"Ted," Barney says carefully, as Ted fiddles with the TV remote, shielding his eyes from the glare. It's late. Three movies through a four-movie marathon late.

"Yuh-huh?" Ted answers, managing somehow to get a picture of Will Smith which Barney is pretty sure is from Independence Day. He closes his eyes and counts to three.

Ted's pretty drunk, while he's stone-cold sober. And while drunk-Ted may be amusing to drunk-Barney, right now he just wants to feed Ted the remote.

"Ted… You and Robin." Barney continues. "Are you guys ever gonna, you know, backslide? Do you think?"

Seeming not to hear him, Ted continues to play with the buttons on the TV remote until Barney snatches it out of his hand. He wonders if he's like this when he's drunk? "Ted!" He sighs heavily, waving his fingers in front of Ted's eyes to get Ted to focus in on him. "Ted? Look at me!"

Ted giggles. "You keep moving."

Barney just stares at him. "C'mon man. You've not had that much to drink. Please."

"Okay, okay! What?" Ted's eyes twinkle.

"You and Robin. Do you think it's, like, completely over?"

Thing is, Barney can't get his head around the almost-kiss. It feels like a betrayal somehow, even though Barney knows he got no right to be jealous. Robin's not his. She's not anybody's. And yet…

This is what you get for being sober on a Friday night maybe: Too much thinking. No matter how sick the smell of alcohol makes him feel, he should just knock back a few shots. Hair of the dog…

And yet…

Barney's aware that, on some level, he's been running, running from something, ever since he and Robin split. Maybe it's time to face that something. Maybe it's time to give that something a name.

But Ted looks confused, like his question is out of the blue. "Over? Me and Robin? Robin? Oh man! Why are you even asking about this?"

That's a good question. Barney wonders why he even cares. If Robin and Ted decide to date again, how does that affect him? He's moved on, right?

The ache somewhere around his sternum tells him otherwise. Robin still makes him glow. He's been holding on to that, using it as a crutch.

"No reason," he attempts casual and his voice stays fairly even. There are some benefits in being clear-headed, he realizes.

"Y'know, I'm sick of it!" Ted lunges forward angrily and Barney tenses. "I'm sick of waiting for her. The 'one'. The damn 'one'." Barney exhales in relief and nods along with Ted's words. So much for the drunken attention span!

"Where is my 'one'?" Ted continues. "Why isn't she here? Why am I stuck with you on the 4th of July, drinking too much scotch? I don't even like this stuff. Is it bourbon? We should totally get some vodka! Vodka's cool. I met this Russian girl a few days ago at work, did I tell you? Grad student…"

Barney can't keep up with Ted's train of thought and tunes him out until he hears the word "boobs".

"… so I got her number." Ted finishes, settling back on the couch with a happy sigh.

All Barney can think is that he's been running since he and Robin broke up. All the heavy drinking and the women, the schemes that get crazier, the jokes, the need to be the centre of attention, it's all designed to stave off the inevitable.

Something alien still lives inside of him. That little flame of feeling that Robin awoke over two years ago still niggles and aches, flares and subsides. He's carried that little flame around inside him like it's so precious, because really, maybe it is precious. It's valuable to him, that ability to feel. And what he feels is nice, damn it.

He remembers what it was like not to feel anything nice at all. He remembers what it was like to go through life full of bile and driven by revenge; to constantly strive to be better than the other guy, to win, to be awesome. Robin gave him hope of something other than that. Even when Robin was with Don, he still had hope. He'd written Don off as her rebound guy, just another male Gail, except way more ridiculous.

But throughout everything, Barney told himself he'd never given up on Robin. He'd simply given her some space, that's all. She just wasn't ready for him yet, he had reasoned. Someday she'd be ready; someday they both would be. Just not yet. They still have something. Feelings. Neither of them are comfortable with the "L" word. But last night she'd kissed him, and boom... for a few minutes he'd been on fire. For a few minutes he'd allowed himself to buy into the fantasy.

But it was just a drunken kiss. It meant as much to Robin as her almost-kiss with Ted did.

And he can dress it up any way he likes but even he can smell the bullshit now. He's lied to so many people, but he's always tried to be honest with himself. He did give up on Robin. He just didn't want to face the truth that maybe they'd had their shot and blew it.

Now he feels that tiny flame of feeling flicker and dim, and he suddenly feels very empty inside.

Ted smiles at him drunkenly and he pats him on the shoulder. "That's great, Bro," Barney manages. "She sounds great. Boobs are what's important." But it sounds hollow, even to him.