused, knowing that Patrice was already going to be swamped because of the new break in their story. Also, she had already arranged for a ride, having taken up the detective's offer, and was awaiting a certain Limo with its jolly driver.

Robin exhaled heavily after the talk, utterly exhausted and in pain. Next, she had to call Lily and explain herself. Just the thought elicited a groan that was only partially because of her wounds. She knew she'd messed up by involving Marvin into this, even though it wasn't intentional and she didn't really have any other option. But to Lily, his mother, none of it would justify putting the kid in danger, and that was something Robin knew and understood.

She brought up Lily's contact, her fingers hovering over the icon for a few seconds, and finally called her. But Lily didn't pick up. After multiple unanswered calls, Robin eventually gave up. She was almost entirely sure that Lily was royally pissed. But it looked like she would have to deal with her later.


Now that the high of the adrenaline had begun wearing off, Robin could feel her entire body weaken with sheer fatigue. The injuries that she hadn't had the time to notice before screamed for attention. While the throbbing in her ribs and the stinging on her face was expected, Robin was alarmed by an unfamiliar pain – sharp and burning – above her left hip, almost as if the skin had been pierced.

Perhaps by a knife.

Robin reeled in horror as she recalled when the man had slashed the knife at her viciously the first time. As the moment replayed in her mind, she remembered that she had heard the rip of her coat's fabric when she'd lurched backwards to avoid the near-fatal strike. She looked down, and, sure enough, the blade had made that cut. It just wasn't as severe as it was meant to be, Robin realised, as she saw the hand she'd placed at her side come out wet and sticky, covered with what she was sure was blood.

She gasped at the fresh wave of pain that followed the discovery of her latest wound. She staggered towards the nearest pole, struggling to keep herself upright. After a good deal of gritting her teeth and biting back curses, Robin managed to shrug off her coat and pressed it against the cut to staunch the blood flow. And seeing the rate at which her coat was getting drenched, she knew that she needed to get to a hospital as soon as possible.

All of her sensibility told her to keep herself awake, but the blood loss and the outright craziness of the day had made her very woozy, her eyes wrestling to stay open. The blackness appearing in front of them seemed so inviting, and Robin just wanted to give in to its sweet temptation.

And then, just when she was sure her legs were going to buckle, a black Limo pulled up beside her, almost godsent, the window rolling down to reveal a smiling Ranjit.


Ranjit

As a veteran in his business and a true-blooded immigrant of New York, Ranjit had classified the strangers he had met over the years into three categories. There were the people he tolerated – the category densely populated by a bevy of New Yorkers – simply because they paid him to. Then there were people he considered, or even appreciated, mainly because they were just, so peculiar. People with weird habits or crazy self-absorbed stories that they just had to tell Ranjit in the 20-minute cab ride; basically, people who he found entertaining. Again, a lot of New Yorkers fell into this category.

And then there were the people he actually liked; people who, if not treated him as family, at least acknowledged him and gave him the respect he deserved as a person. Ted and his gang had fallen into this category when he had met them many years ago. Strangely, they didn't remain there, because now Ranjit had come to look at them as friends. He was always excited to drive them wherever needed, because he knew, undoubtedly, adventure and fun would follow. And they would always be kind enough to include him in it.

And so, when Ranjit got a call from an unknown number and heard Robin asking him to pick her up in a voice reflecting more distress than he knew she would want others to notice, he didn't think twice before excusing himself from of his mother-in-law's 75th birthday party and rush to her aid. He hadn't seen Robin since the night he had dropped her at the WWN building – the night Barney had proposed to her, and she'd said yes. He knew because she had texted him that night and thanked him. So, naturally, he was eager to see her and congratulate her on her engagement.

That night, however, as he drove up to the requested spot, his signature greeting died on his lips when he took in Robin's appearance. Her clothes were dishevelled and dusty, her hair was half out of her ponytail, her face sported bloody scrapes, and her coat was held close to her mid-section.

And she looked like she would collapse any second.

Ranjit quickly scrambled out of the car and rushed to get to her as she practically swayed towards the back-seat's door. He held Robin's arm firmly and helped her get seated, his concern rising when he heard her moan softly as he adjusted her position. He gently pried her coat away to take a look and his breath hitched at the sight of the long, horizontal gash right below her rib-cage, starting in the centre, above her navel, tracing the lowest bone. The bleeding hadn't stopped, but it wasn't as profuse as one would expect a cut that long to cause, and so Ranjit guessed (and prayed) that the wound was not too deep.

As curious as he was to know how Robin ended up in this condition, Ranjit knew he had to get her to a hospital first. And so, he didn't waste a second and started the car as soon as he was sure Robin was seated comfortably. Even as he weaved through the city roads at breakneck speeds, he kept glancing in the rear-view mirror to make sure Robin was fine – or at least not getting worse – and noticed her wince every time he drove over a bump or on an uneven road. He immediately slowed down a little and drove more attentively, not wanting to add to her pain. He also noticed that Robin was struggling to stay conscious, so he decided to keep talking to her to ensure she stayed awake.

"So, Robin, have you called anyone else and told them about… this?" Ranjit asked, rather vaguely. He didn't really know what had happened, but he wanted to know that Robin had some support from her friends. That instantly caught her attention and Ranjit saw her eyes widen.

"Uh, no. No one knows. And, uh, I'd like to keep it that way," she replied, her voice strained.

Now, Ranjit was genuinely surprised by that: why wouldn't Robin want her friends to be there when she needed them? He knew for a fact that all of them would be by her side instantly if they knew.

Robin seemed to sense his confusion. "It's just that… the reason for all of this," she tried to wave her hand to indicate her injuries but flinched at the movement, "Is kind of my own, uh, entanglement, with some stuff from work," she said, struggling to find the words. "And, I may have screwed some things up. I might be better off alone, at least for the time being. Really," she murmured, too exhausted to explain any further.

Ranjit couldn't make much sense of what Robin was saying (he doubted if she could) but her tone was grim enough to imply that she didn't want to discuss the matter any further. They were just a few minutes away from the hospital, but Ranjit still had to keep her attention, so he continued, "Okay, uh, sure. So, you and Barney got engaged. Congratulations!"

Despite his stress while racing across the crowded streets, he couldn't help but calm down a bit when he saw Robin's lips curve into an inadvertent smile. "Yeah, thanks," she sighed, tiredly, "He, uh, he had this crazy play to propose to me," she continued fondly, her voice still very weak. Before Ranjit could make any more small-talk, he saw the hospital's entrance and quickly drove them towards the emergency ward.

He was about to get out and help Robin when his phone rang, his wife's name flashing on it. Now, normally, his wife never disturbed him when he was doing a drop-off, and so he knew that whatever was at the other end was urgent. When he picked up the call, he was met with his wife's voice hysterically conveying that her mother had gotten a massive heart attack and that they were on their way to the nearest hospital right now.

Ranjit cursed his fate, what is it with tonight and medical emergencies? But he knew he had to be with his family and so, as much as it guilted him to leave Robin alone, he led her to one of the nurses, confirmed that she was going to be taken care of, and left without turning back, vowing to himself that he would apologise later.


Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in this story.