So like I said, I didn't make it back to the States until March of 2017. I had been avoiding talking to Barney, to all of you guys, trying to make a fresh start in my life. But then Ted begged me to come home, and —
Hang on! I remember this! Robin, you came home when Luke was born. How could you have forgotten that? March 11th, 2017! Tracy and I were trying to have one last romantic weekend away while sleep was still an option. She went into labor just past midnight, and I said it looked rough, and she said —
Yeah, Ted, still my story over here. Where was I?
Robin makes the taxi stop at a toy store in White Plains. She buys the first toy she sees that looks baby-appropriate — a stuffed sheep — and climbs back into the cab, setting the sheep down on top of her suitcase and yawning. It's sort of misting rain, and makes her feel tired. She's always tired lately.
The taxi brings her to Ted and Tracy's place, and she pays, hefting her luggage under one arm. She wants to take a nap, not deal with cooing over some baby, but … whatever.
Truth be told, she's missed everyone.
She knocks and Marshall answers the door. "Hey!" he says, giving her a hug that forces the breath out of her lungs. "Wow! Long time no see! It's great you made it!"
"Hi!" she says, super cheerfully. Then Lily is there, and then Ted. Robin hands him the sheep and puts down her carry on, fielding questions as Ted herds them all back towards the living room. Yes, Germany is great. She brought back chocolates for the kids and Marshall. Her contact lasts another six months, she doesn't know yet if she'll renew it. She's sorry she missed Thanksgiving and Robots vs Wrestlers.
"It's not the same without you around," Tracy scolds gently, catching the last part of the interrogation. She's lounging on the sofa in the living room, looking good for having given birth two days prior. She's holding the baby. Toys and presents for the baby are everywhere. She recognizes Ted's mom and her husband talking with another couple she guesses are Tracy's parents, and a dark haired woman she's pretty sure is Ted's sister Heather.
Robin picks her way across the room towards Tracy and the baby. As she passes him, she pats Barney on the shoulder. He's sitting on the floor cross-legged, playing with Penny and some blocks. "Hey," she says, hugging Tracy carefully. "How are you guys doing?"
"We're doing amazing," Tracy says, beaming. She tries to hand the bundle to Robin, but Robin demurs, happy to admire him from his mother's arms.
"He looks just like Ted." He really does: same nose, same messy dark hair. She leans over the sofa, brushes her knuckle against his soft cheeks. The baby is asleep and doesn't respond.
"Impatient like him, too," Tracy says.
"Hey!" Ted objects from across the room. Robin chuckles.
"How early was he?" she asks.
"Just about three weeks," Tracy says with a little sigh. She moves her legs to the side so that Robin can sit down next to them. "Still, he popped right out, unlike his sister."
"Gross," she says mildly. "But it kind of worked out. I don't think I could have come on such short notice if he'd been born next month. Hear that, Luke?" Robin is pretty sure he can't understand her yet, but the little guy is pretty cute. "You've got some good timing, don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
"Are you going to stick around for a while?"
"Through the end of the week," Robin says, "but then I have to get back to Cologne."
"Are you staying in the city?" Tracy asks.
"Yeah," she says, looking vaguely around the room, her eyes falling on Penny and Barney. "I got a hotel."
The party goes on for a little while longer, until Luke needs feeding and Penny starts getting fussy. Heather and Tracy's parents are staying the night, but Ted's mom and step-dad have a hotel in White Plains, and Lily and Marshall need to check on their own kids. She finds all this out in the chaos of goodbyes and see-you-soons and promises to meet up. Robin is almost as popular as the baby: she makes dates to hang with Lily, see the kids, come back to spend time with Ted…
Lily and Marshall drive off, Robin calls a cab and has a drink with Ted in the kitchen as Tracy's parents put the kids to bed and Tracy goes upstairs to collapse and die. ("She means sleep," Ted corrects gently. "Yeah, I got that," Robin says.)
It's a little weird hanging out with just Ted, since last time Robin was in the city she had half convinced herself Ted was the one she was heartbroken about. It's a lot harder to think that in his kitchen, as he rambles on about his kids.
"I should get going," she says, checking her watch. "Cab company said twenty minutes, he should be pulling up."
"Okay," Ted says. They hug, say goodbye; he walks her to the door.
The cab isn't here yet, but standing at the foot of the driveway…
"When did you start smoking again?" Robin asks, her feet crunching on the gravel.
Barney turns halfway around at her voice and draws on his cigarette. "Few months ago."
They'd agreed to quit smoking just after their honeymoon. Well, Robin had quit and made him quit along with her. Ted had found out about their pact a couple of days later and joined them. Poor Tracy, new to the group, not even a month into dating Ted, had had to deal with all three of them going through nicotine
withdrawal at once. Robin smiles wistfully at the memory.
"There was this New Year's party…" Barney elaborates. He shrugs, looks at his cigarette, and lifts it to his mouth for another drag.
She kind of wants to tell him to put it out, but maybe she doesn't have the right anymore. She wonders what happened at that party, and catches herself sighing. "Look…" she says, dropping her luggage at her feet. "I'm sorry about last year. I guess it hadn't been that long since we split up, and I freaked out a little."
She's thought about it a lot, and spent a lot of time imagining what she would do the next time she saw him. The first few times she'd imagined self-righteous ranting, putting him in his place and making him feel pathetic and small. Then she'd imagining showing off how superior she was to him. Slowly, all that had just faded away.
What had she expected? She knows him. He'd even tried to warn her.
"I'm sorry too," he admits, very quietly. He drops his cigarette and grinds the butt under his shoe. "The way it happened was kind of… trashy."
She kind of laughs, and he smiles hopefully at her.
But she just can't leave well enough alone. "So you're… dating again?"
"Um," he says.
"Acting trashy again?" She kind of means it as a joke, but it comes out too pointed and she immediately feels bad.
"I don't like being alone," he says, staring down the street.
Something twists inside of her. "No, it's… sorry." She swallows. "I hope you find someone." She doesn't, not really. But they divorced so that they could stay friends, and if part of that means watching him find someone else…
"I'm not gonna…" he trails off. "I'm not Ted. I'm not out looking for the one or whatever. I just get bored." He shrugs.
She wonders if it would feel better or worse if he was out looking for the one. She remembers how much it hurt, how deep it dug, when Ted got engaged to the first girl he dated after her, after only a few months with her. It'd feel like that, she suspects.
She tells herself not to be selfish. To be a good friend. "Why not?" she finds herself asking him. "WWN is still full of hot, single chicks. Some of them are pretty nice, I could maybe introduce you."
"I'm not cut out for that stuff," he says, but with a sort of half smile to show he means it as a joke.
"Don't say that," she says, unexpectedly stung. He looks at her. She closes her eyes and counts. "We didn't break up because of you. I mean, no more than we broke up because of me. We split up because we wanted different things. It wasn't anyone's fault." She's been thinking about it, really thinking about it, alone and away in Germany. "I'm speaking from first hand experience here. You're … pretty okay at relationships." She stops herself from saying good or great.
He's smiling at her now. She remembers that smile, the way he's looking at her. She looks away. "So, whatever. I'm sorry for freaking out on you last year. Friends?"
"Friends," he says.
She doesn't go home with him.
They don't meet up the rest of her holiday, but he texts her and she texts back. She meets up with all the others, has a girl's night out with Lily. Barney texts her live commentary of some TV show he's watching the whole time. Lily's eyebrows go higher and higher each time she checks her phone, until she finally puts it away.
After that, it's like their never happened. She tries to justify it to herself. They were broken up. He had implied he was dating again. She hadn't called ahead. When she gets to the conclusion of that train of thought, it was my fault, really, she feels a tight, rolling anger. It's his fault. She still feels that, thinks that. It's his fault, and she can't put a stop to it.
But she doesn't know what else to do. She wants to keep talking to him. She wants to stay friends.
Isn't that why they got divorced in the first place?
She texts him through her week in New York. They make vague plans to meet up but never do.
Robin likes living in Germany. Likes the country, the people, even the food. She really likes the beer, and the tall, strapping German men. She even meets one particular man she takes a particular liking to: Stefan is tall, athletic, not looking for anything serious, and even a couple of years younger than she is, which takes the sting out of his blond hair and douchey name. They go out a couple of times, dinner, football matches, his apartment or her house. She makes it clear on the first date she's probably only going to be in the country for another few months. He's completely fine with it.
It's kind of a relief, that Barney isn't the last person she's slept with anymore.
She likes her house, too, which is temporary housing but has its own paved and fenced in front yard, big windows, and lots of room. She likes being forced to try new bars and hangouts, likes meeting new people, likes having a life removed from New York. She likes the impressed looks people give when she says she's from New York.
She likes the work: still travelling around Europe, but without long flights and jumping time zones. She likes taking the train to France or Poland, the two hour flight to Italy, the way each country is completely distinct and so close by. She gets a week off in April and goes to Norway, just because she's never been. It's wonderful. It's exciting.
It's a little lonely.
The feeling creeps up on her. She starts calling Stefan more, because she starts getting tired of always returning home to an empty house. She starts thinking about getting a pet. She starts looking at flights to New York on her computer.
She calls Lily a lot. The others, too, but Ted and Tracy are pretty harried with Penny and the baby, and she's never been all that close to Marshall.
It gets worse the further into spring she gets. Maybe it's normal. The anniversary of her divorce is coming up. It's probably normal to feel uneasy about that. She tries to put it out of her mind, concentrate on her work. When the day itself arrives, she goes to work, goes to the store, thinks about calling Stefan and doesn't.
It'd feel wrong, somehow.
Barney calls her a week later.
It's the first time he's really been the one to call her. She stares at her phone as it rings on her kitchen table; it's eleven at night, her time. Early evening in New York. She never changed the photo on her contacts page for him: Barney, mid sneeze, circa 2010. Looking at it now, it seems kind of inappropriate. Too buddy-buddy.
She picks up the phone. "Hello?"
"So I was thinking," he says. He's never really been big on hello, how are yous.
"Really?" He goes hah, and she chuckles. "Sorry, you set me up."
"The FBI wants to send me to Cologne," he says. Her throat immediately goes tight. "For like a week, blah blah, GNB had business partnerships there that I might have helped set up back in the day but can't legally discuss because of self-incrimination. Wanna hook up?"
"You mean meet up," she says.
"That one," he agrees. "So I'm flying in on Sunday."
She looks at empty house, out her big picture window, the dark street outside. She looks at her laptop, open to her schedule. Sunday is the 21st of May. "For how long?"
"A week."
She thinks about it. "Okay."
"Cleaning stuff is in here," she says, opening the door at the top of the narrow stairs. "I know you're super neurotic about that crap. Bathroom is on the right, end of the hall. This one is my room…" She pushes the door open and trails off. The second half of the sentence is guest room is the next door, but she wants to know what he's doing to say.
Barney peers into her room and doesn't answer. "It's tiny. This house is ridiculous."
"Welcome to Europe." She leans against the wall next to the door and watches down put down his bags. It's strange seeing him here, in Germany, in her house, in her hallway — her old life creeping into her new one. If this really is a new life. She's noticed some repeating themes. "So," she says, "what do you wanna do?" It's only ten in the morning; she took the day off.
Barney reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out a touristy flier. "There's a super tall tower in this city, check it," he says, pointing to the wrinkled front page.
Robin has seen that tower. "It's like five million steps. Are you serious?"
"It's a super tall tower! How isn't that gonna be awesome? Plus, great line alert: hey, baby, I know you think this is a huge tower, but have you seen the one in my pants?"
"Yes," she says without thinking. His face splits into a grin, and it only gets bigger as she shakes her head, a little embarrassed. "Pretty sure the Cologne cathedral has you beat," she says, fighting an awkward giggle. "I mean, there's two of 'em."
Barney clears his throat. "Are we gonna do it or what?"
"I should have known that was what you were after," Robin says, biting her lip and starting to pull off her shirt.
"Flying all the way to Germany to get laid? Seriously?" she asks, later.
"Please. Like this is even in my top ten sex schemes," Barney says, running his knuckles along the bumps of her spine.
It's one of the weirdest weeks she's had in a long time.
It turns out that Barney wasn't just lying to have an excuse to visit: he's out of the house most of the day working, and she works from home, makes a couple of trips to the office. They spend their evenings together, Robin showing him around the city, Barney dragging her up towers and other tall places. She never even sets up the guest room.
On Thursday, Stefan calls asking if Robin wants to hook up. She demurs, not explaining that she can't because she's watching TV with her ex-husband. Barney looks at her when she hangs up. "No one important," she explains, looking at her phone. "This guy I'm kind of seeing."
She kind of wants him to be upset, but he doesn't look like he is. "A German guy?"
"Stefan."
"He sounds like a douche."
She chuckles. "I know, right? I hate his name. He sounds like the villain in a bad action movie."
"The evil sorcerer in some dumb fantasy novel." Barney chortles.
They go on like that for a while, listing roles for men named Stefan, Barney exaggerating the German accent, until he finally laughs and asks: "Do you like, say it in bed? Talk about douchey."
He means it as a joke, she know he means it as a joke, and it still throws them both into awkward silence, the TV playing forgotten in the background.
"I'm actually gonna break up with him," she blurts out all at once. It's not something she's even thought of until now. But it makes sense, she tells herself. She's been sleeping with Barney all week and that's not fair to poor Stefan. It's not like they're serious. She picks at the seam of her jeans.
"Oh," Barney says. That's probably all there is to say.
The next day is Friday, May 26th, 2017, and they don't talk about it. They spend the day together, running errands, hanging out. They go out to a restaurant: nice, but not nice. They go to a bar, they go home a little buzzed, they have sex and go to bed.
They don't talk about it.
Robin can't sleep after, long after he's snoring softly beside her. Her bed is too small for them to sleep far apart, his arm lies draped vaguely over her, splayed out over her arm and shoulder and collarbone. It feels nice. It feels normal. It shouldn't. They broke up, it's not their fourth anniversary, it's a normal day, just as they pretended.
But it's not a normal day. It's their anniversary.
She doesn't know what to do about that, so Robin takes a couple of deep breaths, pushes his arm off of her neck, and goes to sleep.
In August, Robin takes a few days off and goes to New York to see everyone. She stays with Barney. There's no pretending to be platonic friends: they're all over one another as soon as she's through the door.
She spends her time visiting Marshall and Lily and Ted and Tracy, even calls her dad and then spends two hours ranting about it to an amused-looking Barney. They go out to dinner once, but mostly just order in. He works, she socializes, they sleep together every night.
She broke up with Stefan back in May. He doesn't ask.
He doesn't mention if he's sleeping around when she's not in New York. She doesn't ask.
Robin remembers to call Tracy and wish her a happy birthday in September. They chat for a bit, and Robin sends Ted her love. After, she calls up Lily to fulfill those social obligations and to give her love to Marshall.
She calls Barney last, even though she just talked to him the other day. "Hey," he says.
"My contract is up in a month," she says, instead of hello.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She looks out her window, at the dark street outside. "I was thinking of moving back to New York. I miss everyone."
"You should!" She smiles at the way his voice raises. "Everyone misses you, too! And you'll be able to come to Thanksgiving. Last year, Lily bitched and it was so annoying."
"Wasn't I mad at you last year?"
"Were you?"
She laughs. "So I was wondering. Do you think I could stay with you for a couple of weeks when I get home?" He doesn't say anything right away. She continues: "Just while I get things settled, you know, find a place, work out my new contract…"
"A few weeks?" he echoes doubtfully.
She feels a sting of something. "Or just a day or two, if that's…"
"Isn't that what you told Ted before you moved in with him for like twenty years?"
"Three years," Robin corrects, flushing a little, because just like me and Ted had been echoing in her mind ever since she landed on this idea. "Totally different scenario."
"Really?" he asks, his voice low with doubt.
"I wasn't sleeping with Ted."
He's quiet for a couple of seconds, then chuckles. "Well," he says, and she can hear him leering even over the phone. "In that case."
Wow. You two really do suck at being divorced.
Wait, hold on. You two have been secretly living together? And you never thought to mention that?
No! Not… exactly.
Yeah, Robin was only in the States for a couple of months.
Actually, can we take a break from this story? It's starting to get depressing.
Huh? I actually think it's kind of sweet, in a… 'Barney and Robin are really, really awful at relationship boundaries' kind of way.
Yeah, but that's not gonna last. These morons definitely screwed it up for themselves because, once again, they thought they could get away with not defining their feelings for one another and being casual, and everything blew up in their faces.
Wait — Lily, you know the story already?
And you never told me? Nice, Lilypad!
Nah, I'm just very wise and know how these morons operate. Trust me, they messed things up.
Lily! That's just rude!
And accurate!
And rude!
And things didn't blow up because "we" were idiots. Things blew up because Robin had to go to Spain and meet some douchebag there.
See what I told you? It's all gonna be downhill from here.