Here's your new chapter, everyone! It's rather long, but I didn't want to split it up in two because while I do want to keep pointing out that a lot of time is passing in the fic, I don't see the need to split up one evening at this point. So here you go, your next 4,000 words. : )
And I still don't own anything. In case anyone thought that had changed since Sunday, or something. :P
That evening, Bernadette called, and asked if Penny wanted to go to the beach. As far as Leonard knew, Bernadette wasn't aware of what was going on…but it wouldn't surprise him if Penny had told her. They were best friends, after all. He was glad that she was going. Hanging out with a girl friend was the perfect way for Penny to be distracted from the situation, and he'd have paid for a distraction for her if that was the only way she was going to get one. Cow knew she needed it.
However, her spending the evening with Bernadette left Leonard alone. Alone to think about what was going on. Alone to worry. And to be away from the person whom he might not get to spend the rest of his life with, and who was spending what could be very precious time with someone else. Not that Leonard wanted to deny her Bernadette. Penny loved Bernadette, and Cow knew he'd been spending much more time with her than he usually would with their conflicting work schedules. But it didn't change the fact that when she wasn't with him, he wondered gloomily if this was something he'd be forced to get used to.
Cow knew he needed a distraction, too.
Leonard walked in circles inside Penny's apartment, trying to think of something to do. Calling Gilda, Raj, or Howard crossed his mind, but he dismissed the thoughts. He didn't want to talk to anyone and he didn't even know what time it was in Russia. And Gilda missed enough sleep with Iris to take care of; he wasn't going to disturb her and her husband so he could whine about Penny.
He ended up crossing the hall and entering his apartment. Sheldon was sitting on the couch. "Good evening, Leonard." He didn't seem to be aware of what was going on. Leonard momentarily wondered how much of a reaction Sheldon would have if he did know. He was so mechanical about some things, and so sensitive and fragile about others.
"Hey," he said rushing through the living area, down the hallway, and to his own room. He was feeling frantic, he needed to get away from people, and go somewhere that people wouldn't come looking for him because he wanted to be alone. Because he took to hear the saying "you can love someone so much, but you can never love people as much as you can miss them."
Yanking open his dresser drawer, he pulled something large and blue from the inside. Gathering it up, Leonard kicked the drawer shut and headed back down the hall.
"Leonard? Is something troubling you?" Sheldon asked as he came back through the main room.
"Yes, Sheldon! Something is 'troubling me.'" Leonard made quotation marks in the air, the blanket tucked under his arm, as he snapped at his roommate. "The woman I love more than anything in this world could be dying and I can't do a single damn thing about it."
Sheldon started. He looked at Leonard with an odd expression and then cocked his head. "Shall I make tea?"
Leonard shook his head, not wanting to snap further but feeling unable to stop and have a civil conversation with Dr. Wackadoodle. "No. Unless you want it, or something." He spun around and exited the apartment, letting the door slam behind him. Rushing up the stairs, he opened the door to the roof and finally stopped, just inside, panting from running up the stairs.
The night was quiet. Well, as quiet as a city could be. The roof was fairly empty, certainly completely void of people, and as Leonard shut the door the reality hit him that he was by himself here. He walked near the edge and sat down, unfolding the blanket and sliding his arms through the sleeves. Now that he was truly alone, out of apartments and away from other people and with only the sky and the stars visible above him, Leonard let the tears well up.
Despite the assurances of the doctors that the cause of the fertility problems likely wasn't serious, the words ovarian cancer wouldn't get out of Leonard's mind. They couldn't. They were too terrifying. If Penny had cancer – that type of cancer – there was a very real chance that she might die despite the previous tests showing that it wasn't in its advanced stages yet. She could die, and there would be nothing – nothing – that Leonard could do to help her. He'd just have to wait and watch helplessly as the illness overcame her and stole the breath and the heartbeat that he had come to love so much. And in those final weeks, final days, and final hours, he would not even be able to tell her that it would all be okay. He knew he would not be able to lie to her when she'd be so very aware of the awful truth.
He hated feeling so helpless; he hated the burning in his eyes, he hated the knife in his chest, and he almost hated loving her so much because of how he was feeling now. He hadn't told her he loved her enough. He hadn't held her often enough, or kissed her passionately enough. He hadn't felt her knees weaken enough when he kissed her by surprise. He hadn't had enough time to spend with her!
Leonard hugged himself and rocked side to side, trying to keep himself under control. He wasn't supposed to cry. He was just supposed to love her through it, whatever it turned out to be.
But he felt as if he couldn't handle it anymore. Then he realized that he could let himself go up here. No one else was around, and Penny wasn't there for him to be strong for. There were no restraints in this place, his temporary, private haven. Here he could let it all out, turn his sorrow into tears so he could be there for her in the morning, when they still wouldn't know for sure. And if tomorrow they learned that she wouldn't be here much longer, maybe crying tonight would give him the strength to stay strong for her in the future, however long that might be.
The moment the tears flooded over Leonard felt like a weak individual, unworthy, and unmanly, despite being by himself. Then he was too engulfed with sorrow to care. He rolled slowly from a sitting position to his side, his body shaking down to his shoes, his glasses catching the tears where the rim met the actual glass and running down the side to drip onto the cement. Eventually, he pulled himself into a sitting position again, embarrassed to be curled up in the fetal position on the cold cement, staring straight out across the city, hoping that one day the view could look beautiful again.
When Penny returned from her evening with Bernadette, she got the mail she'd forgotten twice earlier in the day and headed upstairs. It had been nice to spend a few hours with the other waitress, and the beaches had been fairly empty, so they could talk without having to worry too much about people overhearing. Bernadette was such a positive, cheerful woman once one got to know her, and she always made Penny feel better, despite the other woman mistakenly believing that tomorrow she would have her ultrasound, when it was really the day after. Penny came home not feeling positive about the whole situation, but definitely better than she had upon returning from the doctor's office. She reached the top of the stairs without noticing that she didn't have any shortness of breath.
Leonard was not in her apartment. Penny figured he'd be back any moment, so she showered and changed into her Hello Kitty shorts and pink night shirt. She re-entered the living area and discovered that she was still alone. "Strange," she said aloud, sliding her feet into slippers and heading across the hall.
4A appeared to be empty as well. "Very strange," she said again to herself. Nothing appeared to be out of place, and the lights were off. Maybe Leonard had gone to sleep on this side of the hallway, in which case she'd simply join him.
His room was empty, and his dresser drawer was half-open. Penny crossed the room and closed it – for lack of anything better to do – and then straightened and looked around. Where was he? It wasn't like Leonard to be gone when she came home, nor was it typical for him to not leave her a note when he was actually going to be gone. It definitely wasn't like him to not be around whenever she was ill, and although they didn't know yet if she was, it still surprised Penny that he hadn't been waiting for her to come home.
Penny exited his room and began to walk back into the living area without noticing that despite the long day, she was not feeling fatigued. She was passing by Sheldon's room when she heard a sound that made her stop. It sounded like…like a sound that was something that unnerved her whenever it came from Leonard's roommate.
She rapped lightly on his door. "Sheldon?"
Silence.
Penny bit her lip, unsure of what to do. Finally, she put her hand on the doorknob. "Shelly, I'm coming in, sweetie." She cracked open the door and peered inside. Sheldon was curled up on top of the covers, much like he was when he'd returned from the North Pole. He looked over as she entered the room, and she could tell by his red eyes that he'd been crying. Penny cocked her head, and lowered her voice to a quiet, non-threatening tone. Mary Cooper had always told her that Sheldon was like a baby deer, and could get spooked by strong personalities when he was upset or rattled. "Sheldon, sweetie, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," he said, trying to look irritated. "I'm fine."
He wasn't fine. Penny came toward him and sat on the edge of the bed. "Sheldon," she said. "You know that you can tell me anything. Leonard, too. Just because we're…" she wondered how much Leonard had told him. "…getting married and wanting to have a family doesn't mean we're not here for you."
"I can't talk to Leonard."
Penny smiled. He sounded like such a little kid. "Sheldon," she said, putting her hand on his blanket covered shoulder and not caring when he flinched, just a little bit, at the unauthorized touch. "What's wrong?"
"Are you going to die?"
The question surprised Penny; it was abrupt and spoken in a quiet, unsure tone that wasn't typical of Sheldon. It added to the irresolute atmosphere of the evening; nothing was as it should be. "Sheldon, what's going on?"
"Leonard said that you were going to die." Sheldon looked away. "Then I looked in his browser history. Simple enough to hack. I have a masters' and two PhD's and his password for everything is the same." He was silent a moment, and then sat up. "Penny?"
She cocked her head, trying to keep her voice low and calm. "Yeah?"
"Do you have ovarian cancer?"
Penny hesitated. "That…is a cause of fertility issues in females, but…"
"I know that, of course I know that! Do you have it?"
She sighed. "I don't know."
"If you die…" Sheldon said quietly, sliding into a lying position again. "What's going to happen to the rest of us? Our entire group will fall apart…even I won't be able to hold it together." He sniffed. "And that's borderline embarrassing."
"Aw, Shelly, I'm not going to die."
"You don't know that, how could you possibly know that?"
She sighed. She didn't know that. She didn't have a clue what was wrong with her. But she couldn't tell Sheldon that. "I promise, I'm not going anywhere."
"That's what Mee Maw said."
"What?"
"When she moved to a different part of Texas. 'I'll still see you every weekend, Moon Pie.' 'You know I still love you, Moon Pie.' I've hardly seen her since then." He sniffed. "If something happens to you, I'll lose my two best friends." He looked at her. "Who will drive me to Pottery Barn? Who will take me to Disneyland? Who will talk to me when I have nightmares?"
Penny smiled. "Even if something happens to me, Leonard will still be here, he did all those things for you before I showed up, didn't he? And he loves you as much as I do."
"No he doesn't. He loves you. "
"Sheldon," Penny said carefully. "You're right. Leonard loves me. And I love him. But there are different kinds of love. You love your Mee Maw, right?"
"Yes, of course."
"But not in a romantic sense, right? At least not in the way you love Amy?"
"Of course not, don't be silly." Sheldon shook his head. "And for clarification, I do not love Amy in an amorous way, either."
"I know that, Sheldon, that's not the point," Penny said, putting her hand against her forehead. "My point is, there are more than one or a few types of love, yes?"
"I suppose."
"See?" Penny said, smiling. "Leonard and I love each other, but we love you, too. And Leonard may not tell you that, but he cares about you, and he'll take care of you no matter what."
Sheldon looked down. "But who will sing me Soft Kitty?"
At that, Penny felt her eyes begin to water. She didn't want to start crying in front of Sheldon; he wouldn't be able to handle it. "I'll be here to sing you Soft Kitty, Shelly. I promise." She hoped he didn't hear the crack in her voice on her last word.
He managed a small smile. "I don't know how much say you'll have in the matter, but all right."
"Do you feel better?" She asked, smiling. Sheldon nodded. "That's good, sweetie. Hey, I have a question for you. I hope you can answer it."
"Any question you can come up with to ask me, I can answer."
Penny ignored the insult. "I've been looking for Leonard. Do you know where he is?"
"He grabbed his blanket with sleeves and bolted out of here hours ago. I think he went to the roof."
"Okay, thanks, sweetie." Penny stood up. "Want me to turn out the light?"
"Yes please," Sheldon said sitting up to pull the covers over him. "Good-night, Penny."
Penny climbed the stairs cautiously. She wasn't sure why Leonard would go to the roof. When he was upset he usually stayed home, in his room. He never vanished, and if he was to leave she would have expected him to go to the comic book store…not the roof. Was he planning on jumping? That thought scared Penny, and she quickened her pace. She didn't think he would do that, not while she was here, but…nothing seemed a sure thing anymore.
"Oh, my God," she said under her breath, suddenly feeling sick. Was it only six months ago that they'd been so happy, so carefree, and feeling that the two of them together could tackle anything the world had to offer? And now Raj and Howard were at training camp, leaving Penny and Leonard with Sheldon to deal with the most emotional, painful time thus far in their lives. Was it only earlier that day that he had told her that they could beat the odds? She had taken great comfort in his words, but all good feelings from that day and her evening with Bernadette had, for some reason, completely abandoned her and allowed the fear and paranoia and sadness to enter her being. And as confidant as Leonard had appeared earlier in the day, she didn't know if the two of them could overcome this. She loved Leonard more than all the other things she loved in the world combined; she still didn't believe that love could beat death. The movies that said otherwise were sweet to watch, but in the real world, in real life, Penny realized that she didn't buy it.
Reaching the door to the roof, Penny hesitated, wondering if she should knock. She took a breath and slowly opened the door.
He was sitting with his knees up to his chest-as near as she could tell-near the edge, looking out over the city. He was wearing the blanket she'd given him before he'd left her for a summer what felt like a lifetime ago, her silent promise to wait for him, and he looked like he was curled up in a ball, with his head tucked on his chest. Penny's hands fell to her sides. He looked so helpless.
Why do I have to be the strong one? She thought with a touch of anger. It was she that could be terminally ill, not Leonard or Sheldon, yet she had to comfort them. She just spent time in Sheldon's room promising to sing him that stupid song and, dammit, getting emotional over it, and now what, she had to go and make Leonard feel better too, when it was her who could have cancer spreading throughout her young body?
Penny realized she was being unfair. Sheldon had been hit with this suddenly, and while he didn't understand romantic love or sexual feelings he knew what death was like. He was relatively childlike anyway; this sort of thing would have a huge effect on him. And Leonard hadn't been in her apartment or his-he had come up here to get away, so she wouldn't have to see him like this. Looking at his body jerk ever so slightly, Penny realized that he had come up here because he was trying to be strong for her. It gave her a warm feeling in her heart and a wave of sadness over her at the same time. He was suffering as much as she was, maybe more. Probably more, she realized. She could wish with all her remaining time that she wouldn't have to leave him, but her concern and grief would end with her life. He'd be left here, in this cruel world of awareness, for possibly another sixty years, and all by himself. He was the one without a health concern; he'd be the one that would have to watch her die, and then after her death, he'd be the one that would have to go on. And it was then that she realized what was different about them. He didn't want anything to happen to her. She didn't want to leave him all alone. Neither of them were worried about themselves, and neither of them could do anything about it.
She was only a few steps behind him now, and she could hear him crying. Coming up to the roof already emotionally shaken; seeing him like that made Penny want to cry again. "Leonard," she said, angry at her voice for cracking in the middle of the word.
He turned around, and Penny could see the tears on his face. "Penny," he said. "What are you-?"
"I love you, Leonard," she blurted, needing to say it, to somehow make up for all those times back then when she had failed to do so, dropping to her knees next to him and wrapping her arms around him. She felt his right arm moving as he curled it around her. She pushed her head into his shoulder, and they clung to each other.
"You're not supposed to see me like this," Leonard said, angry at how broken his voice sounded.
"I don't care," she told him, pulling him closer.
After a long moment, she released her arms in case he wanted to end the hug. It didn't surprise her when he didn't move, so she put her arms back around him, again remembering their parting for the summer. "I can't let you go tonight," he whispered, tightening his hold. "I'm sorry, but I can't."
"I'm not going anywhere," she responded, touching her nose to his. "I'm not. I'm staying right with you! As long as I can!" They both began crying; Penny felt him convulsing in misery as both of them completely broke down at the same time.
It was a long time before either of them could speak. Once in each other's arms, they'd cried without restraint, unable to speak, bodies shaking in fear and grief, until they finally ended up lying down. Penny's head was still against his shoulder, her arm across his chest as his own arms surrounded her. Damn, Leonard had a way of making her feel safe, even when she was well aware he couldn't. She gave a deep sigh and moved her head slightly. "Are you okay?"
He didn't answer. Penny was glad; she knew that it was a stupid question. Neither of them were okay. Leonard sighed, ran his hand up and down her arm, and tilted his head to look at her. "I promise you," he said, his eyes red, "that if something happens to you…"
She put her finger to his lips. "Shhhh."
He pulled her hand away. "Stop it."
"You stop it," she said. "Save the promises. The promises to stay single, the promises to be faithful, the promises to never love anyone else. I know you, I know they're coming, just save them until you have to tell me."
"You know, though."
Penny felt another tear slide down her face. Her chest and stomach and eyes and throat hurt and her heart hurt even worse and she was scared and tired, and here Leonard was, desperate to let her know how much she meant to him, as if he still doubted that she knew the extent of his love, or as if he feared she would die tonight and he'd never get to tell her everything that was in his heart. It pained her that he felt the need to tell her all of these things, felt the need to spill them out like in a bad romance novel, because he was honestly afraid he'd never get a million chances to show her, and because he had himself thinking he had failed to show her a million times before. She wondered if he honestly did doubt that she knew just how important she was to him. She knew she did – she suspected it was identical to how much he meant to her. She looked down at Leonard's hands. "Leonard, there's billions of people in this world…but of the millions of men in my generation…I'm so grateful that I was able to find you. I've never met a better person, and…" she was choking on tears, "If we find out tomorrow that I'm not going to last, well, I'm just glad that I stopped denying what my heart was telling me soon enough to have these moments with you. Every hour…" she trailed off, shaking her head rapidly, as a new wave of tears escaped her eyes. "I'm sorry I'm falling apart like this," she said.
He shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry. I wanted to be strong for you, but…"
"Maybe we needed this," Penny said, wiping the tears away from her eyes. "Maybe we needed to cry with each other."
Leonard smiled at her. "We're still crying," he pointed out. She smiled, and leaned forward to kiss him. "Do you want to go downstairs?" he asked her quietly.
Penny thought. "No," she said. "There's…people down there." Leonard smiled, understanding. He lay back down, and Penny curled up next to him. They were silent for many minutes, and then Penny spoke again, her voice more stable than it had been since she'd reached the roof. "It's just…hard…not knowing," she said after a long moment, voicing what both of them were thinking. "You know? I mean…what if you suddenly get told you only have a few months left? I mean, there'd be so much I would want to do…where would I start?"
"Here's where we would start," Leonard said. "We'd go to Las Vegas and get married."
He felt – more than saw – her sigh. "Why would you want to do that? Pay money for something that wasn't going to last?"
"I'd want to do that because I love you and whenever something happens to one of us, whether it be six months or six decades from now, I want the other to be able to say, 'that's my wife'."
"If you die before me," Penny said, "I promise I will go telling everyone, 'that's my wife'."
She felt – more than heard – him laugh. "You know what I mean. And I'm serious. If we have to, we'll run off and get married. I gave you that ring, and it's going to happen. For better or for worse, remember? Sickness, and in health."
He didn't continue. He didn't need to. He just pulled Penny closer. "Promise me you'll try to sleep?" she asked him quietly.
"Promise me the same thing," he whispered.
She pushed her nose into his cheek. "Done."
"Good," he said. "Because we can afford to sleep tonight. It's going to be okay, somehow."
"Somehow," she whispered, not completely believing it and knowing that he didn't.
She supposed that was the good thing about always thinking the worst. You were always right or pleasantly surprised.