Alyx woke up in her room and, for the first time in months, it wasn't with the persistent taste of ashes and stale coffee in her mouth, but with the echo in her head of a promise: one day at a time, and treating that pair of earrings as a key, not a burning chain.
So, she got up and, in an act that felt revolutionary, went to her kitchen. She didn't turn on her beautiful coffee maker. Instead, she filled a kettle. While the water heated, she stood in her empty living room, looking at the painting of the silhouette hanging exactly where the intervention banner had been the day before.
Her phone vibrated. She picked it up and saw a message from Marshall. The good thing was that it didn't ask or pressure her about her state, but like Robin's, it was accompanied by a moment from his day. It read: "Look, last night at MacLaren's, Barney was trying to pay his tab with dating consultancy favors for divorced women. We missed your killer look to shut him up. But no pressure. – M"
Alyx read the message twice. It was another bridge, like Robin's, but this time… she breathed, took her cup of mint tea, and replied: "The killer look requires coffee. Today I'm having tea, but I can attempt a lower-power frown." And she sent a photo of her teacup.
It wasn't a return, but it was a step closer—a good start for her "one day at a time."
At Marshall and Ted's apartment, Marshall almost dropped his phone when the reply came. "She answered!" he announced, showing the screen to Ted and Robin as if it were a trophy. "And she's joking again! See?"
Robin smiled with relief after weeks of worry since she first saw Alyx at the gym. "It's a start."
"But she's not coming closer," said Ted. "It means we have to take the step with neutral topics, not directly."
"Neutral territory?" asked Barney, appearing out of nowhere in his elegant suit. "Sounds boring. What we need is an Operation for Forced Reconnection in a Controlled Environment. And the best part is, I have tickets for Robot vs. Mega-Serpent. Something loud that doesn't require conversation. The popcorn girl wears a micro top. It's going to be le-gen-dary!"
They all ignored him. Lily's plan of building bridges and waiting seemed to be working at a molecular level—and it worked better than intervention cards and banners.
Meanwhile, in her apartment, Alyx finished her tea and got dressed. Today, she wasn't going to the gym. Instead, she would go for a walk. But first, she went to where she had hidden the lost earring and the sketchbook. She brought them down from their hiding place and put the sketchbook on her desk. There, she saw the Polaroid she had taken and left next to her computer. Finally, with both earrings—the lost one and the one Lily had left in her mailbox—she held them together in her hand. Seeing them now, they were no longer a symbol of a broken promise or a reminder of a loss, but proof that something real and beautiful had existed. She remembered Tracy's words about changing their meaning.
With a calm determination, she put one in her pocket and left the other in the drawer alongside Lily's sketchbook. She knew this wasn't surrendering to something; she wanted to lighten her load. One would stay as a talisman of her past life, and the other would be given a future with a new meaning.
Then, she left her apartment—not heading to the gym, but not to MacLaren's either.
Instead, she walked to a small art gallery in the West Village, one she had passed a hundred times but never entered.
The door tinkled as she opened it. The smell of oil paint and old wood enveloped her—the smell of creation, not destruction.
While Alyx took her first tentative step toward something other than self-destruction, Lily was executing her own plan. It was a secret plan, not about bridges, but about digging into some concerns that had arisen. She also knew that the earring she had returned had triggered something in Alyx, and Barney's comment about her trading had been the last straw. Lily didn't have a mind for all the theories that might emerge like Barney did; she was focused on understanding why it had upset Alyx so much.
So, she went to the only source of chaotic and potentially useful information she hadn't expected to visit for something related to Alyx: Barney Stinson.
She found him in his office, basically playing—building a tower of business cards while humming the Mission: Impossible theme. Though she didn't understand what his job was at the moment, that doubt wasn't as important as why she was there.
Without a greeting, she walked in and said, "I need you to hack something for me," planting herself in front of his desk.
Barney dropped the card he was holding. "Dear Lily! You've finally seen the light! What do you need? Marshall's call logs? Ted's browsing history? I have a guy who can get Robin's school records from Canada, including her citizenship education notes—which, between us, were very disappointing."
"It's about Alyx," Lily corrected. "Her trading. You said it yourself—it's impossible to have those results. I want you to prove it to me."
Barney's expression changed from playful to seriously intrigued. "Ahhh, the mystery of the sad girl and her unnatural profits." He leaned back in his chair. "That's delicate information, Lily Pad. What do I get in return?"
"I'll help you with your next Legendary Challenge without complaining," Lily said without blinking. "And I won't ask questions if you need an escape."
Barney evaluated the offer. He particularly liked the "no questions" part. "You've got a deal. But I must warn you: numbers don't lie, and the numbers around Alyx… whisper very, very strange secrets."
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