Title: Retaliation
Author: OboeShoes
Fandom: HIMYM
Pairings/Characters: Barney, Robin
Ratings/Warnings: Spoilers for Miracles (but hopefully we've all seen that by now…)
Wordcount: 1225~
Summary: Set between S3 and S4, Robin takes one step towards getting him back for all those cracks at her childhood home.
Note: Reposted from LJ, username oboeshoes ^^

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Barney was still groggy as he blinked his eyes into better focus. The latest round of sedatives and painkillers had worn off, and the light from the window said it was morning. He found that knowledge almost a relief---the last ten hours had been spent blissfully detached and unconscious. After all, how was anyone expected to get any real sleep when they ached so much?

Robin had been there the previous night to check in with him and chat for a while before she left for Texas. Apparently there was some kind of news-anchor conference (really? Those things existed?) in El Paso, and she would be gone for a week.

As his last moments of consciousness came back to him, something in his chest felt funny when he realized he never said a proper goodbye. He'd been in top form in their lighthearted banter, slipping in some truly awesome jokes in the process. The last thing he could recall was being halfway through delivering a line that was solid gold… then waking up twenty seconds ago.

His eyes roamed the room dispassionately. It had been two and a half weeks and the muted colors of his hospital room depressed him more than calmed him. A prisoner, shackled to a bed by plaster, plastic, and gauze, abandoned in a bland cell. No sign of a sexy nurse, or even a remotely cute one... A majority of the lady nurses switched shifts with male colleagues after just a few days of dealing with the incapacitated Barnacle. Their loss, he figured.

After a moment of visually roving the room and the last ghost of the sedative released him, the addition of new items to his bedside table finally caught his attention.

A six-pack of Redbull and a stack of DVDs sat there with a shiny red gift wrap bow and a red Sharpie perched on top. The addition of then pen was not as random as a passerby would have thought. A week earlier Lily had purchased a package of 24 different colored Sharpie markers. It had been quickly picked up that every time one of them visited Barney for longer than twenty minutes, something had to be added to one of his many casts.

So far, the gang had doodled mostly on his arm-casts. He had his favorites in the growing Sharpie mural---Ted had made a simplified illustration of one of the buildings his firm was working on, Marshall had managed to scribble a foaming pint of beer, and Robin had given into his pestering and sketched out a fairly accurate gun over his right bicep. Lily's masterpiece had been of what she and Marshall assumed were Barney's thoughts milliseconds before the bus mowed him down: a boob wearing a suit of money with a puddle of scotch at its feet. Barney had been suitably impressed by the detail of that one. It had only taken her half an episode of The Price is Right.

There was a sticky-note stuck to the side of the DVD pile on his sidetable. The handwriting was familiar, written clearly in dark blue Sharpie:

"You'll like 'Bon Cop, Bad Cop'. Tell Lily next time she's here we need a new red. RS"

At least that explained why the red marker was left out. Or did it? The set was basically new. What had Robin added to make it run dry so quickly? Since the neck-brace had been removed the day before, he was able to (carefully) turn his head enough to study his plaster-encased arms. As far as Barney could tell, the artwork was the same as yesterday… The game of Tic-tac-toe Ted and Marshall played two days ago on his right forearm was the newest thing. Nothing else.

Maybe it had just been left uncapped. Dismissing the trivial matter, he carefully re-settled his head onto his pillow to wait for a nurse to check in.

The day was spent in boredom. No one stopped by long enough for him to even attempt to play the sympathy card. Eventually, a nurse had come in to pop the first of Robin's movies into the portable DVD player Marshall purchased for him from Sky Mall. Not the one from her note (that one, he was thinking of saving until last. Maybe Robin would watch it with him?), but it was still relatively entertaining, besides being set in Canada. His cracked and broken ribs began to ache halfway through the second movie, also Canada-based. The credits had barely begun to roll when the rattle of the food cart outside announced his dinner had arrived.

At least tonight it was Loretta who was given the task of feeding him. Forty-something with killer hips, a lisp and enough wit to keep him entertained when his friends were not around and she wasn't busy---she was one of two female nurses who stayed on. At least when it came to mealtimes she didn't make it seem like an unbearable chore. He hated the helplessness of his state. Although he never said it aloud or complained, when Barney finished his dinner tonight she patted his casted arm sympathetically and offered him the straw to his barely-touched cup of juice.

"So how were the movies your friend left you? She came back with them after you fell asleep."

"Not bad, but they're all Canadian fli—"

Suddenly, a sneeze tickled his sinuses and before he could brace himself to hold it in, it erupted from him violently. The juice cup went flying; cran-grape dyed the pale blue hospital blanket that covered him from chest to knees a dull red. The nurse quickly rescued the cup with a sigh took his empty dinner plate to the dish-cart parked outside his door, muttering something about bedding storage cabinets. The force of the sneeze accentuated the pain in his broken body (mostly in the several cracked ribs and recently re-set nose) and Barney had barely managed to collect himself by the time Loretta returned with a fresh blanket.

When the nurse peeled back the sodden blanket, Barney thought the juice had soaked through and stained the cast on his left leg, but no… The red on his cast was much brighter than the juice that had soaked into the blanket. Wait--red?

Fresh sharpie covered most of the plaster on his thigh. The fact that his left leg was still held up by the sling made this newest artistic addition all too easy to see. It was fairly simple: two words written in bold block letters were broken up by a carefully drawn red and white flag.

CANADA RULES

The nurse bit her lip, stifling a snort of amusement. He caught her eye then tossed his head to the side (he couldn't quite manage a full shrug as confined as he was) a look of mournful disappointment on his face. "Robin's from Vancouver. A bit delusional, poor girl."

Loretta raised an eyebrow, checked the morphine drip and finished cleaning up from the juice explosion. The last thing she did was to tuck the blankets around him so the oversized maple leaf flag on his thigh remained prominently displayed. She moved to leave, having other patients to feed, "Good night, Mr. Stinson."

Barney began to protest but she shook her head.

"Winnipeg, born and raised," and she left without another word.