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It's a rare night when Barney comes home alone -- but this is one of them. Lily hears him come in; she hasn't fallen asleep yet. It's her first night in his apartment, and the unfamiliar surroundings are unsettling to her. She's relieved to hear him come in, to know that there's someone else who'll soon be sleeping in the same home.
He greets her wearily and makes his way to his own bedroom, closing the door behind him -- and Lily tosses and turns a while longer, unable to get comfortable, even on the soft, thick cushions of his rather expensive sofa bed.
Finally she realizes what the problem is.
The tiny light shining in the hall.
Lily's always been the kind of person who needs a room pitch black to sleep well. She's not sure why she didn't notice the light before. She gets up and turns it off, then return to the sofa bed and snuggles down under the blankets.
She's asleep in moments.
A little while later, she's awakened by some deep instinct, inexplicably aware that someone is in the room with her. She sits up suddenly, staring wide-eyed into the blackness, her heart lurching when she hears a soft scrambling noise in response to her own movement.
"Hello?" she calls softly, her voice trembling. "Barney?"
"L-lily?"
She's gratified to hear the slight tremor in his voice as well, and know that it's not only her who's freaked out in the unfamiliar darkness.
Except -- it shouldn't be unfamiliar to Barney.
"Yeah. I can't see you," she replies, her voice steadier now that she knows who's there.
There are a couple of awkward-sounding thumps as Barney tries to make his way to her, stumbling in the dark.
"How long have you lived here?" she teases him.
"You turned out the light!" He responds with a reproachful accusation. "I can't get around when I can't see. I... I need that light."
Something in his voice tells her that he needs it for more than navigating the living room -- and that's a surprising and troubling realization. She glances at her digital clock on the end table, noting that it's already nearly four in the morning. They'll both be getting up in a couple of hours.
She reaches out blindly in a weak attempt to help him find his way, accidentally encountering and grasping his arm. She suppresses a laugh when he yelps in panic.
"Oh, come here, you big baby," she affectionately teases him, tugging him the rest of the way to the sofa and down onto it beside her. "It's just me. Who'd you think it was?"
"I don't know."
But his hoarse whisper is so solemn, so distant, that she knows there's a specific fear behind his words. She's suddenly sobered, wondering at the secrets that he's kept from them all for so long.
"Come here," she repeats in a gentle whisper, sliding her hands around him in the dark, drawing him in close to her.
"Wait... what are we doing?" he whispers back in mild alarm and surprise. He seems a little suspicious, as if he thinks she's hitting on him.
At the moment, she doesn't care what he thinks.
She runs a soothing hand through his hair as she guides his head back onto her shoulder, settling into the couch with him close to her side. She's encouraged when he nestles in close to her by sheer instinct, reassured by her closeness. Her voice is soft and comforting as she whispers her response.
"Waiting for morning."