Ch 7: No More Wishing
(Hayley Taylor | One Foot in Front of the Other)
Barney
Barney watched as Robin tried not to fall apart in front of him, while she attempted to hide just how profoundly she was affected by his admission. And it broke his heart that a woman as awesome as she was still relied on such trivial validation to believe in her worth. If he was being honest, 'I'm proud of you' didn't cover the appreciation he had for her and everything that she had managed to pull off with the whole scam.
Moreover, at that point, when he said those words, he wasn't even intending to praise her, specifically. He was purely stating the obvious. The sky is blue, I'm proud of you. It was a universal truth for him. And yet, it had such a powerful hold over her, it humbled him. He realised that despite her pronounced confidence, otherwise in life, this would remain a chink in her armour that would just never be resolved.
And so, he didn't say anything more, and just smiled back at her unsaid – and in his opinion, completely unnecessary – gratitude. They sat like that for what seemed like forever, no words exchanged between them. But their little moment ended when Barney's stomach let out a loud grumble. He realised, just then, that hadn't eaten in the past day. And now that the hysteria was fading, he was finding out just how hungry he was.
Robin let out a light laugh at the sound and Barney looked at her sheepishly. "Come on, let's go grab something at MacLaren's," she suggested, "Actually, I had ordered takeout from that new Chinese restaurant across the town, but that was, like, a billion years ago. I guess they must have gotten my address mixed up or something. I doubt the guy's even going to make it," she explained.
"Plus, we've seen your expertise at wielding the mighty chopsticks," she added, her eyes twinkling with mischief, and Barney laughed at that. "And it's been a long time since I went to the bar, so, let's just go there and get us some good ol' burgers and fries. Unless you're too tired and want to try some other takeout option…?" she asked.
"Nah, I'm hungry for MacLaren's jalapeño poppers. And the Lord knows that I could use a – but how're you going to get there?" Barney asked midway through the sentence, understandably concerned, his eyes hovering over her injured midsection.
Robin simply scoffed at him. "I can still walk, you know. I'm not an invalid," she chastised, but it only made Barney cock his eyebrows up questioningly. "I did open the door for you, in case you didn't notice the ravishing creature that ushered you in," she said, rather self-deprecatingly. Barney couldn't help but smile at that.
"Yeah, yeah, Robin. And I also saw how you all but swayed right into my arms. Like the classic damsel in distress," Barney said playfully, tongue in cheek, accurately predicting her following reaction as she grabbed at the lapel of his suit with her free hand.
"You're going to take that back before I play a little golf again. With your balls this time," she warned, yanking at the material for emphasis. He laughed outright at that. Saucy minx that she was, Robin didn't make empty threats, and Barney knew that very well.
"Whoa! Hell really hath no fury like a woman scorned!" Barney snickered, putting his hands up in surrender. "I just thought you would finally allow me to carry you there," he said slyly, watching her eyes narrow murderously, "Bridal style," he finished, breaking out into a silly grin.
"Okay, firstly, you're never going to carry me bridal style," she deadpanned. Barney remembered a conversation they'd had months ago when Robin had, quite colourfully, described her opinions about the cheesy act – in her words, the "abomination" – of carrying a woman bridal style. "Not even when I'm actually the bride," she added, emphatically.
"Secondly, I've been cooped up here for so long, I can't make out any other smell apart from the antiseptic cream, dirty laundry and stale takeout food," she continued, wrinkling her nose, "And, I don't know if the painkillers are making it any different, but this is my pretty-hungry face," she said and blew a strand of hair away from her face. Barney marvelled at how sexy she looked, all riled up, despite the exhaustion evident on her face.
"So, now," Robin continued her tirade, "Are you going to get your famished fiancée some fresh air and food, or what?" she finished, her chest heaving at the mini-outburst.
But Barney didn't respond immediately and simply got up, made a big show of unrolling his sleeves and adjusting his cuffs as he put on his suit jacket, and then stalked off into Robin's bedroom, not missing the distinct huff she shot his way. He returned a few minutes later, his suit all tidied up, his tie straightened, his hair coiffed up, and his lips turned up into that devilish grin that he knew Robin couldn't fight. And she didn't let him down and she smiled right back at him, even before noticing what he was holding.
"Well, if we're going to do this," he said, gesturing at the set of clothes in his hands, "You're going to have to stop looking like a 35-year old virgin," he said with mock disgust. Robin gasped theatrically but let him guide her out of the couch and help her get changed.
Barney had chosen a pair of elegant linen pants that would be easy to slip on with minimal effort, and a smart casual button-down shirt, so that she wouldn't have to raise her arms too much while wearing it. He could see that she approved, and if he wasn't mistaken, was secretly touched that he had put in some thought before selecting an outfit for her.
And because he knew Robin was too proud to ask, Barney wordlessly helped her get out of her tank top, gently pulling it over her head without brushing against her bandages and pretended that he didn't notice her painfully gritted teeth. He moved on to her pyjama pants, helping her get them out without shimmying or bending too much.
As she stood in just her bra and panties, he saw her eyes dart everywhere but in his direction, obviously conscious of the crisscrossing bandages and bruises across her torso. He tucked a hand under her chin, holding her gaze, and then raked his eyes all over her body appreciatively before resting on her face, trying to tell her just how beautiful he found her with his smirk. And it was true. Robin always looked amazing to Barney, no matter what. He guessed it was one of those sappy side effects of being in love with her. She smiled coyly at him and drew him into a slow kiss, her hands resting at the nape of his neck. As much as he wanted to deepen it, Barney didn't, mindful of the cut at the side of her lip.
"You've still got game, you know," he said after pulling back, referring to the night when, a few years ago, Don had dumped Robin and she had given up on civilisation altogether, walking into the bar looking like a homeless tramp.
"Too bad, I can't really sundress up for you tonight," she beamed back, remembering the reference and Barney felt his heart flutter with delight. He was pleasantly surprised to learn that she had heard him that night, when he hadn't been able to hold back the compliment as he'd seen her sashay back into the bar, looking smoking hot in that white dress.
They smiled at each other goofily and then Barney proceeded to help her wear the new clothes, letting her at least do the buttons herself after she shot him a deadly glare. He also smoothened her hair – assuming that she wouldn't want it looking like a "bird's nest" (her words), although it didn't – and then, patted her head, like one would to a little dog, just to irk her. But Robin just shook her head in faux irritation and gave him a lopsided grin, which Barney had come to recognise as her famed you're-an-idiot smile.
"Could you fetch the walking stick from the bedroom? It's on the other side of the bed," she requested, fishing out a comb from her purse to straighten her hair herself.
"Your what now?" Barney asked, thoroughly confused.
"Oh, yeah. The doctor told me to use a walking stick, you know, the kind that old people have," Robin explained, like Barney was a three-year-old, "So that people on the roads and stuff would see it and know not to knock into me or something," she said, reaching into her purse again, to produce a small perfume bottle, "And it would help me walk with my back upright. They couldn't give me crutches 'cause it would hurt too much with all the broken ribs," she finished with a half-shrug, and proceeded to spritz herself with a little Dior.
Barney felt a tug in his heart, just like he had when he had first seen her wounds earlier that night. She obviously had got to be in a lot of pain, and there was nothing he could do about it. He hated this feeling of helplessness. But he pushed past his frustration, because he knew that Robin didn't want to make an issue about it, nodded and went inside to do her bidding.
He came back out with it a few moments later, marching like a soldier with the stick in his hand. And then, he dramatically kneeled to present her the stick, as if he was handing her a divine sword. She chuckled at his shenanigans and took it from him, while he stood up and straightened his suit, admiring her as she made some last-minute adjustments to her appearance.
"Ready, M'lady?" he asked, holding out his hand once she was all set to go.
"Always," she answered, taking his hand in a firm grip. And off they went to enjoy a night of much needed peace and companionship, hand in hand, smiles on their lips, and love in their hearts.
Marshall
Marshall was officially done with his wife. It had been four days since she had broken down in his arms, and ever since then, Lily had been swinging between inconsolably sad and steam-coming-out-the-ears angry; the moods indicated by the incurably cute whimpers from the washroom and the symphony of clatter when she was in the kitchen, respectively. And, as a result, he had been walking a thin line between comforting her and straight-up shaking some sense into her.
He did somewhat understand Lily's anger, though. He knew that as new parents, the occasional paranoia when it came to your child was perfectly justified. Hell, he too had his moments of over-protectiveness when he would take Marvin for a walk in the park, full-on going into the bodyguard mode as he vigilantly eyed every pedestrian. And he wasn't even the one whose vagina brought a watermelon-sized – actually, bigger than that, because, let's face it, he's an Eriksen – baby into the world. And so, on some level, he could relate to Lily's state of upset, because it was fuelled by the fear of her son being in danger. And it was only natural for her to be mad at the person she thought was responsible for that, which was Robin.
When Lily had told him everything that Saturday, Marshall couldn't help but be a little appalled. After seeing Robin with his son that night, weeks ago, he had thought that she would care deeply about Marvin, at least, if not all babies, in general. As her friend, Marshall was hurt by her callousness. But it had been easier for him to overcome it, because even though they were great friends, he had always known Robin to be the stone-cold workaholic, always prioritising her career. Even going to crazy lengths if it meant a chance at bettering it, Marshall thought, remembering her stint at the (insanely early) morning show at Metro News 1 morning show and her move to Japan.
But, while Marshall understood Lily's feelings, he was disturbed by the fact that she wasn't doing anything about them, letting the hurt build within her. He had tried to approach her, but he knew his wife could be really scary at times, and had never found the courage. However, that evening, when he heard the particularly loud clanging of the pots and pans, he knew it was time to man up and speak to her.
"Hey, baby," he squeaked, stepping into the kitchen. But Lily only turned around to give him a brief what-is-it glare before resuming her chore.
"Come on, Lily," Marshall said exasperatedly, "How long is this going to continue?" he asked, noticing her hands falter. But she still didn't say anything, and it really ticked Marshall off.
"For God's sake, Lily!" he exclaimed, finally getting her attention, "Look, I know you're mad at Robin. She threatened your son's safety. And even though I'm sure it was unintentional, and clearly, nothing's happened to Marvin, I know that hurt your feelings," he said, his voice rising with frustration, "But things aren't going to mend themselves!" he heaved.
"Marshall," Lily began in a tone Marshall knew meant that she didn't want to have this conversation, "I really don't want –"
"But I want to talk about it," Marshall said, beating her to it, "And so, we are going to do this, now," he added, his voice firm. Lily simply sighed and dropped the utensils from her hands to face him fully.
"I don't know what exactly you're going through right now, but I can make a pretty good guess," Marshall said, "And whatever it is – anger, hurt, or both, probably – you can't let it fester within you," he added, gentler this time. He could see the cloud of emotions in his wife's eyes before she looked down, and he knew he'd struck the right chord.
"You've got to let it all out," he said, holding her by her shoulders, "Or let it go," he finished, making Lily look back up in confusion.
"See, Lily, you and Robin have been friends for years now. And you two are probably closer than I'll ever know," Marshall began his explanation, remembering how much more comfortable Lily had become with their male-dominated gang after Robin's addition.
"So, for the sake of that friendship, you've got to talk to her," he said, definitively, "Let her know how you feel. Yell at each other, grab each other's hair, make out – ooh, ooh, please do make out –"
"Damn, baby, focus!" Lily chided.
"Yeah, uh, sorry, about that," Marshall blushed at his momentary digression, "So, yeah, you've got to confront Robin and resolve whatever it is that you're upset about," he said, "Or you've got to forget about it, let it all go, and continue with life," he said, but quickly continued, "But I know that's impossible for you. So, really, there's not so much of a choice here."
"See, that's the thing!" Lily said, almost immediately, "I've been trying to… I do want to… but she didn't even… Arghh!" she slumped against the kitchen counter after gesticulating wildly. Marshall felt bad for being so stern with her, when she was clearly very distressed.
"What is it, baby," he implored, "Talk to me, please, or else it's going to drive you crazy."
Lily sighed before beginning. "It's not just what happened," she started, "I mean, yeah, I was pissed at Robin for just taking off like that, but I realised that was just a knee-jerk reaction," Lily explained, "Like, an internal, motherly instinct that, just, drove me crazy even thinking about Marvin being in any kind of trouble," she continued, "But it was irrational and I understand that. I mean, Marvin's completely fine," she said, and Marshall nodded encouragingly, "And, for that matter, I'm not mad at Robin for what she did. I'm mad at her for what she didn't do," Lily confessed, clearly feeling lighter.
This time, it was Marshall's turn to be perplexed, "What do you mean?"
"Well, see, after coming back home that night, I, kind of, replayed the whole thing in my mind," Lily answered, "And for some twisted logic, I can forgive Robin for going on her little quest with Marvin," she said, making Marshall's eyebrows touch his hairline.
"Yeah," Lily began to clarify, "I mean, when I'd gone to the WWN building to pick up Marvin, I'd caught on some bits of, what I assume, was going on," she said, her voice much calmer, "And it seemed pretty serious. Whatever it was that demanded Robin's attention was obviously very urgent," she explained, "Probably, like, a super important, corporate no-questions-asked emergency," she added, trying to put it into context, "She had to do what she had to do. What hurts me the most is that she didn't even try to explain herself to me afterwards," she revealed, her voice resigned.
"But you told me that you had missed calls from her. She did call you, but you didn't pick up, did you?" Marshall countered, the lawyer in him awakening unconsciously.
"Well, yeah, she did call, like, many times that night," Lily admitted, "But you need to understand, at that time, my mind wasn't in the right place to talk. Not just to her, to anyone" she rushed to defend herself, "I'd been so spooked by it all. And the stress was still too fresh," she explained.
"But then, she didn't even try to contact me after that," Lily argued, when Marshall didn't respond. "Like, complete radio silence. You know, I still had faith that she would come around eventually. I even made the connection that her work emergency must have been related to the big press report that WWN did about that Atwood guy, and so, she must have been too busy with that to come visit me, or something," she raved.
"But we saw that on TV and that was 2 days ago. And still, I've got nothing from her. Not even a missed call, this time," she finished, the hurt evident in her voice. Marshall continued listening to her, not wanting to interrupt the long overdue venting.
"Like, does she not, in the slightest bit, know how affected I am? Does she not feel that I deserve a shred of justification for what she did?" Lily asked, her dismay clearly discernible, "It's like, I'm beginning to wonder if she even cares…" she trailed off, the strength suddenly sucked out of her. Marshall couldn't think of any answer to her questions, and so he simply pulled her into his arms, hoping to provide her with some comfort.
"I'd called Ted this morning," Lily said, her voice muffled against his shirt, "He said that he and Robin had spoken yesterday, when he asked her for some suggestions about what to gift a journalist-turned-small-screen-actress-turned-accountant for her birthday," Lily scoffed and Marshall could almost hear her eyes rolling at the sheer weirdness of that, "But he didn't even have any idea about anything that had happened," she said, "So, clearly it wasn't even worth mentioning to Ted," she said sardonically.
"And, I want to talk to Robin. I really do," Lily said pulling out of the hug, nodding her head so sincerely that her bangs fell right across her face, "But I want her to come to me," she finished, lamely.
"Yeah, Lily, she's not going to telepathically know that you're waiting for her to make the move," Marshall said rationally, "You never know, she might be waiting for you to reach out to her," he added, "It's like, the two of you want to play a game of tennis, but y'all don't have a ball," Marshall tried for an analogy, pushing past the indirect pun to respect the seriousness of the conversation, "And y'all are in different courts," he finished, rather proud at his metaphor.
"Before it gets too late, one of you is going to have to initiate," he said softly, "And in friendships as amazing as this one," he continued, pushing the locks away from her face, "There's no harm in being first."
Lily gave him a watery smile, but Marshall could see the clouds of confusion dissipate in her eyes. He smiled back at her, knowing that he had successfully gotten through to her. He kissed her slowly, hoping to give her the courage to speak to Robin and resolve the matter, once and for all.
"I guess you're right, sweetie," Lily hummed against his lips, "I'll call her tomorrow."
"That's great," Marshall replied, "Now can we, please, grab ourselves a glass of whiskey – or, 5, maybe – at MacLaren's? The past few days have been so tense here, I could really use some unwinding," he pleaded.
Lily simply chuckled and pulled out her phone to call one of the several backup nannies that they would call on rotation when they needed to have an unscheduled free night.
Robin
Meanwhile, Robin and Barney were on their way to MacLaren's. The cab ride passed in comfortable silence, both of them too tired to talk. They simply sat at the back of the cab, listlessly staring out of the window at the whizzing lights, never letting go of each other's hands. Robin had dozed off halfway through the surprisingly smooth ride and was gently nudged awake by Barney as they approached the bar.
She noticed him hand an unnaturally thick wad of cash to the driver and realised that he must have made him drive carefully, not wanting to jostle her injuries. He got out of the cab and came over to her side, in a flash, to help her out. As he bent to take her hand, she moved forward and quickly pecked his lips as a thank you, and he just gave her a dopey smile in return. Robin breathed in the night breeze as she got out of the cab; the cool, fresh air taking away some of her fatigue.
Considering the short distance from the curb to the bar, they still shuffled inside way too slowly for Robin's pride. Between dodging the ever-impatient pedestrians of New York and trying to have some semblance of grace while she stumbled across the pavement despite the walking stick, the struggle was so real for Robin.
But she was pleased by the fact that Barney was walking right beside her – neither ahead, to clear the path for her, nor behind, to catch her if she fell. Only once inside did Robin realise that Barney's hand was on the small of her back, the weight just delicate enough for her to know it was in the I-love-you-and-I-hope-you're-okay way and not the here-let-me-help-you way.
She had always found his natural chivalry adorable, but she absolutely loved the fact that he went out of his way to make sure he did not come off as patronising, especially to her. It was like that moment from a few years ago when he'd told her that she was her own 'daddy'. She turned as much as her ribs allowed and looked at him, giving him a reassuring smile, and watched the ghost of worry lines on his forehead vanish when he saw she was fine.
And she realised, suddenly, that for a man as loud and loquacious as Barney was, his little, silent actions often reached deeper crevices of her heart than his words ever did. She guessed that was a beautiful irony in itself, that the guy who had lived to recite his legends as eloquently as he had, did not even need any words to make her feel loved and cherished.
And so, she let him direct them over to their booth, even letting him get her seated into the booth and hover around her until she was comfortable. Because she knew that he needed it more than she did. For all his devil-may-care persona, secretly, Barney had always been deeply concerned about his friends. When she looked up at him from her seat, he shot her a clipped smile before walking to the counter to get their drinks. He returned in a couple of minutes with two glasses, passing one to her before sliding into the booth opposite her.
"It's iced tea, don't worry," he said, before Robin had the chance to ask, "I saw the meds you're taking in your bedroom. They're the same ones I took after my bus accident. I know you can't drink," he explained casually, "Oh, and the burger and fries are on the way," Barney finished.
Robin flashed him a thankful smile. This rare, caring side of him was incredibly sweet, and she was so filled with love for him that she was afraid she was going to blurt out something disgustingly cheesy. So, she simply resorted to joking, "God, I can't wait to be off those meds. It's been so long since a had a nice scotch. With all those nights working overtime at the office, I haven't had a chance to even open my liquor cabinet. These bags under my eyes…? They're withdrawal symptoms."
"Me too," Barney groaned, "I mean, between the wedding preparations and the merger at GNB, the only thing I've got to drink is fancy champagne."
"Aw, poor you," Robin replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Because as far as I remember, I was the one running around getting stuff done for the wedding, while you were off gallivanting from one country to another," she said cheekily, knowing that the friendly banter had just begun.
"Well, stop pretending like my opinions even matter. You've been vetoing all of my suggestions," he countered, "No matter how much you deny it now, you would have loved a Star Wars-themed ceremony," he said, earning an eye-roll from Robin, "Just imagine how cool the groomsmen would look as Stormtroopers?!" he exclaimed with genuine fervor.
"Yeah, that's never going to happen," Robin said, her lips twitching with amusement, "But, seriously, though. You could start helping out. I mean, at least come with me when we go to see stuff. It is our wedding, you know," she said, smiling to let him know she wasn't really upset.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Barney said, his tone serious, "It's just that I don't know how long the negotiations will go on for this merger, and I want to be done with it before the wedding. Or else, we'll have to cut our epic honeymoon short," he said, shuddering at the idea.
While Robin had been handling the major weddings preparations, the honeymoon planning was something Barney had enthusiastically participated in, finding the prettiest resort and filling their itinerary with the most outlandish attractions. He had also booked them a private beach, for all the outdoor "cardio" they had wanted to have, and Robin had almost salivated when she found out. It was going to be a whole week of monkey sex, and probably – hopefully – some sightseeing.
"Yeah, yeah, Robin, we can't afford that," Barney said when he saw Robin smile disappear, "Because if we don't have that week of painting the town red – well, not really red, 'cause my boys ain't coloured, what up!" he cackled, making Robin gag, "Then things," he continued, leaning towards her conspiratorially, "Are going to get really hard," he finished with a lewd smirk.
"Well, in that case," Robin said, playing along, "You better go out there and merge GNB's ass off so that we can merge our asses off," she said, smirking right back. Barney flashed her a million-dollar smile, obviously impressed at her for matching him in his own game.
They clinked their glasses to that and took long swigs of their drinks, grinning at each other like idiots. They spoke about some random things, from the new, weirdly obsessive weather guy at WWN to the awesome laser tag place in Shanghai, each one upping the other's quips, until their food arrived. The moment Wendy-the-waitress laid their plates in front of them, Robin jerked her head up towards Barney to see if he was on the same page. Seeing him mirror her expression, she nodded solemnly at him and they both attacked the food with the gusto of uncouth cavemen.
Well, Barney did. Robin tried, hissing sharply as she attempted to take a huge bite of the burger, forgetting about her still-bruised lip. Before she had a chance to react, Barney's hand had already cupped her cheek, his thumb gently rubbing circles around the bruise to soothe the sting.
"Easy, easy, woman," he scolded, "You're not living in that backward-ass village that you call a country. There's enough food for everyone here," he said, jokingly, but his eyes betrayed the worry. He watched her carefully as she took a smaller bite the next time, learning from her mistake.
"There, see," he said with a smile, "One must only swallow that which one can," he said, his face carrying the signature glee and Robin knew a filthy comment was going to follow. And sure enough, he dropped the other shoe, "For the rest, one must stick to sucking!" He was so genuinely impressed at himself that Robin just had to laugh along.
"Well, you know I do a good job at that," she said, licking the sauce off a fry teasingly, and Barney grinned appreciatively, "And we both know that when it comes to it, that's just tip of the iceberg," she said, winking at him.
"What up!" Barney crooned, "I hereby confer upon you the most esteemed reward of a high five," he announced and Robin raised her hand to accept it. He grinned at her as she stole a fry from his plate and popped it into her mouth.
"You know, I'm starting to see your point," he said after a while, lounging back into the seat, swirling his glass of scotch in his typical slow, purposeful way. Robin looked up at him and raised an eyebrow in question.
"The whole scars-turning-you-on thing," he answered, his eyes darkening with desire, "I can see the appeal," he added, taking a sip from his drink and running his tongue over his lip suggestively.
Robin stopped chewing abruptly and deadpanned. The sensible part of her told her that Barney was simply being the relentless flirt that he was; that he couldn't possibly find her attractive right now.
And as if reading her mind, Barney gave a deep rumble. "Ah, I detect scepticism. If only you could feel Lil' Barney…" he trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows and then winking. Robin shook her head in the you're-incorrigible-but-I-love-you way, and Barney grinned back.
"Seriously, though," he continued, and Robin could see his excitement bubbling. He had the trademark look of feigned wisdom that he would put on whenever he spouted out his wacky rules.
"It should be a thing – ooh, ooh, it should be called the Bang Bang Theory!" he declared, his eyes aglow, "You see, the two 'bangs' are for the two times that you get banged. Get a little banged up now to get a little bangity-bang later," he clarified, as if it even required any explanation.
"God, that is gold! It's got to go on my blog!" he crowed, and Robin couldn't hold back her smile anymore. She joined him, raising her glass, and cheered him with a "Hear, hear!"
They clinked their glasses once again and dissolved into giggles, before sobering down and returning their attention to their food. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, peacefully enjoying… dinner? Supper? At that point, Robin couldn't care less.
As they were licking the final bit of the sauce off their plates, a group of college girls walked past them uttering what Barney would consider the most disrespectful words in all of history. "Which loser dresses up as an Ewok while asking a girl out?! I mean, he just looked like a lame-ass teddy bear. Did he really think I would be the Christopher Robin to his Winnie-the-Pooh…?" Nose Piercing said to Pink Streak as the two sauntered out of the bar.
Barney's gasp of outrage was so loud it startled the last fry right out of Robin's hand and onto the floor, earning a rightful death glare from her. "Oh my God, Barney! I will end you!" she all but shrieked.
She had to grab his hand resting on the table to physically prevent him from hunting down the bi– beautiful girls and verbally roasting them. Within seconds he had launched into his litany of praises for the timeless treasure that was Star Wars, his entire body vibrating frenetically, and Robin knew his ranting was going to go on for a while. After an exorbitant monologue, Barney finally collapsed back into his seat, utterly drained from all his theatrics.
"Oh, Robin," he whispered, longingly, "You have no idea what you're going to be missing. A Star Wars-themed wedding would have been stellar," he heaved, mournfully.
"Okay, that's it," Robin said, rolling her eyes so hard, her head almost started throbbing, "You weren't supposed to find out this way; it was meant to be a surprise wedding gift," she said, her irritation dying out.
"So... I happen to have bought a costume, recently…" she purred, running a finger over the rim of her glass, "You know the fantasy that you claim you never got to play out…?" she asked, enticingly, looking at him with hooded eyes.
"No way…" Barney murmured, reverently.
"Yep," she confirmed, "Get ready, Stinson, because you get to go to town on Princess Leia," she drawled with a seductive smile.
Barney didn't even try to hide his exuberance. "Oh my God! Robin, that is so epic!" he whooped, his eyes getting dreamy, "And-and I could get a Han Solo costume! YES! It's going to be legen –"
"Wait for it," Robin supplied, making Barney snap out of it, "We really do have to wait for it," she said, the smile was still on her face, but her voice had gotten softer. At Barney's confused look, she motioned to her body with a wave of her hand to hint at her injuries. Barney's grin instantly vanished, his eyes flickering with concern.
"But don't worry," she quickly added, watching him deflate like a balloon, "Once I stop feeling like Dwayne freaking Johnson used me as his punching bag, it is so going to be on!" she finished, trying her best to sound cheerful.
Barney gave her a heartfelt smile and grabbed a tissue to clean his hands, focusing on anything but her, and Robin could see that he was bummed out. She cursed herself for bringing it up; they had been having so much fun. She was thinking of something reassuring to say, when she noticed him squirming in his seat, his hand readjusting his perfectly tied tie.
"Robin," he began, clearing his throat, "I, uh, I've got to ask," he said, his voice small, "Why didn't you call any of us? When it all happened? I mean, you had to spend a whole night at the hospital, alone. And when you got back home, too, you had to manage everything by yourself," he said so earnestly that Robin had to avert her face from his.
Because he was right, and it had been a different kind of torture to go through all of that alone. She remembered how she had struggled to stay awake while giving her interns commands over a phone call. And how agonising it was to just walk the 10 feet from her bed to the washroom to pee. Her face would be covered in sweat and her legs would be trembling. And the peeing had been a gruelling trial on its own, with every injury of hers screaming in protest. And nearly everything she'd done those past few days had been an excruciating test of her tolerance.
(And there was also the visit to the police station yesterday. All she'd had to do was get in a cab, go down to the station, give her official statement and come back. It was supposed to be a quick, easy hour-and-a-half, but Robin hadn't struggled more at anything in her life. She'd been a clumsy, hobbling, wobbling (and every other word in the dictionary that roughly meant walking embarrassingly) mess as she'd floundered about at the precinct trying to find the right meeting room. The DA had constantly shot her concerned, sympathetic looks as he had gone about explaining how the upcoming trial would be conducted. And the detective's fussing over her with the exaggerated gentleness when he'd found out that she was injured hadn't helped her already-fragile ego.)
Robin sighed, knowing that she had to tell him the whole story now. But Barney had been so caring and worried about her the whole evening that she wasn't as terrified of his reaction as she had been.
She took a deep, calming breath and squared her shoulders before settling deeper into her seat. It was time to face the music.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in this story.
