FIC: Spade (1/1) Barney/Robin, HIMYM
Title: Spade
Summary: Set a few years down the road, Robin is now a successful reporter who's stumbled onto the story of a lifetime, one that becomes a dangerous obsession that could threaten her safety.
Rating/Warnings: Very dark psychological themes. If this sort of thing upsets you, think very carefully before you read.
Word Count: 5,031 - yes this is a long story but it is posted in one part for reasons that will become obvious when you read it.
Challenge: fanfic100 - 50 Spade
Fandom/Pairing: HIMYM, Robin/Barney
Spoilers: Non-specifically set after Season 6. Future-fic.
Robin pulls the covers up over her head, groaning, turning away from the sunlight streaming through her window. For a moment, she’s a little disoriented, but she goes through her now-familiar internal checklist.
Where am I?
Back in the States. She flew back last night. Or was it the day before? Jet lag is a bitch.
Who am I in bed with?
A groping hand answers that. The other side of the bed is cold.
Robin grits her teeth as her cell begins to ring. She has a dim memory of that damn ringtone sounding out all through the night and she’s about to throw her phone against the wall when she pries open one eyelid and sees it’s Barney.
“Hey!” She answers breathily, and hears a cheerful “What up, loser!” on the other end of the line. The sound of his voice fills her heart and makes her smile in a way that would be a little sappy if he were here in person.
“Long time no speak,” she says with a lump in her throat. God, she’s missed him.
“So when are we gonna hook up? And by hook up, I mean have sex?” He shoots back, with a grin she can practically hear.
“Seriously dude, your enthusiasm is commendable but I’ve got to shower this airline stench away, and then I’ve got a few things to do for work, but maybe we could meet up tonight?”
He laughs. “What do you mean, maybe? I’ll see you in MacLaren’s at eight! And, Scherbatsky?”
“Yes Barney,” she answers with a long-suffering sigh.
“I’ve missed you,” he says, and it sounds so earnest that it makes her throat constrict. Until, that is, he says, “But I’ve missed your boobs more.”
“Idiot!” She chuckles.
“Don’t work too hard,” he replies.
“Later, dude.”
Pulling herself out of bed takes an almost inhuman effort and she stumbles over to the kitchen, knocking back a couple of advil to stave off the migraine that’s threatening to put a kink in her day. Then she has a fast, hot shower and is only just dressed when there’s a knock on her apartment door.
There’s an familiar-looking young girl standing there when Robin opens it. “You’re…?” She says, searching her memory. This is the new assistant they’ve assigned her. She would swear that World Wide News is hiring younger models all the time.
“I’m Charlotte?” The girl says with a downward turn of her mouth that suggests she's told Robin her name a few times before. “Um, people call me Charlie.”
God, Barney would love this one - she's all short-skirted innocence. Robin makes a mental note to make sure he never meets her. “Right, Charlie, sure,” Robin says, running a brush through her hair. “So I’ve got a lot to do today and you’re just going to have to try and keep up, okay?”
Robin remembers, so clearly, what it was like when she just started out at WWN, how many stubborn, arrogant, hard-nosed reporters she’d followed around until they’d promoted her from researcher to field reporter. This Charlie girl would need to pay her dues, just like everybody else. But that didn’t mean that Robin had to be a bitch about it. “Look, I’m sorry I’m snappy," she apologizes. "I woke up jet lagged to the eyeballs and with a headache that’s getting so big I’m going to have to start charging it rent. So just stay quiet, watch what I do, and we’ll get along just fine?” She smiles, but the girl still looks scared.
They’ll just have to muddle along.
#~-
Robin’s phone starts ringing again as soon as she and Charlie get into the cab. She ignores it the first time, but picks up on the second. It’s Ted.
“Hey kiddo!” He says brightly. “I heard you were back in town. What’re you up to? Wanna grab some brunch?”
Robin laughs and nods reassuringly at Charlie, who’s sitting there watching her, quiet as a mouse. “Maybe later. I got a break on the Steinbar story.”
The line goes quiet for a moment.
“Ted, c’mon, I know you guys think I’m obsessing about this, but I’m sure I’m right.”
“Robin, it’s been two years…” Ted says, but he doesn’t sound as irritated as he usually does when she mentions her personal Moby-Dick of a story.
“Yeah, two years with the case unsolved. The police still aren’t taking this seriously, even with all the evidence I’ve uncovered.”
Ted doesn’t point out to her that the police have already closed the case, that the police think that Sonny Steinbar was just a lowlife scumbag, a no-good gambler who shot himself after some kind of drug deal went horribly awry.
“Look, this shouldn’t take long. Barney suggested we meet up at MacLaren’s at eight. I’ll see you there, okay?”
There’s a silence on the end of the phone again and Robin just knows that Ted’s trying to be patient with her. She appreciates that somehow. It gives her the warm fuzzies inside. Wow, she's missed her friends; she's missed being home. “Look," she says, "I’m not going to let this get to me this time. Some distance from the story has been good, you know? It’s given me a sense of perspective.”
“Sure,” Ted says with a sigh. “So I’ll see you tonight? And if you don’t show up, I’m gonna send Marshall to track you down!”
Robin laughs at that and hangs up. Charlie’s staring at her, wide eyed.
“So what do you know about the Steinbar case?” Robin asks her, pushing a thick, manilla folder into her hands.
“Just what they told me at the office? Pretty much what you said on the phone? There’s not a lot of info in the archives at WWN.”
Robin grins. “That’s because it’s all in there. Sonny Steinbar is going to be my Watergate. Everything in my gut tells me there’s a story there, a cover-up at the highest levels.”
Charlie nods along with her. “Wow, really?”
The youngster’s enthusiasm encourages Robin. For the first time in a long while she’s able to express her passion about this story. Everyone else she knows is sick of it by now.
“Really,” Robin nods firmly. “Sonny didn’t kill himself. He wouldn’t kill himself. He may have been a flake, but he was into some bad stuff. He told me his life was in danger.”
“So, you knew him before he was killed?” Charlie asks.
Robin blinks. It’s weird, but the question confuses her for a moment. It’s like her brain is a deck of cards being shuffled and until it stops, she’s unable to answer. But then she shakes her head and says “Yes, of course. Oh, not very well, but I met him a few times. I was doing a story you see. A story about this big, evil corporation. And he was an inside source.” The more Robin talks about Sonny and about the story, the more certain she becomes. Jesus, she’s so out of shape! If she can’t even get her story straight with an intern, how is she going to talk to the police?
“You don’t look so good,” Charlie comments. “Hey, I have some advil if you want some?”
Robin nods gratefully and takes the little white pills, swallowing them down dry. “I just need some fresh air, is all,” she grumbles, and at that point the cab comes to a stop.
#~-
Their first port of call of the day is Lily.
When her best friend sees her, Lily runs right up to her and gives her a huge hug. Lily looks thinner since she last saw her - not in a good way. She looks kind of haggard.
“Are you okay?” Robin murmurs into her ear, feeling a wave of concern.
“Sure,” Lily says reassuringly, although there’s a tightness to her lips. “Just haven’t been sleeping lately. Marshall’s been working odd hours doing all these international meetings at the NRDC, it’s playing havoc with my beauty sleep.” Lily tries hard to cover it but it’s obvious something is off about her. Robin hopes to god that she and Marshall aren’t having trouble. And Jeez, she knows how that would freak Barney out, and she’ll have to deal with him sobbing into his red bull.
“Well now I’m back, we’re just going to have to go out for cocktails. And maybe ice cream. I think that’s in the rules of BFFs somewhere?”
Lily nods. “So, I’m on my lunch break right now. Is this a good time to talk?” She looks over at Charlie who’s hovering in the background like some kind of nervous shadow.
“Sure, this is my new assistant. I think she’ll work out!” Robin says with a grin. “She’s helping me with the Steinbar story.” Lily doesn’t react much to that, and Robin takes it as a good sign. After all, Lily asked her to meet her because she might have some information that will help, that must mean that she’s starting to believe her?
At last, one of her friends is starting to believe her. It sends a thrill of excitement through Robin’s veins.
“So what have you got for me, Lil?” She asks eagerly.
“This is so cool. Like I’m one of your informants or something!” Lily says. “Should I be wearing a black turtleneck sweater or a trench coat? Ooo, I saw a great trench the other day in the sales…”
“Lily, focus!” Robin interrupts her, laughing.
“Sorry, yeah,” Lily says, abashed. “One of the teachers here has a Dad who’s retired, but he used to be a ballistics expert. I was talking to him about your story and he said that it was a hard job because the cops only want evidence that supports what they want to say.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying all along!” Robin practically shouts.
Lily smiles. “Okay, okay. Chill, baby, chill!” She grins. “So he’s offered to take a look at the report if you want?”
“If I want?” Robin hugs Lily again, more fiercely this time. “That’s all I want! For someone freakin’ independent to look at the damn evidence!” She pulls away before she starts doing something lame and girly like cry.
Lily hands over an address and telephone number. “Like I say, he’s retired, so if you want to go over and see him, give him a call?”
“I’ll go over right now!” Robin says, heading for the door. Charlie gets up and follows her. “And Lily, thank you!”
As much as Robin hates being reliant on other people, it gives her a huge sense of pride and security to know that her friends have got her back, and that somebody out there believes in her. For the first time in months she feels an unfamiliar emotion.
She feels hope.
#~-
On the way over to the ballistics guy’s place in Brooklyn, Robin get another call from Barney.
“Hey hot stuff,” she answers with a grin. “What’re you wearing?”
“Hey!” He protests. “That’s my line!”
She can’t help but grin. “You know it.”
“And for your information, Dolce and Gabanna fall collection, Prada shirt, Kurt Geiger leather lace ups."
“Mmmm,” Robin groans in mock arousal. “Talk tailoring to me!”
He laughs. “So what’s up?”
“I’ve got a lead on the Steinbar story. You won’t believe it, but Lily’s found a guy who can tell me more about the ballistics report.”
“Hey, I know a guy who knows about guns! Why didn’t you ask me?”
Robin shakes her head. “Barney, all the guys you know are so sketchy. I need someone on the up and up who the police will listen to.”
Barney tuts. “Yeah, like the police aren’t in on this.”
Of course, he’s probably right. “Barney, I have to try.” Nobody deserves to just be put down like that. Nobody deserves to be executed, leaving their loved ones with no answers. Somebody has to fight for people like that.
“Just be careful, Robin.” He says. He sounds serious. “You don’t know how deep this goes. If the story is as big as you think it is, the closer you get, the more dangerous it is for you. You might be the next one with a bullet through your head.”
Robin nods, feeling the blood rush into her face. Yes, of course she might be in personal jeopardy.
...For two-hundred dollars: Who is the reporter that’s going to get herself killed?
Maybe she should feel scared by the prospect, but she doesn’t, just exhilarated. After all this time, the idea of never getting closure scares her more.
#~-
“So you’re really invested in this case, aren’t you?” Charlie says, and Robin jumps because she’s almost forgotten that the girl is there.
“Yeah,” she answers. “That’s what being a reporter is. You put a little of your gut into everything you do…” She trails off from her usual newbie-motivational speech because she catches sight of the car behind their cab. “That car,” she says turning her head to watch it. “It’s following us. It’s the same car from earlier. It was a couple of vehicles back then, but now it’s right there. The guy driving, I swear I recognize him.”
Cold fear grips her, settles over her like a stone in her stomach. They’re on to her, the people behind all this. They’re having her followed. What if Barney was right? What if she’s got every reason to be scared right now?
It’s all very well being bullish in the face of a theoretical threat. It’s different when there’s someone out there, somebody you can see.
But Charlie looks confused and worried so Robin wrenches herself away from the rear window and resolutely looks forward. “No, I think I made a mistake. It’s not the same car,” she says, but her heart races all the way to Brooklyn.
#~-
The meeting with the ballistics guy goes smoothly. Robin feels a tremor of relief, mixed with apprehension, when the elderly man backs up her claims.
The balance of probability tells them that Sonny didn’t shoot himself, that he was murdered.
Even on the way back to Manhattan Robin can’t seem to stop leafing through her file on poor Sonny Steinbar. In the dim light of the cab interior, she goes over and over each photocopied report, every medical chart until she can barely see, then she shoves them at Charlie, asking for her help.
She almost misses it.
When Robin catches it - a simply blood type analysis from Sonny’s apartment, she wants to slap herself in the face. And barely a minute after she has her revelation, when she’s still sitting there with her mouth wide open, her phone begins to ring.
It’s Barney.
“Dude,” Robin says with hushed reverence. “You will not believe what I just found.”
“What?” He answers.
Charlie nudges her. “Robin, what does this page mean?”
“Who’s that?” Barney asks her. “Scherbatsky, is that a stripper? Are you at a strip club?”
“You wish,” Robin snaps back, “She’s just my new assistant. Now shut up and listen.”
“She sounds hot,” Barney comments.
“She’s a total manatee,” Robin says with an apologetic look towards Charlie who mouths “manatee?” with an offended expression. “She’s helping me. And you’ll never guess what we turned up. The blood types don’t match.”
“The what don’t what?”
Robin sighs. “The blood type recorded on the autopsy doesn’t match the blood type from a sample collected in his apartment. It’s a tiny inconsistency. So that means either there was someone else in Sonny’s apartment, or…”
Charlie looks over intently, hanging on her every word.
“Or it wasn’t Sonny in the body bag,” Barney finishes for her.
“He had his face blown off. He was unrecognisable,” Robin says, practically stumbling over the words in her excitement.
“No way! The dude might still be alive?” Barney sounds as wired as she was.
“Yep! Boy, this is huge. Nobody’s ever bothered to look for him because everyone assumed he was dead.”
“But if you could find him?” Barney pauses. “Robin?”
“Yeah,” Robin said.
“This new assistant, how much do you know about her?”
Robin turns to look at Charlie, who is leafing intently through the Sonny Steinbar papers.
“Nothing at all. I only got her this morning. Although I think I’ve seen her around the office.”
“You think?”
Robin tries to remember. Can she really, with one-hundred percent accuracy, be sure she’s seen Charlie before today?
“Unless you’re sure she is who she says she is, maybe you should be careful what you say around her.”
“What is it, boss?” The girl asks.
Robin shakes her head. “This is bigger than me. I need help in this. I need someone who knows how to fight the man.”
She knows who she needs. She needs Marshall Eriksen.
#~-
By the time they get to Marshall’s office, Robin’s starting to crash. She walks straight into the glass door between the elevator and Marshall’s work area, and this leaves her embarrassed and flustered. While they wait for Marshall a secretary gets her a large glass of water and Robin takes a couple more advil. Her head is really pounding now and her hands are shaking.
Charlie looks concerned. “Miss Scherbatsky,” she says, like Robin’s her maiden aunt. “Do you think you should go home, get some rest? Leave this for tomorrow?”
But Robin simply shakes her head and tries to slow her breathing, part-meditating, part-thinking about Barney’s mantra. It’s all about mind over matter. It’s all about not being weak and being awesome instead. She can do this. She’s the fearless reporter she always wanted to be. This is her time.
When they see Marshall, Robin’s struck by the same feeling she had when she saw Lily. Marshall looks leaner than when they’d last seen each other. His suit feels too big for him when they hug. Marshall’s hair even seems a little grey. He looks older.
“Wow, look at you,” Marshall says, holding her at arm’s length. “You’re looking great!”
Robin smiles warmly. “No I don’t, you old charmer. I’m exhausted. But I really need your help.”
Marshall doesn’t seem phased when Robin begins to explain the breaks she’s had in the Sonny Steinbar story. He doesn’t seem suspicious of Charlie either, and Robin wonders if Barney’s just being paranoid. However, Marshall does agree with her that it seems crazy that the police didn’t question the mismatched blood types or the ballistic evidence.
“What if there’s some kind of cover-up?” Robin says, voicing her fears. She watches Charlie, but concludes that if the girl is a spy then she’s a masterful one.
Marshall shrugs. “It could be.”
“Sonny was into some pretty big stuff, we know that,” Robin continues, listing a catalogue of bad deals and connections. None of this is new. It’s all the in file somewhere. In fact, she sees Charlie leafing through to find the references. “Marshall, I need your help to lawyer them.”
“What do you have in mind?” Marshall says, his tone a little too mild, a little too relaxed for her liking.
Robin narrows her eyes. It’s time she shook everything up. “I want you to help me dig up Sonny’s body,” she says.
#~-
Robin blinks and rubs her eyes. Marshall and Charlie are looking down at her, like worried parents fussing over a small child. She sits up, feeling a little light-headed.
The last thing she remembers is a lot of shouting.
For some reason, for some inexplicable reason, neither Marshall or Charlie think it’s a good idea to go and dig up Sonny Steinbar’s grave tonight. Marshall kept saying something about exhumation orders and paperwork and Robin just… lost it. She exploded. All these months of frustration and now she’s so near, so close to proving what she’s suspected all along.
Sonny didn’t kill himself, hell, he wasn’t even murdered. He’s still alive and in hiding. And if she can find him, Robin can blow this whole thing wide open.
All she needs is a helping hand. And maybe a spade.
But all Marshall keeps saying is that she needs to be reasonable. That she’s overwrought. That a couple of days won’t make any difference.
Charlie reminds her that she agreed to meet her friends at the bar at eight o’clock, and that makes Robin even more suspicious. Damn it, no assistant is that efficient that she remembers all your private appointments as well as your professional ones!
And that was probably when she fainted.
“Look,” Robin says with a heavy sigh. “I’m fine. I just need some fresh air. Let me go outside, have a quiet smoke to restore my dignity and then we’ll all go to the bar?”
God, she fainted. She really fainted. How cripplingly humiliating. Marshall and Charlie both protest but Robin stays firm. She needs air. And smoke. Flashing them both a smile, she tells them she’ll be fine on her own for five minutes. She’s a big girl.
Of course, the second she’s out on the street she hails a cab and calls Barney. At first the call doesn’t connect, which just irritates her. Then she gets an out-of-service number. Damn it, if he’s using disposable cell phones again, she’ll scream.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, Robin notices the car that’s pulled up beside her cab in traffic. It’s that car - the same one, with the same driver. Jesus, she’s all alone and she’s being followed by god-knows-who. She’s being tailed by some thug and she’s vulnerable and Barney’s not answering his phone and how could she be so stupid?
Quickly, Robin fishes out her cell and calls Ted.
“Hey Robin,” Ted sounds hesitant and Robin has no idea why.
“Ted, I need your help. I need you to meet me at St Mary’s Cemetery, Staten Island?”
“Uh, what?”
“Ted, I’m not kidding around here. Please, just do this. I can’t get through to Barney. I need you to do this. It’s an emergency.”
And Ted, because he’s a really, really great friend, just says, “Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
And Robin sags in relief.
#~-
If she thought the jet lag was bad before, Robin is stunned at how debilitated she feels now. God, what she wouldn’t give for a double espresso.
It’s dark when she gets to the cemetery, and she doesn’t have enough cash to keep the cabbie with her, so she makes her way as quickly as she can through the gates and up the path among the gravestones. She feels like somebody from Buffy the vampire slayer - not the bad-ass heroine, but one of those girls who gets killed off in the first few minutes. She checks her bag for her hand gun. Thank god, it’s still in her purse.
Unfortunately she left Sonny’s case folder in Marshall’s office.
But she wouldn’t need that now. What she needs now is a spade, a shovel and possibly a pick axe. The earth feels hard and solid beneath her feet.
Suddenly there’s a noise and Robin scurries out of the light. There’s another car parked two hundred yards down the street - one that she hadn’t seen before. She slides her hand inside her purse to grip her gun, fingering the safety. God, her mouth is so dry! She always imagined that she’d be cool in a crisis, that her hands wouldn’t be shaking so much. But right now she feels like she’s going to pieces, and all she can think is that her Dad would be pretty disappointed in her.
For some reason that gives her the strength to creep forward and try to get the drop on whoever is following her.
Then a shape looms out of the darkness, black against black, and Robin whips out her gun, stumbling over a stray tree root.
“Hold it right there buster!” She shouts, her voice sounding too weak, too querulous for the words to hold any real weight. This isn’t like her! Jesus, she’s Robin Scherbatsky. She can totally do this.
The figure puts up his hands and steps under a street light. It’s Ted.
“Don’t shoot!” He says, clearly as scared as she is, if not more so.
“Oh thank god,” Robin says with a sniffle, rushing towards him.
“Robin, what are you doing out here?” Ted asks. “And can you, like, put that gun away?”
“God, sorry!” Robin laughs, stowing the gun back into her bag.
“Robin,” Ted protests, as she gives him a one-armed hug. “What’s going on?”
Robin shakes her head, feeling tearful again from the sheer relief of him being here. “Ted, this thing goes deeper than any of us thought. I’m no longer looking for Sonny’s killers. I’m looking for Sonny himself! I don’t believe he’s even dead! There’s evidence in the file and I missed it, the cops missed it. Or they deliberately ignored it. This could be huge. Ted, I could finally have the proof I need!”
But instead of being excited for her, Ted simply closes his eyes and shakes his head.
“Robin, you have to stop this,” he says.
“No!” She argues. “Not now. Not when I’m so close.”
“Robin!” Ted snaps, his tone harsh and angry enough to surprise her. “Robin, just stop.”
“But Sonny-“
“There is no Sonny!” Ted shouts.
Then there’s silence in the graveyard, an eerie quiet.
“Th-that’s what I mean,” Robin raises her hands, trying to puzzle through Ted’s violent reaction. “If that’s not Sonny in the grave-“
“Robin, listen to me, there is no Sonny!” Ted hisses. Then he begins to speak, his voice tight and pained. “There never was a Sonny. Think about it Robin, really think about it. Sonny Steinbar. Barney Stinson. It’s the same letters jumbled around. It’s an anagram, Robin. There is no Sonny Steinbar. You made him up. You made him up as a way for your mind to cope.”
Robin shakes her head in denial, flinching away as another car pulls up outside the cemetery. Her hand gropes around in her bag for her gun as she sees Charlie and Marshall get out of the car and hurry towards them.
“Robin,” Charlie calls out. “Are you okay?”
“Please, Robin,” Ted says, and Robin can see the tears in his eyes, sparkling on his cheeks, reflected in the headlights of the car. “Please just try and remember. Remember what’s real, not all that stuff you invented so you didn’t have to deal with what’s been going on.”
“You’re all… you’re mad!” Robin digs into her eye socket with her right knuckle as the pain spikes through her brain.
“No, he’s not mad,” Charlie says, taking a step towards her. Charlie suddenly looks a lot older, her voice is a lot more authoritative. “Do you really not know who I am?”
There’s a flash, somewhere in Robin’s tired, jet-lagged mind, of Charlie, in a white coat, Charlie sitting next to her on a hospital bed. Of Charlie with a clipboard, writing notes. Robin blinks the images away.
“I’m your psychiatrist,” Charlie says.
“And we’re still your friends,” Marshall nods along with her. “Robin, please come back to us. We miss you.”
“I thought if I let you follow this fantasy you’ve constructed, you’d realize what you’ve not let yourself remember all this time,” Charlie says.
Charlotte. Doctor Charlotte Walker.
Robin shakes her head. “No. No, you’re in on this. Sonny’s not dead.”
Barney’s not dead.
“Sonny… they said they’d killed himself. But he’d never do that. He’d never leave us behind.”
Barney’s body, his grey-white skin, the blood in streaks of russet, dried already and sticky beneath his beautiful suit.
“Barney wouldn’t leave us behind!” Robin’s voice is rising in hysteria. She can hear it, but she couldn’t control it, like she’s floating outside her own body. “He called me!”
Barney’s last message, played over and over in her mind on an infinite loop, left on her answering service - so cryptic, so desperate. Robin had never picked up the phone. She never took his final call.
He left them.
“He… was… murdered!” Tears are falling down Robin’s face, each words coming out in great, gasping sob. She pulls out her gun, waving it at them.
Ted just shakes his head sadly. Marshall bites his bottom lip.
“It’s not loaded,” Charlie says.
“You drugged me!” Robin shouts. “You’ve sent me insane.”
Again, Ted just looks sad. “Robin, please. Somewhere inside, you know that Barney took his own life. You know that he was being threatened by some loan sharks, how deep he was in debt. You know about his gambling habit. It’s not like we all don’t feel guilty. It’s not like we all don’t feel that pain.”
Marshall steps forward. “At first, we all clung to the hope that maybe you were right, maybe Barney didn’t do it, maybe somebody else killed him. He was into some pretty shady stuff at GNB and yeah, maybe there was somebody else we could blame. But you know now that’s not true.”
Charlie takes the gun from Robin’s hand. “This is your last chance,” she says. “If you can’t admit to yourself that your fantasies aren’t real, then we have to start more invasive treatment. Please Robin. Please. Tell me what’s real. Tell me what you really know.”
And Robin’s hand slipped from Charlie’s, her whole arm feeling numb.
What does she really know?
“Barney’s dead,” she says quietly. “He’s dead.”
And Marshall and Ted wrap their arms around her. “Welcome back,” Ted whispers in her ear.
#~-
Robin pulls the covers up over her head, groaning and turning away from the sunlight streaming through her window. For a moment, she’s a little disoriented, but she goes through her now-familiar internal checklist.
Where am I?
Her phone is ringing. And someone is knocking on her apartment door.
Something makes her take the phone call, one handed while she struggles out of bed and straightens her PJs. She shuffles to the door and opens it, still talking on the phone.
In the door way there’s Charlie, her…
Assistant?
Robin motions her inside, still talking on the phone. “Sorry - I’ll just be a sec,” Robin breaks off as Charlie dithers just inside the door. “I’m just talking to Barney.” She explains, “Just bringing him up to date with the story. He agrees with me, Sonny didn't kill himself. He couldn't have.”
When Robin turns around, what she doesn’t see, what she won’t let herself see, is the expression on Charlie’s face.
Resignation. Sadness. Resolution.
And Robin continues her conversation, chatting away happily into a disconnected phone, blissfully unaware.
Summary: Set a few years down the road, Robin is now a successful reporter who's stumbled onto the story of a lifetime, one that becomes a dangerous obsession that could threaten her safety.
Rating/Warnings: Very dark psychological themes. If this sort of thing upsets you, think very carefully before you read.
Word Count: 5,031 - yes this is a long story but it is posted in one part for reasons that will become obvious when you read it.
Challenge: fanfic100 - 50 Spade
Fandom/Pairing: HIMYM, Robin/Barney
Spoilers: Non-specifically set after Season 6. Future-fic.
Robin pulls the covers up over her head, groaning, turning away from the sunlight streaming through her window. For a moment, she’s a little disoriented, but she goes through her now-familiar internal checklist.
Where am I?
Back in the States. She flew back last night. Or was it the day before? Jet lag is a bitch.
Who am I in bed with?
A groping hand answers that. The other side of the bed is cold.
Robin grits her teeth as her cell begins to ring. She has a dim memory of that damn ringtone sounding out all through the night and she’s about to throw her phone against the wall when she pries open one eyelid and sees it’s Barney.
“Hey!” She answers breathily, and hears a cheerful “What up, loser!” on the other end of the line. The sound of his voice fills her heart and makes her smile in a way that would be a little sappy if he were here in person.
“Long time no speak,” she says with a lump in her throat. God, she’s missed him.
“So when are we gonna hook up? And by hook up, I mean have sex?” He shoots back, with a grin she can practically hear.
“Seriously dude, your enthusiasm is commendable but I’ve got to shower this airline stench away, and then I’ve got a few things to do for work, but maybe we could meet up tonight?”
He laughs. “What do you mean, maybe? I’ll see you in MacLaren’s at eight! And, Scherbatsky?”
“Yes Barney,” she answers with a long-suffering sigh.
“I’ve missed you,” he says, and it sounds so earnest that it makes her throat constrict. Until, that is, he says, “But I’ve missed your boobs more.”
“Idiot!” She chuckles.
“Don’t work too hard,” he replies.
“Later, dude.”
Pulling herself out of bed takes an almost inhuman effort and she stumbles over to the kitchen, knocking back a couple of advil to stave off the migraine that’s threatening to put a kink in her day. Then she has a fast, hot shower and is only just dressed when there’s a knock on her apartment door.
There’s an familiar-looking young girl standing there when Robin opens it. “You’re…?” She says, searching her memory. This is the new assistant they’ve assigned her. She would swear that World Wide News is hiring younger models all the time.
“I’m Charlotte?” The girl says with a downward turn of her mouth that suggests she's told Robin her name a few times before. “Um, people call me Charlie.”
God, Barney would love this one - she's all short-skirted innocence. Robin makes a mental note to make sure he never meets her. “Right, Charlie, sure,” Robin says, running a brush through her hair. “So I’ve got a lot to do today and you’re just going to have to try and keep up, okay?”
Robin remembers, so clearly, what it was like when she just started out at WWN, how many stubborn, arrogant, hard-nosed reporters she’d followed around until they’d promoted her from researcher to field reporter. This Charlie girl would need to pay her dues, just like everybody else. But that didn’t mean that Robin had to be a bitch about it. “Look, I’m sorry I’m snappy," she apologizes. "I woke up jet lagged to the eyeballs and with a headache that’s getting so big I’m going to have to start charging it rent. So just stay quiet, watch what I do, and we’ll get along just fine?” She smiles, but the girl still looks scared.
They’ll just have to muddle along.
#~-
Robin’s phone starts ringing again as soon as she and Charlie get into the cab. She ignores it the first time, but picks up on the second. It’s Ted.
“Hey kiddo!” He says brightly. “I heard you were back in town. What’re you up to? Wanna grab some brunch?”
Robin laughs and nods reassuringly at Charlie, who’s sitting there watching her, quiet as a mouse. “Maybe later. I got a break on the Steinbar story.”
The line goes quiet for a moment.
“Ted, c’mon, I know you guys think I’m obsessing about this, but I’m sure I’m right.”
“Robin, it’s been two years…” Ted says, but he doesn’t sound as irritated as he usually does when she mentions her personal Moby-Dick of a story.
“Yeah, two years with the case unsolved. The police still aren’t taking this seriously, even with all the evidence I’ve uncovered.”
Ted doesn’t point out to her that the police have already closed the case, that the police think that Sonny Steinbar was just a lowlife scumbag, a no-good gambler who shot himself after some kind of drug deal went horribly awry.
“Look, this shouldn’t take long. Barney suggested we meet up at MacLaren’s at eight. I’ll see you there, okay?”
There’s a silence on the end of the phone again and Robin just knows that Ted’s trying to be patient with her. She appreciates that somehow. It gives her the warm fuzzies inside. Wow, she's missed her friends; she's missed being home. “Look," she says, "I’m not going to let this get to me this time. Some distance from the story has been good, you know? It’s given me a sense of perspective.”
“Sure,” Ted says with a sigh. “So I’ll see you tonight? And if you don’t show up, I’m gonna send Marshall to track you down!”
Robin laughs at that and hangs up. Charlie’s staring at her, wide eyed.
“So what do you know about the Steinbar case?” Robin asks her, pushing a thick, manilla folder into her hands.
“Just what they told me at the office? Pretty much what you said on the phone? There’s not a lot of info in the archives at WWN.”
Robin grins. “That’s because it’s all in there. Sonny Steinbar is going to be my Watergate. Everything in my gut tells me there’s a story there, a cover-up at the highest levels.”
Charlie nods along with her. “Wow, really?”
The youngster’s enthusiasm encourages Robin. For the first time in a long while she’s able to express her passion about this story. Everyone else she knows is sick of it by now.
“Really,” Robin nods firmly. “Sonny didn’t kill himself. He wouldn’t kill himself. He may have been a flake, but he was into some bad stuff. He told me his life was in danger.”
“So, you knew him before he was killed?” Charlie asks.
Robin blinks. It’s weird, but the question confuses her for a moment. It’s like her brain is a deck of cards being shuffled and until it stops, she’s unable to answer. But then she shakes her head and says “Yes, of course. Oh, not very well, but I met him a few times. I was doing a story you see. A story about this big, evil corporation. And he was an inside source.” The more Robin talks about Sonny and about the story, the more certain she becomes. Jesus, she’s so out of shape! If she can’t even get her story straight with an intern, how is she going to talk to the police?
“You don’t look so good,” Charlie comments. “Hey, I have some advil if you want some?”
Robin nods gratefully and takes the little white pills, swallowing them down dry. “I just need some fresh air, is all,” she grumbles, and at that point the cab comes to a stop.
#~-
Their first port of call of the day is Lily.
When her best friend sees her, Lily runs right up to her and gives her a huge hug. Lily looks thinner since she last saw her - not in a good way. She looks kind of haggard.
“Are you okay?” Robin murmurs into her ear, feeling a wave of concern.
“Sure,” Lily says reassuringly, although there’s a tightness to her lips. “Just haven’t been sleeping lately. Marshall’s been working odd hours doing all these international meetings at the NRDC, it’s playing havoc with my beauty sleep.” Lily tries hard to cover it but it’s obvious something is off about her. Robin hopes to god that she and Marshall aren’t having trouble. And Jeez, she knows how that would freak Barney out, and she’ll have to deal with him sobbing into his red bull.
“Well now I’m back, we’re just going to have to go out for cocktails. And maybe ice cream. I think that’s in the rules of BFFs somewhere?”
Lily nods. “So, I’m on my lunch break right now. Is this a good time to talk?” She looks over at Charlie who’s hovering in the background like some kind of nervous shadow.
“Sure, this is my new assistant. I think she’ll work out!” Robin says with a grin. “She’s helping me with the Steinbar story.” Lily doesn’t react much to that, and Robin takes it as a good sign. After all, Lily asked her to meet her because she might have some information that will help, that must mean that she’s starting to believe her?
At last, one of her friends is starting to believe her. It sends a thrill of excitement through Robin’s veins.
“So what have you got for me, Lil?” She asks eagerly.
“This is so cool. Like I’m one of your informants or something!” Lily says. “Should I be wearing a black turtleneck sweater or a trench coat? Ooo, I saw a great trench the other day in the sales…”
“Lily, focus!” Robin interrupts her, laughing.
“Sorry, yeah,” Lily says, abashed. “One of the teachers here has a Dad who’s retired, but he used to be a ballistics expert. I was talking to him about your story and he said that it was a hard job because the cops only want evidence that supports what they want to say.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying all along!” Robin practically shouts.
Lily smiles. “Okay, okay. Chill, baby, chill!” She grins. “So he’s offered to take a look at the report if you want?”
“If I want?” Robin hugs Lily again, more fiercely this time. “That’s all I want! For someone freakin’ independent to look at the damn evidence!” She pulls away before she starts doing something lame and girly like cry.
Lily hands over an address and telephone number. “Like I say, he’s retired, so if you want to go over and see him, give him a call?”
“I’ll go over right now!” Robin says, heading for the door. Charlie gets up and follows her. “And Lily, thank you!”
As much as Robin hates being reliant on other people, it gives her a huge sense of pride and security to know that her friends have got her back, and that somebody out there believes in her. For the first time in months she feels an unfamiliar emotion.
She feels hope.
#~-
On the way over to the ballistics guy’s place in Brooklyn, Robin get another call from Barney.
“Hey hot stuff,” she answers with a grin. “What’re you wearing?”
“Hey!” He protests. “That’s my line!”
She can’t help but grin. “You know it.”
“And for your information, Dolce and Gabanna fall collection, Prada shirt, Kurt Geiger leather lace ups."
“Mmmm,” Robin groans in mock arousal. “Talk tailoring to me!”
He laughs. “So what’s up?”
“I’ve got a lead on the Steinbar story. You won’t believe it, but Lily’s found a guy who can tell me more about the ballistics report.”
“Hey, I know a guy who knows about guns! Why didn’t you ask me?”
Robin shakes her head. “Barney, all the guys you know are so sketchy. I need someone on the up and up who the police will listen to.”
Barney tuts. “Yeah, like the police aren’t in on this.”
Of course, he’s probably right. “Barney, I have to try.” Nobody deserves to just be put down like that. Nobody deserves to be executed, leaving their loved ones with no answers. Somebody has to fight for people like that.
“Just be careful, Robin.” He says. He sounds serious. “You don’t know how deep this goes. If the story is as big as you think it is, the closer you get, the more dangerous it is for you. You might be the next one with a bullet through your head.”
Robin nods, feeling the blood rush into her face. Yes, of course she might be in personal jeopardy.
...For two-hundred dollars: Who is the reporter that’s going to get herself killed?
Maybe she should feel scared by the prospect, but she doesn’t, just exhilarated. After all this time, the idea of never getting closure scares her more.
#~-
“So you’re really invested in this case, aren’t you?” Charlie says, and Robin jumps because she’s almost forgotten that the girl is there.
“Yeah,” she answers. “That’s what being a reporter is. You put a little of your gut into everything you do…” She trails off from her usual newbie-motivational speech because she catches sight of the car behind their cab. “That car,” she says turning her head to watch it. “It’s following us. It’s the same car from earlier. It was a couple of vehicles back then, but now it’s right there. The guy driving, I swear I recognize him.”
Cold fear grips her, settles over her like a stone in her stomach. They’re on to her, the people behind all this. They’re having her followed. What if Barney was right? What if she’s got every reason to be scared right now?
It’s all very well being bullish in the face of a theoretical threat. It’s different when there’s someone out there, somebody you can see.
But Charlie looks confused and worried so Robin wrenches herself away from the rear window and resolutely looks forward. “No, I think I made a mistake. It’s not the same car,” she says, but her heart races all the way to Brooklyn.
#~-
The meeting with the ballistics guy goes smoothly. Robin feels a tremor of relief, mixed with apprehension, when the elderly man backs up her claims.
The balance of probability tells them that Sonny didn’t shoot himself, that he was murdered.
Even on the way back to Manhattan Robin can’t seem to stop leafing through her file on poor Sonny Steinbar. In the dim light of the cab interior, she goes over and over each photocopied report, every medical chart until she can barely see, then she shoves them at Charlie, asking for her help.
She almost misses it.
When Robin catches it - a simply blood type analysis from Sonny’s apartment, she wants to slap herself in the face. And barely a minute after she has her revelation, when she’s still sitting there with her mouth wide open, her phone begins to ring.
It’s Barney.
“Dude,” Robin says with hushed reverence. “You will not believe what I just found.”
“What?” He answers.
Charlie nudges her. “Robin, what does this page mean?”
“Who’s that?” Barney asks her. “Scherbatsky, is that a stripper? Are you at a strip club?”
“You wish,” Robin snaps back, “She’s just my new assistant. Now shut up and listen.”
“She sounds hot,” Barney comments.
“She’s a total manatee,” Robin says with an apologetic look towards Charlie who mouths “manatee?” with an offended expression. “She’s helping me. And you’ll never guess what we turned up. The blood types don’t match.”
“The what don’t what?”
Robin sighs. “The blood type recorded on the autopsy doesn’t match the blood type from a sample collected in his apartment. It’s a tiny inconsistency. So that means either there was someone else in Sonny’s apartment, or…”
Charlie looks over intently, hanging on her every word.
“Or it wasn’t Sonny in the body bag,” Barney finishes for her.
“He had his face blown off. He was unrecognisable,” Robin says, practically stumbling over the words in her excitement.
“No way! The dude might still be alive?” Barney sounds as wired as she was.
“Yep! Boy, this is huge. Nobody’s ever bothered to look for him because everyone assumed he was dead.”
“But if you could find him?” Barney pauses. “Robin?”
“Yeah,” Robin said.
“This new assistant, how much do you know about her?”
Robin turns to look at Charlie, who is leafing intently through the Sonny Steinbar papers.
“Nothing at all. I only got her this morning. Although I think I’ve seen her around the office.”
“You think?”
Robin tries to remember. Can she really, with one-hundred percent accuracy, be sure she’s seen Charlie before today?
“Unless you’re sure she is who she says she is, maybe you should be careful what you say around her.”
“What is it, boss?” The girl asks.
Robin shakes her head. “This is bigger than me. I need help in this. I need someone who knows how to fight the man.”
She knows who she needs. She needs Marshall Eriksen.
#~-
By the time they get to Marshall’s office, Robin’s starting to crash. She walks straight into the glass door between the elevator and Marshall’s work area, and this leaves her embarrassed and flustered. While they wait for Marshall a secretary gets her a large glass of water and Robin takes a couple more advil. Her head is really pounding now and her hands are shaking.
Charlie looks concerned. “Miss Scherbatsky,” she says, like Robin’s her maiden aunt. “Do you think you should go home, get some rest? Leave this for tomorrow?”
But Robin simply shakes her head and tries to slow her breathing, part-meditating, part-thinking about Barney’s mantra. It’s all about mind over matter. It’s all about not being weak and being awesome instead. She can do this. She’s the fearless reporter she always wanted to be. This is her time.
When they see Marshall, Robin’s struck by the same feeling she had when she saw Lily. Marshall looks leaner than when they’d last seen each other. His suit feels too big for him when they hug. Marshall’s hair even seems a little grey. He looks older.
“Wow, look at you,” Marshall says, holding her at arm’s length. “You’re looking great!”
Robin smiles warmly. “No I don’t, you old charmer. I’m exhausted. But I really need your help.”
Marshall doesn’t seem phased when Robin begins to explain the breaks she’s had in the Sonny Steinbar story. He doesn’t seem suspicious of Charlie either, and Robin wonders if Barney’s just being paranoid. However, Marshall does agree with her that it seems crazy that the police didn’t question the mismatched blood types or the ballistic evidence.
“What if there’s some kind of cover-up?” Robin says, voicing her fears. She watches Charlie, but concludes that if the girl is a spy then she’s a masterful one.
Marshall shrugs. “It could be.”
“Sonny was into some pretty big stuff, we know that,” Robin continues, listing a catalogue of bad deals and connections. None of this is new. It’s all the in file somewhere. In fact, she sees Charlie leafing through to find the references. “Marshall, I need your help to lawyer them.”
“What do you have in mind?” Marshall says, his tone a little too mild, a little too relaxed for her liking.
Robin narrows her eyes. It’s time she shook everything up. “I want you to help me dig up Sonny’s body,” she says.
#~-
Robin blinks and rubs her eyes. Marshall and Charlie are looking down at her, like worried parents fussing over a small child. She sits up, feeling a little light-headed.
The last thing she remembers is a lot of shouting.
For some reason, for some inexplicable reason, neither Marshall or Charlie think it’s a good idea to go and dig up Sonny Steinbar’s grave tonight. Marshall kept saying something about exhumation orders and paperwork and Robin just… lost it. She exploded. All these months of frustration and now she’s so near, so close to proving what she’s suspected all along.
Sonny didn’t kill himself, hell, he wasn’t even murdered. He’s still alive and in hiding. And if she can find him, Robin can blow this whole thing wide open.
All she needs is a helping hand. And maybe a spade.
But all Marshall keeps saying is that she needs to be reasonable. That she’s overwrought. That a couple of days won’t make any difference.
Charlie reminds her that she agreed to meet her friends at the bar at eight o’clock, and that makes Robin even more suspicious. Damn it, no assistant is that efficient that she remembers all your private appointments as well as your professional ones!
And that was probably when she fainted.
“Look,” Robin says with a heavy sigh. “I’m fine. I just need some fresh air. Let me go outside, have a quiet smoke to restore my dignity and then we’ll all go to the bar?”
God, she fainted. She really fainted. How cripplingly humiliating. Marshall and Charlie both protest but Robin stays firm. She needs air. And smoke. Flashing them both a smile, she tells them she’ll be fine on her own for five minutes. She’s a big girl.
Of course, the second she’s out on the street she hails a cab and calls Barney. At first the call doesn’t connect, which just irritates her. Then she gets an out-of-service number. Damn it, if he’s using disposable cell phones again, she’ll scream.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, Robin notices the car that’s pulled up beside her cab in traffic. It’s that car - the same one, with the same driver. Jesus, she’s all alone and she’s being followed by god-knows-who. She’s being tailed by some thug and she’s vulnerable and Barney’s not answering his phone and how could she be so stupid?
Quickly, Robin fishes out her cell and calls Ted.
“Hey Robin,” Ted sounds hesitant and Robin has no idea why.
“Ted, I need your help. I need you to meet me at St Mary’s Cemetery, Staten Island?”
“Uh, what?”
“Ted, I’m not kidding around here. Please, just do this. I can’t get through to Barney. I need you to do this. It’s an emergency.”
And Ted, because he’s a really, really great friend, just says, “Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
And Robin sags in relief.
#~-
If she thought the jet lag was bad before, Robin is stunned at how debilitated she feels now. God, what she wouldn’t give for a double espresso.
It’s dark when she gets to the cemetery, and she doesn’t have enough cash to keep the cabbie with her, so she makes her way as quickly as she can through the gates and up the path among the gravestones. She feels like somebody from Buffy the vampire slayer - not the bad-ass heroine, but one of those girls who gets killed off in the first few minutes. She checks her bag for her hand gun. Thank god, it’s still in her purse.
Unfortunately she left Sonny’s case folder in Marshall’s office.
But she wouldn’t need that now. What she needs now is a spade, a shovel and possibly a pick axe. The earth feels hard and solid beneath her feet.
Suddenly there’s a noise and Robin scurries out of the light. There’s another car parked two hundred yards down the street - one that she hadn’t seen before. She slides her hand inside her purse to grip her gun, fingering the safety. God, her mouth is so dry! She always imagined that she’d be cool in a crisis, that her hands wouldn’t be shaking so much. But right now she feels like she’s going to pieces, and all she can think is that her Dad would be pretty disappointed in her.
For some reason that gives her the strength to creep forward and try to get the drop on whoever is following her.
Then a shape looms out of the darkness, black against black, and Robin whips out her gun, stumbling over a stray tree root.
“Hold it right there buster!” She shouts, her voice sounding too weak, too querulous for the words to hold any real weight. This isn’t like her! Jesus, she’s Robin Scherbatsky. She can totally do this.
The figure puts up his hands and steps under a street light. It’s Ted.
“Don’t shoot!” He says, clearly as scared as she is, if not more so.
“Oh thank god,” Robin says with a sniffle, rushing towards him.
“Robin, what are you doing out here?” Ted asks. “And can you, like, put that gun away?”
“God, sorry!” Robin laughs, stowing the gun back into her bag.
“Robin,” Ted protests, as she gives him a one-armed hug. “What’s going on?”
Robin shakes her head, feeling tearful again from the sheer relief of him being here. “Ted, this thing goes deeper than any of us thought. I’m no longer looking for Sonny’s killers. I’m looking for Sonny himself! I don’t believe he’s even dead! There’s evidence in the file and I missed it, the cops missed it. Or they deliberately ignored it. This could be huge. Ted, I could finally have the proof I need!”
But instead of being excited for her, Ted simply closes his eyes and shakes his head.
“Robin, you have to stop this,” he says.
“No!” She argues. “Not now. Not when I’m so close.”
“Robin!” Ted snaps, his tone harsh and angry enough to surprise her. “Robin, just stop.”
“But Sonny-“
“There is no Sonny!” Ted shouts.
Then there’s silence in the graveyard, an eerie quiet.
“Th-that’s what I mean,” Robin raises her hands, trying to puzzle through Ted’s violent reaction. “If that’s not Sonny in the grave-“
“Robin, listen to me, there is no Sonny!” Ted hisses. Then he begins to speak, his voice tight and pained. “There never was a Sonny. Think about it Robin, really think about it. Sonny Steinbar. Barney Stinson. It’s the same letters jumbled around. It’s an anagram, Robin. There is no Sonny Steinbar. You made him up. You made him up as a way for your mind to cope.”
Robin shakes her head in denial, flinching away as another car pulls up outside the cemetery. Her hand gropes around in her bag for her gun as she sees Charlie and Marshall get out of the car and hurry towards them.
“Robin,” Charlie calls out. “Are you okay?”
“Please, Robin,” Ted says, and Robin can see the tears in his eyes, sparkling on his cheeks, reflected in the headlights of the car. “Please just try and remember. Remember what’s real, not all that stuff you invented so you didn’t have to deal with what’s been going on.”
“You’re all… you’re mad!” Robin digs into her eye socket with her right knuckle as the pain spikes through her brain.
“No, he’s not mad,” Charlie says, taking a step towards her. Charlie suddenly looks a lot older, her voice is a lot more authoritative. “Do you really not know who I am?”
There’s a flash, somewhere in Robin’s tired, jet-lagged mind, of Charlie, in a white coat, Charlie sitting next to her on a hospital bed. Of Charlie with a clipboard, writing notes. Robin blinks the images away.
“I’m your psychiatrist,” Charlie says.
“And we’re still your friends,” Marshall nods along with her. “Robin, please come back to us. We miss you.”
“I thought if I let you follow this fantasy you’ve constructed, you’d realize what you’ve not let yourself remember all this time,” Charlie says.
Charlotte. Doctor Charlotte Walker.
Robin shakes her head. “No. No, you’re in on this. Sonny’s not dead.”
Barney’s not dead.
“Sonny… they said they’d killed himself. But he’d never do that. He’d never leave us behind.”
Barney’s body, his grey-white skin, the blood in streaks of russet, dried already and sticky beneath his beautiful suit.
“Barney wouldn’t leave us behind!” Robin’s voice is rising in hysteria. She can hear it, but she couldn’t control it, like she’s floating outside her own body. “He called me!”
Barney’s last message, played over and over in her mind on an infinite loop, left on her answering service - so cryptic, so desperate. Robin had never picked up the phone. She never took his final call.
He left them.
“He… was… murdered!” Tears are falling down Robin’s face, each words coming out in great, gasping sob. She pulls out her gun, waving it at them.
Ted just shakes his head sadly. Marshall bites his bottom lip.
“It’s not loaded,” Charlie says.
“You drugged me!” Robin shouts. “You’ve sent me insane.”
Again, Ted just looks sad. “Robin, please. Somewhere inside, you know that Barney took his own life. You know that he was being threatened by some loan sharks, how deep he was in debt. You know about his gambling habit. It’s not like we all don’t feel guilty. It’s not like we all don’t feel that pain.”
Marshall steps forward. “At first, we all clung to the hope that maybe you were right, maybe Barney didn’t do it, maybe somebody else killed him. He was into some pretty shady stuff at GNB and yeah, maybe there was somebody else we could blame. But you know now that’s not true.”
Charlie takes the gun from Robin’s hand. “This is your last chance,” she says. “If you can’t admit to yourself that your fantasies aren’t real, then we have to start more invasive treatment. Please Robin. Please. Tell me what’s real. Tell me what you really know.”
And Robin’s hand slipped from Charlie’s, her whole arm feeling numb.
What does she really know?
“Barney’s dead,” she says quietly. “He’s dead.”
And Marshall and Ted wrap their arms around her. “Welcome back,” Ted whispers in her ear.
#~-
Robin pulls the covers up over her head, groaning and turning away from the sunlight streaming through her window. For a moment, she’s a little disoriented, but she goes through her now-familiar internal checklist.
Where am I?
Her phone is ringing. And someone is knocking on her apartment door.
Something makes her take the phone call, one handed while she struggles out of bed and straightens her PJs. She shuffles to the door and opens it, still talking on the phone.
In the door way there’s Charlie, her…
Assistant?
Robin motions her inside, still talking on the phone. “Sorry - I’ll just be a sec,” Robin breaks off as Charlie dithers just inside the door. “I’m just talking to Barney.” She explains, “Just bringing him up to date with the story. He agrees with me, Sonny didn't kill himself. He couldn't have.”
When Robin turns around, what she doesn’t see, what she won’t let herself see, is the expression on Charlie’s face.
Resignation. Sadness. Resolution.
And Robin continues her conversation, chatting away happily into a disconnected phone, blissfully unaware.