John Denver Said it Better: Chapter 6

[stablergirl]

John Denver Said it Better (6/?)
Story: John Denver Said it Better (6/?)
Author: Stablergirl
Category: Romance, AU, Humor
Rating: MA
Spoilers: Up to and including The Leap, from there it goes pretty AU at this point.
Pairings: Barney/OFC, Barney/Robin, Ted/Mother
Author's Notes:  Ok this is assuming the fat suit never happened.  Ok with you guys?  This chapter has a lot in it and is kind of...tough subject matter for a show like HIMYM but I tried my best.  Hopefully it didn't fail but feel free to critique the hell out of it and let me know if it did.  I have never been opposed to rescinding a chapter and rewriting.  Enjoy!
DIsclaimer: HIMYM does not belong to me.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5


I will do my best, now, to relay this to you in no uncertain terms as a continuous happening, even though it was revealed to me in drips and drabs along the way.

The truth and misfortune of the baby incident.

Barney and Robin had broken up long before.  Months and months before.  They had parted ways amicably, though Lily has assured me since then that Barney was the one who was left severely damaged.  Naturally he would never admit such a thing, even to this very day.

They  had broken up and had been dancing around each other, trying to avoid being alone together, hoping they wouldn’t have to look each other in the eye, making Ted and Marshall and Lily generally miserable and driving themselves insane.  They had broken up because in Robin’s words it “just wasn’t working” and things were “moving way too fast.”

Barney had agreed.

Or he’d said to her that he agreed, to be more accurate.

In reality I’m pretty sure things had been exactly how he’d wanted them in that relationship, and possibly weren’t progressing fast enough for his deep-in-love-forever-and-ever state of mind.  Robin was the colder of the two, and found herself floundering.  She was unprepared for his reality, I think.  She was…unprepared for him.  It’s strange to think that Barney could be more mature than anybody on the face of the planet, but let’s be honest I think Robin may forever be emotionally stunted in some way shape or form.

They were a tough pair that required a lot of work from the gods to succeed and it was too soon, or maybe too much, or maybe a little too serious for Robin’s liking.

I mean, I get it.  I had a boyfriend in seventh grade who wanted to constantly sit next to me - on the bus, in class, during recess - and it was overwhelming.  I had to end it just to get the bench to myself again on the playground.  Plus he rarely washed his hands, so really how long can such relationships last?

So Robin ended things with the apparent enthusiastic agreement (total front) of Barney Stinson, who then went into hiding until he had rebuilt his fierce armor of Awesomeness.

Things were unfortunate and stilted for about two weeks.

Then the two of them proceeded to do what they do best - they faked it.

Really really well.

They were able to drink together and play poker and eat burgers and even play battleship once or twice without visibly cringing at something that was said, or some whiff of cologne or perfume, or an accidental brush of the hand.

They were able to do it because they were highly intelligent and well versed in denial.

This is also something to which I can relate, to some extent.

Denial is a beautiful thing.

It heals all wounds.  Or distracts you from them until they heal themselves, I suppose.

And then about seven weeks before the church steps and my dog bite and the meet cute with the Barnacle, there was a relapse.

A predictable relapse.  This is not labeled as an unusual event because…let’s be honest.  It isn’t one.  The people in this group relapse like it’s their jobs.  They’re all about the relapsing and it’s sort of pathetic, if I’m being honest.   I, to this day, am the only member of this group that is relapse free and will remain that way until I’m six feet under dirt and rocks.  I’m sure Robin would even relapse with dirty-hands-seventh-grader if she had dated him and if he were around and free for relapsing, but I think he’s an archeologist in Egypt or something now, so…too far to travel for a relapse, in my opinion.

There was this relapse for Barney and Robin.  It was riddled with drunkenness and poor judgment and miscommunication.  And also sex.  Really sexy sex.  I can imagine probably sexier-than-I’ve-ever-gotten-closed-to-having type sex.

And there was stupidity.

And a month later somebody was pregnant, and I’ll give you two guesses who it was.

Now I wasn’t there but I have heard that the level of panic…the level of pure unhappy and tumultuous panic that showed up through this pink-plus-marked strip of plastic could have inspired an entire Lifetime movie called “Robin: a struggle with motherhood” or some other lame and totally transparent title.

The woman was mortified.

Lily told me she had never seen Robin Scherbatsky more distressed, repeating over and over again “What should I say to him?” like an answer would drop out of the sky, more angst-filled by the prospect of informing her former partner-in-crime than by the prospect of giving birth (which is no laughing matter, my mother assures me, and she has made me pay for it through various chores and odd jobs for my entire life.  Peg McHale will be responding to my laziness with ‘Do this for your mother, do you have any idea how many hours I suffered to bring you onto this planet?  The baby Jesus just popped out for Mary, but not you, Ann, you had to bring your mother nothing but pain and strife,’ for the rest of my living days.  She’ll say it from the grave, I swear.  This is now officially too long a ramble to be parenthetical…am I right?)

Essentially, Robin was like a fourteen year old inside.

She was frozen and freaked, in the words of Lily Aldrin.

She was not herself.

And then, as Lily told it, the next day she was like a fortress of serious feminine power.  Overnight she had transformed herself, solidified her courage, stuck it to the sticking place and all of that kind of Shakespearean warrior stuff.  This is something about Robin that I will forever envy - her ability to build herself back up when something has knocked her down, where I normally lay on the ground for like two weeks and moan and groan and wallow…hence my mother’s scripted rant about birthing the baby Jesus.  She makes quick work of big decisions and she holds no prisoners and refuses to take no for an answer.  She’s every cliché of a badass beauty that exists in any movie or book or television show like ever.

She’s every girl’s nightmare.

And Lily remembers how she’d gone from tears - clutching Lily’s shoulders and shaking her head and sitting cross-legged on the floor - to showing up at MacLaren’s and requesting in a cool and unemotional voice that Barney meet her outside for a minute.

“Who can do that?” Lily asked me once and I shook my head and muttered that pretty much nobody could do that.  Canadians, I guess.  Former pop stars.

And I imagine the conversation outside of MacLaren’s went something like this:

“What’s up, Scherbatsky?  Make it quick, I was in the middle of landing a red head and her super hot mom.”

“Gross,” she would reply in my mind because what other response could there be to something so totally Barnified.  “Look I have to tell you something, and I don’t want it to be a big deal, but I think I should probably tell you,” - off the cuff because that’s how Robin says things when they’re particularly important.

He maybe nodded his head…sensing the serious tone and the weighted announcement to come, knowing as we all do that the amount of reassurance that something was not a big deal from Robin Scherbatsky was in exact opposition to how big the deal actually would be.

And then it probably dropped like a bombshell, sudden and totally explosive: “I think I might be pregnant,” - here his ears were probably ringing - “and I haven’t been with anybody else.  So, it’s yours.  I don’t know how and I’m sorry” - while not sounding particularly apologetic at all.

And here, I think, Barney would have forgotten how to inhale.

Forgotten how to move.

Forgotten that she'd admitted to being  basically celibate for the past like thirty days, a record to be sure.

Forgotten probably how to fake anything.  Again, something new for both of them.

“What?” he would force out…or maybe ‘why?’ or ‘how?’ or ‘huh?’ or some other stammering single syllable.

And then she would forge ahead, because that’s what she is known to do consistently, even when it is not advisable.  She would force herself to continue: “I’m not totally sure. I have an appointment the day after tomorrow to find out.  You know how these things go.”

“Yeah…”

“So I’ll let you know, but I want to…just...I have this under control and it won’t affect you at all in the long run so don’t…um…”

“Wait, Robin, this…”

“Just…don’t worry about it right now.  I’ll let you know what I find out,” and here, I imagine, having known these two a while at this point, she would reach out and she would touch him.

Heartlessly, almost.  Carelessly.

I’ve seen her do it to countless men countless times, accidentally and unknowingly.

She would touch him on the arm or on the cheek or on the chest or, worse still, she would press her lips to his briefly and lightly and gone too fast, and he would choke on it.  Barney used to have a habit, I noticed, of choking just a little on this kind of thoughtlessness that she tended to toss his way.  Clearing his throat afterward like her flippancy was lodged between his vocal chords.  Like he was too in love with her for touching him to be ok, and too in love with her to ask her not to, and so the request that she refrain from brushing up against him would get stuck somewhere on his tongue or in his throat and he would be forced to cough, just a little, into the palm of his hand.

He would choke on it.  He was too far in love with her.  And that’s why the rest of this story did not surprise me in the least once it was told.

I heard that Barney Stinson normally had a kind of ritual he practiced for good luck - hoping that the faceless woman he’d accidentally knocked up had gotten a false positive and things would go his way.  He would remain footloose and fancy free if he followed some kind of bizarre series of foolish actions and superstitions, and had once even formed a club to honor the reveal that he was not going to have to hunker down and pay for any procedures just yet.  Not a Father’s Day.  So lame.

According to Marshall, though, this time something changed.

And so we’ve reached the beginning of unusual event number two.

Marshall Erikson walked into the men’s room one day after Robin’s somewhat insensitive announcement to find Barney Stinson staring at himself in the mirror.  Watching himself intently.  Breathing in and out with eyes half-filled with water.  Intense and focused and, Marshall recalled, totally heart-wrenching.  Marhsall's a sap, so take that for what it's worth.

Marshall walked in on him and there was nothing glib or humorous about the scene he found.  No rituals, no superstitions, no ‘not a father’s day’ slogans anywhere.

And he kind of stood in the doorway like he might turn around and walk out, his oversized hand against the wood, waiting and wondering what Lily would do in this situation, the thought making him pause.  His wife would ask a question.  Or pat Barney on the back.

Lily and Marshall shared everything, so Marshall knew what most likely had the Barnacle down and out, but he was not supposed to know and so he was pretty sure he couldn’t say anything.  He hated being the husband of the woman who knew everything before everybody else.

His thoughts were interrupted by words dripping from Barney’s mouth slow and quiet: “I think I want this.”

Marshall's mouth dropped open in shock as the words registered in his mind:  I think I want this.

Unheard of.

Heavy.

Serious and deafening and shocking so that Marshall stood there, dumbfounded and totally unsure of what to say in response.

He finally blurted “What?” because it was the only thing he could think of.

And Barney said it again, this time turning to look at Marshall in his spot by the door.  All Marshall could manage was a nod of the head, and an encouraging half-smile before he turned around (his bladder forgotten) and headed back to the bar.

I think I want this - the beginning of unusual event number 2.  Really the heart of this particular event.  The shifting of the universe.  The change in tides.  The morphing of one kind of man into something else entirely.

I think I want this.  Totally amazing.

Still to this moment I cannot imagine him saying these words...and I know him post  Baby Incident, so go figure.  I still wonder if Marshall used a little artistic license in his retelling and maybe it was more like "A kid might be ok" or "Babies aren't all bad" or "At least it'll be hot."  Something...else.  I mean, if he said "I want this" and did not high five anybody...if Barney Stinson is willing to hang up his tie for an apron of domesticity and a burp cloth of fatherhood, it has got to be true love.  Agreed?  Seriously.

And it gets worse.

Ted told me once that that very same night Barney showed up at their apartment looking haphazard and messy - basically a total wreck - asking for Robin and pushing his way into her room even after she’d asked him to leave her alone.  There was murmured conversation that eventually rose to half-yelling and then a thud hit the wall and Ted imagined all kinds of emergency situations and cracked skulls until he felt it was his responsibility to step in…or butt in, depending on who you talk to.

So he pushed open the door, murmuring “Hey, guys?” as he poked his head in, and he walked in on the extension of the second unusual event that made him stay fixed in the doorway, surprised and speechless.

Barney down on one knee, bent over like he was begging her or, in Ted’s dramatic retelling, like he’d been stabbed or shot or like a blow had been delivered to his solar plexus and he couldn’t quite make it to his feet.  My guess is he was standing up and Ted was padding his details to make it a better story.  Don't tell him I said that.  It's your call, I'm just the messenger.

Looking around, there was a book splayed out on the floor and Ted assumed that Robin had thrown it in Barney’s general direction but it had missed and was bent-paged against the hardwood floor, the landing spot causing the thump he had heard.  It was a book he had lent Robin called "Building Up your Emotional Security" all about how to sustain relationships by using architecture metaphors.  At this point if Ted was telling you the story he would regale you with how wonderful the book is (gag) and how disrespectful it was of Robin to choose this particular book to throw since it had permanently damaged the glossy hardback cover with a gash in the corner.  Aren't you glad he's not here right now?  You're welcome.

So, there was no blood and no cracked skulls but there were other things to make Ted's stomach twist in nervous uncertainty.

His book's damaged cover.

And the fact that he could see that Robin was crying.

He could see that Barney was beside himself with some emotion that was honestly totally foreign to Ted Mosby - the king of girlish sentiment.  Some kind of deep and panicked emotion.  Something Ted would learn about later.  Total utter desperation, I'm guessing.

“I want this,” Barney told her.  “I want you and a family with you and anything you’ll give me,” - I know what you’re thinking.  Out of character much?  The thing is, Barney had been on the edge of this all along if I’m to believe what Lily has told me.  Barney had been teetering and teasing the idea of a nervous breakdown since the breakup - questioning his decisions and his life and all of the things a real human being should question in just such a situation, all dressed up as together and brave and awesome.  Barney was losing his cool, finally…blessedly.  Loosening his tie and looking back at all of the decisions he’d made and the stones that he’d stepped on to get to where he was.  “And maybe this is just…a….crazy sign or some kind of message that we were wrong to give up.  Maybe we were wrong before and now this is right…”

“Maybe I forgot to take my pill, and you forgot to bring a rubber,” Robin responded, fast as lightening like what he’d said hadn’t been a revelation.  Cold as ice.  Piercingly cold.  Defensive.  Automatic like it was something she’d rehearsed in her mind a thousand times.

“Listen to what I’m telling you,” he fired back, “I want to marry you." WHAT?  I know.  "I’ll do this, one hundred percent, no looking back.  I think…I think I want this,” he told her again and Ted felt himself going pale and he was genuinely worried for a minute that he might pass out.  Ted Mosby.  Butting his nose in and then fainting and becoming the center of the drama, uninvited.  Classic Ted Mosby.

“I want you and I want this kid, and I want to do this right,” Barney finished.

She chewed on her lower lip and Ted knew from experience that was not a good sign.

“Hey, Barney,” he interrupted, trying to save everybody from any further fallout - in the know because Lily had told everybody what exactly had happened up to that point, “come on man.  Let’s go get a beer.”  But Barney didn’t turn and it was like Ted was talking to an empty room.

“Well, I don’t,” Robin answered and Ted felt the air gush out of his lungs because he'd known this was coming.

He watched the group dissipate in his mind’s eye and he watched this become the nightmare people always said this kind of thing would be.

“I don’t want you,” she said again.  And Barney slumped forward a little bit further.

“Why?” he asked her.

“Why?” she repeated and Ted felt himself reach out to put a hand on Barney’s shoulder.

“Barney, get up, come on,” he tried.  Again there was no response, nobody looked at him, and there was no acknowledgment of any kind that he was there at all.  He watched Robin gear up to make everything just a little bit worse.

“Why would I start a family with a philandering delusional child who has never been able to commit to somebody and who has publicly declared his aversion to marriage and families and commitment?  Why would I let you near my kid when you have zero values and no sense of responsibility except to yourself?  How could you come in here and presume I need somebody to rescue me or save me or give me a ring because I got myself pregnant?  What is this, the 1950’s?  You can’t even make a relationship work with a grown woman.  How could you possibly raise a kid?”

And Ted watched Barney deflate.

And he recognized Robin’s act of self-assured confidence and recognized it for the attempt at protection that it was, the lie that it was while scattered with threads of absolute truth, and he watched her turn Barney into some kind of caricature, and he could tell she didn’t mean to do it.  He used to be in love with her (as all men have at some point) and knew she didn’t really mean to do it.  He watched her try to cover up her fear and he watched her try to create some kind of bravado out of nothing, and he heard what she was really saying between the words.  He knew that what she meant was that maybe she did need saving and that was the thing Robin Sherbatsky most feared…more than failure or tragedy or the Canucks losing to the Calgary Flames or death itself, she was afraid of needing help.  He heard her talking mostly to herself and he knew she didn’t mean it.

But he says that to this day he almost can’t forgive her.

Because he was the one who picked Barney up off the ground and watched him totally lose any self-respect and dignity he had left at that point.  He watched Barney lose himself and it was weeks before he recovered.

Before he pulled on his armor of Awesomeness with determination and set himself on the road to right his wrongs.

The day he found out Robin was no longer pregnant was the day he went to church, the way he always had, to thank the big guy upstairs for one more favor.

But this time, he told me once a couple years ago, this time he just sat there.  Silent.  Not knowing what exactly to say.  Not sure what he was supposed to be thankful for.  Not sure what he’d been doing all these years and wondering if he would ever get his shit together and do something worthwhile…

And when he reemerged I was sitting on the church steps, bleeding from the leg.

And Barney Stinson was determined to change his ways.

And one thing is for certain: when Barney Stinson sets his mind to something, the man refuses to fail.


Chapter 7: The chapter in which Ann keeps her cool...and then totally loses it.