A/N When I first started writing this it was going to be about 1500 words.

Um... *scratches head in bewildered fashion*

Hope you enjoy!


The Dutch Courage Syndrome

The first time she kisses Leonard it's right before their date.

She has been uncharacteristically nervous all day.

Guys, dating - people - this is something she's never had to strive at. Never had to second guess. But this is the first time she's tried to date a friend; a friend that comes with three others attached.

Leonard's friendship is precious to her - and so is he. The last thing she wants to do is start something, and then hurt him. The last thing she wants to do is put herself in a difficult position.

One wrong move and she could lose them all.

She's so nervous, she has a glass of wine to settle her nerves while she gets ready. Its warmth is still curling in her chest when Leonard's lips meet hers.

The two sensations seem to mingle so that she can't tell where one begins and the other ends.

She is relieved the cat's alive.


Penny came awake slowly, unwilling to give up the anaesthesia of sleep. Her mind knew before her body what she was letting herself in for.

Pain was beating out a tattoo against her skull, culminating in shooting spikes in her left eyeball. Still half-asleep, she applied pressure with the heel of her hand and the pain lifted for a few blessed seconds, allowing her to become aware that every joint in her body was aching like the early stages of 'flu.

The effort of holding her arm up was too great and she allowed it to fall. The pain returned with a vengeance and brought a wave of sickness with it for good measure. She clamped her teeth against it and moaned through closed lips.

"There's water and aspirin in the cup carrier and a basin at your feet if you need to void your stomach."

Penny pried one eye open - the right one - and immediately regretted it when the California sun hit it like a club. It snapped shut in self-defence.

Wait... cup carrier?

Background signals she'd been ignoring began to make their presence felt. The vibrating floor beneath her feet, the crick in her neck from sleeping sitting upright, the fact she'd fallen asleep sitting upright...

She's in her car, sitting in the passenger seat; Sheldon's driving.

She braved the sun again and grabbed the water bottle from the cup carrier, downing its contents along with two aspirin. She almost immediately felt a little better.

Wait... Sheldon's driving?

"What the...? Sheldon, why the heck are we in my car and why the hell are you driving?"

He did that thing where he zeroes in on the part of the conversation he is most comfortable answering. "Because whilst no longer inebriated, you are not physically or mentally capable of undertaking the task yourself."

"But... what...? What do you mean? Why do we need to drive anywhere? Where are we going!" Her voice tried to rise in shrill inquiry, but the pain in her head immediately objected.

He paused uncharacteristically before answering. She could see the knuckles of his hands turn white on the wheel.

"We're going to the rehabilitation centre."


The second time she kisses Leonard, they're doing shots.

Leonard's mom has crawled under her skin, aggravating wounds she'd half forgotten were there. Awakening the voice that tells her she's a disappointment to her dad, that just by being a girl she's somehow shamed him.

Growing up she'd blot out that voice with liquor and boys - sorta like earning the punishment you've already taken.

When Leonard comes knocking she's more than ready to take him up on the explicit offer of tequila, and implied offer of something more.

She makes her body a canvas for the alcohol and invites Leonard to taste.


She blinked repeatedly, bewildered and uncomprehending, then the words sank in and realisation hit like a punch of hurt and anger:

"You think I'm a drunk?!"

"No. I am positing that you have a dependency on alcohol, which differs from alcoholism as patients may learn to control their usage. The dependent can develop a social learning approach that helps them to cope with external pressures and relearn their pattern of drinking alcohol. This is in contrast to alcoholism, wherein patients are generally not presumed to be in remission unless they are totally abstinent."

Ignoring the Sheldon-speak, Penny focused in on the important part: "I do not have a dependency on alcohol!"

Sheldon's gaze never wavered from the road and he spoke in a clipped monotone:

"Individuals dependent on alcohol drink every day and/or regularly to excess. Alcohol usage progresses from a social activity to something they will undertake even when alone or the only one partaking. Usage ceases to be sporadic or circumstantial - it becomes normative. To the degree that without it, individuals may struggle to undertake mundane activities, practically and emotionally."

Penny was still shaking her head in disbelief. The bizarreness of the situation clashed with the all-too-familiar scenario of receiving a lecture from Sheldon. But this was a Sheldon lecture on her, on her drinking - on her life...

Something like panic hollowed out her stomach.

Words exploded out of her with violent force:"God, Sheldon! Not everyone is like you! Just because you choose to live like a joyless, neutered monk-!" His hands tightened on the wheel again; she cut herself off, feeling guilty in spite of her anger. She knew better than to raise her voice around Sheldon, not when he was already upset. And, besides, it had set her head clanging again. She moderated her tone and tried again: "Sheldon, honey, drinking doesn't have to be a big deal. It's just how I like to cut loose - take the edge off. You know, like you do with flags, or comics... or trains... You know, really we should be talking about you. Clearly you have some problems..."

Her attempt at flippancy fell flat. After a moment, Sheldon continued speaking:

"On November 22, 2011, you spent the evening playing Twister with Amy Farrah-Fowler and Bernadette. You were the only one drinking. You imbibed red wine to the degree you lapsed out of consciousness. On July 26, 2013, Leonard was at sea and you were experiencing negative emotion towards his absence. Throughout the evening you exhibited classic markers of physical and mental discomfort because there was no alcohol in the apartment to help you process those feelings. On March 13, 2014, you were unable to participate in Rajesh's murder mystery game without first ingesting alcohol. Again, you were the only one drinking. You drank four 'clues' that evening without evincing any physical effects. Such a level of physiological tolerance is only possible when there are high levels of alcohol dehydrogenase and aldehyde dehydrogenase in the liver, which in turn is only possible when alcohol consumption is unhealthily high."

Freaky whack-a-doodle and his freakin' eidetic memory! Although... laid out like that... it didn't sound great.

She mentally shook herself. "Sweetie, I just think your perspective on this is a little skewed 'cos every time you've gotten drunk something bad has happened. You don't hear anyone else saying anything, right? If I had a problem don't you think my fiancé would have noticed?"

Sheldon snorted softly. "Hardly. Leonard is a quintessential enabler. His need to be liked and not 'lose' people engender an unconscious resistance to confronting ugly situations. In point of fact, subconsciously he'll do everything he can to prolong them. His mother and I have discussed it several times." There was another pause. "And he's not your fiancé anymore."


The first time she and Leonard have sex, he's just got back from the North Pole.

The happiness at seeing him after so long apart bubbles over like champagne; she presses her joy against his lips in little kisses.

Sheldon's pain pops the bubbles; her worry over him running away is sobering as coffee.

After Leonard's done the right thing and brought him home again, he deserves to catch a break. And she's been missing him for months.

The sex isn't awful, but it is weird.

Afterwards, they agree they should have had a little wine first.

It would have helped take the edge off.


Sheldon eased the hand brake on, making far more of a production of it than necessary. Only once the gear stick was back in "park", the engine turned off and the chair carefully pushed back to the optimum distance did he unclip his seatbelt and turn to face her.

She glared at him, arms folded. "I'm not going in there, Sheldon."

His eyes roved over her face, like a Physics problem he was trying to solve. "Penny, how much of last night do you remember?"

She thrust her jaw out mulishly. "I remember all of it, Sheldon. It doesn't make any difference. I don't need to talk to a shrink."

He blew air out between his lips. "Please - your recollection is more hole-ridden than Swiss cheese!"

Her gaze wavered. "Okay, fine! After the fifth shot, things get a little fuzzy... but it can't be that bad."

He smiled thinly. "Allow me to furnish you with the highlights and transform it into a nice cheddar." He really was getting good at sarcasm. "After Leonard walked out, you told Wolowitz his taste in clothes made Urkel look fashionable."

Penny shifted uncomfortably. "Okay, not the nicest thing I've ever said but that's not-"

"You told Amy that she was weird and controlling in our relationship."

Penny's eyes widened as memory started creeping back like a trickle of cold sweat. "Oh, God."

Sheldon continued inexorably. "You told Emily about your previous coitus with Raj and what she could expect from him 'in the sack'."

"Oh, God..."

"Apparently, not much."

"Oh, God..." She sank her head into her hands, in equal parts horror and shame.

"After everyone left, you declared that you were going to wait for Leonard to return so that you could 'have it out with him', as the common vernacular has it, and then spent the rest of the night alternating between throwing up in the toilet and throwing up on my bathroom floor."

"Sheldon, I am sooo sorry!" Penny peeped up at him, round-eyed, hands still pressed to her mouth in horror.

His gaze shifted, staring straight ahead. "Between voidings of your stomach, you told me several things. Firstly, that I was your best friend. Secondly, that tequila was the devil's urine. And, thirdly, that I had to help you. You made me promise that I would help make sure you were never in this position again." A few seconds ticked by as she looked at him in horrified fascination; he turned his head and met her gaze. "I always keep my promises, Penny."


The first time she sleeps with Leonard after their break-up she's 100% sure it's the right thing to do.

Hanging around four geniuses has ruined her for normal guys.

She can't go back to the guys she used to date - she can't go back to who she was.

After five whiskeys and chasers, she decides she made a mistake breaking up with him and goes to his room.

The morning brings a screaming headache, a mouth like the Sahara and the reminder that Jack Daniels logic rarely holds up in the light of day.


Dr. Nielsen had a kind face. It was mostly hidden by an impressive curling beard, but above it brown eyes crinkled.

He reminded her of Leonard - what Leonard would be like in another twenty years. Or what Leonard had been like before everything went to crap between them.

Unaccountably, it made her a little less uncomfortable.

Though that didn't stop her fidgeting.

Dr. Nielsen reached over and handed her the Rubik's Cube that adorned his desk. She smiled at him gratefully and began absently twisting the faces back and forth. She'd never managed to successfully finish one.

"So... Penny. Why are you here?"

"'Cos my whack-a-doodle neighbour's a pain in the ass..." she muttered.

He lowered his chin and peered at her over the top of his glasses, his expression friendly. "So there's nothing worrying you? Nothing you want to talk about...?"

"Look, I'm not an alcoholic, okay?" she blurted.

"Okay," he said agreeably.

"I tended bar at the Cheesecake Factory for years, plus I grew up in Nebraska where there's only two things to do for fun: tipping cows or drinking booze. I know alcoholics. And I'm nothing like them." She recalled the bloodshot eyes, the sad, saggy faces. The hopelessness.

She was still (mostly) young, and still totally hot. (Even if she was a little tired round the eyes after nine plus years of waitressing.)

"I'm nothing like them," she said again.

"But?" Dr. Nielsen asked.

Penny bristled slightly. "What do you mean, 'but'?"

"You have a very expressive face, Penny - and your face just expressed a 'but'."

"So... maybe I have been drinking more often. More than I used to. More than maybe I should be..." Sheldon's examples jangled in her head, reigniting her almost-gone hangover. "And now stupid Sheldon's put the stupid idea in my head and I just wonder..." She trailed off.

"Where it might lead?" Dr. Nielsen supplied.

Penny nodded.

Dr. Nielsen leant forward, resting his arms on his legs. "Penny, I see a lot of people in this job. And, yes, I've seen a lot of people with addictions, but that's not the only people I help. Now, I look at you and what I see is a vibrant young woman, used to having the world at her feet, but for some reason she isn't very happy. And you've learnt certain behaviours to cope with that."

She recalled Sheldon's words. "Patterns of behaviour?" It was Dr. Nielsen's turn to nod. "So... so, I could learn new ones?"

Dr. Nielsen nodded again. "That's right. But first we have to figure out where those patterns came from. What would you say to coming along and talking to me for an hour a week?"

"I can't afford a lot of sessions..." Hell, judging by the richness of his office and the certificates all over the wall, she could barely afford this one. Only the best for Dr. Sheldon Cooper (only the best for his best friend).

For the first time since she'd sat down, Dr. Nielsen looked a little perturbed. "Uh, Dr. Cooper suggested you might be concerned about this. He said to tell you that the contents of his hollowed out superhero buttocks are at your disposal." Penny's mouth twitched. "Seriously? You got that? You really do need therapy..."

She was surprised into a laugh.


The first time she proposes she's bombed.

Her career is in the toilet so she figures her head might as well be.

Throughout all the compromises and disappointments, the years of hauling dishes, dealing with sleazes and being under-tipped, she's gotten through by telling herself it's only temporary. That she only has to live this life until her big break comes along.

So when she gets the part in the procedural, she knows the years of paying her dues are finally done.

And when she finds out her part was cut, the edge she's been teetering on crumbles beneath her.

Ten years of her life, and for what?

It feels like drowning - and what's that saying about drowning your sorrows?

When Leonard reminds her she still has him, it's like a life raft.

She grabs hold of it and holds on tight.

She won't be lost beneath the waves.


"Penny, why do you insist on coming over every morning and stealing my juice?" Sheldon asked with an exasperated whine, holding on to his glass. It meant his hand remained in contact with hers as she tried to take it from him, but he didn't react.

She widened her eyes at him and deliberately spoke brightly. "Where else would I get fresh o.j. with pulp?"

"Maybe from your own apartment?" he suggested acidly.

"I don't have oranges."

"You could buy some."

"I don't have a juicer."

"I'll get you one for Saturnalia."

"I'd miss the sparkling morning conversation." Her face was deadpan.

"Hmm." Sheldon looked off to the side in consideration, then nodded. He released his hold on the glass. "That's fair." He walked around the counter and got down another one. "Speaking of morning conversation, I have some news to share with you."

"Oh, really?" Penny chirped. "You finally prove the string thingies have loops in?"

"'The string thingies have loops-'?" Sheldon's mouth had dropped open in outrage. "Are you drinking again?"

She scowled at him. "No!"

"Well, that is the only explanation I can possibly countenance for that gross conflation of two entirely conflicting-"

"Calm down, Sheldonia." Penny rolled her eyes. "I'm just yanking your chain. What was your good news?"

He paused. "I didn't say it was good, merely acknowledged the time of day at which we are speaking and-"

"Sheldon, at this rate, the time of day at which we are speaking will be the time of night at which we are speaking. Any chance you could get to the point?"

"Fine." Sheldon huffed. "My news is that I considered the theorem you postulated and can confirm the results."

Penny wrinkled her nose. "Uh?"

"The night that you and Leonard broke off your betrothal you postulated that Amy Farrah-Fowler was exhibiting controlling behaviour in our relationship."

Penny opened and closed her mouth a few times. "Sheldon... that wasn't even - I was just... That was just the alcohol talking!"

He pursed his lips pensively. "Alcohol impairs neurotransmitters in the frontal lobe of the brain and thereby one's ability to reason and contemplate repercussions; it does not stimulate the occipital or parietal lobes which are generally linked to imagination, therefore one can assume that what is said whilst 'under the influence' is more likely to be truthful than not. 'In vino veritas', to borrow the common parlance."

Penny rolled her eyes a little. "Oh, sure, very common..." She tilted her head, a little baffled. "When did you learn so much about alcohol, anyway?"

"The same night you ended your engagement," he replied offhandedly. "Between checking on you every ten minutes to make sure you didn't asphyxiate on the regurgitated contents of your stomach I had a lot of dead time to fill... and I had a promise to keep."

Penny was quiet for a moment, touched and shamed by this revelation. She searched for the words to say thank you but the side of Sheldon's face was beginning to twitch. For someone with an ego the size of a planet, he didn't really like to be thanked.

She cleared her throat to make sure her voice didn't catch. "Okay - look, Sheldon, I'm sorry. It's not for me to comment on your relationship and-"

"The appropriateness of the remark is redundant," he cut across her. "The data stands. I reviewed the facts and tabulated multiple instances of manipulation. I was forced to conclude the theorem is sound."

Penny shifted her feet a little uneasily. "Meaning what?" She took another swig of the juice for something to do.

"Meaning I terminated our Relationship Agreement last night."

Penny sprayed o.j. across the kitchen counter.


The final time she and Leonard break up it's after a screaming match. The fourth they've had that week.

Lately all they seem to do is fight.

About whether or not she should quit waitressing, about whose career should come first, about the hypothetical number of their hypothetical children...

Getting engaged was supposed to bind them together. Instead, they seem to constantly pull in different directions.

Eventually she comes to the conclusion that being together sucks harder than being apart.

When the relationship ends there is nothing to distract her from the thoughts she's been resisting. About her life. Her fears. Her failures.

There's no comforting lie that Leonard is enough.

So she turns to the comfort she knows best.

And wakes the next morning in the passenger seat of her car.


"So it's really over between them?" Penny nodded, and Raj shook his head slightly. "You know, at first I figured it would be like last time: Sheldon would try to break it off but Amy would talk him into staying without him realising..."

Penny winced. "I think me telling him Amy manipulates him by doing stuff like that kinda stopped that from working this time." Raj pulled a "yikes" face. "I just feel so guilty, Raj." She finished pouring his virgin Grasshopper and pushed it across the counter to him.

He had suggested they have mocktails for their face pack and movie night. Other than Sheldon, he was the only one she had chosen to confide her current sobriety to. Other than Sheldon, he was the only one who had even seemed to notice the change in her lifestyle. Which she had to admit chafed a little.

Raj took a sip from his curly straw and smacked his lips in appreciation. "You can't feel guilty, Penny. You're not responsible for what Sheldon and Amy do."

Unconsciously, he was echoing Dr. Nielsen's words. Though Dr. Nielsen had followed them up by saying part of her problem was taking too much responsibility for others' emotional well-being and moulding her actions as a result. Something that apparently dated back to her "Slugger" days.

"Yeah, but if I hadn't said anything that night about Amy, Sheldon wouldn't have broken up with her."

"Well, I guess you struck a nerve for him. And you didn't say anything that wasn't true. It was just stuff Sheldon hadn't realised yet. And once he did know, he wasn't happy, so..." He shrugged his shoulders and took another sip from his drink.

"But Amy's my friend, too..."

"Enough that you'd want Sheldon to continue going out with her even though it's not what he really wants?"

That struck several nerves that were Penny's alone. "No..." she said softly. She bent down to her own drink.

"How's he doing anyway?" Raj asked. "I don't see him nearly as often since..." He trailed off, looking a little worried, leaving the unspoken words hanging in the air.

She smiled a little wryly. "You can say his name, Raj."

"Okay." He cleared his throat. "How is Sheldon doing since Leonard moved out?"

In spite of her flippancy, she braced herself for the stab of loss that accompanied hearing his name and wasn't sure whether to be glad or sad when it didn't happen. Her brow creased slightly as she considered Raj's question. "Actually... he's doing surprisingly well. No cats or glow-in-the-dark goldfish. Or even ponchos... I mean, he's over here a lot more - mostly to nag me to drive him somewhere or to make me come over to his where the environment is apparently more 'optimised'." She rolled her eyes.

Raj shook his head, half-smiling. "Same old Sheldon."

"Same old Sheldon," she agreed. But the words were slightly hollow. He wasn't the same old Sheldon, not entirely. And he hadn't been since he'd left after Penny and Leonard got engaged. The guy who returned had been both stronger and more fragile; as if he'd finally learnt an understanding of the world beyond the theoretical. Breaking up with Amy seemed to only have exacerbated the effect.

Exacerbated? He really was coming over too often...

"So..." Raj chirped as he picked up his drink and moved over to the couch. "What are you thinking for the face packs? I would like to try the strawberry mud pie - it's meant to be kick-ass at minimising pores." He caressed his cheek. "And I like the idea of adding some mocha to my caramel."


The first time she sees Leonard again he's moving his stuff out of 4A.

She comes out of her apartment to find him backing his way out of his.

She goes to leap back but guilt writhes like a corkscrew. He lived there before her, but he's the one going.

When she tells him she's sorry for how things ended, he reads between the cracks: she's sorry for the how, but not the ending.

He's always been smart enough to see through her, but that doesn't stop him staring at her, like he's hoping she'll disagree.

(He's always seen what he hopes for.)

This time pleading eyes aren't enough to hold her.

When he leaves, the cracks split open.

The release is a relief.

It's the first time she's ever followed through on a decision she made after drinking.


Penny slumped down on her couch, still in her waitressing uniform.

Asking for her job back at The Cheesecake Factory had to rank as one of the worst days ever. Sheldon had offered to cover her rent but considering he was already helping her with her sessions with Dr. Nielsen, she couldn't bring herself to take his money. So after the Serial Apist 2 had tanked, she'd not really had a choice.

Funny thing, though, as humiliating as it was working there, she still felt cleaner than she had wearing that gorilla costume.

Of course that didn't mean she was cleaner. The scent of fried food and stale coffee clung to her skin like a tattoo. But the bathroom felt a million miles away.

She weighed up the cost of getting up and showering versus just pulling off her shoes and pulling down the comforter... It was a Friday night, and only ten o'clock, but she'd been on her feet since eight that morning, and was more than ready to sleep.

So the knock at the door was far from welcome.

For a moment, she found herself wishing everyone had quirky individual knocks like Sheldon - it made it so much easier to decide whether you wanted to answer your door or pretend you're not at home. Not that she'd ever done that to Moonpie - she found threatening to punch his throat was enough to drive him away if she really didn't want to talk.

In her fatigue-induced fog, she found herself wondering if it was Leonard, and then she remembered - with a weird mix of regret and relief. Although, one nice thing about him moving out was that she didn't have to hide in the stairwells anymore.

Her next thought was that it might be a booty call, which was a logical progression: one-night stands generally came right after the hiding-in-stairwells phase.

She'd even tried it a couple of times post-Leonard, but turned out they were a lot more awkward if you weren't already drunk.

It wasn't Leonard, and it wasn't a booty call.

Amy raised the bottle of wine she held. "Fancy a nightcap?"

Penny felt a twinge of longing: nothing like a bottle of wine to unwind after a hard shift... nothing like a bottle of wine to make her forget she was still working shifts...

After a moment, she shook her head.

"Still detoxing, huh?"

"Yep," Penny replied, popping the "p", striving to keep the irritation from her voice. How had her friends still not noticed what was going on?

Nevertheless, she walked back into her apartment, leaving the door open.

"Damn it," Amy muttered, as she followed behind. "So much for greasing the wheels of awkward conversation with the lubrication of ethanol..." The corners of her mouth turned down. "You picked a fine time to find your inner Puritan... though if anyone can pull off the prudish penguin look it's you." she added meditatively.

"Amy..." Penny frowned. "What's going on?"

She drew in a long breath and took a step forward. "Bestie, I need to talk to you. And it's not going to be an easy conversation..."


The first time she sees Leonard and Amy together she breathes in sharply.

It isn't anger, isn't quite jealousy, but there's a sort of pain, a dull ache for the years she has lost to wrong choices.

It curdles in her chest like sour milk.

She longs for something to burn the taste away.

But she knows not to drink when she's unhappy. Just as she knows she can't blame others for her choices.

She plays Halo with Sheldon for three hours straight instead.

What's weird is it's not a Wednesday.

What's weirder is he's the one who suggested it.


"I still can't believe you're living with the Vulcan..."

"Howie..." Bernadette's tone was a warning.

"What? It's like..." he paused, searching for an analogy."Oil living with water!"

"Nitro living with glycerin," Raj piped up, nodding in agreement.

"Don't be preposterous," Sheldon scolded. "There have been no explosions since Penny moved in. In fact, there are no entries in the Accident & Injury logbook at all. Unlike when Leonard blew up the elevator." He glared at Leonard accusingly. "Also, the correct terminology is glyceryl trinitrate," he added in a rushed undertone.

"I gotta say, Bestie, I'm surprised at how well it seems to be working," Amy commented.

Penny shrugged. "Well, it just made sense. Splitting costs with Sheldon freed up a lot of my money. Means I only have to work a few hours a week at the restaurant but still afford some smokin' new headshots and acting classes... not to mention a buttload of new shoes!" She bounced on her toes with excitement.

"I bet you look amazing in the headshots, Penny," Emily said sweetly. "You look so great recently."

Penny's teeth flashed in a smile. "Aww, thank you!" She'd liked Emily from the first moment she met her, an impression that had only grown over time.

"It's true, Penny, you do. Have you been going to the gym more?" Bernadette asked.

"Actually, Sheldon and I have started running every day."

"Really?" Amy side-eyed Sheldon but addressed her remark to Penny, a habit she'd fallen into in the immediate aftermath of their break-up. "Is he worried about his mortality again?"

"Hardly," Sheldon scoffed. "It was a necessary codicil to the Roommate Agreement." Off the back of their looks, he continued. "Living with Penny is not unlike living with the overzealous offspring of a canine. If I don't regularly take her out for walks she becomes under-stimulated. Far better to sacrifice a little of my time than find her jumping on my bed again."

"I can't help it - I just have so much energy!" Penny grinned unrepentantly. "And your bed's so much bouncier than mine."

Howard gaped in stupefaction. "Penny, Sheldon just compared you to a dog - aren't you offended?"

Penny shrugged. "Not really. If I got hung up on all the implied insults, I'd have nothing left to deal with the outright ones."

Sheldon was looking at Howard blankly. "How is that an insult? Everyone loves puppies... in spite of their manifold flaws."

Penny continued to show her teeth, though it was less of a smile. "You're bordering on an outright one, sweetie," she warned. "Now, who wants pizza?"

She spoke with a relaxed cheerfulness that almost came without effort.

Turned out friendships were much harder without the cushion of booze.

At least, friendships where you used alcohol to cover over the cracks of feeling inadequate or having next to nothing in common were.

Funny, being around the guys had never really made her feel that way, but she'd come to recognise that although fights with Leonard had sometimes left her wondering if he thought she was stupid, day-to-day conversations with the girls had left her believing she actually was.

For people who'd been bullied at school, Amy and Bernadette really had the Mean Girls thing down.

Penny had had her part to play in that as well, of course, but realising they didn't really respect her, that she'd not only allowed but encouraged that attitude - it had left her with a lot of feelings to work through.

Leonard getting together with Amy hadn't exactly helped with the awkwardness either, and for a while all of their friendships seemed to hang in the balance.

But for all her "manifold" flaws, unforgiveness wasn't one of them. And since she wasn't prepared to give up the guys, that meant getting over her issues with the girls.

"Penny," Sheldon's tone was half-scold, half-whine: "Friday night is Chinese night from The Golden Dragon!"

"Sheldon." Penny pinned him with a look. "Do I have to get out the Roommate Agreement again?"

"No," he sighed, shoulders slumping, walking over to the desk drawer to get the take-out menu.

Amy's expression was weighing. "You modified the Roommate Agreement?"

"Yep," Penny popped the "p" with extra smugness. "I had my lawyer look at it."

Leonard's brow was creased with a frown, but he looked amused. "Since when do you have a lawyer?"

Penny looked proud. "I added Priya as a Skype friend."


The first time she hears her father cry it's when they find out her mother's sick.

It's after eleven, and Sheldon's long since gone to bed.

When she hears the dreaded "c" word, she hangs up the phone, walks to the nearest store and buys the first bottle to hand.

She sits on the couch staring at it, wondering if it means something that's it's Schnapps.

In the end it's not will power or strength that keeps her from drinking.

It's Sheldon's voice explaining the difference between dependency and addiction.

And the thought that right now her family is depending on her.

She plays his voice in a loop in her head.

Until the temptation drains away like an empty bottle.


Penny closed the door to their apartment with slightly more force than necessary. It sharply clicked closed, just short of a slam.

Sheldon looked up from his laptop with mild curiosity. His eyes tracked her face, her posture, her death grip on her purse strap. He turned to the pad alongside him and made some minor adjustment to the diagram he'd scrawled there.

"I take it the audition did not go well?"

She collapsed on the couch in his spot, some small mean part of her wanting to share her misery. It was a wasted effort since he remained sat at his desk with his back to her.

"Penny, have you ever considered that perhaps you are trying the wrong avenues?"

The sense of betrayal was like burning ice. Sheldon was trying to get her to quit? Sheldon? It was his support that had kept her going when Leonard had struggled to give it. And now he was telling her to try something else...?

"What happened to us both being dreamers?" She barely kept her voice even, but she couldn't believe he was pulling this crap. Especially after she'd convinced him to go back to string theory. She mentally snorted. Though that had been as much for her sake as his. Sheldon was string theory. He'd tried other "avenues" but none of them drove him the same way. And in the meantime he'd been driving her - driving her nuts.

It had taken a voicemail from Stephen Hawking to convince him to return to it (or rather to get him to admit he was desperate to) - and hadn't that taken some fast talking on her part after Sheldon had repeatedly drunk dialled him. In the end she'd appealed to his love of Physics - asked him to think about what discoveries might be lost if Sheldon took his brainpower elsewhere. He'd left the voicemail, and the light she'd missed without even realising it had come back into Sheldon's eyes.

"We are," he said obliviously, still writing on his pad. "I am merely suggesting a shift in focus to aid you to achieve yours."

"Oh." Penny said, warmth rushing back in a flood of relief. "Wait... what do you mean?"

"You do not seem to have the requisite attributes to be cast in celluloid recordings - unless, of course, it pertains to anal analgesics. And even when you are cast, your contributions are left on the - in this case literal - cutting floor."

"Gee, thanks, Sheldon," she mumbled.

"You're welcome," he replied, without apparent trace of irony, back to typing on his laptop. "Something of your vitality fails to translate onscreen. This is in stark contrast to when you perform on stage."

It's unusual enough a circumstance that it takes her a few good seconds to grasp he's paid her a compliment. "Huh?"

"When you perform on stage, you are remarkable. It's hardly surprising: your gregarious and empathetic personality means you connect best when you can see your audience, and they respond to that connection. The very definition of a symbiotic relationship. I propose that your acting energies would be best channeled into the theatre."

"Sheldon..." Penny's tone reflected her soft wonder. "I think that might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"I don't know why your inflection suggests surprise," he replied. "My playfulness and supportive nature are always in evidence. It's what makes me such a delightful friend."

Renewed hope and joy bubbled over into laughter.

He turned round to stare at her and his brows snapped together in a frown:

"Penny, you're in my spot."


The first time she gets the lead role in a play, the whole gang is there to see her.

The audience gives her a standing ovation.

Afterwards, she is presented with a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of champagne.

She allows herself three sips - enough for the toasts - then puts the glass to one side.

She wakes to a clear head, a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and the small but rave review in Sunday's paper.


"Penny, I wondered if you might accompany me to a university function?"

Penny paused with Pad Thai halfway to her mouth. "What?"

"The Physics department is holding a symposium with Lee Smolin as the Key Notes Speaker. Dr. Gablehauser has required that everyone bring the proverbial plus one. I wondered if you would be mine."

The food remained suspended as her heart squeezed tight as a fist. "Sheldon... are you trying to get back together with Amy?"

He blinked rapidly. "I fail to see the progression of your logic."

"The last time you asked me to accompany you somewhere it was because you wanted to make Amy jealous," she reminded him.

He frowned at her in bemusement. "That was several years ago. Circumstances have altered dramatically since then. Such as my realising that we were not suited to a romantic paradigm and her realising that she was - somewhat inexplicably - interested in starting one with your former fiancé." He gazed off to the side for a moment. "Although that's not nearly as inexplicable as you thinking you two were suited."

"Play nice, Sheldon." She glowered.

He blinked again, with mild surprise. "I am. As my male best friend, Leonard has several estimable qualities but none that would incline me to believe him a good match for you."

She felt a little glow as he said that, at the confirmation that somewhere along the way Leonard had been demoted in her favour - male best friend only; not overarching one - but old insecurity reared its head for a moment. "Because he's a Physics genius and I'm just an actress?"

Sheldon's eyebrow shot up. "Now, what is the matter with you this evening? You're pricklier than a cactus-eating porcupine." Texan twanged through his words before he mastered it. "There are many different forms of intelligence outside of the intellectual - such as kinaesthetic and empathetic acuity. Both of which you excel at. Of course none of those other forms are as important as scientific and mathematical intelligence, but that doesn't mean they are totally without merit."

The unintentional backbite grounded her - things had been becoming far too pink and swirly for a moment there. She knew how to handle this kind of Sheldon.

"Get to the point, Sheldon," she growled, to conceal the thrill she'd felt at his words. Even a backhanded allusion to being intelligent was high praise - when it came from Sheldon.

"You're the one who keeps derailing the conversation," he pointed out, then frowned. "Which reminds me - we need to stop by the model train store after we do the weekly groceries-"

"Sheldon!" Her voice was almost a shout.

"Alright, alright! The point is, I am required to bring company and you are the least objectionable out of those I know."

Two compliments in the space of five minutes? Had he accidentally been inhaling whiteboard marker fumes again?

Her arms curled in on themselves and she beamed up at him. "In that case, Dr. Cooper, I'd be delighted."


The day she hears her mom's in remission, they all go out celebrating.

She has two mocktails and one real one.

It's the most she's drunk in more than a year and enough to send her giggling and tripping over her own feet.

Sheldon puts her to bed and sings Soft Kitty until she falls asleep.

She wakes in the morning hangover-free and still grinning.


Penny frowned as the speaker flicked to the next slide. Something about this didn't add up.

Sheldon had taught her enough in the year that they'd lived together for her to grasp some of what was being said... but it left her with more questions than answers. One question in particular.

For a moment she considered talking to Sheldon about it, but he was leaning forward in his seat, chin propped on his hand as he drank in every word. Lee Smolling, or whatever his name was, was a supporter of quantum loop theory and, teasing Sheldon aside, she knew that was considered the rival of his baby. But in spite of that, Sheldon seemed to have some respect for him (or what passed for respect from Sheldon) so the last thing she wanted to do was interrupt his concentration.

So she waited until they were at the drinks reception, sipping on virgin Cuba Libres, as Sheldon insisted on calling them. (She figured being seen drinking Coke would be better for his academic standing than the Yoohoo he'd originally asked the barman for before she firmly intervened - especially considering she definitely recognised some of these faces from the "Here's Uranus" disaster five years before).

"Sheldon..." she began slightly tentatively, aware she could be setting herself up for a major fall even broaching this stuff. He raised his eyebrows at her in enquiry. "String theory and loop theory are about trying to explain quantum gravity, yes?"

"Well... that is a clumsy reduction, but essentially, yes."

She gritted her teeth and continued. "What was that stuff the bearded guy was saying about the difficulty of a plank scale?"

Sheldon's eye twitched slightly at this description but he readily provided an answer. "Well, one of the difficulties of quantum gravity is that quantum gravitational effects only become apparent near the Planck scale, a scale far smaller in distance, and equivalently, far larger in energy than what is currently accessible with high energy particle accelerators."

"Sooo... the problem lies with the particle accelerators?"

He cocked his head. "That's one way of looking at it."

"Then... why don't you just build a better particle accelerator?"

"Well, ever since the Cockcroft–Walton generator was built in-"

"No," she interrupted him, shaking her head. "I mean you - why don't you build a better particle accelerator?"

His tone was slightly condescending. "Because I'm a world-class theoretical physicist, not an engineer."

She rolled her eyes (was it just her, or did she do that a lot?). "You're missing the point, Whack-a-Doodle."

"Highly unlikely, but continue."

"You're the one who always goes on about how you're good at everything - that you'd excel in any field if you gave it 'due and proper consideration'."

"Yes?" His response was not a question but an acknowledgement of the simple truth of what she'd said and an invitation to explain herself.

"Well," she mimicked his tone and smiled at him. "Think about what you could achieve if you studied engineering."

Sheldon looked as if someone had just switched on every light bulb in the universe.


The first time Sheldon wins a Nobel Prize she cries from happiness.

He had come to doubt it would ever happen, but she hadn't.

From the first moment she met him she knew he had a beautiful mind - even if it was wrapped up in an infuriating, bat-crap crazy package.

When he gives his speech (to a room holding no more than thirty-six adults to avoid triggering his stage fright), he acknowledges the part she had to play in his discovery, calling it an "unprecedented stimulation of the superior colliculus".

She has no idea how that relates to him proving string theory, but she's thrilled for him just the same.

He doesn't share credit in the name of the theorem, of course - but you can't expect everything.

As she claps along with everyone else, she can't help whooping out loud. Her cheeks hurt from smiling.

His eyes meet hers from the podium; his face is beaming in a smile that kicks "I love koalas"' ass.

Out of everyone in the room, it's her he's looking at.

Warmth curls through her chest and purrs like a sleeping cat.


Penny took a deep breath before turning the key in the door.

She entered their apartment and Sheldon looked up from where he was working on his laptop, a sure sign that he had missed her presence that evening.

"Hello." His eyes were bright with enquiry.

"Hi." She carefully put her keys in the bowl and toed off her heels before bringing them neatly together and placing them by the front door. Her actions weren't just to please him - she'd come to see the comfort of routine, and there was no denying that for every one of Sheldon's habits that made her want to scream there was one that had made her life definitively better.

"Did you have a pleasant evening with the cast?"

"Yes, I did." She hesitated. "We were celebrating."

Something in her tone made him swivel in his chair to look at her. Mild concern but no accusation lit his eyes. "With shots?"

She shook her head. "No. I don't like to drink when I need to make a decision."

He tilted his head. "What decision is that?"

She took another deep breath and released it in a rush of words. "We've been asked to take the show to New York - they want me to play Maggie on Broadway!" The last word comes out a slight squeal.

Sheldon's calm expression didn't waver. "Congratulations, Penny." He turned back to his laptop. Over his shoulder she could see he had minimised his program and brought up the internet to Google something.

A hollow feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. She took a few stumbling steps towards him. "Sheldon... do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Of course," he said mildly, still tapping away. "They are taking Cat on a Hot Tin Roof to New York and you will be moving there to play Maggie."

"Yes, but, Sheldon, that means..." She trailed off. She knew you had to read between the lines with Sheldon sometimes, but his seeming lack of concern was hurtful.

"Means what?"

She squared her shoulders. "Means that we won't be living together anymore."

He turned back to face her, blinking in surprise. "What on earth gave you that idea?"

It was her turn to blink. "Sheldon..." She hesitated, not wanting to hurt him. "Sheldon, honey, I'm going there permanently, not just to stay. I have to move there - it just makes sense practically. Plus, my agent thinks it's time I relocated there anyway - she says I need to strike while the iron is hot. She thinks I've got a real shot of going big-time."

Sheldon nodded. "Of course you must move there - it is the logical action at the optimum time." He gestured at his laptop. "That's why I'm researching neighbourhood crime rates - to ensure we move to the safest area."

There was a pause as her brain made sense of his words, then hope so strong it almost choked her constricted her throat. "But... but, Sheldon - you don't want to move to New York! Think of the changes it would mean to your routine - you'd have to leave CalTech! And all your friends!"

Sheldon shrugged, a strange peace in his eyes. "Penny, I have already achieved the highest pinnacle of my career - it has taken away a pressure I've felt since I was fifteen-years-old. So now I can just relax whilst I work towards the next one. The first one's always the hardest, you know." Penny's lips twitched in a smile. "The point is, I do not need CalTech or even our friends to continue my career. I can do that anywhere."

"But... that still doesn't explain why you'd want to leave..."

"You didn't let me finish." He got up from his chair; clasping his hands behind his back, he took a few steps forward until he stood before her. "I do not need CalTech or our friends to ensure academic achievement, nor even for my mental and emotional comfort. After the Prize giving, I formulated a theorem and have been testing its hypothesis ever since." There was a look in his eyes she'd never seen before, one that made her pulse slam through her veins. "There is only one person's presence I need to achieve all these things, Penny. I do not fully understand it, but in light of this conclusion, it is only logical I move to New York with you."

Slowly, haltingly, he reached out and took her hand.


The first time she kisses Sheldon she's stone-cold sober.

It's the closest she's ever felt to flying.


fin