Sheldon looks like himself again, shaved and showered, layered tees and chinos. But he's very quiet, still with that inward gaze. Normally, he's anxious to explain his work, even if his audience aren't keen – the silence is deeply unnerving.
Penny wants to scold him, but she's not sure what for – all he did was take off to work on a problem. It's the others who are at fault for not checking on him. He thanks her politely for his sandwiches (three have disappeared in short order), and she's halfway through making him a fourth, when she looks over and finds that he's gone to sleep, drooped sideways on the arm of the couch.
"See? He's fine." Leonard whispers, hopeful and little too bright. Penny glares at him.
"Yeah, this time."
"He was just working."
Penny takes a breath to keep her voice low. If they wake Sheldon by fighting, he might take off again.
"Yeah, he was 'just working', but he went walking off dressed like that – you can't tell me that's normal?"
"It's Sheldon, Penny. He's never 'normal'." Leonard can feel that pain in his jaw that means he's clenching his teeth too hard. "I can't spend my life baby-sitting him..."
"It isn't baby-sitting, Leonard. It's common frickin' decency..." The forgotten sandwich begins to smoke, and she snatches the pan off the burner.
"I was worried about him, too, okay?" Leonard backtracks hastily. "But we're scientists. When we get an idea, we have to work on it right then." Hands on her shoulders, and she fights the abrupt impulse to shrug him off. "There's a lot of pressure at the moment, all the funding being reviewed, we have to produce results..."
"Is that why you were working late on Friday? You should have said."
"Well..." Leonard battles his conscience for a moment. But Penny has stopped worrying about Sheldon, and is worrying about him, now. "I didn't like to, y'know, burden you, what with you working a long shift and all."
It isn't a lie. It isn't. He stayed late because he was stressed with work, he needed the break.
"Oh, sweetie." Penny hugs him, so that he doesn't see her face. Oh, crap, she is a bitch.
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"So, what was that about?" Howard is bursting with impatience. "I didn't get a good look."
Raj shakes his head, grimace.
"It was like...he was trying to hack his own brain, or something."
"Sheldon doesn't have a brain, he has a processor. I think he has a little list in the corner of his vision - Wake up, eat breakfast, tell the world how frickin' smart you are..." Howard sniggers. "Maybe he got a blue screen, needed to reboot..."
Raj frowns. Those were very human eyes that had looked at him.
"He had all the stuff from the Arctic pinned up."
There is a short, careful silence.
"If he was plotting vengeance, we'd know about it by now." Faintest thread of worry.
"One of the things on the board looked like some kind of war-machine..." They exchange dubious glances. Howard starts to jitter.
"C'mon, that was months ago. We've all moved on, right? Water under the bridge, he ran back to his mother, we went and got him, everybody friends again? Why is he falling to pieces now?"
The dark spectre of the review board casts its shadow between them.
"Hey, if Sheldon moves back to Texas, maybe I could take over his room?" Off Raj's stare. "I'm just the 'acquaintance', remember? Mr Wolowitz? It isn't like I care..."
"Dude, if Sheldon goes, I go. His funding is my funding."
"What do you suggest we do, go to Siebert and tell him we screwed the experiment over? That's all of our necks on the line."
"I'm probably going back to India either way." Raj says, gloomily. Howard looks really panicked.
"Think of the rest of us, man. The needs of the many..."
"Save that for Sheldon. What we did sucked."
"It was Leonard's idea."
"Yeah, and he's supposed to be Sheldon's best friend."
"He was being a giant neurotic pain in the ass."
"He's always been a giant neurotic pain in the ass."
"I didn't want to go in the first place." Howard points out.
"None of us wanted to go. But we were supposed to be helping him."
"You were the one who suggested throwing his Kindle out of the door."
"You suggested beating him death with a frozen dinner, and then eating the evidence."
"Well, you suggested..." Howard throws up his hands. "Okay, so maybe we screwed up a little. But he was driving us as crazy as he is."
They both know that they could have said 'no'. But habit is a hard thing to break. When they first made friends with Leonard, Sheldon just came as part of the deal, the pattern was already there, and it was just easier to go along with it.
(They can always comfort themselves with the thought that no matter how nerdy, geeky, pathetic they are, at least they aren't Sheldon. No matter how far down the heap they might be, there's someone further down, and they are going to keep him there.)
They start to recount their grievances from the trip, the entire litany of petty complaints, the little niggles that happen when four people are cooped up in a small space, boredom and frustration and awkward unspoken tensions.
And Raj pushes to the back of his mind something that is only a suspicion, because it's Sheldon, and Sheldon doesn't do feelings.
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"Hey, buddy, how you doing?"
Sheldon has the chessboard set up. He doesn't look up, chin propped in one long hand, face set in a frown of deep concentration.
"Good evening, Leonard."
It's just a normal board, no levels, no lasers, nothing but the simple eight-by-eight grid, and the classic pieces. Leonard tries to remember the last time they played.
"You want a game?" He offers on impulse. Sheldon gives him a careful look, something assessing, unreadable in it. Then he nods, and starts to reset the board. Holds out his hands, Leonard points. White pawn.
They play in silence, nothing but the quiet click of the clock.
(They have played through long evenings, before. There used to be time for it.)
Leonard thinks deeply about his moves, hesitates, hovers, plays a solid game.
Sheldon responds instantly, fingers dart lightning quick across the board.
(Back when they first knew each other, before the routine became set, before...)
"You worried us, running off."
"Doubtful." Sheldon doesn't lift his eyes from the board. "Only Raj bothered to text to enquire my whereabouts."
(...before it became too much trouble. Before he had other things to do...)
"You didn't text back."
"I was occupied with a problem."
He still does not glance at his opponent, frowns over the board.
Leonard captures a castle and three pawns in quick succession. Feels a faint stir of excitement.
(...before he had a girlfriend.)
Sheldon swoops in with an overlooked pawn, underpromotes it, and Leonard finds that he has lost his queen to a new knight on the board. Realises with horror that Sheldon has been toying with him, and in a handful of moves, he's going to be hammered off the board and checkmated.
Then Sheldon extends one long finger, and gently tips his own king over.
"I'm sleepy now. Good-night, Leonard."
Leaves Leonard looking at the pieces, and feeling that he has missed something very important.
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Breathes through his nose, stills his hands with an effort.
He has discovered in himself the cold and terrible knowledge that if he had once looked up, met that smug, sated little grin, he was going to put his fist through the middle of it.
It scares him. He has been shaken by anger before, torn by betrayal. Allowed a desire for vengeance to sway him. He has been jealous of the academic success of others.
But now. His own words ring hollow. Human relationships still continue to baffle him. The thought of their relationship definitely repulses him. But he cannot be repulsed by the memory of her, only in the thought that she is being pawed over by that perfidious little troll.
Penny is his friend. He wishes her to be happy.
Leonard...may no longer be his friend. And if that is the case, then his happiness will no longer be Sheldon's concern.
It is true that Sheldon can't keep a secret, and that he is very bad at lying.
He is, however, a very, very good chess player.
The board is set. Game on.