A/N This took sooo long to write. It's becoming harder and harder to write for this show without getting thoroughly depressed. So I decided to go with the depressing feelings (and characters behaving infuriatingly badly) and have people end up where I want them :p
This fic is canon compliant up to present episodes in season 8.
I'm posting this really late - I may wake in the morning and decide it's rubbish.
I hope not. And I hope you enjoy :)
The Unexpected Journey Correlation
Penny was well-practised at getting out of beds without waking the person beside her.
Sometimes it was part of a quiet yet frantic dash to get the hell out of the apartment she didn't recognise; mostly it involved leaving her own place, hauling ass to the local diner and eating waffles of shame until she could be sure they'd left.
Always, there was a hangover.
But the gnawing dread in the pit of her stomach, as she slipped out from under the arm across her waist, went beyond the usual embarrassment of sleeping with someone and then regretting it the next day.
There was genuine fear that he might wake up, mixed in with shame and guilt so strong she struggled to keep her breathing even.
"Penny?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you hold with the popular ideological maxim that there is a qualitative difference between loving someone and being in love with them?"
Penny paused with noodles half-stuffed in her mouth, staring at him.
"Penny?"
She rapidly chewed to clear her airway enough to speak. "Sheldon, have you been drinking Ricky Rosewaters?"
"Of course not," he scoffed.
"That's just not a very Sheldon thing to ask. Doesn't that come under Social Sciences, or something?" She stuck another bite of Pad Thai in her mouth.
"Well, much like the human body periodically needs a little assistance to void its bowels of heavier fare, there is an occasional need for forays into the softer sciences. A necessary laxative, if you will."
Penny's face twisted. She forced herself to swallow, and then carefully set the takeaway box to one side. "Well, I think it's safe to say dinner is done for the evening." Then she frowned slightly as she turned to face him on the couch. "Sheldon... is this about you telling Amy you love her?"
Sheldon cocked his head, with a fascinated expression. "It never ceases to amaze me that someone who didn't finish Junior College is sporadically capable of such feats of deductive reasoning. So long as it pertains to 'emotions', that is." Sheldon flexed his fingers round the words.
No one could do backhanded compliments like Moonpie. Still though, that one was almost more compliment than insult. She fought down a pleased smile and semi-glared at him.
"Sheldon, what exactly is it that you want to know?"
"The quantitative measures that distinguish romantic love from familial or platonic," he replied promptly.
Penny hesitated, already pretty sure where this conversation was going. "Well... if you love someone, you care for them deeply. You want them to be happy – you try to put their needs first."
Sheldon tilted his head. "I fail to see how that differs from loving a relation. Or a friend."
"It doesn't – being in love with someone means having all the same kinds of feelings towards them as you do a sister or a friend. It's just that you have some other stuff on top of that, too."
"Like what?"
She hesitated again, loyalty to Amy making her choose her words carefully. "If you're in love with someone, you want to be around them all the time... you... you wanna share everything with them. It's like – like they're your best friend, but more."
Sheldon was weighing every word, his expression focused. It reminded her of how he'd stare at a whiteboard for hours, barely moving, determined to make the math come out right.
"So, the couple enjoys the same interests? They share things on an intellectual level?"
She was tempted to say yes, to just leave it there. She stared into ocean blue eyes. Trusting eyes.
"That's part of it, Sheldon. But not all of it. If you're in love, you share everything. You want to be close in every way. Not just intellectually."
He was silent for a long while. "You are referring to coitus?"
She winced at the look of utter defeat on his face but answered honestly. "That's another part of it, yeah."
"And what if I don't want to have coitus?"
"Sheldon... Sheldon, if you honestly don't want to have sex, you shouldn't. You shouldn't do that with anybody unless you want to. But, Sheldon... If you can't give Amy those things... Well, she wants them; she needs them. If you can't be that guy for her, then you need to let her go."
This was her bedroom, her apartment; the familiar walls of 4B. She knew every potentially squeaky floorboard, knew which clothes could be quickly and quietly removed from her closet, and knew without doubt that she was by far the worst person on the planet.
She paused at the door and glanced back; all she could see of him was the tuft of brown hair sticking out from under the covers.
A wave of nausea swirled through her that had nothing to do with alcohol.
A minute later she was bounding down three flights of stairs.
Five minutes later she was on the road.
"Penny! Penny! Penny!" The words came fast and frantic, with hardly enough time in-between for the knocks.
She'd barely yelled out for him to come in before he was inside her apartment.
She looked up from stirring her sauce, half-expecting him to be in his Flash costume.
He wasn't. But he was exhibiting the tics and twitches that usually came from some kind of caffeine overload.
His next words blurted from his mouth so fast she could barely understand them.
"Penny, I need your advice."
Penny blinked, then started looking wildly around the room.
He frowned at her. "What are you doing?"
"Checking for flying pigs," she replied glibly.
Something flickered in his eyes; small and desperate. He turned and left as quickly as he'd arrived.
Penny hesitated for only a second. "Crap." She dropped her spoon in the sauce and raced after him, inwardly cursing herself for not immediately recognising the signs.
Sheldon was in deer-mode.
She was unsurprised to find him seated at his desk, tapping away on his keyboard.
She approached him slowly and spoke softly. "Sheldon... Sweetie, what's wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong, Penny. Why should anything be wrong?" If the high-pitched, jerky tone hadn't given him away, the muscles of his left cheek pulling wildly in one direction sure would have.
"Sheldon..." She reached out with one hand and closed his laptop, something that would have won her an immediate strike under normal circumstances.
But these weren't normal circumstances.
Penny assumed her best Mrs. Cooper voice, half-tender, half-firm. "Okay, Shelly-Bean, here's how it's going to be: you are going to sit in your spot, I am going to make you some tea, and you are going to tell me what's bothering you."
She pulled gently on one of his wrists, and he allowed her to tug him to his feet.
A few minutes later he was blowing on his chamomile tea, looking a little calmer, but he still wasn't making eye contact.
Remembering her deer training, Penny sat cross-legged in the chair next to him and patiently waited, sipping at her own drink.
Finally, his eyes met hers; she gripped her cup a little tighter to stop from reaching for him. He looked so... lost.
"Amy and I... We... I decided that since I told her I love her, we should try to..."
She gently cut across him, desperate to end his discomfort. "Sheldon, did you and Amy have sex?"
He looked utterly miserable. "We tried, but I wasn't able to achieve the necessary vasodilation of the arteries to my genitals."
For once she had no problem understanding him. "Sweetie, that's nothing to be ashamed of. It happens to a lot of guys. Maybe the expectation was just too much for you. Or... or it could just be a minor physical problem – you know, my company has loads of pills for this kind of thing. I have pamphlets! Wait here – I'll be right back!"
She forced herself to stop talking, aware she had started to babble, and raced back to her apartment. She started pawing through the papers on the coffee table. Her cheeks felt hot. Like she was... embarrassed? Since when was she embarrassed by sex?
No, not embarrassed. Flustered. Something about Sheldon and sex, something about thinking of Sheldon and Amy having sex... Well, it was worse than thinking about Howard and Bernadette having sex. And that was saying something.
That had always nauseated her. But it had never flustered her.
She angrily told herself to suck it up. Sheldon needed her right now, and for all the times she wanted to kill him, she and Moonpie always came through for each other.
She wasn't going to fail him now.
She found the pamphlets and walked calmly back to 4A.
But it was too late.
Sheldon was gone.
She left without a destination; just an animal need to be elsewhere, to get as far away as she could.
As if she could outrun her feelings.
Her guilt.
Her self-loathing.
She couldn't, of course.
"Hey, Bernadette. Listen, about tonight..."
"Actually, that's why I'm calling – did you hear what happened with Amy and Sheldon?"
Penny sighed. "Yeah, he told me..."
"Right. So, Amy doesn't really feel like going out. I said we'd come over – bring some cookie dough, watch some empowered chick movies... Strictly no romance. What do you say?"
Penny hesitated. Normally she'd be the first in line to comfort a fallen girlfriend, but she'd planned to cancel their plans and stay in that evening – until she was sure Sheldon had made it back home. (If nothing else, surely he'd be back for laundry night?)
So she faked a coughing fit and said she couldn't come. Something in Bernadette's tone told her she may not have entirely bought it. She had to fight down a rush of guilt.
She soothed her conscience by telling herself she'd go over to Amy's first thing to check on her. She could only help one crazy person at a time, and her original whack-a-doodle won out.
Leonard walked in just as she hung up the phone; he furrowed his brows as her coughing abruptly ended.
"What was that about?"
She allowed her worry to show. "Sheldon and Amy tried to have sex last night but he couldn't go through with it – he walked out after he told me, and I haven't seen him since."
The eyebrows abruptly moved upwards. "You're kidding!"
She shook her head. "No. I'm really worried about him. Could you do me a favour? Go look for him? Maybe try that other comic book store, or see if he's harassing a Chinese restaurant owner somewhere...?"
Leonard nodded. "Sure. What about Amy?"
"Bernadette's with her. I think she's okay. I'm more worried about him."
He nodded again. "Okay, I'll ask Raj and Howard to help."
"No! No, don't do that." Penny spoke in a rush. "I... don't think he'd want them to know." For a moment she wondered if she should have told Leonard... But, hey, they were best friends, right? And Leonard was used to handling Sheldon.
Once Leonard had gone, she moved over to 4A and camped out, watching Sex and the City reruns while she waited.
She didn't have to wait long. Less than an hour later, the front door opened.
"Hello." He nodded at her, seeming unsurprised at her presence, and dropped his keys in their specially assigned bowl.
She uncurled from the couch and drifted over, hovering uncertainly. "How are you doing, sweetie?"
"Aside from a slightly elevated temperature, I am quite well, thank you. It may be indicative of a bacterial infection, but we'll know more once I carry out my weekly strep test."
"I meant, emotionally. Are you okay? Do you wanna talk about it?" She rested a hand on his arm.
He studied it for a few seconds, and then unclasped his hands from behind his back. Some of the tension left his body. He opened his mouth to speak... then the front door opened behind them.
"We came as soon as we heard." Howard burst into the apartment, closely followed by Raj, with Leonard trailing behind.
Howard had turned the corners of his mouth down in an attempt to look concerned, but his eyes were gleaming. Raj was even worse.
He'd always had a terrible poker face and right now his was broadcasting glee.
"Heard what?" Penny spoke slowly, tone edging towards grim.
Howard leaned forward. "How Sheldon tried to boldly go where no man has gone before..."
"...but failed to make first contact!" Raj finished.
He and Howard immediately collapsed against each other, howling like hyenas.
Penny turned blazing eyes on Leonard. "You told them?"
"No!" Leonard protested. "...but only because they already knew."
"What! How?"
"It's your basic gossip chain phenomenon," Howard explained, smugly. "Amy told Bernadette. Bernadette told me. I told Raj... and then Leonard tried to tell everyone all over again."
"Gossip meme." Sheldon nodded tiredly. "The effects of mimetic epidemiology are well-founded amongst our circle. Now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen – Penny – it's been a long day." He walked calmly from the room, head held high, only the slight stiffness to his spine a giveaway.
Penny pressed her lips together, uncertain whether to go after him or not.
Once he was out of sight, Howard turned back to the room, with a smirk. "Okay, who called Sheldon's first attempt at intercourse flaming out harder than a supernova?" Leonard barely got to her before she bloodied Howard's nose for the second time in their relationship.
Not that he could have physically stopped her, but standing in the way was enough to give her pause. Just. She was mad at him, too, but not yet at the hog-tying, castrating phase.
He raised his hands in a pacifying motion. "Penny, calm down – we're all friends here!"
"Coulda fooled me!" she flared. "Didn't you see how embarrassed he was? I can't believe you guys!"
"Penny," Leonard's tone was somewhere between soothing and condescending,"it's Sheldon. He wasn't embarrassed. He gets embarrassed by... incorrectly parsing a Klingon insult. Or his mom telling Richard Dawkins he'll 'feel mighty stupid once he's burning in hell'. This kind of thing doesn't really get to him, and it was kinda inevitable: we called it years ago, remember? Sheldon doesn't have a deal. He might as well be a Ken doll down there. He's just not attracted to people like that."
"He kissed Amy..." Penny objected, half-heartedly.
"Yeah, and look how that turned out," Howard scoffed, in an undertone.
Penny took a threatening step towards him and he dived behind Raj again.
"Penny, I think it's clear he only did that because he knew Amy wanted him to. In the thirteen years I've known Sheldon, I've never seen him display anything that could constitute sexual interest. Neither have you."
Images flashed through Penny's mind: dislocated shoulders, soup tattoos, peeking heroes...
But then other images came, other times Sheldon had seemed like he was attracted to someone – grad students, that skanky visiting professor, the girl with the Hulk hands... Each time he'd not even noticed he was being hit on. Each time they'd turned out to be misunderstandings.
She'd thought she'd seen a flicker, maybe a spark of attraction, when he saw Amy in her prom dress a few months earlier – but Leonard was right, last night had kinda killed that theory; he'd proven that he didn't really see her that way.
So maybe Leonard was right about the rest of it.
Maybe Sheldon just didn't have a deal.
Penny had loved her old car.
She'd started tinkering with engines around the same time she started riding a bike; one of the reasons her car had lasted so long was because of the tricks she'd learnt from keeping the farm's beat-up tractor going.
She'd been unconcerned by the Cabriolet's "check engine" light, because she knew exactly what was wrong with it. The same way she knew when it was on its last legs. And how she knew it really was kaput when the rod blew on the road with Sheldon.
When Leonard had bought her a new car, she'd been touched, of course; how could she not be? But the truth was, she missed her old one.
She'd loved its retro style, its quirks and kicks. How it responded to her in a way it didn't to anyone else. How it was totally hers.
The car Leonard had bought her was far superior: a 1995 Ford Taurus, known for its reliability, user-friendly features and multiple safety measures.
It was a sweet, thoughtful gesture... and she'd gotten rid of it the moment she was offered a car by the pharmaceutical company.
She'd never been able to admit to Leonard how much she hated the Taurus – add that to the growing list of things to feel guilty about – but right now she was grateful not to have the Cabriolet.
It had always been temperamental if you drove for more than two hours' straight.
She'd already been driving for three.
"Amy and I have terminated our Relationship Agreement." The announcement was calm, but Penny closed her eyes at the pain she knew was there, at what Amy must be feeling.
Not that she knew exactly what Amy was feeling – Amy had told her very little. Which was funny coming from the woman who'd once described in detail the exact size and shade of her areolas.
No, that wasn't fair. Amy hadn't told her because Penny hadn't really asked. Amy was her friend, but Sheldon was... Sheldon.
Talking about Sheldon in that way with Amy felt almost... wrong. As if she was being disloyal to Moonpie.
Amy must have picked up on that.
She'd been silent too long; Leonard was talking.
"Maybe you're just asexual, buddy, and that's okay."
A muscle next to Sheldon's jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
The awkward silence hung in the air for a few moments, before Penny couldn't bear it any longer – she gave into impulse and flew into his arms. He hesitated for a few seconds, then his arms settled around her.
"Sheldon..." Leonard spoke uncertainly. "Do you wanna talk about it?"
His arms fell back to his side. He stared blankly at Leonard as Penny stepped away. "To you? Why would I do that when you have repeatedly demonstrated your total lack of understanding or finesse when it comes to romantic entanglements?" He sounded genuinely bewildered.
"Alright, then." Leonard smiled tightly. "On that heart-warming note, we should probably be going." He turned to face her. "Penny?"
She wavered, watching as Sheldon brushed past them and walked into the kitchen. "Leonard, I'm not sure we should leave him on his own..." She glanced at Sheldon again, who was filling the kettle, apparently oblivious to their conversation.
Leonard smiled nervously. "Uh, Penny, Bernadette and Howard are expecting us for dinner..."
"Okay, well, maybe you could go on ahead and I'll follow after?"
Leonard was doing that thing where he frowns through his smile. "Penny, come on. I agree he needs to talk about it, but you heard what he said – we're not going to get anything out of him this evening. So why not leave it till the morning when everyone's feeling fresher?"
Penny shook her head. "I just think he shouldn't be alone. Even if he doesn't wanna talk – we shouldn't leave him on his own."
The frown was becoming more and more dominant. "Penny, it's Sheldon – yes, he cares about Amy, but he'll get over it. He's a robot, remember?" The attempt at humour fell flat; his expression said he knew it. It also said he knew he was in danger of being an ass. She held on to that belief long enough not to blow up at him.
They watched as Sheldon walked back and seated himself in his spot with his beverage of choice. He switched on the television.
Penny pulled Leonard to one side and lowered her voice.
"Look, I'll be there soon, okay? Just give me a few minutes. Explain to Bernadette and Howard – they'll understand." Leonard nodded, still looking faintly unhappy, but pecked her on the lips before leaving.
The door closed behind him.
Sheldon spoke without looking up. "Penny, over the years I think I've made my opinion of Leonard as a physicist clear?" She walked towards him and stood with arms folded. He didn't wait for her to reply. "One of the reasons I find him to be an inadequate scientist is his lamentable habit of rushing to a conclusion based upon incomplete data." He paused to take a swallow from his mug, tone still clipped and dispassionate. "You appear to have fallen into the same trap."
Her brows drew together. "Okay, honey, I know you think you're making sense, but you're really, really not..."
"On the contrary, as always, my reasoning is flawless. Leonard's conclusion was incorrect, because his premise was faulty."
Penny wrinkled her nose. "Meaning what? What premise – what conclusion?"
"The conclusion that I am asexual." Penny looked away, unsure how to respond. "Based upon the premise that I have never had the urge to have coitus."
Penny turned back so fast, her neck cricked.
"Huh? You mean– You have– I mean... Huh?"
Sheldon shrugged, but his gaze was intent in a way she'd only ever seen a few times before... Strike that: she's never seen him look quite like this. "It is after all only logical – homo novus may be the superior species, but they cannot triumph without procreation to propagate their numbers."
"So... if you wanted to have coit– uh, sex with Amy, why did you have problems with... um... vasodilation?"
There was a pause.
"I never said the urge occurred with Amy."
The I-210 was long, straight and unchanging, with only the occasional mountain in the distance to break up the background. It left entirely too much time to think.
She'd made it as far as Phoenix before her voice gave out, and once she wasn't yelling along with the music she couldn't drown out the inner voice that told her exactly what would be happening now at home. Exactly the reaction.
Shock, denial, anger.
Tears.
Penny closed the door behind Amy and Bernadette and collapsed on her couch.
As much as she loved shopping, and shoes, she'd never really been much of a girly girl – there was a reason her dad called her Slugger, after all – so after hours of wedding stuff, of looking at magazines, discussing flowers and trying out hairstyles on Amy (at her insistence), she was more than ready for a cold one, and wishing there was a game on.
She settled for a glass of wine and watching extreme fishing on NBC Sports.
When the first knock came at her door she tensed slightly, wondering if they'd forgotten something; when a second and a third knock came quickly after, her mouth quirked in a relieved smile.
She might regularly have the urge to coldclock him, but you always knew where you were at with Sheldon. And one thing you could be sure of was that he'd have absolutely no interest in talking about weddings, or her feelings about it. She wouldn't feel obliged to fake a level of squealy excitement she didn't feel or be left wondering if she should be worried about that.
She waited at the door till he'd finished his routine, and then opened it with a mischievous smile.
"What up, Moonpie?"
He glowered at her. "Nobody calls me Moonpie except Meemaw!" His gaze fell on the bottle on the table. "Are you up to coherent conversation or have we already reached the inebriated portion of the evening?"
Penny's smile became slightly fixed. She stalked back to the couch and deliberately took a big swig from her glass. "What can I do for you, Sheldon?"
He hovered halfway between her and the door, arms clasped behind his back.
"Did you have a pleasant evening with Bernadette and Amy Farrah Fowler?"
"Sure." She took a second, even larger swig.
"And did they... have a pleasant evening?"
She met his eyes, and suddenly got it. "She's doing okay, Sheldon," she said softly.
His gaze slipped away again; he nodded once then came and sat next to her on the couch.
"BBC America is running a Doctor Who marathon." He looked at her expectantly.
She side-eyed him, deeply unimpressed: "Good to know."
But a few seconds later, she switched channels.
He settled back on the couch cushion with a pleased expression. Though not for long.
His tone was half-scold, half-whine: "You know, a good hostess would offer her guest a beverage."
Penny shoved the bottle of wine under his nose without taking her eyes off the screen. Sheldon recoiled, tutting, and glared at her.
A few minutes went by in silence as Sheldon became more and more relaxed, and Penny became more and more involved in spite of herself.
A few more minutes of watching the clear yearning taking place on-screen and she could no longer contain herself: "Why doesn't she just grab him and kiss him?" she burst out. "She sooo wants to."
Sheldon stared at her. "Possibly because he is a Time Lord. AKA the Oncoming Storm. The veteran explorer-cum-saviour of the cosmos, and not her personal snuggle bunny!"
She wrinkled her nose, unimpressed. "Whatever, Sheldon. I know chemistry when I see it, and those two are like sodium and potassium."
Sheldon's lips curved in that small but impressed smile she loved so much and saw so rarely. "Very good, Penny. Though you realise that combination is also highly explosive?"
Penny shrugged. "The best combinations always are."
He stared at her a few moments longer, and then seemed to visibly shake himself. "Yes, well, I suppose I should be unsurprised at your identifying with a bleached blonde of low education and excessive emotion."
Yep.
You always knew where you were at with Sheldon.
Conversations with him were like ripping off bandaids; you were often left sucking in air.
There was never any danger that he'd try to spare your feelings. He was never anything less than brutally honest.
The words were out her mouth before she was aware she'd been thinking them:
"Do you think Leonard and I should be getting married?"
He answered as quickly as he would a math question, and with no more emotion.
"No."
Penny hadn't really given much thought to dying. But after Arthur passed, and she and Leonard went to the funeral, she found herself thinking about it more. About how she might be remembered.
In her more optimistic moments, she'd thought things like, "world-class actress", "renowned style icon", "Academy Award winner".
In her quieter moments, she'd considered "beloved daughter", "faithful friend", "gone but not forgotten".
Now it looked increasingly likely to be, "selfish bitch", "cowardly runaway".
"Cheater."
Leonard had slammed the door behind him. Penny opened it again just so she could yell a little more and slam it herself.
"Can you believe that ass?" she demanded. Silence. She hadn't really expected a reply. Sheldon never got involved in their fights... but... the silence was weird. Where was the noise? The thousand appliances turned on to block out their fighting?
Sheldon was still sat at his desk, typing. She wouldn't put it totally past him to have gotten so involved in his work he hadn't noticed their yelling, but something about the rigid line of his back made her think that wasn't the case.
Crap.
"Sheldon, are you okay? ...Sheldon? Sheldon, come on – honey, I'm sorry if we upset you. But you know what we're like – we always fight. It doesn't mean anything. It's always the same stuff. It'll blow over." She tried to speak cheerfully. "Sheldon? Shelly? ...Moonpie?" Finally, he turned around.
She took a step towards him in shock, hand rising of its own accord.
His face was drawn. He looked almost old.
"I am not upset, Penny. I have merely accepted that despite flashes of potential that suggest otherwise, you clearly subscribe to Einstein's theory of insanity." His voice was deadened, like someone who would be angry, if they weren't so tired.
Penny's brows drew together. "Sheldon, what are you talking about?"
His sigh was utterly defeated. "I'm a little tired of explaining things to you, Penny. Despite my best efforts, you never seem to learn. But why not? I will fulfil the role of Pygmalion to your Galatea one more time. For old times' sake."
"What..." She faltered. She'd never heard that tone from him before. It unsettled her. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, once again, you are operating under a false premise." She stared at him, wide-eyed, silently asking him to explain. "Months ago you told me that being in love means sharing everything – means enjoying one another's company. Coitus was part of that, but only one element. You listed several other attributes, and implied several more."
Her frown deepened; still unsure where he was going with this. But an uneasiness had begun to build in the pit of her stomach. "I remember. ...So?"
"I don't remember conflict being amongst those attributes, Penelope. But perhaps my eidetic memory is failing me. Perhaps constant conflict – regular screaming matches – are desirable qualities in a mate. While you're at it, why not add in consistently failing to support one another? Wilfully misunderstanding each other? Heck, if you're really reachin' for the stars, why not start by having nothing in common, continue by doing nothing to share in each other's interests, then nail the coffin lid good and tight by actively seeking to change one another at every turn!" He was straining at the edges of his control, Texan bleeding into curt, sharp words; breaths coming harder and faster and long-fingered hands turning white from clenched fists.
"Sheldon... Sheldon, what are you trying to say?" The uneasy feeling was growing; she was starting to feel sick. Utterly confused at the force of his feeling, at the strength of his anger.
At some point he'd gotten to his feet.
His eyes bored into hers, pinning her in place, slicing through thought.
"You itemised the list, Penny. You set the test. Yet you never noticed that the two of you long ago failed it." And suddenly she got it. Understanding fell like a blow. "You might love Leonard, but you're not in love with him. You never were."
Penny had never been a cheat; she'd been the person who got cheated on.
Thanks to her younger self's tendency to see the best in everyone, she'd had the dirty done on her, more than once. Enough for it to be considered a pattern. Enough to maybe start to think it was normal.
But she had never, even in her most carefree (skankiest) days, betrayed someone that way. It had always struck her as a truly gutless thing to do. If you didn't want to be with someone anymore, don't be. If there was someone you wanted to be with more, end it.
Simple.
The Penny back then would never have understood the Penny now. Wouldn't understand how the years could change you.
How you could be disappointed so many times, it becomes easier not to reach so high. How that helped make you happier with what you actually got.
How when you failed again and again to make your dreams happen, you learned all sorts of ways to numb the sting.
Like telling yourself it didn't matter because you had different dreams now.
The girl back then wouldn't get how Penny could have ended up in a place where she barely recognised herself anymore.
A place where she no longer knew her own heart or feelings.
Until they came boiling over, drawn out by a pair of blazing blue eyes, inches from her own.
Sheldon doesn't like to be touched.
This was something she'd been told pretty much from day one.
This was something she'd ignored pretty much from day one.
Mostly because so many other things told her different.
People who hate to be touched don't curl their hand round your arm to get your attention. Don't crowd your physical space when they're annoyed. Don't help you get dressed when you've dislocated your shoulder. Don't linger when they're helping, keeping hold of your warmth (whether they thought it was an arm, or not).
And most of all, people who hate to be touched react badly when you touch them.
Sheldon never had.
True, he didn't react so great when other people tried it – but considering those other people were mostly Raj and Howard, who could blame him? And as for Leonard... well, it hadn't taken long to figure out who wore the pants in that relationship. Leonard lacked the stones to challenge Sheldon on anything (until Penny taught him how), so he was never going to push him on the touching front.
It was only over time, as she saw Sheldon interact with – and repeatedly reject – other people, that she'd come to realise she was different. That she'd come to see herself as an exception to his rule.
Then Amy had come along, and she figured she was just the pebble that started the avalanche – he'd made compromises for Penny, but he seemed willing to change everything for Amy.
He'd kissed her for crying out loud...
And after that, he'd stopped touching Penny as much... or maybe she'd stopped touching him.
Something had changed.
So it had been a while since he'd been this close.
No…
He's never been this close.
The further she went, the longer the gaps between gas stations became. She filled the tank to the brim as well as the two emergency containers in the trunk, grateful for the first time for Sheldon's neurotic insistence on her carrying them.
She toyed with the idea of stopping, but the insistent need to keep moving kept her going.
It was only once she'd crossed through New Mexico she realised she'd been headed somewhere all along.
When Sheldon was teaching Penny Physics, he'd tried to tell her about the Theory of Relativity. The only thing she really took away from it was that there was an actual scientific reason for why sometimes you felt like time moved so fast it blurred, and why awkward moments could feel like they lasted forever.
Right now her thoughts were going faster than light but everything else was moving like treacle.
She found herself tallying up facts in a way that would have made Dr. Cooper proud, if she'd done it in their lessons.
Sheldon was directly in front of her, breathing shortened to controlled, sharp bursts, mouth turned down as if in disapproval. But of what, she couldn't say.
Sometimes, when he was angry, Sheldon would stalk towards her and she would find herself instinctively backing up (for a skinny preying mantis, he could go surprisingly alpha male on your ass).
Other times, when he'd gotten her so mad she couldn't see straight, like in the middle of their prank war, she would hold her ground when he stepped forward, refusing to step back; but no matter how mad he was, he had always stopped short of fully invading her space. So they'd end up in stand-offs, with arms folded and at least half a foot between them.
Maybe kissing Amy had opened up that area of personal space, removed his need for that instinctive gap. So that the fail-safe, those vital few inches that had been in place like a crash barrier, were no longer there.
Did he come close to her now because of Amy?
Or had he let Amy close because of her?
Which came first, Penny? The chicken or the egg?
I don't know, Dr. Cooper, but here's another brain teaser for you: if two people come within a millimetre of locking lips but they both jump back before they properly touch, have they actually kissed?
She drove for sixteen hours' straight before even two energy drinks and three espressos were no longer enough.
She pulled over, slept for six hours, and then started driving again.
"Penny, are you listening to me?"
Penny's surroundings suddenly snapped into focus; Leonard was standing on the other side of the kitchen island, frowning at her hands... which had been methodically peeling strips off the cream booklet they held.
She blinked at him. "Sorry, sweetie – what did you say?"
"I asked you if you were happy to go to print with this version – but judging how you've been shredding it, I'm guessing you're not a fan?"
She glanced down at the gold stylised handwriting. "No. No, it's fine. It's... nice."
Leonard stared at her. "Sheldon again?"
She bit her lip, feeling guilty. For so many reasons. "I just... I'm just worried about him."
He chuckled, but it wasn't a happy sound. "Sometimes it seems like you care more about Sheldon not coming than the fact we're getting married."
"Oh, come on, Leonard! You know that's not it. I just…He left without saying goodbye... Don't you care? He's your best friend."
Leonard's mouth quirked. "Well, only because of a codicil in the Roommate Agreement – I really should have read the small print first..."
Penny didn't return the smile. Those kinds of little jokes at Sheldon's expense just didn't seem that funny anymore. Not now he'd left. She could feel her temper rising, but made an effort to push it down. She didn't wanna fight... not again.
Leonard blew out his breath in a long sigh. "Of course I care, Penny. But he's fine – we know he went back home, and that he's safe."
"But it's totally out of character!"
Leonard's brow was furrowed. "No, it's not. Sheldon's left before, remember?"
"Yeah, and look how that turned out! Besides…" She faltered. "He always came back."
"Look, Penny, despite how he often behaves, Sheldon is a grown-up. Yeah, it sucks that he's not coming, but it's his choice. So, can we please, please, concentrate on us for once? On our wedding? We're supposed to be getting married. Sometimes it feels like you've forgotten that..." Leonard's eyes were mournful, like a kicked puppy.
The guilt flooded back, even stronger than before. With a massive effort, she summoned a bright smile. "Of course! I'm sorry..." She looked down at the kitchen island again, and reached out with an almost steady hand. "I like this one."
One day and four hours after she left Pasadena, Penny arrived at her destination, pulling into a driveway.
She leaned on the doorbell and stayed there, both from a desperate need to draw out the occupant, and from sheer fatigue.
She'd never been to this house before, never even been to this state. She should have felt totally out of place, totally awkward about her unannounced arrival. But beneath her hammering heart, something locked too tight for too long began to uncurl.
"Leonard, I can't do this – I'm sorry."
"What... What are you talking about?"
"I just... I can't go through with this. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"What... I – what? What do you mean? Where is this coming from?"
"Leonard – ten minutes ago we were yelling our heads off at each other. Again! I just... This isn't working. You must see that."
"Penny, you can't be serious!"
"I... I am. I'm sorry."
"You're telling me this now? Do you have any idea how selfish you're being?"
Against her best efforts, her temper started rising again. She turned away from him, guilt warring with anger, as she scrubbed a hand over her eyes.
She opened her mouth to say the words. The words that would end it. That would set them both free.
A hand descended on her shoulder. "Please..." She could hear the tears in his voice. "Penny, please. I'm sorry, okay? I know things haven't been great. But they can get better. I can be better. Please, let's just sleep on it, okay? Let's just go to bed, sleep on it, and everything will feel different in the morning. You'll see."
She turned to face him... the pain on his face hit her like a blow to the stomach. She wavered; he took her hand and pulled her towards the bed. Her warm, familiar bed.
They got under the covers in silence. He reached out and pulled her close, his arm across her waist.
He whispered in her ear in the darkness. "I love you, Penny. I love you."
She didn't say it back.
Beneath the guilt and self-loathing, a voice whispered she was home.
One day and four hours after she left Pasadena, Penny arrived in Galveston, on what would have been her wedding day.
The front door opened.
Blue eyes met green.
She surprised herself by smiling tiredly.
"Hello, Moonpie."
fin