FIC: Send in the clowns (2/2) HIMYM
Isn't it rich? Isn't it queer,
Losing my timing this late in my career?
And where are the clowns? There ought to be clowns.
Well, maybe next year.
She spent that Saturday at Lily and Marshall's place, she and Lily swathed in flannel PJs, eating Ben and Jerry's ice cream and watching chick flicks. She'd found out that the correspondent job wasn't actually available for three more weeks, which left her at a loose end in New York.
She almost wished she'd stayed in Paris.
She'd called Barney and he didn't pick up. He'd called her and she'd been in the shower. Then she'd called him over and over for an entire day and got his messaging service every single time.
Three weeks in New York on her own was going to be like purgatory. Why did this always seem to happen with her and Barney? This was as bad as when they'd first got together - him pining for her followed by her pining for him, both too terrified of losing the other's friendship to make the first move. She thought she'd got him figured out. She thought she'd got everything figured out. On the flight back over the Atlantic everything had seemed so clear.
Then she got a call from the station and they had a courier rush a package for her over to Lily and Marshall's.
It was a very large box containing a bunch of foam peanuts and a single piece of paper.
It was a first class air ticket to the Caribbean island of St Lucia.
*--*--*
"Are you going? Seriously?" Lily asked her.
"It's Barney."
"You think so?"
"Jesus Lily, who else is it going to be?" She couldn't help but shiver as a thrill of excitement went through her.
Lily drained her wine. "How long before the plane leaves?"
"About six hours."
"I'll get Marshall to drive you." Lily smiled at her and kept smiling. She had that look in her eyes - that look that said babies and kittens and it made her stomach twist.
Because that wasn't her and it wasn't Barney.
The most she could hope for was an end to the nagging, drawing pain in her gut that she'd been feeling since she'd found out he'd moved to DC.
The most she could hope for was closure.
*--*--*
The colours hit her. The light. Everything was so bright, the sky was so blue, the lush foliage of the jungle as they sped through the countryside… such a contrast to the slate grey of February in New York, to the iron silver river and frozen back streets of Paris.
It was like a garish, tropical dream.
It was hot, too hot for her body to acclimatise. She'd stripped down to a cotton sundress on the plane but the light material clung to her body, beneath the swell of her breasts, between her thighs. Her hair was a tangle, her face was shiny and red-raw. She looked a mess.
But she was here.
There was a cab ready for her at the airport. Well, a four-by-four. She had no idea where they were going but the driver explained to her (in tattered franglaise, before she forced him into French) that they were driving up to one of the Terrace properties, with a "spectacular view of the Pitons" (apparently).
When they arrived, she had to admit that it was breathtaking. The hacienda was entirely open-walled with a bay view from the huge, queen-sized bed. All around were brightly coloured flowers - cerise, sunflower-yellow, cobalt blue. There were palm trees. There was a fully stocked bar next to the bed. Robin slipped off her shoes and padded around the building to find a huge infinity pool on the terrace and Barney, wearing a linen suit and sipping a martini.
"Hey, Scherbatsky!" He put down his glass and got to his feet and she just shook her head, rushing towards him and almost knocking him over as she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him and kissed him and held on to him tightly.
Screw New York. They had TV stations in DC, didn't they?
*--*--*
Later (a lot later) they were relaxing in the pool. Robin was almost completely submerged, her head resting back against the side. She closed her eyes and exhaled, listening to the circadias play their night music. Barney's knee was pressed against her own.
"So," she said finally. "You're coming back to New York?"
"Are you kidding?" She could hear the grin in his voice, even with her eyes closed. "I'm way too awesome for DC. Plus, not the biggest party town." He shuddered, she could feel the vibration through her leg, then his fingers creep up her thigh. A smile played across her lips.
"So…" He continued. "You're really giving up your apartment?"
She laughed. "Yes." His finger swept up her torso until he was cupping one of her breasts. She felt him scooch over.
"Marry me, Scherbatsky."
She opened her eyes to find him staring straight at her, an inch away. Even in the low light the effect was startling. Even without the content of his words. "What?" She asked, outraged.
"I'm serious!"
"So am I! Stop being ridiculous!" When his face fell, she tried to soften her tone a little bit. "Barney, we don't have to get married. We're together because we want to be, not because someone else, some piece of paper, tells us we should be." He moved away from her and sat back against the wall of the swimming pool. She felt a pang of guilt. "Why ask me now? Why today?"
He mumbled "February 14th?"
She snorted. "Really? I had no idea." She guessed it was his attempt at being romantic but Valentine's day was for the rest of the world. They showed that they loved each other every single day!
"The date really doesn't matter. If you wanted me to, I'd ask you once a week for the rest of my life."
He sounded so serious that she was sure he was screwing with her.
"Barney…"
Suddenly there was a bright flash. She rolled her eyes. "Did you just take a photo of my boobs?" She heard a click, still blinking bright purple spots away.
"That's better," He mumbled. "They just looked so perky in the moonlight."
"And you expect me to marry a man who takes stealth pictures of my boobs?"
He pressed his lips against hers. "You think that was stealthy?"
She laughed. "Don't worry, I'm expecting a video camera in the bedroom." She reached forward, her fingers encircling his stiffening dick. "We can watch the footage together tomorrow. Edit together a video postcard to send home."
He groaned. "Marry me?"
She laughed. "You promised me you'd only ask me once a week."
"For the rest of my life."
"I'll hold you to that," she said, shutting him up with a long, insistent kiss.
*--*--*
Epilogue.
Ten years and two months later.
Robin rubbed her neck, flicking through the photos in the electronic picture frame. She hated digital photographs. You couldn't cry over them and make blobs that swelled in the paper, distorting people's faces. You couldn't cut out people you didn't like any more and burn them in a fit of revenge. The pictures didn't yellow and age. They remained a perfect snapshot in time, showing a younger you, a you with less wrinkles, less worry, less heartbreak, less grief.
Robin grimaced. The photographs of a trip to Saint Lucia, so many years ago that she'd forgotten the exact date, those photographs taunted her.
Didn't they take a lot of dirty photos? Where were they?
Barney would know.
She swallowed, blinking back tears. This was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. Stupid. It had been two months. Two months! Why was she still fixated, dwelling on the past? Why did it feel as if any moment she would be pulled down into the abyss, demons grabbing at her ankles?
She heard the familiar slow knocking of a cane hitting the hardwood floor and smiled. She wasn't going anywhere. Not yet, not for a long time. She fiddles with the underside of her wedding ring, turning it on her finger with her thumb.
"You remember the one I took of your boobs?" He whispered, his lips brushing her earlobe. He places a hand on her bare shoulder.
"Yeah, I was literally just thinking about that!" She laughed. "Get out of my head."
"Come to bed?" He said, throatily. He sounded tired.
She turned around to look at him. "You okay?" He opened his mouth to say something flippant but she shook her head. "Don't. You're not forty anymore. You're lucky to be alive." He looked like he was about to sulk so she rolled her eyes and said "okay, let's dig out one of our old holiday films and…"
He pushed her back onto the sofa and showed her just how alive he still was.
.