a/n – Some Anvils Need to be Dropped. Preferably with a precise aim and malice aforethought.
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As they go down the stairs, Penelope hangs back, bites her lip, glances sideways.
"Um. Okay, so, I don't get it. You're me, right? 'Cos Sheldor says our worlds are a weird mirror, and we're kinda the same people?"
"You don't get why I'm stuck in some crappy apartment..."
"Oh, that's 'cos you don't get to do anything non-guy related except work, drink and buy shoes." Penelope waves that off. "No, I mean..." Drops her voice, "Leonard?"
Penny is sort of expecting it. She sighs.
"I just...thought he was sweet, and nice, okay? And I needed some nice in my life."
Penelope looks back. No, still the same short, badly-dressed man with the odd hair who has had his squinty eyes glued to her ass all evening.
"No, sorry. I still don't get it." She shrugs. "Maybe it's because I know Dranel."
"You never thought of giving him a chance?"
"No." No hesitation. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but with him, I think any girl would do. Just as long as she was pretty."
Penny sags.
She'd convinced herself that Leonard had to be different. Otherwise...otherwise, she's just going to feel stupid and cheap. But now, watching him watching Penelope, and knowing that he was comparing them, and that she was losing... everyone has a breaking point. And that was hers.
They'd broken up over something so dumb – she freaked out when he used the 'l' word, he bitched about it when she didn't. But she just wanted a boyfriend, okay, not hearing plans for the future that were all about him and the little house in the suburbs. She didn't feel that her life had even started yet, and he was already choosing baby names. So she panicked and wanted some space, and he jumped into bed with someone else – yeah, really, let's not forget "she let me" in there. And after that, it was just...oh, god, yes, poor decisions and alcohol.
Her life is starting to look less like a free-spirited and liberated young woman satisfying her needs, and a lot more like an insecure young woman being just a bit pathetic. It wasn't 'meant to be', or them always coming back to 'the one'. It was loneliness and horniness and familiarity and booze, and none of them were good reasons in the long term.
She doesn't want to be this whiny shell of who she was, pining after a guy who isn't a bad guy, but who simply isn't anything special. She needs to move on. She left a small town life, and a cheating ex, she needs to leave this behind, too.
"... Mountain Street to Seco Street and thus to Rosemont...Penny, are you listening to me?"
"Sorry, sweetie, just... thinking about the journey I have to make."
"That is exactly what I was outlining. Really, do I have to start over?"
Penny exhales.
"Yeah, I think so. You know what, honey? Sometimes, it's the only way."
And she grins at his indignant, bewildered expression.
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There's something a bit jarring about looking in her rear view mirror, and catching sight of her own face twice. Still, she doesn't check in it as often as she ought to, so hey, there's an upside, right? And there's something comforting and familiar about having Sheldon back in the passenger seat, glaring at the dashboard, but refraining from comment. He's got his laptop open, and some streetmap uploaded, all little arrows and flags. But driving through mostly deserted streets towards the Arroyo Seco is hardly taxing, and Penny is curious about Penelope's world. Not the whole magic versus science, amazing parallels bit, but the important stuff.
"...oh, yeah, we've got unicorns, Tranquillity's very fond of them. And Sheldor had a pet griffin as a child..."
"My sister tried to dress it in a little chain-mail tunic. That didn't end well." Sheldor shakes his head.
"...but fairies are a garden pest, and goblins are thieving little buggers." She grins. "Well, most of them."
Sheldor grumbles under his breath, something about glitter, and, inexplicably, socks. Penny doesn't ask. That sounds like one of those stories that can start a couple fighting. Which prompts all sorts of scary thoughts.
"So, do you, uh, spend a lot of time fighting, like, battles and stuff?"
"Oh, we don't go out looking for trouble. We just sit in the Dark Keep, and it kinda comes to us." Penelope shows her teeth. "If someone tries to kill you, then you should get to kill them right back, yeah?"
"It's a very practical method of improving the general population. Anyone stupid enough to attack a vast and ominous fortress defended by sorcery, a dragon, and a very large number of orcs, really needs to be removed from the gene pool."
Penny has to admit that it sounds fair, when they put it that way. A real Castle Doctrine, only with big swinging axe thingies, and lava pits.
She's not expecting the Highway Patrol to flag them down. It's just a lone officer, leaning down and talking in through windows. But old panic is stirring, the familiar litany of are her tail-lights working, has she got any shit in the car she really doesn't want found, and yeah, with that thought, the whole new panic of having two cheerily homicidal warriors and a highly-strung blabbermouth in here with her.
"It's probably a good thing the minions aren't here. You would not wish to be in a confined space with them under pressure." Sheldor remarks. "Taru has a weak bladder, Shlaym perspires freely, and Dranel could play you an amusing medley of folk tunes with his gaseous emissions."
"That sounds... familiar." Sheldon says.
"Could you please not kill anybody right now because I really don't wanna go to prison." Penny says in a rush. "Keep quiet and let me deal with this, and yeah, that means you, too, Sheldon."
This time, running away is not an option. She's literally in the driving seat here. She rolls down the window. The patrol woman glances inside the car.
"You folks come from a costume party?" She looks between them again, and does a double-take. "Twins?"
"I know." Penny manages a light laugh. "But it just seemed to work out that way. Crazy, huh?"
And thankfully the patrol woman laughs, too.
"Sure is. Now, if you were planning on taking the I-210 anyplace, I'm afraid half the northbound lanes are closed past Arroyo Boulevard."
Penny actually feels Sheldon go tense, even though she has her head turned. Penelope casually leans forward, one hand on Sheldor's knee, the other resting on Sheldon's shoulder. Both men freeze obediently. Penny opens her eyes wide.
"Wow, sounds bad."
"Just an over-turned eighteen-wheeler. Should have it cleared soon. But you might want to find an alternate route. You folks have a good night now."
"Thank you, ma'am." Penny keeps that smile on her face, and winds the window. "Don't freak out, Sheldon." She adds, through her teeth.
"I was merely going to observe that that is quite consistent with the plotted route." Sheldon says, offended, as the grip on his trapezius muscle releases.
"Yeah, and then we'd have to explain what we were looking for." Penny fiddles with the radio, looking for a traffic report.
"...claims a 'freak tornado' hit the truck and tossed it across the highway. Driver Nikolai Dobrynich, 53, was pulled from the cab, shaken but unhurt..."
"A eighteen-wheeler sounds big." Penelope says in a tight voice.
"We'd have heard if they'd found...anything." Penny is aware that she can't be more comforting right now. "Sheldon, I say we turn north, and concentrate on the upper end of the park."
"I agree." Sheldon is already revising his navigation. "Time is now of the essence."
"I believe I can assist here." Sheldor says. "I think I have the hang of this, now."
Penny's eyes open wide. Ahead of them, all along the intersections, every single stoplight is turning green.
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"Sheldon, we're not hiking up Mount Wilson. I don't think you need the whole Kitbag of Doom, okay?"
He looks a little mutinous, but rummages about, produces a smaller knapsack.
"I think you'll agree that a first aid kit and flashlights would be prudent?"
"Yeah." She's got a small flashlight in the car, but it's been a while since she checked the batteries. She bites her lip, and looks over to where Sheldor is talking in a low voice to Penelope. He seems just as awkward attempting comfort as Sheldon does, but she smiles up at him anyway. Penny sighs.
"Sheldon, do you think she's...better than me?"
He looks at her, bemused.
"I have no idea what scale of arbitrary values you wish to judge against. She is different from you, of course, but...if you had been born in that world, then that is what you would have been."
She stares at him hard, but there's no tic.
"So...that means you think you'd be him?"
"Given the straightforward equivalence of sword and sorcery for football and physics, it would appear so." He doesn't quite look at her, then, a flush on his cheekbones. "Of course, they do seem to participate in a far more physical lifestyle."
"Oh, boy, do they ever."
"What?"
"Never mind."
Penelope is clearly a woman who goes out and grabs life by the throat, and then basically punches it in the face until it hands over happiness. Sheldor clearly adores her – because, hello, tearing a hole in the universe? - and she glows when she looks at him. And they might well have that whole 'rip each other's clothes off and break up the furniture' thing going on, but there is also a tenderness in the way he shakes out his cloak to wrap it round her shoulders, and fond indulgence in the way she listens to him lecture.
And Sheldor is Sheldon. The fluid gestures of those long hands, the way his face lights up with enthusiasm as he babbles on, earnestly trying to share something only he can truly understand. Despite the sword and armour, those are the same wide blue eyes, the same lift of the eyebrows, the same little excited half-smile. The same terrifying intelligence, the same way of setting his shoulders that suddenly makes that tall, skinny frame intimidating, the same monumental self-confidence and...the same utter lack of common sense.
Penny and Penelope both grab an excitedly gesturing male before they step out into the path of an oncoming car, which swerves and blares. Lewd gestures and catcalls float from the windows.
Sheldon glares at the retreating tail-lights. Sheldor scowls, and mutters under his breath. Halfway across the lot, there comes the sound of all four wheels falling off.
Penny realises that she has armour plate under her hands, and not Kevlar, at the same time that Sheldon realises that the small, strong hands gripping his sweater are not his neighbour. But there really isn't time to stop and sort it out, because the owner of the wrecked car is struggling out of the vehicle, along with his passengers.
"He's not happy about that." Sheldon observes, just a hint of trepidation, but no censure.
"He's going to be even less happy when he sees what I turned the engine into." Sheldor says, darkly.
The distant sound of screaming begins as they reach the fence.
It has occurred to Penny that this incarnation of Sheldon might well have put something nastier than moths in Leonard's food. (Experiment, her foot. If the guy can bear a grudge over a missed convention for years, sooner or later, that can-opener stunt was gonna come back to bite them in the ass.)
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Leonard winces as he drops into his chair. Raj looks appropriately terrified.
"Wh...what did they do to you?"
"Only way they could take blood without me passing out." Leonard explains wearily. "Has Howard come round yet?"
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Sheldon follows Penny across the grass. Strange things are happening in his head. Not just the challenge to his perspective on the fundamental principles governing the physical laws of the universe, but a challenge to his perspective on the fundamental principles governing Sheldon Lee Cooper.
He had not been particularly surprised when Penelope flung herself at Sheldor, after her reaction to him. But Sheldor's response had shocked him, the more than willing acceptance of her touch on his person. Sheldon can understand that he was relieved to have her back, that it is a convention to express that relief with an embrace, that Penelope is, in common with his Penny, a demonstrative person. But there is nothing in his own experience, nothing to explain that absolute surrender of his mouth to hers. Just a strange, sick feeling under his ribcage, something a little like hunger, something a little like pain.
Something horribly like... envy? Which is ridiculous. Why would he want to participate in something so...
Unknown. He isn't used to not knowing. And he's watched those around him struggle and waste their time and energy, and fail, and he doesn't fail.
(Except when he does, and everybody laughs at him, sickening humiliation. So much safer not to risk something he can't control, can't understand.)
He himself had been assaulted by Beverley, on practically the same spot. He had been horrified, numb, as a woman he respected, his room-mate's mother, had breathed alcohol and germs over him, and pressed her lips against his. Similarly, when Amy had surrendered to some baser impulse while intoxicated. It had not been pleasant or arousing, or anything but deeply uncomfortable and distressing.
But he had seen Sheldor's face, and even he could recognise that blaze of happiness. And there is a growing suspicion that perhaps there is something more here than banal carnality or mere biology.
Sheldon really doesn't like not knowing something.
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"This isn't the way things are supposed to work, you know?"
"Look," Raj says, wearily, "there isn't any way to put this on Sheldon, okay? He wasn't even there."
"We snuck off without him because he was being his usual anal self."
"I just don't think 'because he's annoying' is gonna work this time."
"But it always has before." Leonard whines. "I get to play the sympathy card for putting up with him, and however obnoxious we are, we always deflect the blame and get people to laugh at him instead."
They think about that for a moment.
"Anybody else think that kinda sucks?" Raj asks, eventually. Howard shrugs.
"Well, let's face it, without Sheldon, we wouldn't stand out from any other group of socially stunted nerd stereotypes."
Leonard frowns at him.
"But I thought we'd established that I'm the hub of our social grouping?"
"Maybe, but there are people out there who might find you smug and creepy and a little bit desperate."
"No, people like me." Leonard protests. "I'm an unassuming everyman hero, striving to find love, and thus escape the geek stereotype and integrate into the normal world. Why should I get side-lined in favour of a tall, abrasive supergenius with no social skills?"
"Because, alternatively, you're just a horny schmuck who wanted to nail the dumb blonde next door?"
"Besides," Raj says, "This is the age of the re-boot, man. It's Spock that gets the girl, now, Sherlock Holmes is a hot bishie, and the Doctor definitely dances."
