I had to watch the finale a second time to make sure I'd get everything right. It was painful.

I wasn't a fan of Barney having a daughter as a way of getting him out of the womanizing path, but I did enjoy building Ellie's character and her relationship with her father.

I hope you'll enjoy this, constructive criticism is always appreciated, and don't worry - we'll survive the finale through fanfiction.

Ellie Stinson grows up with a shifting idea of love.

When she's six, it's Disney characters dancing in meadows and running away in the sunlight. She pushes for Eric and Ariel to kiss and sings along to Love will find a way until she knows the lyrics by heart. Her father often joins, but it's never lame, not like with the other parents when you can tell they'd rather be doing grow-up stuff some place else instead. Together, they dance in front of the TV. He teaches her to spin and swing and there's no doubt in her mind that there's nowhere else he wants to be.

Her dad turns life into a big choreography and she dances and jumps and never stops having fun, so it's doesn't really matter that her mother lives so far way she barely gets to see her. She's used to grown-ups talking about her mother in a sorry voice, like they want to remind her it's very sad she's not around, so Ellie thinks they'll feel better if she tells them she doesn't really care. They always look even more worried instead. Whatever, grown-ups are weird.

She sees love as a shiny, happy thing and never doubts everyone gets their fair share of it eventually.

When she's eight, love becomes more precise. It's Marvin locking himself in his room before answering a call on his phone. He whispers for a while and comes out looking like Peter from school does when he gets extra dessert at lunchtime. Aunt Lily smiles knowingly and says something about a girl from French class while her son protests that she promised to keep it a secret. It's all very mysterious and Ellie hates it. "I got to know!" she tells Luke, and together they follow the older boy around until they catch a glimpse of the girl-from-French-class.

Love, she discovers, is eternity. At least it feels that way for Luke and her, as they wait for Marvin and the girl to stop kissing and go away so they can come out of the bush they've been spying them from.

She's ten and Peter gives her a magic pen that writes in special invisible ink. She thanks him and walks away, already coming up with ways to use it with Luke next time they play detective (he always wants to even though she's often the one who ends up solving the mystery), but Peter calls after her. "You have to be my girlfriend now that I gave you a present." She can't see why not. Besides, she's curious. She doesn't know what it's like to be someone's girlfriend, and even though kissing seems really gross, there must be other fun stuff you can do. Turns out, there isn't, and she even finds Peter pretty boring, but he keeps reminding her that he gave her the pen, so she thinks, maybe that's how it works.

The next Saturday, they all have dinner at Uncle Ted's place. Robin is here. Ellie has trouble calling her Aunt Robin because she's only seen her a handful of times. More importantly, she knows her and Dad were married once, before she was born, and she has no idea what to make of that. She often tries to picture her father having a wife, calling her cute nicknames and making goofy jokes with her like Aunt Lily and Uncle Marshall do, but it's like imagining him wearing sweatpants: weird.

They're eating cheesecake when she notices something's off. Luke and Penny keep giggling and glancing at each other. Robin has this slightly dreamy look on her face and Ted's grinning in a kinda stupid way. She's glad Dad can't know what's on her mind, because he'd probably scold her for thinking rude things about one of his friends. She can't help it: she doesn't really like Uncle Ted even tough he has never been anything but nice to her.

She tries to get Luke's attention but he ignores her. When Ted stands up and clears his throat, she's sure something's going on. She's also weirdly sure she's not gonna like it.

"Guys," he starts. "You all remember how we swore we'd all be there for the big moments. Well, tonight, I have something to tell you. Or should I say… Robin and I do."

He looks around as if he's said it all. Ellie quickly realizes she's the only one around the table not getting what it's all about. Lily squeals and hugs them both, telling them it's great and after all this time and Ted I'm so happy you're moving on. Marshall smirks and folds his arms. "I believe someone's just lost a bet," he says. Lily mutters something that might be a curse and gives him a twenty. "Can you believe he sat us down to tell us this really long story about how he met Mom but really what he wanted was to make sure it would be okay with us if he dated Aunt Robin?" Penny seems to think it's the funniest thing ever. Ellie's wondering why that's all she got out of a story involving her dead mom, but she has a feeling asking would break the mood.

She knows she'll never forget the look on her father's face. He high fives Ted, hugs Robin, and cheers along with everyone. Ellie has spent too much time running around with him though, playing laser tag and basically being awesome: she's seen how he really looks like when he's happy. That's how she knows this time he's faking it.

"Gee, Robin, finally caved, did you?" he teases, once again fooling everyone but Ellie.

"What can I say?" Robin grins. "He gave me everything. How could I not?"

Ted shakes his head, looking pretty pleased with himself and reminding Ellie of Peter and the magic pen and you have to be my girlfriend now. It's the first time she sees a child's expression on an adult's face. It's not a pretty sight: it feels backwards, somehow. Wrong.

On Monday, she throws the pen on Peter's desk.

"I've never asked you to give me anything," she says.

She's not interested in love anymore.

They get engaged and Ted plans the wedding like he'd design one of his buildings. He goes on and on about the church, the food, the colors, the flowers and other stuff no one cares about, while Robin sits at this side, joking about how she wishes they could just go get married in Vegas in a weird high-pitched voice. Of course, Marshall and Barney are best men, Lily bridesmaid. It's all mapped out.

The whole time, Barney shows the same fake enthusiasm Ellie can't stand any more than the idea of sitting in a stupid church, dressed in stupid peachy-pink and listening to stupid speeches about love and stuff. In addition, she knows her father is going to wear that awful tight smile the whole time, the one that makes her want to cry.

The Friday before the weekend of the wedding is a school day. She sits with Layla at lunchtime. Her friend pulls out a box of homemade cookies that Ellie notices are sprinkled with walnuts. She calmly bites into the one Layla offers her.

And ends up sick in the hospital. Everyone knows she's severely allergic to walnuts. Including her.

It's a good thing everyone's so quick on their feet. By the time Barney arrives, she's already feeling better, though he came as fast as he could (and he looks like he ran to get there, which is weird). "But she's going to have to stay in bed for the next two days," Ellie hears the doctors say, and she smiles. Barney calls Ted to explain the situation. "I'm awfully sorry, bro, I'm afraid we won't be able to make it." He stays silent while Ted probably tells him comforting stuff on the other end of the line. Of course, Robin and I understand, anyone would do the same, we're so glad she's fine… Tell her we send our love. A proper, predictable answer from the guy who does everything right and expects life to reward him accordingly.

Her father looks like a huge weight has been lifted off him when he gets back. As soon as she sees his relieved expression, she knows it was worth it: the pain, the fear, the horrible tightness in her lungs. But when he sits on the side of her bed, she realizes she can't fool him any more than he her.

"Ellie, you know walnuts are bad for you. It's written all over your medical records. It's not like you to forget about something so important."

She doesn't answer so she won't have to lie.

"Ellie," he says, taking hold of her shoulders. She's never seen him look more serious. "You must never, ever, do something like this again. Not for any reason. Do you understand?"

She does, and she's sorry, truly. But she still thinks it was worth it.

Years go by and suddenly she's young and sweet, only seventeen.

Having discovered that the smallest wave of her blond hair can send half of the guys around in hysterics, she puts that talent to good use. Her peers see her as a bit of a player, and she soon earns a reputation.

"Do you ever wonder if the absence of your mother played a part in your upbringing?" a girl from biology asks one day.

Ellie looks up from her textbook, startled. This isn't something you'd expect to hear sitting through an incredibly boring class about mitosis or whatever it's not as if she's been listening.

The girl's name is Ingrid and Ellie sometimes chats with her about inconsequential stuff like schoolwork or teachers. She thinks she remembers the girl's mother's an architect. It looks like they've moved on to the next stage of their relationship: exchanging tearful secrets on their family lives. Ellie is not necessarily opposed to the idea, mainly because she hasn't much to offer in that area.

"I don't know who told you what about me," she begins, "but if you expect some sob story, you're gonna be disappointed. My mother wasn't cut out to be a mom. So she didn't become one. That's it."

She doesn't add that when she heard Lily joke about how Barney used to call the woman he impregnated "number 31", she thought her mother had so little influence on their lives it might as well have been her real name. She has a feeling she might come across as slightly sociopathic.

"That can't be it," Ingrid argues. "Everyone needs a mother."

Ellie wants to point out her best friend Layla doesn't have a mother either, but she's afraid Ingrid might jump on the opportunity to discuss whether having gay fathers played a part in Layla's upbringing.

"I have my father. I don't need another parent," she says instead, and she's not lying.

Ingrid doesn't seem convinced at all.

"I heard your father was quite the womanizer back in his days. It might explain why you're such a-"

Ellie has to laugh at that.

"How the hell do you know about that? Also that reminds me I saw your mother at parents' day. Since we're talking genetics, the fact she was wearing socks with her flats explains a lot about your own fashion sense."

The bell mercifully cuts through the conversation. She gives Ingrid her best I'm-a-bitch smile, takes her bag, and crosses the room to join Layla.

"Ingrid Hartman was kind enough to let me know what a big slut I am. All my father's fault, as it turns out," she declares.

Layla lets out a loud laugh.

"About time someone tried to save your damaged soul. What do you plan to do about it?"

They leave the room and start walking to their next period.

"I'm thinking of charging him expensive therapy before shaving my head and locking myself up in a convent."

"Gimme a call before you do, sugar!" Joseph Cohen shouts as he walks past them.

"Do you think it's mean to tell him I'd rather eat a whole batch of walnuts cookies?" Ellie asks.

"God, never make that joke in front of Dad. You know he still feels terrible about it?"

"Suits you for never explaining why it wasn't his fault at all."

"It wouldn't be very wise, honey," her friend deadpans. "Not everyone can handle the weirdest, craziest parts of you as well as I do."

They say girls never go for nice guys.

Ellie witnessed the exact opposite so many times over the years she'd have enough material to write a book on the subject. She could write pages and pages describing boys who think they can have it all because, well, don't they deserve it? They write bullet point lists of their good deeds and wave them around, expecting their reward, as if they were all back in elementary school when the teachers handed golden paper stars for good work and well-learnt lessons.

Ellie can usually spot them from the way they look at her, making her feel the branches of the star spreading out on her face.

Save from actually being nice, they do a good job of looking it, if only out of sheer conviction. Their belief is so strong it extends to the object of their affections, insuring their desires are satisfied. In the face of such devoted courting, how could it be otherwise? He loves me, after all. He'd do anything for me. Thus are created perfectly-matched couples like you'd order from a catalog, but reality doesn't follow, leaving you wondering why that gorgeous pair of shoes from page 10 doesn't go with your dress (and god, isn't she on a roll with the metaphors here?).

Contrary to popular belief, those people don't exist solely in high school. After all, the couple that taught Ellie most of what she knows on the subject has been out of its teens for a while now. This is a study she conducts every other Saturday night at the Mosbys. She can see the wistfulness in Robin's smile as clearly as she used to pick up on the forced notes of her father's laugh. There's a sort of weariness in her that only grew stronger as the years went by. Ted's satisfied air turns hesitant in response; the look of someone who knows something's wrong but cannot quite pinpoint what. Marshall and Lily come in sharp contrast, the very image of those who seized happiness as it came and never went in short supply.

As for Robin and her father, they offer a different vision entirely, something Ellie's almost afraid to contemplate more than she absolutely has to. Everyone senses the strange heaviness pervading their interactions (however rare they may be) and no one acknowledges it, mostly out of reluctance at admitting the successful three-year marriage has never found proper closure.

In the cab ride back home, Barney never says much, looking out the window like it's one of Lily's abstract paintings instead. He always gets in a weird reflective mood after seeing Robin, especially if they take a cab home (God knows why), and she usually leaves him to it.

One night, she finds the nerve to ask about their relationship.

He tells her why their marriage ended and it's the last thing she'd expected to hear.

"But Dad," she says tentatively, "you love travelling. I've always had the best summer vacations stories at school. You had the chance to go places with Robin and be awesome, why would that bother you?"

Her father chuckles, but there's no humor in the sound.

"It's like Robin said that day. I took the out she gave me."

She doesn't think she's making up the sadness she sees in his eyes.

"I don't know when things started to change, but one day I wasn't good enough for her anymore. Oh, she never told me so," he adds, seeing the indignant expression on his daughter's face, "I'm not even sure she was aware of thinking it, but it was written all over her face anyway. She had decided we weren't going to work and nothing could convince her otherwise." There's bitterness in his voice now. "I certainly didn't."

"So…" she begins. "When you told her you didn't wanna travel anymore…"

"I took the easy way out, but not from what she thought. Not from us."

There's something in the way he pauses that tells her he's about to drop something big.

"I knew Ted would show up again and I didn't want us to be still married when that happened."

Ellie has always thought heartbreaks too cliché, but for the second time in her life, she'd swear she can hear hers shatter on the floor.

She and Luke are not really friends anymore. Officially, they grew apart, but really, they stopped being close the night Ted announced he and Robin were back together. They each took their dad's side, she knows it, he knows it, everyone knows it. They all acted as if there was no awkwardness at all about the whole situation, when there was barely anything but. Barney acted like he was perfectly cool with it, saying "great" too many times, and his friends were more than happy to believe him. Ellie has always had plenty of occasions to notice the carelessness with which they all handled her dad's feelings. It's Barney, they say in a way that's meant to convey all sorts of things, none of which she likes very much. She's always known she was her father's only ally when it really came to it, but she might not have fully understood what it meant until the day of the walnuts.

That's what makes the really personal questions she desperately needs the answer to all the more difficult to ask. She feels a bit like Ingrid as she rings the doorbell of Ted's house on a weekend his kids are home from college.

"What sort of question is that?" Penny exclaims, laughing.

She invited herself along when Ellie and Luke went upstairs to his room. "I'm your morality caution," she said, and Ellie rolled her eyes, thinking she and Luke were more likely coming up with a tap dance routine than doing anything even remotely "immoral".

"Why would we have ever felt awkward about Ted and Aunt Robin?"

"Well," Ellie says, quite patiently, "they dated in the past. Before he met your mother. Don't you think it makes him going after Robin again…" creepy, disgusting, insulting to your mother's memory, all flavors of wrong "…weird?"

"I don't see why," Penny retorts with just the smallest hint of defiance. "He deserves to be happy."

"Yes, but… Do you ever think about how the reason they broke up in the first place was because Robin didn't wanna have kids? Do you realize what it would have meant for you and your mother if she had wanted them?"

Penny's blue eyes widen, and Ellie can tell she's never thought about it that way before. But she quickly shakes away the thought, along with a strand of her hair.

"I don't see the use in thinking in what ifs. It's as it is, and it's not as if Dad wasn't allowed to have a love life now Mom's gone."

You really are your father's daughter, Ellie thinks uncharitably.

Stealing a glance at Luke, she can tell he doesn't have a casual rebuff to offer. He's obviously often thought about how his very existence had depended on Robin's whims. He wears the same expression she must have the day she found a picture of her father's wedding. It was a rainy Sunday afternoon, and she was thirteen. Seeing Barney surrounded by his bride and friends, beaming, she caught herself wishing they had stayed together, until it occurred to her that, had they, she would have had no reason to exist. She remained perfectly still, holding the wooden frame, as the world spun around her. He'd had it all, then, and now he only had her.

She spots a picture of Tracy sitting on Luke's nightstand for everyone to see.

The boy looks at her and they both know they understand each other.

Later that day, the day she found the wedding picture, Barney came home from Marshall and Lily's to find her staring at it, standing in the middle of the living room.

"I know what you're thinking," is what he said.

"Do you?" she answered. What was meant to sound defiant came off shaky and pathetic instead.

"You're not my consolation price," he said firmly. "I'm more proud of you than of anything else I've done in my life – including the Playbook." He shot her a look as to make sure she fully grasped how significant a comparison that was, and she had to hold back a giggle.

"Eleanor Legenda Stinson…" "That's not my middle name, Dad." "...you're the most awesome human being I've ever had the chance to meet. I'm honored I got to play a small part in the building of your legendary character. Never let anything or anyone question that."

There's a reason she's immune to the pull of nice guys.

Ellie Stinson's eighteen when her vision of love changes one last time.

She's getting ready to leave for college: there are cardboard boxes everywhere in the house and life's a whirlwind of possibilities. There's a room somewhere in the dorms of Columbia with her and Layla's names on the door.

She's cleaning under the bed - why on earth is there a half-eaten candy cane rotting behind a ball of dust? - when the doorbell rings.

She'd expected pretty much anyone but the person actually standing behind the door. Ellie stares at Robin in a way she's aware is extremely impolite, but she can't help it. She can't remember Ted's wife coming to their apartment even once before.

"Hi Ellie," says the older woman in a shaky, but not unkind voice. "Is Barney here?"

She makes a weird pause before she sort of chokes out her father's name, which tells Ellie everything she needs to know.

Barney's doing god-knows-what in the living room and he raises his head when she opens the door. When he sees Robin standing by her side, his eyes grow so wide his head seems smaller in comparison.

At the kind, open expression in her father's eyes, Ellie reflects on how there's always a chance on getting back on the road you were always meant to take even after insisting on choosing the wrong one over and over again.

Maybe those who deserve the most never think in such terms.

Ellie leaves the room, closing the door behind her and knowing more or less what to expect.

Maybe she's not too old to sing along to Love will find a way with Kiara and Kovu after all.