Interesting Times, by GirlX2
Chapter Fifteen
0o0o0o0
Four months. Four impossible, improbable, indescribable months in this ridiculous state. And yet, a sense of normality had been found. Nights at the bar, more or less as usual (the less being his non-existent skirt-chasing). Days at work with Marshall and Ted. Downtime spent in his increasingly homey mini-apartment.
It was…okay. He wasn't scared of Marshall any more. Lily was treating him normally, most of the time. James called faithfully once a week; to make sure he was alright.
And yet…
He missed his real apartment. He missed playing Ted's wingman. He missed his freedom. Ted was still far too overprotective. And Robin…
Best not to linger on thoughts of Robin.
0o0o0o0
It had been a long day at work; Ted's latest proposal hadn't gone over well, and Barney's bosses were pestering him about the ever-annoying Peterson account. By the time Marshall dropped them off in front of Ted's place, both men were tired, hot, and in no mood to deal with any further shit.
"Stop moving." A cold prong of hard metal jabbed Ted's back. Ted froze, aside from curling his fingers over Barney.
"Easy. My wallet is in my back pocket."
"Stop talking and turn around."
Ted did so, slowly. A burly, light haired man scowled at him. A gun peeked out from under the man's jacket.
"Dude, take whatever you want." Ted said quietly. "I won't yell or anything."
"What I want is for you to follow me to my car." The scowl turned into a smirk.
"Ted, don't." Barney spoke up hesitantly. Whatever this guy wanted, it wasn't good.
"Stinson, I'd advise you to keep your remarks to yourself."
Ted felt Barney jerk in surprise.
"Now's not the time to ask 'how do I know your name' or any of that shit." The man pressed the gun to Ted's side. "If I shoot you, what exactly do you think will happen to your little friend?"
Ted swallowed dryly. "Okay. I'll come to your car."
The man circled him and prodded him with the gun, forcing Ted forward. "Play it cool Mosby, or this'll get messy."
Ted walked as slowly as he dared, hoping someone, anyone on the street would see. A dirty gray sedan came into view. To his surprise, Ted felt keys pressed into his free hand.
"Driver's side, Mosby."
"I can't drive; I've got to hold—"
Another savage jab. "Driver's side!"
"Okay, okay." Ted opened the door awkwardly as the man hurried to the passenger seat, gun still trained on him.
"Now, hand over your friend."
"No."
"I might not be able to kill you with one shot, Mosby. But what would that shot do to Stinson?"
The gun shifted, and Barney was staring into the abyss. The world shook under his feet as Ted shivered.
"Ted..." He couldn't control the shaking in his legs, or in his voice.
Slowly, Ted extended his arm. "If you hurt him, I'll kill you."
The man laughed and grabbed something from under his seat. "No less than I expected."
With one swift motion, he swept Barney into a large glass jar. He settled the jar firmly between his legs, and screwed the lid on. A single air hole was poked in the lid.
"Drive towards the river." The man slid his thumb over the hole. "If you do anything stupid and try to attract a cop, I won't let your little friend have any fresh air."
Barney knew his air supply couldn't run out that quickly, but he felt panicked gasps welling up. He braced a hand on the glass and tugged his tie loose.
"And if you try to crash, consider this: he'll be slashed to ribbons if the glass breaks." The man's eyes glittered darkly.
"Okay. Just don't hurt him." Ted eyed the glass desperately. Barney's face was already turning red. "He can't breathe!"
"Oh, he's got awhile before he runs out of air. He'll pass out first." The man said casually. "Dive. The fucking. Car."
Ted pulled into the street.
"Ted, don't listen to him!" Barney beat his fists on the glass. Maddeningly, it failed to shatter.
"Cut that out." The man jarred the glass violently. Barney lost his footing and smacked into the side of the jar, head first. He let out a cry of pain. Black stars blazed in his eyes.
And the air was getting less and less breathable.
"He can't breathe! I don't care what you do to me; just let him have some air."
"If it'll shut you up, fine." The man moved his thumb. Barney gasped gratefully as fresh air flowed into the jar. "Now, if I hear another peep outta either of you, this jar goes out the window."
Ted and Barney shared a quiet look of desperation.
There was nothing else to do.
0o0o0o0
Ted was thoroughly lost. He'd tried to keep track of the twists and turns the man ordered, but lost count. All he knew was the neighborhood was one he'd never seen before.
It looked deserted.
"Stop here. Now, here's how it's gonna go:" The man pointed to a large, ugly box of a building. "You go in front of me. Don't scream, just go in the door, and then into the first apartment on the left."
"Not without Barney."
"I'll be right behind you, Mosby. I just wanted you clear on the plan, so you don't do anything stupid. I'd hate to shoot you in the open, but I'll do it." The man smirked. "Though, as long as I've got your little friend in hand, I guess the gun ain't strictly necessary."
Ted did as he was told, fear and rage vying for control. The man was right; he was far more worried about Barney than the gun…not that getting shot was too far down the list.
Just far enough.
The apartment was disheveled and rotting. Shoddy furniture and ancient TV were its sole accoutrements. Its walls were marked with graffiti. The only things in it that looked remotely new were the lock on the door, and a stand with a birdcage hanging off it.
"Sit in the chair."
Ted sat. The man put down the gun, but continued to hold the jar.
Barney's hands were pressed to the glass. "Ted, get out of here! I'll be-"
A shake tumbled him off his feet. "Shut up Stinson. I can still shoot him."
Barney shut up.
With his free hand, the man picked up a roll of duct tape. "Hold still, or I'll hurl the jar against the wall."
Ted's arms were strapped to the arms of the chair, his legs and back likewise. "Dude, what do you want? Money? Neither of us are rich, but-"
The man rolled his eyes. "Yeah, this is a robbery. What the hell kinda idiot are you?"
He turned to the birdcage, and upended the jar. Barney shrieked, but landed unhurt in the shredded newsprint on the floor of the cage.
Now, Ted began to struggle. "Leave him alone, you son of a bitch!"
The man laughed. "You actually thought I was gonna kill him? You're an idiot. What the hell kinda profit would there be if he's dead?"
"Profit?" Barney found his voice, albeit shakily. "What does that mean?"
The man smiled and motioned to something at Barney's feet.
A woman lay on the ground at his feet.
"I'll get to explanations once she's up."
0o0o0o0
A/N Maniacal laugh… Maniacal laugh…