So I updated last night (I think? What day is it? I need a break from classes!) but here's another one, because I'm not sure when I'll be able to update again. Possibly tomorrow, possibly not until Monday. So here you guys go. In case I haven't been great with time passing - letting you guys know how much time has passed - this is between 4-7 days after the argument at Savannah's school, which would make Ada about two months old.

Disclaimer: you all know the drill.

Howard wasn't used to his wife being restless in bed. Usually, when she was ready to sleep, she was out like a light, completely still, rarely even moving closer to him in the middle of the night. Wherever she was when she decided to sleep was where she slept. End of story.

But tonight, neither of them were still. She was tossing and turning, and he was trying to not get hit in the face by one of her hands. Eventually, he caught one of her thrashing arms by the wrist. "Hey!" he whispered sharply. Her eyes opened. "What's going on with you?"

"Mmm," Bernadette said, rolling over. "Mmmm."

"Bernie?"

"I'm just thinking about Penny," she said, rolling back over to her back so she could see him. "That incident at Savannah's school the other day really messed her up."

"She seemed okay when I saw her at the mailboxes with Raj yesterday," Howard said.

"She's going to her therapy," Bernadette said. "It's helping. But she's still harboring these feelings of guilt and doubt and every few days they just build up too much, and sometimes she ends up crying in Leonard's arms, or she'll drive to my work and yell about this, that, or the other thing, and sometimes she locks herself in the bedroom and won't come out for a couple of hours. Leonard called the doctors and they said that when she does that to leave her alone, she's not in a state of mind to hurt herself, and with two kids, she might just need time alone."

"And he confirmed with the doctors that she's going to her appointments?" Howard asked, looking skeptical.

"Well, I'm sure they'd tell him," Bernadette said, "but as Amy, Missy, and I all have different days off, we're tag teaming in following her to her appointments to make sure she goes. And she does, every time. She really wants to feel better. She knows it's not fair to her daughters, or to Leonard, if she's not herself."

"I wouldn't imagine it'd be fair to her, either," Howard said.

"Of course it's not," Bernadette said. "But Penny's not thinking of herself. She wants to feel better, but her daughters are her motivation. She knows Leonard understands that she's not herself, but Savvy and Ada aren't old enough to get it. So she wants to get better as soon as she can, for them."

"Well…" Howard wasn't sure how to respond. "She seems to be doing everything right. Why are you so worried?" he asked, semi playfully, touching her nose with his finger.

Bernadette sighed. "Because…because today she…I was talking to her after work, and she told me that she doesn't understand why she isn't feeling better."

"These things take time, don't they?"

"Yeah," Bernadette said. "But I guess Penny expected this therapy to be a magic solution."

"Well," Howard said, "in a way, it is, isn't it? Not so long ago, these kind of mental and emotional crutches weren't regarded as valid illnesses. The fact that it's available now…that's gotta count for something."

"Yeah, but that's not the way that depressed people think," Bernadette reminded him. "I just hated seeing that shadow in her eyes. She still feels guilty, like a failure, and that's bringing back her old insecurities. And I don't think she wants to talk to Leonard again. She opened up to him just before she told us, and I think admitting to him that she's not magically feeling better yet is too embarrassing for her."

"That doesn't sound very healthy," Howard said.

Bernadette shook her head. "It's not."

Leonard let out a sigh, turning his head to see Penny. She'd wanted to go to bed early, while Ada was still sleeping, and though Leonard hadn't been tired at all, he'd joined her, hating the idea of watching television on the couch while she curled up alone in bed. Usually, he could play with Savannah, but she was staying at Gilda's that night.

He wasn't sure Penny appreciated his company, though. Like she always did now, when they crawled into bed, she rolled on her side away from him and didn't say a word. He knew it took her a while to fall asleep, but she didn't speak to him or even acknowledge that he was there. He was sure that she wouldn't notice or care if he did go back into the other room. But she wasn't protesting his presence, so he stayed. He'd rather be near her, whether they were cuddling or not. But he still wasn't feeling like he was being much help.

When Ada started to cry, Leonard jumped up, hoping he could get to her before Penny woke up. He reached the girls' room and lifted the baby out of the crib, holding her close and talking soothingly to her. He made his way into the kitchen and opened up the fridge. There was still some milk left over, that Penny had put in there in case Ada needed to be fed while she was at therapy. He took out a bottle and fumbled, using one hand to heat it up while supporting the baby in the other. Ada was fussing, but she wasn't being very loud, and he hoped Penny would stay asleep despite her gender being sensitive to high pitched noises while sleeping.

He managed to remove the bottle, and set Ada down to test the temperature. Satisfied, he picked her back up and carried her to the couch.

Ada made a face and turned her head from the bottle. "Come on, Nevada," Leonard said. "I know I'm not Mommy, but this is the only way Daddy can feed you." He leaned over, his face closer to hers, and whispered dramatically, "I'm unevolved."

Nevada's mouth sprung open and she made a sound he'd never heard before. It wasn't exactly a laugh – she was still a bit too young for that – but it was close enough. Leonard grinned and directed the bottle toward her, and this time she took it.

"You're such a good little girl," Leonard told her. "Being nice and quiet so Mommy doesn't wake up. She needs her sleep, you know. So when you start crawling around everywhere, we can both chase you down and keep you from stirring up trouble."

As Ada's mouth worked the bottle, her eyes closed lazily, and Leonard smiled, closing his eyes himself, momentarily, and taking a deep breath. They were good parents. There wasn't a question of that. He began to sing in a low voice.

"There's antimony, arsenic, aluminum, selenium. And hydrogen, and oxygen, and nitrogen, and rhenium. And nickel, neodymium, neptunium, germanium."

Ada finished her meal and gave her father what he definitely recognized as a smile.

"Iron, americium, ruthenium, uranium. Europium, zirconium, lutetium, vanadium."

Leonard picked Ada up rocked her, turning in a small circle. "And lanthanum, and osmium, and astatine, and radium, and gold! And protactinium! And indium! And gallium!"

He made it through the entire song twice before he had to change Ada's diaper, and he stopped singing as he carried her back to bed, so as to not wake Penny. "Sleep for a while, little girl," he instructed her before leaving the room.

He returned to find Penny in the same position that he'd left her in, and he smiled, glad he could give her at least another couple hours of sleep. Crawling into bed next to her, he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, feeling her unconsciously push against his lips. Glad that she hadn't moved away from him, Leonard slid back to the other side of the bed and let her have her space.

But it was hard. He missed feeling her sleeping against him, her arm over his chest, her head tucked under his chin. He missed feeling her breath keeping a spot on his chest, cheek, or neck warm all night. He missed her lifting her nose up to nuzzle his cheek affectionately. She was so close to him, but at the same time, he felt like she was pulling away.

It was ridiculous, he told himself. Of course it was ridiculous. She loved him, she still told him that, he had no reason to doubt their relationship. If he was really honest with himself, he wasn't worried about that part of it. But when she separated herself from him like this, she was either angry or otherwise upset. And he knew she wasn't angry with him. So the only conclusion he could draw was the therapy wasn't working as well as either of them had hoped. Leonard wondered how long it would take for everything to be back to normal. And he momentarily wished he hadn't let Savannah take his board over to Gilda's.