Number Sixty Six - Chapter 14
Title: Number Sixty Six (Final Chapter)
Author: Stablergirl
Rating: MA
Pairing: Barney/Robin
Spoilers: Up to and including Benefits? I think.
Author's Notes: In response to prompt number 66 at "darkfic" - abuse - here is my contribution. It's been a very long time and for some reason I couldn't finish this story. I couldn't decide how exactly I wanted it to end, but I got a comment from a reader asking where the last chapter was and decided to fish instead of cutting bait. This is what I came up with, sorry for the eternal wait!
Disclaimer: This show, these characters, the rhymes...nothing belongs to me. I'm a big old thief. Sorry, don't sue.
Warning: This story contains violence and abuse - use your discretion.
**
Chapter 1: Coffee and Strangers
Chapter 13
Chapter 14: Put cats in the coffee, and mice in the tea...
At this moment the door was flung open, and a shrill voice was heard singing:
`To the Looking-Glass world it was Alice that said,
"I've a sceptre in hand, I've a crown on my head;
Let the Looking-Glass creatures, whatever they be,
Come and dine with the Red Queen, the White Queen, and me."'
**
Two weeks have gone by, and his hands are full of money.
One after another, the people in the room hand over tens and twenties and he chews on the end of an unlit cigar, keeping the piles separate and doing math in his head - trying to figure out how much he’s about to make off of the idiots betting on the wrong girl. Every few minutes he finds himself standing at the perfect angle for distraction, where he can see her in the back room warming up and nodding her head, rolling her shoulders, bouncing on her feet, barely dressed and totally focused.
He keeps getting distracted.
He has to lean ever so slightly but from here he can still see her…
She makes him lean back.
She’s rough around the edges for all the right reasons now instead of all the wrong ones and he has to turn away so he doesn’t lose his count, lose his cool.
The Truman/Scherbatsky rematch is going to make him a very rich man.
“You know how many things are weird about this, right, dude?” Ted yells to be heard over the raucous shouting in the underground gym, over the pounding of hip hop coming out of ceiling mounted speakers. Barney tosses an incredulous facial expression over his shoulder and huffs.
“Uh, zero things. This is the greatest idea I’ve ever had,” he argues in response.
“You’re taking bets on whether or not your girlfriend will get the shit kicked out of her,” Ted explains in that flat, I’m-better-than-everybody tone that makes Barney cringe inside. He turns and pins Ted with an unapologetic stare.
“First of all, don’t use the word girlfriend, that’s a stupid word and we’ve chosen to forego the tradition. Second of all, she will not get the shit kicked out of her. She’s been training like crazy for this - she’s ready,” he answers, deliberately ignoring Ted’s moral-soaked point.
Lily shows up at his side, then, and hands him the wad of money she’d been collecting before reaching up to take a cigar out of her mouth.
“This is awesome!” she shouts and Ted’s mouth drops open in outrage.
“Lily! I thought we were supposed to try to talk them out of this. What are you doing? You look like Lou from Mary Tyler Moore,” he accuses.
She pouts at him and pats him on the arm before hitting him on the arm instead, “Well, man up, Mary, and let’s get this show on the road.”
Barney laughs and Ted rolls his eyes.
Barney feels the soles of his shoes light against the ground, like he’d been dragging led around for years and had only recently realized and figured out how to put the led away. He feels like he maybe could run another marathon. He feels like he could climb thirty flights of stairs. He’s grounded and full of things, but none of it could possibly weigh him down.
He glances again in the direction of the back room and catches Robin’s eye.
She winks at him and he’s in love with her.
He pulls the cigar from his mouth and salutes her and he watches her mouth open up so laughter can pour out, and he thinks that he will never be the same again. She has wrapped her arms around him and made it so that his foolish antics are to make her smile and his well-planned outfits are to give her lapels and pockets and belt loops to grab onto and his careful touch is to never ever leave any bruises behind.
That’s what the boxing ring is for.
**
And hundreds of voices joined in the chorus:
`Then fill up the glasses as quick as you can,
And sprinkle the table with buttons and bran:
Put cats in the coffee, and mice in the tea --
And welcome Queen Alice with thirty-times-three!'
**
When the bell goes off he can already feel the electric heat in his veins. The crowd is rowdy and enthusiastic and she is fierce, all raven and cream and delicious compared to the bubblegum pink and bleach-processed blonde of Christine Truman.
Robin Scherbatsky is the kind of woman who could make Barney Stinson wonder what he ever saw in a buxom bimbo. That is a feat to be celebrated and he acknowledges her impressive skills and the power she holds over him.
The two women throw right hooks at each other and the crowd claps their hands.
They jab and they duck and the crowd yells out for more.
There is motion and rhythm and Barney is hypnotized by the line and the curve of her, he is aware of the careful calm and the honest contentment he can see in her eyes and he watches her calculate against her opponent, he watches her throw out punches that have nothing to do with the puppet strings of any past of hers and he’s so in love with her sometimes he thinks it isn’t right.
Sometimes he worries that it’s too much and he should back out now.
But those are always the moments when she turns and meets his stare, when she senses something and she is the one to anchor him and remind him that things will turn out fine.
Even in the ring and even across a crowded room she feels him and gives him a look, somehow not missing a beat and swerving to avoid Christine Truman’s jabbing right fist.
He feels solid then, older, better than he was before.
He feels good.
**
Then followed a confused noise of cheering, and Alice thought to herself, `Thirty times three makes ninety. I wonder if any one's counting?' In a minute there was silence again, and the same shrill voice sang another verse;
`"O Looking-Glass creatures," quothe Alice, "draw near!
'Tis an honour to see me, a favour to hear:
'Tis a privilege high to have dinner and tea
Along with the Red Queen, the White Queen, and me!"'
**
The fight is over seven minutes later and Robin Scherbatsky has nothing to show for it except for the sweat on her brow and the money in Barney’s pocket. Christine Truman has two broken ribs and a black eye, and Robin is unscathed. She is fierce. He knows the curve of her and he watches her patiently after the fight as she makes her way through the crowd, chatting with people from work, hugging Lily and Marshall, shaking the hands of the people who had come to support her opponent and saying things like It was a good fight, or she didn’t make it easy - the way that gracious winners always do.
He watches her patiently and he thinks about how she’s become the woman that she is, how her battle scars live just underneath her skin, and he wonders about things like fate.
Things he’s never ever believed in but has started now to consider.
He wonders if falling in love is the end of the story.
He certainly hopes not.
She appears in front of him, shining with sweat and slightly out of breath, smiling. She is refreshing to the soul of him and so he smiles back and wraps his arms around her, ignoring the thought that passes through his mind that maybe she might damage his very expensive suit. He doesn’t really care.
These are the kinds of things she’s changed about him.
“Good fight, Scherbatsky,” he mumbles into her shoulder.
She chuckles against him. “Thanks Stinson. Is that a huge pile of money in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”
“Let me put it this way,” he starts to answer, “dinner’s on me, and then I’m going to bang the shit out of you.”
And it makes her laugh hard, open wide, and she is not pushed down and he is glad and grateful and would do anything for her to always be exactly this way. He remembers sometimes the stormy insecurity and fear of three weeks ago and he swallows it down and lets it live beneath his skin the way it’s always living just beneath hers.
He keeps it in the back of his mind, for perspective, for safe-keeping…
“I’m gonna go change,” she tells him and he nods his head and accepts her hurried kiss.
She disappears behind a door and he watches and he waits for her.
He starts to feel restless and he doesn‘t know why.
“Your lady is super hot,” Lily tells him, counting the money she had made and shaking her head in wonder.
Barney nods and agrees.
“I mean man, if I was a guy I would not be able to see straight right now. She’s probably naked in that other room and you’re still out here, I don’t know how you’re doing that,” Lily confesses and normally he would be beyond interested in this conversation except for that he’s nervous and he doesn’t know why.
Something doesn’t feel right.
He’s opening his mouth to say it out loud, to give voice to it and ask Lily if she notices…
When something catches his eye.
A glisten.
A shimmer...
A perfectly shined shoe, moving toward the main entrance.
Something begins to maybe boils up inside of him and he glances back at the closed door where Robin had been and he glances down at Lily who is distracted by her greed and he clears his throat.
“Hey, uh, I’ll be outside,” he tells her and she nods without hearing him as he pushes his way through the crowd and tries to see - tries to hear through the thumping of the music coming through the speakers, he moves fast and he finally watches well tailored pant legs breeze out the door on the first floor.
He sees red.
He can’t exactly breathe.
He’s in love with her and he has no idea what he’s doing so he follows his gut and heads up the stairs at a fast clip.
When he reaches the sidewalk it’s sudden, it’s sharp like a nail in his side because on the sidewalk he’s face to face with exactly who he’d thought, and he’s bewildered and angry and irritated and he’s seeing red.
Red like so many things have been before.
“Jack,” he greets.
Jack be nimble, Jack be quick.
And the man in the beautifully tailored suit and perfectly shined shoes freezes like he‘s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar - which in some ways he has. He turns slowly and sighs. “Stinson, nice to see you,” Charlie answers and it’s like some kind of bad movie. Some kind of frustrating moment in a poorly written play where the audience glances at each other and shakes their heads, annoyed.
Barney feels like the word annoyed is an understatement.
He should’ve known this would happen.
He’d been waiting for something like this to happen…
“Why are you here?” Barney wonders aloud.
“As far as you’re concerned, I‘m not,” Charlie answers and turns on his heel, heading away from this and down the sidewalk, into the anonymity of New York City, but Barney won’t allow it.
There had been a restraining order put into place and that was supposed to mean something, but Barney had always felt nervous anyway. Anxious.
He’d buried it somewhere beneath the surface and figured…
He’d figured…
He’s supposed to call the cops at this point but instead he shakes his head and he takes off after Charlie at a fast walk that turns into a slow jog that turns into a half-hearted run, and within seconds he has him by the elbow, his fingers gripping hard, harder than they have in weeks because for weeks he’s been careful and gentle and he’s been keeping his distance from this and something feels so good about pressing against it with his muscles and bones.
There’s something in Charlie’s eyes - some amused disaffected pleasure - that Barney chooses to ignore. Barney is angry and vicious and unforgiving and he stands way too close and spits words into the other man’s ear.
“Understand this,” he starts and his voice is tight with venom and his mind is reeling with thoughts and his veins are boiling with the red hot feeling of adrenaline, “If you show up within thirty feet of her again, don’t worry about the cops because I will have you killed,” he promises.
Charlie laughs and something about it reminds Barney of breakfast cereal.
Letting go of Charlie’s elbow, Barney takes a step back. He reassesses the situation and he considers his options and he reaches out, with easy fingers, careful to be casual and calm, careful to think before he acts because otherwise he’s fully aware that this all could end badly, cause a scene, pull Robin outside - which is the last thing he wants. He reaches out and he begins to adjust Charlie’s tie, and the laughter dies in the air because the threat is clear.
Carefully, Barney begins to tighten the silk.
Charlie starts to shake his head and Barney knows this could very quickly turn on him, he isn’t the burliest of guys, he has no experience in this area, he’s vulnerable except for that he’s right and he’s justified and he has something like thirty years of wanting to do this itching in his fingers and sometimes that’s all that Barney Stinson needs.
He’s man enough. He’s grown enough, and he isn’t stupid by any means.
“I have a friend who came across some interesting paperwork the other day…” Barney mutters, his voice level and cool, “Receipts and bank statements…” he explains, “all very interesting. You sign your name to a lot of paperwork, Robin Charles Scherbatsky Senior, and somehow you have a very impressive bank account,” Barney drawls, and he watches as Charlie’s eyes go wide and angry, he watches as the tables turn in his favor, right in front of him. The tie starts to pinch at Charlie’s skin and Barney leans forward so he can whisper in his ear.
“I will ruin you,” he promises.
Jack be nimble…Jack be slick.
“And then I’ll have you killed,” he adds.
Jack, jump over the candlestick.
“Do we understand each other, Jack?” Barney wonders.
Charlie nods, silent, almost nervous, unable to speak with the pressure of his clothing against his vocal chords, very clearly holding his anger in check.
Blinking, Barney frowns and clicks his tongue. “This can’t be comfortable, let me help you out with that,” he mocks, reaching out and enjoying the way Charlie flinches in apprehension. Barney tightens the tie one last time so that Charlie gasps and coughs, and then Barney loosens it again and pats Robin’s father on the shoulder as if they’d been business partners or pals. Charlie flinches a second time. “Now why don’t you hightail it back to Canada and leave your kid alone, you hoser,” Barney suggests, amusing himself, seeming relaxed though his vision is still blurred with blind determination.
He watches Charlie start to open his mouth in protest, and he feels the pump of his adrenaline like a living breathing thing, so he turns to walk away choosing to end this exchange while everybody‘s still intact, choosing to be the better person and avoid whatever could be coming next.
But Charlie speaks to his back and asks him: “Who do you think you are?“ with the arrogance of a thousand men, and it’s like a match is lit against a trail of gasoline.
Because he’s said good morning to enough strangers to know that who do you think you are does not sit well in his stomach. He’s heard it before and he won’t hear it again. He thinks briefly of Robin’s broken ribs and his jaw clenches tight.
Barney turns, sudden, the red like a pool in his vision and he pulls his arm back and his fist swings hard, connecting fast, and Barney can hear the pop of twigs stuck between concrete as his hand lands against the side of Charles Scherbatsky’s face.
Charlie takes a moment to recover and then rights himself, flexing his jaw in discomfort and heaving in a deep breath. After a moment he says: “I probably deserved that,” in that irritatingly cool tone of voice and Barney squints his eyes.
“You deserve worse but I don’t want to dirty a perfectly good suit,” Barney responds.
“Thank you,” Charlie tells him, tugging on his cuff and acting as if they’ve shared a joke and a glass of sherry instead of veiled threats and a right hook.
“I was talking about mine, you arrogant Canadian,” Barney responds, “and I think the real question is who do you think you are. This friend of mine is number one on my speed dial,” Barney promises, pulling his iphone out of his coat pocket, “You keep the key to your safe in your liquor cabinet, right?” he recalls lazily, “Second floor, third door on the left?”
“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Charlie interrupts, reaching out to still Barney’s fingers against his phone. “I’m leaving. You‘ve made your point.”
Barney nods in satisfaction. He knows plenty of people and he knows how to play this game. He knows how to give himself the upper hand and he knows how to make a problem go away for good.
He knows plenty of people.
Charlie Sherbatsky gets about a half a block away before turning over his shoulder and giving Barney one last hard glance.
Barney pushes his hands into his pockets and ignores the chill that slides down his spine.
“Don’t make threats you can’t keep, Stinson,” Charlie warns, “I have lots of friends as well, and I have a feeling you sign at least as many pieces of paperwork as I do…”
Jack be nimble…
"How," Charlie continues, "do you think I found you in the first place?"
Jack be slick.
And then Charles Sherbatsky smiles.
It’s raining, It’s pouring,
The old man is snoring
He went to bed with a bump on his head
And he didn’t wake up til morning…
And then he turns and walks away.
Jack and Jill went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water
Jack fell down and broke his crown…
And Barney takes it with a grain of salt.
He ignores the feeling of apprehension and fear that sizzles in the back of his mind.
He stays motionless and thoughtful, watching the retreat of the person he might hate the most in the world and feeling his hand pulse with the bruise forming from the punch he’d thrown.
He swallows down a sick kind of feeling.
He swallows it and he lets it live just underneath his skin and he waits until he hears the door open and until he hears the voices of his friends emerge behind him to square his shoulders and shake it off.
He turns around and he finds Robin watching him, smiling, freshly showered and beautiful and he’s in love with her, and it makes him wonder if it’s too much, sometimes. If it’s trouble or if it’s good for him in the end.
He would stand in front of a bus for her, he knows now.
He would dive into the East River.
He would make a million phone calls and kill a million men…
But she smiles at him and plants a kiss against his cheek and his uneasy feeling drifts away like leaves on the wind and he’s in love with her, good and happy and light-hearted as he had been an hour before, and he has the feeling that an eternity of men have had before him - he would offer her the universe to keep her by his side.
He’s in love with her, real and solid and sure.
She reaches out and takes his left hand and they walk, together, toward some undetermined destination for a glass of cold beer, and he keeps his right hand in his pocket and he ignores the pulsing of pain that he feels there.
He is grown.
Little Jack Horner sat in a corner…
He is sure.
Eating his Christmas pie…
He would kill a million men.
***
Then came the chorus again: --
`Then fill up the glasses with treacle and ink,
Or anything else that is pleasant to drink:
Mix sand with the cider, and wool with the wine --
And welcome Queen Alice with ninety-times-nine!'
`Ninety times nine!' Alice repeated in despair, `Oh, that'll never be done! I'd better go in at once -- '
and there was a dead silence the moment she appeared….
End.
Author: Stablergirl
Rating: MA
Pairing: Barney/Robin
Spoilers: Up to and including Benefits? I think.
Author's Notes: In response to prompt number 66 at "darkfic" - abuse - here is my contribution. It's been a very long time and for some reason I couldn't finish this story. I couldn't decide how exactly I wanted it to end, but I got a comment from a reader asking where the last chapter was and decided to fish instead of cutting bait. This is what I came up with, sorry for the eternal wait!
Disclaimer: This show, these characters, the rhymes...nothing belongs to me. I'm a big old thief. Sorry, don't sue.
Warning: This story contains violence and abuse - use your discretion.
**
Chapter 1: Coffee and Strangers
Chapter 13
Chapter 14: Put cats in the coffee, and mice in the tea...
At this moment the door was flung open, and a shrill voice was heard singing:
`To the Looking-Glass world it was Alice that said,
"I've a sceptre in hand, I've a crown on my head;
Let the Looking-Glass creatures, whatever they be,
Come and dine with the Red Queen, the White Queen, and me."'
**
Two weeks have gone by, and his hands are full of money.
One after another, the people in the room hand over tens and twenties and he chews on the end of an unlit cigar, keeping the piles separate and doing math in his head - trying to figure out how much he’s about to make off of the idiots betting on the wrong girl. Every few minutes he finds himself standing at the perfect angle for distraction, where he can see her in the back room warming up and nodding her head, rolling her shoulders, bouncing on her feet, barely dressed and totally focused.
He keeps getting distracted.
He has to lean ever so slightly but from here he can still see her…
She makes him lean back.
She’s rough around the edges for all the right reasons now instead of all the wrong ones and he has to turn away so he doesn’t lose his count, lose his cool.
The Truman/Scherbatsky rematch is going to make him a very rich man.
“You know how many things are weird about this, right, dude?” Ted yells to be heard over the raucous shouting in the underground gym, over the pounding of hip hop coming out of ceiling mounted speakers. Barney tosses an incredulous facial expression over his shoulder and huffs.
“Uh, zero things. This is the greatest idea I’ve ever had,” he argues in response.
“You’re taking bets on whether or not your girlfriend will get the shit kicked out of her,” Ted explains in that flat, I’m-better-than-everybody tone that makes Barney cringe inside. He turns and pins Ted with an unapologetic stare.
“First of all, don’t use the word girlfriend, that’s a stupid word and we’ve chosen to forego the tradition. Second of all, she will not get the shit kicked out of her. She’s been training like crazy for this - she’s ready,” he answers, deliberately ignoring Ted’s moral-soaked point.
Lily shows up at his side, then, and hands him the wad of money she’d been collecting before reaching up to take a cigar out of her mouth.
“This is awesome!” she shouts and Ted’s mouth drops open in outrage.
“Lily! I thought we were supposed to try to talk them out of this. What are you doing? You look like Lou from Mary Tyler Moore,” he accuses.
She pouts at him and pats him on the arm before hitting him on the arm instead, “Well, man up, Mary, and let’s get this show on the road.”
Barney laughs and Ted rolls his eyes.
Barney feels the soles of his shoes light against the ground, like he’d been dragging led around for years and had only recently realized and figured out how to put the led away. He feels like he maybe could run another marathon. He feels like he could climb thirty flights of stairs. He’s grounded and full of things, but none of it could possibly weigh him down.
He glances again in the direction of the back room and catches Robin’s eye.
She winks at him and he’s in love with her.
He pulls the cigar from his mouth and salutes her and he watches her mouth open up so laughter can pour out, and he thinks that he will never be the same again. She has wrapped her arms around him and made it so that his foolish antics are to make her smile and his well-planned outfits are to give her lapels and pockets and belt loops to grab onto and his careful touch is to never ever leave any bruises behind.
That’s what the boxing ring is for.
**
And hundreds of voices joined in the chorus:
`Then fill up the glasses as quick as you can,
And sprinkle the table with buttons and bran:
Put cats in the coffee, and mice in the tea --
And welcome Queen Alice with thirty-times-three!'
**
When the bell goes off he can already feel the electric heat in his veins. The crowd is rowdy and enthusiastic and she is fierce, all raven and cream and delicious compared to the bubblegum pink and bleach-processed blonde of Christine Truman.
Robin Scherbatsky is the kind of woman who could make Barney Stinson wonder what he ever saw in a buxom bimbo. That is a feat to be celebrated and he acknowledges her impressive skills and the power she holds over him.
The two women throw right hooks at each other and the crowd claps their hands.
They jab and they duck and the crowd yells out for more.
There is motion and rhythm and Barney is hypnotized by the line and the curve of her, he is aware of the careful calm and the honest contentment he can see in her eyes and he watches her calculate against her opponent, he watches her throw out punches that have nothing to do with the puppet strings of any past of hers and he’s so in love with her sometimes he thinks it isn’t right.
Sometimes he worries that it’s too much and he should back out now.
But those are always the moments when she turns and meets his stare, when she senses something and she is the one to anchor him and remind him that things will turn out fine.
Even in the ring and even across a crowded room she feels him and gives him a look, somehow not missing a beat and swerving to avoid Christine Truman’s jabbing right fist.
He feels solid then, older, better than he was before.
He feels good.
**
Then followed a confused noise of cheering, and Alice thought to herself, `Thirty times three makes ninety. I wonder if any one's counting?' In a minute there was silence again, and the same shrill voice sang another verse;
`"O Looking-Glass creatures," quothe Alice, "draw near!
'Tis an honour to see me, a favour to hear:
'Tis a privilege high to have dinner and tea
Along with the Red Queen, the White Queen, and me!"'
**
The fight is over seven minutes later and Robin Scherbatsky has nothing to show for it except for the sweat on her brow and the money in Barney’s pocket. Christine Truman has two broken ribs and a black eye, and Robin is unscathed. She is fierce. He knows the curve of her and he watches her patiently after the fight as she makes her way through the crowd, chatting with people from work, hugging Lily and Marshall, shaking the hands of the people who had come to support her opponent and saying things like It was a good fight, or she didn’t make it easy - the way that gracious winners always do.
He watches her patiently and he thinks about how she’s become the woman that she is, how her battle scars live just underneath her skin, and he wonders about things like fate.
Things he’s never ever believed in but has started now to consider.
He wonders if falling in love is the end of the story.
He certainly hopes not.
She appears in front of him, shining with sweat and slightly out of breath, smiling. She is refreshing to the soul of him and so he smiles back and wraps his arms around her, ignoring the thought that passes through his mind that maybe she might damage his very expensive suit. He doesn’t really care.
These are the kinds of things she’s changed about him.
“Good fight, Scherbatsky,” he mumbles into her shoulder.
She chuckles against him. “Thanks Stinson. Is that a huge pile of money in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”
“Let me put it this way,” he starts to answer, “dinner’s on me, and then I’m going to bang the shit out of you.”
And it makes her laugh hard, open wide, and she is not pushed down and he is glad and grateful and would do anything for her to always be exactly this way. He remembers sometimes the stormy insecurity and fear of three weeks ago and he swallows it down and lets it live beneath his skin the way it’s always living just beneath hers.
He keeps it in the back of his mind, for perspective, for safe-keeping…
“I’m gonna go change,” she tells him and he nods his head and accepts her hurried kiss.
She disappears behind a door and he watches and he waits for her.
He starts to feel restless and he doesn‘t know why.
“Your lady is super hot,” Lily tells him, counting the money she had made and shaking her head in wonder.
Barney nods and agrees.
“I mean man, if I was a guy I would not be able to see straight right now. She’s probably naked in that other room and you’re still out here, I don’t know how you’re doing that,” Lily confesses and normally he would be beyond interested in this conversation except for that he’s nervous and he doesn’t know why.
Something doesn’t feel right.
He’s opening his mouth to say it out loud, to give voice to it and ask Lily if she notices…
When something catches his eye.
A glisten.
A shimmer...
A perfectly shined shoe, moving toward the main entrance.
Something begins to maybe boils up inside of him and he glances back at the closed door where Robin had been and he glances down at Lily who is distracted by her greed and he clears his throat.
“Hey, uh, I’ll be outside,” he tells her and she nods without hearing him as he pushes his way through the crowd and tries to see - tries to hear through the thumping of the music coming through the speakers, he moves fast and he finally watches well tailored pant legs breeze out the door on the first floor.
He sees red.
He can’t exactly breathe.
He’s in love with her and he has no idea what he’s doing so he follows his gut and heads up the stairs at a fast clip.
When he reaches the sidewalk it’s sudden, it’s sharp like a nail in his side because on the sidewalk he’s face to face with exactly who he’d thought, and he’s bewildered and angry and irritated and he’s seeing red.
Red like so many things have been before.
“Jack,” he greets.
Jack be nimble, Jack be quick.
And the man in the beautifully tailored suit and perfectly shined shoes freezes like he‘s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar - which in some ways he has. He turns slowly and sighs. “Stinson, nice to see you,” Charlie answers and it’s like some kind of bad movie. Some kind of frustrating moment in a poorly written play where the audience glances at each other and shakes their heads, annoyed.
Barney feels like the word annoyed is an understatement.
He should’ve known this would happen.
He’d been waiting for something like this to happen…
“Why are you here?” Barney wonders aloud.
“As far as you’re concerned, I‘m not,” Charlie answers and turns on his heel, heading away from this and down the sidewalk, into the anonymity of New York City, but Barney won’t allow it.
There had been a restraining order put into place and that was supposed to mean something, but Barney had always felt nervous anyway. Anxious.
He’d buried it somewhere beneath the surface and figured…
He’d figured…
He’s supposed to call the cops at this point but instead he shakes his head and he takes off after Charlie at a fast walk that turns into a slow jog that turns into a half-hearted run, and within seconds he has him by the elbow, his fingers gripping hard, harder than they have in weeks because for weeks he’s been careful and gentle and he’s been keeping his distance from this and something feels so good about pressing against it with his muscles and bones.
There’s something in Charlie’s eyes - some amused disaffected pleasure - that Barney chooses to ignore. Barney is angry and vicious and unforgiving and he stands way too close and spits words into the other man’s ear.
“Understand this,” he starts and his voice is tight with venom and his mind is reeling with thoughts and his veins are boiling with the red hot feeling of adrenaline, “If you show up within thirty feet of her again, don’t worry about the cops because I will have you killed,” he promises.
Charlie laughs and something about it reminds Barney of breakfast cereal.
Letting go of Charlie’s elbow, Barney takes a step back. He reassesses the situation and he considers his options and he reaches out, with easy fingers, careful to be casual and calm, careful to think before he acts because otherwise he’s fully aware that this all could end badly, cause a scene, pull Robin outside - which is the last thing he wants. He reaches out and he begins to adjust Charlie’s tie, and the laughter dies in the air because the threat is clear.
Carefully, Barney begins to tighten the silk.
Charlie starts to shake his head and Barney knows this could very quickly turn on him, he isn’t the burliest of guys, he has no experience in this area, he’s vulnerable except for that he’s right and he’s justified and he has something like thirty years of wanting to do this itching in his fingers and sometimes that’s all that Barney Stinson needs.
He’s man enough. He’s grown enough, and he isn’t stupid by any means.
“I have a friend who came across some interesting paperwork the other day…” Barney mutters, his voice level and cool, “Receipts and bank statements…” he explains, “all very interesting. You sign your name to a lot of paperwork, Robin Charles Scherbatsky Senior, and somehow you have a very impressive bank account,” Barney drawls, and he watches as Charlie’s eyes go wide and angry, he watches as the tables turn in his favor, right in front of him. The tie starts to pinch at Charlie’s skin and Barney leans forward so he can whisper in his ear.
“I will ruin you,” he promises.
Jack be nimble…Jack be slick.
“And then I’ll have you killed,” he adds.
Jack, jump over the candlestick.
“Do we understand each other, Jack?” Barney wonders.
Charlie nods, silent, almost nervous, unable to speak with the pressure of his clothing against his vocal chords, very clearly holding his anger in check.
Blinking, Barney frowns and clicks his tongue. “This can’t be comfortable, let me help you out with that,” he mocks, reaching out and enjoying the way Charlie flinches in apprehension. Barney tightens the tie one last time so that Charlie gasps and coughs, and then Barney loosens it again and pats Robin’s father on the shoulder as if they’d been business partners or pals. Charlie flinches a second time. “Now why don’t you hightail it back to Canada and leave your kid alone, you hoser,” Barney suggests, amusing himself, seeming relaxed though his vision is still blurred with blind determination.
He watches Charlie start to open his mouth in protest, and he feels the pump of his adrenaline like a living breathing thing, so he turns to walk away choosing to end this exchange while everybody‘s still intact, choosing to be the better person and avoid whatever could be coming next.
But Charlie speaks to his back and asks him: “Who do you think you are?“ with the arrogance of a thousand men, and it’s like a match is lit against a trail of gasoline.
Because he’s said good morning to enough strangers to know that who do you think you are does not sit well in his stomach. He’s heard it before and he won’t hear it again. He thinks briefly of Robin’s broken ribs and his jaw clenches tight.
Barney turns, sudden, the red like a pool in his vision and he pulls his arm back and his fist swings hard, connecting fast, and Barney can hear the pop of twigs stuck between concrete as his hand lands against the side of Charles Scherbatsky’s face.
Charlie takes a moment to recover and then rights himself, flexing his jaw in discomfort and heaving in a deep breath. After a moment he says: “I probably deserved that,” in that irritatingly cool tone of voice and Barney squints his eyes.
“You deserve worse but I don’t want to dirty a perfectly good suit,” Barney responds.
“Thank you,” Charlie tells him, tugging on his cuff and acting as if they’ve shared a joke and a glass of sherry instead of veiled threats and a right hook.
“I was talking about mine, you arrogant Canadian,” Barney responds, “and I think the real question is who do you think you are. This friend of mine is number one on my speed dial,” Barney promises, pulling his iphone out of his coat pocket, “You keep the key to your safe in your liquor cabinet, right?” he recalls lazily, “Second floor, third door on the left?”
“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Charlie interrupts, reaching out to still Barney’s fingers against his phone. “I’m leaving. You‘ve made your point.”
Barney nods in satisfaction. He knows plenty of people and he knows how to play this game. He knows how to give himself the upper hand and he knows how to make a problem go away for good.
He knows plenty of people.
Charlie Sherbatsky gets about a half a block away before turning over his shoulder and giving Barney one last hard glance.
Barney pushes his hands into his pockets and ignores the chill that slides down his spine.
“Don’t make threats you can’t keep, Stinson,” Charlie warns, “I have lots of friends as well, and I have a feeling you sign at least as many pieces of paperwork as I do…”
Jack be nimble…
"How," Charlie continues, "do you think I found you in the first place?"
Jack be slick.
And then Charles Sherbatsky smiles.
It’s raining, It’s pouring,
The old man is snoring
He went to bed with a bump on his head
And he didn’t wake up til morning…
And then he turns and walks away.
Jack and Jill went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water
Jack fell down and broke his crown…
And Barney takes it with a grain of salt.
He ignores the feeling of apprehension and fear that sizzles in the back of his mind.
He stays motionless and thoughtful, watching the retreat of the person he might hate the most in the world and feeling his hand pulse with the bruise forming from the punch he’d thrown.
He swallows down a sick kind of feeling.
He swallows it and he lets it live just underneath his skin and he waits until he hears the door open and until he hears the voices of his friends emerge behind him to square his shoulders and shake it off.
He turns around and he finds Robin watching him, smiling, freshly showered and beautiful and he’s in love with her, and it makes him wonder if it’s too much, sometimes. If it’s trouble or if it’s good for him in the end.
He would stand in front of a bus for her, he knows now.
He would dive into the East River.
He would make a million phone calls and kill a million men…
But she smiles at him and plants a kiss against his cheek and his uneasy feeling drifts away like leaves on the wind and he’s in love with her, good and happy and light-hearted as he had been an hour before, and he has the feeling that an eternity of men have had before him - he would offer her the universe to keep her by his side.
He’s in love with her, real and solid and sure.
She reaches out and takes his left hand and they walk, together, toward some undetermined destination for a glass of cold beer, and he keeps his right hand in his pocket and he ignores the pulsing of pain that he feels there.
He is grown.
Little Jack Horner sat in a corner…
He is sure.
Eating his Christmas pie…
He would kill a million men.
***
Then came the chorus again: --
`Then fill up the glasses with treacle and ink,
Or anything else that is pleasant to drink:
Mix sand with the cider, and wool with the wine --
And welcome Queen Alice with ninety-times-nine!'
`Ninety times nine!' Alice repeated in despair, `Oh, that'll never be done! I'd better go in at once -- '
and there was a dead silence the moment she appeared….
End.