Nothing, it seems, lasts forever,

People change just like the weather,

Some for good and sometimes never-

I hope things work out for the better

-Madness, NW5

Epilogue

July 2011

He's on his back, grinning up at the ceiling while the girl in bed beside him gushes, "Mmm, that was so good. You're so good at that, you know,"

"Yeah," he smirks, "I know,"

He stretches, rolls over- and then his phone starts buzzing from his trouser pocket.

"Can I take that?"

"Go ahead,"

He leans over the side of the bed to retrieve his suit trousers, and fishes for his phone in the pocket. The name onscreen reads Jerry (he won't change it to Dad)

"Hello,"

"Barney. How're you?"

Barney glances around the strange bedroom, at the girls' bra and his tie hanging side by side off the bed knob, and at her making eyes at him.

"I'm great. You?"

"Excellent, thank you. Listen, its JJ's birthday on Wednesday. He's going to the movies with his friends that night, but we were going to have a barbeque on Thursday. We were wondering if you'd like to come?"

Barney's Mom had done similar a similar kind of thing for his and James' birthdays when they were kids- a proper birthday party would be bowling or swimming at the weekend, but on the actual day of James' birthday, their friends would come over and they'd all play soccer and eat crisps and cake (they'd never had a barbeque). Barney's birthday's in November, so there would be an indoor picnic where everyone would scoff biscuits and Smarties on the floor in front of the television. It seems pretty lame now, but back then it used to be really cool.

Barney hasn't seen his father since they went for a drink in the last week of June. But…it's JJ's birthday and Jerry will be there for it- he wasn't there for any of Barney's birthdays. That's hardly going to make him feel good.

Meanwhile, Barney still doesn't like JJ much, and he can't help thinking that he could sort things out much better with his dad if it wasn't for the kid- or if at least he didn't have the same damn name. Every time Barney thinks about JJ, he remembers what the letters stand for and how it represents that his father wanted JJ and not him. He'll say no- 'Sorry Jerry, I'm busy on Thursday. There's a really important conference call,'- it would be an improvement on when Jerry invited on the fishing trip and Barney said that he'd 'never do that in a million years'. Even if it's a rejection, he's still being nicer about it.

Barney thinks back to the fishing trip. JJ being there hadn't made him feel bitter. It was still Barney and his dad together. He-he wants that. He knows that doing father/son type stuff with Jerry now won't change the fact that Jerry left him, or fill up the gaps in Barney's childhood. But (he doesn't admit this to anyone) it had felt great being on a tedious fishing trip with his father. It feels great when Barney meets him for a drink. Barney doesn't want to become a regular guy- but it doesn't half feel good when he can sometimes be a regular guy doing regular things with his regular dad.

He takes a deep breath.

"Sure? What time do I need to be there?"

Jerry tells him a few details and they exchange a little more (stilted ) conversation before ringing off.

"Who was that?" asks the girl.

"The Philharmonic," Barney replies without missing a beat, "It's a couple more hours before I need to be there, so d'you wanna…?"

The girl looks at him- and Barney can tell that she sees through the lie. She knows he isn't a concert violinist and he isn't performing in Eine Kleine Nachtmusik later tonight. This is disappointing- but Barney's disappointment is overthrown by pride when the girl who knows full well that he's playing and lying to her rolls closer to him, snakes an arm around his torso and presses her mouth to his neck.

When he gets home later that night, Barney realises with a crash that he'll have to but the damn kid a birthday present. JJ's turning twelve- what the hell do you get for a twelve-year-old boy?

"Whatever you do, don't but him a porn film," recommends Ted firmly when Barney calls him up to ask, "Like you have for me on my last five birthdays,"

"You love it, Mosby. Anyway, earlier I was with this chick who-"

"Barney, for the last time- I am not hooking up with a girl who you've hooked up with. Ever,"

But Barney's already rifling through his wallet for the girl's number. As he's leafing through the money, ticket stubs, condom wrappers and receipts, he comes across his Laser Tag membership card. Aha.

"Actually, Ted, never mind. I'll see you tomorrow at MacLaren's,"

He might just have found the solution.

Carli answers the door.

"Hey, you,"

She gives him a brief smile then turns her attention back to her BlackBerry, moving aside slightly to let him in. Barney's met his little sister (God that sounds weird. Him, having a little sister! He can barely get his head around it) a few times before and he's got to say that he rather likes her. They're similar in the way that they both take no prisoners, and they both don't care how rude or cruel the words that come out of their mouths are.

Another way they're alike is that they're both exceedingly promiscuous, and Barney isn't sure how he feels about this. He remembers Ted going mental when he thought that Barney and Heather had hooked up- but then, Ted had had a lifetime of looking out for his little sister, and Barney's had four months; he has much less reason to feel protective, right? He hasn't got an in-built instinct to keep her a pure maiden.

"Hello, Carlisle," he greets, stepping past her into the house.

She doesn't look up and replies grudgingly, "I told you, that's not my name,"

"Whatever, Carlos. Where's Jerry?"

"In the garden with Jay. He's got some kind of remote control plane thing they're messing about with. Anyway,"

She uses 'anyway' as a farewell a lot of the time, obviously means it in that way now because she runs back upstairs, her pink Converses thumping on the steps.

JJ's birthday barbeque is actually alright. There's hot dogs and burgers and cake and beer, and JJ's pleased that Barney's present is to take him and his friends to Laser Tag at the weekend. By half nine, the kid's gone inside to play with his new Nintendo Wii game and Mrs Whittaker's upstairs attempting to hold a human conversation with her daughter. This leaves Barney and his father alone together in the garden.

"Another beer?" offers Jerry, delving into the mini fridge stationed outside to keep the drinks cool. Barney nods and Jerry passes him a can and gets a milk carton for himself. Barney shakes his head in half-amusement, half-exasperation (ha, like normal guys do when their dads do something lame) and takes sip of beer. It tastes cold and metallic.

"How's work?" Jerry asks casually.

"Fine. You know I can't tell you much,"

"Barney, you never tell me anything about your job,"

"Trust me, Dad, it's better that way,"

That's the thirteenth time that Barney's ever called him 'Dad' He keeps track which- he accepts- shows it isn't natural or comfortable for him yet - but at least he's trying (for the record, Jerry had called him 'son' nine times and 'kid' four. Barney wonders if Jerry keeps a tally too).

"Did Perkins pass her test?" he asks.

"No, she forgot to check her wing mirror,"

"Oh,"

"Ah, she'll pass next time. Did you catch the Yankees game last week?"

It never escapes Barney that their conversations stem from forced, second-date type questions. It's not an easy dynamic, so he has to go all-out when there's something he really can talk about.

"Yeah! God, that was the best catch I've seen all season," Barney replies (even though it was at least the third best), and launches into full-on baseball geek mode, going through all his predictions and tactics. They spend the next forty minutes animatedly discussing the baseball league as dusk falls. Although the conversation is bumpy and superficial, Barney can't help but think that this is another thing regular guys and their dads do. And so he talks and talks about pitchers and shots, and argues with Jerry about who the Red Sox should play on third base- and it feels great, albeit in a muted way.

They're only interrupted when JJ's voice shouts, "Dad! The TV's gone weird again! Screen's gone all black!"

Jerry grimaces apologetically at Barney, then calls back, "Hang on! I'll teach you how to do it- now you're twelve you should learn to do these things for yourself,"

Barney remembers a few months ago when the others had mocked him for not being able to fix his own television- the night he met Jerry for the first time. And now Jerry's off to teach his own son how to fix the TV, like he was never there to do for Barney. Because JJ's his real son, and Barney never quite will be.

He swallows. It's late. The evening feels much colder than it did a moment ago. He's got a real family that I'm not part of. I can call him "Dad," and count off the father/son things we do- but he isn't really my dad, not in the way that counts.

"I should go," Barney says abruptly.

"Alright," says Jerry softly, standing up. He walks Barney through the beige jungle to the front door.

"JJ! Carli! Barney's going now, so say goodbye,"

JJ appears from the sitting room.

"See you for Laser Tag on Saturday!" he says excitedly. Barney will never love the kid, but he's alright, he supposes.

"Yeah. See you, slugger,"

"Dad, it's broken…" JJ whines.

"Just hold on a minute. Carli?"

"Fine," comes her moody voice from upstairs, "Bye,"

"Don't get pregnant, Carluccio," Barney replies.

"You're a jerk,"

He laughs.

"Thanks for coming," says Jerry, "I didn't know if you would,"

Barney can't think of anything to say, so he gives his father a lop-sided smile. After a beat, Jerry clears his throat awkwardly and opens the door.

"Well, goodbye,"

"Yeah, bye, Jerry,"

Barney steps out onto the porch, thinking that this is the sort of moment where they'd hug.

"I'll see you sometime soon," Jerry says vaguely- then smiles a weak smile and hurriedly closes the door.

Jerry's house isn't far from the Price- Co and the petrol station, so Barney walks there and calls a cab to take him back to Manhattan. Its costs a fortune to get home from the suburbs, but Barney Stinson does not take the subway.

In the back of the taxi, Barney thinks about his father. Things are okay between them- their conversations are thoughtful and clinical and there's still a ton of unsaid thing on both sides- but he actually likes his father. He knows that James is closer to Samuel than he is to Jerry- although James does have the advantage of a cute three-year-old to break the ice.

Just had BBQ with Jerry, Barney texts to James. He taps his palms on his knees for a couple of minutes, before his brother replies with-

How'd it go?

Fine. He hesitates. Still reminds me of what we never had though. You're lucky Sam can be Eli's granddad even if he couldn't be your dad.

You OK dude? Sounds like you've been going a bit heavy on the red wine?

He sighs. Nah, just Tedding out a bit. I guess I have lots of time to think coming home from where Jerry lives in outer Mongolia.

He's temped to call James up and ask if he ever wishes that they could go back to before their Mom moved- when they were the same and he'd stopped thinking about his dad because it didn't matter-they were the Stinson boys together. But now it does matter- James is half Stinson and half Gibbs, and Barney's half Stinson and half Whittaker. Well, not half, Barney corrects himself. His dad will never be that much a part of him. Although he'll give Jerry…ten per cent. Barney's ninety per cent Stinson and ten per cent Whittaker.

He reflects on the day their Mom moved, when the whole business about fathers had opened up- catching him painfully by surprise like a shaving cut. After they'd met Samuel, and Barney had had to finally admit about him and James and Bob Barker, they'd gone back to the house one last time. His Mom had asked him if he wanted to meet his dad, and Barney had refused because his Mom was all the dad he'd ever need. He'd meant that and he'd believed it- and he wishes that he still did. But since he's met Jerry, Barney's realised that he had needed a father. His Mom had worked so damn hard for him and James, but in the end she couldn't be everything he needed. Neither of them are to blame- but Barney feels guilty because she tried her best and it wasn't enough, and he wishes that she had been all the dad he'll ever need.

He unlocks his phone and texts hurriedly.

You're the awesomest Mom ever and I love you.

Barney presses 'send' hard with his thumb. He hopes that telling his Mom that will make him feel less guilty.

What's up?

Nothing, he replies, Can't a guy give his Mom some love, no questions asked?

It sounds a bit defensive, so Barney shoves an explanation mark on the end before he sends it. He hopes that makes it look more jokey.

If you say so, Loretta replies (somewhat sceptically, he notes).

I'll call you tomorrow, he texts.

You're a good boy. I love you too.

Barney pockets his phone. They both know that he isn't a good boy at all, but it makes his heart feel huge knowing that his Mom loves him regardless (man, he really is Tedding out). He remembers her picking him up from elementary school one time he was in trouble. He was smart but never liked sitting at a desk being told to copy stuff out. He'd get bored and act up, and this time must have been pretty bad for them to send him home. Perhaps he'd got angry and thrown stuff (it was better than hitting another kid, right?). Anyway, whatever he was in trouble for, Mom had had to take him home at lunchtime. She'd moaned a little, but halfway home she'd scooped him up and kissed him and told him that the teachers were over-reacting. When they got home she played basketball against him and let him ride his bike around the neighbourhood instead of making him do any of the schoolwork he was missing out on. And one time, she'd had a friend over; another Uncle. Barney reckons he was named Ryan or Rick or something. He was younger than Jerry and Mom; handsome and muscly. They'd stared at him in admiration (well, for Barney it was admiration, in hindsight James might have been feeling something different) while he carried in a new pane of glass to fix the window Barney had accidentally kicked a soccer ball through. Rick had become friends with Mom after that and came around occasionally. Anyway, this one time Rick was getting himself a beer from the fridge, and Barney and James were chasing each other around the kitchen table playing Knights. James had flicked his catapult at Barney, but missed and hit Rick in the eye. "Little bastard," Rick had growled, and cuffed James around the head. It wasn't a hard slap, but neither Barney or James had ever been hit by a grown-up before, and they were so shocked that they both burst into tears. When Mom came down to see what the noise was they'd told her what happened, and Mom went ballistic. She didn't let Rick say a word, she kicked him out that minute and he never came back. "Nobody lays a finger on my boys," Barney remembers her saying. Mom believed them without even asking Rick his side. Mom protected them. Mom always put them first. She was truly the best mother Barney could ever wish for. She loves him and he loves her and that's what matter...kids don't need a mom and a dad. He knows that; everybody knows that. Barney'll happily fight anybody who says that James' family isn't right cos Eli doesn't have a mom (okay, James can fight them, but Barney would totally have his back). So Barney feels doubly guilty that maybe he did need a dad. It feels like he's not only betraying their mom, but all single moms and James and Eli, and everyone who doesn't have a cookie-cutter nuclear family. Godammit, he wishes so much that he hadn't needed a dad.

To make matters worse, in Barney's alphabetical contacts list, Mom is directly above Nora. Barney can't even read her name without biting his lip is embarrassed shame. He'd utterly screwed that up. He'd liked her but he'd panicked and ruined it. In his defence, the meet-the-parents thing had been a step too far too fast- but he shouldn't have ended their date the way he did. And no, not just because he missed out on sex with her. Barney had been scared because he'd known she was getting close to him and he can't let that happen. It shakes him like malaria to let that happen. It weakens him, and he isn't weak, doesn't want to be weak, can't be weak. At least with Robin she'd slunk under his skin without him noticing- with Nora he had noticed and he was afraid, and that's why he'd got cold feet and had had to back out. Barney hadn't cared how clumsy his U-turn had been- although now he wishes he'd thought through his method of backtrack. Part of him wishes that he'd had the balls to let her under his skin. Barney wonders if he could do that now.

Perhaps he should give her a call. He's not big on apologies, especially not to women, but he owes Nora one. Not even to persuade her to give him another chance- he knows that's hopeless - but because he was a jerk and did wrong by her. The devil's advocate part of Barney's mind argues that he's a jerk to and does wrong by half the women in New York City- but with Nora it was different. He doesn't want to be a Ted about it and claim she was special, but she was…different.

Yeah, maybe he does need to call her.

His phone buzzes with an incoming text. Scherbatsky, the screen reads. She's been saved by that name in his various phones over the years, even though he doesn't often call her by her surname anymore.

Did you survive? reads her text. He can't help but smirk.

Barely.

That bad? *concerned yet sceptical eyebrows*

Nah, it was fine. Taking JJ to Laser Tag on Sat, had long talk with my dad about baseball. Riveting.

At least you can hang out with him, she texts back.

I guess. Sometimes I think it's all alright and then something happens and I remember it isn't. He pauses and types in a hurry, Baseball talk was OK, it felt normal and then the kid's TV broke and Jerry went to fix it. He doesn't need to explain why that got to him.

What did you do?

Said I should go, then I went. It just reminds me of everything JJ's got that I never had.

Barney doesn't like deep conversations, but it's easier on text because you don't have to look the other person in the eye.

You're doing OK, Robin replies, This is tough and you're doing OK. You're trying.

Barney feels a prickle of pride, even though she's probably only saying that to encourage him (living with Ted is rubbing off on her). It's true though- he is trying. Barney could have not gone to JJ's barbeque tonight, but he did because he thought that his friendship with Jerry was worth it (he tries not to think that it's more than Jerry ever thought he was worth). Barney re-reads the text, and it occurs to him he's trying harder for his friendship with Jerry than he ever tried for his relationship with Robin. That fell apart and he let it. In some hypothetical world where now he's brave enough to tell Robin that he- well, for the purposes of this hypothetical world he's in love with her, although in truth Barney isn't sure- and they got back together…would he work harder? Would he have learnt from trying with Jerry that you have to put effort in for any kind of relationship to survive? Would he and Robin stay together?

He hopes so.

Careful- you were almost being nice to me there.

Pfft, never. Don't want you getting even more arrogant.

He loves bantering with her because they both fight dirty- never adding a smiley face when they bicker over text and picking on tiny irritating details about the other. He knows that she won't be hurt by anything he teases her about, and he likes that he doesn't have to worry about no-go areas.

Barney can't think of a comeback off the top of his head, and his mind drifts back to Jerry. Things would be so much better if it wasn't for JJ. It was easier to talk when it's just Barney and Jerry. Then, Barney can forget about the other family Jerry values more than he values Barney. It'd be easier if they didn't have to sit face-to face.

Hang on- what was it he though a moment ago?- it's easier on text because you don't have to look the other person in the eye. Aha.

Barney opens up a new composition of a text- then hesitates, chewing his lip. What should he say? He remembers writing Jerry that letter a few months ago- it had taken forever. But it's a long way back to Manhattan, so he's got the time.

I didn't say thanks for inviting me tonight. It was nice to see you.

Is that boring? Is it sort of thing you'd say if it wasn't nice to see someone? Barney racks his brain but comes up blank. He breathes in and out a couple of times, closes his eyes and presses Send

After a few minutes of staring out of the window, Barney's phone buzzes again.

We didn't arrange to meet again, says Jerry. Is that a statement or a request? It's got to be request, right? Nobody would say that and not expect an answer. At least this gives Barney a script to reply with.

When do you want to? Next weekend? We could go for a milk. Ha. Teasing his dad like regular kids do. When Jerry replies, he ignores the joke.

Sure, unless I need to be pick Carli up from another of her parties. We'll arrange nearer the time, OK?

Barney exhales; half-relief, half-nervous. That wasn't too bad. They'll 'arrange nearer the time'- he's got a few days to cancel if he gets cold feet.

OK, he types.

Barney hopes that he won't get cold feet. Hopefully he can continue trying with his dad. (hopefully Robin will continue being proud of him). Hopefully Jerry can be more Barney's dad than he is now.

He adds- See you then- but rests the phone on his knee and doesn't send the text. He could leave it there.

Barney remembers finding the photograph in his Mom's house the day she moved, and ignoring James' insistence that Sam Gibbs could be on of their fathers. He remembers kvetching on the drive to Sam's house, and the breathless moment of admitting that he knew Bob Barker wasn't his father, and the suffocating feeling of explaining why he had pretended that he was. And then there was that awful moment when Sam opened the door, and Barney knew that he was going to have to pretend to be black to keep himself sane. Back at the house later that day, his Mom held him tighter than she ever had before. When James called the next week and said that he was going to visit Samuel, it truly hit Barney that they do have different fathers; they aren't exactly the same. He remembers the evening careering around the Natural History Museum- and then getting caught, and the guard showing him the form. Barney had never been more shocked in his life, and it was like all the fun of racing round touching he exhibits was dead. He remembers feeling dizzy and dazed, and saying that he didn't want to do anything about it. He'd wanted to pretend it didn't matter. Barney remembers Lily telling him that Marshall's dad had died- and having no clue what to do or say. He'd stayed the night at Ted's, and the two of them had sat together on the couch watching reruns of MASH on some obscure cable channel- both to shocked to talk, both too scared to go to bed. Barney remembers the funeral; everyone else could empathise with Marshall because they had dads to lose, and he couldn't because he didn't. He remembers deciding to ask his Mom for his dad's address, because 'never stop partying' thirty years ago didn't seem like proper last words. Even if they had done, he'd still felt that he should get in touch, since Marshall's dad was gone forever. He remembers Robin falling asleep on his shoulder on the flight back to JFK. He remembers writing and rewriting that letter, agonising over how to address his father, writing out how hurt and afraid and how messed up he knows he is- stuff he hadn't realised until that night. He'd waited impatiently for the post day after day, and jumped excitedly whenever his phone rang. He remembers lying awake two weeks after he sent it, thinking, I don't think he's going to call, bro. He didn't tell anyone about the letter- he told himself that he didn't care that Jerry wasn't calling back. He remembers what's-her-name's cousin using his own line back at him, and it feeling like he'd had a heart attack because he didn't know the answer- and his father didn't want to tell him the answer. The cousin had laced his tea and stroked his hair and Barney hadn't been sure if he was exaggerating his tears. He remembers feeling dizzy when he Nora at MacLaren's on Desperation Day, and their Laser Tag date on Valentine's Day. He'd promised Lily that he wouldn't lie to Nora, and their date that wasn't horrible at all. He honestly hadn't known if he was or wasn't about marriage and kids. Nora asked him to meet her parents and that sent a spider crawling down his spine. Barney remembers catching himself- thinking Dude, what are you doing, don't let anybody get close- and that's why he'd told her he'd been lying. Nora had looked really shocked and had slapped him across the face. Barney remembers going to the café and looking in- imagining himself pushing open the door, telling her, "I want to be confused with you," and introducing himself to her parents: "Hi, I'm Barney- great to meet you. Hey, you want to see a magic trick?". He'd never felt more detached from the notion of a regular family than when standing on the other side of that door. He remembers walking away. He'd given Lily and the gang some half-baked excuse about what had happened, and tried to forget about Nora. Barney remembers thinking Oh my God when Jerry showed up at his apartment door, and going for a drink with him. He'd been angry and disappointed at Jerry's un-legendary-ness; he told his friends- he told himself- that he evening had gone differently. He remembers his Intervention at Ted's house and Marshall's dad being dead, and it was that which made him give Jerry another chance. He'd gone for dinner in Jerry's house on unfun, but teasing JJ was great and Jerry was joining in and Barney thought maybe Jerry wasn't so bad after all and perhaps Jerry could l- and then the kid had to go and be named after their father. His father, not Barney's. It hurt and Barney did what he always does when he gets hurt-get angry. It was so unfair that JJ got everything Barney never had. He remembers rattling the hoop because then he could have something, some fraction of a regular childhood. Barney remembers Jerry shouting at him, and him shouting back- and the truths which he didn't know existed had come pouring out. He remembers walking away. Back at Ted's house, he'd told Ted that "a kid needs a hoop," and Lily had held onto his arm while they all looked out into the night. He knew she wanted him to talk to her about it, but he hadn't wanted to. Barney remembers Jerry inviting him fishing, and him turning it into a plan of his own- a plan to make Jerry an awesome dad even if he hadn't been a present dad. Jerry had danced like a giraffe and Barney had really felt like a son, then. Jerry had been lying the whole time, but that proved how similar they are- and Barney will never forget Jerry's face when Barney freed himself from the handcuffs. They'd driven back to the suburbs and Jerry pulled the button from behind Barney's ear- and it was that, that suggestion that Jerry didn't entirely not want him, which had persuaded Barney to go on the fishing trip. It had sucked, and Barney hadn't been able to say how awesome it was that it sucked. He remembers the times he's met Jerry since then- going for a drink together, visiting Jerry's house. He remembers accepting Jerry's invitation to the barbeque, and coming here tonight. He remembers baseball talk feeling normal- and then JJ yelling and Jerry going to teach his real son the things he never taught Barney. He thinks about Lily and Marshall and Robin and Ted and James and Tom and Eli and Mom and Carli and JJ and Jerry.

It's been a strange few months.

He shouldn't leave the conversation there. Barney picks up his phone again and adds a sentence.

Enjoy watching the Yankees game on Saturday, Dad.

Fourteen.

They're getting there.

Fin.

Thank you for sticking with this, I really hope you enjoyed reading. Thanks for your time…if you go back and review every chapter, you will make me the happiest person! xx