AUTHOR'S NOTE IS VERY LONG. SCROLL ON PAST IF YOU WANT TO GET STRAIGHT TO THE GOOD STUFF!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: WORRY NOT! This isn't just a cleaned up rewrite of TPC. This is a complete overhaul. You can consider it a reboot or a 'reimagining'. Either way, it'll be something new for those who have read The Paternal Catalyst. Keep in mind that while the first couple of chapters will be very similar to the original, it'll deviate after that.

WTF Hermy? Why? I feel like I have to explain my progression of thoughts. Here's how it went down: I got bored and decided to reread some of my old fics. OK so that story isn't as interesting as I thought. Basically, I read The Paternal Catalyst and quite enjoyed it! I don't know about other writers out there, but usually I read my old stuff and practically pull a face muscle from cringing so hard. But this one, I was like, 'ooh, what is going to happen next?' Since I wrote it, you'd think it would still be in my head. Wrong.

What got me about that story is that it had potential and it went largely unrealized. To be quite honest with you guys, that fic was written in a mad frenzy. That's not hyperbole by the way; I mean it was my every waking moment for . . . well I don't know how long. Sometimes my muse just hits me over the head with the Bat Of Inspiration. I'm pretty sure I barely slept or ate. I only know that because that's pretty much what happens when I get really into a story. I do remember playing Phil Collins on repeat.

What I'm saying is that the story was rushed. I mentioned a subplot in my A/N on my original, one I said I couldn't get into the story. Well, I actually barely even tried. There were also some scenes I really loved but had to be cut because they involved discarded subplots.

And you know what, I recently got a whole slew of new ideas and scenes and whatnot to work into the story. So I thought, perhaps it's time to take another stab at this story?

I AM NOT GEORGE LUCAS! I'm not deleting the original story. I did seriously consider replacing the chapters, but I thought that was way too confusing and also would put me into George Lucas territory and not in a good way. And you know what, there are people who will remain fans of the original, regardless of the reboot. The final nail in that was me deciding it might be interesting to later look back on these two stories and see how far I'd come writing wise. That part was purely for me.

For those who read the original: The bulk of the plot will be mostly the same. The blurb of the original is a very good summation of the core plot and that will still be the structure of this. But many of the scenes have been redone and there are loads of new scenes. It also goes in a newish direction. The subplot I mentioned will feature in there. I realized that no character just revolves around one plot, but each have their own agendas. This is how it happens in the show and my fanwork should reflect that. I promise they won't detract from the main story. I also took into consideration a lot of your constructive criticisms. For example, the SMS-style dialogue is gone. And finally I hope the writing quality overall will be improved.

For those who haven't read the original: There will be nothing lost by not reading the original. There are no wink-wink nudges in this story or any such fanservice. Reading the original will really just tell you the general direction in which this story is going. By all means, if you wish to read that first, and I know some people like doing that, feel free! If you want to read it second, that's cool too. But it is also totally OK if you don't want to compare notes. I don't just want this story judged in comparison to the original, but on its own merit. All you'd really get if you'd read the other one was spoilers.

Disclaimer: If I owned BBT, Penny's reflections of Omaha would be realistic. I'm going to break some hearts here but there is no Junior Rodeo in Omaha. That shit's in Fremont. But I will bend and presume Penny lives somewhere between Fremont and Omaha. My point is I obviously don't own the show.

Paternal Catalyst Reformulation

Chapter 1

Blue Moon

Without opening my eyes I knew the sun wasn't up yet. The light on the other side of my eyelids was a rich blue, that really pretty color the sky turns right before the sun breaks. But I didn't care how pretty the light was right then. I just wanted it to go away because it hurt like the dickens. It was like someone was driving nails into each of my eyes. When I tried to bury my face further in my pillow to get away from the devil light, a shock of nausea hit me. Well, I've had those two symptoms enough to recognize the symptoms of a hangover. What the hell? Before I'd gone to that party last night, I'd promised myself I wasn't going to have more than a couple shots the entire night. I didn't just tell myself that; I'd told Amber as well. Since she was our designated driver for the night, I put her in charge of cutting me off because I had to work the opening shift the next day. I should've known better than to depend on Amber. She hated confrontation and could easily be swayed with drunk-logic.

Eyes still closed, I decided then that there was no way I could sober up in just a few hours, at least not well enough to drive. Yeah, I probably could've taken the bus or, if I got really desperate, asked Bernadette to pick me up. I'd worked the opening shift hungover before and it absolutely horrible. You don't get very big tips when your skin has a greenish tinge to it. Then again it was also Friday mornings. The only customers I got were old people on their weekly field trips from the retirement community. Some of them were sweethearts but a distressingly large number thought 5% was a good enough tip.

However, I really couldn't afford to lose those six hours of pay. Well, technically I could, but only if I didn't pay a couple bills. And I only ate ramen. To be fair, I wasn't really hungry for anything at the moment. But I would be eventually and it would be the mature thing to suck it up and go in, I'd decided. But then a fresh wave of nausea hit me from the sheer thought of moving. No, I couldn't go in like this. I might just blow chunks on someone. More than shitty tips, I'd risk my job. The mature thing would be not to go sabotage my one paying job. Maybe I could just go donate plasma or something. 'Mmpf,' I moaned into the pillow.

... and froze when there was an answering snort.

My first thought was it was a pig. While this suggestion was probably heavily influenced by all the booze, it wasn't too far fetched. I used to sleepwalk as a little girl and once when I was staying with my cousins on their farm, I woke up in the middle of the pig pen. I only woke up when one of the pigs stuck her snout right into my eye. You do not know how truly weird a pig snout feels until it is jammed in your eye socket.

But while that would be the better alternative, I knew that snort didn't come from a pig. For one, there are no farms in Pasadena city limits. Secondly, while pigs are not as dirty as people commonly think, they do have a particular smell and that smell was obviously absent. All I could smell was laundry detergent, in fact.

But not my detergent and that was way scarier than a pig snout could ever be.

As much as I wanted to keep my eyes closed and pretend I wasn't there, it was time to open them as slowly as humanly possible, to try to acclimate my eyes to the searing pre-dawn light. I squinted and tried to make out my surroundings. The room's curtains were drawn, letting very little light filter in, which I was grateful for; my head throbbed with what little light there actually was. The light was too faint for me to be able to make out any details. All I saw were the basic silhouettes of furniture but it was enough that I confirmed two theories:

1. I was not in my own bedroom.

2. I wasn't the only one in the bed.

I snapped my eyes back shut. OK, Penny. Don't panic! Maybe I had crashed at Amber's house. Maybe she'd decided to drink, too. The house party was only a few blocks away from her apartment. Maybe Amber drank and we just walked back to her house. I was pretty sure she knew the hostess so her car was probably safe there. There was something niggling at the back of my mind at that thought but whenever I tried to bring it into focus it flitted away. It definitely had something to do with a car. I was probably along the right track, then. I took a breath and shakily whispered, 'Amber—' when an arm I hadn't realized had been under me unexpectedly tightened around my waist, pulling me flush against the body. I instinctively resisted, putting my hands out to push against the body but to no avail. The arm around me might as well have been a solid steel bar for all the good that did. The chest beneath my hands was flat and a bit hairy.

OK so not Amber then.

Spazzy Penny! Oh, good god I panicked way too easily. It was probably just Leonard, then. It had to be. He was supposed to be out of town for a couple days for a convention or symposium or something like that. But maybe he'd come back early? 'Leonard?'

He didn't answer, but he didn't need to. Because I had opened my eyes and found that I'd either sobered up a little or the room had gotten brighter. Either way, I could definitely see the man's face was most definitely not Leonard's.

At that horrific realization, whatever was in my stomach gurgled threateningly. I had just enough time to roll backwards off the bed, land somehow on my hands and knees, and get my head over the small trash can that was conveniently right there before everything came out. Three rounds later, my stomach was sore but empty and I felt safe enough to sit back against the nightstand. I shivered and looked down in surprise.

I wasn't wearing anything but a bra and panties.

Oh god, oh god. No, no, no, no-no-no. I wanted to throw up all over again! I had cheated on Leonard! Leonard, probably the sweetest boyfriend I'd ever had, and I'd cheated on him! Ugh, I hated people who cheated. I'd been cheated on by guys enough times and I knew how hurtful it was. I had absolutely no sympathy for cowards who had an affair. I'd even prided myself on not being one of those girls who even flirted with other guys! If any guy showed the remotest interest, I would always make it obvious I was taken and would nip that right in the bud. Always.

I looked at the prone figure. Except not always.

A fresh wave of shame hit me. What a stupid, stupid bimbo. How could I do this! Being drunk was not an excuse! Alcohol only lowered inhibitions; it didn't turn you into something you weren't. And apparently deep down I was the worst sort of person. I glared at the object of my doom, hating him, whoever he was. But then the hate dissipated almost immediately. Oh, it wasn't his fault. I was the one who had a boyfriend, I was the one responsible for not cheating.

I immediately decided I had to 'fess up and tell Leonard. It would hurt him, and probably ruin any friendship we could hope to have. I owed it to him, though. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I kept on like everything was grand. He deserved to know.

First things first: I had to get out of there. Having that awkward morning-after conversation the agent of my demise wouldn't do anybody any good. If I was quick enough maybe I could sneak out before he woke up. I took a couple deep breaths until I felt like I could probably stand up without throwing up. Anyway my stomach was empty. I sort of crawled up the nightstand until I was standing. The room gave a sharp lurch but fortunately it quickly righted itself. Goosebumps crawled up and down my arms. Crap, it was cold.

OK step one before the first thing was to find my dress. I knew I'd at least worn it to the party; that much I remembered. I looked down at the floor. There was enough light in the room that I thought I'd be able to make out a dress-shaped lump somewhere. Except there was nothing to even suggest a dress. It wasn't bad news quite yet. I could only see half the floor between the bed being in the way and the muddy shadows. Using the bed frame as a guide, I very quietly and very slowly made my way around to the end of the bed to the other side. Nothing but bare floor. OK, next option. The floor creaked under my weight and I froze, carefully watching the figure. He didn't move. Careful not to move too quick, I lowered my body to peer underneath the bed. It was dark under there but I could clearly see a strip of light from the other side with nothing obscuring it. To be absolutely sure I swept my arm out. Nothing. This place was hotel room clean, freakishly, totally clean. Like, clean enough that it would even get Sheldon's stamp of approval.

Well, it had to be somewhere. I mean, surely I had to have worn it in, right? God, at least let me have that last shred of dignity!

I stood up carefully, trying to deduce where it could've gone. He kept the place really clean, so maybe he was a neat-freak and had hung my dress in the closet? Idiot, I scolded myself. Nobody's that bad, except maybe Sheldon. The man in question let out a little huff, sounding vaguely annoyed and I came back to my senses. Ok, you know what? Screw the dress. It was a stupid clearance sale thing that was actually a little bit itchy, anyway. Plus, I wouldn't want it to remind me of when I became the thing I hated. In fact, I'd rather not remember last night at all. Without even deciding to do it, I'd been avoiding studying his face too hard, not wanting it to trigger some sort of memory. Ugh, I just wanted to leave. And my window of getting out undetected was getting smaller by the minute. But I also couldn't walk outside in an unfamiliar neighborhood in nothing but my underwear! Improvise, Penny!

I'd just steal some of his clothes. I mean, I was leaving him my dress so it wasn't even stealing, really; it was more of an even trade. I could make out a set of sliding doors and I lightly stepped over to it, figuring it to be his closet. Whoever this guy was, he must've recently WD-40'd the track because it was whisper-quiet and slid easily. I didn't want to push my luck, though and only opened it far enough that I could fit my arm in. My hand hit fabric and I heard a clacking of hangers. I froze as another annoyed huff came from the bed. When there was no other noise, I very gingerly grabbed a hanger at random and eased it up and off. I held up the item and was in luck: it was a t-shirt. Who the hell hangs their t-shirts? Remembering the whole gift-horse-mouth thing, I pulled it on. While I'd managed not to make too much noise when I'd pulled it out, I didn't want to risk making more noise putting the hanger back in. I decided just to leave it on the soft carpet.

I waffled. Should I risk searching for a set of his sweatpants? I would feel much better if I had some sort of bottoms on. On the other hand, that shirt was longer than some dresses I owned. When there was yet another noise from the man in the bed, I had my decision: Other hand it is, then.

In a weird sort of tip-toe and run hybrid, I skittered out of the room without a sound. I found myself at the end of the hallway and, hoping I was heading toward the exit, I began walking toward the opposite direction. But when I came to the end of the hallway, all thoughts of escape dribbled right out my ears. For it was much brighter out here than in that bedroom and what I could see was very, very familiar. It was Sheldon and Leonard's living room.

Oh, good golly, Miss Molly, I about fainted in relief. My legs turned to jelly and I slumped against the wall. I felt so stupid. Of course it was Leonard! I had been right the first time! I was clearly still drunk and had panicked over nothing. Spazzy Penny strikes again! I peered down at the shirt I was wearing and there was indeed some logo on it I'd seen before. It was Star Wars or superheroes or something. Of course I wouldn't cheat! A little giggle escaped me. It was actually a little funny in hindsight. It would probably be even funnier when I was feeling better. I turned around and went back the way I came. Maybe Leonard was up, wondering where I had gone. I hoped he hadn't woken up because I kind of just wanted to get back to sleep.. I'd tell him in the morning. Or afternoon. Whenever I woke up.

The door was open and I had slipped in before I took in the man on the bed before me. It wasn't Leonard

It was Sheldon.

My first thought was that I was in the Twilight Zone. Quickly following that thought was a more sober one: that I'd somehow gotten disoriented and went into the wrong room on accident. I was so drunk I'd gotten lost in their short hallway. Wow, OK. I really needed to sober up. I backed out into the hallway. I made sure I headed toward the correct bedroom this time, feeling, for the second time in less than five minutes, incredibly foolish. The story of Hansel and Gretel sprang to mind and I idly wished for some breadcrumbs to drop since I was clearly in no state to navigate. Weren't pirates always drunk? I wondered, padding over to Leonard's open bedroom door. They didn't have GPS then; how didn't they get lost at sea? Or did they get lost and their disappearances were where the Bermuda Triangle legend came from? I'd ask Sheldon later, I decided.

...and immediately forgot all about piracy when I took in the state of Leonard's room. The bed was empty and in complete contrast to the rest of the room, made. The rest of the room was a mess. There were books on every available surface. A stack of them had fallen off his nightstand and laid in a pile on the floor. They had a soft landing, though, as clothes were discarded all over the room. The room jerked to one side and I gripped the door frame. Where had all this stuff come from? The floor had been clean! Sheldon-level clean!

No.

Maybe I really was in the Twilight Zone? Or maybe dreaming?

I found myself in front of Sheldon's door with no memory of the journey back. I peered in and my eyes immediately spotted the hanger I'd left on the floor. The smell of vomit drifted toward me. OK, so I had woken up in Sheldon's room! Leonard and I had once made out in Sheldon's spot; could it be that we turned the kinkiness up a few notches and had sex in Leonard's room? Except my eyes once again fell to the sleeping man and I knew now without a shadow of a doubt that it was Sheldon.

I must have blacked out for a second because next thing I knew I was outside his door again, just staring at it. I'd woken up in Sheldon's bed. What the hell was I doing in Sheldon's bed? I mean it was Sheldon so obviously nothing happened, right? Only I hadn't been dressed for nothing to happen.

And that's when I heard the worst possible thing:

'Penny?'

A/N: Writing sure takes you some weird places. I forgot the word 'track' and looked up 'sliding door' on wikipedia. First, it was surprisingly sparse. Since the article on the flushing toilet (seen in another trip down Wikipedia Lane) was a damn epic. Did you know they had sliding doors in ancient Pompeii?

Anyway read and review please. Unbeta'd still so feel free to point out any errors. Keep in mind that it is from Penny's perspective and, as Sheldon frequently points out, her grammar isn't exactly perfect. I intentionally left in some quirks.