Extended Aftermath (Chapter Two): Barney
Extended Aftermath
Summary: AU season 7. When Robin is forced to go see Kevin in therapy, it's for the same yet markedly different reasons. "Life is just one extended aftermath of the day we were born." Robin has finally been forced to deal with the fallout of it all.
Note: All quotations at the start of the chapter are my own creation (so no need for those pesky disclaimers).
Warnings: This story goes into some detail about sexual and physical assault, but mostly about its aftermath. It also contains language, drug/alcohol use and other sexual content.
******
"There is no such thing as right or wrong, only the truths and lies we choose and refuse to acknowledge."
Barney was worried. That was a huge understatement. Going out of his mind with worry, would be a bit more accurate. Truthfully, he didn't think the English dictionary had words that could properly describe the well of emotions he had for Robin Scherbatsky at the moment.
He had nightmares, almost every night, about what happened to her. There were bags under his eyes that he had to cover up with concealer every morning. It wasn't even very effective, considering the concerned looks his friends kept shooting at him (when they weren't shooting those same looks magnified at Robin).
The only one who didn't seem to notice anything wrong was Robin herself, which really wasn't surprising at all. Denial had always been Robin's go-to defense mechanism. He remembered all too well the morning after of their first night together. In spite of his wealth of experience, he'd been the one floundering about in awkwardness while she'd shifted so automatically into normalcy. Then, he'd wondered if that hadn't the first time something like that had happened to her, with the way everything just seemed to come so instinctually. Now, he knew that was just the way Robin dealt with things. She forced herself into normalcy until she convinced herself and the ones around her it was real.
He was king of denial-that he didn't deny-but somehow, out of the two of them, he was the one more honest with himself. Considering he spent years convinced Bob Barker was his father, it said a lot about the depth of her denial. It said a lot about the depth of her trauma that she would cling so desperately it.
But the thing he'd learned about denial was just how easily it could fail. Like a house of cards, the slightest movement could send it crashing down. He'd learned that when Lily had found the tape of him singing to Shannon, when a chance encounter with Rhonda at the gym had revealed the truth of his first time, when a museum guard proved that his father had been his Uncle Jerry the whole goddamn time (and not Bob Barker at all). Denial only made everything worse, only made the pain hurt so much more because you'd been avoiding it the whole time and it'd itself built up over the wait.
Barney didn't make a habit of announcing it, but he'd tried therapy, more than the few times he'd once implied to his friends. Therapy was the reason why he was now more honest with himself than Robin was. Maybe he still lied to his friends, still hid behind a mask when he faced the outside world, but he'd stopped lying to himself.
Therapy could really help Robin, if she'd just let it. He knew she needed the help, especially after what happened. But he also knew just how stubborn she was, and he knew she was the kind of person who would refuse a life preserver when she was drowning just because of her pride. Even though he hoped against hope that she would grab on, the part of him that knew Robin-knew her better than anyone, including possibly herself-knew that she would rather let herself drown, and he was terrified.
He'd tried to make her see, but she refused to even look in his direction.
So he became the Barney she wanted to see: the womanizing, laser-tag obsessed, crazy friend who was nothing short of Awesome incarnate. So he did everything he could, up to and including painful-in more ways than one-slapstick comedy, to try to get her to laugh. So when he tried to get her to go to therapy, he didn't tell her all the reasons it could help her by telling her the way it had helped him. He'd tried to bribe her instead-with money, scotch, cigars, hockey, just about everything he could think of-because that was the only thing she would allow him, the only thing she expected of him, the only thing she wanted from him (love was like a poison to her, the greatest magic trick: saying the word I love you could make her disappear into thin air, like a mirage in the middle of the desert, all false hope and leaving despair).
Because he was so far gone, he would really do just about anything she wanted, even if it hurt him and her in the process-which really, just showed how messed up they both were (and just how much therapy he still needed, because he might've been better than he was before but he was still half-broken).
When she did finally go to therapy, it wasn't because of anything he or the others did, but because of her own actions (even if it wasn't necessarily because of her own choice). He really shouldn't have been surprised. No one could force Robin Scherbatsky to do something she didn't want (except someone had-and wasn't that the whole problem here?).
The point was, in the end, he hadn't been able to help her at all. He shouldn't have been so surprised. If life had taught him anything, it was that no matter how hard he tried, he could never do the right thing when it came to Robin Scherbatsky.
Summary: AU season 7. When Robin is forced to go see Kevin in therapy, it's for the same yet markedly different reasons. "Life is just one extended aftermath of the day we were born." Robin has finally been forced to deal with the fallout of it all.
Note: All quotations at the start of the chapter are my own creation (so no need for those pesky disclaimers).
Warnings: This story goes into some detail about sexual and physical assault, but mostly about its aftermath. It also contains language, drug/alcohol use and other sexual content.
******
"There is no such thing as right or wrong, only the truths and lies we choose and refuse to acknowledge."
Barney was worried. That was a huge understatement. Going out of his mind with worry, would be a bit more accurate. Truthfully, he didn't think the English dictionary had words that could properly describe the well of emotions he had for Robin Scherbatsky at the moment.
He had nightmares, almost every night, about what happened to her. There were bags under his eyes that he had to cover up with concealer every morning. It wasn't even very effective, considering the concerned looks his friends kept shooting at him (when they weren't shooting those same looks magnified at Robin).
The only one who didn't seem to notice anything wrong was Robin herself, which really wasn't surprising at all. Denial had always been Robin's go-to defense mechanism. He remembered all too well the morning after of their first night together. In spite of his wealth of experience, he'd been the one floundering about in awkwardness while she'd shifted so automatically into normalcy. Then, he'd wondered if that hadn't the first time something like that had happened to her, with the way everything just seemed to come so instinctually. Now, he knew that was just the way Robin dealt with things. She forced herself into normalcy until she convinced herself and the ones around her it was real.
He was king of denial-that he didn't deny-but somehow, out of the two of them, he was the one more honest with himself. Considering he spent years convinced Bob Barker was his father, it said a lot about the depth of her denial. It said a lot about the depth of her trauma that she would cling so desperately it.
But the thing he'd learned about denial was just how easily it could fail. Like a house of cards, the slightest movement could send it crashing down. He'd learned that when Lily had found the tape of him singing to Shannon, when a chance encounter with Rhonda at the gym had revealed the truth of his first time, when a museum guard proved that his father had been his Uncle Jerry the whole goddamn time (and not Bob Barker at all). Denial only made everything worse, only made the pain hurt so much more because you'd been avoiding it the whole time and it'd itself built up over the wait.
Barney didn't make a habit of announcing it, but he'd tried therapy, more than the few times he'd once implied to his friends. Therapy was the reason why he was now more honest with himself than Robin was. Maybe he still lied to his friends, still hid behind a mask when he faced the outside world, but he'd stopped lying to himself.
Therapy could really help Robin, if she'd just let it. He knew she needed the help, especially after what happened. But he also knew just how stubborn she was, and he knew she was the kind of person who would refuse a life preserver when she was drowning just because of her pride. Even though he hoped against hope that she would grab on, the part of him that knew Robin-knew her better than anyone, including possibly herself-knew that she would rather let herself drown, and he was terrified.
He'd tried to make her see, but she refused to even look in his direction.
So he became the Barney she wanted to see: the womanizing, laser-tag obsessed, crazy friend who was nothing short of Awesome incarnate. So he did everything he could, up to and including painful-in more ways than one-slapstick comedy, to try to get her to laugh. So when he tried to get her to go to therapy, he didn't tell her all the reasons it could help her by telling her the way it had helped him. He'd tried to bribe her instead-with money, scotch, cigars, hockey, just about everything he could think of-because that was the only thing she would allow him, the only thing she expected of him, the only thing she wanted from him (love was like a poison to her, the greatest magic trick: saying the word I love you could make her disappear into thin air, like a mirage in the middle of the desert, all false hope and leaving despair).
Because he was so far gone, he would really do just about anything she wanted, even if it hurt him and her in the process-which really, just showed how messed up they both were (and just how much therapy he still needed, because he might've been better than he was before but he was still half-broken).
When she did finally go to therapy, it wasn't because of anything he or the others did, but because of her own actions (even if it wasn't necessarily because of her own choice). He really shouldn't have been surprised. No one could force Robin Scherbatsky to do something she didn't want (except someone had-and wasn't that the whole problem here?).
The point was, in the end, he hadn't been able to help her at all. He shouldn't have been so surprised. If life had taught him anything, it was that no matter how hard he tried, he could never do the right thing when it came to Robin Scherbatsky.